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laughing-with-god · 8 months

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These Things Take Time (Yandere! Supernatural! Taehyung x Reader)

Synopsis: There's something wrong with your boyfriend Taehyung. At least, you think it's him.

16.5k

Trigger warnings: yandere behavior, psychological gaslighting, violence, gore, some heavy making out, strong language, AFAB reader (she/her) I'm sure I'm missing some but you know me and what I write lol

Authors note: just a real quick thank you to @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop for having beta read and brainstormed with me literally a year ago about this fic that I never published until now.

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He passionately thrusted her against the wall, mouthing at her neck while muttering disgusting things that he was going to do to her.

It was foul…

It was taboo…

It was…..

Your fingers paused and hovered over the keyboard, the constant clicking of your writing coming to a sudden halt.

Your eyes scanned the last few lines, lips instinctively mouthing the words and checking the overall flow of the plot.

Your two main characters were about to fuck each other’s brains out after a long ‘will they or won’t they’ that spanned well over a dozen chapters.

There should be a feeling of torture, a feeling of relief, a feeling of frenzied lust that just couldn’t contain itself anymore and combusted within the contents of these pages.

That is what you desperately wanted your loyal readers to experience when they get to this scene.

Yet when reading the long-awaited buildup, you felt nothing.

You cared for every character you created like a mother does their child, them getting their happy endings was just as important to you as it was to them. So why did you feel so numb and dissociated from everything you’ve been typing the past hour?

You released a disillusioned sigh and leaned back into your chair. Your eyes stung from staring at a screen for so long and your limbs ached to be stretched with hours of immobility.

Writer’s block was a bitch.

Unlike other skills, writing was one of the few expertise that working harder at it won’t guarantee a better outcome. You could type away until your fingers were bruised and bloody, but it doesn’t mean anything you wrote would be worth shit. Writing was a talent and it came and went as it pleased. And right now it was gone.

Which left you very depressed and your editor very pissed.

You gave up the fight and reluctantly closed your laptop. Then stood to your full height, to give your back a much-needed stretch.

‘I tried today. And that’s okay. I’ll try again tomorrow.’ You thought to yourself, half heartedly taking your therapist’s advice to acknowledge your efforts and not just the outcomes.

When in a creative slump, it has been said that reading other works can be a source of inspiration. Can’t be a good writer yourself, then go out and read a good writer. With this thought in mind, you slowly exited your office and descended down the stairs.

Last week your mom sent you a book she recommended, and you’ve been so busy trying to finish your own novel that you just tossed it somewhere and haven’t touched or looked for it since. Though, you were almost certain you caught sight of it on the coffee table yesterday.

When you stepped into the living room, you spotted a familiar figure standing by the large bay window.

The sight tugged a small fond smile onto your face.

Taehyung was your boyfriend of six months.

He was strikingly attractive, tall, kind and clearly didn’t know his own worth because not only was he dating you, but he also agreed to move into this secluded farmhouse while you tried to finish your book. He assured that he could use this time and space to focus on his paintings as well, but you knew deep down he just didn’t want to leave you alone out in the middle of nowhere.

Right now only his profile was facing you, his alluring feline eyes staring at the raining scene outside, dark brows furrowed in heavy thought. He looked to be biting on his lower lip, a habit you’ve never seen before, but you supposed you two have only been dating for a few months so there was probably a whole world of little quirks you didn’t know of yet.

The scene was a bit intense, as you weren’t used to your usually cheerful boyfriend looking so ponderous. Yet you shrugged it off and just assumed he was most likely brainstorming his next painting. Taehyung was your first artist boyfriend and your friends did warn you that they could be a bit dramatic.

You quickly surveyed the room and indeed located the book on the coffee table. While reaching for it you called out, “Hey love?”

Taehyung snapped his neck at a speed too fast for your liking, instantly facing you with eyes wide and blown out in what you could only assume was shock.

You giggled, thinking he was too absorbed in his own world that he probably just now noticed your presence.

“I know I said I wanted pasta for dinner but how about we order some chinese instead?” You asked. Taehyung didn’t say anything, eyes still wide in unknown revelation, entirely unmoving. You continued, “This weather makes me not want to do anything, and I know you complain about the delivery time but we could just reheat the food if it gets here cold.”

It seemed like forever but Taehyung eventually nodded.

He then turned to face the window again.

You inwardly sighed and guessed he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of chinese. He always complained that you didn’t take care of yourself and how you needed home cooked meals rather than greasy takeout. But when creatively burnt out like this, you tended to just reach for the doordash because the act of cooking seemed entirely too much for you.

Hoping to butter him up, you tipped toed from behind and wrapped your arms around him. You nuzzled your face into his back and took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scent of his outrageously expensive cologne. His body seemed to melt into your hold, tense posture suddenly limp and calm.

You reached up and pecked his cheek, grinning when you caught sight of his lips twitching upwards. Harmless manipulation complete, you trudged out the room with a lukewarm “Thanks honey!”

You skipped up the stairs and made a left into a hallway, quickly getting into the bedroom and preparing to plop into the heavenly crumpled mess of sheets and blankets, when an unexpected sound caused you to still.

The front door was opening.

Afraid of a possible home invasion, you rushed out to see what was happening.

The door was wide open and emerging into the home…was Taehyung.

His hair and jacket was drenched from the rain, four or so heaping grocery bags in his hold as he looked up the stairs at you with a tired smile.

“Hey baby, can you give me a hand with some of this? I got some sauce for the pasta and picked up some other stuff we were running low on.”

Time stood still.

Your jaw dropped in bewilderment.

Your mind struggling to process this odd collapse of reality.

The nearest grocery store was, at its quickest, still a twenty-minute drive into town.

There was just no way Taehyung was able to leave and get back in the same time it took for you to get up the stairs and into your room.

No one can be in two places at once.

What the fuck was going on?

You just saw him. You just talked to him. You just smelled him. You just touched him.

Taehyung’s gaze worriedly ran up and down your face, correctly detecting that something was dreadfully wrong. He kicked the door closed behind him and rather ungracefully dropped the bags, hastily stepping over some of the falling items to race up the steps and take you in his hold.

“Y/n? Baby what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! Did something happen while I was gone?” He fretted.

“I-w-what-you-j-just-living room…” You stammered, not even being able to bring yourself to voice what was happening.

“What? What about the living room? You’re not making any sense.”

You gulped, looking up at him with fear. “T-Tae, I could’ve sworn I just saw you in the living room. I talked to you.”

Your boyfriend’s face dropped.

“Y/n, get in the bedroom and lock the door behind you.”

You irritably huffed while blinking away oncoming tears, realizing Taehyung didn’t quite understand what you were saying. “No! Not like an intruder! It was you.”

“I’m right here Y/n. I just got back from the market. I haven’t been home in the past hour. There’s no way you just saw me in this house.” He slowly explained, as if you were having some mental breakdown and needed to be talked off the ledge.

Your temper rose. “No shit Kim Taehyung! That’s why I’m scared! Do you have a twin brother or something? Or did you come into the living room before going back to the car to get the groceries?”

Taehyung backed away from you, clearly put off by your outburst. “No? First off, you know I’m an only child. Secondly, why would I come in and let you talk to me before going back out in the pouring rain, bring in groceries and then pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about when you said you saw me in the house just now?”

You glared up at him, now feeling foolish for even being scared in the first place of something that most definitely had a logical explanation.

Your boyfriend always had a more playful side than you and this was most likely the first trick he was trying to play in your very young relationship.

“I told you I don’t like pranks, Taehyung. You can pull them on your friends all you want but you promised to never pull one on me.”

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m not pranking you! It probably was an intruder who looked kinda like me and instead of letting me go and investigate, you're arguing with me?”

“It wasn’t an intruder! He didn’t take anything!”

Taehyung laughed incredulously, “Great, you're defending some robber over your own boyfriend now? I almost feel jealous.”

“There’s nothing to be jealous over because the guy was you!” You exploded.

“Which isn’t possible!”

“Go look then!” You relented.

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly ran down the stairs and went through the entire house, searching for an unseen man who managed to trick his girlfriend into thinking he was him.

He found no such person.

It was only while you both wordlessly unpacked the groceries while licking the wounds of your little spat did Taehyung make a point that chilled you to the bone.

“Y/n, when you saw me…how did I look?”

You raised a brow at him. “I don’t know? You looked just fine.”

“Okay…and your working theory is I parked outside and came in, talked to you, then went back out, just to enter through the front again like nothing happened?”

You meekly shrugged, “Yeah I guess that would be a good trick.”

Your clever boyfriend pointed at the window, where it was still raining heavily. “I would've been soaked then, Y/n.”

That was the first incident.

— Dinner that night was a tense affair.

At least until Taehyung solemnly apologized for being so bad at hiding his true identity.

He then fessed up to being the Korean version of The Flash.

Against yourself, you bursted out laughing.

Maybe it was all the anxiety of the day that made you loopy, or your desperate need to just return to normal but you apologized for snapping and blamed your overactive writer's imagination for everything.

Taehyung said it was okay and that you actually looked hot when angry, you knew for a fact you didn’t but took the compliment nonetheless and suggested an early night in.

And just like that your first couple fight was over.

Yet that night when you were in the arms of your slumbering boyfriend, with his peaceful snores rumbling in your ear, all you could think about was the other Taehyung.

You regretfully lied to your boyfriend.

You knew for a fact that it wasn’t your imagination.

You were never the type of writer who got so immersed in your work that you began imagining things and confusing them for reality. If anything, you were too grounded in reality. In addition to this, you highly doubted that multiple weeks of writer’s block would even allow for such a vivid mirage to occur.

And the most damning evidence of all, if it was your imagination…why would your mind conjure up the exact replica of your boyfriend? The very man you live with and see everyday for hours on end? Wouldn’t it be a character from your book? Or at least someone you haven’t seen in a while?

It all didn’t make sense, but you didn’t have enough information to say what it was, you just knew what it wasn’t.

You rolled over and buried your face into Taehyung’s chest, practically praying for the mystery to soon be over and solve itself quickly.

It was most likely the overthinking and looming dark corners of the bedroom, but you began to feel like someone was watching you through the small gap in your ajar bedroom door.

– A few days passed and you have almost forgotten about the incident.

I mean, maybe not entirely but you were at least willing to chalk it up to a freak incident.

Scrolling through some discussion boards online showed that your story was actually pretty tame to what other unexplainable experiences some people have had. At least the other Taehyung didn’t try to scare or hurt you. It just seemed like he was doing his own thing really, like he was lost in his own world staring out that window. Thus you concluded that you weren’t in danger, and it therefore wasn’t worth freaking out about.

Mainly because your editor was on your ass and there was nothing productive about thinking of him when you were already so late on a deadline.

Naturally, you attempted to throw yourself into your writing, which was proving to be as fruitless as ever. Yet you knew giving your editor anything was better than nothing, leading you to sending half-assed drafts to him and enduring long calls about how your writing was okay, but not great.

You and Taehyung have been off too.

There was no more fighting or even words exchanged about the fiasco. However there still was an uneasiness between you two. You doubted that Taehyung believed your imagination excuse, but you also knew that he didn’t trust your original recollection of events either. Your boyfriend sort of walked on eggshells around you, almost as if you’d somehow think he was the imposter whenever he’d step into the room. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little offended by it.

Luckily, Taehyung was currently immersed with his art, rarely leaving his little workspace. You wished you could say the same but you felt like you were simply writing in circles without actually getting anywhere. It was hard to not be jealous, but at least you were given some space away from him after a rather unresolved fight.

Meanwhile, you were planning to take a day or two off of writing, to just let your mind wander and relax so that maybe the next time you sat behind a laptop you could actually produce something worthwhile.

Of course it would just so happen that it would fall on the very day you get sick.

Waking up that morning you felt feverish and lightheaded, telling yourself that you could just use fifteen more minutes of sleep and you’d probably feel better.

You woke up five hours later; feeling even more feverish, lightheaded, and now nauseous.

You trudged downstairs to the kitchen and popped back some painkillers with a glass of water, already fantasizing about getting back into your warm and comfy bed once again.

Except what could make your bed even warmer and comfier? Taehyung.

Your boyfriend was always the more affectionate one between you two, you often practically had to push him away when you were trying to get work done. But now that you were willingly going to ask for his affection, there was no way he’d let you go uncuddled.

Any awkwardness in the relationship was long forgotten as you stomped towards his workspace, a demand to be held heavy on your tongue. You were too sick and exhausted to try to navigate relationship politics, but the whole point of a boyfriend was that he was supposed to provide attention on demand, right?

You reached his door and feebly knocked, trying to be polite to his artistic process and not just barge in.

You heard some shuffling on the other side and soon enough your boyfriend was in front of you. Taehyung hadn’t shaved his face in days, a faint goatee gracing his already intimidatingly handsome face. His black hair was messy and fluffy, a gold chain gracing his neck and drawing attention to his lack of shirt and gray sweatpants.

He grinned at you, “What’s up baby?”

You pouted up at him, momentarily not even ashamed to resort to such cheap tricks, “I feel sick and want to be cuddled back to sleep.”

“Aww poor thing.” He crooned while leaning against the doorframe. “Why don’t you head back up to bed and I’ll be up as soon as I can? I just finished a sketch and really need to focus on the next few steps before I can quit for the day.”

You huffed, kind of annoyed that he wouldn’t even take a break to hold you.

He rolled his eyes at your reaction, “Don’t look at me like that, honey. When the muse strikes, I gotta paint. Otherwise I don’t know when I’ll get the next chance for inspiration. You understand, right?”

“Yeah, I’m just really crabby and being held sounded really good.”

Taehyung chucked, muttering to himself a “cute” before leaning forward and pecking your lips. “I promise I’ll try to be quick. Go drink some water and wait for me. I’ll bring you some soup when I’m done.”

You just nodded and left him to his work. Instead of the bedroom, your feet somehow led you to the living room.

Maybe you should watch some tv while Taehyung worked? You already slept a lot today and if Taehyung was gonna be in bed with you later, perhaps it was a good idea to stay up for a little bit. Besides, you’ve been avoiding this part of the house ever since the incident and you needed to get comfortable in your own living room eventually.

Such a reminder of that rainy day caused you to cast a wary glance at the bay window, oddly feeling both relief and annoyance that nothing was there.

You plunked down onto the couch and wrapped a throw blanket around you, searching your usual streaming services for some comfort show to watch.

It was halfway through an episode of some show you’ve already watched countless times, when you heard footsteps approaching.

You looked up and saw your boyfriend, looking as cute and messy as before. Except now he held a sheepish smile on his face as he held up a steaming mug of something.

“What’s that?”

He took a seat next to you and gently handed the drink over. “Hot chocolate. I know protocol is tea whenever someone is sick, but I know how much you hate the taste.”

You fondly smiled and took the mug, flustered that he remembered such a minor detail about you. “Thank you love but you didn’t have to. You should be focusing on your work. Don’t let me distract you!”

Taehyung shook his head and threw an arm around you, holding you tight against him. He craned his neck and looked down to you, almost meeting you nose-to nose to connect his gaze with yours. Suddenly a serious expression replaced his formerly sheepish one.

“Actually, I wanted to talk.” He said, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I-I wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?”

He licked his lips, “I know we’ve been kinda out-of-sync ever since you said you saw someone and I didn’t believe you. But, it just didn’t make sense. Like, how is that possible? Whatever the case though, I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were going crazy or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, “So you believe me then?”

“Yes. I know you wouldn’t lie. I don’t know what happened but…I know you know what you saw.”

A warm feeling spread across your chest, temporarily putting your sickness on the back burner. In truth, you weren't sure if the situation even called for an apology but you felt so pampered that your boyfriend cared enough to. “I-I’m sorry too, Tae. I shouldn’t have assumed you were being mean and pranking me. Snapping at you wasn’t cool.”

Taehyung just shrugged. “Nah, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

You secretly agreed that you were in the right but still, if he was being a big enough person to say sorry so should you. You turned your attention back to the drink in your hands, taking a sip.

You nearly moaned in pleasure when the flavor graced your taste buds.

“What did you put in this?”

“Oh just some cinnamon and-”

“Ginger.” You interrupted, knowing without a doubt that it was the other spice.

“Yup. Why? Is something wrong?” He asked, probably worried you didn’t like it.

“No! It’s perfect.” You said before gulping down more of the nostalgic hot chocolate. “When I was a kid, I had a babysitter who would make her hot chocolate with cinnamon and ginger. Mrs Fritz was her name, a really kind old lady from down the street. I was her favorite so she made hot chocolate for me all the time and watched me for free whenever my parents went out.”

Taehyung hummed, a small smile on his face as you fondly recalled one of the biggest figures of your childhood. “She must’ve had great taste.”

“Mrs. Fritz had impeccable taste.” You good-naturedly corrected with a giggle. “I miss her. When other kids wouldn’t play with me she would stay inside with me and color or read me these cool stories.”

“I would’ve played with you.” Taehyung grumbled, in all likelihood noting how you grimaced at the memory of not being all too popular as a kid.

“Haha, you definitely wouldn’t have! I was such a dork and actually hated playing outside. Kid me much rather be at home watching some old movies or something. Not to mention I was quite an ugly little girl.” You laughed.

Tae gasped dramatically, “That’s not true! You were adorable!”

“You saw like one picture of me at eight! And my mom did me all up for that picture! Trust me, I didn’t look that good at all.”

Taehyung looked like he wanted to argue further, but realizing you were right he just dropped it with an unconvincing, “Whatever you say.”

“But anyway babe, you really can go back to painting. I don’t want to keep you. If I had any inspiration right now, you wouldn’t be able to tear me away from my laptop.”

His arm tugged you even closer. “Nope, I’m alright where I’m at right now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my sick girlfriend all alone?”

You blushed, logically aware that you could handle yourself but emotionally over the moon that this beautiful man didn’t want you to. Selfishly, you wanted to take advantage of his presence even if it came at the expense of his art progress. So you placed the mostly empty mug on the coffee table, fishing out your phone from your sweatpant pocket and setting it there too.

You then curled up into his side, suddenly feeling so drowsy.

Taehyung held you closer, even playing with your hair as you lost the battle with your increasingly heavy eyelids.

You felt him press his lips against your forehead in a drawn out peck, as his nose ticked the crown of your head. He inhaled deeply, his everlasting love for your shampoo revealing itself once more.

“You okay?” His baritone voice whispered.

“Yeah. I just took some medicine that’s probably making me all sleepy.” You mumbled back.

You didn’t hear anything else, just felt as he rested his head on top of yours, presumably also closing his eyes to rest.

Slowly but surely feeling the mechanisms of your brain shut down, the darkness steadily taking over as the sound of the tv became more and more distant.

A notification from your phone caused you to open a single eye, quickly scanning the screen on the coffee table.

Taebear: Hey almost done over here! Do you mind turning down the TV a bit tho? Kinda distracting :(

Before you can even gasp, the medicine-induced darkness consumed you completely, effectively and brutally knocking you out.

That was the second incident.

–

“So like I was saying, I dumped his ass because what the fuck do you mean you ‘don’t know what we are’? I met his damn parents, Y/n!”

The voice blarred over the phone speaker, as you hummed rather noncommittally. “What a jerk. You can do a whole lot better, Lisa.”

You were in the laundry room, slowly taking clothes out of the dryer and folding them as you spoke on the phone with one of your closest friends. About once a week you two would have a call and catch each other up with your lives. Although, Lisa led a much more interesting life than you and usually had a crazy story to share every week, while you just reacted to it. It was kinda like a one listener podcast, but you didn’t mind as you were always very entertained with her.

“Thank you! I don’t know where I keep finding these guys. You really got lucky with Taehyung, all the other men our age are such assholes.” She groaned.

You wanted to laugh, but at the mention of your boyfriend’s name you froze.

Not catching your silence, Lisa continued, “Anyway, how are you and Taehyung doing? What’s it like to live together only six months into a relationship?”

“Actually…we had our first fight.” You told her. “Maybe. I don’t know. It may not even be considered a fight so much as a disagreement but I’ve been feeling a little awkward.”

“Oooh, what happened?” She didn’t even try to mask her excitement.

“It…I…Something happened and he didnt…I don’t know, Lisa. I’m going to sound crazy but I feel like I’m experiencing a glitch in the matrix or some shit.”

She pushed, “Try me. Remember when I used to be a flat earther? I’ll believe anything.”

Lisa made a good point, she was always down for conspiracies and even proclaimed herself a supernatural expert. So you relented, “Okay. Look, I don’t want you to laugh at me or anything because I’m being completely honest. I’m telling you this because I desperately need theories.”

“I promise I’ll give you a theory! Just get to it!” She barked over the phone, anxiously awaiting your story.

“Um, so earlier this week I went downstairs and saw Taehyung. I talked to him about ordering out instead of cooking, hugged him then went up the stairs. Then not even a second later Taehyung came home with groceries, telling me he wasn’t in the house at all when I said I saw him.” You paused, waiting for her to interject.

“Huh…” She trailed off, stumped herself with what that could mean.

“And yesterday, I went to Tae’s workspace to try to cuddle but he said he needed a bit more time with his painting and then he’d meet me upstairs. I went to the couch to wait and he suddenly came in and apologized for not believing me earlier. We cuddled and talked then…I got a text from Taehyung asking me to turn the tv down because it was distracting him.”

You took a deep breath to calm your rising nerves, not liking how you were managing to scare yourself all over again. “Lisa, how was I in Taehyung's arms when Taehyung wasn’t even in the room with me?”

“How did this other Taehyung act? Was he any different than your actual boyfriend?”

“I mean, the first time he didn’t say a word and I left the room quickly. The second time he was so sweet and…I don’t know. Maybe even nicer than my actual boyfriend but not like suspiciously so.”

“And there’s no difference between him and Taehyung? Same height, voice, birthmarks, everything?”

“Yes.”

A brief silence as she no doubt was working with a theory. “And you’ve never had experiences like this before you moved into that farmhouse?”

“None.”

“Ah-ha! It’s probably a ghost then!” She assured triumphantly.

You, however, weren’t so sure she solved the case. “A ghost that looks exactly like my boyfriend?”

“Well, crazier things have happened. You know, scientists say that each person has around six doppelgangers out there somewhere. What if this ghost was your boyfriend's doppelganger?”

“Still, why would he act like he was my boyfriend? Like, this ghost must have a different name and background than my Taehyung so why does he go along with it whenever I call him Taehyung and treat him like a boyfriend?” You questioned.

“The afterlife can get pretty dull. The ghost is probably just bored and noticed that Taehyung looks alot like him, so he’s using that to his advantage to mess around.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” You grumbled, pissed at the prospect of you being a little plaything to a bored spirit.

“I know babe but ghosts are mostly harmless. If it really starts to bother you, maybe get a medium to move him along or whatever.” Lisa advised.

“Yeah, maybe.” – Mom: Look what I found!

The text came with a video attached, and you clicked it without thinking much.

A chubby little girl of about three to five years of age was badly hiding in a school cubby. Her mini feet sticking out and wiggling as the rest of her body was covered by a hung up winter coat. The cameraman sighed dramatically from behind the scenes, asking loudly, “Oh where could Y/n possibly be?!”

The girl giggled and a new figure slowly snuck into frame, approaching the cubby with a large grin.

The preschool teacher suddenly reached into the cubby and snatched the girl up, holding her up in the air as if the toddler was a prize of some sort. “Gotcha!”

The mini version of you laughed in her hold, kicking the air in glee. “Miss Addison you found me! You’ll find me anywhere, right?”

The young teacher nodded as she placed you on your feet. “Of course! I have a really good Y/n sense! I’ll find you anywhere.”

“Even the moon?” Innocent you asked, most likely just having learned about the star.

“Yes, I’ll find you on the moon if I have to!” Miss Addison chuckled.

The video ended and you went to type your mom a half-hearted reply, mostly inquiring how she still even had that clip after all these years.

While doing so, you caught yourself wishing that you could show this to Taehyung and prove that you were indeed not the best company as a child, your teacher had to play hide-and-seek with you because no one else would.

Yet, it wasn’t Taehyung you had that particular conversation with. Rather other Taehyung.

Or as you and Lisa had nicknamed; ghost Taehyung.

You failed to tell your boyfriend about the second incident. He woke you up an hour or so later with his promised bowl of soup, softly scolding you for never turning down the tv.

Deep inside you were sure that he was already convinced you were crazy from the first time his replica showed up. You didn’t seek to push that theory even further. Mostly because you didn’t want him to admit you to a psych ward, but also because of another glaring reason. The first time you were sure that Taehyung himself was messing with you somehow, which prompted you to accuse him, but this time around you knew for a fact he was innocent.

Instinctively, you didn’t feel threatened by the doppelganger spirit. If anything you sorta wished he’d pop up again with a ginger-cinnamon hot chocolate. It was kinda weird that he was acting like your boyfriend when he wasn’t, but he didn’t try to be too intimate with you or anything. The lease on the farmhouse was only twelve months so you could put up with a friendly ghost for a while if need be.

The only creepy thing was that you weren’t sure how you were going to tell if you were talking to the real Taehyung or not. Thankfully, the sick day incident seemed to be the last one, the last few days being almost eerily mundane.

The door to your bedroom suddenly slammed open, revealing your beaming boyfriend.

He held up a champagne bottle with one hand and two glasses in the other. “Guess what just happened!”

You sat up in bed and placed your phone on the nightstand as he giddily approached you. “What? Are we celebrating something?”

“Only the Bauhaus Gallery agreeing to schedule a showing for my latest collection!”

You jumped up in surprise, instantly wrapping your arms around him and plastering his face with kisses. “Oh my god! Tae! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you! When is it?!”

“Next Friday at eight.” He chuckled through your kisses, fully basking in your attention.

The Bauhaus gallery was an uppity German gallery in town that apparently served as a who's who in the world of painting. Personally, you didn’t get what the big deal was, but Taehyung made it one of his career goals to have a show there. He always said that his career would really take off if he could showcase his work at such a place.

You pulled back and began thinking out loud as Taehyung worked on the bottle, “Wow, okay! I need to get a dress. And we should invite some friends to support you. Oh! Namjoon and his wife would probably try to buy a painting so we should see if they’re free-”

Taehyung cut you off with the resounding pop of the bottle, “Yeah yeah, we can plan that all out later. Right now I just wanna celebrate with my pretty girlfriend please.”

You quieted down and held the glasses as he poured. He then placed the bottle aside, took a glass and held it up for you to clink. You did so while your boyfriend declared, “To my collection and girlfriend; both beautiful and priceless!”

“You better announce that again at the afterparty!” You laughed, covering your blush.

You both finished the drinks rather quickly, him with a refreshing “ahh” and you with a cringe. Champagne really was overrated in your opinion, having no idea why it was the token celebratory drink. The glasses were then shoved somewhere aside, courtesy of Tae.

You laid back down in the bed, Taehyung unhurriedly following suit and even climbing on top of you at a leisurely pace.

Taehyung’s face was now inches away from yours, his every breath tickling your skin. His previous mood of joy shifted into something more…sultry. Cat eyes darkened, fully taking you in with a steadily growing smirk. The artist licked this bottom lip in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed, before quirking one brow up in faux inquiry. His voice was low and husky, purring into your ears, “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve fucked.”

You snorted, “Gee, that’s hard to believe when you put me in the mood like that.”

“You like a man who's upfront.” He shrugged, not wasting a second more as he leaned down to slowly melt his lips against yours.

The intimate sensation felt almost foreign, the last few days having only been filled with obligatory pecks due to you two being so caught up in your work. You almost forgot how talented he was at making you feel special.

You kissed back just as slowly, feeling the intensity of his lips and taking the time to reacquaint yourself with them. It was gentle, deep, and meaningful. He kissed you gingerly, carefully, but that’s not what you wanted. Not after all this time. Pent-up sexual frustration caused you to knot your fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against you.

Taehyung groaned softly, low in his throat while encircling you in his arms to gather you against him. You two rolled over in the bed, tangled in the sheets, still locked at the lips.

His tongue slips into your mouth, tender but demanding. You swirl your tongue against his, moaning into his mouth as his hands snuck up to twist in your hair and grip you impossibly closer. Taehyung’s slight stubble prickles you, but somehow the extra sensation just excites you even more. Your boyfriend's lips pull back and meet their ultimate home at your neck, him now mouthing fervently at the sensitive nerves there as you gasped for air.

As you felt hotter and hotter, Taehyung answered your unsaid prayer and positioned his thigh between your legs, obscenely brushing against the place you needed him most. Knowing you like the back of his hand, he purposefully tensed his thigh as you not-so-subtly grinded against it, all the while he sucked and nibbled at the spot just below your ear.

A tug at your clothes.

Softly biting your earlobe, he whispered, “Be a good girl for me and take this shit off.”

Just when you were about to oblige, an unexpected sound cut through all the haze and caused you both to freeze.

It sounded like a…bang?

From somewhere deep within the house.

It was so loud and shrill, it effortlessly echoed off the walls of your humble bedroom. If you had to describe it, it was as if someone had just thrown a bowling ball with all their might.

Undoubtedly snapping into protector mode, Taehyung immediately jumped off of you and reached under the bed to retrieve a metal baseball bat.

“Stay here.” He ordered, already marching out the door before you could even protest.

You fearfully obeyed, reaching for your phone in case 911 had to be called.

Your once warm and flushed body was now icy with panic. Sitting upright in the bed, you strained your ears for any idea of what was occurring downstairs.

But alas, the house remained freakily silent. Almost as if that brutal sound was in your head and nothing more.

This did nothing to help your anxiety, a cold sweat quickly forming.

Minutes passed, you waited with bated breath for something. Anything.

But nothing ever came.

Your worry grew tenfold.

The longer Taehyung was away, the more you felt weighed down with dread, heart nearly in your throat.

‘What was happening downstairs? Was Taehyung okay? Did he find something? If there was a struggle, surely you would’ve heard it by now, right?’

Then ultimately, as the seconds ticked on, ‘Was your boyfriend going to come back?’

At the ten-minute mark, you made your decision.

Now concerned for your boyfriend’s safety, you sprung out of bed and ran out of the room. Your body purposefully moving too fast for your mind to catch up and halt your movements in the name of self-preservation.

“Taehyung?!” You desperately called out as you practically plummeted down the stairs.

“In here!” A croaky voice answered, sounding like your boyfriend but oddly…defeated?

You correctly traced the voice to his workroom, stepping into the space and seeing a scene that swiftly broke your heart, effectively replacing all your fright with woe.

Taehyung was on his knees in front of an easel, head bowed down.

The easel held a half-done canvas.

It was a sketch of two people, a man and a woman that closely resembled you and Taehyung.

It was partly painted, the scene depicting a warm sunny day at the park that looked alot like where Taehyung had taken you for a picnic and officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You were in Taehyung’s arms, kissing his cheek as he smiled his signature box-smile. You could recall that precise moment easily, you had just said yes to being his and sheepishly pecked his cheek, embarrassed by the old man on the bench a few feet away that eyed you two like a hawk.

It was a wonderful piece of unfinished art, not only due to the sentimental value but also the artistry and time that clearly went into it.

If only there weren't angry red sloshes of paint that cut through it, ruining the picture and turning it into something that looked like a horrible bloody mess of goo and not the romantic day it was.

“I-I was going to gift this to you….on our seventh month.” Taehyung’s voice was watery.

You didn’t even know what to say.

