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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Yours, Mine, and Ours [7] Finale

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, violence, general sadness and shittiness.

This is dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You must face change.

Author Notes: I got another old series tied up and I’m editing the last chapter of another one as well. I’m trying to clear some stuff out as best I can.

A special thank you to everyone who reached out to me over the last few days. And extra thanks to @lokislastlove for always encouraging me.

Please let me know what you think, like and reblog <3 love ya

Masterlist

Bucky knelt beside you as your ass throbbed in pain and your head thrummed. He touched your arm gently with his metal hand, his other on your cheek as he cradled your face. You met his blue eyes but he quickly lifted his head and glared across the room.

“Don’t fucking move or I’ll hit you again. Harder.” His snarl was so harsh and deep, it made you shiver. He turned his attention back to you as he helped you roll over and sit up, “Are you okay? Careful…” he backed off the bed slowly as he guided you to the end of the mattress.

You clung to him and glanced over at Steve as he spat blood onto the floor. His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared as he looked back but he made no move towards you, his head lolling just slightly as he sat straight.

You let Bucky usher you to the door as he turned back and searched around the floor. He huffed and took off his jacket instead, draping it over your shoulders.

He pointed you through the door and followed, snatched the throw from the back of the couch and offered it as he urged you on. You found your purse where you dropped it and stopped to grab it, groaning at how your body ached. You continued to the door as he opened it and followed you out.

You were silent as you descended, cloaked in his jacket and the thin blanket. You came around the building and neared your car. He kept away from you but hovered as if you might keel over.

“I can’t drive,” you let your purse dangle weakly from your hand.

“I’ll take you back,” he said softly, “and then you don’t have to see me ever again.”

You nodded and rounded his car. You opened the door and slumped into the seat, your purse on your lap as you hung your head. It was over. You knew it was. You thought there would be a way to hold onto Steve, to find the man he had been, but he assured you that that Steve was gone. Everything you had was lost.

The engine turned and you barely noticed the blur of the city as it passed outside the windows. You fought against the wave of grief that swept over you and leaned your head back.

“You said I’ll never see you again,” you croaked, “but you saved me.”

“So? I did all those other things too,” he gripped the wheel and sniffed, “I’ll keep my distance. I started all this. I never should’ve-- I’m fucked. I try to act like I’m not but I am.”

“Bucky…” you said weakly.

“Don’t. I know it’s the truth and I know everything that happened to you is because of me. Steve’s an asshole. I don’t know what changed in him, but I’m worse,” he sighed, “I’m gonna resign. I’m gonna… look into rehab or therapy, whatever they got for me. I can’t stay near you or Steve. I can’t do any of it.”

You nodded and rubbed your hands together. Your body hurt but your soul hurt worse.

“No, I’m going,” you said, “I’m leaving. I’m not a hero like you or Steve. I don’t matter. And I can’t stay with him. I can’t even stay close because I know he won’t stay away. Right now, he’s getting up off that floor and you can’t tell me he’s not coming after us right now.”

Your voice cracked and you muffled it with a corner of the blanket. You hunched over as suddenly you felt nauseous and you held in a retch. Your body shook but you kept the sickness in and murmured.

“Please, just get me back,” you begged.

“I will,” he vowed, “I’ll make sure you get out and I’ll make sure he doesn’t stop you,” you heard him gulp between his words, “and after, if you ever need me to knock him on his ass again, I’ll be there. No strings, no expectations, we don’t even need to talk.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against the door, watching the pedestrians and other cars. You could only think of everything that needed to be done; grab what you can, email Tony, go back and get your car and drive without stopping.

“Shit,” you sat up as you neared the compound, “I forgot my phone.”

“Good,” Bucky said, “he’s tracking it. Get a new one.”

👥

Bucky closed the yellow taxi door and watched the cab pull out into the swell of New York traffic. She’d packed the remnants of her former life in a single backpack but he could see, she didn’t even need that. He backed away from the curb and tucked his hands into his pockets. His chest was tight and heavy. He was guilty but he didn’t feel sorry for himself. He felt sorry for her.

He was almost thrown off his feet as a hand gripped his arm and swung him around. Steve was white with anger as a vein popped out in his forehead. His lip was split and his nose bruised from Bucky’s fist. The men faced each other in mutual detest. He never expected to look at his oldest friend that way and feel it so succinctly.

“Where is she?” Steve growled.

Bucky shrugged and shouldered past him, “gone. Far from us.”

Steve followed him and stopped him before he could pass through the door. He shoved him back against the façade of the building but Bucky hardly felt it. He just stood, staring at the man he didn’t know any more, and lifted a brow.

“You gonna beat it out of me?” he asked, “then you’ll have to kill me.”

Steve’s eyes searched Bucky’s and he growled under his breath, “all you had to do was follow the fucking rules.”

“I never liked those rules. I only wanted to be close to her. It was selfish. It was abuse.”

“She liked it,” Steve snapped.

“No, you told her she liked it and she loved you so much, she believed you,” Bucky’s voice turned raw, “she loved you and you threw it all away.”

“You ruined it,” Steve accused.

“Fuck you,” Bucky snarled, “you deserve to be alone.”

“I’ll find her,” Steve curled his fingers into a fist and puffed his chest, “I know exactly where she’s going. She won’t get to her car before I do.”

“No, she will,” Bucky pushed away from the wall and grabbed the front of Steve’s shirt and pinned him, “you won’t make it past me.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and his lips thinned. He gripped Bucky’s shirt in kind and the pair rolled against the wall until they stopped in a bitter stalemate. They stared each other down as their soles scuffed on the pavement and grunted almost in unison at their opponent.

“You won’t keep me from her forever,” Steve said calmly.

“She’s not the only one leaving, Steve,” Bucky hissed, “and I won’t feel bad at all when you wake up one day and realise how lonely you are.”

👥

Your new apartment was mostly empty but it was yours, unlike that seventh floor box Steve had made your cage. It was far from him, far from Bucky, far from everyone you ever knew. You knew you couldn’t hide with your parents or your sister or even those distant university friends who you knew would have your back. You had to be alone. It was your fear of that which got you into all that mess.

You didn’t see Bucky again but he did get a message to you. He left a gift for you at a safe house on your way out of the state. New identification, an unopened cell, and a wad of cash. It wasn’t atonement but it was what he could give you. You kept driving and exchanged your car at the stateline. You kept on until you felt as if you were in an entirely different country.

You took a job at the grocery store as a cashier. You remembered when you were a child and your mother had the same position. She went back to school and made you promise you’d never end up in the same boat. If she could see you now…

If you could see her.

You dropped your bag on the side table as you entered and turned the lock on the handle and the latch above, the deadbolt over that, and hooked the chain last. You clutched the pepper spray you kept up your sleeve and searched the single bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. Your paranoia was your only companion.

You kept the curtains drawn day and night, even those stolid nights when you couldn’t sleep for the thick sweat that coated your body. Those nights came more often and even during the day, you found yourself suffocated in fits of unbearable heat. And at night, you were trapped by the dreams of the past.

You sat and opened up the novel you kept on the coffee table. When you’d been with Steve, you never had much time to read between his need for attention and your work. Your relocation was freeing in more ways than one.

You laid back and wiggled, still in your stiff grocery store uniform and lost yourself in the fantasy adventure of a young warrior. It was a fight you could control; that you could win.

👥

Bucky held the position and breathed out slowly. His muscles vibrated as he strained and slowly lifted his leg, the toes of his other foot firmly planted on the mat. He turned and outstretched his arm and leg to the ceiling and inhaled. He let out another breath as he reached the next position then returned to downward-facing dog.

He pushed himself back to sit on his knees as the noise of the lapping lake reached his ears and sent a cool breeze over the dock. He pulled his legs out from under him and bent his legs as he leaned his sweaty arms over his knees. He looked out at the glistening water and listened to the noise of birds and critters.

Peace. He couldn’t call it that. Exile, more like. He didn’t trust himself to be near people. His therapist visited once a week and he attended daily video sessions with him. One of his tasks was to find hobbies and to face himself. Yoga was both of those. It cleared his hand and ate up his time.

But then he found himself wishing she was there. He knew she wasn’t in some serene lake house, she didn’t have all the support offered by SHIELD and Stark, she didn’t have anyone. He did what he could, what she would accept from him, but there was nothing he could give her in that life that would ever be enough.

Then he felt awful about those thoughts. She was never his to have.

He stood and walked up the dock and the dirt path to the house. He climbed up onto the large deck and through sliding doors. He poured himself a glass of water and added a slice of lemon. He took it with him as he went to the bedroom where he slept alone, where the shadows of trees loomed over him in the night and swayed like the wraiths of his remorse.

The white cat hopped up on the bed and twirled in expectation, in demand of his attention. He scratched Alpine’s head as he neared and got a nip when he pet him a little too long. The moody feline retreated to the corner of the bed and watched him with his pale blue eyes. The creature was his only friend now.

He took a deep gulp and sat on the edge of the bed and set the glass down. He slid open the drawer of the hand-crafted night table and dipped his fingers inside. He pulled out the pink fabric and held them in his metal hand and stroked the dainty elastic. He should get rid of them, like he had the rest, but he just couldn’t. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t. He would never forget about her.

👥

You pushed the boxes and cans over the scanner and onto the next belt so that they were carried down to the end of the counter. You smiled as you asked the usual questions and waited for the customer to punch in their pin. You waved on the next in line as the former bagged their goods and you kept the distant tune playing from the low speakers in your head.

The routine was your only comfort. It was easy. Even when you got those fussy customers, the ones with the expired coupons or the wrong flyers, it was simple work. You rang them through and saw them off without concern. Their tantrums were not the worst you’d faced in your time.

When it was your time to clock out, you stopped by the café in the same plaza as the grocery store and ordered a tall iced tea. You came out with your purse on the arm that hid the pepper spray and made your way to the end of the pavement and around the corner to the street.

At the first corner, you turned off onto a small side street then cut through to the park and passed the memorials and statues set along the winding path. It was a longer walk than your normal route but you took it once a week. You liked to watch the ducks but you had to avoid the geese.

You sipped from your straw and smiled at a dog as he passed with his owner and looked over at the kids laughing on the monkey bars. Your uniform tented in the heat of the summer sun but you pressed on, refreshed by the fruity tea.

When you emerged from the park, the grit of the small town returned. The chipped bricks of your building rose above you and you unlocked the front door after a struggle with the ancient keyhole. The door closed heavily behind you and you headed up the dingy stairs.

As you got to your apartment, you went through the usual to-do; lock, search, and settle in. Two months, maybe three, it felt so long ago and yet it felt like only yesterday. You couldn’t help but feel watched, followed, and you knew that sensation would follow you for the rest of your life. But if it was only ever a thought, you could be okay.

👥

Steve didn’t know what to do with himself at first. First, his girl left and then his best friend.

In the early days of his solace, he told himself it wasn’t true. They’d be back. They couldn’t live without him. They would apologize because they betrayed him. They would realise that he wasn’t the villain. He wasn’t wrong. He busied himself with his missions and waited.

But after two weeks, he saw no signs, heard no tell, nothing. He tried to follow her trail but there wasn’t anything past the state line. He asked where Bucky went but Stark wouldn’t tell and SHIELD kept that information classified from all, even him.

Then, he felt bad and he lingered on those questions that tugged at his mind. Was he wrong? Was he the bad one? Had he really hurt them? Did he deserve it all? He felt awful and fell through on a mission and no one asked any questions. No one knew the reasons for the sudden departures and the downcast captain.

Then he was mad. He was breaking things. He was growling and shouting in frustration. He ripped a door off its hinges and punched a hole through a wall. He paid for the repairs but was told in no short terms to leave the compound. He was all too happy too. He still had that apartment and it wasn’t too bad being in his own space.

But it made him think of her. And as he thought of her, he missed another mission, this time without telling anyone. Phone calls, emails, knocks on his door, they all muddled together in the haze of his thoughts.

He remembered those days, decades ago when Bucky had been his only friend. When he was a boy, when he still felt young, when he still felt like him. He remembered everything that came after and how he fought to save the only man he ever admired. Then everything he’d made him do. He didn’t make him do that, he gave him exactly what he wanted.

Then she made his chest squeeze. He thought of the first time they met. He didn’t think much of her but she somehow won him over with her kindness. He recalled the realisation of how much he liked her, he wasn’t even reluctant enough not to think it was love in that instant. When she saw the loose stitch in his glove and pulled it away like it was nothing. She remarked on the little fix as ‘perfect’ and he couldn’t help his doofy grin and the line he spouted after, ‘not as perfect as you.’

And as he thought of her, he conjured all those hopes he had for them. The life he made for them in his mind. He was going to give it all to her but he just wanted a little fun first. That wasn’t so bad. He could still give it to her and that was all she wanted after all. She wanted the Steve she knew. She wanted the nuclear family and white picket fence. He wanted that too.

When the papers came to announce his dismissal from SHIELD, it felt like freedom. He didn’t care about saving the world anymore. He got out of bed these days and worked out, went for a run, and came back as he went about his own work. As he searched through the servers they tried to block him from and overrode the new restrictions. They always thought he was some clueless idiot from the past.

He could still have that life. All he had to do was find her. He smiled at the screen as he went over everything he had so far. The whiff of her blew out at the stateline but now he could go wherever he wanted without a leash. He could find her if he only tried a little harder.

👥

Steve gave notice on the lease and traded in his car for something with better mileage and more space. He sold everything that was his life before and headed out on the road with a new lease on life. He wasn’t the Captain anymore, he wasn’t the saviour, he only wanted to be one thing; a husband, a father, hers.

When he reached the state line, he stopped for a while at a motel and asked around. He had her picture and everyone was all too eager to talk to Steve Rogers. He found her car at a used dealership and got the plates and make of the one he’d switched her for. That was a start.

Then he moved on, stopping along the way for a day here and there to relax. He had time. He had confidence again. He did this everyday, this was her first time, she couldn’t outrun him forever. He had the skills and the savings to get him a lot further than she ever could.

He drove through several more states before he hit another block. A second car traded but the dealer was not as talkative. That meant he had to break in after dark and that was time he didn’t feel like spending on some stubborn bitch. But he got it done and moved on.

Then there was a week of doubt and desperation. What if he was wrong? What if this was all a part of her plan? Maybe she was smart enough to lead him in the wrong direction. Maybe Bucky was helping her. Maybe they were together. That thought made him livid.

He took off in the opposite direction but ended up with nothing but desert heat and rural nothingness. He turned around and assured himself that neither of them were smarter than him. He returned to the same point and slowly pieced together the clues until he was sure enough to keep on.

He was getting close. He could sense it. He pulled out his phone and opened those videos he’d taken from Bucky and the pictures of that day they’d made a mess of her. His hand was nothing compared to her and even if he came, he found himself dissatisfied. He ended up cursing only to start again a minute later.

That night he started in the bed then ended up in the shower and before he could get out of the bathroom, he was gripping his dick as he leaned on the counter and muttered her name over and over. He was impatient. He needed her soon or he was going to go mad.

He hardly slept as he tossed and turned in the hotel room. He checked out early but pulled over on the country road to get off again. It made him angry. She should be the one fucking him, he shouldn’t be using his own hand. He shouldn’t be alone. She should be there with his dick down her throat as he drove them to their suburban paradise.

He passed another city sign and spent a day running circles without a catch. He pressed on through the night, not wanting another motel bed, and pulled in at a station just outside a small town. He gassed up and chewed on jerky as he set out once more.

On a whim, he stopped in the small town and stopped for a meal at the local fish and chip place. It was unusual for the area but the fries were crispy and not overly salted and the fish breaded perfectly. He kept his hat on and his face down. He didn’t need to be recognized although his poor disguise seemed to draw attention.

“Louise,” the voice chimed with the bell, “gosh, I’m so sorry, I almost forgot.”

Steve looked up as his heart fluttered. He saw the green uniform shirt and black pants and at first, he was ready to deflate. But the way she walked, and her face, the way she glowed and smiled at the woman behind the till, he knew it was her. He’d found her.

“I am so stupid! I keep forgetting everything,” she counted out the money from her wallet, “I’ve been craving this all week and I’m halfway home and I’m like oh my god,” she chattered on, that way she did when they’d first met.

“Not at all, darlin’,” Louise handed her the parcel of fish and chips, “you go on enjoy.”

“Thank you!” she sang sweetly and scurried back through the door.

Steve stood slowly and left his tab on the table with a thoughtlessly generous tip. He adjusted his cap and headed out the door slowly. She wasn’t moving as fast as she made her way down the street. She swung the tied parcel from her hand and he noticed how her hips swayed. There was something different about her, something he liked.

He kept the same pace, sure to hang back so that she didn’t notice him. She led him through a park and she stopped to smile at a party of ducks in the small pond. She carried on over the small bridge and he sat on a bench when she looked back. She didn’t seem to notice as an older couple passed him and he hid behind them.

He got back up just as she was at the exit. He trailed her back to the streets and to an old brick building with an iron sign above the front door. She let herself in and he stood outside with a smirk.

“Perfect,” he said to himself as he backed away and strode down the sidewalk, “always so perfect for me.”

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Note

YES YOURE DOING REQUESTS!! 💛💛 ILY ILY ILY!! Can I get the "only one bed" trope with Dream, Sap, and George x reader (separately lol) - 🦎

Hi 🦎 anon! Thank you for the request! I hope this is what you wanted :)

summary: uh oh! bed sharing ;)

pairing: Dream x reader, Sapnap x reader, George x reader

warnings: fluff, one or two swear words I think?

links: ao3, main

◦ You’re traveling to visit mutual friends.

◦ Clay was picking you up because you lived near each other.

◦ The two of you never really got along, but when it came to not having to drive, you were willing to let bygones be bygones.

◦ That being said, when Dream finally pulled into a hotel and there was only one bed available your strained car ride tension snapped.

◦ You both stood, glaring at the double bed in the middle of the dingy motel room and avoiding eye contact at all costs.

◦ How cliché, you’d think.

◦ “We’re adults. I think we can share a bed without killing each other, can’t we?” You’d groan, earning a low grumble from him.

◦ You could practically hear his eye roll. “No, I’ll literally wake up and think ‘today’s the day’ and unremorsefully strangle you.”

◦ You shot a glare in his direction. “You don’t have the brain power to hide my body after that.”

As you sank into one side of the springy mattress, Clay would sigh in frustration before burying himself in the covers beside you; both of you too tired to argue. Despite the fact that you could practically feel your hair grow you were so exhausted, Dream’s cover hogging and your cold feet would make most of the night hell for the two of you.

The sun began to pierce through the slits in the blinds, the stripes stinging your eyes and forcing you awake. As dust jumped from light beam to light beam, you groggily began to stretch your body yet stopped short at the feeling of Dream’s warm breath fanning against your shoulder. It was then that you noticed just how encompassed you were in his long limbs as his arms kept you pressed against his chest, locked around you as if you'd float away in the middle of the night. His legs were tangled with yours like sleeping this way had been natural to the two of you.

You froze in the hope that you hadn’t woken him up, but also in utter shock at the fact that he was snuggled up against you so tightly… And that you were enjoying it. The scent of his day old shampoo mixed with whatever foreign laundry detergent the motel was beating into their sheets, made you drowsy once again. Dream’s soft snores came out as whispers against your hair to break the silence of the intimate moment.

Yet your bubble of calm was popped as his phone alarm began to shrill, jerking him awake and into a sense of panic as he realized his hold on you. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping he’d just slip away from you and you would pretend it never happened.

But alas, this was Dream you were talking about. “Jesus Christ! What are you doing on my side of the bed, perv!”

◦ Sapnap was moving in with a friend of yours in your area.

◦ The two of you hadn’t really known each other well; you’d met at a party once or twice but that was the extent of it.

◦ Since you lived nearby, you offered your help while he was moving in.

◦ Sap had come a day earlier than your friend, so you took it upon yourself to welcome him.

◦ Most of the day was spent heaving boxes into various parts of their apartment and light chatter

◦ You’d been so engrossed in helping him lift the couch into the correct spot in the living room, you hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten.

◦ As you mentioned having to leave, Sapnap swatted you off saying it was late enough that you could just crash there.

◦ So, that’s how you found yourself on an air mattress in the center of the floor with him sprawled out in a sleeping bag beside you.

◦ Only problem was, you were freezing.

◦ You nudged him with your foot, trying not to startle him too much.

◦ Despite this and you calling his name softly, he didn’t budge.

◦ You kicked him harder, making him startle awake.

◦ He’d look at you with raised eyebrows as if to ask if you were dying.

◦ At this point, you were so tired and so cold, you didn’t care what kind of Twilight trope you were giving into.

◦ “Nick, I’m freezing. Come lay next to me,” you’d request.

◦ His brows knitted together. “What? NO-”

◦ “Please, how are you not cold?” You’d nearly beg.

◦ He’d shake his head and then climb into bed beside you, his warmth a new haven for you.

The make-shift mattress sinks under Sapnap's weight and you're nearly reluctant to curl up closer to him but as he turns to face you, you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. You shuffle nearer to him and he doesn't pay mind to it. Your teeth were still chattering though, so he huffs slightly and wraps an arm around you, pulling you to his chest. You're enveloped in his warmth almost instantly, your body calming at his touch. "Damn, your feet are like icicles," he chided, sending the two of you into soft laughter. It isn't long before you lose yourself in the sound of his heartbeat.

“What is going on?” An all too familiar voice broke you out of your dream world, your heavy eyelids struggling to open because of the long night. You snuggled closer against what you had figured was a pillow until you realized the soft material under your touch was Sapnap's hoodie.

Your eyes snapped open, finding Sapnap sound asleep in your embrace, your roommate looking over the two of you scornfully. “It’s not what it looks like, I promise,” you muttered, reluctantly dislodging yourself from around Sapnap and wincing at the brightness of the room. He groaned and sat up, stretching his own arms and sending you a soft smile, making a blush rush to your cheeks.

“It looks like you’re spooning my roommate,” your friend badgered, heading out of the room with a shake of their head.

◦ You and George were roommates.

◦ The two of you shared a wall, much like you shared milk and sugar; sparingly but with respect.

◦ You usually kept to yourself around your shared space, letting him do his thing and you do yours.

◦ Sure, the two of you were friendly here and there, but you were positive he couldn't pick you out of a line-up and vice versa.

◦ But, all that had been put aside when you began having nightmares.

◦ You'd woken up with a start one night, heart racing and a cold sweat inkling down your back.

◦ Your surroundings seemed foreign to you as you could barely see your hand in front of your face.

◦ The fear you'd felt moments prior was digging its heels into your subconscious and threatening to make its nest.

◦ You rolled your eyes in subtle embarrassment as you noticed the small line of light spilling from beneath George's door across the hall from you.

◦ It was then that you felt yourself move, your mind now set on companionship you weren't entirely sure you needed.

You knocked softly at his door, regretting the disturbance almost instantly as you heard him climb from his bed. You debated turning back and burying yourself in a book until morning, but as you turned on your heel, his door creaked open.

George rubbed his eyes with one hand and the other leaned against the threshold. "You okay?" He asked, his voice raspy from being dormant for a few hours.

You cleared your throat, finding it difficult to form words of your own. "I um- had a nightmare," you mumbled, chewing the inside of your cheek and feeling like a child.

George's brows furrowed as he looked down at you, the light from his room drawing his long, slender shadow around your feet. "Do you want to come in for a bit?" He asked, as if sensing what you were struggling to ask him.

His sheets were soft against your skin as you settled into his bed, inches from him. His features seemed softer in the dark as the two of you laid in silence, the only sound being his gentle breathing. He reached for your hand, grasping it gently in his own to send you a small node of understanding. "You can wake me up if it happens again," he whispered, a sense of ease washing over you as you once again felt drowsy. The feeling of safety being near him like this and his hand threading with yours, calmed your quarrelsome mind.

It was like you had closed your eyes for an instant before the morning sun pulled you from your slumber. George's arm was wrapped protectively around your waist as your hands curled around his own. Your nose was nestled in the crook of his neck as the two of you had unintentionally begun to share a pillow at some point in the night. He slept like the dead, and continued to as you slyly slipped from his grasp and headed into the living room.

You'd never really spoken about it, but these sessions became next to normalcy for the two of you, sometimes even without the nightmares.

#dream x reader #dream fluff #dream imagine #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound x y/n #sapnap x reader #sapnap x y/n #sapnap imagine #georgenotfound imagine #dream x y/n #bed sharing #🦎 anon

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vnderoos · 3 years

Text

what could've been ✷ fred weasley

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language word count / 2.1k

masterlist in bio ↴

IT WAS THE FIRST TIME IN months that Y/N had mustered up enough courage to visit Molly and Arthur at the Burrow, after the battle and all. It was the first time she'd even been able to think about stepping foot in the place when everything in it reminded her of the man she'd lost that day. She'd spent the whole day with his parents, after Molly had spent so much time begging for her to visit, but for some reason, Y/N couldn't bring herself to leave when the time came.

Being in the home had placed yet another crushing weight on her chest, but something about it was exactly what she needed, so Molly had offered up one of the children's old rooms, even though they were far from children now, due to age and experience alike. Y/N had thanked her for that, but something about going up the stairs seemed very, very wrong to her, and she decided to take the couch instead. The redheaded woman had made sure she was comfortable, with a nice, fluffy pillow for her head and a thick quilt to keep her warm, and she'd turned in for the night herself.

This had all happened hours ago, before Y/N had fallen asleep and woken up from a bad dream all the same. She couldn't say that she was surprised as she laid in the darkness of the living room, fidgeting with the ring on her left hand, that Fred Weasley still occupied her thoughts—definitely not when she was sitting in his childhood home—but she couldn't deny the way that it made her ache. Sometimes, when she woke up like this, she hoped that everything had all been a dream, but when she reached up to touch her cheek, to touch the scar that had been left as a reminder of a time she wished she could forget, she knew it had been anything but.

This night, though, seemed infinitely more painful without him.

The Burrow used to be a place of comfort, a safe haven of sorts. She had memories of countless summers spent there, playing under the beating sun with the Weasley kids and Harry Potter, and how full it had felt with all of them around, but after Fred's passing, after they'd all moved on with their lives and left the nest, it felt so empty. No longer was it noisy with the laughter that used to filter through them all or bright with shared smiles or zipping with fireworks set off by the twins.

Instead, it was hollow with the shells of their rooms—of his room—and void of belly laughs. It felt as tilted as it looked on the outside, like it was barely holding itself together anymore. It was empty hallways covered in shadows and quiet walls filled with moving pictures that made you want to stare at your feet.

It was less of a shelter now, and more of a memorial.

Y/N stared up at the ceiling, her right hand still on the engagement ring they'd found in his pocket, and she ran her thumb over the diamond. She could feel tears prickling in the spaces behind her eyes when she flipped her hand over and her eyes flickered to her finger, watching the only words he'd left behind for her light up like soft, orange embers. Forever yours — Fred. She watched the letters fade away in a matter of seconds, before she swiped her thumb over the diamond again. She did that a couple more times, before she couldn't bare it anymore, and she swallowed thickly to get rid of that familiar knot in her throat.

She pushed the quilt off of her body, finding it rather suffocating, now, and she sat up on the couch. She brought her knees over the edge and tugged her hands through her hair, and as she felt the cold band of her ring brushing against her forehead, she realized she'd forgotten what he smelled like. "Oh, God," she whispered into her wrists and the tears—fuck, they stung. The whole realization stung, in fact, and it felt like something had sucked the wind out of her lungs, because she couldn't remember.

If six months was all it took for her to forget the smell of maple syrup, fireworks, and a warm, summer evening, then she didn't want to know how long it would take to forget the sound of his laugh, or the shape of his nose, or the way it felt when she tucked herself into his arms after a long day.

She couldn't take it.

She couldn't sit there and let herself forget him when there was half a room dedicated to nobody but him, so she found it in herself to stand up, and make her way to the staircase. It seemed almost haunting, staring back at her as she looked at it, and it took her almost three minutes to take the first step. The railing was cold against the warmth of her palm and it sent a shiver running down her spine, but she shook it away.

Y/N pushed all her doubts to the back of her mind and she walked up the staircase, making her way to the door of the bedroom that he used to share with George. She put her hand on the doorknob and ripped it open like you'd rip off a bandage and she nearly crumbled. The smell of old parchment, broom polish, and stale gunpowder, along with what she'd recalled earlier, hit her like a ton of bricks and her knees buckled.

She took a step into the room and it felt like the walls were closing in on her, like her chest was caving in on her, but she made her way over to one of the two beds, the one that he used to sleep in, and she ran her fingers over the red quilt. It was cold to the touch, after months of sitting dormant, and she clenched her fingers into a fist. She remembered the nights where she'd be wrapped up in that very quilt, with Fred cuddled into her side, after she'd walked in after a nightmare, and he'd told her he'd keep her safe.

And he always did.

As her fingers brushed over the quilt, they ran over something else, something softer. She picked it up gently and leaned over towards the bedside table. She slipped her free hand under the lampshade and she turned on the light, washing the room in a soft yellow, and when she looked down at her hands, her breath caught in her throat. Christmas was only a month away, but in her fingertips, there was a sweater. It was a deep red and there was a golden 'F' stitched on the chest and she could feel her heart sink in realization.

Molly had still knitted him a sweater this year.

Y/N brought the fabric to her nose and she took a whiff, shutting her eyes tightly when the tears started to well up. She wasn't sure how long it had sat in the room, but it smelled just like him, all the same. She could feel that knot forming in her throat again and she decided to throw the sweater on over her own shirt, pulling the sleeves around her hands and hugging her arms to her body. Maybe, if she closed her eyes tight enough, it would feel like he was the one doing the hugging. She squeezed her eyes so tight, she could see starts, but even then, she couldn't change the fact that he wasn't. He wasn't hugging her and he never would be, not anymore.

Fred would never be there to wrap an arm around her in the mornings and pull her into his side while he held a cup of coffee in his other hand. He would never be there to scoop her up off of the ground after a good day at the shop and tell her how much he loved her. He would never be there to give her a bear hug when she wasn't feeling well. He would never be there at all, and the more she thought about it, the harder the tears started to fall, and she could feel her first vocal sob sputtering from her lips.

She didn't stop it, like she had when she was downstairs, but instead, she laid down on his bed and turned her back against the lamp, curling up into a ball and letting her cries get the best of her. She couldn't help but wonder what he would've done if he'd seen her like that, but she could only imagine. She remembered how after particularly bad nightmares he would hold her so tightly in the darkness, thread his long fingers through her hair, and tell her that everything was going to be just fine. She remembered how he would talk about other things to take her mind off of it and how, when he thought she'd fallen asleep, he'd start to tell her that he was going to marry her one day. He would talk about having a large family together, like his own, except with how well the joke shop was doing, they'd be able to spoil the kids. He would talk about having a nice, cozy home like the Burrow and a big yard where he could teach the kids how to play quidditch, and she couldn't stop sobbing now. She was so overtaken by the fact that she'd never get to have that with him, that she couldn't even breathe.

"Y/N, is that—" she'd barely even heard the door creak open as Molly walked in, and the woman stopped in her tracks when she did. The sight of seeing Y/N, who she'd looked after like her own all these years, in such a weak state was enough to make her own eyes water, and she brought a hand to her chest. "Oh, darling," she whispered, because her voice refused to go any higher, and she made her way over to the bed. She sat down beside the girl, whose body shook with every cry, and Y/N moved to hug her almost immediately. Molly didn't think she'd ever felt the girl hug her as hard as she did now, feeling her bury her face into her chest, and she wrapped her arms around her just as tightly. "I've got you, dear," she muttered sadly, and she laid back against the wall, a tear slipping down her own cheek.

Y/N's fists were balled up around the fabric of Molly's shirt and her eyes were squeezed shut as she sobbed. "I'm sorry," she whispered against the woman's chest. "I'm so, so sorry, Molly," she repeated, and she could feel herself breaking into pieces. Everything she'd tried to be since Fred died just came unraveling.

"No, dear," Molly whispered into her hair, pressing a kiss into it softly, and resting her chin on her head. "Don't be sorry, we all miss him. It's okay," she promised, giving her a good squeeze.

