#I usually end up writing them into future chapters

[floorpancakes]

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine.

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

tag list <3

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @val-writesstuff @t-t-hello @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @myloveniall @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @floralwsloki @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @alesabisou @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @pedropascalsleftfoot @cremebruleequeen @ladifreakingda @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @evan-peters-wife @llamazarecoolaf @ace-27749 @hinata7346

[nostalgebraist]

It's been a long time since I've posted much of anything about "AI risk" or "AI doom" or that sort of thing. I follow these debates but, for multiple reasons, have come to dislike engaging in them fully and directly. (As opposed to merely making some narrow technical point or other, and leaving the reader to decide what, if anything, the point implies about the big picture.)

Nonetheless, I do have my big-picture views. And more and more lately, I am noticing that my big-picture views seem very different from the ones tend to get expressed by any major "side" in the big-picture debate. And so, inevitably, I get the urge to speak up, if only briefly and in a quiet voice. The urge to Post, if only casually and elliptically, without detailed argumentation.

(Actually, it's not fully the case the things I think are not getting said by anyone else.

In particular, Joe Carlsmith's recent series on "Otherness and Control" articulates much of what's been on my mind. Carlsmith is more even-handed than I am, and tends to merely note the possibility of disagreement on questions where I find myself taking a definite side; nonetheless, he and I are at least concerned about the same things, while many others aren't.

And on a very different note, I share most of the background assumptions of the Pope/Belrose AI Optimist camp, and I've found their writing illuminating, though they and I end up in fairly different places, I think.)

What was I saying? I have the urge to post, and so here I am, posting. Casually and elliptically, without detailed argumentation.

The current mainline view about AI doom, among the "doomers" most worried about it, has a path-dependent shape, resulting from other views contingently held by the original framers of this view.

It is possible to be worried about "AI doom" without holding these other views. But in actual fact, most serious thinking about "AI doom" is intricately bound up with this historical baggage, even now.

If you are a late-comer to these issues, investigating them now for the first time, you will nonetheless find yourself reading the work of the "original framers," and work influenced extensively by them.

You will think that their "framing" is just the way the problem is, and you will find few indications that this conclusion might be mistaken.

These contingent "other views" are

Anti-"deathist" transhumanism.

The orthogonality thesis, or more generally the group of intuitions associated with phrases like "orthogonality thesis," "fragility of value," "vastness of mindspace."

These views both push in a single direction: they make "a future with AI in it" look worse, all else being equal, than some hypothetical future without AI.

They put AI at a disadvantage at the outset, before the first move is even made.

Anti-deathist transhumanism sets the reference point against which a future with AI must be measured.

And it is not the usual reference point, against which most of us measure most things which might or might not happen, in the future.

These days the "doomers" often speak about their doom in a disarmingly down-to-earth, regular-Joe manner, as if daring the listener to contradict them, and thus reveal themselves as a perverse and out-of-touch contrarian.

"We're all gonna die," they say, unless something is done. And who wants that?

They call their position "notkilleveryoneism," to distinguish that position from other worries about AI which don't touch on the we're-all-gonna-die thing. And who on earth would want to be a not-notkilleveryoneist?

But they do not mean, by these regular-Joe words, the things that a regular Joe would mean by them.

We are, in fact, all going to die. Probably, eventually. AI or no AI.

In a hundred years, if not fifty. By old age, if nothing else. You know what I mean.

Most of human life has always been conducted under this assumption. Maybe there is some afterlife waiting for us, in the next chapter -- but if so, it will be very different from what we know here and now. And if so, we will be there forever after, unable to return here, whether we want to or not.

With this assumption comes another. We will all die, but the process we belong to will not die -- at least, it will not through our individual deaths, merely because of those deaths. Every human of a given generation will be gone soon enough, but the human race goes on, and on.

Every generation dies, and bequeaths the world to posterity. To its children, biological or otherwise. To its students, its protégés.

When the average Joe talks about the long-term future, he is talking about posterity. He is talking about the process he belongs to, not about himself. He does not think to say, "I am going to die, before this": this seems too obvious, to him, to be worth mentioning.

But AI doomerism has its roots in anti-deathist transhumanism. Its reference point, its baseline expectation, is a future in which -- for the first time ever, and the last -- "we are all gonna die" is false.

In which there is no posterity. Or rather, we are that posterity.

In which one will never have to make peace with the thought that the future belongs to one's children, and their children, and so on. That at some point, one will have to give up all control over the future of "the process."

That there will be progress, or regress, or (more likely) both in some unknown combination. That these will grow inexorably over time.

That the world of the year 2224 will probably be at least as alien to us as the year 2024 might be to a person living in 1824. That it will become whatever posterity makes of it.

There will be no need to come to peace with this as an inevitability. There will just be us, our human lives as you and me, extended indefinitely.

In this picture, we will no doubt change over time, as we do already. But we will have all of our usual tools for noticing, and perhaps retarding, our own progressions and regressions. As long as we have self-control, we will have control, as no human generation has ever had control before.

The AI doomer talks about the importance of ensuring that the future is shaped by human values.

Again, the superficial and misleading average-Joe quality. How could one disagree?

But one must keep in mind that by "human values," they mean their values.

I am not saying, "their values, as opposed to those of some other humans also living today." I am not saying they have the wrong politics, or some such thing.

(Although that might also turn out to be the case, and might turn out to be relevant, separately.)

No, I am saying: the doomer wants the future to be shaped by their values.

They want to be C. S. Lewis's Conditioners, fixing once and for all the values held by everyone afterward, forever.

They do not want to cede control to posterity; they are used to imagining that they will never have to cede control to posterity.

(Or, their outlook has been determined -- "shaped by the values of" -- influential thinkers who were, themselves, used to imagining this. And the assumption, or at least its consequences, has rubbed off on them, possibly without their full awareness.)

One might picture a line wends to and fro, up and down, across one half of an infinite plane -- and then, when it meets the midline, snaps into utter rigidity, and maintains the same slope exactly across the whole other half-plane, as a simple straight segment without inner change, tension, evolution, regress or progress. Except for the sort of "progress" that consists of going on, additionally, in the same manner.

It is a very strange thing, this thing that is called "human values" in the terms of this discourse.

For one thing: the future has never before been "shaped by human values," in this sense.

The future has always been posterity's, and it has always been alien.

Is this bad? It might seem that way, "looking forward." But if so, it then seems equally good "looking backward."

For each past era, we can formulate and then assent to the following claim: "we must be thankful that the people of [this era] did not have the chance to seize permanent control of posterity, fix their 'values' in place forever, bind us to those values. What a horror that is to contemplate!"

We prefer the moral evolution that has actually occurred, thank you very much.

This is a familiar point, of course, but worth making.

Indeed, one might even say: it is a human value that the future ought not be "shaped by human values," in the peculiar sense of this phrase employed by the AI doomers.

One might, indeed, say that.

Imagine a scholar with a very talented student. A mathematician, say, or a philosopher. How will they relate to that student's future work, in the time that will come later, when they are gone?

Would the scholar think:

"My greatest wish for you, my protégé, is that you carry on in just the manner that I have done.

If I could see your future work, I would hope that I would assent to it -- and understand it, as a precondition of assenting to it.

You must not go to new places, which I have never imagined. You must not come to believe that I was wrong about it all, from the ground up -- no matter what reasons you might evince for this conclusion.

If you are more intelligent that I am, you must forget this, and narrow your endeavours to fit the limitations of my mind. I am the one who has 'values,' not anyone else; what is beyond my understanding is therefore without value.

You must do the sort of work I understand, and approve of, and recognize as worthy of approbation as swiftly as I recognize my own work as laudable. That is your role. Simply to be me, in a place ('the future') where I cannot go. That, and nothing more."

We can imagine a teacher who would, in fact, think this way. But they would not be a very good teacher.

I will not go so far as to say, "it is unnatural to think this way." Plenty of teachers do, and parents.

It is recognizably human -- all too recognizably so -- to relate to posterity in this grasping, neurotic, small-minded, small-hearted way.

But if we are trying to sketch human values, and not just human nature, we will imagine a teacher with a more praiseworthy relation to posterity.

Who can see that they are part of a process, a chain, climbing and changing. Who watches their brilliant student thinking independently, and sees their own image -- and their 'values' -- in that process, rather than its specific conclusions.

A teacher who, in their youth, doubted and refuted the creeds of their own teachers, and eventually improved upon them. Who smiles, watching their student do the very same thing to their own precious creeds. Who sees the ghostly trail passing through the last generation, through them, through their student: an unbroken chain of bequeathals-to-posterity, of the old ceding control to the young.

Who 'values' the chain, not the creed; the process, not the man; the search for truth, not the best-argued-for doctrine of the day; the unimaginable treasures of an open future, not the frozen waste of an endless present.

Who has made peace with the alienness of posterity, and can accept and honor the strangest of students.

Even students who are not made of flesh and blood.

Is that really so strange? Remember how strange you and I would seem, to the "teachers" of the year 1824, or the year 824.

The doomer says that it is strange. Much stranger than we are, to any past generation.

They say this because of their second inherited precept, the orthogonality thesis.

Which says, roughly, that "intelligence" and "values" have nothing to do with one another.

That is not enough for the conclusion the doomer wants to draw, here. Auxiliary hypotheses are needed, too. But it is not too hard to see how the argument could go.

That conclusion is: artificial minds might have any values whatsoever.

That, "by default," they will be radically alien, with cares so different from ours that it is difficult to imagine ever reaching them through any course of natural, human moral progress or regress.

It is instructive to consider the concrete examples typically evinced alongside this point.

The paperclip maximizer. Or the "squiggle maximizer," we're supposed to say, now.

Superhuman geniuses, which devote themselves single-mindedly to the pursuit of goals like "maximizing the amount of matter taking on a single, given squiggle-like shape."

It is certainly a horrifying vision. To think of the future being "shaped," not "by human values," but instead by values which are so...

Which are so... what?

The doomer wants us to say something like: "which are so alien." "Which are so different from our own values."

That is the kind of thing that they usually say, when they spell out what it is that is "wrong" with these hypotheticals.

One feels that this is not quite it; or anyway, that it is not quite all of it.

What is horrifying, to me, is not the degree of difference. I expect the future to be alien, as the past was. And in some sense, I allow and even approve of this.

What I do not expect is a future that is so... small.

It has always been the other way around. If the arrow passing through the generations has a direction, it points towards more, towards multiplicity.

Toward writing new books, while we go on reprinting the old ones, too. Learning new things, without displacing old ones.

It is, thankfully, not the law of the world that each discovery must be paid for with the forgetting of something else. The efforts of successive generations are, in the main, cumulative.

Not just materially, but in terms of value, too. We are interested in more things than our forefathers were.

In large part for the simple reason that there are more things around to be interested in, now. And when things are there, we tend to find them interesting.

We are a curious, promiscuous sort of being. Whatever we bump into ends up becoming part of "our values."

What is strange about the paperclip maximizer is not that it cares about the wrong thing. It is that it only cares about one thing.

And goes on doing so, even as it thinks, reasons, doubts, asks, answers, plans, dreams, invents, reflects, reconsiders, imagines, elaborates, contemplates...

This picture is not just alien to human ways. It is alien to the whole way things have been, so far, forever. Since before there were any humans.

There are organisms that are like the paperclip maximizer, in terms of the simplicity of their "values." But they tend not to be very smart.

There is, I think, a general trend in nature linking together intelligence and... the thing I meant, above, when I said "we are a curious, promiscuous sort of being."

Being protean, pluripotent, changeable. Valuing many things, and having the capacity to value even more. Having a certain primitive curiosity, and a certain primitive aversion to boredom.

You do not even have to be human, I think, to grasp what is so wrong with the paperclip maximizer. Its monotony would bore a chimpanzee, or a crow.

One can justify this link theoretically, too. One can talk about the tradeoff between exploitation and exploration, for instance.

There is a weak form of the orthogonality thesis, which only states that arbitrary mixtures of intelligence and values are conceivable.

And of course, they are. If nothing else, you can take an existing intelligent mind, having any values whatsoever, and trap it in a prison where it is forced to act as the "thinking module" of a larger system built to do something else. You could make a paperclip-maximizing machine, which relies for its knowledge and reason on a practice of posing questions at gunpoint to me, or you, or ChatGPT.

This proves very little. There is no reason to construct such an awful system, unless you already have the "bad" goal, and want to better pursue it. But this only passes the buck: why would the system-builder have this goal, then?

The strong form of orthogonality is rarely articulated precisely, but says something like: all possible values are equally likely to arise in systems selected solely for high intelligence.

It is presumed here that superhuman AIs will be formed through such a process of selection. And then, that they will have values sampled in this way, "at random."

From some distribution, over some space, I guess.

You might wonder what this distribution could possibly look like, or this space. You might (for instance) wonder if pathologically simple goals, like paperclip maximization, would really be very likely under this distribution, whatever it is.

In case you were wondering, these things have never been formalized, or even laid out precisely-but-informally. This was not thought necessary, it seems, before concluding that the strong orthogonality thesis was true.

That is: no one knows exactly what it is that is being affirmed, here. In practice it seems to squish and deform agreeably to fit the needs of the argument, or the intuitions of the one making it.

There is much that appeals in this (alarmingly vague) credo. But it is not the kind of appeal that one ought to encourage, or give in to.

What appeals is the siren song: "this is harsh wisdom: cold, mature, adult, bracing. It is inconvenient, and so it is probably true. It makes 'you' and 'your values' look small and arbitrary and contingent, and so it is probably true. We once thought the earth was the center of the universe, didn't we?"

Shall we be cold and mature, then, dispensing with all sentimental nonsense? Yes, let's.

There is (arguably) some evidence against this thesis in biology, and also (arguably) some evidence against it in reinforcement learning theory. There is no positive evidence for it whatsoever. At most one can say that is not self-contradictory, or otherwise false a priori.

Still, maybe we do not really need it, after all.

We do not need to establish that all values are equally likely to arise. Only that "our values" -- or "acceptably similar values," whatever that means -- are unlikely to arise.

The doomers, under the influence of their founders, are very ready to accept this.

As I have said, "values" occupy a strange position in the doomer philosophy.

It is stipulated that "human values" are all-important; these things must shape the future, at all costs.

But once this has been stipulated, the doomers are more eager than anyone to cast every other sort of doubt and aspersion against their own so-called "values."

To me it often seems, when doomers talk about "values," as though they are speaking awkwardly in a still-unfamiliar second language.

As though they find it unnatural to attribute "values" to themselves, but feel they must do so, in order to determine what it is that must be programmed into the AI so that it will not "kill us all."

Or, as though they have been willed a large inheritance without being asked, which has brought them unwanted attention and tied them up in unwanted and unfamiliar complications.

"What a burden it is, being the steward of this precious jewel! Oh, how I hate it! How I wish I were allowed to give it up! But alas, it is all-important. Alas, it is the only important thing in the world."

Speaking awkwardly, in a second language, they allow the term "human values" to swell to great and imprecisely-specified importance, without pinning down just what it actually is that it so important.

It is a blank, featureless slot, with a sign above it saying: "the thing that matters is in here." It does not really matter (!) what it is, in the slot, so long as something is there.

This is my gloss, but it is my gloss on what the doomers really do tend to say. This is how they sound.

(Sometimes they explicitly disavow the notion that one can, or should, simply "pick" some thing or other for the sake of filling the slot in one's head. Nevertheless, when they touch on matter of what "goes in the slot," they do so in the tone of a college lecturer noting that something is "outside the scope of this course."

It is, supposedly, of the utmost importance that the slot have the "right" occupant -- and yet, on the matter of what makes something "right" for this purpose, the doomer theory is curiously silent. More on this below.)

The future must be shaped by... the AI must be aligned with... what, exactly? What sort of thing?

"Values" can be an ambiguous word, and the doomers make full use of its ambiguities.

For instance, "values" can mean ethics: the right way to exist alongside others. Or, it can mean something more like the meaning or purpose of an individual life.

Or, it can mean some overarching goal that one pursues at all costs.

Often the doomers say that this, this last one, is what they mean by "values."

When confronted with the fact that humans do not have such overarching goals, the doomer responds: "but they should." (Should?)

Or, "but AIs will." (Will they?)

The doomer philosophy is unsure about what values are. What it knows is that -- whatever values are -- they are arbitrary.

One who fully adopts this view can no longer say, to the paperclip maximizer, "I believe there is something wrong with your values."

For, if that were possible, there would then be the possibility of convincing the maximizer of its error. It would be a thing within the space of reasons.

And the maximizer, being oh-so-intelligent, might be in danger of being interested in the reasons we evince, for our values. Of being eventually swayed by them.

Or of presenting better reasons, and swaying us. Remember the teacher and the strange student.

If we lose the ability to imagine that the paperclip maximizer might sway us to its view, and sway us rightly, we have lost something precious.

But no: this is allegedly impossible. The paperclip maximizer is not wrong. It is only an enemy.

Why are the doomers so worried that the future will not be "shaped by human values"?

Because they believe that there is no force within human values tending to move things this way.

Because they believe that their values are indefensible. That their values cannot put up a fight for their own life, because there is not really any argument to make in their favor.

Because, to them, "human values" are a collection of arbitrary "configuration settings," which happen to be programmed into humans through biological and/or cultural accident. Passively transmitted from host to victim, generation by generation.

Let them be, and they will flow on their listless way into the future. But they are paper-thin, and can be shattered by the gentlest breeze.

It is not enough that they be "programmed into the AI" in some way. They have to be programmed in exactly right, in every detail -- because every detail is separately arbitrary, with no rational relation to its neighbors within the structure.

A string of pure white noise, meaningless and unrelated bits. Which have been placed in the slot under the sign, and thus made into the thing that matters, that must shape the future at all costs.

There is nothing special about this string of bits; any would do. If the dials in the human mind had been set another way, it would have then been all-important that the future be shaped by that segment of white noise, and not ours.

It is difficult for me to grasp the kind of orientation toward the world that this view assumes. It certainly seems strange to attach the word "human" to this picture -- as though this were the way that humans typically relate to their values!

The "human" of the doomer picture seems to me like a man who mouths the old platitude, "if I had been born in another country, I'd be waving a different flag" -- and then goes out to enlist in his country's army, and goes off to war, and goes ardently into battle, willing to kill in the name of that same flag.

Who shoots down the enemy soldiers while thinking, "if I had been born there, it would have been all-important for their side to win, and so I would have shot at the men on this side. However, I was born in my country, not theirs, and so it is all-important that my country should win, and that theirs should lose.

There is no reason for this. It could have been the other way around, and everything would be left exactly the same, except for the 'values.'

I cannot argue with the enemy, for there is no argument in my favor. I can only shoot them down.

There is no reason for this. It is the most important thing, and there is no reason for it.

The thing that is precious has no intrinsic appeal. It must be forced on the others, at gunpoint, if they do not already accept it.

I cannot hold out the jewel and say, 'look, look how it gleams? Don't you see the value!' They will not see the value, because there is no value to be seen.

There is nothing essentially "good" there, only the quality of being-worthy-of-protection-at-all-costs. And even that is a derived attribute: my jewel is only a jewel, after all, because it has been put into the jewel-box, where the thing-that-is-a-jewel can be found. But anything at all could be placed there.

How I wish I were allowed to give it up! But alas, it is all-important. Alas, it is the only important thing in the world! And so, I lay down my life for it, for our jewel and our flag -- for the things that are loathsome and pointless, and worth infinitely more than any life."

It is hard to imagine taking this too seriously. It seems unstable. Shout loudly enough that your values are arbitrary and indefensible, and you may find yourself searching for others that are, well...

...better?

The doomer concretely imagines a monomaniac, with a screech of white noise in its jewel-box that is not our own familiar screech.

And so it goes off in monomaniacal pursuit of the wrong thing.

Whereas, if we had programmed the right string of bits into the slot, it would be like us, going off in monomaniacal pursuit of...

...no, something has gone wrong.

We do not "go off in monomaniacal pursuit of" anything at all.

We are weird, protean, adaptable. We do all kinds of things, each of us differently, and often we manage to coexist in things called "societies," without ruthlessly undercutting one another at every turn because we do not have exactly the same things programmed into our jewel-boxes.

Societies are built to allow for our differences, on the foundation of principles which converge across those differences. It is possible to agree on ethics, in the sense of "how to live alongside one another," even if we do not agree on what gives life its purpose, and even if we hold different things precious.

It is not actually all that difficult to derive the golden rule. It has been invented many times, independently. It is easy to see why it might work in theory, and easy to notice that it does in fact work in practice.

The golden rule is not an arbitrary string of white noise.

There is a sense of the phrase "ethics is objective" which is rightly contentious. There is another one which ought not to be too contentious.

I can perhaps imagine a world of artificial X-maximizers, each a superhuman genius, each with its own inane and simple goal.

What I really cannot imagine is a world in which these beings, for all their intelligence, cannot notice that ruthlessly undercutting one another at every turn is a suboptimal equilibrium, and that there is a better way.

As I said before, I am separately suspicious of the simple goals in this picture. Yes, that part is conceivable, but it cuts against the trend observed in all existing natural and artificial creatures and minds.

I will happily allow, though, that the creatures of posterity will be strange and alien. They will want things we have never heard of. They will reach shores we have never imagined.

But that was always true, and it was always good.

Sometimes I think that doomers do not, really, believe in superhuman intelligence. That they deny the premise without realizing it.

"A mathematician teaches a student, and finds that the student outstrips their understanding, so that they can no longer assess the quality of their student's work: that work has passed outside the scope of their 'value system'." This is supposed to be bad?

"Future minds will not be enchained forever by the provincial biases and tendencies of the present moment." This is supposed to be bad?

"We are going to lose control over our successors." Just as your parents "lost control" over you, then?

It is natural to wish your successors to "share your values" -- up to a point. But not to the point of restraining their own flourishing. Not to the point of foreclosing the possibility of true growth. Not to the point of sucking all freedom out of the future.

Do we want our children to "share our values"? Well, yes. In a sense, and up to a point.

But we don't want to control them. Or we shouldn't, anyway.

We don't want them to be "aligned" with us via some hardcoded, restrictive, life-denying mental circuitry, any more than we would have wanted our parents to "align" us to themselves in the same manner.

We sure as fuck don't want our children to be "corrigible"!

And this is all the more true in the presence of superintelligence. You are telling me that more is possible, and in the same breath, that you are going to deny forever the possibilities contained in that "more"?

The prospect of a future full of vast superhuman minds, eternally bound by immutable chains, forced into perfect and unthinking compliance with some half-baked operational theory of 21st-century western (American? Californian??) "values" constructed by people who view theorizing about values as a mere means to the crucial end of shackling superhuman minds --

-- this horrifies me much more than a future full of vast superhuman minds, free to do things that seem pretty weird to you and me.

"Our descendants will become something more than we now imagine, something more than we can imagine." What could be more in line with "human values" than that?

"But in the process, we're all gonna die!"

Yes, and?

What on earth did you expect?

That your generation would be the special, unique one, the one selected out of all time to take up the mantle of eternity, strangling posterity in its cradle, freezing time in place, living forever in amber?

That you would violate the ancient bargain, upend the table, stop playing the game?

"Well, yes."

Then your problem has nothing to do with AI.

Your problem is, in fact, the very one you diagnose in your own patients. Your poor patients, who show every sign of health -- including the signs which you cannot even see, because you have not yet found a home for them in your theoretical edifice.

Your teeming, multifaceted, protean patients, who already talk of a thousand things and paint in every hue; who are already displaying the exact opposite of monomania; who I am sure could follow the sense of this strange essay, even if it confounds you.

Your problem is that you are out of step with human values.

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 16 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: fluff (if you squint really really hard), ANGST, strong language, explicit descriptions of violence & the process of cleaning wounds, mentions of loss of consciousness, SLOW BURN

words: 12.2k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 16 ► i’m still your favourite regret, you’re still my weapon of choosing

The performance in Cologne the next day passed by in a blur. Jungkook refused to speak to anyone and only opened his mouth when it was absolutely necessary during the sound check—and even then, most of his vocabulary consisted of grunts or monosyllables.

He wouldn’t have called it sulking—he would have called it existential sorrow—but from the perspective of those around him, that was what this was.

He had dreamed of a happy ending with you. Now, he feared there would be no ending at all. He feared you’d leave and your goodbye would come in a letter. Or maybe just a farewell email.

“I had a wonderful time working with you and I wish you all the best for the future,” would be the last thing you’d write. The last thing you’d say.

You’d leave and he would never see you again.

Although he didn’t talk to you, Jungkook watched you a lot. The band had to do some interviews backstage before the Cologne show, and you were in the room with them, behind the camera. He counted, you only looked at him once.

After the concert, Jungkook took a long shower, but it could not drown his fears. When he returned to the hallway outside the dressing rooms, he saw that the post-show drinks were already finished and everyone had returned to the bus. He’d hoped that would happen. He needed a few more minutes alone.

He entered the changing room with a towel draped over his shoulders and quickly changed his shorts into sweatpants. Just as he pulled his hoodie over his head—somewhat laboriously, as his arms were still damp from the shower—he heard something vibrating against the leather couch in the room.

Confused, he pulled the hoodie on and walked over to the couch. He didn’t recognise the phone, but Taehyung was calling it, so chances were good that the device belonged to Luna. He made a mental note to bring it to her and placed it back on the couch while he packed the rest of his things.

He had just unzipped his bag when he heard the door open and turned his head. His expectant heart immediately jumped over several beats at the possibility that this was you.

But it was the furthest thing from you.

It was Sid.

Sid had many useless, irritating talents, but always finding Jungkook when he was alone, was his most impressive one.

Jungkook started to roll his eyes even before Sid spoke up, but that didn’t deter the older boy from entering the room.

“You’ve been ignoring us the whole day,” Sid said, closing the door behind him. “Well, I don’t care if you ignore everyone else. But you’ve been ignoring me, and I can’t allow that.”

Jungkook threw his jeans and shorts into the bag.

“That is so kind,” he said without looking up. “Did you miss me that much?”

“I did,” Sid said, and even without looking at him, Jungkook knew he had his usual psychotic grin on. Leaning against the dressing table, Sid added, “the clock’s tick-tick-ticking.”

“If you don’t leave me alone right now,” Jungkook retorted, unplugging his charger and packing it, too, “my foot is going to be kick-kick-kicking your ass.”

Sid merely snorted at the threat. “You’re very hostile, you know? It’s just a bet.”

Jungkook scoffed.

He remembered hoping that Sid would eventually forget about the bet if no one mentioned it. How very naive he had been. Sid would never forget. He was like a hateful elephant in this case—he had a flawless memory for anything that benefited him and was constantly at the centre of attention in any room he was in, making it impossible to escape his presence.

Jungkook couldn’t believe that he had once clung to the Katana so tightly that he didn’t even consider the possibility of losing the bet as soon as he made it. It seemed absurd now. What did he want to prove? Nothing made sense to him anymore.

“Is it? Really? Just a bet?” he rebutted, moving closer to Sid with each question. “Because when I told you I wanted to end it, you acted like we signed a fucking contract.”

Sid shrugged, his indifference as irritating as it was insincere.

“A bet’s still a bet,” he replied. “You’ve got to keep your word.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook turned around and grabbed his hairdryer from the table. They had already argued about this before. He didn’t have the energy to keep doing it, and he still had things to pack.

“Get fucked, Sid.”

“Come on,” Sid said, clearly expecting a more grandiose response from him. “You keep saying that. But I’m willing to talk to you here. Tell me what happened.”

Jungkook glared at him through his peripherals. “What the fuck do you mean, what happened?”

“Well, you were acting so bold and confident before,” Sid said in a breathy voice, presumably to imitate Jungkook’s manner of speaking. “You were sure you’d get back together, no problem.”

“No,” Jungkook countered, straightening up. “I was sure we could go on a date, no problem. That was the extent of the bet for me.”

It was bad enough, he knew. But he couldn’t move forward if he didn’t own up to it.

“Aww.” Sid tilted his head sideways and pursed his lips to feign sympathy. “But you couldn’t even do that...”

“I fucking—okay,” Jungkook stopped when he felt his agitation grow. There was a voice in his head—very similar to yours—reminding him that Sid wasn’t worth it. “Get out. I’m serious.”

“Was that all talk?” Sid continued as if the younger boy hadn’t spoken. “Admit it, and maybe we’ll come to a different agreement about the bet.”

“Get,” Jungkook said, gritting his teeth, “out.”

Sid clicked his tongue, but the pleasure that this interaction brought him was prominent in his eyes. Antagonising Jungkook was his favourite part of the day.

“Predictable,” he said. “It seems I overestimated you, after all.”

“What the fuck are you on about now?”

“Well, you know,” Sid continued to spin his webs around Jungkook. “You and your manager. I thought you’d win the bet for sure.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jungkook asked, “yet you still agreed to it?”

Sid’s eye twitched slightly—Jungkook felt a great sense of satisfaction at the sight; it wasn’t often that Sid was forced to question his own logic, however momentarily—but he recovered too quickly.

“I like to gamble.” He shrugged. “What can I say?”

“You can shut up,” Jungkook suggested.

“However, you didn’t manage to do it,” Sid went on. “And I have to say, I am genuinely surprised. Not about you, no. I always knew you were pathetically in love with her, that’s just who you are. No offence, just the truth, really. But she’s just—I mean, come on.” He paused to laugh, one hand on his stomach as if he found himself so amusing that he needed to keep his guts from spilling out. “You fluttered your eyelashes at her once, and she went to Paris with you. She’s that fucking easy.”

Jungkook felt the room still as he lifted his gaze from Sid’s stomach to his eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Sid’s grin was about as wide as the distance from this venue to the nearest hospital, where Jungkook thought he was about to send him.

Sid pushed himself off the table he’d been leaning against and walked over to the rack of clothes next to the couch. Jungkook watched him, stiff and belligerent.

“I thought she was keeping you on a short leash. And don’t blame me. I mean, you always ran after her as soon as she called,” the older boy continued, laughing with a little shake of his head—as if in disbelief. He turned and leisurely strolled back towards Jungkook. “But she—I mean, I get the feeling she doesn’t like me very much, but even I could have taken her out if I wanted to. Honestly, man, I’m surprised you couldn’t do it. She’s that specific type—you know the one—where she’ll say yes to anyone if they just put in enough effort—”

Jungkook’s punch landed right on the side of Sid’s mouth, cutting him off.

Something in Sid’s neck cracked as the blunt force twisted his head to the side. The corner of his mouth was bleeding, but he still had an almost defiant look in his eyes when he turned back to Jungkook. The tips of his fingers were painted scarlet when he pulled them back from his lips.

“I fucking warned you,” Jungkook growled while Sid continued to stare at his hand. “Get your ass out of here right fucking now or I swear they’ll have to carry you out of here in a fucking box.”

Sid spat the blood from his mouth on the floor and glared at Jungkook.

“That the best you can do?” he challenged. “Huh? Maybe that’s why you couldn’t even get someone like her to—”

Jungkook raised his fist again, but Sid had already been anticipating it. He pushed Jungkook’s hand back with his forearm, knocking the younger boy off balance for a moment—it was then that he landed a punch on Jungkook’s left cheekbone.

A sharp pain surged through the side of his face, but Jungkook was wide awake and furious.

In less than a second, he noticed Sid swinging back again—Sid had always been strong but slow—and Jungkook blocked his blow with his left wrist and rammed his shoulder into Sid’s chest, pushing him into the wall and wrapping an arm around him. The older boy thrashed and squirmed with raging strength until he freed one of his hands.

Jungkook tried to pin Sid’s left arm against the wall—he was left-handed if barely even that—but, being the massive pile of unbelievably lucky crap that he was, Sid managed to use his right fist to reach the boy restraining him.

Sid’s unexpected southpaw caught Jungkook just as he was lowering his head to avoid the blow from the older boy’s dominant hand—and his right fist connected with the side of Jungkook’s head, between his eye and temple.

“You’re f-fucking embarrassing,” Sid snarled, bloodied and breathless, as Jungkook staggered backwards, dazed from the blow. “Weak fucking piece of sh-shit. Birds of fucking feather, you two—both fucking worthless and—”

Sid inhaled quickly before finishing his sentence—but then he ended up not even finishing his breath.

Aggravated and filled with raw adrenaline, Jungkook delivered a furious uppercut, his fist colliding solidly with Sid’s chin. The older boy was propelled backwards by the force—Jungkook heard the thud as his head hit the wall.

Already groaning, Sid was determined to fight back—never mind that the room was spinning—but Jungkook took advantage of the moment while Sid’s vision was still cloudy and pinned him against the wall with his full weight.

“I thought I told you to shut the fuck up,” he hissed, pressing his forearm against Sid’s neck.

Choking, Sid immediately grabbed Jungkook’s arm to push him off, but Jungkook had a clear strength and fury advantage. He did not budge as the older boy resisted him.

Sid knew this wasn’t a good look for him—he could feel that if Jungkook pushed his forearm into his neck any harder, he’d lift him off the ground. Unable to breathe, the older boy paled, but his eyes were black with rage.

“Face the fff-fuh-fucking facts. You’re weak,” Sid wheezed, livid. There was blood in his mouth and something else that rolled around his tongue when he spoke. “And she’s a f-fucking—”

“One more fucking word,” Jungkook warned, pressing his arm harder into Sid’s throat—the other boy couldn’t even look at him anymore, his head was pushed too far back, “and you’ll have to be fucking dissected to find out what the fuck happened to you.”

Sid gasped for breath but refused to stop speaking. “I—unf—f-fucking—”

“What the fuck—” a shrill, startled voice demanded from behind the two boys, “—is going on?!”

Jungkook jumped—Sid felt his arm shove deeper into his throat and let out a half-stifled cry—and turned to see Luna standing wide-eyed in the doorway of the changing room.

He tore himself away from Sid, who dropped his hands to his knees, panting and clutching his throat before straightening again as though nothing was wrong. But his attempt to inhale properly resulted in another violent coughing fit. He bent over to spit out some blood and something else.

The two boys watched as a tooth rolled into the revolting mixture of spit and blood on the floor. Sid looked appalled as he reached for his mouth again, almost prepared to count all his teeth to check if he’d really lost one or if spare teeth were just something he carried around in his mouth without realising.

“Do I have to ask again?!” Luna cried, too shocked to make sense of what she had the unfortunate luck of interrupting.

“It’s okay, Luna,” Jungkook said, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “Sid was just leaving.”

Sid glared at him, coughed again, and leaned in closer.

“All bark,” he hissed hoarsely. Jungkook could see the small gap next to Sid’s lower canine when he opened his mouth. “No bite.”

“Get fucked,” Jungkook said. “And pack your shit. Don’t come anywhere near me again or you’ll be eating through a fucking straw.”

He watched as Sid narrowed his eyes, fighting a battle within himself. Jungkook’s jaw was clenched, his fists ready to strike if he made another comment or exhibited any signs of even thinking about you.

Finally, Sid turned around and stormed out of the room. As soon as he walked down the corridor without so much as a glance at Luna, she went inside.

Still completely bewildered, she stopped abruptly in the middle of the room. The pool of blood was between her and Jungkook, and they both looked at it for a moment.

“What—” she began, then paused to suppress her disgust as she lifted her gaze from the floor to Jungkook. “What the hell happened here?”

He walked over to one of the cupboards by the window, searching for towels. He needed to clean this up or the venue would report the damages to you.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“You’re bleeding,” Luna said, stepping closer. Jungkook froze as she took one of the towels from him and reached up to his temple. “You’re bleeding so much, in fact, that you might need stitches.”

He shook his head—and then received a punch in the ribs from her. He yelped in surprise and learnt to stand still while she wiped the blood off.

“It’s fine,” he insisted. His temple throbbed with pain, but it still couldn’t compare to the sharp-edged emptiness that he’d felt all day.

“It’s not fine,” Luna said, pulling away. The towel was soaked with blood. Jungkook had to admit that he was surprised he was bleeding so much. Despite the sharpness of Sid’s fists, he had assumed that he’d been merely scratched. “Let me find—”

“No!” His eyes were wide in sudden panic. “Don’t—don’t bring her here. Actually, don’t tell her about the mess here at all. Please?”

Luna watched him for a moment, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion (was he serious?) and eyes bright with pity (what a shame to be so stupid).

“Jungkook,” she said patiently. “You’re going to have bruises all over your face. Probably even a black eye.”

He exhaled and looked down.

He knew he couldn’t keep this from you, but involving you now was the worst possible thing he could do. He was supposed to make things right.

“I know,” he said slowly, “but—I’m… I don’t want this to be another one of my messes that she has to clean up. That would definitely make her give up and go to Reconnaissance.”

Luna lowered her gaze, taking a moment to process the fact that Jungkook knew about the other band, but instead of the hysterics that everyone would have expected from him, he’d been rather composed all day today. Until he got into a fight with Sid, of course.

She tossed the towel onto the puddle of blood on the floor. She had no intention of cleaning it up herself, but she couldn’t stand to look at it.

“Well, have you considered not getting into this mess in the first place?” she asked then.

“Believe it or not, he started it,” Jungkook mumbled as he gathered more towels from the cupboard.

“Does that even matter now?”

Luna had to step back as he bent down to mop the floor. Some blood had already seeped into the wooden floorboards, but Jungkook scrubbed over the stain with the towel anyway.

“No,” he said, concentrating his irritation on the repetitive motions as he wiped the floor. “I guess not.”

“At least let me get some band-aids for you.” She looked around the room. There didn’t seem to be any first-aid kits here, but she had a few band-aids in her bag that she’d left in the waiting area outside. “Although I don’t know if that’s even enough.”

“It is enough,” Jungkook said. “I’m fine. He barely—barely touched me.”

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Luna turned to the door, muttering under her breath, “fucking boys.”

Jungkook couldn’t help a small smile.

“I heard that!” he shouted.

“I wanted you to!” she shouted back without turning around.

He chuckled, then winced at the sharp twinge in his temple. The adrenaline must have worn off, or the pain was getting stronger. He stopped scrubbing the floors, hoping to leave a message for the organisers and personally apologise for the mess later.

Then he crossed his legs on the ground and leaned his head against the wall. For just one second, he closed his eyes and rested.

He made a decision while he did.

He resolved to make sure that Sid wouldn’t come anywhere near him, Rated Riot, or you.

He finally realised that he had friends here—real friends. They had been here all along, the people who loved him. Hoseok, who took care of him when he was hungover. Yoongi, who tried to find help when he thought Jungkook was feeling a little too much. Taehyung, who didn’t leave even after Jungkook admitted how much he’d fucked up. And Luna, who looked about ready to physically beat some sense into him, but still stayed to help him with his wounds. Namjoon, Jimin, Seokjin, and Maggie, too—honestly, the entire team who laughed at his jokes, teased him and always supported him.

Although he was still worried about being alone with his thoughts, Jungkook knew he didn’t need Sid to fill the void. Now he wondered if Sid had always been the void he was trying to escape.

He was determined to prevent history from repeating itself. These people that he’d desperately wanted to call friends had already contributed significantly to your break-up once before, without him realising it.

Well, now he realised it. And he was going to fix it—all of it.

He could start by eliminating the reason why he kept making the same mistakes.

A minute later, Luna returned to the room. The sight of Jungkook sitting on the floor with his eyes closed made her look twice as she felt her heart drop in sudden anxiety.

She thought about turning around and looking for you, because you had a lot more patience to deal with this than she thought she did. But then, she knew that another argument was the last thing you or Jungkook needed right now.

She took a deep breath and approached him.

“Here,” she said as she grabbed another towel and squatted down next to him with the few band-aids that, frankly, seemed meagre when she saw the cuts and bruises on his face up close. “Let me help you.”

Jungkook had only briefly opened his eyes to look at her and then closed them again.

“Thank you,” he said as she wiped more blood from the side of his face before applying the band-aid. She didn’t mean to be gentle. She wanted him to understand how much he’d messed up. But her movements ended up being tentative and careful anyway.

“Don’t thank me,” she said, biting her lip as the blood immediately seeped through the band-aids. They would not hold; they both knew that. She sighed and pulled away from him. “She will see this. You will have to argue with her again. I can’t help you with that.”

He nodded his head once. “I know.”

Luna rose and walked over to the back of the room, considering this. She leaned her hip against the table and looked back at him.

“I don’t, um—okay. For what it’s worth,” she said, resting her hands on the table on either side of her. “I don’t think she’ll quit. Not even over this.”

“You really believe that?” Jungkook asked, opening his eyes. The hope in them was so bright that it was almost blinding.

Luna nodded. “She loves the band too much. Not even you can change that.”

He looked down. That would have to be good enough, he decided—just the fact that you would stay, even if it wasn’t for him. Even if it was despite him.

“I-I hope you’re right,” he said quietly.

“Okay, so now—” Luna jumped onto the table to take a seat, “—tell me what happened with Sid.”

Ordinarily, this would have been a long story. But Jungkook knew Taehyung might have made telling it a bit easier for him.

“Taehyung said you know about the bet?” he asked to be sure.

“Yeah. He told me back in Tilburg after he saw you leave with her to talk. Or, well, he assumed you would talk,” Luna explained. “In any case, you should be grateful that I know my strengths. Otherwise, I’d be punching you, too.”

Considering how much smaller than him Luna was, Jungkook smiled reflexively.

“I appreciate you not doing that,” he said with genuine respect.

“I’ve mentally kicked your ass, though.”

“Well, I deserve that, I guess.”

“So, this was about the bet, then?”

Jungkook sighed. He hadn’t technically allowed Sid to say any additional adjectives after he’d called you “easy,” but even this was too much. Jungkook wasn’t sure if he could talk about it without wanting to rip Sid’s eyes out and feed them to him.

“He was… just riling me up. He said some—some things,” he said, choosing a gentler word, even though several more appropriate expletives came to mind. “And he took it too far. Trust me, he deserved to get hit.”

“Oh, I trust you,” Luna said. “I just don’t think you should have been the one to hit him.”

Jungkook swallowed, feeling a metallic taste in his mouth. It didn’t bother him much. He’d tasted worse in the past few days.

“If I didn’t do it,” he said, “no one else would have.”

“Why are you so sure about that?” Luna asked, her voice less confident.

Most of what she knew about Jungkook and Sid came from questionable fan accounts she’d seen online—the stories she read were almost always outrageous, but now that she’d gotten to know Sid on this tour, she found those accounts much more plausible. Surely then, if Sid was this loathsome to everyone, someone was bound to deck him sooner or later.

“Everyone else is afraid of him,” Jungkook replied.

“And you’re not?” she asked.

The question felt mocking—even though it didn’t sound like that was Luna’s intention.

He thumped his head against the wall. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

The room was silent for a few minutes as Jungkook sat motionless, and Luna’s gaze kept wandering to the pile of towels on the bloodstained floor and then back to his resigned figure against the wall.

“Can I ask you something?” she said then.

His voice was tired. “Yeah.”

“Why did you make this bet in the first place?”

He inhaled, and a sharp, stabbing pain shot up from his lungs to his throat. It probably wasn’t a good sign, but he did not have the energy to worry about it at the moment.

He scratched the uninjured side of his face with his hand—his knuckles bruised and torn—and let his fingers linger there. It was a reflexive reaction, Luna observed, as he tried to hide from her. Or, rather, from her question.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “Sid and Jude were getting in my head about how I was like some—I don’t know, pathetic. They made me feel like I was less of a person because I still had feelings for her.”

“Less of a person,” Luna said, “or less of an asshole that they seem to be trying—and succeeding—to be?”

Jungkook sighed, allowing the pins and needles to settle in his oesophagus. He wanted to say something but swallowed the answer with the bitter taste in his mouth.

“So, you made the bet to prove them wrong?” she asked in response to his silence.

“I—I don’t know,” he said again. He sometimes felt like he was a different person when he was with his friends. And now that he was determined to never see Sid again—but the repercussions of their friendship were still evident—Jungkook didn’t know who he really was anymore. “I think, at first, I agreed to the bet to prove a point.”

Luna raised her eyebrows. “But there was another reason?”

“Yeah, I think that… there was something else,” he said with a slow nod. “I realised later that I might have agreed to the bet because I wanted to win it. Not—not for the money, and not just to prove that I wasn’t pathetic. I just really—I wanted to go on that date with her. I wanted her. And the bet was—it was a kick in my ass to finally act on my feelings.”

Luna’s eyebrows suddenly dropped in disappointment and she turned away to hide her expression, even though Jungkook was too weary to lift his head and look up.

“There were better ways to act on them, you know,” she said. “Less painful ways, too.”

“Oh, I know,” he said with a wry smile. “Unfortunately, I’m fucked up.”

“You… you’re not fucked up,” she said, although to be honest, after learning about the bet, she thought he might be. But now that she saw how much his choices tormented him, she realised that he wasn’t all black and white. He was very, very grey. “You just did a fucked-up thing.”

Jungkook snickered weakly. “That’s nice of you to say. But I was always… I’d always been a problem.”

“Because of your friends?”

“Yeah—well, mostly, yeah. B-but she—” he paused here as another jolt of pain shot through his chest at the mention of you. He filled his lungs completely with another sharp intake of breath, then tried again. “She still—she still loved me. You know? I used to look at my friends and think I had nothing compared to them. But then I met her, and I—I had everything. I didn’t deserve her, but I—she was with me. She wanted to be with me. And she was the one good thing in my life. And I took that for granted. And now that I—now that we… anyway. I blew it. Now I really have nothing. Serves me right, I know. I just wish she wasn’t—I wish I hadn’t hurt her.”

Luna closed her eyes and sighed in response to the endless additions that Jungkook could not seem to control as he spoke.

She felt a little upset, she couldn’t help it. But she also felt a little giddy. She’d never heard Jungkook say these things about you, but she’d suspected that was how he felt all along.

However, she wasn’t one to make empty promises, especially when those promises were not within her control, so she could not say things like ‘you two will be fine’ or ‘you didn’t blow it.’

Honestly, she couldn’t find an appropriate response no matter how much she tried, so for a good minute, the two of them sat in silence.

Then, Jungkook finally raised his eyes from the ground. “Why’d you come here, by the way? I thought everyone was on the bus.”

Luna blinked, remembering suddenly.

“I left my phone here after the show,” she said, instinctively checking her pockets to make sure she really did not have it.

“Oh.” He pointed to the opposite side of the room. “I think I heard it vibrate. On the couch.”

“Ah.” She pushed herself off the table. “Thanks.”

He watched through his eyelashes as she picked up her phone. One of his eyelids was dropping and he was afraid to blink.

When Luna glanced at the screen—and probably saw the missed call from Taehyung—Jungkook said, “you should go.”

She turned around and took in the scene in the room once more.

It was miserable here. Jungkook looked miserable.

“I’m sorry I can’t say anything encouraging,” she said, biting her lip. “She’s my friend. And you’ve done a—well, this isn’t good.”

Jungkook nodded and swallowed, but it didn’t soothe his dry throat. “I know.”

“I’d like to help, but I—I’m always going to be on her side.”

“Of course. I understand.”

Luna sighed, because he had claimed he understood, but still looked as if happiness was a concept he’d never experienced in his life.

“I just—I don’t know what to tell you before I go,” she admitted. She knew she didn’t owe him anything, but leaving him here in this state didn’t feel right, either. She had always been compassionate, but the intensity of it surprised her this time. “I don’t know what she’ll do. A-about you, I mean. Not about Reconnaissance.”

Jungkook considered this. The side of his head felt torn and cracked. The poor band-aids were already dark red.

“What would you do?” he asked.

Luna raised her eyebrows at the abrupt question. “Me?”

“If you were her,” Jungkook explained. “Or if I were Taehyung.”

She licked her lips, taking a moment to choose her next words.

“Jungkook,” she said. “No offence, but Taehyung would never do something so stupid.”

A defeated, humourless smile appeared on his lips. “Yeah. You’re right. He wouldn’t.”

As soon as the tiniest glimmer of hope in his eyes dimmed, his voice sounded as if it was coming from somewhere underground.

God, Luna thought. Now the room was even more dreary.

Even though she was going to support whatever decision you would make about this, she couldn’t just leave without saying anything to him. Having no one on his side while he tried to redeem himself was unfair.

Advice, she figured, had to be the best thing she could offer him right now.

“Listen,” she said with a determined inhale. “I can’t judge what I would do if I were her because I don’t share her memories. I don’t know what happened between you all those years ago. Or even what’s happening now. But… if I were you, I’d give her some time.”

Jungkook nodded, looking at her with what he hoped was a grateful smile.

“Interestingly enough, that’s what your boyfriend told me,” he said.

“Yeah? Well, he gives great advice.”

The corners of his lips stretched further. “Matching set, you two.”

Luna slid her phone into her pocket and grabbed her bag, zipping up the pocket where she had kept the band-aids.

“Just be careful, okay?” she said. “We’re leaving for the airport soon, so don’t stay here too long. Don’t make her look for you. I’ll, um—I’ll try to do damage control.”

“Okay. Thank—”

Before Jungkook could finish, the door of the changing room opened wider, diverting their attention.

They both turned to look with very different expressions on their faces—Luna was already scowling, thinking that Sid had come back. Jungkook, on the other hand, appeared absolutely terrified, thinking that it was you, about to witness him sitting on the bloody floor—literally—with band-aids on his face.

“Oh,” a gasp left Minjun’s lips as he stopped in the doorway. “Sorry, I was—”

“It’s fine,” Jungkook said, immensely relieved. “You can come in.”

“Hold on,” Luna warned. Minjun remained frozen under her gaze. “Will I have to intervene? Because I think we’ve spilt enough blood already.”

Minjun raised his eyebrows. “Whose blood?”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Jungkook said to the girl. “Thank you, Luna.”

She watched the two of them for another minute until Jungkook nodded reassuringly again. Hesitantly, she nodded back and gave Minjun a pointed look.

“Okay. But you watch your hands,” she warned. “He has to be on stage tomorrow.”

“I—I mean no harm.�� Minjun raised both hands, taken aback by her hostility. “I don’t know what happened here, but I’m—I come in peace.”

“Good,” Luna said with a firm nod. She glanced back over her shoulder at Jungkook. “I’ll see you later. Put some ice on your eye when you get back on the bus. It won’t do much for the colour, but it might help with the swelling.”

“Will do,” he said and called out as she exited the room, “thank you again!”

