summary: as a trauma doctor, you are good in a crisis, a level head in an emergency. You make good decisions under pressure that save lives. But a chance encounter with an injured gang member catches your interest, more than it should have. You werenât expecting that they are just as invested in you, or how much your life would change.
started: October 12th, 2025
finished: TBC
1.
i want you to ruin my life [f] - as a trauma doctor, you are good in a crisis, a level head in an emergency. You make good decisions under pressure that save lives. But a chance encounter with an injured gang member catches your interest, more than it should have. You werenât expecting that they are just as invested in you, or how much your life would change. mafia poly ateez.
2.
safe and sound [f] [h/c] - requested by anon. you get kidnapped by a rival group, your boys come to find you. mafia poly ateez.
3.
just a bother [f] [h/c] - requested by anon. you have an irritating coworker and the boys come to the wrong conclusion. mafia poly ateez.
4.
harms way [f] [a] [h/c] - requested by anon. you and your boyfriends don't really overlap until whispers of your name requires an official introduction. unfortunately, it ends in bloodshed.
5.
comforting touch [f] [h/c] [s] - requested by @sweetpinkduchess. you have a nightmare and find comfort in the arms of Mingi. Mingi focused. MDNI
6.
hit me with your best shot [f] [a] [h/c] [sugg.] - it was a normal shakedown until it wasn't. HJ focused.
Summary: On a trip with OT8, they find out you lack experience in ALL areas of sex. You share your interest in learning and they take it upon themselves to give you one-on-one âclassesâ to teach you the ins and outs of all-things sex.
Note: Each member will have their own post. This is a series and I will update this post each time I post the next chapter. Please be patient and feel free to offer suggestions â€ïž
Content Warning: â ïž 18+ NO MINORS. Talk of drinking alcohol/use of alcohol. Members are college-age and so is reader. Discussion of sexually explicit content. No sex (in this part.)
âTake another shot!â Mingi encouraged you while you were still recovering from the one you just swallowed, throat burning.
âNo-no. I canât! I think Iâm gonna puke.â You said, still coughing from the burn.
âShot! Shot! Shot!â All the boys started to chant but you just laughed, using your hands to wave them away from you.
âOkay guys letâs give her a break, sheâs still a beginner.â San tried to calm everyone down which helped for the most part. You were all gathered in the AirBNBâs living room, surrounding a game of cards that had been forgotten about completely.
It was mind boggling how you even got in this situation. On vacation with 8 frat guys when, before a few months ago, you hadnât even had a sip of alcohol. College was a new experience, a chance to finally break out of your shell and figure out more about yourself which, was not an option before. Your family was strict, sheltering, and only allowed you to go to your college due to a full-ride scholarship. Thankfully your years of only focusing on school paid off, literally. You would have ended up in an all-girls private school had you not.
The frat the boys were members of had a party the first week of class. You decided to go, wanting to dive right in to the real college experience, only seeing glimpses in movies. However, you found very quickly that it was all a bit overwhelming. Everyone had already gotten a bit drunk. It only took a few minutes for somebody to bump into you, making you fly into the back of another innocent bystander.
âIâm so sorry!â
âItâs all good.â The man who you bumped into turned around, his handsome features making you freeze. The man looked at you up and down, an eyebrow raising when he saw how nervous you looked. âIâm Wooyoung. Did you just get here?â
âI-uh. Yeah.â You stuttered, hardly able to keep eye contact with him.
âFollow me, letâs get you a drink.â He waved you forward and you followed him through a sea of people to the kitchen. You were instantly taken back by the amount of bottles on the kitchen counters. You could probably find any type of alcohol you could think of here, maybe even some you didnât know existed.
âWhatâs your drink of choice?â Wooyoung asked, grabbing a red cup from the counter.
âI um- I donât know? Beer?â
âYour drink of choice is beer?â He wasnt judging, just amused. No college girl ever had beer as their drink of choice.
âThatâs the only alcohol I can think of right now.â You shrugged. âIâve never had any alcohol before so I guess I just said the first thing that came to my head.â
Wooyoungâs eyes widened in shock, then was quickly replaced with excitement.
âMingi!â He yelled out into the room. Suddenly, a tall brown-haired manâs head popped out of the crowd. Wooyoung waved him over and he made his way through.
âMingi, this is?âŠâ
âIâm y/n.â You introduced yourself to both of them.
âNice to meet you.â They both said at the same time, making all of you laugh.
âAnyways, she just told me sheâs never had alcohol before.â Wooyoung told him, making his jaw drop. âWe have to make her a good first drink.â
âIâm on it.â
Mingi went to work, mixing different bottles, syrups, and soda. By the time he gave you the cup, you had lost track of how many things were in it.
âThis is The Mingi Special. A one-and-done drink. Finish this and youâll be having a good time!â He handed you the cup of questionably colored liquid. The smell itself made your nose crinkle which he noticed. âJust chug it all in one go. Hold your nose.â
âMingi I donât think-â Wooyoung tried to put in his two-cents but it was too late. You did exactly as Mingi said: you held your nose and gulped down the drink that tasted like gasoline. Or at least, what you imagined gasoline tasted like. They both stared at you in shock, jaws dropped completely. When the cup was empty, you couldnât help but wince in disgust.
âOh my god that was terrible.â You said, almost gagging. âThat what alcohol tastes like?â
âNo, only when Mingi makes the drink.â Wooyoung laughed. âI canât lie, I really thought you would hurl. Iâm impressed you kept that down.â
âYou asked him to make it knowing Iâd hate it?â
âOkay, Iâm a bit of an asshole for that. But I wanted to give you the real college experience: drinking whatever you can to get drunk. And, my dear, you are about to be very drunk.â
He was right, of course. Not long after you started to feel the effects. Throughout the night you tried some more drinks, talked to some people, and somehow ended up on a table. The boys tell you that you flashed your tits to everyone also, but you swear they made that up. Regardless, you became a regular at their house-parties. Eventually making the acquaintance of all 8 members of the frat.
They had all planned a trip during their school break. When they found out you werenât going home for the holidays and would be on your own, they invited you along, which led you to here.
âOkay, letâs play truth or drink.â Wooyoung suggested and jumped into the game without waiting on a vote. âMingi, how many people have you slept with?â
The whole room erupted with âooooâsâ and snickering. Mingi took a big sip of his drink, refusing to answer.
âBoo, youâre boringâ. You teased him, making him scoff.
âOkay, then you answer it! How many people have you slept with?â
You fell silent for a moment, too embarrassed to give your real answer. You started to lift your cup up to your lips but San reached his hand out to block the cup.
âNo way, you canât drink after calling him boring. You have to answer.â He said and they all cheered, ganging up on you. You groaned, but sucked it up. You might as well come clean.
âZero.â
âCome on.â San nudged you with his elbow. âReally. We wonât judge.â
âIâve slept with zero people. Iâm a virgin.â You said, face completely still and serious. Everyone fell silent for a while, not knowing exactly what to say. It was Wooyoung, of course, who broke the silence.
âWait, youâve never had sex before?â You were suddenly aware of 8 pairs of eyes staring at you in shock. Heat spread across your face in sudden embarrassment.
âNo, I havenât.â You mumbled, refusing to meet anyoneâs eyes.
âOkay.. thatâs.. OUCH!â Hongjoong elbowed Wooyoung swiftly in the ribs. âThatâs fine. Thatâs normal. Everyone has their own timeframe.â
âYeah, thatâs cool youâre waiting.â Hongjoong said, clearing his throat to hide his awkward tone.
âWhat about hand stuff?â Mingi said loudly, too many shots in to be able to read the room. All the boys groaned but you laughed.
âNo. I havenât done anything. Nothing.â
âNot even masturbate?â Yunho asked, suddenly very curious about your sexual experiences. But, to be fair, all of them were in that moment. The question made you shuffle around in your seat.
âKinda? Not really.â You shrugged. âIt felt weird when I tried. I donât really like it.â
âYou have to be doing it wrong.â Mingi said, slurring a bit. âJerking off is fucking awesome.â
âGirls donât âjerk offâ, idiot.â Jongho slapped Mingi on the back of the head.
âWhat do they do then?â
âThey flick the bean.â All 7 of the other boys said in unison, making all of you crack up.
âWow, you donât really know anything?â Seonghwa asked, his questions unintentionally offensive. âI mean- you just havenât wanted to try having sex? Or anything else?â
âI mean, of course Iâve wanted to.â You explained. âBut I grew up going to a private all-girl schools. My parents were strict and wouldnât let me go anywhere on weekends. I was studying 24/7. I only started doing âadultâ things once I moved into the dorms. Itâs the first time Iâve been able to experiment.â
âAnd nobodyâs offered to âhelpâ you experiment with sex?â Yeosang asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
âIâm too scared to do that. I donât know the first thing about sex. Any part of it. I feel like I need a step-by-step guide or something.â
âOr a teacher.â Yunho said. Each member one by one had a lightbulb go off in their heads.
âLiteral. Sexual. Education.â Wooyoung emphasized each word.
âIf only that existed. Iâd sign up for that class.â You admitted.
âOr, classes. SayâŠ8?â Hongjoong said, a bit of a suggestive tone to his voice. You were suddenly highly aware of all their eyes on you again. Burning a hole into your face.
âIâm not following.â You said, completely confused.
âYou have 8 teachers right here.â Hongjoong extended his hand out in the guyâs direction. âWe could each teach you 1 of 8 different aspects of sex.â
âLike a tutoring lesson?â
âYes just.. âhands on.ââ Yunho said and all the boys snickered.
âOh- oh god.â You stuttered, finally understanding what they were proposing. âNo way! That would make things so weird.â
âNot really.â Jongho shrugged. âWeâre all consenting adults. Itâs all for teaching purposes. We all just have to stay normal about it.â
âAnd we can have rules and pre-set boundaries.â Hongjoong suggested. âAnd once we get back home we can all pretend like this never happened. We leave it here behind these walls.â
You thought about it for a long moment, truly considering the idea. Experimenting was one of your goals during your college years and it was being hand-delivered to you by 8 attractive men. Not to mention, you could be an expert at sex at the end of it all.
âGod, this means you guys are gonna see me naked?â You groan after saying your indirect approval of the arrangement. All 8 men grinned from ear to ear.
âWeâve already seen your tits so itâs really just the lower half you should be worried about.â Wooyoung cackled.
âI already told you, I didnât do that!â
âYes, you did.â All 8 said in unison.
You rolled your eyes and chugged the last bit of your mixed drink you had been babysitting the whole night. You needed it right now.
âSo, how do we do this?â You ask, ready to get down to business.
âWell, um, each one of us will give you a crash-course on an aspect of sex.â Seonghwa explained. âAnd you could ask questions and get tips from us. And of course be given or take part in a âdemonstration.ââ
You sat still, slowly blinking as you tried to accept the reality that you were actually doing this.
âA lot of people are visual learners.â Yeosang said light-heartedly, making you chuckle and some of the boys mumble in agreement.
âAnd we can stop the lesson at any time.â San said. âWe just want to help you out and show you some stuff.â
âOkay. When do we start and whoâs showing me what?â You ask bluntly.
âTomorrow. Give us the night to plan out the 8 lessons and assign a person to each one. The first one will start in the morning after you wake up. Theyâll knock on your door.â Hongjoong said. Everyone nodded in agreement.
âNow, go get some sleep!â Yunho sent you off lovingly. You giggled, getting up and collecting your things to head upstairs.
âYeah, cause youâre gonna need it.â Wooyoung laughed.
âOkay, goodnight.â You sang out to them, trotting off the stairs.
They all said goodnight then huddled together, creating the ultimate Sexual Education course.
âââââââââââ
Very excited for this series! If this intro plot seems corny just work with me until the real reason why youâre reading gets posted ok? Feel free to debate in the comments if you think I should change up what members teach what.
some of yall need to go back to like preschool level 'girls can do anything boys can do' feminism bc we are regressing into feminine = frivolous = weak = nurturing and masculine = power = force = competence at the speed of fucking light
I reblogged her late last year and my 2024 has been very satisfying work-wise and (secure enough to not stress out) money-wise so far. Money Snake is wise and good.
A broken internet connection leads Y/N to her quiet, antisocial neighbor, Yeo. Awkward moments and shared baked goods turn into comfort. Until a Christmas market explodes and Y/N learns the truth: Yeo is Kang Yeosang, a hacker and leader of ATEEZ, one of the most dangerous mafia organizations in the country. Pulled into his world, survival becomes inevitable and so does trust.
Pairing: Mafia!Hacker Yeosang Ă Reader
Genre: Mafia AU âą Romance âą Drama âą Slow Burn
Tropes: Neighbor AU âą Civilian Ă Mafia âą Protective ML âą Hurt/Comfort
Featuring: ATEEZ âą Cookie the Maltese
Warnings: Violence âą Explosion âą Guns
Main Masterlist | Yeosangs Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3?
This is Part 1
By the time Y/N finally unlocked the door to her apartment, the day had already drained her of everything she had left.
She stood there for a moment longer than necessary, keys still in her hand, forehead pressed lightly against the wood as if the door itself might offer some kind of comfort. It didnât. Nothing ever really did. Not lately.
Behind her, tiny paws padded impatiently against the hallway tiles.
âOkay, okay,â she murmured, forcing herself upright. âWeâre home.â
The lock clicked open, the door swung inward, and the familiar small apartment greeted her. Dim, quiet, slightly too cold because sheâd forgotten to turn the heating up again. It smelled faintly like laundry detergent and the vanilla candle she only ever lit on weekends because she was trying to make them last.
The Maltese at her heels immediately trotted inside, tail wagging with far more enthusiasm than the situation warranted. Cookie was small (absurdly small, really) with soft white fur that puffed up around her like a living cloud and dark button eyes that sparkled with unearned optimism.
Cookie always thought things were about to get better.
Y/N kicked her shoes off near the door, shrugged out of her coat, and dropped her bag onto the chair by the tiny dining table. Cookie jumped onto the couch in one smooth motion, curling up immediately in her favorite spot like this had been the best day of her life.
âYou didnât even go outside,â Y/N told her, toeing off her other shoe. âYou have no idea what I just survived.â
Cookie let out a tiny huff, already half-asleep.
Figures.
Y/N moved through the apartment on autopilot. She turned on the lamp in the living room, the warm yellow glow doing little to chase away the exhaustion clinging to her bones. The place was small. One bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchenette that barely fit two people. But sheâd chosen it because it was quiet. Because no one asked questions. Because it was affordable and anonymous and didnât expect anything from her.
Much like the rest of her life.
She wandered into the kitchen, opened the fridge, stared at the contents without really seeing them. Half a container of leftover pasta, milk that might or might not still be good, a few eggs. Nothing that felt worth the effort.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She ignored it.
Work had been⊠a disaster felt too gentle a word, but it was the closest thing that fit.
She worked a job she hated in a building she despised, surrounded by people who barely remembered her name unless something went wrong. And something had gone wrong today. Everything had gone wrong today.
The printer jammed right before a deadline. Her supervisor snapped at her in front of everyone. A customer blamed her for a system error she had nothing to do with. She spilled coffee on her blouse, then stepped into a puddle on the sidewalk outside and soaked her socks through. Her train ran late. Her headphones died halfway home.
By the time sheâd reached her apartment building, sheâd been holding herself together by sheer willpower alone.
Now that she was home, that willpower was slipping through her fingers.
âOkay,â she whispered to herself, leaning against the counter. âWe survived. Thatâs enough for today.â
She reached for the kettle, filled it with water, set it on the stove. Tea. Tea would help. Tea always helped, even when nothing else did.
Cookie lifted her head at the sound, ears twitching.
âNo, not for you,â Y/N said automatically. âYou had dinner already.â
Cookieâs tail wagged anyway.
Y/N smiled despite herselfâsmall and tired, but real. Cookie had that effect on her. She always had.
Cookie wasnât just her dog. She was her shadow. Her constant. The little warm presence that followed her from room to room, slept curled against her stomach at night, waited by the door every evening like Y/N was the most important thing in the world.
Sometimes, Cookie felt like the only proof that Y/N existed at all.
She carried her mug to the couch, settled down with a sigh, Cookie immediately scooting closer until she was pressed against Y/Nâs thigh. The TV flickered to life, the familiar opening theme of a show sheâd already watched twice this month filling the room.
Comfort noise. Familiar dialogue. Characters with problems bigger than hers, solved neatly within forty minutes.
It was easier to watch other peopleâs lives unfold than to think about her own.
Y/N reached for the remote, thumb hovering over the streaming app.
And then the screen froze.
She frowned.
âDonât,â she muttered, pressing the button again.
The loading circle spun once. Twice. Then an error message popped up.
No internet connection.
Her shoulders sagged.
âNo,â she said, louder this time. âNo, no, no.â
She tried again. Same message.
She grabbed her phone, checking instinctivelyâno Wi-Fi. The little icon mocked her. Cellular data was spotty at best in this building, barely enough to load a message, let alone stream anything.
Cookie tilted her head, sensing the shift in mood.
âOf course,â Y/N said flatly. âOf course today would end like this.â
She stared at the screen for a long moment, then let herself fall back against the couch cushions, eyes squeezed shut.
Customer service.
The mere thought made her stomach twist.
An hour on hold. Tinny music looping endlessly. A bored voice asking her to restart the router like she hadnât already done that three times. Someone telling her theyâd send a technicianânext week. Maybe.
She didnât have the energy.
Cookie climbed into her lap, licking her chin once in a rare display of concern.
Y/N laughed weakly, wrapping her arms around the tiny body. âItâs okay,â she whispered, pressing her face into soft fur. âWeâll just⊠stare at the wall together.â
Cookie snorted, unimpressed.
Y/Nâs gaze drifted toward the far wall of the living room, where the faint hum of something electronic could be heard through the drywall. Her neighborâs apartment.
She hesitated.
Sheâd lived here for nearly a year and still barely knew the people around her. A polite nod in the hallway. A door closing before introductions could happen. She liked it that way. Less complicated.
Except for him.
The neighbor.
She didnât even know his name.
Sheâd only ever seen him in passing. Late at night or early in the morning, slipping through the hallway like a ghost. Always quiet. Always wearing dark clothes, headphones around his neck or over his ears. Hood up, eyes down. Once, sheâd caught a glimpse of glowing screens through his open door. Multiple monitors, lines of code flickering across them.
He looked like a computer nerd. The intimidating kind. The kind who probably knew how to fix things.
The kind who absolutely did not want to be bothered by a stranger with a broken router.
Y/N chewed on her lower lip, glancing down at Cookie.
âWell,â she murmured, âitâs either him or customer service.â
Cookie yawned.
She sighed. âThatâs what I thought.â
The idea lodged itself in her mind, refusing to leave. She could ask. Just ask. He could say no. That would be the end of it.
Sheâd baked cookies last weekend. Way too many, as usual. They were still sitting in the tin on the counter, because she always baked like she had someone to share them with.
Maybe this time, she actually could.
Y/N stood slowly, Cookie jumping down to follow her immediately.
âCome on,â she told her. âWeâre doing something brave.â
Cookie wagged her tail, blissfully unaware of what bravery meant.
Y/N retrieved the cookie tin from the counter, hesitating before opening it to check the contents. Chocolate chip. Soft. Still fresh. She closed the lid again, heart pounding a little harder than it should have.
This was ridiculous. She was just knocking on a door.
Still, her palms were damp by the time she stepped into the hallway.
The corridor was quiet, fluorescent lights humming softly overhead. She padded down the hall in socks, Cookie trotting beside her like a tiny guardian. She stopped in front of the door sheâd passed a hundred times before.
The mysterious neighborâs door.
She stared at it for a few seconds too long.
âOkay,â she whispered to herself. âJust knock.â
She raised her hand.
Lowered it again.
Took a breath.
Then she knocked.
Once. Twice.
The seconds stretched.
She almost turned away. Already rehearsing the relief of going back inside. When she heard movement on the other side. Footsteps. The faint scrape of something being pushed aside.
Her heart jumped into her throat.
The door opened.
And Y/N forgot how to breathe.
The man standing there was⊠not what sheâd expected. Not at all.
He was tall, for one. Taller than sheâd thought from the brief hallway glimpses. Broad shoulders beneath a simple hoodie, dark hair falling softly over his forehead in a way that looked unfairly natural. His glasses sat slightly crooked on his nose, eyes dark and sharp behind them. Eyes that widened just a fraction when they landed on her.
He looked tired. Like he didnât sleep enough. Like he lived in the glow of screens and caffeine.
And somehow, that only made him more devastatingly handsome.
Y/N stood there, frozen, cookie tin clutched to her chest, Cookie peeking out from behind her leg.
Oh.
Oh no.
He was hot.
The words echoed uselessly in her mind as he blinked at her in silence, clearly just as surprised by her presence as she was by his appearance.
Her brain scrambled to catch up.
She swallowed, heart racing, cheeks warming.
And then she realized she was staring.
Y/N forgot how to speak.
She knew she was standing in the hallway. She knew she was holding a tin of cookies a little too tightly against her chest. She knew Cookie was peeking out from behind her leg like a fluffy bodyguard with no actual authority.
What she did not know was how long sheâd been staring.
Because the man in front of her. Her neighbor, apparently. Looked like he had stepped straight out of a very different genre than the one her life usually occupied. Not the background character sheâd mentally assigned him as, but someone sharp-edged and quietly striking, like he existed slightly out of sync with the world.
His eyes flicked over her face, then down to the cookie tin, then briefly to Cookie.
Silence stretched.
Y/N realized, with a jolt of horror, that she was still just⊠staring.
âOhââ she blurted, immediately wincing. âHi. Sorry. Iâhi.â
Great. Excellent start.
He blinked once, slow and deliberate, like her words needed a moment to buffer.
ââŠHi,â he replied.
His voice was soft. Lower than she expected. Calm, but hesitant, like he didnât use it often unless necessary.
Y/N swallowed, her pulse thudding embarrassingly loud in her ears. She forced her gaze away from his face. Away from his eyes, his mouth, the way his hair fell into them. And remembered why she was here.
Right. Internet. Broken. Adult problem.
âIâm sorry to bother you,â she said quickly, words tumbling over each other. âI wouldnât normally, itâs justâmy internet isnât working and I was going to call customer service but then I remembered you live next door and I thought maybe youââ
She stopped, breathless, realizing she was rambling.
He watched her quietly, head tilted just a little, expression unreadable.
She cleared her throat. âYou look like⊠um. You look like you might be good with computers.â
She winced again, mortified.
Smooth. Really subtle.
For a second, she thought sheâd offended him. His brows knit together faintly, lips pressing into a thin line.
Then he nodded.
ââŠI am,â he said simply.
Relief flooded her so fast it made her lightheaded.
âOh. Good,â she breathed. âI meanâgreat. I meanââ
She lifted the tin abruptly, almost smacking herself in the chin. âI baked cookies.â
She shoved it forward like a peace offering.
âChocolate chip,â she added, as if that would seal the deal.
He stared at the tin.
Then at her.
Then back at the tin.
She watched the internal debate play out across his face, subtle but there. Hesitation, calculation, something almost like confusion. As if no one had ever tried to bribe him with baked goods before and he wasnât sure how to handle it.
Cookie chose that moment to step forward, tail wagging gently, sniffing the air with interest.
The manâs gaze dropped again.
Something in his expression softenedâjust a fraction.
ââŠYou baked them?â he asked.
Y/N nodded eagerly. âYes. Too many. I, um. I always bake too many.â
She didnât know why she added that. Maybe because silence made her nervous. Maybe because she was already oversharing. Maybe because she wanted him to understand that this wasnât some weird scheme. Just loneliness disguised as generosity.
He hesitated another moment.
Then he stepped back, opening the door wider.
âI can take a look,â he said. âIf thatâs okay.â
Her heart did a little jump.
âThat would be amazing,â she said quickly. âThank you. Really. I promise I wonât take much of your time.â
He nodded again, already stepping into the hallway.
Up close, she noticed things she hadnât from afar. The faint shadows under his eyes, the way he kept his hands tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie, the slight stiffness in his posture, like being around people made him physically uncomfortable.
She also noticed, very abruptly, that he smelled faintly like coffee and something clean. Soap. Laundry detergent. Comfortingly ordinary.
âUm,â she said, gesturing down the hall. âItâs just next door.â
He followed her quietly, footsteps soft against the floor. Cookie trotted ahead like she was leading a tour, clearly pleased with herself.
As they reached her door, Y/N fumbled with her keys again, nerves turning her fingers clumsy.
âSorry,â she muttered. âLong day.â
He hummed quietly in response. Not quite a word, but not silence either.
She unlocked the door and stepped aside. âAfter you.â
He hesitated at the threshold, gaze flicking briefly around the apartment before he entered, as if cataloging the space in a way she didnât quite understand.
Her place was small but lived-in. The couch with ist slightly mismatched throw pillows. The TV paused on a familiar show. A mug abandoned on the coffee table. A dog bed tucked beside the couch, already occupied by Cookieâs favorite toy.
He noticed everything.
She could tell.
âSorry about the mess,â she said reflexively, even though it wasnât really messy....just hers.
âItâs fine,â he replied softly.
Cookie immediately circled him, tail wagging faster now, nose pressed to his ankle.
He crouched down without hesitation, movements careful, controlled. Cookie froze for half a second. Then leaned into his hand as he gently scratched behind her ears.
Y/N watched, something warm blooming unexpectedly in her chest.
âYouâre very polite,â he murmured to the dog.
Cookie wagged harder, utterly charmed.
âSheâs Cookie,â Y/N said. âShe, um. She goes everywhere with me.â
He nodded, eyes still on Cookie. âSheâs⊠cute.â
The word sounded almost foreign on his tongue.
Then, as if remembering why he was there, he straightened and turned toward the router.
He knelt again, fingers moving quickly and confidently. She watched him from the couch, suddenly acutely aware of how quiet he was. No unnecessary movements. No wasted words. Like he existed in a more efficient mode than most people.
He unplugged the router. Counted silently. Plugged it back in.
Then he took her laptop. Carefully, asking with a glance rather than words and typed something so fast she couldnât follow it.
Two minutes passed.
Maybe less.
The Wi-Fi icon flickered back to life.
âThere,â he said.
Y/N blinked. âAlready?â
He nodded. âConfiguration issue. It happens.â
She stared at the screen, then at him, disbelief written all over her face.
âThatâs it?â she asked. âYou justâfixed it?â
âYes.â
She laughed, a little hysterical. âI was about to spend an hour on hold.â
He allowed himself the tiniest hint of a smile. âIâm glad you didnât.â
She exhaled, tension she hadnât realized she was holding finally leaving her shoulders. âThank you. Seriously. You have no idea how much that helps.â
He stood, hands tucking back into his sleeves again, retreating slightly into himself now that the task was done.
âCookies,â she remembered suddenly, thrusting the tin toward him again. âPlease. As payment.â
He hesitated.
Then, after a second, he accepted it carefully, like it might vanish if he moved too quickly.
ââŠThank you,â he said.
Their eyes met again, just for a moment.
It was awkward. Gentle. Unfamiliar.
And somehow, despite the quiet, Y/N felt less alone than she had in weeks.
She didnât know his name.
She didnât know what he did for a living.
But she knew, suddenly and with certainty, that this small, strange interaction mattered.
Even if neither of them quite knew why yet.
The weeks after the broken internet incident passed in a way Y/N hadnât quite expected.
Not dramatically. Not with sudden confessions or grand changes.
Just⊠quietly.
She and her neighbor (Yeo, as sheâd learned his name apparently was) began to exist in each otherâs orbit in small, almost accidental ways.
Sometimes sheâd see him in the hallway early in the morning, hair slightly damp, hoodie pulled tight around him like armor. He would nod once, polite but reserved.
âMorning,â sheâd say.
ââŠMorning,â heâd reply, voice still half-asleep.
Other times, sheâd run into him late at night when she was taking Cookie out for a final walk, the building hushed and dim. Heâd be returning instead keys in hand, shoulders tense, eyes alert like heâd just stepped out of a different world.
They never talked long.
Just fragments.
âHowâs your internet?â
âStill working. Thanks again.â
âGood.â
Once, sheâd offered him a cookie again. Heâd hesitated like before, then accepted it with a quiet thank you and disappeared into his apartment.
Once, heâd held the door for her when her hands were full of grocery bags. Their fingers brushed accidentally, and both of them froze for half a second too long.
Awkward. Soft. Almost endearing.
She noticed things about him without trying.
That he avoided the elevator when others were inside, opting for the stairs even if it took longer. That he always wore headphones, even when nothing was playing. That his schedule made no sense. Leaving the building at hours most people were asleep, coming back when the sky was still dark.
She wondered what he did for work.
Something with computers, obviously. But beyond that, she couldnât quite place it. He didnât look like the startup type or the office kind. There was something intense about him, something focused, like his mind was always half a step ahead of wherever his body was.
Sometimes she imagined him sitting in front of glowing screens, fingers flying over keyboards, solving problems no one else could.
Sometimes she imagined he was just⊠lonely too.
That thought stayed with her more than she liked.
Her own days, meanwhile, didnât improve.
Work remained exhausting in the quiet, soul-draining way that didnât leave visible scars but still wore her down piece by piece. She woke up tired. She came home tired. She smiled politely and swallowed frustration until it sat heavy in her chest.
Cookie was her constant. Always there. Always happy to see her. Always curled against her side on the couch while she watched the same comfort shows again and again.
The guy sheâd been seeing, if it could even be called that, had slowly drifted into the background. Cancelled plans. Short replies. Excuses that didnât quite line up.
Y/N had told herself not to think too much about it.
Until she didnât have to wonder anymore.
She found out on a Wednesday evening, by accident, through a mutual acquaintanceâs careless comment and a tagged photo she hadnât been meant to see. Him, smiling. Him, holding hands with another woman. Him, apparently very capable of commitment. Just not with her.
It shouldnât have hurt as much as it did.
But it did.
By the time Friday rolled around, snow had begun to fall.
It wasnât a dramatic storm. Just a steady, quiet snowfall that softened the city and muffled the noise of the world. Streets glowed under streetlights, footprints appearing and disappearing like fleeting thoughts.
Y/N trudged home through it, Cookie tucked securely in her arm beneath her coat, the little dog peeking out like a curious marshmallow.
Her body ached. Her head throbbed. Her chest felt tight in that familiar, unwelcome way. Christmas decorations had gone up around the city. Twinkling lights, wreaths, cheerful window displays.
Everyone looked like they had somewhere to go.
Someone to go home to.
She climbed the steps to her apartment building, breath puffing white in the cold, and pushed the door open with her shoulder. The hallway smelled faintly of pine cleaner and someone elseâs dinner.
Cookie wriggled in her arms.
âPatience,â Y/N whispered, already fumbling for her keys.
Her fingers were numb from the cold. She dropped them once, muttering under her breath as she bent down awkwardly to retrieve them while still holding Cookie.
By the time she reached her door, the exhaustion hit her all at once.
She slid the key into the lock.
It didnât turn.
She frowned, pulled it out, tried again.
Nothing.
Her breath hitched.
âNo,â she whispered. âCome on.â
She tried again. Wrong angle. Again. Still nothing.
Her hands started shaking. Not just from the cold now, but from everything else sheâd been holding in for weeks. The unfairness of the day. The quiet apartment waiting on the other side of the door. The fact that it was nearly Christmas and she had no one to call, no one to tell, no one who was waiting for her.
The key slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.
That was it.
She slid down the door, back hitting the wood as she sank to the ground, knees pulled to her chest, Cookie pressed close. A sob tore out of her before she could stop it. Sharp and ugly and humiliating.
âI hate this,â she whispered brokenly. âI hate all of it.â
Tears spilled over, blurring her vision, dripping onto Cookieâs fur as she clutched her tighter. âIâm so tired,â she choked and whispered. âI donât want to be alone anymore.â
The hallway door at the other end creaked open.
Footsteps echoed softly.
ââY/N?â
Her head snapped up, heart jumping painfully into her throat.
Yeosang stood a few feet away, coat still on, snow dusting his dark hair. His brows were drawn together in concern, eyes scanning her quickly, taking in her posture, the tears, the dropped keys.
He froze, like he wasnât sure what to do next.
ââŠAre you okay?â he asked quietly.
The question was gentle. Careful.
And somehow, that made it harder to breathe.
Y/N scrambled upright so fast she nearly lost her balance.
âOhâhi,â she said too quickly, swiping at her cheeks with the sleeve of her coat. She hoped the dim hallway lighting and the way her hair fell forward might hide the worst of it. âIâm fine. Everythingâs fine.â
Her voice betrayed her immediately. Thin, strained, nothing like fine at all.
Cookie squirmed in her arms, sensing the sudden movement, tiny paws pressing against her chest as if trying to anchor her. Y/N forced a breath in, then another, willing her heart to slow down.
Yeosang didnât move closer. He stayed where he was, hands loosely at his sides, posture hesitant like he wasnât sure if stepping forward would make things better or worse.
âYou were⊠crying,â he said quietly. Not accusing. Just stating a fact.
Y/N laughed. An awkward, brittle sound that didnât quite make sense even to her own ears.
âNo,â she said immediately. âI meanâyes, but not likeââ She shook her head, words tangling. âIt was just the door. It wouldnât open. Long day. You know how it is.â
She nodded to herself as if that explanation was perfectly reasonable.
He watched her for a moment, eyes searching her face, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he saw straight through her anyway.
But he didnât argue.
ââŠOkay,â he said after a beat.
Relief washed through her, mixed with a sharp pang of something else. Gratitude, maybe. Or disappointment that heâd let her lie so easily.
She turned back to the door quickly, eager to prove her point. âSee? Itâs stupid. It justâgets stuck sometimes.â
She bent down, scooped up her keys, and tried again. This time she focused, tongue pressed to the inside of her cheek, carefully lining the key up with the lock.
It didnât budge.
Her shoulders tensed.
She tried again. Harder.
Nothing.
Heat rushed to her face, frustration bubbling dangerously close to the surface again. âOf course,â she muttered under her breath. âWhy wouldnât itââ
âMay I?â Yeosang asked gently.
She froze.
âOhâum. Yes. Sorry. Of course.â
She stepped aside, hugging Cookie closer, suddenly acutely aware of how ridiculous she must look. Puffy-eyed, hair frizzy from snow, clinging to her dog like a lifeline.
Yeosang approached the door calmly, movements unhurried. He took the key from her hand with a light touch, careful not to brush her fingers this time.
Y/N watched him from the side, noticing how focused he looked even doing something as mundane as opening a door. He adjusted the angle slightly, applied pressure in a way she hadnât thought to try.
The lock clicked open effortlessly.
âThere,â he said.
She stared at the door like it had personally betrayed her.
ââŠWow,â she said weakly. âI swear I tried that.â
He shrugged faintly. âIt sticks when itâs cold.â
âRight,â she said. âOf course it does.â
She pushed the door open, stepping into the warmth of her apartment. The familiar space wrapped around her instantly. The soft glow of the lamp, the faint scent of vanilla, the quiet that usually felt comforting but tonight had felt suffocating.
She turned back to Yeosang, who was still standing in the hallway, clearly unsure whether to leave or say something else.
âThank you,â she said sincerely. âForâboth things.â
He nodded. âYouâre welcome.â
She hesitated, fingers tightening briefly around Cookieâs fur.
Then, before she could overthink it, she blurted, âWait.â
He paused.
âIâum. Just a second.â
She disappeared into the apartment before he could respond, heart pounding as she kicked off her shoes and padded quickly into the kitchen. Her eyes landed immediately on the large glass dish sitting on the counter, carefully covered with foil.
Tiramisu.
Sheâd made it two nights ago after work, because she hadnât wanted to sit in silence and because baking felt like doing something for someone. Even if that someone was just herself. Sheâd eaten one portion, then another, and then stopped, realizing sheâd made far too much again.
The rest had been sitting there ever since.
Waiting.
She peeled back the foil, hesitated for half a second, then picked the whole dish up. Still heavy, still full.
When she returned to the doorway, Yeosang looked up in surprise.
She held it out toward him, arms slightly strained under the weight.
âI made tiramisu,â she said, suddenly shy. âI, um. When I was lonely. Thereâs too much. And you helped me. Soââ
She gave a small, hopeful smile. âPlease take it.â
He stared at the dish.
Then at her.
Then back at the dish.
This time, the hesitation was familiar.
ââŠAll of it?â he asked.
She nodded. âAll of it.â
After a moment, he accepted it carefully, like it was something fragile.
âThank you,â he said quietly.
Their eyes met again, the hallway still and hushed around them, snow falling softly outside.
For the first time that evening, Y/N felt the tightness in her chest ease. Just a little.
âGood night, Yeo,â she said.
ââŠGood night,â he replied.
She closed the door gently behind her, leaning her forehead against it for a moment once it clicked shut.
Cookie huffed softly in her arms.
And Y/N realized, with a faint, fragile warmth blooming in her chest, that maybe tonight hadnât ended as badly as sheâd thought.
Midnight suited Yeosang.
The city was quieter then. Predictable. Cleaner, in a way. Fewer people, fewer variables. The kind of hour where he could move from one place to another without being seen, without being questioned, without having to explain himself.
He adjusted his grip on the glass dish in his hands as he stepped out into the cold.
Tiramisu was not something he usually carried to meetings.
The fact that he was doing so now registered dimly, like background noise. He was aware it was strange. He simply hadnât found a reason not to.
Snow crunched softly beneath his boots as he made his way down the street. His hood was pulled up, headphones resting around his neck but not playing anything. He didnât need them tonight. His mind was already occupied.
Y/N.
The thought surfaced without invitation, as it had been doing more frequently lately.
She was⊠confusing.
That was the most accurate classification he could give her.
Yeosang liked patterns. Systems. Information that fit together logically. He had known who she was long before she knocked on his door with a tin of cookies and nervous eyes.
Background checks were automatic. Habitual. When a new tenant moved into the building, he ran her name through systems out of reflex rather than suspicion. Heâd expected something unremarkable.
And she was unremarkable. On paper.
No criminal record. No suspicious financial activity. No ties to any syndicate, rival or otherwise. A job that paid poorly and demanded too much. A history that was painfully quietâno close family listed, no emergency contacts beyond a vet clinic.
A Maltese. Cookie. Registered and microchipped.
That had been it.
She was statistically insignificant.
And yet.
She kept knocking on his door with baked goods.
Cookies. More cookies. Tiramisu. Always too much of it. Always framed as a thank-you, like she was trying to repay a debt he didnât remember agreeing to.
People usually wanted something from him. Information. Protection. Silence.
She wanted to give him dessert.
Yeosang frowned faintly as he turned down a side street, boots carrying him toward the nondescript warehouse that housed ATEEZâs headquarters. He still hadnât figured out what she expected in return. If she expected anything at all.
That uncertainty bothered him more than it should have.
The image of her earlier that night surfaced unbidden: sitting on the floor outside her apartment, shoulders shaking as she tried to pull herself together before heâd seen too much. The way sheâd insisted she was fine while clearly not being fine at all.
People lied all the time.
But she lied badly.
And then she gave him tiramisu.
Yeosang exhaled slowly, pushing the thought aside as he reached the side entrance and keyed in the code. The door slid open soundlessly, and the familiar low hum of the headquarters greeted him.
Warm. Bright. Controlled.
Safe.
Inside, the others were already there.
Hongjoong stood near the long table, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up as he scrolled through something on his tablet. Seonghwa leaned against the wall beside him, arms crossed, posture elegant even at midnight. Yunho and San occupied opposite ends of the room. Yunho relaxed, San restless. Mingi sprawled in a chair, scrolling through his phone with far too much enthusiasm, while Wooyoung hovered near Jongho, who was calmly dismantling and reassembling a piece of equipment like it was meditation.
The noise level rose immediately when Yeosang entered.
âThere he is,â Wooyoung announced. âOur elusive cryptid.â
Yeosang ignored him, as usual, and set the tiramisu carefully on the table.
Mingiâs head snapped up. âIs that food?â
âYes,â Yeosang replied.
âWhat kind of food?â Yunho asked, already standing.
âTiramisu.â
There was a brief pause.
Then: âWhy do you have tiramisu?â San asked, squinting suspiciously.
Yeosang blinked. âBecause it was given to me.â
Seonghwaâs gaze flicked to the dish, then back to Yeosangâs face. Something knowing passed through his eyes.
ââŠGiven to you,â Hongjoong echoed slowly. âBy whom?â
Yeosang hesitated. Not because the answer was classified, but because he didnât understand why it mattered.
âMy neighbor,â he said.
Silence.
Then chaos.
âYOUR WHAT?â Mingi practically shouted, leaping to his feet.
âHold on,â Wooyoung said, grinning. âNeighbor as in⊠person? Woman? Human woman?â
Yeosang frowned. âYes.â
San leaned forward. âYou have a neighbor?â
âIâve always had neighbors.â
âNo,â Jongho corrected calmly. âYou usually avoid them.â
Yeosang considered that. ââŠI donât avoid her.â
That earned him several looks.
Seonghwaâs lips twitched. âAnd she made you tiramisu?â
âShe makes a lot of food,â Yeosang said, mildly defensive now. âAs thanks.â
âFor what?â Yunho asked.
âFor helping her,â Yeosang replied. âWith her internet. And her door.â
Hongjoong set his tablet down slowly. âYeosang.â
âYes.â
âHow long have you known this neighbor?â
Yeosang thought about it. âA few weeks.â
âAnd in those few weeks,â Wooyoung said, counting on his fingers, âsheâs baked you cookies, more cookies, and now tiramisu.â
âYes.â
âAnd you didnât think that was⊠notable?â
Yeosang looked between them, genuinely confused. âShe said she makes too much.â
Mingi snorted. âClassic.â
âShe also has a dog,â Yeosang added, as if that explained something.
âShe carries it everywhere,â Yeosang continued, unaware that everyone else had leaned in slightly. âBecause sheâs lonely.â
The room went very quiet.
ââŠShe told you that?â Yunho asked carefully.
âNo,â Yeosang said. âI observed it.â
Wooyoung stared at him. âYou observed loneliness?â
âYes.â
Seonghwa smiled softly into his hand.
Hongjoong rubbed his temple. âYeosang. How exactly do you feel about this neighbor?â
Yeosang frowned again. âI donât know.â
That was the truth. He didnât know.
âSheâs confusing,â he continued. âShe doesnât follow patterns. She thanks people excessively. She lies when sheâs upset. She cries over doors. She gives away food she spent time making.â
âAnd this bothers you?â San asked.
âIt doesnât make sense,â Yeosang replied.
Wooyoung grinned wider. âOh, it makes perfect sense.â
Yeosang didnât respond. He was too busy replaying the image of Y/N standing in her doorway, holding out the tiramisu with that small, hopeful smile, like she was offering him something fragile and expecting nothing in return.