All of his hard work and thought was simply…gone. Erased. Ruined.

It would’ve been the equivalent of someone breaking into your laptop and deleting your entire novel’s draft. What would you even do? If roles were reversed, would there even be a way for Taehyung to console you? To make matters worse, it was his gift of love to you. He didn’t make that painting for himself, a buyer, or a collection…he made it for you.

Your empathy made you almost cry for him, but you knew that would be the last thing he’d want to see right now. His guilt would only grow.

You walked further into the room and got on your knees beside him.

Wrapping your arms around him, you cradled his head in the nook between your head and shoulder while rocking the two of you. “Tae baby, I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, although you felt wet teardrops on your skin.

“Who would do this? It doesn’t make sense why someone would break in, take nothing and just destroy my gift?”

You didn’t know either, but you wanted to make him feel better. “Listen, I think it was the perfect gift. It’s really the thought that counts and I’m just happy that you even thought to make me something like that. Especially in the middle of working on your own collection, it must’ve been hard.”

Taehyung pulled back, regarding you with a tearful but hopeful gaze. “Really?”

“Of course! I was literally going to just get you a watch or something. That gift kinda would have made me look bad.” You attempted to joke.

He shakily smiled, even chuckling a bit before pulling back entirely and standing to his full height. Tae then held a hand out for you, pulling you up as well.

Not wanting to be in the room anymore with that awful mess, you gradually pushed him towards the door, eventually up the stairs and into your bedroom.

You both sat on the bed, him with his head in his hands and you awkwardly suggesting yet another early night in.

But instead of agreeing and attempting to join you under the covers, Taehyung continued to sit almost painfully still at the edge of your bed.

Then, he spoke.

“Y/n, you were lying when you said that guy was probably just a figment of your imagination.”

It wasn’t a question.

He knew.

He believed you now.

–

It was now the official opinion of the house that a ghost was indeed roaming around somewhere.

You wanted to pat yourself on the back because truly, your taste in men was superior.

Taehyung wasn’t one of those horror movie boyfriends that was convinced every unexplainable occurrence must’ve had a logical explanation. It only took that one experience for the artist to admit that something weird was going on, and although he never saw the ghost himself, Taehyung believed you when you said it looked exactly like him.

You were happy that you two were on the same page…well, mostly.

Taehyung reasoned that the lookalike ghost must’ve been the one to ruin his painting.

You don’t know why, but somewhere deep within, that accusation just didn’t feel right. Without thinking much, you had told your boyfriend that destroying his gift didn’t seem like something ghost Tae would do.

Obviously Taehyung was bewildered at your sudden defense of the spirit’s character and demanded to know how you could be so sure that it wasn’t him.

Feeling that your hand was forced, you fessed up to the second incident in which you ran into the other Taehyung. You explained that he was sweet, brought you hot chocolate and even held you as you fell asleep. It was only after the real Taehyung texted you that you realized it wasn’t your boyfriend, but by then it was too late.

Your boyfriend was understandably furious.

For one, you never told him that you were cuddled and taken care of by another man, dead or otherwise. And secondly, this spirit seemed to be taking too much of a liking to you. The artist was a weird mixture of jealous and protective, following you around the house and barely leaving you alone in fear that his replica would show up and snatch you away.

You thought he was overreacting, but Taehyung's determination to get rid of the ghost only grew as the days passed.

One day you took a break from writing and went downstairs to refresh your coffee, when you paused at the sight of your boyfriend waving an odd burning stick around the living room in a fashion that somehow made sense to him.

“Sage cleanses the home of negative energy and basically tells unwanted spirits to fuck off.” He told you as if you were the idiot and not him- wildly thrashing his arm around in a puff of smoke and demanding that his evil ghost twin left the premises immediately.

You shrugged, “Just don’t set off the smoke detector, please.”

The next day, Taehyung informed you over dinner that he called a security camera company and had ordered a set to be installed in your home.

“Don’t you think that’s kinda a big fucking thing to not run by me?”

“I’m sorry baby, but I knew you wouldn’t have agreed.” He apologized without seeming even the tiniest bit apologetic.

“If you knew I wouldn’t have wanted it then why do it anyway?!”

“Because as the man of the house it’s my job to protect us and I would like to witness everything that’s going on. Next time he comes out and tries to touch you, I will be able to see it from my phone and confront him.” He then reached for his water and took a self righteous sip before muttering under his breath, “That is if the sage didn’t kick him out already.”

“Man of the house?!” You echoed incredulously. “You call twirling around with some burning twigs and yelling at a harmless ghost being the man of the house?”

“He’s not harmless! Why are you so convinced that it’s just a casper that we’re dealing with?!”

You opened your mouth to retort, but snapped it shut when you realized you didn’t really have any reason to believe he wasn’t dangerous. So you just focused on the main glaring issue, “Nevermind that. I just don’t like how you made a big decision without telling me. Are we not equal in this relationship? It wasn’t even worth consulting me about?”

Taehyung didn’t say anything.

It would seem that he understood your point, but was stubbornly holding onto his just a tad more.

Appetite ruined, you stormed away in a display of vexation.

Not wanting to go to sleep beside him either, you stayed all night in your office and tried to just focus on editing the latest version of your draft.

Somewhere along the way, you managed to fall asleep on the keyboard.

You blearily awoke hours later to the sound of the door firmly shutting.

Groggily you sat up and twisted to see if anyone else was in the room with you, all the while rubbing off the key imprints on your cheek and leftover drool.

No one was there.

When you turned your attention back to the desk, you softly gasped in surprise.

A plate of grilled cheese sat there, still hot.

Alongside it was a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

One sip and you instantly recognized the ginger-cinnamon.

It wasn’t your boyfriend who left this.

The sage didn’t work.

–

Ralph was a man of about fifty years of age.

Tall, lumbering, calloused and not necessarily easy on the eyes, he shifted awkwardly at the entrance of your delicate farmhouse as Taehyung listed off the places in the home that he’d like covered.

Ralph was to set up the cameras while you and your boyfriend went out for a quick errand.

The gallery showing was tomorrow, and so was the little afterparty that you had arranged to take place. You did so without really realizing all that you would need for hosting. The guest list was an intimate circle of seven, but given you and Taehyung were running out of groceries for even just the two of you, you figured a trip to the market was needed to properly prepare.

You rolled your eyes and waited for your boyfriend to finish his little pep talk, sighing in relief when Ralph was finally free to disappear into the living room with his bag of tools.

“Ready?” You asked Taehyung, not really waiting for an answer as you stomped past him and out the door.

He followed you wordlessly to the car.

The ride into town was stiff and awkward, neither one of you saying anything and music not even playing in the background as Taehyung drove.

You both were still angry at each other.

Well, more like you were angry at him and he was correctly trying to not poke the bear by instigating useless chatter.

The cameras were overkill in your opinion and a giant waste of money. You both were artists, which means a severe lack of steady income. You needed to be smart with what you threw cash at because no one knew if your next book or his next painting would even sell. Nothing was ever guaranteed.

You felt for him that his gift was wrecked, but you weren’t lying when you said that the thought was all that really mattered to you. You genuinely didn’t care either way, it would’ve been nice to have the painting, but it was just as nice to know that he was painting one for you.

If you were a betting woman, you would bet that this was more about Taehyung’s unfounded jealousy than anything else. Usually you would find harmless jealousy kind of attractive, but not when it went into installing cameras into your home at the “low” price of a couple hundred dollars.

You thought of this in a quiet rage as Taehyung pulled into the grocery store.

He parked, you both got out and walked inside before grabbing a cart.

“Let’s split up.” You said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine. What do you want me to get?”

“Get the drinks. They’re mainly your friends so you’d know what they’d like more than me. I’ll get some stuff for a charcuterie board.” You ordered, just wanting to get back home as soon as possible

He nodded and swiftly went over to the alcohol section as you made way into the food aisles.

You were looking at the different types of crackers and wondering what the fuck the difference was when a sudden call of your name took your attention.

“Y/n?”

The voice was light and airy, tone warm and nostalgic to the ears.

No way.

It can’t be…

You swirled around to face the owner, nearly choking on your spit when you realized your suspicions were correct.

Park Jimin was as gorgeous as ever. The cherub face was just as you recalled, somehow both ruggedly handsome and softly docile. His eyes crinkled behind a pearly smile, a small hand coming up to swiftly brush through his dyed blonde hair as he approached you.

“I thought that was you.” He chuckled. “How have you been? It’s been so long.”

You managed a wry smile.

Jimin was once your college boyfriend of one year, five months, and eight days.

But hey, who was counting?

“I’m doing okay.” You choked out, not liking how he quickly frowned at your strained tone. If there was one man you could never lie to, it was Jimin. “How about yourself? Did you open up that studio you always wanted?”

The truth was you knew he did. Before meeting and dating Taehyung, you were guilty of occasionally checking his social media. It simply couldn’t be helped. Jimin was the longest relationship you ever had. The first man you ever really loved. And your first ever heartbreak.

“Um, yeah I did! I heard you published your first book last year. I bought a few copies myself…” he trailed off sheepishly, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “It uh, was really well written. Are you um, working on anything now?”

You bit your lip, not sure how you felt about the man you were once wildly in love with reading your novel after years of not talking. Much less buying more than one copy to support you. “Y-Yes I’m writing my second book.”

He nodded, a proud expression on his face as he pursed his lips in thought.

“I’m sorry this is…weird.” He finally huffed. “I really didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

You sighed with some relief, thankful he felt the same way. “Same. After you said you wanted to date other people I really didn’t expect to say another word to you like, ever.”

Jimin laughed, “Haha, what? Your memory continues to suck, Y/n. If anything it was you who ghosted-”

“Y/n.”

A much deeper voice cut through the air, bringing all the attention to a new figure descending upon the scene.

Taehyung strode up from behind you, placing an arm around you and regarding the other man with a brooding look of regard.

“Whose this?” Your boyfriend asked, purposefully deepening his already deep voice.

You inwardly rolled your eyes, noting how the artist was practically puffing his chest and glowering at the much shorter man.

“Taehyung, this is my old friend Jimin. Jimin, this is my boyfriend Taehyung.”

The two stiffly nodded at each other, you dodging the questioning look Jimin secretly shot at you for being described as ‘an old friend’.

A pregnant pause hung in the air.

“So…how long have you two been together?”

Before either you or your boyfriend could answer, a pretty lady suddenly skipped into the aisle and grasped onto Jimin’s arm.

“Babe, I can’t find the oat milk! I thought you said- Oh hello!” She just now noticed you and Taehyung, smiling politely and not-so-subtly nudging at Jimin to introduce her.

“Oh, um, this is Molly.”

“His girlfriend! And you two are?”

“I’m Y/n and this is my boyfriend Taehyung.” You introduced. “Jimin and I went to school together.”

“Really? I never get to meet any of Jimin’s old friends! We should have a double date or something!” Molly was an over the top girl, your ears almost ringing at the volume she exuded. But she seemed nice, so you smiled warmly at her and vaguely agreed.

Another brief, awkward and only slightly painful silence.

“Actually…” You trailed off in thought, an idea forming in your head but you didn’t know if it was a good one. Yet it was too late. Before you could even backtrack, all three sets of eyes were on you, eagerly waiting for you to finish the thought. “…what are you two doing tomorrow night?”

“Was just gonna drag Jiminnie to see this new movie! We can totally blow it off though!”

“Well, my boyfriend is a really talented artist and he has a showing tomorrow night. We’d love it if you two could make it.”

You felt Taehyung stiffen beside you, but you paid it no mind.

From what you understood about showings the more people, the more eyes, the better. It was harmless, wasn’t it? Jimin bought multiple copies of your book, and you’d invite him to a gallery showing to please his over hyper girlfriend.

Even, right?

Molly beamed, asking for your number to exchange the details.

You did so, pretending not to notice how both Jimin and Taehyung bore their stares into you.

When finished, you waved goodbye to the couple as they made their way to the dairy section. You and Taehyung then continued your own shopping in a rushed manner- your boyfriend grumbling about having to get back in time for the cameras.

The ride home was a bit more talkative, with Taehyung asking how you knew of Jimin and what made you two friends. You answered the questions rather honestly, just leaving out the parts about how your friendship blossomed into something more.

You weren’t exactly trying to be deceitful. It was just that he was under a lot of stress and paranoia the last few days, you didn’t want to push his poor nerves any further. If he was willing to set up a bunch of cameras to keep some ghost away from you, you didn’t want to push your luck by mentioning that Jimin was your ex boyfriend and longest relationship.

Besides, it wasn’t like Jimin was any kind of threat. You would never entertain the idea of going back to the guy who dumped you. He also now had Molly, so clearly you both moved on.

Taehyung pulled the car into the driveway, asking if you could handle the few bags as he went in to talk to Ralph and sort out the last few steps of installation. You agreed, watching him jog into the home as you gathered all the groceries and took your time to get inside.

You beelined straight to the kitchen with the newly bought food, raising your brows when you saw Taehyung staring at something intently on the counter.

“What is it?”

Taehyung didn’t answer.

You walked up behind him and stood on your tippy toes to spot over his shoulder what he was looking at.

It was a note, in messy and hurried handwriting.

“Sorry but the cameras could not have been installed. It won’t work here. -Ralph.”

–

If there was any man on top of the world tonight- his name was Kim Taehyung.

The Bauhaus gallery was swarmed with countless people, all clamoring to gaze upon the latest Kim collection and ponder the intricate meanings behind each piece. They wore luxury clothes and drank fancy wine that you couldn’t even pronounce, their tax bracket clearly a couple pegs above yours. There was of course some idle chatter, almost every corner of the building being filled with some pretentious snob rambling about the brush strokes, artistic style and commentary your boyfriend was allegedly trying to make with his art.

Such a crowd was not something you were accustomed to.

Thus you clung to Lisa, both idly sipping at wine and watching your boyfriend from afar as he charmingly answered questions.

“You know, he’s going to make thousands of dollars tonight.” Lisa thought out loud. “These rich types will outbid each other like crazy.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. You were happy for him, and knew he deserved it but you would be lying if you said he wasn’t in the doghouse.

“Still mad huh?” Lisa correctly assumed, reading your expression. “What happened after the camera dude disappeared?”

“Taehyung was really upset and called the company to demand his money back. They refunded him entirely, apologized and even sent someone to get the company van. I guess the Ralph dude was an alcoholic and everyone just kinda accepts that he skipped town.” You explained. “I tried to calm him down but he sorta snapped at me about how I never even wanted the cameras so I was probably just loving it all.”

Lisa lowly whistled, “Damn. Well, he probably snapped about the cameras but I promise you it wasn’t just about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You invited your ex to his showing.” Lisa lectured, as if you were a child who didn’t even understand what you did wrong.

You stuttered, “B-But he doesn’t know Jimin is an ex! I told him he was just an old friend.”

She rolled her eyes, “Y/n of course he would see right through that. There's always going to be chemistry between Jimin and you, he probably picked up on it and is aware you’re not telling the complete truth about what you two were.”

“He’s just overly jealous. He wants to fight our ghost too. At this point, every man is a threat to him.”

At the mention of your ghost, Lisa’s eyes practically sparkled. “Oh I can’t wait to go back to your place! I want to feel the haunted energy for myself.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, “It’s just like any other home, Lisa.”

“That’s because you don’t have a psychic sense to save your life, Y/n.”

You didn’t know whether or not to be offended by that, so you decided to distract yourself by scanning the room for your boyfriend’s invited friends.

Kim Namjoon was an old boss of Taehyung that remained good friends with the artist even after he dumped his job to take up painting full time. Currently, he and his wife Jennifer were talking rather seriously to a thin-lipped curator, most likely about purchasing one of the artworks displayed.

Right across from where you and Lisa stood, Taehyung was conversing with his former coworkers; Jin and Hoseok. They appeared to be laughing about something, their lightheartedness standing out in the overly serious room of people.

If you craned your neck a little to the left, you could spot Yoongi and Jungkook hiding in a corner away from everyone else, almost perfectly mimicking you and your close friend. They both nursed their drinks quietly, occasionally sharing words but mainly just waiting out this event.

You always kind of thought that Lisa and Jungkook would make a good pairing if properly introduced and pushed. So you turned to your friend and was just about to suggest you guys walk over, when she made a face at something behind you.

“Uh oh, here comes the ex.” She mumbled.

You turned around to indeed see Jimin and Molly approaching.

Jimin wore a suit, dress shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal some of his sun kissed chest. His blonde hair was properly done this time, brushed to the side and back to fully expose his forehead. He raised a hand and waved, rings catching the light and nearly blinding you in the process.

Beside him, Molly looked as pretty as ever in a blue sweetheart dress that complimented her figure. Yet, she looked rather irritated. She attempted to give you a smile in greeting, but it looked more like a grimace.

Jimin spoke first, “Hey, I’m so sorry we’re late. I’m hoping we didn’t miss too much?”

You wanted to be annoyed but without meaning to, a giggle escaped you.

“Things really don’t change.” You told Jimin, a knowing look simmering in your eyes. While dating, you guys were often the couple that showed up late to any event. Most people assumed that it was your doing because you were the girl, when in all actuality it was Jimin.

Jimin shamelessly grinned, “I’ve gotten better, I swear.”

You didn’t believe it for a second and he knew it.

You both shared a laugh, staring at each other fondly like old friends reliving the old times.

It was hard to believe that you were joking with the man you once thought you’d never get over or forgive. Countless nights were spent eating your feelings, hysterically crying and obsessing over all the videos or pictures you couldn’t bring yourself to delete.

But there are some people in life that as soon as they come back, it’s like they never left.

And it was almost as if Jimin never left.

You two continued to gaze into each other, lost in your own comfortable bubble when a sudden throat clearing broke the haze.

“Um, actually the showing is almost over.” Lisa informed, her and Molly visibly looking left out of the nostalgia.

Your ex had the decency to look guilty. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! Maybe we can all just get drinks? There’s a nice bar two blocks down. I can buy a round for everyone?”

“That’s sweet but we have a little after party planned back at my place. I live kind of out of town though, so it’s okay if you can’t make it.”

“No! We can make it! What's the address?” Jimin seemed eager.

You told him, him pulling out his phone to save it into his gps system.

Molly was silent all this time, which was kind of worrying as your first meeting with her led you to believe she was the bubbly type. Now that you mentioned it, it looked like she was avoiding looking at either you or her boyfriend, focusing on a spot on the wall somewhere behind you.

You opened your mouth to maybe ask if she was alright, but quickly shut it when you realized that could be overstepping some boundary.

Fortunately, Lisa seemed to have enough of this entire interaction and grabbed your arm while saying, “Me and Y/n were just going to go to the restroom! Please take a good look around and enjoy her boyfriend’s work! See you guys at the after party!”

Your friend then swiftly dragged you away, barely leaving you enough time to smile apologetically at the couple.

When you both entered the restroom, Lisa simply marched up to the sink and began fixing invisible smudges in her makeup as you shifted awkwardly beside her.

“So…” She started, looking you up and down in the mirror. “Please tell me you know Jimin is still in love with you.”

“W-What?! No way!” You spluttered.

“Y/n it’s so obvious. I actually felt bad for his girlfriend. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.” She rolled her eyes, almost disappointed in your lack of awareness.

“It’s just been forever. It’s hard to not hyperfocus on eachother, we’ve both changed so much. Also, why would the guy who dumped me out of nowhere still be in love with me?”

She released a deep sigh, “He knows he made the shittiest mistake of his life and is now regretting it when seeing you and your talented boyfriend doing so well.”

You chuckled at the thought of someone looking at your relationship and being jealous.

“Listen, just remember tonight is Taehyung’s night and fighting or not, he’s still a wonderful boyfriend overall. And Jimin is your ex who broke your heart. Inviting him to your place after this might’ve been too much. I suggest you keep your distance.”

“Lisa, thanks for the advice but I honestly was just being friendly. He seemed sorry that he missed most of the showing. Besides, I’m going to be too busy hosting to have a deep heart to heart with him or anything.” You explained, a little offended that she thought you were going to play part in some dramatic reconciliation.

A sudden announcement echoed outside the restroom doors, your ears straining to hear a gallery worker asking everyone to gather on the main floor for the artist’s speech and thus the final part of the night.

Saying nothing more, Lisa and you made your exit to join the audience.

– The clock was nearing midnight.

Your usually quiet farmhouse of a home was not at all quiet.

Your boyfriend's friends were merrily talking and drinking, once in a while their masculine laughs would sync up and reverberate through the halls. They all conversed and lounged in the living room, the largest part of the house that could fit all of them comfortably. Yet, you and Lisa stayed in the kitchen, making the drinks and finger foods, as you indulged in harmless girl talk.

“The one with tattoos is so hot, Y/n. Please tell me he’s single!”

“Jungkook? I’m pretty sure he is. Taehyung told me that Namjoon is the only other one in the friend group that’s in a relationship.”

“Okay, so far so good.” She paused to pop a stuffed mushroom in her mouth, humming in thought. “What’s his type though? Like, would I have to make the first move? Does he like a straightforward girl? Because he hasn’t so much as looked at me tonight.”

“I’ve only met Taehyung’s friends once before so I don’t know their types or anything. I do think Jungkook looks a lot manlier than he actually is. He’s very kind but shy so you’ll have to talk to him first.” You explained while opening another bottle of wine for the two of you.

Lisa frowned at the thought, not used to being the one that had to chase.

You poured two glasses, handing her one with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I can introduce you two. It’s kind of a good thing he’s avoiding you like the plague, Tae once said he only acts like that with pretty girls.”

Your friend lit up like the fourth of july.

“Hey babe!” A familiar deep voice called out.

You looked around to see your boyfriend stepping into the kitchen, a buzzed smile on his face and a slightly glazed film over his eyes.

Moments like these made you realize how much of a lightweight your boyfriend was. It only took one or two drinks for him to get tipsy. But it was still his night and he was already home amongst loved ones, so all you could do is smile endearingly at his slightly intoxicated self.

“Yes, handsome?”

His boxy grin grew, “The boys want more beer.”

“Already?! I put out a twelve pack! People need to be able to drive home, ya know!”

He laughed, “Baby, my friends can drink a gallon each and still be able to drive home with their eyes closed if need be.”

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

He nodded in thanks, turning his back to presumably go to the basement and retrieve the drinks.

Lisa waited for him to get fully out of earshot before leaning over and dramatically whispering, “How is Jimin and that Molly girl doing?”

You shrugged, “Last time I was in there, Hoseok was making conversation with Jimin and Molly was all over Yoongi.”

“Damn, trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t seem too bothered and she seemed a little drunk. She might just get overly friendly when she drinks.”

“And you’re still convinced that he’s over you?”

You rolled your eyes but ultimately stayed silent, aware that the couple was acting sorta strange but also not so sure that you were the cause. You took your wine in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other, motioning for Lisa to grab the rest and follow you.

When you both entered the living room, you were thrilled to spot Jungkook sitting alone on one of the loveseats. You quickly set the food down and pulled Lisa along with you, approaching him with a friendly smile meant to put him at ease. Considering the way his eyes widened at the sight of your friend, you didn’t know how successful you were.

“Hey Jungkook, it’s been a while!” You greeted.

“Y-Yeah it has been. How’s your erm, book going?”

“It’s doing okay, thanks for asking. Have you met my friend, Lisa?”

He briefly scanned your friend, nervously gulping before saying quietly, “…No I haven't.”

“Oh well, Lisa was just saying how much she liked your tattoos.” You nudged her, prompting her to say something.

She just nodded in agreement, suddenly meek.

He blushed, “Thank you.”

“Actually, Lisa, weren't you saying that you were thinking of getting a tattoo?” You pretended to think out loud, as if you weren’t outright playing them. You didn’t wait for her to answer the rhetorical question, “Jungkook, don’t you do tattoos now?”

Now on a topic of interest he was for sure confident in, Jungkook practically jumped in his seat, “Yeah! I do! I’ve only tatted myself and some friends but I hope to work on more people.”

You watched with a smirk as Lisa moved to sit next to Jungkook, her now explaining what she’d like done and Jungkook asking questions about placement, size and color.

You felt sure enough in them to leave them alone, now inhabiting your little corner as you finished your wine while taking in the scene.

Yoongi and Molly stood by the window, and were obviously the most inebriated. He was the type to ramble pointlessly when tipsy, and she giggled at every little thing he said, playfully shoving his shoulder once in a while. You knew for a fact that Yoongi was too deep in his own self-epiphanes to notice her bad flirting, either that or he was just trying to talk to anyone who was willing to listen.

Namjoon and Jennifer were sitting on the couch and talking to Jin, laughing at whatever odd impression he was attempting. Beside them on the loveseat, Hoseok was politely nodding along to small talk from Jimin. Being one of the friendliest and most calming of the group, it made sense that Hoseok was the one trying to make your ex boyfriend feel included.

Content to just watch your guests for a while, you stood by your lonesome and slowly sipped at the remnants of your wine.

Playing host wasn’t exactly your forte, so you were enjoying the little lull while it lasted. Unlike your boyfriend, your social battery tended to max out at the two-hour mark when in group settings.

And as much as you loved the people in your home (with maybe the exception of your ex and his girlfriend), you couldn’t wait for them to get out so you could take a long, hot shower and head to bed.

The stress of the last few days was really tiring you, and you just knew that as soon as the excitement of the showing and sold paintings wore off, Taehyung was going to continue his spat with you about the cameras.

When you and Jimin dated, you two were always on the same page. Fights very rarely happened. And Jimin was such a people pleaser that if literally anything slightly upset you, he would practically fall over himself to make you smile again.

Taehyung was the first boyfriend to genuinely pick a fight with you, being more stubborn than you about matters you didn’t necessarily want to back down from either. Your relationship conflict resolution skills were being tested, and you just didn’t have the patience or experience to keep fighting much longer. You would call a truce or some type of compromise, if it weren’t for the fact that there was no way to really keep both of you happy.

A few minutes passed as you pondered this to yourself.

Seemingly materializing out of nowhere, a mysterious arm wrapped around your waist.

The suddenness of it all caused you to jump and release a very unflattering squeak.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

A deep chuckle rumbled beside you, Taehyung smirking lazily before diving face first into your neck and nuzzling it in some sort of drunken stupor.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You groaned, trying to forcefully shove his face away from you. “Where’s the beer you went to fetch?”

Your boyfriend expertly dodged your shove and dove back into your neck, mumbling against the skin something about not being able to find more drinks.

The vibration of his lips on such a sensitive spot made you want to squirm, but his halfhearted mumbles took your attention a bit more.

“No beer? I could’ve sworn-”

“Hey Y/n!” Someone interrupted with a call across the room. You looked up to see Lisa trudging over with a determined look on her face and a fogged up look in her eyes, perhaps a bit more tipsy than you remember leaving her. “Aren’t you going to show me where exactly you saw the ghost?”

Your dear friend most likely thought she was being discreet and having a normal conversation at a perfectly appropriate tone. But no, she was actually speaking way above a conversational volume, causing everyone else in the room to halt their conversations and turn to look at you.

“Ghost?” Jin laughed.

“You saw something in this room?” Hoseok inquired with a trembling voice, most likely regretting having come over. Beside him, Jimin quietly shook his head to himself.

“No way, Y/n doesn’t believe in stuff like that.” Your ex confidently informed the group.

At the sound of your past lover’s voice, you felt Taehyung stiffen beside you. The artist untangled himself from you, standing to his full height and facing the guest with an unknown expression.

“We had a little bit of a ghost problem, but it’s taken care of now.” He paused, and you could nearly hear his smirk when he went on to declare, “I got rid of it.”

Yoongi laughed boisterously, having to hold himself up with the wall to prevent falling over. “I’m sorry, but the image of little Tae boxing a little sheet with two holes for eyes is really sending me.”

Half your guests laughed at the thought. The other more believing half still stared at you inquisitively.

An awkward silence.

“Ghosts are real.” Jennifer started, effortlessly drawing all eyes to her. “I used to live in a haunted house when I was a kid.”

She put her drink down and folded her hands across her lap, suddenly immersed in thought and careful about what she was about to share.

“In my childhood home, there was a garden in the backyard. Almost everyday, at sunset, I’d look out the window and see this lady circling the flowers and humming to herself. After ten minutes or so, she would disappear into thin air. I told my parents but they never believed me.”

She paused, either for dramatic effect or to recollect.

“Until one day, my mom saw her too. And when she went out to confront what she thought was an intruder, the lady disappeared before her eyes. My mom then did some digging about the history of the house and it turns out, the previous owner was outside gardening when she had a heart attack and died.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air as everyone silently digested the anecdote.

“That’s fucking terrifying, please tell me your parents moved houses after that.” Hoseok broke the silence first, pleading with watery eyes.

Namjoon’s wife laughed, reaching for her drink once more. “How is it scary? The lady was just checking on her garden in the afterlife. However, I then grew up really interested in supernatural stuff.” She turned to you. “There’s some tell-tale signs that a home has a spirit attached to it. Cold spots, shadow figures, whispers, scary dreams and the biggest of all: always feeling like you're being watched, even if there’s no one else in the room.”

You quietly thought to yourself. Were there any cold spots in the home? No. Any shadow figures? Nope. Whispers and nightmares? Nada.

But…the last one, being watched when no one is there.

If you really focused on your intuition, you faintly felt that even now amongst all these people, you were being watched by something unknown.

Goosebumps raised on the surface of your arms.

Chills ran down your spine and you shivered, the reaction causing Taehyung to grasp you tighter against him in what was supposed to be comfort.

You felt even more cold.

“We haven’t had any of that. Really guys, it’s taken care of.” Your boyfriend told the room, effectively shutting down the paranormal subject.

You assumed Taehyung felt a bit defensive of his ghost expelling skills, either that or he genuinely wanted another topic of discussion.

You then felt a little bad, it was still his night after all and here you were unintentionally ruining it with your little ghost stories. The focus of the room should be on him and his achievements, not everyone's supernatural beliefs and stories.

“Taehyung is right, it’s all resolved. But I’d like to ask all of you to fill up your glasses one last time, and raise them with me, ” While they did that you quickly scanned the room, “Um, except maybe you, Yoongi. Feel free to sit this one out, bud.” You laughed as the drunk man just grumbled at you, defiantly snatching another beer and holding it high while swaying on his feet.

Hopefully he wasn’t the one driving home.

You cleared your throat, “I'd like to propose a toast to our own Taehyung. Everyone in this room knows it was only a matter of time before your artistic genius was recognized by the world, but that doesn’t make us any less proud than we are of you tonight. To the first of many showings! To Taehyung!”

“To Taehyung!” the room loudly parroted back, everyone thrusting their drinks of choice in the air before knocking them back.

The artist beside you laughed and shook his head, “Really, guys it’s no big deal. Just a few paintings that I’m lucky even got sold. But thanks so much for making it. Most of you-” he snapped a side eye where Jimin sat, “have supported me so much, I’m just happy to have such a great group of friends.”

Said friends all smiled and nodded, although a few caught on to Taehyung’s subliminal dig and warily looked over at your ex.

Jimin pursed a tight smile, clearly trying to be nice and not make it obvious that he was the outsider at the party. You caught his eye and shot him a sorry look, but he shook his head in what was clearly meant to say “don’t worry about it.”

Your boyfriend continued, “However! ‘Friends’ don’t really beat ‘love of my life’. So without getting into all the lewd details of how I plan to spend my night celebrating, I’m going to need you all to start clearing out,” Taehyung smirked. “Y/n is a screamer.”

