#and sometimes their death leaves you alone in a church | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kisakis-boyfriend · 6 months

Note

I have a Halloween-esque Bennett request. He lives in a really superstitious village that hates him bc of his bad luck. So on Halloween they try to sacrifice him in a ritual. They wind up summoning Incubus!Reader and we decide to keep him as a pampered pet. And maybe we use the power we gain from Bennett’s pleasure to get revenge on those fuckers who hurt him

Sacrificial Lamb

Pairings: Bennett x reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, incubus!reader, sub/bottom!Bennett, blowjob, descriptions of violence, descriptions of gore at the end, implied deaths at the end

Genre/Format: Smut, hurt/comfort; Oneshot

Author's Note: Bennett is 18-19 in this story! — Hell yeah, incubi!! This is such an intriguing concept, it was super fun to brainstorm for this one :3

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

This child is cursed, they all thought. This child is a curse sent to destroy our village from the inside, they all said. This child, no...this thing must be removed before it brings total calamity upon us all, they screamed

The booming voices of the townspeople echoed within the church walls during an emergency meeting. A meeting that was held during one of the young boy's daily journeys into a neighboring town, sent out there to collect several items for his own town. They knew that Bennett wouldn't return until nearly nightfall, so there was more than enough time to conjure up a plan to remove the young boy from their village

During all of that commotion, the young boy known as Bennett traveled on foot to the other town, tripping several times on the way to and back. His usual bad luck never leaves his side even for a second. Sometimes the bad luck was inconsequential, only affecting him or the other townsfolk in small ways. Other times the bad luck caused the entire village to panic as their water supply became contaminated once again, or as a horrific accident occured during Bennett's watch

Whatever the case, these things always circled back to Bennett. The entire village blamed him for any wrongs or catastrophes, even when they didn't have any evidence of Bennett, or his bad luck rather, being the culprit. It was always his fault in their eyes

So just what was their brilliant plan to remove the bad seed from their pristine town? Why, they would simply kill the poison before it could spread any further. The conclusion of their secret meeting was the local witch agreeing to search for a spell that would summon a demon that they could all sacrifice Bennett to, removing him without ever getting a single drop of blood on their hands

Weeks went by until the witch called for another meeting, announcing their proposed plan based on the information that they had gathered. The date of this sacrifice would be Halloween night, when the veil would be at its thinnest and it might be a bit easier to reach the demonic underworld. The townspeople agreed upon this date and worked out several details before dispersing back to their nightly activities

Months passed until the fated month of the young man's untimely death would approach. Spring came and went, Bennett's eighteenth birthday flew by, summer scorched the land and autumn soothed the previous heat wave. Then, the end of October arrived, and every soul within the village grew antsy as that day inched closer and closer. They continued with every last autumnal festivity as if they weren't plotting the murder of an innocent young man, their minds completely corrupt by selfishness and arrogance

On the night of the thirty-first, a restless Bennett tossed and turned in the small bed situated against the wall of his tiny wooden house. He lived alone, with no relatives or friends or even livestock to accompany himself, and was forced to occupy the smallest structure within the village. He knew better than to complain though, after all he did at least have a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in. Even if it wasn't luxury, it was preferable to sleeping outside on the hard ground or under a tarp that would so easily blow away during a harsh storm

Sighing as he rolled over for the nth time this night, Bennett tried to distract himself from the uneasy feeling that filled his gut. It was probably just because it was Halloween and this holiday always seemed eerie compared to all of the other celebratory days of the year, what with that ‘thinning of the veil’ schtick and the townsfolk reciting all manner of terrifying tales to the kids. Everything about this time of the year centered around spookiness and horror, and the combined atmosphere of that and the townsfolk being extra cruel to Bennett around this time was the most likely cause of his uneasiness...

...Or so he thought. Just when Bennett had begun to drift off to sleep, his front door was kicked open with a loud bang, startling the poor boy awake. He had little time to react as several of the men from his village stomped towards his bed and roughly grabbed him, squeezing his frail arms while they dragged him outside and towards the dark forest

Upon arriving at the prepared space, they threw him onto the dirt, circling around him so that he had no means of escaping his fate. Their many faces scowled at the young man, spitting curses and harsh accusations while he trembled in confusion, salty tears quickly pricking the corners of his eyes

“W-wait! What are you doing?! What's going o-on?!” Bennett whimpered, instinctually curling in on himself. Some of the people laughed at his fearful expressions, others just grew angrier for reasons that he couldn't understand. One of the village blacksmiths stepped forward and swiftly kicked Bennett over, landing another strong kick to his ribs and causing the boy to cry out in pain. Another large man joined in, grabbed the collar of Bennett's shirt and forced the boy to face him, lifting his torso so that he was almost sitting up

Tears slid down Bennett's cheeks as he stared at the man, confusion swirling behind those emerald green eyes as he tried to make sense of this. “Please...why are you doing this?!” The question was ignored as a heavy punch landed square in his face, causing him to fall onto the ground with a loud thud as blood trickled out of his nose. The boy's hands quickly fly up to hold his nose in agony, crying out harder while the menacing people watch on in amusement

While cruel laughter flooded his ears, the two men began to remove his clothes, stripping him of everything and pushing him back down once they were finished. He lay there humiliated and shivering as the cold night air nipped at his bare skin painfully

“Tie him up.” Said one voice; the town's mayor. Tossing rope to one of the larger men so that they could bind Bennett's arms and legs together tightly, not caring about the rope burns already forming on his tender skin because of how harshly they bound him. The same men then carried the young boy over somewhere else, over to a magic circle drawn on the dirt and surrounded by torches where they planned on carrying out their deed

Bennett's head spun after being thrown back onto the ground, with no clue what was happening or why, he simply cried harder. Broken sobs spilling forth while the chanting of the townspeople drowned him out. Though tears clouded his vision, the poor boy still noticed when the torches changed colour, the flames growing impossibly high as the chants of the people grew quiet

The next thing he knew, the ground had begun to swallow him up, the strange circle he had been placed on sank into the earth slowly while the purple flames flared up dangerously, blinding his vision. Bennett screamed for help, desperately hoping that anyone would hear him and have mercy. Once again, luck was not on his side since the loud roars of the people still in the village drowned out his screams, their celebratory cheering covered up the vile acts committed within the forest next to the town conveniently

When Bennett finally awoke it felt as though many hours had passed. His mind was still a bit hazy as he lazily turned his head to check the environment around him. This is...a room? Ugh...where am I? Aah–!!

A sharp inhale alerted you to the fact that the human had finally woken up. You excitedly rushed into the room that he had been resting in, stopping yourself from slamming the door open so that you wouldn't scare him though

“Hi~” Your sweet voice whispered while you poked your head into the room, cracking the door open just enough to allow the human to see your face. His eyes immediately snapped open in fear and his breathing sped up while he tried to scoot away, the effort unsuccessful since he hit a wall almost instantly

“No no, relax. I'm not here to hurt you, little one!” Attempting to make yourself appear as docile as possible, you chose not to move closer until he had given you permission. “Can I come in? I promise I'm friendly.”

Bennett contemplated your question. His mind was racing as he tried to recall everything that had happened to him before he woke up here, the memories of what happened in the forest slowly crept back into his mind and brought a single tear rolling down his cheek. This detail caused you to frown, clearly this boy has been through something terrible. You really didn't want to upset him further, but you wanted to understand what had happened for him to get sent to your abode in the state that he was in when he arrived

Carefully leaning into the room a bit further, you tried to talk to him again, to get even a single word out of him. “Are you in pain? You look pretty beat up... I'd like to help you, if that's alright.”

“Y-you...you can...come in.” Bennett sniffled, averting your gaze as his head hung down. With the softest steps that you could possibly take, you entered the room and stood next to the bed that the boy had been sleeping on

“Mind if I sit?” He nodded, his entire body tensing up when he felt the mattress shift under your weight. “My name is y/n. Do you have a name, dear?” Silence. The human was probably still shaken up from whatever had happened to him previously to trust you yet, though you were more than willing to ease the information out of him and gain his trust. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm sure you're still confused as to what's going on...”

“–ennett.”

“Hm? I didn't quite catch that, darling. Can you repeat that for me?” You asked, leaning over just the slightest bit to hear him better

“Bennett....my name is Bennett...” He repeated meekly. His knees were tucked into his chest while he sat there, curled in on himself and still obviously frightened by everything

A smile found its way onto your lips at the mention of his name, “That's a lovely name. How old are you, Bennett?” The next hour or so was spent coaxing answers to simple questions out of the nervous human. You learned that his name was Bennett, that he had turned eighteen around six months ago, he had no family and he lived alone in a village just south of some mountains. Trying your best not to bombard the boy with questions and allowing him to answer each one at whatever pace he felt comfortable with

As gently as you could, you explained who and what you were; a type of demon known as an incubus. While the human was nervous at first he did eventually relax after you assured him that you wouldn't touch him without his explicit consent. Eventually you coaxed him off of the bed so that you could tend to his wounds, tenderly rubbing soothing ointment onto his burns and wiping some more blood from his nose

Over the course of the next few months you managed to earn Bennett's trust. You did everything that you could to treat the little human like royalty; cooking foods that he loved, buying him only the most comfortable clothing, talking about anything and everything with him and becoming fast friends. In the beginning, you had explained that Bennett could provide a certain type of energy that your kind feeds off of, and that you would require that energy at some point. Though you promised not to throw him into the deep end right away

Being inexperienced as he was, Bennett would need to be eased into this new life of his. It began with gentle touches; brushing your fingers against his when you were hanging out or taking a walk in nature, moving on to holding his hand, eventually giving him a peck on the cheek before bedtime. All sorts of small things that got him used to physical affection in general

Then it escalated to things such as pulling the human into your lap, though he still squirmed a bit within your grasp. The way he became so flustered at simple things was too cute. A light shade of pink would blossom on his soft skin as you leaned in to steal his first kiss, breathing words of encouragement and praising him for his sweet reactions

It wasn't long before your darling decided that he was ready for his first time... nervous, yet eager to relinquish his virginity to someone that he trusted. You questioned him, just to make sure that he was truly ready, and he insisted that it was time

You began as always, pulling him in for a gentle kiss and placing your hands on his hips while he wrapped his around your neck shakily. A whimper escaping from him when you licked his bottom lip, asking for permission to take this one step further, which Bennett granted. His soft moans slowly filled the silence of the bedroom while your groans complimented them as you slipped one hand under his shirt and began to feel him up. Exploring the expanse of your darling's chest and soon playing with his nipples, earning more cute whines against your lips

Eventually, you had to part so that you could breathe, giggling in between chaste kisses to each other's faces. “Can I touch a little lower, Benny?” You asked, brushing your fingers through his soft hair while your forehead rested against his. The human nodded with a breathy ‘uh-huh’, his hands now resting on your shoulders

With another kiss to the tip of his nose, you gently slid your hand down until you reached between his legs, feeling just how much this was turning your pet on as his dick was already pretty hard. Bennett gasped at the unfamiliar contact, growing warmer with every new touch to his sensitive body. When you began rubbing him through his clothing, he humped your hand hungrily, chasing the electric pleasure from your touch down there

You took this as a sign to speed it up and be a bit rougher, to which the human responded with a wanton moan directly in your ear. “Oho? Did that feel good, Benny?” You purred, causing another moan to fall from his lips as he nodded again. Taking it another step forward, you helped Bennett remove his shirt and pants, then your own swiftly joined them on the floor

The boy's hips jerked when you returned to stroking him, spreading the strings of precum along his shaft as your hand glided up and down, kissing Bennett with a new hunger as you, too, grew excited. Staring into his emerald eyes while you jerked him off roughly nearly caused the human's legs to give out. The fire behind your eyes spurred Bennett on, enticing him to let go and release every sound that bubbled to the surface

Your next move surprised Bennett a little bit as a small 'wha–!!' escaped from him. His back came in contact with the soft sheets on his bed, legs naturally spreading open when you crawled on top and hovered over him. The nervous boy breathed another beautiful moan when your hardening cock brushed against his virgin hole, the tiniest taste of what was to come soon

An insatiable need to taste your pet took over and you leaned down to take him into your mouth, licking the shaft before swallowing every inch greedily. Bennett's hands flew to the sheets above him, clenching them within his fists as you bobbed up and down his length like a starving man. His cock kissed the back of your throat and the feeling was as close to heaven as a demon could experience; precum dribbled down your esophagus with every downward movement of your head, causing tears to gather in the corners of your eyes as his decadent taste filled your mouth. You couldn't help yourself when your hips began grinding against the end of the bed, humping the mattress like a horny dog while you did everything within your power to make Bennett cum

“Gghh! W-wait I'm...Hah! That feels too good, y/n—!! ” Your pet screamed as you massaged his balls, gagging on his cock until he finally shot his load into your mouth. He nearly began to cry when you refused to pop off and continued sucking more drops of cum from his aching dick

When you were a bit more satisfied, you let his dick slide out of your mouth with a loud plop when it hit his stomach. You licked your lips and complimented your darling, telling him “You did so good, Benny! How did that feel?”

With a heaving chest Bennett gasped out an answer, bucking his hips when you rubbed little circles into his skin. But that wasn't where you intended to stop. Oh no, you hadn't even touched on the main event yet

“I'm so glad you enjoyed that, lovely. Mm but now it's my turn, you're going to make me cum too, right?” You said, faking a pout while your finger trailed up Bennett's pale chest. The boy eagerly nodded, beginning to sit up on the bed and maneuver himself so that he could suck you off as well. Though you swiftly pushed him back down with a dull thud against the cloth. “Where are you going, sweetie?”

Bennett blinked at you as he said, “G-going to put yours in my mouth? Isn't that what you want me to do?”

His misunderstanding was kind of sweet and you couldn't help kissing his pretty lips before correcting him, “Aw baby, that's very sweet of you...but you're not giving me a blowjob yet, not tonight at least.” Your hands traveled downwards, gliding over his nipples, then abs, then over his hips before finally reaching his inner thighs

“No, love, you're going to take me riiiight here~ ” You drawled, tapping on his hole and then rubbing the pads of your fingers around it. Bennett's response was a pretty arch of his back accompanied by a shuddering inhale, rolling his hips into the air as his dick twitched at the idea. Truly a sight to behold, especially with that look on his face. A mixture of excitement and uncertainty, eager to experience his first penetration yet nervous all the same

“Hold your legs up for me, 'kay?” You winked, retreating for a second to grab some lube so that you would slide into Bennett a little more easily. Squeezing a bit of the substance onto your fingers and rubbing them together before you pushed in a single digit, slowly pumping in and out, then adding a second finger. Curling your fingers and hitting that spot that made the pretty boy's back arch again, accompanied by moans as his ass was touched for the first time

After scissoring your digits for a bit and drawing more beads of precum from Bennett's dick, you removed them from his hole and gave your own cock a few pumps to slick yourself up. Spreading more lube on your shaft while you stare into your darling's eyes, asking one more time if he was ready for this

A confident ‘yes’ was all that was needed for you to breach the orifice. Bennett's eyes widened when the head pushed past his ring of muscles, stretching him further than your fingers did a minute ago. Pushing in a bit more drew out the sweetest noises from your pet as your thick shaft stretched him even more, filling his tight hole so much that it caused an embarrassing bulge in his little stomach. His insides were forced to accept the new object as they squeezed around it and molded to its shape, a sensation that would happen countless more times within the young man's lifetime from now on

“B-big...so big...aaah...” Bennett whimpered, weakly thrusting his hips to take more of your length. Though it was a little hard to take something so thick when he had never taken anything before, your hands lovingly caressing his body, carding through his hair, and your words of encouragement compelled the eager man to take more. To push himself more and be good for you. And then your velvety lips made contact with his again, warm and so gentle in contrast with the speeding up of your thrusts as you chased the pleasure that his hole brought you

Your cock drooled within Bennett's walls, desperate to release all of the cum built up inside of you. It was just part of your nature to fuck adorable humans like this; to fuck and breed and cum until your partner was exhausted. To absorb the sexual energy that a human releases whenever an incubus or succubus ravages them. To devour that energy and become even stronger so that you could, in turn, give your human more pleasure. Creating an endless feedback loop of pleasure and power

“Aa-aahh! Y/n...it feels...feels good– ” He screamed, bucking wildly into the air as his own dick leaked all over his pretty skin, neglected while you were busy losing yourself in the feeling of his insides clenching around your cock

“Ah...I'm sorry, my love. Didn't...oh fffuuuck... didn't mean to forget you like that.” Swiftly bringing a hand up to his sensitive member, you stroked his little dick with a skilled hand. Your palm smeared the precum around before returning to pumping his full length while you fucked into him a bit harder, throwing your head back in ecstasy as you moaned out, “Cum for me again, Bennett. I know you can give me one more, yeah? Oh fuck...mmm uh-huh~ ”

Bennett's fingers wrapped around your forearms as his second orgasm drew near, desperate for anything to ground himself with while he shot another load of cum all over his chest. Meanwhile, you were so lost in pleasure that you roughly snapped your hips into his while continuing to pump his dick long after he came, overstimulating the poor thing. It wasn't until you spilled inside Bennett that you stopped stroking his soft cock, growling as your cum flooded his ass with a sticky warmth that was all too new to him

Several more months passed by and the boy had grown accustomed to sex being a part of his daily life. You were well aware that a human's stamina was not endless, so you were kind enough to give him frequent breaks. Oftentimes you'd spend an entire week simply spoiling your pet with non-sexual sentiments

The days would start off either cooking breakfast together or you cooking for him and serving it in bed, sharing giggles and kisses as you placed a tiny bit of syrup on Bennett's nose and he returned the playful gesture. After cleaning up you would brainstorm activities to do together; practicing new skills or hobbies, finding games to play together, or simply cuddling for a bit while music softly played in the background. Some days you might offer to give your lover a massage to ease his aches from your recent rough endeavors, kneading his body with your skilled hands until Bennett felt weightless and drowsy from the treatment. Then as nighttime took over, you'd draw the loveliest, most romantic bath to settle down in. Complete with candles and anything that would make your darling happy while the warm water melted away everything except pure bliss, surrounding your bodies as they pressed together inside of the bathtub

Nothing could make you happier than this sweet young man that was gifted to you, albeit under horrific circumstances. No matter how many times you attempted to suppress those feelings, they would always bubble up again. The horror stories that Bennett related to you regarding his time in that village...that god-forsaken village full of heathens...

It's not like the human would be able to go back to that village...not that he wanted to anyway. No one would care if something horrendous happened, right? Certainly no one would be able to tie it back to you; a mere incubus that only those deemed the town's heretics, drunkards, and witches had even a sliver of knowledge of

With that in mind from day one, you decided to store up portions of the energy that Bennett frequently provided your demon self with. Stockpiling small amounts — and spending the week prior fucking the boy into oblivion, therefore gaining large bursts of sexual energy right before your big plan — everything was set for your little revenge plot

They never saw it coming. The whirlwind that was your anger and resentment towards every last soul confined to that land. It was once again hallow's eve; an entire year after a young man with beautiful yet terrified green eyes and the prettiest face you had ever laid eyes on fell into your grasp. An entire year filled with such lovely memories, the brightest smile you'd ever seen from a human, and countless intimate moments had taken place. None of these heartless creatures could ever guess that one whole year of boiling anger — from a demon, no less — would come back to haunt them

Light footsteps paraded through the dirt roads that ran through the town, a small bounce in your step, though it was more twisted, manic excitement than happiness. Your little wings twitched behind you while your (e/c) eyes glowed dangerously, drowning out even the brightest harvest moon shining above the destroyed houses that lined the roads

Deep, sadistic laughter fell from your lips as they curled upwards into a smile. The sight of your signature purple flames engulfing the many crumbling buildings filled your demonic heart with glee, unable to hide your feelings of disgust towards the village responsible for such atrocities as the ones they have committed

Screams pierced the chilly night air all around you, harmonizing together with the howls of distant wolves and the many crows that passed overhead in large flocks. The sources of the screaming would pass by you, begging for help that fell on deaf ears. “Help? Where was the help that you so desperately crave when an innocent boy was beaten and sacrificed?! Where were you when those sins took place?! All of you are stained with guilt, and you will pay for the crimes enacted here one year ago. I will make damn sure of that.” You spat, immediately flicking a tiny ember onto the crying human as they became consumed by blinding flames. Falling into a pile of ash within seconds and blowing away from a strong breeze as you walked past them without even blinking

Continuing on until your grand prize practically ran into you, slamming into your chest and falling onto the ground with a painful thud. His fearful, cowardly, angry gaze met your stone-cold stare as his head tilted up. “Wh-what...what are you? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!?!”

You couldn't stop the enraged chuckle that escaped from your lips. “Funny... that's exactly what I heard him say while you sacrificed him. The faintest, broken voice that cried out for help. Begging for an answer or a reason behind the cruelty inflicted upon him.” You paused to lean down, hovering just inches away from the man's face before spitting, “But, tell me...did you ever feel an ounce of remorse for your sins?”

The selfish rage burning behind his eyes had already given you the answer to that. You never even expected an answer in the first place. As if someone like this, who was consumed by his own ego long, long ago, would ever feel guilt or shame for his actions. You knew better than to believe that there was a single kind bone in this one's body

“You FREAK!! Begone, foul demon! In the name of the Lor–” One swift kick shut him up real quick, nearly breaking his jaw with the amount of strength that you packed behind the motion. Blood trickled from your clenched hands as you slowly walked towards the man

Crouching down to his level, your hand latched onto the back of his neck and yanked him up, twisting his body so that he couldn't look away. “I am going to enjoy breaking you, human. Every millisecond of your suffering will become my pleasure~ ” A heavy poison dripped from your lips with each word, a dangerous glint in your eye complimented the promise as sharp nails tore at the human's flesh. His pathetic wails filled the center of the village as you took your time dismantling the weak body. Blood staining your skin and splattering across your deranged features

Slimy entrails were ripped painfully from the mayor's stomach one by one, torn in half right before his eyes. Meanwhile onlookers gasped and choked up bile while the gorey scene played out before them. Occasionally your gaze would snap over to one of them, challenging a single word to come out so that you could rip their tongue out and shove it elsewhere in their disgusting corpse

By the time you were done no one would even recognize the pile of meat and viscera as human. Not that there would be anyone left to recognize anything, of course. The history of this village would become forever stained with crimson, wrapped inside of a mystery as to how hundreds of people died in gruesome ways all in a single night

Who knows how long the bodies would rot there; left to be picked apart by wild animals or buried by nature. It didn't really matter to you. They were history. The only thing concerning you now was a nice bath to calm your mind and cleanse the gore off of your body, and returning to a sleeping Bennett that you could snuggle up to

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

#my writing #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin bennett #bennett #bennett x reader #sub bennett #male reader #dom reader #top reader #demon au #incubus au #halloween specials 🎃#oneshot #requested

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beefboyandbabygirl · 9 months

Text

Good Luck, Fermata Tower (18+)

pairing: fire-lookout!seungcheol x female!fire-lookout!reader

genre: firewatch au LMAO, smut (MDNI), soo much angst, COMFORT, fluff

description: after the death of your roommate you have to find a greater purpose to life. what better way than to became a fire lookout with a surprisingly charismatic neighbour tower?

warnings: this fic is a lot, please read ALL warnings. SUICIDE, implied suicidal thoughts, major character death 2x, reader goes through grief, so does seungcheol, AGE GAP, RADIO SEX??? LMAOOO, dirty talk, petnames, cockwarming, pentrative sex, strength kink, f. and m. masturbation (mutual?), PINING TO THE HIGHEST DEGREE, MENTIONS OF DOING DRUGS/DOING SHROOMS, talks of drowning, if u know the game i think you'll be able to visualize the beauty of this way more, intensive writing on the scenery and the emotions, LMK IF I FORGOT ANYTHING PLEASe

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "im getting out lana", "im just gonna be making animal sounds", "can we make this into a play so i can perform this?", "OF ALL THE THINGS THAT COULD MAKE ME CRY IT WAS THE DESCRIPTION OF HIS HOT ASS FACE"

wordcount: 13.9k

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL. i love this fic. the writing is a little novelly for a fic, but i was so passionate ab this whole firewatch thing and i got SO INTO the arcs and their personal losses and i just really love yn and seungcheol. i hope this was worth the wait and i apologize for not finishing sooner. all my love, beefboy

You and Mingyu meet at college at some parkour club that you’d both joined to make friends. You face-plant into the pavement and knock out a tooth and Mingyu takes you to a nearby hospital. You click instantly.

You and Mingyu spend every moment together - you help him and he helps you. Mingyu is smart, you realize. He knows all the formulas in your mathematics course by heart. You tell him he’s smart and he says that no one else seems to think that.

You and Mingyu are best friends. You have matching necklaces that complete a heart.

You and Mingyu party together and when you get too drunk, he carries you down the halls, home. Sometimes at night he sleeps in your bed.

Your friend group thinks you’re dating, but you think you and Mingyu are something much more earnest than lovers. You think Mingyu is your soulmate.

You piggy-back ride Mingyu at graduation and you give him a peck on the cheek when he shakes hands with the dean.

You and Mingyu become roommates. You binge-watch terrible movies together and hold drinking games. It’s hard to admit some of your favorite memories are from watching the Alvin and The Chipmunks trilogy.

The night before it happens you and Mingyu eat dinner together that he cooked. You see his snaggletooth every time he smiles.

You’d almost lived together for two years that morning. He usually wakes earlier than you, but he is nowhere to be seen. The apartment is oddly still. You feel trapped.

You enter Mingyu’s room.

You think he’s asleep. You leave him alone.

Two hours later you grow worried. You enter his room to find him in the same position. You shake him. Mingyu doesn’t wake.

The doctors say a case like Mingyu’s is extremely rare - he was in great shape. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to make you feel better.

Mingyu’s funeral is grim. His death is so terrible, says the pastor, because it’s so domestic. You think it’s terrible because he is - was - the brightest, most amazing person to walk the earth. His parents want you to hold a speech, but you can’t find the words. You think you might sob if you go up there. You sob anyway. The flowers form a ring on the floor of the church and your soulmate is dead.

You can’t sleep anymore. You imagine him dying, left arm numb, alone in the dead of night and choking out your name, reaching for the thin wall that separated you. You cry for a whole month. The apartment is cursed so you live with your parents.

One day, you see an ad for a job in the paper.

You take it. _____________________________

“Hello?”

Static stormed the tower-house when the other end cut off.

“Are you there?”

Your eyes frantically darted around the cabin. It was no more than a 13 foot rectangle and yet your tired eyes couldn’t find the radio, churning out a gruff voice.

You’d just arrived, barely turned on the generator to allow light in. It was nighttime. The park’s dips and peaks were veiled in blue; the silhouettes of the trees, forking out in long, thin spikes, were navy and the lake Fermata was the brightest, glittering pearl from the moon above. Stars twinkled knowingly at you.

There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side.

“Yeah, hi, I’m here,” you breathed out tiredly. You let go of the button and a small bit of static spoke back to you.

“Y/n?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m Seungcheol. I’m in Bay Valley Tower. It’s to the east. Saw your light turn on,” His voice was gruff, laced with sleep. It had a rasp at every vowel, strings of vocal chords straining to spit out the words in between sticky ropes of bile.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. You had nothing else to say. The flimsy, one person bed beckoned to your tired body. You moved, like a doll, one limb at a time, into its harbor, collapsing into the thin mattress. You laid on your side, moonlight shining in from the window by the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, carelessly. Impatient in tone, you imagined he’d probably been through this a hundred times before. “So,” he sighed out, deeply. “What’s your problem?”

“Hm?”

There was a shooting star, dancing across the sky in that moment. You watched it, shuffling onto your back with half-closed eyes. Stardust sprinkled from it on the open, empty sky.

“People here are all running from something. So what’s your deal?”

You sighed, watching the star’s open path. It could go anywhere, you thought. Then you moved your arm, holding the receiver to your mouth.

“Listen, Seungcheol. I’ve been hiking for two days, so I’m gonna go to bed now, okay? Hopefully you’ve found some manners by the time I wake up,” you mumbled, then let go of the button (it had a harsh, grainy texture for some reason), and laid your hand, radio in it, limply at your side.

You heard a raspy chuckle from the other end. You had no energy to be angry.

“Alright, Fermata Tower,” there was a smile in the anonymous man’s voice.

There was a pause. The sound of the fierce breeze carried whiffs of autumn, as it lulled you to sleep. You had almost fallen into a black, snow-buried slumber when you heard the radio crinkle again:

“Fermata, do you see that shooting star?”

You had no energy to respond, radio spewing static in your open hand. Thankfully, Seungcheol seemed understanding.

“That’s good luck. So...”

A moment. You and Seungcheol watched the sky-dancer, apart.

“Good luck.” _____________________________

“You’re awake!”

It was Seungcheol’s voice. Transformed by the orange hues of daytime, he sounded much more alive than the night prior.

“I can see you sitting at your desk.”

Indeed you were sitting on your desk - a flimsy wooden thing, which looked like it had come form a yard sale - studying the map of the massive park. There were simple cartoonish figures to indicate stresses of trees and drops in the terrain, and rock quarries and waterfalls and lakes. You’d delicately pointed out your own position with red marker, scribbling ‘me’ by it with a heavy child’s hand.