Y/N shook her head against her. "I'm sorry I couldn't save him," she elaborated, the moment flashing through her head like it had happened the day before—the smile that had been on his face, before it wasn't. "I should've stayed with him."

"Don't talk like that, darling." Molly leaned down to grab a fuzzy blanket that had been folded at the foot of the bed and she pulled it over herself and Y/N gently. "It wasn't your fault in the slightest," she reassured her and Y/N nodded, another son wracking her body, and Molly's eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"We would've gotten married," she said, acutely aware of the ring on her finger, and it was in that moment that Y/N absolutely shattered. Her hands tightened around Molly's shirt and she let out a strangled scream, feeling the woman tug her impossibly closer. "He was supposed to be the rest of my life, and without him, I'm nothing," she admitted, her lip quivering as she did.

Molly brushed her fingers through Y/N's hair softly, just like Fred used to, and she pressed her forehead against the girl's head. "You are still everything to me. To us," she promised on behalf of the rest of the Weasleys, and she smushed her cheek against her head. "We love you so much, sweet girl."

At that, Y/N just nodded and she continued to cry into Molly until she fell asleep.

In the morning, when the sun filtered through the window of the twins' old room, the woman was gone, and there was a plate of warm biscuits sitting in her place. The fact that Y/N was still in the room was the only indication that the last night had even happened at all.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagines #james phelps #james phelps x reader #james phelps imagines #george weasley #george weasley imagines #george weasley x reader #.

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delicioussshame · 3 years

Text

Sugar daddy AU: new chapter. That’s it, that’s the fic.

The world has never stopped spinning for Shen Yuan before, so why would it now?

He’s sure Luo Binghe is thrilled with his current situation. If he really wanted to create a perfect bubble where he would be the center of Shen Yuan’s universe, he has succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. He’s been all Shen Yuan has been able to think about. The moral conundrum of considering whether you’re attracted to your former student, and if so, whether you can and should accept his affection, has been dominating his every moment. Each time he thinks that yes, he could see himself allowing this, allowing Luo Binghe the more he has so visibly been craving, he falters. In a way, it seems like a culmination of all his failures; a failed career he’s a disgrace to and a return to values he’d sworn to leave behind with his family.

But maybe, just maybe, Binghe would be worth it. Shen Yuan thinks if anyone could make those concerns seem ridiculous with only the power of their presence by his side, it would be Luo Binghe.

All his hesitations don’t stop his heart from freezing in his chest where the school sends an email regarding his teaching plan for the upcoming term.

It takes him a few minutes to calm down, to ride the wave of anxiety that returning to the beat of regular employment brings. He hasn’t looked forward to returning to class for years, but after those sweet weeks spent doing nothing but relaxing? Facing coworkers that were at best indifferent, at worst downright abusive for the sake of disinterested students is such an unappealing prospect that it almost gives him nausea.

He’s been too spoiled. Shen Yuan normally spends the summer working part-time jobs to make ends meet. This year, Luo Binghe had swiped all those worries away. One of the first things he’d done was tell Shen Yuan that he’d be paying his rent for now, like he would be providing for all his other needs. Shen Yuan had protested, but he’d known it was pointless. How was he supposed to stop Luo Binghe from sending money to his landlord?

Without those preoccupations, Shen Yuan had permitted himself freedom from work in general. He had spared not a thought to that most unpleasant matter. His romantic life, if it could be called that, had demanded all his attention.

Now, enough was enough. This had been fun, but Shen Yuan had a job to do. No matter how much he dreads it, he has to review his lesson plan.

Such is life.

_________________

It takes Luo Binghe only one cursory look at Shen Yuan to notice something went very, very wrong. His dear teacher is tense, hunched over his desk, hand on his forehead as if he’s trying to hold a headache at bay. Shen Yuan hasn’t appeared this stressed since he set foot inside Luo Binghe’s home. He radiates distress like he did that day, when Luo Binghe went to visit him and found him on the verge of collapse.

Back then, all he wanted was to stop that collapse.

That conviction has never faltered.

Gently, Luo Binghe taps Shen Yuan’s shoulder. “Laoshi?”

Shen Yuan doesn’t turn. “Binghe, not now. I’m busy.”

Luo Binghe glances at the document he’s worked on, and swears inwardly. Is all it took to reverse all the progress they made a reminder of that dreaded job?

Shen Yuan isn’t going back, and that’s final. “Why is Laoshi wasting his valuable time on this? Doesn’t he trust his Binghe?”

Shen Yuan turns toward him, annoyance visible on his face. “What does trust have to do with this?”

He stays firm. “I told Laoshi all I wanted was for him to be happy and healthy. I promised I would do anything for this to happen. His job doesn’t make him happy. Why would he return to it? He still has a few days to send his notice in time. He can leave the school behind and stay with me instead.”

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. “Binghe, don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. I see no reason why Laoshi should go back when he doesn’t need to work.”

“I do need to work. I can’t rely on Binghe’s good will for the rest of my life. Sooner or later, he’ll get tired of paying for an old man and will look to buy a younger, sweeter companion.”

There is so much wrong with this sentence Luo Binghe is struck silent. Shen Yuan knows better than this. He’s just in too fool a mood to act like it.

He regains control of himself. “First, Laoshi must never talk of himself like he’s a passing fancy I feel like throwing money at. It’s insulting both to yourself and to my love for you. Second, he can rely on me however he wants to. If he’s not secure with his current position, that can be dealt with. I will happily pay whatever lawyer he chooses to draft any arrangement he deems agreeable. I can transfer him a set amount of money each week that he can manage at his discretion. I can also give him a lump sum, significant enough that if something were to happen, he could live by himself, though he’s already my will’s sole beneficiary. Work is unnecessary.”

At this, Shen Yuan shakes. “I’m sorry? Did you just say that in the event of your death, you’re leaving me everything? Me?”

Luo Binghe doesn’t know why Shen Yuan is so surprised. “Who else? Laoshi knows I have no family. I have no plan to die before Laoshi, but if it were to happen, that’s no reason not to keep my promise.” It won’t, of course. Luo Binghe won’t allow it.

“Are you serious? That’s something you do for a spouse, not a dumb childhood crush.”

He genuinely thought they were over this. “Laoshi isn’t a crush. He’s someone I’ve been in love with for since I was a teenager. Didn’t I say I wanted him by my side at all times? I planned consequently.” If Shen Yuan wants children, modifications will be made to the will, but this won’t be happening anytime soon. For now, Luo Binghe wants him all to himself.

“I… We’re not even a couple yet! Binghe is being reckless! If he’s this open, what’s stopping me from fleecing him for all he’s got and leaving him destitute!”

Luo Binghe laughs, encouraged by the “yet”. “Laoshi would never. He’s too good a man to do such a thing.”

“I could! Binghe thinks he knows me so well, but the truth is he doesn’t. He’s got this image of me as a saint, as a person without flaws nor desires, but he’s wrong. Every day, I take advantage of Binghe’s kindness.”

Shen Yuan is the one who doesn’t know himself. “Taking what’s freely offered is not taking advantage.”

“It is when no sane person would make the offer!”

“Does Laoshi think me insane, then?”

“Well, no. I know Binghe is very smart.”

“Then why not trust I know what I’m doing?”

“Because you don’t!”

This is going nowhere. “I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m making Laoshi happy by keeping him from a job that is killing him.” He sighs. “If Laoshi absolutely feels like he needs to earn his own income, I will support him until he finds a decent job, or will pay for his continued education so that he can find something better, but I would much, much prefer he doesn’t bother. It’s stress he doesn’t need, for no reason. I just cannot accept his return to a school that has only one good point: him. It’s not good for him. As I said earlier, whatever he needs as collateral to feel safe, I’m willing to provide, as long as he does what’s best for himself.”

Shen Yuan looks speechless.

Luo Binghe doesn’t flinch.

“Every time I think Binghe must be fooling himself, or fooling me, he goes and does something like this, something that no one else would do, as if to prove his honesty. He makes me feel like an idiot.”

“That must be novel. I imagine someone as wonderful as Laoshi doesn’t feel that way often.”

“Just most days of my life.”

“Then his life must change. Laoshi should only feel good.” Which is something Luo Binghe would gladly help with, no matter when and where.

He takes Shen Yuan’s hand in his; presses a chaste kiss to the top of it. “Please. Don’t go.”

Silence rests heavy on his shoulders for a while, until Shen Yuan breaks. “I’ll consider it.”

Luo Binghe embraces him and decides to wait.

_________________

The notice is sent two days later.

_________________

One moment Luo Binghe is preparing to go to bed, the next Shen Yuan, still damp from the shower, sits on his lap and kisses him.

It takes Luo Binghe negative one second to respond in kind, to open his mouth and to kiss back, his arms snaking around Shen Yuan’s waist to pull him closer and keep him there. Laoshi is the one who initiated! Luo Binghe can’t allow him to take it back.

Not that it seems like he will. Shen Yuan doesn’t struggle at all as Luo Binghe deepens the kiss, as his hands find the buttons of Shen Yuan’s sleeping shirt and open a trail he follows with his mouth. His laoshi’s breath fastens as Luo Binghe acquaints himself with his chest, fingers dancing over his ribs and down the gentle curve of his back.

Such good behavior has to be rewarded.

He does lift his eyes to Shen Yuan’s before removing his pants.

His beloved doesn’t say a word as he turns his gaze away demurely, but the caress in Luo Binghe’s hair speaks volumes, as does the seductive way he opens his thighs. If Shen Yuan has finally accepted his advances, how could Luo Binghe refuse him?

There are so many things Luo Binghe dreamed of doing to his Laoshi. He wants to spend hours worshipping him, keeping him in a state of unforgiving arousal until he begs for release. He wants to prepare him carefully and take him gently, painlessly, until all of Shen Yuan’s stress has left him and he’s barely conscious. He wants to fuck him until he screams. He wants to ride him languorously, for hours on end, until his body has taken the shape of Shen Yuan and no one else’s. He wants to be tied to the bed and used until he’s crying for mercy, and then be denied that mercy. He wants to go to work wearing the mark of Shen Yuan’s teeth high on his neck proudly, knowing his laoshi is wearing the exact same mark at home. He wants to fill him up with a remote-controlled toy and bring him to ecstasy during those interminable board meetings that would at least have a purpose, for once.

But for now, all he wants is to get to know all of Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan startles when Luo Binghe presses a kiss to his rapidly filling length, but he doesn’t protest. Good for him, because Luo Binghe isn’t sure he could have stopped. Not when he finally gets to find out how he tastes, how he sounds, how beautiful he looks when he flushes from pleasure.

He moans around him when Shen Yuan’s fingers twist into his hair. Shen Yuan could fuck his throat anytime, if he wanted to. Luo Binghe wouldn’t mind choking for him.

Maybe he could overcome that reflex with practice.

He would love to try.

It takes little time for Shen Yuan to groan and try to pull him off, which is a futile endeavor. Like Luo Binghe is going to waste any gift of Shen Yuan.

He greedily swallows it all down when Shen Yuan bites back his student’s name and digs his nails into Luo Binghe’s scalp.

Luo Binghe has never been this hard. “Laoshi, Shen Yuan, please.” He’d take anything. He’d rut against his leg if Shen Yuan would allow him to. “Please.”

Shen Yuan is bright red when his beautiful hand wraps around Luo Binghe’s cock, pulling and stroking in an awkward, unexperienced hold that Luo Binghe knows he’ll never get enough of. Just the sight of those white fingers on his feverish skin is enough to enthrall him. How is he going to last when they grow skilled? He’ll embarrass himself like the teenager he isn’t anymore! Even now, it takes all he has to last a few minutes.

He thought no sight could be fairer than Shen Yuan in pleasure, but the view of his fingers and chest covered in Luo Binghe’s come is so overwhelming Luo Binghe wishes his love was the type to allow for recording. If it were his face despoiled so… Luo Binghe would probably not soften at all.

Hopefully Shen Yuan will let him.

Another time. While Luo Binghe himself could easily keep on going for the rest of the night and the day after, what has happened tonight was probably a lot to ask of shy, proper Shen Yuan. Luo Binghe tries to soothe his exaltation, instead exploding in praises and endearments for his visibly embarrassed lover.

Luo Binghe ignores his attempts at distancing himself, instead holding him in his arm until Shen Yuan quiets and closes his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him.

_________________

Well, that happened.

It wasn’t… It was fine.

Okay, it was more than fine. One can only lie to themselves for so long. Luo Binghe is devastatingly handsome and convinced he loves Shen Yuan, for some reason. He’s not immune to that much charm!

He was kind. Shen Yuan had been as mentally prepared as he could be to find himself pushed on his back and taken, but Luo Binghe had waited.

Shen Yuan fully expects it will happen sooner or later. He’ll deal then. It will be hard on him, because quite honestly, he’s not sure anyone on Earth is built the right way to accommodate Luo Binghe, but he’ll do it. Binghe deserves it.

If he’s that serious about providing for Shen Yuan, he should get his money’s worth. Shen Yuan couldn’t live with himself otherwise.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #BingQiu #That AU where LBH and SY fail to negociate their sugar relationship

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qianinterprises · 3 years

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Companion of Tomorrow {Kun x Reader}

Light poured into the window of the parted curtains, casting a warm ray of light on your back, bringing a gentle heat throughout your body. A hum found its way from your lips as you were sleepily guided from the comfort of your dreams. Your eyes slid open slowly, blinking away the remnants of sleep as your body awakened itself to new sensations. The smell of morning wafting through the cracked window. The sun, warm on your back. The arm draped delicately over your waist. The soft rise and fall of a chest right beside you.

Your eyes trailed over him. He was on his side, one arm draped across your waist, the other curled up beneath his wrinkled pillow. His hair was tousled and messy but fell delicately across his forehead. His eyes were closed but fluttering with dreams. His lips were slightly parted as he exhaled, sending a less than pleasant wave of morning breath over you. You wrinkled your nose but didn’t move. His arms and chest were bare, the same way he always slept when the weather was warm. The white bedsheets gathered around his waist, hiding the red and black plaid pants he’d worn to bed. The blue duvet settled on his hips, hiding the imprint of his legs behind its bulk.

A smile found its way to your lips as your eyes moved back to the beautiful face. Three years and you still couldn’t get used to seeing his face every morning.

“Your staring.”

Your body jolted, sending a ripple across the mattress at the sudden movement. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest, calming itself down from the sudden rush of adrenaline spiked by the fear.

A chuckle found its way to your ears as his brown eyes fluttered open, meeting yours.

“Don’t do that!” You hissed, shoving him lightly.

He laughed and little louder and gathered you closer, bringing you in until your body was pressed to his, his arm around your waist tightening to hold you there. You let out a playful groan and wound your arms around his middle, snuggling into his chest.

“You’re a jerk,” your voice mumbled.

His body shook against yours as he laughed. You patted his back lightly but didn’t say anything more as you settled against him, eyes closing.

“Good morning beautiful,” his soft voice whispered in your ear after a moment of silence.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, goosebumps climbing your arms.

“Good morning my dove,” you whispered back.

You paused after speaking, waiting to hear the mocking retorts of his two roommates, only to be met with silence.

Your eyes opened and you lifted your head, eyes drifting to the bunk bed along the other wall, the bed YangYang and Dejun usually occupied.

“They got up earlier this morning. I heard them sneak out. They probably went to disturb Kunhang and Ten,” he sighed.

You let out a grunt of acknowledgment and rested your head back against Kun. It wasn’t very often the two of you had alone time, especially in the mornings, unless you stayed the night at your apartment, which only happens about once a month when Kun could convince Doyoung or Taeyong to stay over to make sure the others didn’t burn down the dorm.

“Do you have to practice today?” you asked, mumbling against his shoulder before pressing a kiss against his skin.

He shuddered lightly.

“No, we have the day off,” he answered.

You could honestly say that you were shocked. You often spend your weekends at the WayV dorm, taking care of Bella, Louis, and Leon while the others were at various schedules. You usually would see Kun as he was climbing out of bed to get the others up or when he was coming back to the dorm after a long day of schedules, where he and the others would sit down to chatter over whatever meal you had prepared that night. It was rare he had free days on Saturdays, but you certainly weren’t going to complain.

You pushed yourself closer to him and slid your bare legs between his.

“What are you doing?” he asked, clearly amused.

“I want to crawl inside your skin.”

The comment had clearly surprised you both. You hadn’t intended to say your thoughts out loud. You looked up to meet Kun’s face, opening your mouth to apologize when he let out a guffaw of laughter. You felt your cheeks beginning to turn pink.

“You want to share my skin?” he asked, teasing.

Shyly, you nodded and slid yourself closer. He responded by wrapping both arms around you, tugging you against him until your chest was pressed tightly against his.

“I love you,” he whispered softly in your ear.

Your cheeks flushed again. Sure, you’d heard him say it a thousand times now, but you just could never get over how good it felt to hear those words. Your heart swelled with love and joy.

“I love you too.”

One hand came up to cup your face softly, drawing you in until his lips touched yours softly. You pressed closer, begging for more contact as his lips moved perfectly with yours.

Your heart hammered in your chest as your eyes closed and you tucked yourself back under his chin, your eyes fluttering closed, a smile ghosting on your lips.

Being with Kun was like a dream. A beautiful, wonderful dream you never wanted to wake up from. And thankfully, you didn’t have to.

Meeting Kun had felt like a dream but after three years and four months, you had no doubt that, even if it was a dream, you’d cling onto it and never let go.

A fond smile grew across your lips as you nestled closer, your mind drifting off to that magical day.

You had always dreamed of traveling and working in South Korea, at least for a year or two. Being immersed in a culture that was so different from your own was something you desperately desired. So, when the opportunity arose to travel abroad to teach the English language at a South Korean entertainment company, you had jumped at the offer.

The company had set you up with a really nice, fully furnished apartment close enough to the company that you could walk it. You’d sent most of your things, clothes, shoes, books, etcetera, a week ahead of your arrival. You had flown out on a Friday in August and, by the time you’d touched down in Korea, it was late afternoon on Saturday.

An English speaking driver had been sent to collect you from the airport. He had been a nice man. He loaded you into his company car and drove from the airport to your new apartment, which wasn’t too far away. Your eyes had been glued to the window the whole time and, although he answered any questions you had about the city, it wasn’t really a tour.

By the time you’d gotten to your apartment, he helped you inside and you were sprawled across your bed, fast asleep.

Ironically, you had found yourself asleep for most of the day on Sunday, waking up in the wee hours of the morning for food before putting yourself back to bed and waking up again early Monday morning. You wouldn’t start at work until Wednesday, so you took the time to begin going through your things, putting them away.

As you had finished, your stomach growled in hunger, but the only thing that had been left in your apartment was crackers, cookies, and water, which would not be sufficient enough to satiate your hunger. You grabbed your phone, stuffing a few dollars in your pocket, hoping you could find somewhere to convert them. You walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind you.

As you stepped outside the apartment complex, you were immediately swept away by the sights you’d never seen before. The big city of Seoul. Sure, it was similar to what you’d imagined New York would have been like, but it was different. People walking the streets, bustling to their jobs; cars and buses occupying the streets; the scent of restaurants wafting to your nose making you rethink going to the supermarket as opposed to a restaurant.

You didn’t realize you were just standing outside your apartment complex, in the middle of foot traffic until you felt something- someone, slam into your back, knocking you to the ground.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” rapidfire Korean met your ears.

It took you a minute to make out what the stranger was saying. You were still learning the language and you were, by all accounts, horrible at the language.

“I… uh…” you stammered.

Standing above you was a gorgeous man whom you, of course, being a mega NCT and WayV fan, automatically recognized despite his facemask as Qian Kun. Your eyes trailed over what you could see of his face, but it was his eyes that gave him away.

“Can I... help... you up?” this time, his words were in choppy, but semi-perfect English, which, to say the least, surprised you.

He offered a hand down to lift you up and, after staring at it for a moment, you immediately grasped his hand and allowed him to haul you back onto your feet.

“I’m Kun,” he introduced.

He stilled hadn’t let go of your hand.

“(y-y/n)” you responded, an embarrassed blushed creeping to your cheeks.

“I’m sorry I was just standing in the middle of the streets. I just moved here and this is my first real look at the city…” you mumbled.

His eyes lit up.

“Well! I have time! I have the day off! I was just heading to get some lunch. How about I take you to my favorite restaurant and then give you a tour?” he beamed.

It took you a moment to agree, shock spread across your face. This person whom you’d never physically met before, who didn’t know you from Adam, was suddenly asking you to lunch and a visit around town?

You didn’t know what to say but ‘yes’ and thus started your friendship that would eventually lead to something so much more.

“What are you thinking about?” a voice pulled you from your reverie.

“When we first met,” I responded.

He hummed in response and pressed a kiss to your head.

“That beautiful girl standing in the middle of the sidewalk distracting me from paying attention.”

With a small laugh, you slapped his shoulder lightly.

“Hey! The city was too gorgeous not to look at,” you retorted playfully.

He didn’t respond, just pulled you closer, squeezing your soft skin to his before pressing another soft kiss on your lips.

The day Kun asked you out, you nearly had to pinch yourself, which, turned out, you didn’t have to because, as you were staring at Kun, attempting to judge whether he was joking or not, Ten had pinched you hard in the back of the neck, kickstarting your brain.

Blubbering and blushing, you managed to choke out the word “yes” in agreement to letting him take you to the carnival in the nearby town.

That date had been so perfect that, standing at the door of your apartment, Kun had kissed your cheek and asked to be exclusive, which, you didn’t need a moment to ponder as you wound your arms around your neck and teasingly whispered the words “my boyfriend” in his ear, making him blush and squirm. He’d still ended up in your apartment that night, lounging beside you on the couch eating a large bowl of ice cream as an old Marvel movie played on the television.

After your first date, not much time could be spent between the two. Sure, you were already the babysitter for their pets, spending much of your time after work walking Bella or keeping the cats from destroying all the furniture, but you didn’t get to see Kun very often. You’d whip up something simply they could heat when they returned home, but, not wanting to overstay your welcome, you’d always return back to your own apartment thirty minutes before they’d gotten home, with the exception of one day.

You had lost track of time as you lounged on the couch in a pair of leggings and comfy top the boys had let you keep in your personal drawer. Your laptop rested on your lap as you scrolled through the homework assignments from your students as Bella curled up beside you and Leon wrapped himself around your neck. You weren’t paying attention to the time until keys jiggled in the door and Bella was flying off your lap, barking with her tail swinging rapidly, waiting for one of the boys she loved so much to step through the doors.

You closed your laptop hurriedly and glanced toward the kitchen, vacant after you’d forgotten to cook anything. You’d jumped off the couch to hurry out the door when Kun’s voice stopped you.

“Why do you always leave before we get here? Do you not want to see me?” he asked, voice sounding hurt and dejected.

You immediately turned, face dropping in shock.

“No! I just didn’t want to be one of those clingy girls that’s always lurking in every corner!” you defended.

His face softened.

“I don’t mind the clingy. It lets me know that I’m wanted,” he spoke.

Bella bounced at his feet, begging for attention as Louis wound himself between his legs. Kun knelt to pick Bella up, petting her head softly.

“I do want to be around you. All the time, actually. I just thought you’d want some space.”

He crossed the foyer slowly, careful not to step on Louis or Leon. When he reached you, he placed Bella gently on the couch and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“I love how considerate you are, but it’s seeing your beautiful face that gives me all the energy in the world,” he whispered.

Your heart melted. Tears welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I’ll never leave early again,” you promised.

A smile ghosted over his lips.

“Good,” he whispered, leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You’d gasped at first. He’d never kissed you before. Not on dates, not when he walked you back up to your apartment, not when you met up to go somewhere together. For a while, you’d questioned whether or not he’d actually wanted to kiss you, but this… this was well worth the wait.

You melted against his lips, leaning into his touch. They were so soft and warm, gliding perfectly across yours, pulling you deeper and deeper into him.

When he pulled away, you were left breathless, the taste and feel of his lips lingering on your own.

“How about tonight, I make dinner and you finish grades. The boys will be home in an hour and we both know chaos will ensue after that.”

You smiled softly and kissed his cheek before letting him go into the kitchen as you sat back down on the couch and re-opened your laptop.

A pair of warm lips pressed against your own, drawing you out of your memories as you kissed back, gliding your lips along his.

The kiss was quick, but it was enough to stir up the butterflies that never seemed to stop fluttering when you were around Kun.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered when he’d pulled away.

You smiled and ran a hand up through his hair.

“You’re gorgeous,” you whispered back.

Pink dusted his cheeks.

After your conversations about your leaving early and your first kiss, you never left early again and, most nights you found yourself tucked in Kun’s embrace as YangYang and Dejun argued over whose feet stank the most.

To be fair, it was Kun’s feet they were smelling, but you’d never tell them that.

“I love mornings like these,” he whispered.

You nodded. Most mornings, you either were forced to sleep in your own beds in your own houses, Kun not wanting to disturb you as he got up at odd hours of the morning before you. You, not wanting to wake him up if you had to leave first. It had just been easier, but it wasn’t an arrangement either of you were particularly fond of.

Something soft hit the outside of the door, slightly starting you both until the distinguished sounds of two cats pouncing on the door at the same time met your ears. You rolled your eyes. YangYang or Yukhei were likely teasing the cats.

That was an everyday thing too, except, most of the time, it ended with someone opening the door and an excited Bella jumping in bed with you both as two cats scurried around the door chasing a toy.

“Do you remember when you first met them?” Kun asked.

You let out a laugh. That was one interesting day.

Meeting the rest of WayV had been a dream and a nightmare rolled into one. Kun always met you outside of the dorm and the company, always keeping two parts of his lives separate, something you didn’t mind too much as you and Kun were really in the beginnings of your friendship. (You didn’t find out until later that he’d been hiding you away so the insanity of six crazy boys didn’t scare you off).

The day you’d met them had been a complete accident. Kun had asked you out for coffee, something that had become quite normal, normal enough that the ladies at the counter knew exactly what you wanted before you made your way to the counter. As you’d gotten your drinks and sat down at your usual booth, both sitting on the same side, you pulled your laptop from your bag and plugged your earbuds into the port. You fired up the Netflix show the two of you had been watching and started the next episode.

Not ten minutes in, the door to the coffee shop swung open, something that wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it was Ten’s voice that caught you both off guard.

“Yukhei! This is a public establishment! You can’t just go around flinging doors open so hard they smack the wall!” he scolded.

Kun’s head immediately shot up, startling you into following his gaze.

Standing at the entrance to the coffee shop were six boys, all of varying heights. They were standing around in a sort of semi-circle before moving to the counter to order.

“Oh God,” Kun mumbled.

You didn’t have to question him. As Yukhei, very loudly, placed his order (a large vanilla coffee with extra sugar), Kun slid down in his seat, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“Of all the ways you could meet my members, this is probably the worst,” he complained.

You let out a little giggle which, you had hoped was quiet enough, but, as YangYang scanned the shop looking for the source, his eyes landed on you.

At first, he did nothing but offer you an eye smile over his face mask, sending you a little wave in which you awkwardly returned. But as Kun glanced up briefly, the maknae’s eyes zeroed in on his face.

“Kun-ge?” he asked.

This caught the others attention and, before long, your booth was surrounded.

“So this is where you run off to!” Kunhang stated dramatically.

Kun sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I-” he started but was abruptly cut off as Dejun’s eyes fixed heavily on you.

“Is this your girlfriend?”

Kun’s cheeks were red again.

“What?! No! She’s just a really good friend!” he defended.

That had hurt a bit but you didn’t say anything, just awkwardly sat there with a half smile struggling on your lips.

“Where did you meet?” Ten interrogated.

“I bumped into him and he offered to give me a tour of the city,” you answered quietly.

Your cheeks were warming now too as all eyes directed onto you, your hands getting clammy at the attention.

“What’s your name?” Sicheng asked, sliding into the booth across from you and offering you a peaceful smile.

“(y/n)” you responded.

“Such a pretty name!” Ten cooed.

Your cheeks reddened.

“Do you like our Kun-ge?” Yukhei’s voice boomed.

You flinched at the loudness, but your cheeks grew redder still.

“I-I…”

“Yukhei! You don’t ask questions like that! You’re all making her uncomfortable! That’s why I was putting off introducing you all!” Kun scolded.

No one said anything for a few minutes before Ten slid into the booth beside Sicheng.

“Are you dating Kun?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Kun and I are honestly just friends. I just moved here not too long ago and he was nice to me. So he’s kinda the only friend I have here,” you said quietly.

YangYang squeezed himself into the booth beside you, sandwiching you between him and Kun.

“Do you like cats?” he asked.

A weird question, but you nodded. You absolutely adored all animals.

“And dogs?” Yukhei bellowed.

After flinching at the sound of his voice, you nodded.

YangYang gripped your wrist.

“Let’s take her back to the door so she can meet Louis, Leon, and Bella!”

With that, you were pulled from your seat and excitedly marched out of the coffee shop, Yukhei and Kunhang excitedly bouncing behind you as YangYang led you down the street. As you passed the coffee shop, Kun was shaking his head and packing your laptop back into your computer bag, preparing to follow the excitable children.

“And when I finally walked in, you were playing with Leon as YangYang and Kunhang spitfired question after question! And you never missed a beat!” Kun laughed.

You reciprocated his laugh, curling into him.

Meeting the guys had most certainly been an adventure, but it was an adventure that led you to laying in Kun’s bed now, snuggled up to his side.

“I wouldn’t trade you or them for anything in the world. Even if you are all crazy,” you laughed.

“I think they may love you about as much as I do,” Kun laughed.

“YangYang even called me “mom” the other day when he called me at work to ask how to get a poop stain out of the carpet,” you giggled.

Kun laughed alongside you before pausing.

“Wait- what poop stain?”

You laughed and pat his chest.

“Don’t worry about it baby,” you cooed.

You nuzzled into his chest and, for a moment, he seemed to ponder whether to push you away to ask more questions or just drop it. As he wrapped his arms tighter around you, kissing your head, you smiled and laid your head on his chest.

As his heartbeat sounded in your ear and the room fell silent, you could feel your eyes beginning to close, body sinking deeper into his hold as comfort washed over you.

“My sweet love,” he whispered.

You smiled and burrowed closer. Your consciousness wavering, body going limp in his hold as sleep tugged at your eyelids. You felt Kun settle beneath you. He wasn’t far from falling back to sleep when…

BOOM!

The sound was so loud it rattled the windows and doors. Your eyes flew open and you lurched forward, blindly grabbing for your housecoat to cover your pajamas before running for the door, Kun hot on your trail.

Your heart was racing. That boom had sounded too much like an explosion. Fear spiked through your veins. What if someone had gotten hurt?!

“Yukhei!” Dejun’s voice was shrill from the kitchen.

Your feet raced, pounding on the floor as you swung yourself into the kitchen and immediately stopped, taking in the sight before you.

The microwave was swung open, dark smoke rolling out in waves, rising toward the ceiling. Your eyes caught the flicker of a small flame from whatever had been in the microwave. Your eyes scanned the room as Kun moved into the pantry to grab the fire extinguisher.

Yukhei was on the ground, large, silent tears sliding down his face, one large hand clutching his right eye. Your heart pounded in worry.

Kun pulled the pin on the fire extinguisher and aimed the hose at the microwave, firing the foam at the microwave. You knelt by Yukhei and gingerly guided his hand away from his eye, examining any damage.

He had a large, red welt directly under his eye, right along the bone. It oozed a little blood, but what worried you the most was Yukhei’s inability to keep his eye open. It blinked and flinched, but never opened more than halfway.

“Come on sweetheart, let me check your eye,” you spoke softly.

You placed your hand on the back of his shoulder and slowly guided him off the floor. Tears continued to slide down his cheeks and he stumbled slightly, but allowed you to guide him to the nearest bathroom down the hall.

As you led him inside, you instructed him to sit down on the toilet lid, which he quickly complied, hand still covering his eye.

You grabbed a washcloth, running it under cool tap water and ringing it out before guiding his hand from his face and pressing the cool cloth against his eye. He squirmed for a moment before relaxing and leaning into the cloth.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

His bottom lip trembled and a small sob fell from his lips. You leaned patiently against the edge of the sink, keeping the cloth pressed to his eye.