He hadnât known what to do with that.
He still didnât.
âSheâs not a threat,â Yeosang added, more firmly now. âI checked.â
âWe trust your judgment,â Hongjoong said easily.
âAnd her dog likes me,â Yeosang said, as if that mattered. ââŠShe let me pet it.â
That did it.
Mingi burst out laughing. âHeâs done for.â
âIâm not,â Yeosang said immediately.
Wooyoung clapped him on the shoulder. âYou just brought homemade dessert to a mafia meeting because a girl gave it to you.â
Yeosang looked down at the tiramisu.
Then back at them.
ââŠIt would go bad otherwise.â
The laughter that followed didnât register as teasing to him. Just noise, just data he didnât need.
All Yeosang knew was this:
Y/N was a variable he hadnât accounted for.
And somehow, without trying, she had already inserted herself into his system.
That realization sat quietly in his chest as he opened the tiramisu and handed out spoons.
He didnât yet understand why.
But he suspected he would.
Eventually.
The meeting shifted naturally from teasing to business.
It always did.
Hongjoong tapped the table once, the sound sharp enough to pull everyoneâs attention back into alignment. The joking faded immediately, replaced by focus. Screens lit up around the room as Seonghwa pulled up maps, routes, and timelines.
âThe rival syndicate has been quiet,â Hongjoong said. âWhich means theyâre planning something.â
Yeosang straightened slightly in his chair, fingers already moving across his tablet. This was the part he understood best. Information didnât joke. It didnât tease. It behaved predictably if you knew how to listen.
âTheyâre shifting resources,â Yeosang said. âDigital and physical.â
He brought up a schematic of the city center, highlighting several points in red.
âChristmas market,â San muttered, leaning forward. âOf course.â
âTheyâve been monitoring crowd density from previous years,â Yeosang continued. âPeak times. Camera blind spots. Emergency response delays.â
Mingi frowned. âSo⊠something loud?â
âOr something hidden by noise,â Seonghwa replied calmly.
Yeosang nodded. âTheyâre testing signal jammers. Small radius. Temporary outages.â
His mind flickered, uninvited, to Y/Nâs frustrated face when her internet had gone down. The way sheâd blamed herself for it. The way sheâd laughed it off like it didnât matter.
He dismissed the thought quickly and refocused.
âTheyâll likely use the distraction to move assets,â Yeosang said. âPossibly people.â
âCan we intercept?â Yunho asked.
âYes,â Yeosang replied. âIf we reposition surveillance before the weekend. Iâll reroute public cameras and add redundancy.â
Hongjoong nodded. âDo it. Quietly.â
Yeosangâs fingers paused for half a second over the screen.
Quietly was always his specialty.
As the meeting wound down, strategies settled into place, responsibilities assigned, the room slowly relaxed again. Someone turned the lights down a notch. Someone else opened another container of food.
Sheâd sounded tired when she said it. Like the word itself carried weight. He hadnât asked why. He usually didnât ask questions that would require emotional responses he wasnât sure how to handle.
Still, the image of her standing there in the hallway. Coat dusted with snow, eyes too bright, dog tucked close like a shield. It kept resurfacing.
Pretty, his mind supplied unexpectedly.
Not in an obvious way. Not the kind of beauty that demanded attention.
She was⊠soft-looking. Expressive. Her clumsiness wasnât careless. It was earnest, like she tried too hard to be polite, to be grateful, to take up as little space as possible.
Cute, he realized.
That assessment surprised him enough that he frowned faintly.
He didnât dwell on it.
When the meeting officially ended, Yeosang gathered his things automatically. He didnât expect company when he stood to leave.
âYou heading back?â San asked, already shrugging into his jacket.
âYes.â
Wooyoung appeared at his side instantly. âPerfect. Weâre coming with you.â
Yeosang blinked. âWhy.â
âTo hang out,â Wooyoung said brightly. âAlso because San ate too much tiramisu and needs supervision.â
âIâm fine,â San protested.
âYou said that last time,â Wooyoung replied.
Yeosang considered refusing.
Then didnât.
The walk back was quiet at first. Dawn crept in slowly, pale light reflecting off snow-covered sidewalks. The city looked different in the early morningâless sharp, more forgiving.
San stretched as they walked. âYou live in a weirdly normal building.â
âItâs efficient,â Yeosang replied.
Wooyoung smirked. âThatâs one word for it.â
They reached Yeosangâs floor just as the elevator doors slid open again.
Yeosang stepped out and stopped.
Y/N stood a few feet down the hall, keys in hand, coat buttoned up tightly. Cookie peeked out from her arm, wearing a tiny sweater Yeosang had never seen before.
She looked tired.
She also looked startled when she saw him.
âOhâhi,â she said, freezing in place.
ââŠHi,â Yeosang replied.
There was a beat of silence.
Then another.
San glanced between them, sensing something but not sure what.
Wooyoung, however, lit up instantly.
âWell, good morning!â he said cheerfully, stepping forward like this was the most natural encounter in the world. âYou must be the famous neighbor.â
Y/N blinked. âFamous?â
Yeosang stiffened. âWooyoung.â
âWhat?â Wooyoung grinned. âHe talks about you all the time.â
That was not true.
Yeosang opened his mouth to correct him...
But Y/N laughed softly, the sound small but genuine, easing something tight in the hallway air.
âOh,â she said. âI didnât realize I was⊠a topic.â
âSheâs not,â Yeosang said immediately.
Wooyoung gasped. âHeâs shy. Donât take it personally.â
Y/N smiled at Yeosang, eyes warm despite the awkwardness. âItâs okay. Iâm used to awkward.â
Cookie chose that moment to bark quietly at Wooyoung.
Wooyoung crouched down immediately. âAnd you must be Cookie. Iâve heard so much about you.â
Yeosang frowned. âYou have not.â
San chuckled. âCute dog.â
Y/N adjusted Cookie in her arms. âI have to get to work,â she said apologetically. âIt was nice meeting you.â
âLikewise,â Wooyoung said. âAny friend of Yeosangâs baked goods is a friend of ours.â
Yeosang closed his eyes briefly.
Y/N tilted her head. âBaked goods?â
ââŠHe meansââ Yeosang started.
âI mean thank you for the tiramisu,â Wooyoung said brightly. âExcellent texture.â
She glanced at Yeosang once more, smile lingering. âSee you later, Yeo.â
ââŠSee you,â he replied.
She disappeared down the hall, Cookieâs tail wagging as the elevator doors closed behind her.
San elbowed Yeosang lightly. âSheâs nice.â
âShe is,â Wooyoung agreed. âAlso, youâre terrible at hiding things.â
Yeosang unlocked his door, expression neutral.
âThereâs nothing to hide,â he said.
Behind him, both of them exchanged knowing looks.
Yeosang didnât notice.
But as he stepped inside, the hallway already quieter without her presence, he found himself thinking. Not for the first timeâthat mornings hadnât been part of his system before.
Now, apparently, they were.
The van was quiet in the way Yeosang preferred.
Not silent but controlled. The low hum of electronics filled the space, monitors casting a soft blue glow across his face. Wires snaked across the floor, connected to systems he trusted more than people. Every camera feed was laid out in front of him: entrances, exits, rooftops, stalls, crowd density overlays.
The Christmas market looked almost unreal from above.
Strings of lights hung between wooden booths, reflecting off fresh snow. People moved in slow, cheerful currents, bundled in scarves and coats, hands wrapped around steaming mugs. Music drifted faintly through the audio feedâsomething cheerful, something harmless.
Exactly the kind of place people assumed was safe.
âPositions confirmed,â Hongjoongâs voice crackled through Yeosangâs earpiece. âAll units in place.â
âCopy,â Yeosang replied, eyes never leaving the screens. âCameras rerouted. Jammers disabled. Iâm seeing clean feeds.â
San and Yunho moved through the crowd on two separate feeds, blending in easily. Wooyoung lingered near a stall that sold ornaments, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. Jongho stood near an emergency access point, looking like nothing more than another passerby.
Everything was under control.
Yeosang leaned back slightly, fingers hovering over his keyboard. His role tonight was simple: observe, alert, redirect if necessary. He wasnât frontline. He wasnât meant to be.
That suited him.
The rival syndicate had been careful, but not careful enough. Their digital footprint had been sloppy. Encrypted, but rushed. Yeosang had dismantled their network quietly days ago, leaving just enough access to watch them think they were unseen.
Minutes passed.
Nothing happened.
His pulse remained steady.
Thenâ
Movement on Camera 17.
Yeosangâs fingers stilled.
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he adjusted the zoom.
A familiar white shape moved through the crowd, tucked close to a dark coat.
His chest tightened.
Y/N.
She stood near one of the larger stalls, wooden beams wrapped in lights, steam rising from vats of mulled wine. Cookie peeked out from her arm, wearing a small red sweater that clashed slightly with her coat.
Yeosang stared.
âWhat is she doing there,â he murmured, not realizing heâd spoken out loud.
She wasnât alone.
Three people stood with her. Coworkers, likely. Their body language matched profiles Yeosang had seen a hundred times before: proximity without intimacy, polite laughter, loose circles that allowed easy exits.
Her smile flickered across the screen.
It didnât reach her eyes.
Yeosang noticed immediately.
It was subtle. Anyone else would have missed it. But heâd seen her enough now to know the difference between her real smile and the one she used when she didnât want to be asked questions.
His jaw tightened.
âShe shouldnât be there,â he said into the comms.
Yeosangâs fingers moved instinctively, pulling up layered data. Cell signals, interference patterns, heat maps.
Thatâs when he saw it.
A spike.
Small. Sharp. Out of place.
His blood went cold.
âNo,â he whispered.
He zoomed in further, overlaying schematics onto the camera feed. A stall pillar. Hollow inside. Recently modified.
Too recently.
The timer appeared on his secondary screen before he consciously searched for it.
Three minutes.
âBomb,â Yeosang said, voice suddenly too loud in the van. âMarket center. Camera 17. Sheâs right there.â
âWhat?â Sanâs voice snapped in his ear.
âIâm reroutingââ Yeosangâs hands flew over the keyboard. He tried to kill the signal. Override the trigger. Anything.
The code resisted.
Two minutes.
Y/N laughed at something one of her coworkers said. Cookie shifted in her arms.
Yeosang was already moving.
He tore the headset from his ear and shoved the van door open, cold air slamming into him. His feet hit the ground hard, lungs burning as he sprinted toward the market entrance.
âYeosang, abort!â Hongjoong shouted through the comms he was no longer wearing.
One minute.
The crowd blurred around him. Lights streaked. Noise crashed in all at once. Music, laughter, voices.
He saw her.
She turned just as he broke through the edge of the crowd, confusion flickering across her face when she recognized him.
âYeoâ?â
The explosion ripped through the air.
Sound vanished.
Yeosang didnât think.
He didnât calculate.
He didnât hesitate.
He closed the distance in two strides, wrapping his arms around her and turning his body instinctively, back to the blast, shielding her completely as he fell with her to the ground.
The force hit him like a wall.
Heat. Pressure. Pain.
And thenâ
Nothing.
Y/N couldnât see.
At first, she couldnât hear either. Only a shrill ringing that made her head feel too small for her skull. The world was gray and burning, thick with smoke that scratched her throat when she tried to breathe.
Her chest rose sharply.
Cookie.
The thought came before pain, before fear, before anything else.
âCookieâ?â she croaked, voice barely there.
Her arm moved instinctively, tightening around her side.
Something warm and small shifted beneath it.
A soft whine.
âOhâoh thank God,â she whispered, panic breaking into relief as she looked down.
Cookie was curled tightly against her ribs, pressed into a little pocket formed by Y/Nâs arm and coat, her white fur now gray with ash but her eyes wide and alive. She was shaking, but she was breathing.
Y/N pressed her face briefly against Cookieâs head, tears stinging her eyes.
âIâve got you,â she murmured. âIâve got you.â
That was when she became aware of the weight.
Something, or someone, was on top of her.
Her breath hitched as she lifted her head slightly, vision clearing just enough to register dark fabric, broad shoulders, arms braced into the ground on either side of her.
âYeoâŠ?â she whispered.
He was there.
Yeosang was hovering over her, his body angled protectively, back toward where the explosion had come from. His hair was dusted with ash, a faint cut along his temple already bleeding sluggishly.
Her heart lurched.
She lifted a trembling hand and pressed it to his shoulder.
âYeo,â she said again, louder this time.
He moved immediately.
âIâm here,â he said, voice low, urgent. âAre you hurt?â
The sound of his voice grounded her in a way nothing else could.
She shook her head quickly, breath coming in short gasps. âIâI donât think so. Cookieâs okay.â
His shoulders sagged, just a fraction, but she noticed.
âGood,â he said. âGood.â
He pushed himself up carefully and offered her his hand. She took it without thinking, letting him pull her to her feet. Her legs wobbled beneath her, knees threatening to give out.
Only then did she see behind her.
Her coworkers.
They were scattered across the snow-dusted ground, bodies unnaturally still, some partially obscured by smoke and debris.
âOh God,â Y/N whispered. âOh my Godââ
Her stomach dropped, panic flaring again. âAre theyâare theyâ?â
Yeosang didnât answer.
He stepped slightly in front of her, his body shifting subtly, shielding her without making it obvious.
âYeo,â she said, clutching his sleeve. âWhat happened? Why were youâ?â
Her words died in her throat.
Because Yeosang wasnât looking at her anymore.
He was staring past her.
Not with confusion. Not with fear.
With focus.
Her skin prickled.
Slowly, she turned her head.
Five figures emerged from the thinning smoke.
They moved with purpose. Spread out just enough to control the space, boots crunching against debris, guns already raised. They were dressed too neatly, too uniformly to be random bystanders.
For a split second, Y/Nâs panicked mind reached for the most logical explanation.
âPolice?â she whispered.
Yeosangâs hand tightened at her wrist.
âNo,â he said quietly.
He pulled her back. Firmly this time, until she was directly behind him, his arm coming up instinctively to block her view, his body a solid wall between her and the approaching men.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
One of the men laughed. A short, humorless sound.
âWell, Iâll be fucked,â he said. âDidnât expect to find you here.â
Yeosang didnât move.
Didnât speak.
The man tilted his head slightly, gaze sliding past Yeosangâs shoulder.
âAnd you brought company,â he added. "Pretty company."
Y/N felt their attention shift.
She shrank instinctively, fingers digging into the back of Yeosangâs coat, suddenly acutely aware of how exposed she was. How out of place.
One of them took a step closer.
âKang Yeosang,â he said clearly. Deliberately. âATEEZâs golden ghost.â
The name hit her like a physical blow.
ATEEZ.
The word rang in her ears, loud and unmistakable.
Her mind scrambled, dredging up half-remembered headlines, whispered conversations, warnings embedded in news articles sheâd skimmed without interest.
One of the most dangerous mafia organizations in the country.
Strategists. Enforcers. Ghosts.
People you never saw until it was too late.
Her breath stuttered.
âNo,â she whispered, shaking her head. âThatâsâno, thatâs notââ
Her gaze flicked up to Yeosangâs back.
To the man who fixed her internet in two minutes.
Who crouched to pet her dog.
Who was always way to nice to her rambling.
Who accepted baked goods like they were priceless treasures.
It didnât make sense.
It couldnât make sense.
One of the men chuckled again. âDid she not know?â he asked mockingly. âThatâs cute.â
Y/Nâs stomach twisted violently.
ATEEZ.
Kang Yeosang.
Her neighbor.
Her somewhat crush.
Her mind reeled as reality cracked open around her, the smoke finally clearing enough for her to see what had been standing right in front of her all along.
And Yeosangâ
Yeosang stayed exactly where he was.
Between her and the guns.
Unmoving.
Y/N couldnât make the world make sense.
Her mind kept snagging on the same thought, looping uselessly as the smoke thinned and the five armed men closed in.
Yeosang is part of the mafia.
Not just involved. Not just tangentially connected. Not some poor guy forced into things by circumstance or debt or bad luck.
One of them.
Her eyes darted to his back. Broad, steady, unyielding.
No. That couldnât be right.
Maybe he was being exaggerated. Maybe they were lying. Maybe he was one of those people who got dragged into it because he was good at something, because someone stronger had decided his skills were useful.
She clung to that fragile thought desperately.
Until one of the men scoffed.
âRelax,â he said, rolling his shoulders. âItâs not like weâre going to shoot one of ATEEZâs leaders in public.â
The word hit her harder than the explosion had.
Leader.
Y/Nâs breath left her lungs in a sharp, silent rush.
She stared at Yeosang again. Not the quiet neighbor, not the awkward man who accepted tiramisu like it was sacred. But the way he stood now. Still. Grounded. His shoulders squared, weight balanced, eyes locked on the men in front of him with an intensity she had never seen before.
He didnât look confused.
He didnât look afraid.
He looked prepared.
Her stomach twisted.
Before she could move, before she could even process the fear blooming hot and fast in her chest, something rough grabbed her arm from behind.
She screamed.
A hand yanked her backward, fingers digging painfully into her shoulder as her back slammed into a solid chest. Cold metal pressed against her throat.
âAh, ah,â a voice murmured close to her ear. âDonât move.â
Panic detonated inside her.
âAhhâ!â she cried, hands instinctively flying up, breath hitching as the blade nicked her skin just enough to warn her.
Cookie barked frantically, wriggling in her arm.
âShut the dog up,â someone snapped.
The man behind her cursed. âAnnoying little thing.â
Before Y/N could react, his grip shifted and Cookie was ripped from her arms.
âNo!â Y/N screamed, terror eclipsing everything else as she watched the man toss Cookie aside like she was nothing more than an object.
Cookie landed hard in the snow a few feet away, yelping once before scrambling to her feet, terrified but alive.
Y/N went feral.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs, vision tunneling, breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts.
âThatâs enough,â Yeosang said.
It was the first time heâd spoken since the explosion.
His voice cut through the chaos like a bladeâlow, controlled, deadly calm.
âShe is a civilian,â he continued, eyes never leaving the man holding Y/N. âShe has nothing to do with this.â
The man laughed softly, tightening his grip just enough to make Y/N whimper.
âCivilian or not, sheâs with you,â he said. âAnd that makes her leverage.â
The knife pressed closer.
Y/N felt hands slide along her waist, invasive, deliberate. The man behind her shifted, his grip becoming possessive rather than just controlling.
Her skin crawled.
Something inside her snapped.
âDonât touch me,â she choked, tears streaming now, fear turning sharp and electric. âIâ I know jiu jitsu.â
The words came out breathless, desperate.
The man laughed again, louder this time. âSure you do.â
He adjusted his stance, distracted. Just for a second.
That was all she needed.
Her body moved before her brain caught up.
She dropped her weight suddenly, twisting her hips sharply to the side while trapping his wrist against her shoulder. Her foot hooked behind his ankle, leverage snapping into place the way it had been drilled into her muscles years ago.
She didnât think.
She reacted.
The man hit the ground hard with a startled grunt, the knife clattering uselessly across the pavement. Y/N followed through automatically, knee driving into his chest, forearm locking against his throat. Pressure, angle, control.
He went still.
Unconscious.
The world froze.
Y/N stared down at him, chest heaving, hands shaking violently.
âIââ she gasped. âI didnâtâIââ
She scrambled back, stumbling to her feet, nearly tripping over her own legs as reality crashed back in all at once.
The other men were staring at her.
Yeosang was staring at her.
Shock flickered across his face. Real, unguarded, unmistakable.
Cookie barked again, rushing back to her side, pressing against her legs like she was trying to make sure Y/N was still real.
Y/N scooped her up immediately, sobbing now, adrenaline burning through her veins.
âI told him,â she whispered shakily, almost to herself. âI warned him.â
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then Yeosang took a single step forward.
And the air around him shifted.
For a split second, Yeosang forgot how to move.
He had seen violence before. Calculated, efficient, expected. He had seen people hesitate, freeze, beg. He had seen trained men overpower civilians without effort.
He had not expected her.
The man hit the ground with a dull, final sound, his body going slack in a way Yeosang recognized immediately.
Unconscious. Clean. Controlled.
Yeosangâs breath caught.
He looked at Y/N properly for the first time since the explosion.
Really looked.
She stood frozen in place, chest heaving, hands trembling violently at her sides. Ash streaked her cheeks, clinging to her lashes. Her yellow wool coat. Too bright for this situation, too soft. Was dusted gray, the hem soaked through with melted snow.
She looked impossibly small.
Fragile.
And yet
Her stance was still instinctively grounded. Her feet were placed correctly. Her shoulders were tense, but not collapsed. Muscle memory hadnât left her yet.
She hadnât panicked blindly.
She had acted.
Yeosang felt something sharp and unfamiliar twist in his chest.
She shouldnât be here.
She shouldnât know how to do that.
She shouldnât have had to.
Her eyes darted around wildly now, shock crashing in as adrenaline drained, Cookie pressed tight against her legs like an anchor to reality.
Yeosang made a decision.
Immediate. Absolute.
I am getting them out of here.
No hesitation. No secondary objectives. No negotiations.
He moved.
The men were still processing. Eyes flicking between the unconscious body on the ground and the woman standing over him, disbelief momentarily disrupting their formation.
Yeosang closed the distance to Y/N in two strides.
He lowered himself slightly, bringing himself into her line of sight without crowding her.
âY/N,â he said.
She flinched at the sound of her name but looked at him.
Her pupils were blown wide. She was on the edge. Still standing only because her body hadnât caught up with what had just happened.
âYou did well,â he said quietly.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
âLook at me,â Yeosang instructed, steady and calm. âYou need to trust me now.â
She swallowed hard. ââŠYeo?â
âIâm going to get you out,â he said. âYou and Cookie. Unhurt.â
Something in his voice cut through the noise in her head. He saw it. The moment her breathing stuttered, then tried to follow his pace instead.
She nodded. Once.
That was enough.
Before the other men could recover, Yeosang reached into his pocket and flicked his wrist.
The device was small. Unremarkable. Anyone else would have mistaken it for trash.
It hit the ground between the remaining four men
And detonated.
Not with fire.
With light.
A concussive flash erupted, followed by a sharp acoustic burst that fractured their coordination instantly. Shouts rang out, weapons lifting too late, disoriented bodies staggering backward.
Yeosang didnât look back.
He grabbed Y/Nâs hand.
âRun,â he said.
And she did.
They sprinted through the market, weaving between overturned stalls and fleeing civilians, Yeosang adjusting his pace instinctively to match hers, never letting go. Snow crunched beneath their feet, lights blurring overhead, sirens beginning to wail in the distance.
âAlmost there,â he told her, though she hadnât asked.
Her grip tightened on his hand.
He rounded the corner sharply and yanked the van door open.
âGet in,â he ordered.
She scrambled inside, clutching Cookie to her chest, breath ragged.
Yeosang followed immediately, slamming the door shut behind them.
The interior was already occupied.
Seven pairs of eyes snapped toward him.
Then to her.
Hongjoong froze mid-sentence.
Seonghwaâs brows shot up.
San leaned forward, eyes narrowed.
Wooyoungâs mouth fell open.
Mingi choked on air.
Yunho blinked twice.
Jongho simply stared.
The silence was deafening.
Yeosang didnât miss a beat.
âDrive,â he said.
Hongjoong recovered first. âRight.â
The van lurched into motion.
Only then did Yeosang glance down at Y/N, who was curled slightly into herself on the bench seat, still shaking, eyes unfocused, Cookie tucked under her chin.
Wooyoung finally found his voice.
ââŠIs that your neighbor?â
Yeosang didnât answer.
He reached out, steadying Y/N without thinking, placing himself firmly between her and the rest of the world.
Because one thing was very clear now.
She was no longer just a variable.
She was under his protection.
And Yeosang did not lose what he protected.
Y/N sat in the van like she had been abducted.
That was the first thought Yeosang registered once the adrenaline began to ebb and the vehicle settled into steady motion. Her back was rigid against the metal wall, knees drawn up slightly, arms wrapped around Cookie so tightly the dog let out a soft, uncertain whine. Her eyes tracked every movement. Every shift of weight, every voice. Like she was mapping escape routes that didnât exist.
She hadnât spoken since theyâd driven off.
Yeosang hated that.
He shifted closer, careful not to crowd her, lowering his voice automatically. âYouâre safe,â he said. âNo one here will hurt you.â
Her head turned slowly.
She looked at him. Not like his neighbor, not like someone who trusted him. But like someone trying to decide whether he was a threat.
âAre you,â she asked quietly, ânot in the mafia?â
The question landed harder than shouting would have.
Yeosang didnât answer immediately.
The silence stretched just long enough for her lips to press together, something fragile in her expression cracking.
âAnd these people,â she continued, still calm, still eerily controlled, âare they not the leaders of one of the most dangerous organizations in the country?â
No one else spoke.
Yeosang could feel the others watching him, but he didnât look away from her face.
âYes,â he said.
Her breath hitched.
âAnd you expect me,â she said, voice starting to tremble now, âto feel safe?â
The word snapped.
She laughed once, sharp, disbelieving and suddenly the calm shattered completely.
âYou dragged me into a van,â she burst out, voice rising. âAfter a bomb. After men with guns. After someone tried to put a knife to my throat. And youâre telling me Iâm safe?â
Wooyoung leaned forward, palms up. âOkayâokay, I get how this looks, butââ
âDonât,â she snapped, eyes flashing toward him. âI donât know you. I donât know any of you.â
Yunho tried gently, âWeâre not going toââ
âI donât care,â she yelled, voice breaking now. âI want to go home.â
Cookie barked, mirroring her distress.
âI want to go home,â she repeated, louder. âNow.â
San shifted uncomfortably. Mingi swallowed hard. Even Jongho looked away.
Yeosang closed his eyes briefly.
This was the moment heâd been dreading.
When the truth stopped being abstract.
When it became personal.
âY/N,â he said firmly, cutting through the noise.
She turned back to him instantly, breath ragged, eyes shining with unshed tears.
âYou canât.â
The words fell heavy in the van.
Her face went blank.
ââŠWhat?â
âYou canât go back to your apartment,â Yeosang said, voice steady even as something tight pulled in his chest. âNot tonight. Not tomorrow.â
Her head shook slowly, denial already setting in. âYou donât get to decide that.â
âI do,â he said quietly. âBecause they saw your face.â
The air seemed to leave the van all at once.
âThey saw you with me,â he continued. âThey know where it happened. They will look. And if they find you aloneââ
He stopped himself.
Didnât finish the sentence.
He didnât need to.
Her grip on Cookie tightened again, knuckles white.
âYouâre saying,â she whispered hoarsely, âthat I canât go home because of you.â
The accusation wasnât angry.
It was devastated.
Yeosang held her gaze. âIâm saying you can't go home if you want to live. They will target you because of me.â
Silence swallowed the space between them.
Hongjoong spoke gently from the front. âWeâll keep you safe.â
Y/N laughed again, hollow this time. âYou keep saying that like it means something.â
Yeosang leaned in just enough for her to hear him over the hum of the engine.
âIt does,â he said. âBecause once someone is under our protection⊠they donât get touched.â
Her shoulders slumped slightly, exhaustion crashing over her now that the fight had nowhere to go.
ââŠI didnât ask for this,â she whispered.
âI know,â Yeosang replied.
The headquarters tower cut into the night like a blade.
Yeosang had seen it hundreds of timesâglass and steel, lights burning high above the city, anonymous and untouchable. From the outside, it was just another corporate skyscraper. From the inside, it was ATEEZâs spine. Control rooms below. Operations floors stacked neatly above them. And at the very topâ
Home.
The van rolled into the underground garage, tires humming softly before coming to a stop. Doors opened. Cold air rushed in.
Y/N stepped out last.
She moved like a ghost.
That was the first thing Yeosang noticed and the thing that unsettled him most.
She didnât hesitate. Didnât argue. Didnât cling to Cookie or flinch at the unfamiliar space. She simply followed, quiet and pale, eyes distant, posture oddly straight, as if something inside her had gone very still.
This wasnât the woman who apologized for existing in hallways.
This wasnât the one who rambled nervously or smiled too hard.
This was someone who had shut something off to survive.
Yeosang walked beside her, matching her pace.
Too quiet.
They moved through security checkpoints without pause. Biometrics, coded doors, private elevators. The kind of systems civilians were never meant to see.
Y/N didnât ask a single question.
The elevator doors slid shut, carrying them upward at a speed that made her ears pop. No one spoke. The others exchanged glances but said nothing.
Yeosang watched her reflection in the polished steel wall.
Ash still streaked her face faintly. Her yellow coat looked out of place here. Too soft, too human for this world of sharp edges and control. Cookie was tucked against her chest again, unnaturally quiet.
The silence pressed in on him.
He tried to break it.
âYouâre⊠cold,â he said, quietly. Stupidly. âI can get you something warmer when weââ
âI donât want to talk to you.â
The words were calm. Flat. Final.
They hit him harder than shouting would have.
Yeosangâs mouth closed automatically. His chest tightened in a way he didnât like or understand. He nodded once, reflexively, as if she could see it.
ââŠOkay,â he said.
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
When the doors opened into the penthouse level, the space unfolded wide and brightâfloor-to-ceiling windows, muted lighting, clean lines. Private rooms branched off down quiet corridors. This was where they slept, worked, existed when they werenât ghosts.
Y/N stepped out and looked around once.
Then she walked past Yeosang.
Straight toward Hongjoong.
Yeosang stiffened slightly.
She stopped in front of him, gaze lifting with a steadiness that didnât match the way her hands trembled faintly at her sides.
âYou,â she said. âYouâre in charge.â
It wasnât a question.
Hongjoong blinked, then inclined his head slightly. âYes.â
She nodded, as if confirming something for herself.
âDo I get a room,â she asked, voice even, âor a prison cell?â
The question landed like a dropped glass.
No accusation. No hysteria.
Just logistics.
Yeosang felt something twist in his chest.
Hongjoongâs expression softened immediately. âA room,â he said. âOf course.â
He gestured down the hallway. âThereâs a guest suite thatâs empty.â
âThank you,â Y/N said.
She didnât look at Yeosang.
Didnât look at anyone else either.
She simply turned and walked down the hall, footsteps quiet, purposeful. Cookie glanced back once. Dark eyes meeting Yeosangâs for a split second, before disappearing with her.
The door closed softly behind her.
The sound echoed far louder than it should have.
Yeosang stood still.
Too still.
Seonghwa glanced at him, something unreadable in his eyes. Wooyoung opened his mouth, then thought better of it. Even San stayed quiet.
âSheâs in shock,â Yunho said gently.
Yeosang nodded.
He knew that.
What unsettled him wasnât her fear.
It was her distance.
Because for the first time since heâd known herâsince the cookies, the door, the tiramisuâshe hadnât reached for him at all.
And Yeosang realized something then, standing in the quiet penthouse of one of the most powerful organizations in the country.
Protecting her had been easy.
Earning her trust again?
That was going to be much harder.
And he didn't even know why he wanted her trust back.
Ù àŁȘâ prostitute!seonghwa x afab!reader
Ù àŁȘâ synopsis â°â†where seonghwa develops an infatuation with a woman who repeatedly refuses his services; takes place in late feudal era japan
Ù àŁȘâ word countâ°â†13.8k
Ù àŁȘâ cw â°â†smut (mdni!), [semi]-public sex, p-in-v, unprotected sex, fingering, cheirophilia, dacryphilia, obsessive hwa if you squint, dom hwa, begging, overstimulation, cum swallowing, dirty talk, praise, edging, pet name usage (pretty bird)
Ù àŁȘâ terms to know before reading:
getas > traditional shoes worn in feudal era japan
yukata > casual form of kimono, worn by commoners in this context
shogun > military rulers
zataku > low dining tables; the type of tables you have to be on your knees to eat at
Ù àŁȘâ a/n â°â†i tried to research proper clothing/other cultural aspects. please let me know if anything is inaccurate!
âCome back again tomorrow.â
The sudden slump in your shoulders was followed by your defeated groan. Your gaze trailed down to the merchant across from you; her frown spread across her wrinkled face as she saw the bamboo woven basket rested firmly in your grip. You heard her sigh before she spoke apologetically.
âA man came by and purchased the last bunch of the night. Right before you appeared,â her head dipped and glanced down at the absent goods from her stand.Â
âThat is why Iâm still here. If it werenât for my worn out bones, Iâd be returning home by now,â she chuckled, âI canât move as fast as I used to.â
You stared down at your empty basket, the sudden wave of disappointment evident on your face. All of the effort needed for sneaking out of your estate and disobeying your curfew to search for a late night snack because of the strict diets your family put you through was now just a waste. You sighed; maybe this is a sign from the universe to stop sneaking out at night, the thought crossed your mind. The defeated look you carried on your face glanced up at the older merchant.
âI understandâŠâ You bowed your head down before you began to walk away, giving the merchant one last solemn look. The farther you walked, the more your stomach craved yakitori: the yakitori that was sold for a price so low that it was almost offensive, and the yakitori that tasted better than any course that was fed to you to maintain your figure. This yakitori was a staple in your diet that preceded any sleep that your parents assumed you were getting.
Walking home with an empty stomach and an empty basket could almost be as bad as your sneaking habits being discovered by your father. Normally when you snuck out, you would be loaded with sweet and savory goods that you couldnât get anywhere else. The yakitori from Mrs. Ogura was the cherry on top that made the late night runs so special. Except tonight was unique, where it seemed that a crowd before you had already swept the goods before you could even make it.
As you continued the disappointing trek home, you fell upon a fork in the road. Two pathways that lead you home were presented. The quiet lane, as you called it, was the path you normally took. It was a path that cut through residential buildings for commoners and other vendors. Except this time, the quiet lane was far from quiet; a crowd had gathered around to witness what appeared to be a dispute between two men. You glanced over to the other path; it gave a shorter journey back home and less people to potentially recognize you and your status. Normally it would be an easy decision on where you should go, but this shorter path was home to the Red Light District, a place you had no business being in. You watched older men stumble into brothels and soaphouses while there were women who drew customers in with just a quick glance and wink. You glanced at the quiet lane, now showing no signs of deescalation, and then glanced back at the Red Light District. As if your shoulders couldnât slump any deeper, you sighed and walked away from the quiet lane.
Keep your head down, donât make eye contact with anyone, you repeated those affirmations in your head as your eyes were glued onto the uneven, maroon pavement. Itâll be easy to avoid confrontation with people here since itâs not like these workers force you into prostitution. That is what you kept telling yourself at least; you could feel stares burning onto your passing slumped figure. You were moving as fast as your getas could muster, but the uphill road seemed to have not seen renovation in decades.Â
The tension in your body withered slowly as the hike continued. You heard a few whistles and calls, but none of them were directed to you. One by one, the clients that were once walking the same road as you were beginning to thin out and disperse into buildings. You were now alone, or so you thought. Your head was lifted up from the ground and continued to walk the trail that appeared to be coming to an end. What you didnât see was one last stare from afar burning onto you.
âCare to join me, pretty bird?â
Those words echoed through the empty road. You nearly halted in your tracks, turning your attention to the source of that echo. This was different from the other interactions you had heard previously; you were sure this time that this voice was directed at you.Â
Your eyes finally fell on a man standing near a dimly lit alleyway; his feathery, long, ebony hued hair encaged his face as he leaned on the corner of the building. The dark gaze he held on you peered through the wisps of his hair and the vibrantly colored fan he kept over most of his face. You drew your head away from the man and continued your stride back home. You had already made the mistake of looking at him, being temporarily entranced by his alluring gaze, so it was best not to answer him. You may not have heard him speaking again, but you felt his eyes back on you once more.Â
The walk out of the district was over soon; you still had over ten minutes left of your journey to complete before you finally reached your estate. However, the man you had encountered had lingered in your mind far longer than you liked to admit. Perhaps it was because you were intrigued by the idea of a man doing work like that, or perhaps it was because of the gaze he held with you and how you were ashamed to admit that it made your heart pause in the moment. He was quite the opulent man, the thought crossed your mind. You shook your head at the thought; you werenât the type of person to engage in such activity with a random. Especially with someone with status such as yours. How would your family deal with you if they found out that their royal bloodline could have been potentially tainted by a district worker?Â
The rest of the walk home was silent; you successfully managed to return to your room without anyone alerted of your presence. The thoughts you once had about the man you encountered were then pushed away as your empty stomach begged you for the food you had failed to acquire. It was then that you remembered that the next day you had promised your cousin that you would go shopping for jewels with her. Maybe then I can find a food vendor, you pondered to yourself as you felt your eyes drift into slumber.
Growing up with Hime made your childhood more bearable; Hime wasnât like a best friend, but she was someone who served a valuable purpose to you. Unlike the other women of your class rank and your other cousins, Hime was someone who never seemed to be facetious even if it was just around you. No glaring after everything you said, no snickering behind your back, just a girl who wanted to share her life with you.
And that is what today was.Â
Your voyages at night greatly differed from your day appearances. Expensive kimonos, extravagant eye makeup, and neatly tied hair went to cheap yukatas you secretly purchased and loosely tied strands of hair shielding your eyes. In the bright and early afternoon, the same street vendors you visited at night were making sales to common folk and the wealthy. You walked alongside your cousin as she went on and on about some topic that you couldnât quite remember at the moment. Revisiting the same road you were once at last night made you think about the prostitute you encountered. His sharp, striking eyes making eye contact with you failed to escape your head.Â
âAre you even listening to me, y/n?â
The sound of Himeâs voice cut through your thoughts like a blade.
âAh- I apologize,â your startled voice stammered as you quickly turned your head over to her.Â
Hime glanced over to you with a slight frown. âIf Iâm boring you out, just tell meâŠâ
âNo no, thereâs no need for that- I mean, youâre fine. I was just distracted by somethingâŠâ You trailed off. Hime sighed as you both stopped at a jewelry vendor.
Hime continued as she examined the various ear pieces displayed in front of you both, âWhat were you distracted by? Better be more interesting than me rejecting Hikaru for the fifth timeâŠâ She began to briefly speak with the merchant as she waited for you to explain. You couldnât tell her that youâve been sneaking out almost every night to get food, and you certainly couldnât talk to her about the alluring prostitute you encountered last night.Â
You cleared your throat, âJust⊠thinking about whatâs for dinner tonightâŠâ Thankfully, Hime was too invested into the jewelry she was examining for her to even question the validity of what you said.Â
âMhmâŠoh, yes! I think blue suits my skin tone quite well too!â Hime looked over to you and spoke, âYou said youâre thinking about dinner? Would you care to join me tonight? I believe the menu tonight is being prepared by a foreign chef. I believe he is from an empire in the west. You might enjoy it!âÂ
âActually, Iâd quite enjoy that. Iâll be returning home with you then,â the idea of eating western cuisine, something you didnât do often, enticed you. You spoke with a faint grin in anticipation.Â
Hime had continued to speak to you about Hikaru, the man who had been trying for months to get her attention, while you assessed which jewel aesthetically complemented her the best. You had managed to get the man out of your head now, likely only because your cousin put another man into your head to think about.Â
You glanced around the market place to assess the scene; commoners were the majority of the crowd present. Many families, adolescents, and lone figures were seen either selling their goods or purchasing others. You didnât get much time to observe people since you were either cooped up in your estate or avoiding attention from others in your nightly escapades. Watching people in their most authentic state wasnât an activity you got to practice very often; whether it would be within your family or at the various events you are required to attend, frequently you notice people putting on their best mask to appeal to others. However, with common folk, you could appreciate seeing them interact without thinking they are putting on a performance for others to believe.
Your gaze was beginning to return back to Hime until you caught the gaze of someone in the crowd. A man. A man was briefly watching you until he turned around and engaged with a vendor. His back was facing you now, but you felt an uncomfortable familiarity with him. You couldnât recall the exact image of his face, but the vague glimpse you caught of his eyes were enough to send a shiver down your spine. Observing his back, you saw the grey striped yukata he wore with his black hair falling on his shoulders. It canât be him, you thought to yourself as you watched him idly.Â
You couldnât even break your gaze off of him. He didnât pose a threat to you or anyone in the area, so why are you worrying so hard?
ây/n~â
ây/n.â
ây/n!â
The sound of Hime calling out your name once more shook you back into reality. You flinched and glanced back down to her, muttering a quick apology.
âIs everything okay?â Her eyebrows furrowed up as her frown deepened. âYou seem a little absent todayâŠâ
âIâm sorry, I just got distracted by a vendor over there. Uh, we should visit that one next!â The excuse you made up was enough to convince Hime, which was enough for you. You waited for a few more minutes so she could purchase her jewelry, checking your back every now and then to see if the man had looked over at you again. But yet, he was standing still, conversing with the same merchant.
It probably wasnât him then, you sighed as you began to walk with Hime to search for another vendor. As you made your way down the street, you made conversation with her once again while your eyes scanned the crowd. When you passed him, your gaze made its way back to him for the final time. There he was, idly stationed, bargaining what seemed to be a yukata with the vendor. You sighed, perhaps this was all nothing, you managed to calm yourself down as you continued to walk with your oblivious cousin. Even if it was him, he would have never recognized me with this look, you assured yourself.
What you failed to realize, was that same burning stare from earlier came back to look at you one final time.Â
The marketplace had called back to you just a few nights later. This time, you had made sure to sneak out earlier, so you could obtain Mrs. Oguraâs yakitori, among other goods from other vendors, before it ran out. The usual twenty minute walk was condensed with your enthusiasm and energy.Â
Once you had set foot onto the main street, you bounced from vendor to vendor to acquire all of the treats you had daydreamed about since the last late night journey. Though you had arrived at the busiest time of the night, you had managed to gather all of the treats your mouth had been salivating for. Even the fresh yakitori, which you were now eating as you made your way back home, was readily available for you to enjoy.
With the yakitori skewers in one hand and your woven basket in the other, you walked down the main road, more joyfully than usual, to prepare your journey home. It wasnât until you ran upon the fork in the road once more. The quiet lane, the path you usually took to go home, was occupied by samurai policing the street. The halt in your steps came as quickly as the disappointment; walking down a road occupied by samurai was dangerous for you, the niece of a powerful shogun in the region. It appears that the altercation that took place many nights ago had prompted samurai presence in the area. You stared down the quiet lane before you groaned to yourself, spinning on the heel of your feet and making your way towards the district.
If the uphill road and the cheap, stiff getas you were wearing didnât exist, perhaps you wouldâve gotten home quicker. The street had gathered more clients than the previous night which made navigating up the road more challenging than it already had been. You struggled to keep your head held down due to you still feasting on the fresh yakitoris. You were down to your last skewer, making your way through most of the district. The drunk men on the street that stumbled their way into soaphouses were thinning out, leaving just you alone on the street - or so you had thought.