“Ew!” Lisa shouted, beside her Jungkook was suddenly unable to make eye contact with you.

The older men in the room just cackled. You slapped the artist's chest while trying to hide your blood red face.

Taehyung ducked and mouthed at your ear to whisper, “Sorry baby, but you know it’s true. And don’t act like you don’t want them out sooner rather than later.”

You wanted to be mad, but understood he was tipsy and riding on the high of his showing. So instead you played along and harshly whispered to him, “I doubt you can make me scream tonight. It’s not right to be misleading to your friends.”

He tiled your head to make you face him.

Taehyungs’ left brow twitched in vexation, his lips pulling back in a little growl. He looked around to make sure the guests were distracted with finishing their drinks or saying their goodbyes to each other. When he confirmed no eyes were on you two, he secretly placed his hand at the back of your head, running his long fingers through your hair and stopping right at the ends, to quickly form a fist and pull.

It was just one short tug, but the power of it made you gasp.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t make you a little wet too.

You had no idea where this came from. He never pulled your hair. Your boyfriend wasn’t rough and was one of those really progressive artists types that viewed any kind of manhandling in the bedroom as sort of sexist. But when you peered up at him, with the doe eyes he said he loved so much, and saw the clouded nature of his gaze, you just knew that inebriated Tae was very different from sober Tae.

Black and white, really.

‘I’m in for quite the night’ you thought to yourself while biting your lip, inwardly smug at how Taehyung transparently honed in on the action.

“Um, hey I think I’ll take my leave first.” You looked up to see Jimin awkwardly shifting in front of you two, a blacked out Molly in his hold.

“Oh god! Is she okay?” You exclaimed, noting the poor girl looked dead.

The dancer chuckled, “Yeah, she just gets really hyper when she's drunk then passes out after a bit. Ironically, sleep is all she needs I guess since she always wakes up good as new. No hangover.”

“Here let me show you out. I can help put her in the car.” You offered, already detangling yourself from Taehyung. He made a small sound of protest and made move to hold you tighter.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and consoled him with a smile, “You wanted people to leave, so we should help everyone get home safe. Can you check on Yoongi and maybe see if Namjoon and Jennifer can take him home?”

He looked conflicted, carefully sizing Jimin up through his peripheral. You wanted to roll your eyes. Although tipsy Taehyung was apparently a sexy beast, he was also an immature toddler who needed to be tricked.

You got on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “The quicker we get people out, the quicker you get me all to yourself.”

That seemed to convince him as he reluctantly stomped away in the direction of the couple, shooting one more guarded look at the dancer.

With that you led Jimin to the front door, even helping him put Molly’s heels back on before stepping out into the driveway and walking him to his car.

Silently, he opened the car and laid her in the backseat, tucking her in with his jacket. Then he shut the door, but instead of walking around to the driver spot, he turned to you and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“So….”

“Look, I’m sorry about Taehyung. I didn’t even tell him you were an ex but he’s just been really possessive and weird lately. It’s not just you.” You informed him, hoping to make him feel better.

Jimin just waved it off with a chuckle, “No, I get it. You’re really gorgeous, kind and talented. I also struggled with jealousy when we were together. Can’t really blame him.”

You hoped your blush wasn’t too prominent as you said, “Yeah, but you were always nice to people regardless of feeling possessive. He was just rude. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Well, you can’t really date someone breathtaking if you’re going to be an insecure prick about it.”

You gaped like a fish at the implication you were still breathtaking in Jimin’s eyes. Words were suddenly hard to come by.

It was silent for a moment, the tension between you two as thick as it can possibly get for two past lovers.

“Y/n…why didn’t you tell him we dated?”

“L-Like I said, he’s already been acting jealous and I didn’t want him to focus on that when it was his night. Besides, It’s not like-”

“I broke up with Molly.”

“…What?”

“It happened on the way to your after party, she was upset that I still held a candle for you. And yeah, I couldn’t drag her along when I never felt half of what I felt for you, for her. I just said it without thinking, terrible timing of course. But that’s pretty on brand for me, I suppose.” He attempted a joke.

You smiled politely, although you had no idea how you should feel.

He continued, “I just thought I should say sorry because the reason she was such a drunk and sloppy mess in your home was because I carelessly dumped her on the way there.”

“It’s um, okay Jimin. She wasn’t the only drunken mess tonight. I hope you two manage to stay friends.” You said, then after a beat added, “And that you find what you’re looking for.”

“Listen, I know you're with Taehyung and happy but, I think there was some kind of misunderstanding about our breakup. I’m not trying to be a homewrecker or anything, but can we get a coffee sometime and just…talk?”

You smiled, finding no harm in the offer. “Sure-”

“No.”

You gasped and whipped around to see Taehyung standing behind you, arms crossed and hell in his eyes as he glowered down at Jimin.

How did he get there without being spotted or heard?

It's like he fabricated out of nowhere.

“I suggest you get in your car, leave and never speak to her again.”

Your ex held his hands up in surrender, “Look man, I wasn’t trying anything-”

“What kind of guy goes to their ex when she’s clearly in a happy and healthy relationship, and tries to drudge up the past in the name of closure? Fuck your closure. You lost her, and now I have her. And trust me, she has better things to do than getting coffee with the guy who broke her heart.”

“Please, Taehyung-”

You were cut off.

His voice was the lowest you’ve ever heard it, eyes pitch black and face blank as he calmly finished, “It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. And if I see you again I’m going to break your kneecaps and skin you alive, you little spineless boy. Run along now. While you still can.”

The threats were so visceral and promising, coupled with a man who looked downright murderous yet somehow calm. As if he had done it before and doing it again would be more so an inconvenience than a whole life-ending ordeal.

In this moment, you didn’t know your own boyfriend and you were terrified with this new persona.

No one moved or spoke, in fear one step or word would make Taehyung good on his promise.

You and Jimin were paralyzed, like two helpless deer in the presence of a blood thirsty wolf, the only hope was to stay still and go unnoticed. You met your ex’s eyes and while he did look afraid, he was focused only on you and your proximity to Taehyung.

Jimin was fearful. Not for himself, but for you.

And while you wanted your ex to run away, you were also scared to be left alone with someone so different from your usual Taehyung.

How could a few drinks and some jealousy cause such a behavior?

“Hey what’s going on here?”

Namjoon and Jennifer were babysitting a toddling Yoongi, the couple was also making way to their vehicle when they spotted the scene. The so-called ‘leader’ of the gang was quick to pick up on Taehyung’s aggressive stance, probably prompting him to get involved.

You felt your body lighten in relief.

Namjoon was always good at calming people down and taking control of situations.

Like a switch was turned on, your boyfriend grinned at the oncomers and nodded over at the dancer. Seemingly happy as a clam he chirped, “Nothing, hyung! Jimin here was just leaving. His poor girlfriend had too much, I think.”

Namjoon didn’t quite believe that, you and Jimin still looked rigid with alarm after all. Nonetheless, he played along for everyone’s sake. “Really? Maybe you should leave now then Jimin, get her in bed as soon as possible. It was nice meeting you.”

Jimin took the hint with grace and wordlessly ducked into his car, not acknowledging anyone else as he mouthed to you “call me”.

He started up the car, then slowly backed out of the driveway, and eventually down the road.

“Dude, are you sure you’re okay? It looked like you wanted to kill him.” Namjoon asked the artist.

Before hearing whatever bullshit was going to spew out of his mouth next, you promptly whipped around and stormed back into the house, making sure to purposefully shoulder-check your boyfriend as hard as you could in the process.

What the fuck was wrong with the bastard?!

Talking as though he was some offender or even a murder, just because your ex wanted to catch up?

You were so dreadfully embarrassed! Jimin must’ve thought you lost your mind after him and went off to date some real weirdos.

If you weren’t already on a lease with the man, this probably would’ve been the part where you blocked him and made it your personal mission to never see him again.

Instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen and washed most of the dirty dishes your guests left behind. You hoped Taehyung was wise enough to leave you alone, if the jerk knew what was good for him.

About 15 minutes had passed, and the kitchen was nearly as spotless as it was before the party had started, thanks to your furious cleaning and scrubbing. The house was now silent, and you were just debating putting all your spices in alphabetical order when you heard a shuffle behind you.

You snapped around and instantly scoffed at the sight.

Taehyung was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and fixing a sheepish look at you.

“So…that got a little out of hand.”

You barked a disbelieving laugh. “More like you got out of hand, Taehyung. Threatening people like you’re some felon! Wouldn't be a surprise if there’s a rumor spreading about me dating a serial killer now."

“Y/n, I’m sorry. But please let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me? Your actions cannot be undone Taehyung! I cooked and cleaned after your friends and tried to make this night special for you. I just wanted you to have a nice night and be nice, and you flip out over a platonic coffee date? Who do you think I am? A slut who will open her legs to any ex who talks to me?!”

“W-what? No- Of course not! Please don’t think-”

“What the hell am I supposed to think, asshole?! Even if Jimin still had feelings for me, it would take me reciprocating them for anything to happen! You clearly don’t trust me, and if that’s the case, then what are we doing here? Should we just become roommates or something?”

A painful struck his face, watery eyes met yours when he choked out, “Do you even hear yourself? Why would I try to fight your ex if I truly didn’t love you? You’re mine, and I love you so much it’s just…I can act a little crazy sometimes.”

You sighed, turning your back on him to lean on the sink in exhaustion.

“I thought you were different from other guys, Tae. That caveman shit is extremely degrading to not only you, but especially me.”

“I’m sorry…it’s just a primal part of me that I can’t turn off. Give me a chance to make it up to you.”

You shot a look over your shoulder at him, still pissed.

He shot his hands up in the air, as if in defense. “You can still be mad at me all you want.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch for a week.”

“Done.”

“And….And you’re forgetting all about those stupid cameras.”

He quirked a grin, unknown mirth dancing in his eyes. “Sure.”

“At the end of the week, you will personally apologize to Jimin via a phone call or letter.”

His smile dropped, your glare sharpened, “Umm..fine okay. It won’t be sincere though.”

You rolled your eyes, “Doesn’t have to be, it’s the right thing to do so you’ll do it.”

“…anything else?”

“Not for now. I’m going to bed soon so if there’s anything you need from the room, get it now.”

He wordlessly turned around, and you then faintly heard him going up the stairs.

Biting your lip in deep thought, you proceed to wipe off the last of the counters.

Could you forgive him? When he was willing to do all that to appease you?

If you were being honest with yourself, you could feel the irritation already start to melt away a bit. You hadn’t expected such a 180 in his stance, he went from threatening Jimin with murder to begrudgingly agreeing to apologize within only a matter of half an hour or so. You thought you would have to at least give him the silent treatment for a bit before you could even bargain a “sorry” for your ex. Taehyung was usually much more stubborn…

Nonetheless though, you were still upset and embarrassed about the scene.

You hated when men got violent around you, it made you feel so unsafe and small. You thought Taehyung was different, him even poking fun at the meatheads who would pull stuff like that at the local bars you would frequent while dating. So what changed?

Footsteps slowly descended back down the stairs, telling you that Taehyung had returned from your bedroom and it was safe to go up.

You left the kitchen, turned off the lights and passed through the hallway. Briefly you stopped, just short of the stairs, to see your boyfriend grumbling to himself while arranging some blankets on the couch.

A sudden and chilling thought ripped from your lips before you could even quietly ponder it.

“Taehyung…how did you know Jimin was my ex?”

He stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to face you with a blank look.

“Uh, Lisa might have slipped up and told me.”

You relaxed, unknowingly releasing a breath you had been holding. “Hmm, okay. We’ll talk tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight baby.”

“Oh! Let me get some water first, can you check that the doors were locked?” You asked while skipping back towards the kitchen. You hated waking up with a dry mouth and always kept a glass of water on your nightstand, restless bathroom trips be damned.

You didn’t hear any response to your request, but you paid it no mind, assuming Tae probably already double, if not triple, checked the locks being the worrywart that he was.

Right next to the kitchen entrance was the basement door, and it was shut.

Yet, something stopped you in your tracks.

The light under the basement door…it was on?

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

It couldn’t be….could it?

Your intuition was hollering at you from within.

A force greater than you pulled you to the door handle.

Against yourself, you opened the door to the basement…

And choked back a horrified scream.

At the bottom of the stairs lay Taehyung.

Unconscious, pale and bleeding horrifically from some head wound that was forming an inky pool under his crumpled form.

It wasn’t your Taehyung that returned upstairs.

So...this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year lol. I do have a dramatic ending in mind and some final scenes but yea, I don't think I could finish this unless people actually wanted it so let me know if this is a plot you kinda liked? I never tried flat-out supernatural horror like this. Anyway, happy October guys! Love you all. Luna :)

#yandere bts #yandere taehyung #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts fic #bts x reader #yandere au #bts #bangtan boys #male yandere #taehyung fanfic #yandere taehyung x reader #kpop fanfic #taehyung fluff #yandere imagines #yandere fanfiction

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hollyhomburg · 3 months

Text

Before I leave you (Pt.67)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi bury a dead body (That's a lie, Yoongi buries it for you).

Tags: blood, gore, body horror, death, dead bodies, everyone is pretty beat-up in this, brief implied self-harm but it's very quickly squashed- seriously it's nowhere near as bad as past scenes but i do have to tag it, Dissociation, tae is in the freeze part of fight or flight. hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns, flashbacks, discussions of past abusive relationships, everything is very fluffy until it's not,

W/c: 12.5k

A/N: Are you guys ready for Hoseok's secret reveal??? I'm really excited!!! But also terrified because this whole series has lead up to this point!!! A good number of people have already guessed his secret so congrats on getting it early <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Jimin sits on the stairs going down to the basement. His arm in a sling and bandaged up to the elbow. It aches with every small movement he makes as he peals a tangerine. He hasn't had any narcotics in a few hours and they're starting to wear off.

Jimin needs all of his brain power for this; For covering up the murder.

The fewer things running through his system the less sluggish and fuzzy his thoughts are. Jimin picks his poisons and fewer things make him less coherent than the panic and pain and near constant avalanche of thoughts. Tae, Tae's hurt, Tae's-

Tae's fine, Tae's upstairs with Y/n. he has to remind himself of these facts every few breaths. Tae's going to be okay because you wouldn't let anything happen to her.

There is evidence of that virtually everywhere; In the lines across your hands that Yoongi had dabbed at with a cool cloth, the swollen side of your jaw that he'd cradled. The blood drenching the opposite side of your face that he'd tenderly washed away. Not to mention the blood on the kitchen table, the floor, the ceiling. The blood splattered across your nest-

You don't fuck with an omega's nest; you don't fuck with their packmates.

Jimin quiets his brain with a steady breath as he looks down at Yoongi, Jin, and the body between the three of them wrapped in plastic.

He manages to peel the tangerine in his hand despite how uncooperative his left hand is. Numb at the fingertips just like it’s been since the surgery.

Namjoon had stroked his fingers and tested their give every chance he got, holding onto them and prodding while they waited in the hospital room and then again when Jimin got discharged. He said that they’d probably get better. Probably.

Tae's going to be fine because Namjoon is there too- had checked out her head with that soft alpha grumble croon of his. The most soothing sound in the world, and yet incapable of soothing this.

But Jimin knows nothing’s for certain, he might never get the feeling in his hand back. (This is Jimin's penance; The reminder of these tangled few weeks and how things went will be ever present. The reminder will be the first press of every touch with his non-dominant hand. He will never regain full feeling to the tips of his fingers. Never).

There are a few of noodle paw prints in the dust here, Jimin's ass is no doubt covered in it too from resting on the rickety stairs that lead into the half-finished basement. Little paw print marks that would make you coo and take pictures if you were down here.

But you’re not, you’re upstairs getting the evidence washed off of you.

No one's in that kind of mood right now anyway. No one’s been in that kind of mood for a few hours (or a few days, if he’s being honest, from Jungkook’s seizure, to getting shot, and then coming home to a dead body in their living room).

It’s been 4 hours since you killed someone in the kitchen. 3 hours since Jimin was discharged prematurely from the hospital and the rest of the pack was summoned home via a disturbingly calm call from Jin.

It’s been a tangle of moments even for the people not on hard drugs. Jimin feels like he's doing pretty good at answering the pack’s questions given the circumstances. You'd never know that, given Yoongi's eye roll and Jin's heavy sigh.

"Minnie- we're not asking you how you would have killed him just how you'd cover it up."

They used an old shower liner to wrap the body before they carried it downstairs. It makes a squeaky noise against Jin's rubber gloves (The pink elbow-high ones that he uses to do the dishes) as he pulls back the plastic sheet to reveal what's left of the assassin's head and face.

“I already told you, I don’t know his face- not even a little.” I’d have a pretty hard time identifying his face with the state she left it in regardless Is what he doesn't say.

Jimin tucks his chin, unsettled to look at the man's half-blown apart face for long. "I think he might be the spider but I don’t know. I never met him, only heard his name in passing.”

A small tattoo on the man's wrist reveals as much. A small spider tattoo that someone going to have to cut out and bury separately. Someone's going to have to get all of his teeth too- no identifying marks. None.

He’s a little too impressed with the state you’d left him in when he thinks about it. But once he’d seen your face and Hobi’s neck, not an inch of Jimin had felt the kill wasn’t justified. The whole pack feels that way, he knows they must even though they don't say it. Everyone's a little bit in shock right now.

Even Namjoon hadn’t even given the body a second glance when the pack had tumbled into the house. The pack alpha had simply alternated his fussing from you to Hobi to tae and then Jin. Torn between who needed him first. It was the first words Jimin had heard you speak. Your wet gasp, blood that wasn't yours flashing on your teeth. "Joonie- Hobi needs you."

Namjoon had calmed only once he realized that most of the blood on the three of you was the man’s. Yoongi had a similar reaction and so had Jimin, clutching at Tae. Angry at his arm for its uncooperativeness. About ready to tug off his sling and his bandages and stitches if it meant holding tae easier. He'd even tried it, only to be on the receiving end of a disapproving pack alpha growel too.

“Jimin you can’t; your stitches.”

“Fuck my stitches hyung.”

Numb fingers meet numb faces.

He's a bit ashamed of it, but when he first looked up from Tae to you- where you sat crumpled in Yoongi's hold. Your mate laying down a volley of sweet nothings to you to get you to stop shaking. There was only one sentence running through his head.

That’s my girl.

He'd reached over and squeezed your hand, blood and all. That blood has dried now. Soaked into the lines of his palm. Coloring his fate and love lines all rusty while he eats the tangerine. He should probably wash his hands. All of them probably need too.

Jungkook had been the only one willing to speak, closing the door softly behind him, locking it and treading softly closer. Careful to sidestep both the pools of blood and the piece of a skull sitting next to the couch. He looked down at the 7 of you with a surprisingly calm expression on his face.

"Can't we have one normal fucking day?"

Jungkook was the one who’d gone to the kitchen and gotten one of the hand towels to clean your face. His lips tightened to a line when he wiped away the blood and started to see the bruising, the cut across your temple dripping fresh. Lower lip wobbling ever so slightly.

“Kookie-”

Jungkook had turned to Jin and Namjoon, “I don’t want to deal with the body hyung." His hands were already under your arms, lifting you up, helpless. "Help me get them upstairs. We need to-” he’d let out a frustrated noise. Instincts coming to the full front- instincts he rarely feels.

Who knew blood would incur Jungkook's grooming instincts?

The last time Jimin saw Jungkook; He was helping Namjoon and Yoongi herd the three of you upstairs for a much-needed shower. Hobi hadn't been able to do it under his own power. Namjoon had to carry him.

Hobi; who's choked on every word he's tried to speak. Whose eyes are still red from all the burst blood vessels. Who easily got the closest to dying out of the four of you.

Everyone shakes when they touch Hobi and everyone touches him softly. Namjoon just about snaps his teeth at anyone who tries to get close. His hands turning red from the cold of an ice pack wrapped gently around the alpha's throat.

Jimin knows Jungkook's a lot more unnerved than he lets on, shuffling from foot to foot as he bound Tae up with a towel, taking her delicately from Jimin's arms. Carrying her in the same way Namjoon carried Hobi.

Yoongi was all soft helping you upstairs. Speaking in that quiet voice that he saves for Sunday mornings and stolen moments of quiet. Every moment, all of this is stolen.

And now- the beta is down here, leaning over the body and looking at it like it will tell him something that you won't. After your initial demand that Namjoon he tend to Hobi; you haven't spoken a word. Neither has Tae. Jin's done all of the talking.

There isn’t much to say.

Jimin feels the numbness in his hands and looks at Jin. He hasn't apologized for the bullet yet. But the more time that passes the less Jimin wants an apology. Mating marks come in many forms. Jimin has a scar on his body from one of his omega's- so really? What does he have to be upset about?

The whole house needs to be deep cleaned, and then deep cleaned again. There's blood everywhere; on the couch, the ceiling, the curtains. It's a lot to clean. It's going to be a lot to hide.

That's the only reason why Jimin's not upstairs helping you and Tae clean up right now; the body is unfortunately the biggest threat to the pack's safety at the moment.

There’s a bloodstain on the stairs too, a droplet next to where Jimin sits. he makes a mental note of it but doesn't move to wipe it up. He puts a tangerine slice on his tongue and chews before he answers Yoongi’s next question.

“I don’t know how to dispose of a body, I never dealt with this part. My only job was to kill, not take care of them after. I know there’s a way that you can do it with soap.”

Jin snorts, “You only know that from breaking bad-“

Jimin’s a little miffed, “We already have a plastic tub upstairs-”

“Lye,” Yoongi corrects, looking down at the body before he stoops to retape the plastic over the man's face. It was a bitch to wrap him up, the body stiff and heavy from rigor Mortis. The blood beneath it bubbles and darkens, coagulating. Yoongi's long hair falls over his face and he tucks it behind his ear.

“We could use the soap, but it might take a few days.” Jin clarifies.

“Do you think we can wait that long?”

“Absolutely not,” Jin’s got a similar ice pack to his wrists, the skin there bruised and red and swelling where he fought to get free from the handcuffs, where he eventually ripped down the banisters and broke through them with brute strength and panic.

You’d found the keys on the man’s body soon after and released him from the handcuffs, they're wrapped up in the plastic along with the frying pan, the gun that killed him, and a few other items from the living room that were just too bloodstained, every big piece of evidence will lie right beside him where he rests.

Jimin eats another slice of the tangerine, and Jin shrivels his nose at it. “Isn’t that a little gross?”

Yoongi mirrors his disgust. “Yeah Minnie, weren’t those covered in blood?”

But Jimin just shrugs, “I washed it and peeled it hyung” And keeps eating. After a few days of hospital food, the tangerines taste divine.

Yoongi stands from where he’s kneeling on his knees with a faint crack. “One part kitty litter, two parts concrete should keep out the smell,” Jin says, eyeing the 6 by-six-foot hole in the basement's foundation, already there from the plumbing that needed replacing.

Most of Yoongi's tools are down here too. His scrap pile of wood and the dozen bags of concrete. His hack saw and his circular saw that none of them are looking at. Yoongi had only just fit in the plumbing a few weeks ago. He'd been about to re-pour the foundation anyway.

“I’d rather not have a body buried in our house.”

Yoongi touches Jin’s wrist, so feather-light, removing the ice pack to check the swelling to see if it’s gone down. Jin's left hand is just as useless as Jimin's, the knuckles bruised and ballooned.

“It’s just for a few weeks, we can deal with this once it’s all calmed down, but we absolutely can’t go try and bury it. Who knows what the neighbors heard?”

They're all silent at that, silent at the idea that these few hours might be the last few that the pack spends free.

But over the next few hours, there are no blue and red flashing lights outside or concerned neighbors that come knocking. Your one saving grace is that this all happened during the middle of the day and all of your nearest neighbors have nine to five's. Is it so simple to hope that everyone was just at work? That no one heard the gunshots over the nearby roar of the passing train?

(Maybe they're just too used to the pack next door; the one that has the noisy ruts and noisy noisy packmates. The one whose alphas have a habit of opening the windows in the back room and let the sound of their roughhousing and video games flood the street. The ones who have extra loud movie nights. They're just a bunch of kids, how harmful could they really be? At least the pack alpha and omega look respectable.)

It's a good thing that no one comes; because Namjoon has more important problems, more important things to handle beyond the body in the basement or the police at the door.

Namjoon’s hands cradle Hobi’s neck. He wheeze as he tries to speak, his mouth falling open. He's mostly clean, but a rusty trickle of water from his hair trails down his shoulders.

Jungkook tugged him into the shower first and gave him a rough clean before handing him back to Namjoon. They sit on a towel together on the edge of the nest. they only moved him in here to give him some privacy- to distract him because Hobi kept reaching for you. you'd kept reaching back, tae was already in the shower under the stream.

"Pup- your hands- you're going to hurt yourself."

The Nestroom is dark and quiet. Every single blind in the house is draw. Only the christmas lights illuminate Hobi's injuries. Namjoon will tend to Tae and then you after he's checked out Hobi's injuries. will send him downstairs with Jin for some cold water to soothe his throat once he's done. once he's been cleaned again probably.

Hobi was covered with the most blood, having been just under the man when Tae had blown his throat apart while you- Namjoon doesn't want to think of it, doesn't want to see it.

(Namjoon thinks of every moment, sees them behind every blink. Blink and he sees you sitting in his lap over breakfast squirming happily. Blink and you're kneeling in a bloody puddle looking up at him.

Blink and you're curled up in the nest wearing the first pajama pants he'd given you. Blink and he's watching Jungkook dab at your bloody cheek, blink and you're turning into his hand to nuzzle as he wakes you for sunday morning breakfast. Blink and there’s sunlight spilling across your face and blood slipping down your chin. Namjoon's smallest and most sensitive pup not so innocent anymore.)

Namjoon touches Hobi's throat with no small amount of reverence. it cools the anger in his throat. Namjoon's anger has no good place to go.

When Hobi closes his eyes, he sees it too; the explosion of the bullet and the splat of blood pouring down his face. The shower earlier felt so similar- he almost couldn't handle it. He had to concentrate on Jungkook's voice narrating everything.

"Here Hobi, I'm gonna use some soap now. I like Tae's body wash. You know she always just picks whatever bottles are pinkest because she wants all her toiletries to match. It smells good, doesn't it? Can you take a deep breath for me? Through your nose?"

Endless meaningless Jibber jabber to distract all of them.

Now he shivers and shakes in Namjoon's hold. One part terror and one part near frostbite. Namjoon turns the heat up but Hobi still shakes as Namjoon checks his throat. "Open for me baby- that's a good boy."

He flashes a light down there, listening with his stethoscope. The cold metal end of it presses against his collarbones and the bruises too. Finger-shaped that lace over his jugular like a collar. Over Hobi's heart. Every thump ba-thump ba-thump music to Namjoon's ears.

Namjoon’s growl is soothing as he scoots closer to gather the injured alpha close to his chest. Shushing Hobi as he tries to speak for the dozenth time in the last hour. “Don’t try it, careful- I don’t think he did any lasting damage but-”

Namjoon breaks and his forehead drops to Hoseok’s shoulder, fingers rub out soothing circles on Hobi's wrist even as he starts to cry. Namjoon already stitched up the deep puncture wound there. He had to hold his wrist still as he dabbed the stingy antiseptic, the impulse to pull it away too great. The wound wasn't from a bullet but from the piece of the door that embedded itself in Hobi’s wrist. Blown apart the way he could have been.

Namjoon was so close to losing everything, to losing them.

The bruises, Hobi’s eyes, and his little raspy breaths. Everything both punishment and payment for every violent thing Namjoon wants to do. He feels powerless to do more than hold the smaller alpha right now. The strength in his arms doing little to protect Hobi from the hurts he's already nursing. Hoseok leans his head on Namjoon's shoulder and Just lets the alpha hold him.

If he’d come home to the four of you dead what would he have done? more accurately- What wouldn’t he have done?

Namjoon imagines it- the same way he's imagined it thousands of times. Tae's blood on her lips as pretty as any lip stain. Jin on the floor, his little big love wrapped up in permanent stillness like a mating shroud. Your body turned small and quiet the way you'd been when he'd met you- only so much worse. Hobi with his heart slow and absent of his near-constant music. Bodies stiff as statues, turned alters meant to worship both grief and love.

He’d probably have demanded Jimin and Yoongi tell him everything they knew. And then he’d have gone hunting.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath and pulls away from Hoseok only to continue dabbing at his wounds. The violence of his alpha's instincts calmed by the sanctity of this- of making it better. of being gentle even when namjoon wants to be anything but.

Hoseok’s mute. Throat too swollen to make more than a soft hissing sound on command. Vocal cords not damaged just swollen. Leaving his brain to hurdle through the last few hours. Eyes closed but his mind wide open.

He sees it all behind his eyes; your hand descending with the frying pan, the explosion of wood near his head. The splat of hot blood against the wood floor. Gasping and getting blood in his mouth accidentally. Choking in it- drowning a little. Everything. The sting of smoke on his eyes. Your words ring in his ears like the final notes of a symphony.

“You can take me. I’ll go with you. Willingly. That’s what she wants isn’t it?”

Hoseok’s brain teases through what you might have meant with that. The unnamed she that you mention. Who, why, and what aren’t you telling them? Is it the woman that Yoongi talked to you about before?

He's unable to say anything to Namjoon even as the alpha softy cradles his damaged throat. Unable to even whisper it out through the swelling that threatens to cut off Hobi's airway. It feels like he's breathing through a straw. Namjoon says he's not going to choke, that it only feels that way. The panic is hard to let go of.

But who do you have to go back to there? You've never talked about the family like you wanted them, like they were your pack. Who have you run from? What monsters are here to haunt you? Who is after you? Or is it something darker- more sinister?

Maybe Hoseok's heart has never truly healed from Yoongi leaving them. Maybe a wounded heart remembers. Yoongi always had them to go back to that Hoseok had never questioned. But he's never wondered about you or stopped to consider that maybe, Yoongi's not the only one who left something.

The family doesn't exactly seem like something you can walk away from unscathed. Yoongi managed it, but Jimin didn't.

Hoseok should warn Namjoon, should tell someone but- it's impossible. His airway protesting with an agonizing twinge with every attempt he makes at speaking. He wonders if this is what being nonverbal felt like for you.

The pain pulses dully without adrenaline to dilute it as Namjoon so lovingly examines the marks, again and again. But he shouldn't be spending so much time. You and Tae are bruised and battered too- even if Hoseok’s are by far the worst; you need tending to.

Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival.

Hoseok thinks of the body, not the one that sits downstairs, but the one that you found months ago in the ocean. Maybe this wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe none of this was. How far back do the coincidences go? Between Jin and Yoongi who wouldn't have a relationship to stand on without Yoongi's family- how many other things in the pack are because of this?

Hoseok struggles to speak, to talk to Namjoon about what you'd almost done, what you'd almost bartered- but nothing but air comes out, and the pack alpha shushes him. His hands grip Namjoon's shoulders hard.

Namjoon wishes he had more than just numbing cream and sutures for Hobi’s hurts. Jimin’s already offered up some of his opioids for Hobi to sleep and as much as Namjoon hates the idea of anyone swapping medication- Hobi might actually need them.