“W-we were trying to heat up breakfast so we didn’t wake you b-but… something went wrong and when I tried to open the microwave door, it flew open and smacked me in the eye!”

He stammered and stumbled over his words, but as he finished speaking, you had a better understanding.

“I need to have a look at your eye, alright,” you spoke tenderly.

He let out a whimper but nodded and you moved the cloth away.

“Can you tell me how it hurts?” you asked as his eye flinched and twitched.

“It hurts all over but it also feels like there's something in my eye,” he whimpered.

Softly, you slid your fingers along his jaw and encouraged him to tip his head back. Once at an angle where you could see, you gently placed two fingers along the bone beneath his eye, careful of the wound. Your thumb rested just below his brow. Slowly and carefully, you caught his eyelashes with your thumb and coaxed his eye to open. He flinched a little and fought against the movement, but as you opened his eye fully, you found the problem.

The whites of his eye was red with irritation, and, settled right near his iris, was a long eyelash probably knocked into his eye as he was rubbing it after the door hit him.

“You have an eyelash. Be very still so I can get it out,” you spoke tenderly.

He didn't move as you used your hand resting below his eye to gently dab your finger over the eyelash and extract it. When it was out, you let his eye close and, without the irritant, it no longer flinched and twitched.

You allowed him to tilt his head back down and, with the eyelash resting on your finger, you brought it up for him to see.

“Make a wish.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment before blowing the eyelash off your finger.

After the extraction of the eyelash, you cleaned the small wound under his eye and placed a Spiderman bandage on the wound.

“Now, let’s go get you some ice before you get a black eye.”

He stood up from the toilet seat and placed his head in yours. You laughed lightly and led him into the kitchen, him trailing behind you like an overgrown toddler.

As you entered the kitchen, you found YangYang, Dejun, and Kunhang all lined up by the table, Kun standing in front of them running his hands through his hair, a habit he only did when he was highly stressed or annoyed.

You pulled an ice pack out of the freezer and handed it to Yukhei, who scampered off to sit at the table with the ice on his eye.

“So I know the microwave door hit Yukhei in the eye, but why exactly did it fly open? What was the bang? What was on fire?”

Kun let out a sigh and shook his head. No one else said a word, the boy’s attention on anything but you.

You put your hands on your hips. You keep be gentle and loving when it was required, but, while Kun was usually soft and gentle, you had an attitude and you had high morals and expectations.

“I’ll ask again. Exactly what happened?” you asked sternly, soft eyes turning hard as you stared down the four.

No one said anything for a moment before Dejun opened his mouth to speak.

“We were hungry but we didn’t want to wake you guys up…” he mumbled.

“So we thought we’d make something ourselves but Kun doesn’t allow us to use the stove after we almost burnt down the kitchen that one time,” YangYang continued.

“We found the bacon and sausage from yesterday… so we decided to heat that up,” Kunhang added.

You closed your eyes. You’d put the sausage and bacon in aluminum foil to keep it from dying out and getting soggy. Please please let them not have put metal in the microwave.

“We didn’t know the foil in the microwave would catch fire until it blew the microwave door open…” Yukhei finished.

Aluminum foil in the microwave… They’d put METAL in the microwave.

You let out a drawn out sigh and rested your head in your hands, massaging your temples.

“You can’t put metal in the microwave,” you muttered.

“We know that! … Now…” YangYang spoke.

You heaved a heavy sigh.

“Was anyone besides Yukhei close to the microwave when it blew open?” you asked.

They thought about it for a moment before all four shook their heads.

Kun looked at you questioningly for a moment before realization dawned across his face.

“You stay here, I’ll take him to the Emergency Room,” Kun said, walking out of the kitchen to retrieve a shirt from the bedroom.

“Emergency Room?!” YangYang shouted.

“He could have been exposed to radiation from the microwave. There’s nothing they can really do if he has, but we need to know for sure,” you stated, rubbing your temples.

Kun returned back still in his pajama pants but now wearing a black hoodie to match. He guided Yukhei out the door while you sent the others to clean up the kitchen.

Stange how quickly a peaceful morning can turn to chaos.

It was noon when Kun’s car pulled into their house and he and Yukhei were stepping out, both carrying large takeout bags. As they made their way inside, they plopped the takeout bags on the counter. Kun came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to your jaw.

“Doyoung, Taeyong, and the Dreamies will be over in an hour. I’m taking tomorrow off. We’re taking a little vacation to the hotel we usually stay at to get away,” he whispered in your ear.

Apparently, he wasn’t quiet enough because as YangYang grabbed his takeout box, he made a gagging noise deep in his throat, earning himself a lightly headslap from Kun.

You nodded and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Yulhei?”

“He’s fine. His eye will bruise, but he’ll be fine otherwise.”

You nodded and slide yourself closer into his side, kissing his jaw.

A few hours later, while you all were playing fetch with Bella, Doyoung, Taeyong, and the Dreamies let themselves in. Upon seeing them, you and Kun grabbed your own respective duffel bags and headed for the car before anyone could stop you. One catastrophe was enough to make you need a break.

As you settled into his car and he started the engine, he didn’t move for a long moment. You looked at him questioningly.

“You were so gentle taking care of Yukhei but then so firm when you needed answers and disciplined them…” he muttered.

You nodded, confusion etched across your features. Things like this had happened before. Maybe not to the magnitude, but you’d handled sprained ankles and broken bones together before. It honestly wasn’t too out of the ordinary.

“It just makes me think about actual children,” he mumbled.

By now you were beyond confused. Sure, you’d talked about children before, but only enough to know that you each wanted children, granted, you wanted more than he did.

“And I love you,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow.

“I love you too.”

“I had something so much more romantic planned but… I just don’t think I can wait. Not after today,” he said.

“Ok, what are you talking about?”

You had more questions than answers, at least, until he opened the glovebox and pulled out a small velvet black box.

A gasp tumbled from your lips. That box! It was the size of-

He flipped open the lid, pulling you from your thoughts as he presented you with a dazzling diamond, perfectly centered in a triangular receptacle, delicately placed on a band of white gold with tinier diamonds decorating halfway down both sides.

“(y/f/n) (y/m/d) (y/l/n), will you be my wife?”

Don’t leave Kun hanging! What’s your answer?

#kun x reader #kun x y/n #kun x you #wayv yangyang #wayv hendery #wayv xiaojun #wayv lucas #wayv winwin #wayv ten #wayv kun #wayv louis #wayv leon #wayv bella #wayv fluff #wayv hurt #Love wayv #love nct #wayv oneshot

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Ten ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4422

Warnings: Canon-level violence

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Just so you know, I start playing a little fast and loose with ‘elf-lore’ right about here. Thanks so much for all your responses to the previous chapters! Happy reading <3

We retire early, each of us exhausted from our long journey. Elrond arranged rooms for us in his expansive home, which I found out is the heart of the city. I guess when you found a town, it makes sense that you get the largest estate. At Elrond’s instruction, a female attendant leads me up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. She opens a door to my left to revel a large room with a four-poster bed, table, chaise lounge, couch, fireplace, and, through an archway to the side, a full bathroom. Pillows and blankets decorate every available surface and I notice a large selection of books and candles. After two weeks on the road, I want nothing more than to bury myself in this room’s amenities.

“Wow,” I breathe, unable to do much more in my state of awe and fatigue.

“Lord Elrond knows about your fear of heights and has placed you in one of the most innermost rooms of the estate. Your windows will offer you views of our waterfalls but you are nowhere near to the edge. I hope it is to your liking.”

I smile, my already present fondness for Elrond growing. Though, I do wonder which of my friends told him about my fear of heights. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

The attendant nods, leading me to a chest of drawers. “You will find clothing here and bathing provisions in the bathroom. Meals are three times a day and you may join the others in the common hall or request to dine in your chambers. If you require my assistance, I am in the room at the very end of the hall and to the right. I hope you sleep well.” She curtsies deeply and I wonder if I should do the same. Just to be on the safe side, I place one leg behind the other and squat, awkwardly attempting to mirror her movement. She puts great effort into suppressing a smile, but inclines her head in acknowledgment of my efforts before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

What am I going to do?

This place is dangerous. It’s terrifying. And yes, I feel relatively safe within Elrond’s walls, but he said it himself—just last month, orcs attempted to infiltrate the city. What if they try again, only this time, they succeed? And with some evil being on the rise? Nope, no way. I don’t think I can deal with that.

I throw myself facedown on the large bed, groaning in frustration. This world that I’ve only just accepted to be real is showing me just how real it is. The honeymoon phase is over. The rose-colored glasses have been lifted from my eyes, and what I see paints a dark, fearful scene.

Yet, even still…I cannot ignore the part of me that so badly wants to stay.

The people I’ve met here—humans, elves—does it really matter? Whatever they are, whatever I am at this point, honestly, does it actually, in the grand scheme of things, matter? Because I like them. I care about them. More than anything, I don’t want to leave them, to go back to a world of people I don’t know.

But danger and my friends are a package deal.

And I don’t know if I’m equipped to handle that.

I flip around into a seated position, letting my head flop into my hands.

I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I’m stressed. And I’m exhausted. Now, I need to sleep. Everything else can wait until morning.

I haul myself off the feathered mattress and drag my heavy feet to the chest of drawers. As far as sleep items go, I find only nightgowns, but they’ll have to do. It’s much better than sleeping in the muddied clothing I’ve traveled in for two weeks.

I change quickly and blow out the candles I rely on to light my room. I crawl into bed, pulling the thick duvet up to my ears. Before I know it, sleep calms my racing mind.

{***}

I wake in the mountains.

A roar, guttural and angry, comes from behind me and I throw myself into a sprint. I stumble over the uneven terrain, catching my foot on rocks and scraping my shins, but I keep going. Whatever I suffer running away is surely better than being at the mercy of the beast that pursues me.

Brown, gnashing teeth cut me off and I shriek, falling onto my back. An orc with its stinking, rotting breath descends on me, dagger cutting into my arm. I cry out not only in pain but in panic, for the blood that falls to the ground is not red — no, it is thick, dark sludge.

I’m underwater.

The sludge suffocates me. It fills my lungs and burns as it slides over my skin. I kick, desperate to get away.

Below me, a honeyed voice sings. It beckons to me, begs me to come deeper, to let myself sink. It promises safety, security.

It promises peace.

“Cosima.”

Haldir’s voice far above me sounds muffled as it travels through the murky waters. I snap my head up. I can’t see anything, only the darkness, but I know that if I can somehow get to him, if I can follow his voice, then I will reach the surface.

“Cosima!” Rumil shouts for me now.

My name, called in turn by each of my new friends, overlaps, drowning out the sweet sounds from below.

My vision darkens. I have gone too long without breath — I have to make a decision.

I kick my legs, propelling myself upwards.

{***}

I break through the surface, sputtering and gasping for air.

Light—harsh and bright orange—momentarily blinds me. As my eyes adjust, I recognize the puffy white duvet, the cool grey of the stone walls, the soft pink flowers cascading from the ceiling. I’m in my guest bed in Elrond’s house. I never left my room. I never lost to an attacker in the mountains. I never fell into the water.

It was just a dream.

Water—the roaring sound of the waterfalls—while muted, is still subtly audible in the background. And my dream—it was nearly exactly what I imagined before waking in Arda. The sound from the waterfalls must have triggered it.

Just a dream, I remind myself, trying to calm my racing heart.

A sharp knock disrupts the silence of the room and sends stabs of pain through my head — bad dreams and a headache, too, I guess. The knock sounds again and I groan, forcing myself to leave the coziness of my covers and pad on bare feet to the door.

It’s Haldir. He stands, hand still raised, in fresh clothes and even more armor than yesterday. His bow is slung over his back, a quiver and sword rest at his hips. I try not to let my thoughts get away from me with overreaction — surely this isn’t necessary for inside Elrond’s halls.

He lowers his hand, dipping his head briefly in greeting. “I—” he seems to notice my nightgown. “Did I wake you?”

I shrug and attempt to lean against the doorframe casually, still mildly disturbed from my nightmare. “I don’t think so.” Then, panic causes me to stiffen. “Have you been here long?” Did he hear anything? Oh, I hope not.

He shakes his head and I relax. “No, I only just arrived.” Whew. “I came to get you — Elrond wants to take a look at your arm. I also wanted to let you know, Glorfindel and I are going to visit a couple of the border stations and see if there are improvements to be made. I will be back late tonight.”

“Oh.” I blink. So he’s leaving. “But you only just got here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Well, don’t you want a few days to relax?”

He tilts his head to the side. “I have been relaxing — I’ve been on leave from my duties for three weeks now.”

I roll my eyes, recalling his constant state of watchfulness on our journey. “Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t call the trip we just had ‘on leave from your duties.’”

He huffs, but the beginnings of a smile tugs at the edges of his lips. “Would you please get dressed so I can escort you to Elrond? Glorfindel and I wish to leave within the hour.”

I fight the urge to make some snarky comment about his impatience and instead shut the door in his face, hurrying to get ready. My arm does sting — perhaps Elrond can do something about that.

The chest of drawers doesn’t offer much in variety, mostly just a combination of long dresses and a few tunic and legging sets here and there. I’ve been traveling in the same clothes for two weeks though, and a change in habit doesn’t sound too bad, so I opt for a sleeveless pale blue gown with a gossamer cape at the shoulders. I don’t look as ethereal as Lavandil would, but I suppose it will do. Using my fingers, I brush down the frizz in my hair as much as I can—a lost cause, really—and throw on a pair of cream slippers that no one will see anyway because of the gown. After splashing some water over my eyes and brushing my teeth, I throw open the door to find Haldir standing to the side, back to the wall, watching the coming and going of everyone who passes down the hallway. Always on duty. He acknowledges me with a stiff nod and gestures down the hall, falling into step beside me. When we reach the bottom of the staircase, he leads me to the right and through another open-air hallway.

He breaks the silence. “Is your room to your liking?”

I think back to my plush bed, trying to separate it from the dread and fear of my nightmare. “Oh, yes. As much as I liked sleeping under the stars, it’s nice to have a proper bed and all the blankets I could want. And a door.”

He huffs out a laugh, nodding in agreement. “That is the true indication of luxury.”

“And yours?”

His mouth twists into a grimace. “It is the height of visitor season here in Imladris, so I am sharing with Rumil. Aside from constantly putting up with my younger brother, it’s perfect.”

I freeze, turning to him. “Wait, you have to share? But you’re the one who’s supposed to be visiting, that’s not right. You or Rumil can have my room, I’ll stay with Alex—”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he interjects quickly, jerking his head to indicate that I should continue walking. “I only meant to joke. I do not mind sharing a space with my brother.” Before I can respond, he changes the subject. “How is your arm?”

I raise it, feeling the skin stretch over the cut. “Stings, but it’s healing.”

“Elrond will be able to speed along the process.” He indicates that we should turn left down a new hallway. He leads me through a nondescript archway on our right and we enter a moderately sized semicircular room.

Elrond sits at a mahogany desk near one of the walls, writing furiously on a piece of graying parchment. Upon our entry, he looks up, and the lines of stress on his brow melt into an expression of warm welcome. “Good to see you again, Cosima, Haldir.” He nods to each of us in turn and motions for us to join him at his desk. When we approach, Haldir bows his head respectfully, so I do the same. It’s strange to be in Elrond’s presence. He carries such authority that I feel small in comparison, yet he also leads with such kindness that it is impossible to not want to be around him. Based on all the visitors Haldir mentioned, I surmise that I am not alone in this assessment.

Elrond vacates his chair and gestures for me to sit. He comes to stand at my left and gently takes my arm in his hands. “I am sorry for the injury you suffered during the attack. That must have been quite jarring.”

Haldir rests a hand absently on the hilt of his sword, watching us from the other side of the desk. Likely, he too is remembering the ferocity of the attack — the lives he had to take. It must be hard, even if they were the lives of those trying to kill us.

“It was,” I agree, wincing slightly when Elrond unwraps the bandage encasing my upper arm. “As far as I know, my home doesn’t have anything like that.”

He smiles almost indulgently, crouching to more closely examine the gash. “But you would not remember if it did, no?”

I swallow. I hadn’t considered that. “I guess you’re right.”

He looks into my eyes then, and I feel so very young. “Every world has its perils. And every world has its joys. You cannot have one without the other—such is the way of life.”

I exhale shakily, turning my eyes to the ceiling. That’s sobering.

Elrond lays his fingers over my torn skin and mutters something in that language I so often hear.

I try to concentrate on the sounds, but can’t make out any specific words. “What is that?”

Since Elrond is still chanting, Haldir answers for him. “An Elvish healing incantation. Combined with the power in Elrond’s spirit, it should close up the wound.”

Tingles race through my upper arm and converge on my cut. I crane my neck, trying to see around Elrond’s hands. A second later, he pulls away. I gasp. All that is left of the cut is a thin, raised scar.

“What,” I murmur, prodding at the skin. Not painful, not even tender. What was just a two-day old wound now seems as if it happened and healed ages ago. “That’s impossible.”

Elrond nearly smirks, straightening to full height. “Open your mind, young one, and you will see that what is impossible to you is commonplace here.”

“I—” but I have nothing to say to that. Though I cannot possibly wrap my head around what just happened, the fact remains that it did. I’m not sure if I’m ready to confront what that means. So I push it away for later. “Thank you.”

Elrond inclines his head. Everyone around here is so dang respectful. “You are welcome.” With a twinkle in his eye, he turns his focus to Haldir. “Do not give my guards too hard a time. I imagine they are wary of your arrival.”

Haldir gestures for me to follow him to the exit. “I only plan on pointing out strategies for improvement. Suggestions, really.”

With a noise that clearly communicates his disbelief in Haldir’s statement, Elrond returns to his desk, smiling softly and shaking his head. “Be safe, Marchwarden. And Cosima?” I stop and turn, one hand on the pillar leading into his study. He gives me a level look and I have the distinct impression that he is acutely aware of the conflict raging within my head. “My door is always open.”

Mutely, I nod, a little stunned by the gravity in his gaze. I must have been staring, because it takes Haldir gently tapping my elbow to remind me to follow him from the room. Once in the hallway, I feel a little more clear-headed. “So was that magic?”

Haldir shrugs, striding down the long corridor. “Humans would think of it that way I suppose. Magic implies something special and ‘more than,’ though, and it’s not like that for elves. It is to be respected, yes, but it is simply the power in our spirits doing the work that calls to them. For Elrond, his spirit urges him to heal, so when he acts on it, he is more powerful than others who aren’t called to healing. I should mention that we say ‘spirit’ for your benefit. Elves use the term ‘fæ’. Simplified, it serves the same purpose as a spirit, but for elves, it plays more of an active role in our lives.”

I mull that over. It sounds reasonable enough. “So then what’s yours? What does your spirit—fæ want you to do?”

“Keep people safe. And if that means fighting, so be it.”

That seems consistent with what I know about him. Every action he takes seems driven by the desire to protect those around him. “What would happen if you ignored it? Say you wanted to be a healer like Baranor or Elrond.”

Haldir chuckles, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he walks. “I have tried before and I was not near as successful. I can perform the basics of healing—anyone can—but there’s no power within me to speed up the process or heal especially severe injuries like Elrond can. If I tried to attend to your arm in the same way he did, maybe it would have healed slightly faster? But as you saw with Elrond, he is capable of doing it in minutes.”

I begin to catch on. “Okay, so you can all learn whatever skills you want but the power to perform above and beyond at those skills lies in your fæ.”

He nods once. “Exactly.”

We turn a corner. “But what if you wanted to be a healer but you were born with the fæ of a fighter? Could you change it?”

Haldir takes a deep breath, his steps slowing slightly. I realize we are nearing the staircase that will take me to my room. “Short answer—no. An elf’s fæ is incredibly personal and incredibly fragile. Really, only two things can change an elf’s fæ: marriage and death. Long answer—you can ignore the desires of your fæ and nothing bad will happen to you so, technically, if I wanted, I could shun the need to keep my people safe and heal them instead. But I wouldn’t be any better at it than anyone else and I would feel unfulfilled because I wouldn’t be giving my fæ what it needs. Does that make sense?”

I nod, but something he glossed over jumps out at me. He said marriage can change an elf’s fæ, but from what I know, marriage isn’t always forever. People can separate, people can die, people can cheat. What then? “Marriage and death change a fæ how?”

A faraway look comes into his eye. “The two are basically interconnected. When elves get married, their fæs bond together in a way that cannot be undone. When it is—through death—the half of the fæ belonging to the dead elf essentially wilts and leaves the remaining fæ damaged.”

That sounds awful. “But what about divorce? Is that kinder to a fæ?”

Haldir smiles ruefully. “Divorce is something unique to humans. Elves live forever and we love only once. When we do decide to love another, the two fæs are literally entwined forever. So divorce is a physical possibility — the two can be separated, yes. But it would cause their fæs so much grief that it almost never happens. Spiritually though, the two are entwined until death, some argue even beyond then.”

I’m almost afraid to ask. “So, if one dies and the fæ is damaged…”

“The other fades. It is not just a physical death, but a spiritual one. They lose the will to live and eventually pass into nothing.”

I look at the ground. Haldir carries a pain in his voice that makes me wonder if he’s seen this happen before. With over three thousand years behind him, it’s likely that he has.

I attempt to veer to a safer subject. He said elves only love once and, as far as I know, Haldir isn’t married. I try to tease him a little to lighten the mood. “So you’ve never been in love?”

He raises an eyebrow, jerking his chin in my direction. “Have you?”

I shrug, climbing the staircase. “I wouldn’t remember.”

“I think you would.” We’re at the top now and I turn to see him looking not at me, but out one of the gaping archways showcasing the falls.

I let out a slow breath, thinking on his words. Would I, though? I mean, what if I’m here gallivanting with my new friends and I have someone at home mourning my loss, missing me? Do I owe it to him to make it back?

Feeling a weight settle on my shoulders, I take small, hesitant steps towards the archway, bringing me closer and closer to the fortified stone railing. I don’t look down—that would be too much—but I do rest my hands lightly against the wood, staring straight ahead at the curtain of frothy white and blue. Guilt as well as fear from being so close to the edge churn in my stomach. Am I a bad person for not remembering my love? Do I even have one?

I let out a shuddering breath, knowing I need something — reassurance or condemnation, I don’t know. I choose to give voice to my fears and trust Haldir to decide.

When I speak, my voice is not as solid as I would like, sounding instead shaky and fragile. “But what if I didn’t?” I swallow against the lump rising in my throat. “What if there’s someone in my world waiting for me and I can’t remember him?”

The sounds of boots clicking against stone echoes. A few seconds later, Haldir appears next to me, resting his hands on the railing, mirroring my viewing of the waterfall.

“An elf’s fæ gives them a measure of awareness. If you are really attuned to someone—love them, have a strong bond with them—your fæs will have a consciousness of each other, almost like they’re in communication. For example, I can see Rumil’s light and I know that he is content. I can feel Orophin’s joy practically bursting and I know how happy it makes him to be here with his love. And, while a human’s fæ isn’t as strong as an elf’s, you do have one. If I concentrate, I can see it. It’s faint, but it is there. All this to say,” he shakes his head slowly, turning his gaze to me. “If you had a love back home, your fæ would know.”

I slump in relief, leaning against the railing and closing my eyes so I cannot further frighten myself. If I had someone that I was bonded to, I would remember him — more than that, I would feel it in my soul. So, staying here…if it weren’t so dangerous…maybe it wouldn’t be bad.

“Haldir, Lady Cosima.” A confident voice at the end of the hall catches our attention.

Glorfindel, golden and gorgeous as ever, strides up to us, bowing deeply. He reaches for my hand and presses a kiss to its back, then straightens and winks—at me or Haldir, I can’t tell. “A human custom I thought I’d try. Not my cup of tea, but I do say I’ll try anything once.”

I bark out a shocked laugh, having not expected Glorfindel’s bold entrance. “Am I one of your experiments, then?”

“If you’d like to be.” He pumps his eyebrows suggestively, though, if what Haldir just explained to me is true for all elves, Glorfindel is only playing around.

Haldir rolls his eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

With a flair, Glorfindel gestures to his armored form. “So it seems. Is the Lady going to accompany us?”

I huff, not liking being cut out of the conversation. “No, ‘the Lady’ hopes to stay here and find breakfast.”

“Ah, it is on the path to the stables! Allow us to show you the way.” With that, Glorfindel strides down the hallway as quickly as he arrived.

Haldir shakes his head—whether in amusement or annoyance, I don’t know—but follows.

The three of us wind up in a large outdoor pavilion sheltered only by a wooden lattice rooftop woven with blue and white flowers. This must be the common dining hall Elrond mentioned last night. It’s relatively late in the morning but too early for the midday meal, so the pavilion is empty. I’m grateful—I’m not sure I could handle meeting a whole city’s worth of elves before I’ve gotten some food in me.

The use of the word causes a brief spark of shock to jolt through my chest. I just referred to them as ‘elves’.

But I cannot deny it any longer—somehow, it clicked. I am in a different world, and the people of this world are not all human. My friends are elves.

This decision to believe—though it is only one of many I must make—releases a weight from my chest. I suddenly feel much lighter, nearly giddy with freedom. I push forward and turn around to face the two ellyn who led me here, nodding with a measure of finality.

“You are elves.”

Glorfindel looks perplexed, but Haldir, for the first time since I’ve met him, looks surprised. His eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, his lips part from each other. I grin, very much enjoying the feeling of catching him off guard. He narrows his eyes slightly, seeming to inspect me for signs of teasing or a joke. I smile up at him, confident in my decision.

Glorfindel looks back and forth between what probably looks like an impromptu staring contest. “Yes…it must be time for you to eat. How often do humans need to eat, anyways?” He chatters on, leading us through the pavilion and into an auxiliary room — the kitchens. “I’ve heard horror stories of new humans needing to eat upwards of six times per day. How do its caretakers get anything done?”

As Glorfindel darts through the kitchen collecting what I assume to be leftovers and provisions for the trip, Haldir comes up beside me, looking almost unsure.

“You have accepted it, then?”

I nod, exhaling quickly. “I have. This isn’t a dream, this is real. Somehow I lived in my world and now I live in yours. And, though there’s no way for me to wrap my head around it, my new friends are elves.”

He smiles softly, hesitantly, and dips his head in acknowledgment of my statement. “I am glad.”

But, despite my momentary feeling of freedom, unease settles in my gut. Many more decisions lie ahead.

A/n Ooo so what do you think??? Likes, comments, and reblogs make me happy! Let me know if you would like a tag :) Also, if you’re bored, pop into my ask box and tell me something that makes you happy -- I’d love to know!

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Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

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ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔰

Chapter 1: The Archer & The Prey

full masterlist // series masterlist

Pairings: dark!Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 4,517

Warnings: sexual themes, kidnapping, stalking. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: after the death of your mother, you decided that you were going to do something new to honor her. You chose a perfect camping spot somewhere down South. You thought it was going to be the life-changing vacation that you never had in your life, until Steve Rogers, a man existed in roughness and control all his life, found you.

a/n: this is the dark!steve rogers series that i have promised. this one is going to be much darker than the last one shot fic i posted, so please leave, if you are under 18+. please leave a like and comment. enjoy!

It had been a long time since you last went on a vacation. You had been taking care of your then sick mother, every day and barely got enough time for yourself between working your humdrum job as an accountant at Stark's Industries and rushing to the hospital every night to your mother to keep her company.

However, it's not your concern anymore now. You had just gone home from attending her funeral. It was bleak and wearisome. You had to deal with your family and friends who put on these fake, mournful faces and pretended that they were heartbroken when they never gave a shit when she was still alive and healthy. They barely took their time to visit her during her hospitalization.

Your mother was your best friend, the only person in your life who truly cared for you and took care of you during your childhood and teenager years, even after you were an adult, your mother still saw you as this little girl who needed some tending after she scrapped her knees.

You were a shy, delicate, and reticent person who kept to herself and didn't keep a lot of companion in your life. You had some classmates from high school and college that you still kept in touch with, you also had some colleagues that you would text with once in a while regarding professional matters.

However, you wouldn't consider them as friends, it wasn't about trust issues or anything severe, it was simply just who you are. You were an introvert who felt much more at ease when you are not surrounded by anyone. But your mother was the only exception, growing up as the only child of a single mother, it wasn't easy to simply let your guard down to anyone. You had learned that when you are alone, you felt less anxious and you'd like to keep it that way. Working at the Stark Industries rewarded you well but it was stressful enough as it is, you wouldn't want to add that pile of stress.

Now that your mother is gone, you've never felt more alone in your life. You walked into your apartment with hands buried in the pocket of your black coat, with your head down, you tried to hold yourself steady as you fumble for your key. You unlocked the door and you stepped into your home. You took a moment to take a deep breath and took a look at your surrounding. You felt helpless. So you took off your coat, went into a shower, and broke down into tears.

You dried yourself off later that night and put on your favorite oversized sweater, you call it your "pity sweater", you've had it in your closet since you were fifteen and every time you hit rock bottom, like the time when you first received the news that your mom was terribly ill and she only had a few more months to live, you decide that to drown yourself in your own self-pity party and of course you'd wear the right outfit to celebrate it.

You laid on your bed later that night, under the opacity of your room, trying to numb the pain by ingesting some sleeping pills, but it didn't help, your eyes are still wide open and you can still hear the resonance of your muffled sobs. Slowly but surely, the seconds turned into minutes, and before you knew it, you were fast asleep, drifting away into the land of dreams.

You are running in the middle of a dark forest, being chased by the wolves with their cuspidate teeth glistening in the murk threatening to devour you. They were running faster than the wind, you were having trouble of trying to outrun them, you felt your energy started to dwindle down, your feet got weaker and cold sweats started to break out of your skin. You were so fixated on running that you didn't realize one of the wolfpacks had caught onto your dress, it was torn away from you and you tripped and your back hit the ground. The last thing you saw was a blue-eyed wolf, gritting its fangs, staring deep into your eyes, with its face closer and closer to yours then everything went black.

The next day, you went back to your work, as usual, your boss, Tony Stark had been generous enough to offer you to take a day off, you refused it at first because if you were left alone one more second doing nothing productive, your mind would start to wander to your mother and you would end up having another breakdown on your kitchen floor. So you had to distract yourself, get your gloomy mind off the tragedy that had befallen on you. Your only escape was work.

It's not like you would hit the bar and order some drinks, it wasn't your thing. It would trigger your anxiety the minute you step foot on the door. To be at peace, all it needed was the companion of your romance novels and some hot chocolate. The concept of dressing up and going home shit faced is a foreign idea to you. It would absolutely be madness if you risked your own comfort zone just to end up in a stranger's car and not remembering a single event that happened last night. Your mother always warned you about being reckless and talking to strange men.

She would always say; "you have to be careful, y/n, there are men who are steadily seeking their next prey. They would lure you into their charm and capitalize on you in their bed. And the next thing you know, you are 4 weeks pregnant and you are going to have to carry that tiny life inside you and raise it on your own."

That's how you were born into this world, actually. You never knew who your father was, and nor did your mother. She was only 23 when she decided to live her life and savor her youth. She was a brilliant young woman who was supposed to have a long, bright future ahead of her. She had graduated from college with a psychology degree and one night, she decided to break out of her shell and accepted her roommate's invitation to go to a party. Little did she know, that party was going to turn her life upside down, forever.

She still walked away with a degree, but there wasn't an ounce of bright future left for her. She had this frail life in her belly depending on her to keep it alive. She had gone to her parents and asked for their help, but they abandoned her. They were filled with rage when your mother told them the jaw-dropping news. They were disappointed in her for being so stupid and negligent. They had high expectations for her. So when your mother begged for their forgiveness, they told her to leave their home and never show her face ever again instead.

Hence, you never knew your grandparents too well either, your mother had shown you some pictures of them, the ones that she still had despite never talking to them again, but she spoke wonderfully about how they raised her right despite their strictness and their unwavering push on her to do better. Your mother was anything but. She took care of you with gentleness and she decided that she didn't want you to live in fear of your own mother.

You loved her more than anything in life. Your mother was your whole world, the one who cured all the rainy days and gave you a secure home when the hurricane in your life was too mighty. Your world was crushed, burned, and taken away when she died. You had to be your own person now.