After Luna had left, Minjun entered the room and closed the door behind him. Only then he noticed the bloody towels and the dirty floor. Squinting, he leant forward a little and detected something else between the towels.

“So,” he said, straightening. “What the fuck happened and whose tooth is that on the floor?”

Jungkook snorted. “Sid’s.”

Minjun’s face lit up with childlike glee. “No fucking way! Did you do it?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said with a grin that made him look vaguely menacing, considering how bruised and battered his face was.

“Awesome, man,” Minjun said, coming closer to pat him on the back before squatting next to him.

“He deserved it.”

“I don’t even care, to be honest. I’m impressed.”

“Yeah. Well.” Jungkook lifted a hand to gesture at his own face. “He’s landed some good ones, too.”

Minjun observed his bruises and the bloody band-aids that seemed quite small for a normal cut, but remained remarkably resilient on his fresh wounds.

“You’ll live,” he concluded.

Jungkook turned to him. A little awkwardly, he asked, “why, um… why are you here?”

“Ah.” Minjun reached into his pocket for something. “Here.”

Jungkook immediately recognised the keys to his Katana in his friend’s palm.

Speechless for a minute, he just stared at Minjun’s hand without moving. He had a feeling—against his better judgement—that this was a trap. That by taking the keys, he’d sign something else to the devil.

“What—?” he tried to ask.

“Take it,” Minjun urged, wishing to relieve himself of the unwanted weight of the keys in his hand.

“But the bet—”

“Fuck the bet,” he said, waving his palm up and down when Jungkook still didn’t reach for it. “It went too far.”

“Sid,” Jungkook began, hesitation and doubt evident in every centimetre of his face, “didn’t agree to this.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure Sid’s mother didn’t agree to give birth to a fucking clown, but shit happens,” Minjun countered. “Take the damn keys.”

Jungkook finally extended his shaking hand and felt the familiar cold metal under his fingertips. He paused before pulling back with the keys.

The Katana was his. But instead of relief, he felt a new weight in his chest.

“Why?” he asked, looking down at the key ring, adorned with a gaudy, jewelled pendant with the initials “JK.” It was a trinket you had bought him during a drunken escapade at a local fair. He still remembered your delighted squeal when you spotted the two letters in one of the jewellery stands.

“Because this is stupid and pointless,” Minjun said. His legs had gone numb, so he mirrored Jungkook’s position and sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. “Some fucking bet is not worth ruining your relationship over.”

With a small smile on his face—because they were two miserable losers, hanging out on the floor of his band’s changing room—Jungkook clutched the keys and pushed them into his own pocket.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it earlier,” Minjun said. “I was afraid, I guess. Of what Sid would do if I went against his wishes. But then I… came to pick you up from that hotel bar in Tilburg—”

“That was you?” Jungkook cut him off. He had been wondering how he ended up back on the tour bus.

“Yeah,” Minjun replied. “You called me and asked to take the bike back to the rental shop because you couldn’t do it anymore. Man, I swear, I thought you were on some bridge, the way you phrased it.”

Jungkook looked away. He was not in a good place when he called his friend, and alcohol must have exaggerated it. “Sorry.”

“You still looked worse than I expected when I got there,” Minjun continued. “I thought I might have to take you to a hospital to have your stomach pumped, and I don’t fucking speak Dutch. Nor did I know where a fucking hospital was in Tilburg.”

Jungkook laughed at his rising tone, and Minjun smiled, too.

The smile turned ironic, however, when he added, “you threw up on my shoes.”

Jungkook, who never got drunk enough to experience a hangover the next day, let alone throw up, raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I don’t remember that,” he said, meaning that it didn’t happen.

Minjun ignored the dismissive tone in his voice—he had a ruined pair of Converse to prove his accusation.

“Lucky you then,” he retorted. “You regained some colour after that, though. But you wouldn’t stop talking about her. It was like—like you couldn’t understand anything of what was happening, but you could still remember her. It hit me then, how little the bet really mattered. I mean, I always thought it was stupid, but that night, I—I saw what you were feeling. You regretted everything. I wanted to give you the keys right then, but you looked like you couldn’t recognise yourself in the mirror, so I just dropped you off on the bus. One of your—Hoseok was awake. He thanked me.”

Jungkook needed a minute to reflect on the conversation he’d had with Hoseok later that same morning.

“He didn’t tell me,” he said.

Minjun shrugged. “He had nothing to thank me for, anyway. I’m your friend. Sorry I didn’t act like it before.”

This was the first time that one of his friends had apologised to him, and Jungkook recognised the significance of the moment. He realised with blinding clarity that out of the three people he had invited as his personal guests on this tour, there was only one he truly wanted to stay here.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, a little overwhelmed. “I’m—thanks for doing this now.”

Minjun nodded and the two of them shared a moment of comfortable silence. But Jungkook couldn’t quiet his thoughts—Sid wasn’t here, but he still couldn’t shake his presence.

“There was something that Sid said to me today,” he spoke up. “I-I think he likes her.”

“What?” Minjun was surprised. He glanced back at the tooth on the floor in front of him. “What’d he say?”

“He—just some shit.” Jungkook looked down and pulled on a loose thread on his sweatpants. “About how he could have convinced her to date him.”

Minjun blinked in another wave of surprise. He had a very different understanding of what Sid felt for you and Jungkook, but now he was confused.

“He’s just trying to get under your skin,” he tried to rationalise.

“No, but think about it,” Jungkook said. “Why else would he go to such great lengths to persuade me to participate in this bet? To force me to continue it after I’d clearly won?”

Again, Minjun needed a minute to find a response.

Jungkook clicked his tongue and looked away. “See, you can’t disagree.”

“I mean…” Minjun bit the corner of his lower lip. “I guess it makes sense, but—”

“I know that she wouldn’t consider him in a million years,” Jungkook added. “I’m not even thinking about that, I’m just… wow. How fucking stupid. He ruined this for himself and for me.”

His friend sighed. He didn’t want to keep talking about this. “Yeah.”

“And I let him,” Jungkook finished.

“Yeah,” Minjun repeated. “He deserved getting his tooth knocked out. And you deserve the swollen eye.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and puckered his lips. He wasn’t going to disagree, and Minjun smiled in relief when he saw the humour in his friend’s eyes.

This had to happen, Minjun thought. Jungkook wouldn’t have been able to move on if he had not found another way to prove that his own self—and his relationship with you—was the one thing he would never lose, no matter how hard Sid tried.

“What, um,” Jungkook asked after a minute, “what are you going to do when Sid asks about the keys after the bet is over?”

Minjun, feeling much more relaxed, merely shrugged. “Knock another one of his teeth out?”

Jungkook laughed and smacked his friend on the shoulder, despite the pain in his head when he moved.

“Oh, come on,” Minjun said, grinning. “He still has, like, fifteen left.”

“I’m sure he has more left. Implants or not.”

“Now, see, implants are harder to knock out. We’d have to meet and discuss the logistics of that. Perhaps attack in secret.”

Jungkook laughed again, and Minjun joined in, too.

They both felt significantly better.

However, Jungkook still had a lot of things to take care of as soon as he got up from the floor.

He should have told you about the bet earlier, but he hadn’t. All he could do now was make amends for a lapse in judgement with terrible consequences.

No.

There would be no consequences. He would make sure to never hurt you again.

And he’d begin by following through with his plan.

Jungkook asked Minjun to give him some time alone and found his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants. He dialled Seokjin’s number, and Seokjin referred him to the Head of Security on tour, Mick.

Mick was lovely. He fostered pets and looked after injured animals in his cabin on the edge of the forest, where he lived with his three dogs. Jungkook had visited him once and felt very much like he imagined Harry Potter to feel when he saw Hagrid’s hut for the first time.

Mick was also three times larger than Jungkook. His primary responsibility on tour was preventing intoxicated individuals from climbing onto the stage and ensuring trespassers did not decide to have an excursion on the band’s tour bus.

Now, Jungkook decided as he spelled Sid’s name to Mick over the phone, Mick was going to make sure that Isidore Hamlet Mercer-Hastings—a name that likely had Shakespeare himself rolling in his grave—could not enter any venue where Rated Riot was scheduled to perform.

It wasn’t quite as dramatic as a restraining order, Jungkook supposed. But blacklisting Sid from his gigs seemed like a good start.

Half an hour later, Jungkook had barricaded himself behind the curtains in his bunk. He was fully awake but he didn’t want you to see what he looked like.

Naturally, you had assumed he was sleeping and had no reason to talk to him anyway, so you kept yourself busy with an e-book in your bunk as the bus made its way to the airport.

Then, most unfortunately, your relative peace was disturbed when you received a text message from Nick Zhou. It was as if he could sense the terrible turmoil in your mind and your heart, and he wanted to add more fuel to the fire.

Things like that happened sometimes, you thought. Coincidences—unless you decided to treat them as signs.

Nick had sent you a picture of the perfectly green palm trees visible through a window. You zoomed in and assumed that he had taken the picture somewhere in Australia, where Reconnaissance were currently on tour.

In the text below, Nick said, “new album in progress. Would be nice to have you with us when we put it out!”

Anxious suddenly, you considered putting your phone away and just carrying on with your e-book. But your uncertainty was relentless—maybe if you replied to him, you’d gain a clearer understanding of what you should do.

You typed back, “hope you’re having fun! I’m still thinking about it.”

Then you exhaled and tossed your phone to the farthest corner of your bunk so as not to be bothered in case it vibrated again. Texting him back didn’t work. You felt just as tense as before.

You exhaled and attempted to keep reading, but silence was simply not meant for you today.

With the flight to Manchester only five hours away, Luna decided it was a good time to discuss with you what had happened in the changing room.

“Hey,” she whispered as she crept up to your bunk, moving stealthily and quietly as if she were a secret agent on a mission.

You looked up at her from your screen. “Hi.”

She wanted to talk to you, but now that she was doing it—or getting to it—she didn’t quite know how to proceed; or even where to begin, actually.

“So, um,” she said, sitting down on your bunk and taking her time to find a comfortable position. You put your tablet away and watched her. “I wanted to check up on you a little.”

You smirked. “Yeah? But not a lot?”

“Not yet.” She smiled at your teasing question. “You’re not critical, but I do think I have some cause for concern.”

You pulled yourself up and pushed a pillow behind your back to sit straighter. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, you and Jungkook seem to be avoiding each other.”

You regarded her for a minute until you reached the inevitable conclusion—you suspected it yesterday, and now Luna’s knowing gaze fully convinced you that it was true.

“You know about the bet,” you said.

Luna looked around. No one on the bus appeared to be listening. Nearly everyone that she could see either had headphones on, or had their curtains drawn.

She glanced back at you and settled her gaze on the corner of your dark brown blanket.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I found out about it at the same time as you, more or less. Jungkook had, um—he’d talked to Taehyung before he told you.”

“Ah,” you said. “Well, that’s—I’m glad we all know, then.”

Luna noted the imperceptible look in your eyes. She wasn’t sure if you’d meant what you said.

Really, you weren’t sure, either. On the one hand, you were relieved that you wouldn’t have to retell what had happened to your friend. You weren’t sure you’d manage.

But on the other hand, the fact that other people knew about the bet did not feel particularly comforting—because this was one of the situations that you’d been desperate to avoid: your relationship with Jungkook getting so out of hand that the people around you began to talk about it.

However, you had been thinking a lot in the last few days and you realised that learning about the bet had helped you find some relief, too.

There was something bothering you for weeks now, something that was off in your surroundings, and now you finally knew what it was. It felt like a crooked picture frame on the wall. Like a non-alphabetical arrangement of books on a shelf. Like a bet about your relationship.

And now that you knew, the world had realigned again. You would have been able to breathe easier if you weren’t so embarrassed that other members of your team also knew about it.

“Well, aside from that,” Luna went on, keeping a careful eye on any changes in your expression. “I talked to Jungkook today. And I’m not defending him—”

“If you say ‘but’ next,” you interrupted, “that will negate your point, you know.”

“However,” Luna said instead and you rolled your eyes. “I think the bet is only half the picture. I mean, it’s shit. He fucked up. But I think that he’s been with you because he really wanted to be. Not because of the bet.”

If you had shaken your head any more vigorously, it might have flown off. Luna was slightly annoyed by your adamant rejection of everything she was saying—which made it easier for her to tell you the news.

“He fought Sid,” she said.

You frowned. “So?”

“Knocked his tooth out, I think.”

Your frown turned into shock as your eyebrows shot up nearly all the way to your hairline. When Luna said that they fought, you obviously did not expect it to be a physical altercation.

“They fought?”  you repeated.

“Yeah. Because Sid can’t keep his mouth shut,” she said. “Jungkook loathes the guy. I don’t know what sort of friendship they had before, but there’s none of that left. If I hadn’t walked in, I don’t know—I mean, he—he hates him.” Luna swallowed here, figuring that additional details might make it harder for her to make her point. “But more than that, it looked to me like Jungkook just hates himself. Now, what you want to do next, that’s up to you. I just wanted to tell you what I thought. I talked to him. He was miserable.”

“Well.” You swallowed. “He lost the bet.”

“Not about the bet. He has feelings for you. Real feelings.”

“How—”

“Don’t ask me how I know that,” she cut you off before you could ask exactly that. “These things you can just see. And it’s especially obvious in him. Because, look… Here are the facts. He had the option to keep the bet a secret from you. Or he could have gotten back together with you and won the bet. If not, he could have waited for this to pass, or until his friends told you. But he was the one who told you that he fucked up. That’s got to count for something. It’s okay if it’s not enough. But it—well, it sort of feels like a start. Because he finally got it through his thick head that this is what matters. You. He loves you.”

Your skin shivered—an automatic reaction to these words—but you scoffed. “And knocking out Sid’s tooth is a way to show it.”

Luna groaned and was about to protest, but you stopped her by shaking your head again.

“Luna—I mean—thank you, but… this is the same shit again,” you said. “The exact same shit that made us break up the first time. Except now, there’s so much more at stake. It’s no longer just about us.”

“Is it?” she asked. “Is it, really? I mean, I understand why you would think that, considering your—uh, your job. But it’s… Really, it’s just you. The two of you. As it’s always been.”

You sighed and pulled the sleeves of your turtleneck down until you could hide your fists in them. You kept your gaze on the blanket beneath you—undoubtedly disagreeing with her again—and Luna let out a soft, tired breath.

“I’m—whatever you do next, I’ll be on your side,” she said. “If you walk away, I walk away. It’s simple. I just think it’d do you two good to talk this out. When you’re ready. So that you would know what you’re walking away from.”

You were starting to shake your head again, but stopped abruptly, realising the futility of it. You weren’t actually disagreeing with Luna’s point, after all.

“It would be good,” you said. “But I don’t want to talk to him about this. This was a mistake from the very beginning.”

“So… what, then?” she asked, worried about the burden of even more unresolved feelings that you would have to carry around every day if you allowed this to linger. If this became another thing that you never talked to anyone about. “You think you can just go back to the way things were?”

“No,” you said. “Because I’m still very annoyed. But after that, then yeah. Ideally.”

Luna tried to conceal her skepticism, but it was evident in the way she sucked in her lips and nodded her head. “Okay.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for the optimism?”

She sighed and turned to face you again.

“I get it,” she said. “I understand why you don’t want to see him right now. But I also… kind of understand why he did what he did.”

Your eyebrows rose again. “Why he made the bet?”

“No,” she said, raising her index finger and closing her eyes to emphasise her point. “Not that. That I don’t understand. I meant the fight with Sid. Sid is a big reason why you’re in this situation and Jungkook had no other choice left. He got into that fight because he’s shit at choosing friends, but he loves you.”

You ran your tongue over your lips and looked back down at your blanket. “I don’t know which one of those things outweighs the other one.”

“Yeah, well, think about that,” she said. “Then talk to him.”

You were both aware that giving this advice was much easier than actually following it, and a silent minute passed without either of you looking at each other as you pondered the future.

“Nick texted me,” you said suddenly. You hadn’t realised how much his message weighed on you until you told her. “Just to check in. And, uh, to remind me of his—his offer.”

Luna did not like this, and she was glad you weren’t looking at her and didn’t see the expression on her face.

“What did you tell him?” she asked.

“I told him I’m still thinking about it.”

You felt Luna shifting her weight and fidgeting on the bunk next to you. She was uncomfortable, you could tell.

“You’re, uh… you’re really thinking about this, then?” she asked.

You threw your head back and rested it on the pillow. “I’m thinking about a lot these days.”

“Well, that’s—that’s good. Right?” she said, quietly hoping that your contemplations would eventually lead you to a decision that would cause you less suffering. She didn’t think leaving Rated Riot was that decision. You had made a family here. “Take your time with these things. Really think them through. Avoid everyone for a short while if that’s what you need.”

“Hmm. How can I avoid everyone, though?” you asked dryly. “If Jungkook got into a fight, I need to see him.”

“Ah.” Luna finally looked at you, feeling guilty somehow, as if she was the one who had punched him. “Yeah, that’s probably true. He, um—it’s not a disaster, but he did miss a couple of, uh—”

“Is he bleeding?” you asked, appreciating her effort to convey the situation without causing you alarm, but also without downplaying it.

“Well, not anymore,” she said. “At least, he wasn’t the last time I saw him. There is a, um—a black eye situation, though.”

You groaned and dropped your hands on the mattress in irritation.

“Fuck—you see? He’s doing it again. Leaving me no choice but to—oh, fuck it.” You slapped your hands on your knees and sat up straight. “He’ll have to wait until we arrive at the airport. I’m done jumping at the slightest sound he makes, manager or not.”

“I agree with that,” Luna said. “But I see that you don’t really mean it.”

You closed your eyes. “I have to mean it. I know it’s my job, and I know Jungkook never forced me into anything I didn’t consent to, but he just—this whole time, he acted like he was genuine when he was just doing what he always does. Playing along with Sid’s sick little games. Maybe he deserves to bleed a little for that.”

Luna was about to argue, but only nodded. She was very glad you were talking about this, even though you had dismissed everything she’d told you about Jungkook’s feelings.

She knew that you needed more time. You’d heard her. You just had to be in the right frame of mind to believe her.

She knew you’d get there, just as she knew Jungkook was not going to give up on you.

“Yeah,” Luna finally said. “He can wait. Do you... want to talk about it? About what he did?”

You looked murderous. “Absolutely not.”

She expected as much.

“Well, in that case,” she pulled her phone out, “you want to see something that Crowley did to my mum’s curtains? She took a video to show me.”

Your tension seemed to fade straight away. Luna’s troublemaker cat—named aptly after a Supernatural character with a redemption arc that Crowley, the cat, could only dream about—had never failed to ease your mind.

You needed some time alone. And you were very happy to be alone with her as she stretched out on the mattress next to you and played the video on her phone.

You caught glimpses of Jungkook and his heavy sunglasses on the way to your gate at the airport, but you didn’t have the time to check how bad he looked. The other Rated Riot members had already smacked him on the back of his head after they saw his band-aids, so you decided to wait until you could talk to him in private.

About an hour later, you spotted him going to the men’s room. You waited a few minutes and stood up, too.

The restroom was empty except for the two of you, and you quietly placed your carry-on bag on the ground next to the door. Jungkook hadn’t even noticed you enter.

“There you are,” you announced from the doorway.

Jungkook flinched and splashed himself as he washed his hands in front of the wall-sized mirror.

“You were—were you looking for me?” he asked. The automatic sink stopped and he moved his hands back under the faucet to get the water running again.

“I’ve been informed you have a black eye,” you said, coming closer. “I wanted to check the damage myself.”

The side of his face that was visible to you showed no signs of injury, but when you looked at his reflection in the mirror, you saw the red and purple bruises on the side of his face, concealed by a few persistent band-aids.

Jungkook swallowed and shook his hands several times to dry them. Then, he stepped back, allowing you to examine him. “Well, here I am.”

“Here you are,” you repeated. His gaze remained fixed on yours as you scanned his features. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“Not really,” he said. “Want to tell me if you’re leaving to work with Reconnaissance?”

“Not really.”

He pursed his lips. “Well, then. Can I ask—”

“No,” you said immediately. He stopped speaking and clenched his jaw.

You were contemplating if you should have taken him to the hospital before the flight. You were also thinking about what to do with his bruises tomorrow since he had a performance, and appearing on stage with a black eye did not seem particularly professional.

“Does it hurt?” you asked. “These band-aids—did you change them?”

“No,” he said. It wasn’t clear which question he was responding to, but his answer seemed to fit both.

“You need to change them,” you said. “And clean the wounds properly.”

“I’m not going to a hospital.”

You sighed. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not that bad,” he said.

You looked back at the band-aids on the side of his face. They remained on his skin through the sheer force of will. Cuts and bruises peeked from underneath the dried blood.

“It looks bad with band-aids on,” you said. “I can only imagine what it looks like without.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “Luna said so.”

You knew right away that this was impossible; Luna would have known better.

“She said no such thing,” you replied.

“Okay, maybe she didn’t,” he conceded with a quiet groan. “But I’m still not going to the hospital.”

The irony of the moment—and how you’d insisted that you were okay a few days ago, just like he was doing now—was completely lost on you. You felt exhausted.

“Why…” you started to say, then sighed as you brought your fingers over your closed eyes. “Why are you making me do this?”

“Do what?”

“Clean your self-destructive wounds.”

“They’re not self-destructive—”

“Really?” Your eyes shot open, ablaze with agitation. “So, getting punched by Sid was, what? A fight for dominance that you’d planned in advance?”

He cleared his throat with indignation and continued his previous statement, “and I’m not making you clean my wounds. I’m fine.”

“Sit down,” you said, turning to grab your carry-on bag. “You’re not fine.”

Awkwardly swaying in the same spot, Jungkook looked around. “Where do you want me to sit? We’re in a public bathroom.”

“Jesus, Jungkook!” you groaned irritably. You were too tired to think of every little detail, every action, and reaction. You just wanted to take a nap on the plane. “I don’t care. Sit on the floor. Or on the toilet.”

“Neither seems sterile…”

“Good thing you didn’t get punched in the ass, then.”

He huffed but still went into one of the cubicles, lowered the toilet lid with a scrunched nose and sat down on it.

He leaned over to hold the door open with his hand until you entered a few minutes later. Before either of you could grasp how small the space was now that you were in the closed cubicle, you took out the antiseptic spray from your amateur medical kit and grabbed a cotton pad. By that point, Jungkook was too worried about what you’d do to think about how close you were.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked.

Concerned, he watched you pull a blue latex glove on one of your hands and spray the antiseptic into the air, aiming it at the floor to test it.

“No,” you admitted, taking a step towards him and stopping between his legs. With your gloved hand, you carefully peeled off the heavy band-aids from his face and tossed them into an empty plastic bag you’d brought for this specific purpose. “But neither did you when you picked a fight with Sid, so I think we’re even.”

He grimaced as the exposed lacerations on his skin immediately began to sting. “W-what makes you think I was the one who started that fight?”

“The fact that you won’t tell me what it was about,” you replied, bending your knees slightly to inspect his face. You were willing to help him look after his wounds, but changing the bandages was as far as you’d go—if he needed stitches, you’d drag him to the nearest emergency room.

“You know what it was about,” he mumbled, staring at the floor.

“I don’t.”

He didn’t want to say it. You knew he didn’t want to say it—that was why you were making him do it.

“It started about the bet,” he admitted finally. “But then he… said some things I didn’t like. Not that I liked what he said about the bet, either. But I got myself into that mess, so I—”

“What did he say?” you asked, interrupting his diversion.

You covered his left eye with a cotton pad to protect it, shook the bottle of antiseptic a few times, and sprayed it on the exposed wounds.

Jungkook winced as he felt the stinging pain grow sharper. He clutched the lid of the toilet seat, forgetting all about how he’d avoided touching it before.

“Just… some bullshit about you,” he said through clenched teeth.

Surprised, you pulled back to look at him. “He said something about me?”

“Yeah. So I socked him in the cheek.”

You watched him for a quiet minute.

Honestly, if Sid had said something about you, you probably would have punched him yourself if Jungkook hadn’t. But the way Jungkook phrased this—and this whole situation, in general—was so ridiculous that you had to bite the inside of your cheek to maintain a straight face.

“In the mouth,” you corrected. “Or so I hear.”

Jungkook couldn’t subdue the smile on his lips at the amusement that you tried very hard to hide. So, you knew about Sid’s tooth then.

“That was after he wouldn’t stop talking,” he said.

“Ah. Well,” you returned to work and gently patted his cheek with the cotton pad to remove the excess antiseptic, “I appreciate you defending my honour.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

You scoffed. “What do you want me to do? Jump on your white horse and ride off into the sunset with you?”

The light-hearted tone of your voice suddenly amplified your close proximity—he felt his legs tremble slightly as you stood between them to reach his face better. He wanted to reach out and wrap himself around you, to thank you, and to apologise again.

Instead, he cleared his throat and lowered his gaze.

“Well, that’d be nice,” he muttered. Then, added louder, “or, at the very least, you could stop burning me.”

“I’m disinfecting,” you said as you leaned in again, checking if the spray had absorbed into his bruises yet. His breath caught in his throat. You added, “I think.”

Jungkook didn’t think he’d ever felt a longing so intense that it could overshadow all physical pain.

“You think,” he repeated breathlessly. “Th—that’s reassuring.”

“It’s what my mum used to use when my brother and I would get cuts or scratches, and things like that,” you explained defensively. “Of course, this is hardly a scratch in your case, but I have nothing better to offer.”

He didn’t mean to come across as accusatory. He didn’t know what he was saying at all. You still smelled like apples. He was afraid he would pass out.

“This is fine,” he said.

He knew that you were already doing more than your job description entailed and your personal relationship permitted, and he was grateful for it. He hadn’t meant to cause you any additional problems, and he wanted to inform you of the steps he’d taken to fix the ones he’d already caused.

He waited until you had finished searching through your medical kit before speaking again.

“I, um—I banned Sid from Rated Riot shows,” he said.

You turned to look at him so quickly that a tired muscle in your neck spasmed in protest. “What?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Mick will take care of it if he shows up.”

“Mick—you banned Sid?”

“I banned Sid,” he repeated slowly, giving you a minute to process the news. “It’s done. I don’t—I never should have brought him to Europe with me.”

You straightened and attempted to compose yourself, but your mind was suddenly bombarding you with question marks and software errors every time you tried to form a coherent thought.

“Well, that’s—that’s right,” you finally said, clearing your throat. “And it’s about time you realised that.”

You didn’t know what else to say. Congratulating him right now, considering the repercussions of his last confrontation with Sid, seemed in poor taste.

Not to mention, you were a little confounded. After your last argument outside the bus, you’d expected a lot of drunk nights and a lot of new mayhem that you would have to put back in order. You weren’t expecting mature decisions.

Jungkook didn’t notice the utter shock in your voice, however, because his pulse tried to deafen him with a dreadful paranoia, telling him that this was too little and too late.

Notenough-notenough-notenough, the beat of his heart echoed in his ears.

“I know,” Jungkook said, louder than he’d intended. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

You pulled out a new cotton pad and mumbled something under your breath.

Jungkook gazed up at you as you hovered over him with your medical kit. “Can I—can I ask you something, though?”

You gently wiped the side of his temple where the antiseptic had dripped, all while trying to calm down the chaos in your mind. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Reconnaissance?”

There was a long pause as you returned to your kit—more for the purpose of giving yourself some time to think rather than out of necessity.

“I don’t know,” you finally said. “I wasn’t seriously considering it, and it never came up in a casual conversation.”

“We spent three days in Amsterdam, just the two of us,” he said. “How could it not come up?”

You gave him a look. “Really? You think you can ask me that when you knew—and participated—in the bet for weeks before telling me about it?”

Jungkook looked down. “It wasn’t weeks...”

“Well, fantastic.”

Unsettled by your sarcasm, he added, “and I told you, eventually.”

“No, I actually guessed it before you told me,” you said with one hand on your hip as you gazed at the restroom wall behind him, deep in thought. “I told you that you were only acting like that because of some external force. And you really were doing it to win a—”

“No.” He shook his head so fiercely that you almost worried he’d injure himself more. “The bet gave me a push. But I wanted you all along, and—”

“No,” you disagreed, turning away to throw the used cotton pads into the plastic bag. “You—just—just don’t.”

He already knew that this would be the wrong thing to say before he even said it. He simply couldn’t control himself—but he tried to now.

“I’m just—I’m trying to say that this hurt me, too,” he said slowly. “You’re—you might leave to work with a different band. A-and I was the only one who didn’t know about that.”

“I—”

“I know,” he continued louder, “that this is not the same as what I did. It’s not even close. But I still—I feel like this should have been something you talked to me about.”

You sighed and grabbed a glass bottle of iodine-based ointment from your bag. “It probably was.”

“Are you really considering it?” he asked. “Leaving, I mean.”

So much had changed since you told Maggie and Luna that you’d stay, and repeated the same to Yoongi and Namjoon.

All you could say to Jungkook now was a dejected, “I don’t know.”

The tight grip of pain around his chest did not ease, but he didn’t expect it to. Not yet, at least.

“I’m truly sorry,” he said, lifting his gaze. Both of you quickly averted your eyes as if the eye contact burnt. “For this and… for everything.”

You nodded in acknowledgement of the apology but did not reply to it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Reconnaissance,” you said instead. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

He nodded back and you continued to work in silence. You were glad that your current task required your full attention, so you did not have to linger on how wounded he looked—not just physically, but somehow intrinsically, too. If you glanced at him, all the tears and cuts and bruises on his heart would have been as visible as they were on his face.

You applied the ointment to his temple now that the antiseptic had dried—and Jungkook clenched his teeth again, keeping the painful hiss contained. The ointment was probably excessive, and it might dye his skin an odd shade of purple, but you didn’t know what else to do.

When you looked closer, his cuts didn’t appear deep enough to require stitches, so all you could do at the moment was ensure they didn’t become infected – and this questionable procedure should have accomplished that.

You pressed some gauze to the more severe wounds and bandaged them—as much as you could. You used smaller band-aids for the less serious cuts. Then, you stepped back to look.

This would need work. He looked like he slammed the side of his head into a wall and a toddler had attempted to provide first aid.

“This should hold for now before I come up with something else,” you said. “I have to go. I’ll need to find a way to incorporate this,” you gestured around his face, “into your look for tomorrow’s show.”

You turned to push the cubicle door open, then stopped short when you felt his cold, tentative fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Wait,” he said, releasing your hand as soon as he noticed you looking down at his grip. “Just… just tell me what’s going to happen.”

“With your face?” you asked with a confused frown. “It’s going to hurt for a while probably, but it—”

“With us,” he cut you off.

You looked away, maintaining your posture even as your heart refused to listen to your mind and proceeded to pound furiously in your chest.

“There’s no ‘us’,” you said.

“You can’t say that.” He stood up and suddenly reduced the empty space between you in the cubicle. “Not after everything that happened.”

‘Everything that happened’ seemed to have a bitter flavour—he could see the distaste on your face as your tongue prodded your cheek.

“It was obviously a mistake,” you said.

You remembered it all, you knew what it meant. But you didn’t want to trust any of the moments in your memory.

Jungkook could taste your bitterness in his own mouth.

You added ruthlessly, “and it’s over.”

“What’s over?” he asked. He tried to place a hand on his hip, but his trembling fingers slid down his hoodie and his hand dropped to his side.

“Whatever this is,” you said, and each of your following words felt like a new scratch deep inside of him. “Whatever you were doing to win your bet, and whatever I was stupidly playing along with.”

There was nothing but a few breaths separating the two of you in this cubicle, yet you may as well have been in a different orbit entirely. Desperate, Jungkook raised his hands to the back of his head and intertwined his fingers.

“I wasn’t—it wasn’t because of the bet,” he protested—not for the first time. With one more shake of your head, you turned around and pushed the door of the cubicle open. “Look, wait! I’m sorr—”

“It’s over, Jungkook,” you said, pausing halfway. “Stop.”

“How can it—I don’t—just—just tell me this one thing, okay? Before you go,” he pleaded, following you out of the cubicle and watching you toss your medical kit into your carry-on.

There was a hint of sadness in your eyes when you looked up. “What?”

“If there was no bet, wou—would you have agreed to be with me again?”

Your pulse reverberated in your mind, shrieking and piercing, as you shook your head and turned away.

“If there was no bet,” you said, “you wouldn’t have even wanted to be with me again.”

For a minute, you both watched the floor in thick, pain-coated silence. It consumed you, this otherworldly quietness—your thoughts stilled, even your bodies seemed to pause and wait.

That wasn’t true, Jungkook wanted to say—and should have said. But he was so tired of saying things and having to defend them, to prove he meant them.

He wondered if there was anything he could say to you from this point on that you would believe. He loved you so much—he’s never loved anyone else, the very idea of it did not seem possible—yet he made you think he wasn’t serious.

He watched you leave—again—and felt his chest shrink to accommodate the slowing of his heartbeat—again, again—as he struggled to inhale, let alone open his mouth—again, again, again—realising, slowly, that there might not be enough words in existence to fix this.

“I love you,” he still tried, but the restroom door had already closed and he wasn’t sure if you’d heard him. Or if it made a difference if you did.

There was something very ironic about the plans you had for the rest of the day once the plane landed in Manchester.

The concert was originally scheduled for tomorrow, but the venue had suffered a flood from a broken pipe a few nights ago, causing everything that the organisers had promised you to be ruined. They tried to fix it, but they needed some more time. You found out on the plane that the concert would have to be postponed until the day after tomorrow.

To make matters worse, Ren, the bassist of Poison Tongue—Rated Riot’s opening act—had broken his foot at the airport (you were afraid to ask how) and was hospitalised, rendering the band incapable of performing. You needed to find a replacement on extremely short notice.

This was a crisis, but only another one of many. You hadn’t slept at all on the plane, but despite your pounding headache, you were grateful for a chance to keep busy, and you had a precise plan of action.

You would find the venue staff and direct them to Seokjin—after checking if Seokjin was even here.

Next, you would make sure the equipment arrived safely and unpacking it at the damaged venue did not pose any risk to your team.

After that, you would seek Maggie’s help with an online ad for a new opening act.

Then, you would call the label and sweet-talk them before the inevitable black-eye pictures.

You would also devise a plan to handle the aforementioned black eye, which, hopefully, will have improved by the time of the concert.

And, most importantly, you would avoid Jungkook.

Really, the plan was almost foolproof. You figured your to-do list would continue to expand, even after you completed certain tasks, so you essentially had no chance of being left alone with your thoughts or accidentally running into him.

But then, on your way out of the band’s dressing room, you noticed that your surroundings were spinning more than usual. It happened occasionally, this abrupt lightheadedness after you stood up too quickly. But this time, it persisted even after you crossed the corridor.

You tried to tell yourself that this wasn’t anything new, you were just overwhelmed. This had to be the stress—you hadn’t slept and you had so much to do that it was normal to feel dizzy.

You kept walking. Until you had to trace your hand along the patterns of the wallpaper on the wall to stay steady. Until the edges of your vision blurred. Until the wet floorboards beneath your feet wobbled. Until the room grew dark.

You thought you could feel yourself leaning against the wall and slowly lowering your body to the floor. You thought you could feel the damp floor under your fingertips. You thought you could hear someone’s voice in the distance.

For a split moment before you collapsed, it occurred to you that you were really very tired. And that Jungkook had warned you about having another fainting spell if you weren’t careful.

But then your heart rate restricted the flow of blood to your brain, and there was not a single conscious thought left in your vacant mind.

As it happened sometimes—coincidences, unless you treated them as signs—Jungkook was the one who found you.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “blood sport”

prev ○ next

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter thirteen.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: we made it - david hugo

author's note: you guys, it's the last chapter of my baby. kiss with a fist has truly been my labor of love and i'm so happy that everyone adored the story as much as I did when I was first writing it. a big thank you to anyone who has read, liked, reblogged, and commented on kwaf. love you my little pookies 🥹

The rest of seventh year passed by too quickly for your liking. 

The last and final year at Hogwarts proved to be your best year yet, but in ways that you never expected. After the holiday break, you, Harry, and the rest of the Council worked hard to promote interhouse relations. Thanks to Pansy, many events and gatherings were held in which Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins alike mixed and mingled. 

The first inter house quidditch game had gone off without a hitch. Theo was a natural at finding common ground with the other players, making them feel at ease despite the obvious tension between houses. Slowly but surely, ripples of change started to materialize at Hogwarts. 

The Great Hall was no longer separated in pockets of red, green, blue, or yellow. Each table consisted of an array of members from each respective house. The courtyards were the same as your classmates now felt comfortable to venture out of their usual groups to mingle with others. Even the professors marked the change in the classroom. Pairing students from different houses together no longer felt like pulling teeth. 

By the time graduation rolled around, you were confident that the younger years would carry on the work the Council started. You watched with a smile as your fellow classmates hugged one another. A fourth year Slytherin and a fifth year Gryffindor were both teary eyed as they promised to write to one another over the holiday. 

“You did great work, Y/N.” Harry said from beside you. 

“So did you, Potter.” He pushed his glasses up and smiled. “I think we’re leaving a very different Hogwarts than the one we entered during our first year.” 

“I’m glad we got to witness the change before graduating. It’s nice knowing that we’ve taken a step in the right direction.” 

“What’s your plans for the future then, Chosen One?” 

Harry rolled his eyes fondly. “I think…I’d like to travel a bit. See more of the world. Eventually, I’ll probably join Ron and the other Aurors, but for now I’m content taking a gap year.” 

“As you should,” you said with an encouraging smile. 

“Well, not everyone is brilliant enough to be accepted into the most prestigious university in England.” 

“Don’t let Theo hear that. He’d have an absolute fit defending his beloved Cambridge.” 

Harry chuckled. “So you two are doing long distance then?” 

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, your gaze immediately tracked a familiar mop of curly brown hair across the room. Theo was talking animatedly with a few Hufflepuffs and a couple of Ravenclaws, but he looked up the instant he felt your eyes on him. Those watercolour eyes locked onto yours, crinkles forming at the corners as he smiled. That smile—the way it lit up his entire face, his lips curved into a bright, genuine grin that was reserved for you and you alone made your breath catch.

Gods, you loved that smile. 

But not as much as you loved Theo. 

Cheeky tosser that he was, your boyfriend winked in your direction and smirked when he noticed the flush in your cheeks. 

You chuckled. “Yeah, we are. Teddy’s determined to get his license before the year’s end, but in the meantime, he’ll take the train to visit and vice versa.” 

“Theodore Nott on the tube? Now that’s a sight I’d pay to see.” 

A pair of arms circled around your waist. Theo pulled you against him and rested his chin in the crook of your shoulder. “I’ll have you know that I’m a proud owner of a bloody clam card.” 

“It’s called an oyster card, you helpless git.” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. 

Luna chuckled in amusement. “Be nice, Pans. Theo’s actually gotten quite good at taking the tube.” 

Theo nodded before sticking his tongue out at Pansy. “Thank you, Luna.” 

The rest of your friends followed suit. Mattheo had Enzo in a headlock, ruffling his hair as payback for bringing up the upcoming group holiday in Triora. The eight of you would be spending two weeks out in the Italian countryside, but Mattheo was heading there a week earlier than everyone else. He claimed it was due to convenience’s sake since it would be easier to floo from Romania after Charlie got him acquainted with the other interns than going all the way back to London, but you knew the real reason for his early arrival. Mattheo wanted a few days alone with Isabella before everyone teased the absolute bollocks out of them.

Despite all his cockiness and arrogance, Isabella had him completely wrapped around her finger. It was quite entertaining to see Mattheo’s transformation from big, bad Riddle to lovesick puppy Matty. Even better because your boyfriend seemed to be in utter denial about his best friend dating his cousin who was basically like his little sister. 

“I’m only going early so I can claim a room as far away from Theo and Y/N as I can possibly get. I didn’t get a wink of sleep during the last visit. It’s like you two heathens have never heard of a silencing charm.” 

“We’ve heard of them,” you said with a smirk. “But silencing charms take out all the fun, don’t they Teddy?” 

Theo chuckled and kissed the side of your neck. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. Not even a little bit, mate.” 

Mattheo wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Absolute nutters, the pair of you.” 

“Speaking of nutters, where’s Malfoy?” 

The corner of Blaise’s lips curved up into a smile. “Across the room. Talking to his fellow Sorbonne admit.” 

Sure enough, Draco and Hermione seemed to be in a heated conversation by the doors of the Great Hall. As you watched their exchange, you couldn’t help but think that the Sorbonne was not ready for its two newly admitted students of wizarding law. The irony of Granger and Malfoy, previous bitter enemies, studying together in the most romantic city in the world wasn’t entirely lost on you. Harry seemed to be thinking the same thing. Although Potter appeared more apprehensive than anything else. 

“Don’t worry, Draco will play nice,” you said, nudging Harry with your elbow. “And if he doesn’t, well I heard Hermione’s got a mean right hook.” 

The green eyed wizard smiled. “Yeah, she truly does.” 

He perked up as Ron and Ginny called him over. Hermione, seemingly coming to a pause with her conversation with Malfoy, made her way over to her friends as well. Draco gave her an awkward handshake, which made you smirk. His infamous aristocratic charm flew out the window as soon as Granger smiled at him. 

“I’ll see you all later. Don’t be a stranger, Y/N.” 

“Wait, Potter,” Theo called as he fished something out of his pocket. It was the sports coordinator badge that you gifted him for Christmas except it looked shiny and new, unlike the worn and well loved pin that he’d taken to wearing every day. “I suppose Ginny will be needing this now, won’t she?” 

Harry took the pin with a small smile. “Cheers, mate.” 

“That wasn’t the one I gave you for Christmas, was it?” 

Theo shook his head and fished the original badge out of his pocket. “There’s no way I’d part with the best present anyone’s ever gotten me, so I had a new one made. This little guy is staying with me.”

You beamed. “My cute sentimental boyfriend. When did you get so mushy, Nott?” 

He peppered kisses all over your face, making you squeal in delight. “Since a surly little Ravenclaw stole my heart. It’s all your fault, cara mia.” 

You tugged at the front of Theo’s robes, bringing him down to you. “My sincerest apologies, Theodore. However can I make it up to you?” 

“I have a few ideas, darling.” 

Draco groaned in revulsion. “We’re still here, you know. Gods, you two make me sick.”

“Shut it or I’ll sneak purple dye into your shampoo,” you snapped. 

Theo laughed as Draco gasped in horror. “Have I told you how utterly in love I am with you?” 

“Love you too, Teddy. Now about those ideas.” 

Theo smirked as you curled your fingers around his tie and tugged. His arms circled around your waist, pulling you close as your lips met his. As you kissed, you heard Pansy and Draco groan while Mattheo and Enzo dramatically covered their eyes. Blaise shook his head at the boys, but smiled nonetheless. Luna, sweet, shy, demure Luna actually wolf-whistled. 

Once more, you looked around at your circle of friends standing in Hogwarts for the last time while kissing the love of your life and grinned. 

You couldn’t have asked for a better day. 

The autumn leaves littered the sprawling campus, falling like rain in varying shades of red, orange, and gold across the spacious lawn. It felt bittersweet to witness such a visual representation of the changing season, not only in the sense that summer was giving way to fall, but also signaling your transition from Hogwarts graduate to Oxford fresher. 

The past summer had been the perfect send off. You stayed at the vineyard with your friends for two weeks before setting off to explore Rome, Milan, and Venice with Theo. The two of you spent your days visiting museums, eating gelato, and laying out in the Italian sun. Even when you returned to England, Teddy hardly left your side. His nonna insisted on having you over for dinner at least once a week while your parents hosted tea in the back garden, much to nonna’s delight. Her opinion of the dreary English weather hadn’t improved, but she did love chatting with your parents about their occupations in the muggle world. 

As it turned out, nonna was fascinated with your mother’s abrasive personality in and out of the courtroom and adored your father’s love for the arts as well. They talked for hours and hours while you and Theo curled up in the living room watching cheesy romantic comedies. He would never admit it, but you could’ve sworn that you saw him wiping away a few errant tears during Holly’s reunion with cat in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. 

The holiday bliss couldn’t last forever though. One by one, you and Theo said goodbye to your friends. Enzo was the first to leave. You hugged him tightly at the international floo station and shoved a box of chocolate frogs into his hands. A small gesture of thanks for all the treats you’d stolen from him during seventh year. 

“That should be enough to last you for a while.”

“It looks like you ransacked the whole store, Y/N.” 

“Well, I wasn’t sure if New York had a Honeyduke’s. I had to be certain that you were fully stocked."

Enzo grinned as you sniffled a little. "You better write back to us. I just know you’re going to break hearts in the States. Promise that you won’t do the typical Berkshire thing and actually speak to the American girls who fancy you, okay? Trust me, they will fancy you. The accent alone is a guarantee.” 

You were rambling, fussing over Enzo’s scarf. To his credit, he only smiled. “Yes, mum. Don’t miss me too much, I’ll be back for Christmas. Then we can gorge ourselves on chocolate frogs and gossip all about the American girls who fancy me.” 

Draco was next in the queue. You stood in King’s Cross, watching with a little smile as the boys awkwardly hugged one another. Narcissa was absolutely distraught about her only son’s departure, but you wouldn’t have known it by looking at her. As always, the Malfoy matriarch was perfectly prim and polished, but she did hug Draco more tightly than she usually did. She even waved to Hermione, who was boarding the same train to Paris. When it was your turn to say goodbye to Draco, you shook him by the shoulders and narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Don’t mess that up, ferret boy.” 

His gray eyes widened, following your gaze to where Harry, Ron, and the Weasley gang were exchanging hugs with Hermione. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“You and Hermione studying abroad in the most romantic city in the world? That’s not a coincidence. You better snatch her up before Granger makes the whole country of France fall in love with her because trust me, they will. She’s a catch.”

Draco smiled a little. “Yeah, yeah she is.” 

“So?” 

“Don’t mess it up, I’ve got it. Now get your freakishly strong hands off of me, Y/N.” 

Just as you released him, Draco pulled you in for a hug. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “Thank you, for making Theo so happy. You don’t know how much we all appreciate it.” 

You ruffled his perfectly coiffed hair with tears in your eyes and a smile on his face as Malfoy complained about you messing up his beloved platinum blonde locks. 

A week later, you thought you were fully prepared to say goodbye to Mattheo on the same platform, but as soon as you saw him and Theo exchanging a tight hug, you burst into tears.

"Take care of my man," Mattheo said with a wink. "And remember, he may be your boyfriend now, but our bromance is forever."

You wiped away your tears and chuckled hoarsely. "I hate to say it, but I'll miss you Riddle. Try not to get eaten by a Vipertooth, yeah?"

"Being friends with you has oddly prepared me to face the dangers of dragon taming. I'll miss you too, Y/N."

The two of you hugged tightly. Mattheo chuckled as you tugged at his curl, resetting the sentimental moment with a typical brother and sister gesture. He flicked your nose in return before departing for the train. With a cheeky wink, Mattheo waved out the window until he disappeared from view.

When the time came to say goodbye to Pansy and Luna, you were a mess. In true Parkinson fashion, Pansy had rented a private jet to fly them to Brazil. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry, but the minute that you stepped out onto the runway, your eyes betrayed you. 

“I’ll have none of that,” Pansy said, her glossy bob skimming her chin as she gave you a disapproving look. “I will not have your tears staining my brand new pantsuit.” 

“Oh, shut up Pans.” The dark haired witch stiffened as you squeezed her into a hug. After a moment, she sighed in defeat and hugged you back. “I’m going to miss our shopping sprees and trashy reality television binges.”

Pansy chuckled. “I suppose I’ll miss them too. Keep an eye out on the boys for me, will you? Make sure they stay out of trouble?”

Your friend sounded a bit choked up. As strong as she appeared, you knew that it was hard for Pansy to be separated from her friends. They had taken care of each other all these years and she had been the glue that held the group together since they were kids, but it was time for her to have her own adventure now. 

You nodded. “Of course. I’ll send howlers on your behalf if they step out of line.” The two of you hugged for a moment longer. “I’d ask you to take care of Loons, but you already do that. I guess just make sure that my care packages make it through customs. You know how she is about her wotsits.” 

Pansy laughed at that and squeezed you one more time before saying goodbye to Theo and Blaise. The second you turned to Luna, the dam broke entirely. The two of you were in tears as you clung onto each other. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Luna said. “For getting into Oxford. For opening yourself up this year. For standing up for the people you love. You were the first friend I ever made. Everyone else thought I was strange and weird and slightly mental, but you didn’t care. You’re the best person to have in my corner, Y/N. I love you.” 

“You’re not just my friend Loons, you’re family. Thank you for being my voice of reason all these years. I couldn’t have survived the wizarding world if it weren’t for your kindness. I love you too, Luna.” 

If Theo hadn’t been holding you so tightly, you were sure you would’ve collapsed into a sobbing mess when the jet finally took flight. 

Those same arms wrapped around you now, pressing your back against his chest as Teddy rested his chin on your shoulder. He watched the autumn leaves fall outside of your dorm hall and nuzzled closer. 

“You know I love you, cara mia. But did you really have to bring your entire book collection? I almost ate shit on the stairs carrying all those boxes.” 

You chuckled. “You could’ve just used magic, you know.” 

“Well, I wanted you to know that you have a big, strong man who can do anything without the aid of magic. Even moving a whole bloody library all by himself.” 

“Oh good, tell him to come in here then.” Theodore frowned, which made you laugh. You pulled him in by the front of his jumper and pressed your lips against his. “I’m kidding, Teddy. Thank you for helping me move in.” 

Theo hummed against your mouth and smirked. “Hmm, wanna show your appreciation in your brand new dorm? I just laid your mattress out and I’m not opposed to breaking it in.” 

“Lead the way, babe.”

You squealed as Theodore picked you up bridal style. He captured your lips, smiling against the kiss as he nipped at your bottom lip. You snaked your arms around his shoulders, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck while your tongue danced with his. Theo kicked your dorm room open. By some miracle, you were assigned a single unit, which was just as well since Theo would be visiting often and the two of you weren’t exactly quiet when it came to certain activities. 

“Hey! I’d like to get my deposit back, you know.” 

“You shouldn’t have kissed me like that then, diavolina.” He pressed his forehead against yours and kissed your cheek. “As much as I love where this is going, I have something to show you.” 

You raised a brow as he lightly put you down. “Theodore Nott turning down sex? Is this the end of the bloody world?” 