It was cold - the thin boards did not do much to ward away the heavy wind, hooting creeping in the cracks. It smelled like pine needles and tea, as you’d just boiled a lavender on the kettle. IT sat, heating your fingers where it rested beside them in a mug left behind by the previous firewatchman (it read: “don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee”).

The radio clattered against the wood when you clumsily picked it up.

“Didn’t know when I signed up for this that I would be dealing with a stalker,” you joked, smiling small when you heard the man on the other end let out a hearty laugh.

“Hey, don’t go labeling me just yet, kid.”

“Kid?!” you said incredulously, dropping the marker that you had been so diligently using to scribble excellent comments on your map (latest was: “maybe cute bears”). “How old are you?!”

“I’m 37,” Seungcheol said.

“Oof.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding!” you laughed, dropping your pen and leaning back in your seat. The view was beautiful. You could see the lake, surrounded by a rippling sea of trees, each top reaching for the sky, like you. “I’m 27, I’m getting up there with you.”

“Just a small decade.”

“I’m mature for my age.”

Seungcheol chuckled on the other end of the radio. You spun around in your chair (it creaked horribly - it sounded like a pig at the sight of a cleaver) surveying each square of the forest from your windows. You narrowed your eyes, trying to spot his lookout tower.

“How come you can see me but I can’t see you?” you mumbled, now standing to try and see, but it was drowned out by the sheer volume of pinewood. Seungcheol grumbled on the other end: “I should be East.”

“Yeah, fuck, I forgot to tell you, I think I dropped my fucking compass on the way here,” you ran a hand through your hair and frown.

“Uh, shit, you’re gonna have to pick up a new one, bud,” he said and you slumped. “Well, if you’re facing the lake - Fermata Lake, I mean - I should be to your left.”

You followed his instructions. You faced the lake, then took two loggy steps to face left, then squinted incessantly at the horizon. Not dissimilar to a crowd in Times Square, the trees stood toe to toe all across at every inch you spied. The pines zagged upwards like Giza, and culminated into the biggest mountain in the park, just under the sun. The mountain loomed overhead where you finally spotted the lookout tower, like a monster crouched over its prey. You tried to shake off the thought and focus on the lone, floating tower in the pit of pointy trees.

“I see you, Bay Valley,” you breathed into the radio.

The tower looked much more lonely from so far away. It was different when you were in it, but with the miles-long stretch between you two, you found it looked so small and feeble. You could make out the light turned on within it, a rectangle of burning orange. The shooting star must’ve crossed directly between your two towers.

“Attagirl,” Seungcheol smiles. “Do you see me waving?”

“No, what the fuck.”

“I got binoculars.”

“Ew, you are a stalker!”

“It’s for bird-watching!” Seungcheol informed you, offense in his tone. You cackled into the radio. “I like watching birds, thank you very much.”

“Jeez, can’t believe what this job does to people.”

“I liked bird-watching before I got this job,” Seungcheol said.

“You’re so white,” you grinned.

“I’m not even white!”

You and Seungcheol both laughed, joyous hiccups interrupted by bursts of static and 3 miles of rocky terrain and pine needles. You squint at the sun, traversing and dipping under the jagged hedges of the tree-line.

Your head lolled over to spot between the desk and doorway, where you’d dropped your orange backpack (a peculiar color, come to think of it - same color as the lifejacket they deploy on airplanes when everything has already gone wrong). Now it was flopped onto its side, zipper ripped open and knick knacks and crumbs at its mouth, spilling onto the floor.

“Where do I get a new compass?” you asked, looking at a yellowed book sat beside the backpack.

“Uh, shit, gimme a sec,” Seungcheol mumbled, and before his radio cut off, you heard, briefly, the itchy scrambling of papers, and the sound made him seem a lot more real. “We have these, uh, supply boxes scattered around. ‘M readin’ this, uhhh, fuckin’ info-thing.. Should say which of them supposedly has a compass.”

“Sounds like you really know your stuff.”

“Get off my ass, Fermata.”

You heard papers rustle again and a small bump before the radio cut off, as if he put the radio down on the table. You awaited, arms crossed over your pink and gray striped hoodie, and staring at sundown. Orange flooded the sky, as if it were all engulfed in flames and this was really hell.

“Uhhh, okay, I got it! There’s one down at Eleison Valley? The code is 1-2-3-4. That’s actually the code to all of them.”

“Secure.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, I can get some exploring done, at least,” you frown, spying a not-so-casual hike on the dotted surface of your map, when you tangoed back to the table, fiddling with the edge of the paper.

“Yeah. You should probably do it tomorrow though. Sun’s coming down.”

“Yeah. Can’t believe I slept that long.”

“Don’t feel too bad about it, kid. I was knocked out for, like, two days after the hike out here. It’s a miracle you’re already awake.”

“Thanks, Bay Valley,” you sighed, leaning back in your seat with some strained shuffling. You watched, eyes half-lidded as the sun fully disappeared behind the curtain of the park. Its light still roamed the sky, where it hid. Half dark blue, half red, the sky twinkled at you and your insignificance brilliantly. You tried not to think about how lonely and floaty your lookout tower must look from afar. Everything feels big when it’s close enough.

“You’re welcome, Fermata.” _____________________________

“You think I could eat any of these mushrooms, BV?”

“BV?”

“Bay Valley.”

“Ah,” Seungcheol sighed on his end of the radio. You were trudging through the undergrowth in your new hiking boots, lifesaver-colored backpack on the plates of your back, weight pushing through the fabric of your jacket. “No, I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Damn it. Was gonna get hella high,” you joked, eyeing another cluster of snow-white mushrooms under the shade of a tree, sloping along a gnarly root. Your crunching steps in the loose dirt came to a halt - there was a dropoff. The cliff cut off like a broken chocolate bar and a sharp rockwall supported it to the next layer of earth.

The path was snaking down towards the lake. You’d circle around and climb up towards Tri Forks Tower, where eventually the climbing heights would bowl into Eleison Valley - a flower field, supposedly (in the map a little flower icon alerted you of this).

“If I die from this rockwall, please, tell my family I love them,” you grumbled, fetching an itchy, frayed rope from the depths of your backpack. Squinting at the high sun, pale drops of sweat forming around your forehead, you slung it over the hook. The park was littered with these - rusted old things that were leaning forward from years of heavy hikers’ tugging. This one was particularly bent.

“You’re so dramatic,” came Seungcheol from the speaker.

“Am not, man, these rocks are like fucking knives!”

“Such a drama queen. A real Primadonna.”

You huffed and puffed as you lowered yourself down the cliffside. Your boots pressed flat against the jagged rock, biceps burning as you held yourself up and walked down the side of it. The whole world was with you, sideways, and you would’ve stopped to appreciate it were you not sure you would pass out doing so.

“Holy shit,” you said to yourself when you were finally on stable ground and not spider-manning the mineral deposits of the park. You put your hands on your hips and squinted at its imposing open jaw.

“You down yet, Queen B?”

You panted, grimacing, when you tugged the rope hard and it leapt down like a flying snake: “Yeah, I’m down.”

You continued padding through the forest. The earth was dry and it was summer, but the wind was harsh and it cooled your stovetop-skin as you walked along a rock quarry, Fermata Lake hiding behind the covers of huge, flat bulwark. You listened to the cacophonous call of the forest: rustling leaves and birds.

“I had a friend - uh, friend of a friend, actually - who, like, got high as fuck off mushrooms and had a bad trip,” you said, mouth to the mic of the radio, as you studied the cover of the leaves.

“Yeah? What happened?” Seungcheol hummed.

“She said that, like -- fuck,” you breathed, scrambling over a particularly rocky rock. “She said there was, like, like her house flooded. Like, water just came gushing in and the whole house was, like, underwater suddenly and she.. She thought she was gonna drown. And her fuckin’ kitchen turned into, like, a coral reef or some shit, I don’t know.”

“Shit,” Seungcheol seemed much more alert now. You heard him put something down on his table (you imagined it was just as shitty as your own). “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“It’s fucking crazy. Don’t do drugs, man.”

You turned past the quarry and was met with the sight of the huge, gaping hole of Fermata Lake. Strangely oval, the lake was flanked on all sides with thick pineland, except for a slight angle where grassy hills turned upwards towards Tri Forks Tower.

The water was much more green up close. Algae sloshed up the side of the gravel-earth, willing you into the murky depths.

You stared at it for a while. You thought maybe you could make out someone standing at the bottom of the bowl-shape.

“I’m at Fermata Lake,” you said then, and then started walking again.

“Good job! And you haven’t even died at a drop off yet,” Seungcheol joked and you laughed.

“God, you’re such a jerk. I bet you’re fuckin’.. Watching birds right now like a nerd.”

“Okay, rude-”

“Why don’t you go outside and be productive?”

“I’m looking for fires,” Seungcheol snarked back. “The binoculars are multi-use.”

You let the conversation die down for a bit, focused on the walk. It was peaceful when you let it be, but at times you came to feel like you were being swallowed alive, or like the looming figure of Aluralura Mountain was pressing its boulder-brawn in between your shoulder blades. The air in the forests was thicker, so you stayed persistent in your path, as you climbed up the clearings and spotted Tri Forks in the distance.

“Hey, uh, Y/n?”

The sudden intrusion of Seungcheol on the radio had you jolting, dropping the radio into the earth (thankfully it was fine - here the earth was softer and it dipped under your boot and water pressed out from the mull). You bent over and picked it back up.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” you scolded, wiping mud off the yellow plastic of the radio.

“Oh, uh, sorry..”

It was only then that you noticed a meekness in Seungcheol’s voice. You, of course, had not the furthest idea what he looked like, but he sounded like he was holding a knife behind his back. You furrowed your brows and stared down the radio, as if it would give you answers. There was dirt clamoring the yellow, where your fingers had held on.

“What’s up?” you said and sounded fakely bright.

“Well, I just-” he cut himself off with a cough, one that reached those stringent, thinning vocal cords and brought back the rasp. “I wanted to apologize. For the other night. I mean, when you came to the tower.”

You didn’t respond, only furrowed your brow and looked out across the sun-lit moor. There was a deer traversing across the grass.

“Uhm. Because. I was- I was kinda drunk, uh, when you came, and I know I was kinda pushy about, you know, why you came out here and all that.”

“OH!” you exclaimed and the noise ended in a laugh. “Please, Seungcheol. Don’t worry about that. It’s fine.”

“Okay, good,” he mumbled.

The flower field came into view after climbing a particularly steep hill and it was a flower field - not just cartography myth.

It was all sunflowers and catmint - a huge, long stretch of purple and yellow splotches, stemming from green, untamed grass - stretching as far as you could see, disappearing into a hill at the far horizon. You were sure the smell of pollen went for miles, flowerdust sprinkling the air in heavy coats. The path you were following split the field in two, a dry, boring gravel streak, but you saw, faded from sunlight, a once deep, now light, ashy brown box at the right side.

“I found it!” you shrieked into the radio, a newfound strength gearing your legs into a sprint. “Fuck, yes!”

“Good job, Fermata!” there was a smile in his voice.

“Thank you!”

You were also smiling, when you went up to it. It was rectangular and made of planks, held together by a metal loop and a padlock. Like everything else, it was dirty and ravished, and you felt a faint worry at the sight of scratch marks on its side. You clicked in the code: 1-2-3-4.

The interior of the box was mostly empty. To your horror the first thing you saw was a porn magazine, which you did not dare to touch; then you saw a granola bar, which you did touch and stash away in your backpack, without any regard for how old it may have been; then came the compass, small and cheap metal and pointing out that you were, in fact, facing Northwest.

There was another item in the box. You did not initially see it, as it was taped to the interior of the lid, but when you raised your eyes, you saw it. It was a piece of paper - a note.

Grimacing, you ripped it off where it was blowing violently in the wind, holding it tight between your fingers and smudging dirt along the untainted white.

It read:

‘Hey, Cheol. If you head up the path there’s a family of raccoons! I left this granola bar here so you could feed them! From Jun.’

“Hey, Seungcheol?” you said absently, staring over the blue, scribbled ink, worn out from months of rainwater dripping in through the planks. He hummed on the other end of the line. “There’s a note here for you. From a, uh, Jun?”

“Oh.”

There was a pause that you couldn’t decipher - maybe you could have, had you been there with Seungcheol. Maybe if you could read his face, his body, you could’ve known what it meant. But for now you just stood in the breeze. It was picking up, getting angrier, hurling at your clothes and hair, banishing you from the field. The flowers dangled uselessly.

“Do you want me to read it to you?”

Silence.

“No, not really.”

“Oh, okay. Uh, who’s- who’s Jun?”

Silence.

“The guy who used to work in Fermata Tower. Before you.”

“Oh.”

Every second was longer than the last. You wish you knew what it all meant, but you sensed in Seungcheol’s curtness that he was not taking questions currently, and so you looked around the quickly graying sky and the suddenly spiteful wind and folded the note away in your jacket pocket.

“I’m gonna head back now,” even your voice was rocked by the wind.

Seungcheol didn’t respond.

You left Eleison Valley alone. _____________________________

This was where it was supposed to be - greatness. Not success, but something greater, larger, more alive than you could ever be. You thought you’d find it in the mountains, the valleys, the lakes and the forests and maybe that had been naive of you - to think that nature and earth could give any sort of meaning that death had taken away from you. These shadowed parts only served to make you feel smaller, you realized. The mountains glared at you, the forests swallowed and spat you out.

You couldn’t sleep. The image of Mingyu’s outstretched hand was back and you could almost see him from your flimsy bed, lying on his back with a tanned hand out for you. You left him alone, just like you always had.

Burrowed under the veil of your thin blanket, grabbing at it with clumsy hands, you turned your back to Mingyu’s corpse on your floor.

A prickle sauntered up your back. It was that emotion that something was creeping closer, something was out to get you. That you would feel a cool, dead hand on your back and when it would spin you around his face would be there, and he’d look nothing like himself; he’d be pale and purple around the mouth and his eyes would be sunken and dark and all the glitter he possessed - that he used to possess - would be gone and something menacing, like a hungry mountain, would have replaced it.

You thrashed, suddenly, to look back at the corpse. It was still there. Hadn’t moved an inch. Deja vu.

Thoughtlessly, desperately, you fumbled for the radio wrapped up the sheets of your bed. Your fingertips found the plastic hardware, and it bounced at your eagerness, before you pulled it along the sheets and up to your mouth.

“Seungcheol?” you gasped.

When did you start crying? You decided you must’ve been crying all night and maybe you’d cried so much that your brain had stopped registering the feeling of wet tears.

There was a pause. A long one. So long, you started to really become aware of the cries of the wind, the patter of the rain and the endless mumbling of the trees (and the gargled, bubbling blood rising from Imaginary Friend Mingyu’s half-open mouth). Then static spoke back to you:

“Yeah?” his voice was so raspy, you registered that you must’ve awoken him from his sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your nails dug into the radio and you pressed it into your chest, holding on tight.

“I can’t sleep,” you whispered, words full of shaky air. There was another pause and for a second you feared that Seungcheol might’ve gotten angry and gone back to bed. But he spoke again.

“Are you okay?” You heard rustling on his end, and you imagined him standing up from the bed, looking out at your lonely island of a lookout tower. “Do I need to trek over there?”

“No!- no, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you protested, then trailed off.

“... Are you crying?”

You squeezed your eyes shut: “I just- d’you remember what I said? About my- my friend’s friend who- who had a bad mushroom trip?”

“Uh, yeah, I remember. Her- Her house flooded, right?” Seungcheol’s voice was tainted with thorough confusion, but not annoyance. Never annoyance.

“Well, I just-” you sputtered and sighed. You almost wanted to stop talking and give up when Seungcheol stayed quiet on his end and drew the words forward: “It’s so stupid. Sometimes I just- I just feel like that. Like you’re drowning, everywhere you go. You know?”

Your voice was stringent with nervousness, and you picked at your nail, wrapped around the radio in the shallow dark.

“It’s not stupid, sweetheart,” he mumbled. It was amazing to you how gruff and tough Seungcheol turned soothing and caring so fast. The nickname felt like a warm hug, and you almost didn’t register the sound of fabric rustling once more. “I’m coming over.”

“N-No!” you gasped sharply. Your eyes flickered down. Mingyu watched from the floor, eyes glazed over from death. He smelled foul.

“Can you.. Can you just- talk to me?” you whispered helplessly, and Seungcheol quieted down, seemingly weighing your proposal.

“Okay. Okay, sweetheart, I’ll talk to you,” Seungcheol whispered soothingly, and for God’s sake, you didn’t even know what he looked like, but the rasp in his voice, and the comfort and warmth that sung out the speaker of the radio had your heart clenching in your chest. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“Um, I don’t know,” you sniffled. Seungcheol only softened his voice and sat, awake in the middle of the night, comforting you.

“Can I tell you about birds?”

He told you about birds for 45 minutes before you fell asleep (something he had predicted would happen); he told you about how pheasants are known for their striking colors and how they have excellent eyesight; he told you how he saw a nightjar just before going to bed that night, and how they’re incredibly hard to spot; he told you about Barrow’s Goldeneyes, and how they’re the funniest little guys, and he loves them, because they glow purple in the sunlight; he told you about g…

Oh. You must’ve started dozing off. _____________________________

You weren’t sure when it changed, but at some point you looked out the window, and the mountain looked a lot more like yourself.

You were getting better, happier, you were waking up with more energy, you were bubblier. You weren’t entirely sure you could blame it on the park though. For two months you’d had your job and for about two months, every once in a while, you’d radioed Seungcheol at night, and without any question, he’d tell you about birds.

It sounded stupid the more you thought about it, but his voice lulled you into a comfortable sleep even on Mingyu’s most insistent nights.

You’d wake up and patrol your area, then you’d settle back in for a couple of hours, watching out for fire hazards and guests in the park, before you’d patrol one more time. Then you’d go to bed.

This was not the type of job you took to make friends, but somehow Seungcheol had become the reason you woke up everyday. Everyday you looked forward to walking through the woods with his voice on your radio, and you looked forward to making him laugh and him making you laugh.

“Seungcheol, I’ve got eyes on what I’m pretty sure is a Red-breasted Merganser, come in.”

This morning you were up extraordinarily early - for you, that is. You weren’t certain what exactly prompted this early rise (maybe you were finally sleeping right thanks to a certain rough-throated man?), but nonetheless you’d enjoyed the view of dawn along the undergrowth and had eaten half-warm oatmeal in bed with an open book. Now you were bored and craving the attention of your only forest-companion.

Seungcheol didn’t respond like you were expecting though. When the radio crinkled in response, you heard him panting on the other end and thumps, like he was picking it up off the floor.

“That’s… That’s great, Fermata. I’ve gotta get my.. My binoculars out,” he heaved for air and fumbled clumsily with the sensitive mic. You cringed at the sound.

“What are you doing? Why are you so out of breath?” you asked. A twinge of worry slipped out in your tone. Was he okay?

“I’m, uh, working out,” Seungcheol chuckled, and he seemed to finally regain composure, clearing his throat sheepishly. “You’re not usually awake to hear it.”

“You work out every day?”

“Sure do - gotta be prepared to knock out a grizzly,” he grunted.

You leaned back in your seat, a less than amused expression on your face, because a twirling strand of fire danced up your chest and settled into your cheeks. Why was it suddenly so hot? Fire spread across your nerve endings and twinged you red in the apples of your cheeks. You ran your hands over your face to soothe the sizzling.

This was ridiculous, you thought. Seungcheol was not making you blush. You didn’t even know what he looked like! He might as well have had an eye patch and a mohawk. But even as you halfheartedly scrutinized yourself, your thoughts clouded over the idea of sweet, attentive, raspy Seungcheol with big arms and thighs and a sculpted chest and-

“Are you- are you, like, buff?”

The question left your lips before you could stop it. Your voice broke halfway through the sentence and you let go of the button with an embarrassed hiss, like a kettle huffing out air. The embarrassment, that was potent and squeezing at your chest, worsened when you heard Seungcheol’s throaty chuckle on the other end, limp and dry.

“You’re curious today, aren’t you?” he mused then, smirk clear from the tone and pronunciation of the words, and you squeezed your eyes shut because why was his voice and the thought of him and the warmth coming through the radio speaker suddenly bothering you so much?

The truth was you hadn’t masturbated in months. With everything going on, you simply hadn’t felt the urge or the want. But, it occurred to you, now that you were slowly becoming a functioning human once more, the urge was returning hot and fast in your core, and, of course, your only companion with the raspy voice and the attentive words and the apparently muscly body was bringing forth this urge with ease.

You pressed down the urge, taking a deep breath before you pressed the button once more. You were not going to masturbate to the thought of Seungcheol - not Seungcheol who you only knew by voice, who had been nothing but caring and sweet to you. You could not corrupt the preciousness of your companionship with your lewd, depraved thoughts.

“I’m just curious what you look like. Unlike you, stalker, I don’t have binoculars!” That sounded a lot more like the you that had not just gotten wet at the thought of Seungcheol’s bulging muscles.

“Hey! The power of the binoculars is limited. I can only really see your silhouette, nothing fancy,” he defended and then right as you were about to respond, he knocked the wind out of you again: “And yes, I’m pretty buff, if I do say so myself.”

Ugh.

You went the rounds that day and got through another day without having to complete fire protocol, ending out the evening with a pack of instant noodles your family had so graciously sent you (Seungcheol scolded you: “That has no nutrients!”). However each step through the forest and each slurp of noodles and page of your book was plagued by the latent fire inside you. A burning occupied your abdomen fueled by the echoing morning voice of Bay Valley Tower.

By nightfall you gave in. You were only a girl. This didn’t have to change anything, you thought, as the park turned plum purple. You settled into bed in your pajamas, sitting upright against the frail wood wall and letting your hair bunch on the rattling plate of glass. Your eyes moved to and fro, bouncing over the now lived-in cabin and taking in the dark void of the farest corner.

Briefly, you fiddled with your radio in your palm. You could call Seungcheol and- wait, why would you do that? No, no. You packed away that wicked thought - it only served to make you feel more guilty. No, instead you slid down the wall to lay in your pillow, now positive you were alone.

An owl hooted outside and you slipped your hand into your underwear.

It was surprisingly easy to surrender your consciousness to the lust (and you had, God bless your soul, stayed wet throughout the entire day). It clouded you over, as you began rubbing up and down your pussy, ghosting over your clit to dip down to your glazed slit. Your eyes squeezed shut and you conjured your best doll-replica of Seungcheol.

In your dream he was a faceless mist, but he had a carved upper body, and from the fog surrounding his head spewed his voice - dripping in warmth and comfort, as you imagined it was his toned arm reaching between your legs and pumping into you.

Your other hand snaked down to your clit, where your hips canted off the bed. In the whirl of thrusting into yourself and rubbing tight circles in your clit, you realized, lip bitten raw under your prying teeth, that there was no reason to hold back your moans. It was only forest and wasteland for miles - and surely Seungcheol would not hear you in his floating snow globe.

“A-ah, Seungcheol,” you wantonly murmured, burying your head in your pillow and sighing lazily. A flush had crept up your neck, where your chest expanded to allow for air. The pleasure was immense - probably more intense, since it had been quite a while - warmth spreading in your lower stomach and culminating at your throbbing clit. Recklessly, you moaned and thrashed as you fucked yourself on your fingers, hiking towards your orgasm. “Seungcheoool-”

“Y/n?”

You froze.

Maybe you’d imagined it. Still, your fingers were stopped in their tracks, simply resting on the warmth of your folds, itching to continue. You sat up in bed and tried to ward away the creeping panic. Your heart began to gallop to the beat of a siren.

The air had been starched when you finally pulled your hand out of your underwear, hot cheeks and glistening hands all over, when you began searching for the radio.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

You had your back hunched over the edge of the bed, searching for the little yellow receiver, when his voice came again in a thick forest of static. You snapped your head to under your comforter, where the noise was slightly muffled.

In a blurred panic, you threw the comforter off of you and spotted the small radio by your calf, and you scrambled to pick it up. When the dirty plastic touched your cheek, you stopped, sighed a shaky, hot breath, and closed your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine. What’s up?” you let go of the button and cringed at your own disheveledness, the breath and shake in your voice. You pressed your forehead radio-front in a silent prayer.

There was a hesitance to Seungcheol when he spoke next: “... You were calling for me, you sounded in pain?”

This was certainly the worst thing he could’ve said. You would’ve rather he told you he spotted a bear at the foot of your tower, trying to eat you! You must’ve accidentally kicked the radio and hit the button, you decide, and you damn yourself for keeping it in the bed - of course, shit like this would happen!

“I was…-” (If only you were a better liar), “- pranking you…”

Seungcheol huffed out in amusement on the other end and you wanted to jump off the railing to the lookout tower and break your neck. “You were pranking me?”

You gulped with a decidedly dry mouth. “It was a bear attack prank.”

Seungcheol was smiling: “Yeah?”

You were not: “Yeah.”

There was an entropic silence, where you thoughts came rambled and pleading in your head: Please, just let this go, please, just let this go, let’s pretend it never happened, let’s-

“You wanna know what I think you were doing?”

Seungcheol’s voice had dropped an octave. The smile in his voice was gone and there was something menacing and commanding about him now. In the moment, overcome with a cocktail of guilt and shame, you could not discern if this was anger or lust - the first seemed fitting.

“I think you were fucking your little fingers thinkin’ about me,” he hummed and in response you whined and squeezed your eyes shut. The shame encapsulated you. “Shh, shh, calm down, I’m not mad, honey.”

Blinking through rapidly forming tears, you opened your eyes to stare, dumbfounded, at the radio (as if it were Seungcheol and you were not several miles apart). “Really?”

“Not mad at all. Jus’ think you should’ve told me if you wanted my help,” he tutted on his end and, God, he was so nurturing and comforting and he knew it, and it was so sexy. Your pussy, which had vaguely throbbed from the negligence throughout, was now screaming for your attention, hole clenching sadly around nothing.

“I thought you wouldn’t want-”

“You’re crying again, baby,” he must’ve noted from the hoarseness of your voice and the sniffles that accompanied every syllable.

“Just want you so bad,” you sobbed, now shamelessly slipping your hand back into your underwear and sighing dazedly in relief when you touched it again.

“Need Seungcheol to take care of you, huh?” The smile in his voice was back.

“Yeah.”

“Bet you don’t want me talking about birds now, hm?” he chuckled (at his own joke), voice low and raspy. “Are you touching that pretty pussy?”

“Mhmm,” you responded lazily, floating high on the sound of his voice and jolts of electricity they sent as you worked up a pace on your clit once more. The pain of the interruption ebbed away.

“Good girl, hm?” He knew. “Getting off to the sound of my voice, eh? Don’t even know what I look like.”

“Hng- k-know you’re b-buff,” you gritted out, voice coming in sharp breaths. Your body moved languidly, back arching off the bed and hair coming out in choppy strands on your pillow. Seungcheol scoffed out a laugh: “Like knowing I could just fold you in half? Fuck you into tomorrow? Hm?”

You let out a loud, dumb whine of his name. It was a total inability to get over his words; how melodious it was, and yet, how contradictory the smoothness of his words were to the strained nature of his thrumming voice. And the worst of it all was how confident he was - you supposed hearing someone else masturbate to you would be a confidence boost - and how the arrogance swelled out in the most comforting, nurturing way. Each word felt like a hand on your body, like a caress that sent shivers down your spine.

“Fuck, princess, say my name like that again. Please.”

“Seungcheol!” you obliged mindlessly, legs shaking on either side of your glistening hand.

“Shit, I-” he grunted, and you heard a fumbling of fabrics on his end. Your nerves spun in excitement at the thought of him getting hard at your voice. “Can you put two fingers in the pretty pussy - it’ll feel like one of mine, baby.”

You cried out when your fingers entered yourself, pads of your fingertips rubbing against your walls. Outside of the windows, the park was an empty wasteland of mauve and orchid, and the Fermata lake was brilliantly alive and dipping under the three-quarter-moon.

“Wish it was your pussy wrapped around my cock right now,” he grunted, and he’d lost breath and composure and if you knew what his face looked like, you would imagine it sweaty and twisted up and a red-lipped ‘o’ letting the jaw slack.

Resuming your earlier motions (double-handing your own kitty), you felt your orgasm lurking in the pit of your stomach, a tight-wound knot being ripped apart. You were panting into the cool air, creating silver-clouds in your tower-home. “A-ah, want you inside me so bad, Cheol- shit! Gonna- gonna cum-”

“Yeah? You gonna cum thinking about my cock inside you baby? Thinkin’ about me just bouncing you up and down like my little fuckdoll?” His speech ended in the prettiest moan you’d ever heard, and you imagined every well-defined, flexed muscle under the moonlight and the thought had your whole body jerking and shaking and when you closed your eyes the stars stayed with you, white and glimmering under your eyelid.

The strangled moans of your orgasm sent Seungcheol over the edge - at least from what you could tell. His dirty talk turned into strings of curses and moans and grunts until the radio went dead, and all you could hear was your own labored breaths and the faraway hooting of a horned owl.