So you decided to take on Tony's offer of letting a week off. He told you that you need to take your time to mourn and that he didn't need you to be operating his finance when your head was clearly not in the right place. You went home early that day and make yourself some lunch.

You sat on your couch with a bowl filled with cereal in your hands, watching the rerun of Friends. It was the episode where they were going on a ski trip but Phoebe's car broke down. You loved this series and each episode always gave you a good laugh even when you don't feel like it.

It struck an idea in you, what if... You decided to go on a vacation instead of limping around in your apartment, wallowing in self-pity? Maybe it's time for you to get out of your comfort zone and do what might be best for you. It's going to be new and different and scary for sure, but you might never know if you never try. This might help you find yourself and your own inner peace. Your mom would want that for you. She used to always talk about wanting to go camping, especially when she was sick.

She said, "you know when all of this is over and I'm finally free out of this condition, I wanna go camping in the middle of the woods."

You looked up from the book you were reading, with a chuckle you amused her. "Camping, mom? Really? Never knew you were a nature person."

"Oh, I am sweetheart, I used to go hiking and climbing and skiing when I was young. I never really had that chance anymore now that I am older." She lied, she would never say it was because she had to have you that she couldn't go on all these adventures anymore. "The only problem now is that I have to endure this pain a little longer then we can explore the world as long as we want, dear." She chuckled, but her cough interrupted it.

You put down your book on your thighs and immediately reached out her hand.

"Mom, you are gonna get better, I promise. You have to."

You decided to google some camping spots that might intrigue you, you weren't looking for anything opulent or temerarious, just enough to clear your mind off the gloom and to invigorate the spirit in you to go back to work. Maybe, you'd try to meditate in the middle of the woods, yeah, you've always wondered about that, would it really be effective? This might be the time to discover the answer. You can picture it, the fresh air encompassing you, the sound of the birds chirping as if they were welcoming you, and there wouldn't be a single soul that could intrude your solitude.

After doing some research, you decided that you have found the perfect spot. A green-covered land somewhere down South, you did a little deeper digging into its whereabouts, and you took a screenshot of it and bookmarked the page.

That night, you started to feel like the match inside you was lit. After days of being engulfed in grief, you started to feel hope, just a sheer of it. But it was enough to make you feel like you weren't so lost and hopeless. You decided to have an early night after you finished watching Friends and get yourself some rest. You are going to wake up early to pack and prepare yourself to leave this godforsaken town for a few days. You were excited to see what tomorrow holds.

The next morning, you took a shower and got yourself ready. You had packed just enough to last a few days in the woods. You brought your camping tent with you, the one your mother had bought but never actually got to use it. You put your travel bag in the trunk of your car and you sat on the driver's seat to heat up the engine.

You put on some relaxing Jazz music to console your ears and to prevent your thoughts from drifting to your mother. You were going to focus on the roads and what was waiting ahead of you. The soft hum of the engine soothed you. You were savoring the crisp air of Autumn. Fall was your favorite season, the way everything seems chill and slow, it wasn't loud and harsh like summer, but it does feel like a faint new beginning in a way, like the transition of the 5 am sky, from dark hue midnight sky to a luminous royal blue.

You had the windows rolled down as the wind wafted your skin. You were dressed in your cotton knit cream sweater and a knee-length denim shorts. You had taken a quick stop at the nearest Starbucks outlet to get a cup of hot chocolate. You weren't exactly a coffee type of person. You didn't exactly get what makes people so addicted to it. You didn't like the still remaining taste despite pouring three packets of sugar on it. You loved the hot chocolate because sweetness always enlightened your mood. Your mother used to make you a glass of hot chocolate when you were groggy or when you were anxious. You guess it sticks with you no matter how old you are.

A few hours down the road, the temperature started to rise, you can feel the sticky sweat clinging on your skin cloaked under the thickness of your sweater. You stopped by the gas station to fill in your tank, you were back on the road after you bought some snacks. Not only your car that needed to be loaded, but your stomach also did.

You finally arrived at your destination. You had to drive down some uneven roads that bounced all your items inside and you were feeling a bit nauseated after hours of sitting on the driver's seat and the coarse path. But when you finally reached the spot that you found on the internet, it was worth it. You forgot all the hindrances that you had to endure to get yourself here. The pictures that you saved on your phone didn't do justice to the real scenery.

The land was surrounded by nothing but pine green circling around you. The trees were tall, venerable, and benignant. You could hear the sound of the waterfall coursing through the river and it was a picturesque sight. You took a deep breath to inhale the fresh air. For a second, you forgot what you were here in the first place, you relished the stunning mother nature before you.

But then a picture of your mother, smiling emerged into view. You remembered the look on her face when she talked about all the travel plans she had when she recovers. She never had that chance, and it tore you to pieces, again. The thing about losing someone you love the most is that no matter how many good things you have throwing themselves on your way, the pain doesn't just vanish into thin air. It leaves and comes back every once in a while. It gives you space to breathe and to collect yourself and then when it knows you've walked long enough in the light, it comes back to haunt you, reminding you that it never really left.

But you tried to focus on the present, you can't make your mother come back or travel back in time to keep her alive, so you were going to cherish this moment for her. You were going to feast on this fleeting tranquility that you have.

You stood there until you felt like you were jaded for being on your feet for too long. You went back to your car to take your tent and try to set it up. You had to look that up on the internet too, to get it standing perfectly. After what feels like your thousandth attempts, you were glad that it finally relented and let you use it as a makeshift home.

By the time you were done, it was already afternoon. You decided that you were going to take a look around the woods, you weren't going to just stay in one spot, you still had a few hours until it goes dark and of course you weren't going to be stupid enough to wander around the forest that you had never been to after dusk.

You decided you were going to just walk in nearby areas. You were terrified of getting too far, you might end up lost and couldn't find your way back. You only brought your cellphone that was practically useless because you couldn't find any signal there, but you still needed it to take pictures. You also decided to take a bottle of water with you. Quenching your thirst is essential in a journey through the woods.

You kept on walking while stopping once in a while to capture what you find stunning. You were so lost in looking for your next shot to snap, you didn't see the edged branch that was tapered pointedly until your skin grazed against it, causing a deep, painful cut on your left thigh. It was so piked that it left a horizontal shred on your knee-high shorts too.

You dropped your phone to the soil and yielded a high pitched squeal. It reminded you of the traumatic incident in kindergarten, where you were playing chase and run with a classmate, and you stumbled on a hard rock that left a permanent scar on your right knee.

You fell on the ground because you couldn't withhold the agony any longer. You try to stop the bleeding by ripping a piece of your torn jeans, even though it required some struggle. You did not want to let it get infected. You bandaged the crimson wound and you sat there for a few minutes to calm yourself down. You held yourself back on your hands pressed to the soil, you didn't care that it was going to get dirty, you just needed to find a comfortable position until you decide that you were strong enough to return to your tent.

Little did you know, your shriek had invited an unwanted presence. No, no, not the spooky kind. More like a starving wolf that you saw in your dreams a couple of nights ago, with spiked tusks ready to hunt its prey.

So much for thinking that this would be the best vacation of your life...

Steve Rogers had been living in this enormous cabin in the woods all his life. He was raised by his parents whom his grandparents trusted to take care of the cabin. When his grandfather died, he left it to his parents as his inheritance. His father used to teach him hunting and his mother used to teach him how to cook. They taught him a lot of things to survive living in the woods. It wasn't an easy life, they had to get things done all by themselves.

They had to work hard to get their basic needs. They had to habituate themselves in being isolated. It wasn't a difficult thing for Steve because he was always a lone wolf who was vigilant towards his privacy, but a part of he couldn't help but wish that he had someone to take care of. Someone he could keep to himself. Someone who he could call his and his only. Someone who he could... possess. He didn't feel lonely, no, he loved being alone. He loved his autonomy. But he was only a man after all and man has needs. When he was feeling needy and jerking himself off wasn't just doing it anymore for him, he would often go to the city, an hour drive was all it took to get to the nearest brothel house.

Whenever he walked into the door of that ranch, his steps were heard loud and clear and his presence was witnessed effortlessly. It wasn't difficult for a man like him to spend hours in the bordello, his stamina was ceaseless and, let's just say that he was an... ingenious man. He understood a woman's body and what it desires. He wasn't afraid to use his skill and his expertise to fulfill his appetite and his subject. Oh, and how he could take his time to satisfy each one of these ladies.

But whenever he was finished, he would return home with this feeling of void, yes his physical thirst was quenched and his cock wasn't painfully hard anymore that it hurt, at least he got to release the tension that would've left him high and dry if he hadn't fucked some pussy, but there was still something missing. He still hadn't found that one thing he could domineer within the privacy of the woods. The brothel provided private rooms for their customers for sure, but nothing was more pleasant to him than being in his own private quarters, and the thought that these women he had a good time with weren't exactly his, bored him.

He was fatigued by the fact that they have slept with other people too. It's not like he had some sort of attachment to any of them, but that just reminded him of something he still couldn't find. He needed to make a quick move. He was a determined man, once he set his mind on something, he will do whatever it takes to obtain it. And once he found that one girl that he knew would be his favorite possession, he would take her without a second thought and he would make her his.

He drove his beatdown truck back into the woods, the deserted road had become too familiar to him to turn on the beam headlights. He cleaned himself off under the boiling hot water, wipe away the droplets of water that were clinging to his slightly tanned skin, after years of hunting in the middle of the day where the sun was scorching hot and he never bothered of covering every inch of himself up, nobody was going to see him after all.

Later that night, he dropped himself on to the mattress without being bothered to put on any coverups. He always slept nude. It started drizzling outside when he decided that he was going to call it a night. He was going to go hunting tomorrow, so he needed to gather all his energy to make sure he wouldn't miss his target on the day. So he shut his eyes away and drifted into unconsciousness.

The next morning, he woke up precisely at 7.30 am and gathered all his hunting tools. He had his rifle and his bullets with him. Although he didn't really need much because he had been doing this his whole life, he almost never missed a shot. He was patient enough to observe his target, and he calculated his next move meticulously. He put the rifle near his nose then he waited until he knew his shot would be hit exactly between the target's eyes. Then bam! Within a matter of seconds, it ceased to breathe. Then he put the lifeless creature into his sack.

The day was still young and he decided to repose and chugged down half of the water container. When he felt energized enough, he decided to hike a little farther into the outer parts of the woods. He packed up his rifle and his water container along with his deceased prey.

That's when he heard it. An earsplitting squeal. His senses were alert enough to measure the direction of where it came from. His pace was accelerated towards it. He didn't halt until he saw a tiny, cotton-knit wrapped figure, reclining on the muddy ground, bandaging what seemed to be her wounded thigh with a piece of ripped jeans.

He stood there behind a giant tree, leaning on his arm against it, and observed the sight before him. A young, beautiful girl who didn't look any older than 25, she looked in distress. Her hands were dirty of mud. She seemed unaware of her environs.

She kept mewling in pain, he didn't know how she got the wound, although he could put it in his head that with the phone that was lying next to her, the screen still on display, and next to her head was a very twinged branch, he could put the math together and theorized that she was too starstruck by the sceneries in this woods, just like any other local tourist would, that she didn't notice the poked out, nature-made shank.

But he was entranced by the sight before him. She was really pretty, the kind of beauty that makes you want to keep your eyes on nothing else but her. Like the constellation had aligned, burst into flames, landed on the Earth, and gave birth to a woman. It was divine and striking, in the most heartwarming way.

He wasn't standing too far away but it was enough to not alarm her. The benefit was that he could keep ogling as long as he wanted. About twenty minutes had passed and she finally decided to get on her feet. She picked up her phone and pat her hands together to brush off the remnants of the dirt that were still clinging to her palms. Her sweater was slightly tarnished but she didn't seem to bother stroking it off. She walked to the other direction. She was limping but she held herself straight.

She finally halted at the place where there was a tent, illuminated from the inside, and there was a car. He learned immediately that, that's where she was staying. The usual tourist spot. He didn't see anyone else with her. She seemed to be camping alone.

That was odd, usually, couples, a group of high school kids, or families camp together. He was always irked by those intruders who occupied the land. They luxuriated from nature, but how did they pay her in return? By littering the surface and leaving junk all over the site. They didn't even bother gathering them in one place so that it would be easier for the Foresters to pick them up.

Poor girl, he thought. She must be really lonely to go out here alone. People don't choose these woods to have 'alone' time. They usually choose the libraries or the Bahamas, if they want to go a little extravagant. This girl mustn't know a lot about camping too, from the way she set up her tent, it looks slightly rumpled, it could still keep her safe though, well not too safe, now that he's here. But at least she wouldn't be soaked if it rains.

Her car was parked right behind the tent, it was a simple pearl white Chevy Spark. She seemed to travel light. He couldn't see much through the tinted windows, but he had seen giant truck cars and jeeps that were overweight with travel bags more than necessary. He memorized all the details of the setting and made a fixed resolution on his mind.

He is doing some hunting tonight...

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dinoswordsb · 3 years

Text

A Labor of Love

In which James makes a difficult decision.

(AO3 link here)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was sleeping again.

He watched her quietly, holding his breath without realizing it, hands folded in his lap. The only sounds in the room were the clock ticking above the bed and settling walls creaking against their own weight elsewhere in the house. The curtains were drawn, the sun barely able to stream in through their center. A lamp with a bulb that was ready to give out flickered on the bedside table. She had no sheets; she’d requested him just leave a light blanket at the foot of the bed so she could retrieve it if she really needed it. He’d complied, but he knew she wouldn’t. Even at the hospital, she would frequently complain about how hot flashes were a growing problem, during the nights especially.

She’d been doing this a lot lately. Ever since she came home, if not snapping at him while he cared for her, she was sleeping. He supposed dying was an exhausting task; not that he’d know or anything.

He may as well have been nailed to the chair by the bed, too. Bound to her room. It was no different than normal. At least when she was here, he got a break from that damned hospital. The fluorescent lights, the intense smell of the sanitizers that seemed embedded in the hard floors, the constant bustle. It was all too much for him to stay long, even on good days.

And the nurses. The goddamn nurses. He never wanted to see them again. And yet, when Rachel came in, or when he was navigating the halls to Mary’s room, he found his eyes wandering. Staring. He’d kick himself every time he caught himself doing it, each time the guilt lingering just a little longer. Every time one smiled at him(Was she fluttering her lashes? He could never tell.), it was more like an attack than a polite courtesy. A cruel reminder that Mary used to be like them. Not just in their beauty, but more importantly, she used to be sweet.

Now, he was lucky if he got much more from her than a few solemn words. Even though she was home visiting to spend her possibly last opportunity with the one she loved, most of the time, they sat in silence that made James’ chest heavy.

It hurt. It wasn’t her fault, he knew. Long nights flipping through endless medical textbooks and journals that he dumped paycheck after paycheck into to even get his hands on made sure that he knew well that it wasn’t her fault. But then, why did he feel this way? Even now, in the peace of their home that they’d had together, something was being ripped apart inside of him, split about a million different ways with a million other feelings, when logically, there should only be one: sorrow. Because he was losing his wife, and it was beyond their control, and it was only natural for her to act the way she did. She was the one with the disease, after all. He was merely a bystander.

He loved her. Truly, he did. Even in the worst of times, when she begged him to stay after lashing out, he found himself doing it anyway. He listened to her cry, telling him that she wanted to die, to get it over with already because she knew she was a burden. She knew it would be better if everyone could get on with their lives; why was he even here anyway? He had to hate her for what she was doing to him. Was it out of pity, or was he just stupid?

It was hard to watch, to listen to. Even harder to see her hurting the way she did when she was scared of her inevitable fate.

He told her it wasn’t true. But on those bad days, he hesitated when he did. When he was home alone, away from her and the noise, there was a beast of contempt deep in his chest that would stir. Just a little.

Now, as he stood over her, watching her, that beast was waking.

She was peaceful. Serene, almost. Even with the way her sickness whittled away at her skin, the way her hair was starting to patch and fall out in clumps, when she slept, she looked just a little more like how she used to be. Kind. Whole. Like the Mary he’d taken to Silent Hill two years ago, the Mary who was motherly to children that weren’t even her own, the Mary he’d held so tightly when she accepted his offer on one knee. The Mary that he swore only death would do them part.

The Mary who wasn’t suffering day and night.

He loved her. Really.

As he leaned over her motionless form, lips brushing her forehead in the most sincere, gentle kiss he’d given her in a long time, he wondered if it was a reminder to her, or himself.

Her eyes began to open slowly. Before she had the chance to even do so fully, he snatched the pillow from under her head, fists tightly gripping either side, and thrust it over her face.

Her protest was immediate. She thrashed and writhed under the pressure, as much as her feeble body would allow, screaming the entire time. Even her cries were weakened, tired. She grasped at him, fingers closing around any part of him they could find, but her grip wasn’t strong enough to hold on for more than a few moments before reaching again.

He was having second thoughts. This was wrong, he knew it, the guilt was already starting to close his throat. But he couldn’t stop now, because this wasn’t really something you could come back from, was it?

Just kidding!

Got you, Mary.

You really think I’d do that to you?

You really think I’m that bad of a guy?

You really hate me that much?

His grip faltered. It wasn’t much, but it was just enough for her voice to choke through the pillow a little more clearly. It was muffled, a weak word rasped over an even weaker tongue, cushioned by thick polyester, but he knew what she was saying.

“James-!” She’d cried, and he doubled down on his efforts, like it was instinct to stop his name from crossing her lips again. Before, it was a thing of love. Of comfort, of joy. Now, her cadence only traced his name in scorn, he was sure. Or…something like it. Something desperate and ugly.

Perhaps it was befitting of him after all.

His knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the fabric, fingers starting to ache. It was almost over.

It’s almost over, Mary.

He told himself that, and it was true; her movements were starting to slow, and she wasn’t even trying to grab for him anymore. Her voice was giving out. And yet, the time between then and her body falling still felt like an eternity, every ticking second scraping by like father time had decided to don a pair of lead shoes.

And then, it was over. She was motionless, and though he held his position for just a moment longer to truly make sure the job was done, he knew it was over. Her chest ceased movement, her fingers not even twitching. Cautiously, he lifted the pillow, tossing it behind him in his chair.

He hovered over her for a moment longer, watching the trickling sun caress her face one last time. The bulb in the lamp had gone out; the sunbeams were the only thing left highlighting the curves of her face, tracing every crevice and imperfection the sickness had carved into her skin, the orange scars illuminated. He wasn’t sure what he expected her to look like after, but this…relaxed wasn’t it. Or was it? That was what he’d been trying to do, right? What else was a corpse supposed to look like?

His hands were shaking like an addict's, somehow his ears ringing and blood rumbling in them all at the same time. His heart hammered so hard against his ribcage, James truly would not have been surprised if it popped out and he joined her. His knees trembled as he stepped back, reaching forward for her wrist. It was hard to tell because of how uneasy and out of focus he was, but after a long moment of waiting, he was sure he didn’t feel a pulse. He’d done it.

She was gone.

They were free.

Oh, God.

At first, he could only stand and stare. Paralyzed by shock, he could only watch her, ears ringing and reality falling away. The world around him suddenly felt fuzzy. Like he was in a dream. A million miles away. He wasn’t sure how long he stood before he felt anything.

It hit all at once, like a sack of bricks. The regret was so strong it winded him.

He felt vomit burning in his throat. He stumbled to the bathroom, having to grip the walls for support, his vision going starry, black starting to creep around the edges. Luckily, he made it to the toilet, and after emptying his stomach, he remained on the floor. With his face buried in his arms, he was too afraid to stand; the world was spinning.

His eyes stung, and it felt like a fog was rolling into his head, thickening with every passing moment. Like he was numb and raw all at the same time, like he had no idea what to feel. But that was nothing new, was it? This time, though, at least he had a feeling to use as an anchor in the storm. Even if that feeling was regret so heavy it made him sick all over again. Every pent-up feeling from the past three years was bursting out of the dam he’d built to contain them.

When he finally found the stability to stand, he wobbled to the sink, grasping at the edges to steady himself. He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, breaths heavy, eyes swollen, pink, and spotty. He lowered his head, whispering apology after apology to Mary, each one choked on a sob.

On top of everything, he’d never gotten to take her back to Silent Hill.

#Silent Hill #silent hill 2 #sh2 #james sunderland #mary shepherd sunderland #silent hill fanfiction #idk how else to tag this lol but yeah <3 i wrote this literally the morning after i finsihed the game and it has minimal editing so pls #be nice 2 me. anyways enjoy #cloudchats #my writing

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vminity21 · 4 years

Text

Forgive Me | ksj

Pairing: Actor!Seokjin X CoHost!Reader, actor!au

Genre: angst/fluff

Warning(s): smut, shower sex, oral (f receive), quite handsy, nipple play, mention of infidelity, angst, strong use of language, mention of alcohol, Rated: R

Word Count: 12.9k

Summary: One mistake can change someone’s life in the blink of an eye which is what you will discover after sleeping with the enticing and handsome Kim Seokjin. When an unwanted scandal breaks loose, it can ruin both of your careers as you know it. As Seokjin fights for your forgiveness, you not only learn to forgive him, but you learn to forgive yourself.

- Book One of the BTS Actor Series -

The frigid wind of winter nips your nose the moment you step foot outside. Bundled in many layers of clothing, your black, trench coat being most prominent, you shove your mitten hands in the front pockets, eyes scanning the clear path ahead. Leafless trees decorate the sides of the road sparsely while the grayish hue of the sky sprinkles few snowflakes onto the earth. You’ve never minded the cold weather though some find you insane for it; yet, you quicken your pace, urging for the destination you have in mind: the park. It’s not like you have anything else to do with your life other than writing an article about a film, or a critique on the food you’ve tried, or anything involving your opinion, which you’ve learned to embrace despite the backlash that may come with it.

Your dream, however, is to be in the spotlight, but not in the way others may think. Cameras angling in your direction as you stand alongside the main host- you can see yourself comedically mingling with every celebrity that guest stars the same as the skits you’d help direct or even feature in. Late night hosting has been something you’ve tried dabbling in, though callbacks for any auditions haven’t been received just yet. A warm sigh brushes past your lips at the anxiety you try to suppress. You can’t give up that easily, and you won’t. For now, under a pen name, you’ll remain writing critiques until a definite answer is established.

The slow roll of a car distracts you momentarily bringing a sense of comfort mixed in with prodding footsteps against the sidewalk. You moved to the city to achieve great things which lead you to find the magazine company you currently work for, and even now, with scattered thoughts, you can’t shake the lonely feeling within your chest. Your friends, of whom you left behind, not because you wanted to, but because of this job, you rarely get to visit. The same goes for your parents, which you’ve held a burden of guilt for because you also have not seen them since they helped you move to your vacant apartment.

Continuing down the line of vision, the grass has dimmed greatly since fall. The welcoming sign of the park passes your peripherals, the crunch of gravel beneath your shoes being the only sound you hear other than the gentle breeze. There’s an opening ahead, one that you’ve grown familiar with, where the trees break enough to reveal a glistening lake- one that ripples beneath the cloudy sky- serenading serenity to your soul once you edge closer to it.

Finding a tree, you nestle your shoulder against it whilst folding your arms across your chest, inhaling the crude scent of mud covering the rocks circling the brim of the water. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve traveled here, but with the exhaustion of being cooped up in your apartment, you longed for a different view. Time passes, but how much, you are uncertain; merely being lost in nature is all you’re enchanted by.

“Gorgeous isn’t it?”

A deep voice catches you off guard prompting you to whip your head around to the intruder who plagued your thumping heart. A quiet gasp escapes your mouth with the unexpected unraveling of the most handsome stranger you’ve ever come across. Rendered speechless, your eyes scape the dark jeans covering slim legs that lead to a gray hoodie hanging loosely off broad shoulders to now resting upon the pointed jaw that shines with full, pink lips parted in a side smile. His brown eyes never move their hold upon the soothing lake, and yet, you can’t seem to take your eyes off the way his jet, black hair parts upon his forehead. Attraction seeps within your bones and when he peers down at you- abruptly you avert your stare whilst the burning sensation of a blush dawns your cheeks and chest.

“It is,” you muse, noticing the crisp smell of cologne wafting in your direction, “How often do you come here?” The question rolls off your tongue, yet the curiosity is evident in your tone, especially since you haven’t seen him frequent this area the times that you have.

“Just this past week,” he slides his hands within his pockets, “I just moved here not too long ago,”

“What do you do?” To get a better visual of the fellow, you turn enough to where your back rests against the tree versus your shoulder, him rolling back on his heels while a quick draw of breath is seen within the air.

“I’m an actor,” he wets his lips, “Or, at least trying to be. I have an audition tomorrow morning, actually,” he nods, “But, I do a bit of cooking on the side, too,”

Impressed by his answer, it’s been a while since you’ve done this particular, but you attempt at a subtle flirt, “Well, that’s very dashing I must admit,”

Handsome Fellow chuckles, bowing his head enough to where you notice the reddened tips of his ears, “I’m Kim Seokjin by the way. Some call me Jin,” he offers a large hand, “And, what is your name and what do you do?”

Accepting his handshake, you reply, “I’m [Y/N], a columnist for a magazine company living my best life here in the city,” it takes you a few seconds to realize that you’re still shaking his hand prompting you to awkwardly return your hand into your coat pocket- the red tinge of your cheeks still present.

“Well [Y/N], a columnist for a magazine company living your best life, I am very honored to meet you,” Seokjin slightly bows- something in his eyes mesmerizing you to the point that you refrain from staring into them. Clearing his throat, he looks down at you timidly, “So um,” he begins, “Would you like to take a walk?”

Before you can blink, you’re up against the wall, your legs wrapped around him, one arm on his bare shoulders while the other tangles within his hair.

It hadn’t taken any words.

Especially with the way his brown eyes swept your figure from top to bottom, your teeth grazing your bottom lip nearly flattered by his eloquent smirk. Both of you knew exactly what the other was thinking, your core tightening with the desire to know what it’s like to be with him. Only meeting several hours ago, he’s become impossible to resist- drawing you in almost instantly even with the tempting whiff of his cologne, his aura igniting a lust you haven’t experienced in a long, deprived while.

In one swift motion, his hands rapidly gripped your waist, pinning you against the black railing of his front porch, seizing your lips with his, your hand flying to the back of his head just to clutch soft, frilly tufts of dark hair. The tug brought a low moan to his mouth causing him to press his hips into yours, the feel of his erection nearly bringing you to your knees. Sounds of cars passing by knocked some sense into you, breaking the kiss just for Seokjin to fumble with his keys until he was able to unlock the front door with hardly a straight mind.

Slamming the door shut, Seokjin covered your cheeks with his warm, calloused palms, kissing you once again, the fast pace of his lips making you want to sex him on the spot with the strong fire burning within your heat, but there’s more to him you want to know. More of him you want to see. You helped him shed his sweatshirt, it hit the floor while he nearly ripped your coat off your shoulders, tossing it randomly to the side before he started unbuttoning your blouse- his lips pecking yours ever so softly whilst concentrating on the task at hand- getting you naked, and getting you naked on top of him. It didn’t take long until both your bodies were completely bare- kisses so addicting it’s been painstakingly hard to refrain. That’s when Jin hoisted you in the air, his arms bulging while his hands gripped your thighs- pinioning your back against the cool wall, your legs wrapped around him, one arm on his bare shoulders, the other hand in his hair.

Your soaked entrance rests against his abdomen, clenching along his skin, he groans upon your lips from the continuous actions of your heat relentlessly throbbing- begging for more. “Mmm.” You moan- lips remaining locked while his warmth embraces you. He presses his body tighter to you brushing the tip of his tongue with yours as you grip at his back, your breathing increasing with every movement of his lips. Seokjin twirls around and carries you to his bedroom crashing you on his bed, the covers indent beneath you, instinctively your hands’ grip at the fabric, the material soft between your fingers. The two of you gaze in each other’s eyes, but only for a moment, before he starts kissing you again. His hands slither up your ribcage to palm at your breasts, the ticklish feel of your nipples really drives you insane, him sucking at the smooth skin to leave trails of bruised marks for you to be reminded of when his presence isn’t around. Both of you on your knees at this point, he runs his tongue along your nipples, and without realizing, both your hands are now squeezing his shoulders, the fervor below you feels intense as he continues licking your chest. Moving your arms around his neck, you crave more of his kiss; the paradise of his skin on yours sends a violent shake to your legs, enfolding your thighs to suppress the aching, but only momentarily.

The wild inside you starts coming alive, bringing one hand to stroke his erection, his expression revealing utter ecstasy at how good you feel satisfying him; you sigh seductively into his ear, “I’ve got an idea.” If the two of you aren’t already moving fast enough, the squeaky sound of the shower starting fills you with anticipation. Both of you don’t even wait until the water is warm, Seokjin shuts the glass door then crashes his lips to yours, pinning you against the chilly shower wall- his hand wraps around your wrist, tongues flouncing, the water sweltering as it pours all over your frames. You gaze at the scene in front of you. You thought he was hot before, but with steamy water dripping down his face and through his hair, the attraction has grown immensely. Your craving for him is so strong to the point your body can’t take it.

“I think this is the best idea anyone has ever had.” He breathes, his smile meeting your ear.

“Mmm.” You moan, planting kisses along his neck and jaw then coming back to his mouth- nipping his bottom lip for a tease. “And, don’t worry, by the way, I’m on the pill,”

Desire sparks within his eyes once your hands move to slide along his chest, he follows your lead, slipping onto the ground cautiously, spreading your legs- the water heating your slit sending waves of goosebumps to invade your skin. “Ohhh, Jinnn,” you breathe, the tips of his fingers finding your clit, hastily vibrating to stimulate the bliss within your vaginal walls- you don’t expect him to, but when he lifts your legs- water showering his back, completely drenching his hair, that’s when you feel it. The slippery touch of his tongue sliding plentifully against your core not allowing you one moment to get a hold of yourself. The sensation is one you have yet to experience- intense heat of droplets panging your folds while Seokjin pleasures you with his skilled tongue, your clit pulses- relishing in the feel of his hands gripping your thighs whilst he keeps them raised- flicking his tongue into your walls, moving his fingertips to rub your clit simultaneously. Your climax is coming to its peak, your moans echoing within the shower, growing higher the moment his fingertips graze your nipples tenderly, your limbs violently shaking in response before tensing,

“Oh, shit, I’m about to come- Jin, oh fuck, Ji-” his fingers are relentless as he bites hard on his bottom lip still rubbing profusely upon your sensitive clit- his eyes darkening with the satisfaction of watching you come undone. You raise to stop him when you finally recover, panting through the downpour when you meet his questioning eyes. Smirking deviously, you turn to let his eyes enlarge at the sight of your taunting ass. Teasing him with your clenching core, Seokjin rises to rest his area behind you, bringing the tip of his penis to your entrance, his other hand gliding upon your back, while he releases an anticipated hiss; your palms placed in front of you firmly, the shower drowning out your staggered breaths once he slowly moves into you. “Ahhh,” you sigh in relief at the feel of him finally pushing- starting off slowly, in and out, his hand still spreading along the base of your back while he gradually thrusts, him nearly cumming at the undeniable warmth your heat gives off- your sodden walls coating his erection with each shove.

As the night drives on, you end up back in his bed- him thrusting roughly inside you- the feeling building and building to the point your body tenses. As you finish, so does he. “Mm baby.” You gasp. The pleasure causing both of you to crash side by side. Exhaustion hitting you after a few minutes, to your surprise, you feel his warm hand intertwine his fingers with yours causing you to look over to see him staring at you as if you’re the only girl in the world.

“What?” You manage to say, your breathing beginning to calm. His eyes still fixated on you, Seokjin gives a side grin, and as you wait for him to speak, he doesn’t. Instead, he rests his palm on your cheek, reaches over and gives you the sweetest kiss you have ever felt. It only lasts for a few seconds, but long enough to where you can feel everything. Heart melting, you touch the tip of your nose to his and turn around as he wraps his arms around you. Finally, for the first time since moving to the city, you’re thankful that you’re not sleeping alone tonight.