âIâve missed you, pretty bird.â
The sound of the familiar, delicate voice of him. The unmistakable voice you had heard days ago. The sound of his voice did not startle you much despite the shiver it caused; if that, the sound made you walk at a quicker pace. It seemed to have been working, until you heard his strides follow behind you.
âThose cheap clothes donât fool me.â
âI know who you are.â
The simplicity of his statement made you halt. You whipped your head back to face the prostitute, who now dropped his fan from his face. In the eyes, he resembled the same man you witnessed watching you briefly at the market. Of course that was the same man, your thoughts raced across your head. Your secret identity had been figured out so easily, by a man youâve never talked to at that.Â
All that could be heard in the street was your uneven breathing and the panic settling in. It seemed to be apparent to the man, as he slowly stepped closer to you, still maintaining his distance.
âIâm right, arenât I?â The question slipped off his tongue like silk. The gaze his eyes carried was striking, but still held a level of softness to it that almost made you want to give up your guard around him. The softness in his eyes completely contrasted the faint, but mischievous grin he kept on his face. You stared at him and contemplated your next action. Lying was stupid; he was so sure of himself that it would take physical evidence for you to prove otherwise. Either way, his gaze almost seemed hypnotizing, like every action you did under his watch was under his command.
âNever fear, pretty bird. I mean no harm to youâŠâ He took one gentle step closer to you with the same expression plastered on his face.
âThen how could I possibly be of service to you? Iâm not interested in what youâre selling.â You managed to tell him, taking a small step back. âIn fact, I was just on my way home.â You watched him cock his head to the left, intrigued by your resistance.
âYou surely donât act like it. There's got to be a reason we have met for the third time this week.âÂ
You gulped. As you were choosing what words to speak next, he had already beat you to it.
âYou donât think I donât see the way you look at me?â A step closer. âOr that I see youâre starting to frequent this side of the city,â you avoided his stare on you as you felt your figure being scanned.
âItâsâŠitâs complicated,â you took a pause. âAnd frankly, none of your business.âÂ
And with that, you spun on your heels and began to walk away, hoping that wouldâve been the last encounter you had with him. As you walked, you heard more footsteps behind you. This time, they seemed to grow heavier, like he was trying to catch up quickly.
âIf youâre worried about me exposing your little secret, donât,â he started suddenly, his tone coming across as more serious.Â
âIâm not concerned with that.âÂ
You paused in your tracks again and turned around to face him. There he was with that smirk gone off of his face, showing a glimpse of vulnerability and empathy from a man you had just met. However, with his next statement, that vulnerability would be gone.
âHowever, I wonât lie and say it doesnât intrigue me at all,â he eyed you up and down once more, his sly smirk returning fuller.
âI told you Iâm not interested. Iâm not sure why youâre still so stuck on me. Donât you have other clients to attend to?â You took another step back which was followed by a subsequent step forward from the man. You didnât feel fear around him, but rather you felt uncertainty brewing in your stomach. Uncertainty was brewed from your unfamiliarity with him and a secret, dwelling feeling that you couldnât describe.Â
Silence fell upon the man for a second before he smirked down at you. A step closer he took, staying nearly an armâs distance away.
âItâs not uncommon for me to do services with wealthy men and women alike. But youâŠâ youâve never seen a stare so soft yet so intense. Perhaps it was the way he paused his sentence to read your face like an open book. Perhaps it was the way the mystery behind this man was almost enticing.Â
âIâve never met someone so resistant, yet so willing,â a silence fell upon you and him. You could feel your eyebrows furrow at the ridiculousness of his statement. Of course he was being delusional, you were everything but willing. Who did this guy think he was? Or perhaps you felt called out and read thoroughly. Regardless, the scoff you let out shortly after made him raise an eyebrow.
âDonât flatter yourself too much. Iâm only down here so I donât get caught in those street patrols,â you nudged your head over to the direction of the quiet lane with the manâs head also following.
âAh, youâre only visiting me because of thatâŠâ disappointedly he sighed before you opened his eyes back to you, a smirk returning to his face.
âBut, still doesnât explain why youâre still here talking to me. You couldâve justâŠleft, yes?â You didnât even have to look at him to see the smug expression he so pridefully carried.Â
And with the final furrow of your eyebrow, you spun around again and stormed off away from him with a groan under your breath. This time, you didnât hear him follow you, nor did you hear a call back to you.
âYouâre delusional,â you told him one final time, already taking off.
What he couldnât see was the rosy blush that crept up to your face or the brisk biting of your bottom lip. What you couldnât see, however, was his menacing smirk growing heavier on his walk back down to his alley.Â
You contemplated never sneaking out again; the quiet lane was occupied by samurai forces each night you went out, no matter what time of the day. Mrs. Ogura had told you that the altercation a few nights ago was between a now wanted man and an officer. If you couldnât walk down the quiet lane then, you certainly couldnât walk down now. Of course, this meant that your interactions with the man were almost inevitable. With every time you wanted to go get extra food so you didnât fall asleep hungry, there was another appearance of him; or so, you assumed.
On your third interaction with him, you had told yourself to walk past him and to not give him the attention he wanted. In fact, you had rehearsed it in your head several times with each rehearsal resulting in you getting the last word.
Except when you actually walked past him again, you found yourself in the same predicament as before: stopped in the middle of the road and arguing with him. In the end, he got the last word. The last thing you remembered before you once again stormed off was the stupid, sly grin he always carried and his eyes piercing directly into you.Â
That night, his eyes were all you thought about; you had never seen eyes like his before. A stare down like his made it increasingly uncomfortable for you to sleep at night. It was almost like he saw through you entirely. Such as the things inside of you that you were too scared to admit. But of course, you werenât craving to see him again, you thought. Itâs normal to think about someone at night when they keep finding you, right?Â
And so the inevitable happened that night: he appeared in your dreams. Of course, it was normal to briefly imagine being suggestive scenarios with a sex worker you kept seeing on accident. Especially if he keeps insinuating such, what else could you do about that? Of course images of him hovered above you with his hair sticking to the sweat coating your face flashed in this dream, no, this nightmare that occurred. Of course, auditory hallucinations of him telling you how much of a good girl you were occurred. And of course, imagines of him completely nude and having you encased in his arms occurred. This was completely normal for you to imagine, of course, because he had been harassing you for some days now. It had nothing to do with any feeling you potentially held towards him, at least that is what you kept telling yourself.
Yet, despite everything, the following night, you went out again. Most of the vendors ran out of food and Mrs. Ogura ran out of her yakitori once again. However, you couldnât recall feeling as upset as you did nearly a week ago. Annoyed and hungry? Yes, but it was probably because you didnât feel like going outside that night. Yet, there you were, walking down the district path once more.Â
You had walked down the path, almost reaching the end, until you paused your steps. The street was desolate and almost bleak. Turning around, you had seen only some older men stammering around and some women through the windows of the buildings. Instinctively, you had made your way down the road, glancing down every alleyway that you passed. It didnât take long for you to finally reach the alley that the man usually resided in. In the middle of the road you then stood, aimlessly looking for that man. Naturally, you grew accustomed to his usual harassment and pestering. It wasnât that you missed it, you were just thrown off by the lack of his voice and the absent feeling of being watched.
Your eyes then fell on a window above you. Inside the dimly lit room, a silhouette was vaguely visible. Despite that, you knew exactly what you were looking at: the silhouette of a man, the man, through the window. Vaguely, you could make out him putting his yukata back on his bare body and his hair flown down and resting on his shoulders. On the ground, a woman emerges from the building with her hair tangled and her own yukata being loose, as if she was just putting it back on.
When the woman walked away from you, your eyes trailed back up to the window. Unexpectedly, your eyes met his face, the man in the window. Despite the lack of light present outside and inside the building, you knew it was the same man from before. The man that had always tried to get your attention. You spun on your heels and resumed your trek home before you could meet his eyes or before he could have the chance to come outside to meet you.Â
The rest of the walk home, a gut wrenching feeling resided within you. Suddenly, in that moment, you wished that Mrs. Ogura didnât run out of yakitoris so that your usual night run wasnât completely useless. The idea that your interactions with the man made somewhat of a positive impact on your night was simply untrue. You werenât disappointed seeing him do his job as a prostitute with another person. You obviously knew how he made his money, that was never a secret to you; so why did your body react the way that it did? You were so sure that your gut wrenching feeling only lingered for so long because you had an empty stomach. Of course, it was your fault for not coming out earlier to grab the skewers.Â
That night, you remained restless. It was because you were hungry, you thought. You continued to blame yourself for not visiting Mrs. Ogura earlier. You knew better than to sneak out nearly thirty minutes after your usual time. This has been the second time you returned home with an empty basket, yet, this feeling, this hunger, was far worse than the first.
For the next few days, you were content with falling asleep hungry. You didnât sneak out as much as you did in the week prior. You convinced yourself that talking with that man again was bad for you, as everything he did, or didnât do drove you insane. Perhaps it was time to acknowledge you began to enjoy his company, which was dangerous. You werenât sexually attracted to him, no, you were just developing a platonic bond with him, which is normal for someone as isolated from the world as you.
It wasnât until this night, where the idea of falling asleep hungry was unbearable. Having such a strict diet like yours was finally getting to you. Your sleep prolonged throughout the day and you were getting exhausted much quicker. You found yourself back at the market street again, standing in front of Mrs. Oguraâs stand, with another empty basket. Not even a yakitori from her; once again, you were too late.Â
The walk up the district path was humiliating for you, even if no one else there was paying attention to you. The growl of your stomach combined with your tiredness made you come to an executive decision. Despite the risks, you decided to eat out in a restaurant, a place guaranteed to have food. You knew a place that was nearby; however, it was quicker to reach there by walking through the district.Â
Towards the end of the path, you came to realize that the man was nowhere to be found. Saves myself from the embarrassment, you thought as the memories of you nearly encountering him naked after a session with a client came into your head. However, you couldnât help but feel an unsettling feeling fester in your stomach, like this was all an unfortunate thing. Nonsense, you thought to yourself, you should be glad that youâre alone right now.
It was almost like you had spoken too soon.
âLong time, no see, pretty bird.â
The familiar whisper brushed up against your ear from behind. Suddenly, you were hyperaware of your surroundings; the man had been walking behind you, attempting to catch up to you just so he could mess with you by whispering up against your ear. You would never admit it, but his attempt in making you flustered worked. Though, you wouldnât have to verbally admit anything, because the cover of your mouth with your free hand and your surprised face being red following your sharp turn to face him was already enough to make him tease you.
âAwe, did I scare you?â His voice was sweet and comforting, yet it carried an underlying vexatious tone.Â
âWha- what are you doing?!â You stuttered, dropping your hand from your mouth. You felt your tense shoulders drop finally, a sigh escaping your mouth.
You finally caught a look at his face. He looked like he wasnât currently working as all of his excess makeup was absent from his eyes. The colorful yukatas he once championed were replaced with the dull, cheap yukatas that the general population wore. His hair encased his dark, olive-toned face, just like in the first time you met him. The same sly look on his face was still present; you just knew he enjoyed the sight of you flustered at any given moment, and that bothered you.
âIâm not working today. If anything, I was preparing to go home. But then, I saw you turn on this road.â He stepped closer to you, placing his hand on your shoulder. âIf you missed me so badly, you shouldâve said something earlierâŠâ You immediately brushed his hand off of your shoulder and sneered at him.
âItâs not about you, I was just searching for food at the market down thereâŠâÂ
âI see then. Is that what you do every time I see you?â He gave a quick glance down at your empty basket.Â
âDoesnât seem to be successful everytime.âÂ
You heard him chuckle at you; your eyes rolled at his teasing before you spun around and began to walk without him. Expectedly, you heard him catch up to you, now walking with you side by side.
âAre you returning home now?â You heard the curiosity in his voice. You decided to not answer him, hoping he would finally leave after he gets bored of you. You continued the walk uphill with the man lingering with you. You could feel his gaze scan all over you again, perhaps trying to read you. You kept your head low, so you wouldnât have to give him that satisfaction of him seeing you submissive and nervous because of him.Â
âIf you donât respond, Iâll just follow you back to your estate. I donât think your family will enjoy you bringing home a pro-â
âIâll give you whatever you want if you promise youâll leave me alone after!â You, normally timid and a pushover, finally snapped. It was like he knew exactly how to get under your skin, and you hated that. You paused in the middle of the road and stared up at him. Watching down at you, you saw his smirk widen at your outburst. It was like he found enjoyment in nearly everything you did, even if it was you showing genuine distaste for him.
âAnything, you say?â The suggestive tone in his voice indicated something far from what you were considering. With your face flushed an even darker maroon, you responded.
âIâm not going to ask for one of your services!â You scolded him. âI was considering taking you out to dinner⊠only because Iâm getting ready to go eat dinner myself!â
The only thing you heard after that was the deep, almost sinister sounding, chuckle emerging from his voice. You glanced up at him, witnessing the most amusement youâve ever seen on his face thus far.Â
âLead the way then, pretty bird.â
In all of your years of being royalty, never have you used your notoriety or wealth to get something you wanted. If anything, you found that it was only degenerates who did such a thing. Youâve witnessed it done by family members, normally to escape small legal disputes they accidentally found themselves in. You vowed to yourself to never engage in activity such as that, under any circumstance.
That was until you found yourself slamming a large sum of cash on the zataku in a restaurant's private room. The host quickly took the money from you and left you alone with the man. As the door slid shut, you immediately felt a sense of guilt.
âYouâre serious about not being caught with me, arenât you?â The man's voice almost seemed to linger with shame as he stared at you from across the table. The room wasnât so small that it was suffocating, but the room felt smaller knowing that the man you sat across from hasnât seemed to leave your mind since your first meeting.Â
Returning his eye contact meant that you suddenly felt bad for making him feel that way. Yes, you paid excessive cash so you, a person with much notoriety, wouldnât be caught with him. However, despite how badly he bothered you, you didnât want to make him feel like he was at fault here. He was likely trying to tease you once again, but you couldnât shake the guilt that you felt in you.
âItâs not because of you, itâs because of me,â you paused for a moment, debating on what words you should choose next.
âI-I canât be caught with anyone who isnât family or below me in status. Itâs not in my control,â you bowed your head slightly, almost as if you were apologizing.Â
A silence fell upon the table until you heard him pouring oolong tea into both of your cups. You knew he was staring at you again. Was it out of frustration? Was he sad? Actually, why did you care? Of course itâs only because youâre just an empathetic person. It would be more concerning if you didnât show any concern or care for his feelings.
Hesitantly, you brought up your gaze from your lap and brought it to his face. This was the first time you had seen him so calm and peaceful, like he wasnât the same man who found pleasure from driving you insane. The tea cup slid across the table and landed in front of you which was followed by his signature chuckle.Â
âRelax, pretty bird, I was just teasingâŠâ The trail off in voice, the weak smile he tried to portray, the solemn sip he took from his cup; he appeared much differently now. You didnât believe that he truly felt unaffected by all of this, but you decided to drop it for now, muttering a small thank you instead.
The next minute was spent in silence, with the exception of the sound of the both of you drinking or attempting to cool down the tea. You snuck glances up at him, trying to gauge what he was currently thinking, or what if he was planning to strike up a conversation with you. Surprisingly, he seemed to be occupying his own business, stirring his tea occasionally.Â
âIs there something the pretty bird wants to know?â He didnât move his contact from the tea cup, but you knew he had caught you staring at him. Your throat cleared, as if his question caught you off guard.Â
âWellâŠI guess I have one- or two, actually,â you paused.
âMaybe threeâŠâ
You heard his laugh echo in the confined space, like his normal demeanor returned back to him. His hands dropped to rest on his lap, leaning in closer to the table. Was his yukata always this loose? The black cotton fabric was vaguely draped over his chest. You ashamedly took a glance down at his exposed, bare chest; his breast muscles contracted with every breath he took under his olive skin glistening in the overhead lantern. Fuck, heâs no different than the dream, you ashamedly thought to yourself. With everything breath, the hem of the cotton teased you, like it wanted you to reach out and strip him bare.
A silent curse in your head was issued by you immediately after explicitly imagining that perverse thought about him. You returned his eye contact and prayed that he didnât catch you fantasizing about his body. Even if you wanted to continue, his voice cut through your thoughts.
âSeonghwa.â
Your eyebrow raised instinctively, not expecting him to blurt out something so random.Â
âI-excuse me?â
âYou were wondering what my name was, Iâm assuming? If you weren't, at least now you know my name.âÂ
The way he delivered his response was cocky and arrogant; but, he read your mind like it was his. In your head, he had always been referred to as âThe Manâ or âthat one prostitute that wonât leave me aloneâ. However, you wanted to give him the respect he required, such as knowing his name.
â...yes. Youâre right,â you took a pause to process his name. âSeonghwaâ, you unintentionally repeated under your breath.
Your eyes met his again, âYouâre not from around here, are you? Iâve never heard that name before.â
âIâm from Korea. Iâve been here since my early adolescence. I hardly remember the language anymore,â he spoke after he took a meek sip of his tea. Your eyes caught his grip on the cup; with every muscle contraction, his veins in his hand bulged. It was distracting. You didnât know what had gotten into you. For the 2nd time tonight, you were ogling at his body while he was doing mundane tasks. You silently cursed yourself again, drawing your eyes away from his hands.
âI like it when you say my name, y/n.â
If you were drinking your tea, which you almost thought of doing to wash down your dirty thoughts, you wouldâve nearly choked on it. Normally, you wouldâve just rolled your eyes at his suggestive comments, but ever since you saw him through that window, dressing his nude body, and when you had that dream about him, you werenât acting like yourself. Perhaps you were just going through a biological phase of some sort, something you couldnât explain.Â
Even though he knew your name for quite some time, as it was public knowledge, hearing him say your name for the first time gave you an odd sense of comfort. Apparently, he had felt the same way when you said his name. You had tried to ignore his comment, and you tried to show that you werenât flustered by it, even if the color of your face and your tense posture showed otherwise.
âUh-anyways, I also wanted to ask, why are you protecting my identity? You do understand, that there are people who would be joyful to know that a family member of a shogun is roaming the Red-light district, right?â A pause.
âSome people find great pleasure in tearing someone with so much power down.â
 There was a silence amongst you two again. The smirk on his face having faded and being replaced with a hesitant lip bite, like he was preparing to share something vulnerable or grave. Putting down his cup, he started.
âAh, that is a valid question to ask,â he kept his eyes trained on you, not in a sly or suggestive manner, but like he was debating on opening up to you. You maintained eye contact, but inside, you wondered if you had asked him a question that had required him to share more than he wanted. Or worse, he was contemplating on actually exposing you.
âI apologize, you donât have to answer th-â
âMany people place their own assumptions about me because of what I do.â
His voice suddenly interrupted yours, his serious tone making a return. When he wasnât behaving mischievously and giving you that delinquent smirk, his permissive gaze that he always carried became more evident. You gave him a small nod, waiting for him to continue.
âI also assume that many people place judgement and assumptions on you as well,â he glanced up at you, searching for confirmation to his claim.
âYes, you would be right.â
He continued, âI donât want to be treated differently because of my status or my job, and I also assume you wouldnât want to be either, right?â You gave him another nod.
âIt is as simple as that,â he leaned in closer over the table, making it harder for you to avoid his eye contact.
âYou may act otherwise towards me, but I can feel that youâre not a part of the crowd who looks down on me. You donât think Iâm an annoying pest; but, you do think I am an annoying human,â in typical Seonghwa fashion, he couldnât finish a serious statement without delivering a joke, even if it was just to humor himself. Surprisingly for him, showing in eyebrows, this got a brief chuckle from you as well, which eased some of the preexisting tension in you.Â
âYou may irritate me, but I donât despise you with all my being. Otherwise, you wouldnât be here right now,â you spoke honestly, still maintaining your guard. It seemed that Seonghwa found your statement humorous, with him only responding with a laugh.Â
The rim of your tea cup returned to your lips as you thought about the last question you had planned to ask him. Initially, you had felt comfortable with the idea of you interrogating him about odd behavior: Why did he flirt so intensively, even when he wasnât working? Why you, out of everyone he couldâve asked? You were afraid to open Pandoraâs Box, nervous about what the answer could be.
You need to be honest with yourself. You were growing attached to Seonghwa; not the same platonic attachment you described earlier, but rather something more, something greater that you couldnât describe. Or a feeling you were too afraid to describe.
Worst of all, you couldnât tell if he reciprocated. Which is why you hesitated to ask him your final question. You wanted him, and after days of verbally denying it, you were too scared to even speak up and mention it. Besides, you were so sure that he had encountered people like this before. People that developed an attachment towards a worker giving them the services they are being paid to do. Except, you arenât his customer, youâre just a woman he occasionally pesters with when he gets the chance.Â
You were probably the only one who was dreaming and fantasizing about the other. After all, you both had just finished a vulnerable conversation about empathy and trust. He would think youâre disgusting for having such perverse thoughts about him still. Your eyebrows furrowed just a tinge, bringing your lips back to your tea. Seonghwa must have noticed your off behavior, because he had spoken up.
âIs there a third question from me that you wanted to ask? I know you mentioned something about that,â unwavering, he held the gaze that you previously broke with him. You couldnât tell if he was completely oblivious to your demeanor or if he was just teasing you again, which drove you insane.Â
Before you could even answer or make up an excuse, the door to the private room opened. Bowls of noodle soups, platters of meat, and cups of rice were dispersed on your table. You thanked the worker, mentally, for coming with the food at the right time. There remained a silence between the both of you as you both watched the plates of food compile on the table. It wasnât long until the worker had left, leaving you, Seonghwa, and the aroma of the food lingering.
Without paying any mind to his question, you unravelled your chopsticks and began eating the bowl in front of you. In your peripheral, you had watched Seonghwa slowly reach for his own bowl before he began to eat, like he wanted to say something else to you. For a moment, you had been glad to enjoy your meal and avoid the uncomfortable question you had wanted to ask him for the past week.Â
But you forgot that âuncomfortable questionsâ donât exist with Seonghwa.
âThe last question you had for me? Were you going to mention anything about that?â He questioned you again after eating a generous portion of his food.Â
âAh- no, itâŠleft my mind. Canât remember,â you were a horrible liar, and Seonghwa seemed to have learned that just now. The burning stare came back and burned holes into your bowed head. You tried your best to behave like there was no issue that was vexing you, but Seonghwa wasnât stupid. He could pick up on these things, likely better than you could.Â
âI think youâre lying to me, pretty bird.â
That damned nickname came back in his vocabulary. You were initially able to just shake off that name like it didnât mean anything. But with your recent acceptance of your feelings towards Seonghwa, a name as simple as pretty bird suddenly carried weight. Suddenly, you understood the power he had over you, and you didnât like that.
You continued to eat your food, nearing the end of your noodle soup. You figured that if you had just continued to play dumb, then maybe, just maybe, there was a slim chance of Seonghwa giving up on interrogating you. Or, if you were super lucky, he could believe you completely, which you doubted. Regardless, youâd rather take that risk than open up.
âI really donât remember, I got distracted by the food coming hereâŠhaha,â your little pretend joke barely made Seonghwaâs lips budge. Instead, the stare in his eyes narrowed in on you intensely. There was a brief silence, the aroma of the food vaguely masking the tension in the air, before you heard Seonghwaâs sigh breaking the silence.
âIs that so?â
You nodded your head, continuing to eat your food.
He paused.
âI suppose I should speak more about myself then. Maybe the question will come back in that pretty head of yours.â
Another pause; this time with you. You tried not to let your nerves show; even the most basic of compliments could suddenly make you go weak, and that was dangerous. So you resumed your eating, hoping the conversation continued smoothly.
You didnât know how wrong you could be.
He took a breath.
âI saw you looking at me through the window.â
You halted your body, a small gasp vaguely escaping you. You didnât have to look at him to know that his devilish smirk returned to his face. It was laced all in his speech; you had no reason to look back up at him to check if you were right. You paused before you placed your bowl down on the table, keeping your head bowed. While you were frantically searching for the right response, with your clammy palms and your quickened heart beat.Â
âI suppose you didnât know that I was watching you too, did you?â Of course this would happen. It was dark outside that night, and the room he was in was even darker. You could only interpret his silhouette, not his face or any other details. But of course, it wouldâve been easier for him to see you in the maroon red lights that highlighted the entire street.Â
You wanted to come up with an excuse, but they were all so pathetic and lackluster. He didnât believe you then, and he surely wouldnât believe you now. You were just going to have to admit that you were ogling his body after pretending to hate his attention for so long.
âI- I apologize for that. I shouldnât have invaded your priva-â
âOh, pretty bird, Iâm not asking you to apologize.â
A pause.
âLook at me, I want to see your face.â
You hesitated to show him your face, but you complied. Your face rose up slowly, finally reaching eye contact with Seonghwa. His stare was intense. And it made you uncomfortable. But you liked it; in fact, you didnât feel any inclination to look away from him. Like you were hypnotized, and you couldnât do a single thing about it. Your palms, however, stayed glued to your lap, hoping he didnât notice.
Seonghwa enjoyed watching you crumble over a simple order he gave. You could see it in his posture, how he leaned forward, resting his jaw in his hand. Or how he carried that damned cocky grin you hated even greater on his face. He had gotten you to behave like a walking ball of nerves after having you act so resistant to him a week ago; and God, was he getting a high off of it.
âDoes anything I'm saying ring any bells for you yet?â
You shook your head. Another lie.
He continued, âYou probably think that youâre hard to read. That I donât understand what your true, most pure intentions are with me.â
He looked you up and down, feeling a sense of control over you and the conversation. You, unfortunately, couldnât feel the same; he was unravelling you piece by piece, exposing every aspect about you that you had tried to keep hidden.
âYou probably think that I donât see you eyeing my body up and down. Or that I donât see how all of the sudden, your demeanor changed around me. Acting so shy and timid around meâ
You felt his eyes zoom in on each one of your features, âI love it when the words I say make you squirm on your lap like that. Or how red I can make your face without even having to touch you.â
You hadnât even realized that all of your seemingly small behavior shifts were that noticeable by him. He saw every change in you. Almost on instinct, your legs uncomfortably shifted together again. Fuck, the way he read you made you damp, yearning for him. You maintained eye contact with him as you spoke up.
âSo whatâs your point?â Your meek voice attempted to taunt him. You watched the color of his face blush pink near his eyes, followed by him biting his own lip like he was holding back a maniacal smirk.
âI want you to ask me the last question you had for me. I want to know if I guessed right.â
He patiently waited for you to finally reveal what you had wanted to ask him all dinner, his finger tapping on the zataku at a steady rhythm. Whether it was because of his taunting voice, his exposed chest, his eyes holding the most graceful, yet most daunting stare, or the veins in his hands bulging, you were starting to lose your self control.
You figured you had nothing to lose at this point. Lying was pointless when he already knew nearly everything about you already. Yet, the fear that lingered within you made you excited, like you wanted to be perceived as a permissive, naive woman who was oblivious to her effect on him. You were so far gone, but you couldnât care much anymore.
âWhy me?â You began, âWhat makes me different from your regular customers that would make you want to come eat dinner with me?âÂ
Finally, the weight of pretending had been released from you. You watched Seonghwaâs smirk progressively grow into a menacing chuckle. This was the question he was looking for, you were sure of it.
âWhy you?â his tone dimmed, washing over the devilish look on his face.Â
âYouâre difficult.â
You bite your lip, as if you were begging him to continue. Seeming like he heard your thoughts, you watched him pause his statement before he sat up and, to your surprise, walked over to you. He slowly knelt down beside you while you remained still.
âYou want my attention. Even if you donât act like it. I always know.â
âBecause itâs written all over your face.â
A pause.
âYou know, itâs not common for me to crave someone's attention so badly. I want your attention too, pretty bird.â
The palm of his hand raised from his side and hovered over your cheek.
âMay I?â
Hesitantly, your full body shifted to face him, giving him permission to touch you. His cool palm, softly landed on your cheek with the heat from your flushed face warming his hands instantly. He leaned in, the opposite hand being placed firmly on the table beside you. He scanned you thoroughly, his eyes raking up and down your body several times. The only thing heard in the room now was the subtle panting above you.Â
âPretty birdâŠdo I really need to explain to you why I want to fuck you?â The breathless tone in his voice escaped him, like he was pleading to you, needing you.Â
With every inch he closed between you two, you retreated, eventually landing your back against the wall. He had had you cornered now, his free hand off from the table and firmly rested beside your head on the wall. The desperation in his face was a stark contrast to the persona he initially played into. The maroon cheeks, the burning stare onto your lips, and the slight tremble in his voice; his true feelings and intentions were manifest.Â
His thumb dragged along your face before landing on the center of your lips, circling the bottom of your lip sensually. He continued, âI think about you when Iâm with my clients. Fuck, I do it all the time. Especially on the nights when you come down the district.â
His knee slowly pushed your legs apart, âStop me if you donât want thisâ, his mouth dropped down to whisper into your ear, earning you a softly pressed kiss below your ear. He returned to look down at your face, staring at you intently while his knee continued to travel up your inner thighs. He stopped his knee at your entrance, letting it hover.Â
This was wrong, you thought to yourself. Anyone could hear us. Or walk in.Â
Despite your concerns, all you could focus on was Seonghwaâs body towering over you with his yukata drawn loose at his chest. Your eyes flickered up and down, from his eyes down back to his chest, and back again. He had barely touched you, but he already had your legs trembling and your breath shaky. When your eyes finally decided to keep eye contact with him, you instinctively bit your lip and his thumb that was lazily drawing circles. The soft hitch caught in his voice didnât last long before he hesitantly inserted his thumb into your mouth.Â
âAre you sure you want to do this here?â You could hear the self-control in him failing with every passing moment. He began to retract his finger from your mouth to give you a chance to respond, but your hand flew up to his arm to stop him; the muscle was flexed underneath your hands. You gently sucked on his finger and lathered it with your tongue, and with this action he understood your answer.
Before you could blink, his thumb deepened into your mouth. The grip you had on his arm tightened, earning a soft moan from you. Your other hand rose up and rested on his bare clavicle. The sly smirk he once wore now returned. He watched your face as his finger in your mouth played with your salivating tongue.Â
âThat night when I caught those pretty eyes of yours staring at me through the window,â he released his finger from your mouth slowly, letting the salvia that soaked his thumb drip on the floor beside you, âThe same eyes youâre giving me right now,â you watched his face zoom in closer to your, feeling the desire in his breath against your mouth. He popped his soaked thumb in his mouth to taste you before this hand returned to cradle your face.
He continued: âI want those eyes on me while I touch you, okay? Can you do that for me, pretty bird?â He stared into you before he glanced back down at your lips. You muttered a quick yes under your breath, your head nodding at a desperate speed.
Before you could even say anything else, he inched away from you and pulled you down by your legs. You yelped as you fell on your back and onto the padded floor. Your legs wrapped over his shoulders, his hands aiding the process. The yukata that once modestly covered your body was now pooled at your hips.Â
As Seonghwaâs gaze dragged over your bare legs, with his hands delicately running across your thighs and up to your ankles. The warmth that radiated from his palms sent shivers down your entire body. You watched him through half-lidded eyes as his hands massaged your legs, going down to your inner thigh. The only thing heard in the room was the soft whimpering you had tried to suppress from outside ears.Â
âYouâre already getting this noisy for me. I didnât know you could be so responsive,â his finger trailed down your thigh once more before he reached the pooled yukata that vaguely covered your wet entrance. The further his finger travelled, the more your body throbbed for his touch. His hand reached higher and leisurely undid the tied yukata around your waist. All you could do was watch as he teased you so slowly, knowing you were craving for him to touch and please you already, your impatient shifting apparent throughout.
âI bet youâre already so ready for me. Shall I check?â He pressed a soft kiss to your calf before he zoomed in onto your inner thighs. His hand brushed away the loose cloth away from your heat, exposing your wet, throbbing core.Â
He took his fingers and pressed them against you, rubbing circles across the lips. Your legs squirmed over his shoulders, a moan echoing in the room with the sound of your slick being played. He licked his own lips as he watched you struggle against his gentle touch.Â
âShhâŠshhâŠdonât be too loud,â his assuring, velvet voice spoke out to you as he slowed his pace down, âbite down on something for me,â he used his free hand to bring the collar of your yukata up to your mouth. Eagerly, you took the cloth into your mouth, both of your hands gripping the cloth with your teeth.Â
Almost instantly, he quickened the pace of his fingers circling your labia. His free hand trailed down from your collar and slid underneath the cotton. His hands made their way to your breasts, giving a generous squeeze to the cup. He had complete control over your body, while all you could do was lay on your back and let him fondle you. The whimpers in your voice had gotten louder when you rolled your hips to the rhythm of his slick fingers.Â
âYouâre doing so good. Being such an obedient girl for me,â his voice purred. He teased a finger in between your folds, maintaining eye contact with you.Â
âMmpfh- Seonghwa, I need you,â you released your teeth from the cloth momentarily to beg, âPlease, please just make me cum.â The speed of the tip of his finger quickened gradually as you continued to squirm and whimper under his touch.Â
Seonghwa, who was getting off at the sight of you obediently and pathetically submitting to him, freed a moan from his lips. He dragged the hand on your breasts over to your nipples, the fingers lazily fondling the soft tissue.
His mischievous grin returned, âYou better keep those pretty eyes on me at all times then. Okay?â His finger titillatingly flicked your clit faster as he waited for a verbal response from you. It was evil; just a few days ago you were so confident that he was just a bothersome man who developed an unreciprocated infatuation with you. Now, he had you moaning on the floor and teasing you.
âPlease- Seonghwa, Iâm being good for you,â you had no shame in your begging; your eyes glistened with tears as his finger continued to play with your clit.
âAwe, my pretty bird wants me to do more?â Perhaps it was the tears in your eyes that prompted him to stop teasing you and finally begin to stick his middle finger knuckle deep inside you. Your teeth clamped back down on your clothes as he started to stroke your pussy.Â
The damp noises of his finger fucking you in the room could almost make Seonghwa salivate like a dog; there you were, hair sprawled out on the padded floor, your yukata dishelved and loosely hanging onto you, and the sight of tears falling down the sides of your face because of his fingers stimulating your body. His smile was maniacal. This is exactly how he wanted you, after all of those days he yearned over your attention.Â
âYou have no idea how gorgeous you look right now,â he pumped another finger into you as he quickened the pace of his strokes while his other hand on your breast roughly massaged with him occasionally pinching your nipple.
Your legs stiffened around his shoulders as you maintained eye contact with Seonghwa through your glossy eyes. You stuffed more fabric into your mouth to muffle the volume of your moans that increasingly grew louder with each of his strokes. Despite the eye contact you tried to maintain, your tears were clouding your vision. Your vision was only worsened when Seonghwa added a third finger; the tremble of your legs was felt by the both of you.
âAh ah, I donât want you to cum just yet,â you didnât need your vision to know that his maniacal grin returned on his face. He stilled all three of his fingers deep in you while his free hand reached up to your face, his finger tenderly wiping away stray tears.Â
âPlease, Seonghwa, please, Iâm so close-â he interrupted your pleading with his finger trailing down your face, landing over your lips.
âBut y/n, you must not understand how beautiful you look under me right now. I just want to keep you like this foreverâŠâ he spoke in such a gentle purr. If it wasnât for you nearly being folded in half with him knuckle-deep into you, youâd be swooned and serenaded by the soft-spoken tone in his voice.
âDo you really want me to make you cum?â He asked teasingly, his fingers moving away from your mouth and back down to your body. You rapidly, desperately nodded; but Seonghwa shook his head.
âUse your words, pretty bird. I want to hear what you want,â His effect on you made you look so pathetic, but you didnât even care; this was exactly what you had dreamed about with him.
âPlease, make me cum, SeonghwaâŠâ You softly plead spoken under your breath, your imploring eyes searching his proud ones for any hint of approval. His eyebrow raised, as if he wasnât fully convinced yet.
âSeonghwaâŠplease,â He eventually chuckled at your final plea, his hand on your chest making its way back to your nipple.
âSince you used your words, Iâll make those lips sing,â Seonghwa didnât give you time to respond; his fingers immediately began to pump in you quicker than before. The soft massages on your breasts turned into his hand kneading them. What once was a room only filled with sounds of your pussy being pumped by his fingers was now a room filled with sounds of your moaning croaking out from between your lips.Â
Seonghwa had noticed that your yukata that you had bit down on to keep quiet was absent from your mouth, âCome on, pretty bird, donât be too loud,â despite his warning, it seemed that he had been aroused by the idea of you being loud when youâre supposed to be quiet for him; the louder you got, the harder and faster he went.Â
Your legs trembled on his shoulders, and your back arched from the ground; Seonghwa didnât need you to tell him what you were about to do. Every twitch and shake in your body told him that you were about to cum.
âThatâs right, cum on me,â Seonghwaâs delicate voice assured you. With your orgasm vibrating into the cloth in your mouth, you finished on him. You threw your head back onto the padded floor, feeling your trembling legs being pampered with kisses that felt like silk against skin.Â
âYou did amazing,â Seonghwa carefully placed your legs down on the floor before he crawled above you, resting himself on top of your stomach with his legs straddling your body. On one hand, his fingers were dripping in your cum; with his free hand, he took your chin and turned your head back so he could continue observing you.Â
His soft, yet proud gaze scanned your entire face; your face was wetted by your tears and your hair was sticking to the tears that trickled down your neck. His clean hand wiped a free tear from your face again before it returned back down to your mouth, his thumb brushing against.
âOpen wide for me,â you obeyed his command, watching his grin grow as your lips parted further. Without any warning, his cum-soiled fingers plunged into your mouth. Your tongue lathered his fingers as Seonghwa leaned down over you. The warmth of his breath was felt with every inch he closed between you. Beside your head, his other hand was planted on the ground, closing you in once again.
Your eyes locked with his before Seonghwaâs stare fell down to your lips, âLet me taste you,â Seonghwa removed his fingers from your tongue, letting his lips connect with yours gently. You melted into the kiss, your hands rising to cup his silk-like face. You couldnât get enough of the sweet flavor that exuded from his lips; along with the soft texture of his lips on yours, you were disappointed to feel him pull back from the kiss, even if it was just to observe you once again.
âYou taste so good, pretty bird,â his head dipped into the crook of your neck, deliberately placing wet kisses under your jaw, travelling down to your collarbone. His hands reached back down to your yukata, slipping through the fabric once more.Â
âI wish I could eat you right now, but I need to finish up quickly,â he rose up from your neck and pressed another kiss on your lips, this time slower, deeper. Every inch of skin on your bare abdomen was being massaged by the graceful touch of his palms. With every moan from you that he felt through the kiss, and with every touch felt by your hands entangled in his hair, the hungrier the kiss became.
His hand trailed down your body again before it reached your labia. His fingers began circling over the region again; the present sound of the wet lips echoing in the room almost made Seonghwa weak, his moan vaguely being heard.
âYouâre still ready for me. Thatâs good,â he broke the kiss as he sat back up, looking down at you while his hands undid the cloth wrapped around him. He let his yukata hang freely open, his cock springing out.Â
The precum oozed from him, running down his length in anticipation. God, you couldnât get your eyes off of his curve, and he loved that. You cursed under your breath, your salivating mouth unable to form phrases. He then came back down to kiss you softly on the nose, before trailing the kisses back down to your neck. All the while, his tip was knocking at your entrance door. You felt it grazing your folds, increasingly teasing you as he continued to suck on your neck.
âNgh, Se-SeonghwaâŠâ your fragile voice managed to escape, âI need more than your tip.â Your hands that pushed the yukata from off his shoulders begged him to do more to you.
âAh ah, youâre being too eager. I need you to ask for it nicer,â his head rose to your ear, whispering his command gently. He leaned away from you, cocking his eyebrow up smugly as he saw the desperation in your eyes. His cock remained at your folds with every twitch causing you to throb harder.Â
âPlease, Seonghwa. Please just fuck me again,â you laid there begging pathetically and so desperate for him. Yet, he didnât move at all. He just stood over you, his bare chest on full display, watching you beg.
As if he was testing you, his cock teasingly inched into you, earning him a desperate, but sinful sound leaving your quivering lips. You knew that he enjoyed watching you squirm around on the ground at his will; with every whimper he heard and with every desperate look he saw in your eyes, you could feel the remote throbbing of his member inside you, like the lust he had for you traversed through the veins that ran up and down his length. Â
He stared down at you for a moment more, like he was enjoying the effect he continued to have on you. Then suddenly, his hands placed themselves on either side of your hips while his body was perched over yours.Â
âFuck, I canât resist you,â was the last thing that muttered from his mouth before his cock disappeared into your cunt. The suddenness almost caught you off guard. You almost disobeyed him and screamed his name, however, you managed to bite down hard on your lips with your pathetic whimpers replacing what wouldâve been a sinful scream.
His cock rested inside of you momentarily, allowing you to regain some composure. His hands, with a gentle yet firm grip, lifted your hips from the ground slightly. The warm air that filled the room crashed against your lifted lower back. Seonghwa panted like a dog in anticipation at the sight of his cock stuffed into your pussy. With the smirk of a deviant, he gave you one last knowing glance down at you.
âRemember to be quietâ
Following the order he gave in his rough, aroused voice, he started his thrusts slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Despite the slow tempo, he made sure to fill you up with as much of his cock as possible. You were doing well with managing him and remaining quiet, outside of a few whimpers that hummed in between your lips. Seonghwa knew this too; he was greedy, and he wanted to push you to your limits. He kept a malevolent smirk on his face that only grew more as his thrusts continued, like he was thinking of all of the fun he could have from witnessing you pathetically try to handle him without making a noise.Â
His gentle grip no longer, he continued to thrust into you at a noticeably faster rate. The sound of his skin slapping against your pussy, the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing from your body, and the sight of his long hair sticking to his temples was nearly enough to make you cum already. The tears you let out before returned to cry out in the sheer pain you experienced from biting down on your tongue so hard just so you couldnât scream his name.Â
But damn, did it feel titillating
Your hands fell down to your breast, stimulating the feeling of him sucking on your nipples earlier. You knew it would make it harder for you to control your volume, but you loved the danger. And so did Seonghwa.Â
Your quivering legs on either side of him, your tight folds clenching around his length, and his flushed face that traded with the smugness he carried earlier; this was exactly what Seonghwa wanted to experience with you. No more nights of him imagining you as his clients. Just the real you, half naked on the floor with his throbbing length fucking you.
 Just as he anticipated, your moans managed to slip through your lips; it grew harder for you to control your volume.