The silence flatlined the excitement into nervousness. Your lip was almost automatically caught in your teeth and you glanced over the radio beside you through your lashes.

Oh shit. What the fuck had you done?

“Uh, did you-” the smell of sweat shot up as you shuffled in your sheet to grab the radio once more. “Did you, uh, cum?”

Oh fuck. You just made it way worse.

The silence from the radio was much louder than any response, but when the receiver did finally crinkle with static, the sound of laughter exploded from it.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me, BV,” you scolded, but you were smiling and relief flooded you like water overflows Fermata Lake during heavy downpour.

“I’m sorry,” he hiccuped on the other end. “It’s just-.. ‘DID YOU CUM?’”

“Alright, I’m going to bed now. You suck,” you quacked, and even though you were alone you thought to suppress the gentle tugging at your lips into a sharky smile.

“DID YOU CUM?”

He sounded pretty when he laughed. _____________________________

“I can’t believe I have to hike down here to confiscate some fireworks.”

Your grumble came from the forest beside Fermata Lake. You were walking down a patch of dirt revealed from years’ of trampling feet, dewy sprigs of grass arching into the mud. A group of (presumably) teenagers were firing fireworks down near the edge of your assigned territory.

“They’re a fire hazard!” Seungcheol squawked obviously, and you huffed in your boots, preparing to climb down a rocky slope.

“I know that! It’s just everywhere - the website, the signs - don’t use fireworks!” you complained. Seungcheol hummed absently on the other line: “Go teach those suckers a lesson, Fermata!”

“I will,” you said, agitated.

“Just don’t fuck with their personal belongings. Last thing we need is a lawsuit. Again.”

“I won’t,” you said, deflated.

Even in your most angered moments, you could hand yourself over to the gentle forest. No longer were you protruding into a bubble, straining to get through a barrier that was urging you out, but you were absorbed into it, like you were one of its own.

The forest was lush with pines and brown and green moss painting bark and rocks, and the grass leapt higher than your knees, as you trudged further and further in.

SWOOOOSH!

A firework propelled into the sky about 100 meters away, and you watched its ignited trails of smoke before it exploded into a fest of sparkling blue and gold. You huffed out in anger at the sight. The sky wasn’t even fully dark - it was merely a muted blue evening.

“Did you see that?” Seungcheol came from the radio-speaker.

“Yeah, I’m right with them.”

As you padded closer the smell of wet pine cones and coltsfoot accompanied the sound of distant voices - indeed, they sounded juvenile. You could make out at least two girls and at least one boy, although their voices were hard to distinguish, the way they echoed in between the grid of trees.

“Hey!” you yelled, as you creeped just close enough. Their voices hushed and you saw their frightened faces lit by handheld, Target-bought flashlights when you peeled back the screen of a bramblebush. They were gathered together amongst a tent, flashlight lighting the plates of the faces ablaze in cool white.

“Cut it out with the fireworks, alright?” you huffed and your anger melted a little when you saw that they were indeed just kids - maybe 19? They seemed to have nothing to say, and so you scanned the beer cans and the scattered backpacks and finally caught sight of a bundle of rockets in the grass. Your brows furrowed, and you picked it up with a sternness.

“Hey, that’s ours!” one kid chimed, but he made no move to stop you, really, as you trudged angrily back to the bush you had come from.

“Not as long as you’re in our park, man. It’s a fire hazard.”

“We’ll take them back home-”

“Goodnight!” The desperate plea fell on deaf, tired ears. You just wanted to eat dinner, so you disappeared out on a trail of pine needles and valiantly ignored the trail of curses and insults following you. You could care less.

“I got the fireworks, Seungcheol,” you sighed tiredly and your eyes were dark pits and your face was relaxed, if only to conservative energy.

“Good job, Fermata.”

You were not in the talking mood. Maybe Seungcheol could tell by your tone of voice; maybe he could hear it in your sigh; but Seungcheol piped up again: “You know, if you need some energy for the hike back, there’s a supply box - uhh, 52? - if you head upwards instead of towards Fermata Lake.”

You wanted to be grumpy, you really did, but the thought of a salivating, expired, delicious, out-of-date granola bar had you changing course to the slowly gaining hill of the forest.

It was weird. This was probably the closest you’d ever been to Seungcheol’s tower. Under the prickly cover of pine some mile in the distance, you could see a glowing square, perched over the treetops by long, wooden pillars, support beams crossing the middle. You couldn’t help but wanna go up to it. There had been an unbearable magnetic pull to his tower ever since that night however long ago. You decided to stay the course for Supply Box 52.

“I can practically see you from here,” you commented, and the tower was becoming a beacon as the evening mulled darker and darker by the minute.

“Really? Hang on,” he did not let go of the radio-button, and so you had the pleasure of listening to the ruffling of fabrics and thumps on the floor. “Can you see me flexing in the window?”

“You’re such a dork,” you laughed, and the sound bounced off the pines and traveled up to the rock of the nearby Aluralura Mountain. “No, I’m not quite that close.”

“Damn it!”

“Yeah, it‘s a real shame,” you muttered, smiling, and then you caught sight of the supply box up ahead. The hill flattened out once more (to which you breathed a sigh of relief) and the box was perched on the edge facing the path that began onto the cliffs. This was Seungcheol’s territory - cliff sides and all. “I think I see Supply Box 52.”

“Open that bad boy up.”

You entered the code, scrolling the mechanisms one by one until the numbers read 1-2-3-4 (you still thought this combination was ridiculous), and when you opened the lid it creaked horribly, worn from the weather.

The wind was harsh that day, and a note, identical to the one you’d found at Eleison Valley, broke off its tape from the mean pushes of the wind. Instinctively, you grabbed it as it started to fly off, and your hand closed around it and crinkled it under your fingers. You looked at it with knitted brows.

Wordlessly, you tucked it in between your side and your arm, redirecting your attention to the goodies in the supply box. 52 held a rope and a map and another directory for supply boxes and, to your exhausted delight, a box of grandma-looking caramels. You took the whole thing and stuffed it into your bag.

As you shuffled, you put the note between your lips, stuffing the plastic container of gold-wrapped, sugary candies in between your rope and your own map and a coat for possible rain. When you zipped it up, the fabric of the bag warped grotesquely to fit the various items you’d brought.

You pulled the note back out from your lips. A small wet patch of spit lingered on the paper, as you unfolded it.

It read:

‘Hey Seungcheol,

If you find this, I gotta go be with my mom now. I’ll miss you forever.

From Jun.’

The wind blew kisses on your back like the presence of a ghost.

“You find anything good?” Seungcheol’s voice peeked through the static of the radio. It had been quiet for a while. You couldn’t take your eyes off the letter. The ink was smudged and slurred.

“Uh, caramels, actually,” you said, eyes dancing over each slope of ‘forever’. “Like, granny caramels.”

You put the letter away. _____________________________

A week later and you were looking out of the window at pouring rain. The sky was smothered by a duvet of dark gray clouds, and the rain was coming harder than you’d ever seen. It was like thousands of bullets pelting into the ground and turning it soft and muddy, and the drops hit your roof like the nonstop click of a keyboard.

"Rainy season, huh?” your mouth was to the radio.

“Yeah. We’re gonna be staying up all night to watch out for lightning. Fire hazard.”

“Shit, I should make coffee.”

“I’m way ahead of you.”

The lightning came and thunder followed. The sound was enormous and terrifying. It grumbled like a hungry beast and the sound bounced off of every mountain-wall and echoed from all sides. You felt very small, wrapped up in a blanket at your desk, a steaming cup of coffee by your side and your fire extinguisher evacuated from its holder to stand beside you, all red and shiny aluminum and rubber nozzle.

“Did that look like it hit a tree?” you asked after seeing a zig-zagging bolt of lightning hanging a little too low over the crowns. Your voice was louder than usual - this night was a game of overpowering the screaming rain. It was some 1 AM.

“Uhhhhh, shit. Maybe. We’d see the fire, but it’s possible it’s at the root.”

“Fuck,” you whispered. “Was that yours or my area?”

“Uhhhhh-”

“I’m gonna check it out.”

Determined, you let the radio fall on the table, as you fumbled for another sweater. The knitted fabric slipped over your other sweater, and then you were wrapping yourself up in your raincoat.

“Maybe I should go - it’s slippery right now, it’s dangerous as fuck. You could fall and hit your head, you know. I think it was closer to me anyway, so--”

“Seungcheol, I already have my coat on, I’m going!”

And indeed you were going, despite the grumbled protests of Seungcheol. Your coat blew in the hurricane wind as you stood atop the cliff, looking down at the cascading water, that’d all race down to the sinkhole that was Fermata Lake. Through the clouds, there were no stars to trade glances with, not even ghosts.

You fought headwind the entire way, your hair flowing wildly and your coat threatening to unbutton at the will of the blasts. The ground under your rainboots had become mud and the further you trudged into the forest, the more the mud crept up your yellow shoe, slinging over you like liquid ropes.

“I’m going down the drop off again!” you were screaming to overpower the wind, radio to your mouth before you dropped it into your pocket and retrieved your bag to regather your rope.

“Be careful!” Seungcheol commandeered bitterly, muffled from your pocket. “It’s slippery as shit! Radio me immediately when you’re down, so I know you’re okay.”

Even as your face grew wet and sore from the whipping rain, you scoffed. A gloved hand shoved into your pocket, brought the radio back up to your red lips: “Stop being such a pussy!”

“Say yes, Y/n!”

You rolled your eyes. “Aye, aye.”

“... I’ll take that, asshole.”

Wet as a wipe, you slung your rope over the hook and prepared it in a slew of motions you’d by now memorized. Although, you noted your movements were awkward, somewhat impaired by the layers of fabric that encased you. Stubborn, you stood before the hook, grabbed onto the rope, and began walking backwards.

Your booted foot curled around the edge of the cliffside, and with the tightened rope you began your careful horizontal walk. Raindrops pelted your face like a clenched fist, but you only blinked away the water and tried to focus on stepping carefully down the side of the rockface.

KRRRRRRRRKKKKKK!

You screamed girlishly when your rope snapped from the hook, and you watched it come flying out over the ledge, before you realized, horrifically, you were already falling.

It was barely a second, just one blurry image of the weeping sky, before you were on the ground, groaning in pain. A pulsing ache creeped up your spine, and you twisted your body in the mud to put the weight on your side. You sighed into the mud, dirt on your squished cheek.

The rain was uncaring of your unfortunate situation, as you laid pathetically in the dirt, body scrunching up like an elastic, while your shadow was cast by sudden bursts of lightning. Panting, you pushed yourself up by your arms and felt blindly for your-

Where was your radio?

Your pocket was deflated and empty, and you scrambled in the dirt, desperately, pushing yourself up completely to scan the area. You noted how the pain subsided into a small, dwindling soreness, thanking whatever God for your layers of clothing and the softness of the earth.

There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision, aided by another strike of lightning atop Aluralura Mountain. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side.

“Hello? Seungcheol?”

There was no static to indicate your message had been relayed, and the usual red digital numbers telling you what channel you were on was gone, a simple, black screen remaining, mirroring your muddied face, twisted in anguish.

“Fuck this,” you hissed, standing up on two legs. You looked back up to where your lookout tower was still ablaze, a yellow box in the heights. The rope was fucked. You had to go down anyway. Huffing, you started walking.

You marched through the undergrowth, crossing through unpathed forest to reach the destination. It was near a hollow marked on your map, and so the expedition, although scarier, more empty and dark without Seungcheol's warm voice, was mild.

Wet petals brushed your face from rows of bushes, and even through your gloves the cold left your fingertips numb. You sniffled in the dark.

You found the hollow, then you found the tree. There was, indeed, ash going up the side of it, seemingly stemming from a smaller bush in the clearing, but the fire had been long put out by the insistent rain, and partially you felt disappointment that you’d trekked all the way out here, only for there to be no real danger.

Heavier than ever, you turned your gaze to the glowing hut in the distance.

You almost wanted to go back to your own hut, to turn your back to Seungcheol’s glowing tower and forget this ever happened. The anticipation of seeing him - of him seeing you - was a tall wall to overcome. But, you realized, not only was his tower closer; you also needed help.

Your radio was fucked, your rope was fucked and moreover, you needed to be sure you hadn’t done irreparable damage to your back. With water dripping over the ledge of your hood, you began walking towards Seungcheol.

Rainwater cascaded off the edge of the trees and the consistent dashed dots looked like tiny glass orbs in the light of Bay Valley Tower. It was intensely quiet for a while - it seemed like every bush-tailed critter of the forest had scuttered away to hide from the rain and the echoing growling of the sky.

“Y/n!”

You were so tired you almost could’ve missed it. Each layer of fabric weighed you down and the dirt smearing your cheeks and hands and fabrics could’ve melted you right into the earth. But indeed, a voice - so familiar it almost hurt - was calling to you in the dead of night.

“Seungcheol?” your first call was not a call, but a whisper, as you peered into the thick grooves of the forest. Then, your senses returned to you and you screamed as loud as you could: “Seungcheol!”

“Y/n!”

You and Seungcheol called for each other, syllables echoing off the huge, towering presence Aluralura Mountain. Getting closer and then closer, and then you could see the figure of another raincoated person, shaded by a hood.

“Y/n? Oh, thank God!” He ran to you, swimming in the rubber of his red coat and pink lips peeking over the closed hood.

It was a little paralyzing. He was so beautiful, you didn’t even know which speck of his shadowed face to look at. Tan, wet skin and big eyes from which the longest, blackest lashes you’d ever seen sprung. Most notable were his fuzzy, blocky eyebrows sitting over his brown eyes, fine wrinkles springing from the corners (you’d like to think you’d helped create some of those). His lips were big and bright and pouty, but it was wiped away when he smiled at the sight of you, and you could die, because a dimple indented itself in his cheek at the motion.

“Are you okay?” his smile faded when you said nothing, only stared at him, and then stared at where his thick fingers wrapped around your arm. He leaned into you and God, you hadn’t seen him before this very moment, and now he was leaning over you and he was so close and he smelled like pinewood, and you were pretty sure you smelt exactly the same.

You lowered yourself from your daze, trying to follow the pattering of rain atop both of your hoods. “Uh,” you gulped, finding his eyes, “yeah, I jus’... I thought you were joking when you said you weren’t white.”

His laugh. His laugh was even prettier in person and it had the same rasp and the same disapproving hint to it that it had had at all your other jokes. “You’re unbelievable, you know that, Fermata?”

“Bird watching is crazy, man.”

He smiled and studied your face for a moment, still leaned over you and thoroughly ignoring the rain and the thunder and the dirt on your boots. Then the smile faded, just a little: “What happened to your radio?”

“Oh- oh my God! Do you- do you remember my first day? The drop off! I fuckin’- fell down, my rope came undone on the hook! My radio was knocked the fuck out, it was crazy, I’m gonna need a new one-”

“Are you okay? You fell?” Seungcheol’s strong eyebrows became furrowed and the sight was so utterly mesmerizing to you. You waved him off: “I’ll be fine, please, I just want to get out of this weather.”

Seungcheol did not seem to entirely believe you, but nonetheless he grabbed your hand - in his own rough, used one - and started leading you upwards (“If I don’t hold your hand, how can I be sure you don’t fall down another drop off?”).

Time was not as agonizingly slow by his size, and the tower seemed to propel towards you and the hands on your wristwatch seemed to move backwards. Not before long, you were climbing up the stairway with Seungcheol’s iron fist on your wrist, so as to prevent you from falling down something else (you had a feeling that he would not let this go).

“I’m gonna make us some tea,” grumbled Seungcheol when you arrived.

“Yes, please,” you murmured. Your coat was folded beside you, starry raindrops soaking into a blanket thrown over his bed.

It was warm in Seungcheol’s tower house - he had half a brain to put an electric heater in the corner of the room, unlike you - and it was only the sudden embrace of warmth that had you looking out into the park and realizing you would have frozen to death if you’d stayed.

There was a warm glow from a naked bulb in the ceiling (you guessed Seungcheol had put it up himself), an old rug full of sand-corns, and a shelf with various books. Seungcheol also had a small kitchen, a desk and a bed, just like you. The layout was exactly the same, but sitting down on Seungcheol’s bed, you noted he must’ve made some alterations. Your fingers pulled at the white of the mattress - it was his own and it was much softer.

When the electric kettle (a rusted, iron old thing) was cooking, Seungcheol turned to you sheepishly and unzipped his coat. You waited in secret anticipation for his supposedly smoking-hot bod, but were disappointed to see another sweater underneath it.

Seungcheol stopped the kettle and took two large mugs from his cupboard. These, he placed on a carved tray (you thought he might have made it himself from pinewood), and then from a small, wooden tea box on his countertop, he produced two bright yellow tea packets, which he gently placed in the mugs. Then he poured in the water, steam traveling up to open his pores and whatnot.

“Do you want anything in yours?” he asked, not really looking.

“Uhm. No, no, thank you,” your hands were folded in your lap.

He only grunted in response and left one tea untouched, then took a clear, plastic container of honey from an array of unrefrigerated condiments, and squirted half the bottle into his tea. He sniffled when he was done, grabbing the tray and turning to you. Tonight, Seungcheol was uncharacteristically nervous.

“Can you-?”

“Hm?”

“That little- little table over there-”

“What?”

“Can you grab it?- For- for the tray?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

The tea sat on the tray and the tray sat on the foldable table and you and Seungcheol sat before them on the edge of his bed. You took the hefty mug in your hand and took a slurp, looking over at him from the rim. Seungcheol looked at you awkwardly. He did not move for his tea.

“I should take a look at your back,” he said.

“What? Why?” you quacked disapprovingly. “You fell on it,” Seungcheol reminded you.

You shook your head silently. “I like your hut. It’s way better than mine.”

“I’ve been here longer,” Seungcheol shrugged. You looked at him and he seemed displeased - this would not have been a big deal were you speaking to him on the radio, but his aura was much more commanding in person - something about his eyes, you thought. You had to look away, settling on your mug again (there was a cartoon dog on it).

“I suppose that’s true,” you murmured. Seungcheol stared into the side of your face and his obvious concern for you weighed down at your muscles.

A gentle pause where rain pattered his roof.

“Are you okay?”

You glanced over, nervously: “Tired.”

He bit his lip: “Maybe I should’ve made coffee... Can we put instant coffee in tea?”

“Seungcheol, I wanted to ask you something,” you said and put your mug down on the tray again with a small ‘clink’. Seungcheol rubbed his hands over his trouser-clad thighs, nodding, maybe more nervous than you. The warm glow of the bulb made him even prettier and all was warm and dry in the hut, even though rain was falling down in thick curtains just outside by the troughs. “It’s just..” you began, “you’ve been so avoidant about this.. Jun guy..”

Seungcheol’s sigh interrupted you before you could finish: “He was just the guy that worked here before you.”

“I found another letter.”

Seungcheol’s furrowed expression softened and he looked at you with big, glassy brown eyes, hidden under a waft of choppy bangs. What was that in the shine of his pupil? Fear? Vulnerability? Sadness?

“It was about- it said he was gonna go be with his mother and that- that he would miss you,” you explained and your voice was snotty and throaty, and your eyes averted to a folded napkin beside a half-eaten slice of bread. A fly circulated it hungrily.

Seungcheol’s lips made a tight line, dimples poking out pathetically. He cleared his throat and you heard the strain in his vocal chords once more (and it was so real because there he was - right beside you).

“Me and Junhui came here together. We’d just finished college and we didn’t want-.. We didn’t want to be adults yet. Like, an office job, wife and kids,” he began and there was a tremor about Seungcheol tonight. “I don’t think he was made for a job like this though. I think the loneliness got to him.. Think he just lived with it ‘cause he could tell I liked it.”

You nodded along until he wasn’t speaking anymore. Then a thick silence absorbed the two of you, a patch of moss drowned in the downpour.

“His mom was dead, so..” he whispered. Tears gathered at his waterline like a string of stars. “So, yeah, he went to.. To be with her.”

“I’m so sorry, Seungcheol,” you whispered and the echoing whispers of the storm bouncing off the rock faces of Aluralura mountain beckoned your hand onto his woolen sleeve. “I had no idea.”

“They never found his body, you know? He’s just out there, somewhere,” both you and Seungcheol turned your heads out to the pitch black expanse of the massive park. Your mind wandered to every crook and crevice you’d seen out there, wondering if a dead body had hidden behind a quarry rock. “Fuckin’ terrified I’ll find him one day. Just… Rotten.”

You didn’t know what to say. What do you say? Even though you’d stood in a similar situation - losing a friend - you couldn’t find anything that could ease his pain, the pain that was now tinting the light blue and dulling the sound of the rain. The whole room was pulsating. Luckily, it seemed Seungcheol had something more to say. You watched his lips pucker as the words tried to leave his tongue, then watched them draw back.

“He used to.. He used to say this thing. It reminded me so much of what you- you said that night about, uhm, your friend’s friend. He used to say that- that sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and he’d just be.. Totally.. Convinced that he was at the bottom of Fermata Lake and he was drowning,” Seungcheol’s voice broke one too many times and his jaw clenched. “God, I was so worried. Jus’ thought I couldn’t- I couldn’t be the reason that happened again.”

“I…” A tear slipped down your face and your hand left Seungcheol’s arm to wipe it, furiously.He turned to you pitifully, the broad width of his shoulders hanging low. “I’m sorry- you weren’t meant to feel that way-”

“It’s okay. I wanted to help,” Seungcheol grabbed your hands in his, a deep frown on his lips.

You stopped the tears, face burning hot and wet when you looked up at him again, calmed. His thumbs stroked over the backs of your hands. The pads were rough and beaten.

“Y’know it was sort of the same for me,” you said. Seungcheol waited for you to talk patiently and with a small, encouraging smile, as warmth streamed from his hands into yours.

“Yeah, my- uh roommate - best friend - died. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how I found him, like, his hand was just outstretched towards- towards the wall to my room, and he must’ve just lied there while his heart was giving out and I wasn’t there-... And I found him the next morning like that and I thought he was asleep and I left him there. Again. And I just can’t stop seeing him everywhere and for a while I was afraid that he would move, you know, like, start crawling towards me or some shit, but I think now I’m actually more afraid that he’ll never move. I think that’s the joke or whatever, he just won’t move, he’ll just be there the way I left him- and I guess- I guess, I thought I could find some sort of higher purpose out here, but I just can’t.. I feel more as though.. Like, it was these things that took him away from me, these fundamental parts of- existence. Like all the cliffs have evil faces and they want to take me too, and maybe I did want them to take me, but not- not anymore. I don’t know if that makes any sense?”

You peered up at Seungcheol through your lashes, wet and heavy. He was frowning, hands gripping yours tighter.

“You don’t want them to take you anymore?” he asked quietly. You shook your head. “How so?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it has much to do with me or the park. I think-” you gaze flitted to Seungcheol and he smiled knowingly. You scoffed and smiled too.

Although you both were fully clothed (Seungcheol annoyingly so), it felt as if all the layers had been stripped away one by one; sweaters and trousers, skin and meat and bones. All there was left were two brightly glowing hearts in front of one another.

“It’s okay,” he whispered then. “You don’t have to say it.”

You rolled your eyes: “I think it’s because of you.”

He grinned, wrinkles crinkling the corners of his eyes and cheeks bunching up in shiny, red fat. You poorly suppressed your own grin and the two of you leaned into each other when your eyes hooked, laughing into each other's shoulders.

“You’re so dumb,” you complained, forehead scratching against the stiff, knitted threads in Seungcheol’s shirt.

“I think- I think we both jus’ get dumber together,” you could feel his smile into your neck and the hot stream of air that bounced against the skin.

Right as you were about to pull away, Seungcheol’s arms wrapped around your back and pushed you back into him. You giggled at the motion, but with little thought your own arms wrapped around his back too, and your knees clashed where they met.

“Seungcheol?” your voice was muffled by his neck. His only response was hum, that ruminated from deep in his throat right by your ear. You pulled away until you were staring at his face.

Each thick stroke of eyebrow hair, each long, black eyelash and each mole dotted on his softly aging skin was crystal clear then. Your hands wrapped around his biceps and felt your heart buzz at their pronounced carvings under the wool. Seungcheol smiled down at you in a sort of adoring way.

“I think-” you began, then felt stupid, then felt idiotic and cowardly. “I don’t know- I think we should kiss now?”

It came out as more of a question than a statement.

Seungcheol gravelled a laugh and his eyes became all squinty and he pursed his lips as if it concealed his amusement in any way at how you squirmed beneath him and your face heated up.

“I think you’re right,” he nodded and you could barely register the feeling of joy that exploded in your chest, before Seungcheol’s pillowy lips crashed into yours at the same instance as a crack of thunder.

The lightning was a flickering show to the performance of yours and Seungcheol’s passionate kiss. His lips molded to yours and yours to his, warm and chapped and your hands couldn’t help but wrap around the soft planes of his cheeks - to pull him further, to keep him with you.

Seungcheol grappled for your hips, and you moaned in a sort of discombobulated agreement, as he, with shocking ease, pulled you into his lap. His hands on your body, stroking and pressing into the meat, left a burning ghostly trail behind it.

“Can I be honest?” you mumbled in between bitten kisses and panted breaths. “You’re hotter than I imagined.”

Seungcheol smiled into the kiss at that: “You too, baby. Now you get the real thing, hm? After fucking your sweet pussy thinking about me?”

You whined in response, hips canting down into his and head dropping into the warm crook of his neck. You licked mindlessly at the skin, rolling your hips into his. Seungcheol groaned and steel hands halted your eager core.

“Desperate so quick?” he quirked, and you cried out because how could even begin to describe how hot it was that he could entirely still your movements so nonchalantly? You swallowed before you tilted your head from the safety of his neck.

“I have waited so fucking long for your cock, Cheol. I need it inside me now,” you said seriously, and it was his turn to swallow the rising viscous in his throat, before he nodded and pushed you off his lap to remove his trousers.

You saw the way the metal of the belt reflected the light, as he (almost angrily) began journeying it off his middle, and you took the hint, beginning to discard your clothes. Your first sweater fell to the floor, then the next followed, and then you were stomping the floor to rid your soaked trousers. Another article of clothing that was soaked - your panties! And embarrassingly so, you thought, watching the slick, wet patch as you lowered the material to the floor.

Only then did your attention return to Seungcheol, now fully naked in his hut with windows on all sides, and you audibly gasped.

His torso was one huge slab of muscle and meat. The skin was relatively pale, pronounced pecs and his arms were like tree trunks at his sides. His thighs were fucking huge, indentations of muscles peering through his skin, as he impatiently worked his boxers off.

He halted though at your gasp, smirking cockily before returning to his work.

“Is it as good as you imagined when you came thinkin’ ‘bout me?” he muttered as his boxers slid down his calf. Too busy staring at his girthy, leaking cock sprouting between his legs, you neglected to answer and Seungcheol continued in a deliberately raspy tone: “Jus’ thinking about your pretty moans, my cock’s aching for you, princess. You’re not gonna come warm it up, beautiful?”

“Yes-” you stumbled over a treacherous boot, “yes, I am!”

“Good girl,” Seungcheol rumbled, bemused, as your knees floundered into the mattress and back into his lap. Seungcheol seemed to have other plans, however, because as soon as you had found your footing, and his warm hands were sliding up your back and his neck was craned up to you, breath hitting your breasts, he raised you and flipped you over, so you were digging into the mattress and he was above you. The shadows only served to define the chisel of his arms further.

His hand slid down your soft thighs, settling in between your legs to run two fingers through your folds.

“Your pussy is so pretty,” he whispered, somewhat mesmerized at the slick coating his fingertips. You squirmed impatiently and he shushed you, ever so gently: “Shh, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

Immediately following up on his promise, the two fingers snaked down to your sensitive, pulsing hole, prodding gently. You wiggled and whined, one of your hands (which had been gripping his bedsheets) stopped him at the wrist. He stopped, eyes flitting up to your flushed, shiny face questioningly.

“I wan’ your cock now. No prep,” you scowled, strands of hair sticking out messily. Seungcheol frowned.

“I need to-”

“I’m wet enough, please, been thinkin’ ‘bout this since-..” you cut yourself off with a frustrated sigh, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile at how fucked out you were already, so precious, all beautiful and naked and womanly.

“You sure?” he asked, voice matching the depth of the thunder. You nodded eagerly: “Please, please-”

“Okay,” he murmured, sticky hand leaving your burning pussy in favor of pressing it against the underside of your thigh. At the command of his strong hands, your body folded in half and the realization of your position had you crying out pathetically. “Anything for my beautiful baby.”

My. His. The word choice had you clenching around nothing, all spread out for him while he lined his pretty, red cock up with your entrance.

“Gonna feel real full in a minute, yeah?” he said absently, watching intently at how your pretty pussy was splayed out and ready and aching for him, mind reeling at the sight of you and the smell of you and how you felt under his hands.