Jimin’s doctor had been a little bit liberal with them, sure that his 6 on the pain scale had to be at least a 9. He could spare one or two. The truth is that nothing hurts more than this- seeing the people that you love in pain. Jimin and Namjoon save their 10s for days like this.

With the blood cooling, Namjoon’s anger has nowhere to go. The body in the basement has already gone cold.

In the quiet of the house they can audibly hear Seokjin and Yoongi start mixing the concrete. The dull scrape of a shovel against a bucket and the sound of a faucet dripping.

Namjoon wipes at Hobi’s throat, and Hoseok tries again- futile in his efforts to speak. Namjoon shushes him.

In the basement it goes; drip, scrape, drip.

~-~

Jungkook holds Tae up underneath the warm spray of water. The glass is foggy in places and clear and others, occasional spots of red water joining the constellation of them. She rests against Jungkook's chest, her body is prone and almost lifeless. Eyes vacant and glassy.

So shaky and tired as her body rockets down from its adrenaline high. A drop so abrupt that she could hardly hold herself up. A drop so terrifying that Jungkook must do it for her.

He doesn't mind, none of him minds as he cradles the back of her head oh so gently. Tae flinches, whether from pain or the sudden movement. Jungkook meets Jimin's eyes through the foggy glass and then yours. Biting his lower lip before Jimin nods and tells him to keep going.

Evidence is evidence. Washing off can’t wait.

Jimin has joined you upstairs with the body already packed away and on its way to being buried under the foundation of the house. Jimin watches on from outside the shower as he instructs Jungkook in a quiet voice on how to clean Tae of evidence properly. He's been quiet since then. Staring at them while Tae stares blankly back.

You watch them from where you sit. Mostly you just watch Tae. When Namjoon's body doesn’t block your view. He stitches the gash on your forehead, hands pulling the sutures closed in a gentle and practiced way. The pass of the needle through your skin a distant sensation.

The wounds on your hands are in that awkward place of not being deep enough for stitches but still a little too deep to not need something. After a brief debate, Namjoon sealed them with a bit of non-surgical glue that stung terribly and then regular gauze over the top.

Your hands are swelling and clotting. Scabbing although trying to touch anything is too painful. Closing your fingers at all hurts. Namjoon holds you so lightly it hardly feels like he's holding you at all.

Namjoon apologizes after every wince.

The second he’s done he tosses his suture kit into the bathroom sink with a clang the second he’s done. Namjoon gets on his knees before you. The plastic that covers the whole bathroom crackling as he does.

Jimin had the great idea to cover the bathroom with sheets of plastic to cut down on the cleanup. Hoseok's bloody footprints join Tae's trailing from the doorway to the shower. Join the trail that you left. Parts of you are still dripping.

"It's going to scar," Namjoon says, a little sadly. Thumb skimming over the mark on your forehead.

You swallow hard. You still taste blood. You want to brush your teeth; you want to shut the lights off and go to sleep. You want Noodle and you want Yoongi you want everything from the past few hours- the past few years to be gone and over with. You want-

You want to snap at him and tell him that it doesn't matter that it will scar. That you're covered with scars already and you don't care but-

Namjoon kisses your forehead. A lingering brush. The one spot that's not bloody.

You look over at Tae and her eyes flicker blankly to you. Jungkook keeps bringing the boar bristle brush up and down her back in soothing little circles.

When you turn back to Namjoon he's pursing his lips and blinking away tears as he looks down at your hands. You resist the urge to say you’re sorry. You’re not sure what for. The terrible feral hunger in you gone as quick as it's come.

Namjoon’s fingers wrap around the hollow of your knees, and you meet his eyes, even though you don’t want to. It feels too much like a confession already.

“I’m going to say this now, before you get any ideas; This is not your fault and I am not mad at you and Tae for doing what you did-”

“Namjoon-”

He continues on, words rushing out. “I’m proud of you pup, so proud. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. I promise I won’t disappoint you again as pack alpha-” You cover his mouth with your hand, gauze and all.

The bit of gauze over your palm is already turning bloody. It's hard to tell if it's your blood or if it's his. You’re the last one to shower. The last one to get clean. Namjoon shouldn’t be touching you at all.

And yet he does, yet he cradles your face, brushes the tears from your cheeks, gets blood on his hands. Evidence is evidence, but love has a steeper sort of price if you don't express it when you can.

When you take your hand away, Namjoon doesn’t try to speak again. someone says something that you don't hear, that you can't hear.

Namjoon stands and when you look up, Jungkook has the shower door open for you.

Because the bandages and the glue on your hands can’t get wet Namjoon binds your hands with Ziplock bags and duct tape. The plastic rustles, and you follow Hobi's bloody footprints into Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon closes the door behind you.

Every bit of plastic is going to get melted down later, until all the blood and terror evaporates through something as simple and trivial as fire. Fire will cleanse it of all evidence, as sure as the burning water you step under.

You're not quite sure what you're going to do about the bullet holes in the walls or the blown-apart door to the upstairs bedroom, but Yoongi’s always had a handle on the home improvement stuff.

Jungkook helps you disrobe off your bloodied clothing. Lifting your shirt over your head and stooping, telling you to hold onto his shoulders so that he can take off your sweatpants. You're pretty sure they're Yoongi's but there's no time to get sentimental as he puts them inside a garbage bag along with Tae's and Hobi's clothes.

Everything on your person is evidence. When you look back Namjoon's gone, summoned by Jin's distant call from downstairs. It's just Jimin outside of the shower. watching you, but mostly watching Tae.

You’d be more self-conscious of your nude body if your brain wasn’t still racing. It’s hard to do much with the bags on your hands. But Jungkook squirts out a healthy dollop of your favorite shampoo and gets to work once the conditioner is in Tae’s hair. She sits like a discarded ball-jointed doll on the built-in bench. Her long hair hair stuck like a sheet over her eyes.

Nothing is as important as making sure you’re not found out. And the frothy shampoo turns rusty around Jungkook's fingers. You have to have a lot of blood on your face. All the water that rolls off of you goes pink.

Jungkook is gentle even by your hairline scratching against your scalp with his fingers. The skin there is tender. Namjoon taped a bit of gauze over the sutures too. You don't remember when he did that.

You make a noise. “Too rough?” his voice has something unreadable in it, something soft and concerned.

You don't respond because Yoongi makes his reappearance at the doorway. The black shirt he wears is dusty at the front from the concrete. His eyes single focused on you the second he enters the room. You stare at him the way that Tae stares at Jimin. Jungkook just huffs and pulls you a little more snugly against his chest.

Tae stands in the corner of the shower, still staring at Minnie. Minnie who stares back, practically not blinking. Both of their anguish are hidden behind glass. Like fish in tanks that could never get out. Not really.

Part of Tae gets washed away down the drain. Swirling and gurgling down and down with no one to notice.

Tae stares off blankly into space. Sometimes Jimin talks to her and sometimes he hums through the glass, he'd be in there too if his bandages couldn't get wet either. If Namjoon hadn’t yanked him back from the doorway and told him that he couldn't.

Jungkook takes the boar bristle brush to your body too. Everything has to be scrubbed multiple times until your skin feels nearly raw from it. Tae’s fingernails, her arms, your neck, the side of your face, the hollow at the inside of your arms. Your knees. Everywhere.

He apologizes when he goes over bruises, wincing, clutching you a little tighter, a little closer to make up for the pain. But Jungkook is meticulous as he cleans of evidence until you feel groomed clean. Until there’s no more blood swirling down the drain just clear water, and the light outside has turned pearly and blue in the twilight.

Tae's still silent. She's been quiet beyond the occasional heartbreaking whimper since you both killed that man. Eventually, You push at Jungkook's hands with a pointed look in her direction where she's slumped and he goes with a soft nod. Two omega's taking care of their alphas.

Jungkook’s delicate with Tae’s head, gentle in the way he cradles the bruising, half hidden by her hair. Washing out the conditioner with a quiet hum. Namjoon had diagnosed her with a concussion pretty quickly, it's not a crack in her skull plate but she's not going to go putting her hair up in a bun any time soon.

Jungkook alternates from you to Tae. One moment you're standing, the next Jungkook is taking you up gently from the floor and Yoongi is at the glass, hand on the door- looking at you anxiously. Letting out a volley of cursing. You can't remember the last time you heard him use language like that.

"Hyung she's fine- she's just slippery, I've got her."

Their voices are so soft and grave and so quiet. Or is it just that you can’t hear it? Why are their voices so far away and muffled? Sometimes Yoongi is here and sometimes he isn't. Sometimes Jungkook is holding you, talking to Namjoon about something, and other times he and Yoongi are talking. Keeping their voices low. Your ears ring. It's so loud it deafening.

“Do you need me to take over?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. Jungkook has blood on his feet, from you or Tae you’re not sure, it soaks the hair there. Jungkook’s got hairy fucking feet for an omega- you’re not sure why you’re concentrating on it. Why you’re noticing all these things now. Cataloging little things about them like you might never get the chance to notice them again.

Your heart beats quick, fear still consuming you even though the danger has passed. You look down at the tiled floor and the room spins.

You don’t feel a thing when you close your eyes. You don’t feel anything when you think of the man that you just killed. You don’t feel anything but roaring, like the crashing of the ocean or the sound when you lift your ear to a shell. The hearing in your left ear where the gun went off feels…off, muffled. You put your hand up to toy with it and freeze when you realize it isn't right.

"Guys" You paw at your ear. But they don't seem to hear you.

"No, I've got them.”

“We need to clean up the downstairs. Kookie, where do you keep the oxyclean?”

"Guys"

They still don't hear you. Maybe you're not making a sound at all just mouthing the words. Your movement gets Tae's attention and her eyes focus for the first time in hours. Slumped on the bench, her hand grips the tiled edge hard as she tries to stand but can't. Jungkook hands Yoongi something through the steam, the black trash bag full of bloody clothes.

The notice Tae trying to get to you first. she hits the floor with a small thud and tugs her way over to you. You make a noise in your throat- a distressed chirp that makes the alphas flinch. Tae cups your cheek as you dig your finger in, slippery from the plastic- and pull something small and fleshy out of your ear.

It's soft and squishy. A curved piece of pink and white brain matter. A little bloody but bleached from the water.

You try to stand to your feet but teeter, shaking, staring down at the chunk of person that you just got out of you, that was just in you.

For a second, no one says anything, but then-

“That’s so fucking gnarly.” Your head jerks up in Jungkook’s direction.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Tae actually does look a little green, but it's good to hear her voice at the very least. She hauls herself over to the drain and starts to dry heave.

"Oh tae don't-" the sound of vomit hitting the floor joins the sound of the shower. You don't look at her. just at the lump of person in your hand.

"Someone please take it from me," Jimin is already there opening the glass door and holding out a cloth for you to place it in.

Yoongi presses his hands to the glass as he watches you struggle to grab the brush that Jungkook was using on you from the floor after finally getting your feet under you. Jungkook is torn, his hand on Tae's shoulder as she wretches turning from her to you like he doesn't know what to do or who to help first.

You don't care about the state of your hands you just need to get clean. You Ignore the twinge of pain in your hands as you try and get the bottle of body wash open. Ripping off the plastic bags that cover your hands when you can't unclick the cap immediately. frustrated and panicking. You ignore Jimin calling your name. The gauze falls to the floor with a wet thwack and you take the boar bristle brush to your hands. Cuts and all.

Big hands stop you. Hands that dwarf yours. Hands that you'd know blind.

Yoongi's standing under the spray fully clothed, the water pinning down his hair and quickly soaking him. His hands tangling with yours, taking the brush from you. Wordless as he grabs your wrists and jerks you forward hard.

He holds on until you stop shaking. resting against his chest. guiding your face to his scent gland. "Take a deep breath for me now sweetheart- there you go- just like that."

Jungkook doesn't say anything and neither does Jimin, not as Yoongi starts to wash you again. Jungkook just stoops to lift Tae and place her back on the bench. She goes easy, limp, and doll-like. But she's almost done- she's almost clean. Tae pushes at Jungkook’s shoulders.

"I’m fine. I need to wait for the nausea to pass before I try getting out of here.”

With you, it's going to take a little longer.

Jungkook has already shampooed your hair, but he does it again. The telltale signs of rusty red in the peach-scented shampoo. Bubbling orange-pink. Yoongi does it slower, gentler- it feels more normal. Like the slow loving you're used to.

“Do you ever feel like-” your voice is a little crackly from all the screaming you did earlier. You hate how the terror makes you not remember all the details. Did you make any sound while you killed him? Did you say anything through the rage?

The others are looking at you but you have eyes for just Jimin. his hand tightens to fists, knuckles pressed against the glass. eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Do you ever not feel guilty? About killing people Minnie?”

You are nude, as bare as you’ve ever been before him, it's hard to be self-conscious about it. Maybe this would be a little sexier- showering with Tae and Jungkook and Yoongi with an audience if you weren't literally trying to cover up a very violent murder.

You remember the words Jimin had said to you weeks ago now. “Would you kill for me?” “I’d do worse” you wonder if this qualifies as worse. You can’t imagine what would be much worse than this.

Jungkook's hands are rough as they massage a bit of soap down your back but instead of being comforting, it feels like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin.

Jimin hums. Eyeing Tae still sprawled on the built-in bench. Jimin gathers his thoughts before he speaks. “In my contract, at the beginning-” He starts but cuts off as you start to slip. Jungkook's hands find you, helping Yoongi hold you up more properly. Your mate doesn't let Jungkook take you entirely just moves a bit to the side to give him space. Any other day you'd love to be in the middle of a yoonkook sandwich but-

“Your contract?” he nods, blond hair bobbing. Yoongi meticulously removes the dried blood from under your fingernails, careful to hold your glue sutures out of the direct spray.

“I specified that I’d only ever kill bad people. of course I got a little lazier after I got used to it." He shoots an anxious glance in Tae's direction, but she's still just sitting. "But at the beginning, I’d go back and look through their files to try to find out what they’d done to warrant a hit getting taken out on them. I couldn’t always find a reason but most of the time I did."

You can see it in his face, that Jimin doesn't want to say that they deserved it. Because if they deserved a violent ending then you could say the same about the 8 of you. Jungkook's hands get a little close to the nape of your neck and you turn to him and snap.

"Don't scruff me."

"Sorry." You need it. Is what he doesn't say.

“Most of the time it was worth it?” You cling to his words. With Geumjae you’d never had to guess if he deserved it or not but this-

Jimin’s eyebrows are brought into a hard line, “Karma is a fickle thing. Sometimes it never comes but-” his eyes are downcast, "Sometimes it's a good thing, being the karma."

You sit quietly, digesting his words. Your lower lip trembles, and you don’t know if you feel terrible or better when the tears just won’t come. Yoongi delicately cradles your body, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pulling you back against his chest.

“Yoongi.”

“Let me hold you for a minute.” You do, body sagging under the weight of your exhaustion.

Tae teeters in Jungkook’s hold, but she pushes against his hands weakly when he tries to make her stand again. Her voice sounds warbly and fragile when she shakes her head. “I’m still dizzy.”

He tries to guide her gently back to the bench, but she doesn't make it that far. Pushing away his hands when she descends to the marble floor. Closer to the wall, Closer to Minnie who mirrors her, falling to the floor too. Getting as closer to her as he can without being in the shower.

Jimin lets out a sad and bitter-sounding laugh and Tae smiles in reply while Jungkook and Yoongi share an anxious glance over your head.

He's still grinning, words twisting, eyes shining with sorrow and fondness. “You couldn’t wait 24 hours until you had to make it even, didn’t you?”

Tae closes her eyes as her smile twists and she starts to cry “Where you go, I go. We’re the same now Minnie.” Jimin doesn't mean to ask what she means. He knows.

If you're a killer I'm a killer. If you're damned, I'm damned. Even though neither of them believes in God or heaven or damnation. Not really. Not anymore. It's very half-hearted.

(I don't know if it's worth wondering if the people you love are bad people, I think when worse comes to worse, you just put the heaviness down and keep on loving them anyway).

Jimin’s eyes are soft on her, the way that they only ever are with Tae. He places his hand on the glass fogging around his fingertips. She doesn’t match his hands, just leans her cheek against it. Love is only a thin layer of glass away.

You know it hurts her a little bit, must make the dysphoria a little harder to breathe through, to let Jimin and Jungkook see her like this; just the long hair and nothing delicate to cloth her soul in. A soul that now you’ve irreparably tarnished.

A soul that is damaged beyond repair now thanks to you.

It is your fault. All of this is because of you. all of this pain and anguish and damage is because of the choices you've made. the stupid idiotic childish choices. If you'd never needed it- if you'd just been strong enough- Tae could have been whole. Tae could have been unharmed. Hobi and Jin too- if you’d just-

Back at the hospital, Tae had so many questions about Jimin’s job, so many questions about when and where, and why. But she finds her head empty of them in the aftermath. She has no desire to learn anything else about Jimin’s job. Not now that she knows what killing feels like.

Tae is never going to be able to look at red nail polish the same way again.

Jungkook reaches over and turns off the water.

~-~

Eventually, you finish washing. Wrapped up in fluffy white towels that will have to be burned too. The house smells like bleach and gunpowder. It covers everything.

Even the noodle is looking a little more grubby than usual when he zips by, meowing for someone to give him attention. You hear the saw going and you know that Yoongi is cutting the bullet holes out of the walls while the others clean up the blood.

Your skin feels pink and sensitive were the towel brushes as you go looking for pajamas, you'll get some for the others too. Later, Jin will fuss and ask to put some cream on you. Will massage it in something of an apology and pretend that Yoongi isn't going over the whole house with a blacklight to spot any errant blood splatters.

Later Yoongi will take a wood scraper to the floorboards where the man died, will rip them up, and burn them in the house's ancient fireplace just to be sure that no one finds any evidence.

You'll all pretend that Tae doesn't shake through a panic attack when you have an informal dinner in the nest. jin's rule of "no food in the nest" broken for this. You'll all pretend that Hoseok won't choke choking on all but the smallest sips of water. You'll all pretend. You're good pretenders, good liars too.

Later, Jin will put cream on your skin and dot it all with kisses, the swelling in his hands won't take too long to go down. You'll get the love and You won’t deserve a single second of it.

You don't know how you fooled yourself into thinking you ever deserved it. The last 8 months have been stolen. Not earned.

The one-year anniversary of Geumjae's death comes and passes as you go to the top of the stairs in your towel, Ears straining to hear what's going on downstairs.

There is a lot of talking going on downstairs, between Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. About what to do, and how to handle this. Hushed voices kept mostly out of earshot. And other more dangerous questions get asked, with equally as dangerous answers.

One of Jimin's guns sits on the kitchen counter through all of it. No one moves to put it away. They're not sure when they're next going to need it and they'd rather not get caught off guard again.

“I could talk to some people- call them. Some people owe me favors, There has to be some section of the family that doesn’t want her too-“

"Absolutely Not, I am not having you get into some weird ass mafia debt"

"Yeah, jailcell orange is so not your color hyung"

“We stay quiet. For the next 48 hours- it’s likely no one will know what happened. They’re too hurt- we need some time to regroup and think.”

Hobi’s voice is absent from the fray. You hear something quite like he's trying to speak, and someone shushing him softly. Namjoon says that his swelling won’t go down enough to talk until tomorrow. You hear the sound of someone opening the refrigerator to get ice.

The door to the bedroom has been blown apart, and a flurry of bullet holes chewed through the top corner. It sits off its hinges and in two pieces.

You remember watching Yoongi paint the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs while he worked at the top of it and painted it to match the wallpaper in the staircase, a dark cobalt blue. You remember all of it, every little thing you watched him do to make this house into something worthwhile. To make it into a home and now it's riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.

It's funny, you hardly remember every little thing he did for you, to make you worthwhile.

You have always been a reminder that you don't make houses out of abandoned buildings, and mates out of monsters that bite.

The water has turned the cuts on your hands white and gummy when you look down at them in the closet room. They’re already oozing, not bleeding, it will be at least a day or two until you can touch anything without discomfort. Namjoon will scold you ever so gently later and re-do your bandages.

The pink curtains are drawn already to keep out any wandering eyes from the outside. This is a dressing room after all. The whole room feels like a blush-toned jewel box and you, the one piece of cheap costume jewelry at the center.

You get up and shut the door before you sit on a small poof- something silky and tufted that Jimin had gotten Tae right after she'd come out.

You sit in your towel and look down at your wounds. Thinking about Tae's concussion. Jin's wrists. Hobi's throat. Both of their blank looks and the violence of death and trying to live. You think it all through, every possible ending to this before you pick up your phone and dial Her number.

Moonbyul picks up on the first ring. It’s like she’s been waiting for your call.

“Did you like your courting present pup?”

Your throat is dry and you don’t know exactly what to say, even less how to say it. She hums at your silence, an alpha's imitation of a purr. Waiting until your quietness builds to a frantic pulse.

In the pack, you've always been the one with the best survival instincts. Geumjae made you this way. Although the pack has spent the last few months trying to heal you; deep down you know you've never been anything more than a scared animal. Fight or Flight. Freeze or fawn.

Bullet to bullet. Tooth to tooth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. This time is different. This time you have something worth protecting.

You stand, no longer able to sit. There is a noise at the door, and you wait with bated breath for someone to come in. They don't come. But you stand and move farther inside. Hoping that the distance will disguise the sound of your whispered conversation.

She continues when it becomes clear you're struggling to speak. “I’ve got another one on the way. Hyejin’s here, wanna say hello? You’re on speaker.”

“Pup,” she giggles, and you feel like you might vomit. It’s a struggle really, not to end the call right there, not to let the fear overtake you. “We haven’t heard back from Spider yet, and I have a feeling someone’s been a little naughty.”

You lift the curtain to look outside, the train chugs past and the cars flit by like the fast small birds searching for seed in the snow. The whole world is grey and flat. The sky is orange from the lights of the city reflecting the clouds. The trees bare of all but a few crumbly leaves. It’s strange how all at once, the train is all you can look at. All you can think about.

You think about hoseok, the night at the train tracks where he stopped you from leaving. When he asked you to stay.

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to do to get you to stop this, please.” Your voice sounds off, even for you. Too flat, strange even to your ears.

“I’m afraid we’re too far along for that.”

"Please, please Moonbyul-" You turn, pacing back towards the door. Past Tae’s clothes, past yours, past Jungkook’s, past the alcove where Hobi hangs his sweatshirts for you. You pause there. Looking at them.

“You said- you said when it was over you’d give me anything I wanted. Well I want them alive. Even if-"

Your voice is so shaky, you're careful to make sure you're not overheard. The pack is in the other room, just downstairs. You can hear the distant hum of their sweet voices; the people you love always sound like a melody. Your absence hasn’t been noticed yet.

"Even if I’m not here.”

For once they’re silent on the other end of the line. It’s a full silence, filled with one part lust and one part hunger. Both of them are like Noodle playing with a mouse. Waiting for the right time to drive their teeth in and end this game.

But even mice have teeth. Your hand is holding your phone so hard that the plastic makes your bones ache and your cuts bleed fresh.

“If you don’t let them live, I'll never stop fighting. But if you want me to be willing- If you want me to be your pup the way I think you do."

You can’t even close your hand into a fist with how wrecked your hands are. They hurt with every clumsy movement. you hold the phone. Your every heartbeat lurching with the horror of what you're doing.

I can’t lose them; I can’t be the reason why they die. They'll keep sending people until we're all dead unless I do something.

“All of them, all of them need to be safe, Jimin- you need to let him go of his contract and let him go back to living a normal life and you need to not punish Jin for working for the FBI.” Your words rush over themselves. "Leave my pack alone and I’ll be obedient. I'll be yours. I’ll never try and go back to them again. I won’t ever try and leave. I promise.”

Moonbyul and Hyejin are silent on the other end of the phone. You wait for a few moments. They must be looking at each other, deliberating.

Everything in this room aches. The closet bedroom that Yoongi made he made for you. The wainscotting just so. Everything in this house was crafted with an equal amount of love.

It was never meant to be yours forever, you’ve been keenly aware of this fact since the moment you met Yoongi. Since the moment you met his eyes across the dining room table and the moment his teeth met your skin. Borrowed things don't belong, they never do. Good things do not last. You only get them for as long as you get them and not a moment longer.

You're looking at Hobi's sweatshirts, in the alcove where he stacks them for you to take when Moonbyul and Hyejin respond.

“We'll agree to those terms, but remember their safety depends on your performance."

"You have 24 hours to get to us pup. Make them count.”

The dial tone drones like a funeral drum.

~-~

(Hoseok, a few years prior)

The backroom at the record shop is cramped with all sorts of things from a bygone era;

A mini fridge with a decrepit desktop computer and logbook balanced atop it. Pictures and bulletins glued to the wall from the 1960's. A greasy coffee machine piled high with bags of expired tea. A cramped spot for employees to hang their coats and a yellowing old table with a pair of chairs; both occupied by people also out of place. a beta that has a thing for 1980's rap and an alpha with a broken heart who admittedly loves 2010's pop.

A poster of some glittery showgirl omega from the 20s bats her eyelashes down at Hoseok as he has a mental breakdown. Offering neither comfort nor absolution nor love.

Maybe if he'd been born an omega like that, it would have been easier. Maybe they'd have wanted him then.

Yoongi's hands rub down Hoseok's shoulder, his back, places only lovers have touched. Up and down. An endless circle. An ouroboros of affection nibbling Hoseok's fickle heart. Hoseok aches harder with every passing moment.

Yoongi looks at the clock as Hoseok continues to sob. The shop should be open right now but Yoongi won't let it. It can go out of business for all he cares. As long as no one makes Hoseok get up from this chair before he's ready.

Beta instincts are fickle things, but Yoongi has always had a third sense. Something in him always knows if people are trustworthy and if they need him. Something in their scents or faces or eyes- like small planets reflecting the cosmos back to them. Do planets bear life only when someone is willing to look for them? Do people only deserve help when they're willing to ask for it? or is it like this?

Eventually, Hoseok gets his breath back in his chest and his sobs quiet down. His eyes open bloodshot. All sadness has an expiration date (thankfully). Yoongi's hand slides down his arm and gives his hand a firm squeeze (and stays there).

It's the first time someone's touched Hoseok without wanting something in God knows how long but he's too sad to properly appreciate it or savor it. (Yoongi doesn't want anything from him that Hoseok wouldn't willingly give. Doesn't want anything but his smile. fuck- he's just a co-worker, isn't he?). Who knows when the next touch like this might come? (Yoongi is going to hold his hand tomorrow because Yoongi likes holding people's hands, Jin will give him the tacit permission to do that at least. But all of the pack are keenly aware that Hoseok needs time to heal, no matter how obvious Yoongi's crush and Hoseok's needs).

(Hoseok is definitely not just Yoongi's coe-worker at this point, but saviors come from all sorts of unlikely places)

Eventually Hoseok's sobs quiet and Yoongi sighs, pulling back. He takes one look at hoseok's red nose and pale cheeks and puffs up. "I'm making your hot chocolate and you're going to tell me what's happened."

He gets up like he needs something to do. Like he's tired of taking care of Hoseok. He doesn't take it personally, he's tired of it too.

“My mates they- they kicked me out of our den,” Hoseok confesses. Yoongi's got two mugs in his hands, they thud against the counter when he reaches into one of the cabinets.

It’s warm in here but Hoseok is still thankful for the sweatshirt the beta gave him. Not only for its warmth but for the layer of scent it provides; It’s soaked with the smell of chocolate. So comforting and heavenly that it makes Hoseok a little dizzy when he tucks his nose into it and takes a hefty sniff when Yoongi's got his back turned.

Hoseok was never given the other pack's items, never allowed or encouraged to indulge in their scents. They never asked for his either.

Yoongi hangs both their jackets above the radiator in the back so that they’ll dry faster. He bears an impressive bite mark on his arm, visible because of his short-sleeved shirt. It's bruised just ever so slightly- an alpha bite but not a mating bite because betas don't mate. A mark like that on him is as good a claim as any. Even with the other scents that cling to the sweatshirt.

Hoseok hasn’t known him long, but they’re friends even if they’ve never met up outside of work. You can't not be friends with someone you spend upwards of 30 hours a week with.

Yoongi just hums. "Have you been with them long?"

Hoseok appreciates that Yoongi doesn't use the past tense, his heart too tender around the idea of endings. Some part of him is unconvinced that it really is over. A stubborn heart for a stubborn alpha.

His hair is starting to dry when he nods. "It's been a few years." Hoseok bites his lip, "I could lie and say I didn't see signs but-" his hands end up in his hair, elbows leaning against the creaking yellow table. Tugging a little. "I'm so fucking stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid," Yoongi says, hand on the back of his head. warm rough fingers. Touching him ever so briefly as he passes to put the milk back in the mini-fridge. "It's not stupid to want to find more love where you got it."

But in truth, There's not much more than Yoongi can say. Not much more that he knows to say. He'd never met Hoseok's pack. Whereas Namjoon and Jimin and the pups have a general tendency to linger around Yoongi person at all hours and locations. Stopping by to drop off coffee or just to make funny faces at him through the window when they're on their way to work. Yoongi has never met his co-worker's pack and has never seen much evidence at all on him beyond some vague hints of scents.

That alone is enough of a hint; usually, when people have packmates they're soaked in their scents. Visceral claims to keep any wandering eyes wandering still. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered why Hoseok didn't wear his packmate's scents.

It’s not like the alpha smells bad at all- a little strong sure, but less genetically dominant alphas tend to smell a little sweeter like omegas.

At least that’s what Namjoon says when he feels like info dumping. Late at night when the pack asleep around them and only Yoongi's stayed up to listen. Because Yoongi likes the sound of Namjoon's voice when he gets into the details. Stroking across Namjoon’s bare chest just to feel the alpha's words rumble against his fingertips. His heartbeat against his ear the backtrack for all of it.

Whoever Yoongi’s pack is; they surely love him a lot. That much has been evident since the second that Hoseok met him. Evident in the packed bento boxes and the bunny-eyed omega that walks with him to work sometimes. Or in the tall omega and alpha pair that Hoseok has seen perusing the shelves when he comes in to relieve Yoongi of his shift.

Hoseok has worked here for 6 months. It’s impossible not to collect these details. The hickeys on his throat that he wears after weekends, how ruffled but generally loved Yoongi looks when he comes back from rut and heat leave.

“Is there a reason why they left?” Yoongi tries to be as undiscerning as possible. Voice gentle and measured. Stirring the hot cocoa and putting it in front of Hoseok.

Hoseok takes a sip and it feels like he's drinking a cup of the beta in front of him. Yoongi melts a little into the chair at the happy noise Hoseok makes.

It's good. Really good actually, Yoongi uses twice as much Swiss mix as the package instructs and a tablespoon of honey to boot. More chocolate can never be a bad thing.

Before Hoseok has a chance to respond, The phone next to the cabinet rings. And Yoongi takes it off the stand and hangs it up again in quick secession so that it doesn’t ring anymore. It has to be important but he ignores it for Hoseok's sake. Yoongi does a lot of ordering for the shop, the rare records that their boss is always trying to source and sell. It's a lot of chasing down leads and curators.

(This is not true. This is a lie that Yoongi and his boss have fed him. This phone is set up for the family's use. Hoseok doesn’t know that most of the calls Yoongi answers are more delicate than just simple stock orders.)

“I just found out that my brother has stolen from me, what should his punishment be beta?”

“How much did he steal?”