The morning comes faster than you wanted- your eyes struggling to flutter open while you stretch your drained limbs. Sunrays bright between the blinds of the window- dancing shadows are cast along the bed sheets while a long yawn escapes your mouth. It takes a prolonged minute for you to realize you’re not in your own bed, yet a grin tugs at the corner of your lips when you’re acceptant that nothing from last night was a dream. Back still pressed into the mattress, your eyebrows furrow when you notice your empty peripherals- Seokjin’s warmth is absent until you remember him mentioning yesterday that he has an audition this morning, so perhaps he’s practicing in another room? Maybe he’s already left? Which also pangs the question: he trusts a stranger he just met yesterday to be in his house alone?

Before deciding on if you desire to remove yourself from his bed to look for him or not, you roll to lay on your side, eyes still in the process of clearing due to just waking up. A side table welcomes your sight, and with the squinting of your eyes, you notice a round, dark object sitting upon it. Blinking a few times, you focus in on the item, choosing to reach out to grasp it between your fingertips. Once you inch it closer to your face, the blood boiling within your system runs dead cold- fingertips numbing while the horror takes over your mind before you can accurately decipher what you’ve just discovered. You’re not even given the chance to make sense of it for the click of the bedroom door opening sends your hands jolting to grasp the bed covers to your chest while panic etches upon your expression- eyes widening at the woman who now stands before you.

Her gape resumed on the ground before looking up to the sight of you- gradual anger pooling within her eyes while the sound of her purse hitting the ground from her stiffened wrist, which exposes a shiny, diamond ring, being the only thing noticeable over the fog overwhelming you and your heaving chest.

“Who. The hell. Are you,” her blood red lips sneer with gritted teeth,

“I-I,” you’re barely audible, her cold stare never leaving your shattered state. You’re butt ass naked in what you assume is this woman’s bed and she’s not the one you hooked up with last night.

“Get out,” she growls, “Get out! Get out! GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Leaping from the bed, comforter twirled around your body, the object makes a ‘ding’ sound once it dins the floor. Your heart is racing above nausea swallowing your stomach; the woman continuing to scream while you frantically gather your clothes- throwing them on as fast as you possibly can. Your shoes being the final item, you leave the bed comforter somewhere on the floor, slamming the front door behind you once everything you had with you last night is officially covering your body.

You run. You just run.

Running from the utter humiliation that you know will haunt you for the rest of your life. You don’t even know where your apartment is. You don’t even know where you’re going really. All you know is you want to be as far away from that house as you possibly can. Tears fly down your cheeks as you choke back a sob- the chilly wind drying the trails upon your pale skin.

Wherever he is, you don’t care. You don’t ever want to see him again.

Nor do you want to relive discovering his wedding ring the morning, after you thought, had been one of the most beautiful nights you’ve had in such a long time.

Two years later….

It’s unexplainable. Flashing lights colliding with your vision from the limo while security protects you until you sprint safely into the building of your job. Heels click beneath you while you saunter to your dressing room, removing the sunglasses that cover close to the entirety of your face. Perfume drowns most of your skin, and small hands fluff at your curls before retrieving makeup brushes to resume the finishing touches in preparation for the evening. Thumbing at the corner of your script, you down the last bit of the water that you packed with you, smoothing your lips together from the gloss now decorating them.

Looking in the mirror is strange, from the woman you once were to the woman you are now, you never dreamed that your goals would finally come to life. Face ornamented into one of beauty with designer clothes you would have never been able to afford until given this opportunity. Even now, it seems like your life flashed before your eyes, and here you are, the co-host of Late Night in Seoul. The familiarity of the producer’s voice echoes outside of the room prompting you to rise to your feet. The walk to the stage isn’t a long one- cheers of the audience welcome you once your hand waves in return- the main host bowing politely while you take your spot behind one of the podiums off to the side. Recalling your script, you repeat the jokes written causing the audience to laugh along- the Host eventually introducing the celebrity guest who you smile toward with eager applause.

Fame is a funny word, one you haven’t quite grasped. You’re not as famous as one could potentially be, but you are, in fact, known. Being recognized in public is a rarity, yet there are days where you are swamped with questions of where one has seen you before but can’t quite place how. Celebrities who have featured in the show know you, some personally, so at times you do get to frequent parties where the most popular names are invited; and, you’ve gotten to travel to places that accomplished checks off your bucket list.

Getting through the evening in one peace, you find yourself within the back of a dark SUV where your favorite driver Stan politely asks how your night went, as he always does, before pulling into the driveway of your home. Stare lingering on your surroundings, when the coast is clear, you thank Stan for the ride and exit the vehicle cautiously. Walking into your house, you kick off your heels almost immediately, before running your fingertips upon your thudding forehead. In an attempt to ignore the mild pain, you scamper toward the kitchen where a pile of mail sits in await of your arrival. Your mother must have checked the mail this morning for you which is something she does especially on days where you haven’t had the chance to do so; she even tidies up the house, her being retired as well as being moved closer, for something to do which you are utterly grateful for.

Compiling the mail within your palms, you move your fingers to flip through everything when a magazine cover catches you off guard to the point you toss the magazine in frustration. For once in your life, you would appreciate the haunting of his face to not appear on every printed paper known to man. Squeezing your eyes shut from the turning memory you force yourself on a daily to avoid, you bite the corner of your lip roughly, hands gripping at the counter behind you. You’ve never professed to a soul about the happenstance two years ago, and it is a secret you plan on taking with you to your grave. Guilt has never dissipated after all this time, and it seemed as though once your career blossomed into success, so had his, which stirs emotions that have been pent up to the point that you wish you had a distraction, but one never appears, which tends to happen particularly on the nights you are alone. Glimpsing over at the spot where the magazine lays sprawled among the counter, with tongue in cheek, you shake your head, picking up the magazine to then tossing it into the trashcan.

Ridding of your outfit, you progressively change into your pajamas, scurrying to your couch to curl within the corner, pulling a thin blanket over your chilled frame. Leaning further into the cushion, you let the material soothe your aching head. You haven’t dated much since. Times that you’ve tried resulted in just as much disappointment as you’ve already endured multiple times prior. Maybe it’s the broken trust you struggle with when in the presence of a stranger. A lesson you wish you would have learned sooner but didn’t. Maybe it’s the way his eyes worshipped your body the second he got you alone that just dripped the temptation of desiring the taste of him-

“Fuck,” you wince, punching the couch once in order to halt whatever memory trying to plague your overwhelmed conscious. He’s divorced now. Or, has been for some time, but he wasn’t quite famous at the time the divorce took place. Being one of the top male actors in your country, word gets around- history people dig up just to update a fucking Wikipedia page, you grimace. Co-workers consistently beg the main host to feature him on Late Night in Seoul, and your heart races with the plan of calling out if need be to prevent from spilling the dirty little secret you have with the actor no one knows you’re affiliated with. You are the one person who is the cause to the end of his marriage. And, that’s a risk you’re not willing to take.

Restless, you rise from the couch, the blanket slipping off your legs while you finish ciphering through the mail that you missed. One letter gripping your attention, you rip it open, eyes widening as an “Oh wow,” of awe leaves your lips. You’re invited to an after party for a movie that recently premiered. Kim Taehyung, the lead role of the film, happens to be the star of the gathering- a typed address catching your gaze at the corner of the paper. Maybe this is, indeed, the distraction you’ve been longing for since your return home. Besides, if you remember Kim Taehyung, he’s won multiple awards for his acting career, though you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him- and, if your judgment is possibly correct, then this party should be one of the centuries. Texting your co-workers in hopes of them joining, you whirl to face your fridge where you magnet the invitation- gleefully skipping to your room to lounge through your closet filled with evening dresses in anticipation of finding the one to match what you hope will be a gleaming night.

The pounding bass of the music vibrates throughout the premises once your stilettos greet the sidewalk. Groups of people stand among the front yard, drinks in hand, yet none of them seem to wear the faces of your work friends. Slow steps direct you into the white building that erupts the assumption that it can hold over a thousand people, and sure enough, that’s what you discover. Hordes of bodies grind upon the dance floor while the stench of the alcohol burns your nose mingled with the intense smell of marijuana. Lip-locked couples appear in every corner you escape to just to awkwardly shove through until you find a table adorned with finger foods and a blue punch you reluctantly decide to try. Munching on a cracker, you sip from your drink, letting the strong taste of liquor pool onto your tongue before swallowing with a grimace.

You have yet to recognize a single individual before you, not even the sight of Kim Taehyung, the host himself, has yet to make his appearance from what you’re aware of. Eventually, tired of standing alone next to the cheese cubes you’re tempted to eat, you make your way toward the entrance in need of a breath of fresh air. It’s then, while you brush past the bustles of people swaying along the dance floor, your eyes pause upon a familiar silhouette- one that momentarily gaps you enough to squint your eyes. When gazes meet, his expression changes into one of sheer shock which mirrors the way your eyes enlarge when it dawns on you just who you’re staring at- heart-pounding viciously when your breathing increases. It’s as if you’re frozen in time- nausea rearing within your gut which awakens you enough to turn on a heel- throwing away your punch on the way out.

The cool breeze hits you the moment you rush out the front doors, ignoring the curious looks of the strangers you brisk past- the awful feeling of being followed is the last thing you want to feel, your pace speeding up when, in the distance, you notice a clearing far enough to where the party wouldn’t be evident. In desperate determination, you precariously saunter in the direction, not even sure how to run with the pressure of not destroying the stilettos or damaging your ankle if one wrong step is made. It doesn’t take much before you register the pounding steps behind you, a frantic voice calling your name, the feeling of your phone vibrating within your clutch which causes you to squeeze your eyes shut with tears of frustration brimming- your steps slowing into a halt. You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to talk to him. You just don’t want to be here anymore.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N]! Wait, please!”

The bottom of shoes scuffles against the cement a few feet behind you while you shudder in fear. Eyes still closed, your shoulders tense from the proximity of the one person who you’ve mastered avoiding for two whole years- and, yet, you can’t face him. Not like this. Not now. Not ever. He’s out of breath from what your ears are picking up on, and he respectfully maintains his distance from you, your grip on your clutch tightening until your fingertips are a shade of white. “[Y/N]-”

“What the fuck are you doing here,” you sneer while the corner of your jaw clenches. Considering how famous he is, you vaguely remember the movie that jumpstarted his success, and you are semi-familiar with the co-stars who followed in the same direction. So, maybe it’s not necessarily a coincidence that he happens to be at this specific party? And, here you are, wanting to kick yourself for not even considering the possibility. You figure he must be confused with the way he stutters to reply, making mention he’s celebrating a movie he’s in, which sends your eyebrows furrowing with jumbled questions now plaguing your mind. The movie he’s in? “Okay? So then, what the fuck do you want,”

“I was- I was hoping we could- we could talk,”

Robotically, you gradually turn to face him battling the urge to cry from the anger rising beneath your chest, “Talk?” You ask incredulously, your body trembling from the anxiety attacking your system. You’re not wanting to see his handsome face, who’s eyes plead for your glance, conscious’ sharing the same memory that equally has haunted the pair of you unremittingly. Nothing about him has changed, you’ve gathered even from two years ago, and neither has the constant image of her face. The humiliation you experienced that day resurfaces, especially when the picture of her eyes discovering you underneath her covers while tepid anger darkened her irises along with the screaming for you to leave- suffocates you just as much as the dismay you felt finding his wedding ring that had been right beside you all night without your knowledge. “What happened to talking two years ago, huh? You had plenty of opportunity. You could have fucking told me you were married. Who the hell do you think you are?”

Seokjin winces from the cutting edge of your words, bowing his head ashamed before speaking, “I-I know, but if I would have told you-”

“You wouldn’t have gotten fucked,”

Panic widens his brown eyes while your heartbeat hammers to the point you can feel it in your temples, “No- No, I- That’s not what I’m saying. [Y/N], it wasn’t like that,”

“Wasn’t like that? Then what the hell was it, Jin? There’s no excuse. You had a wife!”

“I know,” the shame is too apparent to go unnoticed and with the rough scape of his palms colliding with his face, he gathers his bearings, raising his arms as if to calm you, yet you take a step back, refusing to let him inch any closer, “Just- just please hear me out.” Your shoulders remain tense, yet you’re frozen in place while he stammers, “Look, I- I know there’s no excuse for what happened. I don’t even know what else to say other than I’m sorry,” even the memory leading up to that rendezvous of the night seems to make an appearance causing your heart to turn with sadness you wish would dissipate into another universe, “I tried reaching out, but I never got a reply and I knew why, and I understood why, and I would do anything to take it all back if I could.”

Folding your arms tightly across your chest, you stare at the pavement below with lips pressed firmly together. It’s hard to ignore the chemistry that began the adventure to the coffee shop that day- jokes exuberating laughter that had warmth following even through the cold wind as well as the passion of his dream of acting being told to you while you shared your hopes and dreams with him. Two strangers. Just two strangers who felt as though the stars aligned for the both of you, yet your heart didn’t expect reality to come knocking, reminding you that everything is not always what it seems. And, that’s where the betrayal sets in- tears forming, the clench of your jaw is firming from having to fight the urge to cry.

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N]. I’m so sorry that I never told you. And, I am so sorry for what I did,”

It’s all coming back to you at once, and here you are still speechless. You can’t even look at him nor retain your emotions. How can someone who seemed so wonderful do what he did and think a simple ‘sorry’ would make everything better? In the end, he got what he wanted, while your side resulted with the scarlet letter of humiliation- her face will forever be embedded in your mind, and you wish you had the bravery to reach out to her, wherever she is. If anyone needs forgiveness, it’s you. Not him. Though in your heart you feel as though you will never deserve it, but ultimately, you will do anything to tell her that you’re sorry. Silence gripped the conversation a little longer than you realized, and with the profuse buzzing of your cellphone, your thoughts disperse the moment you hear Seokjin softly say your name, “[Y/N]?”

Tears rest upon your cheeks now which you immediately swipe away, sniffling before your pained expression meets his. There’s nothing in this world you want more than peace. Peace from this endless torture of a secret you have buried so deep within your soul- you blame yourself. You blame yourself for being so blind- and, standing here, before the man who destroyed your hope in what could have been- you step forward, “It’s her you should be apologizing to. Not me,”

“[Y/N]-”

Brushing past him, your heels stomp furiously beneath you, and your fingers fumble upon the screen in the goal of calling Stan. Whispered curse words slip from your mouth once the call ends, Stan only being fifteen minutes away from your location. Text messages decorate the majority of your notifications, and upon opening the group chat, embarrassment continues to flood your countenance while your eyes scan each message.

Taylor [7:21pm]: Hey, where are you??

Emmi [7:32pm]: Girl, we boutta meet Taehyung!!!! Get your ass out here!

M [7:46pm]: We’ll get you a drink just let us know where you are

Cody [7:48pm]: Are you already drunk? I scoped the restrooms and I don’t hear any puking

You can’t bring yourself to reply, so, therefore, you don’t- immediately shoving into the SUV the second Stan parks. You’re not surprised when Emmi tries to call, so with snuffling just enough to rid of the evidence of crying, you briefly answer, avoiding the concern glances Stan gives from the rearview mirror. It’s hard to hear your friend’s voice over the phone especially with how loud the music drowns the phone line, yet you assure her you’re fine- your excuse being that you’ve gained quite the migraine and that sleeping it off will be the cure.

And once Stan drops you off, that’s exactly what you do. Removing your makeup as well as your heels, the relief your feet feel once they meet your carpet as well as your figure from the tight dress you chose to wear this evening, you switch your ringer off and charge it on the desk away from your bed, refusing to even look at it. Numb limbs sliding under the covers, you let your pillowcase be the source of soaking your tears, wondering if life could get any worse than this.

Weakness dribbles its way along your body while you feebly stretch, greeting the morning with the same yawn, and the same aura of wanting to return to sleep, especially when the reminder of the night before seems to return in full force once again. This time, not wanting to ponder any further, thrusting the covers off your perspired frame to waltzing into the restroom, you brush your teeth before throwing on a simple outfit for the day- deciding to sit in front of your laptop before checking your phone.

It’s the strange feeling you have when your furrowed eyebrows stare at the device, screen blank as though it’s imitating your expression. It’s not long before you decide to check your messages, questions spinning the moment you see your screen light up with even more notifications than when you left the party.

Taylor [9:58am]: Okay, you have some explaining to do. How could you NOT tell us about this? Boss is gonna freak!

Cody [10:05am]: You know this is going to get brought up at work right. Boss isn’t going to let this go

Typing a message- You [10:06am]: Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to ditch you last night. I promise everything is fine. What do you mean boss is going to freak? Did I forget to send him the next idea for the skit with Son Ye-jin? Send.

Emmi [10:06am]: I should have known the paps were going to crash Taehyung’s party. What the fuck were you thinking [Y/N]????

“What… the hell?” Confusion borders every ounce of your being because you’re uncertain as to why your co-workers are involving the conversation about your boss. Only a second passing after you sent your message, the phone screen lights up with a call from Taylor.

“Hello?” You answer immediately, your tone in an obvious fright.

“[Y/N]?” Taylor’s sound reflects the same panic. Maybe it’s because she’s not completely sure if you’re okay? So, yet again, you proceed to reassure her,

“Hey… Sorry about last night, something came up-”

“Yeah, the migraine? I’m aware, but whatever you do, do not Google yourself,”

“What?” Sitting at the edge of your chair, your words are barely audible, dying off your tongue while your heart skips a beat. “Taylor, what do you mean? Why the hell would I Google myself-”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on exactly, but pictures of you got leaked from the party last night,”

Pictures? Why would pictures of you be leaked to the press from Taehyung’s party? The only thing that happened that is remotely possible, revealing itself in your muddled brain, is the encounter with Seokji-

“Holy shit,” fear consumes you while your breathing increases, “No. No, no, no, no,” this can’t be happening.

“[Y/N]? [Y/N], are you there?”

“I have to go,”

Ending the call abruptly, your phone falls from your shaking hands while your widened gape remains upon the laptop in front of you. You’re clueless to how long you remain frozen, engaging with the burning question- the one that you keep asking on repeat. Clicking your laptop on, it loads until your login pops up- one by one you tap the keys until your password successfully unlocks to your desktop. Swallowing the lump in your throat- quivering fingertips eventually expose yourself upon the screen- the blurry pictures showing two frames- one being Seokjin, the other you- in a clear argument- even capturing the moment where he buried his face in his hands- and yet, you’re appalled by how close the paparazzi must have been, considering how you can’t believe you had been too upset to notice your surroundings.

Zoning to more pictures, there’s Taehyung- huge smile plastered beside other famous faces- showing the sweaty bodies dancing on the floor- others nearly showing the location just from the angle they took of the house itself. The pain in your gut nearly floors you when you scroll a few inches to discover numerous articles- the main topic printing your name in bold letters.

Kim Seokjin from the recent movie, It’s Definitely You, had an affair on now ex-wife-

A small video off to the side reveals a news broadcaster, her voice echoing while your ears tune in to the horrid sound, “[Y/L/N] [Y/F/N], Co-Host of Late Night in Seoul and Kim Seokjin from It’s Definitely You seem to have a feud regarding the affair on his now ex-wife-”

Kim Seokjin furious at the relentless [Y/L/N] [Y/F/N] for ‘tempting’ him into an affair

Gaze flashing through the titles, while muting the video, queasiness waves along your stomach to the point you can hardly process. Especially, when another article causes you to heave, making your heart drop to your knees,

[Y/L/N] [Y/F/N] had an abortion after her affair with Kim Seokjin

From that moment forward, your life changed into a world of running- in fear, in desperation, in a fight for solidity- you have remained running. Months pass after your boss threatened your job, confessing to your appearance on the show having to do with the decreasing views, not to mention the close call of someone following you home- Stan noticing right away before turning onto your street. Your parents have been worried sick, checking in on you as often as they can without you swinging by- not wanting any soul to find where your parents reside.

Groceries are now delivered to your home versus you taking the trip out in public- news of the affair hardly simmering down according to the magazines plastering your face upon all of them. Social media has been put on hold- refusing to scour the comments that have forever scarred your heart- something you’re uncertain you will ever heal from. ‘If you’re gonna have an affair on someone, at least make sure they’re pretty first;’ ‘Wow. An affair and an abortion? That cunt deserves to rot.’ The worst part of it all, even with the relentless questioning from who you thought were your peers, is the crazy accusation of abortion when you were never pregnant, to begin with. Standing up for yourself isn’t an option to you, because the partial truth is indeed, you were a part of an affair. One you had not an idea you were about to take part in. For all you knew, it was the innocent banter alongside Kim Seokjin that lead to a steamy endeavor- an endeavor that will forever deem you a whore. You didn’t know he was married at the time, and if you would have known, nothing would have happened.

For once, you’d like to have a moment of freedom, one where the wind sweeps you off your feet with the sun beaming down on your smiling face while your arms outspread before you in the joy of nature. If only that dream could be a reality you would finally be okay. Keen fingers fidget for your large pair of sunglasses while you gloomily gaze at the mirror- slipping them on before tying a floral cloth upon your head- disguising your hair you have now cut shorter in hopes of altering your appearance. There’s not a destination that you have in mind, but the need to breathe fresh air is all you can think about- soon prodding along the streets while your eyes scan every corner through your tinted shades.

The bus enters your view, deciding that maybe a trip to a random city is much needed. Preparing your money behind the passengers boarding, you pay the driver- scooting to an empty seat where you cuddle into the corner. Head kept low, you face away from the window since the paranoia of someone spotting you is still an avoidance you’d like to sustain. Lately, you’ve felt hunted, as if all of this is nothing but a game to the world. And, though you refuse to admit it, you’re still maddened by the attempts Seokjin has made to reach out to you, yet you ignore every email, stubbornly accepting the fate that you’re in this alone.

Alone.

That’s all you’ve ever been.

Bodies continue to float down the isles while you carefully observe each one, wishing you could be in their position- free and hidden from the public eye- never having to worry about their deepest secrets being uncovered- posted for all the world to devour. Lost in your little world, your scattered wishes disappear especially when your stare lands upon a woman – whose disguised behind a black mouth mask while a black cloth covers the majority of her hair, but it’s the way she carries herself that sparks your interest. The familiarity of her purse dangling from her wrist to the way her jaw curves- that’s when the thudding of your heart echoes through your ear canals causing a silent gasp to brush past your parted lips.

It’s her.

Flashbacks of two years ago smear your conscious- the shrilling pain that was engraved within her screams and the daunting way her eyes stared you down before you could grasp what exactly was going on. And, here she is, rows before you, taking her seat, completely oblivious to your presence slouching more into your seat. All this time you were too busy to think of how severe your privacy has been invaded that you never once thought of how all of this has affected her. Nipping at your fingernails, your anxious heartbeat has yet to calm- your mind fogged with nothing but the swirling wonders of how she has been, what she’s been up to, and of course, the main concern, what if she discovers you?

It doesn’t take but twenty minutes before the bus comes to a standstill, her carefully rising before making her way to exit onto the sidewalk. You hardly register your own moving footsteps- a few people behind her, yet your frantic eyes never leave her figure as she waltzes further up the street. Heavy breaths plague your lungs while anxiety smothers your being in a relentless frenzy, but whatever direction she’s headed, you’re determined to follow suit. The click of her heels fades with every corner she rounds while your converse quietly scrapes a few feet behind, trying to inconspicuously mold into the few pedestrians which you proudly stay in luck. If one were to ask why you’re doing this, you wouldn’t have an answer, because inwardly, you’re in the mindset of accepting that maybe you are unstable. But, maybe there’s just the revelation that you urgently want to know that she’s okay because if you’re too afraid to face her, maybe just knowing where she’s headed will give you a sense of peace?

Continuing your distance behind her, it dawns on you that the streets have become emptier and emptier, and the notice that she has stopped, you pin your back against a brick building, closing your eyes while you hold your breath. Waiting a few more seconds, you peer around the corner where she stands, her gaze scoping the streets before checking behind her which you efficaciously jump out of sight. She returns to what looks to be typing on her cellphone, and not much time passes before the accustomed sight of a black SUV comes into view. There’s a notable sticker faded in the corner of the windshield that piques your attention especially when you recognize the vehicle to be that of Stan’s.

“Holy shit,” your whisper is so low that barely you can hear yourself. Seokjin’s ex-wife throws her phone into her purse especially when a man exits the passenger side of the automobile gracing a boxy smile that you recognize to be Kim Taehyung’s. He’s fashioning a green tracksuit along with a red headband- his slim arms spreading to envelop her in a long embrace to where she buries her face within the crook of his neck. Sunglasses decorate his vision, and while he flickers his stance to ensure there is no one present, he turns to pull down her mask where he places his palms upon her cheeks, leaning in to plant a small kiss to her lips.

They enter the SUV, the one you haven’t been frequenting in due to current events, and you briefly press your back against the bricks once more in hopes of your hiding spot not being unraveled by the couple you happened to witness. Shock trickles your brain to the point that your nerves are shot because you can hardly make sense of anything anymore. Kim Taehyung is dating Seokjin’s ex-wife? Without Seokjin’s knowledge? If the whole world isn’t familiar with the pair, then why would Seokjin be? Is this how karma likes to play? Lurking into the shadows of the past just to snatch exactly what it needs?

Yet, you don’t feel sorry for him, because look at all this pain he has caused you. You were right, in your mind, a mere ‘sorry’ cannot fix the damage that has been done. But, in his ex-wife’s case, the damage brought her to what looks to be a stable, yet loving relationship, and that’s all you could have ever wanted for her. Tears brim your eyes while you squeeze them shut, the material of your shirt still scratching against the brick without wanting to move an inch. When a flash followed with a harsh click interrupts your seclusion, you’re not prepared with the yelling questions awakening you swiftly to the point of nausea-

“[Y/N]! [Y/N]! Is it true that you were fired from Late Night in Seoul!?” “Was it Seokjin’s decision to rid of the baby?” “Were you aware of-” “What will become of your career now-”

“Shit!” Your feet work faster than your brain, nearly tripping over the air to urgently escape the multitude of paparazzi now fresh on your trail. How long they must have been following you- you’re hoping not long- especially with the new revelation you viewed a few minutes before your identity was intervened. “Why the fuck can’t you just leave me alone!?” You shout, this not being the first time this has happened since the night of that damned party; wind roughly blows against your cloth that is now loose upon your head- sunglasses hardly staying in place while you scramble to anywhere that will keep them from catching up. Thirty minutes pass before you’re out of breath, bent over while your hand clutches your abdomen- it doesn’t take much before you spew up whatever little contents you have within your stomach. Your hand soon finds the cool surface of a building while the foul taste of bile stings your tongue- still bent over, you retch a few more times before you swipe at the corners of your mouth; wherever the press is now, they’re not behind you, and once you’ve regained your composure, you keep your eyes peeled. You hardly remember the return to your home, lifelessly scampering to fix a cup of hot chocolate before settling onto the couch for the evening. You haven’t eaten in days, and you know it’s near time to order more groceries, yet you haven’t had enough appetite to crave much of anything. Exasperation mingled with deep sadness are all you can feel at the moment- the events of the day taking a toll on you more than you’d like to profess.

Swiftly checking your bank account, you exhale a sigh of relief with how much you’ve been able to save before the loss of your job. And, luckily, your pen name hasn’t been unearthed from your previous job which is something you wouldn’t be able to handle after everything else. Staring at the wall, letting the heat of the liquid steam down your throat, for once you confess to yourself, that maybe you had never been as lonely as you figured before. For now, cold fingers circling your mug while silence hovers in the air, you’ve never felt so alone.

It doesn’t register when you take another sip, that the doorbell rings, priming you to slowly set your mug upon the side table- eyebrows greeting each other from the confusion that fills your expression. Your tired appendages gradually make it to the door, unlocking the deadbolt just for your fingers to grip the doorknob, the creak of the door opening, before your eyes, peek through the crack just to cause sickness to grip your abdomen.

Seokjin stares at you, desperation manifesting in his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing here!? And, how the hell did you find-”

“I can explain,” he cuts you off- light headiness consuming you while anger pools beneath your chest. Blinking a few times, you rub your fingers to your forehead while a small whimper escapes your lips. Before you can comprehend what’s going on, your knees buckle, eyes rolling back-

“[Y/N]!” A frantic voice sounds- darkness taking over before you hit the ground.

“So um, would you like to take a walk?”

It’s the gentleness exuberating from the soft, brown irises holding your gaze that builds a tender smile at the corner of your lips. Just seeing the way your eyes spark a hint of interest relieves a mirrored grin upon Seokjin’s face, his eyes searching yours as if he can read exactly what your mind is thinking.

“I’d love to,”

The mention of the coffee shop is brought up the second the pair of you turn in the direction of it- Seokjin asking for any plans you may have for the day which you gladly admit to not having any. Small jokes are shared the entire adventure toward the entrance of the store, the strong scent of the coffee immediately greets you whilst your laughter persists toward a smiling Seokjin who admits he retrieves his jokes from none other than Google itself. You’re very attracted, and you know it’s obvious with the way your chest heats from the nerves traveling within your system, yet you observe that you’re not the only one guilty of being jittery due to the apparent shade of red dawning the tips of his ears once again.

When he insists on paying, you shyly defeat, the balminess of the Styrofoam cups warming your hands as the two of you trail to a faded, blue couch just a few feet away from the counter where orders take place. Without thinking, you manage to take a seat at the equal time Seokjin does- your shoulder nearly smothering his from the proximity you absentmindedly committed.

“Sorry,” you murmur, scooting a few inches away to provide him space you assume he may prefer. The blotchy blush that has covered most of your chest now spreads to highlight your cheeks, but it’s what he does next that makes your heart melt faster than you anticipate.

“Don’t be sorry,” he grins- shuffling closer to you to drape his arm around your shoulders, squeezing you gently. His handsome face is so close that you wish you could kiss him- something you don’t typically desire to do on a first date- if this is even considered a date- but, the way he timidly holds your stare, you could give in to him right then and there.

Clearing his throat, you break your glance by timorously admiring the coffee within your shaky palms, “What brought you to the city?”

Sipping your drink, you ponder momentarily before answering, “My job mostly. Plus, it’s a new scenery too. I grew up more in the country,”

“Do you like the city better?”

“I do, and I don’t,” you shrug, “The country is quieter, whereas the city has more noise, but I do enjoy certain areas of the city, like the park, some of the shops around here,” turning to look at him, you’re curious to what he favors, “What about you? What got you into acting?”

Looking ahead, his eyes briefly scan the scenery of the coffee shop, “It’s always been a dream of mine, even when I was younger. I graduated from Konkuk University with a degree in acting and art last year,”

“Oh, wow that’s very impressive,” you compliment, “I know earlier you mentioned you had an audition tomorrow. Are you nervous?”

Watching him tilt his head, he keeps his eyes fixated in front of him, you nuzzling a tad more into his side, his warmth bringing a feeling you haven’t felt in what seems like a lifetime, “I am, but I’m also excited. I’m not sure exactly which role I’ll land, but I’m hoping for a movie. There’s a romantic comedy I’m very interested in, but it depends on how well I do,”

“Good luck,” you smile, “I think you’ll do just fine,”

The conversation continues into your dream of co-hosting a night show one day, though callbacks for your auditions haven’t been made just yet, you refuse to give up hope. It’s funny how the talk of mere dreams can lead to the topic of food- Seokjin jumping on the idea of cooking for you sometime, “Which prompts my next question,”

“What’s that?” Curiosity stems within you, while you lean back just enough to take in his expression.

“Do you know what raw duck is?”

Of course, eyebrows furrowed, your mouth remains agape, and you’re uncertain why you’re overthinking it, “Isn’t it-”

“Tornado,”

“Oh!” Burying your face in your palms, Seokjin’s original straight face contorts into one of heavy laughter- you bundling your face into his chest.

“You took me, seriously didn’t you?”

“I’m embarrassed,” you kid while your voice muffles into his sweatshirt.

Once coffees are downed and cups are cleaned up, Seokjin holds the door open for you while he speaks fondly about his sugar gliders, hoping that you’ll come to meet them sometime. You’re so lost in your enchantment with this handsome stranger that you don’t want to leave. When dialogue dims, your hands stuffing into the pockets of your trench coat, you can’t help the undeniable yearn to remain in his company, “Thank you, by the way,” your soft voice matching the breeze cooling your tainted skin.