And suddenly it was there - a mountain of pressure building around the head of his cock as it pushed inside, bursting when he pushed in a little further, until he was fully nestled inside. Seungcheol was not unaffected, body curling over yours animalistically with a deep, throaty groan. You, too, had to squirm and moan wantonly, as your body shone under the bulb.

“You’re so tight, pretty,” Seungcheol managed, face scrunched up, as his pelvis met your pubic bone. His hands gripped your shaking legs once more, fully folding you in half and you cried as the movement invited him further inside, feeling him brush the spongy spot inside you.

“Feel s’good!” you moaned, even as he hadn’t moved yet, and Seungcheol’s hands squeezed you in response.

Experimentally (perhaps fearful, as you had rushed into it without preparation), Seungcheol thrust shallowly and was pleased at your broken cry, so he did it again and then again, and then he was building up a rhythm and your sultry moans were slipping through the cracks of the hut and bouncing off the walls of Aluralura mountain and echoing twenty times over.

There was nothing sweet about the pace of Seungcheol’s hips. He was pistoning in and out with an impressive agility, huffing over your folded body. It was desperation; the way your nails raked over his back and his sloping arms, and sweet, little whimpers and your pussy choking his cock.

“Sweetest, prettiest-” he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, stomach caving inwards and clenching. “Fuck, cutest, little princess being stuffed full of my cock.”

“Love your cock,” you babbled, “Love- love your cock, love you.”

The words slipped out as if they were nothing, but their meaning was solidified by your raking hand sneaking up to his neck and pulling him down into another sloppy kiss. Tongues melding and spit trickling down your chin as he hummed into your mouth in the most wonderful way.

“Love you, too. Pretty, funny, sweet girl-”

“A-ah, ‘m gonna cum soon,” you warned, voice nothing but a breath, and your face pleasured, scrunched up in the dead of night. Your stomach was a well of pressure.

“I know, baby, I know. Squeezing me so tight,” he soothed, hands running up and down the plush underside of your thighs, as his hips continued their unrelenting pace. “Come on, cum on my cock.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Seungcheol-” a string of curses and his name followed as your pussy clenched one last hard time and your cum seeped out around his thick, veiny length.

Holding his own orgasm at bay, he clenched his jaw and gritted out: “Where d’you want my cum?”

“Inside!” you mewled, overstimulated and sore, and legs still pressed to your chest, clammy and slick.

Seungcheol would’ve made a snarky remark was he not already cumming at your words, white seed painting your insides and spilling out around his softening length. He thrust a couple more times, relishing in the sounds of your fucked-out moans before he’d emptied himself, and he dropped down beside you.

Due to the nature of a one-person bed, you and Seungcheol were both pressed close to one another, covered in sweat. Your panting, huffing breaths synchronized and you stared into each other's eyes, all wild and blushed.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, brought back to reality by a distant calling owl. You were still in the park, you realized - not some other pleasure dimension like one may have thought. Seungcheol smiled giddily.

You looked out into the wasteland, and your eyelids and limbs (draping over Seungcheol’s big, pretty body) were suddenly heavy. You yawned.

“D’you think we have to stay up anymore?”

Seungcheol watched you gauging the pinelands with starry eyes. “You can go to bed,” he offered gently, “I’ll stay up and make sure the storm’s over.”

“Are you sure?” you mumbled, but you were already settling into the domes of his chest, closing your eyes. Seungcheol looked at you and thought you were adorable.

“Yeah.”

“Can you stay here?”

“Yeah.”

“Can your dick stay inside me?”

This prompted a laughter blooming all the way from his chest, where your cheek bunched up against the skin. His arm was wrapped around your back.

“Sure, baby.”

You mumbled something like ‘okay’ or ‘good’ or ‘thank you’, and you drifted off into sleep with his arms around you, and when Seungcheol was certain the storm had passed, he nuzzled his head into your hair and dozed off himself.

At the swimming red sky of dawn, your eyes pried open to see Seungcheol already awake, still wrapped around you.

Nonchalantly (that is to say: as if your chest was not bursting with glee), you nodded your head over to the window behind him:

“Is that not a black-billed cuckoo?!”

And Seungcheol thought that maybe you and him could find birds together elsewhere too.

#svt smut #seventeen smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #seungcheol angst #svt angst #seventeen angst #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol smut #svt x you #seventeen x you #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n #angst #smut

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small-sinclair · 4 months

Text

Snow and Rose

An idea by @violettelune

Reformed!Johnny Slaughter x fem!reader

Welcomed readers: @sup-im-blue

Tw: mention of blood and death, him being a dad, mainly his pov, just something fluffy, not prof-read

He woke up to another nightmare. Johnny dreamt that he found you dead in the sunflower field, your blood stained on his hands, lifeless eyes looking up. Then he heard his daughter crying in the distance. No matter how fast he ran towards her cries, he was never close enough. He was never there in time. It always ended with Nancy standing over the crib and a wicked smile on her face.

“Freed ya, Johnny. Now you can come home,” she would say. “Now you come back home. Come home.”

At his feet, barbed wire and chains wrapped around his legs and arms, pulling him to the ground. He felt roots sewing him to the wooden floor into front of his mother as he looked upon her and her smile. He felt chainsaw blades strangling him as he tried to scream your name, but sunflowers and daisies poured from his lips. His world filled with his victims, his deaths, and they all look at him with empty, lost eyes. He knew their names; how could he forget them? Then his eyes focus to the center and sees you and his child in a broken marble block, red tears falling from your eyes as you look on your child. He tastes your blood, your flesh between gasps and teeth. He hates this. He loves you. Stop. Stop it!

Wake up.

He would wake up in sweat, sometimes shutting, sometimes falling out of bed and pushing away from the bed and from you.

Tonight, however, he woke up with a start, breathing heavily, his dark eyes looking around like a scared wild animal. He looked down at your sleeping form then up at the cracked door leading into the hallway. He needed to check. Johnny just needed time check.

He got out of bed, put the blanket over your shoulder, and crept out of the room but something in his chest didn’t sit. He came back and kisses your head. “Be back, y/n,” he promised. “Keep my side warm.”

He may not be a hunter, but he still kept his talents. He can walk without noise, he can move without sound, and he can be hidden without being seen. Johnny uses that talent whenever his daughter is asleep when he comes home from a long day from the butchers. That’s why he got the job in Wisconsin; the butcher need another slaughter, and he’s good at it. Why waste a talent? He’s used to the blood, to the kill, but these are animals, not man. But he got the job to leave Texas. He swore to the stars he’ll never go back.

Johnny made that promise in a burned down church two years ago, and he stuck to it still.

He snuck out the room and down the hall to the open white door to the cotton candy pink room. He lets out a deep sigh as he came over the little white crib he built and looked down. Ophelia Rosemary Sawyer, his 5 week-year-old daughter, slept like a rock in a pink onesie with a bear in the center. Whatever fear he had, the nightmares, the shadows and ghosts— it all faded when he saw her sleeping in peace. Shes his rock, his world, his reason.

Ever so slowly, he lowered his hand and touched her head, and his heart fluttered when she moved into his hand. She’s not scared of him. As if she’s glass, he picks her up slowly and cradles her. He sneaks to the wooden rocking chair in the corner and rocks back and forth. The moonlight lit the room as the snow fell gently over the evergreens.

“Hey there, little sunshine,” he whispers. “Don’ worry. Daddy’s just needed ya.” He looks down at his world and rests his forehead against hers, kisses it, and holds her close. “I swear you’ll never be alone, ever. I love you… I’ll never not love ya.” Then he looks outside, stands up, and takes her to the window. “Look at ‘at, Ophelia,” he whispers in her small spot of brown hair, “it’s your first snow. So pretty an’ bright.” He looks out at the fields and forests, the farmlands and homes, and he thinks about the fireflies and waving weeds he left behind. “Daddy ain’t goin’ away, sunshine. I promise.”

He closes his eyes breathed out slowly. “Texas can keep the fireflies,” he looked down at his child, his blood and flesh, and his heart swelled, “I got my snow and rose.”

“Johnny?” Your voice was enough to make him jolt but he relaxed. “Why are you up? Is Ophelia okay?” You joined his side and looked down at your child. “I didn’t hear her.”

“Naw,” he answers, rocking on his heel, his eyes not leaving his child. “Sleepin’ like a lamb.”

You rested your head on his arm as he looked outside. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he said as he laid his head on top of yours.

“Is this your first snow?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is it everything you’d imagined?”

He thought for a moment as he took in the land before him. He could imagine Ophelia and her friends running wild outside with sleds, building snowmen, having a snowball fight out back. He could see himself with you during a star filled night while the children sleep, slow dancing with you in the snow, kissing you sweetly while whispering praises. He thought about Texas and the heat, but he thought about you smiling while it snowed, his kids playing, and him giving you a cup of cocoa.

“Everything and more, moonbeam,” he whispers, meeting your eyes. He leans down and kisses you tenderly. “I love you, y/n.”

“And I love you, Johnny,” you said back. You looked back at the snow, and you both watched it fall over the moon lit snow.

#tcm johnny #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x you #johnny sawyer x reader #johnny tcm #johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter #tcm fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher x y/n #slasher x you #slasher fanfic #slasher x reader #Johnny sawyer x you

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venusjeon · 2 years

Text

rock god

you've got one year left to either finish your novitiate and become a nun like your parents always wanted, or leave the order and live a secular life like you've always wanted. but the fact that a sister's flirty nephew is staying in the convent for the summer provides a perfect distraction to such headache.

♔ PAIRING: rockstar!jungkook x novice!reader

♔ GENRE: 80s au, angst, smut, humour, fluff, s2f2l

♔ WORD COUNT: 16.3k another long one i'm sorry

♔ WARNINGS: minor characters death, religious themes, catholic guilt, smoking weed, swearing, sacrilege and exhibitionism: fingering in a church, profanity, blasphemy, quiet sex & loss of virginity (you're probably thinking girl AGAIN?), protected sex, betrayal, one mention of rape

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: for an atheist i do seem to write a lot about religion lol. the first song jk writes & performs for reader + the inspiration for the title is rock god by selena gomez, and the second one church by chase atlantic. i recommend you listen to them in advance☺️ also, we'll pretend jk is blond in the banner okay?

1986

The day was going incredibly slow, as all of last month’s had.

Most people would attribute that to the fact that you were a novice, but their idea of what that entailed was far from the reality. Contrary to popular belief and even if some sisters wished it was the case, cloistered nuns didn’t spend all day just praying. There were many other things to keep busy with in a convent, such as attending to one’s studies, doing household chores, or working to bring money in and keep the place going. Free time had never been the part of the day you looked the most forward to, though, until recently. Not that it got any better then.

Contradictory as though it was, you were kept from the present by the same plaguing thoughts you didn’t want to be left alone with… And sometimes, such as now, you didn’t have any choice but to force yourself back into reality, running late as you were.

The novice mistress Sister Daeun—that is, the one responsible for the training of the novices—had assigned you to fix the torn seams on your classmates’ habits that morning. Hey, someone had to do it. So off you ran through the cloister not to melt under the same sun others didn’t seem to mind.

Others being Jungkook and the group of girls who gathered around to listen to him play the guitar.

The presence of men wasn’t rare in your abbey, built some centuries back. It was sort of shut off from the rest of the world, hidden up in a mountain, but lost hikers always wandered into it and the abbot was more than happy to let them spend a night or two as guests, regardless of their gender.

Jungkook was a guest too.

He was in a rock band, or so you’d heard, and that career choice was why his parents had kicked him out, something you’d pity him for if he wasn’t always in a cheery mood whenever you chanced to see him around. Of course, what guy wouldn’t, surrounded by girls?

It didn’t bother you that some of your less spiritual sisters succumbed to his tattoos, long dyed blond hair, charming voice, and piercings. Their parents would doubtlessly tell them to stay away from someone who looked like a delinquent—your conscience did too—but then again, they were the ones who’d forcefully made them join the order, so you understood where the girls’ disobedience came from. On a personal level, in fact.

Though not because of the same reason, you weren’t there willingly either.

Unlike theirs, your behaviour wasn’t scandalous in any way and there was no need for you to be schooled in rectitude, no. This was just the path your parents had wanted you to take since you were little and you’d resigned to comply, however unhappy it made you. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t make a good nun, devout as you’d been raised and actually enjoyed being, but it wasn’t your calling.

Leaving the lively cloister behind and trying to do the same with your affliction, you rushed to your destination.

About three hours later, you were still sat in front of the sewing machine in the otherwise empty laundry room, humming on a loop the part of the song Jungkook had been playing earlier. You couldn’t deny it was catchy... Besides, you needed a tune to distract you from the machine’s repetitive noise and the summer heat, or else you’d go crazy. Maybe you had already, given you’d failed to notice someone opening the creaky door and walking in.

“Hello?”

Startled, you raised your head to meet the eyes of the rockstar himself, filled with something akin to interest. “Oh, hi...”

Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” Before you could kindly tell him not to worry, that it was your fault for spacing out, he grabbed the hem of his shirt to show you the hole in it that until then you hadn’t caught sight of. “I was told to come here to get this fixed?” He then glanced at the dozen habits lying on the table you still had to work on, and changed his mind not to burden you, “But I can come another time– Or not at all! I mean, ripped clothes are trendy, aren’t they?”

For the first time in a while, you laughed genuinely and not out of courtesy, “I wouldn’t know, there’s not much variety in a novice’s wardrobe.” Since Jungkook’s t-shirt would just take a moment to mend and you didn’t mind helping him, you decided to neglect your current task without a second thought, holding out your hand with a smile. “It’s alright, really!”

“You’re an angel.” He smiled back as he took off his t-shirt, exposing a toned body you weren’t prepared for. Bet he says that to all the girls, intruded a thought in your mind as though to make go away the uplift of his compliment, but you brushed it off before he reached the table. “By the way, was that my song you were just humming?”

“Oh? I heard you sing it earlier, but I didn’t know it was yours,” you said while getting to work. Meanwhile, Jungkook leaned against the door’s frame. “I don’t really listen to music much.”

“What?!” He was utterly shocked, eyes wide like he’d seen a ghost. “That’s the greatest sin of all! I’ll have a serious conversation with the abbot, they’re not teaching you girls the important stuff here.” Father Jimin would certainly be amused at such a request. “But I did see you running earlier in the cloister, now that I think about it. It is hot, Y/N, but I don’t believe the floor is in flames.”

He knows my name? What a stupid question. Whoever had told him to come to the laundry room must have seen you entering it and mentioned you’d be there.

“Yeah, I was late, had overslept. It probably looked like someone was chasing me… Nun on the run!” you rhymed out of nowhere. “There’s a title for your next single.”

“If naming my songs will get you to listen to them, I’m down.” You looked up from the task at hand to ask him if that meant he’d credit ‘Sister Y/N’ as a songwriter, but the sight of someone walking down the hallway towards the laundry room scared the words away. “You know, you’re too pretty to be a nun.”

Sister Daeun, now right behind Jungkook, smacked the back of his head and asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jungkook’s smile turned into a pout as he rubbed the spot. “Nothing, aunty. Ouch…”

Yes, he was her nephew, which was the main reason why Father Jimin had allowed him to stay not just for a few days, but the whole summer. Sister Daeun had promised on his behalf that as a thanks, he would help around to earn his bed and under no circumstances put in peril anyone’s vow of chastity. If he weren’t so good-looking, you imagined she wouldn’t have needed to make that promise.

“Y/N…” she sighed when she saw the pile of habits you had yet to fix the seams of. Despite the disappointment in her voice, she made sure to say tactfully, “It’s almost midday, I asked you to have all of them done before ten.”

Jungkook was the only one in the room who had no clue as to why you’d been working so slowly, but he didn’t hesitate to step forward when your head lowered in shame. “My bad, I’ve been distracting her for hours. And on top of it, I gave her more work…”

He approached the sewing machine, got his t-shirt, and put it on, all while you stared at him at a loss for words. Why would he take the blame? Sister Daeun started telling you to finish some other time and get ready for lunch, but you stopped listening, attention fixed on Jungkook as he discreetly winked at you before leaving.

That wasn’t the last time you met that day. Well, incorrect, because it was past midnight.

Like many nights before, guilt stirred a restlessness that kept you from falling asleep, the only solution you could think of being walking around the empty abbey in the hope of tiring your body and with it, your brain. It wasn’t that easy, though, often hours how long you’d wander about, always ending up at the cloister. Sitting on the stone base between the columns and gazing up at the stars brought some peace to you. More than praying, it appeared.

That night, such peace was disrupted when barely after ten minutes of it, the sound of a lighter being flicked made your head whip around.

“So you do have hair,” Jungkook joked as he sat against a column, bending one knee so he could rest his elbow on it. Although a bit embarrassed you were in your pyjamas and thus wearing no white veil that covered your head in front of a guy you didn’t know, you did the same on the next column to be able to face him. “Can’t sleep either?”

“Lately, not.”

He puffed at his joint before offering it to you, and a short laugh broke through your lips. Was he seriously tempting a novice to burn one with him? To be fair, he did mean to help you sleep, but it was still a bit… much for you. “I’ll pass, thank you.”

“Yeah, probably not a good idea,” Jungkook nodded at his own words before taking another puff, blowing the smoke to a side so it wouldn’t reach you. “I don’t want your parents to make a complaint because there’s a bloke loose in the convent corrupting the nuns. Can’t afford to be kicked out of here, too,” he whispered the last bit, as though talking to himself.

“Don’t worry, that’s not happening.”

“Why not? Are you girls not allowed visits or something?”

“No, we are, it’s just… they died last month. Car crash.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” You could see in Jungkook’s wide eyes how much he regretted bringing them up. “That explains why you were out of sorts this morning... Agh, I can’t believe they’re still making you do work, what a bunch of heartless pricks! Not to mention class, I mean, isn’t it summer?”

His indignation for your sake came as a surprise. Ignorantly, you’d allowed prejudices to decide what kind of person Jungkook was before he got the chance to show you himself. The familiar guilt well-deservedly returned to grip your heart.

“Father Jimin actually had me switch jobs with some sisters so that I’d get to do less demanding stuff,” you came to the poor abbot’s defence. “It makes no difference, but he’s not to blame nothing can.”

"Doesn’t praying help?” He took another puff, lips curling into a smirk at the thought that next crossed his mind. “I thought nuns had a direct line with God.”

The truth was your relationship with the Lord had strained. As someone whose thoughts and desires couldn’t help but fall into sin over and over, you didn’t feel worthy of His comfort, or dared ask for guidance. His or anybody’s.

“I have to go through the telephonist angels first, I’m not an official nun yet.” The muscles of your face relaxed, gaze falling to your lap. “To be honest, I don’t think I want to be.”

Jungkook’s head cocked to a side. “Really? So, what are you doing here? You don’t strike me as the type forced by her p– uh, family.”

“I do like this place and what they’re teaching us, but I’m here because my parents wanted a saintly daughter who could put in a good word for them up there. I tried telling them once that I have dreams of my own, but it ended in an argument they had the last word in. Now that they’re dead, it’s like the topic is permanently sealed, I can never talk them out of it. And I mean, I love them, so how can I disappoint them? What would it say about me if I waited until my parents were dead to disobey them?”

Only after you finished venting did it dawn on you that perhaps you’d said too much. After all, what did Jungkook care? What did anyone?

“What’s your dream?”

The question took you aback, but you still answered, “I’d like to go to university, get married someday, have kids... Not be trapped inside these four walls for the rest of my life, you know?”

“I know exactly what you mean, trust me,” Jungkook said quietly before puffing at his joint again. “You’re free to leave, though, right? I don’t need to master-plan an escape?”

You hummed a laugh, mindful not to be loud enough to wake anyone up, given neither of you should be out of bed. There may or may not have been a curfew you were breaking, as well as a tradition called the Great Silence in which everyone kept quiet from the final liturgical prayer of the day until the earliest one the next morning. It was a rule often broken, especially by you, but that didn’t mean the abbey wasn’t dead silent.

“Anytime I want, yes, only next year I’m supposed to take my solemn vows.” Jungkook nodded but a slight frown gave away he didn’t know what that meant. “Poverty, chastity, and obedience? It’s like a wedding with Jesus. I can always divorce him, but that doesn’t mean marriage is a light affair.”

Most orders didn’t work like that. There were various stages one had to go through before becoming a professed nun: an optional aspirancy, then a postulancy, a novitiate, and finally, a juniorate. Since you’d gone to Catholic school all your life, you’d skipped the first, done no more than a few months of the second, were about to start the final year of the third, and would not be doing the fourth since your convent didn’t teach it. Instead of six more years of formation before taking your perpetual vows, then, you had only one.

“Damn, and here I thought I had the most fucked up horoscope of the year. Maybe we were born on the same month.”

“What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t everyone know my parents kicked me out because I want to be a rockstar?”

“Yeah...”

Once again, you’d assumed wrongly about him. That because of his profession and looks, he was a rebellious kid who hated his parents and was glad to be rid of them. You hadn’t even considered their shunning might be putting him through a hard time.

“Look, disappointing your parents beats living a miserable life just to please them, even if it sucks. One day we’ll be old, and I personally want to look back and not regret my youth, feel like I wasted it. I’m not gonna tell you what to do but if you want my opinion, getting out of here and chasing your dreams says no more than you’re in charge of your own life.”

You had no idea why after that, Jungkook had taken it as his mission to stick with you.

It was common knowledge that you’d barely uttered ten words since your parents’ accident, so all eyes were drawn like magnets when you engaged in conversation with him of all people for hours on end. Since you came from vastly different worlds, it surprised you too that even though his company didn’t lessen your guilt, it was the best way to distract you from it. And precisely, that was his intention.

He would sit next to you at meals, trying to convince the sisters around the table in all seriousness that because they were cloistered, they weren’t aware Earth had been invaded by aliens last year.

“Do you think we’re stupid?” a postulant asked, giggles escaping you at how ridiculous the conversation you were having was. “Some of us do go out sometimes, I think we would’ve noticed.”

“They want you to think everything’s normal because only an army of nuns can defeat them!”

“How do we know you’re not one of them, huh?” you played along, narrowing your eyes in suspicion while Jungkook placed a hand on his chest, feigning shock.

“Aunty will vouch for me but even if not, I can’t believe you’d doubt me. We’ve known each other for like, what, a week? That’s enough for me to follow you into battle.”

“Sorry but can’t be too careful during an alien invasion.”

“That I warned you about! Why would I say anything in the first place?”

“I’ve been here for many years,” an older nun chimed in from the other side of the table, making everyone turn their attention to her. She addressed Jungkook, “You’ve just reminded me why I joined the order.”

He blinked, dumbfounded. “Why, sister?”

“Men talk so much nonsense it makes my head hurt.”

To see Jungkook argue playfully about aliens and men with a seventy-year-old nun who was having none of his shit was an experience, but it wouldn’t be just that.

Like you’d told him, Father Jimin had allowed you to switch jobs. Your old one consisted of embellishing clothes with elaborate religious embroideries—hence why Sister Daeun had asked for your help with the torn habits—that would later be sold on a street market stall in town beside other products manufactured by your sisters, whereas your new one required almost no effort.

There was an old married couple nearby who ran a goat farm, and a small group of nuns from your convent helped them in exchange of a portion of the food they made, instead of a salary. Father Jimin was clearly trying his best to raise your spirits when he’d assigned you to tend to the cutest new-born goats, but it wasn’t until Jungkook tagged along and you saw him struggle with the baby bottles, spilling milk all over his clothes and cursing at the tiny animals, that the abbot’s goal was achieved.

“No, no, no, come back, you little shit!” He chased a hoppy kid around the barn, unable to contain that lovely high-pitched laugh.

“How are you making a mess out of literally the easiest thing in the world?” you teased from the bag of pine shavings you were sat on, another kid resting otherwise peacefully on your lap.

“That’s easy for you to say, I’ve got Psycho making me do cardio over here!”

“Try this one,” you giggled, motioning to the empty spot beside you with your head so Jungkook would sit down. When he did, you lay the kid on his lap carefully and brought the baby bottle to its mouth, both of you watching as it fed without any problem. “See?”

It didn’t take long for the milk to run out, after which you and Jungkook stroked the kid to sleep while the other one still hopped around, sharing a smile when your fingers accidentally brushed.

Because he’d tag along, you agreed to helping out in the kitchen on another day, as time was somehow bearable if he was there. But you were still going through the motions, your parents’ absence ever-present.

“What do you think?” Jungkook stirred you awake from your trance. “Bitchin’, right? The best thing you’ve ever heard?”

The song that got stuck in your head the day you met was playing on a boombox he’d brought from his van and put on the worktop while the two of you and three other sisters cooked lunch.

The girl you’d just heard, he had explained, was the band’s lead singer Amber, whom he sometimes joined apart from playing the guitar. There were also a Hoseok on the drums and a Taehyung on the bass. Bangtan, their name was. You’d never heard of them.

“I’m not sure about the lyrics,” meaning all the cursing and allusions to sex, which got your sisters flustered in the background, “but I like the tune.”

“The tune…”

“I’m just more used to church songs, is all.” Jungkook’s eyes lit up. “No.” You knew he was thinking exactly of blasting his rock songs in the middle of Mass.

“Why not?” he asked as a joke while trying to steal a couple of french fries from a dish. You slapped his hand before he could.

“Because Father Jimin will exile you, duh.”

“And don’t you think I’ll give up yet. I’ll be found outside your cell’s window playing music on my boombox until you agree to go out with me.” You should’ve cast away the heat before it reached your cheeks, as his flirting was obviously just for fun. Something he did with all girls and which meant nothing. “Better yet, I’ll write you a song.”

“I don’t think a novice is the perfect muse for a rock song, especially if it’s about…”

Jungkook shook his head. “I’ll keep it PG-13 for you, I promise.” He then grinned, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll start working on it tonight.”

You weren’t together at all times, though. No, you had class, he had work, sometimes you didn’t see him for whole days. Such was the case one cloudy afternoon around three weeks after first meeting, when Father Jimin approached you in the cloister. It had been a while since your last visit to his confessional box, so you feared a scolding.

“I wanted to talk to you, actually,” he said with that distinctive, soothing voice of his as you walked together, “about Jungkook.”

Your heart missed a beat for a reason that escaped your knowledge. It felt, somehow, as though you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t. “What about him, Father?”

“I hadn’t seen you smile for a while and now it’s all you do when he’s by your side. I know the past month has been very difficult, so it makes me happy to see you get through the loss of your parents, Y/N.” Did it really look like things were fine? Well, better that than having everyone worry about you until things got fixed, if that ever happened. “However,” Father Jimin continued, “as your Spiritual Director, it’s my duty to advise you not to rely too much on someone other than God for solace. There’s a reason for enclosure, so that the outside world doesn’t distract us from religion. Unless… you’ve reconsidered your life as a nun? There’d be nothing wrong with that.”

What Jungkook had told you that first night, you’d been chewing on ever since, but God and your parents had long won the war. ‘Honour thy father and thy mother’ was one of the Ten Commandments, after all.

“I have no doubts. I belong here.”

The last time you’d stepped in town had been for the funeral, but Bangtan was doing a gig at what Jungkook claimed was the coolest venue he’d ever been in and he’d managed to persuade the other members to perform Rock God, the song he’d pulled an all-nighter to write. You didn’t know what a title like that had to do with someone like you but apparently, the lyrics were from your point of view.

“You have to come,” he’d begged for the millionth time across the table the previous day, interrupting your Bible reading in the library. Luckily, nobody else was there, or had been before his arrival.

‘Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.’

Did that mean He would forgive you for the sin of going against your parents’ wishes? That you could hang the white veil and live how you dreamed of? The next passages from the Book of Isaiah answered those questions.

‘If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land: But if ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.’

In other words, you were fucked. There was no way out.

“I’d have to ask Father Jimin for permission, and I don’t think he’d let me go to a rock concert.”

You’d laughed to yourself at the idea but Jungkook had been serious, insisted, “Tell him you want to go buy groceries or something, he won’t say no to you.”

“You mean, ‘lie to him because he’ll take pity on you.’”

“Please.” He’d sank his elbows on the table, leaning so close you almost had to back away. You would have, had he not bewitched you with the most angelic of smiles. “Do it for me? I’ll tell Saint Peter I made you do it so he lets you in Heaven.”

That’s how you ended up in the queue for his concert, holding a plastic bag full of stationary you’d told Father Jimin you needed for class.

Jungkook had given you no ticket, said telling the security guy your name would suffice, and surely enough ‘Sister Y/N’ got you in. The habit had wisely been left at home, but the man still frowned at your modest outfit before putting a wristband on you that was a different colour than everyone else’s. You assumed it meant you were VIP.

There was a secluded area with round tables near the stage you were indeed taken to, where only a handful of other people were hanging out, waiting for the show to begin. You wouldn’t have thought of approaching them, as there was likely nothing you had in common, with them or anyone in the whole poorly lit venue. If you were there, out of your comfort zone, it was for Jungkook only.

The lights at some point changed colours and finally, the concert began. Bangtan got on the stage and performed song after song, giving their all to an audience that cheered loudly. You cheered too, captivated by a Jungkook who made you feel things with every look he gave you.