“300k”

Yoongi swallows, fighting his narrow margin of benevolence. The drops of mercy that he's allowed to show without suspicion. He tells himself that the other beta would order a far worse. People only call him when they want lighter punishment.

“A finger for every 100 then.”

The people who call ask him all manner of things. Things like “I think my child might be planning on going to the police, what should I do before anyone finds out about it?” He is both a secret keeper and a jury.

“Send them away. Out of sight and out of mind of anything that they might be able to share. I hear the military academies are lovely this year. So much snow. Yes, they take omega recruits.”

“My firstborn child presented as an omega instead of an alpha. They're my firstborn and heir, how should I proceed?”

“I can ask around for an advantageous match but I’m sorry, there is no fixing presentation.”

Hoseok hasn’t seen a phone like that in years. Didn’t even know they made old-fashioned ones like that anymore. Ones with a dial, the blue plastic worn from the number of times Yoongi's had to pick it up. It doesn't stay silent for long, ringing soon after yoongi's hung it up.

“I'm the only- they’re an all-omega group.” As if by the mention of his sub gender Hoseok’s angry burning sugar scent fills the room. In reply, Yoongi’s sweetness rises. Hoseok takes another sip and pretends it's just the hot chocolate warming his cheeks. “I guess they wanted to keep it that way.”

"I've got two omegas and they keep me on my toes, I can't imagine four." That gets a laugh out of Hoseok.

"You've got a bunch of alphas in yours though, right?" A bunch already, I wouldn't be needed. Hoseok has seen them, the tall one with dimples that looks like something out of a soap opera. The scary-looking one with the chubby cheeks who's always holding hands with the pretty academic one who likes the jazz in the corner.

Yoongi nods, "That must be nice," Hoseok's eyelashes are all clumped together from the tears. "Having so many people to take care of you."

Yoongi hums, knuckles brushing Hoseok’s hand on the table. It’s just one tender touch but Hoseok starts to break. To crumple.

Yoongi senses Hoseok breaking, pulling him in close before he has a chance to really fracture (he comes just in time, Yoongi loves Hoseok just in time). Yoongi’s scent alone is enough to soothe him- beyond the way he guides the alpha to rest against his throat. Hoseok fights it only a little, what's a little scenting among friends?

They're not just friends, it's not just scenting.

Hoseok wants to bury his nose in the beta’s throat, but that wouldn’t be appropriate, not with the scent of so many others clinging to him. He still sags into the hug. Turns his face away to avoid the temptation.

“They didn’t even tell me- and now the lease on the apartment is up and I can’t afford it on my own and-“ I’m so scared and I just wish there was someone to take care of me. I wish I was a pup again.

They sit like that at the table and Yoongi just lets him cry, He pulls back after his sobbing has cooled. They hug until they both smell like gooey chocolate chip cookies with too much brown sugar.

Hoseok sniffles, “We have to open up the shop,” Yoongi's arms tighten around Hoseok's shoulders in reply.

“It can wait a few more seconds.” Hoseok wants to say that the owner wouldn’t like that but he doesn’t.

Yoongi sips and hesitates. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Hoseok pauses for a second, flushing before he shakes his head. “Okay, it's okay. You can say with me.”

“Are- are you sure they won't mind?” But Yoongi is already typing away on his phone, shooting a quick text to the pack group chat (a chat that Hoseok will be added to in exactly 23 days, but who's counting?)

“Not at all. It’s a bit cramped with all of us but we have a spare bed in the closet room that Tae likes to read on sometimes- Jungkook's boss slept there last night after they came back from drinking and Namjoon was so mad- he won't be mad about you though- it's just that Jungkook- he just really shouldn't be drinking."

"Is he underaged?"

"No, he's just got health issues."

"Oh." Yet another person who gets the love he needs, the care he needs. Hoseok tries and fails miserably not to be jealous over Yoongi's omega whom he's never met.

He won't be jealous for long. Later Jungkook is going to challenge him to an arm wrestle just to prove he doesn't need babying. Beating alphas in feats of strength is his favorite thing. He'll feel Hoseok’s hand in his and get completely distracted. "Wow, you've got like- really pretty hands!" and drag them close to his to compare sizes. He'll be smitten nearly instantly with Jungkook- for what it's worth. The jealousy only lasts for a few hours.

Within a few seconds his phone is ringing off the hook, he shows Hoseok the chorus of, “Yes it’s okay!” and “Poor thing, tell him he can stay as long as he wants.” "Of course hyung!" "Does Hoseok like kimchi-jjigae or should we just order pizza?" “Oh! Can we get some with pineapple?” “Gross Jk.” "Yeah we all know Minnie doesn't like the aftertaste of burnt fruit."

And Hoseok can't help but feel like he doesn’t deserve this kindness and such an effortless acceptance. There is a knock at the front door before he can say anything. A few short taps against the glass. Yoongi tells Hoseok to stay put while he goes to deal with a pushy customer who wants in. Leaving him alone in the backroom with his cooling hot coco and the poster still staring down at him.

(They say two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, but that's not the only way a secret stays buried; the best secrets are the ones you’re not even aware of.

Out of all the people in your pack. Hoseok is the only one in possession of a secret like this. The best kinds of secrets are the ones you don't even know are secrets see- he doesn't even know that this memory is enough to save you. Hoseok is entirely unaware that in his mind lies this memory.

Hoseok was the first person to get on the no-kill list, and it wasn’t because of Yoongi.

All packmates of a Don get put on the list;

no matter if they're active or past.)

Sitting at that yellowing wood table; Hoseok feels more settled now that he knows he has a place to sleep tonight that isn’t this backroom. Pulling the sleeve of Yoongi’s sweatshirt over his palms and sniffing at the collar where it was pushed up against Yoongi’s scent gland.

If he thinks hard, he can pick out a few scents here and there soaking the fabric. (Milky Omega Jin, Honey Sweet Puppy Jungkookie, Cinnamon sweet Alpha Tae and vanil-lalalala Jimin, Coffee Alpha Namjoon and Chocolate Yoongi).

It's so different from his ex-pack's scents. Their sugary sweet omega peppermint and sharp lemony evergreen, winter berry and pine, the cold smart of snow against his nose. His burning caramel scent- so off-putting. The one scent not Christmas-themed. The one that didn’t fit.

By comparison- Yoongi's pack smells like a bakery in summer. Every scent that could be added to a cake maybe (one day, in the kitchen, he’ll eat your tiramisu and realize yes- that’s exactly what it’s missing. Your cakey scent makes them all complete, the warmth of baking things).

He has somewhere to go now. Somewhere to be. Someone to trust. He trusts Yoongi- even if they’ve only known each other for a handful of short months.

And Yoongi’s pack can’t be worse than his last one.

As if in reply to Yoongi’s phone (buzzing with more texts that he doesn't check because Hoseok is nothing if not respectful of people's digital privacy. If he checked he would see "Is that the hot coworker you're always talking about? The one who always looks a little sad?")

Hoseok’s phone buzzes with the notification he's been waiting for.

Pack Omega 🌙 calling.

Pick up? Decline?

Hoseok hasn't yet gotten around to changing her contact information. He scrambles at it, spilling the hot cocoa across the table as he rushes to pick it up. Scrambling to get to it before it goes to voice mail. Blood pounding in his ears.

Hoseok’s voice is broken as he says his pack omega’s name, his old pack omega’s name.

“Byulyi- Moonbyul please-”

Moonbyul is cold on the other side of the phone. Maybe she’d have liked him more, and wouldn’t have given up on him if he didn't beg. But Hoseok has never been above begging. Not for love. Not for the thing he wants and needs the most. Hoseok needs love more than air and as Yoongi said- it's easiest to go looking for love where you once got it.

Even when you know it could hurt you.

Her voice is flat and unaffected. “I just wanted to make sure you found a place to stay tonight. Are you still going to be around to give the landlord the keys?”

Hoseok finds himself nodding even though he knows she can’t see him. “Yes- I can do that, I can do anything you want. Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Moonbyul please-”

“Goodbye Hoseok.” She says, hanging up after a second. Hoseok looks at the phone. Pushing the button to redial. It doesn't go. She’s already blocked him.

It will be a long time until Hoseok hears from his last pack again, a long long time until he says their names again. He will remember the way he’d begged, the way her name had sounded smack dab in the middle of it. And hate hate Hate how it makes him feel. He won't ever say their names, regret and self-disgust getting in the way.

It's a little funny, thinking of how different things might have gotten if he'd just told yoongi their names. If he hadn't let his alpha pride get in the way. A few days from now they'll talk about it together. "I don't like the way saying their names makes me feel- it feels- I hate how much I want to say it- to see them again- saying their names just reminds me of the power they had over me."

Never again, will Jung Hoseok beg for someone to give him the bare minimum. This is his lowest point. The moment where it shifts- for good.

His head is in his hands when Yoongi comes back into the room. Still sniffling, crying yet again. Yoongi sets a palm in his hair, ruffling it. Eyeing the spilled hot cocoa with a raised eyebrow.

“If you wanted coffee you could have just said so-“ he makes an attempt at levity and is rewarded with Hoseok’s small snort. Wiping his wet cheeks. Neither of them is aware of the secret. Neither of them is aware and so much worse off for it."

Hoseok grins, “Are you buying hyung?”

~-~

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Notes:

in the story there has always been this question- mainly raised by jimin during his secret chapters- if the m/c is actually in love with them or if she's just manipulating them- at the beginning of this chapter- we actually see jimin finally dispel the last bit of him that thinks even a little bit that this is the case. once he sees how much she put her body on the line- that question isn't even in the back of his mind- even a little. i ended up re-editing this part alot because of it.

every time i write something from jimin's pov i'm always like "why is everything so meandering? why are things disjointed?" and then i remember that's literally jimin's character- that he is in a lot of ways an unreliable narrator.

(TW) i have this idea in my head that namjoon DOES NOT become a good person in the event that all of them die like- a whole separate idea of him becoming a doctor for the family through yoongi's connections with the soul purpose of one day killing moonbyul and her entire pack…including their pups on accident which ends up destroying the last bit of namjoon's innocence as a person…and he ends up becoming one of the families assassins alongside jimin as a result, in this event jungkook does not stay with them and instead moves on and yoongi stays and tries to get them to stop only to ask them to kill him as their last kill because he's unable to cope with the loss of jin, hobi, the m/c and tae. BUT ANYWAY I DIGRESS THAT IS NOT THIS STORY.

i think in this story there is this really interesting dynamic of femininity and death and morality- that being said red nail polish is definitely a metaphor for whose comfortable killing and who isn't. i like the contrast between tae who will never wear red nails again- vs the moon pack who all are not allowed out of the nest if their nailpolish isn't perfect like- thats another layer of the fucked up shit.

are you suprised that the m/c is going to leave? Did you see it coming from a mile away? i mean...it is in the title of the series 😈

….the parallel between hobi losing his voice and the m/c not having a voice at the beginning of the series- you can project whatever meaning you want onto that <3

also on that subject the line "Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival." it's worth mentioning that thats not what i think is the most necessary thing to their survival but it is their own interpretation of what keeps them alive. like i for one actually think that the m/c is a lot more pragmatic than anyone gives her credit for but i digress. i could go on about all of their strenghts.

what did you guys think about hobi's secret reveal???? a fair amount of people have guessed it and i think when someone got it at the beginning of the series i lied and said it wasn't- i'm allowed to be an unreliable narrator too!!! kudos to everyone who got it! i feel like it could have been revealed better and originally the big one off was slated for next chapter but i decided to shift it to this one (mostly because i think the next chapter is about to get up there in terms of word count tbh 😭) but T-T its done now! please give me praise because i'm baby and this week has honestly been really hard

418 notes · View notes

revasserium · 4 months

Note

hiii i'm a new follower and i love your writing so much

ik u said no requests in ur bio but i just finished reading ur sanji fic.. so even if ur still not taking requests i'd just like to throw in an idea that u may or may not feel like using in the future, up to you (i'm requesting this with opla sanji in mind but if u wanna use it for zoro that's cool too)

k so imagine reader being invited to a friend's wedding, & being excited to go until they find out their ex is coming too (with their partner of some amt of yrs). so now reader is pressured to bring someone w/ them & ends up asking their best friend sanji bc they don't want others thinking they're still hung up on the past.

wedding dress

opla!sanji; 6,544 words, pining with a happy ending, fluff and a tad of angst, flirting, lovesick!sanji, whipped!!!!sanji, no "y/n", zeff is a whole mood, confessions, sanji-appropriate nickname usage, modern!au?

summary: you invite sanji to be your plus 1 at a wedding

a/n: im so sorry this took so long. but. better late than? never? also, there is a tiny bit of rehashing for ep 6 of the live action for sanji and zeff's relationship so... spoilers?

It’s a chilly, overcast kind of day when the call comes in. And in retrospect, Sanji thinks he should’ve known better when he’d seen your name on the caller ID. He’d hesitated, because by god if it wasn’t his New Year's Resolution to get the hell over you this year, but it’s almost December again and he still can’t help the way his heart races at the sound of your voice.

“Hey sweetheart — long time no talk!” he answers after a brief moment of contemplating his entire life, dusting his flour-covered hands on his apron.

“Hey! Sorry for calling so… out of the blue…” your voice is still as sweet as ever, and the way his stomach twists at the tinkle of your nervous laughter makes him want to kick himself. Still, he forces himself to stay calm, clearing his throat as he checks the oven — it’s almost done pre-heating.

“Now you know what I said about actin’ a stranger — just because you moved halfway across the entire world doesn’t mean we ain’t best friends anymore, right?”

It’s what you’d said when he’d been standing at the airport, three seconds from dropping to his knees and begging you not to go. But he hadn’t, because he knew how hard you’d worked for this — for this opportunity abroad, to study art in the birthplace of the Renaissance itself, in the heart of Italy.

“And… you might be able to come visit me, right?” you’d said, rocking on the balls of your feet, your eyes full of what Sanji could only call false hope — which is always, always the worst and most painful kind.

Sanji had swallowed and nodded and said something or other about Europe and fine dining, but there’s a terrible, prickling heat eating up the back of his neck and a voice that’s screaming at him to pull you to him and kiss you. He doesn’t. And he regrets it to this day.

“Ah — right… I’m actually calling because… I’ll be in the area in about a week and…”

Your voice pulls him out of his reverie and he clears his throat, hitches a smile to his face that he knows you can’t see but he’s sure you can hear.

“Oh! That’s great, darling! You’ve gotta come for a drink, I’ll whip up all your favorites — we can make a night —”

“It’s actually for a wedding.”

There are a few moments in everyone’s lives when they learn the true meaning of a thing for the very first time — elation, pride, stomach-twisting guilt, and… fear. True fear, the kind of fear that shakes the muscle from your bones and sends them tingling, threatens to overwhelm you with numbness. Fear, that pushes adrenaline through you like a drug, forces the world into a terrifying, all-consuming focus.

Sanji feels the fear coursing through him, wild and contentious at your words.

A wedding.

Your wedding? Perhaps?

He can’t bear to think of it; he’s so terrified he can barely breathe.

Then comes the moment after, the wave of everything else that the fear had washed away — confusion, anger, guilt (always guilt, for some reason), because isn’t he supposed to be happy for you? For you, the person he loves most in this entire world, to find love, to know happiness. He should. He should.

“Oh.”

Sanji sags back against the hard, metal counter. Almost mindlessly, he reaches into his pockets with shaking hands, digging around for a smoke.

Your breath is soft in his ear, too far across the phone line and a thousand miles of ocean.

“I originally wasn’t even planning on going — she’s not a very close friend — we had like one class together but —”

And within the span of a minute, Sanji also learns relief. The kind that melts the world around you into sizzling butter and champagne bubbles. The kind that makes you want to lie down on the ground and scream.

“— it was so close to your restaurant so I said yes but I didn’t know he was gonna be there and —”

You’re still talking, rambling like you do. And it takes nearly everything inside Sanji to pull himself back to the conversation.

“Sorry, love, who did you say was gonna be there?”

“My ex — you know the one —”

Sanji grimaces, flicking on his lighter with still-shaking fingers.

“Mm, yeah I do. The tall, dark-haired bastard who —”

“Yeah well — he’s gonna be there too and I just —” he hears you swallow hard and take a long, steadying breath. An unnameable something is calcifying in the depths of his stomach as he waits for you to collect yourself.

Curiosity? Why had you called like this, so suddenly, about a wedding where your ex was going to be? Concern? Were you thinking of going back to him?

But slowly, as you stutter through your next few words, the unnameable thing obtains a name — dread.

“— I just don’t think I could do it myself, y’know? And — and you were the one who got me out of it wh-when I decided to break it off with him so…”

Sanji takes a long drag of his cigarette and casts his eyes up at the high, white-slabbed ceiling of the kitchen, scored with long strips of bright, fluorescent lighting that floods the entire room in a direct, unforgiving glow.

He closes his eyes and counts to three.

“Course I’ll come with you, darlin’. It —” he wets his lips, taps off a bit of ash from his cigarette, and sucks in through his nose, clearing his throat of the words still lodged there, “— it’d be my honor.”

Relief — he hears it in your voice, and by gods he can almost see it — the way your whole face would light up, washed as if by the setting sun, your eyes wide and dark, your cheeks flushing his favorite fucking shade of pink and —

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really owe you for this one —”

Sanji makes a valiant effort at a nonchalant chuckle; it comes out sounding like a dog with a bit of bone stuck in its throat instead.

“Nonsense — what are best friends for, anyway?”

There’s a tiny pause where Sanji can feel the words best friend scraping along the insides of his mouth, barbed and harsh, leaving his tongue feeling raw and metallic.

“You really are the best friend anyone could ask for,” your voice is soft and honest and Sanji wants nothing more than to chuck his phone into the industrial blender.

You tell him that you’ll send him the details, that you can’t wait to see him soon, that you’ve got a world and a half of catching up to do, that you’ll buy him so, so many drinks, and that you’ll come bearing presents. He laughs at the right times, makes soft noises of consent and agreement, and when finally, finally you tell him goodbye, he clicks off the phone and takes another long drag of his smoke.

And then, he whips his hand back and throws the cigarette butt into the large sink, where it tinks against the metal and sizzles sadly in the murky dishwater.

“Real sucker for punishment, aren’tcha, lil’ eggplant?”

Sanji groans, turning around to find Zeff with his arms folded, the hip to his bad leg propped against a counter.

“Will you fuck kindly off — can’t you see I’m going through a thing here?”

Zeff snorts, clunking unevenly towards him.

“You been going through that thing for the last year and a half since you chickened outta askin’ her to stay so —”

“I didn’t chicken out — I — it was her dream to go to Florence and study —”

“And what was your dream then, ey?”

Sanji bangs his palm against the counter and sighs, “It’s not like I could leave you here with —”

“With what? A thriving restaurant business that I started? A guest list out the door and round the corner —”

“I — I helped!”

Zeff rolls his eyes, “Ah sure ya did, but I never asked you to, did I?”

Sanji huffs, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop the torrent of horrible, sad, acrid things he could say and could never mean, so he swallows them back down. When he looks up next, Zeff is still standing there, but there’s a softness around his eyes.

He opens his mouth a few times, but eventually, all he says is, “The oven’s over heatin’.”

Sanji swears and jumps up to tug open the oven door. A wave of hot air whooshes out and nearly catches him in the face. Behind him, he can hear Zeff’s dark, gravelly chuckle, and the dull clunk of his wooden leg.

“You burn the kitchen down, you pay for it.”

And then he’s gone again, leaving the door swinging behind him, and Sanji very much alone with the too-hot oven and a counter full of things he can’t really remember the recipes for anymore.

Nearly a week later, Sanji finds himself standing at the airport, rocking on the balls of his feet, nearly in the exact same place as he’d been a year and a half prior. Except this time, you’re not walking away from him. You’re walking back towards him. He wonders if there’s a name for deja-vu in reverse and comes to the realization that that’s just called… a memory.

And memory seems to work in strange ways now, images superimposing themselves on top of one another — the flicker of a film lens, the bat of an eyelash, the shadow of a smile crimping the corner of your lips. All of this, he sees in the here and now, but he sees it in the air around you too, shimmering and mirage-like — all his memories and dreams of you layered over the shape of you. Your memory like a ghost of itself, trailing behind you as you walk towards him, a shy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed from travel and the cold and —

He doesn’t let himself hope. Not this time.

“Hey!” your voice is just as bell-like as he remembers it, pitched a little higher than it usually is, probably out of nervousness. But it still feels like a kick to the guts. Sanji forces himself to smile.

“Hi, love,” he says, leaning down as you reach him, but the motion aborts halfway because — is it still appropriate to hug you like he’d always done? To press his lips to your cheek or your hairline and revel in the bright citrus of your shampoo, to soak in the butter and cream of your skin like he used to?

There’s an awkward half-second pause before you’re standing up on tip-toe and Sanji’s heart nearly drops out of his ass as you lean in. But then — your lips skim by his cheek and your arms are around him, and stupid, stupid, stupid heart — thundering in his chest like horses or hooves or fists or thumping rabbit’s feet — leaping into his throat and pattering against the base of his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. But it’s not close enough. It’s never close enough.

He breathes and distantly, a part of him notes that you still use the same shampoo.

“Hi…” your voice is warm by his ear, a bit muffled, but he can’t help the way it makes him shiver, “It’s… so good to see you.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice to do the normal thing and, oh, you know — work.

“I’ve — I’ve missed you.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough as he nods again. He feels your arms slackening around him and a fierce, terrifying thing is flapping its wings in his stomach, screeching at him not to let you go. But he does — like he did before.

“I — I missed you too,” he says, though his voice sounds flat and scratchy and he clears his throat again.

A dozen different expressions flicker across the lovely planes of your face and finally, it settles on endeared exasperation.

“Please don’t tell me you still work through like three packs of smokes a day.”

Sanji laughs then, shaking his head as he reaches over for your luggage, “Nah — well, maybe not three but —”

You whack him softly on the arm.

“I actually tried to quit right after you left.”

“You did?”

Sanji shrugs as the pair of you start to make for the exit. He feels your gaze go slanted and shrewd.

“How long’d that last?”

He smirks, “Few hours.”

You whack him again and this time, he dodges out of the way just to bask in the bright spark of your laughter as you chase after him.

“Seriously though, you know how terrible they are for you!”

“Sure do,” he says, tugging one out of his pocket as soon as he clears the airport doors, pivoting left towards the parking garage. You have to jog to keep up with his longer strides, your breaths misting the air between you in silvery puffs.

He makes no move to light it as he helps toss your luggage into the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. You huff as you wiggle into the passenger’s side.

“Then why —”

Sanji waits patiently for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting soft against the middle console. He slates you a glance.

“Cause,” he says, fixing his eyes back on the road, an easy smirk twisting his lips, “it’s a metaphor.”

You groan, sinking into the seat, “Just because you read John Green one time —”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I read his entire bibliography after you showed him to me.”

“Ugh, whatever you manic-pixie-dreamgirl-loving ass.”

“Yeah, whatever — you actual manic pixie dreamgirl.”

You smile and Sanji allows himself the brief and aching delusion that the past year and a half didn’t happen, that you never left, and that you’d never leave. That you’d always be here, warm and laughing and just within reach.

The rest of the car ride is spent in mundane conversation, in how was your flight and tell me about Florence and how’s Zeff doing these days and I wanna know about your latest dish. It’s light and easy, and Sanji lets it warm the air around him. By the time he pulls into the front of your hotel, all the unsaid words from the past year and a half have soaked through his socks and into his shoes. It sloshes out onto the pale pavement as he opens the car door.

He helps you roll your luggage up into the lobby and tells you he’ll be here at 3PM to pick you up tomorrow. The venue’s just three blocks away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” you say, pursing your lips, waving as he backpedals towards the automatic doors.

“You’ve still gotta send me pictures of the dress you’re wearing — I gotta find a matching tie.”

You laugh, a bit embarrassed, “Right — and here I thought I might surprise you.”

Sanji freezes, eyes wide.

“O-oh! Er — well, you can just — just tell me what color or —” he waves vaguely, “send a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against —”

You nod, eyes glittering, eager once more, “Oh! That’s a good idea — I’ll do that.”

“Great,” Sanji says.

“Great!” you echo, perhaps a bit too chipper.

He gives you one last smile before turning and striding from the hotel, firing up the engine as calmly as he can, forcing himself not to turn and check if you’re still watching him through the brightly lit, sliding glass doors. He allows himself a glance through the rear-view mirror as he pulls away from the drive and his heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re still standing there, right in the middle of the lobby, fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, your eyes fixed on the shadow of his retreating car.

He lights the smoke the second he turns the corner, your shadow no longer in his rear-view mirror.

That night, Sanji dreams in fits and leaps, flashing images and long, sticky streams of could-have-beens —

He dreams of your laughter in a white-tiled kitchen, of powdered sugar and eggshells cracked and leaking on an exposed wood counter, chopsticks clinking against a thick glass mixing bowl. He dreams of your voice echoing off the shower tiles as you sing off-key, the way you used to when you’d sneak into his college dorm for movie night and a midnight snack. He dreams of coffee mugs and errant rose petals and dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. He dreams of dancing with you in his arms in a darkened dorm room that morphs into a bigger room with a softer carpet, one that he’d never seen before but he knows implicitly (like bodies know) is his home — it has pictures on the walls, trinkets lining the far bookshelf, your favorite scarf draped over the back of the well-worn sofa.

In the dream, you pull your head back from where it's pillowed against his shoulder and smile up at him. He leans down to kiss you, his lips hovering half an inch from yours.

Sanji jerks awake to the sound of his alarm, fingers fumbling for his phone, groaning as he smashes the orange snooze button and flips over to bury his face back into his lumpy pillow.

“Ah… fuck.”

It’s not the first time he’s had that dream, and he knows it won’t be the last. But it’d been so real that night, real enough to make him wonder if it just might come true.

He rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes and peers blearily at all the notifications on his screen. There’s a text from you with a picture attached. He clicks it open to find a short message attached to the picture — I really did want to surprise you…

He blinks for three seconds at what looks like a blurry picture of studded black silk before he remembers —

“Send me a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against.”

He allows himself a laugh, swinging his feet out of bed even as he types back — you coulda just told me it was black…

He watches the three little dots appear and disappear a few times, chewing on his bottom lip, before the text appears — well there are different shades of black, right???

Sanji laughs, shaking his head.

sure there are.

A string of tongue-out emojis, followed by an equally long string of middle-finger emojis.

He spends the rest of the morning fussing over which specific black tie to wear before settling on one that he’s quite sure is the exact same shade of black as your dress (and yes, he does have quite the collection of black ties), before tugging his best suit out to press.

It shouldn’t feel so easy, slipping back into the rhythm of things, of texting and smiling and hearing your voice in his head when he reads your texts. It shouldn’t feel so easy to forget the months of radio silence and guilt, the oppressive, resonant weight of what might have been if either of you had done a single thing different that day at the airport — he wonders if he should’ve reached for your hand, he wonders if you’d ever looked back.

He hadn’t. He couldn’t let himself.

He is waiting for you in the lobby at 2:45, wearing a hole into the plush Persian carpet, collecting strained looks from the concierge who had assured him three times in the last four minutes that he’d already rung up to your room and that you’d said you were on your way.

“Wow, you’re early — sorry I took a while — I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hair and —“

Sanji lifts his head and thinks distantly that all those rom-com cliches of a guy looking up, time itself slackening, the room smearing sideways around him, the music going slow, the lighting soft — all of it is painfully, startlingly true after all.

Because there you are, walking towards him, still saying something, but he can’t make out the words anymore because time isn’t really a thing anymore, is it? He can’t focus on that and also the dark glimmer of your dress, the way the neckline skates just beneath your collarbones, barely skimming the skin there before it slips down along the slope of your shoulders in a way that makes his breath unspool inside his chest like loose threads.

And in the slanted, ethereal light of the winter afternoon, your dress looks like it’s cut from a swath of darkest midnight, moonless and scattered with stars.

You blush as Sanji attempts to pick his jaw up off the floor and hitch his lips into something resembling a smile.

“W-wow… you look…”

Your smile is shy as you press your palms against the dress, looking down, “Thanks… you don’t think it’s… too much?”

Sanji shakes his head, feeling dazed.

“No! I mean — it’s —“ his mouth is dry, drier than he ever remembers it being, and suddenly it’s very hard to swallow and Sanji isn’t even sure the muscles in his neck know how to perform the action, let alone force words out alongside it. He struggles for another few seconds, his jaw working furiously as his eyes skitter down and back up the shape of you.

“You look… perfect,” he says, finally, because the word has been ricocheting around his chest like a stray bullet and he had to let it out somehow.

“Thanks — you don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, your voice breathy in a way that makes Sanji’s stomach squeeze.

He offers you his arm, and you glide forward to take it.

He drives the three blocks to the wedding venue in a daze, his mind spinning slow and off-axis, tilted so by the gentle waft of your perfume, the lullaby of your voice as you chatter nervously about this and that and the weather, I mean, can you believe it’s gonna be an outdoor wedding in the winter? He wonders briefly why you’re so nervous, and then he’s reminded of the reason he’s even here at all — your ex will be here. Ah. Right.

“Ready?” he asks, offering you his arm again as the both of you follow the meandering stream of arriving guests toward the paved outdoor garden area where the ceremony is due to take place.

“No, but… you’re here so…” you let out a breath and for a second, Sanji almost thinks he hears the hint of an ache in your voice. An ache like an old scab picked at too many times, like unrequited love, perhaps. It’s an ache with which Sanji is so intimately familiar that he immediately tamps it down and vows not to think about it again for the rest of the night.

There are stiff-backed waiters wandering around with plates of hors d’oeuvres and thin flutes of bubbling pink champagne.

Sanji grabs two glasses and hands you one.

“Cheers, then.”

“Bottoms up,” you say, tossing back the entire flute in one.

Sanji cocks his eyebrows, grinning as he follows suit, smacking his lips.

“Alright then, I guess if that’s how you’re playin’ —”

Your laughter is light, if a little strained, but he remembers how quickly bubbly drinks tend to go to your head and makes a concerted effort to slow down. You make it all the way through the actual ceremony without bumping into your ex, though you do lean over and grab Sanji’s hand as the bride and groom exchange vows — something about love being a choice, one that they promise to make every morning of every day for the rest of their lives — and he looks over to find you misty-eyed, bottom lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sap,” he whispers, leaning over. It earns him a choked laugh and a half-hearted elbow in the ribs, but it’s worth it to see the tension melt from your shoulders.

Sanji turns back towards the bride and groom, exchanging rings now, and unbidden comes the images of you and him standing where they are — you in a dazzling white gown, him still in a dark suit, but one perhaps of more expensive material and much better tailoring. He thinks about all the things he might promise you, wonders at what you might promise him in return —

“I promise to love and cherish you —” you might say.

“I promise to make all your favorite foods,” he might say.

“I promise not to touch your emotional support le creuset pans.”

“I promise not to make you taste all my experimental dishes —”

“Okay, but what if I want to —”

He imagines the way the crowd would titter, how the officiator would affectionately clear his throat. He imagines Zeff’s warm, well-worn laughter, rough and a little torn at the edges because he’s just as sentimental as the next guy behind all the beard and gruffness. He imagines the crowd smiling up at the pair of you, the way you’d squeeze his hands to get the both of you back on track —

He jerks out of his reverie as you tug your hand away from his to clap, and it takes him a beat to realize that everyone else is clapping and cheering too. He blinks — the bride and groom are kissing, pulling apart as the music swells around them and they link hands to walk back down the aisle.

