#i did get to START life until 26. not really. and it's just been a game of catch up for the last 5 years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

magicshopaholic · 3 months

Text

Moving On (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: BTS performs in Amsterdam and Namjoon invites you to the afterparty.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 8.2K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, angst, sex, nudity, making out, fingering, cumming, arguing,

A/N: Takes place a little over a month after Final Destination.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @sumzysworld, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "where does the good go" by tegan and sara

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

Joon [13:45] Did you get the email from Big Hit?

Kaya [13:50] Yes

Joon [13:51] The number at the end is their London office. They’ve been briefed already and have additional security available for all European locations.

Kaya [13:54] Okay

There’s a break in the chat here. Kaya stares at the time stamp, trying to picture him scrambling to find something else to say.

Joon [14:15] The company managed to track down the account that uploaded the video. Account has been taken down and they’ve sued for invasion of privacy.

Kaya [14:20] Okay

Joon [14:22] They’ve also offered to add damages to the suit, in case we want that. Do you?

Kaya [14:25] Not really

Joon [14:26] Okay then

Another break. Kaya scans the time stamps again, even though she’s memorised it by now. She remembers the three dots indicating him typing, seeing them appear and disappear over and over again.

Joon [14:40] How are you?

Kaya [14:45] Fine

Joon [14:46] How‘s work?

Kaya [14:48] Fine

Joon [14:50] Kaya I’m trying

Kaya [14:51] Class starting, got to go

He hadn’t responded and she hadn’t expected him to. Four days post break-up hadn’t been nearly long enough for her to let go of her anger but now, four weeks in, it’s only been replaced with an equal amount of sadness and longing.

Every conversation has been exactly this terse and abrupt, the last one being a week ago. It had appeared when she’d been teaching an elective class and it had taken every ounce of her will to not check it until the class ended. As it turned out, she couldn’t even think of a decent response to it.

“How can he possibly think of asking me this?” Kaya mutters, earphones in as she walks home. It’s dusk, a gorgeous time of the day, but she holds no appreciation for it right now.

“Wouldn’t it be worse if he didn’t ask?” Dilara asks reasonably. She’s in her car by the sound of it, a low hum audible of whichever fancy car of hers she’s decided to take out today.

Kaya swallows, pondering this. It might be, but it doesn’t address the problem she’s too embarrassed to voice out loud: it should be harder for him to ask. The thought that he might not be taking this break-up as hard as she is kills something inside of her, as if she’d misunderstood everything in the last three years.

Her strategy to save herself from hearing the truth had been to distance herself from everyone, including Yoongi, who had texted her out of the blue one day to ask her if she was okay (she hadn’t responded); Seokjin, who seemed to skirt the topic altogether and sounded as though he was speaking to someone very sick; and especially Dilara, who Kaya knew would be the only one with the capacity to ask insightful questions that she herself was too afraid to.

“It’s just… strange,” is all she can manage. “He hopped on a flight, shot a few emails, came over and broke up with me and then went right back to his schedule, all in one day. And now he's inviting me to a party?"

“After-party, so it won’t be, like… crazy,” Dilara clarifies. “And the concert before it.”

“I’m definitely not going to his concert.”

“Of course not,” she agrees breezily. “I wouldn’t expect you to. But the party… I mean, it’s a good thing, isn’t it? He doesn’t want you to be strangers.”

Kaya slows down as she approaches the river. She’s taken the long route home today - anything to prolong the commute before another night in her tainted apartment with memories on every surface.

“I don’t know if I want to see him.” I don’t know if I can. “He wants to see me, though, apparently,” she states after a moment.

Dilara doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I mean -“ She begins before pausing, then trying again. “I’m sure it’s going to be torture for him to see you. But even that’s better than not seeing you.”

Kaya doesn’t even realise she’d been holding her breath; she exhales as slowly as possible so as to not make a sound, both at Dilara’s words as well as her answering the unasked question.

She doesn’t respond immediately, though. Now that they’re down this route of addressing concerns she’s been harbouring in her heart for weeks, Kaya feels the rest of them on the verge of tumbling out of her mouth.

"You've seen him a bit these last couple of months,” she ventures, lowering her voice and leaning backwards against the railing overlooking the river. “Does it seem like he misses me at all?"

Dilara hums, a little too knowingly for Kaya’s liking. “Of course, he does. He’s not the most expressive when it comes to his feelings but aside from Tae last year, I don't think I've met a more miserable person."

Kaya waits for the swell of happiness or relief at this news, but all it brings with it is a new wave of anger and frustration.

“Thanks.”

"Look, speaking from experience, it's not easy seeing your ex after a difficult break-up,” says Dilara, sighing. “But sometimes you don't realise just how much you needed to see them until you see them, even if it's just to gain some closure."

Closure. It sounds… final. Kaya can’t picture it, being virtual strangers eventually, just bits of each other’s past. Ex-boyfriend, girl of his dreams, the one that got away. She hates all those words because they just don’t apply, not really. They can’t.

She closes her eyes and presses the heel of her palms into them to intercept the wetness forming, not caring that Dilara is still on the other end of the line. She and Namjoon had stood right here, years ago, living in the bliss of a new couple in fresh love. He’d brought her a bunch of tiny yellow flowers from the park, part-cheesy and part-genuine, eyes twinkling and dimples soft.

Kaya squeezes her eyes shut at the memory, terrified at how the edges of it are already blurring.

“I don’t think I’ll go,” she murmurs, opening her eyes to stare at the ground. “I can’t.”

“Are you sure?” Dilara sounds slightly surprised.

“Yeah. Two days from now is… it’s too soon. I’ll either cry or yell or… I don’t know. It’s too hard.”

“Oh.” She’s quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. If you’re sure. Let me know if you want to get together on Sunday,” she adds. “Brunch or something.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

—

The next day, Kaya is in the library again, grading papers and wishing she could go back to being a grad student who’s biggest problem was a pop quiz. She’s deliberately chosen a table at the back, away from where the students generally sit, which is why she looks up in surprise when someone comes to her table.

“H-hi, Kaya.” The student waves rests one hand on the back of an empty hair and waves hesitantly with the other.

“Um… hi.” Kaya tries not to frown too conspicuously, for she’s sure she knows this girl.

Svetlana. Savannah.

“Elena, right?”

“Yeah,” she answers with a nervous smile. “Um… are you busy?”

Kaya glances at the stacks of papers, books and laptop on the table. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Okay. Well… I just wanted to say hi.”

Kaya nods awkwardly and forces a small smile on her face. “Hi.”

Elena nods, tucking her hair behind her ears. She looks like she’s about to leave but at the last moment, sits down at the table. Kaya feels her smile fade for she really, really wants to be alone right now.

“How - how are things going?” She sounds nervous - extremely so. She seems to be fidgeting slightly and constantly touching her hair.

“Great,” says Kaya shortly, going back to her paper and hoping she’ll take the hint. “You?”

“Not bad, overall. I guess. Classes are hard and mid-terms are coming up as well…” Elena trails off. “Any plans for the weekend?”

Trying not to sigh, Kaya shakes her head. “Not really. You?”

“Well… I’m going to a concert tomorrow,” she answers hurriedly, and it’s clear that she’s been waiting to divulge this information, oblivious to how Kaya’s heart stops. “It should be fun. Do - do you listen to BTS?”

An unexpected notification from this morning floats into her kind. BTS continues their Europe leg by arriving in Amsterdam, ready to kick off the summer in style!

“No,” she answers truthfully.

“Oh.” Elena is quiet for a moment. “They’re really… good.”

There’s some awkward silence during which Kaya deliberately writes comments on the paper she’s grading, scratching the pen on the paper and wishing Elena would leave.

“It’ll be good to get out of campus. The people here are kind of intimidating. The parties are pretty wild, too,” she murmurs after a moment, sounding uncomfortable.

Kaya nods absently, uncharacteristically satisfied with the knowledge that she might be intimidating this unwanted guest. “Maybe you’re going to the wrong parties,” she offers.

Elena lets out a nervous laugh again. “Maybe. I never see you at them, though. There’s one, tonight, in the common room. Maybe you could come,” she suggests lightly. “Bring a friend or - or your boyfriend.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she answers flatly, not looking up.

“You - oh.” There’s a note of surprise in her voice. “Oh,” she repeats, this time seemingly to herself. “Are you sure?” she blurts out.

Kaya’s eyes snap up to glare at her. “Pretty sure.”

Elena’s eyes widen. “Oh, of - of course,” she stutters. “Sorry, that - that was a stupid question. Sorry.” She swallows and looks at her lap.

Kaya closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, immediately feeling guilty for snapping at an innocent bystander in this situation. “Elena, I… I really need to get these papers done,” she tells her, her voice one of forced calm. “So…”

The blonde finally seems to understand and awkwardly stands up. “Okay. Um, see you around,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear again.

Kaya nods as she leaves, Namjoon’s invitation swimming in her mind tantalisingly. She can’t ignore it anymore, the fact that they’re in the same city, her city. If she’s not wrong, he’ll do the concert tomorrow night, the group will probably stay the night and depart by Sunday afternoon or evening and she will probably never see him again.

She attempts to continue grading the paper she was working on when Elena interrupted, but when she finds herself reading the same stupid sentence for the fourth time without retaining anything, she begins packing up, ready to head home.

—

Joon [18:42] Hope to see you there tonight

Kaya, with a loss as to how to respond to this, simply did not. She can’t imagine he would be texting her during his concert, but she also knows he has before, if the situation was urgent enough to demand it.

She straightens the black dress against her hips and tilts her head at her reflection. It’s a simple dress, plain black, form-fitting and reaching below her knees, but it’s quite possibly the most gorgeous, sexiest dress she owns.

If she and Namjoon were together, she would have worn it tonight with no hesitation because it would have driven him insane. After weeks of being apart, seeing her in this dress would have rendered him incapable of staying in work mode without dirty texts, flirty touches and eyes from across the room undressing her. Even now, with a bare face, her hair tied into a loose bun and no footwear, the dress is a game-changer.

She gives herself a few moments to imagine this paradise, one that might have come true tonight had she never told him about the break-in. Then, she silently unzips the dress and climbs out of the black fabric pooled around her feet. Tucking it back into her closet, she looks for something else.

Dilara [18:50] In case you change your mind, sharing the location here [Location]

Dilara’s text had come minutes after Namjoon’s, and Kaya has to imagine it was a genuine coincidence. Although she’d replied to neither, it was the second text that caused her to change her mind - that, and the lingering fear that if she didn’t go today, she didn’t know how either of them would be able to maneuver a situation to see each other again.

The concert should end in a little over an hour. Her phone pings again and she groans, for she doesn’t think she can take any more of their unsubtle attempts at convincing her to go tonight. It’s not Namjoon or Dilara, though, but Adam Fischer, her thirty-something thesis advisor, asking if she wants to discuss the coming week’s class schedule tonight.

Kaya shakes her head as she types out a reply (Sorry, I can’t tonight. Will set up a meeting for first thing Monday if that’s okay?), a little rueful. Namjoon heavily disliked Adam, despite having no concrete reason for doing so. He’d always suspected Adam of having feelings for her, even though Adam hadn’t said or done anything to make her think he might. Part of her wonders if she could somehow ditch the party for this meeting and still make sure that the news travelled to Namjoon through the grapevine (Dilara), and if that would still piss him off even now.

She immediately cringes at the pettiness of it, however, sending her reply to Adam and heading into the shower.

The party is at the rooftop restaurant of the hotel next to the concert venue, and presumably where BTS is staying while in Amsterdam. It isn’t as crowded as she was anticipating, although the music is fairly loud. It looks more like a fancy houseparty, and even a few seconds in, Kaya can spot a handful of vaguely famous people in attendance. She looks around for a familiar face, preferably Dilara or Yoongi or one of the younger boys, wishing she’d called ahead and trying not to think about the fact that in spite of not RSVP-ing, her name was on the guest list.

She takes another hesitant step in and audibly sighs when she spots Taehyung, who, for reasons best known to himself, has accessorised his outfit with an ascot. He seems to be in an animated conversation with Jungkook, while standing in between them and facing ahead, with loose curls tumbling down her shoulders and looking slightly bored, is…

“Kaya!”

Dilara’s mouth forms her name over the music as she brushes past her boyfriend and his friend and hurries towards Kaya, looking both happy and relieved to see her. “You look hot!” she exclaims when she reaches her.

“Oh -” Kaya looks down self-consciously; she’d settled for a straight strapless top and jeans, unable to justify dressing sexier without seeming like she was trying too hard for her ex-boyfriend. “Thanks. And you look…” She frowns slightly at Dilara’s mini-dress and go-go boots, with a slightly out-of-place gold ring hanging around her neck. “... like Daphne Blake.”

Dilara’s face visibly falls. “I look like a cartoon character?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Well, a very pretty cartoon character,” she adds quickly. “Especially with the headband. But… why?”

She rolls her eyes. “Taehyung picked it - but I’m sure it’s not because of Daphne Blake.” Spotting Kaya’s confused expression, she shrugs sheepishly. “We got into an argument yesterday about who has better taste, so we decided to go shopping at The Nine Streets and pick each other’s outfits for tonight.”

Kaya raises her eyebrows, something seemingly clicking into place. “So the ascot is your doing?”

“M-hm.” She nods in satisfaction before her eyes widen. “Oh, hey! An ascot - like Fred!” She lets out a low whistle at this realisation and laughs, while Kaya nods knowingly, feeling the urge to smile for the first time in what feels like weeks. “Not planned but zero regrets. I wonder if Tae knows that - oh.”

Kaya cuts her off mid-sentence with a hug, suddenly immensely grateful for Dilara. She can’t remember the last time she’d let anyone into her life this much with the exception of Namjoon; but just maybe, when she’d been happy with him and her guard had been lowered, Dilara had slipped in without warning as well.

She tightens her arms around Kaya and rubs her back. “It’s good to see you, too,” she says, sounding part-surprised and part-delighted. “It’s been a while but I promise that we will still - oh, hey.” The change in tone is abrupt. “Incoming.”

By the way her voice immediately lowers, Kaya is sure she knows what Dilara is referring to. Her heart beating a mile a minute, she pulls away from the hug and turns as casually as she can.

Her first thought is that he looks thinner - visibly so. Well, he’s on tour, says a voice in her head but Kaya suspects that’s not the only reason, for he’d been on tour when he’d broken up with her as well.

His hair is a silvery blond, looking almost metallic; dressed simply in a black T-shirt and jeans, he runs a hand through his hair so it falls gracefully around his face as he approaches her, his face unreadable.

“Hi,” he says, and it sounds like all the breath has been let out of him with just one word. He swallows and straightens his shoulders, a small smile appearing on his face, the dimple faintly visible. “It’s good to see you, Kaya.”

Kaya nods, unable to speak and overcome with a sudden urge to cry. “You, too,” she murmurs, glancing at the floor and blinking rapidly before looking back up at him, a bit defiantly.

“I’m glad you decided to come.”

She nods again, her chest twisting at how normal he sounds. He’s standing far away from her as well, as though to make it clear in every way possible that they’re not together.

“Hope you had a good concert,” she ventures, recalling the grad student who’d accosted her yesterday, practically beside herself at attending a BTS concert. “Backstage must have been hectic.”

A flicker of something appears in his eyes for a moment, possibly with memories of backstage. Wishes of luck, last minute hugs, sweaty and passionate kisses fueled by adrenaline. But it disappears instantly and Kaya wonders if she imagined it.

“It was,” he answers, nodding. He slides his hands into his pockets smoothly, leaning back on his heels and his smile widening a little. “But worth it as always. The crew did well.”

Kaya doesn’t even bother nodding this time; all of a sudden, she regrets coming here tonight. Dilara has left, she just realises, and Namjoon is acting like they’re acquaintances at best, making her feel stupid and yet immensely grateful that she didn’t wear the sexy black dress.

At that moment, his eyes flicker to something behind her. “I’m sorry, I just need to go and say hi to a couple of people. But enjoy your night. It’s an open bar,” he adds, smiling and nodding politely before brushing past her and walking away.

Kaya doesn’t move; she doesn’t think she can. Something heavy feels like it’s settled on her chest, the weight of confusion, disbelief and crushing disappointment threatening to suffocate her. She has no idea what she’d been expecting; maybe arguing, fighting, crying together again - but not him not caring. Not this.

Namjoon continues walking in the opposite direction for as long as he can keep Kaya in his peripheral vision, both guilty and relieved when she doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t think he can look her in the eye if she does, witness the pain and hurt in her face that close.

He catches Seokjin’s eye and hurries over to him. Seokjin raises his eyebrows and seems to guess what might have transpired, ushering him over to the other end of the circular bar and out of Kaya’s line of sight.

“How did it go?”

Namjoon rests his palms on the bar and shakes his head, no words coming to him at the moment and feeling like he could throw up. He can’t fathom how he did it, how he stood there before her and didn’t immediately pull her to him, or break down and ask her to forgive him for doing the only thing he knew to do.

“Drink this.” Seokjin slides a glass to him and Namjoon takes it without hesitation, taking a huge gulp and waiting for it to sting his sinuses.

“This is water,” he states hoarsely, frowning at the glass.

“Cold water,” corrects Seokjin. “It’ll help clear your head.”

Namjoon takes another sip and places the glass down, dropping his head into his hands. “I can’t do this. How do I tell her I can’t do this? How do I ask her to -“ But he breaks off here, his mind swimming with the sight of her bare shoulders and exposed collarbones, imagining how they would feel if he held her.

“Okay.” Seokjin exhales through his nose and pauses. “Look, I have to ask. You’ve seen the state she is in. And you’re…” He struggles for a moment “...like this. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to ask her to get back -“

“No.” The answer is instant, although it’s partly a habit by now. As he does every time his mind tries to convince him otherwise, Namjoon forces the memory of her phone call to the forefront of his mind, the fear in her voice and devastation on her face when he’d entered her apartment.

“But maybe this is -“

“No.”

Seokjin is silent and Namjoon can tell that he doesn’t approve. Please don’t ask me again, hyung. He doesn’t know if he did the right thing by inviting her but he couldn’t imagine not doing it either, not being right here in her city, knowing she was so close that he could almost smell the coconut and vanilla in the air and still not see her in the flesh.

“If you’re sure,” says Seokjin at last. “If you are, then I guess you did well. Just… just be normal around her. Keep a normal distance, talk about normal things and…” He half-shrugs, sounding uncertain. “She’s smart. She’ll understand. If you’re sure you want to do this, then… she’ll get it.”

Normal. Namjoon knows what he means, but he wants to tell him that none of this is normal. Not touching her, not being honest with her, not being with her - none of it is normal.

“She’s talking to Yoongi right now,” he adds, and Namjoon turns to see them near the stairs to the top floor. Kaya’s back is to him, her head lowered slightly and her thumbs hooked onto the back pockets of her jeans, the material hugging her hips and curving down her backside… He swallows and looks away.

“This is your chance,” says Seokjin. “Go and mingle. Let her see you moving on - even if you actually aren’t,” he clarifies quickly. “It won’t be pleasant but it might encourage her to do the same.”

Namjoon isn’t sure of the wisdom of this strategy but ever since the cause of his break-up had been revealed to the older members (and surely to Taehyung at least, by Dilara), he’d almost been relieved that he wouldn’t have to make every decision on his own.

He tries his best to navigate the party after that, making empty conversation with guests, using every bit of remaining energy and willpower to plaster a smile on his face. All the while, part of his attention is constantly on Kaya, registering her familiar figure alone at the bar as she nurses a beer, sometimes with Dilara.

Be normal. Seokjin’s words start holding less and less meaning with every passing minute, especially when he spots Kaya having finished her drink and he’s struck with the sudden fear that she will leave the party. In an effort to be as normal as he can, Namjoon heads over to the bar where she’s scanning the life-size menu half-heartedly, arms folded across her chest.

“Like anything?” he asks humbly. Long Island Iced Tea or a Mai Tai - depends on the flavours. His heart jolts when she shoots him a doubtful look and doesn’t answer, almost as if she’s wary of talking to him. She leans over the bar and gives the bartender a smile that makes his heart drop, especially when he grins back.

“Komt de mai tai in mango?” she asks, half-pouting when he shakes his head. “Een biertje, alsjeblieft,” she says finally, taking her second beer and turning away from the bar.

Namjoon doesn’t remember ever feeling this distant from her. “I’m glad you came tonight,” he tries again, choosing to look at her even though she’s facing away.

Kaya nods, pursing her lips and looking ahead. “Yeah, you said that already.” But her voice trembles ever so slightly, or maybe he just knows her so well that he’s sure it’s not a case of her not wanting to look at him - she can’t look at him.

It’s all on him now. He started this; if there is any hope of them still staying in each other’s lives, it’s down to him to make it happen.

“How’s your dissertation going?” he asks, hoping her work is a topic she might open up on.

She shrugs after a moment. “Off schedule,” she answers shortly. “A lot of variables hanging in the air.”

“Did you get into the research project you’d applied for?”

It’s momentary but it appears: the corner of her mouth tilts upwards. “Yeah,” she admits, finally looking at him, albeit hesitantly. “Guess I’ll have a lot more time to focus on it now,” she murmurs, the hint of a smile fading.

Namjoon’s heart sinks. She’s so angry with him; it’s palpable and not something he has ever been on the receiving end of. Her hand hangs by her side; his own itches to link his fingers with his, maybe tug her to him or lead her out of this stupid party where he can plead for her to just look at him.

“Well,” he says, then pauses. “I’m glad you could get the time off tonight. Must have been hard.”

“M-hm, not really.” She shakes her head. “Adam wanted to meet but I’ll probably catch up with him later,” she adds nonchalantly.

Namjoon nods, his hand tightening around his glass. He can’t tell if she’s trying to provoke him, for they do work closely; close enough that Adam’s intentions have always been a point of disagreement for them. He’d never been able to explain to her just how much he hated the way her advisor looked at her when she didn’t notice, how his hugs always lingered a moment too long or how he insisted on calling her late in the evenings to discuss work.

He’s distracted momentarily by Jungkook, who approaches them while bopping effortlessly to the music and stops in between them, turning to face in the same direction as Namjoon and Kaya. He’s definitely tipsy; the smile on his face is too big and he doesn’t seem to be reading the room at all.

“Dilara is a really good dancer, isn’t she?” he says loudly in English to no one in particular. Namjoon frowns and follows his gaze to see Dilara, Taehyung and Hoseok dancing, before turning back to look at Jungkook. On his other side, Kaya is also frowning at him, tilting her head curiously. Their eyes meet and she raises her eyebrows slightly.

Namjoon fights a smile as Kaya half-chuckles and looks away, his heart twisting with longing at how much he misses her. She looks so incredibly beautiful; his eyes sting when he realises that there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“I’m gonna -“ He gestures vaguely and walks away in the opposite direction, desperate to be anywhere but around her before his resolve breaks.

The next half hour is a flurry of faces; Namjoon distracts himself with every single individual at the party, making small talk and exchanging unfunny jokes and hyper aware of Kaya occasionally glancing at him.

He knows, because he’s watching her, too, doing his best to make sure she doesn’t see him looking. He can’t even help it; it’s almost muscle memory at this point.

“Who are you looking at?” The woman he’s talking to asks him point-blank.

Namjoon flushes, realising he’d been staring at Kaya over her shoulder while she’d been speaking.

“No one,” he answers quickly. “Sorry.”

The twenty-something woman frowns curiously. “Are you sure? I’m not offended.”

“It’s… nothing.” He shakes his head and looks at the floor.

“Ex-girlfriend?”

Ex. Not trusting himself to speak, Namjoon nods.

“Hm.” She hums, somewhat sympathetically. “Bad break-up?”

“Pretty bad.”

“I’m sorry,” she says after a moment. “It’s never easy to be around an ex if it hasn’t ended well.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, desperate to change the topic. “All part of the process, right?”

“Right,” she says encouragingly. “Plus, once you’re past this phase, the one where you constantly want to die, you can begin the drink and eat and hook up as much as you want stage with no judgement.”

He chuckles politely, the prospect sounding horrendous. “Thanks. Feels good to laugh for real.”