His blond hair was wet, whether with water, product, or sweat you didn’t know, but it dripped down his curls to his ripped clothes which allowed a glimpse of the inked skin of his torso. When had he got new tattoos? They weren’t there the day he’d got his t-shirt off for you to sew. You had never paid much attention to those that covered his veiny right arm and hand, but now you found yourself tickled by the fact, and wanting to see them up close. Definitely the tattoos, not his bare body… But most tantalising of all was the passionate way he played his electric guitar, moving around the stage with a confidence that made it clear he belonged there.

With that confidence, though, came a cockiness that had him eye-fucking every pretty girl in the crowd. Who’s to say he didn’t write songs for them too? Not to mention Amber, to whom he sometimes got so close you feared they were going to kiss—as did their fans, judging by their screams of excitement.

The last song of the night was Rock God, which he made sure to announce by enthusiastically mouthing you ‘This is it!’. You braced yourself for the lyrics.

Preacher man walked into the club, and he said He said, "Hey girl, can't you walk and not stray?" Father, I'm torn and I'm selling my soul to the Rhythm, the beat and the bass 'Cause I can't confess my rock and roll ways (Ooh) 'Cause I'm so possessed with the music The music he plays

Was the preacher man supposed to be Father Jimin? He wasn’t likely to walk in the venue right then, but the idea of him attending a rock concert was so absurd it made you smile. You guessed the tone of the song before Amber had even got to the chorus.

I can't stop my feet from dancing to the sound of his drum (Oh no) I fell in love with my rock god I can't keep my hips from swaying to his sweet melody You see, I fell in love with my rock, rock god

Oh, so not only did you like his music in this narrative, but you were also in love with him? You raised an eyebrow at that, to which he failed to bite down a smile. There must be thrill in succeeding to seduce a novice.

The next verse was similar to the first one. Then came the chorus again, twice, but it was the bridge that struck you, putting an end to the fun you were having. Jungkook watched your reaction closely, as he had during the whole song.

No, I wouldn't change a thing even if I could 'Cause I chose a path and I'm not looking back And I'm sorry if I left the angels crying over me

The chorus was sung twice more but the music muffled into the back of your mind, the bridge’s words lingering in the foreground. Would you be able to choose a path that resulted in your angels weeping? How could you? And how could Jungkook portray you as remorseless over it, when the matter was eating away at you inside?

The show was over before you knew it, and the audience slowly exited the venue while the band got out of their rockstars outfits and makeup backstage. About fifteen minutes later, they came into the area you were sat in and Jungkook bumped fists with the friends who’d come to see him in a rush, so as to not keep you waiting any longer.

Checking out your collared shirt and ankle-length skirt while approaching, he whistled. “Gee, Y/N, I can’t handle myself when you dress so sexy.”

“Because a novice’s habit is so much better.”

“There’s an appeal to it. Makes a man want to tempt you.” Earning a smile from him, you rolled your eyes. “Thoughts on the song. Shoot.”

You pouted. “Full of blasphemies. Are you supposed to be the rock god?”

“Who else?” Jungkook asked surprised. How did that escape you?

“Then why do I say ‘sound of his drum’? You’re a guitar player. Are you trying to set me up with your bandmate?”

“‘Guitar’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘god’,” he said matter-of-factly, it hitting him in the pause that followed. You laughed. “Well, yeah, neither does ‘drum’… but it does a bit more, right?”

“A bit more, yes. So, are you and Amber dating?”

Jungkook smirked. “Jealous much?”

“If you are,” you ignored his question, “she might not be too happy her boyfriend’s writing songs to other girls.”

“She has a boyfriend,” he cleared up, lifting a weight off your chest. “We’re just friends, what we do onstage is part of the show. Don’t worry, you don’t have to fight anyone to keep me.”

“What a relief,” you joked, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Listen, I’m gonna get going, it’s late and you said you were getting some drinks with Bangtan, so I’ll leave you to it. I had fun tonight, you did great.”

“I can drive you to the convent,” he offered, but you shook your head, picking the plastic bag up from the table.

“It’s alright, Sisters Joan and Theresa are still at their stall in the street market. I’ll go back with them.”

“Swell…” he said under his breath, hoping you couldn’t tell he’d wanted to say ‘bummer’ instead.

You didn’t see each other until the next night, when you broke the curfew yet again to hang out in the kitchen. Sat on the table, the two of you discussed your dilemma while sipping at the awful tea Jungkook had made. There weren’t many ways to fuck up tea, but he’d still managed it, holding the old kettle responsible.

All had begun with him pointing out you’d paled towards the end of Rock God and you telling him the lyrics had moved you because you’d chosen to finish your novitiate. There was no way, therefore, you could sell your soul to the rhythm, the beat, and the bass.

“I know I said I wouldn’t tell you what to do, but–”

“You did.”

“But hear me out. Now that we’re friends, I can’t just watch you make a decision I know you already regret.”

“I’d regret leaving too, at least this is the selfless choice.”

“Well, aren’t you a good person!” Jungkook’s mocking made you sigh and sip on your tea like it were alcohol. It did taste as bad. “Y/N, you need to live for yourself, not for two fuddy-duddies who couldn’t put their daughter’s happiness before theirs.”

“Don’t be mean to them.”

Jungkook only bit his tongue because of your pleading tone. “Sorry… Even if you loved your parents, you can’t deny they put you in a tough spot. I’m sure wherever they are, they’ve realised they were wrong and want you to be happy however you choose.”

“The thing is, they were convinced I’d be happy as a nun, that I just wanted to switch to secular on a whim. That’s why they ordered me to stay, they were looking out for me.” Jungkook almost grimaced at the word ‘ordered’, fought against commenting how messed up was the fact that you were using it in this context. Staring at the almost empty mug on your lap, you wondered whether it was insensitive of you to speak your mind. “It’s also what’s happened to you that I couldn’t bear happening to me, even if my parents are gone. I don’t want to do anything that would make them spurn me. I don’t want them not to love me,” your voice broke despite your best efforts.

Jungkook immediately stole the mug from your fingers and put it next to his on the table, so he could hold your hands. “Listen to me, my parents are assholes. Like, genuine bad people who shouldn’t’ve been allowed to have a kid. I won’t tell you the things they’ve said and done to me because you’d cry, but they are a different breed. Normal parents love their children no matter what. Why do you think yours would spurn you if they were still alive, instead of realising that they were making you unhappy?”

Good point, actually. If only it wasn’t far more complicated than that…

The second Jungkook withdrew his hands, you missed their warmth, even though it was a hot summer night. He sipped at his tea, and you suspected he only mmm-ed with delight to make you laugh, given he bloody well knew its taste was disgusting. Idiot.

“Just promise me one thing,” he added, a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you quit being a novice, go out on a date with me.”

Now, that made you laugh. “A date?”

Jungkook nodded, anchoring his foot to one of the legs of your chair so he could drag it close to his and rest his arm on its top rail, the proximity such that you could feel his breathing against your cheek. Heart racing, you crossed your arms and tried your hardest to appear unbothered. “I’ll pick you up at five and we’ll go roller-skating until we can’t feel our legs, then we’ll have dinner in my van while we watch a drive-in movie– A scary one, so you cling onto me for safety. Then I’ll drive you home, walk you to your door, and you’ll go ‘Oh! It’s too late, why don’t you stay over?’. So we’ll have some drinks, and you’ll take my hand to lead me into your bedroom, and then…”

“And then we’ll say our prayers and go to sleep.”

“To sleep, yes,” Jungkook chuckled, “afterwards.”

“I don’t know what makes you think I wouldn’t live almost like a nun if I left here. I am, in fact, a Catholic.”

“A relaxed one, I dare say. Oh, come on. You’ve never thought about breaking your faith’s rules? Not even to have fun?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a confession, but you shook your head.

“I can have fun without breaking the rules, I always have.”

Jungkook nibbled at his lip for a while, mentally debating with himself. Whichever of the voices in his head won, it made him say, “What if I showed you my ways? Would you be up for that?”

“Up for what, exactly?”

“You’ll see.”

Due to the series of communal prayers scattered throughout the day called Liturgy of Hours, it was as early as five that the whole convent got up. You’d usually go straight back to bed after the first one and get what more rest you could until it was time for class or work, but today, despite it being Sunday, a few sisters had volunteered to go to the farm and help around, you and Jungkook joining them to nanny the goats.

You didn’t mind getting your habit dirty there, but it was being an awfully hot July, which was the reason why you were wearing lighter clothes that morning when walking into the chapel alongside Jungkook to attend Mass. He was an atheist whom you supposed only went to these things to spend more time with you, and that warmed your heart.

Ever since you’d started hanging out, the same less devout sisters who’d previously flocked around him had gone back to the handsome abbot’s orbit, so the nearer pews to the altar had quickly been taken. Together, you sat alone at the back, the pew all to yourselves. Three quite tall sisters were sat in the one in front of you and acted as a barrier Father Jimin hid behind of, but as long as you heard him, it didn’t matter.

Your mind went elsewhere no more than a couple of minutes into the service anyway. Tuning out seemed to be easy as of late.

It was just so unfair, all of it. You could be learning in university, meeting new people, living a normal life where you wouldn’t need to ask an abbot for permission to go out if you fancied taking a fucking walk! It didn’t have to mean you’d stop practising your religion or let yourself fall into sin at all, nothing had to change in that regard. You took a deep breath charged with frustration. If only your parents hadn’t decided to take the car in the middle of a storm and you’d had more time to make them see reason… Why did they have to die? Why did God have to take them and leave you alone?

Right in the middle of your brooding was when Jungkook put his hand on your bare knee and asked in a whisper, “Hey, are you okay?”

You forced a smile that he didn’t seem convinced by, so his hand remained on the same spot after he’d gone back to paying attention to Mass. His touch didn’t make you uncomfortable, you welcomed it and the comfort it provided, but your jaw did drop when it slowly travelled down your inner thigh, towards your intimate area.

“What are you doing?” you mouthed, petrified at the possibility of anyone noticing. Luckily, the only person facing the pews was Father Jimin, who couldn’t see a thing from the altar thanks to your barrier-sisters.

“Showing you my idea of fun,” Jungkook leaned in to whisper, lips brushing against your earlobe. It wasn’t that what made you gulp, though, but the fact that he reached your clit and rubbed it softly over your linen shorts, up and down, side to side… The unexpected pleasure made your breath hitch in your throat, gaze flying around the chapel at the speed of light. “No one’s watching,” Jungkook reassured you. “Live a little, Y/N.” Feeling his middle finger now press your clit firmly and at an increasing pace, you looked at him, shocked there was no sign of shame on his features, eyes half-lidded with arousal as they studied your worried ones. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Stop? You were still registering something had started there, in a sacred place, during Mass! What you were letting Jungkook do to you was all kinds of sinful, but… it felt so good you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Sobering up, he ceased his actions at that lack of consent, and was going to withdraw his hand and apologise had you not grabbed it and kept it in place down there, much to the surprise of both.

Relief showed on Jungkook in the form of an exhale. He wasted no time, then, sliding his hand inside your shorts and underwear, making you bite down on your lip when he found your clit once more and rubbed it in circles. He lingered there just enough to make your core pulsate with ache when he abandoned it to move on to your wet slit, something you had to slouch for him to do. He eased two fingers inside you that he began pumping in and out with a mastery that got you squirming in your seat, hand glued to your mouth to hold back the moans that threatened to escape it and gaze locked on the tattooed sleeve that disappeared inside your shorts.

That was when everyone started singing a hymn. Jungkook took the chance to quicken his movements, the sounds of your irregular breathing and his fingers sliding into your juices eclipsed by the song. He licked his lips, coating them with saliva before leaving chaste kisses on your neck, knowing if his tongue met it he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from fucking you right there and then. When he pulled back, he noticed you’d closed your eyes to get lost in the pleasure, and that they opened only when you felt his breath near your parted lips, to stare down at his. So close, yet he restrained the urge to kiss you, intent on watching you come.

He didn’t have to wait long, your walls now clenching around his fingers every time he rubbed that magical spot, thighs shaking as a result. All the tension built up inside of you suddenly released, and you dissolved into a daze just in time for the ending of the hymn. Not to overstimulate you, Jungkook gently removed his fingers and slipped out of the chapel. He returned a minute later with his hand washed and dry, and although you readily intertwined fingers with his when he reached out, you dared not meet his eyes after what had just happened.

That night you lay awake tossing and turning forever, unable to forget the feel of his touch.

Inexplicably, you weren’t ashamed of all the sins you’d added to the collection that day: falling into the temptation of lust, doing pre-marital sexual acts that didn’t lead to procreation, breaching your vow of chastity, desecrating a holy place, taking the sacrament while in mortal sin… Somehow, you just weren’t. You were, right after, but now it was as though you’d managed to sweep all the guilt related to it under the rug. As for the one related to your parents, well, Jungkook had been the sweetest distraction from it.

A distraction you craved again.

You must have been held sway by a demon when you got up from bed to go find Jungkook, but you were in no hurry to free yourself from its grasp.

Except for the first night, he tended to be the sleepless one who wandered about the abbey until you eventually joined him, so you knew he’d be awake. Indeed, he was on the phone in the community room, getting tangled up in the cord as he paced around, nervous. He couldn’t see you lurking in the hallway’s shadows, so you decided to let curiosity get the better of you and eavesdrop the conversation he was having.

“No, you’re not following,” he whispered into the phone. “My cousin’s friend’s brother is into this hot religious girl, and I– he! sort of fingered her in public… In a church… No, there were people present, it was in the middle of Mass… Nobody, that I’m– that he’s aware… No, Hoseok, it’s not dope! He’s going up and down the walls like a fucking yoyo... He isn’t so sure it was a good idea, fears he might’ve crossed a line… Well, he hasn’t seen her since, I think she’s been avoiding him– Agh, he thinks!... Fuck yeah, she did, and he loved it too… The problem is that I don’t want her to regret it and feel bad about it just because it wasn’t the time or place, or to never want to have sex because I got her into it the wrong way… What? He, I said he… You’re right,” he sighed, putting an end to his pacing. “I’ll tell him. Thank you, bro... ‘Night.”

Arms crossed, you couldn’t help but smile fondly. He was that worried about it? You should’ve known, you were friends after all. That was all he probably wanted to be, at least. Friends. With benefits, but friends. Who would want to be more than that not only with a novice, but with one as troubled as you?

A noise made you look up. It was Jungkook, now by the window, flicking his lighter over and over to pass the time. Your eyes inspected his fingers under the moonlight, the same ones he’d buried inside you that morning, and the longing that had got you out of bed returned to move your feet in his direction. You must’ve been abrupt while approaching him, though, as he jolted with a gasp at the sight of you.

“Sorry.”

“Y/N…” he said as he caught his breath from the startle. He had hoped you’d show up, but not so suddenly. Payback, he thought, for the way we met. “Listen, about earlier–”

You cut his sentence short with a kiss. It was soft at first, as timid as you felt, but Jungkook soon got over the shock that had frozen him and took charge of the matter, pulling you in a tight embrace. His tongue entered your mouth and swirled around yours like it was always meant to, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe. How else could it feel so good, and Jungkook so addictive?

It was a challenge, but you found the strength to step back and whisper so lowly that he almost didn’t hear, “I want you.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to look into his eyes. No need for that, they already had you enthralled, dark with the desire you’d infected him with.

“Yes,” you exhaled, taking his hands in yours to lead him upstairs. “With you, yes.”

Once in your cell, you lost your pyjamas in a matter of seconds, both too impatient to feel each other.

Being naked and seeing Jungkook so was initially nerve-racking but once you were under the sheets, under his toned body, your bashfulness flew out the window. Especially when you saw his dick, already hard from just making out—you figured he’d been charged up since the morning. Yet his priority wasn’t his own pleasure, but yours, not an inch of your skin left untouched by his lips as he slowly travelled downwards. Until you started giggling out of nowhere, and Jungkook raised his head from in between your boobs to look at you in confusion.

“Your Barbie hair is tickling me,” you teased him as you tucked behind his ears the blond cascade that covered his face and grazed over your chest whenever he moved.

“Barbie, huh?” Jungkook whispered next to your ear only to lay a warm kiss right under it, all while he positioned himself in between your legs. “Do you want me to tickle you somewhere else?”

“Actually, I…” How did one say such a thing? “I want to tickle you, but I don’t know what to do.”

He chuckled, “My pleasure to instruct you.”

You did as he said and reclined next to him, upside down so he could touch you—he’d insisted—while you sucked him off. It did feel strange to take him in your mouth and run your tongue along the length of his shaft, at least until you heard his breathing speed up, resisting to buck his hips into your face as he was. Your cunt throbbed, and you wished Jungkook’s cock was inside it instead of your mouth. He seemed to sense that, so his hand soon crept between your thighs to remedy your ails, a whine escaping you then.

“You’re just as tight as earlier, fuck,” he groaned from the pillow as his fingers struggled to curl and uncurl inside of you, given you couldn’t keep still. It made you all the more eager to pleasure him, taking him as deep as you could so he saw the same stars you were beginning to see yourself. “You’re doing so well… That’s it, suck it harder, darling, ah… Wait, stop, stop!”

Immediately, you backed off. “Did I do something wrong?”

Jungkook sat up and used his thumb to wipe the drooling trail of saliva on your chin. “You were doing too well, miss.” Ogling your body, he licked his thumb. “Why don’t you come over here?” You nodded, would’ve agreed to do anything he asked in that moment.

He lay down again while holding your hands to guide you over to his lap, over his erection, but your sudden nerves made you shy away. Nevertheless, Jungkook pulled you closer with a smirk. “Where are you running off to?”

“I’m sorry, just… Will it hurt?”

He sat up to peck your lips cutely, “Oh, it will be excruciatingly painful,” and you pushed his chest with an eye-roll, so he returned to his previous position. He grabbed the condom he’d stopped by his cell to get before following you to yours and put it on.

A deep breath later, you grabbed his cock and placed its tip in your wet entrance, looking down at it to make sure you were doing it right. Hands between his head and the pillow, Jungkook watched patiently, turned on by your inexperience and the fact that he and he alone got to be the one to pop your cherry, make you break your vow of chastity. He thought it’d take you a while to get used to the size of his dick, but you surprised him by rolling your hips almost aggressively the second you sat on it, chasing pleasure as though it would escape from your grasp otherwise.

“Shit, yes, like that.” All flushed under you and with his eyes barely open, feeling the way you moved with all his senses, Jungkook ignited a lust in you that even an angel would be willing to fall from grace for.

“Oh my God, it feels so good…”

“I know, baby.” He wanted to dig his nails into your hips and move them back and forth himself but found that for a virgin, you were already doing a superb job, laughed instead. “Look at you, fuck. What a dirty bitch, you’re loving it.”

“I am…” you panted, his name-calling sending you over the edge. “Jesus, I am.”

It wasn’t long until Jungkook felt your walls clench tight around him, something he didn’t blame you for as he himself was close too. His cock had been burning in his pants ever since Mass, even after he’d jerked himself off in his cell when the service had finished and you’d vanished. Grabbing your wrist, he pulled you close to his mouth and kissed you hungrily, but even then, you refused to stop moving, felt too good. “Gonna come already? You like me that bad?”

I like you a lot. You were having a tough time not moaning, especially when he talked. His deep voice did all manner of things to you. “I’m so close, ah...”

“Why don’t I help you out with that, hm?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before bending his knees and repeatedly thrusting into you with such force that it had you gasping for air. If you’d known he could fuck you like that, you’d have asked him to be on top at the beginning. Eyes squeezed shut, you buried your head in the crook of his neck to moan against it as you came, finally letting go. Jungkook bit into your shoulder, not to hurt you, just hard enough to keep himself from grunting loudly as he found his own release after a few more thrusts, but your bodies remained locked until your heartbeats slowed down.

It didn’t hit you how loud your panting had been until your breath toned down and there was silence in the room. You prayed it hadn’t woken anybody up.

At some point, you got off Jungkook for him to remove his condom and go throw it in the bin next to your desk. You covered your naked body with the sheets, expecting to next see him get dressed, but he lay back on the bed. You didn’t understand.

“Aren’t you leaving?”

He scoffed. “Kicking me out, ouch. Why would I leave?”

“I thought… that’s what guys do.” At least, that was what your non-virgin sisters had told you. That men lost interest in a woman as soon as they’d had their way with her.

Jungkook shook his head as he said softly, “I’m not going anywhere.” Having sex surely messed with one’s head, there was no other explanation as to why you blushed like a teenager. The two of you got on your side, facing each other, and Jungkook started caressing your arm with the back of his fingers, the simple action so soothing you thought you’d fall asleep. “Is this nice?”

“Very,” you replied, eyes closing against your will.

“Did I go too far earlier?”

You were taken aback by the sudden question. “Maybe, but I liked it. You were right about breaking the rules. Looking back… I think it was what you said about living a little that got to me. Here at the convent, I don’t really feel alive, but I do when we’re this close.”

“See?” Jungkook asked gently, trying to make you see his point. “What’s stopping you from quitting, then? Nothing should cost you feeling alive.”

“Apart from my parents?” you sighed. “Look around. As a novice, I couldn’t receive their inheritance. Vow of poverty, remember? What you see in this cell is everything I own.” Jungkook had already noticed on his way in your lack of personal belongings. A cross hung over the bed, a small pile of religious books on the desk, a framed photo of you with your family, and little more. It was so empty and cold that anyone would’ve thought you’d just moved in. “I can’t afford to go to university, much less live on my own.”

“Well… I’ve been saving up for a while and I’m moving in an apartment with Hoseok and Tae when summer’s over. Why don’t you come stay with us? I’m sure they won’t mind!” he said enthusiastically, eyes sparkling like he’d come up with the solution to all your problems. “I’ll help you find a job and you’ll be able to afford uni, easy-peasy.”

You were too sleepy to chuckle, but a faint smile did tug at your lips because of how determined he was to fix things. Things that were too broken to be fixed. “Let’s not talk about this right now, please?”

Even though Jungkook wasn’t pleased with your response, he forced a smile. “Why, did I tire you out?” Leaning in, he kissed your lips lightly. “You’re right, let’s not ruin the moment. Come here.”

He had you rest your head on his chest, and held lovingly, you fell asleep.

Understandably, he’d left by the time you woke up. If anyone saw him coming out of your cell, they might work out what he’d been up to there and the two of you would be kicked out of the convent. His scent lingered in your sheets, but it didn’t make any less disappointing waking up without him by your side. What’s more, as you put on your habit after having a quick shower, you were assailed by the most heart-breaking questions.

What if Jungkook had pretended to be your friend only to get in your pants? What if, now he’d got what he wanted, he blew you off? What if you’d risked everything for a guy who felt nothing for you?

To your immense relief, when you walked into the refectory for breakfast, he waved at you with a smile and gestured you to sit next to him. You were going to before Father Jimin suddenly appeared before you.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he greeted warmly, as ever.

“Oh, good morning, Father!”

“I wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

You blinked. “It is, why?”

Shit. He knows?

“You left the chapel in a hurry after Mass yesterday,” he said, “and you didn’t show up to the remaining services. Were you unwell?”

“Oh... Yes, I was.” If you had locked yourself up in your cell, it was for no other reason than to avoid Jungkook and digest the fact that he’d fingered you in public. You lied, “I was sick all day, but I’m fine now.”

“I’m glad,” Jimin said with a smile you returned, then grabbed your hand to surround it with both of his, like old people will. “I know this comes out of nowhere, but I’m really proud of you, Y/N. For pulling through these challenging times. Many, including myself, can only learn from your strength. I know you’ll make a great nun.”

He gave your hand a soft squeeze and left you there, frozen in your spot. It was as though your sins finally dawned on you, all of them at once. You’d really believed leaving the convent didn’t have to mean you’d betray your faith and here you were, sleeping with a guy you’d met barely a month ago without shame because that made you feel alive.

What had you done? What were you turning into?

No longer hungry, you left to go back to your cell, tears already streaming down your cheeks before you made it out of the empty hallways. Or were they empty?

“Y/N!” You ignored Jungkook’s voice and quickened your pace, too ashamed to face him. “Hey, wait up!” He sprinted to reach you, concern shaping his features when he blocked your way and realised you were crying and trying to hide it from him. One thing was telling him your troubles, another to break down like a pathetic, helpless little girl. In the most caring tone, he asked, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You explained, told him how you felt.

“I’m letting Father Jimin down,” you sobbed. “Him, my parents, God, and everyone.”

“You’re not,” Jungkook kept repeating. “You’re in a period of discernment, right? So who says you can’t reach a conclusion by trial and error? That’s what other nuns have done too. Before they got here, yes, but it was doing things they later regretted that convinced them to become nuns.”

“I don’t regret last night,” you said in all honesty, “but I do hate that I don’t regret sinning... You just can’t understand, you’re not religious.”

Jungkook looked down. “Maybe I can’t, but if I know something it’s that if what we did made you happy, it shouldn’t be a sin.” He looked around to make sure no one else was there before cupping your wet cheeks and kissing you, every muscle in your body relaxing under his touch as he knew they would. “Now come with me and eat something.”

He didn’t fully convince you, but your will wasn’t strong enough to resist his tempting.

For the next three weeks, you continued sleeping together at night, pretending you were no more than close friends at day. Whatever the time, Jungkook made sure to spend as much of it as possible with you, although not for a moment did you ever let yourself believe he had any feelings for you other than sexual. You weren’t even sure you wanted him to develop them, truth be told, as this thing you had was a fling. Come the end of summer less than a month from now, he’d move out and you’d start the second and final year of your novitiate, so whatever it was between you had no future.

Still, he kept writing you songs.

Some he’d sing quietly in bed so you’d fall asleep listening to his angelic voice, but the latest one, Church, he’d also asked you to come see him perform in a concert. And so, you’d lied to Father Jimin again, claiming the ancient kettle in the kitchen was broken and a new one needed to be bought. What’s a sin more to secure your one-way ticket to Hell?

Jungkook had warned you this song was not PG-13. He’d be the one singing it, not Amber, and he’d begged and begged you to wear one of his huge t-shirts to the concert with nothing underneath, refusing to tell you why. Leaving the abbey dressed as modestly as was expected of a novice, you changed outfits in the venue’s toilets. You didn’t know why you’d agreed to it but the first line of Church explained his request.

You're wearing nothing but my t-shirt Call me shallow but I'm only getting deeper, yeah Stay on the ground until your knees hurt No more praying, baby, I'ma be your preacher

He half whispered the whole verse into the microphone, all while his eyes pierced yours from the stage. You couldn’t look away either, entranced by his voice and presence. So far from where you were sat, how could he make you feel as though the air had run out in the whole venue?

And I'll keep leading you on If you keep leading me into your room The drinks are all gone But that's fine, baby, so am I

You remembered the date Jungkook had talked about taking you out on and how… standard it now sounded to you as he turned his attention to the girls who cheered for him in the audience. Was it scripted? Something he said to all of them to lead them on? The more you thought about it, the more you realised he’d never actually take you skating. No, you were just for keeping his nights busy.

His gaze found you again.

I'm about to take you back to church (back to church) Well, tell me your confessions, baby, what's the worst? Yeah Baptise in your thighs 'til it hurts (you know it hurts) 'Cause I'm about to take you back to church (oh yeah)

I'll keep you up until the sunset Speaking in tongues, yeah, we ain't done yet (yeah) Don't take my verses out of context I know it's weighing on your conscience

Those last two lines… Further confirmation your relationship was just sex and that you shouldn’t read too much into anything he said, or feel guilty for sinning by having a friend-with-benefits. It was self-contradictory of you to feel down about him not reciprocating your feelings, but you did. Don’t they say love is irrational?

Despite how sad you’d got, the night didn’t end with the concert, but with Jungkook fucking you without restrain. When he was inside you, nothing else mattered.

You were in the back of his van, parked somewhere near the abbey yet not enough for anyone to hear the loud moans that each of his thrusts caused, even with the windows open not to melt in there.

“Fuck, keep moaning for me,” he grunted, gripping your waist to keep you in place.

“Keep fucking me, then…” Jungkook scoffed, would’ve commented on how dirty he’d turned you had he not been so close. You’d come already yourself, but were more than glad to let him go on until he did too.

“Since you’ve got such a big mouth,” he said, panting, “why don’t you put it to good use?”

It took him most of his willpower to pull out and remove his condom. You sat up and opened your mouth for him to shove his hard cock in, swirling your tongue around the tip before closing your lips tight around it and starting to bob your head to take all of him. A bit more experienced now and having learned to love sucking Jungkook, you knew exactly how he liked it done. You could feel it, his cock twitching against your tongue as you savoured it, letting you know he was going to come.

He pulled back again to jerk himself, and you began rubbing your clit, aroused again by the sight between your spread legs. “I thought you were done?”

“Yes, but you’re so hot…” you moaned, and he huffed out a laugh. Biting his lip harshly as he ogled your naked body and the way you touched yourself, it wasn’t long until he came all over your thighs, your own release following.

Jungkook smirked when he was no longer out of breath. “Dreams do come true.” He was staring at your thighs dripping with his cum and your own juices, and you realised he was talking about Church’s ‘baptise in your thighs’. You were about to smile when the rest of the song came to mind, and suddenly you didn’t feel like it anymore… Once Jungkook had cleaned you up with a cloth, he lay down next to you. “Come here.”