âS-Se-Seonghwa,â you whined shakily, âCanât stay q-quietâ.Â
He abruptly stopped, keeping himself inside you. He looked tauntingly disappointed in you. Of course, he knew this would happen. His body slightly leaned over yours, with his facial features becoming condescending and the grip on your hips softening.Â
He sighed, âAh ah, pretty bird. I wonât let you finish until you stay quiet,â one of his hands left your hips and teasingly drew down to your folds, letting his ring finger fondle with them while he rested inside you. Even the slight tease with his fingers was enough to force you to bite down on your clothing.Â
Your teary, desperate eyes met his. The vague smile on his face showed you that he was enjoying every second of your squirming and whining. Seonghwa watched you struggle to silently keep eye contact with him despite the fondling not ceasing. He just watched you, once again, pathetically try not to whine at his touch.
âYouâre so beautiful like this, being obedient to me.â
The endless teasing didnât stop even when he noticed your precum developing a small pool around him. In fact, it made him continue with another finger. The pain in your tongue and teeth resurfaced again as you bit down harder on your yukata.
A considerable amount of time passed as he continued the slow fondling. Your legs were still tensely still around his body, but the room became quieter. You continued to lay there silently in agony, anticipating for him to continue pleasuring you. His sudden chuckle left you in relief as his hand retreated back to your hip.Â
âYouâre a good listener. Perhaps I shall award you for your good behavior,â he gradually restarted his thrust into you as he continued the praise.Â
âYouâre doing so good, pretty bird,â he repeated his assortment of praises as he gradually pounded you. Your teeth clenched down fiercely on your finger wrapped in the yukata that was once in your mouth while your eyes began to swell in tears once again. The sound of skin contact was louder than before; surely, someone had to have heard such a sinful sound coming from their room.
Regardless, you both knew he was on the verge of cumming. The usual smugness of Seonghwaâs face on his thrown back head was replaced with his mouth agape. The sweat that resided on his temples were now dripping down his olive skin. His bare chest glistened under the lights. The hair that rested on his broad shoulders were stuck to the sweat that emitted from his neck. With the arch of your back and your trembling legs on either side of him, you knew you didnât have much longer left.
âOpen your mouth,â he moaned desperately, his cock twitching in you. Both of you were losing composure; the more Seonghwa softly moaned, the tighter the already tense grip on your hip became. Finally, he whipped out his cock as soon as the cum oozed out of him and slapped the tip on your lips. Simultaneously, your orgasm vibrated throughout the room, allowing his cum to trickle down your throat.Â
You swallowed his fluid before you both laid down on the padded floor, hefty breathing from both of your half naked bodies. He laid on top of you, still like a lifeless body. You both kept each otherâs sweaty bodies wrapped in each other's arms. After basking in the comfort of each other's embrace, Seonghwa elevated himself above you, either hand on each side of your head. He glanced down at you, wiping away the tears that ran down your face.Â
There was a peaceful silence that lingered amongst the room until he muttered, âYou did better than I expected. Iâm pleasantly surprised you managed to stay so quiet,â you rolled your eyes at his claim, brushing more tears off.
âOh please, you think too low of me,â you gave him a grin, âIâm not that stubborn.â
Seonghwa inched away from your face and adjusted his head down at your sore folds. His tongue gently cleaned them, unsurprisingly making you squirm in pleasure. Before he rose from in between your legs, he gave the lips a final graze of his tongue as he retreated back to your face. He pressed his lips to yours, letting you taste yourself once more. Both of your lips tiredly and sloppily meshed together, with your hands returning back to entangle his hair, and his hands cradling either side of your flushed face. Seonghwa finally pulled away, his tired, yet euphoric, gaze studying the gratified expression you held.
âAh, I suppose youâre right,â he jokingly pondered, âIn fact, you gave yourself up to me quite quickly. Earlier, you had almost convinced me that you really didnât want anything to do with me.âÂ
You groaned, pushing his face away from yours in playful irritation. Sitting up from where you laid, you fixed up your yukata, tying it around you once more. Your hands vaguely ran through your hair in its attempt to fix it.
âOne day Iâll have to tame that stubbornness in you,â Seonghwa stood up to adjust his clothes, back now facing towards you. The muscles you had just memorized with your hand were now concealed by his yukata.Â
You briefly paused; one day? He believes there will be another time after this? I mean, of course you wanted that as well. It was just that you were just assuming that what took place during dinner was just a one time thing. Your heart skipped a beat before you shook your head, discontinuing your wishful thinking.
When he noticed your lack of response, he turned his body and knelt down beside you. The vulnerable look on his face made a reappearance; your eyes avoided his face, but you knew that his eyes were glued on your solemn expression as you raked your hands through your tangled hair.Â
âThat is, if you want there to be a next time?â he paused, âI would like for you to come visit me again, in a less public area, that is,â his hand reached up to a loose strand of hair hovered over your face before it halted, like he was asking for permission before touching you again.Â
âI-...well,â you turned your head to face him. It was evident from his furrowed eyebrows and slight frown that he looked disappointed at the possibility of not seeing you again.
âYes, I would actually like for there to be a next time,â the hesitation was noticeable in your voice initially until you scanned his face for a positive reaction. It didnât take long until Seonghwaâs hand finally brushed the hair from your face.Â
âGood,â Seonghwa looked you up and down with his free thumb dragging across your lower lip once more, âAre you sure thatâs what you want? You hesitated to answer,â His thumb slowed down against lips before Seonghwa turned his attention back to your eyes.
âI just wasnât entirely sure if you wanted this again. Iâm glad you do, but I just didnât expect you to want it this much,â you embarrassingly confessed to him. You heard him chuckle, his thumb suddenly beginning to soothe your lower lip once more. The hair that hovered around Seonghwaâs face tickled your cheeks as he leaned in.
ây/n,â he began, âI wanted, needed, your attention for a reason,â Seonghwaâs lips connected with yours in a passionate exchange before he pulled away, his breath being felt on your face.
âYouâre quite the intriguing person. And there is still so much about you that I crave to learn about.â
That sentence alone was enough to convince you. Maybe someone of royalty shouldnât develop an infatuation with a person of a different class, but there was an excitement you had from sneaking out at night. A mutual fixation forming between the both of you, a sex worker and royalty, who were equally forbidden from developing any form of relationship with each other, was a dangerous game that you both were willing to play.
âThen, shall I visit you in a few nights-â
âTomorrow.â
His voice interrupted yours suddenly. For a moment, a flicker of seriousness displayed on his face before the gentle yet menacing smile you were used to seeing grew. His hand trailed down your sleeve slowly before landing on your thigh.Â
âI would like to see you again tomorrow, if your schedule allows it,â he gave your leg a gentle squeeze as he patiently awaited your response. You initially were thrown off by the sudden request from him, so you stilled yourself on the floor without emitting a single sound except for a giggle.
âWell then, I better see you at your alley again,â you promised him with a smirk on your face. Seonghwa stared back at you before he chuckled. He stood up from where he was sitting, towering over your frame.Â
A hand from his side reached down to your head, tilting your head up to view him. The malevolence in his tone seemed to have run away. The gentle, unassuming expression returned to his face like nothing had happened. As if he didnât just make you swallow his own cum. He allowed himself to check out your disheveled appearance, admiring his work he did on you. He finally locked eyes with yours one final time before he last spoke:
âNext time, Iâll make sure to make that voice sing louder, pretty bird.â
Ù àŁȘâ a/n â°â†Lordddd this done took me so long to write lol im so sorry (â„ïčâ„). I've been dealing with college exams this past week so I hope I didn't write horrible here.... anyways, the ateez drabbles should be out as well, so go read that as well! Hope you all enjoyed, lmk if there are any mistakes!! â^. .^ââ
đžïžđ·ïžâźâË LOG 1 â ANOMALOUS DATA POINTS (chapter 1 of my spiderman!jisung collection/series)
pairing: han jisung x fem!reader, college spider-man au, established relationship
synopsis: your boyfriendâs always been really fucking weird. but lately? heâs inconsistently weird. and the more you notice it, the harder it is to ignore. so you do the only logical thing a uni student in stem would do: you start logging.
warnings: ~4k words, fluff, mentions of porn, suggestive themes (mdni!), making out, very brief dry humping, profanity, mentions of cheating, kinda loser!hanjisung but he's trapped in a hot body, angst
a/n: i had to consult my friend whos in stem like five separate times to make sure the science i was writing wasnât absolute clownery. clearly iâm not a stem girl. hope you enjoy! next chapter is already underway <3
next: log 2
youâve known han jisung since high school.
which means youâve spent approximately five years observing a loser who somehow manages to be both the love of your life and the human equivalent of dropping a beaker the moment the lab goes quiet.
honestly, if someone asked you to draw him from memory, you could. if someone asked you to write a dissertation on him, youâd win several awards for knowledge. if someone asked you why you love himâwell, that answer is weirdly simple:
heâs perfect. not in the traditional never makes mistakes, future nobel prize winner kind of way, but perfect in the way youâll always find yourself to be attracted to his flaws. perfect for you.
and honestly? your relationship with him has always been smooth. stable. no weird inconsistencies. just two academically overworked university students dating each other like normal, well-adjusted people.
okay, fine. jisung is not normal. or well-adjusted. but heâs consistently not normal. predictably not normal. that counts for something.
your professor clears her throat loudly at the front of the lecture hall.
ânow,â she says, projecting her voice with that deadly combination of enthusiasm and exhaustion only university faculty possess, âletâs move on to our next topic: how to identify anomalous data points within an otherwise consistent pattern.â
your pen slips slightly in your hand.
anomalous data points.
huh.
you havenât thought about âunusualâ in a while.
âand remember,â the professor continues, âoutliers often indicate that something in the system isnât what it appears. they can be warning signs. or evidence of a larger pattern.â
you sit up a little straighter.
because sure, your relationship is smooth. predictable. no anomalies.Â
but there is⊠one thing.
wellâmany things. now that the professor mentions it.Â
you chew the end of your pen, staring at the slide, suddenly replaying the past few months with jisung in your head.
actually thereâs a list. a growing list. a list that, if plotted on a graph, would look suspiciously like something was very, very wrong with the trendline known as han jisung.Â
your brain blanks for a second. how could you not think of an example? you swear there were things. little things you noticed and then forgot. things that pinged your intuition but never loudly enough for you to stop and call them out.
and now your brain has completely blanked. as if the second you try to pin down an example, it slips through your fingers.
you know something was off about him this past year. you just canât remember the proof.
you tap your pen against your notebook.
okay. starting today, youâre keeping track. a proper record. if your boyfriend is hiding even one more questionable moment, youâre going to catch it from here on out.
at the front of the room, your professor turns back to the class, chalk in hand.
you met jisung after class at the little bubble tea shop near campus, the one with the barista who always added extra pearls when she saw the two of you because she thought you were âadorable.â
he was already waiting outside, backpack half-unzipped, hair slightly messy. he spotted you and his entire face lit up.
ây/n!â he called, waving so aggressively that his sleeve got caught on his backpack strap.Â
he spun halfway around trying to untangle it, nearly walked into a bike rack, then pretended nothing had happened.
you snorted before you could stop yourself, shaking your head as he finally freed himself from the strap.
he jogged the last couple steps toward you and immediately softened.
âhow are you, baby?â he asked, leaning in to kiss the side of your head, warm and familiar.
you squeezed his hand. âiâm great. how was class?â
he grinned, eyes sparkling. âtoday, professorâwait, hold on, you smell really nice. is that new shampoo?â
âyeah. i ran out cause someone finished my other bottle last time he came over.â
âyou said i could use it!â he stammered.Â
âyou used like half of it,â you reminded him.
âi have lots of hair!â
you raised a brow. âjisung, that wasnât even meant to be a hair-washing shower.â
jisung froze.
his ears went pink.Â
because the memory hit you both at the same time. jisung was in the steam, hair dripping, breath shallow, eyes blown wide as he blew your backâ
thank god you had your own bathroom.
that wouldâve been impossible anywhere else.
he slapped a hand over his face. âokay, okay, we donât need to talk about that in public.â
âoh right, yes,â he said, snapping back to his original thought with a tiny gasp. âchem class. i had something important to say about that before i got distracted byââ he paused to inhale dramatically near your hair. ââthis incredible shampoo situation.â
you rolled your eyes, smiling. âfocus, jisung.â
âsorry,â he continued before clearing his throat, âprofessor hanâno relation to me but i wish there was because heâs so coolâlooked at my results and said my solution was âfascinatingly incorrect.ââ he paused dramatically. âwhich is basically a compliment if you really think about it.â
you laughed under your breath. âhe literally said you were wrong.â
without missing a beat, he lightly punched your arm with the hand that wasnât holding yours.
âthe greatest scientists make mistakes all the time, y/n. itâs all part of a great outcomeâ
you rolled your eyes. âsure.â
he pointed at you. âprofessor han would adore you, you know. he loves students who ask a ton of questions and bring their own lab coats.â
you groaned into your hands. âi wish we were in chem together.â
he gasped dramatically. âme too! weâd be unstoppable. or expelled.â
âbut silly me decided i needed a âbalanced schedule,ââ you said, using air quotes, âand now iâm stuck with dr. park and her three-hour lectures on covalent bonds instead of being with my stupid boyfriend.â
jisung furrowed his brows as you could see the gears turning behind his eyes, wondering if that was an insult or affection. all of the above?
ânext!â the barista called.
âhi,â he said brightly, already pulling out both your student ids. while jisung continued chatting with the barista. your gaze drifted up toward the small tv mounted high behind the register.
ââand once again, spider-man has saved another two civilians after a late-night collision in the downtown coreâŠâ
the footage cut to a shaky prerecorded interview clip from last night. spider-man was by the sidewalk as the microphone was held up to him. his voice was deeper than you expected.
âyeah, uh, i was just trying to mind my business,â he said, âbut, you know, a car flew past me and i figured that meant i wasnât allowed to go home yet.â
you laughed quietly.Â
you felt jisung tug your hand gently.
âwhat is it?â he said, finished with the order as the two of you stepped aside to wait.Â
âoh nothing,â you said, nodding toward the tv.
jisung led the way to a table. you heard, rather than fully saw, the chaotic sequence behind you: a chair leg scraping, his foot catching, and the unmistakable thump of him saving himself with a last-second. but your eyes never left the tv screen.
he managed to pull out your chair anyway, breathing a little unsteady, like he hoped you hadnât noticed him almost eating shit. you were used to it by now.
you sat without looking away, your gaze glued to the footage of the superhero.
âyou know,â you said, straw tapping absently against the side of your cup, âi just canât believe weâve never seen spiderman in the flesh. youâd think a guy who swings around the city would be easy to catch.â
his eyes flicked toward the tv.
âi feel like everyone has a spider-man story except us,â you added.
he didnât answer right away. when he finally did, his voice was softer.Â
âyeah,â he said, staring intently at the screen. âbut personally, i wouldnât wanna see him.â
you blinked, pulled out of the tv trance. âwhy?â
he shrugged one shoulder, picking at the plastic of his cup. âi donât know. he attracts danger. chaos. people getting hurt. he only shows up when something bad is happening. like, building-on-fire bad. so iâm good.â
you laughed, nudging him with your shoulder. âokay, dramatic.â
he squeezed your hand. âiâm serious. if you ever see him nearby, get out of there. run home. hide in a trash can. i donât knowâjust donât be around.â
âyou know,â you added, teasing, âmost people want to take selfies with him. ask for autographs.â
jisung scoffed. âmost people donât value their lives.â
âso youâre saying if spider-man walked in right now, youâd what? scream?â
âiâd exit the premises calmly,â he said, pointing at the door. âand iâd take you with me.â
you grinned, shaking your head. âyouâre so fucking odd.â
âtrust me when i say this,â he said softly, leaning closer, âlet yourself be scared of him.â
suddenly, all your jokes were replaced by something that made your stomach dip.
before you could respond, the cashier called out your order.
jisung straightened instantly, the serious moment evaporating like it never existed. he bounced over to the counter with that familiar lightness in his step, humming under his breath as he collected your drinks. he thanked the cashier enthusiastically, nearly knocking over a stack of lids as he turned back toward you with both cups in hand and the brightest smile on his face.
âlook at that,â he said, handing you yours. âiâm your hero. you donât need to meet spider-man when you see me every day.â
you rolled your eyes, but you couldnât fight the smile tugging at your lips.
the library was unusually quiet in the afternoon, even by university standards. the private study room you booked had thick glass walls and perfect soundproofing. jisung sprawled across from you, laptop open. his knee bounced lightly under the table, his foot occasionally tapping yours.
you flipped through your notes with a sigh. âi swear chemistry makes no sense.â
âit does,â he said, eyes glued to his screen. âyouâre just overthinking it. come here.â
he patted the chair beside him without looking up, like he expected you to obey the way someone calls a cat. you huffed, rolling your eyes, but you still got up and moved next to him.
as soon as you sat down, he angled his laptop toward you and pointed at a diagram.
âso here,â he said, tapping the screen, âthis is the viscosity curve. if the fluidâs structure changes under stress, it becomes non-newtonian. which is why certain compounds can thicken or stretch depending on the force applied.â
you narrowed your eyes. âso⊠like slime.â
ânot like slime,â he said immediately, offended.
you bit back a laugh.Â
ânow think of it this way. if a substance has really strong intermolecular forces but super flexible bonding patterns, itâll flow normally until itâs suddenly hit with pressure.â he paused. âthen it behaves almost like a web. sticky when you donât want it to be. stretchy when you donât expect it. andââ
he stopped mid-sentence.
completely froze.
his eyes locked onto your arm.
âdonât move,â he whispered.
âwhat?â
then you felt a faint, crawling pressure along your forearm. you looked down.
a huge spider.
your breath caught in your throat.
your chair screeched violently against the floor as you jerked back, heart slamming against your ribs. you flicked the spider off with shaking fingers and slammed your notebook down so hard the thud echoed off the soundproof walls.
silence swallowed the room.
jisung didnât move, he just stared at the crushed spider with a look youâd never seen before.
silence.
he wasnât breathing right. his chest rose fast, shoulders tight, eyes still fixed on where the spider used to be.Â
he finally forced himself to blink, then tore his gaze away.
âum, itâs gone now. itâs dead.â you said softly.Â
he didnât answer right away.
âjisung?â you tried again.
he cleared his throat, but his voice came out thin. âiâm gonna go use the bathroom. just for a sec. iâll be back.â
you frowned. âpee later, sungie, i still need help with thisââ
âjust look at your notes for now,â he said quickly.Â
he stood too fast, bumped the table with his knee, apologized to the damn object, and headed for the door with a strange stiffness in his shoulders. and you watched him go, your pen hovering over your notebook.
you had never known jisung to be scared of spiders.
back in your first year of high school, during a field trip to the zoo, you remembered it clearly. the rest of your group had screamed when the handler brought out the tarantula, but jisung wore a stupid smile on his face.Â
you remembered him asking the poor handler ten questions in a row. you remembered him sticking out his hand so the tarantula could crawl on it while you hid behind your friendâs backpack.
he wasnât scared then.
so why now?
you glanced toward the door again.
slowly, you turned to your laptop, opened a new document, and typed at the top:
anomalies - hjs
below it, you wrote your first entry.
sudden and intense fear response to spider
reaction does not match past behavior
you stared at the words for a long moment.
you exhaled slowly, then clicked the tab closed. the document winked out of sight. you shut your laptop entirely, pressing the lid down until it clicked. you pulled your notebook back toward you and flipped to the last page you were working on.Â
you tapped your pen twice against the margin, trying to focus.
the door clicked softly a few minutes later.
you looked up.
jisung stepped back inside, hair a little damp at the fringe. he gave you a small smile.
âhey,â he said, voice light. âsorry. took a bit.â
you smiled back, relieved to see him. âare you okay?â
he nodded quickly. âyeah. perfect. bathroom was⊠bathroom.â
definitely weird.
several days passed.
your list grew. one odd detail at a time.Â
and by the end of the first week, your document had an entire scrollable section.
entry 2:unusually tense around windows above the second floor (fear of heights???)
notes: went to the student center rooftop patio and claimed it was âtoo windy,â refused to go near the railing
entry 5:pretended (?) to struggle to open a jar he could definitely open
notes: watched him open the same brand of jar two months ago with one hand while texting someone; today he pretended to lose a bicep; 1 man, 1 jar
entry 8:hyper-aware of emergency sirens
notes: siren went off down the street and he ducked before the sound even reached us; reaction time suspiciously fast; claims he âthought it was a bird,â which is not how birds work
entry 11:fear of heights confirmed (allegedlyâŠ)
notes: claims heâs always been scared of heights; this is so not true; man once climbed a tree on jeju island in tenth grade to steal an orange and fell out of it laughing
you might wonder what happened between those entries.
the short answer? disappearances. just variation after variation of the same pattern. both disappearances without explanation and disappearances with a stupid a explanation.Â
entry 6, left you in the middle of a date because he âneeded to check if his laundry was done,â even though it was nine in the morning and he hadnât done laundry. entry 9, left a study session because he âsensed something in the air,â whatever that meant. entry 4, left after saying âbe right backâ and returned an hour later with no explanation at all.
it was weird. really weird.
but this wasnât new. you were only now paying attention.
before the doc, you always shrugged it off. jisung was quirky. jisung forgot things. jisung wandered. jisung got distracted by anything with a heartbeat or a shiny surface. that was normal.
but now that you were writing it down and seeing it in neat black text on a glowing screen, the pattern looked clearer.Â
you stared at the last entry and wondered how many of these moments you had missed. how many other strange details had slipped through the cracks because you were too busy ogling him to notice anything else.
a knock sounded at your dorm door.
you froze for a second, blinking at the sound. you werenât expecting anyone. you pushed your chair back and stood, crossing the room with slow, curious steps.
when you opened the door, jisung was standing there with his backpack hanging off one shoulder.
and then he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him so fast you stumbled back a step. his face buried itself in your neck, warm breath brushing your skin as he exhaled like heâd needed this more than air.
âwhoa hi,â you laughed, arms going around him automatically.
he held you like he always did after a rough day. his hands slid up your back, palms warm through your shirt, and he nuzzled into your shoulder.
such a loverboy. always had been.
and standing there in your doorway with him clinging to you like you were home, your list and all its strange little entries suddenly felt very far away.
âyou okay?â you asked quietly, your voice dipping into his shoulder.
he shook his head, the motion brushing his forehead against your collarbone. his fingers tightened where they held you, bunching your shirt in his fist.
âiâm so tired,â he murmured, the words small and honest.Â
âdo you wanna nap?â you murmured into his hair. âwe can lie down for a bit.â
jisung let out a groan. a low, exhausted, grateful groan that vibrated against your skin.
âgod⊠yes,â he muttered, voice muffled in the crook of your neck. âthat sounds so good right now.â
he didnât even try to hide how relieved he sounded. his entire body slumped a little, weight leaning into you like he was giving up the last of his energy just standing there.
you smiled and slid a hand down his back.Â
he finally pulled his face from your neck just enough to look at you, eyes half-lidded and unfocused in the soft light.
âyouâre the best,â he mumbled.Â
you nudged the door open and guided him inside, watching him drag his feet. he let go of you only long enough to toe off his shoes, then immediately gravitated back into your space. once he went into your room, you froze.
fuck. your laptop was still open.
still on the document.
you shot forward and slammed the screen shut.
jisung blinked. âwhat was that?â
ânothing,â you said quickly.
he squinted at you, suspicious but still sleepy. he moved toward the laptop.
you stepped into his path like a guard dog. âdonât.â
he tilted his head. âwhy not?â
âbecause,â you said, flailing for the first excuse that popped into your brain, âitâs⊠porn.â
he stopped. completely froze.
then his eyebrows lifted slowly, like someone pulling up a window blind.
ââŠporn?â
you nodded vigorously. âyes.â
a beat.
his lips twitched. âwhat kind?â
you choked. âjisungââ
he took another step toward the desk. âwhat were you doing before i came over?â
ânothing!â
jisung chuckledâthe worst possible reaction for your sanityâand your face went hot instantly. he reached a hand toward your desk, fingers brushing the edge of your laptop.
you wanted to die. actually die. your only options were: 1. letting him read the sacred doc and having a meltdown, or 2. seducing your gorgeous, clingy, tired boyfriend who youâd happily kiss all day anyway.
yeah. option 2 was not exactly a burden.
using seduction as a distraction wasnât even a sacrifice. you would happily climb this man like a tree at any hour of the day with zero hesitation.
so really, this was a win-win.
before he could even open a crack of the lid, you shoved himâhard enough that he stumbled backward onto your bed, bouncing once. you crawled onto the bed after him, slow and purposeful, and watched his cocky smile falter into something softer. his breath caught when your hand pressed against his chest, pushing him gently down into your pillows.
his breath hitched. âthis is not a nap.â
âitâll wake you up.â you teased with an innocent smile.
you swung one leg over him, sitting on his hips. his hands immediately found your waist like muscle memory.
this was definitely working.
his eyes were wide and hungry.
âoh⊠oh,â he said, voice dropping. âweâre doing this.â
âyes, jisung,â you said, leaning over him until your noses almost brushed. âi mean⊠you just found out iâve been horny, so i assume youâre gonna follow through with it, right?âÂ
his entire body reacted before his brain did as he nodded aggressively.
âoh yeah. for sure. absolutely. donât evenâdonât even ask twice,â he blurted, hand sliding instinctively to your hip. âyou say the word and iâm here. iâm ready. always.â
you bit back a grin. âalways?â
âalways,â he repeated. âliterally anytime. literally right now. literallyââ
you cut him off by kissing him.
just a soft press of your lips to his, gently shutting him up. he melted instantly, his hands slipped lower, palms dragging down your sides until they cupped your ass like heâd been waiting to touch you there all week. his fingers squeezed and you let out the smallest breath of surprise against his mouth, which he took as a green light to keep going.
your hips rolled instinctively. you didnât mean to but the contact felt too good to resist. jisung exhaled sharply into your mouth, the sound barely muffled by the heated kiss. you pulled back for a second just to breathe and he chased your lips like he couldn't stand the distance.
you leaned back just enough to grab the hem of your shirt and peel it off in one motion, tossing it to the side. jisungâs jaw slackened and his gaze dropped straight to your chest that was covered by a pink lace bra.
he sat up slightly on his elbows to get a better look, mouth parted, hair falling into his eyes. you could feel the heat radiating off him.
âyouâre so pretty,â he whispered, thumb brushing over the lace like heâd never seen anything so perfect.
your cheeks went hot and for a second it looked like he was going to say something else, but you didnât give him the chance.
you reached for the hem of his shirt.
he blinked, confused for exactly half a second before panic sparked behind his eyes.
âwait, wait, y/nâ
âwhat?â you asked, already tugging the fabric upward, your fingers slipping under the cotton, knuckles brushing his stomach.
his shirt was already rising, lifting inch by inch over his ribs and chest, revealing warm skin and the faint rise and fall of his breathing. when he made the mistake of lifting his arms to help you, it was game over. the fabric came off, hit the floor, and you sat back to take in the view.
and then you saw.
there, smeared faintly across the line of his collarbone and trailing lower along the left side of his chest were purple-red blooms of something fresh.
hickeys.Â
you stilled instantly.
he knew you saw them.
he knew the moment your body pulled back just an inch too far, the moment your hand lifted off his skin like it had burned you.
âitâs not what it looks like,â he said quickly, voice sharp with panic. âplease, listen, iâ
âreally?â you asked, voice steady, the way voices go when someoneâs trying not to crack.
âi didnâtâi wasnâtâfuck, just listen, okay?â his hands came up like he wanted to touch you, but he stopped himself, palms hovering near your hips. âitâs not what you think. i swear on my fucking life. please believe me.â
âwhy do you have hickeys on you, han jisung?â
ââŠtheyâre bruises,â he said.
you stared at him.
where the fuck would jisung get bruises from?
he didnât play sports. didnât so much as jog unless someone was chasing him or offering free food at the finish line. and if he somehow did manage to bruise himself at the gym, heâd have sent you ten pictures complaining and begging for sympathy within the hour.
and even ifâeven ifâyou suspended every shred of disbelief and assumed it was gym-related... what kind of exercise leaves that fresh of a bruise?
you pulled back without saying a word, climbing off of him like your skin had gone cold. you grabbed your shirt from the floor and turned away, fast.Â
âwait, pleaseâ
your heart was racing, your fingers shaking as you pulled your shirt back on. you couldnât stop the confusion, betrayal, fear, all of it crashing at once. and suddenly your little document felt more like a trail of breadcrumbs. and you were no longer sure if you wanted to know where it led.
âbabyââ he started, his voice cracking on the word. âtheyâre bruises. i swear to you, thatâs all they are. fuck, i thought theyâd fade by the time i saw you. normally they wouldâve faded.â he kept going, faster now.Â
your stomach turned.
you blinked.
ââŠnormally?â
his eyes froze.
he realized too late what heâd said.
âso this has been happening frequently?â your voice came out like a whisper at first.
âitâs not like that. itâs not someone else. iâm not cheating on you.â he grabbed at his hair, pulling his fingers through it roughly. âfuck, i canât explain it. i know how it looks but iâm telling you the truth.â
âwhat is it, then?â you asked, voice sharp and trembling all at once. âwhere the fuck are those bruises from, jisung?â
silence.
he didnât answer.
his mouth twitched but nothing came out. he just looked at you, eyes wide and tearful, chest rising with shallow, panicked breaths.
you took one step back. another. toward the door.
âget out,â you said, low, dangerous. âget the fuck out of my dorm.â
âno,â he breathed, voice breaking. âno, baby, please. donât do this. you know me, you know i would never do that to you.â
you hated that part of you still wanted to step forward. still wanted to wipe the tears from his face and kiss him until he stops crying. but the rest of youâevery furious, aching partâwas more powerful.
âiâve already lost so much to this,â he whispered. âi canât lose you.â
lost so much to what? the fuck does that even mean?
âyouâre being so fucking confusing,â you spat, your own tears starting to well up. âyouâre saying shit that makes zero sense, hiding behind this cryptic âi canât tell youâ bullshit, and iâm supposed to what? pretend youâre not lying to my face while covered in hickeys from god knows who?â
he looked like he couldnât breathe. like every word from you hit him square in the chest. your vision blurred.
your throat burned as your voice cracked. âjustâwhat did i do wrong, jisung? what did i do that made you think you had to cheat on me.â
âbaby, you didnât do anything,â he said, fast, stumbling over the words. âyouâre perfect. youâre so good to me. sometimes i donât even know why youâre still with me. youâre smart and hot and you always smell really fucking nice and iâm such a fucking loser, y/n, how many times do i need to tell you i didnât cheat on you, why the hell would i ever cheat on you?!â
your chest heaved, breaths coming out shaky and uneven. you wiped at your face, but the tears kept falling.
you believed him. because if there was one thing jisung had always been, it was loyal. so loyal he probably made people think you were some batshit crazy possessive girlfriend.
once, a girl at the gym asked him what machine he was using and he panicked so hard he pointed at every machine except the one he was actually on just so she wouldnât think he was flirting.Â
which, honestly, probably made it worse because instead of looking loyal, he probably looked like he was trying to tease her on purpose. ugh, what an fucking idiot your boyfriend is.Â
so noâhim sneaking around with someone else didnât fit. not even close. not even in an alternate universe.
but even if your brain couldnât possibly believe it, your heart was still drowning in every awful possibility your mind had created. every horrible scenario you imagined the moment you saw those hickeys.
you were too hurt and scared and angry to let logic settle in. too overwhelmed to let yourself trust anything.
you wrapped your arms around yourself, shoulders curling inward.
âjust go, jisung. i need space.â
he froze. âno, no, donât do this, please.â
âget out, jisung.â
âi didnât cheat,â he whispered, shattered. âi didnât. you have to believe me.â
he took a step toward you, desperate.
âout.â
he let out a breathy sob before he bent and picked up his hoodie with slow, trembling hands, pulled it on over the bruises that had started all of this.Â
this was it.
the exact nightmare heâd replayed in his head a thousand times. heâd known this would happen. if he stayed silent for too long, heâd lose you.
he grabbed the doorknob, fingers curled so tightly around the metal it bit into his skin. he opened the door.
and your voice hit his back like a final blow.
âdonât come back until youâre ready to tell me the truth.â
genre: rock band!ateez x anatomy tutor!reader, meet-cute, college au, fluff, crack
length: 4.0k
c/w: swearing, everybody is bad at flirting
synopsis: you help tutor a group of freshmen for their upcoming exam as a favour for one of your friends. but for some strange reason that you cannot quite make out, none of them seem to know any of the content.
a/n: surprise ! guess whoâs back !! i do be a little rusty after months of not writing, but i think this is still a very âšmeâš fic. i will be slowly going through all my messages, asks and notifications soon. thanks @sorryimananti-romantic for not giving up on me LOL
181A.
you peer through the glass door of the booked study room after confirming that it is the same one your friend, daeun, had texted you earlier this morning to go to.
it was a last-minute request. she had promised some of her freshman friends to help them revise for one of their upcoming practicalsâmusculoskeletal anatomy, a first-year course notorious for its high fail rateâonly to be called in to her part-time job to cover for a sick coworker. reaching out to you with a bribe of bubble tea for a week, you had agreed to help out instead.Â
if it had been any other subject, you would have flat out refused. but anatomy had been the only course you had actually enjoyed studying during your first year, so here you are on campus trying to find the right room.
a frown knits your eyebrows together at the sight of a crowded room. you swear daeun had only mentioned two freshmen, but then you notice the picture of an exposed forearm on the shared display. you spot one of the boys pointing repetitively at the screen right where the humeral head of the brachioradialis muscle is most prominently visible from the skinâs surface, then the others follow along to either pull their own sleeve up or the sleeve of the person next to them to probe the same area with their fingers. they stare intensely lost in deep discussion as they practice what looks like surface anatomy identification.
there may be more people than you had expected, but everything else checks out so you assume their friends have just joined the original two you were meant to help tutor. you are not going to complain either, not when they are all unarguably cute and hot; a room full of blessed eye candy. except you know to remain rational, the knowledge that they are freshmen telling you that you can admire, but that is it.
your sharp knock against the door is purely out of courtesy before you push it open to let yourself in. all eight pairs of eyes glance up to look at your entrance with a mixture of confusion and surprise but you easily wave them off.
âiâm a little earlier than the time daeun said, though iâm pretty sure it wonât make much of a difference. we can start straight away since you guys are already studying,â you announce, pulling out one of the empty seats closest to you to make yourself comfortable.
the guys have a couple of notebooks and laptops scattered around the table. however, you cannot find a visible copy of the lecture slides they are currently revising. it dawns on you and you confirm, âyouâre just practicing surface anatomy on random pictures online, right?â
your eyes flicker between the boys one by one as you wait for a response. the only movement in the room comes from your hands digging out your own study material from your backpack, the rest of them still frozen with varying degrees of forearms exposed, until you make eye contact with the boy to your left with long, wavy bangs.
he immediately breaks out into an impish grin to answer, âyeah, we are.â
âwooyoung, weâreââ
âwe canât quite figure out the answers on our own arms,â wooyoung quickly interjects. you are unable to try and work out what his friend was going to say because he has already continued with a shoved forearm in your direction paired with the question, âcan you help?â
nodding, you gently take his hand in yours. âwe can start with the distal arm and make our way up proximally. the bone structures are easy to identify because they only ask you the most prominently palpable ones.â
you feel the rest of the boys gradually gravitating closer, some unspoken blanket of hesitation slowly lifting as you touch the protruding structures on the boyâs elbow you are holding. you ask, âwhat do we call these landmarks?â
wooyoungâs answer is instantaneous, tone proud and utterly confident in himself, âbones.â
âno, you dumb fuck,â comes another friendâs hissed response, mono-lidded eyes narrowing with judgement. âitâs the elbow.â
your mouth opens slightly, closes, then opens and closes once more. they are not wrongâŠbut they are most definitely not right, either.
the silence you are met with from the rest of their friends is also frankly a little concerning, considering their practical is in a few days. but just as you begin to wonder what their chances of passing are, a gentle voice answers, âthe landmark most commonly known as the elbow is the olecranon process of the ulna.â
âshit. of course seonghwa would know,â somebody mutters.
said man steps forward, bending down a little to palpate the other two protruding landmarks on the sides of wooyoungâs elbow as he continues, âthis one is the medial epicondyle of the humerusâŠand this one is the lateral epicondyle.â
you nod, now feeling a bit of reassurance that they know something, and instruct, âhave a go at finding those three landmarks first.â
the boys listen well and you mostly watch whilst listening to ensure they are not making any errors, until somebody taps you on the shoulder with a gruff, âdude.â
turning around, you find yourself face to face with an elbow. it belongs to the same person who had confidently answered âelbowâ and you realise he would easily tower over you if you were to stand next to him, even more so from where you are seated right now.
âwhatâs this called again?â he asks earnestly, pointing at his elbow in case his question is not obvious enough. âthe o-leprechaun process?â
you bite back a laugh to correct, âthe olecranon process.â
âyouâre a leprechaun, mingi,â somebody cackles, having overheard the exchange.
mingi immediately raises a hand to his eyebrows, dramatically looking back and forth around the room as if he is searching for the speaker. âsorry, canât hear you, hongjoong. must be because youâre the actual height of a leprechaun.â
a chuckle escapes you as everybody else breaks out into guffaw, and hongjoong grumbles under his breath, âfucking walked myself into that one.â
âi think you meant you hopped yourself into that one.â the tallest of them allâyunho, you hear them call himâsnickers wickedly at his own comment as he breaks out into an awful interpretation of a leprechaun jig and it sets off a fresh bout of laughter that can probably be heard throughout the library despite the sound-proofing of the study room.
their easy banter dissipates any initial awkwardness that may have been left and you take the opportunity to prompt them with the next task, âthis time weâre going to palpate the superficial muscles. weâll start with the brachioradialis, flexor carpi ulnaris and flexor carpi radialis.â
âthe fuck are these names? dinosauââ
âcan you uhâŠâ seonghwa smoothly interrupts whilst scratching the back of his neck, âremind us which ones those are again?â
well, shit. if even the supposed star student does not know, you might have to take things back a step. you wonder, âdo you guys know your muscle attachments and movements?â
ânope,â wooyoung gracelessly replies before he coughs and hastily corrects, âi mean, we could always do with some revision.â
oh boy. several steps back it is.
you rummage through your bag for your whiteboard markers as you sigh resignedly, âalright, everybody take out your notebooks and pens. weâve got a lot to cover today.â
and that is how you spend the next three hours going through what honestly feels like the entire anatomy course. by the time you have to head off for one of your own lectures, you are at least somewhat confident that they will all pass the practicalâeven if you reckon that wooyoung and mingi will just barely scrape by.
so when it comes to your afternoon class, you dip first, trusting that they will continue to revise the summarised content you have set out for them. you pull out your phone for the first time since you entered the study room, only to turn the display on to a multitude of missed calls and unanswered texts from daeun.
your feet slow to a stop as you open up her messages until you are simply standing in the middle of the footpath halfway across the campus. the dirty looks that everybody else shoots at you as they step around you is easily ignored in favour of something that is rapidly becoming a huge fucking question mark.
did you find them okay? thanks again for doing this <3
lmk if youâre running late
hey, yohanâs just let me know that youâre still not there yet. you alright?
itâs been half an hour where are you
hellooo??
i told them sth came up for you but text me back asap to let me know youâre ok are you alive ???
unless you took hallucinogens with your frappe latte this morning, you swear to the fucking gods on earth all the way to fucking neptune that you just spent three hours tutoring a ragtag bunch of freshmen. they were taking notes and asking questionsâeven if they were kind of stupid ones half the timeâand they were actively listening and learning.
but if your friend has texted asking why you have not followed through with the favour you agreed to, then who the fuck did you just spend the last three hours tutoring? and most importantly, why the fuck did they just let you?
there is no other explanation other than the fact that you were simply an idiot. a confident one at that.
you had spent all night tossing and turning over conspiracy theory after conspiracy theory, wondering just how the mix-up had managed to occur, but to no avail. determined, you had woken up early and made your way to campus to retrace yesterdayâs steps to the same study room.
that is where you find yourself now, looking at the number beside the door, 181A, and the one daeun had texted you.
118A.
well, fuck. is it too late to transfer universities, preferably to one that is in another state?
just as you feel the need to shrivel up on the spot and bury yourself six feet under, the door to 181A swings open. you are utterly mortified to make eye contact with one of the boys you recognise from yesterday. white noise permeates your brain as you both blink awkwardly at one another before some small part of you that is desperate to survive starts urging you to run away.
âwhatâs wrong, yeosang?â a voice sounds from within the study room.
yeosang stumbles over his friendâs question with an unintelligible mumble. fortunately, he is one of the quieter ones in the group, which means your chances of skedaddling the fuck out of here are pretty good.
unfortunately, the majority of them are not quiet. several heads pop up from behind yeosang, curiosity well piqued by his lack of response, and you physically recoil when you hear a cheery, âhey! itâs anatomy girl!â
it triggers a chorus of excited âanatomy girl!âs from those who have not already gathered at the door. before you can react, somebody tugs you into the room by your wrist, another pulls a chair out for you, a set of hands guides you to sit down and another closes the door behind you, all in the span of blinking your eyes thrice. it briefly crosses your mind that the level of efficiency and teamwork with which they operate would make them excellent criminals.
âyouâre here again!â wooyoung cheers, the same impish grin on his face as yesterday now suddenly making a lot more sense.
you cross your arms in an attempt to regain some control, but mostly to draw attention away from your flaming cheeks. âyou guys arenât daeunâs friends,â you confront.
âwe suppose not,â the boy standing beside wooyoung arches one of his dark brows playfully as he teases, âbut we can change that.â
âsan, you canât just say that so shamelessly,â yunho berates, before dropping his voice an octave lower to flirt instead, âbetter yet, how about we be your friends?â
somebody smacks the back of his head with a solid whump and ignores the resulting petulant cry of âjongho!â to apologise to you, âsorry, we really should have told you the moment you walked in yesterday.â
damn right, because who the fuck just sits there for three hours getting tutored on something they do not even study? but also, you acknowledge, âi really should have made sure you were the right people first. my bad.â
âitâs okay, it was an honest mistake,â wooyoung reassures, beaming at you brightly as if he was not part of the reason why the confusion happened in the first place.
you scowl, only half-heartedly, âwhy were you looking at your forearms anyway. anyone in my position wouldâve thought you guys were doing anatomy too.â
âweâuh, actually, um,â hongjoongâs eyes flicker as if he is considering whether to tell the truth or not. he unconsciously fiddles with his own sleeve as he admits, âwe were discussing whether it would be more attractive to show off our forearms or cover them up.â
âhuh?â you respond unintelligently.
seonghwa hurries to clarify with context, âperformance outfits. we were discussing performance outfits for our upcoming band music festival.â
that is the exact moment your eyes finally decide to survey the study room. there are a variety of instrument cases scattered along the floor and propped against the walls; guitars, basses, and even what you are quite sure is a whole goddamn keyboard.