She smiles wider and, before he knows it, leans forward and presses a kiss against his lips.

It takes Namjoon a couple of seconds of pure shock before he jumps backwards. “Whoa. What -“ His heart races uncomfortably. “What was that?”

“Sorry,” she says slowly, looking a little confused. “I thought… you wanted to make your ex jealous. Isn’t that where you were going with this?”

“No,” he clarifies immediately. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t want to - no.” In the midst of his minor crisis, he notes how the woman looks almost mortified.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s fine,” he cuts her off, suddenly feeling horribly guilty. He looks up out of habit and sees, unmistakably, Kaya leaving the restaurant, her long dark hair and the shimmery dark blue of her top disappearing out the door.

—

The night has gotten chillier in the last couple of hours and the cool wind hits her bare shoulders the moment she steps out, but Kaya barely feels it. She’s not thinking right now; thinking is what’s got them here, thinking about everything and overthinking to the point of fleeing a restaurant.

“Kaya!”

Her feet increase their pace automatically the same time her stomach flips, but he’s taller and faster and he reaches her before she can even reach the elevator.

“Kaya,” he repeats hurriedly, reaching and grabbing her elbow. “Wait, please. I’m sorry -”

“Why did you even invite me here?” she asks, cutting him off and turning around to face him. She’s so tired; she didn’t think break-ups could be this exhausting. “You’ve barely said anything to me. Was it to show me in person how you’re moving on? Because if that’s the case, then… message received.”

Namjoon shakes his head immediately; he looks exhausted as well, and Kaya is once again struck by how much thinner he is, overcome with a mixture of empathy and frustration at him.

“That was not - I didn’t plan that,” he says, sighing. “I don’t even know who she is. She kissed me and it wasn’t… come on, does it look like I’m moving on?” he asks, raising his arms helplessly.

Kaya stares at him and then sighs, shaking her head. “Why did you invite me here?” she asks again, less defensive this time.

“Because I wanted to see you,” he says at once.

She stares at him. “Well, you’ve seen me,” she says, sniffing. “Can I go now?”

“Kaya…”

“What?”

Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, looking lost for words. “Please don’t -“ He breaks off abruptly before taking a step closer to her, his height both large and comforting. “I don’t want you to be sad. I’m sorry.”

Too late. “You’re not supposed to care how I feel. Not anymore.”

He lets out a humourless chuckle. “What?”

“We’re over.” She can hear the tremble in her voice as she crosses her arms across her chest again. “You said it yourself. You’re not supposed to care how I feel.”

“Really?” He narrows his eyes at her. “You think this break-up had anything to do with how I feel about you? You know as I do that it didn’t.” When she doesn’t answer, he sighs. “I did this because I care.”

“If you say so.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me or something?”

“Provoke you into what?” she blurts out. “What - what is that you want, exactly? What do you want us to do? Just circle around in each other’s orbits for the rest of our lives, while still being - while still feeling the way we do?” she asks, avoiding her almost-slip of tongue. “We’re just supposed to stay not be together and still stay in each other’s lives? What - what do you want?”

Namjoon opens his mouth but falls silent; it’s clear he hasn’t thought that far ahead - or he can’t say it out loud. “I want…” He begins, before pausing and starting again. “I want… you to be happy,” he says eventually. “And safe.”

She scoffs and he bristles.

“I’m serious. I -” He breaks off when someone exits the restaurant, his gaze following them until they’re out of sight before he turns back to her. “This is hard for me, too, you know? Why is it so hard for you to believe I might want you to be happy?”

Kaya exhales but doesn’t answer, because it isn’t hard to believe, not even a little bit. It’s unfortunately the most believable thing he’s ever said to her which means she can’t even fight it.

“How?” she asks finally. “By moving on, like you were pretending to do?”

Namjoon bites his lip and his eyes glaze over, and she knows he’s picturing it. His eyes fall to the floor but he nods slowly anyway. “Yeah, I guess. As long as I don’t have to watch it,” he adds in a mutter.

It’s really over. Kaya feels her eyes well up. “Fine,” she answers quietly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find someone to move on with tonight.” She turns to leave but feels him stop her again. “What?” she snarls.

“Kaya, I -” The lift opens and a handful of people tumble out, holding merchandise and talking loudly. Namjoon’s eyes widen and he immediately grabs her arms and walks her back into a corner, just as the group turns into their corridor and towards the restaurant.

“What are you -”

But the second lift opens just then and they hear the sound of a second group of voices. Namjoon swears under his breath and pushes open a door behind her, walking her back further into the tiny dark room and letting the door swing shut behind him.

“What is wrong with -“

“It’s press,” he hisses, and she falls silent.

He peers out into the corridor through the small window in the door; there’s no light except for the bit through the window and from a skylight in the ceiling. Kaya can smell something vaguely citric that she decides is floor cleaner; they are in a janitor’s closet.

She and Namjoon are frozen in place, his hands still on her arms and hers on his torso to keep from losing her balance. It’s been a long time since they’ve been this close; it takes Kaya a few seconds to realise that the voices outside have disappeared, but he still hasn’t moved away.

Almost as if he’s subconsciously heard her, his thumbs stroke her arm once. The simple touch makes all the anger crumble away for a moment, especially now that it’s just them with the rest of the world shut outside. Kaya hesitates for a moment, then gently rests her forehead on his shoulder. Namjoon stiffens but a moment later, she feels his fingers tighten above her elbows, followed by him loosely enveloping her in his arms.

It seems cruel, almost, that the target of her anger and source of her comfort lie in the same person. It isn’t even a hug; it’s a moment of weakness at best, borne from his almost subconscious need to protect her. For the first time, Kaya wonders if she’s being unfair to him.

Resisting the temptation to wrap her arms around his waist, she steps away from him with difficulty, her back touching the wall. His arms fall from around her reluctantly, his expression resigned. It’s dark but she can see him more clearly than she has all night.

“This is a terrible idea,” she murmurs, echoing her words from a month ago. “The worst you’ve ever had.”

Namjoon exhales shakily but doesn’t argue. “I meant everything I said in that note,” he says, not even trying to hide the tremble in his voice anymore. “And I really do want you to be happy.”

The note. The one he’d kept on her bedside table when he’d left her apartment while she slept, the only thing of his that was left when she’d awoken, naked and alone. She’d only had the strength to read it once before she’d broken down and tucked it deep into her drawer, knowing the words would be etched in her memory.

“You know what will make me happy,” she whispers, looking at the ground. She feels him come closer to her, one hand hovering by her side as though unable to decide if she’d want her to touch him.

He finally rests it lightly on her waist, moving it slightly upward as she looks up at him, her heart twisting at how he’s unable to meet her eyes. She places her hands on his face, thinking vaguely how much she misses seeing his dimple.

“Joon,” she whispers, waiting for him to nod once. “Look at me.”

Namjoon visibly swallows, gaze still fallen. “Kaya, I…”

“No,” she interrupts him. “Look at me.”

With what seems like an enormous effort, he meets her eyes. This is hard for me too, you know?

She knows. Kaya strokes his cheekbones with her thumbs, her touch feather-light. “Kiss me,” she whispers. She touches her forehead to his and closes her eyes, hoping he’ll give in, for she can’t go further than this.

His hand tightens around her waist, pressing her into the wall. Their lips brush momentarily and he shivers.

“Do it,” she urges, her voice barely audible now. “Kiss me.”

She feels his lips before she even registers him moving against her and she leans into it, feeling like she can breathe for the first time in weeks. Come back to me, she thinks desperately. Come back to where you belong.

It’s like he can hear her. Namjoon pulls away, one hand on the wall beside her face for support, the other holding her.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and it sends a jolt of anticipation through her heart. “I love you, Kaya,” he adds, voice full of emotion. Kaya nods, unable to speak, wishing he would meet her eyes. He moves his hands to her face and touches his forehead to hers again, swallowing.

Look at me.

But he doesn’t. “But you have no idea,” he continues, every word sounding like it's costing him effort, “how I felt when you called me that night. The things that went through my mind…” He sniffs, and Kaya’s heart sinks. “I can’t let that happen again baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

She can feel her face start to contort and she drops her hands from his shoulders, for she knows this part by heart. “Goodbye, Namjoon,” she mutters thickly, sliding out from between him and the wall. She pushes open the door and hurries out, leaving him behind.

—

When she hears the knock on her front door the next morning, Kaya is just about to step into the shower. She freezes and sighs, for she really, really needs this shower. She considers ignoring it but the knock sounds again and she groans, abandoning the activity of tying up her hair and letting it fall loose instead.

Grabbing the old, threadbare robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she pulls it around herself and shuffles to the front door. She peers through the peephole and her heart stops for a moment, but she steels herself and opens the door.

Namjoon stands before her, hands in his pockets and shoulders slightly hunched. “Hey. I just wanted to - oh, God,” he switches abruptly, his expression changing from vaguely apologetic to shocked, and he slips inside the apartment.

“What?” Kaya asks, taken off guard and stumbling backwards.

“You really opened the door wearing that?” he hisses, shutting the door behind him. “I could’ve been anyone!”

“I knew it was you,” she argues, tightening the belt around her waist and realising, for the first time, how short the robe is. But she isn’t about to admit that to him, especially not when he’s turned up unannounced and decided to begin his visit by berating her. She folds her arms across her chest. “What do you want, Namjoon?”

He hesitates, almost as though he’s just noticing how displeased she is. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking a bit ashamed. “I didn’t mean to… anyway,” he says quickly, wringing his hands and slipping them back in his pockets. “How are you?”

Kaya shrugs suspiciously. He looks remarkably different from where she’d left him last night, almost breaking down and apologising to her. Right now, he seems almost… calm. She can almost imagine that last night had been a slip-up of emotion, possibly due to tiredness and an open bar, whereas in the light of day, he’s back to being the responsible ex who’s fulfilling his obligations by checking up on her each day.

“I’m great.”

He nods after a moment, clearly not believing her. “Well, I came here because…” He sighs and a glimmer of last night’s emotion appears on his face. “I thought about what you said last night. And you were right.”

The jolt in her stomach is almost painful, but Kaya hangs on. If he was talking about what she thinks he is, he would be delivering it far more differently.

“We can’t keep doing this. I can’t expect you to keep doing this,” he adds. “Staying in this limbo, not knowing…” He bites his lip and lowers his gaze, removing his hands from his pockets. “You have every right to move on. I want you to - to be happy.”

Kaya licks her lips slowly. “This,” she says coldly, “could’ve been a text.”

“I didn’t want to leave things the way they were last night,” he tells her, his voice softer. “You’re, uh…” His voice breaks off for a moment. “You’re the love of my life. And we were together for a long time and I… I loved every moment of it. I just want to say goodbye the right way.”

Her throat hurts holding back the rush of emotion that threatens to overwhelm her.

“Are you sure?” She can’t resist asking, in a whisper. When he nods and lowers his eyes, she feels the heavy, heavy anchor of acceptance settle in her stomach.

Namjoon hesitantly reaches out with one hand but when she gives him a look, he nods and steps forward, and they meet in their last hug, three and a half years after their first last hug in her apartment.

Kaya hugs him tight, no longer caring about hiding how she feels. There isn’t enough time to try and memorise everything so she doesn’t even try; she just goes higher on her toes and presses her nose into his shoulder, revelling in his scent one last time.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to be doing much better. He’s holding her tight, so tight that it doesn’t seem like he’s ever intending on letting her go. His face is in her hair and his arms stroke her back in small movements, his go-to movement to comfort her since they met.

Just a few more seconds. The sensations increase now; the feel of his shoulders, his chest touching hers - and she’s suddenly conscious of the thin robe being the only thing separating her naked body from him.

At the same time, his hands move to her waist - out of habit, she knows, but she can’t help but be extremely aware of it. His hand stops just above the curve of her hips, quickly and abruptly.

Her mouth feels dry, but her legs press together. Then, as though he can read her mind and the direction her thoughts are invariably leading in, against her hip, she can feel his body react.

She lets out a soft gasp and feels his body stiffen around her. This is goodbye, a voice reminds her, urging her brain to focus on the matter at hand. But it’s slipping - fading, almost, as a physical urge struggles for dominance.

Her lips brush his neck as she pulls away - she has to pull away - but it doesn’t matter in the end because somewhere along the way his lips find hers and all thought disappears, replaced by touch, feel and hunger.

Namjoon sighs into her mouth like he’s breathing for the first time, pulling her close. Her robe starts to loosen and he tugs at the belt, groaning when his hands touch her bare skin.

“Fuck, are you really not wearing anything under this?” he murmurs, his voice so low and reverberating so deep inside her that she shivers.

The robe is off; it’s cool and sudden air, a moment where his hands fall from her waist and then their back but this time, it’s skin against skin. It’s lips and sighs and tight grips, the feel of denim, her fingers moving out of habit as they unbutton and unzip - and then there’s pride and relief when she feels his desire for her, still the same as ever, no matter his words.

There’s something solid against her back; somewhere, dimly, her mind registers that her dining table is rickety and has her laptop on it, and then she’s leaning forward and he’s behind her and his chest is against her back and he wants her just as much as he wants him.

“Are you -“

“I’m still on birth control,” she confirms tightly, the next moment feeling his fingers on her hips and then he’s inside her again, after so long. She could almost sob at how good it feels, how right, the lips on her shoulder and his scent and touch.

But it’s over too soon. She gasps and falls forward, her ears ringing and heart hurting at the same time as her heart races. He’s getting close, too; she tries to memorise it now, the exact moment, but then he pulls out. It’s sudden, the emptiness, but the next moment, she feels wetness on her back.

It takes around ten seconds, ten seconds when she’s frozen before she finally hears him sigh and take a step away. A moment later, she reaches across the table and pulls the tissue box towards her, reaching behind and wiping her back.

Kaya turns slightly to see him pulling on his T-shirt, jeans buttoned already. She picks up her robe and pulls it on hurriedly, suddenly not wanting to be naked for even another microsecond in front of him.

Something feels wrong. It’s not the first time he’s finished on her; he’s done it before, on explicit request and without, none of which ever made her feel… like this. Self-conscious. Bare.

Namjoon clears his throat. “I -“ He meets her eyes, still panting slightly. “I still want to… do this right,” he says, sounding almost formal. “Goodbye, Kaya.”

He starts to take a step forward but pauses. “Maybe we shouldn’t hug,” he murmurs, offering her a small smile. Kaya watches as he hesitantly offers her a hand.

This is goodbye. Kaya can’t remember ever feeling this uncomfortable around him. The momentary loss of her sense of reason feels like it’s returned in full form, and she tightens the robe around her. She starts to reach for his hand but then stops.

“This is what you meant?” she asks quietly. “When you said you wanted to do it the right way? You wanted to see if you could squeeze in one last fuck before you closed this out like a business meeting?”

“What?” Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No! I didn’t - I didn’t want that to happen! I mean - you know that’s not what I meant,” he adds quickly. “I didn’t plan this. You and I both -“

“You planned our break-up and I had no idea,” she cuts him off, the shame and embarrassment creeping up her throat. “I really don’t know anymore.”

He scoffs, but his eyes flicker like he’s been stung. “Is that what you think of me? We were both here, Kaya. It wasn’t just me - you wanted this just as much as I -“

“I slept with Adam.”

Namjoon freezes. He swallows and his eyes flicker again, rapidly this time. “You’re lying,” he whispers.

Kaya shrugs, holding his gaze with every last bit of willpower in her. “You were the one who told me to move on last night,” she reminds him, watching his expression crumble and doing nothing to stop it.

After what feels like several minutes, or maybe even hours, Namjoon nods slowly. Then, without another word, he turns around and opens the door, walking out of her life and shutting the door behind him.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#namjoon fanfic #namjoon x oc #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #micdropnet #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #wkcnet #hyunglinenetwork #bts rm fanfic #bts rm angst #bts rm smut

113 notes · View notes

seraphicalsuccubus · 2 months

Text

I just wanna make a post because I’ve gotten tons of worried asks about my absence and wishing I’m okay and everything (and I will answer them I promise, I do really appreciate y’all checking in on me). but this is going to be a LONG post so if you’re actually gonna read it, strap in babes.

anyways, my life has virtually become a dystopian hell and I’m not kidding you. I feel like a prisoner in my own home. I feel like I’m under house arrest because I’m just not allowed to do fucking anything anymore. I pretty much cannot leave my house, not even to get groceries. I cannot ask my roommate to pick up anything for me on her way home from work because she bitches about it and makes some excuse not to even if it’s something I desperately need. I haven’t had a single human interaction with ANYONE even my former best friend/roommate since the end of January until this week when I just fucking lost it and vented to my aunt and had her get me a dispensary order because I can’t leave my house to get one myself anymore and she came to hang out and spend some time with me and talk about everything for a couple hours. and that’s the bare bones of what’s going on. there’s so much fucking more piled to it but I’ll just give you the gist of it. I literally told my therapist that if I didn’t get the fuck out of here soon, I will probably slit my wrists and bleed out in the bathtub. like if I cannot run away and escape all this shit, I will be leaving this house in a body bag because I honestly just do not know how much more of this shit I can take.

I have been so unbelievably stressed. I have picked every tiny cut, scratch, ingrown hair, pimple, everything that could be picked open, into huge gaping wounds all over my legs and specifically, I had two tiny cat scratches on my stomach from one of my cats kneading on me and not being too gentle with her claws, and i picked those TINY cuts into gaping wounds bigger than the size of dollar coins. two of them. right next to each other. they were so bad that I thought they were legitimately going to get infected and cause me problems. but they’re finally healing and starting to scar because I HAD to bandage them. like if I did not bandage them and change the bandage twice a day, they would have become infected and been a huge problem. that’s how bad those two specifically were.

not only this, but I have also PICKED A FUCKING BALD SPOT ON MY SCALP near my widow’s peak, but thankfully it’s on the side my hair flops over from so it’s covered. but it’s still there and it makes me horribly insecure and I don’t know if it’s like a scab that’ll eventually fall off and something will grow back from it or if it’s a scar and I’ll have this bald spot forever to be insecure of and self conscious of all the time. literally only time will give me the answer to that. but I am fucking 26 years old and have picked myself to PIECES and BALD SPOTS due to stress. I am literally falling the fuck apart.

and not only that, but I was just informed that I need to be conscious and aware of the fact that I may have fucking lupus because two of my dad’s sisters have it (one confirmed diagnosis and the other a suspicion but that’s enough of a reason for me to be worried about it) and I’m too terrified to get tested or whatever to start the process of getting that diagnosis. like the one thing I’ve always been so fucking afraid of is having an autoimmune disease and my fear of that may have fucking manifested one fucking for me and I’m really struggling with the potential that I may have to deal with that, along with my other health issues and mental health issues and shit.

I just. I have been going through a REALLY rough fucking time. and I am sorry, I am so sorry for the lack of posts or explanations or not answering anyone’s asks or messages aside from the two people I talk to daily because I just mentally cannot handle conversations through all this shit, and for making anyone genuinely concerned about me because of my absence and shit. I wish I could say you shouldn’t worry, but honestly, I’m incredibly worried about myself and that reason alone should scare anyone that knows me because I’m NEVER worried about myself. I’m sorry. I wish I could say I’m okay and I’m thriving and my lack of presence on here was a GOOD thing because I’m doing well and not thinking about social media, but it’s not. it’s a very bad thing. I don’t leave my bed every day unless it’s to take care of my cats. I can’t remember the last day I actually ate a meal or even a snack. the only hydration I get is like the 3 sips of whatever I use to take my meds every morning and night. I have no drive to create content so my income has dropped SO dramatically that I am barely scraping by to pay my bills. I haven’t gamed. I haven’t caught up on any of the shows I was excited for and watching before all this. I haven’t done laundry in god only knows how long and I’m literally running out of clean clothes to wear. I literally only brush my hair before I get on FaceTime with a friend or my boyfriend, otherwise it’s a knotted mess. I’ve showered to clean my body because I feel disgusting being dirty but I have not washed my hair since I had these extensions installed. I do not have the energy to wash this much fucking hair right now. and do you know when these were installed? February 12th. I have not washed my fucking hair in over a month and I feel so fucking repulsive because of it. my hair is my pride and joy. I have such expensive quality products for it. I take care of it. I love my hair. and I cannot even find the energy to wash it when I’m already in the shower just to wash my body/face because I just am so depressed that I can’t even find the energy to do it WHILE ALREADY IN THE SHOWER. I usually go 7-10 days without washing my hair to prolong the life of my extensions and my hair dye and shit because my hair doesn’t get greasy quickly or dry so I can push it that long and just do like body wash/skincare showers in between. but it’s been over a month. over a FUCKING MONTH. since I’ve been able to find the energy to just wash my fucking hair even when I’m already in the shower. do you know how pathetic that feels?

I’m sorry this was such a heavy post. for anyone that actually read through it, I’m sorry. I’ve been internalizing a lot of this shit and this isn’t even the icing on the fucking cake. this is the bare minimum of what I’m dealing with. it’s so much more convoluted and fucked up and abusive than I’m explaining on here and I’m sorry for venting about the things that I did. but I’ll leave it there. I won’t get into the rest.

if you read this far, I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time with this long of a post just to get shit off my chest. I hope you’re having a really good day, or that your day gets better, your weekend goes well, and that you have some good karma headed your way. I wish you all the best. thank you for listening. I appreciate it. 🖤

#it’s really hard for me to make this post and admit that I am struggling so fucking bad so please be kind and considerate about all this #because if someone makes a rude remark or sends a rude ask about it I’m blocking and deleting it #I’m not even going to entertain someone trying to make me feel worse than I already feel #because I didn’t even KNOW I could feel this bad in my fucking life #so please just be kind and comfort me or just don’t say anything. please. for my sake.

119 notes · View notes

writingonleaves · 24 days

Text

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future.

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior.

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise.

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it.

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly?

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us.

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right?

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days, I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when.

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag.

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck)

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other.

Yet we still hurt each other.

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did.

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional.

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down.

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better.

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured.

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for?

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always.

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to.

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you.

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you.

I do.

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too.

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend.

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen.

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now.

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too.

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday.

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago.

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered.

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this.

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed.

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore.

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween.

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there.

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me.

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond.

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known.

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd.

I looked for you in every crowd for years.

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me?

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months.

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then.

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that.

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me.

Or maybe not.

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized.

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best.

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important.

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome.

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on.

I hope you're moving on.

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight.

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met.

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up.

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day.

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door.

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that.

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles.

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t.

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city.

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster.

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city.

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too.

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee.

Jeremy walks into the book store.

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red.

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her.

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything.

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways.

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with.

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same.

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out.

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all.

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence.

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does.

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..”

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?”

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan,

i still love you too.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours,

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused.

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.

#k writes #hockey fanfiction #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl writing #hockey blurb #hockey writing #boston bruins #jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman blurb #jeremy swayman writing #jeremy swayman fic #jeremy swayman fanfiction #jeremy swayman x ofc #jeremy swayman x oc #jeremy swayman x reader

66 notes · View notes

kinzis-writing · 8 months

Text

Summary: After a horrible break-up, Y/N, decided to pack up and move her life from Buffalo, NY to Cincinnati, OH. She would be closer to her manager and she would be in the area where her podcast began. What she didn’t expect was to find a new relationship in another football player. <summary freaking sucks, and I wish I could write my summaries better but they are what they are.>

Pairing/Fandom: Tee Higgins x Fem! Reader! (NFL)

Warning(s): use of Taylor swifts songs as own (all rights go to her), bad guy! Josh Allen (sorry), fluff, maybe some angst, a few choice words.

All music, gifs, photos, etc. goes to their rightful owners. I am just using these in my imagine, so please don’t be rude.

I hate how I ended this, but I was not sure exactly how you wanted it! let me know if you wanted something different! based on this request. *Not edited so may have grammar/spelling erros.*

“How dare he! How dare he say that I am too immature and that’s why the relationship ended.” Y/N spoke to her friend Olivia who was sitting down beside where she was standing.

The girl had moved back to Cincinnati over eight months ago, her and josh had been broken up for a little over a year now. He had already moved on, seeing as he had made the news with an actress.