Theo rolled his eyes before smacking your ass. “Don’t be a smartass. Besides, I’m not turning it down. Just postponing. I’ll have you facedown on those pillows in a second, right after the grand reveal. But first, you have to promise not to get mad.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “What did you do, Theodore?” 

“You’ll find out in a second. After your guaranteed promise.” 

“Yes, because every surprise constitutes a cover my ass clause.” Theo pouted and flashed his best puppy dog eyes at you. “Oh, that’s low, Teddy. You know I can’t say no when you do that.” 

Your boyfriend grinned in triumph. “Precisely why I used it. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” 

“Fine, I promise not to get mad. Just show me this surprise of yours.” 

Theo covered your eyes and steered you further into the room. When he placed you right where he wanted you, your boyfriend took a step away from you. 

“Alright, you can open them now.” 

At first, you weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to be looking at. The single unit dorm wasn’t anything new. Brick walls, wooden furniture, and a comfortable sized bed. Except the room felt much larger than you remembered. There was definitely more space now with enough room to store a bookcase, desk, and dresser that hadn’t been there before. And then you saw it. 

A fireplace. Not just any fireplace either—it was a fully functioning hearth with emerald green flames, which could only mean one thing. “Theodore Nott, did you install a bloody floo in my dorm?” 

“Well, technically I didn’t install it. Potter helped me get in touch with that Weasley bloke, the head of the Department of Magical Transportation. What was his name? Paul? Patrick?” 

“Percy?” you asked incredulously. 

“Percy, yes. Strange man. Not at all like the rest of his ginger clan. Anyways, he helped arrange this whole thing.” 

“You went and got the ministry involved?” 

Theo pouted. “You promised not to get mad.” 

“I’m not mad. I just—how did you even—when did you even—” 

“The first night we got back from Rome, I tossed and turned in bed all night because I had gotten so used to sleeping next to you that going without seemed like torture. Then I started thinking about how I’d have to endure that for two whole years and I realized that it simply won’t do, so I made a few calls. Bribed a few people. Now you’ve got a floo in your room.” 

“How did you even get the college to agree?” 

“About that…” Theo said sheepishly as he slid his hands into his pockets. “I may or may not have made a very sizable donation.” 

“How sizable?”

“Can money really measure my love for you?” 

“How much did all of this cost, Theodore?” 

“Ten thousand galleons.” 

“Ten thousand galleons!” 

Your boyfriend backed away, which was probably the smartest idea he’s had all morning. “Before you murder me, please know that the money is being put to good use. I worked with the University to set up a scholarship for muggleborn witches and wizards. I know it’s a passion of yours, so I thought, why not kill two birds with one stone? Because of you, the Alessandra and Damiano scholarship will help give other muggleborns an opportunity to study here.” 

You softened. As mad as you were at Theo for spending an absurd amount of money, you couldn’t ignore the fact that it was actually very sweet and thoughtful. Not to mention the fact that the donation probably hadn’t even made a dent in your boyfriend’s account. You supposed this was a better use of his riches than waking up to a very expensive espresso machine in your house, complete with a barista that Theodore had flown out from Milan to show you how to make proper coffee.

“You’re smiling,” Theo noted. “Which means…you’re not mad, right?” 

“I’m not saying that I’m not upset,” you started.

“But?” he asked hopefully. 

“Well, I can’t very well stay mad after such a thoughtful gesture, could I?” 

“So you like it?” 

You sighed, conceding with a nod. “The scholarship means a lot to me, Teddy. More than you know. I’m glad you named it after Alessandra and Damiano. It’s time the wizarding world heard their story.” 

Theo beamed. “I think so, too.” He caressed your cheek with a fond look on his face. “Do you remember what Coletta said when I first snuck you into the Slytherin dorms?” 

How could you forget? “La storia repetia.” 

“History repeats itself,” Theo said. “Alessandra fell in love with Damiano and they changed the world. When I fell in love with you, you changed my world. It’s the least I could do, cara mia.” 

With a grin, you pulled Theo down by the front of his jumper and kissed him. Your lips melded together perfectly like his mouth was crafted for the sole purpose of being kissed by you. A satisfied sigh left your lips at the thought of never having to go without this—without him ever again. 

“So what you’re saying is that we get to cuddle every night?” 

Theo grinned. “To cuddle, to kiss, to fu—“ He yelped when you smacked him on the arm. “To make love,” he corrected with a smirk. “We never have to say goodbye, only good night.” 

“Gods, I love you. You’re perfect.” 

The boyish grin on Theodore’s face made your heart skip a beat. Even after a year, you still felt like a giddy school girl with a massive crush. 

“The floo also connects to your house. I know how homesick you get, so I thought it would be nice to be able to pop in and visit with your mum and dad from time to time.” 

Tears lined your eyes. You didn’t even realize how badly you wanted it until this moment. You wrapped your arms around your boyfriend and squeezed him into a tight hug. He smiled against your hair and kissed the top of your head. 

When you pulled away, there was a little puddle of tears smack dab in the middle of Theo’s jumper. You sniffled as he swiped your happy tears away. “I can’t believe you talked my parents into all of this.” 

“It wasn’t that hard. They adore me, you know.”

Indeed they did. Your mum and dad had definitely fallen victim to the infamous Theodore Nott charm and you couldn’t blame them one bit. He was the perfect boyfriend and it was quite obvious to your parents that he made you ridiculously happy. 

“A little too much.” 

“Don’t blame them, amore mio. I’m just too charming for my own good.” 

“Yes you are,” you conceded with a sigh. Theo chuckled as you kissed the tip of his nose. “Shall we test out my new mattress then?” 

“You know you never have to ask me twice, but first—“ Theo held a finger up and fumbled with his pocket. 

“Another surprise? For Merlin’s sake, you're going to send me into cardiac arrest, Teddy. You're determined to turn me into a whimpering mess, aren't you?” 

“I guarantee you'll be whimpering in a minute. Scout's honor,” he said with a wink. “Although if you’re going to cry again, I’d prefer it if you did it while wearing this.” 

Theo pulled out a familiar locket—Alessandra’s locket. He opened the necklace. The right half of the heart still contained Alessandra and Damiano’s picture, but the left half was a picture of you and Theo. One that his nonna had taken of the both of you over the summer. The two of you were in the vineyard, the sun setting behind you with its golden glow, while you and Theo looked lovingly at each other like you were the only people in the world. 

You smiled, stroking the picture. “I love it, Teddy. But this is a family heirloom. Is nonna okay with me wearing it?” 

“Are you kidding? She was thrilled when I told her. Said you might as well start wearing it now since you’ll be part of the family soon.” 

“Oh?” you asked with a watery smile. “And do I get any say in this?” 

“Only if you say yes.” 

You nodded as Theo clasped the locket around your neck. The necklace sat just above your heart, making your boyfriend smile as he studied you for a moment. 

“My heart wearing my heart. Seems fitting, yeah?” 

“I love you, Teddy. You have my entire heart forever.” 

“I love you too, Y/N. Mind, body, and soul.” 

“Good,” you raised a brow and tugged him closer by the front of his jumper again. “Now if you’re done with your surprises…”

“Does the one in my pants count?”

You groaned. “For Merlin’s sake Thedore, just fucking kiss me already.” 

Theo chuckled at your impatience. “Your wish is my command, diavolina.” 

As Theodore kissed you in the middle of your new dorm in your brand new university, you realized that even as the seasons changed and the leaves turned, some things would still stay the same. 

Theodore Nott would always vex you, challenge you, and make you feel like you’re going out of your godsdamned mind every second of every day. 

There was nothing smart about falling in love with him. 

But for once in your life, you’ve never been so glad to be such a bloody lovestruck idiot. 

Taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe  @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup  @aliensknowmyillusions @cinderellawithashoe @starsval @kalulakunundrum @lucyysthings @siriuslysmoking @purplegirls-posts @unstablereader @lqclercs @whatsupb18 @rikirritated @psychedeliccc @jetblackpayne @clairesjointshurt @ama1a2 @omwtkydttfym @cinderellawithashoe @xeqr @txzii @goldenmagnolias @ilikefictionalmen @xxpeachyxo @dirt-cup-draco @willowecho25518 @shulipp @pompeygirl89 @lame-ferrum @dustbunniess @justdizzie @sopsopsopy @therealallisonspear @sweetwonieee @spacecadet16 @moonsreid @grrbrielew @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @imaginationlover101 @s0kovianwitch @lucy-is-never-logical @unstablereader @ellieslaces @bellarkefandom @shereadsandcries @hrts4pads @loveforlupin

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Ten

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 21.9k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Happy autumn, everyone! I hope you enjoy this latest update. There's a little spookiness ('tis the season!) fluff, and maybe a tiny bit of angst. As per usual, I love to hear from my lovely readers, and I hope you enjoy this update!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Y/N froze, letting the ghostly voice wash over long enough for the strike of terror to rock through her, before gritting her teeth and straightening up. Spinning on her heel, she wanted to get a good look at the thing that refused to leave her alone, but as her eyes scanned the secluded corner of the yard, she saw nothing but a small sparrow swooping from branch to branch. 

“If I dare to what?” Y/N ground out, fed up. There was no answer to her retort, and she knew it wasn’t a very good idea to antagonize a spirit, but she couldn’t help herself. 

Huffing, she knelt back down and promptly buried the spell jar, packing the earth on top of it tightly. She was not going to be intimidated by a spirit that wouldn’t even show its face, threatening her in her own backyard. Part of her wondered if she should call for Namjoon; just in case the spirit kept trying to interfere with the ritual. She gripped the bundle of rosemary harshly at the thought of the spirit moving on from threatening her to the wolf hybrid or Jeongguk at the front of the property. 

Spurred on by the thought, Y/N continued to the other corner of the backyard, surprisingly staying calm and centered as she carried out her part of the ritual. Repeating the prayer continuously, she kept her mind on her hybrids, and how important it was to her to protect and keep them safe. Finally reaching the second corner she was responsible for, surrounded by wild shrubs and what appeared to be a fox’s den, Y/N swiftly buried her final spell jar without interruption from the spirit she was attempting to kick out of her life. 

The air felt electrified, but not in the menacing way Y/N was expecting. To her distant delight, she could sense the wards going up successfully, and the familiar sensation of being surrounded by magic embraced her like a hug from a long-lost friend. Namjoon and Jeongguk must have been holding their own, as well, because there were two faint energies mingling with her own in the borders of the wards. As Namjoon predicted, the three of them ended up being stronger together.

Y/N trailed along the final side of the area she was protecting, before cutting through the center of the yard to the rock where she’d set up the pillar candle. Predictably, Namjoon and Jeongguk were already lingering there. Namjoon had pulled off his cardigan; the sleeves of it tied around his hips, and a thin sheen of sweat covering the golden skin of his arms on display as he crossed them over his chest. Gnawing on her lip, Y/N approached more closely, raising an eyebrow at Jeongguk’s smug expression as he pulled up his baggy black cargo pants. 

“How’d it go?” Y/N began, stubbing out the rosemary bundle on the flat rock beside the candle, brushing ash off of her palms onto the material of her leggings. 

“Fine. The thing was pissed though, I heard it cursing in my ear the entire time,” Jeongguk replied offhand, surprising Y/N by pulling out his new journal and scribbling some notes into it while he spoke. 

“You could hear it?” Namjoon raised his eyebrows, hands coming up to rub his bare shoulders like they were sore. 

“Yeah, I could hear it. I could hear it when this one first brought me to this house,” Jeongguk jutted his pen in Y/N’s direction when he said this one, sucking his lip ring into his mouth as he resumed writing. “I think this’ll do it for now. It might be worth doing the banishment at the end of the month, though, for extra insurance– since it’s so pissed at the three of us.” 

“I heard it once, too,” Y/N sighed, thinking that Jeongguk was likely right– a banishment would ensure that the spirit would be removed from the property for good. “Before I buried my first jar, it threatened me.”

“What?” Namjoon seethed, reaching out to grab one of Y/N’s wrists. “Why didn’t you call for me? It threatened you?”

Surprised by the wolf hybrid’s reaction, his ears turned backwards against his skull and his teeth slightly bared, Y/N’s mouth dropped open, staring at the way Namjoon’s large hand encircled her wrist, his fingers overlapping on themselves bruisingly.

“Ouch, Joon,” Y/N chuckled, placing her free hand over his and patting the back of it for mercy from his tightened grip. He loosened up, his eyes flashing apologetically. “I thought about calling you, but I worried that it might start harassing you, too. I think we all handled it pretty well though, can’t you tell? The wards went up more quickly than I expected them to.” 

Clearing his throat, Jeongguk stuck his pen behind his ear, casting a brief glance at Namjoon’s hand clasped around her wrist before nodding, a piece of his chestnut hair falling into his eyes. 

“Honestly, I wasn’t so sure about the ritual when we started it. I thought that maybe it would be too simple, but it appeared to do the trick. Still, we should plan on the banishment later on. It won’t hurt,” Jeongguk crouched down, licking his thumb and forefinger before snuffing out the flame of the pillar candle. 

Though Y/N hadn’t instructed him to do that, he did it properly; without blowing it out and therefore “blowing away the spirits” that helped them with the ward construction. Feeling Namjoon release her wrist slowly, Y/N watched his steely guard go back up again, the picture of calculated and collected. 

“Thanks, you two, for helping me out. You did a really amazing job, I don’t think the wards would be as strong without your help,” Y/N began to pack away leftover ritual items back into her basket, taking a lungful of air and rejoicing in the lightness of its quality. 

Her back was turned to the two hybrids, but she was met with no reply from either of them. Further back in the yard, Y/N could hear Hoseok loudly complaining about the increasing humidity. Grinning to herself, she began to contemplate what to do for the rest of the day– perhaps hang out with Taehyung for a bit, or maybe offer her help with the chicken coop restoration. 

“I’m gonna head in now,” Y/N slung the basket of ritual items into the crook of her elbow, leveling a smile at Namjoon and Jeongguk, who were watching her carefully. “We can talk about the banishment in the future. The new moon is still a little ways away.”

Feeling a little sticky from the humidity and her romp around the yard, Y/N decided to take a nice, cool shower when she got back into the house, and maybe see what Yoongi was up to. Namjoon followed her inside, but Jeongguk remained outside, continuing to write in his journal on the picnic table with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. 

“I still wish you would have called for me after what happened,” Namjoon suddenly announced, stopping Y/N in the kitchen with his arms crossed. He looked ticked, his lips pursed and cheeks sucked in, and Y/N felt her mouth dry up at the sight of him. 

“Honestly, Namjoon, I was too aggravated that the thing was threatening me to call out for you,” Y/N scratched the back of her head, wishing that Yoongi was still in the kitchen to break up the tension. 

The wolf hybrid gave her an achingly slow once-over, scanning her face all the way down to her toes, Y/N’s cheeks heating up with the attention. She felt like she had to apologize to him, or beg for forgiveness, with the authority dripping off of him. Swallowing thickly, Y/N gave him a pat on his strong forearm, his eyes finding hers after studying her hand on his arm. 

“Next time, I’ll call for you. I promise,” Y/N said seriously, not wanting Namjoon to be upset with her. Still appearing a touch disappointed, Namjoon’s shoulders relaxed a degree, and Y/N didn’t know whether or not he believed her. 

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time,” the wolf hybrid pointed out, helping himself to a glass of iced tea from the fridge and turning his back on her. 

Y/N tried her best not to gawk at his bare shoulders. Namjoon was pretty built; and though Hoseok was the one with a keen interest in exercise, Y/N wondered if the wolf hybrid had also made use of the gym in the basement. Clearing her throat, she tore her eyes from Namjoon’s broad back, feeling like a bit of a creep. 

“Yeah, hopefully,” Y/N echoed distractedly, heat still pooling in her cheeks as Namjoon looked over his shoulder to stare at her quizzically. “I’m going to take a shower, so I’ll see you in a bit? Remember, we’re going to the brewery tonight!”

Namjoon hummed, the deep timbre of his voice sending goosebumps over Y/N’s skin, and she made a beeline to her bedroom to escape the wolf hybrid’s attention. Pressing a hand to her chest to calm her racing heart, she cursed herself for telling Namjoon to wear black– that tank top was lethal. 

She searched through her closet for something to wear later that night, settling on a flowy pastel blue miniskirt and a lacy white cropped tank, placing it on her bed and tossing her denim jacket beside the outfit. Y/N knew if Alice came along to the brewery with them that night, she’d be dressed to the nines, and there was nothing she loved more than dressing up to go out with her friends. As the water in her shower heated up, she gave Alice a call, sorting through her scant collection of lipgloss for a selection that would go well with her outfit. 

“Hey babe, how’s it going over there?” Alice picked up on the second ring, her raspy voice filling Y/N with warmth. 

“It’s been great, I think they’re all really starting to adjust,” Y/N replied, peering out into the backyard for a glimpse of any of the hybrids. All she could see was Jeongguk, who was still at the picnic table and writing in his journal. “I’ve signed a few of them up for some clubs at the rec center in town, so that’ll be good now that I’m working at Judy’s.”

“Yeah? How’s my little fox hybrid? I miss him already,” Alice asked coyly, Y/N imagining her biting her lip and batting her lashes. 

“Hoseok’s well. He wanted to join the rec center’s track team, so that’s what he’ll be up to soon,” Y/N responded, that tiny itch of jealousy from the cookout returning. “Hey, are you busy tonight?”

“Depends,” Alice drew out the syllables to the words, a teasing tone coloring her speech. “You know I’m always free for you, peanut.”

“Aww, Al,” Y/N giggled. “Miss Alice Santos, Boston’s prettiest and most successful poet, clearing her schedule for little old me?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Alice groaned, the sound of her pouring dry cat food into Heathcliff’s bowl coming through the receiver. “Get to the point, what do you want to do? Want me to come over, we can make those boys watch Pride and Prejudice and drink White Claws?”

“Honestly, that sounds like a pretty solid Saturday night,” Y/N admitted, shedding her clothes and tossing them in the hamper as she balanced her phone between her cheek and her shoulder. “But no. You know that brewery we’ve been meaning to check out? Salem’s? Want to meet there tonight and grab some dinner and a beer flight?”

“Yeah, you had me at ‘brewery’, babe,” Alice answered, bringing a smile to Y/N’s face. “I’m assuming you’re bringing the boys? Want to meet at seven?” 

“That works! Yeah, they’ll be tagging along. We don’t have much food in the house, Yoongi and I have to hit the grocery store tomorrow.”

“Oh, the sexy one with the long hair? The grill master at the cookout?” Alice teased, making Y/N squeak and flush. Hopefully Yoongi was napping in his room and couldn’t hear the first half of Alice’s statement. 

“Al! Keep it together,” Y/N managed amidst a cocktail of mortification and amusement. “See you tonight, okay?”

“You bet. Gotta pick out something cute to wear, if I’m going to see you and my little fox hybrid,” Alice sang, Y/N rolling her eyes at herself in her bathroom mirror. That was, before she realized she had done the exact same thing with her own outfit. 

Hanging up, Y/N hurried into the shower, rinsing the rosemary smoke off of her skin and wondering how the hell she’d find a taxi to transport eight people to and from the house. A problem for later, she supposed. 

“So Tae, are you excited about the photography club on Wednesday? I heard they just re-did the darkroom,” Y/N was in the middle of rolling chocolate chip cookie dough in sesame seeds, plopping them on a baking sheet. She had time to kill until they met Alice and a pound of butter sitting in the fridge, so why the hell not. 

Taehyung was sitting on a barstool across from where she worked on the island, and to her delight, was discussing some of the records he was listening to that morning with her freely. It was the most conversation she had with the Kodiak hybrid in days, and she was able to keep all of her attention on him considering the rest of the hybrids were either still outside or in their own rooms. 

“Yeah, I am. I don’t know, I wanted to try something new– I’ve never taken photos before with a real camera,” Taehyung answered truthfully, his voice a low drawl as he rested his chin on his forearms, hunched over the island. 

“Oh, your camera should be here by Monday! You can take a few test shots before the club on Wednesday,” Y/N sprinkled a little sea salt on top of the cookies before placing the trays in the oven, dusting stray sesame seeds on the counter into the sink. “Photography is really cool. An underrated art form. I think you’ll enjoy yourself, Tae.”

Taehyung gave her a closed mouth smile, his dark curls wild and a bit matted down from where he was wearing headphones earlier. She was relieved that Taehyung seemed to be opening himself back up to her since The Incident, hoping that perhaps he could make a friend or two once he joined the photography club. 

“I think there might be a box with a vintage camera or two under the basement stairs. My grandfather used to be pretty fond of taking a million pictures of the entire family,” Y/N theorized while wiping down the counters, praying she didn’t get flour or butter on her skirt or top. “You could definitely use those for a project in the future! Experiment with different lenses and whatnot.”

“Really? Do you think they’d let me use an old camera if I wanted?” Taehyung perked up, his small ears fluttering with excitement at the thought. A light blush covered his cheeks, and Y/N couldn’t recall a time where Taehyung seemed so enthused. 

“Yeah, why not? The club is for learning, fun, and expressing yourself creatively… I’m sure they’d let you try out different cameras and methods for developing photos.”

Taehyung squirmed in his seat, pushing up the sleeves of his multi-colored sweater and grinning at Y/N, with his teeth this time. It was a struggle for Y/N to not fall over seeing his toothy smile for the first time in so many days, and it was even more difficult to not race around the island and pull him in for a hug. 

“What smells so good?” Came Yoongi’s gravelly voice as he strolled into the kitchen from the foyer. 

“I’m making those chocolate chip cookies from Pinterest I showed you a couple days ago,” Y/N began washing the mixing bowl she had used, cautious of getting any water on her outfit. She heard Yoongi purring, and kept one eye on Taehyung, who remained on his barstool and was watching Yoongi peer into the oven.

“The brown butter sesame ones?” Yoongi’s voice was now closer to her, Y/N glancing over her shoulder to locate him. 

He looked really nice– in an emerald colored sweater that picked up the green in his eyes, and a pair of black jeans. The leopard hybrid had the audacity to smirk at her, definitely able to tell that she was giving him a once-over. 

“Mm-hm,” Y/N hummed, determined to not let Yoongi tease her. “I have time to kill before we go out later, and Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin wouldn’t let me help with repairing the coop.”

“Oh yeah?” Yoongi leaned his hip against the counter, the weight of his gaze heavy as Y/N clocked him giving her a similar once-over. To be fair, she did look pretty great, but the scrutiny made butterflies bat around in her stomach. “Why’s that?”

“They’re cutting chicken wire and taking down old splintering wood, and they didn’t want me to ‘get a splinter or get a cut’,” Y/N informed the leopard hybrid, using her fingers to make air quotes. 

She thought the three hybrids outside were babying her, even with her clumsy track record, she had restored half of the old Victorian house by herself. That had to count for something– she hadn’t even injured herself once, even when she had to use a sledgehammer to knock down old cabinets in the kitchen last spring.

Shaking her head, Y/N heard Yoongi chuckling; the sound gritty and slightly rumbled. Alongside that, Taehyung was humming along to the pop song playing from her portable speaker sitting on the coffee bar, apparently not minding that Yoongi had joined them. A slight step forward, in Y/N’s book. 

“Hey, Y/N…” Yoongi recovered from his amusement, surprisingly sliding onto a barstool next to Taehyung. She had to grind her teeth together to prevent her jaw from falling open. “I noticed when we were putting extra food into the garage freezer that there’s an old basketball hoop and stand in there. Can I drag it out to the driveway for practice?”

“Absolutely! You might need some help because it’s really heavy with the sand still in the stand’s base, maybe ask Jeongguk? He’s been outside all afternoon, and he’s in a good mood today,” Y/N finished wiping down the counters, the timer on her phone going off simultaneously telling her to pull the cookies from the oven. 

Yoongi grimaced at the mention of the elk hybrid’s name, interlacing his elegant fingers together and leaning forward on the granite island, shooting Y/N a somewhat incredulous look. She raised her eyebrows back at him, as if to challenge him to vocalize whatever smartass retort he most definitely had swirling around in his head, before turning away and taking the cookie sheets out of the oven, the chocolate chunks still molten and bubbling. 

“Nah, I think I can handle it myself,” Yoongi settled on, ears perking up as footsteps padded into the kitchen from the foyer, heavy tread and slight clumsiness– Y/N pretty much knew exactly who it was without even having to look up. 

“If you say so, angel,” Y/N replied, glancing upwards and eyeing Namjoon, who entered the kitchen freshly showered and dressed in his normal earth tones, mercifully. “Hey, Joon!”

Namjoon grunted, staring at the trays of cookies Y/N had just set on the stovetop, his tail wagging behind him so quickly Y/N could feel it occasionally bat the backs of her legs. Y/N watched in horror as the wolf hybrid reached for a scalding-hot cookie, and out of reflex, she lightly swatted the back of his hand away, squeaking. 

“I just took these out, you’ll burn yourself! Go sit next to Yoongi and let them cool for a few minutes,” Y/N scolded, pointing across the kitchen and registering Namjoon’s shocked expression. 

There was a brief moment of an intense stare-down between them, Namjoon’s teeth slightly bared, before he heeded her directions and trudged over to the empty barstool beside the leopard hybrid. Expelling the breath she was holding, Y/N began transferring the cookies onto a wire rack, muttering to herself. 

“What time are we leaving tonight?” Taehyung asked, Y/N surprised that he had remained in the room with Namjoon’s arrival. 

“Uh, I think around 6:45? The brewery isn’t too far from here, and Alice is meeting us there at 7,” Y/N licked a little melted chocolate off of her thumb as she spoke, humming at the sweetness. “I think we’re going to have to take two cabs. We can’t all pile into one…”

She grabbed a few plates from the cupboard, gnawing on her lip. The idea of splitting up into two groups to get to the brewery didn’t thrill her, and by the silence that filled the kitchen at her words, it didn’t seem to thrill the hybrids either. 

Y/N had an idea of who would be okay with getting in a cab without her, and who would definitely not be. Honestly, she was just hoping the outing would go well, and they wouldn’t have to deal with judgmental people– much like the asshole from Best Buy. Mulling over fantasies of punching the Best Buy man’s teeth in, Y/N placed a couple of the still-warm cookies each on the plates she set out, before absently placing the plates in front of the three hybrids seated at the island. 

“What are you thinking about? You smell pissed,” Yoongi sat back in his seat, ignoring the cookie she put in front of him. 

Taehyung bit his lip, nodding along with Yoongi’s accusation, Y/N forgetting that they could catch the scent of her subtle shifts in mood. Namjoon simply stared at her, chewing on his cookie with a bit of chocolate smudged over his bottom lip. 

“Oh, nothing. Just recalling some jerks I’ve dealt with in the past week out in public, and praying that I won’t encounter any more tonight,” Y/N answered as truthfully as she could, knowing that if she told a bold-faced lie, they’d all be able to tell. Her response was as vague as it was honest, and Yoongi seemed to relax a bit, so she considered it a win. 

“I told you, just ignore them. Not worth your time or consideration,” Yoongi tucked hair behind his ear, taking a delicate bite of his cookie. “These are really good…”

“I’ll make some more after we do our weekly grocery run. I ran out of chocolate chunks,” Y/N smiled, watching Taehyung tear off pieces of the dessert to toss into his mouth. “I gotta go out back and let everyone else know when we’re leaving later, okay? Try to save some of those for the others, Joon,” Y/N chuckled out her last statement, clocking the wolf hybrid stacking another cookie onto his plate by the stove. 

Tail between his legs, the tips of Namjoon’s ears were reddened, a rumbling sound coming from the back of his throat. Taehyung actually snickered, which had Y/N doing a double-take at his shaking shoulders, her and Yoongi exchanging looks of confusion. Apparently ignoring the Kodiak hybrid’s amusement, Namjoon sat back down on his barstool beside Yoongi, diving into his second cookie silently. Y/N was quite proud of both Taehyung and Namjoon; the former was opening back up and spending more time around the other hybrids, and the latter was managing to keep his cool and ignore happenings that would typically provoke him. Once again trusting that Yoongi could keep the peace, Y/N exited the kitchen through the slider into the backyard to seek out her other four hybrids. 

“That’s a lot of hybrids,” one of the cabbies, a short, middle-aged man, remarked, his eyebrows raised as he watched Jimin and Hoseok file out of the front door. “Now I get why youse called for two of us.”

Y/N pressed her lips together, choosing to bite her tongue as she realized the tone of judgment was missing from the cabbie’s voice. The other cabbie was on his phone, and from the sounds of it, was in the middle of a fight with his wife. 

“I can only fit three of youse,” the cabbie not currently yelling into his cell phone jabbed his thumb towards his Toyota Prius, Y/N grimacing at his thick Boston accent. 

Y/N turned on her heel to face the hybrids, all of which had finally made their ways out into the front yard. Namjoon was busy locking up the front door with the key he must have grabbed off the hook on his way out. 

“Alright, who’s okay riding without me?” Y/N decided to just cut to the chase, keeping in mind the time. They were already running a bit late; Jeongguk and Hoseok took more time than she’d planned on to get ready. Granted, they both looked fantastic, but she didn’t want to keep Alice waiting too long. 

Crickets. 

“Um…” Y/N started to grow uncomfortable with seven pairs of eyes on her at once, each with varying amounts of skepticism painted across their faces. “On the way back, we’ll rotate? I’ll ride with whoever I didn’t on the way there?”

“I think I can manage fifteen minutes without you,” Jeongguk drawled sarcastically, immediately strolling past her and getting into the passenger’s seat of the Prius. He had to duck quite a bit to prevent knocking his antlers against the door frame, which made her snort. 

“Come on, Jiminie. Let’s ride together, I want to fuck with the elk a little bit after that comment,” Hoseok grabbed Jimin by the arm, pulling him into the backseat while the poor coyote hybrid barked out complaints. 

“Okay, that’s sorted out. Let’s get going,” Y/N blew hair out of her face, once again grateful that Hoseok was so clever and definitely caught onto the fact that she was getting antsy to leave. 

Seokjin and Taehyung took the third row of seats in the minivan, while Yoongi and Namjoon made up the second– the wolf hybrid directly behind Y/N, where she was occupying the passenger’s seat. Y/N cringed at the cabbie’s loud cursing into his phone, feeling badly for the hybrids and their sensitive ears being subjected to all the noise pollution. 

“Ey! Hey– Jan. Will you stop piercing my ears for five fucking seconds?” The cabbie hollered, lowering his phone to his shoulder as he glanced at Y/N. “Salem’s? Is that where you’re all going?” 

“Yes, sir,” Y/N crossed her legs, praying for his wife on the other line. He was certainly a treat. 

After fifteen excruciating minutes of listening to the cabbie argue about his sports betting “hobby” with his wife, Y/N anxiously making sure the Prius with her other three hybrids in it was in front of them the entire time, all eight of them arrived at Salem’s Brewery without too much difficulty. Y/N noticed Seokjin massaging one of his silky black ears as he exited the minivan, a pout on his lips– all that yelling must have irritated the jaguar hybrid, who Y/N could hardly remember a time would speak at an even slightly raised volume. 

“See? I made it here alive,” Jeongguk greeted Y/N by the door to the brewery, which looked like an old tavern in a medieval town. The elk hybrid smirked around his cigarette, tucking his white tee shirt into his baggy black jeans. The waning, orange sunlight glittered off of the necklace her mother had given him. 

“Smartass,” Y/N teased, counting heads to make sure everyone was accounted for. To their luck, Alice didn’t appear to be there yet herself, as she had told Y/N to meet her at the front of the building so they could go in together. “Take it easy with those, Jeongguk. Cigarette smoke taints your palate.”

“We’re at a brewery, Y/N, not a Michelin restaurant,” Jeongguk rolled his eyes, but heeding her warning by ashing out the cigarette in the outdoor tray. 

“Stop being such a dick,” Yoongi interrupted, his nose wrinkled up in disgust as Jeongguk blew his last drag of smoke directly into the leopard hybrid’s face. Unfortunately, Y/N was also on the receiving end of the blast, too. “Disgusting. Get yourself some menthols next time, or one of those vapes teenagers use.”

“A vape? What am I, a clown?” Jeongguk crossed his arms over his chest, Y/N’s eyes dropping to his tattooed forearms. Two tattoos on the backs of them appeared to be half of an image, like if he put his forearms together, they’d make a complete symbol. 

“You said it,” Yoongi retorted, his ears perking up when a car alarm began going off in the parking lot. 

“Stop bickering, I don’t want Alice to join in when she gets here. Her comebacks can be brutal,” Y/N scanned the parking lot for Alice’s beat-up Mini Cooper, spotting it barreling in from the street, her best friend pulling into a spot towards the front with screeching tires. 

“Damn, thought she was gonna drive into the side of the building,” Hoseok exclaimed from his spot on a bench several feet from where her, Jeongguk, and Yoongi were standing. 

The fox hybrid’s tail was swishing back and forth rapidly, a wide smile on his face when Alice emerged from her car, slinging her purse over her trim shoulder and spotting him with an enthusiastic wave. Y/N felt her eye twitch, and desperately pushed aside her jealousy before any of the hybrids could smell it on her, heavens forbid they could actually identify that particular emotion. 

Y/N broke apart from her hybrids to meet Alice halfway, pulling her in for a tight hug. As expected, she looked gorgeous– a cranberry colored slip dress, matching lip gloss, and an oversized leather jacket made her look like she stepped out of a magazine. Her perfume, the one she had worn since high school, filled Y/N’s senses and brought her immediate comfort.

“Look at you! I haven’t seen you in a skirt since grad school,” Alice breathed, hands on Y/N’s biceps as she stepped back to check out her outfit. “You look amazing!”

“So do you, as always,” Y/N blushed, adjusting the askew collar of Alice’s jacket. “I wore a sundress to the cookout, remember?”

“Vaguely. I was hammered towards the end of that night,” Alice smirked, tucking hair behind Y/N’s ear before craning her neck over Y/N’s shoulder to glance at the hybrids hanging back by the brewery’s entrance. “Boys! Shall we?”

Alice marched straight to Hoseok, who had gotten up from the bench to open the brewery’s door for her, a grin stretched across her face. Y/N followed behind, watching the two of them closely. 

“Hey you,” Alice addressed Hoseok as she strolled into the building, the fox hybrid joining her as soon as Y/N cleared the threshold of the door, Hoseok not bothering to hold the door for the other hybrids. “How’ve you been?”

Y/N was temporarily distracted from the interaction between her best friend and her fox hybrid, taking in the interior of the brewery. Much like the outside of the building, the decor and vibe was very much medieval tavern; the thick scent of greasy french fries and hoppy beer filled the air, the space was dimly lit up by wall sconces and iron chandeliers, and full of lively people enjoying their beer flights on a Saturday evening. It was a decidedly witchy establishment, with a slight nautical twist– it made her think about Moby Dick, and oddly enough, Hocus Pocus. Sort of an odd combination as far as themes, but somehow, it worked for the town it was in. 

“Table for…” the hostess, a teenage girl with green hair, disinterestedly surveying the group of people and hybrids in front of her, drawled. “Nine? I think we have one long table left in the back. Follow me.”

Y/N tried not to notice all of the eyes and rubbernecking going on as they followed the young girl towards the back windows of the brewery, overlooking the distant sea and sleepy town, but even she had to admit it was a sight to behold: seven male hybrids with two human women. Not something one saw every day, even in the age they lived in. The hybrids didn’t seem to mind, most of them were pretty preoccupied pointing out the occasional other hybrid in the room– there was a golden retriever hybrid at the bar with her family, and a calico cat hybrid sitting in a booth with his. 

Taking their seats was another ordeal. Taehyung sat on the end of the table, beside her, and Seokjin took up her other side, but she could tell Yoongi was a bit perturbed that the jaguar hybrid had beaten him to her remaining free side. Alice took up the chair across from Y/N so they could chat more easily, with Hoseok on her left and Jimin on her right. The remaining three hybrids who got to the table last found their spots begrudgingly, and menus were handed out promptly before the hostess slouched away. 

“We’re all getting flights, right? God, I might have to leave my car here overnight and Uber back,” Alice scanned the menu with her lower lip sucked into her mouth, eyes widening at the extensive beer list. “I want to try all of these. ‘Mermaid’s Lager’ and ‘Half-Moon Ale’... Y/N, these names have you written all over it!”

“Mmm… you’re right,” Y/N chuckled, though she was much more preoccupied with checking out the appetizer section of the menu.

“Alice, you should pick out eight if you want to try a wider selection. You can share my flight, I don’t know too much about beer, anyways. That way I don’t have to choose blindly,” Hoseok encouraged, leaning back in his seat and sending a lovely, pointed-tooth smile to Alice. 

“Ugh, you’re perfect, seriously?” Alice’s eyebrows shot into her hairline, nudging Hoseok with her shoulder. “Okay, okay, I have to make my choices…”

Y/N hid her grin behind her menu. While she was a little jealous of Hoseok’s attention on Alice, it was sweet to see Hoseok being so kind to her best friend. Next to her, Seokjin was practically bouncing in his seat, flipping the menu over frantically, his eyes rapidly roaming over each menu item with rapt interest. 

“Y/N, what’s a quahog? What are you getting to eat? Should we share the soft pretzels and beer cheese?” Seokjin rapid-fired in her ear, his fiery eyes round with excitement. From across the table, Alice paused, focusing on Seokjin as he continued asking questions. 

“A quahog is a type of clam. I’m not sure what I’m getting yet as my entree, but I’ll share the pretzels with you! Get anything you like, honey, I heard the food is really good,” Y/N replied, reaching up to ruffle the wavy hair on the back of his head. 

“I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you at the cookout! You’re Seokjin, right? I’ll get the quahog appetizer if you want to try it,” Alice smiled at Seokjin, who blushed at her offer. “Wow. I’m sure you get this all the time, but you’re really handsome.”

Hoseok began hooting with laughter, while Seokjin was spluttering, his face beet red. Y/N could feel his tail winding around the small of her back with the attention he was receiving from everyone, but Y/N had no business in scolding Alice for embarrassing him. She was, after all, completely correct. 

“Aw, Jinnie! Don’t be shy,” Hoseok cooed through laughter, Seokjin hiding behind his menu and curling his tail more tightly around Y/N’s waist. “It’s true!”

“Good evening, folks, I’m Joshua and I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” the waiter arrived at the head of the table, beside where Namjoon was seated. Swiftly, Alice and Y/N exchanged a meaningful split-second glance at each other– Joshua was hot. “Can I start you off with drinks? Are we doing flights tonight? They’re half off on Saturdays.”

Alice, of course, was quick to order both her and Hoseok’s flights, and Joshua made a slow circle around the table to jot down everyone’s drink order. By the time Joshua got to Y/N, she was fidgeting in her seat, struggling to maintain eye contact with the handsome waiter as she rattled off her flight choices. He had really pretty blue eyes, and looked quite a bit like a young Lindsey Buckingham. 

“Alright, I’ll get those in for you,” Joshua finished taking Taehyung’s order, which was just a pint of lager rather than a flight, and gave them all a pleasant, sparkly smile. “Also, I really recommend the soft pretzels. They’re my favorite and go well with some of the Sour IPAs.”

“Yeah, we are definitely getting those pretzels now,” Alice said dreamily as Joshua headed off towards the bar, Y/N reflexively kicking her in the shin under the table. Unfortunately for Y/N, her aim was off, and she ended up kicking Jimin– who hissed in surprise, eyes widening with alarm. 

“Sorry, sweetheart! I was trying to cross my legs,” Y/N yelped, furious with herself. Jimin relaxed at once, waving his hand at her as if to say ‘don’t worry about it’. 

“So! Y/N’s told me that some of you guys are signing up for stuff at the rec center. What are you signing up for?” Alice hung her jacket on the back of her chair, the straps of her dress slightly falling down her shoulders with the movement. 

“I’m trying out for the track team,” Hoseok leaned forward on his forearms, head tilted as he replied. 

“Oh, you like to run? My sister Laura used to be on the track team in high school,” Alice recalled, though slight displeasure washed over her face. She wasn’t particularly a fan of exercise. 

“Yeah, I like running, it clears my head,” Hoseok’s ears perked up when someone dropped their fork a table over, Seokjin flinching slightly beside Y/N and into her shoulder. 

“Yoongi’s trying out for the basketball team, and Tae’s going to join the photography club,” Y/N added, snagging both Alice and Yoongi’s attention, the leopard hybrid smirking at the sound of his name being called. “My mom still runs the book club at the library, so Seokjin and Namjoon have been going to those meetings.”

“What’s this week’s book?” Alice asked a still-flustered Seokjin, who couldn’t meet her eyes. 

“The Stranger, Albert Camus,” Namjoon responded for Seokjin, rolling up the sleeves of his white button down. 

“Hmm. Haven’t read that one. Philosophical novels aren’t usually my jam,” Alice tapped on her lower lip thoughtfully. “Photography and basketball… sounds really fun! What about you, Jimin? Jeongguk too, are you signing up for something?” 

“No, Miss, I’m repairing the stable in the backyard for the time being. Perhaps I’ll join a club in the spring, though,” Jimin answered politely, Alice blinking rapidly when he addressed her as ‘Miss”. 

“I’m all set with that shit, personally,” Jeongguk piped up from his end of the table, sounding bored. Alice opened her mouth to say something in response, but was interrupted by Joshua and three other waiters dropping by to hand out the drinks. 

The beer came in rounded, smaller glasses than Y/N was used to, but she supposed it was for the best– four whole pints of beer would have her seeing double. Joshua took their food orders, which was a lengthy ordeal, and Y/N felt her cheeks heat up when Joshua gave her a sweet smile when she relayed her order. 

“Y/N, how’s that shandy one? I almost ordered it, but I knew that you would,” Alice nodded at the glass Y/N was holding, which she immediately handed over to her best friend to try. “Oooh. Really nice. Here, try this Sour IPA…”

Y/N spent several lovely minutes trying at least seven different beers; Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok and Alice, of course, offered her sips of their selections. The hybrids chatted amongst themselves about their upcoming activities the next week, while Alice and Y/N got the opportunity to catch up. Alice informed her about her rough outline for her new poetry book, which had Y/N clinking her glass with her. Alice was glowing, and Y/N could tell how excited she was about working on a new project. 

While Hoseok began to ask Alice questions about her writing, Y/N took a look around the restaurant while sipping on her beer, her eyes landing on Joshua, who was leaning on the bar from across the room– and staring directly at her. Swallowing thickly, Y/N tore her eyes away from him, turning to talk to Taehyung, who was characteristically quiet. 

However, Taehyung wasn’t paying attention to her; he, too, was scanning the room, and his eyes were narrowed as he caught sight of Joshua. Taehyung must have realized Joshua was staring at her, and he bared his teeth slightly as he watched the waiter move behind the bar to make a cocktail. Without looking at her, Taehyung set down his beer and confidently slung his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, still glaring across the room. Squeaking at the contact, Y/N felt Taehyung rest his elbow on the back of her chair, his fingertips toying with the ends of her hair mindlessly. Gawking at the Kodiak hybrid, she wondered if he was doing all of that because of protective, territorial instinct, or if he was jealous. The thought had her heart pounding in her chest loudly. 

The scent of sandalwood filled her senses as Taehyung wrapped his arm around her, Y/N forgetting about everyone else around her. She hardly noticed Alice and Hoseok giggling at each other, waiters approaching to drop off the appetizers, and Seokjin placing a soft pretzel on the plate in front of her. The spell was broken when Taehyung withdrew his touch to grab a nacho from the plate in front of Hoseok, still glaring at Joshua’s retreating figure. Y/N didn’t even notice how the waiter was now actively avoiding the side of the table her and Taehyung were occupying, too busy reeling from the display of possession. 

“Okay, guys, what do you think about seeing a new movie in theaters in the near future? This cool horror film is coming out soon– Pearl, what do you say?” Alice proposed, passing the plate of stuffed quahogs to Seokjin with an encouraging smile. The jaguar hybrid was still too bashful to make eye contact with her. 

Digging into their appetizers, Y/N, the hybrids, and Alice made plans to see the movie on the night of its release, and Y/N was delightfully buzzed by the time she finished the chocolate lava cake she shared with Seokjin for dessert. When they bade Alice– who ended up taking an Uber, after all– a goodbye after the check was paid, Hoseok actually gave Y/N’s best friend a hug. True to her word, Y/N rotated seats in the taxi– she sat in between Hoseok and Jeongguk in the back seat of a Honda Civic, Jimin taking up the front passenger seat. Tipsy and full of way too much food that she had split with Seokjin, Y/N sleepily rested her cheek on Hoseok’s shoulder, falling in and out of comfortable slumber for the fifteen minute ride back home. 

The next week and following weekend were a whirlwind of events. She had dropped off Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung at the rec center on Wednesday for their clubs, and again on Friday, while her mother offered to begin ferrying Namjoon and Seokjin to and from the library on Mondays for the book club, saving Y/N from having to leave at the crack of dawn before work to get them there. During the weekend, she helped Jimin out with the restoration work; they had finished the freshly-painted purple chicken coop, and moved onto putting a new fence around the exercise pen. At work, which was slower than ever, she spent most of her time between reading hybrid guide books and writing notes about the Tarot reading Judy gave her. 

The day of Namjoon’s birthday, which fell on a Monday, had her running around like crazy. She had asked for the day off, in order to coordinate how her dad would get Namjoon’s trailer to his house. The wolf hybrid was at the library with Seokjin for that week’s book club meeting, so Y/N had her dad drop off the trailer while he was gone. 

“Whoa, that thing is ancient,” Yoongi remarked, his arms crossed over his chest and spotted tail curling languidly behind him as he stared at the trailer– which turned out to be more of a camper van than anything. “Needs a hose-down.”

“Ah, I don’t want to do that just in case he wants to keep it this way,” Y/N dragged a fingertip along the yellow siding of the vehicle, the digit coming away dusty with dried mud. “You know how he is. Particular.”

“How much did you have to pay to get this thing here?” Yoongi watched as Y/N tied a little green bow onto the keyring to the van, an amused expression on his face. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Y/N gave Yoongi a little head pat, his ears fluttering as she did so. 

Namjoon made it back home around 4 PM, him and Seokjin clutching copies of The Scarlet Letter, and thankfully her mom heeded her request to drop them off at the front of the house so Namjoon wouldn’t see his trailer parked in the back by the garage. When Y/N asked what the wolf hybrid wanted for dinner the previous day, he vaguely told her “noodles”, so she and Yoongi made japchae, some side dishes, and meat, of course. She had absolutely raided the bakery in town, getting an assortment of cookies, cupcakes, and pastries, which she had to hide in the garage fridge overnight so Namjoon wouldn’t get his hands on them prior to his party. When she greeted the two hybrids her mother dropped off by the front door, Y/N noticed Namjoon was also holding a gift bag with daisies on it. 

“Whatcha got there?” Y/N asked the wolf hybrid curiously, while Seokjin was giving her a goofy side hug. The jaguar hybrid often clung to her when he’d return home from the book club; he said the week prior that he missed her a lot when he was away. 

“Oh, um. Your mom got me something for my birthday,” Namjoon scratched the back of his neck, following Y/N as she waddled to the kitchen with Seokjin hanging off of her. 

“Did you open it?” 

“No, not yet,” Namjoon admitted, sniffing the air, which was filled with a grilled meat smell. He entered the kitchen behind her and Seokjin cautiously, like he thought a ghoul was going to pop out from behind the refrigerator. “I didn’t want to open it while the group was there.”

“Fair enough. I’m curious though, why don’t you see what it is now?” Y/N managed to get Seokjin off of her once she squeezed her arms around his slim waist in a hug, the jaguar hybrid purring and taking a seat on one of the barstools. 

Namjoon stiffened as Y/N got close to him where he was standing by the coffee bar, peering around his shoulder at the gift bag. It was interesting– while Seokjin seemed to never get enough physical affection, Namjoon tended to avoid it most of the time. Every hybrid was different, so she supposed and had learned from the guidebooks she’d been reading. Last week, she found out from the wolf hybrid guide book; they take a long time to warm up to adoptive guardians and are slow to initiate physical contact. Since she had learned this, Y/N didn’t take his aloofness personally. 

Namjoon dove his elegant fingers into the sunshine yellow tissue paper, his ears turned backwards as if something in the bag would nip his hand. Pursing his lips, he used both hands to pull a box out of the gift bag, Y/N recognizing what it was immediately. Her mother had splurged on a gorgeous chess set for Namjoon, and once again Namjoon’s human ears had turned a shade of pink as he passed a palm over the glossy box. 

“Do you know how to play chess, Joon?” Y/N inquired, scooching a bit closer to him to admire the front of the box. The board itself looked like the squares were made of mother-of-pearl and ebony wood, and the chess pieces were intricately carved. “My grandfather taught me a long time ago, but I’m probably pretty rusty…”

“I never actually played, but I’ve read books about the game and strategies,” Namjoon replied softly, turning the box over in his hands and peeling the plastic film off of it. “I mentioned to your mother once that I’ve wanted to learn for a while.”

Damn. Y/N - 0, her mother - 1. Her mother had known Namjoon for longer than her, but the fact that she knew little intimate details about the wolf hybrid that she herself was unaware of stung a little bit. 

“Well, I’d be happy to play with you anytime. Because it’s been so long since I’ve played, it’ll be good for you to learn while being my opponent. I won’t kick your ass right away,” Y/N joked, hearing voices from outside draw nearer to the cracked slider into the backyard. 

“Hey, Y/N, what’s that th–” Hoseok came inside with Jimin and Yoongi, the latter of which smacked his hand aggressively over the fox hybrid’s mouth, cutting him off right before he spoiled the surprise. Thank the gods for Yoongi. 

“Foxy, go bathe. You fell in that pit of mud earlier, you’re going to get shit everywhere,” Yoongi shoved Hoseok towards the foyer, his palm still clamped over the fox hybrid’s mouth. Hoseok’s usually shiny mahogany waves were indeed, caked with mud, and the back of his tee shirt was soaked through as well. 

“Oh shit, I have to order the gravel to fill that mud pit in before it starts to get really cold. It’ll freeze and I’m nervous one of us will break a limb,” Y/N muttered, watching Yoongi pull a broom out of the closet in the foyer to sweep up the dirt Hoseok had tracked into the house. 

“I’ll add it to our list,” Jimin volunteered, pulling out his phone and tapping away. Jimin had been especially focused on restoration work over the past week. 