Sanji clears his throat and hurriedly gets up to clap as well, his eyes trailing the radiant smiles on both the newlyweds’ faces. Another sharp ache sings through him but he feels your hand in his again and he can’t tell if he wants to grip you tighter or pull away. They’d both hurt just as much, wouldn’t they?

“C’mon, let’s get inside — I wanna judge the catering with you,” you whisper, your breath tickling his cheek, and he knows without having to look that you’re standing on your tiptoes, your chin almost propped on his shoulder.

He fights down a bout of shivers and smiles, “My favorite part of any formal event, honestly.”

You laugh, “I know — me too.”

So you spend the entire dinner service whispering to each other about the food —

“God, this steak is so well done I think it just might dislocate my jaw —”

“What’s in this sauce?”

Sanji chews thoughtfully before making a face, “Dunno, but it’s got oregano.”

“Oh the cake looks good though.”

“Yeah, but we both know how much sugar and butter goes into that right?”

You nudge him with an elbow, “Weird, cause I’m pretty sure happiness is also made of sugar and butter.”

“Well for me, it’s always been…” but Sanji trails off, biting his tongue. No. He can’t say that — not now. Not here.

Because for him, happiness has always just been you.

So instead, he swallows passed his own mouthful of regrets and attempts a lopsided grin. And thankfully, your attention is drawn elsewhere by a loud peal of laughter before he has to make a shitty joke about happiness being a well-lit kitchen and a gas-lit stove.

You’re both at least a bottle of champagne deep when it finally happens, inevitable as a summer storm — your ex saunters up to you on the dance floor, sporting a grease-slick grin, eyeing you up and down like a piece of well-cut meat. Sanji is at the bar, grabbing more drinks and you’re catching a breath of fresh air just outside the dance hall.

“Well, well, well — look who it is.”

Sanji turns sharply at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing — Asshat. Fantastic. The bartender is putting the finishing touches on two custom cocktails but blinks, confused, as Sanji swipes both drinks out from the bar and casts him a hurried grin.

“Thanks mate, these look great,” Sanji raises the cocktail glasses at the bewildered bartender before hurrying off, slowing ever so slightly as he reaches you, straightening his spine and smoothing out his shoulders.

“Here, got them special-made for you,” he says, pressing the cocktail into your hand, cutting into something that Asshat is saying.

“Oh! Thanks — oh wow, this looks so good!” you beam up at him, taking a sip.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you were still hangin’ out with this guy,” Asshat says, hooking his thumbs into his belt-hoops and jutting out his chin.

You frown, pressing your lips, “Excuse me?”

Asshat scoffs, posturing, “I mean, when we broke up, it was cause o’him right? So I just thought you might’ve realized what a mistake that was and —”

Sanji barely has the time to feel offended before Asshat is gasping and stumbling back. You’d tossed the remainder of your drink straight into his face.

“What the —” Asshat sputters, his fists clenching, but quick as anything, Sanji swipes out a leg that catches him right in the shins and makes him stumble. In one fluid movement, Sanji pushes his own drink into your hand before reaching out the other arm to steady the now flailing Asshat, catching him around the shoulders.

“Whoa there! Seems like you’ve had a bit too much to drink, my friend!” he says, loud enough for the people around you to hear. He thumps Asshat on the back in a would-be kind gesture before tugging him close, still coughing, and hissing in his ear ��

“Listen here, you asswipe — you’re gonna turn around and walk away and stay the fuck away from us for the rest of this wedding, you understand? I’ve got plenty more o’this for ya if you don’t, got it?”

Sanji scuffs his foot along the gravel-covered ground in a motion that could easily be mistaken as fidgeting, but you know better. And so, it seems, does Asshat, who scoffs and shoves Sanji off him with a glare, but after another second, straightens his drink-soaked jacket, turns, and stalks away.

You let out a long breath, swallowing hard.

“Hey darlin’… you alright?” Sanji turns and bends down to level his eyes with yours.

“Y-yeah — thanks — you didn’t need to —”

“Nah. Course I did — it’s why you invited me, right?” he allows himself a lopsided grin that borders on self-deprecating and you look up, eyes wide.

“No! I — that’s not —”

“It’s okay, love — I promise I’m not offended —” Sanji’s babbling, he knows he is — but he has to, because the alternative of letting you speak, of letting you confirm what he already knows to be true (that you’ve only ever seen him as a best friend, that you love him in all the ways except for the one way he wants you to, in the one way he loves you) is too much. He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs up his shoulders, pulling them up towards his ears like armor.

And then you lean in and kiss him, and every single word he’s ever thought of saying just to fill the silence turns to mist and mornings on his tongue. His mind turns blissfully blank and when he regains consciousness (or has he? Because isn’t this the dream he’s dreamt every waking moment of his life for the past… however many years?), he thanks every god he can name that he feels his fingers in your hair, his other hand cupping the soft curve of your jaw. He tastes your uncertainty against his lips and presses in, hoping, praying that if he just kissed you hard enough you might understand.

When you pull away, he can’t help the satisfied purr that curls up his chest at the pinkness in your cheeks and the slightly glazed-over look in your eyes.

“O-oh — sorry I —”

Sanji shakes his head, leaning in to push his forehead against yours.

“Nah, nah, nah — if you tell me that was a mistake now I might just turn around and never speak to you ever again — because don’t you dare —”

You let out a helpless laugh, shaking your head as you reach up to cover his hands with yours. It’s only then that he realizes they’d been shaking. He swallows and he thinks he can taste every single morning after for the rest of his goddamn life in the whisper of your breath.

“It — it’s not, I wasn’t —” you close your eyes and Sanji holds you still, foreheads still pressed. Distantly, Sanji is aware that people are cheering, that more drinks are being poured, that the dance floor is probably a mess. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he’ll care about anything else ever again — why would he? Now that he’s got you.

“Shh… take your time, love… we’ve got all the time in the world.”

He feels the relief take you, and then you’re falling into him, burying your face in the lapel of his suit jacket, probably smearing it with your foundation. Vaguely, Sanji considers framing it when he gets home.

“I’m… I’m sorry it took so long — I’m sorry I didn’t — that I wasn’t…” you curl your fist into the material of his shirt and thump him lightly on the chest, even as he laughs and wraps his arms around you.

“I know, darlin’… I know.” Sanji presses his lips into your hair and can’t help a smile.

Finally. Finally.

Your hair smells like citrus shampoo.

Finally.

“I thought about you every single day,” you admit, your voice small when you finally pull back to look at him again. He thinks there might be tears in your eyes, or maybe it’s just the starlight caught in the thick night sky of your lashes.

“Did you now?” he asks, fumbling for some semblance of normalcy amidst this night of revelations.

You nod, fervently, and god he wants to kiss you again. Briefly, he wonders if he should, if he’s allowed to now. Instead, he smiles and cocks his head.

“So? What changed?” and he can’t help the tiny note of hurt out of his voice, the slightest shiver of disbelief. After all, cynicism is a hard habit to break.

Especially after so many years of practice.

You shrug, sighing, “Nothing — everything. I mean — I’d always… but then I thought — you had your career as a chef and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life. But it —” you lick your lips, and Sanji nearly breaks when you tear your eyes away from his. He wants to force you back, to soak in the dark and bright of your gaze till he can see the world exactly as you see it.

“It’s always been you…” you say.

At this, Sanji does break. He tips your face towards him with a thumb and a forefinger and leans in, waiting for you to pull back, bracing for it. But you don’t — instead, you press in and close the space between you again, and again, and then again.

He wants to tell you — he needs to tell you that it’s always been you too, that there’s never been anyone else. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he’s known, even though both of you were children back then, and neither of you had any idea what “love” actually meant. He knew then, too.

“Love…” his voice trails off, but you smile, and he knows you know, knows that you can hear it in the rawness behind his voice, in the softness of his breath, in the way it shakes.

You make to kiss him again. But your lips hover half an inch from his and you stop. Sanji sighs.

“What — why’d you stop?”

Your smile is sweet and sharp, honey glinting on a razor’s edge, and he knows that he has you. And maybe that he’s always had you and was just too blind, too terrified, to see it.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s a metaphor.”

Sanji groans, “Fuck your metaphors.”

You bat your lashes, pulling an expression of mock affront onto your face.

“Well at least wine me and dine me first —”

Sanji licks his lips, “What’dyou think I’ve been trying to do for the last ten years?”

Your breath catches.

“Oh.”

Sanji smirks and kisses you again, slowly this time, languid and deep. Unhurried. He luxuriates in the way you go soft in his arms, in the way he can feel the gentle hitch of your breath as he runs his tongue along the edges of your teeth, coaxing you towards him, closer and closer and closer.

The hardest, angriest part of him wants to swallow you whole, bite down just to hear you hiss, to taste your blood on his tongue. To make you feel even a sliver of the pain he’d felt. He tamps it back down — there’s time for that later.

Instead, he forces himself to pull back and allows himself the satisfaction of watching you chase him, pursing your own lips with a bashful look away, your cheeks dark.

“So,” Sanji takes half a step back, puffing out his chest in the best imitation of a fuckboy at a wedding party, “wanna get outta here?”

You let out a helpless laugh, falling into his side. He lets the sound ring through him like so many silver bells.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He chuckles, looping an arm around your middle and leaning towards your ear.

“Your place, or mine?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure I still have a toothbrush at your place.”

Sanji hums, “You still have a whole drawer at my place.”

You smile up at him, open and happy and sincere, “Then… I guess that’s your answer then.”

#opla #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece live action #opla sanji #one piece netflix #one piece fluff #sanji opla #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #opla x reader #opla x you #opla fluff #x reader #floofy floof floof #scheduled post

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 4 months

Text

[8:59 pm]

(cw: f! reader, age gap, consumption of alcohol)

The bar you were in was very loud and crowded. The booth you, your friends, Jaehyun, and your friend's partners had squeezed into was even more crowded. Jaehyun was lucky enough to have scored a seat at the end of the bench which was good because he wasn't squished, but that also meant he only had one leg in the booth and half an ass cheek on the bench.

He was happy to join you and your friends for an evening out. He liked watching you have fun and be carefree with your friends. He liked hearing all the drama you'd all discuss, all the drama about people you hated and updates on your lives. Jaehyun wasn't even ashamed to admit he liked what you wore on these outings. You always wore the cute little dresses he'd buy you because you wanted to"show off what good taste your man had."

Now, there was only so much your little dress could do to distract him from the tiredness seeping in. He was tired of not being able to hear clearly, tired of the awful stuffy smell, the numb feeling that was beginning to form in his leg. But he didn't want to ruin your time out, so he slyly pulled out his phone to text you.

Are you almost ready to go?

The phone on your lap lit up and Jaehyun's eyes widened while his eyebrows furrowed. Something couldn't be right. He couldn't be seeing what he thought he was seeing. That couldn't be him.

He sent another text, just to make sure he was hopefully wrong. A simple heart emoji. And again the screen facing up lit up with the god awful contact name.

Sugar daddy.

His mind was reeling, he didn't even notice you turning to look at him expectantly, blinking your pretty, long lashes up at him. "Jae?"

He hummed, his eyes glazed over, "Yeah, baby?"

"Are you ok?" You ask, placing a reassuring hand on his arm.

He blinks, shaking his head slightly, his arm falls around your shoulder, dragging his fingertips up your bare back softly. He leans in, his lips brushing your ear, "Why is my contact name Sugar daddy on your phone, baby?"

Your eyes widen in surprise, "it's a joke!"

You quickly say goodbye to all your friends, pulling on Jaehyun's arm until you're both outside where it's more quiet. He pulls you closer by your waist, "I was under the impression that a sugar daddy was an older man who gave girls an allowance in exchange for... favors."

"Well, you don't give me money but you buy me a ton of gifts. You bought me the dress I'm wearing right now. You do receive favors," you repeat with air quotes, "and you are older than me. By your own standards, you are a sugar daddy."

"I was born in 1997! I'm not even that much older than you!" Jaehyun laughs in shock.

"That is a whole other millennium Jaehyun, the year starts with nineteen," you reply with a gentle squeeze on the arm.

He pinches your side, "you're making me sound like some kind of cradle robber. The age difference isn't that much."

You look at him with a serious expression, "is this really bothering you? I meant it as a joke, but I can change it if it really bothers you."

"It just surprised me," he waves off, "but if you want to change it to something else be my guest. I've been thinking of a few options. First, love of my life, hottest man alive, baby, pretty boy. You know, I saw one of your friends has her situationship under best in bed."

You clasp a hand over his mouth, "You like going out with the girls too much. You listen too much for a man."

a/n: *whispers* hey, you’re getting fratboy jaehyun tomorrow. also pls feel free to send me his most frayboy-like pictures because I feel like I’ve used every single one on pinterest already

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #Jaehyun blurbs #jaehyun drabbles #jaehyun scenarios

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rene-darling · 3 days

Text

TAKING- advantage of the strongest

He's been having a hard time lately, he's lost Suguru, his one and only, of course- you on the other hand are overjoyed at that fact.

It's annoying, after all, you've done for him, he calls out his name instead of yours, it's time you taught him a permanent lesson on manners.

P.s I TOLD YOU ITS NEVER GOJOVERRR RAHHH- [credits- __3aem on insta]

Also, follow my insta r3xni3 n text me, let's talk, im bored!!

...gojo Satoru...

Seeing Gojo with his head in his hands sitting at the edge of the school stairs wasn't a new sight for you, in fact for the past week you've been seeing him sitting there.

Crying, sobbing, or simply sitting in misery. He's always thinking of that damned suguru. Honestly, it was hard to get him to show you any affection with suguru around, and now that he's gone it's gotten even harder!

It's not that you hate suguru, you just love gojo, and seeing your gojo in pain annoys you, but. It also makes for the perfect opportunity to shove yourself in his life, when he's most vulnerable and make him rely on you

"what up 'toru?" Sitting down next to him gently touching his shoulder, you can't be too forward now. "..mhm, it's nothing." Hmm, well you knew it wouldn't be that easy, of course he wouldn't open up to you just yet! So you'll just keep trying- "come on satoru, this isn't like you, you're the strongest-"

"Can you leave? I'm not in the mood y/n." Running his hands through his hair he groaned as he hid his face. You got up without a word, it's fine, if he pushes you away you have many more ways to push back harder.

The continuing weeks during classes you would always make small talk, distracting his mind from geto. Then you'd buy him sweets saying that there was some buy one get one free offer, which is why you had brought one over for him there wasn't

You occupied him on the missions he'd usually go to alone, keeping him from feeling lonely. No matter how hard they were and no matter how much strain they put your body through you'd reassure him, you're fine!

He'd notice how you'd push yourself for him, it made him- feel. Feel something other than the constant sorrow due to Geto's absence.

He started reciprocating your 'kindness'. he would let you rest your head on his lap after a stressful mission and sometimes..he'd rests his own head on yours.

Shoving yourself in his life to replace the sorrows he felt didn't only include platonic relations. Every once in a while, whenever the feelings of loss came back too harshly, all he wanted was to forget. Get lost in pleasure, in anything, just- just please make him forget.

His tears which usually stained his face due to sorrow, now stained his face due to mind-numbing pleasure, his body was yours for the destroying, just please, please make him forget. Even if just for tonight!

" 'toru, use your words now, tell me what you want, hm?" You moved your hand ever so slowly, it hurt. "Just- just please, touch me, ruin me, do whatever you want. I'm yours, yours all yours- Suguru please.

Hah- fuck. He's so lucky he's Gojo Satoru. your gojo Satoru. You can feel yourself growing numb as you let out an unhinged chuckle "Sure Satoru." You try pronouncing his name with that same softness, to replicate that tone of pure love and kindness geto had, but alas, you never truly get it right.

Still, it's close enough for him. as he whines, bucking into your hand. You have half the mind to leave him like this, writhing on the bed, but you never do. This isn't the first time, and certainly isn't the last. You're sure every single fucking time you've seen satoru he's called out his name,

But, as you gaze down at him and as he stares up at you with his pretty blue eyes which spill with tears by the second, you can't help it. Perhaps you pity him, or perhaps you simply don't care if he's using you as a means to an end, since in return, you get to be the one fucking him dumb. And not Suguru, 'cause he's dead. But that's beside the point.

Rocking his world as his vision blanks, eyes rolling back as sweat covers him. You don't mind the pain of when he bites into your shoulder, you don't mind the fact that Suguru's name slips out of him more than your (can be fake) cock

But, for some reason you just can't take it today. Something takes over you, you swear, as you grab harshly onto his neck, gasps leave his throat as he huffs for air. "Wh- Ah pl- EAse- hah."

"say my name." "Wha- AHh-" pressing your hand down harder you're sure it'll leave marks. "Y/n. Fucking say it you dumb bitch." Tears fall down from his cheeks and onto your hand but it only seems to egg you on "Ah- mhm y-y/n please?" As you let go gits of his coughs fill the air as his pink chest rises up and down for air

Suddenly he gasps once more as you push against his prostate, you're far too pleased with him saying your name to let him rest, even to catch his breath.

His cries ring in your ear as his hands scratch onto your skin, leaving deep bloody marks in their wake he stares up at you with his tear stained eyes, mumbling only your name for the rest of the night.

You hope he's learned his lesson, and if not. You wouldn't mind teaching him another one.

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moonlitnyx · 6 months

Text

𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐂𝐔𝐏 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐀, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄!

Starring | Venti, Xiao, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Aether x GN reader

Synopsis | It's a cold, breezy day, and your absolutely freezing!

Format | Short drabbles/fics on each character

CW | fluffy fluff, modern au, reader has hair in Xiao's part, reader and Xiao share a bed,its really cold, im in love with litteraly all of them, nothing really that bad bro...NO VENTIS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS FIC

AN | I wanted to write for 6swirl but um its embarrasing to admit that I haven't done heizous hangout quest yes im sorry sniffles. ALSO, apologies for all who live in hot places u guys are the real alpha males here.

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

Saying you were cold was an understatement.

Your toes were numb, your teeth chattering as cold wind breezed your face and nipped at your skin, and you shivered as you glanced at your boyfriend who was having the time of his life.

"-and that's when I told them, 'I'm taken!' See how good of a boyfriend I am? And even though Diluc would totally disagree with what I just said, you would agree with me, right!" Your boyfriend, Venti, chatters away as he holds your hand in his gloved one. His nose is a bit red, but he grins as he catches you staring at him.

"What, admiring your beautiful boyfriend's face?" His teal eyes glimmer, and you flick him on the forehead.

"O-ouch!" He gingerly touches the spot where you just flicked him, and you roll you eyes before going back to shivering.

"It's so cold!" You groan, leaning into Venti. "How are you not cold?"

Venti shushes you, his finger touching your lip as he smilies coyly. "It's a secret!"

You whack him in the head.

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

You were currently hiding yourself under the blankets from the cold, face buried in the crook of Xiao's neck.

You had turned up the heaters, added an extra layer of socks on your already sock-covered feet, even had been tempted to add another blanket onto your bed had it not been Xiao's grumbling protests that you were gonna die from a heatstroke rather than hypothermia.

"How are you not cold?" You ask, voice muffled as you lean into Xiao's comforting embrace.

"Experience." His hands comb through your hair, cheek resting on your head as he mumbles the words.

"I'm so coldddd." You drag out the words, huffing as you readjust your position, and you can feel a faint smile form on Xiao's face.

You feel his hand travel down to yours, rubbing faint circles on the inside of your wrist. "You said that already." His voice is gruff, annoyed, but Xiao pulls you closer to him.

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

Had you not came into the cafe that your boyfriend, Kazuha, worked at, you'd probably had been soaked through by now.

Kazuha hands you some warm, steaming tea as he sits next to you at a table booth, a sympathetic smile on his face as he examines your drenched state. "Forgot your umbrella again?" He hums, cheek resting on his palm. He doesn't say it in a rude way, more of a "I-Know-You-Checked-The-Weather-Forecast-And-Ignored-It-Because-You-Thought-It-Was-Lying," kinda way.

You huff, slouching as you laid your cheek on the cool table surface, hands wrapped around the cup of tea Kazuha handed you. "How was I suppose to know that a ten percent chance of rain would mean It would start storming?" You protest, and Kazuha laughs.

"Okay, okay," He chuckles, getting up from his seat and pressing a kiss on your cheek.

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄

"How are you not freezing? Are you even human?" You're insistent questions earn you a glare from Scaramouche.

"It's not even that cold." He rolls his eyes, readjusting his grip on your hand before sighing. "We're almost back to our apartment, then you can stop complaining."

"I'm not complaining, I'm stating facts!" You exclaim. "It's like-It's like a freezer in here!" You see Scaramouche rolling his eyes-again, and he huffs.

"What kind of analogy is that?" He snarks, and this time your the one who rolls your eyes.

"Forgive me for not suddenly being the greatest poet to be ever known when it comes to explaining how fucking cold it is here!" You grumble, and your boyfriend sighs at that.

"Okay, okay, c'mon we're almost home. Then you can go start complaining about how hot it is in their," Scaramouche says, and you beam.

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

"I-I'm not cold," You grumble as Aether glances at you worriedly while you wipe your nose with the back of your sleeve.

"Uh huh..." He takes your hand in his, and he eyes you with a concerned glint in his eyes. "And I'm not the better twin." You snicker at that, and he grins.

"Lumine would kill you if she heard that." You smile, and suddenly you feel the soft material of a scarf on your neck, and you frown. "Aether-"

"You look, really, really cold." He clicks his tongue, and you roll your eyes. "I've been through worse weather." You huff, a hand on the scarf that Aether gave you.

He rolls his eyes. "Stop acting so high and mighty." He jabs you in the stomach playfully, and you yelp.

"Okay-okay, sorry! I'm so cold, wow, is it cold in here or is it just me?"

©moonlitnyx. do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

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tia-222 · 7 months

Note

I want to enter the void within this week. I have been trying and affirming right before I go to sleep and I can feel my body falling asleep or kind of vibrate like it's going numb but I never get in. Any advice or methods I can try out that might help?

Hiii my love, also it's been awhile since I answered a void/ Loa ask. I missed yall tho. Yess, I do have a method that you might wanna try and I think everyone should too. I'll share the method below with the links and stuff ♡

✩ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐃 ✩

( This is a void state method and can also be used as a shifting method, but only use it for shifting post-void state as the whole point of this IS to get you into void state >:) if you use this for shifting it will be an awake method, but you can turn it into an asleep method if you prefer after you enter void ) Credits to Eros !!

This method has worked for me everytime I've tried it and usually takes about 5 minutes to enter the void. i have had minishifts while using this btw and my most powerful and intense minishift was actually when i first made this method.

For this method you need to be relaxed, i usually do this when tired but it works best when you're not drowsy, i dont recommended being tired to the point you’re about to fall asleep but moreso in a state where you think youll be up for about an hour more before you go to bed :smile: i HIGHLY recommend it is night time.

✧ Get in a quiet and DARK environment and turn on some theta waves, i HIGHLY recommended theta and/ or epsilon waves or binural beats. Make sure it is dark and nothing is bothering you. I'm ngl to you guys the ones i find most helpful are these here, ive literally had the most shifts with these than with any other sub/waves I've ever used, and I've also had the most powerful experiences with them.

✧ Lay in starfish, ik ik but this is very important for this method on its own, you won't have to fall asleep for this at all so dw about that. i recommend lying on your side for like 20 minutes beforehand so you’re uncomfortable on your side and lying on your back feels nice and welcoming. you dont have to be directly in starfish but make sure you're on your back and your limbs aren't touching.

✧ Relax your whole body, go from your head to your toes, release your forehead muscles, unsquint your eyes make sure they're relaxed, release tension in your shoulders, then your left arm then you're right and make your way down your whole body. Relax it fully and make sure there is no tension in your body.

✧ Now imagine your seven main chakras, see them in your minds eye and focus on seeing balls of white energy where they are. then start feeling the energy within your body. start from the root and count upwards to your crown chakra 6 times, feel the energy there and see the light get brighter and stronger. feel your eyes move beneath your eyelids as you go upwards (do not force this movement or try to move your eyes forcefully, it should happen naturally as you imagine focusing on different spots of your body). take your time with this and please dont rush it, you are supposed to FEEL. Here is a picture if you dont know the main chakra points.

✧ Now for the seventh time imagine the energy orbs connecting to one another, as you move up your body imagine the white light connecting from your root to your crown and creating a straight line of energy connecting your head to your toes, the second it all connects hold the image and focus on your third eye and the energy it holds, then release. the second you do this you should feel a sensation in your body and possibly see lights, you are in void state.

✧ From here affirm things such as “i am more than my physical body, i am not attached to a physical body, i am pure consciousness, i am in the void state” if you feel it necessary.

#void state #ask answered #law of assumption #void state tips #anon ask #the void state #manifestion #void thoughts #neville goddard #void state success story #void concept #loas tumblr #loassblog #chakras #spirituality #Shifting #void state methods

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konniesreality · 4 months

Note

Hey Konnie, I'm going to share my success story with you.

So, for context, I've known about the void for I think over a year and I've been in the LOA community since I was 8. I've also had the most disgusting life all around especially when it came to my spiritual life but that's not important right now.

I've always been lazy when it came to the void, like on one hand I was like "Finally a method that guarantees success no matter what" but on the other hand I was like "Ugh, this is too much I don't feel like doing this right now" and kept making excuses. Because I knew about waking up in the Void State I'd go to bed and just fall asleep after listening to subliminals and affirming thinking that was going to do anything for ME personally. (P.S. just because it didn't work for me doesn't mean it won't work for you.) I did this for MONTHS and kept wondering why it wasn't working. Like I knew I was lazy but I just really couldn't bother at all...until recently.

I decided that I wanted to change and that I'd go back to the basics of the Void. I switched out the subliminals that I used before and created a fresh playlist. Link: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLA_GYb1XT6i7XafhzWTNCnerDt1x9HOiz I simply worked on fulfilling myself internally and went within entirely. Then, two weeks ago I randomly decided to just "meditate" into the void. So, I just laid down, stayed still and RELAXED. I didn't even think about the Void, my attention was to simply relax and be. Eventually, I did relax to the point my body went slightly numb so I took it as a sign to start affirming for the Void. The affirmations I used are "I am" and "I am void". I started experiencing soooooooo many symptoms such as the floaty feeling, losing my senses, the darkness behind the eyes getting darker (I wanted my void to be pitch black hence why it got dark) also that really weird eye fluttery thing idk what that is called but yeah I had that too. I was literally spinning and my heart was about to jump out of my chest istg BUT I focused on my breathing and my affirmations.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Now, mind you, I've NEVER gotten this close to entering the Void IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. But I kid you not, I felt myself literally DETACH from my body, well I more felt it in my face/head because I couldn't feel my body but you get the point. Like I felt HOLLOW like WHAT. I was internally screaming and I started to smile because I was like "I'm finally entering the void after how long now." Buttttttt when I was literally five seconds away from entering the Void completely my lovely father came in the room to ask me something so I OBVIOUSLY snapped out. (Still salty btw) But I can tell you that I was 90% in the Void and they weren't lying about feeling pure bliss and happiness and feeling calm as well as being one with yourself because I felt it too. And when I "got out" I felt SO SMUG cause I was like, I finally figured out what method works best for me AND I know when and how to do it.

So, my directions in case you want to try it out.

Go to bed around 30 minutes - 1 hour earlier. Or do it when you're going to take a nap, but it works best for me at night. Also, make sure your eyes are like slightly burning, not ask why just trust me. but not to the point it's watering just enough to make sure you're a little sleepy and will make you relax easier because I find that works best.

2. Then, relax your body and allow all thoughts to float by, don't pay any attention to it. Also, focus on your breathing. (You can do breathing techniques but I just went with a slow but natural pace of breathing, for me of course)

3. ANY SYMPTOMS IGNORE THEM ALL!! It may be hard but honestly, it's kind of like ignoring someone when they talk shit- bad example but you knowww. Just focus on breathing and affirmations here.

4. Make sure to affirm when you are ready, trust me you will know because it'll be like a gut feeling. Or when you feel really relaxed like you're in a tropical paradise or something just start to affirm. Also, I would imagine things that I'd be doing in my hr (home reality) because affirming is kinda boring after a while so I interchanged them.

And that's about it, I think the important thing to take away here is to do what works FOR YOU. If you know that this method doesn't work for you but you saw it works for me, that is not an invitation to change your method. Also, remember always that the void IS YOU, it will not exist without you so don't put it on a pedestal. You got this always and have fun living your dream life. You were born a master of the void so no excuses.

Also that new subliminal that you made is LITERALLY the only sub I use now and it's BOMB. But I obviously linked my playlist bc I used to use it.

OMG IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU!! Thank you so much for using my subliminal and most importantly sharing your success! It’s the truth! Find what works for you and R E L A X I know you will get in again!! TSYM for linking the playlist too! 💕💗💗

#ask #void state #void state success story

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calisources · 2 months

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𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒.

All of these sentences are mostly taking by my own mind and i'm not joking. It was hard finding material quotes regarding tournaments in historical or fantasy setting. Some are from shows or media but eighty percent is all from my own mind, please give credit if use these. Change pronouns, names, locations as you see fit. All of these involve the medieval event of a tournament and what happens around them.

I fear I am already bending far too many rules just by taking you, my young princess.

Show me your hands, you will have blisters soon.

Lady Eglantine doesn’t believe in love, only lust.

In the world of competition, only the strongest shall prevail.

A true champion is not defined by their victories, but by the obstacles they've overcome.

Victory is sweetest when it's earned through sweat, hard work, and determination.

Will you not participate in the tourney, my lord?

May I have the honor of wearing your favor today, my lady?

Good luck to you, my Prince.

The tournament is not just a test of skill, but a test of character as well.

Is it always this bloody? Will those poor men die? Someone must see them.

I want him to wear my favor. Only him.

If he wins, the knight has the right to name his Queen of Love and Beauty. And at the feast, they shall dance.

Be careful. A tourney is a grand place for courtly love, but also, for blood to rise and affairs to appear.

Call me what you like, say I'm without honor, I don't care. I'm not getting on any more horses to whack you people with a stick.

Kings may be chosen by God, but they still make the mistakes of men.

When even those who rule can sink this low, it is not possible to change anything.

It's my lucky charm, be sure to bring it back to me.

My favorite blue ribbon. Take it.

It will bring you good fortune and you will return from joust unharmed.

I was hoping to ask for the Princess's favor.

How about a kiss, for luck?

Courtly love was the culture around the performance of love at court.

And now, rather than admit these feelings, you're dancing around one another with this mind-numbing and frankly boorish mating ritual.

The knights take on the duties of shadows with pride.

Whoever wins the tournament, shall become the prince/princess’ new betrothed.

You want to marry my daughter? Prove yourself worthy.

Petyr survived only because I begged Brandon not to kill him.

When Petyr heard of my engagement, he challenged Brandon to a duel.

You do qualify to marry my daughter.

What matters most is who she will give her favor to.

Her face is one that can create dynasties or crumble empires.

I was hoping for a word before you rode on the tourney, my Prince.

My brother is the one competing against you, please be gentle with him.

The games are done for the day, please, feast and drink as you wish.