“Anytime,” he replies with the same tenderness within his deep voice. Maybe it’s the way his eyes bore into yours that really set the pace, or maybe it’s the way his thick lips persevere to keep such a sweet smile intact, but before you can catch yourself, you close the small gap between your frames with the quick stand on your tip-toes- your hands moving to squeeze his shoulders while your lips meet his. He tenses at first, mostly from the rapidity of the gesture, but once your lips part with his to relock so smoothly, desire seeps in- his large hands move to cup your waist to where your chests press. Leaning more into his kiss, you deepen it enough to where you fleetingly dance your tongue along the tip of his, wrapping your arms around his neck to offer more permission.

Eventually pulling away, mildly breathless, you’re too dazed to speak- his kiss leaving fluttering butterflies encompassing your heart. Seokjin is just as mutually enthralled as you are, and you take note of the struggle he has to form any attempt at words, “There’s um, there’s- there’s something wrong with my cellphone,”

Confusion plasters every aspect of your face as you step away with the quick tilt of your head, “What? Did you drop it?”

“I don’t- I don’t have your number in it,” slipping his phone from his pocket, he hands it to you. Laughter erupts from you, overpowering the subtle increase in your heart rate.

“This has never happened to me before!” Quivering thumbs begin after the surprise while you carefully type your number. All smiles face the direction of a destination you’re uncertain of, and now, you could care less as long as you get to spend the rest of your time with him. Handing him his phone, he slides his arm around your waist- you envision what would be the stars aligning, answering every wish you’ve mustered in your conscious- one wish that eventually leads you to the front porch of his house where no words are exchanged- just the addiction of his kiss and the burning crave to hold him close until the sun gleams outside his window to wake you to the reality you seemed to so easily forget.

The smell of chicken broth fills your nostrils causing your eyes to flutter open whilst groggily trying to clear your jumbled mind as to where you are. Head throbbing, your stiff digits pinch at the heated skin of your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut just enough for a small whimper to sound from your dry lips. Clinking sounds reverberate from the kitchen while you skirmish to sit up, realizing the plush fabric of a blanket is evident upon your enfeebled legs. Remembering the arrival of Seokjin, you huff in frustration at the realization that you must have passed out from all the shock you’ve endured the past few months. When frustrated tears well within your eyelids, you can’t even bring yourself to move- visibly weak from the enervation troubling your form.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey-” it takes a prolonged moment before Seokjin turns to the sight of you awake, his voice barely rises from a whisper while he rushes to your side, holding his hands in front of him in preparation if you were to fall. You can’t find the strength to speak, so you remain in silence- nearly shoving his hand away at first when he cautiously presses it to your forehead, “You’re burning up,”

Not getting a second to process his words, he jogs to the kitchen where the familiar trickle of liquid is being poured into what you assume is a bowl while his careful footsteps trail back to your location upon the couch. You try to lift your arms, but they don’t budge; Seokjin tags along a mini step stool to where he takes a seat. The jangle of the spoon stirs within the bowl, and from the look of the contents he gathers, it appears to be chicken noodle soup. Steadying the bowl beneath the steaming spoon, he offers some to you. Skeptical, you hesitate, flicking your eyes of warning in his direction while your fingers grip at the material of the sofa. He can see the obvious doubt written all over your face, but he gestures the spoon and bowl slightly trying to convince you to trust him. It’s not that you think he’s going to poison you or anything, but it’s the wonder of why he’s even here, to begin with. Accepting the soup, the heavenly taste soothes a sense of relief to your body, and Seokjin continues to feed you until the broth is gone.

Gaining enough strength to turn your head, in your peripherals you notice a full glass of water, something he must have set out for you whenever you were to return from slumber. When he sets the empty bowl aside, he rises just enough to retrieve the glass, “Here,” he says, bringing the rim of the cup to your parted lips. You down half the glass, and with a sweet grin, he then takes the empty bowl to place in the sink while he refills the glass of water to the brim. When he returns to you, you muster just enough to speak, “Why-” you clear your throat, “Why are you doing this?”

Ease settles within his voice at the sound of yours, rubbing his hands together, he stares at them momentarily before bringing his gaze to you, “I wanted to see you,”

“But, how did you-”

“I paid Stan.”

Mouth falling open, eyebrows wrinkling- your look must be incredulous from the surprise you feel within your chest; you look away from Seokjin, not sure if you should be angry or what, but instead, you let out a chuckle, “You bribed my driver?”

Seokjin breathes a small laugh himself, returning his eyes to his folded hands, “Maybe,”

Shaking your head, you decide to lean back onto your pillow, relieving some of the fatigue weighing heavy in your mind. How Seokjin knew Stan was your driver, you’re uncertain, and for now, you don’t even care to know the answer. As much as you want to believe he is a good person, it’s hard to. What happened two years ago isn’t something you can just brush off and pretend never happened. Especially with everything that has happened thus far. And even though you should be angry, you want to be angry- one hundred percent infuriated – you can’t. You’re so physically, mentally and emotionally drained, you just can’t.

“I was never pregnant,” you whisper, unknowingly confirming a question he’s been hounded with- Seokjin lifts his head, mouth ajar with widening eyes. “And I’ve never hated you for what happened.” A tear dribbles down your cheek, “I just- I just don’t know what to say,” Fighting is no longer an option you want to deal with anymore. He’s already told you he’s sorry, and here he is, right beside you making sure that you’re getting taken care of despite the circumstances. On top of that, you’re not alone. For the first time since this whole scandal began, you’re not alone. And you know, from the way fame can tear individuals’ apart, that Seokjin probably hasn’t been able to find a moment of peace for himself either. Meeting his eyes, right then the tears stream harder- Seokjin rushes to you until his arms embrace you. Body trembling, you bury your face into his chest; all the pain, all the anger, all the stress, all the depression, and all the guilt flowing down your cheeks. You don’t want it anymore. None of it. Wrapping your arms around him, you feel his chin quiver against the side of your head. He doesn’t say a word. He just lets you cry. Just two strangers. Two strangers who made a mistake. Coming together with the sole purpose to find forgiveness.

And, when the morning comes, your eyes observe the serene view of Seokjin sleeping- the way his lips are parted while a wavy tint formed on his bangs from the way his head lays upon the pillow. He held you all night, and quietly, you tiptoe to your room because right now, there is only one mission you have in mind- and, there is only one person you plan on seeing. Gathering money in preparation, you send a text to Stan asking if he’s available for a drive. It doesn’t take long for you to get ready, throwing on some sandals to prevent the sound of heels from waking Seokjin. Stan pulls up, and with one more glance toward Jin, you lock the door behind you gently- skipping toward the SUV in broad daylight, determination burning within your bones.

Your breathing is heavy when you come face to face with the large, mahogany door- nerves numbing your fingers while anxiety takes a toll upon your tense frame. Mind racing, your heart thuds with the inclination of wanting to knock on the door, but you hold yourself back. C’mon [Y/N], you can do this. What the hell are you waiting for? Scolding yourself, you inhale and exhale slowly, closing your eyes. Composing yourself, you know it’s now or never- opening your eyes, the heat of the sun warming your back- you gesture to knock at the door, the exciting sound of a woman’s voice causing your ears to tune in.

“Coming!” Faint footsteps sprint to the door prompting you to draw another quick breath while the nerves tingle within your stomach. When the door opens, her eyes pause the moment she sees you- evident shock overwhelming her expression while she processes who she sees standing before her.

“Hi,” the greeting is soft when you speak, and you’re amazed if you were even audible enough to be heard. She takes a step back into the house to check behind her as if to make sure the coast is clear before returning her face to you, “I’m- I’m-”

“I know who you are,” she voices, catching you off guard, “How did you-”

Looking down at your sandals, you wet your lips while Seokjin’s ex-wife waits for you to reply, “I-I paid Stan,”

“You what?” You don’t expect the lenient chuckle that she graces and your clammy palms shove into the pockets of your coat while you gather the words you’ve been wanting to say for what feels like a lifetime.

“I know this sounds,” you begin while timidly looking at her, “I just- I needed- I just-” stuttering, you let out a long sigh, “I just needed to see you.” Your words seem to bring a spark of sincerity behind her eyes while she searches yours- folding her arms across her chest while she nods for you to continue. Bowing slightly, you take a moment before continuing, “I know it’s been a few years, but I haven’t fully recovered from what happened, and I will never be able to live with myself if I pretend it never happened, but… I came here today because I just needed to see you and tell you, I am so sorry for what I did to you,” the tears are welling in your eyes while your voice breaks, and although you don’t want to let the tears fall, it feels like these days that’s all you have left in you to do, is just cry, “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I never will. But, if I would have known he was married, nothing would have ever happened between him and I. Nothing at all,” when the evident realization to your words seems to fully process, she stands straighter while you timidly glance toward the ground, “In fact, if I would have known he was married, I would have told him to-”

“Fuck off?” She says, catching you by surprise while knowing smirk tugs at the corner of her pink lips. Understanding floods her gape which leads you to let out a breath of relief.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what I would have said,”

She nods, arms still crossed, but the tension eases from her shoulders, “You didn’t know.”

“No,” you whisper, bowing your head once more ashamed.

“I believe you,” the conversation remains quiet for what seems like forever although it was only thirty seconds, before Seokjin’s ex-wife steps forward, “You didn’t even know I existed, so in reality, none of it was your fault, and I can’t blame you for that,

Seokjin and I were very young when we married, and… It wasn’t necessarily our choice. Sometimes when it comes to making your parents proud, you’ll do anything.”

“I’m-I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be,” she gives you a kind grin, “Besides, if it wasn’t for you then Jin and I would have never found a good enough reason to tell our parents why the marriage simply wasn’t working… And, I would have never found Tae again,” happiness is noticeable in her voice at the mention of Taehyung- something you still awkwardly know about but are too embarrassed to confess, “Seokjin checks on us every now and then. He and Tae have been best friends for years now-” For some reason your trachea decides to react to the comment she just made, muffling your coughs into the crook of your arm. “Whoa, are you okay?”

“Yeah-” You manage to say, feeling the flush of your face turning red. Seokjin and Taehyung are best friends? So, that’s how Seokjin knew about Stan being my driver. And, maybe that’s what he’s been wanting to tell you all along? But, with that being known to you now, would you have believed it coming from his mouth? “I’m sorry,”

She giggles, “You’re fine. It happens,” she shrugs, “A year after the divorce, Seokjin and I found a way to move past it. He apologized, I forgave him, and we found a way to start over, but as friends like it should have been all along,” holding her eyes, you still remain speechless while her soft grin never leaves her face, “And, I forgive you, too, [Y/N]. I forgave you a long time ago,”

When you feel as though the heaviest burden you’ve carried for so long has been lifted off your shoulders, the tears fall immediately whilst happiness exuberates within your heart. You’re not even sure what else to do, and that’s when she pulls you in for a tight hug whispering the truth that she determines the two of you will be best friends after today. And, that’s something you know you will like very much.

The ride home holds nothing but a smile upon your face; one you haven’t felt in forever. Of course, before leaving, you search your whereabouts to ensure not one cameraman captured the personal moment between you and Seokjin’s ex-wife, or in better terms, your new friend. Now, the guilt about the anger toward Seokjin, although may have been valid, still haunts you in the sense of not fully giving him the benefit of the doubt. Even though, in the end, you’re satisfied with how the peace that has been obtained was graced in the way it was. The paths you, Seokjin, or your new friend have endured have not been easy, especially being involved in the spotlight, yet it has made every one of you strong individually. Overall, maybe an interview can be held for the four of you to reveal there is no underlying issue between the two couples will quiet the world in the judgment that has so easily been cast upon you and Seokjin especially.

Walking into your house, you’re greeted with the aroma of frying eggs mingled with the savory smell of meat. The soft click of the door closes behind you while you slide off your sandals before inching closer to the kitchen. The view before you melts your heart- still in the same attire as the previous night, Seokjin’s messy hair sticks from all sides- he continues turning the meat then reaching to stir what looks to be a pot of boiling rice. Off to the side are two plates already decorated with slices of your favorite fruit.

He wasn’t the person you always assumed he was. An arranged marriage nearly destroyed two people, yet they found a way to reconcile leading him to change for the better. Trust may always be a mountain you will have to climb, but at this moment, gazing at him surprising a meal he so thoughtfully decided to prepare, you’re willing to hike as far as you need to until you feel safe in his arms.

“Hey, I-”

“WHOA!” Seokjin jumps back, eyes wide while his arms frail in the air; the cooking utensil flies from his quivering hand making a clanging noise once it hits the floor. Springing back, your hand flies to your chest, “What’s the matter!? Are you okay!?”

When Seokjin realizes it’s you, he bends forward to rest his hands on his knees, “Oh man, you scared me. I didn’t hear you come in,” Erupting in a bout of laughter, you can barely breathe, he blushes, “Yeah, yeah keep on laughing,”

“I’m sorry, I just- that was too funny,” slipping your jacket off, you walk over to hang it in your coat closet, then walking to the corner of the kitchen while you let Seokjin recover, “You don’t have to do this, you know,” you say tenderly- his back faces you as he carefully watches the cooking food. Without saying a word, he turns to look at you and grins along with a slight bow. Something ignites within you that leaves you contemplating on what you’re about to do- deciding in an instant, you walk over to him, slipping between him and the stove where your hands nestle on his waist just to place a small kiss to his lips. The gesture shocks him when he pulls away with dazed, yet wide eyes,

“What was that for?”

Holding his gaze, you slide your arms to fully embrace him, letting the truth fall from your smile in a gentle murmur, “I forgive you, Jin,”

He tenses, but only for a moment, as if to process the words he’s been longing to hear, letting your words sink in completely until he fully holds you, and you hope he never lets you go. Hearts pound together while the sound of sizzling food fills the silence. When the two of you pull away to face each other, he timorously bows his head as if to thank you, resting his hand on your face. Once dinner has been served and consumed, he gathers both of your plates while you follow him into the kitchen. He sets them within the dishwasher before turning to face you- drying his hands with a towel before laying it upon the counter.

“Do you remember what raw duck is?”

“Oh no,” you groan, leaning your head back in feigned irritation, “Please don’t say it,”

“You do remember don’t you,” he accuses- eyes sweeping your snickering face.

“I do,” you admit.

“Then say it,”

“Tornad-”

“I can’t hear you!”

“Tore. Nay. Doe,” Seokjin chuckles his well-known, high pitched chuckle as you pull him in for another hug, “Thank you for everything, you dork,” Warm fingertips find your chin, tipping it up to read your eyes. Before you can blink, Seokjin kisses you- your arms immediately wrapping around his neck while he leans more into you. Everything that the pair of you have gone through forgotten- because for now, away from the spotlight, the two of you can be exactly who you are without any fear of being exaggerated. You both can be human beings finally experiencing the one thing you’ve pleaded for since the day of first meeting.

Ultimately, there is such thing as redemption for those who will do anything to fix the mistake they made; for someone who is willing to change for the better and fight to make things right no matter how difficult things may appear. You and Seokjin are just two souls who happened to yearn for the same thing. The one thing you both needed to find peace again.

Forgiveness.

Not only forgiveness for one another or the forgiveness of the person wronged, but you both also learned, after all this time, to find forgiveness for yourselves. As Seokjin holds you, his kisses mesmerizing, you can’t help but feel the immense joy surrounding your heart. If there is anything, you want more in this world, it’s for this peace to last forever.

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thespianbooks · 3 years

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A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 19//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

A little late today, and with some minor tumblr glitches ><, but here’s chapter 19! Enjoy loves!

XXX

Being on strict bed rest was going to be a lot harder than I originally anticipated.

After the first couple of days, wherein Madja assured my mate and I that I was making excellent progress in my recovery, I began to grow mindlessly bored. During those first few days, Rhys continued his vigil at my side, but mercifully slept and ate when I did. He reopened his line of communication with our friends in the estate, talking with them mind-to-mind and updating them on my condition. He also relayed any messages they had for me, allowing me past his mental shields so I could hear their words directly. After hearing Mor practically beg to see me after the umpteenth time, I informed my mate that it was time to put an end to our isolation period. His male-bonded instincts made him reluctant at first, but after I reminded him of the instructions given to him by our healer—to allow our friends, our family, to take care of the both of us, he acquiesced.

Now, a week later, I was more than content when they took turns visiting me. Sometimes they would visit in pairs—my sisters, Mor and Amren, Cassian and Azriel, or sometimes all at once; I was almost never bored now that I had their company. However, this period of confinement to my bed set the others on a new protective edge I had never seen before. Before the incident, they had all done their best to help me whenever I was uncomfortable, or when some pregnancy-related symptom reared its ugly head. When I would mention the strange dreams I had at night, Amren brought me a book on the philosophies of dreaming and what they might mean; while Mor theorized how we could interpret them. When a certain flower in Elain's garden had stirred nausea in my stomach, she removed them. When I watched Azriel and Cassian training in the pit and somehow grew a charlie-horse in my calf from sitting too long with my legs tucked underneath me, Cassian massaged the spot while Azriel offered advice on how to stretch my muscles safely while I remained unable to train during my pregnancy.

Their care was subtle; it was the little things here and there that they did for me while Rhys waited on my hand and foot—or as much as I would allow him to. Now that I was restricted to my bed, only allowed up to use the washing room or to bathe, they all tended to me. They wanted to help in whatever way they could, sometimes bringing me food and drinks when they visited, or sometimes bringing different books or other forms of entertainment. My appreciation only grew when, after the third day of my lying-in and receiving another excellent progress report of my recovery from Madja, Rhys finally left my side in order to meet with Palace Lords or with his Commander of armies and spymaster.

Velaris was still working towards rebuilding and managing repairs after the fire. Not unlike the first attack from Hybern, there were many shops, studios, and galleries that had been destroyed. Thankfully, the studio Ressina and I had established for the children of Velaris only suffered minimal damages, but my heart ached at the thought of those whose establishments were beyond repair. After a decade of peace, of healing from the war, they now had to start all over again. The only thing quelling my grief was the knowledge that Rhys and I had the funds necessary to allocate towards helping make those repairs and helping those who were now misplaced by the fires. That, and the societies that had been formed after the war worked tirelessly with volunteers to restore the Rainbow to its former glory. It would take time, but I was glad to know that, only a week after the attack, our citizens were determined and inspired to work together despite this tragedy that had befallen them—again.

"Are we starting this morning with those somber thoughts, my love?" Rhys asked softly, his arm draped around me as we lay in bed.

I was still too tired, too weak, to try and hold up my shields of adamant—so instead I left them down, allowing Rhys to hear my concerns or complaints through my thoughts. I sighed as I turned to face him, smiling lazily as those powerful hands gripped my hips gently to help me turn.

I touched his cheek gently, his violet eyes half lidded—still heavy from sleep. "I just feel...terrible," I started. "I can't help them by volunteering like I did after the war."

Rhys nodded his understanding, moving the hand on my hip to my stomach. "No one expects that of you, Feyre, especially in your condition. Even if you weren't on bedrest, they would probably insist you take it easy regardless," he said before moving his hand from my stomach to my cheek.

"You saved the city from burning to the ground. That was a sacrifice our people know you made given your current circumstances, and they are so grateful," he pressed a kiss to my brow. "The last thing they want is to see their recovering High Lady lift another finger."

I gave him a wry smile, "It's the last thing that they want or that you want?"

He kissed me full on the lips before offering a feline grin. "Semantics. Now let me say good morning to my son," he said before caressing my stomach, angling his head to stare at it lovingly.

He beamed when he felt that glimmer beneath his touch, our son greeting him before moving around excitedly. "Good morning, Bash," he said as he continued to stroke the swell of my belly.

"I'm still not sold on the nickname," I said as I brushed my fingers over the tattoos on his shoulder.

"We could go with Bastion, that also has a good connotation associated with it," Rhys suggested with a smirk.

I laughed and pinched his shoulder. "Our poor son will be so confused by his own name," I half-heartedly lamented.

"Nonsense, he'll know that his name comes with strength, regardless of a nickname. Won't you, Bash?" he asked my belly before lifting my dressing gown in order to place a tender kiss on my bare skin.

I smiled as he came back to give me another kiss and I melted into him with a rueful sigh. Along with limited mobility and being subjected to my bed, Madja had informed us that we also could not engage in "other mated activities." As much as I enjoyed other forms of intimacy with my mate that didn't involve sex, I couldn't help but feel an ache from our lack of activity.

"I miss it too," he purred in my ear and I shuddered.

He pulled away with a roguish grin and I pouted—actually pouted as I watched him disappear into the bathing room for a few minutes before reappearing and dressing for the day. Now that he allowed himself to part from me, he met daily with Cassian and Azriel to go over reports, taking extra care to look out for any updates and intel gathered from the Autumn Court. After what Beron pulled on us, Mor sent out an initial warning to the other courts while Rhys and I were incapacitated. We didn't know where the male would strike next, so as third-in-command, Mor warned them of the possibility that they might be targeted. Mercifully, the High Lord of Autumn hadn't unleashed Vassa onto the other courts—according to their responses, but that left all of Prythian on edge.

Cassian had implemented his security protocols along our borders, working with the legion of Illyrians he recruited and trusted hadn't turned with the rebels. Our neighbors and other allies had done the same, leaving all eyes on the Autumn Court. Azriel and his network of spies were continuing their work in the shadows, gathering whatever information they could, but as far as any of us knew, Autumn had closed themselves off from the rest of the continent. Their own borders were tightened; wards set in place above their territory as well, making it even more difficult for Azriel to work. However, according to letters being exchanged with the other courts, Helion offered his assistance to the spymaster; having made the plans to infiltrate those borders last night.

The meeting this morning would be crucial; detailing whatever Azriel had been able to gather, along with more reports from the Hewn City. As stated by the shadowsinger's recent reports from his network of spies established in the Court of Nightmares, Keir had cut all ties with Beron, and we had yet to know if that was prior to or after the attack the Autumn male had released on us. Hopefully this morning's briefing would answer that question.

"Hold the meeting here," I said to Rhys after he finished buttoning the collar of his black tunic.

He hesitated, but before he could protest, I cut in. "I'll stay here in bed, I promise. There's plenty of room in our suite for Cassian and Azriel to come in and go over the reports."

Rhys sighed and sat on the edge of the bed as I pushed myself upright. "Madja instructed you to turn over your duties as High Lady, for the time being. No additional stress, remember?"

"Yes, I know, but you're just going to inform me of everything that's said regardless. That's what you've been doing, remember?" I challenged.

His answering smile was crooked. "You're right," he started, his hand coming to rest on my stomach again.

I eyed him warily, "I'm sensing a 'but.'"

He sighed. "But I don't want whatever Az comes back with to stir up any stress and cause you harm."

I crossed my arms, noting how they now propped over the mound of my stomach. "So, you were planning to sugarcoat it for me later?" I asked with a raised brow.

"No of course not, Feyre." He sighed heavily, running a hand over his slick dark hair.

Through the bond I could feel him battle with his instincts—his primal need to protect me and our son in our already fragile state. I softened a bit as I watched him struggle to find words before I placed a hand on his.

"I've made great improvements this week, Rhys. Madja confirmed that soon I would be able to return to a light workload, so let me start small. I'll stay in bed while the three of you go over the reports, just these reports, and then you can go about the rest of your duties today and I'll spend the afternoon with my sisters here." I suggested, remembering the ways my sisters had insisted I ease-up on my workload and knew that I would need to implement them for the duration of my pregnancy. The bed rest had enforced this with stricter rules than I originally expected, but I had to admit it was nice to take a step back. Once the strict confinement was lifted however, I wanted to at least handle a little bit of my responsibilities as High Lady until my time came nearer.

"Just this one meeting, in the comfort of our room, is all I ask Rhys." I offered with a squeeze of his hand.

He nodded and squeezed my hand back. "This one meeting, and maybe a couple more after your bed rest is over." He said, having heard my thoughts through my unshielded mind.

I rolled my eyes but nodded in agreement as he helped out of bed, holding me under my elbows as I slowly moved from the edge of the bed to a standing position before him. A part of me felt moving this slowly was an exaggeration but necessary.

"It is," Rhys said, flicking the tip of my nose as I stood before him. "Necessary."

I stuck my tongue out at him, "Stay out of my head. Just because I'm too weak to throw my shields up doesn't mean every last thought is up for grabs." He laughed and moved an arm around my waist as we made our slow trek to the adjoining bathing room.

I had been a bit mortified, at first, when Rhys had to help me perform basic functions—like sitting on the toilet, but my mate hadn't been deterred. After a decade of helping me change out of blood-soaked undergarments during my cycle, I shouldn't have been so flustered, but this felt so different. Still, Rhys didn't so much as bat an eye when he helped me to relieve myself or when he helped me into the tub to bathe—that he actually enjoyed. After a week, I still flushed on our trips to the bathing room, despite his constant reassurance that I shouldn't be embarrassed of my bodily functions—especially in front of him.

After I bathed, which he still tried to insist he do for me—to which I always retorted that I wasn't an invalid despite being on bed rest, he led me back to our room and I sat in my robe as he dug through my armoire.

"Find me something more official," I said. "Not just leggings and a blouse."

Rhys threw an amused brow at me over his shoulder. "You mean something more befitting of a High Lady?"

"Yes, though I'm not on duty right now, I can still dress like one from time to time," I insisted.

He only chuckled before pulling out a simple turquoise colored long-sleeved day dress that would fall just below my knees. Despite the warm weather the end of summer provided, the material was lightweight and would be comfortable enough to wear in bed. I nodded in approval and he brought it over to help me change. Just as he helped me over to the lounge placed at the foot of our bed, a familiar knock came at our door. Based on the weight of it, I knew it was Cassian.

"That was quick," I said to Rhys as he snapped his fingers—his magic making our bed and organizing it neatly.

"I let them know we were meeting in here today," he said with a wink before going to answer the door.

I smoothed out my dress as he led the Illyrians in and sat up a little straighter when I saw Cassian holding a small pastry box in hand. He grinned the second he noticed me staring at it and walked it over to me.

"Your sister, Nuala and Cerridwen made a raspberry braid early this morning and insisted I bring you a couple pieces," he explained as I took the box eagerly from him.

I sighed deeply as I opened the box, inhaling the sweet and buttery scent of the pastry and smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, Cassian," I said before taking a piece and biting into it.

"How are you feeling?" Azriel asked as he fell in step beside Cassian, the latter then going over to the medium sized table Rhys and I had set up on the other side of the room to spread out the stacks of reports.

"Still worn out, but good." I said reassuringly. "Do you have an update for us?"

I saw his shoulders tense at my question, and he exchanged a wary glance with Cassian before they both faced us. "Helion was able to create a weak spot in the wards around the borders of the Autumn Court, allowing my spies in, but that's where the good news ends."

Rhys and I shared a frown as he stood beside the lounge I sat on, gripping the back of it a little tighter than he meant to. "Well?"

Cassian swore under his breath. "It seems Beron found Eris's attempts to rally their armies against him, lost his mind, and launched an all-out civil war against his own bastard son."

I blinked. "The Autumn Court is battling within themselves?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"He knew trying to depose his father in order to take over as High Lord would be tricky, which is why he called in the favor to us so long ago," Rhys explained.

"Right, but they're actually fighting each other now?" I asked again.

Cassian nodded and Azriel crossed his arms over his broad chest. "It's absolute hell in their territory. Eris is not doing so well with his armies, especially now that his father has recruited the sorcerer who controls Vassa, and my spies indicate that he is drafting a letter to send to the other High Lords of Prythian," he said. "Including us."

I felt Rhys's shadows grow darker, "I assume that means Keir isn't aiding either one of them?"

Cassian scoffed. "That bastard dropped out of their deal the moment he saw the instability in Beron's court. My guess is he's waiting to see who ends up taking over the seat of High Lord before trying to form a new alliance."

A spark of relief went through me, but it was short-lived as I asked, "Does that mean Keir is stalling his plans for the coup?"

Azriel gave me a somber look, "My spies found that he is restructuring plans with Kallon to move sooner rather than later. If the other high lords aid Eris in fighting his father, that leaves us with diminished assistance in our fight against him."

The bit of pastry I ate now roiled in my stomach as I sat back against the lounge, completely taken aback. "What do we do?" I whispered.

"We still have time," Rhys said. "I'll write to the others. They won't all decide to help Eris, they don't trust him. Especially after what happened at the summit."

"Helion already promised us his forces, if that should be the case. He was there when Az received the report, and he's informed Thesan as well." Cassian reassured, Azriel nodding in confirmation.

The nausea in my stomach alleviated a bit. Two additional courts against half the Illyrians and Keir's Darkbringers. I recalled the memories of the two armies working together on the battlefield against Hybern; remembered their might and Cassian's claim that success in battle was often decided not by numbers, but by picking where to fight. The Illyrians and Darkbringers would no doubt thrive in their home court.

"He also told you knowing when to fight was equally as important. Brute that he is, Keir won't strike until he believes he has the upper hand. It's why he's held off as long as he has and will continue to until he can guarantee what is happening in the Autumn Court will put us at a disadvantage." Rhys explained, hearing the rising anxiety in my thoughts, and gripped my shoulder gently.

Cassian and Azriel must've realized what I had been thinking, because they then each nodded in approval. "There isn't reason to panic just yet, Feyre." Cassian reassured. "It's bad news, but Rhys is right. The prick won't make any moves until he has assurance that he'll get what he wants."

I nodded, the dread that had been building up in my chest beginning to ease. I sighed as I sat up a bit. "You aren't all just saying this to make sure I don't get hysterical and go into spontaneous labor again, are you?"

"I would never lie to you, Feyre." Azriel answered without hesitation as Rhys squeezed my shoulder lightly. "That includes not sugarcoating the truth."

"You're my High Lady. I will always be upfront with you," Cassian promised.

I sighed and gripped the hand on my shoulder, squeezing it as I met Rhys's eyes. They were hardened amethyst, but conveyed the same promise.

"In the meantime, we set up wards around Velaris. I don't want to take even the slightest chance. The bastard will know what it means, and he can stew in his rage for all I care. He won't be a problem for much longer," Rhys said, his voice dangerously dark.

I gulped but dipped my head in agreement. "We write to the other courts as well, like you said. As soon as this mess in the Autumn Court is resolved, we'll gather and confront Keir and Kallon, and put an end to this once and for all." I said.

We all exchanged the same grave expressions, knowing that we'd be rid of these insurgents—soon.

XXX

I had wisely chosen to spend the rest of the day with my sisters. While Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel immediately went about executing the next phase in our plans to finally put an end to this coup. Cassian and Azriel left only minutes after Rhys called an end to our meeting, going to work on securing and preparing the city for the wards my mate would put up. I managed to convince Rhys to eat a bit of breakfast before he officially started his day. Not only was he going to send out letters to the other High Lords, Clotho aiding him in writing those letters, but also planned to meet with the Palace Lords of Velaris and inform them of the wards to be set in place—today. We, along with the other courts, were now officially preparing for war.

I tried not to think about it as I sat on the chaise lounge of my suite's sitting room with Elain and Nesta, trying to focus on Elain's excitement about finalizing the details of her plans to transform the sitting room into a nursery.

"And I think the cradle should go here in the middle of the room." Elain explained as she moved over the plush carpet in the center of the room, positioning herself to show the precise location.

I nodded, running an idle hand over my stomach as I felt a glimmer of excitement inside of it. "I like it," I said tiredly. After the meeting this morning, I was already sufficiently drained of any energy.

"I would think you'd be more excited about it," Nesta said coldly from her seat on the lounge adjacent to me. "Considering Elain made all these plans for your child."

I narrowed my eyes at my eldest sister, wondering how much longer I would be able to tolerate the icy rage she bore towards me ever since I had been placed on bed rest. Whenever she and Elain would visit my bedside, Nesta remained indifferent—hardly saying more than a few words at a time to me, and almost all of them hostile. Thinking back to her behavior at the cabin just a little over a week prior, the concern she expressed for mine and my child's health, had me wondering what had caused her flip in attitude so suddenly.

"It really wasn't any trouble," Elain began carefully, sensing the tension stirring between us. "The baby is our niece or nephew, and I wanted to contribute something."