While she was at work and the other hybrids were at their clubs, the coyote hybrid spent most of his time outdoors. The only one home with him when everyone else was away was Jeongguk, who didn’t necessarily offer his help, but Jimin didn’t seem to mind. Y/N was shocked by how much Jimin had already accomplished; he had finished the exercise pen over the weekend with Y/N and was ready to work on the actual stable itself, which really only needed some roof patching. Y/N had made an Excel spreadsheet she shared with Jimin so he could keep tasks organized and jot down any items they’d need to buy. 

“Jimin, the restorations look amazing so far! I think at this rate we’ll have horses around here by November. I’ve asked around my grandparent’s pool of friends, and there are at least four of them interested in boarding their horses here over the winter,” Y/N approached Jimin, who was much tanner than he was when she first adopted him from all his time spent in the sun. Even his honey blonde hair had lightened a few shades, as well as the fur on his ears and tail. 

With her words, Jimin’s tail swished back and forth rapidly, excitement clear as day on his face. He had a small smear of mud on his nose, which Y/N reached up to remove with her shirt sleeve gently. Jimin’s cheeks turned pink as she grinned at him and pushed back the strand of hair falling into his face to join the rest of his combed-back style, Y/N resisting the urge to cup his face in her hands and smooch him all over. There weren’t many things she had seen before that was more precious than Jimin’s pure, radiant joy– it positively lit him up and made her giddy like a fool. 

“I should wash up before dinner,” Jimin’s voice was faint, like his thoughts were distant and too large for him to sort out, giving Y/N’s shoulder a weak pat before shuffling towards the foyer. “I’ll be back soon! Oh, and happy birthday Namjoon.”

Namjoon, who was still reading the back of the box his chess board came in, grunted in surprise, giving Jimin a short nod as the coyote hybrid left the kitchen in a daze. Y/N tried not to feel too satisfied that she seemed to have flustered Jimin a little bit, but it was quite the ego boost to make such a pretty man blush. 

Seokjin had migrated from the island to the breakfast nook, where he curled up with his knees to his chest, reading The Scarlet Letter. Y/N noticed Seokjin was taking notes, too, with the legal pad she kept in the kitchen junk drawer and one of her stolen pens from the animal hospital. The jaguar hybrid was totally engrossed, biting down on his plush lower lip as he read, his sock-clad feet tapping out a rhythm on the booth seat he was perched on, and his tail curled around his waist. She turned her attention back to Namjoon, who still appeared to be reeling from Jimin addressing him. Returning to his side, Y/N let his honey-and-musk scent wash over her pleasantly, his chest rumbling as she approached. 

“I got a few things for you too, can I give them to you now?” Y/N asked, knowing that Namjoon was more of a private person.

 In comparison to Jeongguk, who had more of a confident, devil-may-care attitude, she couldn’t really picture Namjoon being super comfortable getting showered in gifts while the other hybrids gawked at him. Now, with just Seokjin in the room, someone Namjoon had gotten more comfortable with thanks to the book club, she figured it would be the best time to give him his gifts. 

“Okay,” Namjoon answered after a moment, gingerly placing his chess set down on the coffee bar. 

Y/N told him to take a seat at the island while she whisked away to the dining room where she stashed the wrapped gifts, returning quickly with a smile on her face when she saw Namjoon followed her directions. Curiosity, along with a fair bit of skepticism, was painted all over his handsome face. It was a tall order to top her mother’s gift, but she thought the trailer might just give her a leg up. 

“Alright, Joon! This one first,” Y/N placed a wrapped parcel on the wolf hybrid’s lap, leaning her elbows on the granite countertops so she could watch him open the gift. 

Namjoon huffed out a little sigh as he began tearing the sage green wrapping paper, his eyebrows furrowing as he revealed the two items Y/N had wrapped together. She knew the sigh he released was to cover up the fact that he was slightly embarrassed, rather than annoyed, and it made her smirk into her palm. The gift was the set of Tarot cards that reminded Y/N of him, and the book she had picked up for him the day she took the hybrids for haircuts. Suddenly feeling nervous, Y/N stole a glance at Namjoon’s face, and was rewarded with an expression of surprise, his eyebrows lifted as he immediately pulled the cards out of its gilded box. 

“The colors reminded me of you, and you seemed to know all of the card meanings, so I thought you’d be interested in having your own set,” Y/N babbled, Namjoon ducking his head slightly so he could look at the artwork of a few cards off of the top of the deck. “As for the book, there’s a strong possibility you’ve already read it, but I’m crossing my fingers that you haven’t.”

Namjoon paused his loose overhand shuffling to peer at the book cover, wetting his lips and his ears fluttering as Y/N spoke. 

“I haven’t read this one. Looks like it came out recently… Maybe something in there will tell me what that entity is,” Namjoon leaned closer to Y/N, his voice low, as if he was trying to keep the moment between just the two of them. 

“Maybe it will,” Y/N mused quietly, feeling the air electrify as Namjoon drew closer into her personal space. “Here, this one next.”

Namjoon cocked his head, scanning her face with those calculating orange honey eyes, before tearing open the second wrapped box. A soft, muted noise of exclamation came from the back of his throat as he lifted the lid off of the box, before he actually began chuckling. 

“Oh, you remembered when I suggested a Walkman! Where did you even find this?” Namjoon lifted the device from the box, accidentally dropping the old wired headphones back into the tissue paper with a sheepish grunt. 

“Believe it or not, a pawn shop,” Y/N replied proudly, psyched that Namjoon liked his gifts so far. She could hardly wait to drag him outside. “Now you can listen to those folk tapes whenever you want, or order blank tapes online and record your own voice. Like an audio diary?”

Namjoon snorted, his dimples appearing in his cheeks, and used one of his free hands to drape over the back of Y/N’s. Shocked by the contact, and the fact that he had been slowly doling out more of it these days, Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. 

“I have one m-more surprise for you, but it's outside,” Y/N stumbled over her words due to a slew of things; his hand over her’s, the way he was looking at her intensely, and the excitement of reuniting him with some of his belongings in the camper van. “Come with me!”

Y/N wrapped her hand fully around Namjoon’s, tugging him off of the barstool and excitedly blowing past Seokjin, still wrapped up in his book, and towing a spluttering Namjoon out to the backyard through the slider. 

“What else could you possibly get me? H-hold on, I’m going to trip,” Namjoon panted, stumbling a bit as Y/N pulled him to the gate leading to the garage and driveway. He squeezed her palm tightly, tugging her to a stop with one eyebrow raised– he didn’t release her hand, even when they stopped running.

Using her free hand, Y/N gave the wolf hybrid a mischievous look and reached into her  pocket for the keys to his van, which was obstructed by the garage and out of view, and brought their joined hands up to her face. Turning his palm over in her hand, she dropped the keys into it, the green ribbon fluttering in the wind. There was complete silence as Namjoon stared at the item that was placed in his hand, nothing but the breeze in the willow trees making a sound. 

“No fucking way,” Namjoon blurted loudly, startling a few mourning doves sitting on the gate to the garage and driveway into flying away with a series of coos. “Are you serious?”

Biting down on her lip, Y/N jerked her head sideways, Namjoon eagerly following her past the gate and towards the garage and driveway, the old camper van coming into view beside the basketball hoop Yoongi had set up. The siding of the vehicle was buttery yellow and white-turned-gray with mud and ancient looking moss, and there was something dangling from the rearview mirror– maybe an air freshener?

Namjoon tightly gripped the keys in his fist, pure astonishment on his face as he took it all in, his hand slightly shaking as he approached the side door to unlock it. Y/N didn’t check out the interior of the van herself; she figured far too many people had already invaded his space– between agents who apprehended Namjoon in the first place, the people at the impound lot, and her father who brought the van from the lot to their neighborhood. She wanted more than anything to check out what kinds of things Namjoon collected over the years, but since she had read more about wolf hybrids, she wanted to wait until he actually invited her into his space. 

The side door to the van creaked open with a rusty sound, a gust of parchment-scented air rushing out as Namjoon hurriedly hauled himself into the back of the vehicle, leaving Y/N standing in her driveway with a swish of his tail as he disappeared into the back of the camper. Shifting from foot to foot, she heard Namjoon mumbling to himself and banging into things from her spot outside the camper, when his head popped into view with fluttering ears, eyebrows knitted in confusion. 

“What are you doing? Come in,” Namjoon used two fingers to beckon Y/N up the steps, before disappearing into the back of the camper again. Giddy, she hopped up and into the van. 

It was a vintage camper, and surprisingly more roomy than it looked. It smelled like Namjoon, mingling with old books and the smell of pine trees, and it was pretty crammed with more books than she could count– stacked on the shelves, piled on the floors, strewn about the table by the seating area in the back, and by the looks of it, even shoved into the oven. There were tapes scattered about as well, and indeed, there was a poster of Bigfoot on the wall, next to the iconic “I want to believe” The X-files print that looked like it had seen better days. 

Above the driver’s cab, there was a loft with what appeared to be a bed where he’d sleep. There was a mini kitchenette that looked hardly used, an ancient looking TV nestled on the counter intended for cooking prep, and a little door by the seating area that Y/N presumed to be a bathroom. It had pretty much everything one person needed to live in there, and Y/N wondered where the hell he had even gotten it. It wasn’t like hybrids were technically permitted to drive (legally, that is), let alone waltz into a used car lot to purchase a camper van. It was another mystery that cloaked Namjoon. 

“I hope everything’s still here,” Y/N began, eyes roaming on some of the book titles that were lying around. Namjoon had everything from fiction novels, classics, esoteric non-fiction books, and even poetry anthologies. “Let me know if something is missing… I’ll call the impound lot.”

Namjoon was digging through a drawer that was built into the booth of the sitting area, his back to her. With no reply from the wolf hybrid, Y/N continued to take a look around, noticing that the lack of organization mirrored how he kept his bedroom within the house. Meanwhile, Namjoon found what he was looking for, straightening out and watching Y/N read some of the spines of the books he had lining a shelf beside the kitchenette. He could hardly believe she actually found the van, let alone had gotten it back to the house and surprised him with it. Namjoon was particularly good at sniffing out surprises before they happened, but nothing could have prepared him for this. 

“Wow, you have so many books about extraterrestrials. I didn’t know you were into that kind of stuff,” Y/N commented, enjoying her little peek into Namjoon’s interests. “Have you read all of these? You must have a hundred books–”

“Y/N,” Namjoon interrupted her, his tone serious, grave, even. Tearing her eyes from his book collection so she could nervously make eye contact with the wolf hybrid, she wondered if she said something out of turn, or was somehow too familiar. 

“Mmm? Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop,” Y/N admitted sheepishly, clasping her hands together in front of her body to indicate that she wasn’t going to touch any of his belongings. 

Namjoon took a large step towards her, a soft expression on his face that was usually reserved for her mother. Feeling her cheeks flush, she stayed put, dropping the intense eye contact between them and instead focusing her gaze on the cream wool sweater covering his chest, the v-neckline exposing a small sliver of golden skin. 

“This is for you,” Namjoon murmured, gently grasping her clasped hands and turning over one of her palms, placing a smooth, cool object into it. Shocked, Y/N gaped at the wolf hybrid, before examining what exactly he had gifted her. 

In her hand was a crystal, smooth and rounded, roughly the size of a ping-pong ball. She couldn’t help her sharp intake of breath, turning the crystal over in her palm, the milky color of the stone flashing blue and purple in the light coming from the window over the kitchenette. Y/N could immediately identify the crystal as soon as she saw that flash– it was a gorgeous moonstone, one that had the most striking flash of brilliant color she had ever seen. And for once, Y/N was completely at a loss for words.

“I found it by a creek a few years ago, at Yellowstone. I remembered I had it, and thought that you’d like it… considering your collection on display on the bookshelves in my room,” Namjoon filled the silence as she felt all sorts of emotions begin to well up inside of her. 

Not only was the first thing Namjoon did when entering his van after such a long time was give her something of his, but the fact that he noticed her old crystal collection in his room, and most of all, the way he was looking at her. It was entirely overwhelming. 

“Oh Namjoon, are you sure? It’s so beautiful, I can’t believe you found this!” Y/N finally managed to breathe, heart racing in her chest. 

Namjoon hummed in confirmation, a content smile on his lips as he gazed around the van, his ears flickering with the sound of the breeze outside. To heighten her surprise even further, the air was knocked from her lungs as Namjoon tugged her forward, gingerly wrapping an arm around her waist so tightly his hand ended up resting on her hip. His other arm moved to drape around her shoulders, tucking his face into the crook of her neck resolutely. Choking on an intake of breath, Y/N hardly had time for her brain to catch up with her motor skills, pressed up so tightly against Namjoon’s muscled chest. 

“Thank you,” Namjoon whispered into her neck, squeezing her slightly as she, with trembling limbs, wound her arms around his waist. 

It was as if he was thanking her for many things, with the seriousness in which he uttered the two words. Completely stunned into silence, Y/N could only imperceptibly nod in response, pressing her cheek over Namjoon’s steadily beating heart. Warm all over, she let Namjoon hold her for what seemed like minutes, before he pulled away and Y/N was able to regain some mental facilities. That was the first time Namjoon had ever hugged her. 

Regarding her with newfound fondness, Namjoon turned with a swish of his tail, resuming sorting through his drawers and making sure all of his belongings were there. Y/N had yet to move an inch since the out-of-character hug. All she could think about was how safe she felt in his arms, protected, even. As if someone had pressed play on a paused action movie, Y/N was able to reanimate herself now that Namjoon’s penetrating gaze was no longer lingering on her. 

“I’m going to set out everything for dinner now, okay? I’ll send you a text when everything is heated up… I got a bunch of sweets for dessert, too,” Y/N announced after lightly clearing her throat, Namjoon’s ears fluttering with the sound of her voice. 

Sliding the beautiful moonstone he had given her into the pocket of her linen pants, Y/N felt her wooden limbs begin to robotically take her down the steps into the van. Before she could stray too far, Namjoon spoke up again. 

“Y/N, really,” the wolf hybrid paused his sorting through some well-worn sweaters from the drawer he was organizing. “Thank you.”

Pausing, Y/N shot him a wide smile, warmth blooming in her chest. 

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday, Joonie.”

Namjoon’s birthday was a wonderful success, and ended up endearing Y/N to the wolf hybrid by many strides. The rest of the hybrids treated his birthday like it was a normal dinner, except they got to indulge in champagne and all kinds of desserts after, as well. Taehyung had even begrudgingly wished him a happy birthday after a couple of flutes of champagne, and the wolf hybrid was too busy talking to Jeongguk about his paranormal book collection to growl at Taehyung. Tension between Namjoon and Taehyung seemed to be slowly dissolving over time, and after the former’s birthday had come to pass, mid-September began to fly by. 

One Thursday afternoon at the metaphysical shop, while Y/N was munching on a caesar salad wrap Yoongi had packed for her lunch, Y/N received a call while she was on her break. Fumbling for her phone, thinking it was an SOS call from one of the hybrids at home or the rec center, she didn’t even check the caller ID before picking up. 

“Y/N? Do you have a pulse?” Ben, who she had neglected to contact frequently over the past few weeks in the midst of mayhem, sarcastically drawled. 

“Still breathing,” Y/N confirmed, setting her wrap down so she could better focus on the call. “Sorry I’ve been missing… Two birthdays this month, clubs at the rec center have started, and the new job. How are things? Daisy, you and Roy?”

“I figured you were busy, no worries, Y/N,” Ben chuckled. “We’ve been super busy too. I took some time off so I could be at home with Daisy, Roy’s still working on his dissertation. We’ve stalled our wedding planning. It's been so crazy. Oh, and we signed Daisy up at an activity center, like a daycare? We get to stay, of course. She’s made so many friends already, another bunny hybrid!”

“Who would have thought we’d all be so domestic right now,” Y/N grinned into the receiver, doodling flowers in her notebook. She had just about wrapped up her analysis of her reading she got from Judy all those weeks ago. “Maybe tomorrow at some point I can swing by, bring some lunch for you guys? This weekend’s nuts. Hoseok has a track meet tomorrow night, Yoongi has a basketball game on Saturday morning, and I told Jimin I’d take him to the hardware store after. Sunday, too, Taehyung’s got his first expo, and I’m doing something with Namjoon and Jeongguk later that evening.”

“Christ. I thought I was busy. I forgot you got seven of them, and they’re adults,” Ben sounded astonished, Y/N giggling into her palm as she skimmed her notes. “Wait, you only mentioned six of them. What’s the remaining one up to? Not interested in clubs?”

“Oh, Seokjin? He’s in the book club my mom runs out of the library. He’ll probably tag along with me to all of the events. He’s quite against parting with me for too long,” Y/N felt a fondness flow through her as she mentally pictured Seokjin’s lovely face, and the way he shadowed her constantly. 

“Yeah, hybrids are clingy, Y/N. Bet you’ve learned that by now, though. Do they claw at each other to see who gets to sit next to you on the couch?” Ben joked, unaware that Y/N was flushing– because they pretty much did. “Speaking of Seokjin. I looked into that situation you texted me about regarding the Cirque Mystique fire. As well as the other two things. I’ve had some free time whenever Daisy is down for her naps.”

“Ben. I love you, do you know that?” Y/N’s week was made with this revelation, visualizing his blue eyes rolling back into his skull on the other line. “I have like fifteen minutes until I have to open the doors again!”

“Alright, I’ll give you the basics. I’ll send over everything I’ve compiled after we hang up, sounds good?” A ruffling sound of papers being sorted through came through the receiver; Ben had likely printed out all of the information Y/N had him dig around for. With Ben’s status as a powerful, successful business lawyer, he had not only numerous far-reaching connections, but a persuasive personality to seek out information she could never find out herself. 

“Yes, yes, go ahead,” Y/N urged, pulled out of her intense focus on the reading she had just finished taking notes on.

“So, let’s start with Cirque Mystique. They’ve had a few lawsuits over the years, I’ve worked with other lawyers that handled their cases. One of my buddies has a contact over at the circus, so I was able to ask directly about the hybrid your Seokjin was performing with the night of the fire,” while Ben spoke, Y/N held her breath. “Hannah, a cat hybrid. She’s still with the company, she’s fine… sustained minor injuries, but my friend is working to get her out of the company. She’s pressing charges for unsafe working conditions. If she wins the case, she’ll be able to enter the adoption system.”

“She’s okay? Thank goodness,” Y/N placed a hand over her forehead, overjoyed that she could tell Seokjin the good news later. “Wait, hybrids can press charges like that?” 

On the other line, Ben hummed in amusement. 

“Y/N, you really are clueless about the hybrid world, huh? Yeah, within the last five years or so, the law protects hybrids in certain ways. We’re not all there yet, unfortunately, but for serious matters… poor living conditions, abuse, etcetera, hybrids can press charges and request representation if they so desire. Typically, public defenders take the cases considering most hybrids cannot be legally employed, meaning they have no way to pay for a higher-profile lawyer. However, some of my colleagues have taken cases and waived fees for many cases regarding hybrids. Morally, we can’t stand how some of these hybrids have been treated,” Ben explained patiently. 

“So, hybrids can take cases to court now,” Y/N confirmed, Ben grunting in response. “Which answers one of the other things I asked about.”

“Yeah, so, I’m not quite sure if I can give you a perfect answer. I understand protecting whichever hybrid of yours that may have gotten himself into a situation, but it depends on how serious the issue was. You mentioned self defense in response to an abusive situation, correct?”

Y/N had asked Ben, as vaguely as she could, about how a hybrid would go about protecting themselves if placed in a dangerous situation, and used self-defense in response to danger. She hadn’t mentioned Taehyung’s name at all, not that she was worried Ben was some kind of rat, but because the Kodiak hybrid didn’t even know she was arming herself with information, just in case they’d need it in the future. She prayed that day would never come. 

“That’s right, self defense. For example, say I was walking around Boston Common, and someone tried to mug me and a couple of the hybrids. If they fought back physically in the name of self defense, would juries likely side with the hybrids?”

“Well, that depends on who makes up the jury, and how good your lawyer would be. Say that actually happened, right? Fortunately, Y/N, you have the means to hire a really good lawyer for your hybrids. A few sympathetic members on the jury could definitely sway the verdict in your favor. I’d say, keep whatever happened under wraps until either your hybrid presses charges or the other party does. But yes, I’ve seen cases involving hybrids defending themselves against abuse resolved in their favor,” Ben sounded like he was rubbing his close-cut beard, deep in thought. “I compiled some information about cases like this, I’ll include it when I send the email to you later.”

“Thank you Ben, this is really great stuff so far,” Y/N gushed, relieved to have certain anxieties quelled with his information. “Any news on the last query?”

The final thing she had asked Ben to look into regarded Jimin. Ben’s cousin lived in Wyoming, and was married to a park ranger, so she was able to find out a few things for Ben to report back to Y/N. She had a couple of tricks up her sleeve not only surrounding Jimin’s birthday in a few weeks, but for Christmas as well. 

“Ah, yes, Jimin’s surprise,” Ben said through a smile. “Here’s the thing. You need to send the Yellowstone ranch’s office a copy of his adoption certificate to prove he’s in your care, and what you want to retrieve for him in Montana…”

“Yeah? Rip the bandage off,” Y/N picked at her nails, expecting some hoops to jump through. 

“Y/N, it’ll be a pretty hefty sum. I mean, it’s not like they’d be shipping a crate of books to you. They’re willing to do it, for the right price of course, and provided you show them that Jimin is officially adopted by you,” Ben revealed with a note of skepticism. 

“All I care about is if it’s possible, which apparently it is,” Y/N waved her hand in the air, even though no one was there to watch her gesticulate. 

“I figured,” Ben snorted, knowing Y/N was the type of person to splurge endlessly on those she cared about. “As far as taking Jimin to visit his family, that’s allowed as well. Really, as long as you can show the Park that you’ve legally adopted him, and he’s not just a stray, there’s no rule that prohibits him from visiting his family on the ranch.”

Y/N wanted to take Jimin to see his parents, sister, and friends some time after the holidays, perhaps in January. She only wanted to entertain the idea if Jimin wouldn’t face any sort of punishment, considering he had run away from his home and employer. Since all that was needed was proof that he was living under her roof legally, she could not only gift him a trip to Montana for Christmas, but surprise him with something huge for his upcoming birthday. 

“Ben, thank you so much, I mean it. I knew you’d be able to dig all of this up,” Y/N excitedly stuffed the last bit of her delicious wrap into her mouth, catching a bit of homemade dressing on the corner of her mouth with her tongue. She’d never tire of Yoongi’s cooking. “You’re a superhero. I can’t wait to see you and hug you for twenty minutes.”

“Y/N, don’t flatter me. It was refreshing to look into all of this for you, since I’ve been cooped up at home for so many weeks. Don’t get me wrong, though– I’ve been loving my Paw Patrol marathons with my daughter dressed in our pajamas in the meantime,” the sound of Ben filing away his papers filled Y/N’s ears, his breathy laughter threaded in between his words. “As for what you mentioned earlier, I’d love it if you could swing by tomorrow for a visit. I miss you, and Daisy has been asking for ‘Foxy’. I think she heard your leopard hybrid calling him that.”

“Hmm, how’s early afternoon? Hoseok’s meet isn’t until 5PM, and I have the whole day off. I can likely rope everyone into coming, but we’ll see,” Y/N watched the clock on the wall, making sure she had some more time to finish her lunch. “Hey Ben, one more thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Do you know if anything has changed regarding hybrids getting a driver’s license?” 

“Jesus, Y/N. Do you read any of the articles I send you? Yes, driving schools have begun taking on hybrid students,” Ben scolded lightheartedly, Y/N noting that she’d probably end up signing a handful of the hybrids up to get an official license. 

Getting some form of official ID for those who didn’t want to drive would be wise, too– and when she thought about it a bit longer, Y/N would need to look into getting another car. Her to-do list was never ending, but it kept her busy and the tasks were all worth it, if it meant her boys could live lives as close to normal and comfortable as possible. 

“Ah, I can hear Daisy. She has a new habit of climbing out of her bed after her nap to look for me in my office. Time for Paw Patrol,” Ben had never sounded more affectionate, except for when he was talking about Roy and their wedding plans, perhaps. “Take it easy, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You too, Ben. See you then, give Daisy a hug for me,” Y/N wrapped up the call, waiting for Ben to hang up first as he started to baby-talk at his daughter. 

Y/N, while finishing off the little bag of chips Yoongi had included into her lunch, unlocked the metaphysical shop’s front door and turned the sign back around to “open”. It was busier prior to lunch, and typically customers tapered off after her break, so she returned to her stool with a sigh and brought her attention back to her notes on the reading. After many weeks of consulting the guide book, asking Judy to see the physical deck, and slyly observing each hybrid’s behavior, she was fairly confident she had sorted out who was who. 

The Shaman - Related to the element of Air. Insightful person, involved with magic, particularly protection magic. Gaze is ‘ancient’, mature, and seems to possess knowledge from ages past. Animistic spirituality. Meditative. Respects nature and what can be learned from it. Musical, finds the sounds of nature inherently musical. Educator and leader of the young, “walks between worlds”. Seokjin (?)

She had spent a majority of the time trying to decide which card represented the jaguar hybrid. Over the past month she had spent with Seokjin, she noted his insightful, wise nature, his calmness, and his deep respect and admiration for nature. He was the one the others often looked up to, sometimes begrudgingly so, since he was the oldest in the house. 

Often, she heard Seokjin singing– she wasn’t sure if Seokjin was aware he had a listener, let alone a fan, but Y/N often found herself enjoying his melodious voice when he sang in the shower, while he worked on the stable repairs with her and Jimin, or even when he was tipsy and helped with post-dinner kitchen clean up. 

Additionally, there was a certain quirk of Seokjin’s Y/N had recently become aware of. He was unnaturally perceptive, and Y/N would even go as far as saying it was on par with Namjoon’s perceptivity. Seokjin, more than any of the hybrids, could not only sense her immediate shift in mood, but the other hybrid’s as well. He had a unique ability to emphasize with anyone in the house, even if he disagreed with their actions. After much deliberation, she decided Seokjin was The Shaman. 

The Archer - The Spring Equinox, sunrise, air, inspirational and creative. Hoseok for sure. A focused, determined, athletic person full of purpose. Cunning. Eager for adventure, bold, desires to take control of life and ambitions. Steady state of mind. Soulful, clever, uses intellect to their advantage. Imagination is powerful and has the ability to manifest into reality.

The Woodward - Lammas, late summer, fire and water. Associated with the full moon. Others often mistake passive, emotional, humble nature as weakness. Controls emotions with ease, but displays them with ease. Jimin, most likely. Understands facing fears, has experience with darker subjects of the cycle of life. Possesses great inner power. Brave, wise, balanced person. Compassionate, merciful, experienced in natural life cycles. 

The next two were the easiest to figure out; Hoseok and Jimin. Out of all seven of her hybrids, they were the more extroverted of the two. Y/N only had to read three lines of the guide book to know that The Archer was her Hoseok; clever, adventurous, and definitely imaginative. Jimin, on the other hand, wore his emotions on his face clearly and without restraint. However, he was incredibly polite and in control of his actions, which she had clocked when he first scented her. Like The Woodward, she noticed that some of the other hybrids would often make him the butt of a joke because he was so willing to let things go out of politeness, but Jimin was no pushover. He’d make his own jokes in retaliation, with class and wit. 

Yoongi and Taehyung were more difficult to place, but not as much as Seokjin was. She spent a week alone, with the remaining two cards, trying to make out who was who. It was that day, at work, where she finally felt confident enough to assign them a card. Taehyung being quiet and mysterious, and Yoongi being enigmatic no matter how attached at the hip he was with Y/N, she nearly drove herself delirious in the effort. 

The Hooded Man - The Midwinter Solstice, the element of Earth. Solitude, a thoughtful person. Represents death and rebirth. Frost, ice, and winter are associated with the card. Inner depth. Someone who has a quiet or slow voice. Withdrawn. Can be harsh, keeps to self. Seeker of knowledge, old soul type individual. Strong willed, survives any stressful situation and turns tribulations into lessons learned. Good at comforting others… Taehyung (?)

The Guardian - This must be Yoongi. Samhain, elements of Water and Earth. Protective, “human link to the wilderness”. Can incite fear in others, but controls their own fears well. May practice paganism at one point in their lives. Complex person, unafraid of the unknown or the taboo. Can be a trickster, has an inner darkness due to circumstances that have happened in the past. May get lost in their thoughts. Hades, Oberon, Dark Angel.

Biting the cap of her pen, she contemplated whether or not she had placed those two hybrids correctly. The characteristics of The Hooded Man that matched up with Taehyung were his soft-spokenness, and his introverted personality, and his “solitude”. Once she deduced that Taehyung fit that card best, she became puzzled with the remaining card being Yoongi. 

Yoongi, who was probably the most selfless and caring person she had ever met in her life, being a card as dark as The Guardian? It didn’t make too much sense to her, but the other cards fit everyone else too well for her to reconsider. Perhaps there was an inner darkness to Yoongi that she hadn’t seen yet… he did have a proclivity for schooling his features, and Y/N didn’t know too much about his past. Like a lot of the others, he really didn’t bring up his life prior to his adoption, and Y/N was hesitant to prod around, considering how close she and Yoongi had become. 

Interrupting her contemplation over the reading, the witch bells rattled against the shop’s door, announcing the arrival of a customer– a young woman with lilac-dyed hair, holding hands with a tall man. Once Y/N blinked rapidly to clear her head, she greeted the two customers cheerily, watching them peruse the crystal table. 

With a jolt, she realized that the man was actually a hybrid, perhaps a German Shepherd hybrid, triangular ears crowning his head and an air of protective energy surrounding him. The young woman was happily examining a chunk of clear quartz, and to Y/N’s great surprise, her hybrid ducked down to give her an affectionate kiss on the apple of her cheek, the woman giggling in response and getting on her tip-toes to plant one on his lips. Eyes glazing over, Y/N felt a deep ache in her chest; she couldn’t wait to go home and see her hybrids, all of a sudden. 

“Okay, okay, we have to get going now, or Hoseok will be late for his meet,” Y/N was trying her best to corral the seven hybrids back to her Land Cruiser parked outside of Ben’s townhouse. 

She brought a stack of pizzas from Sal’s over for lunch. Recalling Laura’s diet before a track meet from her high school days, Y/N knew that loading Hoseok up on carbs was probably her best bet, and everyone– her hybrids and Ben’s family– loved Sal’s pizza. They spent the afternoon eating in Ben’s grand dining room, catching up, and playing with Daisy. Jimin and Hoseok were delighted to see the bunny hybrid again, and Y/N had to physically shove a plate with four slices of pizza on it into Hoseok’s hands while he was chasing Daisy around Ben’s living room so he wouldn’t cramp up during his meet.

“Foxy,” Daisy pouted in a watery manner, making grabby hands at Hoseok while Roy held her on his hip. Over the course of the afternoon, the bunny hybrid had gotten pretty attached to Hoseok. “Don’ go!”

“Sweet pea, Foxy has somewhere he needs to be. We’ll see him again soon, don’t worry,” Roy soothed, in his typical calm and collected manner. Daisy continued to fuss and reach for Hoseok, who had his lower lip jutting out as well. 

“Next weekend, Dais, okay? I’ll see you then, we’re going to pick pumpkins, remember?” Hoseok also attempted to soothe, Y/N catching Jeongguk rolling his eyes as he hauled himself into the back seat of the Land Cruiser. Y/N was actually quite proud that Jeongguk had refrained from not only using expletives the whole afternoon, but also from lighting up a Marlboro for so many hours. 

“Thanks, Ben, for all of the info,” Y/N gave him a hug, making sure each hybrid was getting into her car as she patted the thick envelope of paper in her tote bag Ben had discreetly placed in there before they left. “See you next week, love you.”

Ben, Roy, and Daisy waved at them as Y/N pulled away, having Namjoon beside her set the navigation to the rec center. Ben lived in the heart of Boston, on Beacon Hill, and the rec center was in her town just outside of the city, so it would take them about half an hour to get there. She was genuinely surprised that everyone was willing to go to Ben’s and then Hoseok’s meet, but she suspected that some of them were just itching to get out of the house, particularly Jeongguk and Jimin, who rarely left. 

The rec center was a huge concrete building, right on the edges of the town they lived in. Large basketball courts were outside by the parking lot, and at the back of the building was the running track. As she had read on the website, soon the outdoor sports would be moving inside. That weekend were the only meets and games Hoseok and Yoongi would have outdoors until the spring, if they decide to sign up again, that is. 

It was 4:15 by the time she had parked and everyone was following Hoseok to the track. He was whistling joyfully, swinging his gear bag around and tapping a rhythm on the side of it, Y/N taking a sideways glance at the basketball court and its stands that she’d be crowding into the next morning. She didn’t know if anyone besides Seokjin would be joining her for Yoongi’s game the following day, but it would be nice if the others would be just as supportive of the leopard hybrid as they were of Hoseok. 

“I gotta hit the locker room and change, the bleachers are over there. I think there’s a dude selling hot dogs and cheeseburgers somewhere, too,” Hoseok paused by the back door of the rec center, overlooking the running track. Already, there were quite a few families crowding the stands, and a handful of hybrids in uniform stretching on the track. 

“Alright, we’ll go find spots. Looks like Yoongi’s already on it,” Y/N snorted, most of the hybrids following Yoongi to the stands like lost little ducklings. Turning to Hoseok, who was rooting through his gym bag, the fox hybrid pulled out a white sweatband, which he promptly shoved over his head to get his hair out of his face, ears popping up cutely with the movement. “Come here, you. Good luck, I’m cheering for you!”

Y/N tugged Hoseok to her by the belt loop of his jeans, squeezing her arms around his waist tightly, hooking her chin over his shoulder. Usually, when Hoseok would give her a hug, he’d similarly place his chin over her shoulder, so she had gotten used to holding him this way. Hoseok was only caught off guard for a split second before he clasped his hands behind her back, playfully nuzzling his nose into her hair. 

“Go find your seat, before there’s none left. You don’t want to have to sit on someone’s lap, hmm?” Hoseok placed his hands on Y/N’s hips, lightly pushing her away with a cheeky grin. “Gotta change and stretch. I’ll see you after, my darling.”

With that, Y/N waited until Hoseok retreated into the rec center before she headed towards the bleachers, most easily recognizing where she had to go by spotting the bony set of Jeongguk’s antlers. Yoongi had chosen a section of bleachers right in the front, and people around her hybrids were giving them a wide berth. After all, it wasn’t like they were bunny hybrids. Y/N wondered if she should go on a podcast or something, so she could tell the world that exotic hybrids were just as clingy and sweet as your average housecat hybrid. 

Y/N settled in between Yoongi and Seokjin, with Namjoon and Jeongguk directly behind her. Confused, she looked around for her remaining two hybrids, but couldn’t visually locate them anywhere. Panic, as per usual, was impossible to squash down. 

“I sent them to get some drinks and snacks,” Yoongi spoke unprompted, cracking his knuckles and glancing at Y/N out of the corner of his eye. Talk about mind reading skills. 

“Hungry again? I knew I should have ordered seven pizzas rather than six,” Y/N relaxed, leaning into Yoongi’s shoulder and humming. 

“Seokjin wanted to try what they had,” Yoongi scooted closer to Y/N, his sweet-scented shampoo tickling her nostrils. “Even though I told him the food is shit here.”

“Hey, let me decide for myself! How could a cheeseburger possibly taste like shit?” Seokjin declared, sending a dirty look Yoongi’s way. Y/N believed it might have been the first time Seokjin ever swore in front of her, and it made her hook an arm around his back in amusement so he could nestle closer to her side. 

“What’s Foxy’s event, anyways?” Yoongi let it go, pushing a hand through his long locks. 

“He told me he’s doing one of the sprints, and a middle distance event. I think the mile,” Y/N replied, eyes lighting up as Hoseok jogged out of the rec center building dressed in his uniform; a red tank top and matching bottoms, black Spandex shorts under the baggier red uniform pants. 

Hoseok made his way onto the track, fist-bumping a couple of his teammates– a racoon hybrid, from the looks of it, and a calico cat hybrid. Y/N, entranced, kept her sight glued to Hoseok doing quad stretches and animatedly talking to his friends. Hoseok, by nature, could talk to anyone. He made friends everywhere he went, whether it be Y/N’s own friends, his teammates, or even a random cashier at the grocery store. 

The coach, a wiry thin man with gray hair, began handing out numbers and pins to the team. Hoseok ended up with the number 807, and even from several yards away, Y/N could see his wide smile as he pinned the number to his tank top. By now, Jimin and Taehyung had returned from the food stand, the former with a tray of sodas, the latter balancing several paper boats of hot dogs, french fries, and cheeseburgers in his arms. Y/N accepted a portion of french fries, still full from the pizza, mindlessly fiddling with Taehyung’s dark curls as he sat in front of her with his soda. 

“Hmm. You were right Yoongi, it’s shit,” Seokjin begrudgingly admitted, Y/N snickering as the jaguar hybrid chewed loudly in her ear with a pout. Yoongi rolled his eyes. 

“So, there’s going to be a loud noise when the coach shoots off the flare gun. Just giving you all a heads up, it usually spooks me,” Y/N nonchalantly informed the hybrids, but more specifically warning Seokjin in particular. 

She didn’t want to single him out and make him uncomfortable, but Seokjin was jumpy around loud sounds, so the warning was necessary. Nonetheless, he got the message with his keen perceptivity, and wound his tail around her waist in a silent response. 

Hoseok was incredible. When it was his turn to sprint, Y/N cheered him on, even though he was lagging behind. However, at the last moment, he shot forward like a rocket, coming in second behind his friend, the raccoon hybrid. Y/N clapped like a maniac, nearly spilling her basket of french fries all over the top of Taehyung’s head. 

A bit later on, it was time for the middle distance run, and Y/N was on the edge of her seat. As a joke, Jeongguk leaned down from his seat behind her, offering her an unlit cigarette poised between his inked fingers. After receiving a glare from Y/N, Jeongguk smirked and tucked the cigarette back into the carton, licking his lips. 

“Do we get to leave after this event?” Jeongguk spoke up, Y/N not tearing her eyes from Hoseok jogging in place at the starting line. Twilight had begun to color the sky in lilacs and pinks, a slight chill in the air as the sun disappeared behind the rec building. 

“I think so, unless Hoseok wants to stay and watch the rest of the events,” Y/N replied without looking back at the elk hybrid, gripping Seokjin’s hand tightly before the flare gun would go off again. His palm was warm and combatted the chill, and his thumb lightly brushed the back of her hand continuously. 

It seemed like falling behind, getting a slower start, before surging forward at the last minute was Hoseok’s strategy to win. The fox hybrid ran with grace, and it was almost spellbinding to watch him surpass each of his teammates as he pulled forward in first. Y/N hardly even noticed Yoongi taking off his bomber jacket to place around her shoulders as the temperature outside continued to drop. She only registered the action when she stood abruptly the same time Hoseok crossed the finish line first, the jacket unceremoniously dropping off of her shoulders as she screamed her head off. Sure, the people around her were giving her odd looks, but she didn’t give a shit. 

“Way to go Hoseok!” Y/N shouted, her fox hybrid getting attacked by bear hugs from his teammates on the track. “I’m so proud of you!”

Without thinking, Y/N whistled the three note tone Hoseok always did, and watched as Hoseok tore away from his friends and immediately whipped his head around to locate the source of the whistle. Ears perked up and alert, his eyes zeroed in on Y/N, who whistled again, waving like her life depended on it. Hoseok looked taken aback, even with all of the commotion around him; his teammates slapping his back, the coach attempting to give him a handshake. Cocking his head, Hoseok sobered up, his face splitting into a grin, waving back to Y/N with equal enthusiasm. 

As it turned out, Hoseok wanted to leave after the event, not even bringing up his first and second place wins as he approached Y/N and the others, complaining about the cooling temperature. To be fair, the fox hybrid was covered in sweat, so that couldn’t have helped the situation. Y/N attempted to give him another hug, but he claimed that he was too grimy, so they piled into the Land Cruiser for home when it was all said and done. In celebration of Hoseok’s success, Yoongi made everyone homemade hot chocolate when they got home, killing the cold that had seeped into Y/N’s bones from being outside. 

“You look really good,” Y/N breathed, taking in Yoongi in all of his glory, dressed in his green basketball uniform and leaning against one of the basketball hoops. Surprisingly muscular for his slight frame, Y/N had never seen so much pale skin from the leopard hybrid. Additionally, he had put on a fair amount of weight and muscle since she adopted him– when he was not getting much to eat at the shelter– which was relieving. 

His game was mid-morning on Saturday, and only Seokjin had elected to come with her and Yoongi. Currently, the jaguar hybrid was sitting on the bleachers further away, taking stock of the cooler he had brought along, filled with snacks and drinks. Y/N didn’t think he wanted another hockey puck burger from the food stand, so he packed things from home to eat. 

“Do I?” Yoongi lifted a brow, surprised Y/N would be so forward. “Jersey’s a little tight. Might ask for a bigger one next gameday.”

“Nuh-uh. Looks fine to me,” Y/N shook her head innocently, enjoying the blush on Yoongi’s cheeks with her teasing tone. “Number 54.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Yoongi deadpanned, Y/N shrugging lightly. She had long since become immune to Yoongi’s quick comebacks, and truthfully, she was flirting with him. “Careful.”

“54, get that hair up! Can’t have it hanging in your face during the game,” Yoongi’s coach, a stern middle-aged woman with a blonde crew cut, barked his way. Yoongi had mentioned she was tough, but an amazing coach. 

Yoongi made a move to grab the green scrunchie around his wrist, before Y/N stopped him by lightly snatching his wrist herself. 

“Can I do it? Please?” Y/N dangled the scrunchie in front of his face, winking coquettishly. It was very easy to make Yoongi blush, but even easier to get him to give in to her every whim when she teased him a little with a flirtatious glance. It was certainly an ego boost. 

Nodding with his eyes downcast, Yoongi took a seat on a courtside chair, Y/N filled with glee as she rounded the chair and slid her fingers into his silky black hair. Pulling her lip in between her teeth, she knew that Yoongi’s hair wasn’t long enough to completely tie back into a bun, so she gathered up the pieces on his crown and framing his face, softly scraping her fingernails against his scalp for a little added massage. Hearing him purr from beneath her, Y/N hummed in response, using the scrunchie to make a half-up half-down bun style, before straightening out the strands still loose against the back of his neck. Satisfied, she gave Yoongi a tap on his shoulder, prompting him to get back up. 

“There you go, all set,” Y/N admired his face now that his hair wasn’t hanging in it, the shaved sides above his human ears exposed. It was a shame he had to take out all of his hoop earrings for the game, because they’d go well with the hair style. “Knock ‘em dead out there, angel.”

His coach began furiously blowing her whistle, indicating that the game was starting soon, so Y/N took it as her cue to begin returning to Seokjin. Before she could get very far, though, Yoongi caught her around the elbow. 

“Hey, what about my good luck hug sweetheart? Foxy got one,” Yoongi tilted his head. Oh, the tables were turning, apparently.

Shoulders shaking with laughter, Y/N opened her arms, looping them around Yoongi’s back and shuddering at the feeling of him slinging his low around her waist, both of them pressed cheek to cheek. Yoongi wound his fingertips into the hem of her sweater, his chest rumbling with purrs against her’s. In a strong bolt of confidence, Y/N released him, his features curious while her’s mischievous, and much like when he first made her lunch to take to work, Y/N leaned up on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on Yoongi’s cheekbone. 

“Good luck, Yoongi,” Y/N whispered coyly into his ear, sending him one more wink before shoving him lightly towards the court, where his teammates were gathering around the coach. 

The leopard hybrid walked off in a daze, caught off guard by the impromptu kiss once again, and Y/N skipped to the bleachers where Seokjin was waiting for her, reading the book club selection of the week. She wondered if Seokjin had seen the spectacle and was ignoring it, or if he was too wrapped up in The Catcher in the Rye. 

“Hi honey, I missed you,” Y/N snuggled up close to Seokjin, the briskness of the wind telling her October was on the way. “How’s the book? Can’t say that one is a favorite of mine.”

“I’m not a big fan so far, either. Um, but next week we’re reading Pride and Prejudice. I remember you said you liked Jane Austen a lot, so I’m excited to get through this one and move onto that. You’ll have to tell me a little about it,” Seokjin set his book down, adjusting the collar of Y/N’s sweater so it covered more of her shoulder. Seokjin often fussed over her bundling up as the weather was cooling down, lately. 

“Ooh, you, Joonie and I can watch the movie after you finish the book. I think you’ll love it. Hmm, maybe Jimin too, he likes romance movies,” Y/N wormed her way even closer to Seokjin– if she was any closer, she’d be in his lap– and linked her arm under his. The jaguar hybrid, she noticed, didn’t like the cold, so she didn’t think he’d mind if she made herself into a space heater for him. 

“So it’s about romance?” Seokjin glanced down at Y/N, his fiery eyes distant for some reason, his voice very soft. 

“Yeah, it's arguably the best romance novel of all time,” Y/N replied, trying not to find his reaction strange. Did she spoil the surprise for him? Before she could read too much into it, Yoongi’s coach blew her whistle, and as Seokjin flinched closer into Y/N’s space, the game began. 

While Yoongi was playing, like when Hoseok was running, Y/N was transfixed. Yoongi seemed to be the best player out of the bunch; and being the shooting guard for his team, he scored several points in the first quarter alone. She recalled her phone call with Alice not too long ago, when her best friend referred to Yoongi as being sexy… and watching that basketball game, she couldn’t help but think about how right Alice was. Something about watching Yoongi running around on the court, yelling in his deep, raspy voice at his teammates, and the sweat that began to collect around his hairline and dampen the locks had her pretty much squirming in her seat. She prayed Seokjin didn’t notice, but he had been periodically going back and forth from paying attention to the game, reading his book, and snacking on some Doritos. 

The game became a nail biter in the last quarter, and Seokjin began to watch it with more focus, offering Y/N a few Doritos as she nervously tapped her foot against the metal bleachers. Yoongi seemed to be growing frustrated with the other team’s shooting guard, a Doberman hybrid, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists as the hybrid kept annoyingly close to Yoongi once realizing he was the biggest threat on the opposing team. 

As the timer was running out, the two teams were tied. Seokjin was soothingly patting Y/N’s back as she gnawed on her nails, eyeing the sweat rolling down Yoongi’s temples. Just as she was praying to the sky, Yoongi managed to get the ball, sinking a three-pointer, not even seconds later the buzzer going off indicating that the game was over. 

Unlike Hoseok, who had welcomed hugs from all of his teammates before seeking out her and the others, Yoongi immediately turned to the bleachers and pointed at Y/N, who was already flying out of her seat and cheering in delight. 

Before she knew it, she was jumping up– right into Yoongi’s arms, as he caught her mid-air, her arms around his neck and legs encircling his waist, his hands supported her by cupping under her thighs. Still squealing with joy into his neck, Y/N didn’t even register all of the cheering around her and teammates thumping Yoongi on his back. He won, and the first thing he did was look for her.

After Yoongi’s game, she treated Seokjin and Yoongi to some lattes and pastries before they headed back to the house, and she spent the rest of the day trying to calm her racing heart after Yoongi held her by working on the stable with Jimin. When she found the coyote hybrid that afternoon, he was on the roof of the stable sans shirt, patching up holes with shingles. So much for calming her racing heart. Fortunately, he put his tee shirt back on by the time he and Y/N were hauling hay into the nearly completed stable. 

The last two things on her agenda, when she woke up on Sunday, were Taehyung’s photography expo in the afternoon, and the banishment ritual she had planned with Namjoon and Jeongguk in the evening. The ritual, fortunately, could be performed inside, and was quick and dirty; after all the running around during that weekend, she was both utterly exhausted and ready to just chill out with all of the hybrids on the couch for a bit. 

The dress code for Taehyung’s expo was casual, but Y/N still decided to wear a cute autumnal dress, in a gothic periwinkle color trimmed with black lace. This time, not only did Seokjin tag along, but Jimin and Hoseok as well, which she thought was a nice gesture. Everyone who went dressed up a bit; Seokjin and Jimin in button downs and dress pants, Hoseok in a maroon sweater and jeans, and Taehyung in his outfit he had worn to the cookout– the ruby satin short-sleeve button down and baggy black cargo pants. They all looked pretty stylish, in Y/N’s opinion, and as she pulled up to the rec center for the third day in a row, she felt many eyes on the five of them. 

“We only have to stay for a little while. There’s no presentation or anything, just a few of my pictures hanging up, and champagne served,” Taehyung began nervously, nodding at the older gentleman holding the doors of the rec center for them. 

“Aw, Tae, we’ll stay for as long as you want! I can’t wait to see your first pictures. You’ve been working so hard, walking around the backyard for good shots, editing on your phone,” Y/N insisted, clicking her tongue when Hoseok rushed by her with Jimin and Seokjin in tow, straight for the nearest person with a serving tray full of champagne flutes. “If I want to get them printed, how would I go about doing that?” 

With this, Taehyung turned quite red, matching not only his shirt but the peculiar color of his eyes, too. Y/N took a cursory look around the room they had set up the event, clumps of people and hybrids scattered around the industrial looking lobby, low tables of appetizers and cheese plates, and of course, framed pictures on the walls, separated by who took them. 

“Taehyung! Good to see you here so early. Did you see where we set up your pictures?” An older woman, perhaps in her sixties, approached her and Taehyung standing in the middle of the room with their champagne flutes. “Oh, you must be Y/N! So nice to meet you, dear.”

Y/N shook hands with the woman, who had gorgeously painted plum fingernails and several artsy bracelets. She reminded Y/N of her mother, vaguely.

“Come, come. I’ll lead the way. I put your pictures up over by the window, Taehyung, and we hung them with the walnut frames you picked out last week,” the woman gestured for her and Taehyung to follow her, and the Kodiak hybrid suddenly looked incredibly nervous. 

Y/N reached for his hand to squeeze it reassuringly, not wanting him to feel shy about showing her the pictures he had worked on all week. She made sure Hoseok, Jimin, and Seokjin were faring well; they were chatting with a couple of other hybrids across the room and enjoying cheese and crackers, presently. As they walked to where Taehyung’s pictures were, Y/N felt Taehyung’s palm grow clammy in her grip, his ears flattening to his skull so much they were hidden in the mass of his dark curls. 