“Actually he said that he dated a lot of immature girls and that’s why he’ll never date someone younger than him again.” Olivia corrected Y/N as she gave the girl a look.

“I’m going to kill him.” Y/N grumbled as she plopped down on the couch.

“Woah, who’s going to face the wrath of Y/N today?” Joe burrow asked as he walked into the living room and gave Olivia a kiss before placing his bag down. Ja’Marr, Tee, Logan, Sam, and Tyler made their way in after him.

“Josh, that’s who.” Olivia spoke up knowing that Y/N was in distress right now. “Trying to ruin her reputation.”

Y/N huffed at what Olivia told the guys before glancing around at the Bengals players. “I’m pissed, but maybe it’s because I’m too immature.” She mocked, throwing her head back. “That dick acts like I was ten years younger than him. I’m 24, and he’s 26.” Y/N then turned to Logan who she knew had played college ball with Josh. "Did he ever try to ruin any of his other ex's?"

Logan shrugged not really knowing what to say. He had played with Josh in Wyoming, but was unsure about much else concerning his love life. What the guys did know was that Y/N was far from immature and everyone on the team loved her, the significant others included.

"He's just mad because he lost the best girl he ever had." Tee spoke up, the guys nodding in agreement.

It was no secret that Tee and Y/N were close. They were often mistaken for a couple when they were out in public together and the two had set the record straight multiple times. After Y/N moved to Ohio, Tee was the one to help her through the rough patch of healing from her break-up with Allen.

"Channel that anger into a number one hit and put him in his place." Sam suggested as he sat down on one of the chairs in the living room.

"I've already started," Y/N mumbled getting all the attention on her. Usually she shared her songs with Tee or Olivia. This one had been kept secret because she wasn't sure how she felt about it. "I don't know how I feel about because I wrote it about Josh and then one of my songwriting friends wrote one part and it doesn't even match him."

Olivia gave Joe a knowing look before he nodded and left the living room, returning with a guitar that Y/n had accidentally left. "You are not leaving this house until you give us a snippet." Olivia spoke sternly while Joe placed the guitar in Y/N's lap.

The girl rolled her eyes before gesturing for everyone to sit down, tee making sure to sit next to her, she opened up her phone and ran over the lyrics quickly. "you know what they say, you can't help who you fall for. And you and I fell like an early spring snow, but reality crept in, you said we're too different. You laughed at my dreams, rolled your eyes at my jokes. Mr. Superior thinkin' do you have all the space that you need? I don't have to be your shrink to know that you'll never be happy and I bet you think about me."

"That'll do it." Logan spoke before letting out a laugh. Y/N rolled her eyes and sat the guitar down on the coffee table.

"I bet you think about me, is the name of the song." Y/N mumbled before standing up, "I think I'm going to go. I have to record a podcast episode tomorrow and I need to get ready for that."

"I'll walk you out." Tee offered as Y/N told their friends bye.

Y/N collected her stuff before going to slip on her shoes. She and tee slipped out of the Burrow household and made their way to her Toyota. She carefully put her items in the backseat before turning to face her best friend.

“I, uh, I just wanted to tell you that I’m fully over Josh.” She spoke up her gaze locking on the guy she has liked for the past five months. “You’ve helped me through everything and I just didn’t want you to think that it was all for nothing. I just worry about my jobs and such.”

Tee nodded, “I know.” He assured her. He quickly opened her car door once he realized she was going to open it. “Do you want company tomorrow?”

A grin made its way onto Y/N’s face, “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” He asked. His own smile growing in his face. Y/N nodded before biting her lip. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you, Tamaurice.” Y/N replied causing the man to groan.

“Really, why you gotta use my full name.” Y/N just smirked before getting in her car and slowly pulling out of the drive to head towards her house.

"What's your take on the whole "every NFL player cheats on their significant other" thought process?" Y/N asked as she sat across from one of her friends, Allison Kuch. Her husband had previously played for the Cleveland browns and that was how the two girls had gotten close.

"I hate it." She laughed as she glanced at the two guys sitting behind the camera. Isaac was sitting next to Tee as the girls recorded Y/N's podcast episode. "I don't particularly think that the NFL would make someone cheat."

"Right." Y/N nodded, "If they are gonna cheat then they will no matter their job." Y/N finished.

"I read many articles about that being your case and I was like.. that doesn't sound right. I think it's funny how the media takes things and runs with it." Allison spoke into the microphone.

Y/N let out a small huff before nodding her head, "yeah, they do. I remember when the news hit that Josh and I broke up, which we had been broken up for two months before media and fans put it together. There were articles saying I was out with another guy in New York and then there were some saying Josh was hanging out with his ex and others. It was definitely many lies being told." Y/N agreed before moving onto the next question.

"I have a question for you, actually." Allison spoke up gaining the attention of Y/N. "Do you think that Josh ruined any plans to ever get with a professional athlete again?"

The question had gained the attention of Tee who was talking to Isaac about the upcoming football season. Y/N let out a nervous laugh, "Uh, no. I mean, the whole immature jab was hurtful but if you have bitter ex's then." Y/N shrugged not knowing how to continue that sentence. "My thought process is that one guy does not define the entire population. Josh does not define the NFL men population, you know?"

Allison nodded before the two carried on with the episode and eventually called it quits. After the podcast was over, Allison and Isaac had told the two goodbye and left to head back to their hotel. Tee was helping Y/N pick up her podcast room and get her equipment situated before they had shut the lights off and closed the door.

"You hungry? I was thinking about making dinner." Y/N mumbled as she walked into her kitchen and leaned back against the counter. She was trying to think of what to make that sounded good to her. Truth be told, since her break-up she hadn't been eating as much which was causing her to lose weight.

"I'm good with whatever." Tee shrugged as he came to a stop in front of her and leaned against the island. "Does it bother you that people ask about Josh?"

The girl in front of him shrugged, "Not really. He's part of my past and people want to know, and I think talking about it can be healing." she explained thinking about her past with the NFL quarterback. "Does it bother you that people ask about him?"

Tee was taken back by that question. He was not expecting to have her reconcile that question back to him. "A little, maybe." He muttered not knowing how she would take the new information.

Y/N nodded, the butterflies swarming in her stomach. "Can I play you a song that I've been working on?" she asked almost shyly. It was strange for her not to be outgoing around him. He had been her best friend for almost a year now and she had never cowered under him.

"Course." Tee agreed as he followed Y/N to her living room. She had her guitar, notebook, and pen laid out neatly on her coffee table.

Y/N picked up her guitar once they got situated on the couch and started the chords for the song. It was an upbeat song which she would have to give him an idea of what the acoustic would sound like. "we kept everything professional, but something's changed, it's somethin' I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it's best that we move fast and keep quiet. You won't believe half the things I see inside my head, wait 'til you see half the things that haven't happened, yet." She sang carefully.

Her eyes stayed on the notepad as she sang, scared to see her best friend's reaction. "but what would you do, if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? what would you do if we never made a sound? Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall for me, I can see you up against the wall with me, and what would you do? baby if you only knew. That I can see you, throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you make me want you even more, what would you do, baby if you only knew. That I can see you." She finished singing the snippet of her almost finished song.

Y/N carefully laid her guitar back in its previous spot and turned towards her best friend. "What do you think?" she asked nervously.

The Bengal's wide receiver nodded, "it's great." He told the girl his honest opinion. "Did someone inspire it or was it one of those late-night thoughts you get?"

"You, inspired it." Y/n mumbled knowing that it was now or never to get her feelings out there. She wanted to tell him before he met someone else and did not have the chance for him to see her like that. Tee stared at her for a good couple of minutes unknowing what to say. "Can you please say something?" she asked after the long silence. Her stomach was churning from nerves.

"You wrote a sexual song about me?"

"Now you make it sound horrible." Y/n muttered as she stood up trying to ease her stomach. The bile was slowly rising in her throat and she was unsure of how to take back what she had just said. "It's fine that you don't feel the same way, really. We can forget that I ever said anything."

"We could," Tee spoke as he stood up, causing Y/N's throat to burn even more. "Or we could make your song a reality..." he trailed. Y/n froze on the spot, her churning stomach coming to a halt as she felt relief flood her body. "What was it again?" He asked pretending to think. "I can see you up against the wall with me?" he asked. Y/N nodded unsure of his next move.

Without warning, he lifted her up by her thighs and placed then around his toned waist and carefully walked them backwards until her back hit the hallway wall. Y/n's heart was beating in her chest, her stomach was fluttering. The girl raised her eyes up to meet his brown ones, the closeness of them making her yearn for him. "You feel the same way?" she mumbled not sure what to say as her hands landed on the back of his neck. His braids tickled her knuckles a bit, but it was a feeling she loved.

Instead of answering, he carefully leaned closer and locked lips with the girl he had wanted since he met her. It was everything that they had both expected and even more than what they were expecting.

*About a year and some months later* (I guess around this 2023 season)

The last year had been going great for Y/N, she had her man that she was in love with, she had a successful album which consisted of her single about Josh and the one about Tee, and better yet, her relationship had been kept private for the most part.

your.username

💟868k

your.username Game Dey! Good luck to my favorite man. No matter the outcome of todays game you’ll always be my favorite! #whodey

username Bruh how does this girl get NFL guys?

username2 you dating Ja’Marr or Tee?

teehigginsmom_5 win this game boys!! Thank you for supporting my boy. <3

—> your.username always!! <3

username3 josh Allen >>> Tee Higgins

—> your.username maybe if you wanna man with temper… I prefer a man who treats me right!

username4 so “I can see you” is about Tee Higgins? … I am NOT okay!! I love it!!

The game had not gone as expected, many thought that the Raven's would lose but it turned out to be a loss for the Bengals. Y/N was still extremely proud of Tee, he had gotten 12 of the 24 points that they had made. Fans were leaving the stadium, most wearing Bengals gear, while some were in Raven's gear.

"Hi," a voice stopped Y/N as she was starting to head towards the Bengals locker room. "Can I get a picture?" The younger girl asked holding out her phone. Y/N gave the girl a smile and nodded before bending down to her level and getting a picture of the two. "Thank you. I really like you being friends with the Bengals, my dad makes me wear a raven's jersey because my mom likes Joe burrow."

Y/N gave the little girl a small smile, "well, I'll make sure to tell Joe and the team all about you." she said softly before she felt a presence beside of her. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too, thank you to much!" the fan replied before running off to find her family.

Y/N stood up and turned around to be met with Olivia who was probably heading to wait for Joe. Both girls headed towards the locker room and stopped outside when they could hear Zac Taylor’s voice. He was ranting while also trying to encourage them not to give up. It was obvious to Y/N that he was trying to get onto the team while keeping their hopes high.

Pretty soon after coach was done ranting, the boys started walking out talking amongst themselves. “Hey you.” Y/N greeted Tee softly once she seen him and pushed herself off the wall. “You did good out there.”

“Coulda been better.” Tee shrugged as his arms went to wrap around her waist.

“Hey!” Y/N scolded slightly. “12 points is still amazing.” She assured, her hands locking around his neck.

Tee gave her a small smile and pulled her into him. Their season was starting out horrible, and every single one of them hated it. Y/N squeezed her boyfriend before pulling back a bit, "You ready to get out of here?" she asked softly a twinkling in her eye that Tee had caught.

"for sure."

151 notes · View notes

dailycass-cain · 1 year

Text

So on January 26th yesterday, I looked into how the comics had Cass combat her disability in Dyslexia being not able to read and relate words vocally.

What worked, what didn't, and which era handled the progression better.

At the very core of her very first appearance in Batman #567 by Kelley Puckett and Damion Scott, Barbara Gordon is trying to help Cassandra overcome her disability. And it is her first words spoken that give her father David Cain pause.

Batgirl Vol. 1 #2 gives us the first look into how Cass really doesn't fully care about learning in either study instead focusing on her new vigilante life. That is until running into Robinson and learning WHY words and writing truly matter.

#5 has her run across a metahuman who has mental abilities and because of those rewires her brain to have the capacity to understand.

It's a cheap copout for sure. But it gives Cass a voice in her mind along with the capacity to speak better. Bad news? It screws up her abilities and how her mind was originally wired.

This leads into #6-9 basically being how Cass can get her ability to read body language and learn with the added bonus of her mind continuing to be the way it is. Enter Lady Shiva who gives her this, but at a price aka the crux of what will lead into Batgirl #25.

Batgirl Vol. 1 #20 written by Chuck Dixon (art still by Scott). Where Cass comes to a drop man who's murdered before he can deliver a ransom. Her lack of being able to read leads her to seek out--

-- one Stephanie Brown aka Spoiler. I think at this point the reason Cass went to Steph was that she was afraid Babs would lecture her on neglecting her reading lessons (which she would later on).

Tim Drake, she had just fully befriended (#18), but he was close to Babs. So Cass probably figured he accidentally let slip this and she'd be in trouble. Steph wouldn't she was on the outside from the Bat Family (at this time).

The issue does promise of Cass in attaining another reading teacher (which pays off in the most weirdest place, Convergence: Batgirl #1), but this plot point goes nowhere here. Cass/Steph's friendship would intensify for the next ten issues (#21, 26-28).

For the most part, we don't really get to see fully Cass try and fight her Dyslexia again until the Dylan Horrocks' run with #51 where we learn HOW Cass is expanding her word vocabulary via TV but neglecting on reading.

This bit reads its crux with the infamous #54 (i.e. the one that causes Cass/Babs to fracture away from one another).

In the issue, Cass has to deal with a killer robot that's taking out any place that has a copy of a book that has the codeword to shut it down. We learn during the fight, Cass has been neglecting her studies in reading. Again with the infamous page:

Now Horrocks did this because he was ordered to write Babs off this title (Birds of Prey, the comic Babs was primarily in would be eventually moving away from Gotham). It was the first of that would make the writer leave the comic (and DC Comics altogether).

Regardless again the way the case rattled Cass enough to think about it all and work back into trying to read.

If there was instant positive of writer Andersen Gabrych when he began his run. He made sure this was a reoccurring plot point THROUGHOUT his run starting with #58.

By giving Cass her own diary it enables her better way to try and combat her disability. Along with in the very same issue, Cass trying to actively read a book for the first time on page.

The diary motif would be a hallmark of Gabrych's entire run with the book. So I'm not gonna post every entry. But I think that's why I really loved those first few issues because he covered ALL corners with the character.

You saw it all.

Never once did Gabrych use behind the issues trick. This was a struggle for Cass. I think it better helped resonate the character with readers by doing so. It also went down an angle that was different than Puckett and felt like the better next step from what was built on prior.

Course Cass would still have her bad habits of being an avid TV watcher. So the balance of her trying and struggling was a nice touch.

This came to an ironic fully circle with #67 with Babs returning (for one issue) in the comic and the pair hashing out their differences and mending. But it also reveals a further reason why Babs really wants Cass to learn to read. Again, this is probably the best reason.

She knows Cass wants to be Bruce's heir and be Batman. She knows the only way to fully be that is to get fully conquer her disability. And for the second time in her ongoing we get a look in how Cass's brain was wired from her learning from her father and the metahuman.

And we get the clearest answer how Cass's brain truly operates and why the usual methods in overcoming her disability in reading.

That's the final gift Gabrych gave us.

A hope.

A small faint hope that maybe Cass could learn with whatever writer would take on the character next. The only thing is even he couldn't anticipate what was to come...

Batgirl was canceled with #73 and well the next time we saw Cass and how this disability was handled came in Robin #148.

Alright, before I go into this portion. Newly minted Robin writer (this was his first issue) Adam Beechen came into comics had zero idea of the character of Cassandra Cain, other than what he was told and found.

The DC Editors on Robin did not help him or assist him. They gave him an edict... and he did that edict without question. The result....

Was this INFAMOUS page from Robin #149. Cassandra Cain the character who had the disability of Dyslexia somehow was able to learn another entire language.

That's not even going with the OTHER problem Robin OYL gave us with Cass (but that's an entirely ANOTHER issue). Regardless after the story arc, Beechen (and DC) realized just how badly he screwed up.

Course, the entirety on HOW Cass was suddenly able to learn an entire language with how her brain understood information. Yeah, this was a plot thread nobody truly wanted to answer when the retcons began dropping after Cass's "EVIL" phase to fix it.

In fact, it was Beechen himself who addressed the issue in Batgirl Vol. 2 #1 amongst the CHUNKS of well exposition and history that was the mess DC made of the character from 2006-2007.

So all those issues Babs mentioned in #67? Cass and Alfred fixed them and for the entire MISSING YEAR Cass made great strides to overcome her disability. THAT'S how she was able to understand the Navajo language.

Look I get what Beechen was doing and I also get we were NEVER gonna get the missing stories to showcase that. But to see an entire character's journey in overcoming her disability fixed overnight?

Even with Beechen giving us a classmate in Sal (who's last name we NEVER learn, and is forgettable male love interest #3 for Cass) who gives us the promise of something we never get from the Vol. 1 ongoing. Because DC was gonna DC.

That's basically it for the original run for Cass. That it was a nice harrowing journey that had its bumps but the character was making great strides to be better. Then well the road bumps began to occur and yeah...

I'll give it to Beechen that he tried at the very least to fix the holes he himself caused. But... in the format given it's just crushing how this was fully handled in the end.

Sadly we got nothing more as DC really did a meh job for about five years? We did get this little nugget in Convergence: Batgirl #1 though (somehow connecting that line from waaaaaay back in Batgirl Vol. 1 #20)...

Which is shocking of all places for Cass trying to overcome her disability, Convergence: Batgirl #1 was not the place one ever would think to find that, but we had that surprisingly.

So when Cass was "reintroduced" into the DCU with Batman & Robin Eternal. A reset was in order and writers were allowed back to square one in how to deal with Cass handling her Dyslexia disability.

I will say this for James Tynion IV and Scott Snyder on how they handle putting a metahuman with mental abilities they just slot that character in #11 by introducing the Sculptor who basically fills the same void the meta in Batgirl Vol. 1 #5 did.

Much like the original metahuman, once this link is established Sculptor nopes her way out of the story and is never heard from again.

Which kind of surprises me, because it's something I figured Tynion would maybe address during his Detective Comics run (that had Cass in it) given how much in #11 and 12 establish the character and her origins.

But nope. Nothing further.

So yeah, after this we got James Tynion IV's Detective Comics run that had Cass in it starting from #934-981.

Not surprisingly, Tynion really handled the whole disability issue well than those in the past with the constraints he had. Even more so Juggling multiple characters in this book and going down a better avenue than his predecessors.

And that all begins with #953 with Clayface (Basil Karlo) trying to comfort Cass after learning her mom is Lady Shiva.

By doing this. Tynion lays the seeds on how he'll deal with the issue on Cass combating her disability while also cementing the hallmark of this run, Clayface's rehabilitation and friendship with Cass.

#958 we see Basil teaching Cass Shakespeare by playing audio and having her learn to read and increase her vocabulary via that.

It's probably the best thing Tynion did character-wise with Cass by briefly showing us this but fully giving us a more plausible method than prior on how to deal with her disability.

The fact that this hits throughout this arc (as Cass quotes Shakespeare at a good moment) and is carried over until the very end of his run when Cass meets Barbara in #981.

This version of Cass is actively trying to combat her Dyslexia more than her prior versions, and this Cass is actively doing a better job. Even though we don’t get much Babs teaching Cass (though they do work together in the next arc after this that sets up Batman & the Outsiders). But that run doesn’t dig into Cass’s progress instead going into other routes to touch on with the character.

Unlike what was carried over from Batgirl Vol. 1 to 2 (and between that) Cass has a more concrete subplot here. Where we can SEE and are TOLD of her progress.

That leads us into the current Batgirls ongoing. In #1. where this is a little bit lampshaded. As Cass uses a reading bag to combat criminals to retain stuff she/Steph had that was stolen.

A further bit of subplot is continued throughout and in #4 with Cass now ACTIVELY being a bookworm and reading works of Edgar Allen Poe.

Like it astonishes me that this element of the character has remained actually consistent from point A to B. But it's a nice contrast of things that creators at DC worked on better here than prior.

And no issue highlights that fight of Cass actively wanting to combat her dyslexia then "Sounds" from DC Festival of Heroes: The Asian Superhero Celebration #1 by Mariko Tamaki and Marcus To.

It's why Tamaki just fully GETS the character of Cass not in every corner of the character. Why many want the writer to handle the character again.

But Tamaki isn't the only one who did a good job in showcasing Cass fighting her disability and the one that does the best job is Shadow of the Batgirl graphic novel. Where writer Sarah Kuhn and artist Nicole Goux go both literally fighting her disability.

And her actively learning to read and increasing her vocabulary by hiding in the library was absolute perfection.

But it also is a nice avenue (and nod to the past) by focusing on a library since that's the location where Barbara Gordon teaches (and again a nice nod to that character's history too).

Quite literally...

That's another layer to why I adore that graphic novel. Just the layer of dimension to BOTH characters while it gives that nod to Babs, the story is clearly more Cass.

Again, Kuhn modernizes everything to perfection.

So there you have the history of Cass and her disability. And my final gift on this day (which has now passed) to celebrate the character of Cassandra Cain.

#cassandra cain #dc comics #barbara gordon #clayface #tim drake #stephanie brown

576 notes · View notes

wonwoonlight · 2 years

Text

by the moon | jeon wonwoo

➝ werewolf!Wonwoo x mage!Reader (ft. Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Jisoo, Jihoon, Minghao, Chan)

➝ fantasy!au but i kinda just make my own universe // angst // fluff // hurt comfort // a little action? // suggestive at the end

➝ word count: 18k~ (loool)

➝warning: the magic concept isn't mine but I alternate it to my universe so lets not start pointing fingers about whats right and whats not, mentions of blood and kidnapping, this is the first time i write a fantasy au slash some action so im sorry if this aint it 🥴, i have no beta so sorry in advance for typos and so on ;-; implied sexual activities (no smut), suggestive scenes in the end, that's about it?

➝A/N: happy birthday, my muse, the love of my life, and everything in between 🤍 I started writing this not long after FTS teasers came out and and never expected this to go past 10k sjdhfbhsdbf honestly i thought it'd be like 6k at most. anyway! i hope you'll enjoy it despite the length and my nonexistent experience in writing fantasy, let alone action💀 don't hesitate to tell me your thought🤍

Wonwoo can’t figure you out.

It’s been a few months since he’s joined the pack, quite late for a werewolf his age, but he was an omega for good reasons and he wouldn’t even be here if he didn’t owe Seungcheol, his alpha now, his life.

The process was quite bizarre, as Wonwoo never intended to join any pack to begin with–has never considered to be a part of one since he’s learned the concept of it. He didn’t even know it was possible for a werewolf to join a pack this late (he’s 26, for God’s sake), but it was one fateful evening where he almost got killed by a ghoul that Seungcheol came to his rescue.

What was even a ghoul doing out in a town?

But, then again, it was stupid of him to go out during dusk in a town he doesn’t know well enough.

Seungcheol himself almost lost his life too, and Wonwoo still remembered thinking why on earth would this man throw himself for some omega in danger that he saw by chance. But it was the way his whole pack suddenly came through and pried the ghoul off their alpha’s body that Wonwoo ever witnessed a pack move as one. And when he saw Seungcheol staggering forward, it was reflex that fueled him to catch him even though he’s a good two meters away.

And then he found out that these creatures have been lurking in this particular town when dusk comes around. Seungcheol’s pack was patrolling–had been for the past few weeks–because they kept on detecting something crossing the borders and because…who else would patrol if not them? Those humans know nothing of them and the danger that looms above their heads.

Next thing he knew, he’s visiting Seungcheol everyday because he felt like he owed the older man at least that much. Wonwoo might be indifferent and ignorant towards a lot of things, but he knows how to be grateful and he was waiting for the older guy to get back to his health before offering his gratitude and saying his goodbye.

At least that was the plan, until Seungcheol talked to him thoroughly and said there’s always an open spot for Wonwoo in his pack. Wonwoo isn’t sure what made Seungcheol say that, nor what really compelled him to say yes–but he did.

And now he’s here, three months later, trying his best to hold back hisses as you tend to his wound.