You always hoped he’d say that, even though he never failed to. So resting your back on his chest, he held you from behind, caressing your hands in a comfortable silence. It was then that you noticed the blank spot between the tattoos in Jungkook’s wrist. It was tiny, but seemed intentional.

“Are you not inking this bit?”

“I’m saving it for a small symbol, maybe a letter.” He kissed your temple. “Your name’s initial, what do you say?”

Your lips committed to it before your brain did. “Do you get tattoos of the others?”

Jungkook frowned. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he did. “What others?”

“The other girls you sleep with.” There was no jealousy in your casual tone, but it was still petty. Jungkook shifted so he could face you. He was indeed frowning, both perplexed and offended.

“There are no others,” he promised, serious as you’d ever seen him. “You trust me that little?”

“I didn’t think I had to trust you. Aren’t we just hooking up?”

Jungkook rubbed his eyes as if the confusion was giving him a headache. “You thought I was sleeping with other girls and said nothing?”

By what right could you ask him to be faithful in a relationship you planned to end soon? Besides, what if in doing so, you annoyed him enough to stop wanting to be friends? If sharing him with others was the only way to have him, it hurt, but you’d do it. You looked down as you whispered, kind of embarrassed, “I guess I do like you that much…”

Jungkook raised your chin with his curled index finger, made you look at him. He despised the sadness he saw in the depths of your eyes, the one you were trying to repress. “You’re much more than sex to me. I worship you and if I could, I’d spend every waking moment next to you.”

In a small pause, you tried to rack your brain. “Is that from a song?”

“No, but it should be. I’ll write it down later.” Jungkook nodded, agreeing the rhyme had potential. Still, he wasn’t going to let you change the subject. “Y/N, I’m in love with you.”

He is? That did take you off guard.

“You shouldn’t be, I’m a novice,” you said anyway at your most hypocritical.

Jungkook sighed, “What’s so wrong about it? Don’t you love me?”

You didn’t want to lie to him. A smile made your lips stretch before you answered, “I do,” and softly, Jungkook kissed them. Every time he pulled back from a kiss, it felt like it had been too short, no matter how long it lasted. Like you needed more because you could never be sated of him. “Does this mean… we’re dating?”

“I mean, you’re technically engaged to Jesus, and I’m not a guy who likes sharing,” Jungkook joked before giving you a peck and returning to his previous position under you. “If you don’t wanna be just lovers, you’ll have to break up with him first.”

You answered nothing. Should you listen to him, though?

Around two weeks of bliss sprang from your love confessions, where it became hard to pretend you weren’t mad for each other in public, such as when he’d whisper in your ear how provocative you looked in your habit and you giggled like a schoolgirl in love—which, technically, you were. Your parents barely made it into your thoughts, as they were filled to the brim with Jungkook.

From the moment they were over, it all went downhill. Worse, it fell into an abyss.

You had just come out of class with other novices when your hand was grabbed by someone who dragged you through the hallway to head upstairs. “Sorry to steal her, sisters, it’s urgent!”

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” you asked as he led you into your cell in a rush, closing the door for privacy. “You can’t be in here during the day–”

“I’ve found a way.” Only then did you notice how excited he was, a grin across his face. “A way to pay for your university.”

His aunt had been the one to tell him, at the beginning of the summer, that he must plan ahead as an adult now that his parents had turned their back on him, but it wasn’t until he fell for you that he actually started doing that. He was sure he wanted you to be by his side on whatever path he took, for his future to merge with yours somehow.

You, however, knew this conversation would not end well. “Enlighten me.”

“Bangtan is going on a nationwide tour next year.”

“Oh my God, that’s great!” You held his hands and grinned with him. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Y/N, this means I’ll earn a lot of money.” Then, you looked away. “With what I’ve got saved up plus that, you can afford to go to uni, even a private one, and we don’t have to live with the boys, we can have a place of our own! On the road we won’t even have to sweat about that, our company will pay for everyth–”

You freed your hands from his grasp, said with a nervous laugh, “You’re going a bit fast, Jungkook…”

His grin faded. “What do you mean? Isn’t money what you need to get out of here?”

“I’m grateful you want to take care of me but I can’t leave, you know why.”

“Are you serious right now?” Jungkook couldn’t believe it. “Y/N, your parents are gone. I know it’s hard but you have to move on, I don’t want you to wither in this place when you have a chance at happiness.”

“Just because you chose to let your parents down doesn’t mean the rest of us want to.” You regretted those words as soon as they left your mouth, the sound of Jungkook’s heart breaking reaching your ears. Or was it your own?

It took him some long seconds to process you’d said that, then answer, “I told you how they were to me, forgive me for not giving a shit about them.”

“Well, mine are a different story. I do care about them.”

“And not about us? We can’t be together anymore after I leave the convent. Have you not thought about that, or were you going to end things like they meant nothing? Because for weeks, I’ve been trying to find a way to have a future with you.”

“I never asked you to,” you sighed, welling up. You might not have, but a part of you had wanted to. Wanted to go with him too. “There’s no way we can have a future together.”

Jungkook teared up as well, and you hated yourself for it. He was being met with unjust meanness from the person he genuinely loved. You sucked so bad.

“What am I to you, then? What have I been these past months?”

“A distraction.”

It wasn’t a lie, and that’s what hurt the most. You loved Jungkook, and yet, you’d used him to set aside the pain of your parents’ loss and the guilt that was consuming you for being a sinner. You were always going to dispose of him like a toy outgrown, regardless of everything he’d done for you.

He stared for a while, but you couldn’t meet his eyes out of shame. “That’s good to know,” he muttered before storming out, leaving you in a puddle of tears you deserved to be drowned in.

You trudged your way to class after a grey morning in the library. There was still no passage from any religious book that excused your countless sins and promised the salvation of your blighted soul, but that didn’t worry you so much right now. What did, was Jungkook.

He was likely avoiding you—for which you couldn’t blame him—though you doubted meeting and apologising for the ugly things you’d said would be a remedy to the damage done. Not that you didn’t mean them, but they could’ve been said with tact. Jungkook’s wicked crime was loving you, after all.

So busy were you missing something as random as his cologne that you didn’t notice until the end of the class that everyone kept stealing glances at you, whispering to each other afterwards. Even if a tired demeanour wasn’t deserving of such a disproportionate reaction, you still blamed the barely two hours of sleep you’d got for your sisters’ scandalised looks, but another novice approached you in the hallway out of pity to let you know you’d actually made the convent’s news.

You froze in your spot when she said it was because Jungkook had spread the rumour that you’d been sleeping with him.

No, please... Tell me he hasn’t.

Leaving your sister where she stood and running off to find him with the disapproving gaze of every other person you passed burning into your skin, you prayed you were inside a nightmare harder with each stride.

Jungkook couldn’t have betrayed you. Someone must have seen or heard you and put two and two together, right?

Such theory turned into dust when you saw him sat in the cloister surrounded by girls like the day you’d met, playing a melody in the guitar for their attentive ears. Somehow, you knew he’d done it then, and on purpose. You started to feel sick as you approached them, whether because of the summer heat or the knife stabbed and twisted in your back, you didn’t know.

“We need to talk.”

Jungkook didn’t bother to look up as he said, “If we were still dating, I’d totally be shaking at that sentence, Y/N.”

Some of your sisters giggled, others bit their lip not to. You went red, begged, “Please.”

Albeit reluctantly, he stood up and followed you to an empty hallway. You didn’t know whether you were more upset, scared, surprised, or disappointed, but the smell of the cologne you were missing earlier managed to calm you down a little, as Jungkook’s company tended to do. Your stupid body seemed to not have caught up on the fact that he was the cause of your hurting.

“What do you want?” he asked curtly.

“What do I want? To know how you could tell everyone about us, Jungkook, how you could do this to me. I’ll be expelled! And I don’t have parents or a family that will take me back if I go apologise to them, I have nowhere to go. Is that what you want? For me to be with you because I have no other choice?”

“Of course not, we’re done,” Jungkook assured you that wasn’t his plan, which you believed. He hated your guts, his dark eyes told you. “But now you’re not tied to a place you don’t really want to be in.”

“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t do this out of revenge.”

“So what if I did?”

You stared at him for a while, speechless like he had the time you’d last met. “And here I thought you’d proved me wrong.”

“In what,” Jungkook asked in a scoff, “becoming a nun now that you’ve been dicked down?”

The coldness of his tone stung your heart. In disbelief, you shook your head. “No, in that there was more to you than what first meets the eye.”

A grain of shock broke through the mask of indifference Jungkook was wearing, probably because your words weren’t visibly said against your better judgement this time, but while seeing him through the same lenses as his parents did. You looked at him just like them the night they’d kicked him out, in a way he had hoped you never would.

And how could you not? You’d thought you knew him, yet he’d gone ahead and ruined your life. Maybe you never did know the real Jungkook at all, who was now too taken aback to come up with an answer before another novice approached.

“Father Jimin wants to see you, sister,” she said, after which you took a deep breath, nodded, and followed her without so much as giving Jungkook one last glance.

In his office, sat on his desk, Father Jimin was quiet. Had been so since you’d come in and sat down.

One of his elbows rested on his chair’s arm and two fingers pressed on his closed lips as he thought of what to say. You already had an idea of what it would be, and it made you no more ready, fists clutching the skirt of your lap.

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally confessed in a sigh. It struck you how it was the first time in the few years you’d known Father Jimin that you didn’t see a smile on his face, or at least friendliness. He was the kind of person who always saw the best in people but right now, there was nothing good left in you. “I’m truly at a loss for words. I never thought you’d do something like this, or that I’d find out from other mouths.”

Tears blurred your sight at the memory of him telling you he was proud of you. “I know I have no right to ask for forgiveness, but I’m begging you, Father. It was the mistake of my life–”

“You broke your vows, Y/N. Defiled a holy place.” Oh… Jungkook had admitted to that as well? Chin trembling, you pressed your lips together not to cry. “Lied to me about it and God knows what else… This behaviour cannot be tolerated. You can stay in the abbey until you find a job and a place to live, but you are dismissed from this community, if not excommunicated.”

You sobbed, unable to hold it in anymore, “Father, please. I can’t let my parents down, their last wish was that I become a nun–”

“Isn’t it your wish? Were you lying about that too?” Your head lowered in shame and Father Jimin leaned back into his chair with a loud sigh. “You should have thought about your parents before getting involved with Jungkook. Be grateful they aren’t here to see you stray this bad.” He waited for you to say something, but shame kept you from it, as he was right. “You may leave now.”

Everything had happened so fast that a week later, you were still assimilating it.

Except when necessary, you barely left your cell. Dreaded both the judgemental looks of your sisters and the non-existent ones from Father Jimin, who ignored your presence whenever he had to suffer it in the chapel or the refectory. Not to mention running into Jungkook. To your knowledge, he’d been kicked out too, was sometimes seen moving boxes from his cell to his van. There wasn’t much for him to pack, so you guessed he was dragging the process. What for, you tried not to care.

That was the main reason why, helped by the yellow pages, you’d been job-hunting through the telephone. Not that it was better or worse than going in person, because nobody wanted to employ an ex-novice anyway. They literally hung up when you mentioned you’d been expelled from the convent—as expected, to be honest—but lying again was not an option. You’d learned your lesson the hard way.

Eventually, you did manage to land an interview for a job. Given it didn’t pay that well, it’d be a while until you could afford to move out of the abbey and even longer until you’d step in a university as a student, which was frustrating, but at least you didn’t need anyone’s permission to leave. Since you weren’t a novice anymore, nobody batted an eyelid at you heading outside the afternoon of your scheduled interview.

You were near the main door when, out of nowhere, Sister Daeun stopped you to talk.

“My nephew’s told me everything. I can’t say I approve of your relationship, but it does make me feel better that there was love involved. A lot, apparently,” your gaze averted to the ground, “which makes your decision to break up with him out of respect for your parents all the more admirable. It was wrong of Jungkook to make it public, he knows that, and he would like to apologise and give you the money he made this summer.”

“I couldn’t take it, sister,” you opposed. “It’s his. He needs it to pay rent, he’s moving in with Hoseok and Taehyung.”

Wait, was that why he hadn’t left yet? Because he wanted to wait until September so he didn’t have to pay for August?

“He’ll make much more when he’s on tour,” Sister Daeun insisted. “This is the least he can do for you. That I can do for you, too. You’ll always be my novice, Y/N, no matter what.” Without a second’s thought, you hugged her tightly. It was solacing to know there was at least one person who saw past your sins. “Jungkook’s gone to get the money but he won’t be here until late, Bangtan is opening for another one of those rock bands in a concert tonight. He’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

“I was just going into town, so if you tell me the name of the venue, I’ll stop by. He must be there doing a stage rehearsal.” You remembered the light in his eyes when he’d explained to you everything about the vocation he was so passionate about, how sweet his smile was… No. No. You shouldn’t feel anything after what he’d done. “I want to get this over and done with as soon as possible.”

That turned out to be yet another bad decision.

Once your interview was over, you rushed to the same venue you’d seen Jungkook perform Rock God and Church.

Paying no mind to the fans at the entrance who looked askance at you for jumping the line, the security guy let you in when he recognised you. Memories of the two nights you’d previously been there stormed you while getting backstage, especially how fast your heart had beat because of the racy lyrics of the songs and the way Jungkook had looked at you from the stage.

Now, it died inside your chest as you watched him make out with Amber at the end of the otherwise empty hallway.

He had her pinned against the wall, hands gripping her ass to press their bodies together and lips devouring hers as though he couldn’t get enough. Amber’s hands were wrapped around his neck, and she now grabbed a fistful of his hair to pull his head back and start kissing his neck. You saw how Jungkook smirked at the action, turned on by her dominance.

Both in their rockstar outfits, they looked like a perfect match, so you couldn’t help but wonder if they’d been dating all along. If that boyfriend of hers Jungkook had told you about was none other than himself.

Forcing yourself out of your shock, you exited the venue through the back as quickly as you could, saving the cascade of tears that was already building up in your eyes until you were alone.

It wasn’t that you were going to forgive him and expected his apology to come with an offer to date him again, but even after everything he had done to you, you still loved him. You hated yourself for it, but you couldn't help it. You were so stupid that you wished he'd find you there, sat on the cold concrete, and just held you in his arms until you stopped crying.

The next day you slept through breakfast, and would’ve stayed in your cell until lunch had Father Jimin not summoned you to his office again.

Curiously, this time around he looked… sorry?

“I’ve been made aware of some information this morning,” he said from across his desk with a nod.

“About me?” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Oh, God, what now?

“I can’t answer that because it has to do with a confession, but it’s made me realise I was wrong.” He leaned in, gaze moving around as he tried to think of a way not to reveal anything disclosed in the confessional box. “I should’ve been more cautious instead of welcoming just anyone into our home. Sometimes, I fail to see beyond the surface, and it results in the harm of others. A harm I pray it’s possible to heal from.”

“I don’t understand…”

“What I mean is that you don’t have to be afraid anymore. You can go back to being a novice, or take as long as you need to resolve any doubts you might have. Whatever you choose, I’ll support you.”

“But, why, Father? The things I did– You forgive me?”

“I’ve seen you regret them even if they weren’t your fault, so yes, I do.” You frowned. “I just hope you can forgive me too.”

On your way back to your cell, you walked slowly, using all your energy to figure out what Father Jimin had been talking about. When the answer popped up in your mind, you turned around and ran through the abbey. If Jungkook had done what you thought he had… Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find him, as you almost crashed together when turning to the next hallway. Had it not been because he’d grabbed your waist in time, you would’ve fallen.

When he realised it was you, he let go and stepped back. “Y/N, I wanted to talk to y–”

“Did you tell Father Jimin you raped me?”

The question took him by surprise. “He talked to you first… Wait, I thought confessional secrecy was unbreakable?”

“He didn’t tell me, I deduced it on my own.” You crossed your arms, disappointed you were right. “Why would you do that? I can’t make sense of it.”

“It was the only way to get the abbot to take you back. It’s not like he can report me to the police, and I’m leaving anyway… I told him I made you do things and that you were scared to tell anyone.” Jungkook looked everywhere but your eyes. “I’m really sorry for outing you. It was fucking childish of me and you didn’t deserve it. I was just so mad at what you said… but I know that’s no excuse.”

A part of you wanted to apologise for that and even ask him if it was too late to start over, but another reminded you of what you saw last night and stopped you, along with the one that should hold the most weight—your parents. It was a miracle you’d been given back the chance to honour their wishes, so you couldn’t ruin it again.

“I also wanted to give you this.” Jungkook handed you an old school bag. “My aunt told you what’s inside, right? She mentioned earlier you were going to come pick it up yesterday at the venue.”

“Yes, I forgot…” you lied. “I was at a job interview and got out quite late.”

“That’s okay. Did it go well?” He shouldn’t have asked, it was none of his business anymore. The interest in you had just rolled out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“It did, actually.” Both of you knew that if you went back to being a novice, you couldn’t take the job, but neither addressed it.

“Swell.” Jungkook put his hands inside his pockets, looked at you like he wanted to say much more. “I hope you have a happy life, Y/N. I really do.”

“Wait, are you saying goodbye? You’re leaving now?”

So soon?

“Yeah, poor Father Jimin thinks I’m… Well, you know. I wouldn’t want someone like me around you girls either. Plus, it’s September today, summer’s over,” he said with a forced smile. “Hoseok and Tae are waiting for me in the van. I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Before he could leave, you walked closer and gave him a hug. It didn’t feel right even when he wrapped his arms tight around you and buried his face in the crook of your neck, what with everything left unsaid, but you needed to feel his warmth one last time.

“Goodbye, Jungkook. And happy birthday.”

Two years later

“You’ll like Bangtan, they’re wicked hot,” Chloe said for the third time, rather trying to convince herself than you, as she knew rock wasn’t your type of music. “Especially Taehyung, he’s my favourite!”

The concert was supposed to start soon, so hugging yourself and rubbing your arms, you stood on your tiptoes to check if the long queue ahead was moving any faster. “Well, I’m glad they’re hot, ‘cause I’m freezing.”

She, Chloe, was a friend you’d made on the first day of university. Lots had changed.

“It won’t be long now, get the tickets ready,” she gave you something to do, to forget about the February cold.

As she’d promised, it took less than five minutes for the two of you to enter the biggest venue in town. Such was the fame of Bangtan now. You were only glad the security guy from the other times wasn’t there to recognise you, since Chloe was unaware of your past as a groupie. It wasn’t that you were keeping it from her… You just didn’t feel like talking about him.

“Come on,” she grinned while grabbing your hand, all excited, “let’s get close to the stage!”

The concert lasted what felt like an eternity.

Not only did you have to endure Rock God and Church again, which opened the wound of a relationship you still hadn’t healed from, but you also had to keep your head down so as to not be spotted by the band members.

It was going alright, though, until you made the mistake of glancing up, and saw him. And he saw you.

Minus the fact that he wasn’t a blond anymore, Jungkook looked the same as always. Not that that was a bad thing. Whether in his rockstar outfit or covered in goat milk, he took your breath away. He skipped a few notes due to the shock of seeing you in the crowd but as the professional he was, he managed to make his faltering almost unnoticeable and keep playing the guitar like nothing had happened. But he wouldn’t lose you out of sight.

You wanted to look away, leave, even, but found you couldn’t, like Jungkook had put a spell on you. A spell that only broke once Bangtan thanked their fans for coming and left the stage.

Chloe, who’d been cheering throughout the whole show, now went on about how amazing it had been, how hot Taehyung had looked. Not really listening, you automatically nodded to everything until you heard, “Let’s go to the toilets before a line forms, I really need to pee.”

“Sure.”

You held her purse while you waited outside, recalling how Father Jimin had warned you seeing Jungkook again would only make your wound sting—to which you’d agreed! The only reason you were there was because you’d promised Chloe. Chloe, who was taking so long.

With a sigh, your eyes neglected that random spot on the floor they’d been fixed on and flew around to end up on those of Jungkook, who was walking towards you. The few people in the line to use the toilets gasped and watched their idol, but he didn’t care, walked past them like they didn’t exist. You, weren’t sure what to feel when he was finally in front of you.

“Hi,” he said with a faint smile that you returned rather awkwardly, given the fact everyone was looking at you. “Can we talk… in private?”

Every cell of your body told you to decline, that Jungkook was a book you shouldn’t pick up again even to leaf through, but your head nodded on its own accord. Hope you don’t mind, Chloe.

It was upstairs to the now deserted first floor he led you, and the balcony of which you stood next by, where you could see the few people left heading out. They didn’t hold your attention for longer than a second, though.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Jungkook spoke almost shyly, yet his eyes didn’t leave your face until he forced them to, not to weird you out. How long had he been staring like that? But you looked so pretty...

“I’m here with a friend from uni, she’s a fan.”

He didn’t understand. “Wait, you ended up leaving the convent?”

“I did finish my novitiate but I never took the vows. They let me live there, though.”

It wasn’t a decision you made overnight, obviously, and one Father Jimin and Sister Daeun worked hard for many months to make you see it wouldn’t have upset your parents as much as you believed, much less get them to stop loving you. In fact, you were still coming to terms with it, not entirely free of guilt, but a mix of secular and spiritual life was proving to be exactly what you needed.

The university and the abbey, parties and Mass, your new friends and your family… You could have both and save your soul from damnation. Now, could you save your heart from breaking all over again? It felt like it already was, physically so close to Jungkook yet so far that an uncomfortable silence had fallen between you.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

You looked at him. Cut to the chase, alright… “I’m not. A-Are you?”

Was that a sigh of relief he let out through his parted lips, or did you just want it to be? “No.”

“I thought you’d be dating Amber.” Jungkook frowned slightly, so you went on and confessed, “I saw you together the night before you left. I came to pick up the money and… Well, none of that matters now.”

Horror painted Jungkook’s face. That was how you’d remembered him? Getting off with Amber?

“She’d just broken up with her boyfriend,” he wasted no time in saying. “Neither of us was thinking clearly. It was a one-time thing, an adrenaline rush after a concert.”

You hugged yourself, lips pressing together at the details you didn’t want to hear. “You don’t need to explain, we weren’t dating anymore…”

“Fuck, I’m sorry that you’ve thought all this time that I was with her,” Jungkook apologised anyway, gaze falling to the floor in shame. “Actually, I know that it doesn’t count for anything, but I’m sorry about a lot of things.”

“Yeah, I wish it did. Count… Or better yet, I wish I’d gone with you,” you laughed, at the fact that you meant it.

“What?” Jungkook took a step closer, as though he’d misheard and wanted to make sure he got it this time. Suddenly, you realised what an idiot you were being.

“Nothing, forget it.” You turned around to leave before the lump in your throat summoned any tears, but Jungkook took your hand to stop you. He couldn’t let you go, even if he’d been the one to leave last time.

“I’m glad you didn’t come with me, Y/N, and that you got to do what you wanted. But I do wish I hadn’t ruined everything and hurt you. If I could go back, I'd punch me in the face.”

It didn’t mean you’d forgotten, but the truth was that you’d forgiven what he did a while ago. After all, “I was also a dick to you.”

“If you’re a dick, then I like dick.”

Actually, you hated him.

You hated even more that that made you laugh but it was because of Jungkook’s clownery that you first fell for him. And you’d never stopped loving him. He smiled fondly, caressing your hand. On his wrist, where there used to be a small uninked spot, now was your name’s initial. Neither had he, it seemed.

“Does this mean you want us to…?”

His eyes opened wide, feigning scandal. “What, here? I’d sooner do it in a chapel.” You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t keep from smiling. “How about we start with a date? Say... Friday at 5pm? I know a good roller-skating rink.”

⇢ drabble: faith

#bts au #btswritingcafe #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #bts #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #bts jungkook #rockstar jungkook #bangtan imagine #jeon jungkook scenarios

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yeyinde · 1 year

Note

okay wait now we need a second version where the reader does leave with ghost and he walks her home and he's all shitty about the drunk flirting and she's like "bruh it was just flirting, if you would make a move i wouldn't need to make you jealous" 😌

ask and you shall (eventually) receive~ 🖤

i hope you enjoy this!!

"What? He's been keekin' you all night." There is a divot between his brow. When he turns his head, the fairy lights behind make his stubble look darker. "Yer aff yer heid!" Soap’s Version

It's all words.

Thin, hollow: they're empty ones bereft of meaning. They roll over you—a gale rocking you from side to side until you're dizzy with that awful little thing that clings to your pericardium, refusing to relent.

Hope.

Yearning (in English this time, if only just for him).

It clots there, taking root until you're a little queasy. A little unwell. The alcohol, perhaps, or—

He sits by Laswell, head angled down to murmur low in her ear about things that shouldn't matter right now when everyone is alive, and safe, and back together. But of course they do. They always do.

You wonder if they ever rest. If they ever take a moment's reprieve from the endless death and carnage that bulldozes your life until it's in shambles. Until the only thing that remains is broken chunks that reek of smoke and petrol.

It feels impossible.

He hasn't looked up once, despite whatever nonsense Soap might be on about. Untouchable. A chasm.

Ghost is a shoreless island in the distance. Rocky and steep.

Sometimes, if you stand on the furthest point of the beach, you can almost see the land peeking out from under the sea. Hazy. Shrouded. It sits amid the crashing waves, out of reach from everyone.

Soap pulls you back in, a few clipped words shared back and forth, and everything else melts away. This is easy.

This, being: drunk on expensive scotch (thank you, Captain Price; and oh no, thank you, I don't don't want a cigar) as you share snapped banter in a small pub. Vacant, of course, save for the six of you, and the barkeep. A man who offers little more than a nod at you when you mutter about the washroom, and swats at Price when he comes for peanuts and pretzels.

It's easy to pretend, you think, that the honeycomb eyes, a bashful grin, and hands that feel like the sun are what you want.

Easy, and yet—

You wonder if he's had anything to drink.

(You wonder if he'd keep his gloves on while he held you—)

You snap something at Soap, something you hope is witty and charming, and maybe if you play your cards right, you won't end up alone in a foreign land tonight. That, maybe, he'll let you close your eyes, and pretend—

It's ground out, raked through coals. "Soldier."

He makes you dizzy. Makes you want, yearn, makes you—

It falls into nothing, until your head is full of him: blood hell, Christ—

Never said I wasn't.

It feels like more of a reprimand than anything else he'd tossed your way thus far. A warning, maybe. Don't get too close. You know what you're in for.

Don't make him into the fairytale he isn't.

"And you, soldier?"

You're drunk. Too drunk. Head gummy and full of sin.

"Should leave," you say, casting a glance toward the mosaic window. A cross hangs in the distance. An augury. "Maybe go to church."

"Aye, lass. Think someone ought to get you home. Lt?"

You pull the last swallows in your cup before Soap has the chance to take it away from you. Liquid courage, you think, wilting under a black stare. A looming, uncharted island in the distance.

"C'mon," he says, words a shade away from being a command. "Haven't got all night."

You don't point out that it's nearly three in the morning—devil's hour in the company of a ghost—and wisely hold your tongue when Soap leans down, whispering: you can spend the night with me, hen.

"We're leaving." A growl, now.

It jars you. His voice is unlike anything else you've ever heard: gravel and ash; gunfire booming in the distance. It sits low, like the words are dragged up from the depths of his chest, and sounds like smouldering embers.

Your hands shake around the glass. It knocks against the wooden counter when you set it down, a hair too hard. You're crumbling. Slipping into waters that have no bottom. Rough, frothing. The white foam clogs your throat, drenches in you until you're weighed down, and sinking fast.

In over your head. No way out. The island is too far away.

His eyes are sharper than you've ever seen them. A yawning abyss. You wonder if something would snap at the tips of your fingers if you got too close.

Soap brows sit arched on his forehead, mouth thinning into a small line. "Alright, bonnie?"

"Gonna go home," you smile, tired. Wobbly. "Gotta get some sleep. Maybe next time, though."

Ghost's stare has never felt so heavy.

You stumble out of the pub behind him, pointedly ignoring the glance Gaz sends in your direction—the phone in your pocket already buzzing with texts that will make you whimper in the morning (saw you with Lt, mate. What the fuck? I mean what the bloody fuck?). This is normal, you think. Everyday. Mundane. Saturated in the ordinary.

Except—

Sometimes, your life doesn't make any sense. How you can go from coldly planning a man's—mens—murder to walking down the wet streets of Glasgow, head full of your Lieutenant.

The church peaks in the distance. The light spills, bathes it in yellow. The tolling bells call you an idiot.

Your head drops, eyes skirting toward the indomitable man beside you. Idiot, indeed. You can't help yourself, though. He's a magnet. A beacon.

A current sweeping you out to sea.

He says nothing. Hands tucked into the pockets of his black jacket, hood pulled down low. Those haunting eyes roam the corners, surveying the alcoves: always ready, always on-guard.

It's a stifling thing, this silence. Oppressive. Crushing.