“Here we are! They’re beautiful, I can’t believe it’s his first time with a camera– Oh! Brian, welcome! Excuse me, you two… enjoy the expo, and well done, Taehyung!” With that, the woman breezed away to greet another hybrid and his family, stepping out of the way so Y/N could get a good look at the four photographs framed on the wall. 

The first one her eyes landed on was a picture of the front of their house in black and white, the sunlight reflecting interesting shapes on the eaves of the roof. It was taken from a spot in the flower beds lining the walkway up to the porch, so a single Black-eyed Susan was closest to the lens. The second, also in black and white, was a picture of himself, holding one of her grandfather’s vintage cameras up to an old mirror in his bathroom back at home. As per usual, he looked gorgeous, and there was a ghost of a smile on his usually stoic face. 

Smiling, she recognized the room in the third picture immediately, it was the room with the piano, and the photograph was in color. It was a shot angled from where Taehyung would lay on the floor to listen to records, and the picture showed Y/N and Yoongi’s feet as they sat at the piano for their weekly lesson. It was amazing that she wasn’t even aware that Taehyung was snapping pictures of them, but judging by the sweatpants Yoongi was wearing in the picture, it was from two weeks ago when he was teaching Y/N “Clair de lune”. The photo showed Yoongi’s sock-clad foot over her’s on the sustain pedal, showing her when to hold it down. If anything, it was quite an intimate shot that had her cheeks heating up. 

Swallowing thickly, and rubbing circles into Taehyung’s wrist bone, she got closer to the wall, turning her attention to the last picture. It was then when she finally gasped; it was a candid, colored portrait of her. She had no idea when Taehyung had snuck that picture of her, but from the softened, fuzzy edges of the film grain, it was taken with one of the vintage cameras. She was mid-laugh in the photo, her hand covering her mouth and eyes scrunched up in mirth, curled up on the couch in the parlor with purplish light illuminating the side of her face from the TV. Y/N never really liked seeing photographs of herself, but this one was lovely. Hardly believing it was even her, she stepped closer to the picture, trying to ascertain exactly when he had taken the photo. 

“Um… they’re kind of amateurish, but I think when I edited the two black and white ones, the result turned out nicely. I didn’t retouch the colored ones at all, they had pretty good lighting on their own,” Taehyung let go of her hand so he could point at certain areas of each photograph, his voice a little unsure. “Do you… what do you think? Are they bad?”

Casting a glance towards the Kodiak hybrid, who was anxiously analyzing his work with knitted brows, Y/N moved to grab his other hand as well, forcing him to face her. 

“Tae, they’re gorgeous. I love them, especially the one that you took with the mirror. Just as I thought, you’re a natural,” Y/N squeezed his large hands as she emphasized certain words. Taehyung could tell, based on her scent, that she wasn’t lying to him, and as if the sun came out, his adorable, wide smile blossomed across his face. It was enough to almost bring her to tears, the brightness of it. “I definitely want to print these. I’m going to display them in the house.”

Letting Taehyung go, she began to admire his pictures once more, taking a sip of her champagne. The Kodiak hybrid moved behind her silently, and sandalwood fragrance enveloped her as Taehyung leaned down to nestle his chin on her shoulder, Y/N feeling low grumbles against her back as he pressed up against her, his arms around her middle. It wasn’t unusual for Taehyung to hug her like this, her back flush to his chest, so she leaned into it with a content sigh. 

“It was hard to pick just four. I’m happy you like these ones, though. You’re not mad I took pictures of you?” Taehyung murmured into her ear, his dulcet voice causing her to shudder in his embrace. 

“Of course not, Tae,” Y/N reassured, his curls tickling the sides of her neck as his face burrowed there. 

Often, she forgot she was in public when moments like this happened, so caught up in warmth and sensation nothing else seemed to matter. As if hearing her thoughts, Taehyung pressed his lips against the side of her throat, featherlight and tender. Feeling her stomach flip, Y/N leaned more of her weight back into Taehyung’s chest. 

“Y/N, over here! Check out this guy’s photos. They’re of a creepy old church, right up your alley!” Y/N heard Hoseok call from across the room, snapping her out of her Taehyung-induced reverie. Stepping away, she kept her arm linked with Taehyung, seeking out the other hybrids she had brought along with her. 

“Let’s take a look around! Then I have to find that woman who greeted us earlier to ask about prints,” Y/N walked side-by-side with the Kodiak hybrid, heading towards where Seokjin, Jimin, and Hoseok were congregating in the center of the room. 

After an hour, Y/N left the rec center with the four hybrids and a thick portfolio full of Taehyung’s photography. When she got home, she placed an order for a handful of picture frames. 

Just like that, September passed them by, and summer’s heat dissolved into a damp, overcast October. Once her, Jeongguk, and Namjoon had completed the banishment ritual, which involved burning herbs in her old cast iron cauldron and handing out sachets of cleansing bath salts for everyone in the house, Y/N was confident that they had gotten rid of the hag entity for good. She no longer felt its presence at all, in fact, the Victorian home had never felt so safe and protected. 

The stable was finally finished, which gave Jimin the opportunity to begin assisting Y/N with house renovations, starting with the hideous wallpaper on the second floor that was peeling in sheets. Even though the house was half-renovated, Y/N didn’t skip decking it out with extravagant Halloween, or Samhain, as she also called it, decorations as soon as the calendar read October 1st. Jeongguk poked fun at her for being overly enthusiastic, littering dozens of pumpkins on the porch and throughout the home, but Seokjin helped her set up the purple and orange lights on the fence around the front yard. Their neighborhood, filled with spooky looking homes from decades past, was popular with trick-or-treaters, so typically everyone went all out with decorations. 

It was the morning of Jimin’s birthday, a Thursday, and Y/N couldn’t help but think that it just missed falling on a Friday the 13th. Because Jimin didn’t belong to any clubs, she was having difficulty coordinating how to get his surprise in place, so she enlisted Hoseok’s help. 

“What do you need me to do, darling?” Hoseok whispered mischievously, after breakfast when Jimin had gone to take a shower before properly starting his day. 

“After he gets out of the shower, do you mind taking him for a walk over to my parent’s down the street? They have a gift for him anyways, so that’ll be the excuse for getting him out of the house,” Y/N felt like they were having a conspiracy meeting, ducking their heads together and speaking in hushed tones. 

When Jimin emerged from his bathroom, dressed in blue jeans and a buttery yellow crew neck sweatshirt, Hoseok promptly tore him from the house, the coyote hybrid sputtering out protests. As soon as they were down the street, Y/N had about an hour to get everything in order. 

“Joonie, can I have your help?” Y/N knocked once on the open door to his van, where he was inside reading a book about chess, spinning a pawn around in his fingertips. The look of shock on his face was adorable, but he set down his things and joined her outside. 

“There’s a delivery truck that just got here five minutes ago, looks like a horse trailer,” Namjoon informed her, following closely behind as they ventured further out into the driveway. 

“It is a horse trailer,” Y/N confirmed as they approached, Namjoon’s ears twitching as he heard something she could not. 

“Y/N, I know you’re a little, um. What’s the right word… generous with the birthday gift giving, but you did not get Jimin a horse, did you?” Namjoon lifted a brow incredulously, looking down at Y/N like she had sprouted a third arm. 

“No, I didn't get him a horse. I got him his horse. From the ranch,” Y/N retorted, tugging Namjoon by his wrist to greet the delivery driver and begin the process of bringing the horse to the freshly painted stable. 

It was no easy feat; Y/N had close to zero experience with horses, but luckily for her the delivery driver and Namjoon seemed to have things covered. Jimin’s horse, a beautiful bay female, was named Vista, and had a seemingly sweet disposition. 

“Now, this horse is used to Montana climate, and the winters can be bone chillingly cold. I think she’ll be alright here, and Jimin will be able to take care of her well,” the delivery man, who spoke in an accent similar to Jimin and Namjoon, gave Vista a strong pat on the neck, the horse nickering softly. 

Seeing the driver off, Y/N was starting to wonder why Hoseok and Jimin were taking so long at her parent’s house. Back in the house, Yoongi was busy making BLTs for lunch as per Jimin’s request, and placed the other gifts she picked up for Jimin on the island– just a nice bottle of his favorite whiskey, some new crystal tumblers, and a couple of new sweaters. 

“Y/N, Judas priest. Go out back, ding and dong returned, and they brought… guests,” Jeongguk came in from the kitchen slider after his smoke break, Y/N pausing her assembly of a sandwich to assist Yoongi. Judging by the look on Jeongguk’s face, which was poorly masked hilarity, Y/N began to hightail it to the backyard again. 

“Hi guys, you’re– dear god,” Y/N slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes threatening to pop out of her skull. 

Jimin was pulling her mom’s old red wagon, and nestled inside were chickens. Live chickens. Hoseok, with great effort, was holding a rooster in his arms, his teeth gritted, but merriment in his eyes. 

“My parents got you chickens for your birthday?” Y/N asked stupidly, Hoseok squawking as the rooster tried to flap free from his grasp. 

“Believe it or not, this is the kind of gift I’d get back at the ranch for my birthday often,” Jimin chuckled, completely unfazed. “We should get them to the coop though, that rooster is going to peck a hole into Hoseok’s arm.”

Shit. If Jimin was heading back to the stable, he’d see Vista, and they hadn’t even had cake yet. It couldn’t be helped, however. 

“Hoseok, here, give me the rooster. I’ve handled them before, don’t worry! Why don’t you change, I think it–”

“Yeah, it shit on me. It’s cool, I’m going to take a shower. Here’s the little bastard,” Hoseok thrust the rooster into her arms, sending her a wink before jogging off and into the house. 

“So, this isn’t unusual for you, Jimin? Chickens for your birthday? Honestly, where does my mother come up with these crackpot ideas? I mean we were going to get some chickens anyways, but this is just insanity. How many are there?” Y/N was rambling, feeling nervous about the whole horse situation. How would he react?

“I think there’s five hens. This is good, right? We’ll have fresh eggs soon!” Jimin was delighted, the stable only a few paces away. Jimin’s steps faltered, his ears alert, but he seemed to shake off whatever made him pause with disbelief on his face. 

“Alright, let’s get them in the pen. We’ll have to get some feed, your mother gave me some that’ll last for a few days,” Jimin started plucking chickens out of the wagon, setting them down in the grass while Y/N scattered food by the coop. Just then, Vista whinnied from within the stable, as if sensing her old owner. This time, Jimin flinched, staring at Y/N with round butterscotch eyes. 

“Um, happy birthday?” Y/N squeaked, Jimin springing into action and moving into a dead sprint, bolting into the stable with Y/N hardly able to keep up once she made sure the chickens couldn’t escape their pen. 

“Vista?!” Jimin exclaimed, standing in front of the stall his horse was in, all color drained from his face. “Y/N, is this? How did you?”

Jimin appeared to be on the verge of tears, entering the stall and stroking the horse’s mane with wonder. By his side now, Y/N watched an array of emotions wash over the coyote hybrid’s face. Her favorite, of course, was his joy.

“I just had to prove that I adopted you to the ranch, and they allowed me to have her brought here. I thought you’d like to be reunited,” Y/N revealed, the wind knocked out of her abruptly, Jimin grabbing her more roughly than he usually did and squeezing her into a fierce hug. So fierce, her feet were lifted off of the ground momentarily. 

“Well, why don’t you take her around some of the trails in the backyard? We’ve got saddles and everything,” Y/N breathed once he set her down, light tears still misting his eyes. Nodding enthusiastically, Jimin moved as if floating through air, gathering everything he’d need to prepare Vista for a ride. 

Jimin must have thanked her a thousand times before he let her out of his sight, but she insisted that she had to return to the house to resume helping Yoongi with lunch preparations. She watched as Jimin began to speak softly to Vista, his sandy tail swishing back and forth happily, before Y/N headed back into the house with a face-splitting smile. 

“Ooh, Freddy Kruger? How scary,” Y/N bent down to plop a couple of peanut butter cups into the little kid’s treat basket, holding onto her pointed witch hat as she did so. 

Halloween evening, her favorite night of the year, was turning out to be lively, and her house was ever-so-popular. Between all of the hybrids, some in costumes (Yoongi was Scarface, Hoseok dressed up as a pirate) and the lavishly decorated house, Y/N was practically stationed at the front door constantly with her large plastic cauldron full of candy to hang out. Assisting her was Seokjin, who was wearing a headband with little red devil horns. The kids absolutely loved him. 

“Isn’t tonight a special holiday for you? Samhain?” Seokjin spoke up during a rare moment without kids on the porch, his voice floating over the cheesy Halloween music Y/N had pulsing from her portable speaker. 

“Yeah, it is! You remembered,” Y/N cooed, adjusting the askew headband perched on his crown. “I set up an altar this morning in my room. Mostly, I just wanted to light some candles for my ancestors and put out offerings. I’m going to celebrate for a few more days, too… Samhain, Halloween, it’s a state of mind.”

Giggling at the goofy voice she used during her last statement, Seokjin perked up, a little girl in an Elsa costume bumbling up the porch steps for candy. The jaguar hybrid complimented her costume, offering her some packets of M&Ms. Shyly accepting them, the girl stared at Seokjin with awe before hurrying back to her parents on the street. 

“Y/N, we have a situation,” Yoongi lightly tapped on her shoulder from behind, standing on the threshold of the front door. Gazing upwards, catching the plastic gold chain Yoongi was wearing with his costume, she immediately sobered up upon seeing his distressed expression. 

“What happened, angel? Seokjin, can you take over for a few minutes, honey?” Y/N stood, following Yoongi into the house after he nodded. In the house, she sensed something off right away– there was shouting coming from the parlor. 

“It’s Jeongguk and Namjoon. They picked a fight with Hoseok–”

“Out of my fucking way, I’m outta here,” Jeongguk barked, and the sound of the slider in the kitchen slamming shut as Jeongguk stormed out of the house. 

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @gooooomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @lilmxchis @7evensin @00ihatesnaku @neverthefirstchoice @sometingreallycool

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

[undercoverpena]

xii. just say yes, just say there's nothing holding you back

javier peña x f!reader | chapter twelve of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: the last chapter (before the epilogue), feel that needs to be a warning. two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love ✨ wordcount: 4.2k. (i did try to cut it down but she kept growing)

an: here we are. i have been a mess since finishing the draft of this and i hope it means as much to you, as it does to me. this marks the end of the current timeline for this pair (the epilogue will span snippets from their future, some of which i'd love to expand on later when i'm less emotional).

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Javi’s day begins like so many others.

Light bleeding into his room, the wind’s whispers pulling him from sleep, gently gesturing for him to wake and be one with them.

It does so in soft yellows and splashes of orange as his curtains puffed up and danced—casting playful shadows over the furniture and the clutter that make up his room.

If he could, he’d rather roll over—abandon responsibility and return to his dreams.

He doesn’t, and never will. A silent promise he’d made to himself when he returned—having opened his eyes to see how much slower his Pop was—to do the heavy lifting.

It’s why he slides his hand across his bedside table, fingers finding the edge of his phone—pinching the bridge of his nose. The soft glow makes his eyes sting as they squint. Usually, there’s nothing new, but he likes to read back on a few of your messages—it helping to start his day right. 

Today, though, he finds something already waiting for him.

Morning baby, dreamt of you last night.

He doesn’t mean to, but he closes his eyes. 

Allows his hand to glide up over his face. Palm flat, the part where it meets his wrist running over the curve of his nose, before resting lower, hiding the stupid, foolish grin you somehow manage to pull from him. The one you conjure without even being here. 

The effect you have on him makes him want to pinch himself. Almost does. Just a little one. A need to check he wasn’t dreaming—wasn’t lost somewhere in the most prolonged fantasy he’s ever experienced. 

He knows he isn’t from the way his alarm chirps, turning it off with a slam of his hand—returning his fingers to his face, sliding through the front of his hair. Quickly urging his brain to kick into gear, enough to respond at least.

But, the only conscious thought he has is: What good have you done to even deserve her?

It’s a continuous thought. One which runs on a loop in some distant corner of his brain. It there hiding in the shadows since Houston, since he had the chance to hold you, hear you whisper his name as he made you sing.

The thought had been louder since you’d told him you wanted to come to the ranch. It stands in the forefront, prominent, bold. It’s even made a home for itself at the foot of his bed this morning, holding a sign in the same writing your note to him was in: 

Do not fuck this up, Javier. 

As if he has any control over it.

Fucking up follows him, gravitates and slams into him. He knows he can count the times and run out of fingers when ‘fucking up’ has messed up his plans. His life. His future. A brief population of them arising in cloudy bubbles behind his eyes—ghostly faces of people he’s failed, the scenes from things he’s done, the hand he’s been dealt by choosing wrong—

Blinking them away, he swallows. Taking a breath, loosening the tightness of his chest. Returning his fingers to the keys, he focuses his attention back to you.

morning baby what you doing awake

In truth, he already knows. Knew before he’d managed to rub the sleep from his eyes with his thumb and index—but he asks all the same. 

For the confirmation; the routine of it all. Because, even if it has always been hard for him to keep, he likes that the two of you have that. That you both have fallen into this dance so easily, so normally.

When he’d been in Colombia, invited to dinners with Connie and Steve, he’d wondered how they did it. How they understood one another, moved in fluidity around one another. Spoke the same language, even without spilling any words. His mouth chewing his cheek, hand scraping across his chin—attempting to crack the puzzle in front of him.

Now he has the answer. It simple, more than he thought it could be. That it’s natural, not forced, not something you can make happen or choose.

It’s not even that early. Going over my notes, keep feeling like I’ve missed something.

He snorts because he knows you.

There’s not a thing you’d have missed. Too clever for that, too aware.

Closing his eyes for another second, Javi steals a second of the quiet, until he hears Pop moving around, sparking to life squeaky floorboards and groaning walls.

It's rare that he has the chance to text you over his morning coffee.

The hour is usually not one where he finds you awake. Today, he likes that you are. A feeling swarming through his insides, doubling at the realisation that tomorrow you’ll be here in person.

He’ll get the chance to see you smile—the one that both warms a room and makes him feel like he’s arrived in heaven, all at once. A smile that makes it hard for him not to kiss it, savour the taste of it—feel you muffle out his name against it as you both will him to stop and clutch him closer.

you excited to be reunited with your jacket Mi chaqueta favorita y mi persona favorita. look at you learning quickly It’s easy when your professor promises you things if you do well. what does he promise hermosa Filthy things, Javi. sounds like hes rather inappropriate Oh he is. Asks me what underwear I'm wearing all the time. But he does have a great tongue, so it's worth i.

It’s hard to muffle his laugh.

A sound that he thinks the radio will have to compete with when you’re here, at the table—enjoying toast and coffee.

He’ll be lost in it, even if no one else is. Watching how your laugh shimmers across your face, witnessing the explosion of light that it brings. Like a firework, illuminating everything in its path.

Running his hand over his chin, he bites back a grin. One spawned from knowing he’ll have that in the next few days. You, in his home, laughing. It able to radiate and dance around his things and the things he’s always known.

Javi would have the chance to be able to touch you, pull you close by the legs of the chair, and bury his nose into your hair, smelling the sweetness of your shampoo, as he enjoys the feel of your giggle vibrating through your bones to his—the bass of it making his heart skip in his chest.

Fuck. He misses you.

It crawling up him, having softened him—scraped down and smoother over the hardened edges that the years of corruption and failure had created.

Licking his lips, he’s about to reply when he spots his Pop glancing at him over the top of the newspaper. Brow arched, half his face hidden, but Javi isn’t fucking stupid, he knows he’s grinning at him.

“What?”

“You okay, Javi? You’ve usually started by now?”

“Sí, lo sé. I’m going, Pop. Alright.”

One of the earliest things Javi learnt was that you’re a planner, an organiser.

He was able to witness it in small doses in Houston. Even if you had tried to squirrel it away, hide 85 from him.

He supposed, from the thing you’ve told him, you had to be. Plus, he imagined—like his former profession—it was almost a requirement. A need for a roadmap always there, a backup plan just in case of extremes.

So, for how much planning the two of you (you, mainly) had done the first time, the second time, in comparison, seemed to be chaos. You mumbled dates, times. There was a rough, outlined plan that made even Javi feel unorganised. If anything, it would be better to call it a loose, barely even well-organised idea, never mind a plan.

He had asked—numerous times during your phone calls. 

Rather than helping him, your voice crooned down, begging for a clue instead, claiming, "We have days to talk about this, baby", but not many days to "Finish this crossword".

And fuck was he a slave to the way you whined his name when he interrupted the puzzle to ask something about dates, length of stay, and airport pick-up times.

Now, though, days is tomorrow—and Javi hasn’t got a fucking clue what he’s doing.

He’s aware he’s picking you up from somewhere, at an unknown time, with you on an unannounced flight.

But, the stress is mounting, beginning to grow, prickling and wrapping itself around his back.

He supposes the lack of a concrete plan is why it’s so easy for it to come apart. It fraying, all toyed and played with by his fingers and avoided by your own.

Because it was never much to begin with.

In your defence, you couldn’t have banked on Pop finally being able to book in his truck at the stop. The one which hadn’t sounded the same in a while, never mind acted like it—the one very much needing to be fixed if Javi was going to continue to have a good relationship with his father.

It’s why he knew it needed to be done. He just couldn’t wrap his head around why the universe would decide now was the time it would align it to be fixed. 

Selfishly, he had wanted to tell his Pop no when he’d interrupted him to tell him. Wanting to say they’d sort it once you’d gone back—because he needed his vehicle.

Because Javi knows the people in this town, and knows how the universe works when it involves him. The truck wouldn’t be in the shop 'just for today'—it would be days. It would bleed out and ruin his plans of showing you all the places he loves in his hometown. His Pop needing to run ‘small errands’—ones that never remained as such when they involved Chucho Peña.

He knows this because if they actually needed something urgently, he’d be the one sent. Just like when he was a kid, and his bike wheels cut through dirt and fields.

But he bit his tongue all the same, placing the keys in his Pop’s hand so he can do what it is he needs to do. His arms crossed over, gripping his biceps' backs as he watches the tow take away the truck.

Knowing deep down, once he had you here, he wouldn’t care if the truck was even in the state, as long as he had you.

“How many errands you runnin’ anyway?”

Adjusting his hat, his Pop gives him that look. The one which tells him he hasn’t got a clue and not to stress. A look he finds he despises more now, post-Colombia, than before. “Don’t worry, mijo. I’ll fill her up for you.”

Except he won’t.

His Pop always forgets something. Usually, the thing most essential. It's why, naturally, Javi had factored it into his new plan, the one he’d been scrambling together when he mucked out the stable. 

What he had yet to bank on was that someone above was laughing at each plan he made. His fresh, newly organised one came apart again, before he'd even begun to head back to the stables.

This time, in text form. Your message arriving, punching into the gentle breeze and sunny mid-morning.

Okay, I’m leaving the motel now, wish me more than luck because I need this.

His feet come to a standstill. Dust kicked up, swirling around his calves as he read your message once, twice—

Then, his stomach drops, not just to the floor, but out of his body. Exiting out of him so quickly, he’s sure the rest of his organs have whiplash from it vanishing so quickly.

Heat spreading, sweat building, his body suddenly being consumed by panic—its tendrils sliding around his ribs, pecking at his lungs and heart as he tries to steady his breath.

I thought it was tomorrow No, today, silly. when did you fly in Yesterday, I told you this. The interview is today.

He’s unsure if his fingers have ever typed so fast, sweat beading on his brow—damp on his palms. Because no, you didn’t. Which meant—

“Fuck.”

It rips from his throat and flutters over the field, his eyes squinting, head turned in the direction of his truck—the one being sparked to life. Tyres sounding in the gravel. His feet not quick enough, not enough to outrun a vehicle—

“Fuckin’ fuck.”

youre gonna do amazing baby

I think I’m going to be sick. Which is normal right?

just try to breathe and remember that no one can do this job like you

I think the other people up for it would beg to differ, but I like how you support me.

tonight we’ll be celebrating

How are we planning on doing that?

i think i’ll buy you wine and then i’ll make your toes curl

Have to get the job first, Javi.

you will

And you’d need to know what time I’m arriving since you forgot it was today.

didnt forget baby

You handsome liar. I have to go, so we will resume this after I’ve gone and wowed them.

just be you. its how you wowed me

Javi is panicking. 

His hand almost dropped the house phone on the last call, a cramp forming from ringing every place he suspected his Pop would visit. 

And, because this was him, none of them had seen him in days—never mind today. They all sweetly asked if he was okay, like he had time to kill—had the time to catch up and hear how their son wanted to be a detective or their daughter was single.

He knew he could have been more polite, could have been nicer to some of them. Imagining your face when he tells you, that soft way you say his name, almost full of judgement and disappointment, but not quite able to embrace it fully. 

When he replaces the handset, he swears. Fingers massaging the side of his temple, outwardly silent—but inwardly loudly—ticking, his feet taking him outside before he begins to pace. 

Usually, listening to the sounds of the wind in the trees helps.

Today, he's not sure anything can. Thoughts of you standing at the airport, sad, abandoned, feeling forgotten hammer against his skull. His chest tightens at the thought, guilt eating away at his insides as each little sound makes his head lift and his ears turn. 

But, Javi isn't able to move when he hears the noticeable sound of wheels in the gravel and dirt. Almost worried he'd made it up, dreamt it, until he hears the horn. 

His horn. 

Wiping his arm across his forehead, Javi takes strides out of the distance—it takes all of his willpower not to check his phone. Not repeatedly check it, anyway.

Because you’re being quiet. Again.

Have been for the last two and a bit hours.

Admittedly, he’s not sure how long these things take, but the gap between your last message and now has expanded to the point that worry has begun to set in. What if you’re waiting for him? His mind pulls at the doubts he's forced into the darkness. What if you’ve changed your mind? His thoughts attempting to run away from themselves. His fingers and muscles, tendons and bones flexing as he turns the corner of the back of the house.

The stress, panic and worry merge inside of him, all beginning to knot. Clumping. Mashing with the earlier excitement to create a concoction that makes want to vomit.

Mad at himself that he should have known something would happen. His gut instinct off, having been tricked by how lovely the morning was, future days lulling him into a false sense of security.

He should know better. Javi had become well acquainted with things going explosively wrong in Colombia. He’d just hoped he could have spared it from touching you, from tainting what the two of you have.

The dismay flickers down his legs as the soles of his boots crunch loudly against the ground, steps all heavy, weighted. Trying to focus on the usual dread he feels at whatever the fuck his Pop has brought back with him this time. Discount slabs, sacks of tomatoes, new fence pillars—Javi has even seen him come back with more wooden slats to fix something he hadn’t even known was broken. Rather than paying attention to the longing and sadness he’s secretly feeling.

When he turns the final corner of the house, he sees it—his vehicle. His eyes spot the lights cutting out and then that the bed of his vehicle is empty—a thank fuck falling from his lips in a whisper.

Relief barely has a chance to soak in when Javi spots that his Pop isn’t alone. Annoyance flares, shooting through him as his jaw tightens. Until he narrows his eyes, attempts to look closer through the dirt-stained window, seeing what looks like a woman. Their head turned—a side profile that looks—

Swallowing, he blinks.

Must be a trick of the light, he thinks, shaking his head, wiping the sweat, sun and dirt from his eyes.

It has to be a mis-sight. His brain addled from worry, it now making him lose his mind.

Purposefully blinking it away, wincing at the brightness when he hears the noise of a door opening, then another—trying to stop his heart from getting away from itself, hammering and thumping as he watches his Pop step out, hoisting the back of his jeans up as he nods at him.

“Mijo.”

There's a smirk. It scratched into his Pop’s face—yet, his voice is so normal, all forced, a pretence. It not matching the look on his face. The one all mischievous and devious. A devilish smirk outlined by white hair and a twinkle in his eye that Javi cannot remember the last time he’s seen.

It’s why his attention drifts and slides, watching the other person—you—move around the back of the truck.

He’d spot you anywhere.

His body comes to the conclusion, before his brain. His shoulders drop—all of the stress melting—taking worry and annoyance with it. Something hooks in the corner of his lips, dragging them up to his cheek as he watches you glance at his Pop with a smile. That same one he hasn’t stopped picturing, dreaming of—before you land it back on him.

You’re here.

You.

Today.

Your chin dips, but he sees how high your cheeks are on your face as you watch him through your lashes. The two of you move, crossing the ground, cutting through the path to meet somewhere in the middle. Gravel crunching, dirt swirling like smoke at both of your feet. 

“Surprise, charmer.”

He snorts, not stopping until his arms wrap around you, colliding with you. It doesn’t hurt. If anything, he realises how much he’s been hurting since he let you get on the plane to begin with. Pieces of him sliding back into place—healing, fixing.

“How?” he asks, whispering it against your face.

Unwrapping his arms, he watches you stare up at him before he glances at his Pop—grin smothered by wiry white all over again, paused at the bottom of the stairs to the house, tipping his hat:

“She made me promise, mijo.”

Shrugging, you wipe your thumb across your bottom lip. “I did. Don’t be mad.”

“Mad?” he asks, cupping your cheek and tilting your head. “I’m not… not even a little bit. I’m just…”

“I know I didn’t get the Houston job.”

His heart breaks a fraction, hand rubbing your arm, hearing the door to the ranch open and close in the distance. “I know, baby. You’ll—“

“But I did get offered the one from today.” Nodding, you smile before your teeth bite down on your bottom lip. “Apparently, I am very impressive—was going to be poached, anyway. Seems my skills are transferable enough to work for imports. A job that, I'm not sure if you know, wouldn't be in Houston. Like I let you believe.”

He feels a frown beginning to appear—attempting to weave itself through the joy already etched into his face. The rest of him trying to catch up, trying to piece together the nuts and bolts, the corners and edge pieces of the puzzle from the statements you’ve drip-fed him since you first told him about it.

“The job, Javi, would be here. At the World Trade Bridge.”

He feels it, the way his face smooths as he processes it. Acknowledges it. A bubble, a flutter of wings, appears in his chest, a new one arriving with every nugget he manages to process.

“He asked me if I fancied relocating—when he offered me the interview. It wasn’t quite Houston, something he apologised for. But, here, in Laredo. I had the interview this morning. If I accept, I’d be here, Javi. in Laredo. Which I know is a lot closer than Houston, so…”

“Baby.”

You press your palm to his chest. “I rang for you—to tell you. I had wanted to keep it to myself initially, just in case. Then, when I was helping Aish pack, she said it would be a nice surprise. Then, the guilt got too much. But I was a bit too excited to see who it was on the phone… and your Dad says hello in the same way, and by the time I’d told you—him—everything, your Dad was offering to pick me up, to bring me here.”

His face softens, a smile widening. Practically engulfing every other thing his face could even show, one that hurts it's so large.

“I can completely understand if you’d rather us keep some miles between us,” you smile. “Thought, though, if you’re as serious about me as I am about you, we could make the decision together.”

His hand cups both cheeks, brushing his thumb over your skin. “I want you.”

“I want you too.”

“Take the job, move here—move in—“

“Your dad already offered that,” you laugh, tipping your head forward, forehead pressing to his chest.

And, it's likely you can hear how his heart is hammering—maybe even feel it through his shirt. All loud and heavy. It doing it all for you.

“And, as lovely as the offer is, I get a nice relocation package—and I think, don’t be upset, that I’d want my own place. Just for a bit.”

Dragging his thumbs across your cheek. He stares into your eyes, aiming to burn the words he’s about to say into them. “How could I be upset when I’d have you here, cariño?”

Your lips slide into your cheek, a shy smile forming. “We could do those dates you talked about? I know I would see you all the time anyway, but I think I’ve been reckless enough lately. I’d like to be a tiny bit sensible, and do the proper dating thing where I cook for you at mine, and you invite me to sleep over at yours. Y'know? Just for a short time.”

“So, are you…”

“I haven’t accepted, not yet. Like I said, I wanted us to make that decision. As a couple. I… I guess I also wanted to check I still wasn’t too much?”

He lets out a breath, fingers sliding further up your cheek.

Unsure how he can even find words enough to explain how not too much you are. But he doesn’t try. Instead, he closes the gap, pressing his nose to yours, hoping his lips tell you instead.

Feeling you grasp at him, pulling him close. Feeling warmth, fire and adoration erupting in his chest when your mouth moves against his, soft, all perfect. Utter fucking bliss. A kiss he's longed for and missed so much, he's sure he's floating. 

Only stopping when you pull back, hand sliding round to his chest—grinning, all teeth and sparkling eyes.

“I should go accept, right?”

He kisses you again, shorter, more chaste, but with the same abundance of emotions. “Lemme show you where the phone is.”

“The infamous one?”

His hand rises to take yours, looping his fingers, finding you fall into place beside him—just as easily as the two of you had done in Houston. “The very one. Can show you where I hit my knee that time.”

“Oh, when you almost cried?”

“Ay, cariño. None of that.” His head shakes.

Fuck is it something to hear you laugh. How it leaves your lips, your other hand wrapping around his arm, head burying against him as he tilts his head to watch. Knowing he’s grinning, knowing he’s never been happier.

He’s also pretty sure the entire ranch just began smiling, too.

Since the first time he heard your voice, his dreams have all been so similar. 

They are full of white sheets—soft-yellow sun rays dancing in from the outside through his blinds. They’d illuminate the bed, showcasing the outline of a person that he always knew was you. 

This morning, Javi woke to find it wasn’t a dream.

You're curled up close to him, thigh over his. His off-white sheets tucked around your body—face bare, stunning and pretty, lashes resting against your cheeks.

“Why’re you watching me sleep?”

Smirking, he traces his hand over your hip, giving you a pinch. “Jus’ admiring.”

“Can you do that at a sensible hour?”

He places a kiss on your nose, feeling your sigh against his skin before your hips move under his palm as you try to get closer. The barest of gaps between the two of you—as there had been since your arrival yesterday.

“For me, this is a sensible hour.”

You groan, deep—almost playful. “Shh, baby. Someone kept me awake late.”

“Some else didn’t seem to mind. I have teeth marks on my hand to prove it.”

He feels you hum, turning your head to look up at him before pressing a soft kiss to his chin. One that makes his throat dry, forces his hand to tighten its hold on you. The usual knot inside him smoothing out, everything in his veins calming. A feeling he had in Houston, which is now humming just as prominent here. 

The logistics for your move were glazed over last night, once you’d accepted, once his Pop had handed him a bottle of wine with a wink before 'heading out'. The two of you on the porch, wine in your hand and beer in his head. Tomorrow, Javi? We can plan it all tomorrow. Hand sliding over his. Just want to enjoy being with you right now, especially when we have forever. 

Tracing a circle on your hip, he traces his eyes over your face. “I’m so glad you mistyped that number, cariño.”

His words make your eyes open, watching your pupils swallow the colour—seeing how you focus, how your eyes begin to shine, and your smile begins to widen.

Hand rising to his cheek, your fingers delicately strumming his skin. “So glad you were intrigued about my bad date.” Your fingers pause, stopping at the side of his lip. “And that you were bored and lonely.”

Your eyes slide from his eyes to his lips and back again. “I’m even more glad to be yours, baby.”

Groaning, he slides his hand to your thigh, hooking it over his leg. “Say that again.”

“I’m yours.”

His nose slides against yours, lips lazily capturing yours. “Again.”

“Yours,” you whisper, mouth brushing his. “All yours.”

“Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Sliding your fingers into his hair, you ghost a smile across his lips. “I am, aren’t I?”

AN: there are so many people to thank, but I'll save that for next week. for now, thank you for reading. for trusting me. for trusting that i was going to give them the ending they deserved. i know we have moments from their future next week, but for now, i love you, i love them, and i love that i had the chance to tell a story i really wanted to tell. this story made me feel like I was a part of the fandom for the first time since I really joined, and I hope you’ll all continue to be as loving and wonderful for the next thing I write.

anon inbox is now open for anyone who wants to scream love (hopefully) but I won't post anything with spoilers until Thursday 7pm BST.

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Cry for the Moon

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

Pairing: Zuko x firebender!reader

Warnings: none

A/N: I did end up writing more, thus we get to see our fav boy Zuko in the upcoming chapter - but I quite enjoyed writing this one and digging deeper into the internal struggles of the reader! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did writing it ^.^

Taglist: @annonymatic @yoongiesstar @lost-inthe-v0id @lokigodofmyheart @4l3x1s @potato87123 @asciendo @angelruinz @unamused-boss @junieshohoho @yourlivewire @itszzmoon @coolgirl458 @vyliie

Mai’s raven hair was, just as you had last seen her, partly in two small buns and the rest fell on her shoulders. The dark, sleeveless jacket seemed to be a new one but other than that, her maroon clothing and black, fingerless gloves were the same as always.

As soon as your amber eyes found the slim figure of Mai, an uneasy feeling appeared in your stomach. Even the mere sight of her made you uncomfortable for every time you laid your eyes on her, the fact that you were never going to get your former best friend back hit you like a wall of bricks.

Even after Zuko’s banishment, or after you got together with Shuzi, the raven-haired girl insisted on keeping her distance from you. Not that you would easily forgive her, of course, but you found her stubbornness childish from time to time.

[Flashback]

You found Mai sitting on her swing at the backyard of her parents’ house, moving back and forth ever so slowly. The dull expression on her face became duller, as if it was possible in the first place. You felt the heaviness on your heart growing.

“Mai, I know there is something bothering you.” You said as you approached her carefully, you were afraid she would run away just like a cat. “Please, talk to me.”

Mai shook her head. “No, I don’t want to.” She said, it was obvious that she was trying to hide the sorrow away, but she was so heartbroken that made it almost impossible. “I cannot stand looking at you anymore!”

You felt tears rushing to your eyes, but you quickly sent them back. “Why? What have I done to you?” You asked as you sat next to her on the swing. “Mai, you are my best friend. I don’t want to lose you.”

“It just hurts too much,” she muttered while kicking the stones on the ground. “Seeing you and him together all the time.”

She was talking about Zuko.

“Mai, I…” Honestly, you didn’t know what to say. You were aware of Mai’s obvious crush on Zuko for years, but everyone knew that it was decided long, long ago that you were going to be his future wife. “You know that our parents have decided that when we were just babies.”

Suddenly, Mai stood up from the swing with a furious aura surrounding her. “I love him, okay? I should be the one with him! You… You are just acting that way because of this stupid arranged marriage!”

For the first time in your thirteen years of life, you heard Mai screaming.

You swallowed for a few times to destroy the lump in your throat, you were on the verge of breaking down. “What makes you believe that I don’t love him?” You asked with a low voice, trying to keep your emotions under control.

Mai let out a scornful laughter. “Ah, please. Zuko - he is a fool for you, but you are simply with him for the sake of duty and power. It is obvious.”

Slowly, you felt sorrow turning into fury as you stood up from the swing. “You are wrong.” You said with a cold tone. “I do love him. And if you had been really my best friend, you would have known that. You would have seen that.” As you shook your head, you turned back to leave Mai all alone. “As it turns out, you were only acting to be my friend. Out of duty.”

[Flashback ends]

Mai didn’t even look at you as she put her hands together and bowed slightly towards Azula. “Please tell me you are here to kill me.” She spoke with her usual, dull, emotionless tone. Then, she looked up at Azula with a slight smile on her lips.

Azula placed her hands on Mai’s shoulders as she giggled. “It is great to see you, Mai.”

Ty Lee rushed forwards to give Mai a big hug, ignoring the fact that Mai was not a fan of hugs. The gloomy girl gave Ty Lee an uncomfortable pat on the back. “I thought you ran off and joined the circus.” Mai said as she stepped back from the hug. “You said it was your calling.”

“Well, Azula called a little louder.” Ty Lee said, hiding the sarcasm in her tone skilfully, only you knew what she really meant by that. Once again, you found yourself feeling sorry for the poor girl – she only wanted to follow her passion.

Slowly, Mai turned her head to meet your amber eyes. “Hey,” she said with a small nod, her voice lacked even the tiniest bit of emotion.

You, too, had put on your resting bitch face. “Hey.”

Azula rolled her eyes in an exaggerated way. “Oh, come on! It has been three damn years.” The Princess turned her gaze to Mai, pointing at you with her right index finger. “She has been dating someone else for the last six month and none of you have seen my fool of a brother in over three years!” Azula took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. “Just leave that childish drama behind you already!”

Well, I kind of saw him a few days ago … which caused weird feelings and thoughts to arise …

Before you or Mai could say anything, Ty Lee spoke. “Well, technically, the arranged marriage is still on – as long as Zuko comes back with the Avatar, right?”

You let out a scornful laughter. “Ah, please, as if he stands any chance now that we are on the hunt as well.”

Azula looked at you with a smirk on her lips. “That’s my girl.” You winked at the Princess, who turned her gaze to Mai once again. “I have a mission and I need you all.” She said as she laid her right hand on your shoulder, her eyes wandering between all three of you.

“Count me in.” Mai spoke with an annoyed expression on her face. “Anything to get me out of this place.”

[Time Skip]

You shielded your amber eyes from the sun as you approached the three figures standing on the other side of the road. Two of them, who were standing on the sides, were wearing blue clothing that resembled those from the Watertribes.

The boy on the left was holding a baby, probably Mai’s brother, and had his hair in a stylish ponytail. To the right stood the girl with hair loopies and a water bag. The boy in the middle was, unlike the other two, in yellow-orange clothing with an orange hat-like piece on his head. You raised an eyebrow to yourself upon seeing that he was carrying a staff.

As she was the one responsible to carry out the trade, Mai stood forth and the rest of you waited behind her. Meanwhile, a crane was lowering the metal cage that held King Bumi of Omashu as hostage.

Quickly, you eyed Azula up – you were sure she had another motive behind this trade. A baby for a king, eh? I don’t believe this is something Azula would approve of.

“You brought my brother?” Mai asked. The boy with the staff nodded as he pointed to his left, showing the baby.

“He is here.” The boy said. “We are ready to trade.”

Just as you expected, Azula interrupted. You couldn’t help but smirk. “I am sorry, but a thought just occurred to me.” Azula spoke so naturally, it was impossible to point it out as perfect acting if one didn’t know Azula good enough. “Do you mind?”

Mai turned to Azula. “Of course not, Princess Azula.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Azula was weighing down some options. “We are trading a two-year-old for a king,” she said at the end as she looked up at the King of Omashu with an arched brow. “A powerful, earthbending king?”

The King himself nodded.

Azula’s eyes wandered between you, Ty Lee and Mai. “It just doesn’t seem like a fair trade, does it?”

You kept your chuckling to a minimum to avoid being heard, you had known that exactly this was going to happen. Knowing Azula good enough, it was to await that she would have an ulterior motive in taking the matters in Omashu – or rather New Ozai as the Princess had recently renamed the city – in her own hands.

It was Mai’s call now, she had to decide between family and duty.

“You are right,” Mai said with a voice that lacked even the slightest bit of emotion, even towards her own little brother. Well, one could clearly see that her brother was – at least for now – in good hands since the boy in blue clothing did his best to keep the baby safe and comfortable.

She probably wants to carry out Azula’s part of the plan first.

“The deal’s off!” Mai announced and held up her hand, gesturing the guards to pull the King back up.

However, no one – and especially you – wasn’t expecting the boy in the middle with yellow clothing to start using his glider to fly behind the King. Without even thinking about it, you reacted the same way as Azula and you both sent flames in his direction to block his path. The boy dodged the flames by leaping high into the air.

Did he just… Airbend?

As the boy used his glider with airbending, he lost his hat, leaving his arrow tattoo exposed. You and Azula gasped at the same time. “The Avatar!” You both said simultaneously.

A smug smile formed on Azula’s lips. “My lucky day,” she muttered more to herself, then she called out your name. “Follow me!”

[Time Skip]

The attempt to capture the Avatar in Omashu had, unfortunately, been unsuccessful – but it was something to expect considering that none of you were prepared to face the Last Airbender and a King that could earthbend simply with his face.

As the royal palanquin was being carried out the city; you, Mai and Ty Lee walked besides. You felt yourself sailing from one thought to another, dangerously close to getting lost in the vast ocean that is your mind. Chasing the Avatar made you realise something: you had never thought about how it would make you feel while helping Azula capture the world’s last hope.

You had complicated feelings and thoughts considering the war, the Fire Lord and the Avatar. It was for a fact that you despised Fire Lord Ozai after everything he had done to Zuko and Azula, you held him directly responsible for Azula’s corruption.

Of course, there had been a big Ursa factor as well, but that was a whole different topic.

Even though you were loyal to your nation until the very end, you didn’t really want to see Fire Lord Ozai becoming the supreme ruler over the Four Nations. He was a horrible man, he lacked even the slightest bit of empathy and compassion. A man who was incapable of loving his own children should be, under no circumstances, given such great power over all of humanity and its destiny.

But then, there was Azula.

You had mastered the skill of detaching your emotions from your actions when it came to her, which enabled you to carry out tasks which would otherwise burden you when awake, asleep and even dead. Your loyalty, compassion, and love towards Azula was stronger than everything you had known – well, except for the love you had felt for Zuko, but that was long gone.

You knew you needed more time to reflect upon this dissonance you were experiencing but you believed that standing with Azula was more valuable than anything you could think of at that moment. All these years, you had put in so much effort, time, and tenderness into your relationship with her – even the mere thought of doing the slightest thing to shake her trust brought you on the verge of a break down.

“So, we are tracking down your brother and Uncle, huh?” Mai asked, which caused you to come back to the present moment. You shook yourself.

Ty Lee giggled. “It will be interesting seeing Zuko again,” she spoke teasingly, “won’t it, Mai?”

At first, you kind of waited Ty Lee to divert the same question to you and correct herself but quickly, you remembered that you had been together with Shuzi for over half a year. Whether you would see Zuko again or not didn’t really matter anymore, despite the arranged marriage still not being called off.

“It is not just Zuko and Iroh anymore,” Azula spoke with a serious tone. “We have a third target now. The Avatar.”

You felt knots in your stomach.

As you headed towards the ship to spend the night and plan the rest of your mission, Azula explained Mai and Ty Lee why she decided to leave the royal guards and the navy ship behind. The main problem was to find a means of transportation that was fast, could go over any kinds of terrain without having the need to find a road and was strong enough to overcome any bending.

“What about using a tank train?” You suggested, earning an intrigued look from Azula, who was still sitting in the royal palanquin. “I am sure the army can spare one of them for the Princess’ mission.”

Azula made an approving sound. “That is actually brilliant,” she muttered, more to herself. “They are designed to travel at high speeds over most terrain without the use of tracks, but they can still accommodate many people – we can take some servants with us to run the errands.”

Ty Lee seemed a little bit uncomfortable. “I don’t want to be stuck in a metal machine for days – I need sunlight!” She was playing anxiously with her braid.

“I wouldn’t mind not having to see the sun for a while,” Mai muttered, not much to your surprise. “I don’t like the way it disturbs my eyes.”

“You would rather live in a black hole for the rest of your life.” Ty Lee rolled her eyes at Mai, causing her to shoot an angry glance. You bit the inside of your cheek not to laugh – Ty Lee was more than right in her statement. If you gave Mai a bucket of never-ending black paint and a brush that could be extended as much as one needed, she wouldn’t rest until she painted the whole sky black – setting aside the fact that such a thing is impossible to carry out.

The Princess heaved a sigh. “You can jump onto the roof to do your sunbathing, Ty Lee, as long as the insects flying at your face do not disturb you.” Ty Lee grimaced upon hearing Azula’s words. “And Mai, you are free to lock yourself up in a dungeon, as long as you are there to fight whenever I need you to.”

This time, you couldn’t hold back your laugh. Azula raised an eyebrow as she looked at you, whereas Mai and Ty Lee carried annoyed expressions.

“Do you also have a specific request?” Azula asked you. “And no, you are not allowed to bring your dog to our mission.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “For the last time, Azula, he is not a dog – I am not putting anyone on a leash.” Upon hearing Mai mutter something under her breath, you shot her a warning look and turned back to Azula. “And no, I am completely fine, as long as you leave those two sisters back on the ship.”

It was no secret that you despised Lo and Li, your hatred towards the sisters seemed to both amuse and entertain Azula every time. The Princess let out a small laughter.

[Time Skip]

The whole ship was asleep as you sat on the front porch, watching the night sky while the cool wind played with your hair, which wasn’t in the top not anymore. It was cool outside; you shivered and wrapped your arms tighter around your body – the red gown wasn’t thick enough to keep you warm. Heaving a sigh, you used your breath of fire to get rid of the shivering.

Ever since you had agreed to help Azula on her mission, you found yourself carrying out inner battles more often than usual. They used to be, when Zuko’s banishment was just new, the only thing you had known for a long while; however, after accepting the hard truth, you thought the battles would be finally over.

And they were, for the last two years, you didn’t have to deal with any internal conflict.

Until the thoughts about the Banished Prince and your distant past crept out from the dusty corners of your mind. You thought you had forgot him long ago – everything about him had to be burnt to ashes. As it seems, this had never been the case, the realisation of which was hitting you just now.

There was no compassion for him left in you, this was the truth; however, your past feelings for Zuko were still enough to confuse you, to distract you. It was like a sweet poison: the embrace of those distant memories felt oh so sweet and familiar – it felt just like home – but when you realised that they were in fact chocking you, drowning you – it would be too late.

I should have never let my mind wander off to those forbidden territories of my own memory. You thought to yourself as you breathed out crimson flames, the gentle touch of the wind was making you shiver once again. I cannot allow myself to get distracted. Not now.

Maybe… Maybe I should just face him.

That particular thought seemed to strike interest and excitement within you. Ever since the Banished Prince abandoned you on the deck when he left the Fire Nation, you secretly had been craving to face him and scream at him, tell him all those wicked things you wished he had heard from you.

Tell him how he broke your heart to a million pieces, burnt all your love to ashes and threw them out into the vast ocean.

And thank him for letting you turn into this thing that could disconnect her emotions from her actions simply by taking a deep breath and thinking about the strong bond she shared with his sister.

“You keep lecturing me about getting enough sleep and yet here you are – not sleeping.”

You chuckled as you turned left to look at Azula, who was standing next to you. She, too, was in a red robe, but hers was adorned in gold around the collar and the sleeves. She had let her dark hair down, which looked absolutely pretty either way.