âwereâŠwere these in here yesterday too?â you ask vaguely.
â...yes.â
daeun has told you multiple times before that you have zero situational awareness, but you had no idea it was this bad. how you managed to miss the fact that they are a band is probably more impressive than concerning at this point. but thenâ
âhow the fuck did you guys know some of the answers?â
at your tone of bewilderment, seonghwa sheepishly looks at you to confess, âsome of us did anatomy too. we just couldnât remember much.â
makes sense. âi assume neither of them two did anatomy,â you banter, nodding at wooyoung then mingi.
the formerâs jaw drops and he whispers conspiratorially, âhow did she know?â
mingi leans down to reply with the same volume, eyebrows creased together, âi have no idea.â
you wink at them both cheekily and everybody else snickers. out of curiosity you ask, âso what was the final verdict on your performance outfits?â
âhavenât decided,â yeosang shrugs. âas someone whoâs seen all our forearms, what do you think? show them or donât show them?â
you look up and pretend to think. in all honesty, with visuals like theirs, their forearms are going to be one of the last things anybody appreciates during their performance. but you humour them anyway, because franklyâ
âshow,â you state decisively. âdefinitely show them.â
âtheir forearms are too hot not to.
as it turns out, they are all closer to you in age than you had originally thought.
most of them are fourth-years like you, jongho in the year below, and hongjoong and seonghwa currently completing their masters. their degrees are simply to appease their parents whilst they pursue a career in music, and you cannot blame any of them for their lack of interest in studying.
âiâm bored.â
âitâs been six minutes, wooyoung,â hongjoong deadpans.
the younger is unfazed. âyour point is?â
âsome of us actually have to do well in this assessment block to pass,â yeosang reminds, âyou included.â
wooyoung splays himself across the floor of their practice room with the distressed cry of a beached whale, kicking his laptop aside and out of sight. after spending the last two days in the library, the boys had decided on a change in scenery and invited you along to study with them for your upcoming exams in their usual band room instead.
âstudyâ.
barely enough time has passed for the nine of you to boot up your laptops and spread out your study material before wooyoung has already lost motivation. it does not help either when yunho suggests, âi think we need a break.â
mingi perks up from where he has been leaning against an amplifier, wearing out the corners of his notes from folding them over and over again, to agree, âi second that.â he tosses his paper onto the floor.Â
âguysââ hongjoong begins with exasperation, only to be cut off by wooyoung and sanâs unison response of, âi third that.â
the oldest of the group also attempts to chime in with rationality but is easily drowned out by the othersâ excited chatter at the prospect of not studying. a hearty laugh comes out of you as chaos begins to unfold, genuinely wondering how they managed to sit through your three-hour anatomy session if this is how they usually are, and you close your laptop with an amused shake of your head.
âan attempt was made,â you suppose.
it catches the attention of wooyoung, who immediately yells with faux authority and dictation, âthe council has spoken! âtis time for a break!â
there is an immediate flurry of movement as the boys begin to unzip their cases left and right and connect cables from god knows where they pulled them out in order to start tuning their instruments. amplifiers crackle to life and the practice room suddenly swells with a choir of different keys and pitches that somehow blend together into disorderly harmony.
the assorted sight of them holding their guitars or basses, behind their keyboards or seated at the drums is a stark contrast to the playful and mischievous nature of their boyish friendship, and an even further contrast to your original impression of them as studious freshmen. right now, their charm and attractiveness radiates from their confidence and freedom of expression, impromptu strings of notes and beats flowing seamlessly between the eight of them even though they are simply messing around and warming up individually.
you have said it before, but you are going to say it again with the knowledge that they are not freshmen: goddamn they are hot.
hongjoong catches you eyeing them and he smirks, âchecking us out?â
your immediate reflex is to scoff and lie with confident coyness, âthe others, yeah. you? definitely not.â
âiâll have you know that iâm the most popular in the band,â he challenges, smugness only growing at your pretence, only to set off indignant and sarcastic responses from the other boys at his comment.
âdo you know how to play?â jongho asks you through their squabble, absentmindedly plucking the strings of his own bass.
you shake your head, adding, âiâve always wanted to learn, though.â
âif you want, we can teach you,â seonghwa offers with a sweet smile. he unplugs his guitar from the amplifier and settles down on the floor beside you, handing the instrument over to place it into your lap.
you support the neck of the guitar with your left hand and hover the fingers of your other hand over the sound hole, having seen more than enough media growing up to mimic holding the instrument properly. you begin to feel conscious under the numerous gazes that now fall upon you, but then seonghwa is scooting closer and drawing your attention once more.
âmay i?â seonghwa gestures towards your fingers to ensure you are comfortable with him touching your hand. when you nod, he gingerly places the pads of your fingers along the strings as he teaches you the most common chords, explaining as he goes through, âthis is CâŠGâŠDâŠâ
a shiver runs down your spine, not from the feeling of seonghwaâs gentle touch, but from the feeling of somebody quite literally breathing down your fucking neck.
before you can turn to see who it is, wooyoungâs voice sounds right beside your ear to unhelpfully comment, âyeah, use thoseâuh, use those abductor digiti minimi and abductor pollicis brevis muscles.â
âbro, she has to flex her fingers,â yunho corrects. âthatâs theâum, flexor pollicis brevis and flexor digiti minimi brevis.â
âor maybe the flexor digitorum superficialis,â san suggests, looking at his own fingers as he flexes them as if that will give him the correct answer.
âwhat the fuck?â you jerk backwards with a mixed laugh of disbelief and surprise to find the content you had taught them days ago being regurgitated, and somewhat correctly at that. âwhy do you guys remember this?â
they look extremely proud of themselves, like children who have received praise and an extra sticker on their behaviour chart for doing their work well. you are beginning to think that that might actually be an effective method to motivate them to study, when mingi leaps on the opportunity to exaggerate a wink and flirt, âcause we had a hot tutor.â
âgive her a break,â seonghwa chuckles as he pretends to wave the boys off. then, leaning in closer so that only you can hear, he earnestly whispers, âheâs not wrong, though. theyâve never sat still for three hours before.â
you giggle, âi can tell.â even though you have only known the boys for a few days, you are unable to recall a moment without some sort of chaos occurring. âi can only imagine how much energy you guys have on stage.â
yunhoâs ears perk up. âdo you want to come see us perform?â
âyeah! you should comeââ ââplease, please, pleaseââ ââthe weekend as well.â
they pounce on you physically and verbally with uncontainable enthusiasm and you fight for air through your laughter. âwhich weekend is this?â you confirm, somehow having caught the information over the commotion.
âthe saturday in two weeks.â
âweâre playing a half-hour set in the afternoon, so if youâre down, we can hang out afterwards too.â
âthereâll be food trucks and drinks. weâll pay for you!â
âplus, we have free tickets to the actual festival.â
âand all our exams will be over by then.â
it was never going to be a hard decision to say yesâyou only needed to make sure their performance did not clash with a prior engagement. however, it is utterly endearing and absolutely hilarious how quickly they back each other up in hopes of persuading you to attend.
nodding, you agree, âiâll go.â
san instantly whips out a small piece of paper from the front compartment of hongjoongâs guitar bag, shoving it into your hands with a beam. âyour ticket,â he explains.
âyou just have these lying around?â you distractedly question, flipping it over to look at the details of the ticket. you assumed that any free tickets they received from the festival would have long been given away to friends and family, considering how popular they seem as a band.
âhongjoong bought this one specifically forââ
ââjust in case we missed somebody,â hongjoong interjects, wrapping an arm heavily around yeosangâs shoulders to stop him from finishing his sentence.
you are too busy gaping at the type of ticket in your hands. âvip reserved seating? isnât this the best type of ticket?â
âexpress entry, private bathrooms and front row seats amongst many other perks,â jongho confirms.
it does not matter that hongjoong and yeosangâs brief exchange just moments before had gone unnoticed, because you sure notice now. there is no way a festival would give out tickets like this one. âfront row seats to admire you guys perform, huh,â you coquettishly comment.
the boys smirk knowingly in response and san cryptically rolls up his sleeves with a vague response of, ânope, thereâs more to it than just the performance.â
because as much as you have figured them out, they have also figured you out.
ânot just front row seats to admire our performanceâŠtheyâre front row seats to admire our forearms too.â
can i get a name for your drink? yeah, peter parker
genre: delinquent!ateez x bubble tea worker!reader, meet-cute, high school au, fluff, crack
length:Â 6.6k
c/w: cliche depictions of high school delinquents, mentions of smoking, drugs and clubs, boys trying to act tough, everybody has bad humour, swearing is their mother tongue
synopsis: a bubble tea shop is one of the last places you would expect for a high school delinquent to walk into during the dead of night. yet here you are, forming an unlikely friendship with not one but eight of them. they may be kind of stupid, but they also kind of grow on you.
a/n: a fic with no angst? a fic without a 40k wc?? new writer who dis. just a short and sweet fic @sorryimananti-romantic helped prod me to write
you know that you are probably shaving a couple months off your lifespan each time you work a night shift at the bubble tea shop and subsequently fuck up your entire sleep routine for the next couple of days, but it gives you a bit of extra money, there are hardly any customers, and it is quiet enough that you can squeeze in some studying at the same time.
the shop probably averages about two couples and a few odd individuals here and there per night. why a small business would even decide to stay open during ghost hours in the first place, likely making negative profit, you have no idea. but you digressâyou are just here to bum around for money.
so when your average customer number suddenly spikes not just by one, two or three people, but by an entire group of eight, it is safe to say you are more than confused. they are obviously your age because you can recognise the school crest embroidered onto the front pocket of their uniform shirts; it is one of the nearby high schools in the area. except, that is where the similarity ends.
only half of them are wearing their uniform, and even then they layer it unbuttoned over bold statement t-shirts like it is a mere accessory. the others wear black tracksuits and there is not a single pair of proper school shoes to be seen. your eyes cannot help but scan their pierced ears and obviously-styled hairstylesâyou are pretty sure the shortest boy has dyed his hair a lighter shade of brown too.
it is hard to take your attention off of him as he takes one last drag of the cigarette in his hand, lazily blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth before he flicks the butt onto the floor outside and steps in through the door along with the others. you idly wonder how he got his hands on a fake id to purchase cigarettes in the first place, but at least he is polite about not smoking inside your store.
the group saunters up and you startle slightly as the boy at the front slaps his hand against the counter with the matching confidence to his glorified 6 foot height to demand, âgive me a double shot of espresso.â he pulls away his hand to reveal a mismatched assortment of sad coins and crumpled notes.
âwe, uhââ you glance not so subtly at the wall-sized menu behind you and the LED lighting decor sprawled across the other three walls with the phrases, âyouâre a cu-teaâ, âyouâre pearl-fectâ, and âyouâre my bo-baeâ, and wonder what gave these boys the impression they could order coffee. âwe donât sell coffee,â you state.
he does not seem fazed by your words at all. âcanât you just, like, charge me for your most expensive drink and make me a coffee?â he asks his absurd question with practiced ease, which makes you think that this is not his first rodeo.
unfortunately for him though, you deadpan, âi physically canât. we donât have a coffee machine.â
the boyâs expression finally cracks a little and you can literally see the cogs slowing down to a stop inside his brain. âaw, fuck,â he swears, âthis worked last time.â
one his friends shrugs callously and snickers, âwhat did i say, mingi. told you they wouldnât have one.â
âshut up, jongho,â he gripes in response.
you gesture vaguely at the laminated menu on the counter beside the cash register. âwould you like something else to drink?â you offer.
the tall boyâmingiâtakes all but one look at the barrage of words before his eyes flicker back up towards you. ârecommend something.â
âdepends on what youâre feeling,â you hum your scripted question, pointing to the different sections of the menu. âdo you want something fruity or milky?â
he looks constipated as he weighs the two options. âfruity?â he eventually settles, still sounding unsure. âwhatâs good?â
at the question, all of their eyes turn to look at you intently and you feel yourself wilting internally at the thought of explaining the drinks to a group of boys that look like outright delinquents, because if there is one downside to working here apart from the crippling health impacts, it is the loss of your dignity each time you have to say the stupid names of the drinks.
âwell,â you clear your throat and steel yourself, âweâve got the bubbly butterfly blues, a purple grape and blueberry fruit ade, or the mysterious mermaid magic, a mango and passionfruit green tea with rainbow pearls.â you forge on with your explanations despite the furrowed brows and open mouths of judgement on their faces, deciding to give them a recommendation for a milky drink too just in case. âthe rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles is also pretty popular. itâs a strawberry milk tea with whipped cream, sprinkles and marshmââ
âiâll take that one,â mingi interrupts, unable to stand the onslaught of words that make the world around him explode into pink glitter. he drops an additional crinkled note onto the counter for good measure and then strides away to take a seat at the table in the furthest corner of the store to wait for his cutesy drink.
half a snort escapes the back of your throat at the sight. mingi may as well hold a megaphone to his mouth and shout âi am a manly man!â to make himself feel better. what an idiot.
you shift your attention to the rest of the group. âanything i can get for you guys?â you ask.
âfuck it, why not,â the one who had been smoking shrugs immediately. âget me the same thing heâs getting.â
most of the others pass and step away to join mingi at the table as you sort out the payment for delinquent number twoâs cutesy drink. when you close the cash registerâyou are tempted to ask them why they have so many loose coinsâthe last two of the boys sidle up to the other side of the counter, peering down carefully at the menu.
you frown.
these two are actually wearing their uniform properly, only the first buttons of their shirt undone, no brightly-coloured tee peeking out from underneath, ties still around their neck and shirts tucked into their pants. they are even wearing their name tags; kang yeosang and park seonghwa. also, apart from the fact that the two appear prim and proper enough to be part of the student council, they are also very pretty.
said two look up at you, catch the frown across your face, fumble a little, then give you a small smile as a peace offering. âhi,â seonghwa greets softly, âcan we get two regular pearl milk teas, please? thank you.â
you physically recoil.
âblink twice if youâre being threatened,â you blurt out, the words tumbling unwisely out of your mouth before you can stop them and definitely loud enough that all eight of the boys can hear you.
blink twice seonghwa and yeosang do, but not as a confirmation that the stark difference in their appearance and demeanour to the others is a sign they are being bullied into hanging out. they blink to askâvery respectfullyâwhat the fuck you are on about.
they blink at you. you blink at them. the other boys blink at the three of you.
âsure thing!â you vocally sweep your own words under the rug. âtwo regular pearl milk teas coming right up!â
you swipe yeosangâs payment out of his handsânotes and coins carefully counted out to the exact amountâand punch the number into the cashier before swiftly turning your back to them to make their drinks. if you ignore something hard enough then it never happened. and it works, because they retreat to join the rest of their friends at the furthest table without further comment.
it does not take long to make all four of their drinks, but you do take a few extra minutes to carefully swirl the whipped cream on top of the strawberry milk tea orders and artistically shower them with sprinkles and marshmallows. you want to make them as cute as you fucking possibly can just for mingi.
âtwo rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles and two regular pearl milk teas,â you call out.
they all stand up, likely ready to leave once they grab their drinks. mingi leads the group with his long strides and he picks up his drink with one hand. he holds it up to eye level to study it like an unknown specimen and the moment he picks it up, one of his friendsâyou think you overheard the others call him wooyoungâcannot help but blurt out with distaste, âthat shit looks sweet as fuck.â
mingi holds his drink closer to his body with a light glare because hey, it does look sweet as fuck but it also actually looks really good. and kind of cute, he will admit. he takes a tentative sip through the straw then a small lick of the whipped cream on top, the scattered toppings simultaneously crunching and melting in his mouth to spread sweet diabetes across his tongue.
it tastes like drugs in sugar form.
and it must show on his face because the tallest of his friends leans over to do the same, taking a sip from the same straw and a lick of the whipped cream from the other side, only far more generous and daring than the drinkâs owner.
âbro,â comes the tall boyâs immediate reaction, âiâd get one of these every day.â
wooyoung suddenly looks less dubious and asks, curiosity now piqued, âgive me a sip of that rainbow shit.â
âno,â mingi instantly responds, still keeping his drink close to his body and literally turning away to keep it protected and out of wooyoungâs reach. âyou insulted my drink. get your own.â
the latter whines and you physically jerk backwards for the second time that night at their complete disregard for following stereotypical delinquent traits. you are starting to think that they are not delinquents so much as delinquent-wannabes and they seem increasingly harmless the more they simply exist.
âhongjoong,â wooyoung suddenly sings out, appearing to change targets to his other friend who had ordered the same drink. he is determined to try a sip tonight without having to spend his own money, but alasâ
hongjoong flips him off and cradles his drink out of sight too. âyou insulted my drink by extension.â
âdetermination can only get him so far.
this time, you cannot help the proper snort of amusement that leaves your mouth. you dare to hold your gaze with a lightly teasing lilt of your lips when wooyoung whips his head around with narrowed eyes. the boy cogs turn in his head as he deduces how far he can push the boundaries with you and he must come to some sort of conclusion that you are a newfound stranger-friend because he jokes with a straight face, âiâll rob you.â
âsure,â you answer easily, tapping in a fake order onto the registerâs screen to eject the cash drawer with a comedic ding! emphasising your words.
a few of them guffaw and wooyoungâs expression lights up to actually reach over the counter to help himself to a ten dollar bill. that is, until his hand is slapped away by somebody else with quite possibly the most perfect eyebrows you have ever seen. and no. you are most definitely not jealous.
âiâll pay for your drink,â the friend chides, digging into his back pocket to fish out his wallet.
seonghwa shakes his head and advises, âdonât enable him, san,â at the same time that wooyoung brattily decides, ânah, donât want one.â
âgod, thatâs it,â jongho mutters, starting to usher the group away from the counter towards the direction of the doors. âweâre leaving. mingiâs waiting outside already.â
they let themselves be herded and a few of them even turn to wave goodbye to you at the doors, cheerfully leaving behind the words âweâll be back!â in their wake as they exit the shop. your hand remains suspended in the air mid-wave even after they have disappeared and you blink blankly at the bizarreness of your entire encounter with the group of boys.
you do not know if they truly mean it when they say they will be back, but you do know one thing; you kind of hope that they do.
âcan i get that thing i got last week.â
the tone of mingiâs voice ends his sentence more like it is a demand than it is a question, but the nuance of his words is still a request and already an improvement in comparison to your first encounter with him. if you are completely honest, you are also somewhat happy to see him and the others come back, so you will take the wins where you can. baby steps.
âwhich one?â you clarify. âi donât remember.â
you do remember because their group of eight is pretty hard to forget, and they are some of the only customers you ever get. plus, you have made it somewhat of a personal challenge to hear mingi say something as stupid as ârainbow unicorn fairy sparklesâ, which means that you are going to pretend for as long as you need to.
he scratches the side of his neck. âyâknow, that drink you said is good.â
âwe have a couple of those. was it the, uh, mysterious mermaid magic?â your head tilts with exaggerated thoughtfulness and from behind mingi, hongjoong and wooyoung cackle while the others look on with smirks, having caught on to exactly what you are doing.
âno, the rainbow unicâŠâ he mumbles, voice growing increasingly softer with each syllable until his mouth is simply opening and closing.
you look at him with faux apologeticness and furrow your brows, âsorry? i didnât quite catch that.â
âsay it louder, dude,â his tall friend nudges him playfully. you are going to need to find out his name somehow because his is the only one you have yet to figure out, and you have a feeling you and him would get along real good.
âthe rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles,â mingi finally gets out. if he were a cartoon character, you would see the rising colour of bright red creep up from under his uniform to the tip of his ears and then to the very roots of his hair.
god forbid a manly man purchase a cutesy pick-me-up drink on a friday night.
you smile brightly and use your cheeriest customer service voice to announce, âone rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles for princess mingi coming right up.â
the boy in front of you is flattered to learn that you know and remember his name but is also twice as horrified by the nickname you have crowned him with. his brain short circuits and his eyes widen at you in panicked masculinity and he shoves his payment across the counter before retreating to the same table in the corner of the store where seonghwa is already seated. if you look closely enough, there is a little wisp of smoke coming out from the top of mingiâs head too as he malfunctions. heh.
the boy whose name you still do not know comes up to the counter next. he jerks his head backwards in the direction of mingi and orders, âcould i get the same? that rainbow fairy sparkling unicorn or whatever.â the name is wrong but he gets an a+ for trying so you do not correct him, simply nodding and putting his order into the cash register instead.
then you ask for your own personal gain, âcan i get a name for your drink?â
he does not appear to question your intentions nor realise he is the only one you have asked because he is too occupied grinning widely at you, unable to curb his cheeky excitement at the thought of what he is about to say. âyeah, peter parker,â comes his proud answer, quite literally naming his drink.
and that is how you find out that he has the best (read: worst) humour out of all of the boys.
it is frankly right up your alley but you refuse to let him one-up you. instead, you use it to your advantage. you nod, âp.p. for short,â dragging the abbreviated initials out for longer so that it sounds intentionally crude.
âpeepee,â wooyoung repeats with unrestrained laughter, high-pitched shrieking that sets off the others as well.
and that is also how you find out that wooyoung has the easiest funny bone to tickle out of all the boys.
p.p.âs eyes glint with delight at the fact that you can both take and dish out your own freak. he leans against the countertop on his elbow, which is a sight to behold with how far he has to stoop down because of his height, and exposes you with no qualms, âitâs yunho, by the way, since you wanted to know my name so badly.â he adds a flirty wink for good measure as his friends ooh like the true teenage boys that they are.
you mirror his mannerisms and bat your eyelashes at him to say, âokay, whatever you say, peepee.â
hongjoong intervenes and shoves yunho aside before the latter can fall in love with you and your wack-ass humour or something. he shoos him away, âgo sit at the table,â as if he is sending the taller into the naughty corner.
yunho concedes with his hands raised in mock surrender, walking backwards as he reassures his friend, âdonât worry. you wonât hear a peep-ee out of me.â
your facade cracks and you let out a laugh, which only grows louder when jongho takes the liberty to grab a wrapped straw from the container on your countertop to peg it at yunhoâs face. it bounces perfectly off the middle of his forehead and lands on the floor, where seonghwaâbless himâbends down to pick it up. you think he might just be your favourite.
âdidnât know you were into that kind of humour,â hongjoong notes with a tone of amusement.
âoh, thereâs a lot about me that you donât know,â you respond, a hint of flirtatiousness in your words.
fuck being professional. these boys would probably be the last people on earth to ever report you for something like a coquettish comment, and god forbid you want to flirt with a couple of really hot guys. the image of hongjoong taking a lazy drag from his cigarette burns at the forefront of your mind as he stares intently into your eyes, and his seeming nonchalance to his own charm only makes him that much more attractive.
he raises an eyebrow, âis that a challenge?â
âonly if youâre up for it,â you respond coyly.
san coughs and interrupts, ânot to be a cockblock, but can you flirt after we order our drinks.â
the boy in front of you rolls his eyes, pairing it with a loving middle finger at his friend. however, he moves over anyway, half mumbling that he is not going to get a drink. his spot at the counter is immediately snagged by san who mimics yunhoâs earlier pose leaning against the surface. âso,â he gives you an overly-smouldering gaze, âtell me something about yourself that i donât know.â
a bubble of mirth rises from out of your chest and san drops the act utterly pleased with himself. you humour him, though only partially, by revealing, âthe desserts here are actually really good. i love the cookies.â
âwhich oneâs your favourite?â
you point to one of the cookies in the second row of the display counter. âthe biscoff and peanut butter fudge.â
one of his beautiful brows raises upwards as if to ask why the cookie name is so normal. you give him a miniscule shrug. beats me. he shakes his head with a slight chuckle then requests, âiâll have one of each cookie and one of each donut that youâve got.â your eyes bug out of your head because that is a fuckton of cookies and donuts, but san reassures you they all have caves for stomachs.
you get started on their drinks then slide the glass doors open to pull their desserts out, only to realise that yeosang has lingered close by to watch you. he is not wearing his uniform today, instead in a tracksuit like the others but in white. he looks good in that colour and you tell him such, âyour tracksuit looks good.â
âthanks,â he replies easily, âwooyoung shoplifted it for me.â
your jaw drops at his sudden confession, too taken aback to appropriately school your expression in time even if you should not really be too surprised by their shenanigans. at your obvious stupor, yeosangâs stoic face breaks immediately and he reveals, âjust kidding, hehe.â despite his joke, he blushes to the very tip of his ears like rudolph but elf style and rushes away.
you are left dumbfounded in a good way. one day, you are going to teach yeosang a thing or two about confidence because his uncanny ability to keep a straight face whilst saying the most out-of-left-field thing when it is least expected then leaving the other person wondering whether he is being genuine or only joking is top-tier humourâhe just needs to learn how to own it.
you are also left wondering whether there is a single sane soul in this friendship group. you still hold some hope for seonghwa and maybe san, but who knows.
when their drinks and spread of desserts are ready, you expect them all to leave like they did last week. except this time they drag two circular tables closer together in the far corner of the store that they seem hellbent on claiming as their spot, where they then lay out all of the desserts across the joint surface. you watch from behind the counter. there is both a sense of systematic order and chaotic mess to the way they take a bite out of a cookie or donut, nod enthusiastically at how good it tastes whilst shoving it into the face of somebody else, who will in turn take a bite and join in on the enthusiastic nodding and moan an affirmative that it is good.
âwait, this donut is fucking fire,â you hear, and, âthis cookie is The Shit, bro.â
they are sort of really fucking cute; boys you would expect to see loitering in alleyways with cigs in their mouths and sneaking into clubs with fakes to pop pills, instead sitting hunched over on cute plastic stools around rickety circular tables sharing sweet desserts like they are at a tea party.
wooyoung catches your gaze over the top of jonghoâs head and he gets up instantly to drag you out from behind your counter. all of your warbled protests go unheard as he pulls you by one of your loose apron tiesâhis strangely endearing way of being respectful not to actually touch youâtowards their tables whilst refuting, âthereâs nobody else in here but us.â
that is how you find yourself squashed between seonghwa and jongho, your shoulders and thighs touching from close proximity.
âtry this blueberry lemon cookie,â seonghwa offers from beside you the moment you sit down, extending the treat for you to take a bite from.
mingi so helpfully reminds, âshe literally works here.â
seonghwa shushes him, âyeah, but she probably hasnât tried everything on the menu.â
he is not wrong. you may have the appetite, but you do not have the physical stomach to try an entire serving of each dessert available in the shop, even if you were to try one per shift. now that the opportunity has handed itself to you on a silver platter, you are not going to refuse. plus, you do not think that you could ever bring yourself to say no when seonghwa is holding the cookie out with both hands so eagerly.
he is definitely your favourite.
you take a tentative bite out of the cookie and eight pairs of shiny eyes do not leave yours until you give them an affirmative and enthusiastic nod at its taste. all flurry of activity starts up again as they continue to trade desserts with those sitting beside them and across the circle. it feels like you are suddenly back in primary school, sharing your snacks out of your lunch box and trading sandwiches with your friends. they include you easily in both taste-testing and conversation, filling your usually quiet shift with antics and laughter.
it has always been a perk that you do not get many customers, but now more so than ever, you hope that nobody comes in for the remainder of your shiftâor at the very least, not until the boys leave. in just two meetings, they have all grown on you in their own ways and you kind of want this to become a regular thing. you could definitely get used to this.
despite their appearances and rough-around-the-edges personalities, they are really just a bunch of boys living their life to the fullest in the diabetic form of bubble tea, loaded cookies and glazed donut runs in the middle of a random night.
and honestly? if you had a group of friends like them, you would too.
yunhoâs eyes narrow fiercely at the couple who are walking along the footpath outside the perimeter of your shop, daring them to step in through the doors. his glare is not needed thoughâthe very sight of what is going down inside is more than enough for their eyes to widen and for the man to hastily pull his girlfriend away.
âoh look, there goes another two potential customers,â hongjoong notes with sarcastic dismay. âi wonder why people are always in such a hurry to leave.â
yunho blinks his murderous intent away and faces you with round, innocent eyes as you roll your own and cross your arms. your insides wilt at the loss of potential revenue but only by a tad, because whatever business they boys scare off, they make up for several times over. you state as a matter-of-factly, âmaybe it has something to do with jongho.â
said boy currently stands about three feet away from you, his arms raised and fists clenched threateningly as the rest of the boys surround the both of you in a circle of sorts as if they are about to witness a bloody fistfight. you suppose it does not look too far from the truthâyou are about to get punched in the face.
jongho shrugs dismissively, âitâs not my fault other people arenât interested in learning how to get knocked out by a sucker punch safely.â
âi donât think any of those words should go together in a single sentence,â you tell him honestly, unimpressed.
you cannot win against him or any of them. last week it had been learning how to pop a dislocated shoulder back into place, the week before it had been how to dislocate a shoulder, and then the week before that it had been how to reverse-jump a person if they were chasing you into an alleyway.
it has become an ingrained part of your weekly routine for the boys to rock up during your friday night shift, order half the menu, hang around for hours where you usually join them, then leave until the next week rolls around again. but these random tutorials have only just recently become a new routine within your pre-existing routine.
it all started when wooyoung snuck behind your counter one night while your back was turned to make their drinks and decided it would be hilarious to scream in your face as you turned around. you had jerked backwards so hard that you knocked over the entire stack of blender jars, which toppled over into the dirty sink one after the other like noisy dominoes. seonghwa had made wooyoung personally clean and stack them all again as punishment, but the damage had been done and hongjoong had declared that you would not survive in the real world if a little fright like that could make your butthole pucker right back up into your own intestinal system.
and so had begun your weekly crash courses on survival instincts because according to them, you had none. you had refused to submit to their antics at first, but then yeosang had pointed out, âitâs true. wooyoung was standing behind you like a creep for a full five minutes and you didnât even notice.â san had also threatened that they would not order anything until you complied each week.
âthatâs not fair,â you had complained petulantly. âi just wonât serve you guys at all then.â
san had given you a cheshire grin. âyou wouldnât. weâre like, eighty percent of the total revenue you make during your shift.â
that shuts you up real quick and san knows, so you have no choice but to give in to whatever tomfoolery they choose to teach you for that week. if it is learning to âget knocked out by a sucker punch safelyâ, then so be it.
âokay, iâm all set to be punched in the future,â you declare dryly as jongho reigns in his fist after a pretend swing at your temple, âare you guys going to order now?â
hongjoong nods like he is the little leader of this delinquent gang, but jokes on him because they follow behind you to gather in front of the counter in a single file of sorts with practiced ease, an endearingly crooked line of ducklings. you know right off the bat that it means they already know what they want to order because other times they will come together as pairs or even triplets so that they can umm and ahh over the menu together.
you do not think you can ever take them seriously as proper delinquentsâif they even count as such.
as if to prove your point even further, mingi throws up double gang signs and makes a poor attempt to rap, âi want an emineminem,â and when seonghwa not-so-subtly pinches his elbow, he adds on, âplease.â
you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing as your hands automatically move to input his order into the register, long past familiar with what his order truly means; mysterious mermaid magic, because the alliteration of the name âm and m and mâ sounds the same as the rapperâs name twice. go figure. you do not know if âemineminemâ is worse, or, as san calls it whilst flexing his biceps, âthe mermanâ.
the boys have a shockingly terrible incapacity to remember the names on the menu correctly, but it is also partially due to the fact that they could give less than zero fucks about them. they will either say what they think the name is, or what they think the name should be.
they make the rules. you simply follow.
the first time it happened was during their third time at the store. âyo, give me a triple b,â jongho had confidently ordered.
âa fuckinâ what?â you were positive you were having a stroke.
âa triple b,â he had tried again, frowning at how you did not automatically understand him. âthe big butterfly bus or somethinâ.â
you could not take him seriously. âbig butterfly bus? what are they gonna do after hopping on? go to fucking school?â you had jested. âalso, you canât just make up your own name and expect me toâyou know what, sure.â
it sort of becomes a game. you will roll over in your grave before admitting it, but it is sort of fun to hear an absolutely rubbish string of wordsâor lettersâcome out of their mouths for you to then follow their ridiculous train of thought backwards to work out what the actual drink is. the silly boys with their silly names kind of grow on you.
and you may or may not indulge them a little too much. they are the first to try any new items on the menu, even when they are still technically not meant to be available to the general public. but when they pounce on whatever you present to them on the table like puppies and fresh kibble, it is very hard not to keep doing so. which is exactly why you bring out the batch of cupcakes you had made earlier specifically for them to taste.
they look like normal vanilla-frosted cupcakes, except when you bite into them, there is a dark chocolate cookie inside the base. it is the perfect mix of soft and chewy, and when the gooeyness is maximised by slightly warming the dessert up, it isâ
âfucking fire, bro,â yunho says around a mouthful, blatantly ignoring the dirty look that seonghwa shoots him for talking with food in his mouth.
yeosang inspects the cookie at the core. âhave you named it yet?â
you do not get a say in what the menu items are named and they always do in fact already have a name by the time the boys get to try them. regardless, you answer, ânot yet,â because they love the power trip they get when they have creative liberty over your storeâs products.
âi have an idea,â wooyoung pipes up immediately. âthe frosted ultimate cookie cupcake.â then in a falsetto voice, he role-plays by himself, âhi, could i get a fucc please?â
mingi snorts himself silly and continues, âactually, could you give me two fucks?â
you oblige, âfuck you, and double fuck you,â flashing your middle finger at wooyoung first then mingi second to punctuate the fucks you are gifting them.
the boys snicker at your crudeness, absolutely delighted. not the type to let any opportunity to swear go by, the rest of them join in as san yanks you down to sit at the table with them before you can roll your eyes and walk away.
and out of all moments, it is this exact moment, when you are surrounded by the eight of them throwing out colourful words left and right with the giddy enthusiasm of toddlers, each holding a half-eaten vanilla-frosted cookie cupcake in their hands, that you realise you may actually give a few too many fucks about themâŠand not just in a friendly way.
well. fuck.
when you get a call on friday morning from your branch manager the following week, your immediate thought is that somebody finally chanced upon watching the storeâs security footage and you have been caught making friends with delinquent customers and literally feeding them with business secrets. except when you pick up and tentatively greet him, he starts to say something that is arguably just as bad.
âi need you to swap shifts with gayoung. she canât work this tuesday night so i need you to cover that day âcause thereâs nobody else available,â he informs. âgayoung will cover your shift tonight instead.â
you are still trying to process his words as you repeat, âtonight?â
âyes, so you wonât need to go into work tonight.â
your heart skips a beat. for the first time in your life, you find yourself asking, âcanât i take both shifts?â
âno, you canât. sorry,â your manager apologises but he does not sound sorry at all.
you have never voluntarily taken up extra night shifts, much less asked to take up additional shifts. yet, there is a heavy sense of disappointment that simultaneously settles itself deep inside your stomach and lodges itself in your throat, because it is friday today and friday night is for your boys. you do not even have a way of letting them know that you will not be in tonight.
you wonder if they will notice your absence and whether they will care. after all, you may just be somebody who happens to work at the bubble tea shop they frequent. but it turns out that they do and turns out you are not.
âwhere were you?â
those are the first words that are thrown at you the moment the boys walk through the door during your friday shift the week after you swapped nights with gayoung. they stomp up to your counter sporting furrowed brows and pressed lips, and if it were not for seonghwaâs soft smile and warm, âwe missed seeing you,â you would have thought that they were angry at you.
you can only imagine how terrifying their demeanours would be if they were actually to be angry.
âmy manager made me swap shifts with another coworker,â you explain and their expressions soften immediately.
jongho breaks out into a triumphant smirk as he turns to hongjoong with an upturned palm. âi told you. pay up.â
the latter sheepishly pulls out some crumpled notes as you gawk, âyou bet on why i wasnât at work?â
âdonât mind them,â wooyoung waves his hand dismissively. âhongjoong has trust issuesâsaid that you were avoiding us.â
âi would never!â you refute at the same time that hongjoong exclaims, âi did not!â
âeither way, fuck your manager. the fucking audacity to take you off our shift?â wooyoung complains.
you try to keep a straight face at the fact that wooyoung has just very casually claimed your shiftâand by extension, youâas theirs. you babble the first thing that comes to mind, âthe drinks are all made using the same recipe. it doesnât matter who makes them.â
yunhoâs eyes narrow with offense that you would even suggest a thing. âitâs nowhere near the same.â he is not the only one who wants to tell you that as long as it is not you it will never be the same.
their collective thoughts come out instead through mingi, ânobody understands when we order a triple b or an emineminem or a âhorse drinkâ.â
âyeah, no shit sherlock,â you fire back, because apparently sarcasm is your automatic defense mechanism when you are flustered, âmight help if you call them by their proper names.â
âor maybe the problem is that nobody knows us well enough like you do,â san insists with a wink and in response, yeosang reveals, âwe donât let just anybody get close to us.â
you joke before you can truly think your words through, âsounds like a you problem then.â
âyouâre right,â hongjoong banters easily with smugness.
your nervous fidgeting as you tap useless buttons on the screen of your register gives you away despite your attempts to stay collected. they chuckle and it is difficult not to crumble under their unwavering gazes because it is obvious they can see right through your facade. but can anybody really blame you when you had not been expecting them to reciprocate your feelings of interest, much less admit to it so easily and straightforwardly?
in a last ditch attempt to regain some control over the conversation, you ask, âso, what do you guys want to order?â
from day one, the boys have surprised you in the most unpredictable waysâeight not-quite-delinquent delinquents with simultaneously calloused fists, pottied mouths and insatiable sweet tooth. today is no exception, and you have a feeling that you should start becoming accustomed to their antics because they are here to stay, especially after today.
âwhat we want to order?â they look at you with confident flirtatiousness. âyour phone number and a date.â
How were you meant to know that watching the pretty harpy dance in the strip park near your apartment building was something life-changing? You'd just been walking past when you saw him, twirling and fanning his wings, moving like the very windy was made for him and him alone.
How were you meant to have held back from making small noises of wonder and awe, enthralled as he came to a graceful stop, bowed and posed perfectly like some professional dancer, you couldn't help but clap slightly, stepping forward to tell them you thought that was magnificent. Only to have the wind knocked out of you as the harpy shot up, hands grasping at yours as he trills and fluffs his feathers, the black of his eyes all but consuming the yellow when he coos about you liking his dance.
You smile back and nod, telling him what you saw was fantastic, holding back a giggle as the harpy pulls back and ruffles his feathers again. You keep smiling as you walk away, mind busy as you hardly catch the click of talons on the sidewalk behind you, tapping your key fob and entering your apartment building, only to be surprised at the harpy still following behind you, looking happy as can be.
How were you meant to know that enjoying a little dance show would land you a boyfriend...
If you're being honest, it was purely just instinct, you hadn't really meant to bury your hand in the sandy hair of your fennic hybrid roommate and tug their head to the side as you sank your teeth into their neck, but they just wouldn't shut up.
They had spent the last fifteen, maybe twenty minutes just chattering, and it was just an endless stream of nothing, you're pretty sure at one point they had been talking about not their car but the car that belonged to the people in the apartment two doors down from you, and it was just a momentary lapse, that point were all your brain told you was that they needed to shut up. But your mouth didn't work to speak, and you resorted to simply biting them.
Just sinking your teeth into their neck and hearing that strange Chittering whimper that your brain responded with by knowledge, not a noise humans typically make, but you rumbled and growled at them.
Earning your silence with a very deep and very angry red bite, the mark now blooming across the side of your roommate's neck. When you finally let go, they turn to look at you. Eyes blown wide, ears pressed slightly back against their head as if they're seeing you for the first time all over again.
You hadn't really thought about the consequences of your actions until it was time to go to bed, having showered and cleaned yourself up for the night, only to find your roommate already curled up in your sheets, tail curled around themselves as they've made themselves at home under your comforter. Slowly making your way into your room and lifting the sheets of your bed, you're mildly surprised by how your roommate shifts to curl around you. Little squeaking snores soon follow after they've settled against your side.
It's not easy to sleep, but eventually you do fade off, and by the time you wake in the morning, your roommate is still in bed with you. Is flicking gently against one of your cheeks as they look up at you, smiling, almost purring in a way?
How are you meant to know that by so thoroughly dominating them the night before with your bite and snarl, you had unintentionally proved yourself as a very lucrative and very potential mate...
I love those headcanons of characters that go like "they would remember how u like this food/drink down to the T, no hesitation at all. What time of the day u usually have it, where u have it, etc." But for another reason.
Im autistic as shit.
There has been a LOT of situations were people try to be nice to me and prepare me something to eat or drink and they do it either terribly wrong or just different and its just not how i have it and then i get all sad because i cant enjoy it to the full or i get triggered and spent the rest of the day annoyed because it had the wrong temperature.
I thrive on routine, a very clear routine for me but not for other people. If someone were to remember every single step i do to prepare a coffee for ex, do it for me, bring it to me while i work and most importantly, DOESNT GET MAD IF I DONT LIKE IT......IM PROPOSING RIGHT THERE AND THEN YALL.
Right from the moment you took in your sweet needy Cat Hybrid, he was the most affectionate man youâve ever met. So used to men turning away and looking past you, Cat Hybridâs affection is overwhelming.
Itâs amazing how quickly heâs latched onto you, forming an attachment to you and you alone. With everyone else he hisses, swiping a paw at them to say away from you.
But with you, he canât get you close enough. Every moment youâre walking around heâs right by your side, tail curled tightly around your thick thigh. And the moment you sit down heâs dragging your plump frame into his lap.
He just canât help himself, youâre so warm and cozy. Your squishy paw too perfect that before he knows it heâs making biscuits on your soft belly.
Even when heâs plowing his thick throbbing cock inside you, whimpering each time your fat cunt sucks him back in, heâs pawing at you. Watching as your beautiful rolls melt beneath his touch.
Getting an idea, the next time Needy Cat Hybrid lays you down to mate with him, practically slamming you down onto his hard cock, you decide to take him by surprise. Quickly rolling the two of you over, you begin to make biscuits on his muscular stomach instead of the other way around.
Needy Cat Hybridâs eyes go wide. As if the feel of your warm wet pussy wasnât enough to make him instantly want to cum, you showing him so much affection has him unable to resist immediately blowing his load inside of you.
Once the waves of his orgasm begin to fade, his face flushes red with embarrassment. He starts babbling out apologies through his tears. You comfort him as best you can, leaning in and rubbing your face in his neck. Something else youâve seen him to do you.
His tears dry quickly as your scent washes over him. Realizing youâre trying to scent him his cock comes back to life, returning to full hardness. You can feel him expand inside you and you moan, pussy already fluttering around him.