“It’s getting very concerning.” You frown, and Wonwoo wonders if you’re too close or if it’s just the wolf in him being too aware of his surroundings. He can feel your soft breath against the back of his neck, and he winces a little at the warmth against the wound and your proximity.

He’s never liked getting into fights with spirits; the aftermath is always nasty because they’re not exactly physical unless they take another being’s form–which means the werewolf's ability to heal faster doesn’t exactly work when it comes to their attacks.

“The attacks this month alone are already more than the last three months combined.”

Seungcheol passes by and pats your head before plopping down next to you on the sofa.

“I know. But that’s why we need to patrol more, Moon.”

Wonwoo tunes out the conversation, already knowing the content of it before it even finishes. The humans in this area are lucky Seungcheol’s–his also, Wonwoo guesses–pack is here to protect the territory. As much as it concerns them, the weirdness that has been happening the last few months are just urban legends or stories getting out of hand.

Why would they believe a hellhound made its way to the town, almost killing an innocent civilian being at the wrong place at the wrong time if not for Jeonghan pouncing on top of it with Minghao following close behind?

As far as they–and the victim himself–know, there was a stray dog who attacked him in the middle of the night but thankfully you were there to help him and your brothers had fended the dog off before anything could happen.

That was your work.

Wonwoo’s pretty sure the victim wasn’t that out of it when it happened; he’s definitely sober enough to register the huge monster was anything but a stray dog. But you had done your magic, summoned magic circles and used your runes, making the guy unconscious and a little disoriented when he woke up again.

Wonwoo still remembers the kind smile you offered the victim when you relayed the fabricated story of a stray dog pouncing on him and how he went unconscious for quite a bit after that. The guy didn’t question anything, whether he accepted your words because of your magic or because of the gentle glint adorning your eyes, Wonwoo would never know.

Just like how he never knows how to perceive you.

There’s something about you that pulls him in for reasons that he can’t comprehend. But he never does anything about it, doesn’t see why he should, too.

You’re a part of the pack, that much he knows. Everyone calls you Moon, and Wonwoo never finds out your actual name and now, months later, it feels a little too late to ask anyone of it or how your nickname comes to be.

Not that he’s had any business calling you so far.

At first glance, he thought you were but a mage that was a part of the pack. But he just needed a few more seconds to figure out you do have wolf blood within you even though it’s very faint; untrained wolves wouldn’t know if they don’t try to see it.

He has never seen you transform though, and while he’s seen quite a few magic users himself, he has never seen one with wolf blood. One has wolf blood for a reason: to be wolves. Not… something else. Like a mage.

Your magic mainly uses runes, and he’d see you practice from time to time even though he never lingers long enough to be bothersome. Just a glance here and there whenever he passes by.

Jisoo, Jeonghan’s mate, would sometimes join you even though she’s just there to accompany you or help you gather whatever you need for practice because Jisoo is very much human (he also doesn’t know how she ended up as Jeonghan’s mate but he’s not really curious), and she’s your only female companion within the pack.

The wolf blood within you is so–so faint that if it’s not because he already knew you are a wolf by blood, he wouldn’t suspect you’re one even a bit. Sometimes he finds himself wondering if you never transform because you can’t, but he stops the thought from going too far because it’s none of his business.

“It’s okay to come closer, you know.” Your voice is soft and your eyes are focused on the ruby stones in front of you. If not for the fact that the house is empty except for you both and Minghao sleeping upstairs, Wonwoo wouldn’t know you’re even speaking to him. “I know we don’t talk a lot, but we’re in the same pack so we should at least get along, right?”

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, not that you expect him to, but you can hear his steps getting closer and he stands right beside you in front of your working table.

He’s a good one meter away from you, his eyes busy scanning everything that lays on top of it because it’s actually the first time he’s been this close. He doesn’t want to cross a line and he’s not that curious (nor is he nosy), so he has never tried to see even if you’re not home. There’s just something personal about this place and Wonwoo feels like he’s intruding.

“You can ask.” Your voice is so steady, so sure that Wonwoo’s wandering gaze means curiosity instead of ignorance. But Wonwoo takes the bait. He is kind of curious, has always been when it comes to runes and magic.

“Why ruby?” Wonwoo picks up the red stone, his fingers easily enclosing the cut oval before he asks. “Do you only use stones for your runes?”

He can hear the soft amusement in your grin, though unsure why you find his question amusing. It doesn’t feel like you’re mocking him though. Far from it, in fact–you’re excited that you get the chance to talk someone’s ears off about something you love most and it’s clear that Wonwoo’s asking because he’s curious, interested, and genuinely wants to know.

After that, he spends his time next to you in your practice room every time he’s able to; not enough to be called often, but definitely enough for you to register the pattern of his heartbeat everytime he makes his way there.

He doesn’t really talk, but Wonwoo can’t deny the warmth spreading through his chest everytime you light up when a particular rune shines brighter than the other, or when your practice goes better than expected.

He wonders if it’s possible for someone’s eyes to glow brighter than the moon like yours do. Is that way they call you Moon?

Wonwoo jumps when the jade runes on the table burst the exact second something crosses the border you’ve set up on the corner of the room. There’s a grin on your face and your eyes are twinkling in excitement.

They’re probably warmer than the sun, too.

Jisoo is taking you out on a date, telling you there’s a cafe she’s been wanting to try but Jeonghan doesn’t like sweets nor coffee.

“So I’m the second choice.” You mock offense, nudging her off you as she clings to your arm like a koala.

She gasps dramatically, a pout on her face as she denies the accusation. “I haven’t had you all for myself these days and I’m thinking about how I miss spending time with you, but this is what I got?”

You laugh at her antics. For all its worth, you’re glad you have Jisoo as your close (and only female) friend; she’s the sunshine your little pack needs, and while everyone was skeptical of Jeonghan’s choice in a mate at first, you know they’d all die for her if it comes to it now.

Of course no one hopes they’d encounter any situation that would call for that.

“So.” Jisoo sits down with her arms crossed, looking at you expectantly.

“So?” You quirk an eyebrow, confused as to what she’s possibly talking about.

“You and Wonwoo, huh?”

You blink once. And then twice.

What?

But Jisoo doesn’t say anything else, simply stares at you with a demanding posture. Between her tendency to be a little bizarre and to be vocal about everything that passes her mind no matter how questionable they are, you’ve always known she’ll lose her mind one of these days. But you never thought it'd happen this early.

Her stare turns into something else, almost like something clicks in her head and her mouth drops slightly before she shakes her head without words. It always annoys you when people do this (granted, you don’t know a lot of people), blatantly acting like they know something that you don’t and proceed to not tell you anything.

“What.” You finally relent; cheeks puffed out of annoyance.

“Nothing.” She shrugs, sipping her orange juice.

“Soo!”

At your whine, she laughs and leans forward on the table, elbows propped and her chin on her palms, her knowing eyes glinting with amusement like a kid given a new toy to play with.

“Just that you both have spent a lot of time together these days.”

Huh, is that what she’s referring to?

“So?”

Jisoo rolls her eyes, and you pout at the way she’s shaking her head like you don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe you don’t.

“So.”

You look at her, unimpressed, and your friend cracks into a laugh before she reaches out to squeeze your cheeks.

“There’s nothing going on between us.” You finally relent and address it head on, Jisoo would never back down either way and you’d rather talk about it than risk a headache.

And it’s not like you’re hiding or even lying about it, there really is nothing between the two of you. Yes, he’s easy on the eyes and you may or may not be a little attracted to him, but that doesn’t mean there’s something going on between you two.

It’s just been some time since you meet someone new and the way you’d tense when he comes a little closer, or the way your heart would embarrassingly skip a beat when he steps into your practice room is nothing but a fleeting interest.

It’ll go away after a bit.

A wolf like Wonwoo wouldn’t want someone like you, anyway.

“We just talk about magic,” you offer the truth. It’s not like you and Wonwoo ever talk about anything else but your magic or the whereabouts of the pack and their patrolling schedules. None of you try to cross the line, never asking anything personal about each other even though it’s true that Wonwoo has spent more time by your side now compared to the other members of the pack. “He’s just interested in it, Soo, and I’m happy to talk about my runes.”

“He’s interested in your magic,” Jisoo insists, a teasing grin on her face.

You shake your head, and thankfully Jisoo drops the topic, not wanting to annoy you when you clearly don’t want to talk about it. She talks instead about the concerning number of attacks these days, how Jeonghan has been more antsy everytime she tells him she’s going out because he’s worried something would happen to her.

“What do you reckon is happening?”

Her tone is light, but you don’t need to be a genius to be able to detect the fear in her eyes.

The girl is fidgeting a little, and it’s at times like this that you feel like you have to be the older sister for Jisoo even though you’re younger than her. You’ve always admired her for going against everything and leaving her family behind to be with Jeonghan.

You’ve never really been a fan of romance, but you know it takes everything to be able to decide something as big as that. It’s not easy to be aware of the danger lurking in the dark, even more so when she’s just… human.

And you’ve offered to erase her memories if she chooses to leave your world and go back to her normal one, so she can live in ignorant bliss. But when she firmly rejects and says that she wants to be with Jeonghan and the pack, everyone swears they’d protect her with all their lives.

Yet, for her parents, Jisoo is nothing but a disgrace for choosing a man over her own blood.

It hurts you to know someone as sweet as Kim Jisoo is labeled a disgrace, but you also know her family has never really been a family to her–they do nothing but compare her to her older siblings who, according to human standards, are the perfect children.

And as much as it pains her to be constantly compared to the achievements of her siblings, Jisoo loves her family with all her heart. That’s just the kind of person she is. Which is why you know it took her an infinite amount of courage to tell them she’s never coming back, not offering them any explanations except that she’s going to move far away with Jeonghan who they simply know to be her human boyfriend.

Jeonghan marked her as his mate that night; a promise to take care of her for the rest of his life.

At least her siblings know deep down why she chooses to leave, and they would still update her from time to time to let her know they still want her in their lives.

“Don’t worry,” you try to sound as calm as possible, reaching for her hand as your finger grazes the bracelet on her wrist. It’s your gift for her, a protective talisman with your runes carved on the beads and magic flowing through it. The magic is connected to the rune in your necklace, and you’ll be notified once the bracelet detects danger upon Jisoo.

When the pack found out about this, they demanded to get one also and you ended up designing it for everyone; if any of you is in danger, everyone will know where to find the other. You’ve threatened them all to never take it off because you’ve even accustomed the talisman to their preferred form of jewelry.

Which reminds you, you should probably make one for Wonwoo too.

“We’ll protect you.” You grasp her hand firmly, trying to ease her worry.

She nods, and if the fear in her eyes isn’t enough, the way her heartbeat picks up tells you just how afraid Jisoo actually is.

You can’t blame her. How can you when you’re worried? The protective charms you’ve set on the town’s borders have been triggering the alarm nonstop every few days, detecting something that doesn't belong crossing to town. It has never been this distressing–has never detected so many hostile energies this often, too.

It used to be pretty peaceful even though your pack is always alert and ready–maybe only two or three creatures detected crossing the border in a month, and, most of the time, they aren’t hostile; just some faeries lost in the forest, or some nature spirits roaming the territory. The few common creatures that have to be fended off are usually wraiths, poltergeists, or maybe even other werewolves looking for troubles. (What are they thinking about, crossing another pack’s territory?)

Anyhow, since a few months ago, just two weeks before your pack’s encounter with Wonwoo, there have been more hostile creatures crossing the border, which is why you have been mostly anxious than you are alert. You know something strong crossed the border near then, but there was no attack whatsoever and the trace was so faint that you’re not able to track whatever crossed the border.

Whatever that thing is, it’s powerful. Powerful enough that you can’t detect its whereabouts despite its supposedly enormous power. Something that you probably haven’t faced yet–that you might not be strong enough to face yet.

You have a suspicion that it was the cause of all those attacks. But it doesn’t make sense, what could be strong enough to command those creatures and arrange their attacks? For what reason, too?

Nevertheless, you turn to Jisoo with what you hope to be a comforting smile and a squeeze of her hand.

“I promise Soo, we’ll protect you no matter what. And you know how to activate some of the rune stones that I’ve made for you, right? We’ve been practicing and you’re good. You’ll be fine.”

Wonwoo’s munching on his cereal in the dining room when you sit down next to him. He quirks an eyebrow, asking you a silent question because you never really approach him unless you’re together in your practice room, in which you’d often ask him to get this and that as you focus on your runes.

“Do you want a ring, bracelet, or a necklace?” you blurt out without context. “Or earrings, I guess.”

His questioning gaze burns the side of your face, and you hope he’s too sleepy to realize your heartbeat runs a little faster at that. It is only 8 on a Saturday anyway.

“For what?”

You point the moon pendant on your necklace. “A protective talisman to alert us if any of the pack is in danger. Everyone has one, I’ve just realized I haven’t made yours.”

Ah.

Wonwoo has been wondering if he’s just making things up when he notices the same pattern on everyone’s jewelry, so to know that it’s you who designed them for protection… Wonwoo can’t say he’s surprised. Something within him melts at your question, whilst everyone’s been accepting and no one seems to be skeptical of his presence in the pack, he truthfully still feels like he’s an outsider at times.

It’s the product of his own wall though, he admits. Wonwoo’s used to being alone, to be independent and to care for himself. He’s not selfish, but he never really goes out of his way to help people in need unless they ask for his help–so to be in a pack that apparently goes as far as protecting an entire territory because they feel responsible for the ignorant… it’s not an easy environment to adapt to.

So far, Wonwoo really only does it out of respect for Seungcheol and the rest of his pack. He never really feels like he has to help. He’s just doing his duty as a pack member. And while it does make him feel a certain type of things to know he’s helping people who are helpless and know no better, it’s not… out of the goodness of his heart.

Which brings him here, a weird tug in his heartstring at your question which basically embeds his place in the pack. He… really is Seungcheol’s beta, huh? He’s surprised to recognize the realization isn’t unpleasant. It’s quite the contrary, if he’s honest, like a warm blanket enveloping his chest even though he still tends to be alone most of the time.

Little steps. He’s only been there for three or so months anyway.

“Something that won’t get in the way.” He nods to himself and continues eating. When you simply stare at him without saying anything, he continues. “I don’t mind an earring or a ring.”

“Your ear is pierced?”

“No.”

You look at him weirdly.

“Getting pierced wouldn’t take long.” Your eyes wandered to his ear, the tip of his hair grazing it and you have to hold yourself back from reaching out and combing your fingers through his hair. “Do you have magic to do it for me?”

“My magic is rune magic,” you deadpan. “Do you want me to pierce your ear with the edge of my stone?”

The sound of his chuckle travels through your ears, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve heard his husky laugh like this. You don’t think you have, because if you do, you’re sure you wouldn’t stare at him as if gauging that you hear right.

“But I can probably do it.” You clear your throat before he notices you staring, averting your eyes elsewhere. “I did Minghao’s too. Just don’t complain if it hurts.”

“Did he complain?”

You glare at him, and Wonwoo hides his smile by taking another spoonful of the cereal.

“Any stones you prefer?” You ask again for some reason, even though you could’ve cared less when Jihoon whined he wanted a ruby instead of an emerald. You force yourself to believe that you just don’t want to make him something you’re not sure he’d like, but you know–you know you just want to be here longer and listen to him talk more.

Wonwoo hums, thinking to himself. You let him be, content with being able to look at him without having to be conscious of it. His eyes find yours then, and you hold his gaze because you can’t look away. You see a glint of gold glow through his eyes for a second, and you cough before you avert your gaze elsewhere before he realizes your ears are getting red out of embarrassment.

You can still feel his eyes on the side of your face for what feels like hours until he eventually says again.

“Moonstone.”

Your eyes find his again, unsure why the sound of his answer makes your face feels warm.

“I think they’re pretty.”

There’s no way he doesn’t catch the jump in your heartbeat. At least you get a glimpse of his grin before he looks the other way, his amusement isn’t lost on you.

Jeon fucking Wonwoo.

“An incubus?” Jeonghan’s voice rings through the silent room, the chills throughout his body obviously not due to the air conditioner in the room. Wonwoo sees you flinch a little, and then notices Minghao’s thumb softly caressing the skin near your knee. “Why would an incubus be in this town?”

Jisoo has to grip his hand to remind him to calm down, and if it’s not the warmth of her palm against his, you’re sure it’s the fear painting her eyes that makes Jeonghan exhale a deep breath and sit back down next to her.

“We saw a hellhound last month, Han,” Seungcheol reminds him grimly. “Not even in the forest, it’s literally on the main road. Pouncing on a human.”

You stare at the television, tuning out the rest of the pack’s conversation because you know they’re all antsy and it’ll be seconds away from another debate. Five young female adults have been reported missing since two weeks ago, one of them was found today–barely even sane.

“It’s the convenient store two blocks away from the public library.” Someone enters the living room with a resigned tone, making everyone turn to him at once. He’s still in his uniform, and you can feel how agitated he is from the way his shoulders tensed and the irregular pattern of his heartbeat. “That’s always the last place these girls were seen.”

“Do you have more details you can share with us?” Seungcheol asks, worried.

Chan sighs and closes his eyes in contempt. He feels utterly useless as a police officer; he knows everyone in the station believes this is a kidnapping episode, which is partly true, but they wouldn’t know what they’re going up against, that they can’t go against whatever’s kidnapping these girls either.

Since the beginning, he’s had a hunch that this must be another supernatural case and he’d have to yet again depend on the pack for this. He doesn’t want to be unsure, so he’s been keeping it to himself, but after the victim turned up and started spewing things that the other officers deem to be insane, Chan knows this can’t be normal.

“Where did you find the girl?” you ask him, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Chan is fairly new to the supernatural scene, and you know he’s being careful because he doesn’t yet understand the clear rule of this thing even though he’s already working with you for at least seven months. Before him, your pack used to work together with another guy called Kim Junmyeon, but Junmyeon has moved to another city with his family and has kindly introduced Chan to your pack as his successor last year.

It’s impossible to work on a case like this if you don’t get details (sometimes even backups) from authority. It took a while for your pack to eventually work together with Junmyeon; building the trust that he won’t tell a soul about the nature of your pack took months even though you’ve bound him with a blood pact that would never let him spill the secret the moment he found out about your kind, and then finding the dynamic and the best way to go around things without making the rest of the authority suspicious–that took you almost a year.

“Someone called 911 because they found someone unconscious on the side of the road,” he relays the info calmly. “But the hospital contacted us after identifying the girl as one of the missing persons on the news. Seungkwan was allowed to question her for a bit, but she seemed to be out of it and when he asked if the kidnapper did anything to her, she shook her head quickly and said she’s had enough–said how his eyes were glowing red and her body was tied with invincible ropes.”

You move to sit next to him, your hand rubbing his back comfortingly as you tell him to breathe because he seems so distraught it’s making you feel bad. Chan must’ve not expected this when he joined the force, and while you believe Junmyeon’s judgement and your judgement, you know he’s still easily shaken when things like this happen. His heart and sense of justice are in the right place, but it’s never easy to accept that he can’t really do anything but supply your pack support.

Wonwoo notices the slight glow on your palm, going up and down the younger guy’s back, and he can only guess you’re using your charm to make Chan relax; the guy does need it. He can see his tense shoulders easing a little, and the younger guy automatically leans to you as if to seek more comfort.

You seem tense too, have been since Jihoon brought up that it might be an incubus you’re going against. It’s a pretty obvious suggestion, if he’s being honest, though he knows that an incubus wouldn’t be that obvious unless it’s some sick power display.

As far as he knows, incubus prefers busy, metropolitan cities because there are many more unsuspecting females looking for fun. It takes longer for people to notice when someone goes missing, and they can leave the body just about anywhere when they’re done and no one would find it weird.

This town is fairly small, let alone five–having two people missing with so little time in between would quickly raise suspicions.

So why this town?

“Any more info Seungkwan got from the interview?” you coax softly, and by the way the rest of the pack simply stays silent and watches, Wonwoo guesses this has always been your role: to make people talk.

He doesn’t realize his eyes won’t leave the way your fingers are enclosed against Chan’s bicep in comfort.

“Not yet,” he sighs. “Seungkwan will get another chance to question her again tomorrow. I will inform you if we get something.”

So the pack concludes the meeting after talking a little more with Chan.

Because what else can you do?

But it’s midnight when Wonwoo finds you on the porch by yourself, your eyes a little lost and your fingers drawing patterns into your arm. By the looks of it, you either don’t notice he’s there or you’re just not acknowledging his presence (do you have werewolves hearing?). But when he clears his throat to let himself known, Wonwoo hears your heartbeat jumping for a second before it calms again at the sight of him.

It’s even calmer than the erratic heartbeat you had before.

He wonders why there’s something warm in his chest knowing his presence calms you down.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask, your arms securing the blanket around yourself further to ward off the cold.

He actually went down for water, and it’s pretty chilly outside and his pajamas aren’t doing much to warm him, yet Wonwoo finds himself saying yes and sitting down next to you on the small couch barely enough for two adults.

He’s undeniably conscious of the way your thigh presses against his.

“Can I tell you something?” you ask out of nowhere.

Despite the fact that you’ve only known him for a bit and you really only talk to him from time to time, there’s something about Wonwoo that has always comforted you.

You think it’s his solace.

Maybe it’s because you know Wonwoo knows how it feels to be alone, something that you’ve always had a problem with. Wonwoo is not lonely, that much you can tell, he’s simply content in being by himself. But you… as much as you know the pack loves you and they’d do anything for you, there’s always a part of you that feels like you don’t belong.

You’ve always envied Jisoo for being able to find her place in the pack despite being human, and you know, for her, this is the place that she belongs to. After going through a family that doesn’t value her worth, this pack is everything she could ever ask for.

But your blood makes you even more of an alien at times.

Wonwoo hums, and you take a deep breath before you let it out to him. You’re not even sure why you feel like talking about this to him; maybe he’s just in the right place when you need someone to be, maybe you’ve been bothered for far too long and he happens to be there.

Maybe you just want to talk to him.

“I’m… an outlier,” you admit with a heavy heart, and it’s the first time Wonwoo has ever felt the urge to reach for someone’s hand to comfort them. “I never found out why. But I have wolf blood without any power a werewolf is supposed to have except for the hearing. And mine isn’t even that sensitive.”

His eyes drop to your fingers, they’re gripping the material of your blanket so hard he’s sure they’d leave a mark. “My parents… their pack wouldn’t accept me. My dad kept on stalling, told them my power had just not awakened yet. They could only wait so much, eight years was already pushing it, but I was old enough to understand I wasn’t wanted–so I told my parents I’d like to live with my aunt. She’s a druid, so they’d know I’d be in good hands even though they’re reluctant to let me leave.”

Wonwoo stays silent, not because he doesn’t know what to ask but because he knows you have more to say.

“So I did. My aunt welcomed me with open arms, I helped her practice magic and I’d learned runes and everything she did for as long as she let me. She taught me about them just for fun because she knew they fascinated me. But when I turned 14, my magic awakened so she started teaching me properly.”

There’s a wistful smile on your face, and Wonwoo’s suddenly aware that you’re in a house full of werewolves. Are they awake? Can they all hear you? What will they think of you telling him this? He distinctly remembers you saying something about soundproof charms in each bedroom and a few other rooms, because constantly hearing each other really can’t be good for any of your sanity.

“I was happy, knowing that I have magic and I can do something about it. It’s not easy to be surrounded by werewolves for years and treated like you don’t belong, you know? I heard what they said, but my parents could only do so much. I longed so much for my wolf power, and even though what I got wasn’t that, I was more than happy to accept whatever I was given. I found happiness in my magic–that’s more than enough.”

You exhale a deep breath, the look in your face almost makes Wonwoo reach out and ask if you’re okay. But he feels like you’re in a trance, and he’s afraid he’d break the spell if he calls your name.

It pains him though, to know someone as gentle as you had to go through all that. Yes, he did wonder about your wolf blood, but he never thought you’re less than him even if what he assumed was true.

He’s been here for about three months, and he can’t count the amount of time he’s seen you comfort just about anyone who needs it. From Seungcheol who wouldn’t lean on anyone unless he’s about to burst, Jisoo who basically only confides you other than Jeonghan, or Minghao who would just lay his head on your lap if it’s been a long day… it’s clear to him that you’re the one that glues them together on top of their loyalty to Seungcheol and the pack.