Your throat itches with the urge to shatter it, to break it down until there is nothing left of it. Where it can't echo inside your chest like the brutal burn of rejection, and doesn't make your mind reel, an endless spiral of why and how and—

What can you do differently to make it a reality?

No man is untouchable. Not really. There had to be others in his life. A man like Ghost—

It's just impossible, isn't it?

Does he go to a brothel when the urge wells? A pub? Does he have dalliances with other agents he'd met in the field? Ones with battle scars, the taste of gunfire on their breath, and firm hands on their rifle? Is there someone already waiting at home for him, tucked inside a place no one else can reach them? The only inhabitant on an island in the middle of the sea.

What is his type?

And how can it be you?

Queries. Questions. They burn through you.

What if you just went for it? Is that what he likes? Someone who looks him in the eye, and says take me, I'm yours.

You open your mouth to ask, but are stopped in your tracks by the stare fixed on you. Breath caught in your throat. Lungs bereft of air. You splinter.

"S—sir…?"

"What?" It's harsh when it's ground out of his teeth. A snap.

"Are you angry?"

His eyes slide down to you, lidded and heavy. "Negative."

You huff. "Lying to me, now?"

"I've been called many things, Rookie, but a liar isn't one of them."

The grit in his voice makes you tremble. Makes a heat spume inside of you, not unlike the scotch from earlier.

Or—

Maybe it is the scotch. Your head is a slurry; a mess. The world around is shrouded in a sheen, a gloss, that makes the lights smear, and the cobblestone below quake under your feet.

"Are you—" jealous feels too strange in conjunction with Ghost. To the man who, as close as he is beside you, has never felt further away. Stupid Soap and his stupid words.

"Am I what?"

You mull it over. Let the word sit between your incisors to gauge the fit of it. It doesn't quite fit when you roll it around. Doesn't belong together.

(Like him, you.)

You stifle it.

He makes a noise, impatience, perhaps, and the word leaks into their terse air between you before you snap your jowls shut.

"Jealous?"

His eyes slide to you again. The whites glow under the street lamps. "Jealous?"

You feel a little silly. A little stupid. You blame it on the scotch. On Soap, and his keekin' you—

But—

You feel the words pool on your tongue, but you can't stop them from trembling out.

"I could have went home with Soap—"

"Why didn't you?"

It stings. The rejection hurts something fierce, but it's swallowed down.

(In for a penny…)

"You pulled me away. I could have been fucking him right now, and instead I'm wandering around Glasgow—"

Tonight feels as good as any to get your heart wrecked. Loose lips sink ships, after all.

"You might be fucking him, pet," his voice is a snarl, a feathered growl. "But you'd be thinking of me."

It punches into you, and makes you gasp, aloud; the sound echoing over the wet brick surrounding you. Your feet stutter when it's ground out, left to rot in the air. You jerk your head up to look at him, eyes wide. Heart-hammering in your chest.

He stops, too, hands now hanging by his sides, curled into loose fists. His chin is tipped down, liquid eyes boring into you.

You—

You've never seen a sight more damning. One more ready-made for ruin.

He makes you feel a low grade fever burning in your veins. Stupid, intoxicated.

You don't know where to go from here. Thinking of me. He's right. Of course, he is. It feels like a fractured mess when it tugs on the corner of your lip, a slowly unease smile. Distance, you think. You're an island far away from hurt.

Rejection. The brutality of his words—they can't reach your shores.

"And you'd be at home, getting thought of but not fucked." It's shakier than you'd wanted it to be, words a slow tremble. Then, a whisper: "You wouldn't even know."

"I would." He takes a step, another. His stare never wavers. "Just like I knew the first time you touched your little cunt to the thought of me. Couldn't look me in the eye for a week, pet."

"That's—"

It's true. You remember the time—all of them—and the realisation that he knows (he knows, he knows, he knows) burns into you. A knot of discomfort pools in your core.

There is embarrassment, of course there is. Shame, too.

But you're too drunk, too blootered, to think straight. Too raw, and cracked. You're a vanishing island. Water lapping at your inlands.

More hollow, thin words: "why did you take me out?"

"I gave you the option," he corrects, his voice is flat. It carries at the end, and leaves no room for any argument or protests.

It's true, after all.

You drop your chin, hands shaking. It's a bludgeon to your gut.

(How can it be you—?)

Stupid.

The false bravado quivers under his stare. A step backward flattens your spine to the wall of some long-closed Tandoori shop. The bricks are still wet from the rainshower that fell earlier. The cold dampness bleeds into your flesh. Goosebumps prickle.

More liquid courage, you think, hands balling into quivering fists by your side.

You lift your head. In for a penny, right?

No island is truly unreachable. No man, either.

All of this— something —with Ghost is drawn together into this single moment. The distance. The uneasy feeling on the nape of your neck when he's behind you. The want. He's been keekin' you all night. You look over and catch his stare. Feel it on your skin like a brand.

(Ready-made, always.)

It all has to mean something. It has to.

"Is that why you stare at me?"

His eyes are embers. The glow from the streetlights make him look like smouldering ash. Demonic. It thrills you.

"No, pet."

He leans in close, his body a shadow over yours. A tower. You can't see anything except the fill of him spreading out around you. Black. Endlessly so. Your perpetual night. The embers spark, blazing, when he bores into you. A wildfire in the distance. Atavistic fear brims.

Stay away from the fire and the being that can hurt.

His hand presses into the concrete beside your head. There is nowhere to run.

"I stare at you because I keep thinkin' about those little fingers trying to fuck yourself silly, and how desperate you must be knowin' it isn't enough."

You shiver—a whole body chill that has your teeth chattering together at the punctured words that drip, tainted with your demise, from his mouth.

The air in your lungs is noxious. It spumes inside until your knees quake, threatening to drop down into that unfathomable abyss that gapes below. The yawning maw of a man who wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into you until nothing remains. Rucked into the currents, it sends you careening out to sea until your fingers cling to the side of that untouchable island, begging for respite. Salvation.

It's a plea, a whimper: "you should have asked to take me home."

He offers none of it. His hand stretches out, and in the cup of his palm, he promises only ruin.

You shouldn't take it. Don't make him out to be the fairytale he isn't.

But the look he levels you with, ravenous hunger tucked inside the tenebrose of those spiralling depths, has you reaching out. A moth to a flame. The roar of the Styx in your head. You can't resist.

(You wouldn't even try.)

"I already am."

—Gaz regrets sending the text when he wakes up the next morning to a detailed commentary on all the ways his Lt absolutely ruined you

— he refuses to look either of you in the eye for weeks after

—this is completely irrelevant and feel free to roast me for it, but! my hc of a jealous!Ghost depends on where he's at in the relationship

—in the beginning: he doesn't trust, he does his job, and he's distant; but if he feels it, he'll close down. total distance. silence. he's mean about it, too. waspish. he'll try to push you away. cold hearted bastard to a T.

—but later?? oh, boy. that's when the Looming™️ starts. the, oh hey lemme go talk to that cutie over there - oh, wait. what the fuck that is that thing behind them and why does it look like it wants to eat me alive?! he's still mean, of course, but now he has a reason to snap. a reason to stand as close you as physically possible so everyone knows just who you belong to. and if he catches you flirting, i mean. rip, b. 🥹

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x you #requests #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #simon riley cod #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #lord its me again #they caught me simpin

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minzis · 6 months

Text

The Devil Has A New Lover

Art Credits: colin_3dart

✞❘༻An obsessive König one shot༺❘✞

✦❘༻My first time attempting to genuinely write so if it’s not the best be mindful of that! Semi graphic? A bit suggestive as well König is a bit of a perv in this so… About 5.8k words give or take.

✦❘༻The german in this is fairly rough I tried my best in researching properly for it so if there’s any mistakes in translation let me know.

✦❘༻I’ve had ‘Take Me To Church’ on repeat while writing this so take that as you will. Lowkey fulfilling my own obsession with obsessive/yandere König tbh.

✦❘༻ ─────•~✞~•───── ༺❘✦

Your finger flicker off the match, his bloodied clothes engulfed in bright flames. It seemed to have extend to your aching heart, tainting your soul a deep black. A color that used to only suit König alone. A fire that endlessly burned torching your skin on more then one occasion.

The flames dancing and crackling like a broken song similar to the one that played so beautifully every time he kissed you, every time he touched you. Lifted and held you in his arms as if he was some knight in shiny armor. How well you fit into his hands, molded into a pure perfection of his own making.

A gaze that burrowed beneath your skin like a fatal infection. One that had already picked you apart and pieced you back together more times then you’d ever know.

You knew from the beginning what type of person he was, wether it was subconsciously or not. Everyone knew how he was always a moments away from his next nervous breakdown. He was a terrifyingly beautiful force to be reckoned with on the field.

Death was this man’s best friend like a shadow that followed him even on the brightest of days.

The way he killed with his bare hands would’ve been enough to damn his soul for an eternity. A weapon in his hands only made him evolve into a worsening form of himself. He knew no amount of cleansing or repenting would save him.

Everything about him wasn’t normal, he was never normal. But by god did he make the devilish acts feel like a degraded version of heaven. His actions showed that he was some form of nasty demon but his touch was that of a saint. The voice dipped in honey, brewed in ecstasy. It was beautiful, and he made it feel beautiful. The blood on his hands that never truly washed away.

He had to be some sort of drug that constantly intoxicated you from the pretty skin he left marks on to the veins he lit on fire. He filled every sense in ways no normal man could ever hope to achieve. They could never be him, ever amount to him.

Sometimes you wondered if the feelings you had for him scared you more then the man himself. Why did the devil make evil look so enchanting? If you held him surely you’d be dragged down with him by the many sins he committed on the battlefield.

You’d feel the many ghost that haunted his thoughts, the innocent, evil, and everything in between. Maybe that’s why you enticed him so much, the ghost’s screams who sounded less prevalent when he was near you.

His life an endless cycle of what was, never a moments thought of an after or before. He was a mere animated corpse with a heartbeat. That’s why they loved him so much, his soullessness.

There was no mission too evil, even if he was damned to hell for eternity not even the devil could stop him. He was who they sent on the missions nobody dared to considered, the hushed ones hauled off in the dark. The ones that leave you awake on a cold summer night praying you’d simply forget it all but they’d forever haunt the deepest parts of your mind.

Like a chained dog thrown a bone when his existence was needed but never wanted.

He hoped on many countless night that on one of the dreadful missions a stray bullet would find its way embedded into his skin, or a simple slip up that left him bleeding out on the floor. Maybe that’s why on some missions he wouldn’t wear his bulletproof vest just to test his favor with death. He didn’t care how painful it was just that he was relived from this horrid existence people dared to call living. He was never truly living to begin not with what he’s done.

Just a dead man walking.

Karma was going to come for him it was only a question of when.

But then there was you, the new sergeant on the force who was known to have worked her ass off. And of course you were a fucking sniper, a hell of one that even the men who disliked you couldn’t mouth a word.

Something about it pissed him off, you were what he wanted to be. What he should’ve been and you were damn good at it. You were kind, too kind. How odd that you could hold such a level of optimism and humanity in a job like this.

How easily your peers flocked to you, people enjoyed your presence. A refreshing one compared to the one he brought every time he entered the room. Silence always fell over the laughter, eyes stuck to him like he was something unbearable to be around. He was respected through fear not his achievements.

Glances and words that were a coldness whenever it came to you. It was even more aggravating that despite it all, it was you that kept him up late at night.

The last thing he thought about before he went to sleep and the first he thought of when he awoke. Day in day out it was all you. No matter what he did you never left, he had to see you every damn day of the week. Nearly 24 hours a god damn day.

You were who he yelled at the loudest, punishments the made no sense compared to the fuck-up. Yet you still smiled at him, tried to laugh with him. Treated him with kindness and respect that wasn’t out of fear but admiration.

Why? What made him worth even being allowed in your vicinity.

A mission arose eventually like they always do. A two man job, one he sure as hell didn’t want to go on. Nobody’s hand raised, nor any voices raised to be his partner and everyone suggested you. How thoughtful? He was damn near seething when he had to approach and inform you of it. He practically threw the papers on your desk, “Ready in twenty Mäuschen.”

Your eyes searched over the papers in confusion before looking back up at him. You almost expected his words to be a weird sense of humor he had, but his eyes read he was far from joking. He narrowed his eyes at you like a predator stalking it prey. It was honestly quite terrifying how small he made you feel from a single glance.

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to smile or form some bullshit of a sentence that he’d rather not hear. You nodded your head shuffling the papers together, by time you had gathered your thoughts enough to look back up he was long gone. A sigh fell out your mouth as you slumped back in your chair, head resting in your palms.

It’s fine right? I mean sure he has an obvious distaste towards you but a mission is a mission. Wether he possibly hated you or not his work ethic wouldn’t allow him to let his personal feelings get in the way. If that’s what he even felt if anything at all, distaste or hatred? It’s all the same when it comes from him.

Shouldn’t you just give up? Call it quits? It’s been almost a month or two now since you’ve joined the team and he showed no signs of changing the relationship between y’all anytime soon. Let alone allowing you any type of close to him especially anything beyond a coworker type bases. It was obvious he only tolerated you cause he had to not because he wanted too.

What was supposed to be an in and out minimum contact mission ended up going completely haywire, nobody was supposed to get hurt, not on your side at the least.

Sure you’re on the field but never in immediate danger sure as hell not trying to save that monstrous of a man. A sniper, mere specter of the battle watching it unfold, finger firm on the trigger as König commanded your every move.

It was a bit of a surprise how well you flowed together. Synchronized movements with yards between y’all, moving as one. From the looks of it you’d almost have assumed you two had worked together for years but you two accomplished what would have taken some weeks of practice.

You trailed his every move through the scope becoming his eyes from the sky, the light blooming in the dark as his passion for blood seeped from him.

You weren’t sure if you should call it a passion or an obsession. Bloodlust even? He wasn’t just killing for the purpose of the mission he was doing it cause he enjoyed it. Yet for the most maddening of reasons he made it look beautiful.

Often or not people tend to forget the devil was once an angel, written out as this demonic being so atrociously evil. The devil dresses in ethereal dripping in sins so intoxicating you’d be fooled into falling for the fallen angel. He makes evil look heavenly as if there would be no price to pay for taking his hand.

Make no mistake there will always be a price to pay for dancing with the devil.

Something about it was enriching, exhilarating of an experience. To be tempted by the devil, by him. What did it make you? A craving coursed through you like a toxin as your watchful eyes admired him from afar. What you don’t know can’t hurt you right? It shouldn’t matter if you kept it to yourself. Just spectating like you always have would’ve been enough.

But like they always say careful what you wish for.

If it weren’t for the extensive training you went through you probably would’ve never seen the glint in the distance. Brief and quick you knew it all to well, the glare of a sniper. Within the brief thought process your finger pulled the trigger immediately downing the other sniper. They weren’t aiming at you though. Before you could fully understand the situation König’s voice rung out over the radio.

“Verdammter scheiß,” he cursed out through the radio, your hand immediately clicked too your own.

Your eyes searched the field where he had just been and he was nowhere to be seen. “Sir where are you, I took out the sniper but I lost sight of you?!” Your panicked voice called for him as you hurriedly gathered your gear. Leaving the sniper behind you rushing down from the spot you had been at. Slipping out the small pistol you carried along your belt.

You shoved through the trees towards where you assumed he had been. Overlooking the field from your current position it was damn near impossible to see him now with the cover of darkness. You cursed to yourself beginning to rack your brain for whatever the fuck you were gonna have to tell your team on why only one of you came back. Let alone your own personal feelings that lingered past the depths of a simple coworker relation.

It was your job to watch him the only reason you were brought along in the first place was to watch over König from the tree line assuring him cover as he infiltrated the building. “König you’re gonna have to tell me where you are or we’re both fucked,” you huffed at the radio as the dread clawing at you.

His voice cracked back over the radio, “Side building.” A hissed followed after the information as you worried over how much time there was before the loss of blood would kill him. You attempted to brush any of the thoughts out and focus on finding him first.

Sprinting through the shadows for cover, occasionally scanning the area. Your movements were quickly and fluid downing whatever men that managed to evade König’s wrath. It was fairly easy to locate the man considering the bodies he left in his wake.

“König?!?” You yelled as you darted around corners in search of him. A soft pained groaned echoed nearby in response from beside you. Your eyes immediately shot over to the sound only too find the man slumped up against a wall. A sizable pool of blood beside him a grim expression grew on your face at the sight.

The man was painted in the crimson decorating his entire uniform in it and for once it was mixed with his own. He could hardly tell the difference between what blood was and wasn’t his own.

There were no words as you rushed to his side searching for the wound on his body. It was what he was longing to feel. His body draining of its life. He was content with having died then and there but how could he when someone was so desperately calling out for him?

Someone who he had never shown an ounce of kindness too. Such a worried expression painted on her face, for a demon like him? A man who thought he didn’t deserve nor thought to ever receive such kindness, such warmth.

He grunted loudly choking harshly on his own blood, his eyes burned through his hood at the woman before him. He hadn’t spoken a word as you tended to the bullet that ripped a hole midway through his abdomen. The bleeding was a large amount staining your hands a dark red.

The thought had made him sad, his soiled blood tainting your skin. That’s not right your hands should be cleaned, cleansed of him. He feared his monstrous blood would only infect yours like a deadly disease, he was only dragging your soul from heaven.

Anytime you asked a question or spoke it was only met with a meek glance from his side. You quickly learned to read the emotions within his eyes. “Dammit you scared the shit out of me you know?” You whispered yelled your complaints making haste on stuffing the wound with the bandages you had on hand. At least so could make it back too some form of safety without worry of him bleeding out before then.

You motioned for him to stand up as you hurriedly helped him out of sight and to a near by building. It was funny to him someone of your size practically struggling to keep him up shuffling together through the building. Nether the less getting him back safely.

A loud grunt fell out your mouth as you searched for something he could lay on. You found a nearby table shoving the mess of items off it. He groaned half hazardously sitting down on the thing as you glanced around before finding a med-kit to properly treat his wound.

You had panicked eyes as you flipped through your brain for the shit you half listened to during basic medical training. Your shit memory never doing you good as parts of the information blurred out. Especially considering your new position and usually if ever directly in the middle of the combat.

You muttered multiple sorry’s after every sound he made his hand occasionally slamming at the table signifying you were more then likely doing something wrong. Your attempt was surely not the best but decent enough to keep him alive before a evacuation team could get too you.

In truth it did hurt like hell but it wasn’t something he hadn’t been through before. He probably could’ve stitched it himself but you were desperately offering your help. Soft gentle hands that were steady but a shaking voice as you made apologetic comments towards him. For once he thanked having always worn his hood cause you would’ve seen the nasty look on his face.

He was smiling, fucking smiling. He was enjoying this. You helping, tending to him.

It was a pretty damn sight to as you sat bent down looking over his abdomen. Hand pressing tenderly at his skin before pulling the needle through making up a half decent stitching job.

You’d occasionally glance up towards him sending this man into a frustrated frenzy. You shouldn’t look at him like that not this close. That worried glassed over look in your eyes. You were trusting him too much, what if he decided too just grab hold of you? He could couldn’t he, snap that pretty neck with ease. Could you be anymore naive?

That made him sick didn’t it, a freak of nature probably. He understood long before he wasn’t going to be save, the thoughts he had flooding in his head. What he was thinking of you, what he wanted to do too you. Yet here you were blessing his body with care and stitches made from nothing but pure kindness and compassion with a reassuring smile.

Maybe it was then when your fate had been decided, when he decided you were going to be his. The angel that was made just for him, just how he was made for you. You weren’t just any angel. You were his angel, his saving grace from the hellish life that threatened to drive him right off the edge.

It was almost like a light switch in his changing behavior, it’s was rapid. Too quick that it should’ve been a sign then but you were happy excited even. It’s what you had been wanting, he was finally accepting towards you.

For you it was a new friend made but for him it was a vast difference. As if his world had stopped turning only to revolve around you. The gift bestowed upon him by god, had it been some apology for casting him out? Surely it was why else where you so kind to him?

“I brought us both coffee,” you’d exclaim with a soft smile offering him the large cup that looked like a small in his hands. That means you feel the same right? It had to be the little favors you did for him and nobody else. Feeding his deranged fantasy of the love between you.

Bits of small talk you’d offer rambling about whatever crossed your mind as he hovered over you. He’d simply listen to everyone taking note of anything you’d mentioned you liked or hated that would randomly pop up on your desk or at your doorstep. A soft look in his eyes that’d narrow if another man even dared to look your way, which was more often than he could handle.

The occasion praises of adoration you’d spew as he’d showed off the knife tricks he’s taught himself over the years. Your praise alone was enough to fulfill him. Tricks that seemed to always fascinate you. He would continued to do anything you asked of him if it made you happy in any sense, all you had to do was ask. Over time he began to realize your focus never on the knife but his hands. Eyes darting around after every flip and flick. A small perk of a smile on your face, lips parted slightly as you shamelessly stared at the man.

And by gods did he use that to his advantage, you need something of a higher self? Oh but of course but his free hand will mange to find its way to your waist squeezing every so gently. He needs by? “Entschuldigung,” he’d whisper in that gentle tone as he pressed his hands at your sides moving you himself.

Eyes that went wide as you’d give a quick apologetic nod unable to form a proper response at times. A soft shudder that followed every time despite the seemingly endless amount of times you just so happened to be in his path. Your sweet voice echoing desperately in his ears on the few occasions you would apologize.

‘Oh I’m sorry.’ ‘My apologies sir.’ ‘Sorry sir.’

As if he wasn’t the one planning every action down to the bone just cause he knew it’d get a rise out of you.

‘Haven’t you been taught not to play with your food?’

For you it never applied to him, a brushed of his hands as you put your gear on insisting it would make it easier on you. He’s happy to help he’d say. Smiles, he was all smiles under that damned hood of his. It was almost impossible how far the man could smile but you could debate the sheer size of the man was simply impossible. Nearly twice your size, at the very least a foot taller. Like always you’d gracefully accept his helping bounder-less hands, only ever further indulging his desires. He was having fun with this, with you.

Seemed to understand and know everything you liked. That new song you mention unable to find it again, “Oh you mean__?” He’d tilt his head as you as you’d scoff in surprise. “Yeah actually, how’d you know?” he’d only ever follow up with a shrug walking away as you chalked it up to some funny coincidence.

It never would be though cause he already knew that about you, every core details you ever posted, wrote or tweeted about. If it was public he found it, he knew exactly who you were and it only depended his affection. Despite the man’s age he was not stupid by any means especially technologically wise, it was a terrifying level of understanding.

Stalking every corner of your socials, hell even old ones you forgot about that were assumed to be deleted. Every photo or video you’ve ever posted he had seen them all, downloaded and saved. That nice little folder for you on his personal computer named, ‘Engelchen.’ It was mostly for him to gawk at on the days it had been too long since you last posted anything new. There were a few other uses for the photos he stole found of you.

A handful on his new phone he bought just for the times he’s deployed for a long period of time unable to access his computer. He wouldn’t dare to have them on his work on, what if others seen you? He couldn’t have anybody else’s greedy eyes on what was his.

Probably why on a deranged night he broke into your apartment, that day that photo you posted and it had garnered a bit too much attention for his liking. He tired to talk himself out of it multiple times, it should’ve only been for his eyes alone. He was growing needy, possessively dangerous.

“Mien engel, warum hast du das getan?!” It drove the man mad. It was this uncontrollable craze he’d never felt before. Anger and adrenaline flooded his veins as he found himself in your living room. Shouldn’t you be a lot more careful I mean an open window? Seriously?

It was so obvious you need him to protect you, care for you and be that knight in shining armor for his angel.

His soundless footsteps treaded through the rooms, his head tilting as he knelt down in-front of your bed. Your sleeping form entangled in the sheets, a peaceful expression that was just as he imagined. He reached his gloved hands over your face brushing the stray hairs from your eyes getting a clear view. He couldn’t bring himself to feel your skin with his bear hands, he wouldn’t be able to control himself then.

He stared a few moments more before tearing through your dresser digging through the drawers finally finding what he came for. That damn outfit you wore in the god forsaken photo, simple solution. You can’t wear something you don’t have right? So he’ll just hold on to it for you! Until he knows for sure you’d only wear it with him, and him alone. A few other keepsakes as well.

It was only after that late night he spent at your apartment that it had truly worsened, out your sight of course. He knew better than that. His hands that began to kill all for your protection, or jealousy it was all the same to him. Persistent recruits who suddenly returned home on short notice only for their photos to later be plastered on their hometown news. Even friends you’ve know for years, he knew the look of a man’s lustful stare better then anyone. Cause it was the same look he followed you with.

He kept track of everyone you’ve ever mentioned making a mental note to fill himself in on any information he could find on them. Occasionally using his rank to pull background checks on someone’s presence that really ircked him. It was never hard to find information anyways. It didn’t matter what he had to do all that matters is making sure you only seen him.

König’s face was painted in a bloodied smile at the sight of the man’s fettle attempts at defiance. The blood poring from the finial cut along his throat. He preferred to do it slow. Painfully slow edging the various men to their deaths. What they dared to do? Trying to take something that was his. The first time he talked to you in front of him he tired to leave it be. What if his death upset you, Oh it upsets you?

It’ll be perfect, you slumped crying in his arms as he soothed your cries. Being there right when you needed it. Arms that you found comfort in when you rushed to his office when you made discovery of the death. Having no one else to turn too, it pains him more than anything to cause you such suffering. But it was necessary measures, to ensure you seen just how perfect he was for you. How much you needed him to care for you.

It was enough of repeating occurrences that you began questioning the nature of the sudden disappearances. All men who attempted to flirt with you. “I can talk to them and scare ‘em off for you, ja?” he suggested when you half heartedly complained about them. Surely not, could he have? It didn’t make sense to you, or was it that you didn’t want it to make sense.

The same man who took you out on heart throbbing dates, that left you with a fluttering feeling. They were perfect in every sense, exactly what you’d imagined that perfect teenage love story you missed out on as a kid. It was the first time you’ve ever been show such a level of devotion. Not the man who cluttered your gallery with the photos you had taken of or with him, he made you happy.

Someone who you were falling head over heels for, accepting that seemingly darker parts of him that didn’t bother you. Who knew they were this dark? He’d never do anything to hurt you, not on purpose at the least. He said he wanted to be with you build a life together. Brought you little gifts during works hours despite the list of rules discouraging dating ranks higher then you. It made you feel like a love sick school girl all over again, excitement that only filled you when he was around. How he’d swear to come back in one piece if a mission forced separation between y’all.

Your body was still damn near motionless as you felt your body go stiff at the images. You should’ve minded your business, why’d you have to be so damn nosey. König had just brought you back to his house for the first time after one of your dates together suggesting he could make dinner for you. You sat at the bar near his kitchen as he said he’d only be a minute. His laptop that has been left open was across from you, you tilted your head a bit in curiosity as the photo on it looked familiar. It would’ve been better if you hadn’t know.

It was of you, at first a giggle left your mouth as you began clicking through the said photos. Recent ones of you two doing various things, mostly you though. A smile was beaming on your face at the sight, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It was cute how he kept these goofy photos of you two. Your hand miss clicked as you accidentally exited out the previews of them causing your smile too immediately fade.

There was more, to many too have been all taken recently. Why was there so many? You began to feel sick as you scrolled down. “Oh my god…” you choked out as you clicked on photo after photo ones you’ve never given him. Shivers went down your spine as footsteps sounded from behind you.

It was him wasn’t it?

“I love you,” is what he had said but why were they laced with such venom, and why did it feel so unsettling. You should be overjoyed right? Someone gave a shit, how he loved and cared so deeply. Yet the words left you in a cold sweat, veins coursing with this thing he considered love.

That’s why his computer was filled with photos, painted in his love for you. “Du bist wunderschön,” your eyes darting along the screen in a slow aching feeling after each click of the next photo. Mouthing running dry as a nasty taste flooded over your tongue.

It was fear, pure unbridled fear.

Every word was dripping in terror, what were you supposed to say? It made you sick, those twisting knots in your stomach. Your hand crept over your mouth as you tried to hold back the sudden wave of nausea. This was the first time you had feared the man before you.

Sure he’s done some odd shit before but this? This was only showing the beginnings of the man’s sheer lack of sanity. “You love me too right?” He spoke with that same reassuring tone but it suddenly made your skin crawl.

Confusion flooded judgement as you tried to process what was even happening. Love? You loved him right you always have. But at the same time it feels terrifying to love a man like him. His eyes looked over you in anguish as you doubted what words you were going to say next.

Your eyes dared to say as if you didn’t and it showed in his that it wouldn’t be an answer he’d willingly accept. “I love you too,” the words simply fell out your mouth, wether it was the truth or not had long been gone. It hadn’t mattered if you did or not he would show you anyways.

His hands moved to hold your cheeks as he shushed you the tears beginning to pool in you eyes, assuring you it was fine. “It was you wasn’t it?” your voice broke as you began to understand what he had done. That it was only acts of love, why he had blood on his hands in that name of his love for you. His gaze was simply deranged in itself. He did not understand nor want to understand why this could be so wrong, why it made you sick to your stomach. How it made you consider the idea of run away from him.