âD-donât, nngh, worry. Iâll make ya cum sâmany times. Promise. Will fuck ya dumb, youâll see,â he mumbles, still sniffing.
But his hips begin to buck up into you and you can feel the determination in his thrusts. Itâs clear he wonât be stopping till youâre passed out in a puddle of your own release.
Summary: After leaving Navarre behind, you promise yourself you will fight with or without your dragon and beloved. Fighting though, for some reason always leads you to Xaden.
A/N: FW/IF Spoilers.
Word Count: >28k (settle in and get comfy)
I really hope y'all enjoy this one. Let me know what you think.
Part 1
What does one do when they run away from their dragon and desert their war college?Â
Hide, of course.Â
Pausing at a copse of trees, you sink down to your knees and pull the now tattered cloak as firmly around your shoulders as you can. The bitter chill of the wind has begun to settle into your bones as you miss the warmth of a roaring fire and warm bed.
Days of traveling by foot have taken a grueling toll on your body. Though you havenât gone hungry, thanks to your foresight of paying attention to infantry during RSC missions, the small game that youâve caught and cooked over small fires has not done much to satisfy your hunger. The fire, in turn, barely warms your hands and feet when the night chill settles in.
As your head rests against the back of a tree, you take a deep breath trying to clear your mind. Even though you succeeded in your plan to slip away, it doesnât take away the hurt that has twisted like a knife in your heart every step growing more painful than the last. Taking shallow breaths, you try to will away the devastation that seems to settle in your entire being.
The connection to your dragon has seemed to go dormant, a hollow feeling taking its place in your soul. Youâre unsure if it will ever break completely, but you havenât tried to pull towards it either.Â
Reflecting on the bond, you canât help but wonder if your dragon is glad to be rid of a rider that let themselves fall into the background. You feel a sense of cowardice and guilt wash over you at leaving everyone to fight the coming war. Itâs that heartache of being a coward, for your dragon and beloved, that finally solidified a decision for your probably short future.Â
As you were already in Poromiel, you knew there was no going back to Navarre. Besides, the Poromish have been fighting for much longer and are attacked more often if your experience in Resson was anything to go by. Â
A few days prior you came across a small village, the people there wary of you dressed in all black leathers. Those reactions caused you to immediately find the nearest tailor and buy a new set of clothes with the little money you had with you.  The tailor was obviously distrusting of you, but no one was going to turn down coin when living in a small village, never knowing when your next sale would be.Â
Although you purchased a wool shift dress, you didnât have enough for a new cloak, hence the tattered holes that riddled yours from days of sleeping in the woods.Â
Taking a deep breath, you lay down to get some sleep for the night hoping that the villagers were right, and you will arrive in Pavis in the morning.Â
At the first sign of dawn, you sit up stretching out your back and muscles that have cramped during the night from sleeping on the hard ground. As soon as you feel blood flowing back into your extremities, you stand slowly wiping the sleep from your eyes. Staggering forward, you head toward the small stream you had noticed before picking this area to camp for the night.Â
As soon as you arrive you drop down and splash the cold water on your face and drink your fill of the clean, cool water. The shock of cold sends a shiver down your body, doing wonders in pushing the last vestiges of sleep from your mind.
You begin walking in the same southeastern direction the villagers had directed you in just four days ago. Letting a small groan fall from your lips, you try to forget the sluggish feeling that has overtaken your body from so many days of travel.Â
Itâs as if Amari and Zinhal have finally thought to bless you as you finally see a large town come into view. A sigh of relief escapes you as you finally see a town that rivals Chantara and not just a small village with nothing there.
You drag your tired body to the first tavern you see and take a deep breath at the smell of spiced, roasted meats filling your lungs. A second later, your stomach growls loudly in protest of not being filled. Sitting down at the bar, you open your pack fishing for the remaining coin.
Pulling out your small purse, you drop the contents on the bar in front of the barkeep.
âWhat can I get for this?â You ask, hoping beyond hope that you can get something filling.Â
âNot much. I can probably get you a small bowl of stew and a glass of wine.â The barkeep replies giving you a slightly suspicious look.Â
It dawns on you that the man can probably hear the accent you have when you speak the Krovlish language. You may be proficient, but itâs been almost impossible to hide your accent.
âThat would be lovely.â You say hoping that you can seem as harmless as possible. At least you know that no one will see the daggers that are strapped to your body since the shift you bought covers them well.Â
As soon as you exchange the coins, you are presented with a small steel bowl filled with a delicious smelling stew of beef and local vegetables. You dig in, savoring every single bite that begins to warm you from the inside out, letting out a contented sigh as the food hits your empty stomach. As you continue eating, you can see the barkeep watching you from the corner of your eye. In order to beat some of the suspicion, you take the chance and begin talking.Â
âCan I ask if you are currently looking for any help?â You ask as you begin to bring the wine cup to your lips.Â
The barkeep, a middle-aged man with bronzed skin and dark blue eyes that are clearly analyzing your motives. âYou donât seem like youâre from here. Where are you coming from?â
At the question, you startle slightly but make sure to hide your surprise at the question. âIâve been displaced since the invasion in Resson.â
You decide that being as truthful as possible will be the only way to go, hopefully garnering the trust of the man you are currently speaking with. The barkeep continues to look you over, but you donât miss the pitying gaze that he gives you. You canât help but scoff internally as you realize how in the dark the people of Navarre have become, but obviously venin attacks are openly spoken about.
âIâm looking for a bed and to make some money.â You begin to explain exactly what youâre trying to find. âEventually, I hope to join the rest of your military to fight against the threat thatâs being ignored past your borders.â
âAnd why would I believe that? Youâre obviously Navarrian. What if youâre just here to cause trouble?â The barkeep drolls on, but the calculation in his eyes is obvious. âBesides, I thought only a riot of dragon riders helped to fight in Resson.â
The wince is impossible to keep off your face. Taking a large sigh, you let everything out. You tell the barkeep that you were a rider, having since left your dragon, Basgiath, and Navarre behind. You try to convey the conviction you feel about helping the people of Poromiel and the overarching continent, even recounting the tale of the little girl you saved. As you begin to finish, you can see the hard lines of the barkeepâs expression begin to smooth.Â
âIâm not sure how you pulled off leaving a dragon behind, as well as Basgiath, but you seem genuine.â He says matter-of-factly. âTell you whatâŠWeâll have a trial. You help around the tavern with any tasks given and you can stay on the cot near the kitchens.â
âAnd, if youâre serious about joining the war effort, Iâll get in touch with those I know in the military and see if I can get you involved.â The thankful smile that falls across your face is a relief from the sadness and fear that had gripped you over the last few days.Â
âThat sounds wonderful.â Thereâs no way to hide the earnestness in your voice. âI appreciate your kindness and willingness to give me a chance. Things havenât been easy the last few days.â
âWell, if youâre going to be staying here, introductions are in order. My name is Redvers, but you can call me, Red. Ceridwen is my wife, and she runs the kitchens.â Red holds out his hand to shake and you take it enthusiastically, happy to finally be able to have someone to at least converse with and give you a chance.Â
âIâm Y/N. I really wonât be able to thank you enough for this.â
He chuckles. âDonât thank me too much yet, you havenât worked or have even seen where youâll be sleeping.â
âI doubt any cot could be worse than the cold, hard ground.â You mutter ruminating on how nice it will be to sleep somewhere other than on the forest floor.
âCome, you can begin working tomorrow. Tonight, you can rest and get settled.â
Red leads you to a small room that is only large enough to house a cot and small table. You look back at him and smile as you take your pack off and place it next to the table.Â
âLet me know if you need anything, the tavern is usually open late into the evening.â Red says before turning and closing the small door.Â
You immediately try to light a mage light and as you try for the third time, it finally hits you. All the powers you had are now gone. You fumble in the room until you find a candle and a flint to light it. As soon as the small flame is lit, you fall to the cot and your head falls back onto the pillow.Â
Finally feeling some semblance of safety, all the emotions youâd drowned out since a silver haired girl entered the scene crashes down at once.Â
Staring at the beams of the ceiling, you try to normalize your breathing, but its useless. Your body has gone into shock, panic overtaking your every sense. Breathing is erratic, and tears are streaming down your face in a torrent as your body begins to shiver and shake in response to your breaking. You turn to the side and curl up into the tightest ball you possibly can and let yourself fall completely apart.Â
Youâre unsure of when or how you fell asleep, but as you wake with a pounding headache, you realize at some point in the night your body mustâve given out. The emotion that overtook you taking every ounce of energy you had left in your body. As you trudge from the bed, you look to see someone brought a pitcher of water while youâve been out.Â
Pouring yourself a cup of water and staring out of the small window you hadnât noticed when you entered, you try to take a deep breath though all you feel is a hollowness. As you stare into the night sky, the sadness of now being alone settles like a heavy cloak. All you can do is count your breaths and hope that you made the right decision.Â
A few days go by, and you find yourself getting into the groove of assisting in the tavern. You begin noticing the townspeople that seem to come in regularly. A few fliers have also made themselves known, although you know they have no idea their enemy is feeding them stew and serving them wine and ale.Â
You grow close to both Red and Ceridwen, learning of their story and their families. You never thought you would find such wonderful and caring people, especially when you just randomly walked into this space. They welcomed you as if you were the daughter they never had.Â
Ceridwen began taking you under her wing and helping cook in the kitchens, teaching you recipes youâd never seen before. It was there that you could hear the conversations and gossip from those coming through the tavern.Â
âI donât know what he thinks heâs going to accomplish with Sorrengail.â Your ears immediately perk up at the name going to stand closer to the serving window of the kitchen.
âLook Cat, it doesnât matter what heâs doing either way. The betrothal is null and void. There is no reason for you to bother with Riorson any longer.â Your eyes flash as you realize who they are talking about, but then they furrow trying to place the name Cat.Â
âYou and I both know heâs not really in love with her. If thereâs one thing that I learned being betrothed to the bastard is that heâs incapable of feelings besides calculation and revenge.â Youâre unsure why but her words about Xaden make your blood begin to boil.Â
âJust because he wasnât emotionally available for you doesnât mean heâs emotionless. Stop being so petty.â The other girl counters, obviously trying to put this Cat girl in her place.
âSecondly, if that is the case, what would you call the other girl that always had him distracted.âÂ
âOh her, she was never a threat. Besides, look how easily she was left behind. The group didnât even notice they were leaving with a riderless dragon when flying out of Resson. Some feelings he had for her if she was that forgettable.â The defiant tone in Catâs voice causes a stone to settle in your stomach.Â
With the last statement, you move out of earshot of anyone in the tavern. The knife thatâs been embedded in your heart since you disappeared turns a little tighter making it hard to breathe. You canât help but wonder when the knife will just explode and either kill you or leave you so emotionless you canât be hurt anymore.
The rest of the day passes as if molasses through the eye of a needle. When you are finally able to retire for the night, you fall on your cot and try to breathe through the heartache that seemed to settle inside you, a tight band constricting further and further across your chest.Â
When you rise the next morning, you are more set than ever that you need to get to the front lines of this war. If you are going to lose your life, you might as well lose it while trying to fight the real enemy, maybe then the hollow feeling in your chest will stop.Â
As soon as you can, you go to speak with Red. âHave you had any luck finding someone to connect you with the military?â
The surprised look on Redâs face is almost comical, maybe he didnât think you were serious about that part. He motions for you to sit down at a stool, and he sits next to you.
âI spoke with one of the commanders of the drifts. She has instructed that if you are interested, you will have to bring your supplication to Viscount Tecarus in Cordyn.â Red finishes and he looks at you directly as if to ascertain if this is what you want.
âHow exactly do I get to Cordyn from here?â Asking that question makes his face fall slightly.
âAre you sure that is the path you wish to take? Ceridwen and I are more than happy to help you and let you continue living here. Weâve both come to enjoy your company over the past weeks.â The sad look that Red gives you causes you to let out a sad smile. You never thought deserting your position as a rider would end up leading you to people who had become surrogate parents.Â
You get up and sling your arms around Red. Although startled, he wraps his arms around your waist in a warm hug.Â
âYou really have no idea how much it warms my heart to hear you say that.â You pause trying to find the right words. âBut all my life Iâve been left behind. Now, I have the opportunity to stand up for those who cannot and if I fall doing so, at least I know I died honorably.â
You can see the sadness in his face as he comes to terms with the fact that you wonât be changing your mind. Red gives you a small smile and squeezes your hand.
âGive me a few days and I will help get you to Cordyn. On foot or by carriage it takes several days, but I may be able to get you a flight with one of the gryphons.â
Your eyes widen as you take in his words. âWould a gryphon even allow someone besides their flier on their back? Wonât they know that I was a dragon rider?â You canât help the thought and fear that grips you.Â
âYes, you would be allowed to fly. And no, they wonât know you were a rider.â Red says with so much conviction your brows knit together. âYou see I know a little about bonds, between gryphons and dragons.â
âWhen a bond is tested by the rider or flier, it can be broken if the gryphon or dragon chooses to do so. Iâm unsure if your dragon has chosen to break the bond, as its hard for a human to decipher, but the gryphon wonât be able to sense it as it is buried.â
âHow exactly do you know all of that?â You canât keep the confused look off your face at the new information.
âBecause back in my younger days, I was a gryphon flier myself.â Your eyes widen as you take in the new information.Â
âWhy didnât you kill me on-site?â The question forms unbidden on your tongue and escapes before you can stop it.
Red gives you a warm smile before stating simply. âBecause you fought for those who needed help. You chose to aid someone you were taught was the enemy without question and saved a young girl. Valor like that is worth more than just being classified as a dragon rider or gryphon flier.âÂ
Without even forming the thought, you find yourself back in his warm embrace. âThank you for trusting me and recognizing something in me that most other people seem to take for granted.â
âI think you underestimate how many people see your loyalty, honor, and valor. However, I do believe that all those qualities can be taken for granted. Itâs not uncommon to be left behind when you quietly lift people up.â He pauses with a thoughtful look on his face. âIt isnât usually until those people lose the person that held them high that they realize everything they had and lost.â
With those words, Red leaves you to get to work getting the tavern set up for the day.Â
The parting words seem to continue to float in your mind for days. You never wanted to be taken for granted, but it seemed like your entire life people always just assumed you would be there. You knew that your nature to be a safe haven in the storms of life for everyone was something people loved. However, when it was calm, you always felt that people would let you drift behind. A forgotten force only needed to bolster someone in times of trouble.
Thinking your time at Basgiath over, you realized that you had always been a haven for Xaden and his group. You were constantly there trying to help them in every way you could. What you didnât realize was that they played you for a fool, taking advantage of your willingness to help.Â
Reflecting, you remember all the times you told them about the weapons that Emmetterio would have brought in and even showed them the forge at Basgiath. You had signed up for weapons maintenance, and they ended up having clear access to everything they were looking for from you. You shake your head as all the small things you missed come crashing down.Â
Luckily today was a rare occasion where Ceridwen had you going to the market to pick up supplies, so you werenât trying to serve anyone as the reality of everything began to crash into you.Â
You stop on your way to the market and let yourself sink down on a large rock not far from the road. You want to cry, but you just donât have any tears left to give. Time and time again you feel like you were just a pawn in someoneâs game.Â
Anger at yourself, Xaden, and everyone that you considered a friend at Basgiath begins to make your blood heat. How could you have been so naĂŻve?
With a tumult of emotions roaring through your body, you head back to the tavern, the market all but forgotten. A new determination coils inside your mind as you realize the only way to get through these feelings is to be useful. You want to get lost in the adrenaline of war, of putting your life on the line and not caring the outcome.
As if Red can read your thoughts, the minute you return to the tavern he is waiting with a dark-haired man in form fitting brown leathers. You pull up short not expecting to have anyone expecting your arrival.
âAh, just who I was looking for.â Red says as he gestures for you to join him and his companion.Â
You begin forward hesitantly not really knowing how to proceed with someone that is so visibly a flier. All of your instincts from years of hearing they were the enemy causing your trepidation to rise, though you try to tamp it down as Red gives you a look of assurance. You take a deep calming breath and know that you must put your trust in the man that has helped you over the last two months. Â
âY/N, this is Drake Cordella.â Red says motioning to the man next to him. Drake immediately puts his hand out to shake yours and gives you a warm smile.
âPleasure to meet you, Y/N.â Drake says warmly, and you give him a small nod and smile in return while shaking his hand firmly.
âPleasure to meet you as well. Iâm assuming that Red has informed you on my want to join the war effort.â You decide bluntness about the whole situation is better than trying to skirt around the edges.Â
âYes, heâs filled me in on your situation shall we say.â A questioning look is immediately shot to Red who is still just smiling back at you.
âDonât worry, Y/N. Drake is a close friend of mine. He wonât divulge any information if you wish to keep it secret.â Red reassures you letting your heart settle a little.Â
âI assure you, giving up any information on you is the last thing I want to do. However, I am curious as to how things are for you since being separated from your bond for so long.â Taking a look around the tavern, you canât help the unease that settles at talking about this topic in the open.
âWould you both mind talking somewhere a little more private? I havenât gone this long without being discovered to out myself now.â You ask, hoping you can go to Redâs office that is at the back and soundproof.
âOf course, lets head to my office.â Red says leading the way to the back.
As soon as the three of you are inside and comfortable, you take a deep breath and share the details of the past two months with them. Divulging the way your bond seems to be underneath a glass layer or buried at the bottom of a clear lake, you can still sense the pull, but it has weakened enormously. Confirming that you havenât been able to communicate with your dragon or even draw any semblance of power. Turning on mage lights, powering pens, opening and locking doors with magic, all seem to be lost to you with the bond being silent.Â
They both seem to listen in rapt fascination. You realize it may not be ideal to tell the âenemyâ all this information, but you are certain that you wonât be seeing any Navarrians any time soon. While talking, you watch Drake move to brace his elbows on his knees as if you are telling the most fascinating story heâs ever been told.
âYou were one of the riders that fought in Resson?â Drake questions, his face becoming one of contemplation.Â
âYes, I rescued a young girl and killed a venin before, as some would say, I deserted my riot.â You bring your head down to the floor suddenly ashamed of your actions.Â
âNone of that.â You catch Drake waving his hand off noncommittally at your comment. âYou obviously donât know this, but your disappearance is well known in Poromiel. I believe those in Navarre believe you are dead, at least I believe that is part of the story Riorson and Sorrengail spun.â
Your nose crinkles and stomach sours at the mention of both Xaden and Sorrengail, two names you hope youâd never hear again, let alone see.
âYou see, I believe you have someone looking very intently for your whereabouts.â You canât help the scoff that immediately leaves your lips. If there is anything you wonât believe its that anyone from Navarre is looking for you.Â
âBesides, I believe your dragon has kicked up a bit of a fuss for those in the vale if the rumors are to be believed.â You stare back at Drake not believing how much he seems to know about you and your situation. Shaking your head, you decide its time to now get back down to the real business and not idle gossip.Â
âWill any of that deter you from taking me to help the Poromish with this war?â You question. âYou see, I donât rightly care about parsing through any attachments to Navarre or any of the people in it. However, I do care about helping as much as I can to eliminate the threat of the venin.â
A sly smile marks a change in Drakeâs demeanor moving past the questioning of your ties to Navarre.Â
âI respect that is your decision. Red and I have discussed this, and I wanted to see if you would like to accompany me to Cordyn to meet my uncle.â Drake informs.
âIf meeting with the Viscount is the only way that I can prove my intention to aid, then Iâm ready to leave whenever you are.â The conviction in your voice makes Drake give you a curt nod, even as Red gives you a sad smile.
âCeridwen and I are going to miss you, Y/N.â Red says sincerity lining every word. âPlease know that you will always have a home here.â
Those words cause you to immediately stand and cross the room, wrapping your arms tightly around the man that welcomed you warmly into his domain.Â
âNo words will convey how thankful I am that you took a chance on me. Thank you for your loyalty, comfort, and love. Without those things, Iâm not sure if I wouldâve survived much longer.â You whisper for only him to hear. âI will be forever grateful to you for absolutely everything youâve done for me.â
After giving him another tight squeeze, you head to your rooms to begin packing the few things that were yours. A light knock on the door brings your attention away from combing through the last of the items. Before you can say a word, Ceridwen comes in carrying a small box and a sad smile on her lips.
âRed told me that youâll be heading out with Drake soon.â She says matter-of-factly moving to stand at your side while you give a small nod. âYou may not have been with us long but know that youâll always be like a daughter to us.â
As she finishes, she hands out the small box to you. You take it and canât help the gasp that escapes you as you open it. Inside a black velvet box is a gold necklace with a small round pendant. You examine the pendant, and your eyebrow raises at the runes carved into one side. Ceridwen goes to take the necklace from you and places it on your neck.Â
âKeep this on you at all times, especially in Cordyn.â She states firmly. âYou may or may not know this, but fliers usually have gifts that entail mind work.â
She pauses as if thinking through her words as she grabs your shoulders and turns you around. âYou can trust Drake, but there are those who â if they find out who you are- will do anything to make your life miserable.â
Staring back at Ceridwen, you know that the words she is giving you are for your benefit, not to scare you or coerce you to stay.Â
âThank you.â You begin as you wrap her in a hug just as fierce as the one you gave her husband. âI know we may not cross paths again, but please know how much you and Red mean to me. I told him already, but there arenât enough thank youâs in the world to give you for everything that youâve done for me.â
Ceridwen hugs you back just as fiercely before stepping away, you must take a deep breath when she steps back and you see the tears swimming in her eyes.
Not even an hour later, youâve shouldered your pack and dressed in the only pants and shirt that you had which happened to be some old clothes of Redâs. As you walk out of the tavern, itâs impossible not to turn and give it a once over, committing every small crack, hole, and crevice to memory. Since you had started at Basgiath three years ago, you were unsure if youâd ever be in another place that hurt your heart so much to leave, but now here you are.
As you walk towards Drake, you can see the outline of his gryphon in the distance. The warmth and sadness that you felt leaving the tavern now turning into fear at the creature in front of you.Â
Obviously sensing your trepidation, whether from your expression or the way your walk slowed, Drake holds out his hand as if in comfort.Â
âI know this will be intimidating, but I promise he wonât hurt you.â Even though his words mean to placate your fear, you canât help the raise of one of your brows in challenge.
âD-Does h-he know that Iâm a dragon rider?â Your voice slides into a quiet whisper as you ask the last part of the question.
Drakes warm chuckle begins to ease the tension that has settled in your stomach. âYes, just like your dragon, its impossible to get him out of my head.â
You look at Drake in fascination that he can seem to break the tension youâre feeling without doing more than say just the right thing.
âAre you always so comforting? Or do you have some sort of agenda here?â Your hand flies to your mouth in horror that you couldnât stop your words. Worry is short-lived though when Drake lets out a warm booming laugh.
âI promise I have no ulterior motives.â A cocky smirk falling on his lips. âBut I canât help being born with such a charming nature.â
âAnd there it is.â You begin to tease as your tension continues to lighten. âI was wondering when your cocky side was going to come out.â
Without even realizing, his teasing had made you completely forget that you were headed directly for his gryphon. As you finally reach the animal, you canât help but notice the amazing sheen to its feathers that still glints an impossible shade of gold in the moonlight. Everything about the creature seems softer than your dragon, although as you look at the talons below, you know that it can be just as vicious when it needs to be. Â
Drake takes your hand and brings it to the gryphonâs face. You look at him uncertainly, your heartrate beginning to spike wondering if this is the part where you get fed to his talons and sharp beak. Although, your thoughts are cut short when the gryphon simply dips it and seems to sniff at your wrist.
âHe isnât going to bite. Gryphons just like to assess a person before they are allowed to ride. They, unlike most dragons, are willing to fly those in need of transportation, especially if their flier deems their purpose worthy.â Drake explains as he continues to hold your hand out.Â
âFascinating.â You say with no sarcasm in your tone. Itâs not the first time since you left that youâve wondered what exactly happened that caused dragons and gryphons to be so hostile to each other. However, youâre unsure if itâs the beings themselves or just the people that they bond with.
After a few minutes more, Drake drops your hand gently back to your side before taking your pack and securing it to his gryphon.
âif you donât mind, Iâd like you to sit in front of me.â Drake begins. âI donât mean to make you uncomfortable, but the movement from gryphons compared to dragons is quite different and we donât want you falling off.â
You shake your head and the next thing you know; he is hoisting you between the gryphonâs wings.Â
âNow, youâll need to scoot a little closer to his neck â yes â right there, perfect.â As he finishes, you are impressed with the ease in which he settles himself behind you.Â
Without warning, they gryphon launches into the air, and you find yourself smacking directly into Drakeâs chest. Your cheeks burning scarlet, you can do nothing but thank Zinhal it is already dark outside.Â
âWeâll be flying at a lower altitude than youâre used to, so you should definitely be able to get some rest.â Drake explains, his mouth unnervingly close to your ear.Â
You mentally slap yourself, but you canât help the flush of your cheeks again. You close your eyes against the feeling, scolding yourself that it hasnât been that long since a man has showed you attention.
You shake your head at his words and let your mind drift to the beats of the gryphonâs wings. Between the warmth of the lower altitude and the rhythmic flapping, you find yourself nodding off too quickly.Â
Your consciousness slowly coming back, you snuggle into the warmth that has seemed to settle into your bones. It isnât until you recognize the flapping of your wings that you are snapping to attention. Turning your head, you are met with Drakeâs warm smile and a teasing glint in his eye.
âHave a nice sleep there?â He teases you. âIâm glad that I was a comfortable blanket.â
Your eyes widen in embarrassment as you quickly turn around back to the gryphonâs golden neck, the mortification burning in your cheeks.
Drakeâs warm laugh breaks your embarrassment. âDonât worry, it was pretty cute.â
Your head drops again in mortification, and you give a pout at his teasing, a frustrated huff leaving your lips. Though the feeling doesnât stay around long when Drake begins to point in front of you.
Your eyes now widen, and jaw goes slack in absolute awe. Standing in stark relief to the blue of the coastline is a palace so intricate you have to pinch yourself to make sure you arenât dreaming. As your eyes roam quickly, you canât decide if you should focus on the intricate white walls of gleaming marble, or the pools that look as blue as the sky. Trying to count the seemingly endless number of terraces and small gardens that jut out in all directions, you have a hard time concentrating on any one piece.Â
âYou didnât tell me to expect this.â Now looking down at the oversized clothes you are in, you canât help but feel like a peasant waiting to be judged by royalty. You scoff in your mind because that is exactly whatâs about to happen.
âDonât let the palace and formality fool you. Besides, you wonât have to worry, youâre with me and I know Ceridwen gave you the necklace.â Drakeâs tone is a cool calm and you try to infuse your feelings with the same. You are surprised to learn that Drake knew of the necklace but shrug your shoulders knowing that Red and Ceridwen trust him. At this point, you know there is no turning back, although thereâs no certainty that you will like what will happen once you step foot in that palace.
Finally landing in a garden off to the side, you look around to see nothing but ornamental shrubs to your left and right. After years at Basgiath and life in Navarre, everything about this place seems overdone.Â
Drake dismounts from the gryphon and immediately holds his hand out waiting to steady you as you dismount as well.
âEven though you arenât a prisoner in any way. I need you to stick close.â Drake says with a serious tone. âYou donât need to fear for your life, but others may be inclined to harm you if they see you walking around by yourself in this clothing. Or at least make your life difficult.â
âWhatâs wrong with my clothing?â You ask indignantly.
âNothing,â he says with slight exasperation. âYou just have to understand that there wonât be anyone around the palace that doesnât have a nobleâs clothing on. Letâs just say my uncle is a fan of protocol.â
You shake your head understanding now what Drake is trying to convey. âI promise Iâll stick close by.â
Drake motions his hand for you to begin walking and he matches you stride for stride. The closer you get, the more in awe you find yourself. You come to an immediate stop as you look to your right and see nothing but a cloud of butterflies.
You hear a light snicker and turn to see Drake laughing gently at your obvious shock. âI know everything is a lot to take in on first glance, but I promise you can have the grand tour after we get you situated.â
Nodding, you continue walking into hallway upon hallway seeming to get more and more decorative as you descend into the heart of the palace.Â
âGood morning, Sterling.â Drake says to a guard standing at two large wooden doors. âI assume my uncle and Syrena are behind there.â
âYes, Captain. They are both anticipating your arrival.â As he finishes, Sterling looks back at you in judgment and you begin fiddling at his intense stare, but as a soldier he clearly knows better than have his feelings shown on his face.
Drake moves forward and opens the heavy wooden doors, moving them both to the side. You are met with an impressive study dripping with indulgences. There are crystal vases filled with exotic flowers, shelves with thousands of tomes, and fine carpets that have motifs youâve never seen before.
The shocking details in the room cause you to completely miss the stares of the two other people. But as soon as you look back, you want to do nothing more than back away out of the room.
âPicking up strays now cousin?â The female in the room says. From Drakeâs question to the guard, you realize this must be Syrena though you canât help but bristle at her words.
âIf by strays, you mean someone who has previously fought venin, then yes. If youâre just trying to be rude, then screw off.â Your eyebrows shoot up. Of all the things you expected, you never thought youâd hear someone who just met you defend your honor.
âBoth of you are acting like children in front of our guest.â A clearly older voice rings out as you watch an older man step out from behind the large desk at the end of the room.Â
âUncle.â Drake says in a slow drawl. âI was in Pavis, and a friend made me aware of someone that was interested in fighting with us against the venin threat. She was there for about two months.â
âI see.â Tecarus says as he begins to walk around you as if inspecting a shiny new toy. âDoes our guest possess any gifts or interesting talents?â
The drawl of his voice sounds a shiver down your spine before Drake speaks up again. âBesides combat experience, no she doesnât possess any other talents.â
Drake looks at you as if wanting to confirm and you give him a small nod. Â
âDrake says youâve dealt with the venin before?â Tecarus asks as he continues to stalk closer to you.
âYes.â The words leave your lips hesitantly. âI killed one in the combat that I have seen; however, I wouldnât consider myself overly proficient.â
âNow, now dear. Donât downplay your abilities. In fact, if the news Syrena has just brought to me is correct, you may have shown up at just the right time.â Drake comes to stand next to his uncle as he continues to make you uncomfortable with his piercing gaze.Â
âWhat news Syrena?â Drake demands to the woman who has begun to step closer as well.
âThe venin army is on the move and our intelligence tells us they may be making Zolya and the Academy their next target.â Syrena succinctly conveys the information, no emotion showing on her face.
All teasing in Drakeâs face had long since disappeared. Everyone in the room tensed as Syrena continued to explain what the scouts had seen as the most recent movement. A shiver snaked around your body as the extent of the possible attack settled in your mind.Â
âAre you planning on evacuating the cadets?â The question slipped from your lips before the thought even fully formed in your mind.Â
The three people in the room turned to you seeming to finally remember your existence. You could see the hesitation in Syrenaâs face to continue, but soon enough she was going over the evacuation plans for the Academy and the city overall.Â
âIâm not a flier, but I would like to help in any way I can.â You hope that your voice is infused with the bravado that is flaring to life inside of you.Â
After a few months of trying to bury your past, this seemed like the perfect way to carve out a new role for yourself. Try as you may, you hadnât been able to get the phantom memories out of your mind. Phantom touches and small moments that had seemed so precious before only burned with dragon fire and stung as a scorpionâs tail.Â
Shaking your head, you try to dispel the memories that had still been haunting your dreams.Â
âIf youâre willing to fight, Iâm sure we can find a place for you.â Syrena confirms as Drake clasps a hand to your shoulder in acknowledgment.Â
A little over a week later, you find yourself again seated in front of Drake flying towards Zolya.Â
For the last week you had been working with Syrena and Drake on fighting, getting outfit in Poromish leathers, and learning as much as you could about the venin and their tactics in Poromiel thus far.
âBefore we get to Zolya, we have a stop to make.â Drake says, though his tone belies there is more to this stop.
âSpit out exactly what you arenât saying.â You spit tersely knowing there is something he isnât saying.
âYouâre going to want to stay with the gryphons and keep the hood of the cloak you have up.â He continues.Â
âAnd you need to tell me exactly what the fuck is about to happen.â You toss back.
With an exaggerated sigh, he continues. âWeâre going to pick up weapons from someone I donât think youâre interested in seeing.â
There is no way that Drake can miss the way that your entire body stiffens like a wooden plank. Of all the things he could have told you, this was the last thing you couldâve possibly imagined. Your head whips around to look at Drake in the eyes.
âAre you telling me that youâre about to pick up weapons from Xaden Riorson.â Your voice comes out smaller than you want, but at this point you know that Drake knows exactly who you are. How would the Poromish not know when they have a bargaining chip?
Suddenly thoughts of betrayal flit across your mind, but before you can spiral too deeply, Drake breaks your thoughts.Â
âI promise neither Syrena nor I will say anything about who you are. That is why Iâm asking you to raise your hood, cover your face with your handkerchief in your pocket and stay with the gryphons.â You try to take a calming breath as you realize that they are both really trying to make sure that Xaden doesnât know itâs you.Â
Gods. Can you even shield anymore? You immediately begin to test your metal shields and try to reinforce them. The nostalgia that hits you at being back in your mind space is off-putting, the exercise being something you never thought you would do again.Â
Sooner than youâd like, you feel the gryphons shift as they begin their descent. Without waiting, you take the handkerchief out of your pocket and tie it over your nose and mouth, after which you bring up the hood of your cloak as the gryphon hits the ground.
Drake easily dismounts and turns to assist you. âRemember, just stay here and keep your mouth closed and this will be over soon enough.â He gives your arm a small squeeze as he turns around and walks towards the small clearing.Â
Your breathing begins to pick up as your eyes move to the distance in front of Drake and Syrena and see Sgaeyl and Chradh standing there, the imposing figures of the dragons causing your heart to flutter. All you can do is pray to Zinhal that neither dragon will be able to place your scent, be interested in looking too deeply into you, or tries to delve into your mind. Though no one can see you looking, you watch the entire scene take place.Â
The breath catches in your throat as you lay eyes on the man that stole your heart in now what seems so long ago and in a completely different life. You keep your head angled down and let your eyes take in the sight of Garrick standing there next to him, studying them both for any injuries. You canât say they would care if they knew you were here or not, but that doesnât stop you from caring about their well-being.
Then the tone of Xadenâs voice brings you out of your reverie. âIf you donât stop with the attacks, we wonât have any choice but to stop the drops. Not only are the cadre already suspicious, but the higher rates in attack are making this harder to accomplish.â
âWe are aware Riorson, but there is movement you are unaware of that we are currently on our way to try and contain. Actually, thereâs plenty you donât know, and frankly Iâm unsure why the Assembly hasnât been forth coming with what they know.â Syrena claps back, her tone just as menacing as Xadenâs. After spending time on the other side, you can understand the desperation the fliers are feeling.
âLook, weâll do what we can.â Drake interrupts, breaking the tension between the two, trying to be the voice of reason. âJust know that the threat is getting increasingly worse. Besides, in two weeksâ time, we may not even be around to collect anything from you.â
âWhat do you mean?â Xaden asks forcing his tone to be a little calmer.
âI mean that we are trying to stave off an organized attack of a large city that will have more than devastating consequences. Iâm sorry to be vague, but is your assemblyâs job to inform you, not ours.â With that, Drake turns and continues back towards you. Â
As if finally recognizing there is another flier in his midst, you watch with your hood covering your eyes as Xadenâs gaze flicks up to you. You donât miss the uncertain expression on his face and the way he cocks his head slightly to the side as if trying to place you. If you didnât know him so well, you wouldâve missed the small twitch of his hand indicating he was utilizing his shadows.Â
At that same moment, you blink down and see the shifting of shadows around your feet. Using every ounce of restraint, you make yourself stand completely still, letting the shadows coil around your feet in curiosity. Forcing breaths in and out, you solidify the shields you hope still work in your mental fortress as tightly as you can.Â
The moment that Drake steps up next to his gryphon, you bring your head up fully and lock eyes with Xaden for one second before you turn and allow Drake to help you up. You keep your head firmly down as Drake mounts and just seconds later you are airborne.
As you drift from the meeting spot, Drakeâs chuckle breaks your tumultuous thoughts.Â
âSyrena is going to have her hands full the next time Riorson does a drop.â He gets out between fits of laughter. Looking over your shoulder, you give him a quizzical look.
âOh, so you didnât see then.â Drake explains wryly. âIf I can read people as well as I think I can, Riorson either thinks he just saw a ghost or realized who you were and was so shocked he didnât know what to do.â
Scrunching your nose at Drakeâs comment you turn back to the front and let out a long-suffering sigh.
âIâm assuming that since you said Syrena, you donât normally have any interaction with Xaden.â You ask, now wondering exactly how this whole operation works.
âNo. I donât usually have time for such things.â Drake huffs an almost indignant sound coming from him, it causes your eyebrow to quirk, but you know better than to pry too deeply.
Falling into comfortable silence, you scan your surroundings noticing the changes in topography as you glide closer to Zolya. If there is one thing you can say for flying on a gryphon is that the lower altitude gives much more visibility to the lands around you.Â
As you continue to observe the landscape, the familiar sound of rushing water fills your ears between the beats of gryphon wings. Looking down, the Stonewater River flowing below you canât be mistaken. As dawn begins to break, you take the opportunity to soak in the colors and sounds of the river below you before the chaos that you are sure will ensue.Â
Before you have enough time to absorb the beauty of the nature around you, the feeling of descent makes your stomach begin to rise to your throat. As you bring your eyes to the horizon in front of you, you see the fortress of Cliffsbane Academy rising from the ground.Â
The foreboding stone is reminiscent of all the times you flew into Basgiath, but for some reason the fear that used to immediately settle in your bones at Basgiath doesnât come. Unsure if it is just you moving past the fight of living or just accepting today may be your last, you donât know.Â
As the gryphon touches down in the flight field of the Academy, you canât help the way your head swings as if on a swivel trying to map out your surroundings. A sarcastic huff leaves your mouth as you realize you are a dragon rider now standing in the beating heart of enemy territory. You wrestle with yourself trying to figure out if this is the best idea youâve ever had or complete madness.Â
Drake immediately dismounts and pulls you down soon after. Not letting any hesitation settle into your bones, you take a deep breath and stand tall, following close behind Drake as he confidently moves towards the entry doors.
âIâll remind you to stay close by while weâre getting directives and moving everyone into their places.â Drake warns as you both continue to stride down the halls.
âDonât worry. I have no interest in becoming fodder for the students here who may prefer to see me dead.â You challenge back, although there is no malice there.
Before long, Drake stops in front of two large doors and looks back at you giving you a tight nod. As he opens them, your eyes widen as you take in your surroundings. The rotunda that you have entered is just as big as the one at Basgiath, but instead of dragon pillars, majestic gryphons in different states of flight line the interior. Golds, browns and whites highlight each other in alternating hues from floor to ceiling, where the colors fade into the painting of a beautiful blue sky.Â
You arenât awed for long when you hear a familiar sounding voice call out from the other side.
âSince when is picking up strays a new past time for you cousin?â A female voice purrs with a malignant sneer.
âCatriona, Iâm only going to say this once.â Drake begins as he gives the similar looking female a stern look. âPlay. Nice. This isnât about you or some petty score over a man. She is here to help us, so you will treat her with respect.â
Catriona looks at you, eyes narrowed, while Drake continues. âThat is an order, not a request.â
âOh, I can play nice.â Catriona retorts though the mischief in her eyes shows you probably wonât like what follows. âBesides, what could be more of a punishment than being forgotten about not only by a man you thought loved you, but also your own dragon. You must really feel sorry for yourself to end up in flier leathers.â
You canât help the slight flinch when she finishes her statement, though you canât understand how she would even know what you looked like. And with that your entire being begins to feel the helplessness and utter betrayal of being left. A grief so sharp, it feels as if your heart may stop, hits you straight between the ribs causing your breath to hitch.
Drake must realize something because soon enough you watch as he grabs Catriona by the arm and gets into her face. âI said play nice. Quit it now.â
Catriona gives you one last glare before turning and walking away. Youâre unsure what just happened, but the sting of her words slowly seems to lessen the further and further she gets away.
A clash of steel breaks you from your emotions at you and Drake both turn and stare at the doors you just entered through. A second later, a warning bell whistles out harshly and all hell breaks loose. You watch as flier cadets seem to come racing from all areas of the building.
âCome on, it seems we were a little later in the timing than we shouldâve been.â Drake says ushering you towards the heart of the Academy.Â
âItâll be better if we separate. Where can I help in evacuating?â You say while running to keep up with Drake.Â
âFollow this corridor and get out everyone that you can. Remember to use the two blades that I gave you if you come across a venin.â You nod your head sharply at the orders and immediately begin running toward the corridor assigned.Â
As you go, you knock heavily on the doors before directing anyone coming out to head to the rotunda and towards their gryphons. You try to keep a tally in your head, but as you reach about twenty, your mind starts to spin.Â
A dark cloud seems to enter your mind and no amount of shaking your head clears it. Continuing down the hall and constantly trying to clear your mind, you donât notice the set of billowing robes that is at the end staring straight at you.
âWell, well. I didnât expect to see you here.â A high-pitched shriek of a voice calls out as you open the door of the last room.
After ushering the last two cadets out, you finally look up and come face to face with the last creature you were hoping to see today.
Venin.
âSee me here?â You taunt back in confusion. âYou act as if you know me.â
âOh, we always know a tortured soul when we see one. Especially one so exquisitely bleak as you.â The voice of the female venin shrieks. Your heart begins to race as you try to figure out your best way out of the situation, though things look disheartening when you realize you are at the dead end of a corridor.
âMy Sage told me about the girl who was forgotten at the last battle he attended. He could feel the pain radiating off you in waves. He was very disappointed to have to leave you behind.â Everything the female is saying makes your head spin.
Suddenly awareness comes back to you, and you jerk in response to the now close proximity of the female. As you begin circling one another, the thoughts of the possible finalities of this predicament hit you. You donât have time to dwell though as the female unsheathes a blade and goes to make the first strike.
Immediately parrying, you find yourself completely disadvantaged at the speed the female possesses. You utilize all the training you had done with Xaden and Garrick, but nothing seems to be enough to completely evade her blows. As you aim your own alloyed blade down to strike, you hiss as you feel a blade tear down your left arm.Â
A fiery sting erupts from the wound as if hundreds of dragons are firing up and down your arm, but you donât stop, you canât. The female steps back slightly admiring her handywork which causes her downfall. You take the move for your advantage and charge directly at her.Â
Even though she stepped back, your height made it easy to hit her right between the ribs. A shriek of a scream rends the air as she grabs at the alloyed dagger now protruding from her body.Â
Watching as she falls to her knees, you find yourself backing against a wall, the sharp sting of scorpions radiating from your arm. Once the venin falls completely to the ground, you turn and look down. It is then you see the black that has begun to spider down your arm.