You have been staring all day, my lord. I was beginning to wonder if I had something in my face.

Any damsel that's in distress - she'll be out of that dress when she meets Jim West.

Great men do not seek power... they have power thrust upon them.

My daughter seems. . .infatuated with you. I have yet to see why.

The princess is naive and thinks any man who is kind means well. A tournament will only show her the reality of life.

You honor the arena with your combat. May your swords and shield preserve the peace.

In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining.

I will be brave for Princess Pea.

As a squire, your first duty is to your knight’s armor. Your knight’s armor is more important than your own life.

You will be knighted and you will have earned your knighthood.

You are hurt. At least let me tend to your wound.

The men laugh and fight and the ladies search for husbands.

Nothing like a good tournament to find a husband, or a companion for the night.

Rumors are always spread with ease in these.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life?

You say I'll never get your blessing till the day I die.

We're married now, but we still haven't told your dad. This is the right time.

Are you promised to someone?

My sister's getting married. It's a love match. A rare thing. I’m not so lucky. My husband is to be chosen by who can hold a sword the longer.

Why can’t women participate in the games?

There are games for the ladies, Your Grace. But they are less. . .gruesome. And of course, the dancing.

Princes and Princess all over the realm and across the sea are coming for this event. You must shine brighter.

Let me help you with your armor. It appears loose.

As I promised, I return your favor to you, my lady.

The Prince never loses a joust. He will crown his queen and then all will be well.

I do not understand the appeal of this.

I spend days making these favors, let me stay a little longer.

My lady, I do not need your favor to win, but perhaps, a kiss of good faith.

I do not care who wins these games, your hand is already arranged for another.

Men are scoundrel, specially when blood runs hot after a good battle, stray away from them.

These games are done in honor of the king’s heir.

The lord’s daughter is said to have bloomed, and the man chooses to announce it like this.

A tournament is for men to boost their strength, fathers sell their daughters like mares and for affairs to happen.

I saw you on the stands today, my lord. But you did not participate on the games.

My brother wishes to dance with you, my lady. He is all too shy to ask himself.

You were injured. Have you allowed someone to heal them or are you too stubborn to let them?

Princess, you must not stray too far away.

Mother is too drunk and annoyed to care, she won’t mind.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #medieval meme #tournament meme #tourney meme

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probablyhuntersmom · 1 year

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The contrast is so poignant when it comes to Belos isolating Hunter for years and instilling the fear of wild magic, versus Hunter's future in carving palismen to connect with nature and with others.

We have his signature gloves as part of all his outfits before he went to the human realm, representative of that isolation and fear: Belos wanting to keep 'Caleb' to himself, wanting to prevent Hunter from forging connections and thus finding freedom. The gloves come off once Hunter has room to create and experiment and explore.

During the many many months in between him beginning to learn the palismen-carving craft and us seeing him mastering it in the epilogue, there would've been many setbacks. Many cuts and splinters via mistakes (thus, more wounds and scars...small, but numerous) and bandages on his hands, like what happened with the sewing needle. Thus, many times when he was reminded of what happened with his best friend. I can imagine that on the more difficult days of learning under Dell, remorse and horrible memories eating into him, he'd be more at risk of leaving more cuts because it would be harder to focus. There would've been days where he got close to giving up.

In his arc, this changed everything:

He was found by a free-spirited, strong-willed palisman.

This was when things began to be truly dangerous:

but by then he gathered enough courage to finally question Belos directly.

What a high price to pay. Recovery from trauma is certainly that way in real life too. But it led him on that path towards transformation, towards what he truly wanted.

In his old life, he'd point a staff at others to intimidate, to instill fear, and be Belos's instrument in furthering a cause that Hunter didn't truly support.

In the future, he generously gives palismen to others from the heart, via new creations made with his own hands, to bring more love, connection and wonder into the world. Letting others live out their truth via the bonds forged with their new palismen, the same kind of truth he himself had to fight so hard for.

If we rewind back to what the Bat Queen said in Hunting Palismen:

contrast that with this point in Hunter's arc:

Still blocked and numbed out from fully experiencing the worst thing he had ever been through: being possessed and in that process, slaying Flapjack.

Willow and Gus had just began to reach that vulnerability within him, moving him with their love and support (which is why the anger he had for around 2/3 of For the Future began to subside).

But it wasn't enough.

In the finale, he gets some temporary respite and relief:

But I believe the real gruelling work was to begin beyond this exact point:

More vulnerability ahead, to pave the way for healing.

Putting the scene of him looking at the old Flyer Derby photo (in For the Future) next to the scene where the Bat Queen sums up what palismen are all about...it indicates to me how steep the climb would be to connect with the full range of his emotions and memories, which parallels his development under Dell's mentorship. To bring some beauty out of that horror he has endured. To bring about the conviction that yes, he deserved Flapjack's gift, from Flapjack's sacrifice.

It would've been years before he would confidently and effortlessly rest in the truth of who he really is, and who he would like to be (remember his "Even if I'm not who I'm supposed to be, I like who I am right now" in front of the mirror, right before getting possessed?).

Liberating himself from enmeshment with his violent abuser and that old life, a process he'd have to repeat again and again even beyond Belos's death. Changing that narrative of "supposed to":

into freely choosing the person he would like to become after Flapjack granted him love and literal life. We receive the one clue that he wanted to freely choose, as early as this scene:

When it comes to palismen, we have "emotion" and "conviction" and also the deepest wishes that witches have in their hearts.

For emotion to flow freely, there must be vulnerability, generosity and love: Hunter integrating even the most difficult emotions into his story.

For him to grow into acceptance of his future major role, it would have involved wrestling with many questions to reach that place of conviction.

#whoops I got emotional. again. now you guys get this #the owl house #toh hunter #palismen #the bat queen #loz writes a meta

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dawnoftime22 · 9 days

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I love you.

| W.M -> N.R

Undeserving of a Love Like Yours, Chapter 12

Chapter Warnings: None, I don't think

Summary: The day you chose a path for yourself was the day she also made her very own choice, and the weight of the world was lifted without any more time wasted.

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 3.6k

Category: Hurt/Comfort(?), Fluff, Fluff, and FLUFF!! oh, did I say...? Fluff.

A/N: idk if the beginning is lame? but I really hope it isn't - In compensation of all the angst and finally, to put an end to this series, I give you, the last chapter. It's been an incredibly fun adventure :] this might be the most tender chapter (or fic) I've written yet. I hope all of you enjoyed it as much as I have and I'm really really happy at the amount of support I see some of you give me. ily ily all<3 I'm back in my groove HEHEH!!!

P.S: this is better with reputation on or the series playlist. ;] (specifically starting at fortnight or anywhere at the bottom)

Series Playlist

| Started on 31/03/2024, 8:16 AM |

| Finished on 13/05/2024, 4:15 PM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

<- Chapter 11

"I'll end the torture I put on myself...and the one you put on yourself, because no one ever deserves such a thing but love."

(I will never not love that picture of her<3)

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

The rain earlier sheened the streets with gleams of reflections. The lampposts glowed in a warm orange. It was cold, but in the most cozy way. At least, if you were under a blanket. Right now, your body was shivering and your hands might soon go numb if you stayed outside any longer.

Windows of shops were bright with light, bars were dim with crowds of people, and a creak of a door from an old aged store thats always been there, ever since you first visited Kate.

There was a group of people, laughing heartily from a joke as you walked by. They seemed kind. On the other side of the street was two people, a couple perhaps, smiling gently as they shared a small cake, enjoying theirselves. Another, was walking hand in hand.

You sighed, keeping your hands in the pockets of your jacket in the meanwhile. At least it was some type of warmth. It may not be another hand, but your jacket was your friend.

The apartment ridded your bodily shivers, but your fingers were definitely entirely numb and redder than usual as you closed the door. Meanwhile, golden fur brushed against your legs and just barely appeared in your vision below you.

Leaning down, you smiled softly, scratching Lucky behind his ears before kicking your shoes off and moving to sit on the couch. Or rather, slightly fall atop it. You closed your face with both your hands. All this silence, pining and desperately waiting was driving you crazy.

Lucky had laid down next to you, looking at you adorably with his one eye. Your body was lazily laid down, but you shifted to hug his cuddly figure, him instantly snuggling into the embrace.

You stayed like that for a while, and he didn't move at all until you pulled away, sliding your phone out from your pockets. The time showed on the front screen, with a wallpaper of you and Nat at the aquarium.

The urge you had to change it to something else. But you couldn't-- it was too precious. You sat up, then moved to stand, finding your contacts app.

Yes, you might also throw up soon if you stared at your contacts any more than you already have the past few months, but this was something that had to be done.

The room was quiet as you paced the floor, your feet padding against the wood quietly. A notification came in that had you flickering your eyes to your phone again, but it was just an indication of Kate adding to her Instagram story.

Checking, it was just a video of her showing off her archery skills and having fun with her friends from class. Well, while she was out having fun, you were dying with a decision you had to make.

...You shouldn't think like that. In fact, you were happy she was much happier than how you felt. Ah, who are you kidding? You shouldn't even think about it at all. Your screen went back to your list of contact names.

The one at the bottom you've been dreading to even lay your eyes upon appears into view. You didn't text or call her. Instead, you went into the detail view.

A button with red text held itself in place. Red was danger. Sure. It meant it was a risk and it needed you to go through a confirmation step first. But for you it was the opposite.

Block this contact?

Are you sure?

Finally after a moment of hesitation, you tap on 'Yes', and the name disappears. You had stopped your pacing long ago and now you stood in the middle of the living room, contemplating the option you chose. Just like that.

You had made your decision. It was time to let go a while ago. But something held you back. At least until the redhead came along, gently making herself at home within your heart.

Lucky stared at you as your shoulders went down, and you couldn't tell if it was in despair or relief. Maybe both. Asking her the question that shouldn't have been asked.

You shouldn't have done such a thing. You had messed up. A whole lot. Now you had nothing but yourself. Why did you even dare to?-- because you wouldn't want to get yourself stuck in something you feared would take yet another year's time to heal from.

Realisations after realisations were overcoming your head like a crow cawing at you to snap back into reality. Maybe a walk by yourself without interruptions did the trick after all.

You shook your head, going back to the couch, taking a seat that you definitely needed with everything happening. She's all thats been filling up your memories lately. So much, to the point that her hand prints were all over your soul.

You should call her up, but what if she hates you now? Considering the disappointment you've gotten before on a phone call, you had doubt poisoning all over your veins.

A sigh left your mouth for the hundreth time and you put your phone on the couch, setting it aside. You needed time, and she probably did too. Plus, if you continued any more, having just gotten over a single step of blocking a contact, you might as well faint if you even look at your messages with Nat.

Lucky rested his head on your leg, looking up at you knowingly as he felt your tiredness. Your hand settles on his fur, going through it gently.

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Nat was staring at her phone as she walked outside, her teeth sunk into her lower lip. She's been pacing in front of her apartment, having just finished drinking some hot coffee at a nearby shop. She thought it would calm her, especially with the rain earlier and the cold night air.

But, it only made her energized, her mind going more aware. As coffee is supposed to do. Really, she should have just gotten tea or a hot chocolate and maybe she would have been fine.

She's been looking at your text messages, ones thats been sent days ago now. Neither of you had talked in so long. Or at least to her, it felt like centuries, ages. She hoped desperately to magically see a text appear from you of saying something, or perhaps that you'll appear at her apartment.

But there was nothing. It was a fault of two sides, neither was really in the wrong, but if neither said anything, it'll simply slowly die.

She felt your distance, and she knew your mind was possibly getting just as loud as hers was. She had to do something, and fast, or the negative possibilities of whatever could happen would become reality.

Her legs started walking continuously forward rather than pacing, deciding to go towards the apartment you were at. She stored her phone in her pocket, determined to get to you rather than let it sit any longer.

She could never possibly hate you. She wouldn't even if she could. The moon and stars had disappeared, the clouds having covered it up. She didn't need their company, anyway. But the rain did come along to be her company.

Great. It was heavy, and people outside retreated to nearby shops and restaurant. She didn't follow them. Thank god for her jacket, but it was still all the more freezing cold.

Her walking slowly speeds up. Then, the splashing of boots running across the sidewalk sounded out through the streets.

Red car lights were in the reflections of the road, blurred from the rain water. A horn sounded out somewhere, probably for a stubborn person looking at their phone as they sat at a stop light. But she couldn't bother to see what it was at all.

The redhead, getting hit by the rain from every angle as she pants, almost out of breath from all the steps she's taken. If the sole of her feet wasn't firm on the concrete, she probably would have slipped.

But, she gets closer with obstacles and needing to find her way through people before she soon arrives. She takes a couple deep breaths after breathing through gasps, her lungs absolutely getting a work-out from the running.

Nat swallows down the burn in her throat, slowly recollecting herself and standing up straighter. When she looks up at the windows of the apartment, the lights are on.

It means you're here.

You're home.

Nat walks close to the door, a little calmer now and her hand goes up hesitantly.

She knocks on the door, but an answer awaits for far too long. Too many seconds.

She looks at the doorbell button.

She presses it.

A ringing that goes through the house can be faintly heard, before some gentle footsteps grow louder, nearing towards the front door.

It opens, and she sees you.

You were blown away by the sight in front of you. Almost quite literally from how windy it was outside, too. Nat, drenched in the rain, and out of breath as if she ran all the way here, because she did. You were definitely going to faint now from the sudden appearance.

Yet, at the realization of the sight in front of you, the two of you having just stared at each other, your face instantly fills with worry and concern. "Gosh, Nat, what are you--"

"I love you!" she blurted out, cutting you off in your sentence. Her voice was determined as she stared at you in such a vulnerable way, her eyes wandering your face to see your emotions.

You stood there, as she kept getting drenched from the rain. She thought she lost it all because you had shock visible in your eyes. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe she shouldn't have-- But your gaze softened, and you stepped back slightly to let her in.

She steps in, a confused and curious expression on her face at your silence, but she lets you close the door before watching you turn around.

You went closer, your hands going to cup her cheeks as you leaned in until your lips softly touched. She had met you halfway, her own hands instinctively landing on your hips. Finally.

You could feel the cold rain on her lips before you pulled away slowly, but resting your forehead against hers, her breath warm against your skin.

"I love you, too," you whispered, but from how close you were to her, you didn't need to be any louder. Her heart had skipped a beat, and her lips raised up, absolutely in joy of your reply.

"We've switched roles...except you got the worse part," you let out a chuckle, tugging on the soaked jacket she was wearing that did nothing to protect her from the cold, until your eyes landed on her soft forest green eyes.

She gave you a soft smile, but her body shivered. Her boots were practically filled up with water, and the water dripped to the floor, but you didn't mind.

"Let's get you dried up," you said, going off to your bedroom to grab some towels for her. "Um--" She stood there for a moment, wondering if she should follow you or not.

"You can use my bathroom, come on." You urged her as you draped a towel over heer shoulders and went behind her to gently push her forward.

Her cheeks blush a pink tint, but she walks forward, going into your bedroom. As you were grabbing her some clothes, she took off her jacket, and pulled out her phone.

"Oh--" she pulled out the cassette player she brought from her apartment, pulling it out from her bag and placing it on your bed gently. Thankfully, it was dry and didn't get hit by the rain.

"I...fixed this up. It wasn't the belt. I mean, I replaced it anyway, but some parts had dirt covering them," she said, looking up to you as you walked back to her with a shirt and sweatpants in hand. You raised your eyebrows, intrigued at how she did it herself when you forgot.

It looked like it was brand new, shining brightly with the dim light with you inspecting it. You then went to grab a cassette tape from your shelves and your headphones to plug in, then you test it.

She had unfolded the t-shirt you got in the meanwhile, keeping herself occupied instead of just watching you. She held it up to her frame, seeing that it was just about the same size as hers.

You smiled softly, listening to the music and looking at her. "This sounds...amazing. You did good work in this." At that, her face lit up, and her smile reflected yours.

"Thank you," she said gently, putting the t-shirt back on the bed to wear later, her hands settling on the towel on her shoulder that kept her warm, even if its just a little.

"Now go, take a warm shower before you freeze to death or something." You gestured to the bathroom door, and she quietly giggled as she turned around, going off to shower.

Your gaze was adoring as you watched her go, then you went back to looking at the cassette player, shaking your head at the incredible handiwork she had.

Then, noticing the curtains of the apartment were still open while outside it was nighttime, you decide to go forward and close them, putting the cassette player down with your headphones. Of course, making sure you paused it rather than letting the music playing on its own.

Once done with the bedroom curtains, you gently shut the door on your way out to the living room, letting Nat have her privacy as you close the rest of the curtains.

One view of the windows though, had caught your attention. It was the larger window Kate had in her apartment, so it showed a perfect view of the sky and the city.

The night was starry now, the rain having settled down and the clouds dissipating. As you stood there admiring the moon and trying to figure out which white dot was a star and which one was a planet, Nat had come out the bedroom, wearing the clothes you gave her.

She stands beside you, gazing up and following the direction of your eyes. Nearly all the planets were shining in the sky, surprisingly enough.

Her hand gently intertwined with yours and her eyes fall back to you, a soft smile gracing her lips. Feeling the warmth of her hand had you turning to look at her, heat rising to your cheeks.

"Ты галактика (Ty galaktika)," she whispered, her free hand going up to gently cup your cheek, her love genuine in her eyes. You smiled softly, your heart jumping in joy.

"Does that mean galaxy?" You guessed gently and curiously, finally getting the chance to ask of one of her sentences you couldn't recognize.

She nodded gently, and then realized you still didn't know the full meaning. "It means you're the galaxy." She whispered, making your eyes widen and your lips part in surprise at the deep meaning, having thought it only meant one word.

You breathed out a chuckle before leaning in to gently capture her lips in a tender kiss, as if it was on instinct, a habit you had already developed naturally, when you haven't kissed each other ever since the first, or even seen each other in days.

But oh, you were depths upon depths in love with her. She returned the kiss, pouring her heart and soul into it, and your bodies fit each other like puzzle pieces.

Considering you were slowly moving towards your bedroom, you reached to the living room lamp when you were close enough, turning it off, knowing you wouldn't be going back into the room and Kate wasn't going to be home until tomorrow. Something about staying at her mom's? You didn't know, but you couldn't be bothered when your fingers entangled in red hair.

When the darkness grew, so did your passion. After a while though, you parted, pausing for a moment with your forehead rested against hers. You breathed in through the space between the two of you, your breaths colliding on skin and mixing.

"Does this make us..." You start in a whisper, but trail off, hesitant to say the word. The corners of her lips tug up in the meanwhile. It was time, and she was ready to jump into it with you.

"Lovers?" She suggests slowly, feeling your hand on her chest that rose and fell with her shallow breathing. You nod to her question, confirming that was what you wanted to say.

"Yes." She breathed out before her lips leaned in and continued to meet yours softly, her hand traveling from your waist up to your back. For the moment, the world only held the two of you.

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

You now laid against Nat comfortably on the bed, sitting in the dim lighting as the crickets quietly chirped in the background. You nuzzled into her neck for a moment as you wrapped your arms around her shoulders.

She gently rubbed her hand up and down your back, resting her cheek gently against the side of your head. You then turn your face out from the crook of her neck, looking up at the redhead.

Natasha smiled softly, her eyes meeting yours as she gazed into your loving eyes. She couldn't help but feel a sense of peace and happiness wash over her with someone, for the first time.

You shifted yourself by firmly gripping her shoulders and pushed yourself up, your legs on the sides of her hips as your hands went to cup both her cheeks.

"You're so pretty." You whisper softly, your thumb gently rubbing her soft skin as she stared at you, her smile growing wider.

"And you're..." She wanted to return the compliment, but paused, unable to find one that was completely perfect for you, because you were simply too gorgeous.

"ты красивая (ty krasivaya)," she then said, and you raise your eyebrows, but your heart was still beating with love for her, knowing it definitely meant something that was going to make you fall for her further.

"...What does that mean?" You asked, tilting your head in curiosity. She giggled softly, noticing that you looked like Liho whenever she got curious.

"It means you're beautiful, моя любовь (moya lyubov)." She leaned in closer, keeping her eyes on yours. You loved how smoothly it comes from her lips.

"And that?" you ask. Even though you could guess, you wanted to make sure, and to hear her translate it into English for you only made you fall deeper for her.

She blushes slightly, but replies nonetheless. "My love," she whispers, shaking her head. She nuzzles her nose against yours when she leaned in closer, making you giggle softly.

"I love you," you said under your breath, feeling her hair gently tickle your fingers as you still had your hand cupped on her cheeks.

"I love you, too," she replies, going in for yet another kiss. You moved your hands down, wrapping around her neck once more.

Your heart was soft and your shoulders held little to no weight at all on them as you lay in this moment with her. It was as if nothing could lay a finger on either of you. You then pull back slightly, staring into her eyes.

"You know, your eyes are so green," you whispered softly, even though you've stared into them a thousand times. She blushes, but smiles.

"I can listen to your compliments all night if thats what you want," she commented, her voice raspy yet gentle. Her hand had gone under your shirt gently to trace gentle patterns on the skin of your back.

"I would very much love that," you said through another giggle, leaning ever so closer to her. You placed your hand on her chest, her heartbeat thumping against your palm as you settle beside her.

Nat pulls the covers up gently up the two of you, making sure you were warm and comfortable. Every touch of her hands held care and gentleness, making your heart swell.

She trails her hand off to your cheek, gently placing it on there. Your eyes flicker down to it, and you lean into her touch, smiling. She rubs her thumb in a slow back and forth motion.

Your eyelids slowly fell to a close, the gentle motion soothing you to sleep. The broken pieces of your shattered heart had been picked up, and she was careful enough to put it all back together.

end of chapter 12, and the end of this series. <3

Series Masterlist <- Chapter 11

In decision you'll hone, but you too shall run from the option you were given. Then find acceptance and it will be forsaken.

"All the things I didn't do for the sake of my mind." - R.

"All the things I shouldn't have done, but did anyway." - N.R

"...Everything I should have done." - W.M

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

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@ludasgf @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @slutforabbyanderson @fxckmiup @dmenby3100 @animealways @may-z3 @natashasilverfox @wandsmxmff @tia-thesimp @marvelwomen-simp @natsbiggestfan1 @fawnedolly @blacklightsposts @canvascoloredin @autorasexy @taliiiaasteria @wandanatlov3r @glorioushamsterqueen @shaniaauld03 @yvungmxshroom

#🥀 dawn’s collection #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff comfort #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 5 months

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Make Me Feel Alive Episode 3

Gilbert von Obsidian's Birthday Story

This is simply a fan translation and is not intended as a replacement for the game. Expect grammatical errors.

On Gilbert's birthday, there was an unusual tension hanging around the castle.

(Is his birthday really taboo?)

(No one talks about it, and no one's preparing a celebration.)

As I whisked the cream into the bowl, I couldn't help but think about it.

(I always thought it was normal to celebrate birthdays.)

(But I guess not for him.)

------------Flashback-----------

Gilbert: "Will you also celebrate my birthday at the risk of your life?"

Emma: "........"

Gilbert: "Even if it's you, I might still find it unpleasant."

---------Flashback Ends--------

(He really meant those words.)

(If my expectations are wrong, things could get really messy.)

My heart raced so rapidly that it seemed like it might burst out at any moment. Even my hand holding the bowl was trembling.

(No, I need to be more confident.)

(I'm his fiancée, so I gotta keep it together.)

Taking a deep breath to dispel the anxiety and tension, I unconsciously resumed what I was doing.

Emma: "I wonder if he'll be happy."

???: "Mhm, it's really delicious."

Emma: "!?"

I turned around and saw Gilbert already devouring the sponge cake.

(What the hell? When did he get here!?)

Gilbert: "Come on, don't stop. If you don't keep your hands moving, I'm gonna eat everything."

Emma: “Wait, please don’t eat it!”

(The cake will be gone before it’s finished!)

Hastily taking the sponge cake from him, his refined face twisted into an unhappy expression.

Gilbert: “Do you really have to do that?”

Emma: “If I run out of sponge, I won’t be able to make the cake.”

Gilbert: “It was delicious as it is.”

Emma: “Even if it’s delicious, it won’t be enough!”

Gilbert: “Ehh? I prefer quantity over quality.”

Emma: “I’ll bake a lot of cookies later, so can you please let this slide?”

Emma: “I really want to prioritize the quality of the cake. I want to make this birthday cake special.”

Gilbert: “Hmm. You’re really brave.”

He brought a chair over and sat down, looking up at me intensely.

Emma: “This is just my speculation, but I don’t think you don’t want your birthday to be celebrated.”

(Since he’s the one who told me about his birthday.)

Emma: “It’s just that you hated lies.”

Emma: “On a special and important day, you couldn’t tolerate it being tainted with corruption and deception.”

Emma: “I thought maybe that’s the case.”

(His mother and older brother were kind to him in the past.)

(Those two surely celebrated his birthday when he was young.)

(But that day will never come again.)

(The only people left around him were the corrupted aristocrats.)

Gilbert: "Fufu. As expected, you really love me."

Gilbert rested his hand on his chin and laughed briskly.

Well, he was right.

Gilbert: "Will you really celebrate my birthday wholeheartedly?"

Emma: "Of course."

Gilbert: "I've killed many people before, and I might kill many more in the future."

Gilbert: "Would you still celebrate it and support me if I continue executing those who wish me a happy birthday?"

Emma: "........."

I felt like he was testing my determination.

(Birthday celebrations are a way to say thank you for being born.)

(It's also a day to hope that you will continue to live.)

Celebrating the birthday of a notorious villain who shook the entire continent is not something one can do half-heartedly, and those who celebrate might, in a way, bear a certain burden of guilt.

Emma: "Yes."

(Even though he might be an irredeemable villain, I want him to find redemption.)

(Despite his numbness to human feelings, I believe he has the most beautiful heart in the world.)

Emma: "Even if you've turned the whole world against you, I'll still celebrate."

Emma: "I'm already a pretty bad woman just by being here, so it's too late now."

Emma: "Please don't underestimate my feelings for you."

(It's his birthday, yet it's hard to even genuinely celebrate.)

(This is the price he has to pay for his position and for seizing control of the evil empire.)

(Celebrating a birthday with such determination to the point of risking one's life is a first for me.)

Gilbert: "Fufu, sorry. I might have teased you too much."

(Huh?)

He stood up from his chair and reached out to touch my eyes.

His cold fingertips scooped up a single drop of tears that even I hadn't noticed.

(I hate this. I didn't mean for it to be like this.)

(However, I can't help but wonder how many years he has suppressed his birthday to protect his memories from being tainted.)

I forcefully wiped my tears and peered into his red eyes.

He was smiling as usual, but I was surprised to see a noticeable wavering that made my heart ache.

(No, these tears aren't mine.)

(He's the one who really wants to cry.)

(I wonder what he has been thinking about every time his birthday comes around.)

(I'm sure he was lonely at first, but then he probably forgot how lonely he was and didn't feel anything anymore.)

(But now he remembered the loneliness. Is that why he told me about his birthday?)

With an overwhelming impulse, I reached for his cold cheek and lightly kissed it.

Gilbert: "What is it?"

Emma: "I can't give you the cake right away, so here's an alternative gift."

Gilbert: "It's rather shabby for a present."

Emma: "Then, how about this?"

I placed the bowl on the table and wrapped my arms around his neck.

Then I kissed him deeper than before, and he bit me hard on the lip.

(Ouch!)

Thankfully, there was no blood, but the bitten spot throbbed as he licked it with his tongue.

With this, he took control, overpowering the initiative I had held.

His cold fingers pried open my lips and gently devoured my tongue.

Feeling weak, I leaned against the worktable, and he lifted the hem of the black dress he gave me, forcibly inserting his fingers into my inner thigh.

Emma: "Gil, it hurts."

Gilbert: "Yeah, I'm doing it on purpose."

Emma: "Why?"

Gilbert: "Because you don't like pain."

(You're really saying that?)

The pain quickly turned into another sensation as his fingers worked inside me.

It was like a mark of affection that Gilbert used to engrave on my body every night.

(That's why I can't hate it.)

Gilbert: "See, you're already enjoying it."

Gilbert: "By the way, this is the kitchen. Aren't you going to stop me?"

With a squelching sound, his cold fingers increased to two.

Just before my mind was about to go completely blank, he stopped, and I unconsciously let out a sigh.

Emma: "Just for today."

Emma: "No matter what you do, I'll endure it if that's what you want."

Gilbert: "Because it's my birthday?"

I nodded and wrapped my arms around his head, pulling him close to my chest.

Emma: "I won't lie to you."

Emma: "So until you feel at ease, feel free to continue as much as you want."

Emma: "I want you to know that I genuinely want to celebrate your birthday."

Emma: "I'll keep telling you until you believe it, no matter how much it hurts."

Gilbert: ".........."

Gilbert: "What? So you already figured it out?"

(As expected, there's always a reason behind his threats.)

Emma: "You're probably much easier to understand than you think."

Gilbert: "I think those are words only someone who faces me head-on can say."

Gilbert: "It's really a pity to be liked by a troublesome man like me."

He suddenly laughed and bit my neck.

(Erasing all the suspicions built up over the years might be difficult, but if I can convey that he won't be lonely on his birthday, that alone would be enough.)

While enduring all the pain and pleasure he gave me, I somehow managed to finish the cake.

After celebrating together, we naturally embraced each other's bodies.

After being thoroughly teased during the day, my body immediately welcomed Gilbert, and all that remained after we reached the climax was the sound of our heartbeats.

Gilbert: "Fufu. Your heart is still pounding."

Emma: "I can hear the sound of your heartbeat too."

Wrapped in each other's arms with nothing between us, the sound of our heartbeats resonated.

(His heartbeat is proof that he's alive.)

(I want to feel this every time I celebrate his birthday.)

When I put my arms around his back, he slightly furrowed his eyebrows.

(There are scratches on his skin.)

Emma: "Sorry. It's probably because of me."

Gilbert: "It's fine. I like it when you hurt me."

Gilbert: "It would've been nice if you left not only scratches but bite marks as well."

His fingers traced along my arm, where the bite marks were.

(Not just the arms. I feel like I was bitten all over today.)

Emma: "It's difficult because I don't know how to control my strength like you do."

Gilbert: "Then let's learn together. Shall we master it by my next birthday?"

Emma: "You'll celebrate with me again next year?"

Gilbert: "Who knows? Whether it will be the last or the first is up to you."

Gilbert: "If you love me a lot, I might change my mind."

Emma: "........"

Gilbert: "But your celebration this year wasn't unpleasant."

Gilbert: "Thank you."

Emma: “.........”

(I’m gonna tear up.)

(I might start crying again if I let my guard down.)

He smiled and gently stroked my hair. His expression was more readable than usual, possibly because the eye patch was off.

Emma: “Then, how about inviting Roderich and Walter to the party next time?”

Emma: “I’m sure both of them really want to celebrate your birthday.”

Gilbert: “That’s not happening.”

(Not happening, huh?)

Gilbert: “I don’t need other people’s celebrations. As long as I have yours, that would be enough for me.”

Gilbert: “Because I only love you.”

Emma: “I’ll shower you with lots of love, so please let me celebrate next year, too.”

Gilbert: “Fufu, got it. As long as you’re you, I’ll let you celebrate.”

Gilbert: “Continue loving this beast with your pure heart, okay?”