"Thank you, Elain," I said before sliding my eyes back to Nesta. "And for the record, I am excited, but I'm also exhausted. In case you haven't noticed." I motioned to my stomach for emphasis.

Nesta didn't look impressed, instead taking a sip of her tea with a shrug. "I'd say you only have yourself to blame for that."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snapped, sitting up a little straighter.

Elain took a step towards me; Nesta snapping back at me with equal vigor. "I mean it's your own fault for the state you're in now. You didn't have to be confined to your bed, your body working overtime to recover from a near-loss that could have been avoided."

I stared at her, mouth agape in complete and utter shock. "Nesta, please. We can't be upsetting Feyre right now in-" Elain started but Nesta cut her off with a scoff as she stood.

"Why should I coddle her?" She asked before directing those deadly grey-blue eyes at me. My eyes—stirring with Nesta's own dark power that swirled under her delicate fae features. "We warned you to be careful, to take a step back and let the others here handle your vocations as High Lady, and not two damn minutes later you winnow away and use your powers."

"I did it to save my city." I said, my voice barely above a whisper as my throat grew tight at her words. "Our city. Our home. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Not when it could've cost you your youngling!" She barked. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are that you didn't? That your youngling survived, despite the risk, meanwhile females like me-" she stopped herself, realizing her words.

Elain covered her mouth and I blinked, a few traitorous tears slipping down my face. I recalled Cassian's revelation from months ago as Nesta clenched her fists and turned away, going to the tea cart placed on the other side of her lounge chair.

"Meanwhile females like you who can't have their own?" I said softly.

Her shoulders stiffed, but she didn't turn to meet my gaze. "Who told you that?" She asked, her voice not as fierce as it had just been—a crack in her hardened veneer.

"Is that why you're mad at me Nesta?" I returned, deciding I wouldn't dance around this issue any longer. "Because I put my child at risk, without any consideration to how it might make you feel. You who can't bear her own youngling?"

I saw her head dip below her shoulders slowly, the hand holding a teacup trembling before a tiny crack formed. I sighed shakily, sniffing as I forced away my tears with a gulp.

"Nesta, I'm so sorry," I began. "The last thing I wanted was to hurt anyone. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone secretly felt the same way. What I did...was dangerous. You're right, I could've lost my child...my son."

Elain turned her teary gaze to my stomach. "It's a boy?"

"Yes, and I know in that moment my instincts as High Lady overshadowed my instincts as a mother, and I," I choked back a sob as I rubbed the swell of my stomach gently. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself, even if everyone else has. But I won't blame them if they don't—if you don't."

Elain wiped a few tears away as she sat beside me, placing her hands over mine and squeezed them gently, while Nesta's shoulders gradually lowered. "I'm sorry," I whispered again.

"I felt that way once." She said, her voice gravelly as she finally turned to face Elain and me. The fire in her blue-grey eyes now smoldered with that sorrow I had seen before; on that day we learned that Viviane had given birth to Eira.

"I once thought I would never forgive myself...after I lost my youngling." She ignored Elain's quiet gasp as she stared out the window, wrapping her arms around herself. "It was years ago, after the war. While I was with Cassian in the Illyrian mountains. As a human, my cycles were few and far between, and after I was made, they stopped altogether." She cleared her throat with a small shrug of her shoulders.

"I assumed long ago that I would never be able to carry a child, had made my peace with it...until I woke up one morning in a pool of blood. The look on Cassian's face when he-" her voice faltered and I saw her throat bob, staring up into the sky for a minute before she was finally able to move on. "The Illyrian healers said it was very early on, only six weeks at the most, and later Madja confirmed that my body was...incapable of ever bringing a youngling to term."

She turned to face me. "It was part of the reason why it took me so long to return from the mountains. Knowing you and your High Lord wanted a family of your own, knowing I could return and see you with child," she paused as she stared at my stomach. "My outlook changed over the course of that year, and thanks to that brute, I...was able to face you all again. Even with the loss weighing on him just as heavily, he managed to work past it and pull me up through those depths I was already well into after the events of the war.

"When I learned you were pregnant, I thought it would cause me pain, but instead I saw it as an...opportunity. It wasn't until then that I realized I finally forgave myself for the loss, realized it wasn't my fault, and I was grateful." Our eyes met again, meaningfully, and I motioned for Elain's help as I slowly scooted to the edge of my seat.

Elain jumped to her feet and gingerly helped me to mine. Nesta sucked in a breath, prepared to protest as I made a step towards her, but she instead crossed the room in a couple of strides and embraced me. Tears I hadn't realized were already in my eyes fell as Nesta squeezed her arms around me—careful not to put any strain on my middle, and only a few seconds later Elain's arms encircled us both as best she could.

"Forgive yourself, Feyre," Nesta breathed before pulling back enough to meet my stare. "And take care. Let the others, let us, take care of you and your son."

I nodded with a sob before Elain pulled her back into our embrace and we all held each other—like we had all once done so, so long ago.

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savoies · 4 years

Text

Missing You - Andrei Svechnikov.

Andrei Svechnikov x Reader.

Word Count: 1,882

Requested: Yes! “svech surprising you where you live for college after Carolina got eliminated from the playoffs.”

Warning: None I believe.

A/N: This is my friend's first blurb/fic request so I hope you guys like it. Feedback is always appreciated and we are very excited for her to be writing and for you guys to be reading her works.

Dating a hockey player wasn’t always perfect or dreamy. It had its ups and downs just like every relationship. To you, it only made you and Andrei stronger as a couple. But one thing that had gotten you down more than once was the distance. Sometimes you were too caught in how your boyfriend wasn’t there, that you felt as if your relationship wouldn’t last. But everytime, once you heard the soothing sound of his voice, or the edges of his mouth twitching into a smile, all your anxieties and worries washed away. Just like that. Because you were completely and positively in love with Andrei.

You giggled, the laugh sliding off your tongue easily as you laughed at Andrei’s bad attempt at a joke. You grinned at your boyfriend through the screen, briefly wishing he wasn’t just a cluster of pixels shimmering on the screen- but you weren’t going to complain. You’d take as much as you could get. Andrei’s laugh filled the space of your dorm room. You missed the sound desperately, but knew he was following his dream and playing. So you sucked it up and kept the smile on your face, trying to hide your struggles with his absence.

“Baby, you good?” Andrei asked, brows furrowed as you totally missed his question.

You blinked. “Oh, yeah! Sorry I spaced out.” You gave him a smile.

Your boyfriend studied you for a second before deciding to let it slide. Andrei started talking again and you listened in earnest. You couldn’t help but notice that he was acting weird as he sped through his words. Almost as if he couldn’t wait for something. You internally wondered what could possibly make Andrei so excited, but you figured it just because you hadn’t had much time to facetime between studying and going out with friends in the past week. And Andrei was just as, if not more, desperate for a glimpse of your face or voice before going to bed. You smiled, leaning back in your chair as you stretched, yawing as you did. It was getting late, and your roommate would be back soon after her night out. Though you felt the exhaustion from close to no sleep and cramming for the History test tomorrow, you wanted to stay on the phone with Andrei. However, noticing your yawn the boy stopped mid-sentence.

“You tired?”

“No,” You replied, perhaps too fast for his liking because the boy arched a brow. You relented. “Fine, yes. But I want to stay on the line. Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t you have that history test tomorrow? The one you’ve been studying for for like two weeks?”

“One.” You corrected him, before you noticed his pointed look. “Yes, I do have that test, but I don't wanna leave!” You pouted, hoping he’d catch the hint of desperation in your voice and stay with you for longer.

Normally you’d be curled in your bed, trying to get as much sleep as you could, but you knew sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight. You woke up with the familiar ache in your heart that only came when you missed Andrei. The feeling hadn’t left you, and as night crept closer, it worsened until you were practically begging your boyfriend to stay on the call just so you could escape sleep and the tears for a minute longer.

“Y/N, go to bed. You need it, for the test.”

“Andrei, no, I’m fine. Seriously. I miss your voice, please?” You begged, giving him your best puppy eyes. Eyes that usually made you get your way and hide the seriousness of your plea.

“You miss me?” The corners of his mouth lifted up as he teased you softly.

“Of course I do, dummy.” You huffed, unable to stop the smile that matched his. You looked down, trying to hide the sudden burn of tears at the back of your eyes. You played with the edge of your sweatshirt- the one you’d stolen from him not too long ago.

Just then, your door opened, swinging open to reveal your roommate dressed in her party outfit coming back. You smiled up at her, Andrei falling silent on the other end.

“Hey, Marissa.” You greeted her before turning back to Andrei.

“Hey Y/N. Andrei.” She gave your boyfriend a little wave before grabbing her shower things and leaving the room.

You bit your lip as the door clicked shut, a signal Andrei was going to leave you alone in a cold bed, alone with your thoughts. You knew he would be here if he could, and you didn’t want to take him away from his teammates and the game. Though he couldn’t play, with his injury and all, you knew he still loved watching the game though it hurt a little that he couldn’t actually be on the ice. You held your breath, waiting for his goodbye.

“I don’t have to hang up if you don’t want me to,” Andrei offered, sensing the shift in your energy.

Guilt flashes through your chest. He was probably tired too. The time difference was only two hours, but two hours was two hours. You never wanted to be the clingy, needy girlfriend, but here you were, silently wishing he’d just stay without asking. Because if you told him to stay, you became that girl, and you felt guilty for it.

“No, no.” You protest, giving him a strained smile. “I’m good. You’re right- I should go to bed. I’ll see you-” You paused, frowning. You didn’t actually know when you were going to see him again, in person. If he won this game, which was going on right now, Andrei only able to call during the second intermission, they’d continue in the playoffs. For a fleeting, selfish second, you wished he’d lose so he’d come back to you sooner. Chiding yourself for the thought you licked your lips and prepared for a night alone. Again.

Andrei sighed on the other end. “I know baby. I miss you too.” A grin flashed quickly across his face before it disappeared, leaving you to wonder why he was so giddy. “But I’ll see you soon.”

You gave another smile. If only that statement were true and he’d be home tomorrow. “Alright. Good luck with the rest of your game! I love you, Andrei.”

“Thank you. I love you too, babygirl.” He smiled, and before you could take another big sigh, the call disconnected.

You swallowed and closed your laptop. You hadn’t been watching the game at all, unaware of the score or how it was going because you were in your room with your nose buried in textbooks. You had no idea the Canes were losing and Andrei was trying to keep his excitement in check about the plane he was about to catch to fly to you.

So, as you curled into your sheets, Marissa came back into the room, accidentally crashing into the foot of her bed before bidding you a good night, preparing yourself for another lonely night without Andrei’s arm wrapped around you, he was ending his call and driving to the airport.

The chilled mid-morning air nipped at your skin as you made your way across the quad. You’d decided to get some fresh air- and much needed coffee- before heading back to school for your second, and last class of the day. Coffee in hand, you made your way back to the building housing the classroom you’d spend the next hour in.

You heaved a sigh, feeling like you’d need two more grande coffee’s to get through this class. Last night, after Marissa’s breathing evened out, you over thought, your mind leading down hideous paths as the ache in your chest got worse. You prayed being away from Andrei would get better.

Looking down at your phone, you checked the time (11:02) and the chain of texts you’d sent your boyfriend before heading into class. Noticing he hadn’t responded, you frowned, trying to brush it off as you waited for class to end. You tried not to overthink it, but you feared Andrei got hurt again or another scenario your overthinking brain came up with. Once the teacher released you, you exited and found a quiet spot in the hallway, quickly calling your boyfriend.

He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, baby.”

“Andrei, are you okay?” You rushed, huddling closer to the wall as some students milled around you.

“Yeah,” he chuckled at your response. “All good, baby.” He paused. “You good? How was your test?”

“It was okay, I think I did well.” You relaxed, knowing he was okay. You bit your lip, deciding whether or not to say what you wanted to. “How was your game?” You asked instead.

“We lost.”

“Lost? So..” You frowned. “Wait, does that mean your out?”

“Yep. Now I get to come see you, baby.”

Your heart jumped and you grinned as you held the phone. The ache of missing him eased a little, knowing you’d see him soon. “I’m sorry about your game though, Andrei.”

“It’s alright. I’m ok, now that I get to see my girl.”

You were confused by his words. “What? When do you think you can visit?”

Andrei laughed on the other end, the sound only confusing you further. “Baby, why don’t you turn around?”

Furrowing your brows, you turned, and there he was. Andrei was standing ten feet away, tall and big amongst the college students as he grinned at you. He was dressed in a hoodie (the one you usually steal) and was holding his hands, ready for you to crash into them. And crash you did. You let out a squeal of joy upon seeing your boyfriend, in flesh, standing before you. Running, you gripped him tightly as he hugged you. You missed him embrace more than you’d like to admit, savoring his scent as you buried your face into his chest. The boy leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Hi, baby.” he laughed, stroking your hair as you pulled back. You grinned and leaned up to press a sweet kiss to his lips. His hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you closer as he kept his lips on you. Showing you just how much he missed you. He pulled back, a little breathless as he leaned his forehead against yours. “God I missed you.”

You giggled, knowing his words all too well. You carded your fingers through his hair, earning a hum from him in response. “I missed you so much, Andrei.”

You met his eyes and couldn’t help but giggle at the adoration staring back to you. He grinned, lifting you in the air until your legs were wrapped around his waist as he peppered your face with kisses, coaxing laughs out of you with each brush of his lips against your skin.

As he pulled back again, your stomach grumbled, reminding you of your missed lunch. Andrei put you back down, but his hands never strayed from your waist as you picked up your bag and suggested to go get lunch.

“Sounds perfect.” He grinned and pressed a kiss to your temple.

taglist: @hartsyhart @boesxr @ana-maa

i do have a taglist which you could be added here.

#andrei svechnikov #carolina hurricanes #canes #nhl canes #nhl fic #hockey fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #m's writing

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notchesandbullets · 3 years

Text

Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

Art credit: @ SteamyTomato on Deviantart

Part 7: Returning to Heights Alliance, Bakugou vs you, movie night at the dorms!!

Word Count: 3.8k

It was late when you all got back to the dorms.

Kaminari lugged in your cot as Shoji carried the rest of the bags all by himself. You protested that you could do it, but the gentlemen had insisted.

Well, Shoji had.

Kaminari had been electrocuted by Jirou's jack after picking up the lightest thing as a joke.

You had giggled to yourself. It turned out the electric boy wasn't immune to electricity.

As soon as you stepped foot inside the vacant common area, you made your way upstairs into your empty room, letting Shoji and Kaminari know that they could leave your stuff anywhere. You still weren't sure how you wanted to set up your room.

The girls had split off, needing to complete some of their own things before tomorrow, not to mention, put away all the things they themselves had bought at the mall.

Yaoyorozu and Asui had surprised you along with the rest of the girls with a whole bunch of fancy room decorations. You hadn't seen all of it, but there were mirrors, wall stickers and paper cranes you could have hung down from the ceiling.

You had promised to wait until the next day to put them up so that they could help you. Though, it wasn't a hard decision. You couldn't even think of decorating your room without them since you had absolutely no idea what you were doing.

Shoji, Kaminari and Ojiro, who were lagging behind you with all of your things, set them down pretty quickly outside of your door and Shoji was in the middle of offering to help put together your bed for the night when Aizawa came in.

Leaving it in their teacher's capable hands as you flitted around the room, Shoji and Kaminari took their leave as you envisioned in your mind how you wanted it to look.

Ojiro had homework he still had to do as well as the others so Aizawa was the only one left to help you. He reluctantly left after giving you a hug goodnight, relishing the feeling of having you in his arms before he let go.

But not before he whispered that you could come find him if you had another nightmare. It would be easy since you lived on the same floor, just on opposite sides.

You nodded, thanking him. Not just for his offer but also what he did for you earlier. You were indebted to him, Kaminari, Jirou and Aizawa.

Ojiro just patted your head reassuringly, sending you that tender smile that gave you goosebumps and sent your heart rate accelerating.

Aizawa helped you put together the metal frame of the cot and then the two of you unfolded the large mattress pad Jirou had picked out as soon as Ojiro closed the door behind him. You placed your hands on your hips proudly when it was all done.

Already, your room looked so much more homely.

You hadn't bought a desk. Not only would it not fit in the van so that they could bring it back, but you preferred open space. If it was too cluttered, it would feel too cramped for you to move around in and that was the last thing you wanted.

You didn't say anything about it, but you were pretty sure Aizawa was hanging around and making sure you were okay as you put the finishing touches on your room for tonight. You didn't want to get too into it, having already planned on having the girls crash here tomorrow for a nap party after their classes were done.

"Do you need anything else?" Aizawa shuffled after you, following you around in a way that had you suppressing a giggle. "What about something to eat? Are you hungry?"

This time, you did laugh at his questions, truly touched. "Thank you, Aizawa-sensei, but I'm okay."

You shuffled into your new bed without changing, wanting nothing more than to curl up with the scents from Ojiro's hoodie and Aizawa's scarf after a long day.

Aizawa found himself by your bedside, tucking you in with the sherpa throw that Yaoyorozu had made with her quirk last minute when she saw that you didn't buy one.

"Goodnight, kid." He said softly, unable to resist patting you on the head.

"Goodnight, sensei." You yawned, inclining your head politely despite already being in bed. "Thank you."

He smiled to himself, turning off the light as he let you sleep in peace. There was nothing quite like seeing you wrapped up in his scarf as you slept the night awake.

Nothing quite like it at all.

True to their word, the girls had helped you with the task of decorating your room the very next day.

Fairy lights sparkled all around your room, bathing it in a soft glow when it was turned on. Butterfly mirrors were sprinkled across the wall opposite to where your bed was set up and there was a collage of mini picture frames that went along with the camera Asui had bought for you.

She thought that you would appreciate something that could capture the precious moments with all your new friends and hang them up on your wall once they were printed. You were touched.

Paper cranes hung from the ceiling at all different lengths but it didn't bother you since none of them came down to your head while walking, it didn't bother you.

Ojiro was another story entirely though, since when he visited you, he had to crouch down and mind his head everywhere he went but it was worth it to endure it and get to see your happy smile as you reached high above your head to bat at the origami.

After a full day of decorating with the girls, you were beat.

Uraraka had taught you how to best store your new clothes in the closet so that it took up the least amount of room and Jirou had been thrilled when you shyly asked her to teach you how to play the guitar.

No one complained when she sped out of the room to grab her instruments and the sleepover that followed in your room since the next day was their off day was the best experience you had with girls your age so far.

Ojiro hadn't even complained when Hagakure kicked him out so that you all could have fun, shaking his head and heading down the kitchen to grab something to eat.

Oh, he was definitely going to knock on your door later and check in on you.

A month passed by in a blur.

Each day, you grew more and more open not just with Ojiro but with his friends too that you could now proudly call yours as well.

Kirishima was especially taken with you, the two of you hitting it off when you commented on how his quirk seemed so cool. The red-haired teen had ruffled your hair, beaming at you brightly and thanking you, genuinely touched.

It was not long after that he had admitted to feeling less than everyone else because he didn't have any long ranged attacks one night when your bad dreams kept you up. You were quick to remind him just how valuable he was. Not just his quirk, but how he was the one to make it work.

He was the one to make it strong.

He teared up after hearing you say that, nearly proclaiming how manly it was to hear such a bold declaration from you and you hugged him, glad that he had treasured your words because you had meant every single word.

The two of you had started to talk more after that and as a result, it had brought you closer to him as well as the other students of Class 1-A.

Not that you weren't on speaking terms before, but it was nice to get to know them better.

Kirishima became your training partner for some exercises since he could take the damage of your claws without getting hurt, although you would occasionally be paired up to spar with Yaoyorozu.

Aizawa claimed it was because your fighting styles were so different so it would give you both a chance to learn how to adapt in the moment but you suspected it was also because she didn't have a quirk or heart to hurt you.

You begged Aizawa to push you harder, past your limit so that you could catch up to the rest of them and he had begrudgingly relented when Present Mic complained he was being soft on you.

Of course, the loud pro-hero didn't mean it but you had come to him and enlisted his help in getting your homeroom teacher to change his mind. And who was he to refuse a cutie like you?

So he worked you harder and ended up giving you lessons to hone your skills. You were rather acute in your observations, so it didn't take long for you to catch on in terms of technicality.

The build up of your strength was another story though.

However, with the proper nutrients and rest, you were starting to fill out more and more until you reached a healthy weight another month later.

You were starting to look and sound like a pro-hero in training, always thinking of others before yourself and selflessly giving everything you had to protect people.

Aizawa knew your heart would take you far. Which is why he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what was going on with his class all of the sudden.

They were being much weirder than usual.

Some sort of gift-giving or showering had transpired while he was asleep during homeroom. He had woken up to Koda giving you an origami swan he had folded.

You had smiled, your eyes sparkling as you thanked him for it, holding onto it for the rest of the day.

It had started out small but eventually, you were being swamped with all kinds of things from your classmates. Your room was starting to get a little crowded.

Ojiro had to help you sort it out more than once because you often got overwhelmed and didn't want to put any of it away, worrying that it would somehow offend the people who had gifted them to you.

Once you figured out how to turn on the phone you had gotten as a gift from Jirou on one sunny afternoon, you had most definitely scampered over to Kaminari to get him to charge it. And even though he complained that that's all everybody thought he was good for, he obliged you almost immediately.

Bakugou's phone flew across the room as he replaced his with yours, the angry pomeranian raging for him to die as he stomped over to pick up his cellphone before angrily plugging it into the wall.

Although he would never admit it, he didn't actually care. He had a soft spot for you, just like everyone else did.

After Jirou's impromptu present, the others all started pitching in, giving you things you were sure you never asked for before.

Books from Iida, handmade hair accessories from Uraraka, a notebook of countless heroes' strengths and weaknesses compiled from Midoriya, a concealed knife that folded flat into the shape of a credit card from Bakugou, a bunch of makeup and new video game console so that you could join them on game nights from Ashido and countless others.

You were pretty certain you weren't the youngest of the group but they sure treated you like you were.

You supposed it was due to your innocence and inexperience, not that you minded. Having not received this kind of attention ever, the love was overwhelming and almost too much to bear. It felt like you had nineteen doting siblings.

Mineta didn't count, Ojiro had nearly thrown him across the room when he tried to give you something you didn't understand but knew it was inappropriate based on Sero and Tokoyami's obvious disgust.

Luckily, your friends took turns flooding you with their time and spoiling you or else you were sure you would've collapsed by now at the consideration of it all.

And right now, it was almost dinnertime at Heights Alliance. Which meant that everyone who was normally holed up in their rooms crawled out and gathered.

In one place.

"DAMN NERD, WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!!!"

"K-Kacchan!!" Deku said nervously, waving his hands to fend off the advancing explosion boy.

He had accidentally walked into him when chatting up a storm with you about the latest hero that had been climbing the ranks: Hawks. A support hero with a flamboyant attitude but a force to be reckoned with in battle.

Bakugou snarled, ready for a fight. Sparks popped out of his hands. "YOU HAVE A FUCKING DEATH WISH, DUMBASS?!?!"

"Calm down." Todoroki stated from the kitchen, where he and Iida were trying to figure out what to make for dinner, Asui coming over to offer her assistance.

"SHUT UP, SHITTY HALF AND HALF BASTARD!!!"

A beat of silence passed.

"Sorry." Came the nonchalant reply.

"AH, FUCK!!!"

You giggled and he whirled around, eyes burning with irritation and anger.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LAUGHING AT?!?!?!"

Everyone in the room tensed.

He had never yelled at you before. It was an unspoken rule to not raise a voice against you since you were so sensitive to loud noises. That was partly due to the trauma you had endured and also because your ears were much more sensitive than theirs.

Half of them expected you to burst out crying while the other half thought you were going to run out of the room.

To their surprise, you didn't do either. Instead, you doubled over with laughter.

"Y-You should see your f-face!!" You shouted through your hiccups that interrupted you, you were laughing so hard. "You look ridiculous!!"

Bakugou stomped over to you, furious. "OI, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! DIE!!"

You giggled, running the other way as he began to chase you. "Nope."

"YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!!! GET BACK HERE!!!"

"You're so cute when you're angry."

"I'M NOT CUTE, TAKE THAT BACK!!!"

"Cute, cute, cute~" You sang as you pranced down the hall.

"I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL—"

"Uh..."

You froze as your gaze landed on Ojiro, who was standing in the middle of the hallway you were using to make your getaway. You lurched forward as Bakugou wasn't able to stop himself in time and crashed into your back full force, sending you tunneling into the unsuspecting boy.

Ojiro gritted his teeth, using his tail to stabilize himself as he caught you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

"Geez, Y/N." He breathed, relieved you were okay.

This was getting to be a habit by now but he had no complaints as long as you didn't get injured. He was glad his quirk allowed him more of a chance to catch you before you fell.

You blushed bright red, ears drooping in embarrassment. "... 'm sorry, Mashirao-kun."

"It's okay, just be careful." He told you before letting you go, albeit reluctantly, his smile turning sad as your warmth left him.

There were wide eyes and shocked gasps all around when you called him by his first name.

Granted, it still had the honorific but it still stunned them. He rarely let anyone call him by his first name. Even Shoji was still getting used to it since he prefered calling his friend by his last name due to the fact that it was easier to say.

The moment was broken as Bakugou trapped Midoriya in a headlock and you rushed to free the broccoli-haired boy, smacking the explosive boy on the head and running away with Midoriya before he could catch either of you.

Ojiro smiled to himself, knowing that you would be fine. You could handle yourself against Bakugou. Besides, he wanted to save you a seat.

"MOVIE NIGHT!!!" Ashido and Kaminari cheered together, jumping on the couches and sending Aoyama flying from the force.

You cried out in concern, helping him up even though he didn't really need it. He still thanked you though, his eyes sparkling even though he had just crashed on the ground moments prior, taking the same spot before as you turned around, looking for Ojiro.

"I want soba..." You heard Todoroki mumble quietly to himself and caught him longingly looking back at the kitchen where his ingredients were stored as Sato took over in helping Asui and Iida make dinner.

Uraraka had rescued Midoriya and convinced him to join them for one movie, leading him over to the couch where Shoji was at.

You plopped on an empty sofa and patted the seat next to you, inviting Todoroki to come and sit down. After all, it wasn't a movie night if everyone didn't come join. Even if some of them would do it begrudgingly.

Bakugou. And speak of the devil...

"Bakugou, come on!!" Kirishima invited, patting the spot next to him like you had just done with Todoroki.

His forehead creased in annoyance, eyes slitting with irritation. "Like hell I'd do something so irritating!!"

"I bet you can't sit through this whole movie with us." You challenged, grinning inwardly when he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Tch. Fine!!" He shouted at you, throwing up his hands.

He stomped over to Kirishima, shoving his way in between Sero and Ashido with an irritated scowl.

Tonight, you were watching Akatsuki no Yona, an anime about a princess with red hair who undertook a journey of perilous danger as a warrior after being chased out of the castle.

The boys had booed at the romance but it actually had several really good fight sequences which kept their interest, particularly Kirishima's.

He loved how manly Yona's courage was in battle.

Iida had somehow managed to get dinner ready on time and thanks to Sato, it was delicious and completely edible. Unlike some of their dishes.

You had learned the hard way that about half of the class was absolutely horrid in the kitchen. You didn't judge though, even offering to teach Uraraka and Jirou what you had learned from Sato when they had the time and wanted to make dinner next.

They earnestly accepted.

As the food was being served, your ears flicked on top of your head and your attention was stolen by the two figures that strode into the vicinity, one of them being who you were looking for earlier.

Ojiro had gotten sidetracked by Tokoyami, asking about a project they still had to do for their english class and by the time they finished their conversation, all the seats had been taken.

He couldn't stop himself from smiling as you gave up your seat for him, gesturing for him to sit and pouting when he purposefully dragged his feet.

Kaminari shouted for him to get out of the way as Kija and Hak came onto the screen, just about to get attacked by bandits.

"This is the best part!!" He screeched as the red-haired princess was seen pulling back the bowstring, taking out one of the roguish men that was trying to sneak up on her companion.

Jirou rolled her eyes at his fangirling but couldn't help but get swept up as everyone else started to cheer, the girls squealing as the main character's love interest caught her before she fell and the majority of the boys, except for Shoji, Tokoyami and Kirishima gagging.

During that whole time, you had Ojiro had a silent fight over who would take the only empty seat left, ultimately settling on you attached to his back as he sat down.

Your chin was perched on top of Ojiro's head and playing with his hair absentmindedly as you watched the anime. He didn't seem to mind, so you didn't move.

Kaminari was sitting beside him, having stolen his tail so that he could play with it, eyes glued to the screen as the tip of his fluffy tail tickled his cheek.

Your arms looped around Ojiro's neck from behind as you tried to get more comfortable and you shuffled your feet so that your legs were hooked around his waist, watching the TV with rapt attention.

Occasionally, he would reach up and feed you some popcorn that Todoroki had gotten from the kitchen when he got up to make his soba or let you have a bite of his food once it cooled down.

You didn't say it but you appreciated his thoughtfulness. It was easy to be like this with him. You were just glad he didn't say anything about your clinginess and need to scent him, it would be hard to explain that he made you feel safe.

Todoroki on the right and Kaminari on the left with Ojiro sitting in front of you, your heart swelled and you took your eyes off the TV to bury your face into the crook of Ojiro's neck to hide your smile.

He didn't say anything as he reached up to pat your head, smiling himself as you scented him out of reflex, his soft coo at your adorable action lost as everyone leaped up when the characters won a big battle.

Your eyes were closing, you were getting so sleepy now that it was over. Vaguely, you heard Yaoyorozu comment on how good the manga was and how excited she was for the second season to be announced to the girls who hadn't read it yet.

Ojiro didn't move as your hold on him relaxed, knowing you were asleep due to the soft puffs that hit the back of his neck. He longed to see your face but he didn't want to wake you up.

Roping in Shoji to help him, not that the gentle giant needed any convincing, his friend helped maneuver you into his arms so that he could take you upstairs to your room.

The girls and a handful of the guys wished him goodnight and offered to help but he politely declined. He kind of wanted you all to himself after sharing your attention with the rest of them for the whole day.

You were all tuckered out.

He was thankful though, that you got a chance to relive the years you had lost due to that place. The chaotic normalcy that was Class 1-A had been extended to you and you had embraced it wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wish for a better group of friends to surround you.

Leaning down, he touched his forehead to yours briefly as he tucked you in bed.

"I'm so happy you're here, Y/N." He whispered, afraid to break the silence as his eyes shone with emotion. "You've made me so happy."

Please, He begged internally as he left your room. Please never leave.

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel

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smolanon · 3 years

Text

Like I'm Gonna Lose You (Sapnap x Reader)

Guess what song this one's based off of. :D I have a few fics I wrote previously that I never posted anywhere so I will have some consistent uploading FOR A SHORT TIME. I beg of you do not get your expectations up too high or I will perish.

You were walking along a beach, the wind blowing through your hair, the sunset dancing on your shoulders. There was a hand in yours, holding tightly to you. You turned to look over your shoulder to see the beaming face of your loving boyfriend, Sapnap. He looked so happy to be in your presence. Your heart soared as you laughed, turning back to the beach in front of you. As you walked, his hand slipped from yours.

"(Y/N)!" He yelled after you; you laughed in response. You turned to face him once more and your heart dropped as you were not met with Sapnap's bright smile, but empty sand. Your smile wavered as you turned in circles.

"Sapnap?" Your heart dropped into your stomach as you found nothing but empty beach around you, the sky turning from sunset orange to a stormy, sickly purple. Lightning flashed in the sky, the waves turned from peaceful and serene to violent and tumultuous. You were all alone. He was gone. "SAPNAP?!" You cried out his name, racing down the beach against the rising waters. A wave engulfed you, salt water filled your lungs. No one was there to save you. Everything burned and ached. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone...

You woke with a start, jolting and breathing in a breath of hot air. It was dark and muggy; you felt trapped. You struggled a bit in panic before realizing a blanket was pulled over your head. You ripped it off, wincing at the light and taking in a gulp of fresh air. Your chest rose and fell with breaths into the empty room. Sweat stuck your shirt and shorts to every part of your body. Your hair was slick with perspiration as you combed your fingers through it.