You begin to stumble back down the corridor towards the rotunda, hoping that you can drag yourself there. Movement begins to become sluggish as you get closer, hearing the battle still raging around you. Finally reaching the door, you look up and see people being directed out to the adjacent courtyard. Limping forward, you search for the familiar face of Drake.
As luck would have it, on the third pass of the hall, you finally spot him on the far corner. As if acutely aware of your stare, his head jerks up and his eyes land on you. Relief floods his face before it seems to turn to concern as you find yourself slowly sinking to the ground.
âY/N!â You can hear Drake shout, although everything is beginning to sound far away. The harsh sounds of orders and footsteps seem to make up the background noise in your head, but nothing is clear anymore. Finally hitting the floor, you hiss out a pained breath as it begins to feel as if a thousand needles are running through your veins.Â
âY/N!â Drake shouts again and you see him materialize in front of your face. His voice is both a command and plea at the same time, though youâre unsure why.
As your vision begins to swim black, you think you hear him again. âYouâll be alright. Weâre going to counteract the poison; you just need to hold on.â
The burning continues, your body convulsing with the heat of the venom in your blood. You can feel your whole-body tense as waves of fire rolls through. Darkness taking over your vision and your body beginning to slacken as the poison infiltrates your blood stream.
Each fiber of your body feels overloaded with fiery toxin and the loss of adrenaline. You try to open your eyes one last time, but your eyelids wonât obey your command, instead you find yourself slipping into oblivion.
----------
The first thing you notice is the quiet. Without opening your eyes, you listen but are only met with deafening silence. Continuing to lie unmoving, you take a deep breath before trying to open your eyes. Managing to finally get them open, though the effort seems unbearable, you are met with confusion as your eyes stare up at a beautifully decorative ceiling.Â
Confusion tugs at your brain as you try to place this room that seems familiar, yet not. The decadence of the bedroom, even only by the ceiling you can see and the feel of the sheets on your bare skin, is something that seems familiar but not at the same time. Slowly, you let yourself move each one of your limbs, from your toes to your fingertips.Â
You begin to move your arm and feel a lingering ache on your left. Bringing it up and over the covers your breath catches in your throat and your eyes widen at the sight. All along your arm are spidering black veins that seem to penetrate your skin.
âDonât worry, eventually it will recede.â Immediately your head whips to your right towards the male voice. âIt will take some time since we donât have a mender and only healers, but it shouldnât cause you any issues.âÂ
Your eyes encounter the warm gaze of Drake. Never before would you have thought the view of a flier would be a welcome sight, but your life hadnât seemed to work out the way youâd thought anyway.
âH â How lo-long have I been out?â You rasp your voice scratchy with disuse and in desperate need of water.
While you finish your statement, Drake moves to the table next to the bed and brings you a fresh glass of water. You take the cup and drink greedily, the cool liquid calming the dryness.
âItâs been a week since the venin took Zolya.â Head jerking back towards Drake, your eyes widen at the revelation.
âWh-what happened to all of those cadets?â Your heart begins to race as you panic over your life being saved over those fliers who were trying to learn and fight for their people.Â
Drake gives you a knowing smile. âDonât worry, we were able to evacuate Cliffsbane for the most part. Unfortunately, as with every battle with the venin, we werenât able to save everyone.â
Your eyes immediately turn down at the news of the cadets that didnât make it through the battle. This wasnât the first time that you felt there was an unnecessary loss of life, and although you tried to make a difference, you always felt lacking.
A warm hand covers your forearm and gives a tight squeeze as you look up into Drakeâs knowing eyes.
Days later, youâre finally feeling normal enough to get dressed and move about. Staring in the mirror after a shower, you begin to trace the lines of a particularly dark vein that moves across your chest to your left arm. Although you donât feel the fiery pain that the poison elicited immediately, the phantom fire still seems to course through your veins as you trace the line.Â
âIt will fade soon enough.â A sharp feminine voice rasps causing you to whip your head to the right. Fighting the surprise that wants to plaster on your face, you turn to face the two women who are entering into the room youâre staying in.Â
Turning around, you watch warily as Syrena and Catriona walk towards you. âTo what do I owe the pleasure of your company.â The saccharine dripping from your lips a stark contrast to your thoughts of the two women.
âOur Uncle seems to think we will be having Tyrrish company soon and for some reason he wants to dress you for the part of emissary.â The venomous tone Catriona adopts when telling you this information betrays her polite words.
âDress me?â Your brows furrow at the thought. Hearing of such things happening was no surprise, however, not being part of a political family or born to royalty it was an action foreign to you.Â
Syrena steps forward handing you the tunic you were about to put on. âYes, even though he has more than enough gowns to alter in his repertoire, he wants to put you in something new.â
âWhy though? What is he expecting from me?â You look back at Syrena hoping for some semblance of answers, though youâre unsure if she will provide any.
âUnfortunately, he hasnât revealed what his plan is or what he seems to be expecting.â Syrena confirms. âThough if the consistent nagging Iâve been forced to partake in the last few weapons drops is any indication, Iâm sure heâs trying to exploit Riorsonâs weakness for you.â
You immediately scoff and roll your eyes at the comment. âWhy would he be pestering you? He doesnât even know Iâm still alive, yet alone here of all places.â
âIt seems the one look he caught at your eyes has reinforced his belief that you are indeed alive. And that I am more than aware of your whereabouts, which obviously is all correct.â Syrena gives you a deadpan look.
âBut who knows why it would matter. He obviously couldnât care less if he didnât even notice your absence.â Catriona comments and you loathe to admit to yourself that sheâs right.Â
Your head begins to hang as the bitterness hardens in your heart at the thought of Xaden leaving you behind without even noticing. But wasnât that the reason you ran? Didnât you want him to forget? Didnât you want to forget him? Unsure where these intense feelings of insignificance and uselessness have come from, your hand grabs at your chest as the ache intensifies feeling as if the organ may leap out of your chest. You try to calm yourself, but you can feel your breaths becoming shallow pants and the control it takes to hold in your sobs is immense.
âCat!â You hear Syrenaâs sharp tone in the background, though it seems like its underwater. âLeave her alone. She doesnât even have her powers to shut you out.â
Words registering, you try to slam your shields up, but you canât get past the ache and intense feelings of inconsequence.
âIf she wants to be with Riorson, sheâs going to have to be stronger than that.â Catriona spits back at Syrena. You try to drown the ache, but it isnât until you hear the door slam that there seems to be a break in the intensity of the feelings.
Finally, you hear a set of footsteps approaching and look to the side to see Syrena looking at you with concern.Â
âIâm sorry. I know Cat can be a piece of work sometimes, but I thought she could be more civil than that considering you saved her life at Cliffsbane.â As your breath finally begins to even out, you look to the side and chance a brow at Syrenaâs words.Â
âShe was the last cadet you pulled out of the corridor you were in and watched you take on the venin. I thought between that and Riorsonâs recent actions, she could have some compassion or at least understanding; but I see my darling sisterstill has some things to work on.â Syrena finishes as you finally have your breathing back under control.
âItâs not your fault.â You say as your breath catches again in your throat. âI know from experience how hard it can be to let somethings go.â
Syrena scoffs. âEmpathy is not a quality my sister excels at, but it seems you have more than enough for the both of you. I can see why Riorson has lost any semblance of niceties now that you arenât around.â
âIâm not sure that Xaden has a single nice bone in his body, thatâs not exactly his strong suit.â You retort letting the sarcasm lace every word.
âEither way, how about you follow me, and we get you fitted for this monstrosity that I know my uncle is going to make you wear.â Syrena says while motioning you to follow her.
You try to keep your facial expressions neutral as the seamstresses begin their work, but itâs impossible. Every single emotion known to man must pass across your face because you watch as Syrena must hide her sniggers behind her hands at your antics.
âClearly this isnât something youâre used to.â Syrena muses as you stare down at the seamstress that is measuring from your waist to the floor.
âI would think that is obvious.â You retort as you move your arms as to not knock into one of the seamstresses scurrying around you.
âWell, youâll get used to it.â That comment causes you to snap your gaze to the secondary heir to the Poromish throne.Â
âI beg to differ. Besides, I donât see why someone thatâs fighting in a war will need a fancy gown again.â As the seamstresses finally step away from you, a deep calming breath and drop your arms as youâve been wanting to do for the last half hour.
âYou do know that Riorson is the rightful Duke of Aretia, correct?â Syrena continues as if you havenât spoken. âWhen all is said and done, Iâm sure heâll regain the title, if not more. Youâll most likely be expected to dress the part next to him.â
Tripping over your feet, you barely catch yourself before you hit the ground. âWhat the fuck are you talking about Syrena?â You demand as your emotions begin to rise, clogging your throat with both fear and hope.
âIâm sure youâll see.â Her cryptic response does nothing to quell the nauseous feeling that has now settled in your stomach.Â
About a week later, you find yourself walking back to your room in the palace at Cordyn after your training session for the day. As you shuffle in, the armoire that houses your clothes that must be worn to formal events sits open. Walking towards the door, your eyes immediately fly wide.
Hanging in the open door is an emerald dress that is something you thought youâd only see in your dreams. The gown is made of layers of gauzy fabric with jewels encrusted over the entire bodice with twirling vines of ivy. You stare at the skirt, and you canât help but wonder if the sheer layers will cover any part of your body. Vines run up and down the bodice with a few hanging into the layers of the skirt and fabric drapes from the bodice into a full skirt. As your eyes continue to trace the dress, you notice the sleeves that will hang off your shoulders and will at least cover some of the black veins that still spider on your arm.
Every ounce of the dress looks as if it is fit for a queen, not a mere soldier barely scrimping by.Â
âI believe youâll look absolutely stunning in that my dear.â The oily rasp of the voice behind you causes you to step back. You turn and stare back into the eyes of Viscount Tecarus.
âIf my intel is correct, I believe we will be having a few guests join us this evening.â Tecarus continues coming to step in front of you. âAnd Iâve come here to tell you what youâre going to do.â
âI see.â You say but your trepidation is clear, even to your own ears. âAnd what exactly is that?â
âYou will be escorted to dinner with Drake; however, you will not make your appearance known until after everyone has joined. There will be a guard to inform Drake of when to enter. You will keep to your chamber between now and then.â There is no denying the calculation that the Viscount has done.
âOnce there, you will get the rest of your instructions. Iâm unsure of how much Riorson knows about your whereabouts exactly, but from what weâve pieced together he knows youâre in Poromiel. However, he has made no indication that he knows youâre here.â
âIâm not sure what exactly you think I can do for you with him. As you remember, I was left behind in Resson and from what I can tell, that was that. No one has tried to find me.â You try to explain and keep your voice level.Â
As the conversation continues, it takes everything for you not to bolt from the fortress and not look back. Coming face to face with Xaden again is the last thing you want to do.Â
âYes, that may be what you think, but my dear, there are many things you donât know.â With that, the Viscount walks out of your room but not before giving you a smile that tells you this evening isnât going to be any fun.Â
A few hours later, two ladiesâ maids have come to take care of your hair, makeup, and dress you for the evening. Standing fully dressed and looking in the mirror, you are shocked at the reflection that stares back at you.Â
The maids have curled your hair and left it half up and down, braids are intricately woven in and out at the top with golden chains woven throughout. Your eyes pop after having been lined with charcoal and the suppleness of your lips are highlighted the dark red of a ripe raspberry. Though the one thing that you canât stop staring at is the dress that you now don. The emerald color complements your skin immaculately and falls to accentuate every curve of your body.  Youâve never seen yourself look so beautiful, regal even.Â
âWhat my uncle lacks in battle strategy, he certainly makes up for in style.â Drakeâs voice drips like honey behind you and you turn quirking your eyebrow. âYou look absolutely beautiful, ever the regal queen.â
Even with the compliment, you give him a deadpanned look. âIâm not exactly sure how Iâm going to survive this night alive.â He quips, chuckling slightly.
âWhat is that supposed to mean?â Your irritation barely contained.
âRiorson might just have my head for escorting you.â Drake continues with his jibes. âEspecially when everyoneâs eyes will be on you.â
âHa. Ha.â You let the sarcasm drip from your lips like molasses.Â
âSeriously though, Iâve already seen the riders that are joining us, and I donât think Iâve ever seen him so tightly wound.â
âHim who?â The look Drake gives you makes it obvious that he knows youâre being ridiculous. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, you let yourself slouch feeling defeated even though your night hasnât even begun.
Looking you over, Drake goes to the dressing table in your room and picks up the necklace that Ceridwen had gifted you. âI need you to remember to wear this whenever youâre around Catriona from now on, do you understand?â The serious look in his eyes causes you not to question his decree and just nod your head in confirmation.
A knock on your door breaks the silence and your heart begins to speed. Breathing has turned into a chore, and youâve begun pacing back and forth, eyes trained down at the floor and shaking your hands as if trying to dispel the feelings youâre feeling.Â
âHey.â The sternness of the voice the only thing breaking through your reeling thoughts.Â
âI know this is going to be a long evening, but I need you to breathe.â Drake soothes taking your hand in his and guiding you to slow your breathing. âNever forget that you donât have to leave, you donât have to do anything you donât want to do. If anything, you should go down there with your head held high and show Riorson the strong and beautiful woman he let disappear.â
Itâs all you can do to focus on your breathing and shake your head. Drake begins to walk towards the door and holds out his arm for you to take. Letting yourself move forward slowly and continuing to take deep breaths, you try to remind yourself that whatever happens this evening doesnât matter. Soon enough Xaden will be on his way home and youâll be free to throw yourself into the war like youâve been wanting to, preferably as far away from him as possible.Â
Letting your mind wander, you take in the scenery of the palace as you walk. Looking to your left, you watch the shimmering coastline that seems to sparkle with the night sky, though you can feel the heaviness that is settling in the air around you forecasting the coming rain. Watching the waves crash calms your racing thoughts as you continue to walk forward on Drakeâs arm.
Far too soon, you stare at a familiar set of doors and your heart has now leapt into your throat. Before the guards open the doors, Drake turns to look at you, his expression serious.
âBefore we go in there, I just want to say Iâm sorry for whatever happens tonight. Itâs important to me that you know I had no part in whatever plan my uncle intends to carry out tonight and I tried my damnedest to keep you as far away from this as possible.â The concern in his eyes shines as he finishes talking. You have no idea what to reply, so you just give his arm a squeeze back in acknowledgement before the doors are opening.Â
Turning to face forward, you take a deep, shaking breath as Drake continues to guide you forward and down the stairs. Your free hand is now balled into a fist so tight, youâre unsure if you are drawing blood or not. Descending, you canât help but feel the weight of the stares of all the people gathered at the palace. Searching left and right, you try your hardest not to encounter the onyx eyes that you havenât seen in months, the anxiety eating at your very being.Â
Drakeâs warm hand falls over yours and squeezes bringing your gaze back to his, the gesture grounds you as you continue to walk forward. The small comforting smile that he offers you helping to bring your breathing back under control and alleviate a tinge of the anxiety.
A voice breaks your gaze from Drakeâs as you hear the words uttered from further in front of you. âAh, hereâs the other guest that weâve been waiting on.â
Whirling your head towards the sound of Tecarusâ voice, the breath completely leaves your lungs. In front of you is the last person you ever wanted to see again, but you canât tear your eyes away.Â
Standing before you in a tunic tailored to every line of his body is Xaden Riorson. His hair perfectly windswept and strong features on display for all to see. Though the thing you notice most is the taught lines of his body and the way his eyes look sunken and more tired than youâve ever seen them as he stands in front of you. The rest of the room seems to fall away as you stare back at each other, him in disbelief and you in resignation.
A fire begins burning in your chest, one you didnât expect. Anger that you hadnât realized you were holding onto starts to blaze as you watch Xaden. Your nostrils flare in irritation as your eyes finally move to the woman standing next to him.Â
Sorrengail.Â
The sneer on your lips comes unbidden, though you donât let your eyes linger on her before looking to the two others standing next to her. Gaze going between the three, the realization hits you as you notice the similarities in their features, her siblings.
Closing your eyes and taking a calming breath, you open your eyes and bring them to Tecarus, ignoring the way Xaden fidgets as if he is barely keeping himself in place.Â
âI believe now is the time to discuss the business we have here.â The male Sorrengail sibling says, obviously trying to break the tension.
You keep your eyes trained on Tecarus, but itâs impossible not to notice the way that Violet tries to get Xaden to step back, as you notice he canât stop himself from taking steps forward. You roll your eyes at the gesture, of course she would be the one to control him.
A chill crawling up your leg causes you to shiver and look down. Unsurprisingly, shadows swirl at your feet, and you know if you parted your skirt, you would find them shifting around your legs.Â
Getting pulled back slightly causes you to look down and realize the tight grip that you had on Drakeâs arm as he still held your arm in his. You give him an apologetic look, but it doesnât last when a black tendril of shadow tugs at your arm as if to pull it from Drakeâs grip.Â
Pivoting, you send a sharp look to Xaden, a silent command to drop his shadows. However, he doesnât see it as he is only glaring at your hand that is still holding Drakeâs arm and then back at the man himself.
âNow that all our guests have arrived, Riorson, we can continue our discussions for the luminary.â Tecarus says as if he is doing something magnanimous, causing your eyes to roll.Â
Violet goes to step up and begins to raise her hands to wield, but she is quickly cut off. âNo, no, my dear. I want you to wield from the beautiful arena below. In fact, I have a few things to go through before we start.â
âYou,â Tecarus says while pointing to Violet. âWill head down to the arena floor and I have a target I want you to hit with your lightning. If youâre interested in bringing anyone with you, you may - except him.â
Xaden goes to step forward, but for some reason you donât understand, he seems torn. âDonât worry Riorson, you wonât need to move from where you are. In fact, things will deteriorate if you do.â
Your brows furrow, but soon enough you have stopped paying attention when youâre grabbed by two guards. As your head swivels left and right trying to understand, you see the murderous look that is plastered on Xadenâs face and the undeniable anger on Drakeâs.
âTsk. Tsk. Donât move any further if you want that luminary Riorson.â Xadenâs footsteps immediately falter, but his eyes turn to anguish.Â
âFuck the luminary.â Xaden growls as he goes to take another step towards you, but he stops in his tracks when you give him a look telling him âNoâ.
âYou, dear Xaden, have one task.â Tecarus looks to you, a disturbing gleam in his eye. âYou cannot move from this balcony. If you dare take one step towards the arena, our dearest Y/N will fall to the arena floor.â
As Tecarus finishes, the guards, that grabbed you, push you into a golden cage. You rattle the door you were thrown in, even though you saw it locked behind you. You canât hide the betrayal on your face and at this point youâre unsure if there is anyone you can trust.Â
âThatâs what you wanted. To dress me up like a beautiful bird that lives her life in a gilded cage. To dangle me for what? To prove that I donât matter to any of them? That I donât matter to him?â The rage building in your heart at the betrayal youâre feeling, an overwhelming monster threatening to tear the entire palace down.Â
âAnd what can I assume you will do if I donât follow your instructions?â Xaden growls out, the blazing hot fury causing his voice to drop low.Â
âYou see thatâs where the fun begins.â The giddy elation in Tecarusâs voice causes your glare at the disgusting man to intensify. âWe get to see who is really more important to you and you get to see what happens when you donât follow my commands.â
You look down at the arena floor where Violet now stands with her siblings. âNow remember, the minute you make a move towards the arena, the cage opens, and you are responsible for any consequences.â The danger dripping from Tecarus lets you know that he has no intention of letting Xaden get through this unscathed and is taking immense amounts of pleasure from his plan.
Taking time to look at the cage you find yourself in, you notice the latch that you are sitting on and trace the chain that falls from the bottom to a guard standing close to you. A jerk of the cage has you jostling from side to side as the cage begins to move.Â
âThis is ridiculous uncle. Bring her down right now.â Drakeâs voice breaks from the din of whispers that have only gotten louder since your placement in the gilded cage.Â
Eyes darting from side to side, you realize that you are now not only caged, but dangling above an arena that is soon going to be covered in lightning.Â
âOh Amari.â The words woosh from your lungs as the certainty of your imminent demise begins to settle in your bones. Â
The certainty solidifies as you watch guards bring a chest into the middle of the arena. Watching wearily, your eyes bulge when you watch a venin tumble from the chest. Your gaze swings back to the balcony and watch a satisfied smirk plaster on Tecarusâs face. A movement to the left has you meeting Drakeâs gaze, he makes a motion towards the bodice of your dress, and you look down. Unsure exactly how or when, you find yourself in possession of one of the alloyed daggers that youâve killed the previous venin with. Itâs then you know what you must do.
In lieu of Xaden losing his life because of Violetâs death, you make the decision that youâve been dreading. Standing in the cage and picking up your foot, you drive it down as hard as possible, the heel cracking through the latch on the bottom.Â
âY/N!â A male voice roars your name, but you donât look to see who it is.
The sensation of falling hits you immediately, but using everything youâd learned at Basgiath, you soften your blow to the ground just the tiniest bit in order to keep from breaking anything. You roll to your feet, and curse the ridiculous dress that you find yourself tangled in.Â
Although you know your exit and landing wasnât that quiet, the venin hasnât seemed to notice your presence. Your eyes catch Violetâs as you begin to move forward, silently conveying your command for her to keep him talking. Unsheathing the dagger that was held at your ribs, you slowly make your way towards the creature trying to keep your steps measured and slow.
The venin begins to crouch to the ground, and you know you donât have much time.
âY/N! NO!â The same male voice repeats, though now there is a hint of absolute desperation and panic.
Running as swiftly as you can in the outrageous skirt of the dress, you bring the dagger up in preparation to strike. Right before you make your move, the venin turns his hand jutting out and grabbing you by the neck his read eyes bulging.Â
âQuite the prizes Iâve been led to. The sage will reward me handsomely for bringing both the lightning wielder and the pained one.â He hisses, spittle hitting your face. For a monstrous creature that has been denied the ability to channel for so long, it strikes you how powerful he is still, even in a weakened state.Â
âI may be full of pain, but Iâll never meet your master.â You hiss breathlessly as you bring the dagger to slash the veninâs arm. Hissing in pain, the venin drops you to the ground and you cough trying to get breath back into your body.
Taking one deep drag of air, you jolt up and slam the blade of the alloyed dagger into the veninâs chest. A triumphant smile crosses your mouth, but it is short lived when you see the venin raise a dagger that you were unaware he possessed. You take two steps back before the venin slashes the blade across your chest.
âY/N!â Violet screams, as the awaiting storm finally breaks and soaks everything. As you both drop to the ground, the bright red of the veninâs eyes turns to a dull ruby and his skin begins to grey. Landing fully on the ground, the breath is zipped from your lungs and your hand instinctively goes up to cover the slash across your chest.Â
The warm and viscous blood flowing from the wound coats all your fingers as you bring them up to your face to see, the metallic smell wafting to you through the raindrops.Â
âBrennan, mend her!â Violetâs voice seems further away than it was before.Â
Closing your eyes, you let yourself focus on the feeling of the rain falling down your face instead of focusing on the pain of your injury. Soon enough you drift off, a sense of contentment washing over you. You may not have saved yourself, but you saved those who can better save the continent.
âY/N, please open your eyes. Please.â A familiar male voice says in a desperate, coaxing tone, though you canât bring yourself to obey the command. You feel a large, calloused hand stroke your cheek and then card through your hair, finally coming down to lace with your fingers.
âSheâll be fine Xaden. Brennan mended her. You couldnât ask for her to have been seen to sooner than that.â A female voice tries to coax who youâve realized is now Xaden.
âYou donât know that.â You can hear the frustration in his tone back at the female. âShe almost killed herself trying to save you.â
Reality slams back and you now know that you wonât be opening your eyes for the two people who have haunted you for months. The last thing you need to see is the man you love with the woman that caused you to be forgotten.Â
âWe need to go anyway. Tecarus is expecting all of us for negotiations.â Violet tries to reason with him.
âI donât give a fuck.â Each word drips out of his mouth with vicious certainty. A knock on a door seems to halt their conversation.
âYour presence is required for our negotiations Iâm afraid.â Your emotions settle as you take note of Drakeâs voice breaking the conversation.
âYou can tell your fucking uncle he should be glad I didnât send him to meet Malek today for the stunts he pulled, and Iâll come when Y/N is awake.â Xaden replies in a menacing growl, his fingers tightening on yours as if afraid youâll disappear if he lets go.
âLook Riorson, you may not believe me, but I agree with you. Everything that happened tonight is despicable.â Drake begins catching you off guard. âBut you shouldnât spit in the direction of Y/Nâs sacrifice that she made tonight by not participating in negotiations.â
âIf it would be any consolation, I can stay with her until negotiations are done. If for some reason she wakes between now and then, Iâll have someone fetch you immediately. However, in hopes to move things along, we all need this discussion about the luminary to be decided upon.â Drake explains with as much diplomacy as possible.
Silence greets your ears for a few minutes before anyone speaks.Â
Drake mustâve given Xaden the confirmation he wanted as a minute later you feel the hand wrapped around yours squeeze tightly and a cool feeling whisps around your wrist, wrapping in tightly.
âFine. But Iâm not leaving her completely. Youâll have to deal with a few shadows if you want me to participate in this bullshit.â Xaden says plainly, though his tone begins to darken at the end. âAnd you better keep your damn hands to your fucking self Cordella.â
You expect to hear the sound of retreating footsteps, but instead the bed dips and you feel warm breath ghost across your face.
âY/N, Love, I need you to wake up for me. I promise you Iâm not leaving this damned place without you awake and Malek will take me before I fly out of Cordyn without you. Please, my Blaze. Please wake up.â Xaden whispers in your ear before you feel him leave a lingering kiss on your temple.Â
The bed shifts again and you hold your breath until you hear the door click shut.
âYou arenât very subtle you know. I can tell youâre awake.â The humor in Drakeâs voice is dry.Â
Your eyes flutter open and look directly at him. The eye roll and slight shake of your head doesnât stop the way your mouth ticks up at the corner.Â
âWhat can I say? I was just waiting to have you all to myself.â You tease but the smile doesnât last as you wince in pain trying to sit yourself up.Â
Looking down to the shadow at your wrist, you lift it up with a pointed look. âDid you really need to allow this?â
Drakeâs laugh is cynical. âAllow? You may have heard the words Riorson just said but you havenât been awake for the last 3 hours. If youâd seen what I have, you wouldnât be pushing too many of his buttons.â
âI highly doubt he enjoyed watching his dear Violetâs life endangered, but I took care of it.â The flat tone of your voice giving away the hurt.Â
Swinging your feet to the edge of the bed, you look down to see someone has changed you into a silk sleeping gown. Your hand then goes up as your eyes catch on the new raw scar that slashes across the left side of your chest. Trying to comprehend, you just canât understand how youâve evaded Malekâs grip once again.Â
âViolet?â Drake chimes in as he walks closer to your side. âIs your whole existence now dependent on avoiding the fact that the man that just left this room is irrevocably in love with you?â
âDonât.â Your voice drops to a deadly whisper. âYou donât get to do that. You donât get to judge what I think. You havenât been around for the last year and a half, or do you not remember that I fucking ran away from that man and my dragon.â
Your voice is gaining in its fire, and you can feel your body begin heating with the anger coursing through every nerve.Â
âI-Iâm sorry.â Drake hesitantly begins sounding suitably chastised. âI understand that with whatever happened between the two of you, he has a lot to explain and atone for, but did you not see how sunken in his eyes are?â
You drop your head down and let your anger fester. There is no way youâre going to let anyone make you feel bad for leaving, even though there was no mistaking the sallow color to Xadenâs eyes and deep purple smudges below them.Â
âWill you at least let me tell you what happened on the balcony? At least let me give you some information before he inevitably comes back.â You give a curt nod, but only because you know that there isnât any way you can completely evade Xaden, not now.Â
âBesides, someone needs to chide you for being as reckless as you were.â Your head jerks up and the look Drake gives you shows he was vastly unimpressed with your performance. âDid you really need to try and kill both me and your shadow wielding, hot head by dropping yourself from that cage?â
You give him a dead-panned look. âWhatâs the difference? Your uncle dearest wanted to play games, so I bent the rules.â
With a roll of his eyes, Drake goes on to relay the chaos that you were completely unaware of, obviously too engrossed in dispatching a venin and then almost meeting Malek for the second time in just a few weeks.
 The male voice you heard shouting your name was apparently Xaden, both he and Drake, flew to the arenas edge once you started falling. Though Xadenâs focus didnât stay long on the battle once you killed the venin and were mended, apparently turning to let his wrath at the situation out on the Viscount.
Drake imparts the threats Xaden carried out, wrapping his shadows around Tecarusâs neck and slowly constricting, and the bedlam that followed. He confirms you were mended by Brennan, as Violet had already stated, and then Brennan had carried you up the steps of the arena.Â
Somehow Violet had broken through the spell of anger that Xaden was in, and he had immediately turned towards the Sorrengails. Seeing your limp form in Brennanâs arms, Drake confirmed he had taken you from him and stalked off not bothering to say anything to anyone.
âIâm unsure if Iâve ever seen the burning hatred in someoneâs eyes shine as brightly as Riorsonâs did tonight. Iâm unsure of exactly what control he used, but if he had any less, he may have taken out the entirety of the line of succession of Poromiel.â Your head turns cocking an eyebrow at Drakeâs words.Â
âHow exactly did I end up here? And where exactly is here? This isnât the room I normally stay in.â You ask as you finally look around the room.Â
âNo, this isnât your room. This is Riorsonâs room from when he used to make regular visits to Cordyn.â Drake confirms.
âYou mean when he was engaged to your cousin?â You snipe back, the bitter taste in your mouth causing you to scowl.
âNot engaged. Betrothed. Not something I chose.â Xadenâs voice causes you to jump and your head to turn swiftly towards the door that has just opened.Â
The minute his eyes meet yours, the way they soften and swirl with a plethora of emotions, has your heart breaking in your chest. Your head drops down and you stand, immediately trying to leave the room.Â
âNo.â The word leaves his mouth breathlessly and heâs crossing the room quickly stopping you from going anywhere. âPlease Blaze â please stay.â
Of all the ways youâve heard Xaden talk, in the years knowing and loving him, you had never heard his voice so broken.Â
âWhy?â The word passes your lips before you can stop it, but now that it has you know there is no way to take it back.Â
Pulling back from Xadenâs grip, you look up into the eyes you had been avoiding. A sigh leaves your mouth, though you can feel your chest tighten, as you see the anguish and sorrow clearly on his face. The man in front of you has never looked so lost, broken, and utterly defeated.
âDo you know how long I was waiting for you to sound so desperate for me in the last year?  To not feel like you had forgotten about my existence? Did you even realize the way you left me behind?â The questions rush from your lips in a torrent, and you have to bite down on your lips to avoid more from spilling.
Have you broken Xaden Riorson?
Is the only thought you manage to have as you watch the tears slip down his cheeks.
Your head is spinning with the emotion that is ripping from the man in front of you. As much as your brain holds onto the anger that had settled in you, your heart is shattering watching him crumble before your eyes. Your hand comes to your chest as your throat begins to close trying to hold back your own tears.Â
Your vision begins to swim with tears as suddenly Xaden moves. He crashes to his knees as he grabs you by the waist crushing you to him so tightly you know there will be bruises there tomorrow, though you donât focus on that when you hear the sob tear from his throat.
 Standing there frozen in place, your emotions war within you on whether to push him away or try to comfort him. In the end your heart wins out and you rake your hand through his hair. The gesture causes his breath to catch in his throat and his hold on you to tighten even further.Â
Bringing your hand down and placing your fingers under his chin, you tilt his head up to look him in the eyes. As he does, you canât help but trace the tears still falling from his eyes wiping them as they continue to dampen his cheeks.
âXaden.â Your voice comes out as a calming whisper. âYou need to breathe for me, alright?â
He gives a short nod as he tries to calm his breathing while still being plastered to you. Your fingers absentmindedly stroke his cheeks, keeping a steady rhythm to help soothe him.Â
As his breathing begins to level, he takes both of your hands in his and kisses your palms slowly rising to his feet.Â
Not letting go of your hands, he pulls you to the bed and sits you down next to him. You try to pull your hands away, acutely aware that Violet could walk in at any second, but he tightens his grip further.Â
âY- you d-donât know h-how long Iâve been dreaming of seeing you again.â The confession comes out in a stuttered whisper as Xaden continues to pull your hands forward trying to tug you closer and calm his emotions.Â
You canât help the incredulous look you give him. After everything that had happened over the last year, you never believed that Xaden would even care about seeing you again.
âForgive the brashness Xaden, but I have a hard time believing that with everything that happened at the end of our relationsh-.â As you finish, Xaden doesnât try to hide the way his breath hitches as you draw a line in the sand of your relationship, but he quickly cuts you off.Â
âDonât.â The word comes out with such force you immediately rear back a bit. âThat wasnât the end. This isnât either.â He says firmly brooking no argument.Â
As he finishes, your head cocks to the side and the look you give him is filled with resignation. âI donât think youâre allowed to make that call alone. Besides, Iâm sure Violet wouldnât want to hear that.â
At the mention of the silver-haired girl, Xaden picks up his hand and grabs your face with deliberate force, directing you too look candidly into his eyes. âI donât give a fuck what Violet wants. My relationship is none of her fucking business.â
You scoff and try to pull your face away. âI believe it is her business if sheâs part of that relationship.â
A frustrated growl slips from his lips as he gets a better grasp on your face. âIâm. Not. With. Violet.â Each word is punctuated through grit teeth.
âMore fool me then. Left behind for someone you arenât even with.â You can feel yourself getting nasty, the attitude and anger lying dormant rising to the surface.
âIâm sorry.â Between the words and the way Xaden is looking at you, itâs as if a cold bucket of water has been poured on you and doused the fire that had begun to race through your veins.
âExcuse me?â You ask incredulously, furrowing your brows because youâve never heard Xaden say those words.
Xaden takes a deep breath, and confusion becomes shock as he grabs you and pulls you on his lap, his forehead resting on the side of your head as his hands wrap tightly around your waist. âIâm. so. fucking. sorry.â The words leave his mouth punctuated slowly as if to convey their importance.Â
He raises his head, and you turn to look him in the eyes. âThere arenât enough words in this world for me to tell you how fucking sorry I am. Iâll apologize to you every damn day for the rest of our lives, but I need you with me.â
After being hurt so thoroughly by this man, you find yourself unable to stop throwing words in his face. âIâm certain that the last year has proven quite the opposite.â
Your words clearly strike a nerve when he flinches, though the movement doesnât last long.Â
âI deserve every ounce of your ire. All the pain youâve felt tenfold.â He says simply. âAnd I will gladly accept every ounce of venom you can toss my way. Use daggers if you want to. Make me bleed. But please, come with me.â
âI canât.â The words are out of your mouth in an instant. There is no way youâre just going to fold to the man in front of you. âPretty words arenât going to fix this.â
The look of anguish on Xadenâs face makes your gut twist and your chest feel too tight.Â
âThey arenât just pretty words.â The pleading and anguish in his voice is on full display.Â
âYour actions for the last year spoke louder than all the words youâve ever told me. No matter how much I want to believe them.â An emotion flashes in Xadenâs eyes, but itâs gone before you can decipher it.
âGods Xaden, weâre even having this discussion in a place that youâd been aiding for years, but did I know anything about it. No!â Your voice begins to rise as you gesture around the room. âYouâve been aiding Poromiel, been betrothed to an heir to the throne, and when things blew up in Resson did you even notice my reaction? Or was calming the lightning wielder down just that more important?â
âYou think I donât know how much Iâve fucked up? Iâll spend from now until I meet Malek showing you that needing you isnât just pretty words. That all the things you didnât know were not because I didnât want to tell you, but because I wanted to keep you protected.â The words become harsh as Xadenâs conviction begins to solidify. âYou are as vital to me as the fucking air that I breathe, and I havenât taken a full breath since I realized you were gone. I know I fucked up for the last year. Hell, probably even longer than that, but nothing in this world is more vital to me than you.â
Your eyes dart back and forth between Xadenâs eyes looking for lies, but it hits you suddenly he looked at you the same way for years not giving away any of his secrets.
âI want to believe you. Really, I do.â You start. âBut this time youâre going to have to show me, before we are anything again â if we even can be.â
âIâll do anything you want me to do, but you have to come with me back to Aretia. I want to take you home. To my home and I want to make it yours.â Xaden has slowly walked back towards you leaving little space in between, the scent that you always associated with comfort, mint, leather and the essence of him assaults your nostrils and it takes everything you have to not bury your face in his chest.
âIâll give you this.â You begin taking a few steps back out of his orbit. âYouâll have the opportunity to show me that what youâre saying is the truth, but Iâm not coming with you to Aretia.â
His arm shoots out trying to drag you back to him, but you put up a hand to stop him. âNo. If you want any chance at all, youâll respect my decision.âÂ
Turning around one last time before exiting his room you look up at the man that brings you both comfort and tears.Â
âIâll always love you, Xaden.â Your voice is quiet as you leave him with parting words, sadness coloring the lines of your face. âBut this time youâre going to have to be the one fighting, because I refuse to be forgotten again.â
With that, you let the door fall closed behind you but not before you see the absolute look of desperation on Xadenâs face. Walking away a few paces, you canât help but overhear the shout of agony from the room you just left as you let the tears flow down your cheeks.
âCome on.â A gentle voice says as you continue down the corridor. Your head turns to the voice as a blanket is thrown over your shoulders and the now familiar warmth of Drake settles over your shoulders. âLetâs get you back to your room for some rest.â
Days later after the delegation from Aretia has left, you are walking in the garden trying to clear your mind from the reeling itâs been doing since Xaden stepped back into your life. As you walk, you let your hand trace over the beautiful roses that line the path, taking in the overabundance of colors that strike against the backdrop of the white palace.Â
You close your eyes trying to absorb the smell of the roses and calm your racing mind, but the peace doesnât last long. A shriek comes from inside the palace causing your head to jerk in the direction and your eyes fly wide.Â
Coming in at a rate too fast to seem friendly is a dragon on a collision course with the palace. On your left and right you watch as gryphons launch in the air. You stare with wide eyes, you breath stuck in your throat, as the gryphons descend towards the incoming threat.Â
Soon enough though the gryphons turn and come towards the palace as well in the formation of an escort. Your brow furrows as you wonder who exactly has returned to Cordyn so soon.Â
âNo one, Loyal One. Iâm here for you.â A crisp female voice races through your mind.Â
Your eyes flare as you look towards the incoming dragon, familiarity hitting you like a stone as you watch the coppery sheen of your brown swordtail coming closer and closer.
âDhĂŹoch. H-how?â You donât need to finish the sentence of how she knew you were here.
âSgaeyl. You didnât think the Brooding One was going to let you be alone with the enemy, did you?â You mentally curse Xaden and his inability to leave well-enough alone.
âThereâs plenty he doesnât know.â You snark, although your mind begins to race as you realize your dragon just might burn you to the ground for your actions.
âI see that, Loyal One. You have been busy these past months, even without any powers. I knew I was right in my choice, although many have questioned me since your abrupt departure.â Thereâs no mistaking the anger in DhĂŹochâs eyes as she lands in the garden, talons digging up the gently manicured bushes you were just admiring.
âIâm sorry DhĂŹoch, but I just couldnât stand it any longer. I figured you just severed our bond and found a more worthy rider.â Even your mental voice becomes small, your own insecurities shining through.
âYou do not apologize.â DhĂŹoch says surprising you. âAlthough you were reckless and abrupt, I understand why you did what you did.â
âHowever, if you ever think you can leave me again, I will burn you and we will burn together.â Thereâs no evading the scathing look from the beautiful, bronzed creature in front of you and there is no way you are going to challenge her threat.
âI understand DhĂŹoch and I wonât allow myself to become that forgotten girl again.â You confirm and DhĂŹoch sends an acknowledging hum through the bond.
With DhĂŹoch back at your side, you spend days working on repairing your shields and practicing your signet. It doesnât take long as everything moves through you like a stream that had been denied water, the feeling of being whole again finding its way to you.
Syrena and Drake spend time training with you when they are in Cordyn and thankfully let you know whenever there will be a new drop of daggers. Between trying to avoid Catriona before she left for Aretia and then trying to avoid Xaden, you find yourself always playing a game of hide and seek.Â
Unfortunately, when you are playing against a shadow wielder, you luck is more often than not, terrible.
âBlaze.â Your eyes immediately roll as you continue walking back to the training fields itching to get away from him. But the man of shadows will have none of it. A cool whisp wraps around your wrist and tugs causing your steps to tumble slightly backwards and into the chest of the man basically running you down.Â
âWill you stop calling me that.â Your voice rasps in irritation at the man now holding you by your waist against his chest.
Before you can so much as turn, he buries his face in the side of your neck and his arms slither all the way around your frame before you hear a breathy response. âNo.â
âWhy?â You ask tersely as you try to pry yourself free.
âBecause there is no alternative I will accept, then you burning with me. Youâve always been an all-consuming flame, whether passion or hatred and Iâll never let your blazing glory go.â Xaden says, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks.
Huffing, you are finally able to tear yourself from his grip. âIs there something you needed? Or are you just here to torment me?â
You donât miss the way he flinches at your scathing tone, but youâre in no mood.Â
âIâm making another drop.â He says simply.
âArenât there other people in this group of yours that could do such a menial task?â You ask as your hand gestures about showing your aggravation.
âOf course there is. This man just canât help himself from being subjected to your company.â Drake interjects as he walks next to the both of you earning a glare from Xaden and an eye roll from you.
âWell let me not subject you to anything, I was just on my way out.âÂ
âWait.â Xaden stops you with a hand wrapped around your wrist.
âWhat? Sgaeyl didnât give you your report from DhĂŹoch?â His eyes flaring the only indication that he knows what you mean.
âExactly. Donât think I donât know why my dragon suddenly knew where I was.â You say pointedly. âIâm going on patrol, Drake, Iâll be back later.â
âIâll come with you.â Xaden says walking to your side.
You whir on him and a sneer leaves your lips. âYou, sir, are not enrolled in service to the Poromish, so I donât think you will.â
âNo, Iâm not, but I wasnât asking your permission either.â Xaden steps into your space and you immediately let go a growl and stomp away in the direction of your dragon.
As you make it to the flight field of the palace you canât stop yourself as you turn.Â
âWhat are you trying to accomplish?â You challenge.
Xaden huffs his own frustrated sigh, raking his fingers through his hair. âIâm trying to prove to you that you are my fucking world. But for some reason, you wonât give me the time of day.â
A humorless laugh leaves your lips. âI wonât give you the time of day. Thatâs rich coming from you.â
Xaden finally realizes exactly what he said and immediately turns sheepish. You just roll your eyes at the brooding idiot in front of you.