You’re their emotional support.

And from what he gathers of your words, there’s a part of you that still feels like you don’t have a place here and he can’t even begin to think how that’s possible.

He looks up when he hears you sniffle, your eyes glossy with tears though you try your best to blink them back. “I was 19 when my aunt passed. Got taken away by an incubus and laid her life down trying to save me.”

Wonwoo actually reaches out now, his fingers finding your shoulder in hope it’ll comfort you somehow. You can feel his warmth even against the material of your blanket, and you take in a deep breath before you continue as you bask in the small form of comfort.

“I… Jeonghan found me when I was trying to run away. I was barely even conscious, having witnessed my aunt who practically raised me accepting her death,” you choke as you reach this part, and Wonwoo can’t help but scoot closer and pull you into his hold. He’s never really been one to comfort others, but what was he supposed to do when it’s just you and him and you’re being like that? Stay still?

“I fainted almost immediately,” you look down on your lap, trying your best to stay calm. You have no idea if the rapid heartbeat that’s beating against your ears is yours or his, but you really couldn’t care less because the only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his arm around you. “When I came to, I was in the pack’s house and Minghao was tending me. They said they already took care of the incubus and… yeah, that’s how I ended up here.”

Silence envelopes you both for a few moments, and it’s when you feel his fingers grip your arm a little tighter that you ready yourself for whatever he’s about to say.

You’d never expect what he says next though, and you’re already crying into his chest before you even realize.

“I’m glad you’re you.”

Wonwoo hisses harshly as you tend yet another wound, another attack of some lost, angry spirit that’s thankfully not too out of control.

You hold back a chuckle with twinkles in your eyes as he glares at you, telling you with his eyes that he knows you’re purposefully putting more pressure into the wound.

Seungcheol smiles softly at the exchange, and he looks up to meet Jeonghan’s knowing eyes.

It’s hard to define your relationship with Wonwoo after that. Evidently, you spend even more time together, and it almost feels like his presence alone is enough to calm you down when you’re not in your best state even though it’s only been a week or so since then.

Wonwoo would linger longer as you practice, as if trying to make sure you won’t break down crying again. And he’ll hover closer now, less reluctant about being near you to the point where it’s often for you to bump into him when you move even a little.

It’s a weird dynamic; as you both mostly talk when everyone else is not there. You’re not complaining though, and you’re thankful that despite the knowing looks the pack is giving you both, no one is saying anything about it.

You’re sure Wonwoo also notices them, but he, too, stays silent and continues his way of being around you.

Which brings you here, almost a month after that night, with Chan once again bringing bad news because, apparently, another female has gone missing since almost a week ago but is only reported to the office this morning.

“But,” he exhales deeply. “We got the missing hour because there’s a truck nearby when it happened and we got access to its dash cam.”

Everyone perks up at the news, but Wonwoo feels you tense beside him, most likely finding the thought of seeing an incubus repulsing even if you know it needs to be done. Your heartbeat jumps a little, and Wonwoo doesn’t miss a second to plant his palm on your back. You shoot him a grateful look, your heartbeat still erratic though you’ve relaxed a little, your body melting into his touch in the subtlest way possible.

Wonwoo can’t explain the tingles across his skin as you do so.

You shiver as the video plays, and you see what appears to be a man walking out of the convenience store with a woman in his arm. The woman is walking, perhaps even voluntarily if you judge from the video, but it’s easy to say her consciousness has probably been put to sleep.

He only appears for about a minute before eventually getting out of the camera’s angle. The guys watch a few times more, trying to see anything more, but you move away after the third time, sure that you’re not finding anything but an old scar opening the more you watch.

The concerned look Wonwoo throws your way makes you feel a bit better, but you can only offer him a weak smile before you settle back on your seat and get lost in your thoughts. Jisoo sits on your other side, her fingers linked with yours because everyone knows your stand on incubuses.

There have been a couple other encounters since that traumatic episode that led to you joining the pack, and while you managed to defeat the monster, you’re also incredibly shaken both times it happened. It was quite the trial to get you back to normal, the pain you’re feeling was so overwhelming that the pack could feel the torment off you.

“Is there a pattern?” Jihoon asks the million dollar question.

Unexpectedly, Chan nods his head yes.

“I don’t understand why a… uh, mythical creature would go by a code, but this guy seems to only strike a woman in her 20s, and they’re always last seen with a jacket. And, well, now we’re assuming the taken time is somewhere at 2 in the morning. We tried asking the cashiers who were on shift for the last two months, even showed them the video and asked to see their CCTV but, apparently, his face.. Uhh.. everyone describes him differently. The cashiers and the cleaners who were on shifts say the few regulars who come at those hours were usually university students, a woman in her late thirties, and two guys who usually come together. We’ve identified and talked to everyone but a few university students and some of them say they did notice a weird guy looming around sometimes but he’s always had his face covered by a shawl or mask. And, well, they say they never see him twice.”

“Some of them… can appear differently to everyone,” you say softly, fingers squeezing Jisoo’s without realizing. “This incubus must be a strong one–one that knows what he’s doing and he’s not just looking for fun. Presumably, he’s strong enough to infatuate people and make them see an image of what they consider… desirable.”

Everyone’s silent, their minds running on a thousand scenarios of what to do with the newfound information.

“And if I may remind you, these… things are demons, we can’t understand them. Maybe they do this just for fun, simply to make us confused. This is different with the incubuses we’ve encountered,” you continue, almost like a robot as the words come out of your mouth and your face remains blank. “We need to prepare more and think through this carefully before we do anything. There’s a chance he’s the one that’s been calling for the creatures the past few months.”

Seungcheol looks at you, the alpha in him almost angry at how small you seem to be right now. It’s in his nature to be protective, but he’s always been more protective of you because he knows how important your existence means to his pack, how the pack instinctively chooses to depend on you when he’s not available.

“It’s late,” he announces, even though everyone knows it’s only somewhere between 8 and 9 in the evening. It’s nowhere near late, but they have enough sense–even Chan–to know why Seungcheol deems the meeting enough. “We’ll discuss more later. Thanks, Chan.”

Everyone goes despite their worry, knowing you prefer to be alone with your thoughts and it’s not yet time for them to voice their concern. It’s Seungcheol, Jisoo and Wonwoo who stay, the alpha and the two people who are sitting beside you to begin with. Seungcheol eventually leaves too after his wolf calms down, sure that it’s okay to leave you alone. He drops a kiss on top of your head before squeezing Wonwoo’s shoulder as if to tell him to take care of you in his place and returns to his room.

“Moon?” Jisoo whispers gently, her thumb caressing the back of your hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You don’t say anything, but you shake your head and that’s enough for her because at least you’re answering. She’s witnessed how you had to deal with this before and it’s really not something Jisoo wants to relive again. And if she’s feeling that way, she can only imagine what goes inside your mind.

“Do you want me to leave?” she offers, sharing a concerned look with Wonwoo when you stay silent. Pressing her lips together, Jisoo translates your silence as a ‘yes’ and she whispers comfort to your ears before letting go and taking her leave.

Wonwoo moves to stand up too, figuring you wouldn’t want his presence if you don’t want Jisoo’s. But your fingers move to grasp the end of his shirt, your eyes asking him to stay. So he does–eyes meeting Jisoo’s for a split second as she sends him a gentle smile.

He sits back down next to you, your fingers now gathered on your lap as you look down on them. You’re not sure why you did that. Why did you even reach for him? Did you expect him to comfort you?

“Hey,” he nudges you a little. “You don’t need to bear it by yourself, you know?”

Your tears well up at his words, and Wonwoo quickly takes your hand in his and pulls you to his room before anyone hears you’re crying. They’re worried enough already.

“I’m sorry, I–”

“Ssh,” he cuts you off and pulls you into his embrace. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

You take a sharp breath at that, burying yourself further into his collarbone as you steady your breathing because you don’t want to cry over this anymore. Wonwoo’s scent engulfs you and, after so long that you don’t even remember when was the last time it happened, your wolf feels content and you almost purr at the way his arms cage you in like he’s always known that calms you down.

“Don’t feel like crying?” he asks after a while, his finger caressing your arm as you stay in his embrace. You shake your head, and he can feel your hold getting tighter around his waist. “You want to talk?”

Your fingers grip his shirt a little before you eventually nod. A thought passed by your head for a moment; wondering if you didn’t want to talk earlier because you were out in the open, or if you simply wanted to talk to Wonwoo and no one else.

Whatever it is, Wonwoo pulls you to his bed; thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. You’re pressed against each other for no reason at all. You’re not complaining though, and you can even feel your wolf whine when Wonwoo steps away for a bit to rearrange something on his bedside table for three seconds.

“I’m tired…” you start, fingers digging into your palm. “I’m tired of being afraid everytime we encounter this thing.”

Wonwoo lets you speak, figuring that you’d been wanting to say this for quite some time but unsure where to unload.

“I know no one’s asking me to be okay. They’d probably ask me to stay in if that’s what’s best for me. And even though it’s not often that we see an incubus, I’m tired of freezing up at the mention of it, Won. And this one is most likely more dangerous than the ones we’ve fought before and I can’t freak out because Jisoo will be terrified and we need to protect her. But it’s not something that I can control and I’ve been telling myself that–”

You freeze when another pair of lips slots against yours, closing your eyes after a second and you melt when Wonwoo softly grasps your cheeks with his palms to deepen the kiss. Nothing else is happening though; it’s not rushed and it’s just your lips against his over and over again, your hands lay on top of his as he cups your face.

He pulls away when he feels you relax, hazy eyes finding each other before his eyes drop to your lips and he presses his lips once again for a short, chaste kiss.

“Sorry… my wolf…”

You chuckle and shake your head a little, cheeks a little warm at the way he’s still grasping your face and the way his eyes are piercing you. “Mine too. It’s fine.”

Wonwoo smiles; this is something you both would need to address, but now is not the time and he really kissed you because you seemed to panic and he wanted to stop you for a bit.

And, well, his wolf has been craving for you, which brings you both to the current situation.

“Take a breath, okay?” he whispers, squaring up his shoulders and pulling away a little even though his palms stay firm where they’re at. He asks you to breathe with him, and when he’s sure you’ve calmed down enough, he asks if you still want to talk about it.

You bite your lip at the question and, in the end, you can only repeat what you’ve told him. “I just… I’m afraid, Won. What if I’m not strong enough to fight him? To protect Jisoo? To help you guys?”

“You’re not doing this alone, Moon,” he reminds you; his deep voice is everything you need to calm your heartbeat. “I know I haven’t been here for long and you probably know this better, but… we’re a pack for a reason. We’ll find a way together and we’ll think this through together. I’ll protect you, okay?”

The next two weeks, the pack is busy training and discussing strategies. You’re mostly in your room, preparing all sorts of runes that might be necessary. But, most importantly, you’re making as many protective runes as you can to make sure Jisoo would stay safe. She’d be staying at the house pack, like she always does when you’re all going out for an attack.

You’re usually okay with leaving her alone, confident that your protection is strong enough. But knowing an incubus is behind all this, you can’t help but feel like you need to put an extra layer of protection in any kind of form.

“The wards are set on all perimeters,” Wonwoo informs you as he steps into the room. He was just out with Jihoon to check on the wards around the town, making sure they’re all still intact. You’ve made sure to strengthen them too, because even though the incubus is presumably already in town, you need to make sure he’s not summoning other creatures again. “You put on wards every 3 meters around the house until it reaches the main road?”

You hum, murmuring a short thanks when he places an iced coffee on your table. “Gotta make sure Jisoo is safe. I’ve prepared preactivated runes too for her defense just in case.”

“Oh, the ones that blow up when they’re destroyed?”

“Yup.” You pop the ‘p’, and then stop what you’re doing when you remember something. “Oh, right. I meant to give this to you.”

Wonwoo looks up as you rummage through your small wooden box, pulling out a single ring with small stones adorning one side.

“It took me quite some time to find a moonstone, which is why I only managed to finish this now, but here’s your ring.”

He cocks his eyebrow when you put it on his palm, and you tilt your head to the side, not getting what he’s on about.

“Proposing to me already?”

“Wonwoo!”

He laughs when you try to pinch his side, wincing a little at the sting though he’s just glad you seem to finally relax even if only for a few seconds.

“Thanks,” he grins, putting it on his middle finger. “I was kidding about the moonstone, you know? You can just use anything and I would’ve taken it anyway.”

You shrug, telling him you need to keep it in stock anyway. You crack your neck to the side, and Wonwoo frowns at how stiff your body seems to be. He tells you to sit down on the sofa and take a short break, taking your iced coffee with him before you can protest. Just in time, Jisoo walks in with Minghao, bringing tartlets with her.

“Oh, you managed to sit her down.” Jisoo nods appreciatively, setting down the tartlets on the coffee table as she sits next to you and Minghao settles on the floor instead, his figure near your legs. “She’s been standing for too long and she wouldn’t answer when I call for her.”

“She probably tunes you out,” Minghao happily supplies, taking one of the treats and offering you a bite after he does. You happily munch on the dessert, almost choking when Minghao flips another topic. “Anyway, what was that earlier about proposal?”

Wonwoo bursts out laughing as Jisoo tries to grasp the conversation, already used to this kinda situation though it still frustrates her at times. She catches the new accessory on his finger though, and Jisoo immediately grasps his hand and shows Minghao the ring as they all continue to tease you about it.

It’s been like this since a few days ago. The pack has been teasing you both when they figure you’re comfortable enough for that. They’ve caught you with Wonwoo a lot since that day, and they kept quiet because you still looked stressed, simply grateful that Wonwoo seems to be able to comfort you more than any of them could ever do.

They know.

And they didn’t say anything, still.

But it’s a few days ago when everyone was huddled together in the living room for a movie night. Seungcheol said everyone deserves a break after the amount of training and decided that the pack should just chill together for the night.

You’re particularly tired that day, because you spent the day sparring with Jihoon to make sure you’re not rusty. It went well, but it had been quite some time since you physically trained yourself so it felt like your energy was just drained the moment you stepped into the house.

Everyone was already in the living room when the two of you arrived (minus Jisoo and Wonwoo who were preparing food in the kitchen), and after Minghao informed you it’s movie night, you quickly washed up so you could join them immediately because you’ve missed chilling and being surrounded by these puppies without talking about attacks.

Your body was moving on autopilot once you finished washing up and returned to the living room, because you’re just so drained and your body naturally seek for comfort. Before you even realized, you’re already plopping yourself into Wonwoo’s lap and your head was nestled on his neck.

Wonwoo was so startled that his arms stayed frozen, hovering over your waist and didn’t curl around your figure like they usually would when it’s just the two of you. It took you a full 5 seconds to realize why the room was strangely quiet out of nowhere, and it was already too late for you to deny anything so you just shyly hid yourself deeper into his neck and succumbed to his warmth when he finally wrapped his arms around you.

“Anyway, it will shine when any of us is in danger. My magic will tell you who’s in danger as long as you have it on.” you tell him as he inspects his ring. “And it’ll get warmer the closer you are to them so it’ll help even if it’s not much. Jisoo’s is more sensitive than ours, so what’s considered dangerous for her and for us might be different.”

“So it’s not a proposal?” Minghao asks just to be annoying.

“Okay, let’s stop about the proposal,” Seungcheol announces his presence as he leans on the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. “My Moon is still a child and I will not allow it.”

Jisoo snickers while you laugh at that, knowing full well that Seungcheol will probably let you marry Wonwoo this instant if that’s what you want. He’s your alpha, you’re sure he knows what’s happening between you and Wonwoo before you two even realize yourself.

Which is a weird thought, because you haven’t talked about whatever it is between the two of you. You both decide to focus on the problem at hand, figuring out your relationship could wait.

But it’s clear. And it’s so obvious that your wolf craves for him. Its existence has never been this prominent until Wonwoo.

Anyway, you’re pretty sure Wonwoo can feel the pull too, and you two are just doing a very good job not entertaining the thought because, else, you would’ve jumped at him every single time you’re left alone with the guy.

“Chan’s coming in a bit. Come to the living room after you’re done with your desserts, alright?” He steps in to ruffle your hair and leaves just like that, not waiting for an answer.

You nod at that, taking a deep breath at the thought of discussing it yet again. Wonwoo catches your eyes, giving you an encouraging smile as Jisoo feeds you some more and Minghao hugs your legs before he leans his head on your knee.

You almost cry at how loved you feel right now.

“I’ll be bait,” you say as calmly as you can despite the erratic way your heart is beating.

“No!” you’re not even sure who says it, probably everyone–bewildered that you would volunteer to do that.

“There’s no other choice and you guys know it.” Your tone is determined even though they know you’re scared, and they know there’s little they can do when your mind is made. You’re probably more stubborn than their alpha at that point. “He only goes for a woman. We can’t afford to use Jisoo. Do you have any other alternatives than to bait him?”

Everyone shuts up at that, knowing that you’re right. They want to believe there’s another choice, but if the incubus is as strong as you assume it to be, as you paint it to be…

“Anyway, that’s not the important bit,” you pretend to brush it off to change the topic, not wanting the guys to worry too much even though their concern isn’t groundless. “What’s important is what we are going to do after that.”

Everyone’s still wary, and you can feel Wonwoo’s burning gaze on the side of your face though you refuse to acknowledge it. You know he most likely doesn’t agree with your decision–what with the… uhh… relationship between the two of you, he does have the right to be skeptical of your decision. After all, you would be too if this was the other way around.

You’ll talk to him after this.

It’s not that hard to distract everyone with the new topic, because you do need a proper strategy and this one is like never before. After an hour or so, you’re not really listening to them, because you’re busy reading through the old book of your aunt’s to find out more about incubi.

You can’t quite describe the rush that goes through your body as you do so, and while your fear is still there, there’s a new kind of determination that flows through you at the thought of defeating an incubus that’s been wreaking havoc in your little town. Perhaps, the thought crosses your mind, this could be your chance of finally making peace with your past.

The few incubi that you’ve encountered were weak enough to be defeated without you having to use any exceptional magic–some defensive and fire runes and they’re done for. But this one? You’ve been practicing your magic, exerting yourself to summon fire and control your surroundings even though that’s not your expertise.

Wonwoo, Seungcheol, and Jisoo have been taking turns in scolding you, because they can tell you’re getting more and more drained the more you practice. On one hand, they understand where you’re coming from, why you’ve been doing it–but on another, it’s obvious that you’re getting paler by the day and they don’t see what good it would do if you’re not even going to be in your prime condition later on.

It’s midnight when Wonwoo finds you perched on the balcony, and the scene looks awfully familiar to him as he remembers that time he found you alone–the night when it all began.

“Moon?”

You hum to acknowledge him, though you don’t turn and you hear him closing the door before you ask, “Can’t sleep?”

Wonwoo chuckles at the question, the exact same one you asked him those nights ago.

“Was looking for you.” He’s glad he can say it out loud now, no longer having to be careful with his affections towards you.

“Miss me already?” you joke, reminding him it was just an hour ago you were together in the living room before everyone left for bed. Unexpectedly, Wonwoo hums an affirmation, his deep voice whispers a low ‘yes’ before his arms cage you from behind, his chest meeting your back.

Wonwoo’s more affectionate since that day, not that you’re complaining, and even though he still lays low with the PDA, it is true that he’s been more touchy for some reason. You think it’s his wolf, because, like right now, it’s become his favorite thing to just bury his nose to the crook of your neck like a puppy. It tickles, but you welcome the sensation of his warm breath against your skin so you don’t intend to say anything about it.

“Want to share your mind?” he asks after placing a soft kiss on your neck, his chin on your shoulder. The position must’ve been uncomfortable–what, with his height and all–but he doesn’t seem to mind and you don’t have any reason to refuse his touch.

“You know.”

And he does. He actually does. And it stirs something within him to know there’s little to nothing he can do to help you feel better. His arms move to hold you by the waist instead, and it’s crazy how serene he’s feeling despite the rowdy rhythm his heart is beating into when you snuggle further into his embrace, your thumb caressing his arm.

He knows you don’t need words right now, knows that nothing that comes out of his mouth would comfort you in any way–he’s said all that he could say too, and if he were to say those again, it would just be repetitions and he imagines he wouldn’t like those if it was him in your position.

So he doesn’t say anything and you don’t either. But you slightly pull from him just so you can turn around and take your turn to bury your nose against his neck. You’re not sure how long the two of you spend just standing like that–simply reveling in the way that you’re against each other under the moonlight, his arms around you and his (now) steady heartbeat beating against your ear.

And for the first time in two weeks, you can finally relax and stop thinking about whatever kind of doom that awaits your pack.

[𓇬𓇬𓇬]

The attack will take place in three days. The pack (and Chan) has agreed that would be the perfect time because it’s going to be a full moon and their wolves are always stronger during a full moon–even yours. You always feel the most like a werewolf during those times, something that your parents know, also the reason why they’ve taken to calling you ‘Moon’.

That said, it’d be the safest time for you to be bait because your wolf would be stronger on top of your magic. They’re still unhappy with this part of the plain, but have long accepted that they’d never win against your made mind.

Jeonghan, Seungcheol, and Wonwoo are currently out on patrol while everyone else is at the pack house. Jihoon is probably sleeping while you, Jisoo, and Minghao are in the living room talking about magic. Minghao has a little magic within him, not strong enough to use it for fights though it helps to make them trip or get confused from time to time. And Jisoo, well, she finds it fascinating, still.

You’re telling Minghao about runes when Jeonghan barges into the living room, breath heavy and chest heaving hardly like he’s run a marathon, his hurried voice calling your real name and you know it couldn’t be good. Did something happen during the patrol?

Seungcheol is right behind him, and he’s looking at you with something akin to guilt that he immediately drops to his knees and buries his face into your middle. His arms are holding you a little too tight that it slightly hurts, but it’s the look in Jeonghan’s face that gets your heart rate spiking beyond control and goosebumps on your skin.

“They got Wonwoo.” The room immediately goes silent at that, and what he says next barely even registers to you as you look at him wide-eyed, your heart immediately dropping to your stomach and you stay frozen where you’re at. “We–we got ambushed and… and they took him. I’m sorry, Moon.”

Jisoo is quick to take your hand, and you’re so shaken that your mouth keeps on opening and closing without anything coming out of it.

Seungcheol whimpers as his arms tighten even more around you, and you can’t tell if he’s upset or agitated. Probably both; he’s an alpha whose beta has just been taken, presumably right under his nose too. He keeps on whispering something that sounds like apologies.

“We tried to go for him but they masked their smell and we got tricked and–”

“Did they leave anything?”

The older man flinches at your curt tone, though he’s still more worried than he is scared. He nods nevertheless, and he hands you a black feather that you inspect with blank eyes though your minds are already running with a thousand scenarios of how to get Wonwoo back safe and sound.

“This…” you close your eyes in contempt as you finally recognize the feather. “Were you… was there a harpy when you were attacked?”

You release a frustrated sigh when Jeonghan nods. “They’re baiting us. They want us to find them. Harpies’ feathers don’t fall off. They don’t shed, they leave it on purpose so we can track them.”

It’s almost like something switched within Seungcheol at the revelation, and his emotion is so prominent that everyone except Jisoo slightly cowers at his alpha mode, your wolves submitting to him. Jihoon even turns up, his wolf recognizing the distress of his alpha and the whole pack that he woke up not long after Jeonghan and Seungcheol arrived.

“So they want us to attack?” Seungcheol practically growls as he stands up tall, his fingers balled into fists. “Call Chan and tell him there’s a change of plan. If he doesn’t answer in five minutes, we’re doing this without him.”

Chan picks up on the first ring and arrives ten minutes later.

The strategy, to put it simply, doesn’t really exist. The whole bait thing is obviously off the table and now that you know for sure where they’re at, you just need to pick the right time to go and how you’re going to infiltrate them.

If what you assume is true, they must’ve been waiting for you to arrive, too. Are they expecting an attack? Do they want to taunt you? This doesn’t make sense to you.