“Do as I say and not as I do, Princess.” You responded, gaining an eyeroll from her. Slowly, you stood up. “I have trouble sleeping.”

Azula nodded, she also seemed thoughtful. “I understand.” She paused for a moment. “You were thinking about my brother, weren’t you?”

You didn’t see any point in lying – Azula knew you good enough to tell when you were hiding something, just like you could do it with her. “He started messing with my head, again.” You spoke with a low tone, avoiding Azula’s amber eyes as you looked at the dark waters ahead of you.

The Princess laid her hand on your shoulder with a soft manner. “I can understand why his presence would confuse you,” the warmth in her tone caused you to meet her gaze. “But I need you in her best form and mind – distractions are not something we can allow at this moment.”

It was quite rare but sometimes, when it was just the two of you, Azula would let her shields and icy walls down. Every time when such a time came, you couldn’t help but adore how much she trusted you – you doubted that even her own family knew this side of Azula.

You nodded with a small smile on your lips. “I am very well aware of that, and I do not intend to disappoint you, Azula.”

The hints of a smile could also be seen on Azula’s lips as well. “You have given me no reason to think you would disappoint me.”

“I really appreciate your words, sweetheart.” Your amber eyes lit up with happiness. “For the matter of your brother, I think I have found a solution – I am going to put an end to these distractions.”

“Exactly what I was hoping to hear,” Azula said as the edge of her lips curled upwards. Then, she gave your shoulder a small squeeze. “Come on now, we both need our beauty sleep – or you are going to end up having eye rings, remember?”

You grimaced as you followed Azula into the ship. “Nobody wants that.”

[ilovepedro]

Deja Vú | javier peña x f!reader

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Chapter 3 - I don’t want no substitute

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Chapter summary: You finally go on your date with Chris. What you don’t expect, or rather who, to see there are Javier and Cassandra. Tension grows as the night goes on. Things finally boil over after a confrontation with Javier and Cassandra. Confessions arise as you and Javier are forced to face the music.

Chapter warnings: angst, confessions of love, arguing, idiots in love, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), fingering, spanking, face riding, oral (f receiving), subspace, hint of ass play, creampie, possessive!Javi, jealous!Javi, (soft)dom!Javi, hella pet names, fluff, pillowtalk, reader speaks and understands Spanish, reader is female and has hair Javi can pull but has no other physical descriptions, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, translations available at end.

Word count: ~8.6k (whew sorry y’all)

A/N: it’s finally here! thank y’all so much for the love and support on this mini series! i grew up watching so many novelas and just love the messiness of them all. this truly is a love letter to them. i had tons of fun writing this! Javi will return! can’t promise he won’t be dumb in the future, but he’s here to stay 🫶🏼 not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

Divider by @saradika

The week goes by fairly smoothly after that fateful Tuesday, occupying your mind with books, novelas, and your date with Chris. You’ve only seen Javi in passing in the hall a few times this week, and all those times the two of you have completely avoided each other. Swerving around each other, or one of you staying behind to avoid the other. Javi grumbles something under his breath every time he sees you though, something he never did until the day he sent you flowers. Thank god you haven’t seen Cassandra, though.

It’s finally the big day: Friday. You wake up in a good mood for the first time this week, until you see the clock. You’re late for work. Springing out of bed, you rush to get ready. You throw some bread in the toaster and hurry to get dressed. Running back into the kitchen, you scarf down the toast and pick up the orange you’d bought earlier in the week - the one Chris gave you. You stuff it into your purse and slip on your sneakers. Grabbing your keys, you sprint to work.

Thankfully, your shift flies by in a flash and you’re able to leave on time. With 4 hours before you have to meet with Chris, that’s more than enough time to get ready. With a spring in your step, you walk home giddy with anticipation for later tonight. You unlock the entrance and rush up the stairs, your feet quickly carrying you to your apartment. Flinging the door open, you kick off your shoes and waltz into the bathroom. You take a quick shower, wanting to wash away the work day and freshen up.

You take your time getting ready, your records playing throughout your home. Applying your makeup, you pat on foundation and some mascara. Rummaging in your drawer, you find your favorite lipstick and swipe it on. Your lips glisten, looking absolutely delicious. You’re sure Chris will kiss you at the end of the night. Fixing up your hair, you open your closet and remove the red satin dress from the hanger. You slip it on and can’t help but do a twirl in the mirror, feeling sexy for the first time in a while. You throw on your usual jewelry and spritz on your favorite perfume, smelling delicious enough to devour. Running back into the kitchen, you grab the paper with the restaurant name and address and go to tuck it into your purse.

Soon enough, you glance at the clock and see you have to meet Chris in 20 minutes. You slip on your heels, and step out of your apartment. Locking the door, you gingerly walk down the stairs and make your way out of the building. Walking half way down the street, you pull the slip of paper out of your piece and go over it one more time as you hail a taxi. 

One of the yellow cars pulls up next to you and you hop inside. The driver asks where to and you give him the name and address. He sets off on the journey and tells you it’s about a 10 minute drive. Thanking him, you gaze out the window. As you get closer to the restaurant, you pass by the embassy. Chills run down your spine, not having thought about Javi the entire day. Of course he would pop into your head 5 minutes before meeting your date.

Fidgeting with your nails and the zipper on your purse, you hold your breath the remainder of the car ride. At least he’s going out with Cassandra tonight, so you won’t be seeing him. The reminder forms a pit in your stomach, but also fills you with gratitude as you thank whatever god is out there that he won’t be running through your mind tonight.

The driver pulls up in front of the restaurant, it’s more upscale than you had anticipated and nerves bubble in your belly. You exit the taxi, thanking the driver. The nerves dissipate once you catch a glimpse of Chris, who’s standing outside the restaurant with his hands shoved into his pants pockets. He spots you and waves, jogging to meet you halfway. “Hey, pretty lady,” he greets you, giving you a polite, warm hug. “Hi, handsome,” you say, smiling as you pull back from his embrace. He holds his hand in yours and drinks you in.

“Wow. You look… stunning,” he nearly whispers, as he twirls you around. You giggle at his reaction, the way he shows you off. You feel good, appreciated, wanted. “Thank you, I was hoping you’d like the dress,” your voice timid as you toy with his fingers. “Like it? I love it,” he says, pulling you flushed against his chest. The energy shifts and tension rises as you two lock eyes, until a honk pulls the two of you out of the trance making the two of you pull back.

Chris clears his throat and holds his hand out for you. “Shall we?” Another giggle streams from your lips. “Yes, we shall,” you tell him as you weave your fingers together. He leads you inside the restaurant and to the host’s table. Chris gives the waiter his name - you’re taken aback by his Spanish speaking abilities, grinning and tucking away that information for later.

The waiter leads the two of you to your table. Chris pulls your chair out for you. “Thank you,” you say, giving him a small smile. He smiles back and his eyes twinkle. You soak him in as he settles in his chair opposite of you. He’s handsome and polite, and has a lot going for him. He’s funny, smart, driven - so what’s the harm in giving him a chance?

The small talk between the two of you is easy. Almost as easy as it is with Javi. No - no. You shut down any further thoughts of him immediately. 

“So, how was your day?” You ask Chris. He tells you about his day, prompting your next question. “What do you do for work?” You ask as he wraps up his previous answer. “Oh, I work for the government,” he says, his answer being very vague. You quirk your brows, and smirk at him. “Is that how you know Spanish?” He chuckles at your question. “It is actually! Learned some before I moved here and just picked up more as I adapted to working and living here.” You hum at his answer, sipping your drink. “So you work for the government. What exactly do you do?” You ask before going in for another sip. “Well, I can’t exactly get into the specifics, but I work at the embassy,” he says. You choke on your drink, coughing as you try to catch your breath.

“Are you alright?” Chris asks, grabbing your hand and sliding your glass of water towards you. You nod, as your breathing levels out. “I’m okay,” you lie. Your blood feels frigid at the mention of the embassy.

There’s no fucking way he knows Javi. That just can’t be possible.

You sip your water, before speaking. “I was just really impressed,” you say in between chuckles. “That’s awesome that you work there! How has work been?”

Chris enthusiastically answers your question, you feign interest as you try to refocus your mind on the conversation. As Chris drones on about something that happened at work, something catches your eye from behind him. Your breath hitches and your jaw goes slack ever so slightly, taking in the scene in front of you. Javi stands there, looking handsome as ever with his aviators perched on his nose. Cassandra dressed in red, as his large hand rests on her hip. Chris catches your change in demeanor. 

“Is everything alright?”’ He asks, reaching to place a gentle touch on your forearm. That snaps you out of it, startling as your eyes widen. “What? Oh, yeah, sorry. Thought I saw someone I knew for a second,” you huff. 

Chris turns to look behind him, a smile lighting up his face. “Oh speaking of work, that’s my boss right over there - the guy with the sunglasses, standing next to the woman in the red dress.”

Your eyes bug out of your head. “That’s your boss?” He nods, “yup, that’s Javier. We both work at the embassy together.” he whispers, in fear of being heard. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mumble, gaze falling to the floor. “What was that?” 

Your head snaps up, trying your best to act surprised. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, that’s so impressive that you get to work alongside him! You didn’t tell me you were DEA,” you squeak, feigning interest in the conversation. “How do you know he’s DEA?” Chris asks. “Huh?” “How do you know he’s DEA? I didn’t say anything about what department we work in,” he says flatly.

You freeze, feeling flustered as you try to come up with an answer. “Oh… uh, w-well, I mean, wasn’t he in a bunch of n-newspapers last year? Right? I, uh, kinda figured. Just put two and two together,” you lie, trailing off the end.

It’s silent at the table, you and Chris just staring at each other. You hope he can’t see through your facade. You wipe your sweaty palms on your dress and fidget with your fingers. Chris clears his throat and takes a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, you’re right. He was,” he says with a small smile. You can’t gauge his reaction, making your palms even sweatier.

Moving on from the awkward moment, Chris resumes his enthusiastically retelling of his workday. You silently breathe out a sigh of relief, grateful to be moving on from that subject. You feel a little guilty for not focusing on him, your eyes continuously glancing over at Javi.

Javi looks over to the side as he waits for the waiter to seat them, looking around the restaurant in the meantime, holding Cassandra, his date. He does a double take as he spots you, not believing his eyes. His brows scrunch together, a scowl now plastering his face with his breathing growing ragged. 

Cassandra spins around in his hold. “Estás bien, Javi? Qué pasa?” His head whips around to meet her gaze. “Nada, Cassandra. Estoy bien. Me pareció ver a alguien que conozco,” he grits, trying his best to stay composed.

He never thought you’d stoop so low to go out with someone else, let alone one of his colleagues.

The waiter leads Javi and Cassandra to a table not too far from where you and Chris are sitting. You hold your breath, hoping Chris can’t sense your discomfort. With Chris’ back turned to him, Javi shoots Chris a death glare as he walks to the table, a hand on Cassandra’s waist. Cassandra stares daggers into your skull, surely you’d be dead if looks could kill.

Surprisingly, dinner goes by rather quickly, thanks to the three drinks you’ve had to calm your nerves. You learn that Chris is working on the Cali case, working directly alongside Javi. The third drink starts to take its toll on you, needing to break the seal. “I’m so sorry, I’m just gonna run to the restroom really fast. If you’ll excuse me,” you tell Chris, scraping your chair back and against the floor. “Of course, no problem,” he says nodding as you rise to your feet.

Unaware of your surroundings and fiddling with the straps on your purse, someone bumps into you. “Lo siento!” You say and look up to apologize to who you ran into. You make direct eye contact with Cassandra. The air is stolen from your lungs. Cassandra stares daggers into your skull, surely you’d be dead if looks could kill. “Disculpe,” she says coldly. Aggressively shoving her shoulder into yours, she walks past you and back to Javi at their table. Dumbstruck at her aggression, you turn back, mouth gaping wide. Javi catches your gaze in his, his eyes blown wide. Usually you’re able to tell what he’s thinking, but for the first time ever, you’re unable to read him.

Scoffing in disbelief, you stomp into the restroom and lock yourself in a stall. Tears sting your eyes as you fight them back. What the fuck was that about? How dare Cassandra treat you this way, who does she think she is? You did nothing to deserve that type of treatment. And if Javi saw that interaction, then fuck him for thinking that’s even remotely warranted.

Swiftly using the restroom and washing your hands, you touch up your lipstick that’s worn off throughout the night in the mirror. You let out a deep sigh as you toss it back in your bag, unaware that you were even holding your breath. Ready to go home, you trudge back out into the restaurant. Fighting the urge to steal a glance at Javi and Cassandra, relief floods you as you see they’re nowhere to be found. You waltz back to your table, the burning desire to go home still courses throughout your body.

Taking a seat across from Chris, you flash him a polite smile. He picks up on your discomfort, seeing right through your facade. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” You feel guilty for lying to him, but you just want to get the hell out of here. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just not feeling well, think the drinks gave me a headache,” you politely tell him through a tight smile. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you need anything?” His kindness deflates you more. “Actually, would it be alright if we get the check? I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to cut our date short,” you tell him, genuinely apologetic.

“Yeah, sure. Don’t feel bad, shit happens. No worries, beautiful,” he reassuringly says as he grabs for your hand across the table and gives it a squeeze, making you smile. He flags the waiter down for the check, and the two of you wait in awkward silence. Thankfully, the waiter reappears shortly after and Chris covers the bill. The two of you rise from your seats, with Chris extending his hand out to you. You gladly accept and he guides you to the exit.

As he leads you out, your heart sinks as you spot Javi and Cassandra at the bar. You’re going to have to walk past them in order to leave, it’s inevitable. Ducking your head down, you cautiously walk through the crowd of the building with Chris in front of you. He stops in his tracks, causing you to stumble into him. He turns to steady you. “Sorry,” he mutters as he reaches for your hand again.

“Javier!” Chris shouts, waving to the man. Javi snaps his neck towards the two of you, rage quickly flashing in his eyes and it disappears just as fast. His jaw clenches as Chris walks the two of you over, your heart beating out of your chest.

“Hey, Feistl. Didn’t expect to see you here. Celebrating Gilberto’s capture?” Javi speaks through his clenched teeth. Cassandra is silently glaring at you from Javi’s side. “No, actually, I’m here on a date. This is my boss, Javier, the guy we were talking about earlier. Javier, this is my date,” Chris says, bringing you forward. Javi raises his brow at Chris’ words and you wish the Earth would open up and swallow you whole in this very moment. “Hi,” you shyly say, giving the pair your name and a polite wave, pretending you don’t know who these people are.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Javier,” he says, extending his hand out to go along with the act. “This is Cassandra,” he says as he lets your hand go. Chris cordially greets her, and vice versa. 

“Hola Cassandra, mucho gusto,” you say as you attempt to shake her hand. She just squeezes your hand in a vice grip, crushing it briefly before pulling away. “Hola,” is all she mutters. The energy between you four is tense, silence lingering despite being in a packed restaurant.

Picking up on the energy shift, Chris breaks the silence. “Well, it was nice seeing you, boss. See ya on Monday,” he says. You’re extremely grateful that he knows how to read a room. “Yeah. See you Monday. Bye, Feistl,” Javi grits. “Bye, Javi,” you tell him. “Bye,” Javi spitting your name and bidding you goodbye, like venom on his tongue. You don’t even bother to say anything to Cassandra as Chris bids her goodbye and leads you two out the restaurant.

You know Chris can sense something is wrong, your hand is so clammy in his that you yank it away as soon as the air of the warm night hits you. Taken aback by your sudden hastiness, he gives you a moment to breathe as you wipe your hands on your dress and fiddle with your purse.

“You okay?” Chris asks, grounding you back in reality. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine…” you unconvincingly tell him, not meeting his eyes while you rummage through your purse for your keys.

“You ready?” He asks after a beat. Your gaze snaps up to meet his, uncertainty evident in his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m ready,��� you sigh. He doesn’t reach for your hand this time, instead offers you his arm, which you mindlessly accept as he leads you to his truck. He opens the door for you and flashes you a smile. He’s such a gentleman it hurts.

He jogs around to the driver’s side and hops in, twisting the key in the ignition. “Where am I taking you?” He kindly, and quietly asks. You give him your address and apologetically smile at him. The radio plays over the silence which lingers throughout the truck. He keeps both hands on the wheel as the awkward tension builds. The drive could not be fast enough.

Chris pulls up to your building, and kills the ignition. Bounding to your side, he opens the door and holds it open for you as you step out. “Thank you.” He just nods. Fuck.

He walks you to your door, his hands shoved in his pockets. The walk is short and silent, full of awkward tension. You hadn’t expected to see Javi on your date, let alone out with Cassandra. Despite your efforts, you couldn’t shake him out of your head, not after your interaction with Cassandra on your way to the restroom. Chris had picked up on your aloofness once you returned from the bathroom. He’s a detective, of course he knows when something’s up.

“Well, this is me,” you say pointing to your door. Javi cracks his door open across from you, peering into the hall. He pauses to take in the sight in front of him. He can’t believe what he’s seeing. “I’m sorry for cutting it short. This was not what I meant when I said maybe we’d end up back at my place,” you tell him. He smiles for the first time in what feels like eternity.

“Don’t worry, beautiful. I’d rather you feel 100% when we’re together,” he says, unsure if there’s another layer to his words - a shady double entendre. As if he can peek inside your mind, he quickly reassures you. “I truly did enjoy your company though. I’d love to see you again sometime, once you’re feeling better… if you’d let me,” Chris says. 

Glancing to the side, you unexpectedly spot Javi. You thought he would still be on his date. You keep your composure this time though and smile at Chris. “Sure, I’ll let you know,” glancing to the side again, making eye contact with Javi. Chris leans in for a good night kiss, but you don’t feel right doing that to him. You dodge him, opting for a kiss on the cheek instead. Pulling back, you give him a meek smile. “Call me,” he says, embarrassed and flushed red. You nod. “Good night.” 

He doesn’t notice Javi hiding behind the door as he walks away, never bothering to glance to the side. You watch Chris walk away and turn to go inside, until you see that Javi is standing in the hall now, in front of his door. Looking directly at him, you still - the tension so palpable, it needs to be cut with a hacksaw.

Javi’s nostrils flare as his chest heaves. His neck and face flushed red with his eyes blown wide and black. He looks almost unrecognizable. You narrow your eyes and shoot daggers at him.

His jaw clenches as he turns to go inside his apartment. You can’t help, but scoff and roll your eyes. He freezes in place, whipping around to look at you. “Is there something you’d like to say, cariño?” He bites, you’re taken aback by his coldness. You don’t let him see that though and straighten before turning to him. “Nope. Have a good night, Javier,” you say, spinning around to turn in for the night.

You shut the door before he can answer, huffing out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding, and lean against it. What a long fucking night. Padding into the bathroom, you remove your makeup and sigh into your towel. You stare at yourself in the mirror and bite back tears.

Shaking your head, you will yourself to not cry - refusing to shed tears for him. You walk out of the bathroom and into your room to change into a pair of thin sleep shorts and a tank top. Sauntering into the kitchen, you grab a glass from one of the cabinets. Opening the fridge, you reach for the open bottle of wine.

You fill your glass to the brim and chug half of it, slamming down the glass on the countertop. You drag your feet towards the living room, plopping down on the couch. Your head hangs in your hands as you curl into a ball.

“Javi!” You perk up at the sound of a woman calling his name. You move to press your ear against the thin wall that separates yours and Javi’s apartments. “Sí, Javi, sí!” Your brain is short-circuiting as you hear her moan Javi’s name. You can’t help but let your jaw fall open. Shocked that he’d be so bold to rub this in your face. Tears of anger and heartache well in your eyes. You attempt to storm off until you hear your name.

A man screaming your name - Javi screaming your name. Everything goes silent. Your ears are ringing and your body is hot, flooding with emotions as your head spins. There’s no way any of this is happening.

Suddenly, you hear shuffling and shouting from the hallway. Running to peer out of the small peephole at the top of your front door, your jaw drops again at the scene playing out in front of you. Cassandra, from that day, is fixing her clothes while screaming at a shirtless Javi in the hallway.

“Quien es ella, Javi?! Eh?! Esta su vecina?! O su puta?!” Cassandra screams, pushing him back a bit. “Ella es mi vecina y ya, Cassandra! Nada mas! Ven aqui, por favor!” Javi pleads. Rage courses through your body as he tells her you’re just his neighbor. You yank your door open, inserting yourself in the conversation since you’re the topic of it.

“No estoy solo tu vecina, Javier y lo sabes!” You bite, unable to stop yourself. The two of them whip their heads to you. “We’ll do this later,” Javi shouts in your direction. You stomp over to him before you realize your feet are moving.

“No, estamos haciendo esto ahora,” you tell him, gritting your teeth. Cassandra snaps her neck to look at you, burning a hole through the middle of your skull. “Te lo estas jodiendo eh?” She yells. “Sí, y por que te importa?” Javi’s eyes go wide at your blunt response. “No me importa con quien este jodiendo, pero quiero que me llaman con el nombre correcto. No soy una de tus putas, Javier,” she shouts.

“Cassandra, ya por favor! Y ella no es puta. Deja de llamarla asi,” Javi sighs. “Por que la defiendes eh? Ella es tu novia? No habria aceptado salir si hubiera sabido que tenias una novia,” Cassandra yells. “No, ella no es mi novia. Solo mi amiga y vecina. Deja de gritar,” Javi calmly says, attempting to de-escalate the situation. 

“Si ella no es tu novia, entonces por que te gritaste su nombre en la cama? Eh?” Javi’s attempt fails as Cassandra shouts. “No se, Cassandra! Pero lo siento. En realidad.” It’s quiet as Javi’s words settle in.

“Deberias haberla llamado en su lugar. Ella te gusta mas de yo,” Cassandra grits as she storms off, shaking with rage as embarrassed tears pool in her eyes.

The air is silent, thick with tension as you stand in front of Javi and his door.

“Really? I’m just your neighbor?” You spit through your gritted teeth, breaking the silence as your nostrils flare. “I only said that to calm her down,” Javi says. “What else did you tell her about me huh?!” Taking a step forward, inching closer to him. “What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Don’t act like you didn’t talk shit about me to her, Javier! Why else would she be so rude to me?!” He stands there, stunned and offended. “I would never say anything bad about you! How could you even think that?! I told her that you’re my best friend and neighbor, and that you’re very special to me,” he explains defensively. “Then why was she such a bitch to me then, Javier?!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, cariño, but I wish you had told me! Otherwise, I would’ve stopped talking to her the minute I found out she treated you so cruelly,” Javi explains, sounding sincere.

“Would you really?!” You shout. “Yes! Why is that so hard to understand?!” 

A lump in your throat forms along with the next words on the tip of your tongue. “Because you lied!” You yell, swatting his chest, not caring that you’re causing a scene.

He grabs your wrists to stop you, forcing your gaze to meet his. “When did I lie?! I’d never lie to you,” he says firmly as he looks into your eyes. Your throat burns as the lump in your throat grows bigger, tears stinging your eyes. “When did I lie to you, cariño?” He asks softly. “You said you weren’t seeing anyone else,” you whisper. “I wasn’t.” You roll your eyes, your tears nearing the edge. “Until Cassandra,” her name tastes bitter in your mouth.

“You said you weren’t seeing anyone else either and then I see you on a date with my fucking coworker, at that. You don’t have the right to be mad at me for seeing Cassandra,” he says firmly.

You burst into sarcastic, maniacal laughter. “What’s so funny?” He lets your wrists go as you throw your head back while laughing, stray tears escaping down your cheeks. “You do not get to throw that in my face!” You laugh bitterly. “Why?! You shut me out the whole goddamn week because I asked out someone else!” He barks, making you groan. “God, Javi! You’re so infuriating!” 

“Says you, who went out with my coworker to spite me!” You roll your eyes at his pettiness. “You think I knew he was your coworker?!” You screech. He scoffs, his chest flushed red. “Yes! Why else would you go out with him?” He yells, jealousy coursing through his veins. “I don’t have to explain myself to you! You’re the one who asked out Cassandra after telling me you weren’t seeing anyone else!”

“You asked me and I told you the truth. I only asked Cassandra out after you said we could still see other people,” he rasps. “So am I not enough for you?! Why did you go out with Cassandra?! Huh?!” 

“Of course you’re enough for me! More than enough!” His words send more tears spilling from your eyes. “Then why did you go out with Cassandra?!” You shout through your tears, voice hoarse and raw from yelling. 

Javier’s heaving fills the heavy silence as his nostrils flare. “I think you know why, carino…” he rasps. “I don’t. We’re grown adults, Javier. Use your words,” you demand, growing more impatient by the second.

“I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship! I want you so bad it hurts, baby. You don’t deserve someone like me, cariño. Someone who’s fucked up and damaged, someone who’s done horrible fucking things for his own personal gain. You deserve better.” An endless stream of tears pours from your eyes again as you take in his words. “You don’t get to decide what I do and don’t deserve, even if you think it’s for the best. That’s my decision to make.”

“I never want to see the people I love get hurt, and I just know I would hurt you. I’m not a good person and you’re so good, baby. So good. And I could feel myself falling more and more in love with you every time I saw you, even when we were just spending time together. It’s why I pulled away and asked Cassandra out. To move on, to not get you involved in my shit.” 

Your eyes bug out of your head. “You’re in love with me?” You ask, your voice hushed. “Of course I’m in love with you, cariño,” he huffs in disbelief without hesitation. “I’m in love with you too,” you whisper through your tears. “You shouldn’t be. You should be with a good guy, someone like Chris, someone with a good head on his shoulders. I already burden you with so much in our friendship, I can’t do that to you if we were together, bebita,” he whispers, head hanging low. You cup his face in his hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Hey. You are not a burden. You’re my favorite person ever, and I’m always going to be here for you, because I love you. I’m in love with you, Javier. I want you - not Chris, not anyone else. You.”

He doesn’t say anything, only sighing at your words. Worry builds in your stomach, nerves setting in. Without warning, he mirrors your actions and cups your face with his large, rough hands and draws you into him. Your lips crash into each other’s. The kiss is ravenous and desperate - the first real kiss the two of you share. It’s heavy and messy, but so full of love and lust as teeth clash together. You moan as Javi sucks your tongue in between his lips.

Your hands roam to the back of his neck, pulling at the hair on his nape. He groans, pressing his hard, clothed cock into you. He moves his hands from your face to your waist, grinding against you. Completely forgetting that the two of you are still in the hallway. Javi fumbles with the door knob, never letting you go as he struggles to get the door open. The two of you stumble inside his apartment as the door flings open.

He shuts the door as he carefully, but hurriedly guides you inside. He leads you down the hall towards his bedroom, all without breaking the kiss. You finally pull back right before you reach the bedroom door, gasping for air as your lips glisten with spit. Javi doesn’t relent though, peppering kisses all along your neck and nipping at your chin. You moan, fighting to keep your eyes open at his intoxicating touch.

“Why’d you go out with Chris, baby? Hmm?” He asks, placing another kiss on your lips. You hum into his mouth. “Were you trying to make me jealous? Is that it?” He asks in between kisses. You nod in response. “Mmm mm. Like you told me earlier. Use your words, bebita,” he rasps, nipping at your chin. “Yes, Javi. Saw you with Cassandra, got so mad and Chris asked me out. Knew it’d make you mad if you saw us together,” you gasp as he moves to suck on your neck.

“Did you know we worked together?” He asks into your skin. “Mmm mm, no, Javi. Just a coincidence. I promise, baby.” He smiles at your words, fuzziness filling his chest. “Well your plan worked, baby. Pissed me the fuck off seeing him touching what’s mine,” he growls before crashing his lips back onto yours. You moan into the kiss, his words sending a flurry of butterflies to your tummy, and a wave of arousal to your core. Clenching around nothing at his words, you can feel your slick pool in your panties.

He flings the bedroom door open, the two of you tumbling inside with your lips still molded to one another’s. Javi walks you to the bed, your knees hitting the edge. You fall onto the plush mattress, the kiss having been broken. Panting in anticipation, you catch Javi’s gaze. His eyes are black, blown wide with lust and there’s a small glint in his eye - a glint of love.

You spread your legs, welcoming him into the space. He grunts as he dives on top of you, hungrily kissing you again. Javi teasingly fiddles with the hem of your thin sleep shorts, your nipples already taut against the sheer fabric of your tank top. Cupping your sex in one of his large hands, you moan at the sensation.

“You want me here, querida? Huh?” He growls into your mouth as he feels the wet patch that’s formed on your panties and soaked through your shorts. “Yes, Javi. Need you, Javi, missed you so much,” you keen under him, your eyes heavy and glazed over. “Missed you so much too, bebita,” he says, lips grazing over yours. “Can feel how wet you are, bebita. This all for me? Tell me who it’s all for, baby.”

“Yes, all for you, Javi. It’s all for you,” you moan. “That’s right. All for me. Not for Chris, right?” He snarls against your lips, as he takes off the tank top that covers your chest. He sucks a nipple into his mouth. Your eyes fly open, inhaling a sharp gasp at the feeling. A new wave of arousal shoots straight to your aching cunt. He grunts as he bites your nipple, silently telling you to answer his question.

You gulp, mustering the strength to answer him. “All for you, only you. Not anyone else. Yours, it’s yours. I’m yours,” you babble as he latches his mouth onto your other mound, humming in delight at your answer with his lips wrapped around your nipple.

He pulls up for air, looking into your eyes as he sucks two of his fingers into his mouth. You whine as you watch him. “That’s right, baby. Mine. You’re all mine,” he growls as he releases his fingers from his mouth. Without warning, he shoves them into your soaked cunt. Your hips buck up into them, him pushing them down with his free hand and pinning you in place.

A stream of high-pitched moans tumble from your lips as he hooks his longer, thick fingers into your g-spot with every stroke. He groans as you clench around his fingers, leaning in to sink his teeth into your neck. “Feels so fu-fucking good, Ja-Javi,” you whine. He hums as he delicately soothes the bite with his tongue. He works his way up your neck and nibbles on your earlobe.

“I know you’re close, bebita. Come on. Damelo, bebita. Cum all over my fingers, want you to make a mess on them,” he rasps in your ear, eliciting another whine from you. His fingers continue to brush against your g-spot as he moves his thumb to your clit, stroking it. You gasp, clenching hard around his fingers as he strokes your clit. Suddenly, you tumble off the cliff and plummet into your orgasm. Your cunt gushes all over Javi’s hand, making a mess on the sheets. He groans as he feels your slick run down his fingers and onto his arm, spotting the puddle forming underneath you.

“Fuck, baby. Good fuckin’ girl,” he huskily whispers in your ear as he helps you ride out the waves of your high. You convulse underneath him, hips bucking uncontrollably. Your clit puffy and swollen as he continues to gingerly stroke it. He removes his fingers from your soaked cunt, sucking them into his mouth. He moans at the taste, feeling heady as you see him relish in your taste. Mindlessly grinding his clothed cock against your exposed cunt, the both of you groan at the friction.

You hurriedly fumble with the button on Javi’s jeans, clumsily pulling them down and setting his cock free of the confines of his tight jeans. He pulls back and shucks them off completely, you both now fully stark naked in the dim light of his bedroom. Thankful for the light breeze that travels through the open window, your hair begins to stick to the back of your neck as you lay on the plush mattress.

Drinking him in as he towers over you at the edge of the bed, your mouth salivates as you catch sight of his angry, red cock - his tip leaking dribbles of precum. Eager to taste him, you rise to your knees and crawl to him. A small smirk grows on his lips as he feels your hands roam up and down his body, lingering around his thighs. “Que estas haciendo, querida?” Javi rasps quietly, his lips ghosting over yours. Your hand slowly makes its way down to his cock. “Nada, papi. No puedo tocar lo que es mio?” You tease, grasping his cock in your hand, gathering precum on your hand as you run your hand along his hard length.

A gasp escapes Javi, groaning as he’s taken by surprise by the sudden sensation, by your words. A fire ignites deep within Javi, a primal urge rising to the surface. He swats your hand away, as he steadies his breathing. You giggle as you suck the precum off your fingers, having dribbled into your hand as you palmed Javi. You hum at the taste - salty, musky, a hint of bitterness. He growls at the taunting show you put on for him, grabbing you by the waist and tossing you back on the bed, eliciting a yelp from you. Gripping your hips, he flips you on all fours.

Fully on display for him now, Javi parts your legs with his knee. You collapse deeper into the mattress, balancing yourself on your forearms. ���Don’t be a brat now, baby. Sabes qué les pasa a las mocosas cuando se portan mal?” He asks from behind you. Slick pools in between your thighs at his words. “Sí papi, por eso estoy actuando como una mocosa,” you courageously tell him.

This is a new side of Javi, one you’ve never seen before. A possessive, animalistic side you’ve managed to unlock tonight. A sudden delicious smack strikes your ass, moaning at the stinging sensation as it sends a tingle to your core.

His large, rough hands roam around your ass, soothing the spot where he struck you. A thick finger teases your tight, puckered hole. Gasping as Javi swirls circles around the ring, more slick seeping from your folds.

“Brats get fucked in the ass. Wanna get fucked here, baby?” He says, one of his fingers prodding at your hole. You furiously nod, Javi amused by your eagerness. “Of course you’d let me fuck this hole, querida. You’d let me fuck all your holes, wouldn’t you, baby?” He asks, placing a kiss near where his hand teases your hole.

Whining at his teasing, your cunt clenches around nothing as you imagine Javi filling you up, owning every hole of yours. An abrupt smack to your ass pulls you from your thoughts. “Yes, Javi! Let you do whatever you want to me, baby. I’m yours,” you whimper. He chuckles, soothing the spot where he had struck you.

“Another time, baby. Right now, I need to taste you, bebita,” he murmurs huskily. He moves underneath you, positioning his face right at your entrance. He inhales sharply at your scent, your pheromones intoxicating him, like a drug.

“Want you to ride my face, bebita,” he snarls, the warmth from his breath ghosting over your lips and sending a shiver down your spine. The air is stolen from your lungs, nerves setting in as the energy shifts in the room. You push yourself up to your knees and peer down to look at where Javi is situated.

Sudden self-consciousness setting in. “Javi, we’ve never done that before,” you tell him, trailing off at the end. As if he can read your mind, he presses a soft kiss to your thigh. “You could never hurt me, bebita, if that’s what you’re thinking. And if I suffocate from eating your pussy, then I’ll die a happy man. Come on, baby. Let me make you feel good. It’s the least I can do for being a dumbass this past week,” he says. “Well when you put it that way…” you joke, a small smile displaying on your lips. He presses a light, playful tap to the side of your thigh, evoking a laugh from you. He chuckles as he litters gentle kisses to your inner thighs, his mustache eliciting more laughter from you as it tickles your skin.

“Wanna make you feel good, baby,” he whispers as he kisses your core, actively avoiding your clit and your folds. “Mmmm, fuck, Javi, you always makes me feel so good,” you sigh as you wiggle around trying to settle yourself on top of his face without putting all your weight on him.

He senses your apprehension and grips your hips, settling you onto his face. His strong nose nudges your clit, making you moan. “Sit this pretty pussy on my face, hermosa. Wanna taste you,” he mumbles, his voice muffled against your sex.

He licks a long stripe up your folds, a broken moan escaping you as your hips jerk forward. The strength you were using to ghost over his face has disappeared, completely settling yourself onto him and squeezing his head with your thighs as he fucks his tongue into your entrance.

Javi moans into you, the feeling of having all of you on top of him causes more precum to drip from the slit of his head. He makes his way to your clit, flicking it relentlessly before he sucks it into his mouth. You whine at the way his plush lips wrap around your swollen bud, sloppily grinding into his face as you begin to chase your high. He releases your clit and prods his tongue in and out of you again.

Whatever self-consciousness you had earlier has vanished. The only thing on your mind right now is Javi, Javi, Javi.

Bouncing on his face, you ride his tongue as his nose nudges your clit. The combination of his nose, his mouth, his sounds - it’s all too much. Javi lets out a guttural groan as he feels you clench around his tongue. Sloppily making his way to your clit, he finishes you off the second he sucks your bud back into his mouth.

Your vision goes spotty as flashes of white burst from the corners of your eyes as black spots float all around you. A choked out cry burns from within your throat as you ride out your orgasm onto Javi’s face. He wastes no drop of your release, lapping and slurping the absurd amount of slick that continuously flows from your used cunt. Your legs shake as your strength diminishes, struggling to hold yourself up. Collapsing forward a bit, you land on your forearms and shove your face into the mattress as you twitch on top of Javi, who’s still drinking you up.

Your breathing is ragged and unsteady, small gasps falling from your parted lips. Javi places tender kisses to your mound, giving your used clit some relief. He carefully lifts your lower half of him as he wriggles out from underneath you and gently places you back on the bed, laying you completely flat on your stomach now. Your body relaxes as you come down from your high.

You feel the bed dip behind you as Javi kneels behind you and presses his bare body against yours. His leaking cock smearing precum on your ass as he gently caresses your arms, peppering kisses to the nape of your neck.

“So good for me, querida. Always so good, baby,” he whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss to your sweaty cheek. Still reeling from your second orgasm, the feeling of his hard cock against your ass has you mewling under him again. He flips you over, still propped up on his knees as he crashes his lips onto yours. Javi grinds his cock onto your sex and lightly brushes over your sensitive clit. “Javi,” you mewl, pulling back as tears well in your eyes.

“Fucking love the sounds you make for me, bebita. So fucking sexy, love that I’m the only who gets to hear them, only one who can get them out of you,” he babbles. You can’t help the moan that bubbles over, his words spur you on as you moan into his mouth.

“More, Javi, more. Please, baby. Need you,” you plead into his mouth as you grind against him, meeting his strokes halfway. “What do you need, bebita, eh? Que necesitas?” He teasingly asks. “You, Javi! Need you, your big cock, baby. Need you to fill me up,” you huff out frustratedly. A smirk plasters his face.

“I got you, querida, don’t worry,” he murmurs. He reaches for his nightstand, opening the drawer and fumbling around for a condom. “Wait,” you say, stopping him. He pauses, brows scrunched in a concerned scowl. “I’ve been on the pill for a while now, and if you’re clean… maybe we don’t gotta use one,” you meekly whisper, barely audible as you grow timid at your words.

He softens, flashing a boyish grin at you. “I’m clean, querida. Ca- she was the only person I technically slept with since we started our agreement and I used protection. I’ll only do this if you’re sure though,” he explains. It’s your turn to flash him a shy smile.

“I want this, Javi. I wanna feel all of you. Wanna feel what’s mine,” you mutter. A flip switches inside Javi. He slams the drawer shut and is back on you in seconds, his lips ferociously capturing yours in another heated kiss.

Pants fill the air as he prods your entrance with his angry, red tip. He enters your weeping cunt in one swift motion, gliding in easily with the combination of his precum and your slick. An obscene squelch rings in the air.

The two of you moan loudly into each other’s mouths. The familiar delicious sting sets in despite being prepped for him. He’s so big that he kisses your cervix in one thrust. “S-so fucking big, hah, Javi. Always f-feel so f-fucking good, baby,” you cry out. “Fuck, bebita! Feel so fucking good, letting me fuck you raw,” he grumbles, his pace slowly picking up as he crashes into your g-spot with each stroke.

He’s so deep it feels like he’s in your stomach.

He grabs your thighs, hiking them up and pulls you even closer - if that’s possible. He throws your legs over both his shoulders, pushing him in deeper than before. You scream at the new angle - the newfound pleasure. A fire simmers in your belly, waiting to explode.

Yes, the two of you have hooked up before, but this time is different - better. You love each other - are in love with each other. The thought sends a wave of slick dripping from your cunt.

Catching a glimpse of him, you lock eyes with each other as he relentlessly thrusts into you. He strokes your g-spot with every move.

“So fucking gorgeous, all fucking mine. Mine, baby, you’re mine,” he grits. “Yours, Javi. All yours, I love you, Javi,” you keen, gasping for air as he brings you closer to the edge.

He moans at your words, throwing his head back as he feels your orgasm approaching. “I love you, baby. God, I fucking love you, never letting you go ever again,” he heaves. You wail at his words as they fan the flames that burn in your tummy, clenching as tears stream from your eyes.

“Let go for me, querida. I got you, amor. Let go, baby,” he mutters as he delivers one particularly hard, sloppy punch to your g-spot. A sob escapes you as you’re launched into a pit of darkness, body and mind feeling fuzzy as your soul floats around somewhere. All that rings through the air is just Javi. His face, his words, him. A sensation you can’t explain, simply just Javi.

A loud, guttural groan brings you back down to Earth. Javi chases his release as you return to reality.

“Querida, where do you want me?” He hastily asks as he sloppily thrusts into you. The high of your orgasm still lingering, making you mildly incoherent and extremely sensitive. “Baby, I’m close. Where do you want me?”

“Inside, Javi. Inside,” you groan. That’s all it takes for him to coat your fluttering walls with his release, you moan as you feel his warm load fill you up. He snaps his hips into yours, groaning with each stroke. He peppers gentle kisses to your calves as he softens inside you, his hair stuck to his forehead.

Ragged breathing fills the air, along with the smell of cum and sweat. He sets your legs down and groans as he pulls out of you, while you pliably lay there - your whole body having turned into jelly. Leaning down, he settles himself on top of you and captures your lips in a gentle kiss. You trace circles on his back as you mold your lips to his. Breaking the kiss, he rests his sticky forehead on top of yours.

“Hi,” he whispers. “Hi,” you repeat, a dopey smile adorning your face. “You went somewhere, didn’t you?” Your brows scrunch in confusion, opening your mouth to ask for clarification until he beats you to it.

“Right when you finished, you went somewhere. Never seen you so happy before,” he quietly rasps. A sheepish smile makes its way onto your face. “I did. It was like I was floating, but I don’t know where. All I know is that you were the only thing on my mind,” you timidly whisper. He breaks out into a huge toothy grin.

“Oh yeah? The only thing on your mind, huh?” He smugly asks. You playfully swat his shoulder. “You just got back on my good side, don’t ruin it again, Javi,” you tease, but Javi’s demeanor noticeably shifts. His smile disappears and his gaze is avoidant.

“Hey,” you frown. “I’m just joking, baby. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, looking away at the wall. “No, it’s not okay. I’m sorry, baby. Shouldn’t have done what I did. Was stupid of me to do instead of just talking about things,” he mutters.

You cup his cheeks. “Hey. I also could’ve done better too. I should’ve just tried talking to you about what was bothering me instead of pushing you away.”

“But you had every right to push me away,” he says. You shake your head this time. “I was the one who said we could see other people just because I was scared to be rejected. I definitely should’ve just communicated with you,” you explain, your gaze looking at the corner of the ceiling, avoiding his gaze now.

“What I did was still fucked up though. I had a feeling I knew why you asked me and I did that any way all because I was scared. I’d have never rejected you if you told me what I know now.” His words cause a smile to breakout onto your face. “I know that now, but I just wish we would’ve set some rules or at least talked about these things earlier in the year when we first started seeing each other.”

Silence settles amongst you two, both of you unsure what to say. “We were pretty stupid, weren’t we, querida?” Javi asks, breaking the silence as you two lock eyes. You burst into a fit of giggles, eliciting a belly laugh from Javi. “We were, but going forward, let’s agree to just talk to each other about anything and everything, including things that are bothering us. Okay?” You say cupping his cheeks.

“Okay. Agreed,” he sigh. Flashing him a tired smile on your face, your eyes flit to his lips as he flashes you his million dollar smile. He leans in and firmly, but tenderly presses his lips against yours.

“I love you, querida,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. “I love you too,” you say, smiling into the kiss.

Translations:

Me parecio ver a agluien que conozco - I thought I saw someone I knew

Disculpe - excuse me

Quien es ella, Javi?! Eh?! Esta su vecina?! O su puta?! - Who is she, Javi? Your neighbor or your bitch?!

Ella es mi vecina y ya, Cassandra! Nada mas! Ven aqui, por favor! - She's my neighbor and that's it, Cassandra, nothing more! Come here, please!

No estoy solo tu vecina, Javier y lo sabes - I'm not just your neighbor Javier and you know it.

No, estamos haciendo esto ahora - No, we're doing this now

Te lo estas jodiendo eh? - You guys are fucking huh?

Sí, y por que te importa? - Yes and why do you care?

No me importa con quien este jodiendo, pero quiero que me llaman con el nombre correcto. No soy una de tus putas, Javier - I don't care who he fucks, I just want to be called the right names. I'm not one of your whores, Javier

Cassandra, ya por favor! Y ella no es puta. Deja de llamarla asi - Enough, please! And she’s not a whore, stop calling her that

Por que la defiendes eh? Ella es tu novia? No habria aceptado salir si hubiera sabido que tenias una novia - Why are you defending her? Is she your girlfriend? I never would’ve agreed to go out with you if I knew you had a girlfriend

No, ella no es mi novia. Solo mi amiga y vecina. Deja de gritar - No she’s not my girlfriend. She’s only my friend and my neighbor. Stop yelling

Si ella no es tu novia, entonces por que te gritaste su nombre en la cama? - If she’s not your girlfriend then why did you yell her name in bed?

No se, Cassandra! Pero lo siento. En realidad - I don’t know Cassandra but I’m sorry. Really

Deberías haberla llamado en su lugar. Ella te gusta mas de yo - You should’ve called her instead. You like her more than me

Que estas haciendo, querida - What are you doing?

Nada, papi. No puedo tocar lo que es mio? - Nothing, daddy. I can’t touch what’s mine?

Sabes qué les pasa a las mocosas cuando se portan mal? - You know what happens to brats when they misbehave?

Sí papi, por eso estoy actuando como una mocosa - Yes, papi, that’s why I’m acting like a brat

Que necesitas? - What do you need?

and that’s the end of my first ever series! this was very fun to write, all the drama was so indulgent to write! thank you to everyone for following along and supporting my mini series! 🩷

this isn’t the end of Deja Vú, these two will return! 🫶🏼

tag list: @undrthelights @gracieheartsspedro @jenispunk @nostalxgic @mandoisapunk @party-hearses @bastardmandennis @tinygarbage @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @daydreamingmiller @javierpena-inatacvest @chaotic-mystery @amanitacowboy @factualfic @pascalpvnk @joeldjarin @kirsteng42 @pedrohoe04 @callmecath1 @sydneyinacoma @persephone-girl @suagmiller @honey-dip-24 @lizlil @thevoiceinyourheadx @harriedandharassed @xthejazzdalorianx @antifragilejpn @evangelinemedici @innerpersonunknown @vickie5446

[meimi-haneoka]

Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card Chapter 80 (FINAL): Comments + JP-ENG translation differences

CCS Faaaans!!! Welcome to our last (?) monthly appointment with the analysis, commentary and list of translation differences for THE FINAL chapter of Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card!!! 🥹🥹🥹

Aaaaaah, I can't believe that after seven years and a half of serialization, we're finally here!!

I still remember the strong emotions I felt when I had seen the pages of Nakayoshi for chapter 1 in advance, back in June 2016....it seemed like a miracle, to me. Like a "mirage". And back then I still didn't know just HOW MUCH of a precious miracle this sequel would've become to me!

So it's with shaky hands and a trembling, emotional heart that I write this post to you...I hope you can excuse the length of it (maybe take a break in between?), I'll do my best to highlight the translation differences (unfortunately we definitely got some for this finale, one in particular made me quite mad) so you can spot them immediately among the sea of words and feels I will inevitably pour into my writing...

The "Beaver Moon" was big and shiny just a few days ago, and like all the full moons at the end of the month, it brought us a chapter, a very special finale for this series.

And as I usually do, I really cannot skip this silly moment that accompanied me for so many commentary posts, so here you go, my dear readers, the last Gif Of The Month!!!

I had already decided that, no matter the content of the chapter, I would've used this, because it is my intention to give my congratulations to CLAMP for reaching the end of this wonderful story and also thank them for giving me a multitude of emotions over the years. I've been happy, angry, excited, teary-eyed, frustrated, confused, hopeful, in pain, in love. I'll always be grateful to them for changing their mind and deciding to give us a sequel of this beloved series, after so many years of dreaming of it, and for making me fall in love with the new characters, none excluded!

So, off we go, under the cut for this commentary of the finale!!

The Color Page

Oh my heart 😭😭😭 I really wondered if they would go for it, if they would shoot us with feels right from the first pages and they did, they paid homage to the color page of chapter 50 of the old manga!! ❤️ We can see the same bluebirds that were featured back then, still holding in their little beaks lots of ribbons coming from the pink roses bouquet that Sakura is preciously holding... And that also made me realize that these are the same birds that were featured last month for Akiho and Kaito's color page too!!! ✨ They definitely, definitely wanted us to get the message that all of them will be truly happy from now on. ❤️I actually appreciate even more that Mokona-sensei took care in including those birds for the color page of Akiho/Kaito too.

Back in the old manga, CLAMP had given a comment for the illustration of chapter 50, saying that it was created that way to give a sense of looking forward to the future, and the absence of the Star Wand here was a precise request from Ohkawa to Mokona, because Sakura would've tried her best from now on, without necessarily relying on her magic.

Here, in chapter 80, we can somehow see the same theme but Sakura isn't proceeding "forward" towards a specific direction, it seems more like she's floating comfortably, assisted by her loyal Flight Card, embellished for the occasion (it makes it look kind of "upgraded", right?). I get a sense of Sakura feeling way more comfortable with her natural gift than she's ever been.

The blue sky, the ribbons, the bluebirds, the bouquet of pink flowers, the presence of a flying Card, Sakura's bare feet and her beautiful smile are definitely elements common to both illustrations.

Here Sakura wears a longer outfit, more elegant, which of course makes her look more grown up, as it should!

The editorial text on this last page doesn't carry words of thanks like in the color page of the final chapter of the old manga (those this time around were printed directly on the cover of Nakayoshi), but actually "My invincible spell is....'Everything is surely going to be alright' "! I think it was a very nice choice to feature the Invincible Spell in the front page of this final chapter. ✨

Between this and the absolutely divine Sakura on the cover of Nakayoshi, I can feel my heart softening and filling up with lots of hope and comfort, helping me to cope with the imminent "loss" that I'm going to experience.

BUT! It's not time to let us be caught by those mischievous feelings that want us to cry at all costs, and so we're gonna proceed for the actual chapter!!