âLetâs go if youâre coming.â The exasperation in your voice is high as you acquiesce to Xaden. His eyes immediately light up and he pulls you to him placing a lingering kiss to your hair. A breathless âthank youâ leave his lips before he turns and seamlessly mounts Sgaeyl.Â
You shake your head at the last few minutes and immediately mount DhĂŹoch for your patrol.
This process now seems to repeat every time Xaden makes a weapons drop to Cordyn. Though you get a reprieve for a week at a time when he is clearly stationed at an outpost.Â
Walking into a strategy meeting, your brows furrow as you look at the serious looks on the faces of Syrena and Drake. Looking between the two, you know whatever they are discussing isnât going to be good news.
âSome intel we have seems to point to them heading to Pavis for some reason.â Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of the town you spent weeks in after Resson.
âWe are spread thin though, we can only spare one or two fliers to station there.â Drake says not taking his eyes off the map.
âSend me.â Thereâs no hesitation in your voice as all three heads turn your way. âIâll be reinforcements. Besides, the only thing going on here seems to be wyvern patrols.â
âAre you sure youâre up for that? We wonât have much back up for you.â Drake questions as he studies you.
âIâm sure. I owe it to the people of the town that took me in without question.â The finality of your voice must convey your seriousness.
âAlright. Though you may need to go alone at first before we can split a squad.â Syrena says as if that would change your mind.
âThatâs not a problem. Iâll go start packing.â Immediately rising, you walk briskly towards the bedroom that youâve called home the last two months.
âAre you trying to avoid a certain shadow wielderâs drop tomorrow?â Drake says as he leans in the door frame. A huff leaves you as you shake your head at his question.Â
âNo, actually. This has nothing to do with him. I owe Red and Ceridwen more than theyâll ever realize.â You stop packing to look back at Drake. The thought of seeing the people who became surrogate parents spurring your rush. âIâll do everything I can to make sure they are safe.â
Drake gives you a knowing smile while pushing off the door. âI know youâll take care of them the best way you can.â
As he turns, he throws over his shoulder, âthough I donât know how weâll survive when your incendiary loverboy finds out you arenât here.â
The comment causes you to burst out in a fit of laughter before replying. âOh, I have faith that you can figure it out.â
Drake waves you off as he continues down the hallway and you go back to packing.
A few hours later you find yourself taking a deep breath and enjoying the freedom of flying, while trying to stop from thinking about what you may be walking into. As DhĂŹoch begins her descent, you cannot help the beaming smile that lights your face seeing the tavern in the distance.
âDo you think youâd be willing to meet the people who took me in?â Hesitently asking DhĂŹoch down the bond.
âIâd be willing to show my appreciation to the people who looked after you.â DhĂŹoch hums in response and your smile grows a little wider.
DhĂŹoch comes to a stop not far from the front of the inn and you dismount quickly hoping to alert the owners inside without drawing too much ire from the rest of the residents. As you step into the tavern, the smell of roasting meats and stale alcohol hit your nostrils and your nose scrunches in memory.
Noting the lack of either of the people you are looking for, you knock on the bar and call out in a harsh voice. âCanât anyone get some service around here.â
The heavy thump of a cup hitting a table makes you smirk as you watch Red come from the back, a look of irritation on his face. Though the look doesnât last long as the minute he recognizes you he smiles widely almost as if welcoming hope his daughter. The warmth that settles in your chest has you smiling right back to him.Â
âCeridwen.â He calls to the kitchen. âCome and see what the gryphon dragged in.â
âWhat are you talking ab-âCeridwenâs words are cut off as she sees you standing at the bar. âOh, my dear, Iâm so happy to see you.â
It takes less than ten seconds to be swept up into Ceridwenâs hug as you hear Redâs warm laugh behind you. You havenât smiled so much in the last few months, let alone the last year.Â
Your heart continues to warm hours later as you sit at a table in the tavern deep in conversation with the two.
âIf I wouldâve known that introducing you to Drake would put you in so much danger, I wouldâve contacted someone else.â Red grumbles next to you.Â
âYou canât blame it all on Drake, I did ask and require him to take me.â Your reassurance does nothing to quell Redâs thoughts on this issue if his huff is anything to go by.
âSo how long will you be here?â Ceridwen asks though you can see the worry in her eyes.
âHopefully not long, and if we are lucky, the intel that was given is false.â You say as you smile, but this time it doesnât reach your eyes.
âEither way,â Red says, clapping you on his back as he begins to walk towards his chambers. âWeâll sleep better at night knowing that you and your dragon will be here watching out for us.â
You squeeze Ceridwenâs hand and send them both a small smile as you begin to turn and walk to your own bed. As you sink into the mattress you canât help but take a deep breath, relishing in the warm feeling of familiarity and comfort.
True to their words, a few days later a pair of fliers come into the tavern looking for you, relaying your orders from Drake. Though you look up in shock when the man himself walks into the tavern not long after they had finished.
âWhy are you here?â You ask in obvious confusion. âJesper and Tusarr just told me everything I needed to know as far as orders.â
âWonderful.â He clasps his hands, and you can see the agitation rolling off him only causing your confusion to continue. âIâm glad that has been cleared up, but that isnât why Iâm here. Unfortunately, Iâm here on a personal matter regarding you.â
You quirk an eyebrow in invitation for him to continue.
âI donât know what magic youâve used, but it seems weâve almost had another international incident with your rabble-rousing paramour.â You honestly feel like youâre in some sort of book, shaking your head slightly, Drake must be joking.
âThe shadow wielder just about tore down the entire palace when he learned you werenât in Cordyn. Though with his temper there was not time to explain to him that we knew where you were.â
Now a humorous smile is stretching across your face, and you canât help when the laugh youâve been trying to hold in bubbles out.
âI knew that you could embellish things, but this seems extreme, even for you Drake.â You say between laughter as your hand comes up to grasp Drake on the shoulder. Though your laugh begins to die down when you see the look on Drakeâs face.
âO-Oh.â You stutter in amazement. âYou really are serious.â
The indignant scoff he gives you is only broken off by the slamming of a door against the tavern wall. You both turn your head quickly as the air in the tavern turns icy with anger.Â
âWhy are you always with him?â The question comes out in a growl as the disgruntled man stalks towards you as if heâs the predator and youâre his prey.
Your eyes flash in challenge, after everything over the last year, you refuse to back down.Â
Turning away from Xaden, you direct your next statement to Drake. âThanks Drake. Iâll take it from here and Iâll speak with you again before you leave regarding the next few weeks.â
Drake gives you a curt nod and a small uptick of his mouth, turning away from Xaden and back out the door of the tavern. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turn your head and look up to meet the stare of the most insufferable man in your life, at the moment at least.Â
âWhat the fuck is your problem?â You snap at Xaden while straightening your spine. You relish in the surprise that flashes in his eyes when you step up into his space.Â
âMy problem. You just fucking left Cordyn and didnât say a fucking word.â Xaden gets out between grit teeth.
âHereâs the problem Xaden.â Your tone short. âYou think you have a say in where I go. You arenât my wingleader anymore. I do not report to the cadre at Basgiath or in Aretia or whatever the gods names you are part of, so I donât see where Iâm stationed or move to is any of your business.â
You watch as his jaw ticks and you can feel the tension in his muscles from where he stands close to you.Â
âI am more than aware of all of that. I am aware that I have no right to know where you are.â The anger in his voice is present, but his eyes tell a different story. In his onyx depths you can see the fear and panic swirl in and out of their golden flecks. âBut for my own fucking sanity, I need to know.â
The last part comes out as little more than a whisper. An admission that looks like it may have cost the man in front of you his entire being. Xaden takes a shaky breath before closing his eyes.
âI have no right to demand anything from you, and I know that. But I about went out of my fucking mind when I searched for you, and you were nowhere in Cordyn.â He takes a small breath before the emotion clogging his throat stops him.
An arm shoots out and forcefully pulls you forward, his arms wrapping around you in a vice grip. âI ca- I canât lose you like that again. You canât just disappear.â The last part is a whisper in your ear as his face comes to burrow in your hair.
You stand there for a few moments unsure exactly what to do. After the night in Cordyn, you thought the way Xaden acted was just from the shock of finally seeing you again, but with this, you realize there is something more to it.
Finally giving in for just a moment, you bring your arms around Xadenâs waist and return the hug. You hear his breath hitch from where his face is still buried in your hair and his arms hug you tighter.Â
âTruthfully, I wasnât trying to hide from or scare you.â You tell him, your tone gentle. âThereâs been intel given and I chose to come back here. This place is special to me.â
Xaden picks up his head looking at you with furrowed brows as you finish and give a labored sigh.Â
âAfter I left Resson, I traveled on foot for a few days and found myself here. I worked in this tavern for a few months before the owner, Red, put me in contact with Drake to assist with the war effort.â Xaden watches you explain, and you see the hurt on his face at your tale of your own exploits after Resson.Â
âSomeone couldâve killed you if they knew you were a rider.â Xadenâs panic is palpable, and you huff a laugh.
âAt the time, I didnât really care.â Xadenâs eyes flash before heâs dragging you into another hug, crushing you even harder than before.
âThough I have to ask one question.â You say as you pull away from Xadenâs hold. âIf I didnât disappear, would you be acting this way? Would you be fighting for me like you are now?â
The look on Xadenâs face makes you shake your head and move a few steps away putting much needed space between the two of you.
âExactly.â Resigned, you continue, maybe because you want to add salt to the wound making him suffer like you did. âWhile I was here, I was welcomed. Hell, Iâd go out on a limb and say Iâm loved. And you dare to be jealous of Drake, when heâs done nothing but look after me for the last few months.â
âGods Xaden. Is there any us to go back to?â The bitterness in your voice cutting like the blade of your sheathed dagger.
âDonât say that.â Xaden utters, a quiet plea.
âWhy? Itâs the truth. Youâre trying to atone for something that I donât even know if we can get past. How can I trust that when push comes to shove, Iâll be your priority?â
âFuck! I know!â He says, his anger getting the best of him. âDo you not understand how angry I am at myself for the way I treated you. For the way I let you be left behind.â
Xaden begins pacing franticly in a way youâve never seen before. âIâve woken up every fucking day â when I did even fall asleep - replaying all the fucking ways Iâve failed you. The one person I never wanted to neglect; is the one person I wholeheartedly failed the most.â
âAnd no, I canât change all my shitty actions. I canât do anything but try to gain your trust back for the rest of my fucking life. I would gladly take a scar for every way that Iâve hurt you than lose you forever. You are the only sunshine Iâve found in a life thatâs been filled with nothing but rainstorms and darkness. Iâll do whatever I can to prove to you that Iâm worthy of you. That you are my only priority.â As he was speaking Xaden grabbed your hands in his and continued to drag his thumbs over your wrists, grounding you to the feeling of him.Â
Tipping back your head and closing your eyes to take a moment for yourself, you try to clear your mind from all the hurt that youâve felt. To wade through the overwhelming swath of emotions.Â
But your head jerks up and eyes go wide as you hear the sirens blare. Pulling your hands from Xaden, you yell for Jesper and Tusarr telling them to find Drake.
As you sheath the few weapons you had left behind the counter, you look back to Xaden. âWe can discuss this more later, but you need to leave. Thatâs the attack siren and if DhĂŹoch is correct we only have about twenty minutes.â
He looks at you with steel in his eyes. âIâm not fucking leaving.â
âYes, you are.â You say back with finality. âYou arenât even supposed to be here and this isnât your fight. You need to get back to your own riot.â
âIâm not fucking leaving you here to fight alone.â Xaden hisses through grit teeth as you both walk out of the tavern.
You turn and pull him down by the lapels on his jacket. âYes. You. Are.â Steel in your gaze and words. âThis is not your fight. This is Poromiel, not Navarre, not Aretia, not Tyrrendor. Go home and defend it.â
You let go and get two steps before his hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you backwards.Â
âIâm going to get the rest of my riot from Draithus and will be right back.â He explains, his face directly in yours. âDo not be reckless.â
Before you can give him a sarcastic sass back, you are plastered to his chest, his hands in your hair at the nape of your neck, and heâs kissing you with a ferocity youâve never felt from him. You gasp as the kiss ends as quickly as it began and heâs tearing himself away and mounting Sgaeyl.
You blink a few times and then shake your head, trying to clear it before running for DhĂŹoch.Â
âYou need to clear your head for battle.â DhĂŹoch sasses, clear amusement in her tone.
âAnd you need to learn to tell me when Sgaeyl is here and bringing around her infuriating rider.â You snark back with an irritated sneer to the back of your dragonâs head.
âHe may be infuriating, but he still has your heart racing.â You roll your eyes at your dragonâs need to maneuver in to your personal life.Â
Your banter with your dragon is cut short when you see an entire hoard of wyvern in the distance heading straight towards Pavis.Â
âAre you ready for this DhĂŹoch?â You ask, your mind calculating on the best ways to strike.
âWe will not fail. Now brace yourself Loyal One.â DhĂŹoch says before shooting straight towards the hoard.
Your heart rate kicks up as the prospect of your first battle back with your dragon begins.Â
âCan you relay the information to the gryphons to help evacuate the citizens and weâll handle the hoard?â You direct.
âDone, they are working to put them in the safe houses.â DhĂŹoch confirms as she cuts through the air with a precision you admire.Â
As you get closer, your eyes widen at the amount of venin atop the wyvern. You try to count, but you lose it at five. Gears clicking in your mind, you take a mental tally of the alloyed daggers you have on you and know you must keep them close. Having only three will limit your ability to throw.Â
âAre you ready DhĂŹoch? Iâm going to need you to fly as close to the wyvern as possible.â You ask as you go over the plan in your head.
âI donât believe the Brooding One would agree with your plan, but yes we will take these abominations down.â You ignore DhĂŹochâs tease and reach for her power.
As you feel the sensation of her power fill your veins you look down to see your fingers disappear from view. Once you can feel yourself fully cloaked, you carefully stand and walk as close to the juncture of DhĂŹochâs leg and wing. As DhĂŹoch begins to hover, you duck to avoid scorching blue fire as it sizzles through the air above you and immediately slide down off her back.
Landing on the back of one of the smaller wyverns, you crouch and try to gain your balance as best as possible. The small form in front of you wears purple leathers and you assume this must be one of their students. Without giving the venin time to turn around, you fling one of your three daggers and hit it in the back of the neck. You watch as the blood flows and the venin goes limp. Before you can jump, you feel the wyvern you are on begin to rapidly descend.Â
Immediately rising to your feet, you donât think and just jump though you know you are too close to the wyverns falling body.
âDhĂŹoch!â Your mental voice is panicked as you are unsure where your dragon is currently. The panic doesnât last long as you suddenly feel talons wrap around you. Drawing a ragged, grateful breath when you see the coppery sheen above you.
âYou should trust me more than that.â DhĂŹoch says in an offended tone as she tosses you up and catches you on her back.
Scoffing, you canât help but roll your eyes. âYes, well I wasnât expecting that wyvern to go into freefall.â
You get back into your seat and DhĂŹoch begins to climb above the battle again. Looking down, you can see a venin on the way into the heart of town. Panic begins to rise when you realize that Ceridwen and Red are in the perfect collision course for the venin.
âYou must take me down DhĂŹoch. I wonât let anything happen to them.â You can feel your terror begin to take over at the thought of something happening to the couple that took you in.
âGet them out and then come right back. I will not let you get drained on the ground.â DhĂŹoch growls, her disapproval evident.Â
DhĂŹoch begins her descent, and you know this will be a running landing. Throwing up a quick prayer to Zinhal, you rise from her back and head back to her shoulder. As she hits to the perfect height, you let yourself fall and with more ease than you expected, you are immediately running towards the tavern.Â
âRed! Ceridwen! Get out now!â You yell at the top of your lungs racing for the front of the tavern.Â
Ceridwen darts out of the front door with a small satchel in tow. Behind her your eyes widen as Red dons his brown leathers and is sheathing a sword to his back.
âYou should be taking shelter with Ceridwen!â You yell at him as soon as heâs in earshot.
He gives you a look that shows he is anything but impressed. âNo, I should be fighting for you and Ceridwen both and that is what I intend to do.â
Ceridwen comes next to you and puts a hand on your forearm. âYouâre fighting a losing battle my dear, so instead of wasting any time, letâs go.â
You shake your head and begin pulling Ceridwen along. âDhĂŹoch can you tell Tusarr to help get Ceridwen to safety.â A low growl in your head is the only response before you hear the screech of a gryphon landing.Â
âGo with Tusarr, sheâll take you to the others. Iâll take care of Red the best I can.â You say to Ceridwen before she tugs you close in a tight hug.
âTake care of yourself, my dear, and donât worry about Red, he can take care of himself.â She says before letting you go and repeating the same process with Red.
âAlright DhĂŹoch, letâs take down some more of these dark wielders.â You say as you run towards an opening for DhĂŹoch to land.
As you see her scales come into view, you turn, and your eyes fly wide. In the few minutes since leaving Red behind a venin has materialized and is staring him down. Letting DhĂŹochâs power flow, you mask yourself and begin sprinting toward Redâs side.Â
Getting closer you see him locked in battle and as much as you donât want to admit it to yourself, his strength seems to be waning.Â
Your heart stops and eyes go wide as you watch the venin slash down Redâs arm with a dagger that was just dripping with a green liquid.
âNO!â The scream rips from your lips as Red slashes his sword towards the venin slashing at its throat. As you slowly get closer you can see Redâs movements becoming sluggish.
Please Malek, no! Take me instead!
âDhĂŹoch you need to get Red to the healers and tell Drake to get him healed.â You demand of your dragon.Â
Not taking your eyes from the venin still managing to stand, you stalk forward, cloaked and invisible. Your face contorted in rage, you continue running and pull the alloyed dagger from your ribs. Without stopping, you barrel into the venin with your dagger leading straight into his chest. The venin hisses at the impact and the dive of your blade. Blood rushing in your ears, you fall with the venin, and it isnât until you roll, now looking up at the sky that a familiar burning pain breaks through at your wrist.
You donât need to look down to know that some of the poison is now in your system, but you wonât let them win. You wonât let the venin take Pavis without a fight. Slowly rising to your feet and looking at your surroundings., the town that you have loved is now alight in flames surrounded with a thick smoke, suffocating the beautiful town center.Â
âI am on my way to you, Loyal One.â DhĂŹoch confirms as you begin to jog towards an area for her to land.
As soon as you see DhĂŹochâs talons hit the ground, you start running for her leg. Your breathing is coming in rapid pants as you try to ignore the burn in your arm.Â
âYou need to be seen by a healer as well.â DhĂŹoch growls as you tear a strip from your shirt and wrap your wrist.
âNo. I will save these people first, with or without your help.â You demand without feeling any remorse for your biting tone.
You can feel DhĂŹochâs displeasure at your response down the bond, but she doesnât press. Instead, she flies back into the din, the stifling smell of smoke rising from the ground and clouding your vision. As though Zinhal hears your pleas, there is a break in the smoke on the horizon and you spot a venin with its robes billowing in the wind.
âThat oneâs next.â You refuse to hear any argument from DhĂŹoch as you set your sights on the enemy in front of you. DhĂŹoch slices through the air and as you grow closer to the venin, you can see the brilliant red that spiders from the creatureâs eyes down the sides of its face.
DhĂŹoch clearly has read your intentions and begins her ascent to hover over the massive wyvern that has your next target. As she levels out, you begin to lower to her shoulder but canât bite back a sharp intake of breath when your wrist moves, the poison making its presence known. You try to avoid the sting and crouch before launching yourself from DhĂŹochâs back.
For a few seconds you are airborne and hoping that you estimated the correct spot. You donât have long to worry as you feel your feet hit the leathery surface of the wyvern. You let your entire body drop as you try to gain your balance on the creature.Â
Looking up, your eyes fly wide realizing that the venin can see you and is looking directly into your eyes.
âAh, the pained one again makes an appearance. Tell me, do you really think you can win this challenge?â The oily voice that drags from the venin in front of you draws shivers down your spine.
You donât respond as you know there is no reason. The venin slowly stalks towards you, wind whipping at their robes with two blades drawn. Assessing the way the venin moves; you know that youâll have to be quick.
âMake sure youâre below me DhĂŹoch, just in case.â You hear the hum of agreement in your mind as you draw your blade.
âDispatch the dark wielder quickly. You need to get back to the flyer captain.â You hear the slight concern in DhĂŹochâs voice.
You continue using DhĂŹochâs power to remain cloaked, although youâre unsure of how much use it Is against the venin. Creeping forward you hold an alloy hilted dagger in your right hand. Letting the thought linger too long, you must go on the defensive when the venin strikes first, and the bite of a dagger slashes close to your face.Â
Ducking down, you feel your foot slip slightly on the leathery back of the wyvern. Without thinking through your moves, you slam a dagger into the back of the wyvern to avoid falling. The minute it embeds, the wyvern bucks and you can do nothing but hold on as best you can, your wrist burning with fury. Regrettably, the venin does not seem to be affected by the wyverns thrashing. You watch as they continue to get closer and try to throw your right leg up and regain your balance.Â
Pulling yourself up, you donât see as the venin brings one of its blades down and though you move quickly, it isnât quick enough to evade the blade completely. An agonizing scream tears from you as the blade pierces your side.
âLoyal One, finish it!â DhĂŹoch demand is covered in icy dread as you try to push past the pain.Â
Taking as deep of a breath as you can, you gather your remaining strength and duck as the venin goes to slash at your other side. A loud roar sounds that causes the venin to turn its head and you take the opportunity to bury your remaining alloyed dagger into its throat.Â
The venin coughs and sputters grabbing at its throat, but you watch as the skin around it begins greying and shriveling.
âYou bitch!â The venin gasps and lunges towards you. Losing your balance, you trip backwards and find yourself falling from the leathered surface of the wyvern. A particularly fiery jolt of pain slashes through you as you begin falling and you watch as your arms raise, and you can see you are no longer invisible.
âY/N!â A voice calls in the distance and you turn to see a blur of blue. As your mind is drug down with poison, you barely have the cognizance to call out for DhĂŹoch.Â
You hear air furiously whipping around you and all the breath tumbles from your lungs when you hit a rough surface hard. The impact has your vision going completely black as your body jerks from the impact.Â
With all the poison coursing through your veins, it proves impossible to open your eyes, but you can feel that your body is still rolling. The only thought left is that those you care about are safe before you succumb to the darkness.
You feel your consciousness pull forward, even though your body feels like a thousand weights are tied to it, even your eyelids feel tethered. The roughness that you remember last seems to be replaced with something soft and the fire in your veins only a light hum. The exhaustion of your mind and body donât keep your conscious state around long as you feel yourself drift again.Â
Unsure of how long youâve been in a state of poisoned dissidence you finally feel as if you can move your small extremities. You take the time to try and wiggle your fingers and toes, but your eyelids still feel like they have anchors attached. You try straining to hear any sounds around you, but everything still feels slightly muffled.
âHow long is this going to take?â An impatient male voice penetrates your ears.
âThatâs not something I can predict. I canât mend the poison from her system.â Another male voice replies in exhaustion.
âItâs been over a week. It didnât take this long when Violet was poisoned.â Confusion swirls in your brain as you try to place the name that seems so familiar.Â
âI understand, but poison doesnât affect every person the same. Besides, from the light discoloration from her veins on her left arm, it seems like this has happened before.â The exhausted male voice replies.
You can hear as the pacing footsteps suddenly halt. âWhat?!?â The other voice says a tone that seems slightly panicked but also filled with fury.
âDidnât you notice the black veins running down her arm while we were in Cordyn. They stood in stark relief to her skin and that dress.â Youâd give anything to move your body, wanting to wrap your arms around yourself in soothing gesture at the conversation youâre hearing.
âI was a little busy trying to keep myself in one place and not forcefully pick her up and leave with Sgaeyl, so no, I suppose I didnât notice.â Realization hits as now you realize its Xadenâs voice youâre hearing. âBesides, why would that matter, that was over a month ago now.â
âYes, but her body obviously wasnât recovered from that poisoning, so now itâs taking longer.â The other male in the room has a voice that sounds familiar now, but you still canât place it.
âAnd Iâm going out of my fucking mind. Iâm being ordered to Draithus again tomorrow and I canât leave not knowing if sheâs going to be okay.â Xadenâs voice becomes tight with worry and frustration.
âUnfortunately, Lieutenant, you donât have much of a choice. Youâre going to be leaving tomorrow with Sgaeyl and youâll have to deal with it.â The voice has grown hard, both with weariness and aggravation.Â
âOh, I donât have to try you. Lieutenant Colonel, remember?â With that last statement, you hear as footsteps sound and a door clicking shut behind them.Â
As you begin to feel the eternal pull of sleep weighing on your body again, you notice the bed youâre in dip down slightly.Â
âBlaze, I need you to fight this. I need you with me. You canât leave me again, not like this, not before I can show you how much I love you.â Thereâs no mistaking the pain in Xadenâs voice and the way it breaks in and out. Itâs clear that heâs barely holding himself together, but the pull of darkness is too sweet to deny.
Â
Taking a deep breath, you finally feel the ability to flutter your eyes open. Though as you do and stare up at the ceiling, everything still feels foggy. Youâre unsure of how long you just lay there with your eyes open, but eventually you gather enough strength to sit up.Â
Looking around, your brow furrows trying to place the room you are in. Itâs well appointed, but thereâs no white marble and blinding gold, this chamber is pure stone with tapestries lining the wall generating some warmth to the space. You look up at an armoire that is at the side of the room and turn to see a door that you assume must be a bathing chamber.Â
There is a large green chair that has been posted next to the bed as if someone was sitting there waiting for you. You close your eyes as you try to clear the fog that still clings to your brain and memories. The action feels like wading through waist deep water, and you canât help the confusion that seems to settle.
Brows furrowing you try to remember the last place you were, because you know it wasnât wherever this is. Looking down, you see that youâre in a pair of loose-fitting black pants and oversized shirt. Running a hand through your hair, your nose scrunches at the greasy feeling of your hair. Whatever has happened in the last few days, the only thing you want right now is a nice long shower.
Slowly picking your overtired body from the bed, you shift to a standing position. Trying your best not to wobble, you walk into the bathing chamber and immediately spot the shower and take a deep breath. Hobbling straight over, you turn the taps and let the warm water run through your fingers relishing in the feeling. You let yourself relax into the shower and hope to Amari that the water will wash the fog of your mind.Â
Grabbing a towel and drying yourself, you walk towards the mirror and place your hands on the sink sucking in a breath and letting the granite hold your weight. The peace that settled into you during your shower is short lived as you look up into the mirror.Â
Gasping, you fumble backwards, and your hand flies up to your chest. You watch the mirror as your fingers trace the scar on the left side of your body and the lingering blackness. Eyes flying wide, the memories of the battle rush back in a torrent causing you to move.Â
You go back into the room, the peace of the shower completely gone, and search for clothes. You see riding leathers that look to be about the right size and immediately begin tugging them on your body. Lacing your boots with as much efficiency as you can master, you are shooting up, not concerned about your hair or the fact that you donât even know where you are.Â
Only one thought is pulsing through your mind. âIs Red alright? And where is Ceridwen?â The thought leaves unbidden, and you pull up to a halt at the bottom of the stairs when thereâs a response.
âThey are both safe and resting in a small cottage in town.â DhĂŹochâs voice slithers quietly into your mind.
âCan you take me to them?â You ask as everything hits in succession.
You know you must look like a crazed fiend, but your emotions are hitting you from every side and you need to see they are safe for yourself. Thereâs a minute where you think DhĂŹoch will deny you, but then you just ignore her and begin back down the stairs and sprint out large doors.Â
Unsure where you are and where you are going, you turn and see a small town in the valley below. Turning back your eyes widen at the stone fortress that you just exited from.Â
Iâll worry about that later. Is the only thought you have as you begin walking towards the town below. You have no idea where you are going, just that you need to lay eyes on the two people that saved you from yourself.
As you begin to enter the thick of the town, you wrap your arms around yourself as you brace from the cold wind that has begun whipping around you. Arriving at the heart of the town, you enter into one of the taverns.Â
âExcuse me.â You say as you walk up to the barkeep. âDo you happen to know if there was a couple that was brought to this village from Pavis a few days ago? Their names are â.â
âY/N!â You cut yourself off as you hear the familiar voice yell your name.
âCeridwen!â You yell back and instantly run towards her and embrace her in a bruising hug.Â
âThank the gods! Weâve been so worried about you.â She gets out in a rush parsing over you as if looking for injuries.
âIâm fine. How are you? Is Red alright?â The rush of your words and panic in your eyes makes Ceridwen soften her eyes at you.
âThanks to you.â She says as she grabs you by the arm. âCome. I know he will be ecstatic to see you finally awake.â
She leads you back out into the town and the tension in your chest begins to ease slightly at her warmth. A small smile spreads on your lips as you get closer to a small cottage closer to the outskirts of the town. Hope fluttering in your chest as Ceridwen goes to open the wooden door and you canât help but notice the green roof that seems to line every house youâve passed.
âCeri did you happen to get any eggs while you were out.â A male voice calls that immediately has you taking a breath of relief.Â
Walking further into the room, a beaming smile spreads across your face that you canât control.Â
âThank the gods!â Red says in a breathless whisper before tugging you into a fierce hug.
You let your body slacken as the relief of seeing them both crashes over you, Ceridwen coming up behind you and hugging you as well. You let yourself melt into the warmth of their hugs and take the first deep breath youâve had since youâve woken up in this strange place.
An hour later you find yourself drifting, your eyes involuntarily closing as the exertion of your day begins to hit you full force.
âCome on, Y/N, letâs get you in bed.â You hear Ceridwen whisper softly.
âI donât want to intrude.â You say though it comes out in a yawn.
âMy dear, you saved our lives, the least we can do is let you rest.â You donât argue with her logic and slowly follow her to one of the bedrooms. As soon as you step next to the bed, you fall into the mattress and your eyes slide closed.
The next day, you feel at least some of your energy has returned to its normal state and take a short walk into the hills surrounding the town. As you sit with your back on one of the trees, you breathe in the clean air and let the calm of the forest wash over you.
âWhy are you always such trouble?â DhĂŹoch slides into your mind a hint of amusement in her tone.
âExcuse me. How exactly am I trouble? And hello to you too.â You donât try to hide your indignation.Â
âAlways the one to jump in and save others. Then taking two weeks to wake up.â You scoff at your dragon, especially when she is intruding on the little solitude you seemed to have found. It isnât as if you asked to be poisoned again.
âYou couldâve found another rider. I gave you the opportunity to leave me behind.â Your dragonâs snarl curls around your mind and you know she would be knocking you to the ground if she was in front of you.
âThat isnât what I was implying. You arenât the trouble for me. Sgaeyl is.â DhĂŹoch says, her tone bored. Though you canât help but send your confusion through your bond. In the back of your mind a faint whisper of someone talking while you were poisoned flits in your mind, but you canât quite place it.Â
âDhĂŹoch, where exactly are we anyway.â You look around and there is something so familiar about the land, but the answer seems to evade you.
âI believe the answer to all of that will be coming very shortly.â You roll your eyes at your dragonâs insistent use of non-answers to your questions.Â
Beginning to feel your body tire again, you slowly rise to your feet to begin the trek back to Red and Ceridwenâs cottage. You didnât ask them where you were, but you were so concerned with their safety, you didnât care. Knowing they were both safe was the only thought that crossed your mind.Â
As you get closer to the cottage, your body begins to feel to heavy and when you go to take your next step, your knee gives out. Expecting to crash to the ground, your eyes snap closed and you brace for the impact. When impact doesnât come, you open your eyes back up and they flare as they lock with onyx ones.
With two long strides you find yourself gathered tightly in Xadenâs arms and his head buried in your hair.Â
âYouâre going to send me to Malek one of these days.â He whispers in your hair, though thereâs no bite to his tone. You huff a humorless laugh at the statement while still being crushed to the chiseled lines of his chest.
âFor some reason I think I have an appointment with the god of death before you do.â You sass back at the insufferable man that has your entire being plastered to him. As if in offense, his arms tighten around you further.
âDonât even fucking joke like that.â His words come out hard a biting tone to every syllable.
He suddenly pulls you back and stares intensely back into your eyes. He continues searching yours before the exhaustion of the day starts to seep into you again. You let out a large yawn and begin to pull away from him.
âIf youâll excuse me, Iâm tired. Iâm going to bed.â Before you can get further than two steps ahead, Xaden has grabbed your wrist and whirled you back around.
âThen come with me.â His tone now soft as he looks pleadingly into your eyes.Â
âCome with you where? I donât even know where we are. All I know is there are two people that are grateful for my existence in this cottage that offered me a warm bed.â You continue as you gesture towards the cottage.Â
âYouâre in Aretia. I took you here after Pavis was evacuated.â He says as if that is an entire explanation. Â
âWhile I appreciate everything youâve done for Red and Ceridwen, Iâll only be staying until I feel back to myself fully.â You say turning again to walk away.
âYou are staying here.â Xaden states with finality and you whir around fully intending to give him a piece of your mind at his overbearing insistence. Your plans however are dashed when the world begins to tilt, and your eyes roll skyward.
âY/N, Love.â Is all you hear before you feel weightless and find yourself wrapped up in Xadenâs arms and he begins to jog. Unsure of what is happening, you try to let yourself relax as breathing becomes more of a chore.Â
Seeming to fade back in and out, you suddenly feel the sharp sting of wind at your face, though Xaden tries to fold you closer towards his chest. âYouâll be alright love; you just need to hold on for me.â Xaden whispers, his mouth grazing your ear with every word. His words may be steady, but there is no mistaking the dread laced in their tone.
As your breathing begins to grow shallow, youâre jolted in Xadenâs arms. Trying to open your eyes, you are met with the looming shadow of the fortress that you had left from a day ago. Though that isnât what shocks your system.
Your eyes catch Xadenâs for only a heartbeat, but the absolute terror swirling in them puts a crack in the wall that youâve had up for months.Â
âWhereâs Brennan?â Xaden barks, between the force of the command and the panic you can only imagine the way people part for the man.
âWh-what the hell Riorson?â Another male voice questions from further away.
âYou need to help her. She fainted and sheâs barely breathing.â Xaden explains as you can feel him climbing and hear as a door is kicked open.Â
âStop standing there and fucking help her!â The roar leaving Xadenâs lips has your pulse jumping at the threatening tone.
âYou need to calm down. Most likely itâs just the aftereffects of the poison trying to leave her system.â The calm male voice says as you feel Xaden place you down on a soft surface.
âDonât tell me to fucking calm down.â Xaden growls. âSheâs been out for two fucking weeks and then disappears and no one fucking tells me! You want me to calm down, then fix her!â
No words are exchanged before you hear footsteps coming closer to the bed and then a warm sensation seems to wash over your skin. As the warmth begins to fade, you finally take a deep breath and exhale out of your mouth, eyes fluttering open to the familiar stone ceiling you had woken to before.
âThank the gods.â A breathless whisper comes before Xaden is kneeling next to the bed you are in, closer to your head. Your head turns and youâre met with the eyes that you can never seem to get out of your mind. He brings a hand to your head and cradles your cheek, rubbing his thumbs back and forth in a soothing motion.Â
âWhat happened?â Your brows furrow as you blink your eyes trying to clear the fog in your head.
Another figure catches your attention, and you look down to see a man youâve never seen before sitting at the base of the bed.Â
âI believe it was the last remnants of poison pushing through your system.â The man with auburn curls tells you.Â
Your eyes donât stay on him long as you feel your body begin to drag you down again. Looking back up to Xaden, you slowly blink, the heaviness of sleep beckoning you. âIâm tired.â
âI know, my Love.â Xaden murmurs as his hand continues to stroke your cheek. âSleep, Iâll be right here when you wake up.â
You blame it on the exhaustion pulling at you when his words cause your entire body to warm and a spark in your chest begin to ignite, though the flicker grows hotter when he leans in and gives your forehead a lingering kiss. Not letting yourself dwell on your feelings, you close your eyes and let yourself drift.Â
Unsure of how long itâs been since youâve drifted, your eyes blink open to darkness around you. Trying to roll to your right and out of the bed, you are immediately stopped by hand that is firmly gripping yours. Turning your head, you see a large figure slouched in sleep in a large armchair brought as close as possible to the bed.Â
You slowly untangle your fingers from Xadenâs and continue your roll out of the bed. Heading towards what you think are the windows, you silently let yourself lean into the wall. Pulling back one of the curtains, you let yourself relish in the bright light of the moon that highlights the town below. You take in all the little things you can see by the light of the moon, including the way the moonlight glistens over the green rooftops that dot the town.
Caught up in your perusal of the town, you jolt when you hear the quick snap of the chair on the floor and turn as the occupant jolts up and begins striding towards the door. Â
âXaden.â You murmur in bid not to scare him, and his head immediately turns towards your voice. Without responding to you, he meets you in two strides and turns you to face him.Â
âAre you feeling alright?â The concern in his eyes and tone is evident, even in the soft way he holds you.Â
âIâmâŠbetter. Not sure if Iâll ever be alright.â You reveal quietly which causes Xadenâs arms to tighten slightly around you.Â
Resignation tearing at you, thereâs no way to stop the words from forming. âWhat do you want Xaden? After living through the last few months, I need to know. What do you want?â
You let the seriousness of your question leech into your stare, not willing to pretend any longer.
âI want everything youâll give me.â Xaden says bringing both hands to cup your face.Â
âI canât fucking let you go. I refuse.â He continues fervently his eyes blazing with conviction. âWhat I said back in Cordyn, I meant every godsdamned word. I just need you to believe me.â
Xaden continues to stare back at you his brows furrowing and eyes turning sad. âI need you to give me another chance. Just one. I promise I wonât disappoint you.â
Your eyes slide closed as your head battles with your heart. Your head tells you that youâll never be the priority for this man, but your heart screams for you to give him another chance. It isnât either of those things that win out though, itâs the words that Red and Ceridwen left you with when you talked last night.
âNo relationship is perfect, especially when youâre young. Life is always going to throw different problems in front of love, that's what makes finding it so special. But, if you find the one person that will fight tooth and nail to love you, you hold it close, because no relationship will succeed without the will to fight for it â you canât just let it go.â Ceridwen finished while she gave Redâs hand a squeeze.
Opening your eyes, you can see the expectant look on Xadenâs face and the stiffness of his arms, even though his touch is still gentle on your cheeks.
âAre you going to fight for this like you will for the continent?â Your question comes out quiet, almost afraid of the answer.
âI will fight with everything in my being, until my last dying breath. I will always fight for you harder than I would ever fight for the continent.â The fiery conviction is only met with absolute certainty as his arm tightens snuggly around your waist tugging you against him.Â
Your own hand comes up and pulls his other from your cheek. As you bring it down, you turn his palm and give it a lingering kiss. His breath hitches as his hand tunnels into your hair drawing you fully against him.Â
After some time, Xadenâs hand moves to your neck and angles it to look up into his eyes. The moonlight seems to cast them into pools of gold, a swirling mass of love hidden in every corner.
âMay I kiss you?â Xaden breathes out in a whisper as if heâs afraid to speak too loudly.
âOnly if you promise itâs only the first in a lifetimeâs worth.â The smile that he gives you is brighter than the sun before he tugs your face forward and his lips crash to yours.
Caught off guard at the ferocity behind the gesture, you canât help your smile and the small laugh that bubbles up. You feel as Xadenâs lips curl into their own smile before the kiss turns languid.Â
Xaden continues to kiss you slow, as if heâs trying to re-memorize every single corner of your mouth. You feel yourself melt into his arms as he slowly backs up and sits down on the bed. Without breaking the kiss, he pulls you down onto his lap while tightening his grip as if he canât stand to have a single bit of space between you.Â
You gasp into his mouth as you feel every inch of his body press into yours. He pulls away slightly giving your neck a lingering kiss and rests his forehead against yours.
âGods, I missed you. Your taste, your lips, the way you fit in my arms.â Xaden says as he punctuates each one with a kiss.Â
âMissed me enough to always put me first?â The seriousness of your voice and conviction in your eyes showing through.
Grabbing your face with both hands, Xadenâs eyes seem to search every corner of yours. âNo one and nothing will ever come before you again. That is the easiest promise that I could ever make.â
His hand slides to your waist and pulls you flush against him and for the first time in months, you let yourself relax into his touch and breathe him in. As he feels your body soften against him, he brings your head to rest in the crook of his neck and leaves a lingering kiss on your temple before burying his face in your hair.
âYou are the light to my shadow. The only home Iâll ever find rest in, and Iâll spend the rest of my life more than satisfied if I always have you.â He whispers in your hair, and in the darkness of his room, in the middle of the night, you breathe deeply and your heart settles as you find your own home in him.
silly little headcanon that, as Robin, each of the Batboys were trained to go limp when being lifted from areas of danger, sort of like how kittens go limp when mother cats grab the scruff of their neck. it just makes so itâs easier for Batman to grab the little Robin from a particularly dangerous area.
i imagine that, even after his Robin days, Nightwing still has going limp trained into him. one time, when he and Starfire were in a particularly dangerous battle and cornered by a cliff edge, Starfire grabs hold of him and he just limp. Starfire assumes something has happened to him and panics, but finds that Nightwing is fine. heâs a bit embarrassed, seeing that he still has his Robin training instilled deeply within him somewhere.
but where it gets even funnier is with Jason. as Robin, itâs always a little cute to see Batman grab him by the scruff of his neck and to see the small child go limp and get carried off into safety. but when Batman and Red Hood get into disagreements during the rare missions that they do come together to take down a common threat, seeing a grown, 6â0â man going limp and then realizing he did so is miraculously laughable. Tim doesnât let him forget about his Robin habits only to get grabbed and go limp as well.
So y'all know how Venti knows all songs be it from the past, present or future?
Imagine that and Creator!Reader who's from this world and just happens to use tiktok.
Creator!Reader who just got absorbed into genshin and is trying to make sense of how and why on earth did they get there and is still unnoticed by anyone.
Meanwhile Venti in another part of Mondstadt is trying to process the overwhelming MASS of songs that flooded his head in a split second and is kinda standing there processing.
He's hearing songs that go from absolutely depressing to borderline obsessive to completely lively to the nastiest and most sexual lyrics that he didn't even know could be made.
And (i'm gonna go with the thought he can hear the songs and melodies people play in their heads if he wants to) let's skip all the mess of Creator!Reader getting accepted and blah blah blah imagine if he was hanging out with Reader and he just says whatever word and Reader starts singing in their head. And he's either interested or confused depending on the song.