But, then again, your mind is all over the place because the only thing you can focus on is that they’ve got your Wonwoo and who knows what they’re doing to him now, what they will be doing to him if you don’t come as soon as they wish you to be. They wouldn’t be kind enough to wait for the full moon, knowing you guys are a pack of werewolves.

“As far as I know, there’s an abandoned lab there,” Chan supplies helpfully after you’ve successfully pinpointed their location. “It belonged to an old hospital that’s acquired by a new management, and the new owner couldn’t be bothered to take care of the lab because that building actually belonged to another owner and not the one they bought the hospital from? Anyway, that’s why that building is abandoned and, uh, no one really bothered to do anything about it.”

“Do you have the layout?”

“No,” Chan shakes his head. “But I know it’s just a two-level building with a lot of rooms. Storages, you know? I reckon the layout itself shouldn’t be too complicated. What might be a problem is that… it’s long and big. Imagine a small hospital. Or maybe school? It’s of that size.”

“Okay,” you exhale a deep breath. “So we split. Seungcheol with Jihoon, and Jeonghan with Minghao.”

“And you?” Seungcheol’s so repulsed by the thought of you going in alone that his eyes glowed golden for a bit. You plant your palm on his arm in hope it will calm him down, and it does, at least enough for his eyes to turn back into its hazel shade and you tell him you don’t mind going in with either group.

“Chan, you stay at the pack house with Jisoo. Protect her and be mindful of our signal just in case we’d need police backup, Jisoo would know and she will tell you.” You instruct him carefully, and then proceed to run over the preactivated runes with Jisoo once again. You’ve even given Chan some too just in case, and you have him practice with you while the others get ready. You don’t want to risk anything happening to Wonwoo, so you’ve all unanimously decided that you must go tonight.

You zone out helplessly as you play with your necklace, a glimpse of hope running past you because it hasn’t reacted at all–which means Wonwoo is safe. He’s not put in any immediate danger for your charms to react.

A strong hand finds your shoulder, making you jump a little and taking you out of your trace. “We’ll save him. Wonwoo will be fine.”

Seungcheol sees a speck of gold glistening through your eyes for a millisecond, something that he has never seen in you.

“He has to be.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but it’s firm and it sounds like a promise. He almost flinches at your next words, and he knows if it comes to it, there’s nothing he can do to stop you. “I’ll destroy them if he’s not.”

[𓇬𓇬𓇬]

Unfortunately, Chan is wrong.

The house is way more complicated than he makes it to be and you’re pretty sure Jeonghan and Minghao are fighting against something by the faint sound of growls and things falling to the ground from the other side of the building.

At least the place isn’t as guarded as you prepared yourselves for. Either the incubus is too arrogant for his own good, or you haven’t encountered his subordinates yet. You’ve expected each room to be guarded, but safe for the hellhounds that were guarding the front gate and whatever creatures Minghao and Jeonghan are fighting against; there’s nothing else yet.

But, then again, you shouldn’t be jinxing yourself because, next thing you know, a harpy and what you assume to be a ghoul are attacking the three of you. The ghoul throws you to the wall hard enough that there’s a little crack when you slide down the wall, Seungcheol turns to where you’re at and growl. You groan from the sudden pain, but you attack back immediately after you stand back on your feet, whispering spells as you throw your runes at them.

That’s enough seconds for Seungcheol and Jihoon to take control of the situation.

You activate your other runes while you’re at it, making sure the two monsters wouldn’t be able to leave the room. You’re about to draw a magic circle when you feel your pendant warming up, and by the bewildered look Seungcheol and Jihoon send your way, you know they’re both aware why it’s warming up.

Wonwoo.

“Go!” Seungcheol screams, pouncing on the ghoul as Jihoon takes care of the harpy. “Find him! We’ll catch up with you.”

You nod with determination and then set up a few other runes before you run out of the room. Wonwoo’s near enough for your bracelet to react, and you run to wherever your feet are taking you, only to freeze on the spot when you see Wonwoo being chained down like he’s some kind of criminal deserving such confinement.

He looks up at you, and you almost cry at how weak he looks despite the clean state of his face–no blood whatsoever. If you’re not too blinded by your worry and the overwhelming feelings of seeing Wonwoo again even if it has only been hours, you’d realize how easy things seem to be. Spending hours thinking about what these things might be doing to Wonwoo feels like years, you admit no matter how dramatic that sounds.

Your worry mixed with fear does not make a good recipe even for only a few hours.

You kneel in front of him, gentle hands cradling his cheeks as you examine his worn out face. There’s not a single scratch on his face, but he might as well look like his soul is sucked out of his body little by little and his eyes are a little empty that tears prick your eyes.

“What did they do to you?” you whisper weakly. Wonwoo doesn’t even have the energy to answer you, though his eyes find yours and he sends you a defeated smile. He coughs at the effort to do that, and that’s when you snap out of it and immediately try to rid him of the chains on his wrists.

“Uh, don’t think it’s a good idea,” an eerie voice greets you, which makes you take a protective stance in front of Wonwoo. You gulp as you take the man in front of you, and if the aura he’s emitting alone isn’t already telling you that he’s the incubus, the horns protruding between his hair certainly did the job. “You see, if you try to force open that chain, that… uh, necklace he has on will thrust silver into his neck and, well, we don’t want that, right?”

The creature has it in him to grin at the pure rage in your eyes when you glare at him, only then realizing they’ve put on a collar on Wonwoo that’s apparently lethal for his being.

“What do you want?”

“In a hurry, are we?” he whistles as he glances at Wonwoo staggering behind you. “I think your furry mate isn't in any condition to go anywhere though?”

You try your best to calm down, because he’d want you unfocused and all over the place. Whatever it is that he wants from your pack, it must have something to do with you if it’s Wonwoo he’s taken.

“What do you want.” You press, not wanting to spend any more second in his presence if you can help it. If not for you then definitely for Wonwoo. If the collar is actually infused with silver as he claims it to be, it’s no wonder Wonwoo is rendered this way. The matter is lethal to werewolves and your neck is tightening at the thought of it; you can only imagine how Wonwoo is feeling.

You’ve never liked dealing with creatures with human natures; they’re too cocky for their own good and it’s getting under your skin. Monsters, you can easily deal with–defeat them and that’s it. But creatures like incubuses, shapeshifters, demons, and so on have human natures and they enjoy instilling fear–enjoy that they’re making the other party scared shitless. They taunt and taunt and taunt until you’re no longer sure which one’s a bluff and which one’s an actual threat.

It’s not enough that you’re scared. They want you confused and they want to play with your minds.

“Okay, because you’ve so politely asked.”

You truly don’t know how he managed to hold you against him within seconds, his scent engulfing you and you almost whimper in fear at the way he noses your hair. And for the first time since you’ve arrived, you see Wonwoo snap his neck up and he practically growls with every strength he still has in him.

“Sol.” He calls for someone, and a wraith appears immediately, bowing his head so low in front of the incubus he almost folds himself in half. “Release the dog.”

Sol treats him so roughly that you step forward to intervene, enraged by the way they address him, but the incubus holds you in place from behind, the hands on your shoulders bringing shivers down your spine, and whispers closely against your ear, his voice firm and brings chills throughout your body.

“Behave, doll. You know what we can do to him,” he reminds you, his teeth grazing your ear that you shiver at the touch. You’d probably be crumbling with fear if not for Wonwoo–your worry for him overrides your traumatic experience with incubi. You want Wonwoo safe, whether you are also safe or not is not important.

What’s important is you don’t want Wonwoo anywhere near this thing and you’re going to make it happen no matter what.

Wonwoo slumps forward the moment he’s released from the chain and the collar, and he coughs so violently like he’s drawing out blood. It doesn’t take him long to get back on his feet though, and even though he’s still weak, there’s an enormous amount of rage within him at the way you’re held against the demon which fuels his body even if his strength was basically nonexistent.

It’s then that he realizes Sol is still holding him, a silver knife against his throat so you both immediately freeze as if breathing would even hurt him.

“Tsk,” the incubus clicks his tongue in annoyance, his fingers descending to your arm and running down your skin. “Ungrateful kids. I released you from your chain and that’s the attitude you’re giving me?”

He grins at the way you go stiff on his hold; a maniac grin so wide that it brings shivers even to Wonwoo who’s a good two meters away.

“Can you guys smell this?” he mocks, his nose nuzzling your neck and Wonwoo tightens his jaw at the sight–agitated and boiling with fury because no one should do that to you; no one should make your eyes sting with fear and your body turn into stone.

He’s worried. But, above all, he’s angry and he feels so fucking useless because he can’t do anything but watch you hopelessly from where he’s at–with a silver knife against his throat that he can feel himself weakening yet again.

What did he say? That he’ll protect you?

What a fucking joke.

“You can’t?” His mocking voice resonates once again, and you can feel his smirk even if you can’t see it yourself. You’re trying your best to focus on Wonwoo instead, and even though your body is still frozen in fear because this incubus is basically pressed against you and you can feel your throat closing up–either from your fear of the proximity or because you can’t stand to see Wonwoo like this, so weak that he’s probably using everything he has to stand on his feet.

Probably both.

“I thought you dogs have such a great sense of smell,” he continues his monologue, still holding you against himself. “But since I’m so kind, I will generously let you know. It’s the smell of dread. Of horror, and, oh, it’s the second most beautiful thing I’d ever encounter. Almost as beautiful as your sexual energy.”

You don’t think it’s possible, but you stiffen even more at his words. These creatures are sexual beings, and you forgot about it because you’re too busy worrying over Wonwoo and your initial fear towards those things have more to do with the death of your aunt than anything. But now that he mentions it–

“And you’re so powerful too,” he hums against your neck, lips grazing your skin and you genuinely feel like throwing up at the contact. You can’t do anything; not when he has his subordinate pressing a silver knife against Wonwoo’s throat, the smallest cut and Wonwoo would probably be paralyzed for God knows how long and the after effect once he wakes up wouldn’t be pretty, too. “You probably knew I took him to bait you, didn’t you? Smart little thing.”

“Get away from her.” Wonwoo growls, his eyes shining bright golden as he does so. Sol presses the blade’s spine deeper to Wonwoo’s neck, unamused with his move.

“Oh, mutt has something to say?” His voice is so sickening, and you hate yourself so much for being immobile under his grasp, unable to do anything but close your eyes when his fingers brush your cheek, his forefinger and thumb stopping on your chin to tilt it up. “Open your eyes, doll. You don’t want to disobey me.”

Your sight is blurry when you do, glassy with tears though it’s still clear to you that Wonwoo is whimpering on the ground, the silver pressed tightly against his neck can easily cut through his skin if Sol tilts the blade even slightly.

They’re doing this to play with you and Wonwoo, and you ask once again what it is that he wants just so Sol would put the knife away from him. What even is Wonwoo suffering for?

“Oh, it’s not obvious?” he slurs his voice, his palm now fully grasping your cheek so you’d turn to him.

Wonwoo tightens his jaw at the scene in front of him, wondering if the guys are still busy outside and if it’s still going to take them long to come here.

He doesn’t want to be rash–can’t be either because the silver pressed against his skin is draining his strength away. He can’t even stand up at this point, and his consciousness is slowly slipping away because the blade keeps on touching his skin. But you look so pale and pretty much petrified that he just wants to do something–anything that would make the aghast look on your face go away.

Wonwoo’s trying his best to stay still as the incubus nuzzles his nose further into your neck, and something is burning in his chest at the way you flinch and hold your breath as he sees the fingers on your arms clutching your tighter.

“Why do you think I’ve been taking those girls? Summoning those creatures?” he drags on. “I’m not interested in humans. Their energy runs out fast and they’re not fun to play with. You… on the other hand.”

You detest the way he's scenting your cheek, his lips grazing the skin there as he grins wider at the way you’re almost shaking from his touch. “Powerful little thing, aren’t you? These mutts wouldn’t last a day without your help fighting those things. I know you already put two and two together; smart girl wants to wait for the full moon to attack, hm?”

You’re thinking of ways to get away from this thing, but anything sort of reckless wouldn’t do good as much as you wish to just use your rune and make a run for it. There’s too much at stake, but most importantly, you can’t risk the wraith actually gashing Wonwoo. What are the members doing outside? How much longer would you have to wait for them? You need at least two of them here, serving as a distraction to buy time so you can use your magic.

“I can’t wait to taste you, doll,” he bares his teeth, and Wonwoo’s fuming even more than he already was, which you didn’t think was possible.

And it’s then that the door bursts open, Seungcheol panting along with Jihoon, Jeonghan, and Minghao right behind him. There’s no time for a grand entrance though, and that split second is enough opening for Seungcheol and Jeonghan to pounce on the incubus behind you, making you fall on your knees from the sudden force.

You can hear the incubus growls from behind, but you look up to see Sol grinning despite Jihoon handling him down, and your eyes widen in horror when you realize why he’s grinning. Minghao’s holding Wonwoo in panic, and you don’t even have it in you to scream, your feet moving on their own because there’s blood slipping down his neck.

You take him away from Minghao, and you hear Wonwoo moans weakly when you quickly use your magic to at least stop the bleeding. Your eyes are red with angry tears; angry that Wonwoo’s hurt for no reason at all, that he has to endure this because the incubus wants you, that humans in this area turn into victims for nothing but entertainment.

It’s Wonwoo’s weak grasp on your wrist that snaps you out of it, and he’s saying something stupid like he’s fine and that you should focus on defeating that thing instead of healing him. You’d argue with him if not for the severity of the situation, and you’re honestly just trying your best to stop his wound from opening up before you get back to attack; Seungcheol and Jeonghan has got the situation for now, you can tell from the way the incubus is struggling against them.

Sol is slumped on the floor, because Jihoon is smart enough to take the silver knife from him and stabs the monster with it because the matter is just as lethal to wraith as it is to werewolf. A group of wraiths enter the room not long after, having been summoned by the incubus and unhappy to see their kin knocked out on the ground.

The incubus grins maniacally when the three werewolves upon him loosen their grip at the commotion. But Seungcheol is stronger than that, and even if he orders the other two to leave the incubus to him as they help Minghao take care of the wraiths, it’s easy to tell Seungcheol is starting to get tired.

They roll on the floor, fighting each other physically, trying to assert dominance over the other and your hands get frantic with Wonwoo on your lap.

“Moon–stop,” Wonwoo whispers weakly. “Seungcheol needs help. I’m good enough for now.”

The wound won’t close and his consciousness is escaping yet again, and you’re about to refuse but a hoard of hellhounds come in and you’ve got no choice but to stop trying to stop his bleeding. It has slowed down at least, and you take comfort in that until Wonwoo actually goes slack on your lap, his neck gushing with blood that you’re sure would leave a scar. His healing ability can’t catch up with the silver and this is already the most you can do in such a tight time.

Despite the rowdy situation in the room, your sob sounds way too clear in everyone’s ears, alerting them all in panic. It’s not sad though; and when they turn to see you, you’re already standing up with tears running down your face. But you don’t try to wipe them, simply let them be as your eyes glow the most golden with a speck of red, the first time Seungcheol has ever feltyour wolf and magic this strong.

Momentarily, everything stops and they’re all staring at you; overwhelmed by the sheer power you’re emitting. Even the hellhounds whimper at this, some of them retreating through the shadows.

Your eyes are locked on the incubus beneath Seungcheol, and it’s pure rage that he registers in your eyes–your aura. He’s sure he’s not imagining the way you seem to almost glow with power, the feeling so immense that his wolf almost wants to submit to you.

For whatever reason, the devil has it in him to smirk, whispering something about how good you’d taste once he has you under him. Seungcheol’s about to attack him for the comment, but he’s suddenly twisting in pain that Seungcheol lets go of him, skin burning hot like he’s boiling inside out.

He’s looking at the scene in front of him in horror, and it’s when he looks at the way you’re snapping your wrist that it’s you doing this. He doesn’t know how you learn to do this, because, as far as he knows, you never did. It’s your rage running over your magic, he concludes, and he sees Wonwoo fainted on the ground and he can’t blame you for reacting this way even if it worries him.

He knows the both of you haven’t addressed it, but it’s clear that your wolves are calling for each other and you’re practically mates even if Wonwoo hasn’t marked you yet. He’d probably go ballistic too if his mate was put on the brink of death for whatever reason.

The incubus is screaming in pain, body twisting in a weird way and it’s seconds after that Seungcheol is one hundred percent positive you’re actually glowing that the whole group of monsters within the room–maybe even building–are starting to run away even though they all failed because you’ve warded the whole building so none of them could get out unscathed.

It gets easier to fight them at this point, but your pack doesn’t need to fight them because, the next thing they know, the wraiths have all dissolved into a puddle of black goos, the hellhounds have all retreated, and the incubus is fighting for his life while you watch him suffer on your feet.

Minghao is the first person to snap out of it, immediately going to Wonwoo and trying to somehow check the older guy. He knows he’s not dead, but he’s getting paler by the seconds and he needs to be treated as soon as possible.

The rest look at each other uneasily, unsure how to handle you going berserk. The incubus deserves this, but with the way you’re going, Seungcheol is mainly afraid you’d lose yourself somehow.

“Moon?” he whispers softly, trying to see if you’ll react.

You don’t, which doesn’t surprise any of them, because you’re probably in a trance and the only thing they can hear is the incubus’ painful scream that’s getting louder by the seconds.

You stare blankly at the devil under you, nothing of remorse within you even though you know you’d never do this to any other being. You don’t even know how you’re doing this, but it doesn’t matter because what matters is what he’s done to Wonwoo and you’re going to make him feel the suffering a hundred times over.

It’s then that the scream suddenly stops, because Wonwoo’s weak voice calling your name echoes through the room, his consciousness slipping back in somehow and you turn to him, your magic calming down at the sound of his voice.

And then there’s a surge of magic resonating throughout the building, strong enough that there’s a gush of wind accompanying it as it goes past all of you.

Next thing you know, your body sways to the side and Jeonghan catches you in his arms.

And then it’s all black.

[𓇬𓇬𓇬]

Your whole body is sore when you come to, and the first thing you notice is that there’s hair near your hand and someone else is caressing your other arm.

It takes quite the effort to even open your eyes, and through your blurry eyes, you register that it’s Jisoo laying on the side of your bed and the girl jumps awake at your soft whimper. The other person in the room is Minghao, and you can’t help but chuckle at how awfully familiar this scenario plays out.

Jisoo cries and hugs you before you can say anything, and you see Minghao sighs in relief before he leaves the room to call for the others. Wonwoo steps in right after Minghao leaves, and you try to sit up with Jisoo in your arms, wincing slightly at how tense your body feels. How long were you out for?

“Good sleep?” Wonwoo muses with a small smile, going to your other side to drop a kiss on top of your head because Jisoo refuses to stop hogging you.

“Like I came back from the dead.” You wince at your strained voice, and Wonwoo tells Jisoo to let you go to give you space before he helps you with a glass of water, the girl simply moving to hug your middle instead, her face buried in your lap. You laugh at her antics, stroking her hair and assuring her you’re fine now.

The whole pack bursts into the room at that moment, and they all engulf you in a hug except for Jihoon who goes to stand beside Wonwoo and watches the scene unfold. Everyone’s been worried though they all know you’ll wake up; and to know that you seem relaxed and even have it in you to smile after the whole ordeal is good enough.

“How are you feeling?” Seungcheol asks, sitting next to you on the bed once everyone except Jisoo lets you go, the girl still stubbornly hugging you even though it must’ve been uncomfortable.

“My whole body’s sore and I’m a little disoriented,” you shrug, honest with your explanation. “How long was I out for?”

“Three days,” your alpha informs you, his hand stroking your hair. “We planned on calling Lisa tomorrow if you still didn’t wake up today.”

“Good call. Lisa would know what to do,” you chuckle hoarsely, making a mental note to hang out with the witch one of these days. “Sorry to make you worried. Did anything… happen?”

The room falls silent at that, even Jisoo’s arms that are holding you tighten at your question. But it’s Wonwoo who speaks up, telling you it’s a long story and that you should eat and wash up before going into that.

“That’s a good idea.” Jihoon nods, and then offers to get the bath ready before telling Minghao and Jisoo to prepare food now that you’re awake. The rest seems to get the message and eventually steps out of the room, leaving you and Wonwoo behind.

“Hi.” You say when he doesn’t say anything. Wonwoo shakes his head and envelopes you in a hug which you accept with all your heart, your fingers grasping the front of his shirt while you bury yourself in his neck. His hug is a little too tight, but you don’t care and you actually welcome it because if there’s anything you need at this second, it’s his arms around you and your bodies against each other.

He whispers something in your ear that you don’t quite register, but you’re crying for some reason and Wonwoo pulls you even closer like it’s possible.

It didn’t register to you at first–what had happened and how you ended up like this. But now that everyone’s left and you don’t have to worry about their wellbeing, the memory of that night returns though there are blank spaces in between.

Still, it is enough to remind you of the way the demon touches you–the way his lips graze your skin and his fingers on your body. You choke at the memory, and Wonwoo seems to get it even though you don’t elaborate; seems to understand why you’re crying and why you’re holding on to him for dear life.

The guys have told him about it; about how you coped before and how it took you quite some time to get over it. And as much as he thought he’s prepared to help you through it, it’s still a blow to his heart to see you like this, his wolf wailing in pain in tandem with yours.

You don’t notice Jihoon by the door, about to tell you the bath is ready but has enough sense to step back when he catches Wonwoo’s eyes.

Wonwoo lets you cry more, and then kisses your forehead once you’ve calmed down, his thumb wiping the tears on your face as his forehead meets yours; his lips centimeters away from your own.

“I know, love. I know,” he whispers as your sobs turn into whimpers. “Let’s get you cleaned up? I’ll come with you.”

In any other scenario, you’d tease him about wanting to see you naked. Maybe flirt a little and then curse at him for making you flustered somehow. But this isn’t your ideal world, and you can do nothing but nod as he takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom.

Wonwoo stays true to his words, and you want to cry at the delicate way he’s treating you. He helps you out of your clothes, and it’s weird that you don’t feel anything as he does so–not the least bit of embarrassment even though he has never seen you naked at all.

He did ask if you want him to move away though, but when you shake your head and say that you don’t mind, he helps you wash up like you’re a kid who doesn’t know how to do it yourself. It’s very intimate in ways that you can’t quite describe, and you let him do everything for you as you simply stay seated in the bathtub.

You hug your knees as Wonwoo moves to wash your back, and it’s quite obvious that his clothes are all wet though he doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t say anything at all, actually, because he knows that you need solace and you want his company though you don’t wish to talk.

“Let’s get out of the tub?” he tells you softly after he’s done with your body. He grasps your hand and wraps you in a big towel, then tells you to sit down on the edge of the tub.

“Look at me?” He stares into your eyes for a few seconds before telling you to close them again so he can wash your face. His touch is gentle–safe, and you can feel your magic hum in content at the way he’s touching you.

It’s probably asking for more.

You slowly open your eyes when you feel Wonwoo stills but doesn’t move away, finding his face right in front of yours though you don’t flinch at the proximity. You look into his eyes, wondering what goes inside his mind as he looks at you. Was he thinking about that night, too?

Your eyes wander to scar on the side of his neck, and the picture that your picture conjures of Wonwoo unconscious on the floor is way too real that your eyes water almost immediately. He seems to get what you’re thinking about, and before you can remember it further, Wonwoo cups your face and forces your eyes to meet his instead.

“Hey, I’m fine,” his voice echoes in the bathroom. “I’m here and I’m safe. All thanks to you.”

That doesn’t work like it’s supposed to, because you cry even more at his words for some reason and Wonwoo tries not to panic when your cry gets louder.

“I’m sorry,” you break into a sob, hugging the towel further into yourself. Wonwoo gently grabs your arms to help you stand up then brings you into his arms. You’re shaking your head, murmuring further about how you’re sorry for making him go through it though you don’t make any move to get away from him. “It’s–it’s all because of me and you–”

Your words die down when his mouth finds yours, because Wonwoo doesn’t want to hear it and, most importantly, he doesn’t want you to blame yourself for whatever the demon did. He pulls away when he feels you relax, and your eyes are a little hazy like you’re in a trance (which he’s sure he must be sprouting the same look, too), making him chuckle before he drops another chaste kiss on the side of your mouth.