"What a lovely way to end a nap." You whispered sarcastically to yourself, sour at the fact such a pleasant dream had ended so poorly.

This wasn't the first time you'd had that dream; in fact, it plagued you at least once every week. This was, however, the first time it had shown its ugly head whilst you were visiting the subject of the nightmare. You could hear Sapnaps laugh just a couple rooms over as it overlaid a cry of panic from what you had to assume was George; you'd only heard such ungodly screeches from him.

"Why now? He's right here. He isn't going anywhere." You mumbled as you pushed your hair back and out of your eyes. With a sigh, you forced yourself into an upright position. Your hands shook as you stared into your empty palms. You must have moved quite a bit in your sleep, because the blankets were tangled around your legs. You tried kicking them off, and struggled for a solid minute before successfully tearing the sheets from your sweaty body. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you sat and listened to the muffled chatter from a few rooms over for a moment.

You unplugged your phone and checked Twitch, seeing that Sapnap was in fact streaming, just as you had previously thought. You bit your lip, not wanting to interrupt the lighthearted stream with your stupid anxieties, but also desperately needing comfort from your boyfriend. Standing up and pacing your room for a moment, you compromised for shooting him a text first to test the waters.

'Babe? Can I come sit in on your stream with you? I'll be quiet as a mouse, I promise.'

You lightly chewed your tongue, walking into the hallway and standing outside the door he was behind. You heard the ding of his notifications.

"Hold on a sec, guys. (Y/N) texted me."

What a master of secrecy and subtlety, you thought as you rolled your eyes lovingly.

"I thought they were taking a nap?" You heard Dream's voice respond. A faint smile pulled at your lips at the mental image of Sapnap trying to keep both himself and his friends down while you slept.

"I guess they woke up." He spoke, sounding detached from the conversation.

'Of course. :) you don't gotta be quiet tho'

"They're gonna be joining us, so everyone behave!" He said firmly. He could definitely tell there was something off about you, though you had no clue how he could read you so well just through text.

You opened the door softly and he turned to face you in his chair with the same sunny grin from your dream.

"Hey, Gorgeous! Did ya sleep well? I hope we didn't wake you up." He couldn't hide the worried undertones in his voice from you.

"I slept alright." Your voice came out more timid than you intended. You pulled a chair up next to his to sit in. He pouted at you, gesturing to his lap. You gestured to the stream. He patted his lap, giving you a stubborn squint. You shook your head.

"Gimme a sec, guys." He muted himself on the call and the stream. You rolled your eyes a bit, smiling fondly at his stubbornness. "Okay, now sit."

He kicked the other chair away with his foot, grinning cheekily at you. You couldn't help but chuckle as you finally gave in.

"Alright, alright." His grin widened as you sat on his lap, pulling you closer as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You watched the chat speed by, most of them teasing him for becoming so sweet and soft with you.

"Are you just gonna leave Dream and George to their devices?" You chuckled, reaching your hand back to play with his hair a bit as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

"Mmm, no. I just wanted to have a moment." You could hear him smile as he scooted you two back over to his computer.

"Everyone say hi to (Y/N)!" He said brightly, the chat filling with fond greetings.

"Hey, chat!" You smiled. "Hey guys."

You spent most of the stream laid back in Sapnap's arms, being completely quiet. You responded when the other's tried to include you, but you honestly weren't feeling all too chatty after the nightmare. Chat could definitely tell something was off, considering your usual chipper nature on Sapnap's streams. There were a few concerned messages that you could read, your heart slightly warmed at sweet words. You closed your eyes, trying to will away the worries the nightmare always brought.

"Sap?" You said softly, so softly the microphone nearly didn't pick it up.

"Yeah, babe?" He looked down at you, nearly matching your tone.

You automatically began to regret starting to voice your worries. You were on a stream after all; the whole world didn't need to know about your abandonment issues. You swallowed the lump in your throat, weighing your options.

"You..." This was too much. You weren't ready to share that with the world. "I wuv you." You baby talked, trying to change the tone of your conversation. You pressed a loud kiss to his cheek, smiling as he chuckled in response.

"I wuv you too." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"Ew." George fake gagged. "Get a room, you two."

"Shut up, George. You're just jealous 'cause you're lonely." Sapnap shot back.

You laughed, chest feeling a little lighter, although the anxieties caused by your nightmare still weighed in your mind. They continued to rib eachother. Their teasing and laughing sounding like music to your ears.

Eventually, the stream came to an end. The two of you said your goodbyes to Dream and George, and Sapnap ended the call. He wrapped his arms around your waist again, nuzzling his face into your hair and relishing in the comfortable silence you shared.

"So..." He finally broke the silence, "what's wrong?"

"Hm?" You responded.

"Don't be silly, (Y/N). I know you well enough to know when something's up." He grabbed your legs gently, shifting you so you were facing him. You wrapped your legs around his torso and buried your face in his chest, trying to hide your expression.

"Mmmph." You hummed into his chest.

"Hey," He put his hand under your chin, tilting your face up so you were looking in his eyes. They held a gentle concern that pulled at your heart strings, "what's the matter?"

You stayed quiet for a second, before letting it all spill out. He listened intently, releasing your chin and allowing you to play with his fingers as you spoke. You stared at where your hands met as your eyes blurred and your lips quivered.

"It's always the same...the water always consumes me and-and-" Your breath caught in your throat as the first couple tears slipped down your cheeks.

"Oh, baby, no." He pull you into a tight hug. You gripped the back of his shirt as you sobbed into his chest. "That's it, let it all out." His voice rumbled in his chest as he rubbed your back, holding you even tighter.

He kissed the top of your head as he began rocking you back and forth in his chair. You stayed like that for only a few moments longer before he lifted you up and carried you to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed and continued to rock you.

He hummed softly to you as you allowed yourself to relax into his grip. Soon your cries calmed to soft hiccups and whimpers.

"Hey, sugar, look at me." He softly requested. You tilted your head up to him. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise. You're my everything, my whole world. I don't wanna live a day without you by my side." He cupped your damp cheek in his hand, using his thumb to swipe another falling drop from under your eye.

You rested your cheek against his hand gratefully, your breath now starting to even out. You stared up at him from behind heavy eyelids. He offered you a kind, gentle smile and you gave him back a weary, but content, upturn of the lips. Using his hand to guide your face, he pulled you into a soft kiss. You placed your hands on his chest, gently gripping a handful of his shirt. He placed his hands on your lower back, trapping your body to his as he flopped back onto his bed. Your teeth knocked together a bit and you broke the kiss with a laugh.

"There's my sunshine." He grinned up at you as he watched your face light up. "C'mon, I owe you some cuddles."

You curled up together in the bed, him spooning you and engulfing your hands in his. It felt like a promise, like he was whispering I'm not letting go. You slipped back into comfortable sleep, thoroughly worn out from all the crying. The tired ebbed away at any tension in your muscles as you completely relaxed. After that day, you never had the nightmare again.

#Fluff #Comfort #X reader #Spnp #These tags fought me tooth and nail holy shit #Like I'm Gonna Lose You #Tw: nightmares #Just in case

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somedayonbroadway · 4 years

Note

It’s spooky season so... Coraline AU?

Ooooooh this is gonna be a fun one.

Coraline AU

Characters

Racetrack Higgins — Coraline Jones

Jack Kelly — Mel Jones

Katherine Plumber — Charlie Jones

Crutchie Morris — Wyborn Lovat

The Bowery Beauties — April and Miriam

Obadiah Weisel — Mr. B

Todd Kloppman — The Cat

The Spider — The Other Mother

JoJo De La Gurra, Specs, Henry — The Ghost Children

Medda Larkin — Mrs. Lovet

Albert DaSilva and Spot Conlon — Manhattan Friends

Okay, so…

Tyler “Racetrack” Higgins-Kelly is a curious eleven year old boy, drawn to odd and peculiar things. Growing up, the boy can often be found reading books on witchcraft and the unexplained, which is one of the main reasons he had such trouble making friends. No one wants to hear him talk about ghosts or alternate dimensions or witches. But Race loves it.

This all worries Jack, his half-brother and guardian who adopted him when he was five years old. See, Jack was never under the impression that his baby brother was a normal little boy who would be into superheroes and action figures, but he’d hoped Race would grow into being a little more extroverted and happy. Race has a lot of energy and likes to talk a lot which makes caseworker visits a bit hard on Jack who doesn’t want his baby brother talking so freely about somewhat violent and ridiculous things. But they get by.

Throughout elementary school, this odd little boy only manages to make two friends, Spot and Albert, who help him fight off bullies and such. He adores his friends and is just about destroyed when Jack and his fiancé Katherine sit him down to explain to him that they would soon be leaving Manhattan for Santa Fe, all the way across the country, for Jack’s new job as an animator.

Race is angry with his brother, claiming that he’s ruined his life by making this decision, not knowing that Jack has been dreaming of having this job for years. Katherine, a young writer who is working on her own novel, tries to sit him down and explain why this was happening, that Race would make new friends and maybe even find new places to explore. Race still resents both Jack and Katherine, Katherine who had just officially adopted him as she and Jack were engaged to be married.

Still, Race has no choice but to say goodbye to his friends and sit by while Jack forcibly packs away all of his things into boxes, trying desperately to cheer him up by telling him about the mansion they’ll be moving into, a house that had been divided into three separate apartments. He tries to hint at his baby brother that it might be haunted or peculiar, but Race is not interested in hearing this, not even as they’re driving away from their old apartment.

When they arrive at their new home and Katherine and Jack help their hired movers to arrange everything in their new apartment, Race is told by his brother, whom he’d been bothering by grumbling and complaining to him all the way, to go outside and explore, but to not wander too far. Race does as he’s told, still angry, but glad he at least has a chance to test out water witching.

The boy finds a dowsing rod and lets it lead him to a hidden well, scared half to death by a black cat who’d been following him since he’d stepped foot off of his porch and another odd boy, only a year older than him who informs a confused Race who can’t find the water his rod had led him too that if he stomps too hard, he’d fall into it.

The well Race had stumbled upon is said to be so deep that if fallen into, one could see the stars in the middle of the day. Race is immediately drawn to it. The odd boy, Charlie, offers to push him in, but Race just shoves him in the shoulder, explaining that he doesn’t like to be stalked by psycho nerds and their cats. Charlie tries to tell Race the cat doesn’t actually belong to him, but he does feed it every night and give it baths sometimes. The cat doesn’t like to get dirty or wet. Race calls Charlie’s cat a wusspuss.

This odd boy is very observant and has things of his own creation saddled all over him, most of them looking to be dangerous weapons, and, even if Race doesn’t necessarily like it when this kid runs his mouth, he can’t help but admit to himself that those gadgets are pretty cool. He does note that Charlie walks with a limp, and finds the boy has a metal leg. Charlie asks Race where he’s from, guessing LA or Chicago, based on Race’s mannerisms and clear uncomfort to the quiet that surrounded them. Race just shrugs it off and tells Charlie that he’s from Manhattan.

Charlie explained that he’s shocked that Race lives in the “The Lodge” which is what folks around the place call the old mansion. Charlie’s adoptive grandmother and caretaker, Miss Medda, made it clear that she doesn’t rent out the apartment to people with kids. Race thinks nothing of this and tries to move on, but after noting that Race was out water witching, Charlie inspects the dowsing rod the younger boy had chosen and instructs him to wear gloves next time, as the rod Race is holding is poison oak. It doesn’t take long for a rash to spread on Tyler’s hands.

Later, back at home, Tyler tries to tell Jack about his day, rambling on about how he’s almost fallen into a well and died, but stressed out with all the work from his new job, Jack brushed him off, asking him to unpack and entertain himself rather that go back outside now that it’s raining. Jack really doesn’t like mud. But, Katherine comes inside not too long after, holding a gift for Racer, a little doll with button eyes that looks just like him. Race is at first a bit creeped out, but then figures Charlie altered the doll to look just like him, on account of him wanting them to be friends even though Race finds Charlie slightly annoying.

Either way, he takes the doll with him through the house, even after telling his guardians that he’s much too old for dolls anyway.

A couple hours after that, Race begs his big brother to let him go outside once again but Jack refuses, telling him this apartment is filthy enough and he can continue unpacking more than the single box of snow globes that he’d unpacked when they’d first arrived or find a way to entertain himself because Jack is busy working and is brand new at his job and has a project due and doesn’t want to get fired before he’s survived a week. So Race goes to bother Katherine instead.

Katherine, has just gotten over a writer’s block and is on a spree. She is writing a graphic novel (that Jack is illustrating for her) and she really doesn’t need any distraction, but when Race walks in to ask if he can play outside, she brushes him off, asking what the boss said. When Race admits that Jack said, no she says no too and Race starts playing with the creaky door behind her, just to try and get a rise out of her.

See, since this whole thing started, Jack and Katherine both had been somewhat ignoring him, for a lack of better words. Both stressed out from artistic deadlines, they leave Race alone for the most part and Race has never really been good at being alone. He misses when Jack used to play with him and when Katherine used to read with them and make him laugh. He missed them and, as he is a small child, the only way he knows how to display these emotions is to get very frustrated and angry.

When Katherine suggests Race explore the house, as it’s about a hundred and fifty years old, Race does, knowing that no matter what he says, Jack and Katherine are still gonna have to do their work.

He takes his doll with him on his explorations where he finds boring paintings, boring windows and a disgusting shower. He accidentally hits a switch that turns off the electricity in the house and he hears Katherine screaming, as she’d been working on her novel on her desktop. The boy feels guilty but flicks the switch back and runs away, as though he’d never done any such thing.

Still he continues on, counting the windows as Katherine had instructed until he sets his doll down and turns to find it gone. When he finds it, it’s still in the same room, only it’s hiding behind an old painting that’s leaning against the wall. Upon moving the painting, Race sees a door encased behind horrible wallpaper and calls out to Jack to figure out where the tiny door leads. Though he tries to explain that he’s very busy, Jack eventually caves asking Race that, if he were to do this for him, he’d leave him alone and let him and Katherine get some actual work done. Race agrees.

In the kitchen, Jack finds a drawer full of forgotten keys and rummages around, trying to find whatever key it was that would unlock that door for his baby brother. He finds an odd looking key, one that’s top looks like a button. Jack’s not sure why, but he knows that must be the one that unlocks that small door. He unlocks it, only for Race to pull it open and find a brick wall. Disappointed, Race begins whining again only for Jack to tell him that they made a deal and to quiet down so that he can do some work because his deadline is in a couple of days and he has to finish this project.

Later that night, after Katherine cooks a dinner that Race doesn’t like, he pesters Jack about why Jack doesn’t cook anymore. Jack is a really good cook, and he used to cook for him all the time before they’d moved, even when he’d worked two jobs. But Jack tells Race to be grateful to Katherine who always sings him a sweet little song before giving him food. He promises Race that he’ll go shopping soon and get him something he likes. The boy just rolls his eyes and grumbles so Jack makes him take a few bites before sending him off to bed.

Race goes, taking his little look alike with him and snuggling it as he drifts off to sleep, as the little doll makes him feel a little less alone.

In the middle of the night, Racer is woken up by squeaks sounding from beneath him. He finds that there are four little mice running around his room. Rather than being scared of them, he follows them out into the hallway, down through the apartment, past Jack and Katherine’s room, into that little door.

When he opens the thing, he finds the brick wall gone. Instead, there’s a twisting, glowing blue tunnel. Race gapes at it, believing this to be some kind of dream. Still, he crawls through to the other side, rolling through a door at the end and finding himself in a lit up apartment that exactly mirrors his own. And something smells amazing.

Following his nose to the kitchen, Race finds Jack cooking in the kitchen. Only, it’s not Jack. The man looks just like his brother in every aspect but one.

He has black buttons where his eyes should be.

Race is stunned by this, but, upon asking where he was and why Jack was cooking in the middle of the night, the man responds that he is in fact Race’s big brother; The Other Jack. The Other Jack explains that everyone has another family, but doesn’t go into depth about it. He just smiles at Race and excitedly states that he’s been waiting for him and that he cooked this dinner to celebrate his arrival. He then asks Race to go get The Other Katherine, who is in her study.

In Katherine’s study, Race finds The Other Katherine playing the piano and singing, something she used to do for him when he’d first started to understand she’d be becoming a big part of his life. Race finds that she too has buttoned eyes too as she whirls around to pull him into her lap and helps him play the keys like they used to. Race is sad to end this moment, but does tell The Other Katherine that The Other Jack says it’s time to eat. Not even a little upset by this, The Other Katherine scoops the boy up and takes him back to the kitchen where The Other Jack has set up a beautiful meal of steak, potatoes, corn on the cob and rolls, complete with a literal gravy train and a milkshake chandelier. Afterwards, The Other Jack surprises Race with a cake that decorates itself right in front of him, a special “Welcome Home” message written across it. Race is a little hesitant, but can’t help but feel happy here, where he doesn’t feel so alone.

Noting his hesitation, The Other Jack suggests they play a game. Maybe, hide and seek in the rain. It’s only when Race mentions that it’s not raining that the sky opens up and rain pours down. The Other Jack and Katherine claim they love mud and want nothing more than for him to be happy. The Other Jack even states that mud is good for poison oak, something Race never mentioned he had. A bit nervous at this, Race suggests he should get back to the other Jack, his first big brother. When The Other Jack says that he can stay as long as he wants, Race states he’s tired and should get to bed.

Upon arriving in his backwards bedroom, Race finds that the picture he had on his dresser of Spot and Albert is moving and they’re talking to him. His bed is completely made up, unlike the cot he has at home as they haven’t gotten that far in the ways of unpacking. While talking to his button eyed friends in the photo, The Other Jack spreads mud over Race’s rashes gently and lovingly. Then, The Other Jack tucks him in and kisses him goodnight and he and The Other Katherine stay with him until he drifts off.

Waking back up in his own room, his poison oak completely gone, Race rushes to tell Jack what happened and Jack let’s him ramble on as he pours his brother a bowl of cereal, letting him eat before he tells Race about their crazy neighbors, telling Race he should meet them and tell them about his odd dreams, that the actresses downstairs might be curious about hearing his wild stories. Katherine, however, does joke with Race about having The Other Jack making her some kind of remedy to help her sleep through Jack’s snoring at night, but Jack sarcastically laughs and brushes her off and tells her that if the real Katherine wants her illustrations done she better get writing.

Race does go off to explore, going downstairs to meet two former actresses, Kaitlyn and Beth (named after the two actresses who play The Bowery Beauties in Newsies Live). Even though Jack has instinctively made fun of his neighbors already, calling the actresses old bats and the old man upstairs a drunk, Race gives into his curiosity and knocks on the door downstairs, finding that the two old actresses are nearly crazy. They claim to be somewhat psychic, though, and Race finds that interesting.

When Beth reads his tea leaves, she sees that he’s in terrible danger, even though Kaitlyn claims she must be reading it wrong.

Still, Race goes along like nothing is wrong, wandering back to his apartment and finding mail that doesn’t belong to his guardians sitting on the porch. He goes to return it, finding an eccentric old man that Race believes is a little creepy. The old man says his name is Weisel, but Race purposely gets it wrong, calling the man Weasel, instead, just to get a rise out of him. Weasel states that he is training mice to put on a circus. Realizing this man must be a little crazy, he goes to leave before the old man tells him that the mice have a message for him.

Don’t go through the little door.

Weasel shrugs it off, telling Race that the mice are a little bit crazy. But Race knows exactly what they’re talking about.

On his way back down to his door, Race is stopped by Charlie who is out slug hunting with his feral cat. Race asks if Charlie made that doll look like him to which Charlie replies that he found the doll that way. He also says that if his Grandma found out that he was near The Lodge that she’d kill him. Medda says this house is dangerous.

He then goes off to tell Race that Medda had a twin brother when she was little that disappeared and was never found. Medda claims that he was stolen.

Race gets annoyed with Charlie when Charlie rambles on and on and won’t listen to a word Race says about the Other World inside his house or The Other Jack. Even though he has fun with Charlie for a half an hour he still finds him a bit annoying, even if he is nearly as off as Race himself.

That night, despite all the warnings he’d gotten throughout the day, Race leaves some cheddar cheese out for the mice that lead him to the small door the night before. When he wakes up to hear them again, he excitedly follows them back through the door and finds The Other Jack readily waiting for him, lifting him up as he cooks, pressing a kiss to his head to thank him for the cheddar he brought them. Then he tells Race to go fetch The Other “Better” Katherine, letting him know that she’s out in the garden.

When Race finds The Other Katherine outside, he finds that she has made the garden look perfectly like a replica of Race’s own face. She explains that The Other Jack said he’d love it because he knows Racer like the back of his hand. Race can’t help but admire the gift before The Other Katherine takes him back to his Other Home and The Other Jack reveals that he’s made breakfast for dinner. They eat before explaining that Mr. Wiesel from upstairs invited Race and Charlie to see a mouse circus.

Race is annoyed that there’s another Charlie, but The Other Jack reveals that this Charlie can’t talk and is always smiling. That he fixed him. So Race goes with The Other Charlie to see the circus, marveling at the circus where they’re given popcorn and all the candy they can eat. Well, Race eats it. The Other Charlie just smiles and holds it all. After this, they head downstairs and Race is carried to bed by The Other Jack and his Other Family stays with him while he drifts off to sleep.

The next day, Race rushes to the door, just to see if it really is just a dream. But it’s locked. Later, as Jack places him in the car, explaining to him that Katherine has a meeting with an editor back in New York and that they need to go shopping for new school clothes, Jack lets Race ramble on about this Other World on their way to the airport to drop off Katherine. But when it comes to school shopping, Race immediately whines about the boring, colorless clothes Jack picking out for him.

He does ask for one thing. A newsboy cap that he finds at the store they’re at. Jack tells him he doesn’t need it, even though Race tries to explain that everyone else will be wearing the same clothes as him but no one else will be wearing that hat. Jack tells him to put it back. When Race comments that The Other Jack would buy them for him, Jack does his best to hide the hurt but he then shoots back that maybe The Other Jack should buy all of Racer’s clothes.

Race asks Jack why he locked the door to which Jack responds he thought Race might feel safer because he found rat droppings in that room. Jack doesn’t like these dreams of Race and is starting to think it might be dangerous to indulge them. But the boy insists they’re the most fun he’s had since they moved.

Those words hurt Jack even more. But he knows he can’t argue. He hasn’t been spending a lot of time with the kid.

When they get home, Jack reveals he needs to grab some groceries and asks Race to come with him, promising to let him pick out something he liked, but when Race gives him attitude, Jack just sighs and leaves him alone, telling him that he’d be back and that he loved Race. Race just lets him go.

When Jack’s gone, he immediately goes searching for the key to the little door, unlocking the thing and finding the glowing blue tunnel to be waiting for him. He knew it wasn’t just a dream.

Crawling through to the other side, Race finds a note waiting for him. He’s been invited down for an acrobatics show at the apartment of the two actresses and The Other Jack would be back later to cook him dinner. Race smiles at this and heads down to meet Charlie and see the show.

Before he can get there, however, he meets a cat, a cat that looks much too similar to the one the real Charlie has following him everywhere. Believing him to be The Other Cat, Race addresses him like he would any other cat, but when the thing starts speaking to him, he jumps and scrambles back, confused. The cat informs him that he’s not some Other. He’s just him. He tells Race that this is something that he and The Spider did sometimes. It was a game. When Race asks who The Spider is, the cat ignores him. He hints at the fact that he was once friends with The Spider, having found this world as a young man and finding it interesting until he’d made a mistake. Race doesn’t get to ask anymore questions before the cat who’d said his name was Todd Kloppman catches a mouse that turns out to be a rat.

Race, a bit nervous by all of this, still continues on to meet The Other Charlie.

The show is spectacular. Beth and Kaitlyn go from being their old selves to their younger selves in an instant and even bring Race in to be part of the show. He loves it.

Charlie silently walks Race home and Race is excited to see The Other Jack at the door. He doesn’t see the silent warning The Other Jack gives The Other Charlie when he sees the boy not smiling.

At the dinner table, The Other Jack and The Other Katherine tell Race that they have a surprise for him and push him a small gift wrapped box. The Other Jack explains that Race could stay forever if he’d like, but he’d have to do something first. Inside the box, Race finds. Two buttons and a needle.

The Other Jack wants to sew buttons into his eyes.

He explains that black is traditional, but Race could have any color he’d like. Suddenly, all of the warnings Race had been given rush to the front of his mind. He tells The Other Jack that he can’t see buttons in his eyes and then tries to laugh off the offer and go to bed, hoping he’d wake back up in his real home. But when he wakes up too soon, he’s still in The Other World.

He goes to try and get back to the little door but finds it locked. When he finds The Other Katherine, she’s mindlessly playing the piano and rambling about how The Other Jack is losing his strength and needs it back and that’s why she’s so tired. He rushes out to go find The Other Charlie, despite The Other Katherine’s insistence that it would do no good.

He runs out of the house and finds Todd lurking about. He walks with the cat into nothingness as he walks away from the house, while Todd explains to him that The Other Jack has alternative motives. He jokingly suggests that maybe The Other Jack lured him here because he was looking for something to eat.

They walk around the small world, ending up back at the house where Todd finds another rat and The Other Jack comes out to meet Race and offer him chocolate, seeming to notice his hesitation. He informs Race that even the toughest of spirits can be broken with love. But Race tells The Other Jack that he wants to get home to the real Jack.

As he continues to ask the buttoned eyed Jack to let him go home, The Other Jack gets angry and demands an apology. When he doesn’t get one, his true form begins to show.

As he grows angrier, he grows taller and thinner until he has a spider-like figure that Race is horrified by. The Other Jack, yells and drags Race towards a mirror, throwing him inside and telling him that he can come out when he’s learned to love him. Race is trapped.

Realizing that there’s no way out, the boy tries to lay down on the small bed inside this dark, windowless chamber. He’s terrified when he sees three ghosts curled up on the bed, all three having buttons for eyes. They ask Race if he’s next and Race doesn’t fully understand what they mean. He asks their names and they reveal they don’t remember them but they miss their real families. The ghost children explain that The Other Jack is a type of witch that can appear however it wants to to lure children to it because it feeds off of curiosity and the best source is the eyes of curious children. They explain that they were given a doll that had their likeness so it could spy on them. That The Spider is an entity that finds where a child is the most unhappy and lures it into this fantasy world to eat its eyes. The eyes then become a part of the world as the world is a part of The Spider, the entity that lives there.

They tell Race that their souls are trapped in this world because they don’t have their eyes but if they were able to find them, they’d be able to escape. They ask Race to find their eyes if he can, but to worry about escaping first and foremost lest he wanted to end up like them.

Only a few minutes later, gloved hands reach through the mirror and pull him out. It’s The Other Charlie, trying to rush him back through the door. The Other Jack hears them and Race tries to pull his silent friend with him but The Other Charlie shows Race that he’s only made of sand before he pushes the boy through the tunnel that is now a creaky dark wooden crawl space lined with spider webs. But Race forces himself through and slams the door in his real home screaming out for Jack.

No one comes running.

Race runs around the apartment, longing for safe arms and reassuring words but Jack’s just not there.

Upon realizing this, Race rushes to his neighbors, telling them that his brother was missing only for them to brush him off and tell him that Jack was probably just out running an errand. Beth, however, does give a Race a little trinket, a triangle with an eye whole in the middle of it. She says it’s for finding lost things.

Charlie finds him and asks for the doll he gave him back and Racer tries to tell him what the ghost children told him, and he realizes that he met Medda’s twin brother. Charlie is confused by this and calls Race crazy before running (limping) away towards his home.

Race tries to call Katherine. The phone won’t connect. He cries, begging for Jack to stop playing this joke on him because he doesn’t like it, but Jack doesn’t pop out to comfort him.

Race is all alone.

So he curls up on Jack and Katherine’s bed, shaking and crying, trying to wake up.

He’s woken not too long after that, by a cat pawing at his nose. Confused and scared, Race asks if Todd knew where his brother was, shocking to find that the cat nods at him. He follows the kitty to a full length mirror in the hall, watching the thing swirl in a mystic blue before he can see snow blowing harshly all around a shivering young man who’s only wearing a t-shirt and jeans.

Jack rushes to the glass when he can see the little boy. Race gasps and tries to get to him, but finds that he doesn’t know how. Jack pressed his hand against the mirror, tears in his eyes as he has no idea what’s happening, but he knows his baby is on the other side of that glass.

In a fit of panic, Race bangs on the glass and the mirror shatters around him. He knows that The Spider is behind this. And he knows he has to go back to The Other World.

As he crawls back through the tunnel, Todd follows him, instructing that he should make this into a game. The Spider loves games. So Race takes his advice, though the cat warns him that The Spider won’t play fair.

The other door opens and someone who appears to be Jack shouts for him, nearly in tears as he reaches for the boy. But, upon touching him, Race realizes that it’s just another one of The Spider’s tricks.

The Spider asks why Race would run away from him while dragging the boy to the kitchen to make him breakfast. Race demands his real brother be returned to him but the Spider claims that Jack must’ve just run away and gotten bored of him. After The Spider sends The Other Katherine away, Race proposes that they play a game, anger rising in him at the entity pretending to be his brother, but more at himself for wanting to get away from Jack and Katherine in the first place.

The Spider is intrigued by the prospect of a game, unable to back down from a challenge. So Race explains that he’d find the eyes of the ghost children and his real brother and that if he did, The Spider had to let him and everyone else go.

The Spider accepts.

But Race demands a hint.

“In each of three wonders I've made just for you, a ghost's eye is lost in plain sight,” is all he gets before The Spider vanishes and leaves him alone.

The little boy does his best to explore, needing to find the eyes of the ghost children. The first in the garden The Other Katherine had made for him, the second in the theater Beth and Kaitlyn had cheered for him, and the third in the mouse circus where rats were now crawling over spilled candy and popcorn.

Race uses the small thing Beth had given him to fight his way towards those treasures, nearly getting swallowed by the small world, torn apart by the puppet twins and eaten alive by the rats that made up a Weasel. But he finds every eye. All that’s left is finding Jack.

However, as the night settles over The Other World, The Spider claims Race might be too late. Ever clever, Race manages to trick The Spider into unlocking the small door he’s locked up already, claiming that he knew that’s where the which had hidden his big brother, all the while knowing that Jack was trapped in a snow globe on the mantle, something he’d figured out after seeing a tiny handprint on the glass.

He grabs the glass and tumbles through the tunnel, leaving The Spider behind after an epic battle that the ghost children, finally free, help him win. They help him back inside his own home where Race hastily locks the door and goes to run, only to slip on something.

One of the snow globes is broken.

The front door opens and Jack calls into the house, saying that he’d just picked up Katherine from the airport. When he sees his baby brother kneeling in glass and water, he immediately rushes to him, still covered in snow, though he has no idea what Race is talking about when he hugs him tight, sobbing about him being free. Jack just helps him to the kitchen and cleans him up, apologizing to him because he knows this has been an adjustment for Race and he knows it’s been hard on him, but he just wants to make it up to him.

Race just hugs him and Katherine so tightly, never wanting to let go.

After his guardians tuck him into bed, Todd curls up next to him as he drifts off. He dreams of the ghost children, who thank him refusely for setting him free. But it’s not over, they tell him. Race is still not safe.

As there is only one key to that door, The Spider will find it and Race needs to hide it where he’ll never be able to get it.

So, in the middle of the night, Race runs out into the woods to that old, forgotten well with his cat, nervously humming the song Katherine would sing to him all the time and planning to drop the key down the well. Little does he know, one of The Spider’s crawling hands is following him, ready to strike before Charlie rushes to save him, nearly getting pushed into the well himself. But the slightly older boy manages to crush the hand with a stone and together he and Racer drop the key down into the never ending well.

And Race is finally free.

He grows to love the neighborhood and the mansion he gets to live in. Jack and Katherine even host a barbecue on his insistence, inviting everyone, including Charlie and Miss Medda who Charlie explains he’s never seen so at peace.

And though Race refuses to go anywhere near that little door again, all is well.

Race has his real family who love him dearly. And that’s all he’ll ever need.

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