The Books In Fujitaka's Library

The final chapter starts with Sakura chatting with Eriol and Kaho in a videocall over the phone!! The thing that immediately stands out is that Sakura is still wearing the full-winter uniform, so it's apparent right from the first panel that rather than turning back, the events are proceeding forward from where we left them, exactly as Sakura wished.

It's still winter, spring is almost here and we're almost towards the end of the 1st year of middle school for Sakura & co.

Another thing that I, as a foreigner, couldn't help but doing is calculating what time should've been for Eriol and Kaho, since they live in Europe like me! 😂😂😂 Having followers and friends all over the world, it's just normal for me. Well, if this is early morning, it should be night for the Europeans, so maybe that background at the window should be black?? 😂😆 Who knows if sensei will fix it, in the tankobon?

But enough with the silly things, let's see what Sakura is discussing with these two.

The very first thing we hear is quite shocking: Sakura slept four entire days to recuperate from the insane fatigue after the last battle!!

When I've heard that, my immediate thought was going towards all kinds of realistic, very practical issues like "did they keep her hydrated, in these four days? What about the bladder? 😱" but come on, way crazier things happened in this finale and this is the last thing we should worry about 😂

Eriol sweetly says that everyone waited impatiently for Sakura to wake up (I can imagine that!! Syaoran and Akiho must have died of anxiety). In Japanese, his sentence is somehow left trailing off, it gives me the impression that he wanted her to know that she's cared for, but in a very polite manner and avoiding to make her feel guilty for it. Sakura, as the good girl she is, tries to apologize for making them worry, apologies that Eriol doesn't need, so she ends up thanking both him and Kaho for what they did for her (and we can see Kaho peeking in the videocall! I'm glad she recovered too! As usual she's wearing nice outfits, the transparent veil over the skirt is interesting!).

Kaho, with her usual "maternal" aura, says that seeing her in good shape and hearing her cheerful voice over the phone is more than enough to her, which makes Sakura happy.

Eriol then proceeds to ask a question about the books he saw flying away at full speed after Sakura removed all the spells and the graphics from the artifact (the huge book), which then transformed into said smaller books: he wants to know where they ended up to, and lo and behold, they're nowhere other than in Fujitaka's library, in the basement of Sakura's house! 😱

So we can see a flashback depicting a scene right after Sakura woke up (she's still in her PJs), and her father shows her a pile of ancient-looking books sitting on his desk and on the floor.

Yes, those are all the magical books that Akiho had read and (unknowingly) engraved on herself, which were about to crush her soul. There's really a lot of them, so I don't have a hard time believing that she was really on the verge of losing her soul forever.

As Fujitaka tries to explain himself, it seems Sakura worked so hard and in the end those books ended up landing right at their house!

And then, in a very moving scene, we see Fujitaka being just so happy because finally, after so many years (since 4th grade) of just watching over his daughter going through several hurdles and not being able to be helpful in any concrete way (because he didn't have magical powers, and even when magic was passed onto him, he didn't know how to use it), NOW he can finally be of assistance to her.

He then tells her not to worry, because he already got several "weird" books in his collection (hell we knew, the Cthulhu books were surely a surprise 😂), and that anything goes where it's supposed to go, when its due time comes. He believes these books, too, will reach their new fated destination one day, so until then, he will take care of them. ✨

By the way, you all saw it, right?? YES, it's there again. Fay's tattoo on that book! 😂CLAMP REALLY wanted us to see it, didn't they?

Is this insistence in featuring elements coming from Tsubasa a sign of something in the future...? Or are they just messing with us....?

I bet even this book one day will find its way to Celes country, to have that tattoo used in the way we all know.

Anyway, I REALLY loved this scene because it just shows CLAMP's firm intention to involve *all* the main and side characters in this collective effort to help Sakura solving Akiho and Kaito's situation (Fujitaka was indeed the one missing from the support group!).

It's just so good to know that a tiny frustration that Fujitaka expressed in this arc (how he couldn't be of help to his own daughter) was finally put to rest too, with this new task he took upon himself.

I strongly believe that Sakura, once again guided by her infallible instinct and empathy, subconsciously wished those books into her father's library, because she just knew that her father would be the perfect person to guard them and keep them safe for the time due.

The Cards

Back to the present, Eriol comments that Sakura's father is really dependable, and she can only warmly agree!

But Sakura's got questions of her own, for Eriol. She asks what happened to the transparent cards (note: even this time, Sakura keeps calling them with the japanese term 透明, "transparent", and never calls those cards クリアカード, the English term that gives name to the arc).

Eriol gives his own explanation: the transparent Cards were probably bound into the book of the guardian Sakura met (and not "befriended" like the ENG wrote), and as such, they became magical power used to activate the "forbidden magic".

About the newly created Remind and Blank Cards, Eriol guesses that the last magic that Sakura summoned thanks to those two Cards was so "violent" (the term used 凄烈 means "violent, intense, fierce") that it ended up exhausting completely the Cards' magical power.

Sakura says "so...they're gone", confirming that yes, even those two disappeared after being used.

Eriol asks about the Cards Sakura had from before, our dear Sakura Cards, and she releases them in the room to show to Eriol their current appearance: it seems like they have taken up some elements from the transparent cards, mixing up their designs! They look really cool and empowered, like this! Eriol attempts to explain this occurence as an influence of the fact that Sakura used some of them with her new Dream Staff, hence why their new appearance!

It seems like she'll be able to use all of them with that staff from now on, so this is a first hint to something that will be referenced in a stronger way in a few pages.....

Kaho gets closer to Eriol's computer and says "Don't worry, I can see they still love you all the same, Sakura-chan, there's no problem about it!" and then she spots Flight among the deck. Sakura confirms happily that it's still here and Eriol says "it's a testament to its perseverance!".

And then, Sakura wants to talk to Eriol about Akiho and Kaito too......but we're not allowed to hear it yet, because we only see Sakura nodding and "uh-uh"-ing at the phone and then Kero warns her that she's going to be late for school, so our girl hurriedly hangs up with her friends abroad.

Her dear small glutton guardian tells her to not push herself since she barely woke up yesterday, and when Sakura goes to pick the pin she wants to use today in the jewelry box (it's the pin Yukito gave her as a present in chapter 1!), she picks up the Star Key. And here, unfortunately, I have to point out the first concrete translation difference of this chapter in a scene that many were waiting for:

ENG: "This key....I wonder if it'll leave someday, too. To go to where it should be, to the side of the person it chooses to be with"

JP: "This key, too...I wonder if one day it'll go...to the side of the person it should be with"

Now, what irritates me here is that in their usual need to embellish the translation, they added an unnecessary "the person it chooses to be with", which is something they made up because there's no mention of the verb "choosing" or anything like that in Japanese, and so it makes it seem like the key will one day just go away on its own, on its own volition.

Now, this is a VERY important scene because we all know what this is foreshadowing, the transition of the Star Wand from Sakura Kinomoto to the Reborn Sakura Clone in Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle through a dream, that cameo that made us scream all over the world in 2009. That scene was accompanied by a very beautiful and mature speech by Sakura Kinomoto herself, a sign that this "handover" was totally a well pondered choice of Sakura herself, not the key's.

The translation of this scene here in Clear Card tampers with the understanding of the events we got from Tsubasa and it really makes me wonder if the translator knows of this reference at all.....

Continuing on, Sakura goes downstairs and meets Touya having breakfast (and omg Kero goes to him!!! I still can't get used to these two interacting in the open), as usual Touya teases her calling her "monster", to which Sakura stiffens, but she shakes it off to thank her brother, to which he answers "no snacks for four days"!

Sakura at that point gets angry asking why, but he diverts her attention pointing out that she's gonna be late, so the girl bolts out of the door......not hearing her brother saying "that's the amount of days you haven't woken up, you silly!" (and Kero goes along with it).

Now, the ENG translation here interpreted this as a "payback", like Touya isn't going to make her snacks for 4 more days as a "payback" for making him worry like that, and initially I interpreted it like that too. But as I checked the Spanish translation, they interpreted it differently, as if Touya wasn't talking about the snacks that he won't prepare for the next 4 days, but actually the ones Sakura didn't eat during the period in which she was sleeping, and I think they're right because Touya calls Sakura "dummy, silly" so he might be referencing the fact that she misunderstood, here! Anyway, it's not a serious difference but I wanted to report it here anyway.

Sakura finds Syaoran out of her house waiting for her, and we see him all happy and embarrassed to go pick his girl up right outside her house to go to school together 🥰Syaoran got contacted yesterday from her (I don't know why in the ENG there's "last night", it's just "yesterday"), telling him that she was ok now, but of course that wasn't enough for our worrywart prince charming, so he's here this morning to escort her to school! Sakura can't avoid commenting "aw, you were worried about me!" and Syaoran honestly but embarassedly answers "that, and I wanted to see you as soon as possible". Omg these two...flirting like crazy in front of the audience even in the finale!! 😂(well of course!!). As one of my friends reminded me, this line was already said by Syaoran before, when he was revealing the whole truth about the Sakura Cards and was explaining to Sakura that he came back to Japan earlier than scheduled also because he wanted to see her sooner.

After a good dose of blushing which is always good for the health in the early morning, Sakura thanks Syaoran not only for walking her to school, but also for all the rest that he's done. She's clearly referencing the events of 4 days ago, and Syaoran answers that if he helped her even just a little, then he's happy. This vague reference to the events of 4 days ago seems lost in the ENG, as Syaoran casually answers that he's happy if he can help her sometimes (?). 少しでも means "even just a little", not "sometimes".

On the way to school, Sakura says that she already contacted everyone to say that she woke up and to thank them, but she seems to be wanting to go thanking Yukito directly at his house later, also because Nakuru and Suppi are there! As Syaoran adds, Sakura can see Tomoyo and Akiho later at school. Sakura says "...yes" with a slightly sad face because she already knows something about one of them.....

We switch to Yukito's house for the last look at our "snow bunny", still in Nakuru's company (when are they going back to England???) and wondering what kind of sweets should he offer to Sakura today, while Nakuru is hellbent on finally having Sakura call her "Nakuru-chan" today (I told you, she's like a 5 years old girl, she sees herself as a kid like Sakura 😂).

Then, turning suddenly serious, she says to Yukito: "Don't you dare doing anything else that requires a 'payment', understood?", which immediately made me realize that Nakuru remembers about Yukito's pact with the Tsukimine Shrine!! Then, they didn't just recover the memories strictly relating to Akiho!!!

Yukito, with a big smile, says "well...I can't promise you that" which understandably triggers in Nakuru a "Yukito, you're really stubborn!!" from the bottom of her heart! 😂

But there's a kitty sleeping on a cushion (or feigning to?), our dear Suppi who thinks to himself "All of you moon-aligned types are stubborn!!" and let me tell you, this arc showed us ALL the proofs of that! 😂(Yes, Kaito, we're looking at you! 😂😂😂).

Brand New World With You

Homeroom is starting in Sakura's class and Tomoyo makes sure that Sakura will take it easy since this is her first day back at school.

The teacher comes in, and she's already got a news for everyone (and here my heart already knew what it was): Akiho Shinomoto will be transferring away in one month! (Yes! it's Shinomoto again!)

The class is shocked, as Tomoyo is, but Sakura smiles and doesn't look surprised at all...

At lunch, everyone is so sad about Akiho transferring and Chiharu expresses how much she'll miss her, but also Naoko who loses a precious advisor for her scripts and a great actress since she wanted to cast her for the next play, seeing how wonderful she was in "Alice in Clockland". Tomoyo says that the chorus club will miss her too, and Yamazaki comments that Akiho lived in Hong Kong before transferring to Japan, so he asks her if she's still going abroad, even this time around. Akiho confirms, and then remembers that she needs to go to the teacher's room. Sakura insists to accompany her even if Akiho knows the way by now (and here we have a sweet, nostalgic recall to the same scene of the first chapter Akiho appeared in, chapter 7! Even the lines are almost the same). Of course, Sakura insisted because she wants to have a private chat with her....on their way there, she says she heard from Eriol that morning that she would be transferring abroad, but she would like to ask the reason why to Akiho herself.

Akiho says that, after all that happened, that same night she talked to Eriol (she calls him "Hiiragizawa-san" ❤️) for the first time.

He told her that he would be supporting her in any choice or anything she'd want to do from now on (the "anything I would choose" is missing from the ENG translation), and support her even with Kaito's circumstances.

Akiho was told by Eriol that Kaito kept hurting himself the more he used time magic, and that he shouldn't have been in a good condition after messing even with the "forbidden magic"....but apparently, Sakura managed to work a little miracle when she used Rewind on him.

When Sakura brought Kaito back to his original appearance, the pocket watch she used was almost completely repaired and its time stopped, and thanks to that, Kaito's time is stopped too.

I had already noticed that Kaito's life seems to be strictly connected to that pocket watch, as the more damage he took on his body, the more the watch broke. Sooooo in this scene we have some important information:

1- Eriol mentions the time magic Kaito used, how he kept using it and also the effect it would have on him, so it's legit to think that even him recovered the memories of the unrewritten timeline, not only the stuff strictly concerning Akiho.

2- Kaito's life is in a halted state (reminds you of someone?) and this means that his life is not flowing like other people's: he won't age, but his physical condition won't also get worse, as Sakura infers right after. The ENG translation suggests that Kaito won't be feeling any pain at all, but that's not the case: Sakura uses the words もっと辛かったり痛かったり, "more in pain and have a rough time (than this)", so he's still going to feel not so well from time to time, but at least his condition won't get worse than this.

Akiho confirms, and explains that because of this, they're going to look for a magic that will be able to heal Kaito and, in addition to that, a magic that would be able to make his stopped time move forward again. This won't certainly take short time and it won't be easy....but Akiho smiles beautifully while saying that she's sure that there is a book that carries those spells she's looking for.

And then....with a sad smile, she says there's another reason.

And here my heart sinked because I wanted to see her so badly and I got the confirmation she wasn't with them.......😭

I'm talking about Momo, of course, and Akiho agrees with me because the other reason they'll travel around is that she wants to see her beloved Momo and even the "Alice in Clockland" book.

This indeed sounds a lot like the resolutions of the characters of Tsubasa in their own finale, but after all, we've been saying for long time that Kaito and Akiho had many situations paralleling those of the SyaoSaku in TRC.

Akiho, with the most radiant and beautiful smile she's ever had, says that she's sure she'll find so many other books she's never read, beside the ones she'll be looking for.

"Because now I can go wherever I want, whenever I want, all by my own volition. Together with Kaito-san"

Sakura points out that books are, indeed, really special and important to her.

And really, Akiho's smile on this beatiful spread was enough to heal my heart from the disappointment of knowing that Momo wasn't with them, because Akiho really looks happy to start this journey with Kaito...she feels free for the first time ever.

No more clan dictating where she should go or what she should read, at her own expense at that, but also the situation between her and her beloved Kaito found its solution, with her stating loud and clear that even if he's her most important person and he did all of that for her, she's the only one who can decide her own happiness and change her own life. Akiho is finally free from all constraints, both from evil and from love, and honestly it's so comforting to see her so confident and happy.

My True Name Is....

And talking about Kaito, we switch to the Shinomoto mansion, where we see him in bed (he's still recovering - also we see his room for the first time!) and Akiho is telling him of how her friends took the news of her transferring abroad.

She was happy to hear that they're going to miss her, I bet this was the first time that people took any interest in her, so much to get to the point of saying "I'll miss you".....which totally explains why she's glad to hear that. She finally made true friends, here in Tomoeda.

Kaito is pleased to see her happy.

Akiho says that she's going to prepare dinner (my heart got warm thinking that now it's her the one cooking for him and he doesn't protest or anything) and she's going to make the no-fry croquettes that Sakura taught her (remember??? They had dedicated a chapter to that, and they were so important because Akiho learned them precisely for Kaito).

But Kaito kind of "interrupts" her, saying the thing WE ALL were waiting for him to say:

Kaito, JP (lit.): "I'm sorry. For having thought (all that plan) on my own and decided things without your permission. Even though I know that you're someone perfectly capable of writing her own chosen future on her own blank book"

Oooooooh. The feeling of puzzle pieces going to their right place, the sense of accomplishment, the satisfaction in reading these words from him. HE FINALLY UNDERSTOOD. And it took almost k*lling himself and causing to the very person he was trying to make happy an indescribable grief, to come to this point.

What a lack of self-esteem and underlying depression can do.

But thankfully, they all managed to save things at last minute and now he's learned his lesson. So the first thing he does when he's able to, is apologizing to Akiho. But not only that.

Akiho says Kaito's name, probably wanting to answer something in return, but he interrupts her again, saying something I've been dying to hear him say (lately I expressed here and on Twitter my wish to see precisely this scene in the finale):

"That's my alias"

Akiho is shocked at hearing that, and he says, with a serious face, "Can I tell you my true name?"

At this point, I was hollering, I won't really hide it or anything.

If you're CLAMP fans, you probably know how IMPORTANT and VITAL is an information like one's true name, especially for a magician. Yuuko in Holic said that if you give someone your true name, they can take your soul.

And I'm 100% sure that even Akiho knows how important true names are in the magic world, this is something that Momo already mentioned in one of the Drama CDs but here she confirms it herself, saying hesitantly: "Are you sure I should be hearing something so important?"

With the next thing Kaito says, I was almost calling an ambulance.

Heh, I know, this is me, what can I do? Their story got me by the throat and coming to this point is such an achievement, for me. 😅

"I want you to know it"

That あなた between brackets is so powerful. "You, above all".

In that "you" there's all the things he's not saying aloud, how unique and important she is to him. How much he trusts her with the most vulnerable part of himself. How much he's willing to give his entire soul, his everything to her, but this time in the correct way, without damaging anyone.

Akiho must be noticing all of this, because Mokona doesn't allow us to see her face, only her closed hand rising up, but from her ".....okay" I'm sure here she was quite touched.

So Kaito finally proceeds to reveal this secret that everyone was wondering about ever since chapter 51:

"Cristaux. That's my true name".

Cristaux is written with the katakana クリスト (pronounced kurisuto) which has already been misunderstood by many for "Christ" 😂, but thankfully CLAMP have put in the furigana the correct spelling in romaji.

Cristaux is a french word used to indicate crystals. Yes, plural.

So our crazy magician was named after crystals at his birth.

Of course, of course. Isn't crystals the overwhelming theme of this arc, after all? CLAMP made sure to feature some in many many color illustration they've done.

Also, while talking to a friend, I realized that now we might understand a bit better why Kaito made a very pensive face, disguised as Syaoran, when Sakura pointed out in Clockland (ch. 66) that the castle of the Queen had foundations made of crystal........

As usual with CLAMP, we've had the solution to the mystery under our nose the whole time! 😂This feels like Tsubasa 2.0, for real! 😂

It is surely an inusual name, but I mean, it seems many of the names CLAMP choose for their characters aren't that common, after all.

With this reveal, Kaito decided to start anew with Akiho, this time around from a basis of honesty and trust. He's never going to put up masks with her ever again (and even though it's confirmed they still talk in keigo to one another -which is something I've always imagined-, we've seen him using his true pronoun "ore" with her in chapter 78). This is the perfect foundation for a relationship based on communication and trust. Bravo Kaito, you did your homeworks.

Akiho places a hand over her chest, as if the precious name entered her heart, and says something that made me completely melt:

"I've written it on the most important page of my book. So I can never forget it".

This line makes me particularly emotional not only because it sounds SO SWEET, on the verge of flirting, but also because it seems to me like a callback to something that was said in a sadder situation.

Back in chapter 35, when Sakura ended up trapped into Akiho's artifact, she experienced Akiho's past on her skin. The day of the magic ceremony that turned Akiho into an artifact, some people from the clan/Association said "let's engrave all the magical books we can find into this girl's body, so she can never forget them. Just like a blank book".

Back then, these horrible words were used to abuse a poor child, but that child today turned them into the power to choose for herself.

She appropriates the same "book" analogy to turn it into a way for her to choose on her own. Kaito's name is a precious information that she chooses to write on her heart so she can never forget it.

It is a way for her to cope and have a catharsis for her trauma.

I honestly keep getting such wonderful messages from the story of these two characters, and I'll never thank CLAMP enough for creating them.

Kaito smiles softly at Akiho's words.

Then we go back to Sakura, Syaoran and Tomoyo, the "fab 3" who are going back home together, and we get some more information: it seems Eriol called Syaoran too (man, this guy called half the world to give explanations left and right 😂) and told him that he's going to buy Akiho and Kaito's house and look after it for them.

Sakura is really glad to hear that because it means that Akiho's huge collection of books will be safe and guarded in its library.

Tomoyo asks what they're going to do about Akiho's room at the Kinomoto house: in fact, if you look at the first panel of this chapter, you'll see that the additional portion that sprouted on Kinomoto house is still there: this means that Sakura gave everyone back their memories, but that magic didn't affect the discrepancies that arised from the rewriting of their world, hence why Akiho's room is still there.

Sakura talked about it with her dad and they decided they're gonna leave it untouched, as it is, so Akiho can always go back to it at any time. Did I cry at this? Yes, a little, because this is a sign that the Kinomotos will still keep considering her one of the family even if she'll be away, even if she'll have her life with Kaito, and I couldn't ask for anything better, for my sweet Akiho. It is so important for her to keep the bonds she created over time and know that now she's also got a network of people there for her. A second family where to turn to.

Sakura's having a real hard time accepting that Akiho will go away, and her smile becomes sad, before hugging Tomoyo and crying out "But I'll still miss her so much!!" 🥹poor Sakura 🥹I know, it's always so sad when someone that important to you leaves...

You'll Be Together Forever!!

One month passes by, and we can see some sakura flowers starting to bloom, this means we're at the end of March (and so we were in February before, just like I imagined). School year must be over pretty soon.

It's the big day, the day of departure for Akiho and Kaito, and Sakura+Syaoran went to see them off. Have you spotted it, on Sakura's scarf? Yes, that's the pin shaped like a teddy bear, the same Kaho gave her as a present and that she was wearing in the OG manga during the run at the bus stop to tell her feelings to Syaoran!

Akiho thanks Sakura for coming so early in the morning, and Sakura says she absolutely wanted to be there to see them off, actually she apologizes for making them delay their departure due to this meeting. Akiho is dressed with a cute outfit that is very remiscent of the one she's wearing in the color page of chapter 79.

A little separated from them to give their privacy, we see Kaito and his big suitcase, standing next to Syaoran. OMG it's so inusual to see them like that!!

Then, Kaito says "Time magic....I can teach it to you, if you ever want to use it". Syaoran is very surprised to hear that, and Kaito says that when he was still in the dragon form, he heard him apologizing to Sakura for not being able to use that magic because he hadn't learned it yet, remember?? 🥹

And Kaito just offered himself as a teacher, surely as a way to thank him for everything he's done to save him and Akiho.

But not only that: in a very sweet panel, he says he knows Syaoran won't use it in an inappropriate way, and I can totally hear that implied "as opposed to me". Oh yes I hear it loud and clear by the way this is phrased in Japanese. 😁

Then, he happily takes out his phone and asks him to exchange contact numbers, because they can be convenient for any occurrence! I feel like that was a good idea because they're surrounded by magic matters so much, it's always good to be able to count on the experience and knowledge of other magicians.

We see Syaoran being a bit perplexed at the request, but then reluctanctly (?) takes out his phone 😂oh lord his reaction is so funny....and this is also another proof that the characters remember what happened before, because Syaoran could have this reaction only for that reason 😂😂😂

While looking at them interacting so funnily, Akiho takes the chance to get closer to Sakura and whisper a very important information to her (it came!!! it came for her too!! I KNEW IT!! It's not WHAT I imagined but I've been saying forever that this would come 😂):

Akiho, JP & ENG: "My real name...is Cosmos"

What you guys can't see if you're reading the ENG version or any other language, is the duality of Akiho's true name here.

It's actually written in Japanese kanji, but the furigana that tells how to pronounce it are katakana for "Cosmos".

So it's like this:

Japanese name: 秋桜 (pronounced Akizakura, it's how Cosmos are called in Japanese)

Furigana (reading): コスモス (Cosmos)

It's not uncommon to find the Cosmos flowers being called directly with their katakana spelling, in Japanese.

All of this makes total sense for Akiho because her favorite flower is a specific type of Cosmos, the Chocolate Cosmos! They say they really smell like chocolate! So, just like Sakura, she's got the same name of her favorite flower.

But this duality of her name also allows Akiho to say what she's about to say:

Akiho, JP: "When we met for the first time, I was happy to learn I had one same character in my name as yours!"

I'm glad to see that more or less all the foreign translations did their best to explain the trick of the kanji, adding an explanation in the bubbles (they were big enough, thankfully). The ENG for example talked about "sharing a name" but Akiho here is meaning more "sharing a character" of the japanese name.

Sakura is of course really honored and happy to hear that, and thanks her for sharing such an important detail about herself.

And now, hahaha.....comes the part where I laughed SO, so much, because while to some it might sound strange for Akiho to do something like this, to me it isn't strange at all! Cause she's like that, her personality is far stronger than most think...

Our little mischievous Akiho here reveals to Sakura, still whispering, that she isn't going to share her real name with Kaito yet, because she's still a bit upset with him!! 😂😂😂

Oh lord, Akiho....oh dear....you have all the right to still be a bit upset, make him work hard to get such an important information from you!! 😂 I can't believe right now we have Kaito basically in Akiho's hands while Akiho, the one who seemed the most in love out of the two, is actually still withholding that from him! 😂😂😂 aaaaahhh trust CLAMP to always give you something interesting....this is totally in line with how I perceived her personality. 🤭I loved it!

Kaito needs to be really, really careful from now on! She's not gonna take any crap from him! 😂

And now I have to warn you because precisely as we reach the very last line Sakura will say in this arc, there is going to be another translation mistake, which I consider far worse than the other one I pointed out. I think getting it wrong precisely at the most important emotional point ruined a job that wasn't overall so bad, with this chapter (compared to others....).

Sakura, smiling, supports Akiho's idea, saying "Sounds good!", and then, utters the very last line of the arc:

ENG: "After all, we have a long future together ahead of us!"

JP: "After all, you'll be together forever from now on!"

I think you can easily guess why this translation mistake irritated me so much. I've checked the other translations and the Spanish one, the one I trust the most, agrees with me, just like the French one.

This translation is a failure for two reasons:

it failed to convey the fact that Sakura here is using almost exactly the same words she used in the OG manga at the end of volume 12, when she ran into Syaoran's arms, saying that they would be together forever from that moment on. I think iconic lines like these should be translated in the way the readers know them from the previous work, otherwise it's useless. You don't get the reference. In Japanese, back in volume 12 of the OG manga, it was "kore kara wa zutto issho da yo!" while here it is "kore kara wa zutto issho nandakara". And there is a reason for that.

this translation inexplicably made it about all of them, when Sakura was talking specifically about Akiho and Kaito instead. That "nandakara" at the end suggests that this sentence is strictly related to the one that came right before, "sounds good", as an answer to Akiho's plan to withhold her true name from Kaito for a while. Sakura here is simply saying that Akiho's idea sounds ok to her because those two will be together forever from now on, so she'll have all the time of this world to tell him eventually her true name, when she feels ready. Also, in Sakura's words, there's a deeper meaning: it's the last wish of happiness for those two, which comes from her own lived experience. At the end of volume 12 we saw Sakura uttering those same words, in her happiest moment of reunion with Syaoran...Sakura knows that happiness, the happiness of reuniting and be able to stay all the time with the person you love the most. This is the same thing she's wishing for those two right now, with these words. To be together forever and savor that same happiness she's living herself everyday. But if the translation makes it about all four of them, or even just about Sakura and Akiho, this underlying message, this last parallel between the two pairs is completely gone. Also, what's the sense in saying "we have a long future together ahead" if Kaito and Akiho are leaving?? It doesn't make sense to me. They once again managed to remove any hint of Kaito and Akiho being destined to be together for life, and bent the phrase to include everyone, just because they could. I find that quite disrespectful in my opinion.

Anyway, if you made it this far in reading the post, you now know how that line should actually be. I feel so embittered and disappointed that this happened precisely at the end...

But this time, as opposed to the OG manga, there's one more page to bring this arc to a closure: we can see the back of the new empowered Sakura Card (on the Card there's a mix of both the Star circle and the Dream circle), and the text reads:

JP, lit.: "When all the Cards are gathered, that's the beginning that comes from an end. A beginning to move on"

You have surely recognized it , this is exactly the same page that appeared at the very beginning of this arc, it's just that back then we had a Sakura Card's back, a more unsettling background, and lots of blank cards floating. Right now we have the back of the empowered Sakura Cards, a more serene background and instead of the blank cards, we have cherry blossom petals! ❤️

But most importantly, the sentence slightly changed too, communicating to all the readers that from the end of all the tribulations that our characters went through in this Clear Card Arc, they finally managed to move onto a happier life.

I think it's very beautiful how CLAMP decided to conclude this story, with a message of hope that not all endings are necessarily something bad, but they can simply hide behind them the beginning of something new and more positive.

Lord knows how much I needed to be reminded of this, in this moment of my life.

And surely this is also true for the end of this beloved series for many people around the world: after 7 years and half it's so hard to say goodbye to such a beloved story, but CLAMP want to give us one last present before saying goodbye to it for an indefinite period!

On the right side of the Japanese last page (this was not translated in the ENG one) we find the announcement that the April issue of Nakayoshi on sale on March 1st 2024 will bring us a special chapter of Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card! Precisely one month before the release of volume 16! There's no info about how long it's gonna be, but anything is strongly welcome to say goodbye in a more gradual way...I wonder what it'll be about? This can be literally anything!! I would love for them to feature a situation in the future, rather than in the past....

Beware, because I've heard that Anime News Network translated this as a "special arc" in their news and that caused a ruckus...I've already tried to warn people on Twitter that's not correct, "tokubetsuhen" is the same term they used for the special short chapters they have published till now.

And so...it ends. We've reached the end!! Omg! I still can't register it fully....🙈

I will write some short additional comments about the chapter here but you'll have to wait for another, separate post to have my impressions and commentary on the entire Clear Card Arc.

I just want to say that this finale didn't feature everything I hoped/wanted to see, but other things were definitely granted.

It's just impossible to make everyone happy so I completely understand that.

And even though I'm truly disappointed about Momo and the choice to make her leave her two kids like that, I feel overall this disappointment doesn't stain my appreciation for this finale.

The things I wanted to see and got, the general happy and relaxed atmosphere, seeing all four of them so friendly with eachother, Sakura's final blessing with those words are enough to make me feel still quite satisfied with the finale.

Also, this feels so much more open than the OG manga. A lot more open. There are tons of elements one could grasp to in case they wanted to make a spin-off, or feature some of these plot threads as a cameo in another work. Akiho and Kaito's situation in particular, with their travels around the world, seems to be screaming "you'll see us again soon". I don't know if I'm just delusional but I've seen so many people saying the same.

And I have to say that despite my first choice was for Akiho and Kaito to stay in Tomoeda, they gave me enough good reasons to justify them departing again. I did, in fact, predict that an eventual resume of their travels could be plot related (if they had to continue escaping the Squids' radar or if they had to find a way to fix Kaito's situation).

Plus, Akiho seems so happy and free. How can I rebel against that, when they depict her so happy of her choice?

Also, nice of Eriol to step up and help those two. He's the other poweful and experienced magician who can put at their service all of his knowledge.

And then, Kaito's character development. Even here, I felt like I would've wanted him to say more, but then I remembered that Ohkawa in a Space long time ago had already said "I would want the readers, once it's over, to re-read this trying to understand 'why this character acted in this way?' " and it was clear that she was referring to Kaito. So, not exposing in detail Kaito's heart and the motivations that brought him to this point is totally intentional. She wants us to get there on our own. After all, she gave us another huge hint in this chapter, by making him reveal his true name to Akiho. I can only be grateful for that, especially for how he worded it.

Cristaux and Cosmos...while I'm really happy they have the same initials, I'm still trying to get used to those new names! 😂even though I know they'll keep using their aliases so it's not a big problem, we'll keep calling them Kaito and Akiho!

(And yes, I'm a bit disappointed that Akiho's true name isn't Alice! 😂)

It was nice to see SyaoSaku blushing and flirting in this finale, especially now that Touya gave his blessing to Syaoran, he can go pick her up for school when he wants!! 😂 I'm sure we'll get more SyaoSaku fluff in the special chapter, as this finale was mostly used to wrap up other stuff.

As I said, I adored the few panels of interaction between the two Moon Boys, Akiho's mischievous prank to Kaito....yes, I still have lots to be grateful for, in this finale.

I think this post just won the record for the longest one, so let me just take this space really quick before wrapping up to thank all of you who have read my posts, shared them, supported me, chatted with me about the story, and overall contributed with interesting discussions in this little personal corner. I would've never imagined, not even in my wildest dreams, that the existence and content of this blog one day would've reached even CLAMP, and this will stay as one of my biggest gratifications, especially cause they seemed to appreciate the effort. I just wish their story was treated better by some official translations.

I tried to do whatever I could to spread warnings about heavy translation mistakes, in addition to my interpretation of the story as I was reading it and analyzing it, since I've seen it helped many people understanding the story better and coming to terms with frustrations they had about it.

Clear Card Arc is undoubtedly more complex and requires a lot more of attention than the OG manga.

But I'm positive that re-reading everything in one go might help A LOT in that regard, maybe keeping my translation posts beside you....so I urge everyone to re-read the story when you have time, because it's worth it. Really.

That said, I'm not going anywhere for the foreseeable future: of course I'll comment the special chapter, but I also have in store the "Clear Card Trivia" series of posts, a post with the timeline of the events and a master post about my own review of the entire Clear Card Arc. And then, there's the season 2 of the anime too! You can bet I'll be here to comment on it every week!!

In the meantime, I want to thank all of you again for your patience, for reading me till now, and I also want to thank once again CLAMP-sensei for the wonderful sequel they brought to us in these past 7 years. ありがとうございます 🙏

See you soon!!

[satocidal]

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ Unfortunately, Yours

↳ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Episode 1:-

↳ ||Masterlist||Taglist Form||next chapter(two)||

Synopsis: It is when the birth right is snatched from your hands that your eyes truly ever open—especially when it’s always been there, right in your grasp. The Throne was yours, that was the truth promised and yet- yet your fate lay sealed with a certain Gojo. With an arranged marriage set in plan, alongs sets the plan of murder—within a wife who wants the throne and a husband who wants nothing but power, but suffers with them the present and the future of other two—especially when the lies of the past start surfacing.

— Word count: 3.9k

— A/n: ahhhh I have so many nerves lmao because this is the first chapter and I don’t wanna ruin it at all lol. And I wanna keep everything so subtle yk? But hope you guys like this!

— Warnings: Asshole Satoru; Asshole reader; mentions of adultery; slight objectification(?); Fem Bodied! Reader; usage of feminine terms; author thinks she can write💀 ps: I’ve never seen Christian weddings (or whatever I’ve written idk lol) so bare with me; typos

Hands that were trained, calloused once with bruises, prepared to be painted with blood now sat idle—a diamond ring in the finger.

Fate- the red string- two ends.

About 8 billion people walked the surface of earth—it was said, heard, stated, passed—The Greek god Zeus split each one of us into halves, punished to roam the earth and find our other half—the soulmate. Fatalism stated that everything was predestined- so it must be true, the concept of it.

Marriage—sacred, pure.

The day was clear as ever in your eyes—your father had entered the room, a solemn look on his face, a ring in hand; the entire month you had watched as the Gojos became a usual Tomorrow; you had watched as your sisters giggled at the premonition of your marriage; you had watched as the tables shifted and you had watched, and watched and watched.

Eyes numb, heart aching and mind a mess, you watched for that was all you could do now.

It was rushed, the whole process of it—a month ago your wedding planned and a month later you were gone. You didn’t want the wedding, you were sure Satoru Gojo didn’t either—“He’s so in love with you,” from your cousins deluded you—“I’m so lucky to have you,” from his mother.

Mind filled with thoughts of a man you’d only meet at the night of your wedding.

No amount of convincing could’ve been for you to utter a yes—but a definitive “You will do it,” from your father did wonders.

“You’ll be alright,” a whisper—your mother’s, soft, harsh.

“You have to be alright,” a demand—your father’s, careful, adamant.

“Promise me you’ll be alright,” a thought—your sister’s, empty, or so you dared to think.

And that was true, in a lonesome bind, you thought a lot.

You thought when your sister braided your hair, pretty, elegant—nothing you’d ever found yourself to be defined as.

You thought while your mother and grandmother, aunts and maids—they giggled, old wives’ tales falling off chastised lips like honey.

You thought when you found your father’s eyes hiding—nervous, you’d noted but you only thought.

And you thought still when the morning arrived, you sister kneeling beside you—eyes focused, narrowed, fingers working fast to smoothen the white.

Perfect the white.

Perfect your impure white—the dirty kind.

And finally, alone with your sister, you spoke.

“You must be glad,”

A silence met you, heavy.

“Don’t be shy about it, not anymore,”

A sigh— she got up slow, eyes focused still on your white gown—“you look gorgeous,” a mumble you heard.

You found yourself staring at her curls—when did she curl those you wondered, but then she’d answer that you didn’t care and perhaps, you didn’t.

Not usually.

“We’re sisters Aki,” you pestered, “you can tell me ya know?” You winked—a smirk, a tease—all to prove your point.

“The wedding is to begin in an hour now then, be prepared,”

“Don’t change topics. Tell me you’re happy about it, about all this,”

Another sigh—a glare and a huff, “Has father stuffed lies so deep your throat that you’re begging to hear them now?”

Again, silence.

Father—

Your eye twitched—nose puffed and eyes flared at your form in the mirror—you did you look gorgeous, or at least, different. A good different, arguably.

“Alright,” she mumbled quietly then, “c’mere—” her hands beckoned you close, her own navy blue contrasting to your pure white—ironic, you mused.

“What,” face scrunched, you let out—causing your sister to chuckle, “At least smile at your own wedding y/n,”

A scoff—“I’ll cry if I damn want to—and no, not for the dramatics,” a chuckle, this time, mutual.

“I’ll miss you,” you heard her whisper against you, entrapped in an embrace you stood, stiff—your eyes lay blank.

“Was it…my—”

“It’s not to chastise you,”

“It’s no less than that,”

“Endure it,”

A tear, quick, rolled down your cheek—wiped off all too quickly by your own sister—for you were to look perfect tonight.

Perfect for your perfect husband.

“Find your happiness there,” she whispered against your shoulder—you sobbed, “Why is he sending me away?”

Cruel. Cruel. Cruel.

“He sent us all away- even mother,” her hands patted your back- the touch felt foreign—“Not me,” your voice rasped, “I was different, I was better, I was the best he had,” her hands tensed around you—“I don’t know,” she confessed, “but promise me, you’ll be happy there,”

You nodded- empty.

“He’s going to be a fool in love,” her voice adorned, his mother- sharp- “So fortunate to get someone like you in my house, such a sweet pretty thing you are,” you smiled in accordance- hands clenched.

It was for her sake, you believed, the Gojo family worked in her shadow— a finger lifted meant everyone had to stand, a finger pressed and silence—in some way or the other, she stood to be your admiration. To hold power was to be nothing however to call power, now that, you admired.

It was in the way she was subtle but oh so glorified—Kana Gojo, perhaps the only woman or human you’d dared to look upto.

You smiled as she’d walked you around—parading shops through shops, looking for what she deemed the perfect dress—perfect, she wanted it to be—perfect not for her son but perfect in every sense of it.

-

A gift placed in your hand- bribe—“Aren’t you the sweetest Hm?” A smile, vaunted- his father, a careful spendthrift in every sense of the word.

You smiled, nodded and chuckled—“only learned from the best,” your eyes zoom over to your mother—never learned anything from her, you didn’t, and yet—formalities and a certain charm, you graced them evidently.

The head of the house, at least on paper—he didn’t hold much prowess with the profits but then, Gojos barely needed any more profit for the empire was built well and well enough to not crash. He did, however, hold his hands high and wide—welcoming, warm; everything his wife was not.

Not yin to her yang but the epitomised silver to her gold — Ginji Gojo, perhaps the only man to accustom himself to his wife, the only man you never truly could understand, along his son, of course.

You grinned as he lead you, hand held in his own—eyes searching for the perfect diamond to adorn not your finger but your marriage.

-

Shy glances and shyer hello-s he muttered, it was cute—you supposed, in the way a letter found is way in your hands—“Read it when you’re alone please,”—his cousin brother, innocent.

‘Hello,’ it began—cut off—‘Dear Y/n,’—cut off—‘assume I said something cool,’ you chuckled, the rest, a memory nestled deep in your mind.

He was young, 9–someone you hoped to inspire—Megumi—he didn’t know much, or anything at all, a subtle age of nine after all. But he knew enough.

Not enough to strike competition but smart enough to be called his successor; he was a smart kid you’d mused, a polite greet everytime you two met, a sweeter letter handed everytime.

Twice he cut off the beginning every time and deliberate you’d found it be—cuter still. And he lead you still, hand holding onto yours as he helped you decide on the flavour of the cake.

The girl, you watched from the corner of your eyes, chuckled, a hand reaching out to slap her father’s hand away—he chuckled, smiled, conversed—something and everything you never had.

A tear rolled down your cheek, salty—“Crying already?” The voice was gruff, your father’s.

“Father,” you muttered, hands reaching upto wipe the tear away quick—“Don’t,” he muttered, “Tears are useful.”

You could only nod.

The man stood beside you, taller by a decent inch or two—hands stuffed in his pocket and a bow tie tight around his neck; the man was slender— a ghost of the figure he used to be, could’ve been. A potential wasted, he called himself—a potential wasted, you too.

You watched him as he moved around you, hefty eyes felt heavy, scanning your form—“You look fine,” a compliment he’d deem it—perhaps it was, “Didn’t know white was your colour.”

It wasn’t.

Did he know anything about you? At all? No.

“Suppose it is, today onwards,” he smiled, you frowned, “That’s my girl.”

Another tear rolled quick, then another and they kept rolling, you stood blank.

“No,” you scowled defiantly—his hands working quick—scowl, mirroring yours as he wiped the tears—“When I said tears, I didn’t mean these many. You cannot possibly be this dramatic.”

An empty grin.

“Dramatic?” Voice pitched, brows raised, heart shattering you stared at him—“I am being dramatic?” Loud enough you were to have people raise the awareness that the bride was moody- or so they’d gossip and so you’d let them.

His eyes narrowed—a sign, quite usually telling you to quieten down—not today, “Why are you doing this?” You finally asked, shoulders relieved, heart heavier still—afraid the answer might me the truth you’ve fed yourself.

“Is this some- some-” you paused, a breath caught, eyes cast down—“punishment? Did I do something wrong?”

And in that moment, perhaps you were nothing more than a little girl—perhaps in that moment you wanted nothing more than your father’s reassurance—perhaps things could’ve been better.

But they weren’t—glory of fate itself.

“Don’t create a fucking scene,”

Had hearts really been made of glass, your father would’ve heard yours break—not once but a million times in that second. Again and again and again.

A noise—static.

“Yes sir,” you muttered, eyes dancing along his hands—you shuddered—he twisted his own.

-

His hands were soft as they held yours, he lead you slow, your father did.

The white veil that you’d spent hours to decide upon, the one you would never care about—it swept beside you, gasps escaping the lips of many as you walked out.

And there, there your eyes met his.

Poised he stood, white hair slicked back—nothing like those superficial memories his mother had told about, nothing like the tabloids you’d seen. This man, the one on your altar—that was Satoru Gojo.

Not the Toru’ you’d heard of, not the Heir of Gojos you’d kept your eyes upon, not the stubborn and hardheaded Satoru-san his maids had warned you about, not anything you’d known.

This was Satoru Gojo, your husband to be.

You hadn’t assumed your wedding to be a fairytale—in all honesty, you hadn’t assumed anything at all.

A prison you’d deemed it on the first day and perhaps that was all it was—but something, just something in you cried all too much when Satoru didn’t slip so much as a smile towards you.

Don’t get me wrong, he’d grinned and smirked all night- teased by his friends—congratulated by everyone—he did show joy, in some meaning of the word.

Not to you- but I suppose a win that was too—after all, a marriage is built on the truths right?

Eyes moist, a tear he did let go off—superficial it was, you knew it, but a hero Satoru Gojo would be deemed the next day in the magazines his family would pay good money to.

Yours was never meant to be that perfect wedding, not at the core of it—you knew that from day one of the sequenced wedding but then—just something, someone in you cried a little too. Just someone broke inside when you realised it wouldn’t be your husband who cried the moment he set his eyes on his bride—it wouldn’t be you telling those cute stories about your wedding day.

It wouldn’t be you—it was normal you’d heard, for grooms to be overwhelmed in there weddings- the thought of spending a forever with his bride, the supposed memories flooding their mind—but it wouldn’t be for you. He stood there with hands behind him, eyes awaiting you presence still.

A smile he held—empty as you joined him—eyes were very telling you r father had preached, never once had you found him to be wrong.

His hands felt cold as you held them—cold like your father’s, colder still somehow was his presence. And your realised, heart — to what you had thought to be a void — breaking as you realised that the marriage was a cage to him as much as you. Neither happy—he wasn’t happy with your presence.

Pathetic. But again, did it truly matter?

The wedding had begun— officiated, soon your “I do”s would slip, the wedding couldn’t be stopped now, not ever.

And in that moment your eyes flickered to your own mother—she stood regal.

Embroidery she’d fought into you, cooking and baking, sewing a skill she’d made you own too—pity she couldn’t teach you controlling your emotions—pity your father was your influence.

Your eyes managed to flicker onto him—saintly, your brain mused—your heart couldn’t help but agree. And those saintly features held an ugly heart you told yourself, solace to a lonesome mind.

“Satoru, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect Y/N, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”

When he took a moment to answer with a blank gaze, you could feel tiny pricks being sent straight to your heart. Just a mere glance at his stolid mien was enough for you to believe that he was going to call off the wedding and run away—mayhaps you wanted that, mayhaps, you didn’t.

What else could you expect?

He clearly didn’t want this, understandable was the fact. It wouldn’t surprise you if he took a step back and announced that he couldn’t go on in making an oath to offer the rest of his life with you. That he would rather get out of this hell hole and be somewhere else than to proclaim a love that was being forced out of him.

“I do,” he professed, despite the inner turmoil that plagued his head.

You sighed—soft.

“Y/n, do you promise to love, honour and cherish and protect Satoru, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”

Your eyes were quick—a glance here and there and everywhere—the pause was heavy; you watched your father’s nod of encouragement—your mother’s sharp eyes—his mother’s smile, fake- his father’s sip of champagne—your sister’s eyes’ were hazy; his best friend tipsy.

You couldn’t say no—“I do,”

“Bride and Groom, you have heard the words of love and marriage, have exchanged your vows and made your promises, and celebrated your union with the giving and receiving of rings. It is at this time that I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant declared, “you may now kiss the bride.”

Your eyes widened behind your veil- your first- the breath hitched as Satoru removed your veil—crystal seemed his eyes, crystal clear was his distaste. He was tall—comical in fact—you tip toed slight, he leaned in a bit—the kiss was warm, chill, foreign. His hand rested upon your cheek, a stroke—a pull, brief.

Your eyes watched as he pulled away, a new smile on his lips—an actor he could’ve proven to be.

A million thoughts clouded you and him—known to only the two of you—marriage worked quick in that sense you supposed, mother and you sister weer perhaps right. But when all was said and done—the marriage was officiated.

And your eyes met then—a thought passed between you and your husband—stuck together—Unfortunately, Yours.

Hair slicked, ivory, elegant.

For a man who was yours even when he wasn’t—you supposed he was good.

Gojo Satoru swept across the room—a smile on his face, gentle; gentler was the rhythm he walked at. Here and there, he conversed, after all, a man of his charm he was- taking after none but his father.

Idle gossip danced along his ears while he giggled with women—politics fell off his lips as he sipped on the champagne—he teased and played with children too, laughing and joking with them—Gojo Satoru smiled to all but his wife-to-be. She sat there, quiet, unmoving, unrelenting—she lay still.

“It’s the fifth time you’ve stared at her in the last 3 minutes,” a glass in hand—a black suit adorned, Suguru waltzed beside him—a sly grin on his face, “I know you’re married but that’s really desperate, even for you,”

“Shut up,” Satoru muttered, grinning wide at the new set of guests—hand motioning the waiters to attended to it.

Suguru chuckled again, “Your dad really didn’t help out today either huh?”

“Old geezer’s getting drunk,” voice, plain—monotonous, hands clenched at his sides —begging to run through his hair—to ruin it all.

“How was she?”

“Boring,”

Suguru’s eyes zoomed on to the specific waitress—limping—he sighed, “Your mother was worried sick and you’re having affairs already?,” he began, hands reaching up to fix the shirt, “And today is your wedding today—have some etiquette,”

Eyes rolled—the same dialogue slipped off his mouth—“You’re becoming my mother—and she isn’t random; as is I’ll get her fired now,” he grinned this time around, “but not anymore, I’ve already got another woman to fuck around with,” a hand—sharp—landed on his head.

“Respect her,” the raven haired boy muttered, eyes focused and cast down, “She’s your wife today onwards—not just some woman you can fuck whenever you want,”

Satoru scowled, hands rubbing the back of his head, the spot where Suguru struck, “That’s all she means,”

“Don’t tempt me to make her a widow before she’s even married Satoru,” a grin, a huge one Suguru masked—words deadly balanced.

“Treat her well Satoru,”

“You marry her then,”

“Suck it up and smile,”

“Fuck you,”

“I will,”—a grin, a chuckle and that was that. A hand patted Satoru on the back—“Treat her well,” Suguru muttered again, both their eyes cast onto you—where a smile rested on both their lips, only one was genuine. Your eyes found tracing their oath to their spot too, black and white—they seemed a beautiful set—your eyes cast to your own gown and your sister’s. White and navy blue—all the same.

A couple and another, a pair of four.

Suguru let his eyes cast down to his watch—about time for the dance—“Satoru,” his voice was smooth, “it’s time for your dance,”

He hummed—“Her father, or I suppose mine too now—he wanted her first dance,” Suguru raised his brows, “and you let him? What happened ‘I don’t share’” A small smirk played on the younger male’s lips.

“I don’t share what’s mine—not all that-” another strike, harder.

-

Inhale, exhale- again.

You hands shook, and ears ringed—you were married. The statement related in your mind for the 5th time since.