“Don’t apologize,” his stern voice whispers against your ear. “You did nothing wrong, get it?”

It pains him that you don’t seem to believe his words, but he’ll remind you over and over again if that’s what he needs to do.

“Moon, you’re my mate.” Your eyes snap to him in surprise at his statement; feeling the bound is one thing, but hearing Wonwoo vocalizing it out loud is another and you’re pretty sure the whole house can hear your heart beating wildly against your chest. But Wonwoo doesn’t seem to care, and he keeps on talking as he cups your face. “They probably took me because of that, they knew you'd come if it was me in danger. I’d do it too if it was the other way around. All of that? None of it is your fault. We were caught in a situation and things happened. It’s out of our control.”

“But, still…”

“No,” he shakes his head, his smile patient and understanding. “I’m not the only one who got hurt. You did too. Do you want me to apologize for not being able to protect you?”

“No!” you raise your voice before you even realize, getting his point immediately. “But it’s different. He–they…”

He places his finger on your lips, stopping you from talking further. He doesn’t want to hear this–not when you’ve just woken up, not ever. That seems to do it for now, and he silently helps you with your clothes so you’d get out of the bathroom and eat something.

The meal is finished in the blink of an eye, and after more coddling from the pack, you find yourself back in your room by yourself, staring into nothing and thinking about what they’ve just told you about that night prior to you blacking out.

You don’t actually remember much after Wonwoo passed out, and even though it isn’t a story best fitting to be told while you’re having dinner, you insist because you can’t help but feel like there’s something missing in the back of your mind. And, true enough, they said you went berserk.

Not that you’re surprised.

You’ve called Lisa earlier to have a talk with her mom, one of the most knowledgeable mages you’ve known after your aunt. She’s said something about your wolves already bonding with each other even though you’re not marked yet, and it’s not impossible that your wolf was just running on instinct the moment it felt its mate in grave danger.

The combined power of the wolf within you and the magic running through your blood intensified because Wonwoo was basically dying.

“Moon, may I come in?” Wonwoo asks from the other side of the door, and you answer by opening the door slightly with a flick of your wrist. “Am I disturbing you?”

“Nope,” you shake your head, signalling Wonwoo to lay down next to you. “Was just thinking over some stuff.”

Wonwoo doesn’t even need to ask to know what you’re thinking about, settling under your blanket and laying on his side to face you, his eyes scouting your face.

He was pretty shocked too when he found out you went berserk after he lost his consciousness; he’s always known you’re powerful–but to the point where you’re somehow able to turn a hoard of wraiths without doing anything? To return hellhounds to their shadows? To boil the incubus’ blood from the inside without straining any extra effort?

Seungcheol has told him he was worried you’d lose yourself for a moment there. But you passed out after that sudden wave of magic and Wonwoo figures that means your magic took control of your body if only for a brief period of time.

“How are you feeling?”

“Weird,” you shrug, and then hesitate for a bit before you relay to him the information you got from Lisa’s mom. He doesn’t reply immediately, mind still busy taking in what you’ve just told him as his fingers absentmindedly play with yours. It’s both flattering and frightening to know your bond is already that strong even if he hasn’t marked you yet. But knowing what presumably is your full power got unleashed because he was hurt…

He sees your eyes drop to the side of his neck again, and he lets your finger trace the scar in the most delicate way possible–as if afraid he’ll bleed again if you press too hard. Despite the severity of its wound when it happened, his scar has actually healed though the mark is still there.

“Moon… It’s fine. I’m here with you now and that’s what matters,” he reminds you with a whisper, his hand grasping your wrist to place a kiss there. “It’s just a scar.”

“I… can still feel him if I close my eyes, you know?” you bite your lip as you admit this, not wanting to see Wonwoo’s angry eyes. “It’s always like that after an encounter with an incubus. Usually I’d even flinch when people tried to touch me, but I suppose it’s better now because you’re here? But if I close my eyes it’s like…”

You shiver at the thought, and it feels like something is crawling under your skin as you remember how the incubus held you that night. Wonwoo places his palms on your neck, compelling you to look at him.

“You’re here with me, okay? Remember that. You’re with me and he can’t touch you now.” Wonwoo’s voice is gentle but firm, you decide, and you find yourself nodding even though the fear is still there in the back of your mind. That’s the least you can do, you think to yourself. Pretend like it doesn’t affect you until it really doesn’t.

You don’t have it in you to cry anymore, but you’re being real when you said you can still feel his touch against your skin, and when Wonwoo’s thumb forces your lip down from the confinement of your teeth because you don’t realize you’ve been biting it, it’s then that you taste the blood on your tongue.

“Don’t do that.” He brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, his eyes can’t seem to look away from it. “You want to talk about it?”

Exhaling a deep breath, you shake your head and bury yourself into his neck instead, your lips grazing the scar there and Wonwoo has to hold back a sigh from the sensation. He wraps his arm around you instead, pulling your body closer to his so you’re pressed against each other.

He can feel you stiffen when his fingers come in contact with the skin under your shirt, though you relax immediately and cuddle yourself further into his hold. The both of you stay that way for a moment, basking in the other’s presence without saying anything as moonlight faintly shines through your window.

Wonwoo traces a circle on your skin, and your magic once again hums in content at the feeling of it. And while his finger is making circles there, yours once again finds the fading mark of his scar that you know would forever be etched on his skin.

Your eyes find his lips, and it seems that the world stops for a moment because Wonwoo does the same, then your eyes meet his in the exact same second.

“Kiss me?” you breathe in a soft whisper, which only amplifies the effect it has on him–like your words alone don’t make his head go haywire enough. “Make me forget and–”

His kiss is soft despite the rush he’s feeling in his body. And he kisses you like it’s the only thing he wants to do–and maybe it is–and you actually have to gasp for air when it gets too much because you’re starting to get light headed from the whole thing.

You stiffen when his lips find your neck, but he reminds you again and again that it’s him, whispers over your skin to tell him to stop if it gets too much. But you find yourself making ways for his lips to wander further, your fingers already combing through his hair and pushing him deeper into you.

And it seems like your body understands that this man is worshipping you, reacting to Wonwoo in ways that you’ve never experienced before. He doesn’t forget to ask if you’re okay from time to time, doesn’t think at all about his own pleasure even though his wolf is already screaming to mark you already.

His lips find yours again, and, before you know it, Wonwoo’s hovering over you, his fingers intertwined with yours. The kiss is slower this time, and you’re pretty sure a little more and you’d be able to map the shape of his lips.

Wonwoo pulls away to take a breath, but you can’t get enough of him so your lips chase his and he grunts from the sudden force when you pull him down right on top of you. It’s safe for him to assume your wolf is dying to be marked as much as his is begging for the same thing.

“You sure you want to do this?” Wonwoo pants, his eyes piercing into yours from above.

The smile you give him is enough to make all the stars in the sky seem faint, and there’s a sudden wave of fulfillment that rushes through him at the sight of it; like he’s found his other half.

Like a puzzle with the last missing piece.

“As long as it’s with you.”

He wonders why the moon seems brighter tonight.

taglist: @kyeomjjigae @nothingbutadeadesceane @sleeplessdawn @kpopjackie @everyw0nu @twogyuu

A/N 2: special thanks to @lily-blue for brainstorming with me when i first started writing this 😭 and happy birthday also @sunshinein17 who mentioned you share birthday with wonwoo hehe, hope you enjoy this also ^^ anyway, again!! if you're reading up to this point, thank you for sparing your time to read this rather lengthy fic and please dont hesitate to send your feedbacks bc i honestly wanna know!! i know my 10k++ fics usually have less audience but this is to celebrate wonwoo so 😸

once again, happy birthday, my love🤍🤍🤍

#wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo angst #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo au #seventeen scenarios #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo oneshot #seventeen scenario #svt fic #wonwoo imagines #svt angst #svt fluff #svt scenarios #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo fic

1K notes · View notes

welcome-to-sparkys · 6 months

Text

[My] Fanon Ness

I must stress that this was helped made possible by @raglansragdoll Please give them love too!!! Also I know I have requests I'm working on them ^^;;

Full Name: Ness Wilhelm Scott

Age: 23 years old

Birthday: June 26, 1977

Gender: Genderqueer gay man (very closeted and internalized transphobia beginning of story | also period accuracy he wouldn't really state it this way, modern times he'd def have neos and such but that be an au)

Pronouns: He/Him

World building under the cut!

Ness is an absolute nerd. He's currently in college getting his master's degree in business, minor in theatre. He's been working at Sparky's since his freshman year of college to help pay student loans and such. He lives in a quaint, cramped apartment downtown near his college. He likes his coworkers, the gossipy waitresses, and his manager. He's never met the owner, though (🐇).

He loves to be in-the-know. He eavesdrops constantly at work, and it's honestly the best place to gather bits and bobs about the local townsfolk, cryptids, and other oddities. With his flamboyant nature and such a small town, he's also well-known and trusted. The grannies who come every Sunday after church services, crochet, and tip well trade tea for knowing about his personal life. Got a girlfriend yet? How's that degree going? How's your parents?

Though he's stuck his nose where it isn't supposed to be, plenty of times. Back when he was 19, him and a few buddies broke into their school's boiler room because rumor was it's haunted and had a skull of a pilgrim girl. Needless to say, that wasn't true, just a theory even, and he spent the night in the county jail. He's gotten more discreet since then, now preferring to work alone.

He heard about Freddy's soon after and became obsessed. He asked anyone and everyone who would listen about the place. Who owned it? Why did it shut down? After a few months, he started putting some details together. Five children missing so close to the place shutting down, their bodies never found? He could smell a theory brewing.

He's the reason William had to start frequently hiring security guards. Vanessa was usually enough to ensure his prized possession didn't get vandalized or broken into. Well... Until Ness got involved. At first, the gate wasn't even locked. It was just some simple chain. Then he learned how to lockpick. Once the padlock was put in place he "borrowed" the note with instructions from a late security guard.

He always wanted to snag something from the pizzeria. He brought his camera he bought through saving tips and snapped photos of literally everything. He once left with a shard of glass from a pinball machine, but he then got weird feelings about the animatronics. He took notes. After a few months he had several notebooks full of his scribbles, photos, and bits of rubble or memorabilia. His little pencil topper he actually stole from the prize counter inside the pizzeria and is his favorite find.

It got a lot more difficult once Mike got involved. Mike caught him the first night, interrogated him, and threw him out. It didn't deter Ness, and in fact it relit the spark that had started to fizzle out. He grew more determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. He started a blog, documenting his theories and thoughts online. It didn't gain much steam, but he had a few fans from around the country.

Boy was it awkward when Mike came into the diner the first time. Ness hid, for the first time ever, in the back. It worried his coworkers because he wasn't one to avoid meeting someone new. Quite the opposite. Ness did peek, once, only to be met by Mike's ragged, sleep-deprived glare.

They didn't talk the first few times, but Abby was fascinated by Ness. Her "friends" were too, telling her that they recognized the waiter. She demanded and begged Mike to take her to the run down diner again and again, and eventually he obliged.

Eventually, the two warmed up to each other.

Ness went with Mike during the Climax of the film. Vanessa still makes an appearance and gets stabbed, but she's more a background character. Ness, Mike, and Abby get out of the crumbling building by the skin of their noses.

Mike and Abby become regulars, even having "their" table. Ness knows their order by heart, and always has something new to share with Abby.

And then securitywaiter :3

My AO3 | Masterlist

#sorry the ending is a little rushed #im disabled sick and went to the doctor today #im a little drained #but i love this and finally have my ideas written down somewhat #working on ness and mike having a kid lol #divider/banner is by @cafekitsune #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #securitywaiter #mike schmidt #dreamtheory #ness the waiter #mike x ness #ness the waiter fnaf #ness headcanon #fanon #ness fanon

69 notes · View notes

painterfriend · 1 year

Text

Summary (VERY SIMPLIFIED VER) of what happened with Cellbit, Richas, Forever and the Federation, for those who may have gotten a little lost.

Order of events:

During Cellbit's break (he did not stream for 2 days) someone, probably Max, decided to show all of the server one cringe tv ad Cellbit did many years ago.

Obviously, Cellbit was embarrassed by this. But out of nowhere, he started acting really weird. He started being mean to eggs, and isolating himself away from other people.

He eventually betrays everyone by saying he wanted to have 100% of Richa's paternity, told everyone he'd join the Fed and wouldn't leave the island. Pretty much said he'd do anything if it meant Richas was safe, and told Forever breaking the rules was a bad idea as it would endanger the eggs.

This caused a huge commotion as it was all very sudden- causing everyone to dislike him. Forever is especially hurt by this and they become enemies.

Cucurucho accepts and brings him to The Hospital, shows him things no one's seen before, such as confirming there are more than 1 Cucurucho.

MEANWHILE

Quackity gets notice of what has happened, convinces Richas that he's better off with him than with Forever and Cellbit.

Quackity "kidnaps" Richas and brings him to a place far away from society. He manipulates Richas into thinking he's not safe with his Brazilian parents.

Before this happens, Richas leaves notes for Cellbit and Forever.

Pac and Mike end up finding these notes, then proceed to notify Forever, and Forever tells them what happened with Cellbit.

BadBoyHalo decides to help Forever find Richas, and they eventually DO find him.

Forever tells Richas to go back. He does agrees with Quackity's point- maybe Richas should stay away from Cellbit and himself while this goes on. But Quackity does not have the resources to keep Richas safe, nor does log in everyday, so he comes to the conclusion that it's better for him to stay over with Pactw and Mike.

Forever talks about this to Richas and and then brings the idea over to Mike. Forever tells Mike to hide Richas as best as he can, and tells him to not tell ANYONE (not even himself) of the location. Mike agrees.

Richas is a bit cautious about this, as it seems Quackity's words frightened him, so Forever brings Mike over to have a talk with him. Forever then decides to leave them to have a private talk. Mike wasn't streaming, so we don't know what happened yet, but I guess it's safe to assume Pactw and Mike will be the main caretakers of Richas from now on.

BUT AS IT TURNS OUT

Cellbit had already planned his betrayal from way back then. He just didn't know when to do it, as betraying the great polycule would be extremely weird, without any reason, lowering his chances of being accepted by the Federation.

You see, he's not really "betraying" he's playing the long game here. He's playing mole, trying to find secret info from the inside.

Of course, NOBODY knew this. Not the streamers, not the fed, not the viewers and not sofia. He even avoided showing his plans on stream.

Cellbit went as far as to hide all of the things he's done, his files and changed SOFIA's password so that Max couldn't access it (more on that later).

The only person who got know more was Richas. Cellbit himself admitted it was risky telling this stuff to Richas, but the thought of Richas being disappointed in him made him too sad.

...So yeah. For the moment Cellbit's plan is being undercover, only to reveal everything later. He says he hopes he won't regret any of this.

As for Max, on Cellbit's files, he says he really doesn't trust him. Like how after making an alliance with the Fed, a code attempted on his life. afterall, the codes are the enemies of the Fed. But that's what makes Max so suspicious, he was attacked by the codes before. Not only that, he made SOFIA. It all indicates Max is hiding something.

This all up until today, 26/05. There's a whole ass document Cellbit made but it's already been translated @mooniebunny, check it out!

If I got something wrong here please tell me.

#Qsmp #qsmp lore #Cellbit #q!Cellbit #Mike #Pactw #q!Mike #q!Pac #q!Pactw #Tazercraft #q!Tazercraft #Quackity #q!Quackity #Forever #q!Forever #Richalyson

152 notes · View notes

heyidkyay · 10 months

Text

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Twenty-Six

A/n: Hey! Finally giving you 26 alongside some answers! Not sure how I feel about this part just yet, it was difficult to write but I hope you enjoy it all the same:) Let me know I suppose!

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Lots of feelings, swearing but should be expected this far in, mentions of toxic relationships

Masterlist

And wouldn’t you just’ve guessed it. Ross was sat waiting on the steps of the villa for me when I finally returned. He watched me as I stepped out of a cab and ambled my way up the long drive, a cigarette pinched between his steady fingers.

It was quiet. Had been since I’d left Alvaro at the hospital.

I’d wandered around for a bit, unable to do much else other than think. He’d really given me a lot to think about.

But then my migraine had started back up again and I’d suddenly felt sick to my stomach, I’d had to have this little old lady, working a stall, phone for a driver for me whilst I’d kept myself from spewing into the bath of a nearby fountain. It hadn’t been my finest moment but I’d made it back to the villa alive and the throbbing pain in my skull had dulled somewhat on the drive over.

Ross was watching still as I walked closer and took perch on the step beside him, thankful for the small amount of shade the roof provided us with, the heat was doing nothing for my remaining nausea. He didn’t say anything for a long while, nor did he offer me a drag or a smoke of my own, which I wasn’t too fussed about. But even if I had been, I couldn’t have brought myself to ask, the sickness still there but getting easier with each deep breath I took.

“Sent the lads out once we realised you were missing.” He murmured to me, eyes trained on the pebbled drive lain out before us.

I’d forgotten about them, the boys, in my hurry to escape. Just needing to unwind, desperate to forget, to get away. Matty had been asleep still, the others dotting about on their own. George… I had no idea, so I simply shook away the thought.

“Knew you’d be back soon enough though.” Ross went on, taking a longer drag when he realised I wouldn’t be adding much to the conversation. “How’s the head?” He then asked me, changing the subject completely.

I swallowed, toying with a loose thread on my cardi. “Nearly chucked up in this pretty fountain down by the old town, gave the locals a right show.”

He didn’t laugh but I saw the corners of his mouth turn upwards, so easily amused by my sufferings. “Probably thought you were hung to hell, out on the piss ’til morning.”

I hummed around a tiny smile, tugging on the thread and enjoying the way it unraveled for me. “How’s the album coming?”

If Ross was surprised by my question he didn’t let it show, merely tilted his head then shrugged a shoulder lazily. “It’s not. Matt’s mind is elsewhere and G is… well, G is being G.”

That familiar guilt throbbed in me again, a reminder.

“Can’t be helped though.” Ross sighed, flicking away some remnant ash. “Can’t force this shit. It comes or it don’t.”

We were swept up by a breezy quiet then, both of us lost in our own heads. I kept finding myself opening my mouth to say something though, once, twice, then three times. There was this heated little knot of anxiety balled in the hollow of my ribs and someone just kept on tugging at it tighter and tighter until I finally begun to feel it fray and splinter.

“I kissed George.”

Ross’s head snapped in my direction at having heard my muted admission, but my eyes were trained still on the lit cigarette he held in his hand as though he’d forgotten it was even there. “What?”

But I knew he’d already heard me.

“You kissed George?” He breathed out once I made no move to repeat myself.

I hummed again, swallowing down past the ache in my throat as I clung to my cardigan tighter. I glanced up at him when he didn’t say anything more, he was just staring back at me with these huge surprised eyes. I’d’ve smiled, it wasn’t every day you got to witness something like that, but couldn’t dim my anxiety.

“You kissed George.” Ross said again and I blew out a soft sigh whilst I let him internalise it. “When?” He asked me, unblinking.

“’S’mornin’.” I mumbled in answer, those fraying threads of anxiety polluting the rest of my body now, like maggots infecting a soldier’s already dirtied wound.

“Jesus Christ.” Ross breathed, shaking his head, and then he dragged a heavy hand down the length of his exhausted face. I suddenly felt like a chastised little kid getting ready to get told off. But Ross was better than that, he never rebuked the actions of the rest of us unless we took it a step too far- ‘Live and learn’ he’d often spout like the wise old man he truly was. “Explains why he had the face of a slapped arse then, don’t it?”

My brows rose but I didn’t push his reply. I didn’t want to know any more.

“What a way to start a holiday, hey?” He then added and we both had to laugh a little at his words, even if they were more depreciating than other. We shared another sigh and I watched on whilst he took one final drag before stumping the butt out, he glanced over to me after.

“I’m guessing the kiss is why you disappeared then?” Ross questioned, head tilted slightly as his eyes found mine. The smile I answered him with was wet and watery, and he could only lift an arm out towards me. “Oh, B…”

I let out a scoff of a cry at his pitiful words and fell limply into his side, feeling so incredibly lost. So stupid.

“It’s okay.” I heard him murmur above my head, both arms curling around my broken self to hold me better together. “It’ll be okay.”

Because it had to be, right?

—

I’d gone to bed after my impromptu sobbing session with Ross. How the man had yet to get sick of me and my onslaught of tears was beyond me- but I was thankful for it nevertheless. Especially when he brought a decent cuppa and a couple of biscuits to my bedside after.

That’d been a long while ago now though, long enough for the biscuits I hadn’t eaten to have gone stale and the tea discoloured and cold. I laid there, still, staring up at the ceiling.

When I was little I used to paint stars up there with strokes of my eyes, imagine dark blue hues and gradient purples surrounding planets and glowing suns. But then I’d grown up and the dark had crept its way in, drowning my pretty stars in its shadows.

I could still picture them sometimes though, mostly back when I’d been curled up in bed with George. I’d see them. Dimmer than the years before, but there, twinkling. They’d long since abandoned me again though. All I saw now was a blank ceiling staring back at me.

I sighed, forcing my eyes away from it and out towards the window where the sun had since set. I questioned how another day had so quickly slipped past me.

The boys had since returned too, I’d heard them stumble in an hour or two ago. Maybe even three. They’d wanted to check in, I’d seen their shadows dance beneath my closed bedroom door and heard their muted arguments. But my guess is that Ross somehow waylaid them, because they hadn’t pushed any further than that. Although, my phone had buzzed a couple dozen times.

It was somewhere on the floor, settled on the pile of clothes I’d stripped out of.

Quiet now though. The villa, I meant. My mind not so much. I still couldn’t work out for the life of me what the fuck I wanted. Scared and too fucking afraid to come to an actual decision. I didn’t want to be hurt again, but I also knew that either way I could be. So, I either push George further away and end up breaking my own heart, or risk everything and just have him do it for me, for the hundredth time.

Too many fucking thoughts. Too big a decision to make.

I wanted to bury myself in my pillow, burrow further away, but I could feel a headache coming on and so, in hopes to avoid it, I peeled myself from out under the safety of my covers and over to the door, figuring that a decent brew might just do the job.

The house was dimmed as I made my way down the stairs, only the outside porch lights were still on, though I could hear murmurs of movement as I passed by the guys’ rooms.

I kept the kitchen light off when I made my way over to the counter, instead opting to use the fridge as a lamp whilst I worked my way around the kettle, nicking one of the many Russian caravan teabags Matty so liked.

It was nice, down here alone, bare feet sliding across the chilled tiles as the evening air crept its way inside through the French doors. Peaceful almost. Once the tea was made I figured I’d make my way out there too and so I did, settled myself under the familiar peach tree I’d taken to seeing as it’d been a few days since I’d had the opportunity to hide out underneath it.

I could see the ripples in the pool from here, as well as the shorts some of the boys had left out to dry, three pairs of them all slung over a sun-lounger, a damp puddle beneath. I sipped away at my tea and felt myself longing more and more for a cigarette, I hadn’t had one since the night spent with George, and even then it’d hardly been a drag.

But what I wouldn’t do for another.

A small sigh escaped me and I settled my teacup down to the side so that I could pull my legs in closer, knees tucked up under my chin as the wind danced over my bare skin.

“What would you do then, hey?” I heard myself whisper out into it, eyes casted upwards towards the so-called heavens. “Probably wouldn’t say much. Just sort my mess out for me, yeah?”

I blew out a tiny wet chuckle, knowing I was dead right.

It was nights like these that I just found myself talking to him, my dad that is. Not often but enough. On days when things felt heavier, harder.

It had been a long time since I’d last done so. That fact alone also reminded me of how much time had passed since he’d been gone. Been gone longer than I’d ever known him. We’d never had enough time. But that was just life, wasn’t it?

I vividly remember the day he passed. I’d felt it long before they’d ever even told me. Sat on the bottom step of the staircase, phone pressed tightly to my ear. I’d felt it. I’d known something had happened. But he’d been at the hospital and she’d been there with him. So I’d phoned, and she’d said everything was fine. But I’d known. I’d felt it deep down. Something had shifted.