Episode 1 ╎ Episode 2 ╎ His POV

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri jp #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri translations #cybird

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parasxmaddys · 1 year

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Void State Success Story

How I entered

Sorry if this post isn't as pretty as others, I'm a little new to Tumblr. But I have been listening to the ULTIMATE SUPERNOVA Enter The Void State Right Now subliminal by @lotusmi all day for the past few days, and I slowly felt my confidence grow as the days went on. I always used to get sleep paralysis a lot as a kid years ago, so my plan was to enter through sleep paralysis. It was like my subconscious mind was on my side because I kept ending up in sleep paralysis a lot the past few days, but I never remembered to affirm for the void until I was already out of it. I got so used to waking up in sleep paralysis that it stopped being scary to me.

Last night when I woke up in sleep paralysis, I could hear the subliminal playing in the background and my room felt hazy like a dream (typical sleep paralysis hallucinations from your subconscious). But the subliminal being one of the sensations of sleep paralysis reminded me to affirm to get in the void state. It only took like 5 affirmations of "I am in the void state", and I was in the void state.

What it felt like

It will probably feel different for everyone. But for me after I affirmed for the void state 5 times... it felt like my soul or consciousness or whatever was lifting out of my already numb body. And it lifted up toward the ceiling until it felt like I was being enveloped by complete peace. I couldn't really feel anything, but it felt like I was everything at the same time. It truly is hard to explain. It also felt like a dream because of how euphoric and at home I felt... and the only thing I could really sense was my thoughts. I stayed for about 30 seconds and thought about how perfect this state was, and then I decided to leave without manifesting anything. (I kind of regret not manifesting now, but it just felt so perfect at the time that I wasn't bothered to) The second I decided to leave, I felt my body again (it almost felt like I was falling back into it) and my eyes opened. When I got out of the void state, it felt like I just returned from a deep sleep. And I mostly just felt overcome with joy because I was so proud of myself for reaching the state. Also I had a lot of confidence in my ability to enter it again.

Motivation & Advice

I think the thing that made entering the void state so hard for me was that I viewed it as so hard to attain and I also had a fear of detaching from my physical body. But at the end of the day, I chose a method and kept persisting with the method. I recommend that anyone trying to enter the void should analyze what their strengths and weaknesses are to help determine which method you should use to get into the void state. Once you pick a method, persist in that method until it gives you success (your subconscious will always give you what you want as long as you embody what you want so really use affirmations, subliminals, and other manifestation methods to help you out). And if you have fear of the void state, don't worry... it's safe and very peaceful. I heard people say this before, but I didn't really believe it until I proved it to myself by tapping in to the void state myself. Go prove it to yourself as well. ❤️ I plan on returning to the void state tonight to manifest, thank you Lotus!

#void state #void success #success story #void state success story #law of assumption #manifestation #neville goddard #i am state #sleep paralysis

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sailor-aviator · 8 months

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Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Six

Don't Hange'm Til Noon: Chapter Six

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger posse of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (oral, f receiving), Jake Seresin. I think that's it?

Word Count: 6.4k (I'm so sorry, oh my god)

A/N: I have no words for this one. I warned y'all the train scene was gonna be something else. Also, shoutout to @im-just-ken for taking the time to do research for me and putting up with informing me about all of the different aspects of the Victorian Age!! You're the best!! As always, reboots, comments and likes are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator!

Series Masterlist || DPU Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

The sky was overcast and the distant rumble of thunder sounded off in the distance. Autumn was beginning to give way to winter, and a new routine had settled in over the ranch in the three weeks since Jake had started working there.

“What are you doing here?” you had asked him with wide eyes. His smirk had widened at your flustered appearance. Your mind raced back to the events of the night before and you gave your tomatoes a run for their money with how red your cheeks must have been.

“Didn’t your brother tell you?” Jake asked, quirking an eyebrow at your brother. “I work here.”

“No, you don’t,” you gaped, glancing wildly back and forth between the two men. “Since when?”

“As of yesterday afternoon,” Benjamin sighed, casting you a sideways glance.

“But, why?”

“You made it pretty clear yesterday morning that you were only interested in men who work for a living,” he explained, cocking his head to the side with a bemused look in your direction.

“I didn’t mean here!” you spluttered.

“Well, Benji here was kind enough to offer me a job,” Jake nodded at the other man. “Isn’t that right, Benjamin?”

Benjamin let out a sigh that sounded something akin to “lovesick fools” as he turned to stalk off towards the barn. You stared after him helplessly before Jake cleared his throat, gaining your attention. His smirk was gone, replaced by a much more serious look as he gazed at you.

“I’m not going to cause any trouble,” he stated, shaking his head when you gave him a dubious look. “I mean it. I’m here to work and earn my livin’ like a man should. I give you my word.”

You studied him for a moment. His green eyes held a look of sincerity and a desperation for you to believe him. You sighed. “Alright, Jake. I’m taking you at your word.”

“Excellent,” he beamed down at you before giving you a stern look. “Now go on and get now. I’m tryin’ to work and you’re distracting me.”

You chuckled lightly, giving him a small smile. Jake’s stern expression dropped, a look of wonder replacing it as he stared at you. A moment passed before he broke out in a grin and turned his attention back towards the fence.

Now, an air of easiness had settled between the two of you as life on the ranch continued. Jake worked hard, and he never complained about what was asked of him, even going above and beyond on a couple of occasions. You had even found him napping in the barn one day after a night where the coyotes had been particularly active, and you had allowed the poor man to catch up on his rest in thanks.

You were on your knees in the garden, digging up the onions you had planted a while ago, when you heard the sound of a horse making its way up the path to your home. Looking up, you saw U.S. Marshal Simpson making his way to you. You wiped the sweat from your brow, stumbling to your feet despite the numbness that had paralyzed your limbs from sitting on them for too long. Beau Simpson smiled at you as he dismounted, walking over to meet you by the fence to your garden.

“Marshal Simpson,” you greeted politely.

“Afternoon, Scout,” he said. “Please, call my Beau.”

“Of course,” you smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, I was hopin’ you could help me out with something.”

“And what is that?”

He looked out to the empty pasture before glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Was hoping you could tell me where I might find Jake Seresin.”

Your blood ran cold. You knew he was probably out with the others, moving the cattle in from the far pasture, but you weren’t about to tell Beau Simpson that.

“And why would you think that, Beau?”

He fixed you with a look that said he knew you knew why he’d think that, but he played along. “Well, amongst other things, I heard he managed to get himself a job here against your brother’s better judgement.”

“You shouldn’t gossip, Beau. It’s the Devil’s pastime.”

He let out a laugh at that one. “Well, from what I hear, it’s hardly gossip, Scout, but alright. You seen him around?”

“Can’t say that I have,” you responded cooly, picking at the dirt underneath your fingernails. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. You had told him the truth, you reasoned with yourself. You hadn’t seen Jake that day. Beau was quiet for a moment, studying you thoughtfully before letting out a long sigh.

“You should be careful, Scout,” he began, pushing up off the railing. “It won’t do you any good to get tangled up with someone who’s due a hanging. You might end up caught in the rope yourself, if you aren’t careful.”

You didn’t respond. He tipped his hat to you before moving towards his horse. You watched as he mounted and made his way back towards town. You stared after him long after he disappeared from sight before walking slowly back into the house. You went upstairs to wash the dirt from your face and hands before setting out to make dinner. It was a couple of hours before the four ranch hands made their way through the back door, laughing and smiling the entire way. You scowled at the group of men.

“What do you all think you’re doing?” you snapped. Four pairs of wide, shocked eyes turned to look at you, the laughter and chatter stopping immediately. You glared down at the floor where their boots had left muddy shoe prints on the hardwood. They followed your gaze before slowly looking back up at you with sheepish grins.

“Sorry, Scout,” Levi apologize, already moving back towards the door. “We’ll go get washed up outside.”

The others murmured their agreement and filed out after him. Jake was the last to move for the door, and you quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him back. He turned to stare at you, surprise turning into a question.

“I need to talk to you,” you said. He smiled down at you with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Oh yeah, honey girl?” he drawled. “What about?”

“Marshal Simpson came by today.”

“Cyclone?” Jake asked, taken aback. “What did he want?”

You dropped his hand, and moved towards the stove where you had left dinner unattended momentarily. “Came by to ask if I had seen you.”

“Oh?” he questioned, leaning up against the wall by the door, watching you with an unreadable expression on his face. You hummed, nodding.

“Don’t worry, I told him I didn’t know where you were.”

He seemed surprised at that, pushing off from the wall and coming to stand by your side. “What?”

“I told him I hadn’t seen you. It wasn’t a lie, technically,” You rushed out. Jake stared at you incredulously before frowning.

“You’re not telling me something,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you. You glanced at him before looking back down at the pot of soup you were stirring. “What else did he say to you?”

You sighed and recounted what Beau had said. Jake swore, turning and running a hand through his hair. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” you offered in a huff. Jake whirled back to look at you, worry lines crinkling his brow.

“Nothing to worry about?” he laughed humorlessly. “Scout, don’t you know a threat when you hear one?”

“I don’t see why he would be threatening me,” you argued, hands on your hips. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve done something or not, sweetheart,” he groaned out. “He knows I work here, and he knows what to go after now.”

“I don’t understand,” you frowned. “You weren’t this worried when I mentioned him before. Why are you now? What changed?”

Jake stared at you for a moment. He moved to say something, but the door swung open as the other ranch hands filed in.

“You better go get washed up quick, Hangman,” Phillip laughed, clapping Jake on the back before taking a seat at the table. “Might not be any food left for you when you get back.”

Jake gave a half-hearted smile to the other man before giving you one last look and walking out the back door.

The next morning, business continued on as usual. You had just hung the laundry out to dry when you heard the front door creak open with a thud as it hit the wall.

“Scout!”

You walked into the parlor where Benjamin stood, grinning wide as he searched for you. His smile grew impossibly wider as his eyes finally landed on you. He raised his hand up to reveal an envelope, and he shook it in excitement.

“Benji, wha-”

“It’s a letter from Aunt Jo!” he cried excitedly. You let out a happy cry of your own as you rushed forward. Your Aunt Josephine had been your mother’s older sister, and you had spent many days running around in her orchard growing up. She was a kind woman, and she had helped to fill the void of your mother’s passing. It had been hard to leave her behind.

“Have you opened it?” You were practically vibrating from excitement. Benjamin shook his head.

“No, I wanted to read it with you.”

“Well, go on!” you laughed, gesturing for him to open it. He did so, eyes scanning the paper quickly.

“She wants us to come for a visit,” he smiled, looking up at you. Your grin matched his own as you hopped excitedly.

“What’s going on here?”

The both of you turned to see Jake standing in the doorway with an amused glint in his eyes as he watched the two of you giggle like school children. You felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“Our Aunt Josephine wrote to us,” you explained in a hurry. “She wants us to come visit.”

“Yeah?” Jake grinned at your enthusiasm. “When?”

“Says she wants us to come up for Christmas,” Benjamin frowned, scanning the letter over. Your heart jumped at the idea of seeing a white Christmas again. You thought it was one of the many things you had given up when you moved out west to Maverick. Benjamin lowered the letter with a grim expression. “I can’t go.”

“What?” you cried, looking over at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said slowly, “that I can’t go. There’s too much work to be done here on the ranch, and I can’t take the weeks off from the firm.”

“Oh,” you said dejectedly. “Well, we’ll have to write back to Aunt Jo to tell her we’ll come at another time, then.”

“No, Scout,” Benjamin said firmly. “Just because I can’t go, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I know how much you miss it there, and the trip will mean so much more to you than it will me, anyway. No, I insist. You’re going.”

“But, Benji-”

“I’ve already made up my mind,” he said, offering you a smile. “Now we just need to find someone to go with you. Ah, but Hondo and Joel aren’t do back for weeks now. Maybe I could get Tom to-”

“I’ll do it.”

Both of you turned to look at Jake. His eyes darted between the two of you as you gaped at him.

“What?” Benjamin questioned. Jake cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter.

“I’ll go with her,” he said firmly. Your eyes darted to Benjamin who was already looking at you. He cocked his head as if to say that he was okay with it if you were. You bit your lip, mulling your options over. You worried about the implications that might arise at having a man who wasn’t family show up with you in Baltimore. But you knew that Jake could be trusted. He had shown you the kind of man he was capable of being, and you trusted him enough by this point to know you would be safe.

“Yes,” you said finally. “Alright, it’ll be the two of us.”

Two days later you were adding the final items to your bag for your journey. Benjamin had already sent a reply back to your Aunt Josephine explaining the circumstances, but had told her you were eagerly preparing for your trip. You had just placed your last skirt in your bag when something caught your eye. You glanced up to see the wooden horse still standing proudly on your end table. You chewed on your bottom lip, slowly walking over to grab the figurine. You smoothed over the back of it before turning it over in your hand to stare at the initials that were carved into its belly.

“Scout? The cart is ready, and Benjamin wanted me to-”

You looked up to see Jake standing in your doorway. His eyes were focused on the wooden statue in your hand before they slowly traveled up to look into your eyes.

“You kept it?”

“Of course I kept it,” you scowled at him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “You were just so mad at me then. I didn’t think you’d care enough to keep it.”

“Well,” you mumbled, trying to come up with something, anything to weasel your way out of the conversation. “I did.”

Jake studied you for a moment before smiling. “You almost done packin’? Your brother’s waiting downstairs to send us off.”

“Yes,” you breathed, thankful for the out he had offered you. “You go on ahead. I’ll be down in just a minute.”

He nodded before turning and walking off. You let out a sigh, looking back down at the wooden horse. You walked back towards the foot of your bed where your bag lay, and gently placed it on top before closing the clutch and heading downstairs.

The first couple of days passed without incident. Benjamin had wished you to a safe and pleasant journey, watching you as Jake drove the cart down the street. The two of you camped out under the stars of the wilderness, Jake making sure you were plenty warm and comfortable in the back of the cart before settling down on the blanket he would set by the fire.

“You don’t have to sleep on the ground,” you told him on the third night. He had looked up to where you hung over the side of the cart to look at him. “There’s more than enough room to fit the both of us comfortably.”

Jake had let out a low laugh before giving you a look that made your core clench. “Honey girl, I already have to sit next to you during the day. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself if I didn’t have this time to cool down.”

You blushed at his words and had quickly rolled over to try and get some sleep.

Jake was a surprisingly good cook, and an even better shot. The two of you survived off the bread and produce you had purchased from the general store as well as the rabbits Jake managed to shoot during your camp-outs. By the fifth day, you had run out of polite conversation topics, and the two of you drifted towards more personal ones.

“Do you have any siblings?” you asked him that afternoon. Jake quirked an eyebrow at you in amusement. “What?”

“You wanna know if I have any siblings?”

“You already know about Benjamin,” you pointed out. “I think it’s only fair if I know about any siblings you have.”

“Alright, Scout,” he hummed with a smile. “If you must know, I have an older sister.”

“What’s her name?”

“Sarah,” he smiled. “She’s about two years older than me, and she has a son named Billy who’s a little terror of a kid.”

He smiled down at you, and you returned the gesture. He turned his head back to the road and frowned. “Her husband died just after Billy was born. So, I’ve been tryin’ to help her out where I can. She works in town as a seamstress, but the hours are long, and the pay is shit.”

“What about your parents?” you asked, and he gave you a wry smile.

“They died in the scarlet fever epidemic that swept through Maverick years back. The same one that took out Rooster’s mama and daddy and Bob’s pops. It was a real mess there for a while, but Mav and Penny took us all in, gave us a roof over our heads and put food in our bellies. I don’t think any of us were really much of the same after that, though.”

“Jake,” your heart broke for him. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

“Ain’t nothin’ for you to be sorry ‘bout, sweet girl. We get along just fine now. Jus’ wish my sister didn’t have to work so damn hard all the time, is all. Don’t wanna see her work herself into an early grave.”

You hesitated. “Is that why you do what you do? Steal, I mean.”

Jake didn’t answer for a moment. “That’s one reason. I’d do anything for my sister and that kid of hers. The money and treasures I get from doin’ all those jobs mostly goes to help her out.”

“And the other reason?” you asked. Jake pursed his lips, contemplating his next words.

“Rooster was real torn up about his parents. I, at least, had Sarah. Bradley? He didn’t have anyone. Think something died in him the day he lost the both of’em. He started acting out when we got older, and before long he was out robbin’ banks and all sorts of other shit. I think a part of him just wanted to hurt the world the same way it hurt him, and he decided that that meant he had to take. Take what isn’t his, and keep taking before the world takes from him again.”

“And what about you? Why did you join him? Why did any of you?”

“We’re not goin’ to leave a friend to walk through hell alone,” he stated with a shrug of his shoulders. You studied his profile for a moment.

“You’re a good man, Jake Seresin.”

You saw the tips of his ears flush a bright crimson. He cleared his throat and turned to look at you with a playful glare.

“Alright, you’re turn,” he smirked. “Which of my friends do you like the most? And if you say Javy, I’m dumping you on the side of the road.”

Steam billowed as a train whistle sounded on the platform. Jake was handing your luggage over to the conductor as you surveyed the station. It was still the same as when you had arrived months ago, but you felt that you yourself had changed. You supposed you had.

“Are you ready? Guy says we’re leavin’ in a couple of minutes,” Jake said as he sidled up to you, placing a gentle arm around your shoulder.

“Yes, I’m ready,” you smiled at him, allowing him to steer you towards the train car. The conductor reached out a hand to you, and you took it gratefully. You felt your cheeks flush as Jake laid his hands gently on your hips, lifting you onto the step as the conductor pulled you up. Jake followed after you, and the two of you quickly found seats near the middle of the car. You sat by the window as Jake sat across from you just as the train began to lurch forward. Jake jumped at the sudden movement, shoulders and face tense.

“Are you alright?” You asked him, reaching out to rest your hand on top of his. He glanced at you, then took a deep breath to relax.

“Jus’ never been on one of these before,” he answered, offering you a nervous smile. You returned the smile, patting his hand before pulling away.

“Yes, I suppose it can be a tad nerve-wrecking when you’re not used to it.”

“You travel a lot?” he asked you, watching as you turned to look out the window.

You shrugged. “Not so much anymore. I used to take trips with my friends up to New York every now and then.”

“You must miss it,” he murmured, eyes never leaving you. You looked at him.

“I miss them.”

Jake frowned, his turn to look out the window at the landscape that rushed past you. “Well, you’ll see’em soon enough.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, but before you could, and older woman and her husband joined you in your seats. Jake was polite, but you could sense something was off with him as his smile never quite reached his eyes. You retired for the evening, wishing the older couple a pleasant evening as Jake rose to walk you to your sleeping quarters. You stopped in front of the door to your cabin, looking up at Jake with a coy smile.

“I’m fairly certain that couple thinks we’re married,” you chuckled. Jake’s face remained stoic as he watched you.

“Would that be so bad?” he asked softly, voice barely above a whisper. Your smile dropped as your eyes widened up at him.

“What?”

Jake watched you for another half second before shaking his head with a sigh.

“Nothing,” he muttered, knocking his fist on the doorframe twice before turning to head to his own cabin. “Goodnight, Scout.”

You watched him as he closed his door behind him before turning into your own cabin, shutting the door behind you.

The next morning you found yourself only hours away from St.Louis. You dressed slowly before walking over to Jake’s cabin. When he didn’t answer your knock, you decided to see if he had gone on ahead. You found him minutes later in the dining car, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked tired, bags heavy under his eyes as he looked out the window. A couple of women at the table next to him were casting him barely concealed glances as they giggled amongst each other. You marched down the aisle and sat in the seat across from him. He started at your entry, but relaxed when he realized it was you.

“You’re up early this morning,” you commented. He hummed at you, taking another sip from his coffee. You pressed on. “Are you usually such an early riser?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he grumbled, and you pursed your lips.

“Is something the matter?” you asked. He glanced at you.

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

The question caught you off guard, and you balked before fixing him with a curious look.

“Sometimes,” you admitted slowly. “I suppose most girls do. It’s something we’re raised to do, after all.”

“But do you want to?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

“Yes,” you stated, shifting in your seat. “I do. Someday.”

“And what about the groom? Who is it you want to spend the rest of your life with?”

You scowled at him. “Why are you suddenly asking me this?”

Jake just stared at you, waiting for you to continue. You huffed. “I suppose I’ve never really given it too much thought. I knew I would have to get married one day, and I assumed that one day I might fall in love with someone. There were several young men pushed for me to choose, but I suppose none of them ever felt right.”

“What about you?” you asked suddenly. “Have you ever thought about marriage?”

“Me?” Jake laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Not really. Never thought I’d like anyone enough to want to spend the rest of my life with them. Used to laugh at the idea of ever finding someone who could make me want to settle down.”

“And now?”

Jake’s expression remained amused, but there was a hint of an emotion behind his eyes that, try as you might, you couldn’t place. Jake glanced out the window and made to stand up. “Looks like we’re here.”

The train ride from St. Louis to Baltimore started off much of the same, except this time you were seated next to a group of young women who openly gawked and giggled over the handsome man across from you. You felt a rush of irritation as one dropped her hand fan in the aisle. Jake reached down to grab it for her, staring up at her with a polite smile.

“I think you dropped this,” he offered as she took it. Your blood boiled when she batted her eyes at him with a coy smile.

“Thank you, handsome,” she grinned as her friends broke out into another round of giggles. Jake cleared his throat with a wince as he leaned back into his seat. You stood up abruptly, and Jake was left scrambling to his feet.

“I’m tired,” you announced, making a pointed effort to not look at the girls. “I’m going to bed.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Jake agreed, following down the aisle after you. Neither of you said a word to the other as you made your way towards your cabin for the evening. Stopping in front of the door, you turned to look at Jake.

“This is me,” you said. Jake looked at the number on the cabin and then down at the ticket in his hand.

“That can’t be right,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“What?” you frowned. Jake looked up at you and then back down to his ticket before letting out a sigh.

“Ticket says this is my cabin too.”

“What?” you shrieked, snatching the ticket from his hand. “Give me that.”

You stared down at the black ink, willing the information to change. You glanced at Jake who was still watching you, waiting for you to come to terms with the situation.

“What do you want to do?” he asked finally.

“Well, we’ll just have to find the conductor and get this mess sorted out.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “I’ll go try and find him. You stay here.”

A half hour passed before Jake slunk back to the cabin looking defeated. He offered you an apologetic smile. “I couldn’t find him.”

You chewed on your bottom lip before letting out a heavy sigh.

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” you muttered, turning to open the door. “Come on, then.”

“What?” He said, eyes growing wide.

“Look,” you gritted out as you stepped through the door, “we can be adults about this. It’s one night.”

“But-”

“Would you rather sleep out here?” You argued. Jake didn’t respond. “That’s what I thought. Now come on.”

Jake followed you into the cabin silently, closing the door behind him. You moved to open your luggage that had been placed inside when you boarded, taking out your nightdress. You turned to see Jake still staring at you. The two of you stood in the tiny space facing each other for a moment.

“I need to change,” you whispered, swallowing thickly.

“Yeah, I’ll just,” Jake stuttered, moving to turn.

“Don’t look,” you threw in for good measure, earning a nervous chuckle from the man in front of you. You turned around, quickly undressing before throwing your nightdress on. You turned back around to see Jake still facing the door.

“Okay,” you breathed. “I’m decent.”

Jake turned around to face you, and you heard his breath catch in his throat. He slowly looked you up and down before meeting your gaze again. “My turn.”

You watched as Jake removed his shirt. You blushed when he pushed his pants down to reveal the white, knee-length undergarments he wore. You took in the smattering of blond hair that covered his broad chest, almost blending in with the gold of his skin. Jake cleared his throat and glanced at the bed.

“How do you wanna,” he trailed off. You looked at the bed and made your decision. You brushed past him, moving to lay down. You laid back, glancing up at him shyly. Jake watched you in a reverie, breaths coming out quick and stuttered as he looked down at you. He turned to dim the gas lamp, casting the room in darkness save for the moonlight that filtered through the window. Silently, slowly, he laid down in the bed next to you.

The two of you laid in silence for almost an hour, Jake’s back to you as you fidgeted with your fingers.

“Jake?” you called out softly. “Are you still awake?”

“Yes.”

You rolled onto your side, facing his back. “You never answered my question.”

Jake rolled over so that you two were now facing each other. “What question is that, pretty girl?”

“Back at the ranch, when I told you what Beau said, I asked you why you were suddenly so worried about him when you weren’t before.”

Jake didn’t say anything for a moment. “Do you know why they call him ‘Cyclone?’”

You shook your head.

“They call him that because when he sets his mind on a job, he comes in with a fury, leaving nothing behind, just like a tropical storm.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Yeah,” Jake agreed, reaching up to cup your cheek.

“Are you scared?” you asked him quietly, and he gave you a wry smile.

“Only of something happening to you, sweet girl.”

You reached up to run your fingertips over his cheek, running them down until they brushed over his lips. He parted them slightly, looking at you with eyes ablaze. Before you could think on it, you surged forward, planting your lips on his. Jake quickly deepened the kiss, bringing his other hand up to your hip to pull you close. He grabbed the flesh of your thigh as he lifted your leg up to drape over his waist. You parted your lips at the movement, and he took advantage of it, licking into your mouth with a desperation that left your head dizzy. You moaned into his mouth, pushing yourself against him as he slowly guided you up into a sitting position.

You grabbed at any part of him that you could reach, whining when he broke the kiss. He chuckled as you chased his lips with your own, but fixed you with a serious look in his eye.

“Tell me to stop,” he said softly, hand skimming the ends of your nightdress. “Tell me to stop, and I swear I will, y/n.”

“Don’t stop,” you responded breathlessly. Jake leaned in to grant you another kiss before pulling back to lift your dress over your head. The cool air of the night washed over you, and you suddenly felt exposed as he drank in your naked form. You moved to cover yourself, but he grabbed your arms, gently leaning you back down onto the bed as he hovered over you.

“Don’t,” he said firmly, the green of his eyes swallowed by the blacks of his pupils. “I want to look at you.”

You watched him as he drank in your form, hands softly gliding down to rest on your hips. A small smile played at the edge of his lips.

“You look so pretty for me, honey girl,” he hummed. Your breath caught in your throat as he parted your legs. Leaning back to take all of you in, his eyes blazed with want as he stared down at your most intimate part. He surged forward, capturing your lips in an unexpected kiss before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck. He sucked a bruising kiss onto the base of your neck, you gasped as you felt the hard, covered length of him push against your dripping core. One of his hands reached up to grasp your breast as his mouth encased around one of your nipples. You mewled, thoughtlessly pushing your chest up into his warm mouth. He pulled off of your hardening peak with a low chuckle.

“You gotta be quiet, pretty girl,” he smirked down at you, fingers still toying with the nipple that hadn’t just been in his mouth. “Don’t want to disturb the other passengers, do we?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer before his mouth was attached back to you. You squirmed underneath him, desperate for more of the mind-numbing pleasure you knew he could give you. Jake was in no hurry, though. He took his time lapping at your sensitive bud before switching his attention to the other. Your head fell back in frustration as your hands moved up to tug on his blond strands.

“Jake, please” you moaned. Jake gave you a playful glare before giving a particularly hard pinch to your breast that had you crying out.

“Greedy girl,” he rumbled, leaning up to kiss you, nipping at your bottom lip. “You’ll take what I give you, understand?”

You nodded your head desperately, and Jake hummed in approval. Mercifully, he trailed his lips down your body, giving fleeting sucks and nips to your nipples before moving further down. Your breath hitched as he shifted down the bed, face level with the junction of your legs. He teased open-mouthed kisses up and down your thighs, never touching you where you wanted him most, and you began to squirm yet again. Jake moved to wrap his arms around your thighs, caging them in his hold so that you couldn’t move. He nuzzled up into your mound before making eye contact with you.

“Been thinkin’ about this for weeks, honey girl,” he murmured, breath fanning over you and making you cry out. “Been thinkin’ about how sweet you tasted that night in the alley. Fucked my hand at the thought about all those little noises you made jus’ for me as I made you fall apart on my fingers. Fuck, you squeezed me so tight. Imagined what it would be like to have my cock buried in this pretty pussy instead of my fingers.”

“Jake!” you cried out at his words. You let out another cry as he snaked a finger around to run gently run through your folds.

“Look at you, darlin’. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already soaked. You’re practically drippin’ on the bed for me. The thought of takin’ my fat cock inside of you makin’ you this wet? Jesus, I see you clenching. This greedy, little cunt is practically beggin’ for me.”

“Jakey, please,” you sobbed, feeling the tears start to prickle behind your eyes. Jake continued his torture, finger now grazing lightly over your clit, and your hips started to buck up into him before he pushed them back down.

“Uh, uh, sweetheart,” he chided, casting you a light glare. “You take what I give you, remember?”

You whined as he began to draw tiny figure eights on your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, darlin’. You just lie back and take it. Let Jakey make you feel good, yeah?” he drawled, sinking a finger into you. He let out a low groan as you clenched tightly around the digit. “Fuck, pretty girl. Love the way you grip me like that. My pretty pussy is just beggin’ for me to fill her up, huh?”

You felt yourself clench at the thought, and he chuckled, adding a second finger.

“Yeah, she likes the sound of that. Loves the idea of me pumpin’ into you until I give you everythin’ I have to give.”

You cried out when he pulled out of you, but his fingers were quickly replaced with the feel of his tongue diving into you. You raised your hand to bite your fist in an attempt to keep quiet. He thrust his fingers back into you as his mouth moved to nurse on your clit, sending you headfirst towards your orgasm.

“Been thinkin’ about this since I tasted you the first time, honey girl. Couldn’t wait to get my mouth on you and get my fix. Never gonna get my fix, though. Taste too good for me to ever have my fill o’ you,” he rasped. You watched his hips rut into the mattress as he feasted on you, your slick coating his lips as he nipped at your bud. Your legs began to shake as he continued to eat you out like a man starved.

“Jakey,” you cried out as his fingers hit that spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Yeah, honey? Did I find your special spot again? Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. Can’t wait to sink my cock into you and fill you up with my cum. You want that? You want me to fill you up pretty girl?” he asked you breathlessly, the pace of his hips quickening against the mattress. “That’s okay, you don’t gotta answer me. Your cunt is doin’ all the talkin’ for you. She’s weepin’ for me to pump my load into you, get you nice and swollen with my baby.”

The tears flowed freely down your cheeks now. You flung a hand over your face, but Jake was having none of it.

“Look at me, sugar. Wanna see your face as you fall apart for me. Fuck, I’m gonna keep you so full. Gonna keep you all nice and round while I take care of you. Gonna take care of my gorgeous, little wifey.”

You cried out as your vision went white, his words flinging you over the edge. You watched his own eyes widen as you came apart, his hips stuttering against the mattress as he let out a whimper into your core. You ground your hips down into him as you rode out your high, and Jake grunted as his hips stilled, shaking with the strain.

You slowly came back to yourself, a sheen of sweat covering your body as Jake pressed soft, gentle kisses up the length of your body before pressing reaching up to stroke your cheek affectionately. You met his gaze, his green eyes watching you. Your chest rose quickly as you fought to control your breathing, and Jake gave you a small smile before placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Sleep now, honey girl,” he whispered as he dragged the blanket over you. You reached out for him, and he pulled you into his chest with a slight chuckle and one last kiss to the top of your head.

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