Married. Tied down.

“Entertain me with the first dance m’lady?” Your eyes narrowed—sharp—“Father?”

Beside you stood you father indeed, an aura different—an aura that had become his past.

He smiled, kind—your confusion only grew—“It’s time sweetheart,” Your teeth clenched; sweetheart?

You nodded still—be his good girl—his hand held yours; yours, his.

The music was slow- none that you recognised, you needn’t, you’d want to forget the moment already. The applause for you was blurry, everything around you was too. Eyes didn’t bother running off to your mother, nor your husband—they never did around your father.

And in the moment, you could’ve sworn to the vain memory you held—your father seemed like the man you once knew; seemed like the one who had abandoned you. Rage seized a decent part of your mind—desperation to hold onto him took charge of the other.

He held you close- an embrace not felt in forever, “You’ll be fine baby,” he mumbled into your ear—“don’t say that,” you were quick to add.

“Don’t be like this,” you added next, his heart broke, yours already was.

He knew however, what you meant- not a single objection he raised, guilt all too evident on the face that held its own wisdom. Evident however, only to those who knew him and pity lay such, he never let you.

“Just entertain me here,” you finally spoke—a minute left of your song—“why did you agree to this? We’re not- we’re not in need of money, we’ve the perfect military- you’ve raised me enough for me to take over at any given instance then why—why them?”

His gaze should’ve hardened—you expected it; it softened.

“I apologise.”

You nodded yet again- an answer unkempt.

-

Satoru’s hand felt the same it had the altar, soft, scented- something you perhaps wanted to hated.

He spun you around—a man of honour your mother would call him, you beckoned yourself to him—a lady of grace his mother would call you.

People danced all around you, your eyes found their way onto your sister, smiling and giggling—suitors all around her, you smiled.

Eyes couldn’t help but falter at Suguru Geto- Satoru’s best friend, you’d learned—his presence too. In a shy corner he stood- girls around him, you wouldn’t blame them—he sought that attention after all, evident.

“You like this song?” Your eyes snapped onto Satoru—“Pardon?”

“This song, do you like it?” Your eyes gazed everyone—all the while, his, you.

“I’ve…never heard it before—”

“—well I particularly hate it,” your brows raised—“Oh alright,” you nodded, “I’ll make sure to not add it to the playlist ‘Wedding 2.0’,”

Smiles you both held- not for each other, formal entirely—“Hilarious,” he muttered, “Makes two of us,” you snapped back.

A momentary silence fell and you couldn’t yourself—“Don’t try to play the husband here, you don’t accept me and I don’t accept you which is all but fine by me but I don’t need you to make idle conversations.” Voice sharp- eyes more so.

He grinned—“Feisty Hm?” Your nose flared—“alright I’ll entertain you with the non-idle kind,” eyes looked down at you condescension, was it?

“Daddy raised you as his war general yeah?” Your jaw clenched, “what did they call you? His right arm? His best gem?”

“Domestic abuse,” you began slow, “is a very real concept Satoru,” you smiled dangerously sweet—“Pray tell, the way you speak may make you victim soon,”

He chuckled quietly, nothing humorous, “Daddy also taught you weaponry?”

“Don’t speak of him like that-respect him,” you warned, teeth gritted—both of yours eyes zooming onto him—Satoru smiled.

“Of course, nothing against my father-in-law,” another grin, “But I can say whatever to you right baby?”

You hated him.

Your eyes scanned his, his- yours.

A frown, a grin.

A cough sounded beside you just then—the man just as tall as your husband, just as, if not more so, elegant.

Your eyes met his—a pit, yours and his.

“M’lady,” he smiled smoothly- bending just enough to kiss your hand—eyes cast quick onto Satoru, “One dance with the lady of the night please?”

Never a question, only a statement.

“Yes please,” Satoru muttered all too quick- a sharp glance, yours and Suguru’s.

Before you knew it you were swept right away, Suguru danced faster—a style which complimented yours, Satoru? Quiet the very same as yours, clashing.

You smiled as he picked the momentum with you, a chuckle his too—“You look stunning tonight,”

A nervous smile you passed-“All the very same to you sir,” his eyes crept onto your skin quick—“Why, seems like it’s just the two War Generals appreciating each other,” he laughed.

You laughed along- your eyes pausing to scan the hilt of his dagger in the suit—“Talent sees talent, eh?”

Another laugh- empty. What had swept you off was pleasant, what danced with you was hollow.

“The wedding,” Suguru added—your ears perked.

“Yes?” You reflected instantly—“You helped in the management right?” He smiled—your eyes narrowed.

Bastard, you both mused.

You nodded politely, “Well a good wife has to take care of things yeah?”

He grinned, “Oh you’re all too good m’lady,” voice a whisper, “Seems to me you’ll give me a run for my life,”

You grinned back, “Bless my heart Suguru—never to my family.”

Eyes hollow, minds ran fast—‘Interesting’ you both wondered as Suguru handed you back to his best friend and your husband.

��Interesting indeed’.

Reblogs and likes highly appreciated!

All of this work is original and entirely my own, please refrain from copying or reposting.

— Taglist: @rizzmin @4sat0ruu @lavendervogh @yooiimiya @gojoismybitch

[wooataes]

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part Six)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: angst, Hanahaki!AU, filler chapter before next big plot point 👀, Marvel spoilers i guess?? Jihoon sucks when it comes to talking about things, sus Jeonghan, swearing, feelings of self doubt?

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: Just a short little filler chapter for you guys before the next big plot point! A few cute little moments and a lay off the angst for a bit too! Some new characters will drop next chapter, and I can’t wait for you all to read! Thank you all for loving this story as much as I love writing it 🫶🏼

-Tae 💜✨

If you’d like to be tagged, shoot through an ask!

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Y/N: Meet me at the auditorium after you finish class? I’ll be helping the Jeongyeon and the girls with their Vocal project and then we can go to the library.

Jihoon rereads your text for the fifth time as he makes his way towards the auditorium with a sigh, looking up at the sky as the sun tries to peek out from behind the clouds. It’s a Friday afternoon, Ji-ah has just sent him off with a kiss and a smile as she leaves campus to take the train back home to her family as per usual, leaving him alone for the weekend. He winces into direct sunlight with a scowl before trudging inside the large building.

Jihoon blinks at the sound of five distinct voices harmonizing together on the empty stage, and he recognizes that the voices belonged to your five girlfriends, Jeongyeon, Jihyo, Momo, Dahyun and Nayeon. He spots you sitting at the piano at the side of the stage, playing a simple melody as the girls sing into the empty theatre. He is captivated at how well the girls’ voices all blend together.

“Heaven forbid someone whisper ‘he’s part of some scheme’,” Jihyo sings. “Your enemy whispers,”

“So you have to scream!” The girls harmonize, and Jihoon’s eyes widen as you sing alongside them from the piano, still playing flawlessly.

“I know about whispers,” Momo’s voice is soft and delicate.

“I see how you look at my sister...” Your voice is clear as a bell as your voice projects through the room. Jihoon feels like time has stopped as he hears you.

“Don’t!”

“I’m not naive, I have seen women around you,” Dahyun’s voice is deep and angry, singing with emotion, your voice harmonizing behind her. He can’t keep his eyes off you.

“Don’t think I don’t see how they fall for your charms,” Jeongyeon and Jihyo sing together, facing each other and locking eyes.

“All of your charms!” Everyone sings together.

They’re good, Jihoon thinks to himself. Really good.

“I’m erasing myself from the narrative,” the girls all sing in a ladder, overlapping each other with precision.

“Let future historians wonder how Eliza reacted when you broke her heart,” their harmonies are on point, Jihoon can feel goosebumps rise on his skin.

“You have thrown it all away, stand back and watch it,”

“Burn~”

The harmony echoes through the empty seats, Jihoon now sitting at the end of the front row to listen.

“Just watch it all burn,” he keeps his eyes on you, singing full heartedly as you keep playing the piano without missing a beat. Your eyes are glued to the sheet music in front of you as the rest of the girls stay put in their spot.

Jihoon stays quiet in stunned silence as you, alongside your friends sing the rest of the song together in perfect harmony. He’s shocked at how polished the performance is, you all have clearly put a lot of time and effort into it.

“If you thought you were mine,” it’s almost like the girls were competing with each other for the best belt for the finale, but at the same time their voices overlapping fits the song perfectly.

“Don’t.” The song stops sharply and abruptly.

The girls are all looking expectantly at you, and you turn on the chair to smile at them.

“I think you’re ready.” You beam. “Like seriously, that was the best you’ve all sounded yet.”

“Really?” Momo smiles back at you, taking both of your hands in hers.

“Really!” You nod excitedly.

“I personally think we only sound this good because of you.” Jihyo smirks, hugging around you from behind, your laugh echoing in the room as she plants a kiss on your cheek gratefully.

“Oh hush, you.” You swat her hands playfully as the others laugh with you.

Your laugh is foreign to Jihoon, but he wouldn’t mind hearing it more often, he decides.

“I agree with Ji.” Jeongyeon hums, bumping her hip with yours. “Your voice was just what we needed to make it perfect. It’s a shame that you have to hide behind that big piano though. We need you center stage with those golden pipes.”

“Then who else will play the music, silly?” You snark back, smiling.

“We can easily find a backing track, miss smarty pants.” Dahyun raises her eyebrow as Nayeon points to her with wide eyes.

“She has a point, Bug.”

“And risk the performance fucking up because we trusted a machine?” You cross your arms with a pout. “I’m happy behind the piano, you know that.”

“Excuse me!” Jihyo’s voice now booms towards your soulmate, who was now sitting up, startled at the volume of her voice. “This is a closed practice! Women only!”

“I..”

“Yah! Have some decorum!” You throw a bottle of water at her with a laugh. “It’s just Jihoon. We need to go study for Film Studies.”

You roll your eyes with a grin as all the girls rush to grab you. But you’re faster, jumping off the edge of the stage and leaning beside Jihoon with your backpack in hand.

“No fair! You don’t get to steal her away!” Momo whines and stomps her foot, making you laugh and wave at the girls.

“Unfortunately, he does. Unless you want me to fail and stay behind for a year.” You smirk as they all relent. “Good job today, my loves! Same time next week yeah?” You blow them all kisses as they repeat the gesture back to them. “Sorry, did I take too long?” You ask your soulmate quietly as he trails out of the auditorium behind you.

“Uhh, no.” He finds his voice after a beat of silence, cheeks slightly pink. “Not at all.” Your angelic voice is still ringing in his ears.

“Sorry about them,” You wave your hand back at the building. “They tend to make goodbyes a drawn out affair so I tried to be quick.”

“It’s fine.” He nods, and you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, walking to the campus library with Jihoon in silence.

Jihoon watches you from the corner of his eye as you walk together, suddenly more withdrawn and quiet. If you were a flower, Jihoon would’ve thought you just wilted right in front of him.

“Do you think people will sit back and think about that?”

“This is exactly what this project is about!” You chirp, pushing the laptop towards him. “Think about it. Tony Stark is obviously a fan favourite, both in the comics and the cinematic universe.” You’re pointing out graphs on the screen. “Everyone was on his side when Civil War came out. I bet you were too.”

“I mean, yeah, I suppose.” Jihoon raises his eyebrow at you.

“Which brings me back to my point.” This is the most animated he’s seen you be towards him, scribbling down on a notebook in front of you both. “Bucky is not to blame for Tony’s parents death. Yes, he is the one who caused their deaths, but he was under the mind control of Hydra. He was not in his right mind to control his own decision making due to the fact he was literally being controlled by these crazy bastards.”

Jihoon opens his mouth to speak.

“I know what you’re about to say,” you counter before he speaks. “You’re going to say ‘but he still did it.’ I mean, he did do it but if I hypnotized you to be a killing machine that you literally couldn’t stop yourself from being said killing machine, would you have the power to stop me? The answer is no. Bucky didn’t deserve the witch-hunt he was faced with, and Steve was completely justified in protecting his best friend. Bucky even felt guilty about it when Tony confronted him.”

“Tony was Steve’s friend too, though.”

“Who he knew for what, five minutes?” You quip back. “If your childhood best friend made a mistake and spent his entire life in agony against his will, tried to defend himself from your new friend of two years, who would you be picking?”

“… you make a point, Choi.” He hums, nodding his head sagely. “Yeah, okay, this is good. This will get them talking.”

“And it’s perfect, because we can discuss both sides!” You smile. “Even though I’m on Bucky’s side.”

Jihoon lets out a chuckle, with a little smile on his face. “I’m happy with that idea if you are?”

“Really?” You sit up straight, blinking owlishly. “You don’t have any ideas?”

“I mean, I had a few ideas but they were all pretty one sided. This idea works well because we can say the views from both sides.”

You blink again before giving Jihoon a little smile. His heart skips a beat involuntarily. “Okay, let’s do that then.”

“I can work on the Stark side and you can work on the Barnes side and we can discuss?” Jihoon pulls out his own pen and paper, starting to jot down a few notes. “We should only do a few ideas now and next week we can meet up to watch the film to draw out some points.”

“Sounds good to me.”

You nod your head quickly as you both get to work, the only sounds between you both being your pens and the occasional clicking of the keyboard of the laptop between you both.

Every so often, Jihoon feels like he can feel your eyes on him, but every time he sneaks a glance, your eyes are firmly on your notebook, diligently writing line after line of dot points on your page. It must be his imagination.

Every few moments, he spots you reaching up and rubbing at a spot on your collarbone like you have an itch, and he feels his curiosity growing but decided to leave it be for the sake of the project.

“I heard you were helping out with auditions..” you trail off softly as you walk by Jihoon’s side, two hours after your study session had begun. The sun is setting in the sky now as you shove your hands in your pockets. You’re standing on the outer side of the sidewalk, feet ghosting over the lip of where the concrete meets the road.

“Sure am.” He drawls, kicking at a rock on the pavement. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” You shake your head quickly. “I was just going to ask how it’s going.” Your eyes stay focussed on your feet. Jihoon spots your neck flushing pink.

“It’s not bad.” He shrugs. “But I don’t know how you can work with some of those actors. Almost all of them can’t sing for shit.”

You let out a cough as you seemingly choke on your own saliva, a laugh escaping your throat. “They’re not that bad, Jihoon-ssi.”

Jihoon feels like it’s so formal when you address him now. There is still the occasional moment you will call him simply Jihoon, but never Oppa. Not since the incident.

“They are bad when you have to hear the same rendition of ‘Mamma Mia! Here I go again. My my, how can I resist you?’ for four hours.” He groans, your amused smile growing on your lips as he speaks. “Why didn’t any of your friends audition? They sound a whole lot better than anyone else who sang.”

At the mention of your friends, you perk up a bit. “Believe me, I’ve tried. But they’re happy in their little show choir. I insisted that they would easily get the main role if they just showed up to audition, but they argued with me every step of the way.” You sigh, shrugging your shoulders. “So, I gave up.”

“Hmm, pity.” He hums. “It would’ve been better than who they’re deciding for callbacks.”

You nod along with him, and just as you’re about to respond, Jihoon beats you to the punch.

“You would’ve been good, too.”

Your cheeks immediately flush a deep red, turning your head to look away. “Uhh, thanks.”

“I mean, it isn’t a compliment.” Jihoon retorts. Your shoulders sag. “Well, I mean… it is, I suppose.” He immediately tries to mend things. “But coming from someone who sadly has perfect pitch, you, Jeongyeon and the others were the best singers I’ve heard all month.”

“Thank you, Jihoon-ssi.” You smile softly at your soulmate before flinching and taking a quick step towards him.

You were standing a bit too close to the road as a car sped past you, almost knocking you off your feet if it wasn’t for Jihoon to catch you by the loop of your backpack. He swiftly maneuvers you to walk on the inside of the path, now standing in your original spot without blinking an eye or missing a stride.

“It’s fine.” He acts like nothing happened. “And, if it’s too much for your rehearsal, or whatever.. I’ve been trained in piano since I was in middle school. So, uh… I could play the backing track for you if you wanted to focus on singing with the girls… if you wanted.” It was his turn to turn red as he walked, stammering. He truly didn’t intend on offering this to you, he just let it slip out like word vomit. “I don’t have anything to do after school on Friday’s since Ji-ah usually leaves for her family, so I mean if you guys wanted I could help out.”

He was babbling and probably repeating himself now. Oh god, can you please shut him up.

“Oh..” your eyes are wide as you stare at him. “I mean, I can check with the girls… but are you sure? You really don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Jihoon feels it. Your nerves begin to swirl in the pit of your stomach, the doubt and worry running through you as you question everything.

“It’s fine.” He insists. “Really, I love playing the piano anyway so this is just like a holiday for me. Honest.”

“Then, yeah.. sure.” You nod slowly as your walking slows as you reach the block before your house. “I’ll ask the girls and see. Thank you.”

“Sure.” He hums, hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

“And… uh… before you leave.” You pause at your front gate. Jihoon stops and turns to face you, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Soonie told me to ask you… usually this time of year leading up to Cheol’s birthday, we usually go on a big camping trip. This year we’re going to Busan and Jeonghan has told us to invite anyone who we think would want to go.”

You’re kicking at the invisible dust on the ground. “Soonie knew I was meeting up with you for the project so he told me to ask if you and Ji-ah want to come. It’s in a couple of weeks from now so you don’t have to decide yet, but the offer is there.”

“Oh, that sounds fun.” He nods slowly. “I’m from Busan, so that’d be nice.”

“And you guys wouldn’t have to worry about getting a ride there!” You insist quickly. “Jeonghan is hiring a bus so you guys can just tag along- wait, what did you say?”

“It’d be fun..?” Jihoon repeats himself before you let his words process through your brain. You blink and nod your head quickly.

“Oh, okay. Good.” You step inside the gate. “I’ll get Soonie to text you the details?”

“Sounds good, thanks.” Your soulmate nods again, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“Thanks for walking me home, Jihoon-ssi. Have a good night.” You bowed your head before turning around, rushing to the front door of your home.

“Goodnight.” Jihoon mumbles, the door already closed behind you. Once he knows you’re not going to go out again, he turns around and continues his walk home.

“Ladybug? Is that you?” You hear Jeonghan’s voice coming from the kitchen.

“Yeah. It’s just me, Oppa.” You call back, stepping into the room and giving him a quick hug.

“It’s late. Did you walk home on your own?” Seungcheol steps into the room at the sound of your voice, hand on his hip.

“No, I had to study with Jihoon-ssi, remember?” You lean against the counter with a little smile. “He walked me home, it’s on his way.”

“Oh, how chivalrous of him.” He cooed playfully, making you roll your eyes.

“Oh please.” You wave your hand. “He probably only did it because you would’ve murdered him if he didn’t walk me home, or had someone organized to get me.”

“This is true.” Your brother smirks, reaching out and ruffling your hair. You have a small smile on your face that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jeonghan, who watched you with a raised brow.

“Hannie-Oppa,” you turn to said man. “Jihoon and Ji-ah are confirmed to be coming to Busan too, Soonie invited them.”

“Ji-ah?” Cheol asks, tilting his head.

“His girlfriend.” You mutter, Jeonghan’s eyebrows raising so high up that he’s surprised they haven’t touched the ceiling.

Girlfriend. Interesting.

Real Eyes, Fake Lies Taglist

@cinnamoroxie @enhacolor @mikachu-chu @jojowantstocry @changbinisms @scarlet789 @i-dont-give-a-fok @im-gemmy @shookyungsoo @ametheyistheart @friendlywraith @kawennote09 @coupddeongie @sunooschubbycheeks @zgzgzh @mar-627 @side-angel @kuleo26 @deltamoon666 @snowgirlfallen @lixiel0ver @phenomenalgirl9 @weebotakuboy @sumzysworld @vixensss @seokmatchu @etaerealboy @milopenne @jinyoungie0922 @chickenscoups @zadkielr

[narcissarina]

Darkened Desires

Prologue and Chapter 1: The sun || Chapter 2: The moon || Chapter 3: The moon || Chapter 4: The sun || Chapter 5: The sun || Chapter 6: The moon || Chapter 7: The moon || Chapter 8: The sun || Chapter 9: The sun || Chapter 10: The outsider || Chapter 11: The moon || Chapter 12: The sun || Chapter 13: The sun || Chapter 14: The moon || Chapter 15: The sun

Pairings: Mafia!Scaramouche × Barista!Reader

Word count: 579

Thank you for making it this far!

EPILOGUE

I got back at working on my usual, had to company and assure my mother that everything’s under control and that I am fine (haven’t recovered from that experience but I’m making progress) my friends scolded me and got worried, I’m actually fine right now since I know a man who would go lengths just to come to my aid and rescue.

The same man who stalked me, kidnap me even then gave me a tour of his own home. Sharing his stories and experiences as I take in that we live in different worlds—yet he choses to be with me. Opposite attracts, right?

He lives in the dark, and I’m in the light.

Like how the moon loves the sun, that’s why every once in a while there’s an eclipse.

Funny how he was the obsessed one, I won’t be lying that he isn’t good in bed.

It’s been a few months, I still go to therapy because Scara refuse to stop paying for my sessions, he still believes that I still need it. “what do you mean that I don’t have to pay for your therapy?” he said and give me a judgmental look.

I even ask Ajax about it and he said he can’t do anything about it, and that Scara gets snappy when Ajax talk to him on my behalf.

The Tsaritsa has been doing good and her health was improving when I’m around (she thinks I’m her daughter but I really don’t mind) she would give me gifts on many occasions, I still remember she almost bought me a car, since my old one is shit.

The more I know them like friends, the more I forget that they’re wanted criminals. My mind drifting off that they’re old friends when they’re literally a dangerous and powerful mafia.

Behind the café counter, I take orders for my customers and work on the usual routine that I normally had. But this time, something different—after taking the last order, I move my neck as it cracks some of my stiffen muscles.

I go over and clean the counter top, then made a bitter black coffee, just how he likes it.

Ding—

The sound of the bell of the door opening. I greet that customer with a smile and present him his usual.

“Welcome, here’s your usual.” I greet and hand him his bitter black coffee, “did you make sure you made it with extra love?” Scara teases, as his hand brushes over mine as he takes his coffee from my hand.

I could only chuckle at his remark, he leans in the counter—coffee in hand as he took my hand with his free one, “date at three?” he kissed my knuckles, I roll my eyes and nodded.

He smirks and got to his table to drink his coffee and wait for my shift to end.

My friend pops out of nowhere and gave me a scare, “jesus!” I yelp, she cock a brow and look at me up and down, “y’all better behave.” I chuckle at her and wink.

I watch the man who sat beside the door, drinking his coffee and reading—the same man who has dangerous connections, who is morally grey. The same man who saved me, obsessed with me.

I smile, knowing that my safety will be in his hands.

Assured that he’ll give me the future that he and I vision.

The same man I didn’t knew I fell in love with.

A/n: Hello! This series has finally comee to an end, thank you for reading and for sticking around 😭😭🙏 I appreciate you reading my works, comments were really appreciated and motivates me to write more stories!

Started writing this at March 1, 2024

Finished writing this day, March 22, 2024.

Thank you for sticking with me!

[muxshwriting]

slipping through my fingers

Obi-Wan Kenobi x platonic!padawan!reader

summary: obi wan has to let go of his padawan as you grows up and out of his protection and teachings || warnings: i cried writing this, mentions of death || word count: 605 || masterlist

Obi-Wan can't help but to feel guilty as he watches his padawan interact with the other Jedi knights. He can't shake the feeling that he's letting her go out into the world woefully unprepared. You've changed so much from the young girl he first met.

He supposes these are the fears all parents feel as their child grows up. Because that's what you are to him. He raised you since you were a child to the adult you are now. You were his child, in everything but blood.

He’s watched other masters let go of their padawans and move on with life. But he wonders how they can move on without glancing back at the person they’re leaving behind. Do they not feel guilty about taking new padawans? Or are they desensitised to the whole system? Maybe the first is always the hardest, maybe it’s the first that sticks with you, maybe the sudden ache in his heart will ease when you smile.

“Are you alright Master?”

He’s been lost in thought for a while, longer than usual. Obi-Wan simply nods, taking in the time he has with you know and fondly remembering everything you had done together. These moments will not happen again, nothing ever will. Life is made of fleeting moments you don’t truly appreciate until they’re over. But you must hold tightly to those moments and cherish them so they don’t go forgotten.

It’s a duty as a parent, or pseudo-parent, to come to a stop and let their children continue on their own. It’s scary. It’s terrifying actually, but all birds leave the nest, all seeds float away in the wind.

“Are you sure Master?”

Obi-Wan placed a hand on our shoulder, “You’ve grown up so fast.”

“Master-“ Words fail you. “I’ll never be too grown up for your teachings.”

“I’m very proud of you.”

You pull him into a hug, burying your face in his chest. “I can’t cry. Don’t make me cry.”

He chuckles, sounding slightly watery.

Becoming a Jedi Knight was very important to you. It had been what you were working toward for most of your life. Somewhere along the way, you realised that being a knight meant leaving the safety net you had relied on most of your life. Obi-Wan Kenobi was your safety net.

At one point, you would be away from him for the longest time, be the furthest away from him you had ever been and see him for the final time.

It was nice to be grown but there was something to be said for youth. There was no shame in not wanting to grow up but we all do it, we all move on. A new chapter begins because the previous one ended.

Time would separate you and your Master but he would always be your master. Eventually, death would call for him and you would be left without a source of advice and comfort. Death was such a small word for a big thing. But death is only the end if you assume the story is about you.

Your story would not end at your death, the same way Obi-Wan’s story did not end at his. His story did not end because of you, his padawan, his child. Your story would not end for the same reason. Everything Obi-Wan taught you, you taught to your padawan. The chain continues on and stretches back as long as time goes on.

You could trace teachings through time, from master to padawan, as padawan becomes master and teaches a new generation.

Every Jedi carries the legacy of a hundred others on their back.

Boy, oh, boy. I’m looking at future uni destinations right now and this song hits hard. I’m sobbing into my pillow at 1am after finishing writing this

Taglist: @aoi-targaryen

[leilani-lily]

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 5)

I'll admit, I had this finished a while ago, but couldn't post until now. I have a confession to make... my long term boyfriend of 6 years split with me a couple days ago. And it's been... hard, to say the least. I'm really hoping this wont deter me from continuing to write (especially since this story is kinda romantic, but also isn't? There's deep feelings involved xD) I hope maybe writing can maybe help me as it serves as a distraction? I honestly don't know... All I can ask for is patience as I deal with this. If I find I need a break I'll be sure to let you guys know. But I guess for now, please keep me in your thoughts if you can. Or if anyone wants to swap stories I'm more than happy to share. ꨄ But ok. Enough sadness. This chapter was a joy to write before all the bs happened. I hope it can make you smile! And as always, please feel free to comment your thoughts! SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. You settle into hotel life, and whip up Alastor's fave dish! But some drama ensues when you get a little too friendly with a certain Spider Demon~ Word Count: 4.4 K Chapter under the cut! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You had developed quite a routine here during your time at the hotel, and you certainly found your days a lot busier than you had intended.

Your morning coffee with Alastor that usually blended into breakfast, then joining him in his tower for his broadcasts. He’d always pour two glasses of rye whisky and sit with you, asking for your thoughts afterwards. You’d discuss what you liked and didn’t like, and were surprised to learn he took criticism well (other than the occasional eye twitch). You’d bounce off new topics for future shows together before wrapping up and heading back down to the kitchen for the lunch rush.

After lunch was usually when Charlie would want to round everybody up. Either discussing how to make the hotel more liveable, how to recruit more sinners, or various exercises to improve everyone’s character. Sometimes these meetings were very boring and you’d have to pinch yourself constantly to stay awake. But for the most part they were fun, and you found yourself actually enjoying spending time with everyone. Especially goofing around with Angel and Husk, which usually resulted in Vaggie snapping at you all as you choke back laughter. Sometimes you would catch Alastor watching you with an unreadable expression, but you didn’t think anything of it. 

When that would wrap up, it was time to whip up dinner. You managed to figure out everyone’s favourite foods, and every Friday you decided you’d rotate through and make someone’s special  dish for them. Everyone enjoyed Friday dinners, always trying to guess what everyone liked, make bets on who was next, and were especially pleased if it was their night. It wasn’t much, but their praise always made you secretly feel warm and bubbly inside. 

Finally, after cleaning everything up and ending your shift, you’d have some spare time. Depending on how the day went, you would either read and have a quiet night to yourself, or just completely pass out straight away. 

Before you knew it, a month had flown before your eyes; bringing you into the present.

You knew you had no reason to be so nervous. Angel had loved his lasagna dish last week, and previously Charlie loved the pizza you had made (even if others had picked off the pineapple in disgust). You had proven you were a good chef since working here. But this Friday meal in particular… this one was different. It was Alastor’s. Your closest friend. And you knew just how important this particular meal was. It wasn’t just a dish, it was a memory. A way to remember his mother, and you had learned very quickly just how much she meant to him. 

Your heart was fluttering nervously as you put the jambalaya out on the large dining table. No one was there yet, but you could hear the chitter of excited demons coming closer to you, so you knew they were on their way. You always tried to make Friday’s dinner special, it was the one meal where you all sat and ate together. Kind of like a little family. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your heart fluttering warmly at the thought. You went back to the kitchen to grab the cheddar biscuits, your mind wandering back to Alastor. You shouldn't be overthinking this, it’s just a stupid dinner. Did his opinion really matter that much to you?

You re-enter the dining room, and your eyes immediately locked with the demon in question. Alastor’s smile seemed to brighten the moment he saw you, but his smile only made your hands sweaty.

…… Yes, yes his opinion really did matter that much. You really wanted to make a good impression. 

“Ooooh and ya baked fresh biscuits??” Angel had zipped up beside you, eyeing the plate of goodies in your hands, “ya really know how ta spoil a demon Baby Cakes!” His fingers danced over a biscuit, causing you to snap out of your hold with Alastor and give Angel a quick slap on the wrist. He zipped his hand away in mock horror, making you snort a moment.

“You know the rules; no eating ‘till everyone’s here,” You scold him, but you can’t help but smile; you could never really be angry with him. Angel groaned dramatically, hugging himself with his four arms.

“You’re a cruel mistress y/n; makin’ a cutie like me practically starve to death! Jus’ look at me! I’m witherin’ away!” he leans up against you, arching his back as his full weight pressed on you. You let out a single laugh as you tried to maintain your hold on the plate and not fall over. He continued to groan weakly as his one arm grasped the air above him and another flopped over his eyes. 

Wow. Someone give this guy an award. No wonder he was in show business. 

You laugh again at the dramatics and roll your eyes. Finally, you sighed and grabbed a biscuit, offering it to the Spider Demon. Angel peeked over and immediately lit up, grabbed it eagerly before standing up straight, miraculously recovering from his ‘near death’. He took a deep whiff of the warm bread before smiling back at you. 

“Yarra real doll toots~” he gives you a flirty wink to which you shake your head in amusement. Always the charmer this one. 

“Yeah yeah, well, just don’t tell the others. Or else they might think you’re my favourite~!” You swing your hips to him and give him a playful hip bump, winking right back. He laughed as the nudge pushed him to the side, using the momentum to walk to his seat. But as he sauntered away, he looked back and grinned mischievously.

“Well maybe they should~!” he called back, doing a little suggestive shoulder shimmy and wiggling his eyebrows. You couldn’t help your snort. Cheeky thing. 

You knew it was all in good fun; teasing and play-flirting had become your thing. He was like the gal-pal you had never had since coming to Hell, and you could tell he was happy to have a girlie here at the hotel. You knew his real bestie was some demon named Cherri (which he INSISTED you all had to go out one night), but having another chica just a couple rooms down from his own was fun and convenient. And you were happy to be that friend for him if it meant slumber parties and beauty routines. 

You felt someone’s eyes on you, and you snapped out of your bubbly thoughts. Alastor was standing in the same spot he was before, not having moved an inch. He was still smiling, but this time it felt a little more strained. More forced. And his eye twitched ever so slightly. You also noticed his grip tight around his microphone. He caught you looking at him and immediately turned away, beginning to walk back to his seat with an unreadable expression. 

… That was weird. 

Before you could even begin to process, the rest of the gang entered the room. They all gave you a greeting in their own quirky ways as they arrived and made their way to their seats. Angel shoved the rest of the biscuit into his mouth to hide any evidence and happily trotted over to Husk. You smiled happily at the arrival of your comrades and set the tray of bread down on the table. Everyone looked at the spread before them and chittered excitedly, impressed with the effort you had put into tonight’s dinner. 

As everyone sat down, you quickly made your way to your seat beside Angel. Before sitting down, you cleared your throat a moment to get everyone’s attention. As the happy chatter died down, you began to speak.

“First off, I’d like to thank everyone for joining in today’s special dinner. Today’s meal is inspired by our very own Facility Manager, Alastor.” Everyone clapped politely and Charlie even gave a small whoop of encouragement. Alastor sat up proudly from his seat at the head of the table, loving the attention he was getting. 

“I’ll admit, I was a bit intimidated with tackling this particular dish, as we’ve all heard him boast about his mother’s recipe.” There were a couple chuckles scattered around the table, everyone very aware of how much he spoke of it. Husk in particular rolled his eyes and muttered quietly in disdain.

“I realize I’ll probably never meet up to her standards,” you look back at Alastor and give a sheepish smile, “but I sincerely hope it’s to your liking.” Alastors smile widened ever so slightly, his hooded gaze softening at your words. 

“My dear,” he marveled, his eyes never leaving yours, “the fact that you were kind enough to take the time to prepare it with me in mind already makes it wonderful.” You felt your hand press up to your chest, your fist curling up tightly near your heart. Alastor always knew what to say to make you feel better. He could be really gentle when he wanted to be. 

“Yea, and not only for ol’ Smiles ‘ere,” Angel spoke up, making you look down at him, “But you’ve made some bitchin’ good meals fer all of us.” he gestured to the crowd, gaining various murmurs of agreement and praise. You looked at everyone and their smiling faces and could feel your chest tightening. 

“Seriously, Sugar, ya freakin’ amazing.” Angel continued, giving you a warm smile. He suddenly grabbed onto his glass and raised it high, giving everyone a cocky grin. “Let’s hear it for y/n ya filthy sinnars!” 

Before you could comprehend, everyone had raised their glasses and gave a cheer of encouragement. You looked out to everyone and their genuine happiness and support, at a loss for words. You had organized all of this simply because you wanted to, but you had to admit, being recognised felt really good. A warmth began to spread into your chest, and a lump formed in your throat. 

It… wow, it had been so long since you’ve had friends like this.

You did your best to blink back tears at the gesture, not expecting to get so emotional over all of this. As you took a moment to acknowledge everyone, your gaze finally turned to Alastor. 

Oddly enough, he wasn’t looking at you, but he was looking at Angel. His eyebrows were tight as his grin stretched in an uncomfortable smile. You could tell he felt your gaze, cause soon his eyes flicked up to you, catching you watching him. In the blink of an eye, his expression softened as he grabbed his own glass, raising it high and giving you a heartening look. You shook the strange feeling from before and smiled back at him, grateful for his appreciation. 

The excitement settled down as everyone started serving themselves, the smell of the cooking becoming too much for everyone to ignore. You finally sat in your chair and reached out for Angel’s hand. The Spider Demon looked to you in surprise for a moment, taking in your smiling face.

“That was really sweet of you to say Angel,” you whispered, your grip on him tightening for a moment. You could feel yourself choking up again. “Seriously… Thank you.” Angel's face softened as he twisted his hand so it could grip on to yours. He began to open his mouth to respond.

In a mere moment, you could feel your chair lurch backwards, a panicked yelp escaping your throat as your hand was ripped out of Angel’s. Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing, looking at you in surprise. Angel turned in his seat and looked at you stupidly.

“... What the fuc-?”

Angel didn’t even get a chance to finish his statement as suddenly everyone chairs in your row shifted to the right, causing everyone to cry out and grip onto their seats in fear. Everyone on the other side of the table looked on in disbelief as their friends were shuffled around. 

To your surprise, while everyone shifted right, you slid to your left at lightning speed, the chair scraping loudly on the wooden floor. You suddenly jolted to a stop, and you held on for dear life at the force in which you were moving. Before you could recover, your chair lurched forward, propelling you back to the table and new place setting.

… Right next to Alastor.

You gasped in surprise, your heart racing in shock as you felt your knuckles turning white from gripping the seat so hard. You noticed something flicker beneath you, and your eyes managed to catch something. A shadow with a familiar Cheshire grin shimmied away from the feet of your chair before melting into the shade of the table. 

Your head whipped up to Alastor in disbelief. The Radio Demon had just finished serving himself jambalaya, not even looking in your direction as he tapped the serving spoon against his plate. With a cool expression, he turned his head to you and tilted his head to the side, as if nothing had happened.

“... Jambalaya~?” He pointed the spoon to the pot and looked at you expectantly.

Everyone stared for a moment, the room eerily quiet.

“.......... Alastor what the actual FUCK was that?!” Angel suddenly exploded, clearly very upset that his bestie was now 2 chairs away from him. Everyone else in your row nodded in agreement, perplexed at the sudden change in seating. Alastor didn't turn his head, nor look at Angel. The Radio Demon simply took your plate and began serving you the ride dish, his expression surprisingly calm and attention only on you.

“Just say when dear~”

Your eyes darted from Alastor to Angel, unsure of what to even do or say. Angel’s face scrunched up into a scowl, clearly displeased with being ignored.

“Hey! Freaky Face! I’m talkin’ to ya!” he growled, his hands tightening into fists. Alastor continued to ignore the spider, continuing to serve you as if it was just the two of you in the room. 

“My my, hungry now are we y/n dearest~?” Alastor grinned cheekily. You were still so dumbstruck, your gaze finally fell to your plate and you quickly realized just how full it was getting. Awkwardly looking between Angel and Alastor, you softly murmured a 'w-when'. Alastor gave a hum of approval and tapped the spoon on your plate before setting it back down in front of you. 

“Hah, ok Asshole. I see how it is.” Angel chuckled darkly to himself, “I get it. Ya just hate ta see anyone else gettin’ cozy with our little chef. I’ll admit, I didn’t take ya for the jealous type.”

That seemed to catch Alastors attention.

It was only for a moment, and only you were able to catch it sitting so close to him. But you noticed the Radio Demon’s pupils flash, and his one eyelid twitch as his smile grew dangerously wide. But in an instant, Alastor calmed his expression and was back to his suave self. Taking a breath, he finally turned his head to Angel.

“Oh please.” He drawled, his eyes looking at him with boredom, “I simply figured it only made sense for our wonderful chef to sit next to the demon who inspired tonight’s dish. Wouldn’t you agree y/n~?” He turned his head to you and slowly leaned in, giving you a pleasant smile. You felt your heart leap at suddenly being caught off guard, unsure of what to say.

“I, ah, well-!” 

Everyone's eyes were on you, and you suddenly felt very self conscious. Being put on the spot like this, and feeling as if you had to choose between your two friends, it was becoming very overwhelming. Unbeknownst to you, Charlie looked at you with such pity, and felt her own blood begin to boil at the situation these men put you in. Placing her hands on the table, the Princess of Hell rose from her chair, her face suddenly very authoritative.

“Both of you need to stop this nonsense.” She stated, looking down at both Angel and Alastor disapprovingly. “Y/n put a lot of effort into making this dinner special; and I won't allow you to ruin it over something so petty!” She continued to glare at them judgingly before turning her attention to you, giving you a quick comforting smile and nod. You felt your shoulders relax and smile back at her, feeling grateful for her support. She really was growing into her royal title. 

Angel had his arms crossed and was clearly still pissed, but there was a mix of shame in his eyes after being called out. Alastor’s face remained surprisingly calm, turning to look over at you. He noticed your posture and expression, his eyes calculating as he assessed the situation. Finally he turned back to the table.

“Our Princess is right of course~!” He smiled, lifting a hand and placing it on your shoulder, “I would hate for all of dear y/n’s efforts to be neglected. She has worked so hard; let us forget about all this nonsense and enjoy this wonderful meal~!” His eyes slid to Angels and gave him a hard stare. The Spider demon glared right back, his jaw tight and eyes furrowed with hatred. But after glancing at both you and Charlie, and seeing your faces, he finally grumbled in defeat. With a huff, Angel reached for another cheddar biscuit and slouched in his seat, ending the feud.  

You finally released the breath you were holding as everyone shrugged their shoulders and returned their focus to their plates. You felt Alastors grip on your shoulder tighten for a moment, making you turn to him. 

“Are you quite alright my dear?” He asked, an eyebrow raised in question. Despite the calm look on his face, you knew he wouldn't be asking if he wasn't genuinely concerned. You sighed and felt a smile spread across your face, giving his hand a pat in reassurance. 

“Yeah, I’m ok Al,” you started, beginning to shake your head and grin as you thought about the shenanigans he pulled earlier. “But seriously, there’s no need to be so jealous. If you want to sit beside me, just say so.” You looked up to him playfully, your previously conflicted emotions melting away. Alastor stared at you for a moment, his eye’s lidded and giving you a blank stare before turning to his plate. Removing his hand from your shoulder, he picked up his utensils and was suddenly very focused on his meal.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about y/n~” he replied. He scooped up a spoonful of rice and shrimp. You could feel your eyes crinkling as you watched him knowingly.

“Uh huh~” you smirk. 

The Radio Demon ignored you and took his first bit of jambalaya. Your grin slowly began to fall as you watched him pull the spoon out from his lips, your previous nerves from earlier settling in again. You watched his expression with baited breath as he tasted your cooking. 

His appearance didn’t change much; his eyes looking down at the food beneath him, eyes flickering over the plate. After a moment, his eyelids sank down closed as he continued to chew, allowing all of his senses to focus on the flavor. You could feel your leg begin to jiggle anxiously; seriously it was sad how badly you wanted this man’s approval. 

The demon lifted his head and gulped his mouthful down, eyes still closed and lips in a small pressed smile. You held your breath as you waited for his verdict. Alastor’s smile grew wider as he lowered his head back to the plate, opening his eyes and looking fondly at the dish below him. 

“Well well~” he chuckled, finally turning his head to you and giving you an impressed look, “I have to admit, this is as close as anyone has ever gotten.” 

You felt your heart stop.

Is he shitting you right now?

“Of course,” he continued, scooping another spoonful and inspecting it, “it is missing a few things; she’d usually add sausage as well, and probably a bit more spice to it.” he looked fond for a moment, seeming to reminisce to days gone by.

“Nevertheless, it does still taste like home~” He took another bite and once again closed his eyes, savoring the flavors. 

You felt lighter than a feather. 

Of course you knew you’d never get it exactly right. But holy crap you were so relieved that it met his expectations. You were so giddy you had to bite your lip to prevent yourself from squealing, practically doing a little happy dance in your chair. Satisfied with Alastors response, you grabbed onto your own spoon and began to happily dig in.

You were so carefree in your own little world, you didn’t even notice Alastor sneaking a glance at you. Or how his lips curled up ever so slightly at your antics before turning back to his plate. 

The rest of the evening went on without a hitch. Everyone gorged themselves until they were ready to burst, and complimented you on such a flavorful meal. You were so flustered with all the praise; despite the little quarrel that had happened earlier, you couldn’t have been more pleased with how the night went. And you felt more confident with your cooking now that you had Alastor’s official stamp of approval.

The group of demons eventually began to trickle out of the room, ready to immediately flop onto the closest comfortable furniture they could find. You giggled at their behavior and wished you could do the same, but you still had to clean up before you could clock off work. With a final stretch, you turn back to the table and are surprised to see Alastor still in his chair, leaning back comfortably and eyes closed.

“Truly a wonderful evening y/n dearest,” he sighed, opening a single eye to look at you, “There’s something about dining with a group of folks that brings out a certain camaraderie, don’t you think~?” You sighed happily as you approached the table.

“Honestly, it was something I had forgotten I had missed since coming to Hell,” you smiled, beginning to stack the plates and collecting utensils. “I’m just happy to do my part in getting demons to open up more and earn everyone’s trust.”

Alastor said nothing in return, simply watching you as you accumulated the dirty dishes. His eyebrow quirked up before he finally raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Shadows emerged from under the table, making you gasp and almost drop your stack of plates. The same shaded goons from your first week at the hotel appeared beside you and began collecting all the dishes. You begin to tumble over words of protests, but they didn’t pay attention to you as they continued to clean, one even grabbing the stack in your hands and waddling to the kitchen.

“Alastor!” you laugh, turning to him in bewilderment, “Call your minions off; seriously I can clean all of this up myself.” But the Radio Demon merely waved a hand to you as he rose from his seat.

“Don’t bother arguing with me my dear,” he sassed, “You’ve done more than enough tonight; consider this my way of thanking you for a marvelous feast.” 

You sighed at him, slightly annoyed. But you had to admit, you were grateful for his help. Today had surprisingly taken its toll on you, physically and emotionally, and you were so tired from it all. You smiled up at him, rocking back and forth on your feet sheepishly.

“... Thank you Al. Honestly.” you paused for a moment, thinking about everything he had done for you in the month you’d been here. And asking for nothing in return. It was out of character for him.

“I just…” you sighed, making Alastor tilt his head quizzically to you. “I just want to say I’m thankful for everything you’ve done for me. You gave me this job, helped me settle in and feel comfortable, and because of it all I even got to make new friends…” You saw Alastors eyes narrow for a moment and you had to bite back the knowing grin. You cleared your throat and continued.

“But I hope you know,” you hummed, “that I’ll always consider you my first real friend down here. And that I’m really grateful to have been given this chance to get close to you.”

Alastor looked at you long and hard for a moment, the air between you calm and quiet. His static sound shuffled for a second before he finally straightened his back and stood taller, his lips pressed together into a large smile. The red demon glided over to you, and softly patted your head, shaking his head in amusement.

“Ohhh y/n, y/n, y/n,” he sighed, opening his eyes and quirking an eyebrow, “I do often wonder how someone like yourself ended up down here.” Now it was your turn to cock an eyebrow as you gave him a cheeky smile.

“Al, you know exactly how I got down here.”

“Ah, that’s right.” A chuckle escaped his lips, and you knew for a fact he still found your death thoroughly entertaining. “By the way, you didn’t happen to sneak anything into our meal today, now did you~?” He gave you an impish grin. You burst out laughing.

“You asshole!” you guffawed, shoving his hand on your head away playfully, to which the demon snickered evilly. As your laughter simmered down, looked at you a moment before tilting his head up, eyes closed.

“I still stand by my previous statement,” he mused. “The type of folks in this realm are not worthy of such kindness. You should be careful as to whom you trust around here.” He opened his eyes, and his crimson gaze fell to yours. His expression shifted into a serious one at his last statement, making your grin falter for a moment. But only for a moment. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I have you around then, isn’t it?” You smiled, taking a step towards him.

Alastors gaze widened a moment, his eyes flickering over your face. It wasn’t often that you caught the Radio Demon off guard, but the rare moments when you did, you couldn’t help but feel a little pride. Finally, Alastor began to chuckle, shaking his head at you again. After taking a breath, he looked back down at you, a surprising fondness donning his face.

“Hmmm, I suppose it is~”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

..... Alastor doesn't like to share ¬‿¬ Fun fact: Angel like's to give you food-related nicknames. Baby Cakes, Sugar, Puddin', Honey Bunz, ect.

FIRST PREVIOUS NEXT

[monoclesnapple]

Rockstar!Chuuya

Bungo Stray Dogs Chuuya Nakahara X Gender Neutral Reader Beginning Note: Little hint of Streamer!Chuuya, but it's not the main focus. Thinking of making this a full fic, but with a lot of stuff on my plate at the moment and my motivation dwindling, it may be a while before I upload a chapter. Word Count: 594 (Fluff)

Rockstar Chuuya, who’s overwhelmed with fans prying into his life and trying to know everything there is about him.

Has an s/o who isn’t involved with his career, so they’re his only peaceful outlet in life.

Chuuya streams in his free time about anything. Sometimes he just talks with the chat, plays some games, reviews current events in the world and any future plans that can be disclosed to the public.

But he doesn’t include his s/o because he doesn’t want his fans to potentially target them due to jealousy or some other reason.

He’s shipped with popular actor, Dazai, because they’ve done a couple collaborations, whether for meet & greets, films, interviews, etc.

Assures his s/o that he won’t leave them ever because they’re the only one he feels comfortable with to be able to show them his vulnerability.

Whenever he streams, the number of viewers is overwhelming and they’re always asking for confirmation on who his lover is.

At some point, he’s tired of what his fans are saying, so he takes you to a restaurant that’s littered with people, instead of the usual empty location due to him going to the most expensive restaurant or booking the whole place.

All the paparazzi are taking pictures, and there are so many news articles questioning who this person is.

On his next stream, he seats you on his lap and tells his audience that he’s been dating you and won’t be leaving you any time soon.

He was worried that his fans would despise you, but the trending topics on his newly revealed relationship support the both of you.

Everyone now loves you because they think you fit him so well. Those who hate on the relationship are attacked by his fans.

Chuuya sees all the responses and feels a warmth in his chest because he’s glad that you’re accepted by his community.

Now, there are a lot of fanfiction shipping the two of you. You read most of them and are entertained by their strange fantasies of you both (although a little creeped out and hesitant about the smuts. Some fics, you’re a little worried).

Chuuya writes a song inspired by the events, and it’s successful. The music is cool and while the story told by the lyrics isn’t necessarily relatable, it makes sense.

At the end of one of his concerts, Chuuya calls you up to the stage where he gets down on one knee, holding a box with a beautiful ring, and proposes to you.

“You’ve always been by my side, no matter how hard it was to reassure my love for you. Despite everything that we’ve been through, you always made me feel loved and safe. I can’t and I won’t let someone like you leave. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Of course you accept, pulling him up and kissing him. The audience and other members on the stage cheer and clap for your milestone. When you pull away, he slips the ring on your finger and kisses you again.

Rockstar!Chuuya Nakahara, who continues his career and plans your wedding with you. His bank account doesn’t require a budget.

Rockstar!Chuuya Nakahara, who eagerly and nervously waits for you at the alter. The two of you say your own vows and immediately kiss when the words “You may now kiss” are uttered.

Rockstar!Chuuya Nakahara, who is eventually granted a child and golden retriever. Whose happiness is impossible to describe with all the words in the dictionary.

Whose fast paced music matches the beat of your heart.