It made me wonder now, here in this pretty little garden, how many times a heart could shatter before it stopped letting you put it back together. Too many pieces lost in the explosion. Not enough parts to make it work the same.

My dad’s death had taken a few too many pieces, I think. The rest had just followed.

Now, he wasn’t much of a gambler, my old man, but I knew that he’d bet a pretty penny if he was here right now on my next decision. He’d always had a way of knowing my next move before I’d ever even thought it. Wise in his own way and not the traditional sort. Hated school but loved anything that could keep his hands and mind busy. Could read people better than he could most words.

I was wired in a similar way.

And I couldn’t stop myself from wishing then that he could only hear me so that he’d just tell me what I was going to do next.

It was hard, not having him here.

“You ever think they look back?”

My head jerked upwards like a horse dislodging a fly at the unexpected voice, only to find George stood there by the door, bare foot too with his hands tucked into his pockets. I gaped for a brief moment before I swallowed down my surprise and followed his nod over to where the stars were twinkling high above.

“Maybe.” I replied, unable to help myself.

George hummed and stepped closer, down off the step he was tittering on. I wondered how long he’d been there. “Always loved them though, you have. Remember you dragging me out into the fields late at night to watch them years back. Only ever loved London in the day because at night they were too hard to spot.”

I exhaled the heaviness I felt weigh on my chest. “They give me hope. Let me pretend that things last.”

“What d’you mean?” He questioned, both our voices far too quiet. Too careful. There were lines being tread now.

I shrugged a single shoulder, chin digging deeper into my shin as I stared up at the well-lit sky. “They die, don’t they? Just like us. Give the illusion that they’re permanent, that they’ll never fade out. But they do, we just don’t see it. Don’t realise that they’re all just dying millions of miles away.”

“Biblical that.”

I snorted at his dry response, a soft sound I couldn’t quite help. “Far from.”

He merely hummed again, then took another step closer drawing my attention, I dipped my head once and then looked away when he pointed down to the ground beside me. I focused on keeping my breathing even as he settled there, stretching his legs out before us.

“Where’d you disappear to then?” After you kissed me… George questioned after a minute.

I wet my lower lip and let a hand slip from where it’d been curled around my leg to toy with the tea I’d brought out with me. It’d gone cold.

“I walked around for a bit. Just thinking.”

“Ah.” He replied, a very George like reaction if I did say so myself. So monosyllabic. “Anything good?”

I huffed a small amused chuckle, wrinkling the cup’s dark liquid. “Did I think of anything good?”

“Hm.”

I shook my head, flicking away the wetness I’d gathered on my fingertips. “Dunno. Not really. Just had a lot on my mind.”

“Thing with thinking, is that it’s dead useful, but only sometimes.” George retorted and I glanced over to find him fidgeting with the grass beneath us. “Most days I just wish everything would shut up. Gets too loud and I can’t even escape it, you know? ‘Cause it’s all in my head.”

I did know.

He looked up and caught me staring, gifted me the tinniest of smiles from beneath shadowed eyes and dark lashes. “Seen any shooting stars whilst you been out here then?”

I returned the sentiment, eyes lingering on the curve of his lips, remembering…

“No, but you know me, luck’s never been very fortunate to us.”

George’s gaze drifted between my own. “I don’t know about that,” He said, voice velvety and low. “You seem to do alright on your own.”

I scoffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, if you could call it that.”

George’s elbow nudged my side. “Come on, look at what you’ve got. A job you love, people you love, smile of an angel.”

I nudged him right back, mostly in retaliation for that last comment. Charmer, just like Nana had always claimed.

“Oh yeah, can’t complain me.” I joked, mind stuck on every bad thing that’d ever been thrown at me. And though I tried not to let it show, he still knew.

He knew me better than I knew myself. And vice-versa. I’d almost forgotten that fact about us.

George was turned better towards me now, his stance a little more open, and in the haze of the moonlight I caught sight of his eye, my head shot out to really see it.

“Oh God,” I gasped mutedly, hand reaching out towards the welt on his face before I could think better of it. “Did I do that?”

George just laughed me off, hand catching mine before I could touch the injured eye, my attention snapped down towards it, though he didn’t release me. “It’s not that bad, just raised a bit, like you said it would. Go down in a day or two.” He assured and I could only mutter another quiet sorry before he was shaking his head at me and smiling. “It was an accident- and even if it weren’t, it’s the least I deserve, innit?”

He laughed whilst I simply scowled. “Don’t say that.”

“What? It’s true, ain’t it?” George replied, “Been so shit to you. Never fucked up more. So I wouldn’t blame you for it even if you did choose to batter me.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, George.”

“Like I did you?” He quipped straight back, hard eyes trained on mine now, “‘Cause it’s the truth. I fucking promised no one would ever hurt you again, all those years ago. Remember that? And look at where we are now. I’ve broken that promise nine times over.”

I let go of a heavy sigh, “G, you haven’t-”

“The fuck I haven’t! I have! I have. And do you know what’s worse?” He asked me, hand still cradling mine, hold soft and gentle. “I have the fucking nerve to sit here and ask you to forgive me, to take me back.” He scoffed at himself and my breath caught when he finally dropped my hand. “The things I‘d do to take it all back.” He muttered deeply, clucking his tongue as he shook his head.

“I wouldn’t want you to.” I told him honestly, my reply surprising both him and I.

“How can you say that?” He looked back at me, his expression pinched.

I shrugged, casting a long glance out over towards the pool. “‘Cause you can’t take it back, can you? So there’s no real point in trying, or stressing about the things we’ll never be able to change. Life is shit, you deal with it.”

George released a shaky breath and dragged a rigid hand over the back of his head. “I really messed you up, didn’t I?”

That made me pause. It was too close to the truth.

“No more than anyone else did.”

The sound that escaped him then shocked me to my core and my head snapped back over to where he was perched beside me, tears in his eyes, mouth strained to keep any other sound like it from falling out. He wouldn’t look at me, just kept on shaking his head. “And that’s what kills me.” He breathed, voice tight, cheeks hollowed. “God. That’s what fucking kills me.”

I didn’t know what to say. I could only stare at him, wind caught on the lump in my throat.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him cry, but I knew it’d never been like this.

“George-” I whispered out, unable to utter much else, but he just shook his head again, rubbing at his eyes.

“Nah, it’s fine.” He sniffed, chuckling at himself whilst he worked his jaw to keep from outwardly crying anymore. “It’s- well it’s like I said, ain’t it? No less than what I deserve. Fuck. I’m just so sorry. So fucking sorry. And I’m not sure if I’ve even told you that yet.”

“You have.” I reassured him in a croaky whisper, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. “You did.”

“I want to take it all back. I just want to do it all over.” He choked out, trying so very hard to avoid my gaze, to not let me see him cry. “I want so fucking much, but, there’s not much point in wanting, is there? I can’t take it back, I can’t make it make sense. And I can’t tell you how much I wish that I’d never fucking let you go in the first place. That I’d ever let myself fuck up the best thing I’ve ever had. No fucking point, no use!”

I untangled myself from my position to reach out towards him, fingers catching the side of his face like they had that very same morning. My mind flashed back to him in my bed, my lips against his. I forced his face towards me, coaxing him, “Look at me, will you? Just look at me. I need you to see. Okay? I need you to look at me and see the mess that I’ve become, the mess that I’ve always been, yeah? Because neither of us are fucking perfect, G, and, sure, you might’ve messed up, you might’ve hurt me, but that doesn’t just make me stop loving you, okay? That doesn’t erase our past and make everything that we’ve ever shared just go away. Alright? I need you to know that. I need you to understand that no matter what happens from here on out, that you will always be apart of my life. I need you to know that. I just- I need you to, okay?”

His dark and watery eyes were flitting back and forth, left then right, between my own, blatant shock staring me back in the face. I had to tell him though, he had to know. He had to.

“You hear me?” I shook his head in my hands and he raised his to cover my own, he nodded at me, just barely, and let his fingers rest against mine. My eyes were locked on his, I saw every emotion he’d ever felt flit through those brown eyes, because we were like magnets, George and I, when we collided nothing else on God’s green Earth could pull us apart, and in that moment I wanted it to always stay that way. With him beneath me, the stars in his eyes.

My forehead was pressing against his before I’d even felt myself lean in, knees hooked over either side of him, pressing deep into the soil. His hands stayed with mine, but his eyes were hooked on me so intensely that I had to let my own fall close. His fingers interlocked with mine. I felt his breath tickle my skin.

My heart ached like a hole that had been torn through my chest and it felt as though we were floating, far from the villa and its peach tree, from the Earth and all its noise. Like we’d just gone and switched the entire planet off.

I heard his swallow. And fuck, he was so shaky it almost felt like holding onto my very own earthquake.

“I’m right where you left me, Birdie.” George murmured into the blank space between us, that inch of air that separated us. And those words just rendered me helpless.

And who could really blame me? Blame me for being drawn in again. For reaching out and cupping his familiar face, for trailing a careful thumb over the curve of his cheek to the corner of his mouth.

He made me so irrational. Made me forget. Had me faltering above him, even when I had the upper hand here, made my lips part on their own accord just as his nose lightly brushed my own. I couldn’t waste another second debating with myself, looking for answers that ceased to come; I slid my hand to the back of his neck and let him draw me in further, pausing only slightly for just a second before my lips found his.

It felt like coming home, kissing George. So familiar, with a vague sentiment of relief. The kiss was slow and delicate, probing almost, like we were both still trying to get over the fact that it was even happening. This kiss so unlike the one we’d shared before.

George responded in kind, let his lips fall open even more to savour it, his hands diving to my waist, fingers pressed into my sides.

I’d pictured this, made up so many scenarios in my head over the span of the last year that it was hard to rationalise the how and the why. But it was happening and I couldn’t bring myself to stop it, to pull apart.

George was so tender this time around and I welcomed him in when he ran his tongue searchingly beneath my own. The softness of the kiss had me falling further into his embrace, and he didn’t even bat an eyelid, simply held me up. Like before. His touch grew more needy, fingers digging deeper into my waist when I pressed my chest up against his, teeth grazing lightly over my bottom lip enough for me to let out a soft moan, a moan that he then swallowed whole.

And it was then that I felt so overwhelmed, wanting more. Needing more than just this. But I couldn’t bring myself to shift any closer, to have him lay back, to lose myself in the madness that was him. His hands slipped to my hips, fingertips skimming the edge of my top, touching skin, it was that which made me stiffen, pull away.

I was breathing heavily, as was George when he quickly dropped his hands and allowed me to create some much needed space between us again. My head swimming.

“We can’t.” I attempted to say and he nodded, eyes taking in everything they could of my face. I must’ve looked a right picture as I inhaled shakily above him. “Not like this. I- we need to talk.”

George nodded again, I watched his chest rise and fall, watched him rub his lips together. Gaze trained on me.

“We can’t.” I whispered again, but I no longer knew who I was speaking to.

“We can’t.” He parroted me, seeming to really understand the words now. He inhaled sharply and then glanced down. “But if we can’t, then you’ve really got to get off my lap now, B.”

I followed his gaze and blinked, realising my position. “Shit, yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

George blew out a faint chuckle, watching as I rolled off him. Warier still whilst rearranging himself, as though he was scared to take another wrong step. “No need to say sorry, always enjoy a lapful of you.” He gifted me a kind grin. “But you are right. We should talk.”

Talk. It felt like all we’d done since the night of my birthday is talk. We were talking and talking, saying an awful lot without saying much at all. But I had no idea where to start here.

Thankfully though, he did.

“I ended things.”

The air in my lungs froze as I moved to inhale, never having expected that to be the thing he’d start with. A truth, yes, but one I hadn’t thought he’d admit out loud, let alone to me.

“You did.” I breathed, blowing the stilted air through my nose as I fought not to let the ground shift beneath me. Talk, we were finally talking.

“And I was a fucking idiot.”

I scoffed out a surprised laugh, “You are.”

He smiled at me, but it was hastily replaced by a melancholy I hadn’t much seen on him before.

“I should’ve just spoken to you. I realise that now, but I was so fucking lost, B. Like, I could hardly even think, let alone open up about how I was feeling.” He murmured to me, hands clasped tightly in his lap, I watched them whilst he watched the sky once more. “I was too scared. I was a fucking coward. And when I left, I realised I couldn’t go back. ‘Cause that look you had on your face.” He shook his head, inhaling deeply, “That look…” He blew out the breath. “God, I’d never hated myself more.”

I didn’t say anything in return. Whether it was due to my surprise at the pair of us finally hashing things out, or something other, I couldn’t be sure.

George continued on and I was confused by his next question, “You remember the week before it?”

I just had to nod, “Vaguely.”

It’d been a normal week, him in the studio, me at work. Hadn’t seen much of each other but he still came home each night, we fell asleep together. Like always.

He huffed then sucked in a cheek, chewing on his lip in thought, eyes stuck on the horizon. “I’d leave early morning, walk around for a bit, then end up in the studio and not leave ’til late. I couldn’t sleep at night, so I’d just lie there with you. If I caught a couple hours then I’d be able to plaster on a smile for you, the guys. But my head was properly fucked. Couldn’t stop thinking. Phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Ended up drinking just to get through the days. All ‘cause I felt fucking sorry for myself.”

It didn’t make much sense. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask or to look away, sure that I’d see something in his next movement that would fill me in or maybe hear it in his words.

He toyed with the grass. “Mum phoned me a couple times before that week. She showed up the Friday before everything went to shit.”

I gave a slight nod again as I took it in, understanding a little better now. It explained his mood. How quiet he’d been. I’d reckoned he was just tired, drained from constantly working the way he did. But if his mum was involved, then I had no idea what could’ve gone down. Nothing good though.

“I’d always kept her at a distance since we’d left Manchester.” He went on to say, “We spoke when needed, saw each other when she asked. Mostly for my dad’s sake though.”

But I already knew all this.

“She turned up that Friday ‘cause I’d kept on dodging her calls. No warning. Just turned up out of the blue. And I was mainly just thankful that she’d managed to catch me on the way out, instead of at the flat with you. Didn’t want you to see her, her to see you.” George admitted quietly, eyes flicking towards me for a split second before darting away again. “No clue how she’d known where to find me either, but she’d driven all night- or so she claimed. And I felt as though I owed it to her to hear her out, so we walked on over to that little cafe on the corner of our road and she told me she couldn’t take much more.”

I frowned. “Take much more of what?”

“Me.” He laughed, a hollow sound that made me still. “Had enough of me, of the papers, the headlines. People back home. She was embarrassed apparently. And I could understand somewhat, the drugs she’d never liked, the drinking too excessive, but then she reckoned she’d been told a couple stories, yeah?”

Confused, my frown only deepened. “Stories?”

He licked at the flesh of his lip, my eyes tracked the movement then dropped down to where he was drumming his thumb on his kneecap. He wouldn’t look back at me.

“Stories. Just, gossip, you know. From the locals back home.” George stated, gaze jumping from one thing to the next. But never landing on me. “She’d hurt her hip the year before and so she’d stopped working remotely, decided to ease her hours down so that she could take things a bit easier. Dad seemed all for it when he’d let me know, having her back home. But, that meant she was actually there and I reckon that’s why people took note of her. She hadn’t been around much since the band started but you know how them lot are, they like to talk. To stick their noses in everybody else’s business but their own, wanted word on us lot down in London. If we were really making it big.”

George rolled his eyes then swiped a tongue across his front teeth. It angered him, irritated him when people felt as though they deserved to know the ins and outs of his entire life. He was a private person for the most. And I knew it agitated him more for the fact that his mum had been involved.

“What stories, George?” I asked, heart in my mouth. Because I already knew, didn’t I?

He worked his jaw, thumb still tapping relentlessly away. I wanted to reach out and still the movement, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bare to move.

“What stories?” I prodded again, firmer this time.

“About Matt and his family, him using. Rehab. If I were the same way. You know.” George replied hurriedly, jaw still tightly wound, and I titled my head at him wanting to hear the rest of it that was bound to come. “She said some vile things, yeah? And, I don’t know. I just, it, they pissed me off. I didn’t want to stay sat there and listen to her rant, just let her go on and fucking on-”

I cut him off. “What else did she say, George?”

He closed his eyes and then slowly turned his head towards me, I saw the guilt swimming in them when they reopened, the pain, the anger. “They told her all there was to know about you. They told her all about you, Birdie.”

Suddenly my tongue was too heavy to sit comfortably in my mouth and my eyes were stinging in time to match the swelling of my throat. They’d told her about me. And I wasn’t stupid enough not to realise exactly what that meant. What had been said. I knew what they all thought of me, what they’d always thought ever since that fucking night. Knew that they still let him walk around free, that they listened to his tales, to his lies. That they whispered about my mum, the neglect, the things I’d supposedly done to have survived living in that poor house. George knew I knew too. That’s why he’d been so reluctant to say. That’s why he’d-

“That why you fucking walked out then?” I spat at him, my anger misplaced but I didn’t care. I didn’t care that he’d been the one to hold me through most of it, didn’t care for his previous claims, because he’d left, hadn’t he? And this was the fucking reason.

George opened his mouth to speak, brow pinched, but I didn’t let him get a word in edgeways.

“What, was it too much for your big rockstar image then? To have a girlfriend as fucked as me? What, were you suddenly embarrassed, George? Did your mum make you finally see sense? Reason?” I laughed bitterly and moved to stand, to walk the fuck away from him and all the emotions he pulled so effortlessly out of me, but a firm hand caught my wrist and I snapped my gaze down towards him. “Don’t grab me like that.”

Immediately George released me and he looked apologetic for a brief moment, but that anger was still there and that only sent my guard up more.

“You know fucking better than that!” He retorted heatedly, “Don’t just section me off with the rest of them, yeah? ‘Cause you know I don’t deserve that. I was fucking there! I never left. I was there through it all. And never once did you ever or have you ever embarrassed me! Not you, not your life, not your fucking story! So just don’t, eh. Don’t go and say shit like that to me. Not when we both know that it’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

“Then what am I supposed to believe, George!” I shouted back at him, tears welling in my eyes, hands fisted to keep from lashing out, to keep from breaking completely. “Because how can I not assume that, when you’ve treated me exact same way they have! When you pushed me out and fucking left without even a warning, without a reason! Tell me, what am I supposed to think!”

“I left to fucking protect you, you daft cow!” George shot back, bewildered with his face so open. “I left because there was no other fucking way to keep you safe from the rest of the fucking world! I left ‘cause she threatened to tell people, to sell it all to the tabloids or whoever the fuck would listen, if I didn’t get my act together, if I didn’t-”

“If you didn’t leave me.” I finished for him.

All the fight seemed to drain out of the two of us then. George’s head dropped in acknowledgment and I pressed my lips tightly together as I casted a blurry glance out over the rest of the garden to keep from outwardly sobbing. If I cried now, I didn’t know if I would ever stop.

“And you listened.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, rubbing at my strained eyes, the headache that had been tittering was a full blown minefield now, exploding across the length of my skull. “You listened.” I repeated and heard the way my voice cracked, how dry my throat felt.

“Of course I listened. There was nowt else I could do! You were fine being in the background, watching us. You didn’t want anything else! If I’d’ve let her leave, she would’ve told everyone. She’s fucking spiteful if nothing else, can’t stand to see me happy, would be better off seeing me skint on my arse and working in a factory than have any of this. This life. She hates it!”

“And what does she think of me now, hey? Must reckon I’m some cheap skank dirtying you up, dragging you down with me.” I scoffed at the very thought, but mostly because it felt much too close to the truth. I had been dragging him down with me and it hurt to realise that he’d probably be better off never having even laid eyes on me.

He pointed a finger towards me hotly which counteracted the way he shook his head so sadly. “Don’t say shit like that, okay? ‘Cause I know exactly what you’re thinking. I know it, because I know you. Not once have you ever, ever made me feel that way. When I’m with you-” George blew out a breathy laugh, “With you it’s like there is no one else. Don’t you get that? Didn’t you see the fucking state you left me in? I was a mess! You were the only thing ever keeping me on track. How can you not see that?”

“George, look at where you are!” I argued with him, “Look at the life you’ve built for yourself. The places you’ve been, the people you’ve met! And yet here you are, still sat with me, a florist who can hardly tie a ribbon, a girl sick beyond help, asking for another chance. You could do better, George, you know it. ”

“Fuck you.” He was angry again, but more sad than angry this time, his nose flared and his eyes were cut towards me. “Nah, honestly fuck you for saying that. For thinking it at all! ‘Cause I’m the one who left you, B. Not just once, no, not just fucking once, but twice. Twice! I should’ve manned the hell up! Pulled myself together and been there for you after that accident. Not walked away when you needed me most and left you in that ambulance! On your own! With fucking strangers there instead of me! Me! I’m not the one who deserves better, Birdie, that’s all you.”

He chuckled, though not one full of humour. One of mourning regret, the kind that seemed to catch you dizzyingly and make it so you couldn’t make any other sound. I stared at him, chest rising and falling with each trembling breath.

“And what life would I actually have if hadn’t been for you, eh? What life?” George added, prodding further, and I saw that he was crying too, silently like me, eyes shinning with unshed tears. “Because if I remember rightly, it was you that gave this all to me. You who walked in and changed everything.”

“How the fuck did I do all this then?” I laughed, more of a broken sob than anything else though, shaking my head at him with a pitiful smile. “How is this all down to me!”

“You don’t see it, do you?” He whispered to me quietly in reply and it made me realise how loud we must’ve been, screaming at the top of our lungs. “You’re the one who gave me the boys, the band. You’re the person who gave me a fucking escape, Birdie. ‘Cause you might claim to be screwed up, B. But I’m exactly that, only twice as bad.”

“You’d have gotten here in the end, G. You’re too talented not to’ve.” I told him in a defeated tone, too tired to continue on with this pissing contest anymore, to scream and shout and claim to be the worser person. He’d left me. And yeah, he’d left me more than once, but who could blame him? Who could honestly put up with the likes of me? “We all make choices and, yeah, the ones you’ve been making as of late have been shit. But we live with them. We learn. You’d’ve made something of yourself, George, with or without me.”

George sighed heavily and forced his head back to stare up at the dark night sky, whilst I wiped helplessly at my tear stained cheeks and the wetness which clung to my chin.

“But I did it with you, B.” He finally spoke before he released another breath and dropped his head down to look back at me. “And I wouldn’t change that for anything in the world. I did it with you. I did it all for you. So that me and you could leave that fucking town. So that I could keep my promise.”

My heart broke just as his voice did on that very last word.

“I love you. And I don’t care how long I have to spend proving that to you. But if it takes me the rest of my fucking life, then I’ll do it without complaint. Because you are it for me, Birdie. I’ve lived without you, and I didn’t like it much. You are the only thing I need.”

I stared at him.

“What about your mum, the fans?” I voiced the hushed question into the otherwise silent garden.

He licked at his lower lip and I watched the way his eyes flickered when he sucked in another long breath. “That’s down to you. I can’t protect you from the world, I should’ve listened when you told me that all those years ago, but I’ve learnt now. And maybe, maybe I’m scared too. Maybe I’m terrified to hurt you all over again, or for you to just give up on me. But I’m asking for a chance, and with it, I’m prepared to give up everything else.”

I cocked my head at him, confused. “What do you mean? Give what up?”

“This.” He told me plainly and I knew, my lips parted and I could only shake my head in return.

“No. No, I’d never ask you to do that, and fuck you for even thinking I would.”

George reached out to me then, hands carefully taking my forearms, an attempt to soothe me. Like old times, I thought. I wondered if he thought the same, or if it was just instinctual.

“You wouldn’t have to ask, B. And I’m not asking you to. I’m telling you now that I don’t care what I have to lose. This? This life? It means nothing without you in it. It means nothing if you aren’t here to share it all with me. I’ve lived it. I suffered through it, felt nothing but fucking regret.” He murmured and it was then that I felt the first few drops of summer rain. “A chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“A chance.” I mimicked, blinking at him from under wet lashes whilst raindrops came down heavier around us.

“Just a chance.” He assured me before he wiped the dampening hair from off my cheek, hands resting either side of my face. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

Part Twenty-seven>

91 notes · View notes