Not like you’d get far anyways.

He wiped are your tears as he explained how this wasn’t anything to worry about. He even suggested deleting all photos if it made you that upset, he never meant to hurt you. “I didn’t know this would upset you my love,” his eyes wore a saddened worried expression, hushed sorry’s as he soothed your worries.

I mean maybe he’s right you know, simply being irrational it was all photos you’ve publicly posted so it wasn’t necessarily private information. Definitely not the hardest of things to find. You keep photos of your favorite idol plastered all over your bedroom walls, now isn’t that the same thing? It’s fine you love him and he loves you it shouldn’t matter if he has a few photos of you. It’s not like it’s some stranger with these photos, it’s him your lovable sweet König.

“It’s okay,” a mumbled of words you made in a stupid belief that this man wasn’t borderline criminally insane. How he didn’t mean any harm no not him, sweet König wouldn’t do that. He’d never lay a finger on you, the man practically praised the ground you walk on like some goddess offering him salvation.

What’s a few photos if it means loving him? Nothing that’ll ever compare to the drug of his love.

This shouldn’t be so appealing you shouldn’t be wanting this, craving for him. Heart and mind were claiming their own reasons as to why you should and shouldn’t. He cares for you maybe he cares too much? A few bodies isn’t anything new, you’ve killed with your own hands before. Is there really any difference between what you and him do? The reasons are just slightly different.

Similar times to when you pitied Eve for the blame she had taken as her teeth sunk into temptation of the devil. He lies decorated it all your known desires. He’s terribly good at what he does isn’t he?

Your hand reached out at the disheveling flames, hovering over. It burned and stung like the same feeling his love for you gives. Its strange, you almost thought you were crazy yourself, probably would be too anybody else. But they’d never understand the relationship you two had. Nobody ever understands what the devil chooses to take and leave.

“Mein Schazti, what are you doing out here? You’ll catch a cold,” König spoke from the doorway, you turned to face him as his hair hung with wet droplets. The scars he boar on his face or else where along his body, each a different life that was taken and fought till their last breath. You glanced back over at the clothes that had turned into mere ashes of what was.

How many times was this now? Covering for the being before you, the man that replaced your shadow. Creaked his way into your life seeping through the cracks like the devil on your shoulder. He knew everything there was to know about you. Wether it was sone sick part of you the enjoyed the affection he gave you. You were okay with it, choosing to love him in every sense. Nobody could ever love someone like you the way he can is what he said.

“Nothing my love just getting rid of some old clothes is all,” a gentle reassuring smile following your words. He looked down behind you humming at the sight. He lifted off the doorway taking a few steps towards you before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

For better or worse you were forever his, as he was yours.

#könig #könig x reader #könig mw2 #cod x reader #könig x you #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig x y/n #call of duty #könig cod #könig modern warfare #obessive!König #minzis suga

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vettelinyourarea · 11 months

Note

In the stars by benson boone with ollie when he lost his soulmate and hard to live his life without her please. Thank you xx

in the stars - oliver bearman

genre: angst

word count: 846

inspired by in the stars by benson boone

warning: english is not my first language, mentions of death

thank you so much for requesting this! i am very sorry that it took such a long time to finish this request, but i hope you enjoy this anon! 🩷

Sunday mornings were your favorite

I used to meet you down on Woods Creek Road

You did your hair up like you were famous

Even though it's only church where we were goin'

Sunday mornings used to be Ollie’s favorite day. Not because it was a weekend, not because it was a race day, but because it was the day when he would meet up with you. He remembers how you used to do your hair, styling it as if you are going to a formal event although you are actually just going to the church with him.

Ollie remembers how every time after the church service, he would take you on a lunch date, sometimes accompanied by his siblings who love you so dearly. He remembers how you would take care of them like they are your own siblings, he remembers how he realized he is in fact, in love with you on one of those Sundays. But Sunday mornings are not Ollie’s favorite anymore. Not after everything that happened.

Now, Sunday mornings, I just sleep in

It's like I buried my faith with you

I'm screamin' at a God, I don't know if I believe in

'Cause I don't know what else I can do

Sunday mornings used to be so different with you, and he knew nothing will ever be the same ever again after what happened to you. Now, he just sleeps in if it’s not a race day. He never goes to church anymore, he buries his faith in God with you, buried under the earth.

Ollie has lost count of how many times he had screamed at God, why did He have to take you away from Ollie? Why did God hate Ollie so much that he have to take the love of his life away from him? Ollie doesn’t know what to do anymore but cry and scream every time he remembers that you are not with him anymore, and you will never be with him again from that day.

I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever

Now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers

Ollie remembers the day you were admitted to the hospital, they said you were okay, that it would be just a small, simple surgery. But now he knows that it was all just a lie. That day was qualifying day and Ollie had managed to snatch the pole position. All the happiness from the day’s event is gone when he received a call from your mom.

“She’s in a coma, she lost too much blood during the surgery,” your mom had said to him through the phone. It took everything in him not to leave the race and fly back home to see you. He had been crying all day and all night, worried about you. He should be there with you, he thought.

On Sunday, he took his win from the feature race, and fly back to you as fast as he could. Only to be informed that you are gone, you are not with him anymore. You had passed away.

Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

And left the rest in pieces

Ollie remembers the day of your funeral. It was also the day you took his heart with you, buried six feet under the earth. “It’s okay Ollie, she loves you all her life,” your mother said, trying to console him. It was weird, he should be the one to console your parents, not your parents consoling him. But that doesn’t matter at that time.

Ollie had met you when both of you were just 4 years old, going to the same kindergarten. Ollie confessed his feelings to you when you were 14 years old and started dating when you were 15 years old because finally, you are “old enough” according to your parents.

It feels to him, that he has loved you all his life. But, he realized that the years of him being with you were just a portion of his lifetime, and you have loved him all your life. That fact broke him so deeply, how is it fair? You had promised to be with him no matter what, you had promised that you will always be there for him when he needs you. And you are, you are always faithful to your promise. But what about him? He wasn’t even there when you go into the surgery, he wasn’t there when you fell into a coma, he wasn’t even there when you took your last breath.

But he knew that at the end of the day, it was not his fault. He knew that at the end of the day, he has the move on. And he also knew that at the end of the day, he will always love you, no matter what.

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ghostchems · 1 year

Text

cemetery stroll - werewolf!secondo x reader

a creature interrupts your evening walk through the abbey cemetery.

author's note: this one goes out to all my monster fuckers. 18+! mdni! monstrous cock below the cut! this is for week 3: hunted for @petrifyingpapas. 2.1k words. ao3 link.

Leaves crunch beneath your feet as you walk along the stone path. It is getting close to midnight but you didn’t mind. Night time was your favorite time — you love how quiet the world seems without the rest of the congregation around.

The path is dimly lit by lanterns that line the edges of it. Your hands are stuffed in your coat pockets, your eyes flitting around the grounds. Even though you belonged to a satanic church, some wouldn’t be out in the cemetery late at night but not you, you feel that even the spirits need some company sometimes. And though you enjoy your alone time, you like the idea that you aren’t truly alone.

A howl in the distance forces you to slowly come to a stop and peer behind you. Of course there were stories and legends passed down from sibling to sibling about creatures roaming the cemetery late at night. They didn’t scare you much, in fact it added a little bit of mystique to your evening walks.

You hear twigs snapping and leaves rustling behind you. A chill runs down your spine but you choose not to give into the fear. You’ve never felt unsafe on congregation grounds before — this had to be your surroundings getting the best of you. You take a deep breath and continue on, trying to turn your focus to the stone tombs that lined the path.

Your eyes fall to a gargoyle at the end of the path. A marker that you are used to. You continue your casual stroll, hardly noticing the howls growing closer and closer to you. By the time you are ripping from your thoughts by the sound, it’s too late – you can hear something running toward you. You don’t even look behind you, you just start running, desperately trying to reach the gargoyle.

Claws rip into your jacket as the creature grabs you, easily overpowering your strength and tosses you onto a nearby altar tomb. You land on your back with a thud and manage to push your back against the headstone. Glowing yellow eyes meet yours from the darkness, the creature slowly emerging from the darkness as it climbs on top of the tomb.

It’s big and hairy. It’s growling while it slinks closer to you, its nail scratching against the stone as it grinds its sharp teeth. You can hear your heart thundering in your ears, your hands trembling while you try to push as far back into the headstone as possible. The creature is hovering over you now, snout in your face, lips pulled into a tight snarl.

You squeeze your eyes shut and tilt your head back, hoping for a swift death. One of its sharp nails drifts up your neck, then along your cheek. You whimper softly, lip quivering as it presses the nail into your cheek, piercing the skin. Its long tongue flicks at the blood that drips from the wound. You can’t open your eyes; you’re too afraid to see it’s face so close to yours.

You can feel the rumbling in the creature’s chest and its hot breath on your face. Its claw hovers over your lips before touching them softly, so tenderly that it draws a gasp from you. Your eyes blink open as it cups your cheeks, it’s yellow eyes meeting yours. The creature gently strokes your cheeks and presses in close to you.

Something happens to you when you look into their eyes. You feel safe. You feel comfortable. Perhaps even a little bit brave. You reach out and touch its chest, fingers lightly carding through its thick hair. They leans into the touch, giving a satisfied huff as you move your hand up its neck to gently touch its ear.

It gives a soft groan then moves its claw to the hem of your habit and positions itself in between your legs. You feel it almost immediately, their hard cock pressing against you, a whine leaving its lips as they bucks their hips into yours. You squeak, your hands falling back to the creature's chest. Its claw grasps your underwear under your habit and tears them off in one quick motion.

Your legs are trembling as its claw skirts down your thigh, hiking it up over its hip while it angles its cock against your slick folds. You would be lying if you weren’t turned on by the fact that this creature wanted you and is about to take you then and there on the tomb. The creature pauses though, its yellow eyes scanning your face before nudging under your chin with its snout.

“Yes.” You breathe. “Yes.” You say with more urgency, gripping onto its shoulders. It gives a low growl, then thrusts in without warning. You scream out into the night, the sound echoing through the trees as it keeps up the pace. You stretch around its monstrous cock (too much?), getting used to its size as you start to roll your hips along with their thrusts.

The creature buries its snout in your neck, breathing you in deeply and then cradles the back of your neck with its large claw. Your fingers dig into its fur as your eyes flutter shut, low moans spilling from your lips. You are practically caged in by its large body, its chest rumbling against yours.

Your muscles are already tensing as the creature’s thrusts grow more erratic and violent. You whine loudly, eyes squeezing shut and your jaw goes slack. Its one claw digs into your ass and lifts your hip up even higher so that it can push into you even deeper. You’re writhing beneath it as it thrusts roughly, the new angle sending ripples of pleasure through your body. You can’t hold on any longer, the tight band inside you unraveling as your walls clench and spasm around its cock, your orgasm ripping through you.

It gives a satisfied grunt then tightens its grasp on you, chasing its own release. The creature’s pants and growls fill your ears. Their hips stutter and you feel their cock pulse inside you as they spill their seed. The creature throws its head back, a booming howl ripping from its chest. Before you have a chance to react, it clamps its teeth down around your hip.

Your body lurches as you scream, the searing pain shooting through you for a moment before it’s gone completely. You’re left trembling while it licks gently at the wound. The creature starts to rock its hips again, its cock still hard inside you. They keep the pace slow and sensual, low moans spilling from your lips. It lifts its head, looking at you with soft eyes and you notice the white and black markings on the one half of its face for the first time.

You lose track of time. You don’t know how many times you’ve come or how many times the creature has but you are completely blissed out. You’ve never been fucked this intimately before. The creature nuzzles into you, its soft fur brushing against your bare skin that sends warmth throughout you.

After a while, it comes to a stop. The creature looks you in the eyes deeply and offers a final nudge before slipping off of you. Their claws linger for a moment and then they tear off into the night, leaving you alone and exposed on the tomb.

You hear a howl off in the distance and you smile to yourself as you straighten yourself out.

***

You are exhausted the next day but you still have a spring in your step. You feel reinvigorated. When you woke up, you examined the bite marks on your hip and they looked impossibly faint — like scars, as if it had already healed. You find your mind drifting as you go about your normal daily kitchen tasks, helping tidy up the dining area and clearing tables while you daydreamed about the night you had.

You find some time to spend alone and end up walking the halls of the abbey, still daydreaming. That is, until you see him - Papa Emeritus the Second - glaring at you from down the hall. You freeze, holding your breath. A heavy scowl is drawn on his face and he grumbles to himself before storming away from you.

Panic bubbles up inside you. Did he know? Could Papa read minds?

Did he see?

Or, the more probable reason is that he is in a grumpy mood, per usual. Still, you can’t shake that he is at least suspicious of something. You end up making your way back to your room to spend some time coming down from your panic.

Meanwhile, Secondo storms to his brother’s office. He swings the door open dramatically, causing Terzo to jump in his seat before giving a soft sigh. Secondo sits in the chair across the desk with a “humph” and drums his fingers on the armrest.

"Buongiorno to you too, fratello.” Terzo purrs as he props his feet up on his desk. “I would ask if something was bothering you but that much is obvious, no?”

Secondo rolls his eyes, a low growl rumbling from his chest. He’s quiet for another moment before giving a small sigh. “Last night. The moon.”

“Ah, si.” The smug grin is wiped off Terzo’s face. “Mauled another sibling, then?”

“No.” Secondo all but whispers. “I marked one.”

Terzo’s legs swing off his desk and feet plant firmly in front of him as he sits up in a seat. “Davvero!? You must have had a fun night, eh?” His wide grin is back as he waggles his brows.

“It’s not a good thing, stronzo.” Secondo snarls, a fist slamming down on his brother’s desk. Silence falls between them for a moment with Terzo eyeing him curiously.

“What is so bad about it? Are you afraid they won’t like you this way since you are…eh, less hairy?” He puts his arms up in surrender immediately before Secondo gets the chance to yell at him. “But… really, what is so bad? The beast inside you found someone to care for. Better than another mauling, si?”

Secondo stares at his brother blankly, moving back in his seat and resting his hands in his lap. Perhaps he was right but still – the idea of him caring deeply for someone other than himself on a level that may equate to love is foreign to him. He cares for the clergy, for the siblings of sin that look up to him but he had never bonded with one in such a way.

The beast must have seen something in you.

“Si.” Secondo grunts and pushes himself to his feet. He quickly exits Terzo’s office while he shouts “you’re welcome, stronzo” after him.

He heads to your room immediately but pauses once he reaches your door. He rocks on his heels, feeling nervous for the first time in a situation like this. This is new for him. But he chose you — and he knows it must have been for a reason.

Before he’s able to knock, you pull the door open and nearly run into him. You take a step back, eyes wide as a small gasp leaves your lips.

“Papa. Uh, come in.” You gesture awkwardly for him to come inside your room. He walks inside silently, his gaze drifting around the room, taking in your space. “Sorry for the mess.”

Suddenly, Secondo is right in your space, placing his hands on your hips. Your body goes rigid, eyes falling to his face as your brows knit together. His one hand drifts up your hip, fingers ghosting the fabric just over the mark. He presses into the mark and brings his eyes up to meet yours.

“You’ve been walking the cemetery grounds at night.” He whispers, his hot breath hitting your face. You’ve never been this close to Papa before and you know he knows. But, as your gaze shifts from his eyes down his cheekbones to his lips you realize — his Papal paint matches the fur pattern on the creature’s face. You open your mouth but he cuts you up.

“Yes.” Secondo breathes, his hand shooting up to grab you by the chin. “Si, uccellino.” His lips graze yours and your eyes flutter, sighing softly. He hums, tilting your chin up as he presses his lips firmly against yours. The kiss is vicious and hungry, and you dig your fingers into his vestments while you kiss him back. You didn’t get the chance to taste him the night before. You moan needily into his mouth and tug at his robes. He pulls away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

“What does it mean?” You’re breathless but you’re able to squeak out the question. He nuzzles your nose with his as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close to him.

“I do not know.” Secondo says softly. “But we will find out. Insieme, uccellino.”

#papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii #secondo #petrifyingpapas #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfics #ghost fanfic

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wrathofrats · 1 month

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Adding onto me and @divine-misfortunes delta lore bc we had a conversation that led to this fic and the entire thing destroyed me so I hope it destroys everyone else too

To understand this fic please see this and this, this fic acts as somewhat of a third installment. I’m so proud of this one honestly I’m loving this little series

Pebble visits delta after Terzo dies, omega confronts him afterwards.

Wc: 2k

Rating: teen

Warnings for: hurt no comfort, light descriptions of bodily damage/harm, major character death, implied upcoming character death, complex morality (no one is in the wrong or right), its angst yall and its sad.

Pebble twirls the key in his hands before putting it in the lock. He debates the entire time. Argues with himself through every click of the pins if he should be visiting delta again. He does this everytime, mulls the situation over in his mind until the idea feels like it’s been pureed into mush. Ultimately as the door handle turns, pebble always decides he has to.

Terzo died a couple months ago. Murdered in cold blood while the ghouls were left to fend for themselves as the church scrambled. None of them handled it well, the worst of it leading to pebble barely leaving him room for a month, let alone to make the visit to see delta.

Part of him hopes there won’t be anything there when he opens the door. Hopes that delta succumbed and his suffering is over for his own sake. He was locked in this room ages ago after an attack. Pebble tries not to blame delta for it, his own mind and body are trying to kill him, honestly he doesn’t think he knew any better. But it was for everyone’s safety, they didn’t want to risk it happening again. The other selfish half of him hopes for the worst so he won’t have to hear delta talk about their beloved papa.

Terzo used to make the visit with pebble. Deltas blind and unwavering obedience made Terzo happy, if not feeling ever guilty about what happened to him. He partially blames himself, thought delta has always insisted he shouldn’t.

Their eyes never meet. Terzo can’t stand to see the deathly color of his irises. The visits only last a couple minutes simply to make delta happy even if they end up making the other two wildly uncomfortable. Pebble winces whenever delta asks if he’s allowed to be let out yet, if omega found a solution. He doesn’t notice both of them sharing a knowing look, a solemn expression on their faces.

The sight of delta gets worse as time passes. The color in his eyes eternally fading into a soulless black, parts of his skin unnaturally stretched to cover the bone that juts out, pebble sometimes wonders if it’s even painful to him anymore. If the quintessence that shreds his humanity affects his ability to feel it eat at him or if it’s taken even that away from him also.

“You came back” delta beams, standing from his desk to greet pebble.

A small lamp illuminates the room in a warm yellow hue. It’s the only light he’s given besides the overhead fluorescent bulb that had been wired into the ceiling. There’s no windows for natural sunlight, only bright blinding white like he’s on some kind of display, or the old lamp pebble brought him. Dust particles float through the dingy light, pebble wonders the last time anything has been properly cleaned up there.

“Yeah, sorry, been hectic around the abbey” pebble mumbles into deltas shoulder.

“I thought you had gone and forgotten about me”

It’s a dry attempt at humor but the guilt makes pebbles stomach churn. He knows he hasn’t been back in a while, weeks, a month or more at most.

Pebble doesn’t mean to be away for so long. The weight of being the only ghoul who acts like delta is even still alive is almost too heavy to bear for him sometimes. He doesn’t think he’s even heard Delta's name spoken in months. The rest of the ghouls think he’s dangerous, or too far gone that he’s not worth the time. The burden to make up that energy falls onto pebble, eating him alive.

It’s always long stretches of weeks where he can’t bear to see him, or times where he should probably just bring a pillow and blanket up there since he practically lives in the room.

Neither feel good

“I could never forget about you sea glass” pebble finally says, stepping away from the embrace.

“Sea glass?” Delta gives him a confused look that makes pebbles chest ache.

“Yeah, just a nickname, do you like it?”

He really shouldn’t have expected him to remember, the small shred of hope that delta even remembered that pebble hasn’t seen him in a while soon fizzled out at the reality that delta doesn’t remember most things anymore.

“Its nice” he smiles. “Has papa fallen ill? He hasn’t come to see me in a while”

The question is innocent but it puts daggers in pebbles chest. It makes him feel sick to his stomach. He could avoid the question entirely and hope by the time the topic is changed he will have already forgotten about the passing thought, but he knows that delta will always come back to this question, even if he can avoid it for the time being.

He never told delta what happened. It would absolutely break the last bit of him that’s still in there and he doesn’t know if he can lose what he has left of his friend.

“He did a little bit ago, maybe you just forgot again” pebble mumbles to avoid the situation entirely. It’s always the debate to tell him old stories as if they happened yesterday, and praying he loses himself enough that Terzo would never come up again. He’s honestly not sure he will even remember if he decided to tell him. Doesn’t think either of them deserve the pain to speak of it. It’s not worth it if it will only be temporary.

It’s late when he returns to the ghoul wings. He walks alone in the dark and carries his jacket despite the cold. A static numb feeling from seeing his friend still in his decaying state combated by the wind that feels like needles poking into his skin.

The common room is warm and still lit when he walks in, the smell of artificial cheese making him cringe from his stomach still not being settled.

Omega stands to steer pebble into the kitchen before he can make a beeline for his room. A look of tired worry lighting up a bit when he sees pebble walk in after the long night. It’s bitter sweet, they may not be on good terms but omega still cares about him.

Pebble doesn’t want to admit that he’s starving when omega sets the bowl of Mac and cheese in front of him. Clearly not left from the dinner he missed, no, omega made it afterwards knowing pebble would be back and the steam coming from it only makes a knot form in his throat.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” omega asks, sitting across from him.

He doesn’t know where to begin with that answer

His instinctual reaction is to get angry, shove the bowl away and spit something along the lines of “well no one else will fucking do anything for him” but the longer he sits with the bitter words they just die, too exhausted to want to fight like he usually would in this situation.

He doesn’t want to blame his mates for not putting themselves through what he does. The horrific scenario of watching your friend be ripped apart at the seams, slowly dying in front of you isn’t something he would wish on anyone. Another part of him just desperately wants someone else to care. Pebble doesn't like to think about it too much because the internal debate gnaws at his heart and makes him resent more than he wants to.

After more than a couple seconds pebble realizes he hasn’t answered omega who is staring at him concerned, and honestly he doesn’t know if he can choke out an excuse without tears.

“Pebble.. I’m worried about you”

“I don’t need to be worried about” pebble bites back, voice pitching as he wrinkles his nose in an attempt to stave off his crying.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself” omega reasons. He sounds soft, as if trying to soothe the ghoul on the brink of a breakdown in front of him. Hoping the words will bring him back down.

“What else am I supposed to do? Leave him like the rest of you?!” Pebble nearly wails.

Omega expected that kind of answer. Pebbles said it to him more times than he can count. Blaming him for leaving delta and not helping him even after he’s insisted there’s nothing he can do beyond what he has, or blaming him for not visiting even though it makes him sick. He can never come up with an excuse that sounds reasonable to his conscience, no matter how much the words carve into him.

He also blames himself, and maybe a sick part of him just wants to hear pebble berate him to quell the ache in his bones that he’s done something terribly wrong, to hear it from someone else so it’s not just an absent thought he can ignore.

Honestly maybe that’s why he stayed up. He loves pebble, would do anything for the younger ghoul but a part of him feels like he needs to care for pebble to make up for the way everyone abandoned delta. He wants to prove himself, wants the acknowledgement from the ghoul that hates him most that he’s not actually evil.

Omega tries to respond rationally, all things considered.

“He’s not well pebble, what if he did something to you?”

“After what happened he’s not the one i'm worried about omega.” Pebble grits. Fork abandoned on the table, eyes low to dissipate the tears.

Some sick selfish part of pebble latches onto the thought. He almost wishes delta would hurt him so he would have an excuse to stop seeing him without the guilt eating him alive. A motif in his brain of hoping for the worst of his friend partially to end deltas suffering, partially to end his own.

Omega thinks the same in his own awful corner of his mind. Just one incident to prove he’s not a monster and that no one goes up there for a reason. For delta to hurt pebble enough to scare him and have him running back to ask omega to heal him and admit he was wrong.

It’s mostly to help his own guilt, and he knows that.

The words feel like a sticky residue in his mouth as omega tries to conjure a response.

“I didn’t do it pebble. You know that.” He focuses his gaze down, as if even he doesn’t believe the words he’s saying. He didn’t do it, he’s right about that. But it’s hard to not convince himself there was something he could’ve done.

“You dont do a lot of things don’t you?”

“That’s not-“

“I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight omega”

Pebble rushes out of the room without another bite. The tears flow freely down his face with a choked sob while his emotions all flood out at once. Omega doesn’t get up. He sits in the dingy yellow light of the kitchen and watches the dust particles float through it. He wonders when the last time the kitchen has been properly cleaned.

#ohhhh I really hope you guys like this #I’ve been so insanely excited to post it #wrath’s ghost lore #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #delta ghoul #pebble ghoul #omega ghoul

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docholligay · 5 months

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The Things We Find in the Minster

Big churches, by and large, do very little for me. Don’t mistake me, the architecture is astouding given the time so many of them were built in, and the sheer aesthetic brilliance of Catholic (and “Catholic-lite,” though I’m sure somewhere a C of E congregant just died at the utterance) buildings and artifacts is breahtaking, but given my time freely, it is rare that I will opt to gawk at a large building with colored panes in the windows*.

But this, in many respects, not my vacation, but my mother’s, and the York Minster was one of the small handful of things she directly indicated as a thing she’d like to do, and so, here we were, looking at a very old and very large building with many very fancy details. This sounds very dismissive, but it isn’t, in the same way that I would expect any given person to describe a tasting menu at a Michelin star just, “eating two bites of a lot of things but it takes three hours at least”. It’s not wrong, when you arent’ the audience.

Anyhow, I have long been a believer that mostly only boring people are bored, or find things totally irreedeemable. There are a dozen games you can play with yourself, to force yourself to engage with a place on your own level, to make it have meaning to you. I determined myself to do that, to find the human at the core of it all, which is generally how things tend to appeal to me.

Luckily, I actually didn’t have to work hard at all. To say I worked at it would be giving me more credit than I am due.

Because the minster had Christmas trees, sponsored or decorated or both by local businesses and schools, each decorated a different way. Little paper plate doves by children, paper chains by travel agencies, bright brass ornaments from a local metalworks. And then my eyes fell on a simple tree with a few baubles and lights, but mostly a huge number of tags over the entire thing, with writing on them.

It was from a funeral home.

My mother loves me very much, and from time to time I also annoy her, in the way that love often allows another person to do, and I think I was tap-dancing on her last nerve as I sat there for twenty minutes, reading these tags that people had written to their loved ones now gone.

What do we confess to the dead? What do we wish for them? What can you to someone that goes on a gift tag, that might be read by others, but, by my measure, will mostly be passed by? What would you say about the person you loved to the strange American picking through the boughs?

“I hope they have whisky up there, Dad.” “We went to the Christmas fair without you, and it felt wrong.” “I’m sorry I didn’t come home last Christmas.” “I don’t know if I’ll ever love Christmas again.” “I put up the lights this year, because you would want me to.” “I promise to drink two mulled wines this year.” “I’ll lay a place at the table.”

“I miss you.”

I filed all these little things away, these sentences or two that hold a lifetime of love and pain and expectation. These moments that show what a teardrop migt look like in the glow of a Christmas light.

What would I say, if I could say something to any of them? Would I? Could I be so brave as to leave that bare sentence out for anyone in the world to read? I knew what I would say, but not if I had the strength to say it.

I had a moment where I felt my heart in my throat, and pulled back to make a very intense study of a stained glass Jesus in the small chapel behind me. So I suppose the answer is no--I am, as ever, an emotional coward.

I didn’t want to leave that little tree. I wanted to read it again, I wanted these people to know someone heard them, and felt that with them, if only for a moment. That they weren’t alone in this, that these things we confess to the dead are the most human thing of all, that death never feels settled no matter how long they’re gone, but also that it stops feeling quite so wrong to do something, or not do something, sometimes both at the same time. Summer comes. It stops being so dark.

All the monuments to queens and saints could not move me as much as the sad little tree that barely met my height.

The benefit of remembering things in the strange and scattered way I do, with moments of intense clarity, is that I rarely worry about forgetting the feeling of a place. I will remember this tree, and the words they said. I don’t know if there is a way the people these messages were meant for can ever hear them, but I know they did not go out into the world for nothing. I, and the writers, were together for a moment. They sat across from me and told me an open secret.

But Mom wanted to see the Roman crypt. We live our lives on the move. We touch each other through these words like the tip of a finger to a flame, drawn back quickly but the feeling remains. I clipped down the stairs to see some old rocks, because sometimes you put up the Christmas lights out of love, even if you don’t like them.

*This is, actually, one of the reasons I truly love tour guides, is, if you find someone passionate about the time or space, they can make things you might not care about fantastically interesting to you. I was more interested in the Minster itself in the mere moments I overheard the guide speaking to schoolchildren than I was at any of the other spectacle.

PS I bet this is not the kind of travel writing fucking anyone signs up for and I suppose for that I apologize. This is, in truth, the way I see the world, and it doesn’t do much to inform you about a place. York is a very neat city, with extreme “Ye Olde Angland” vibes, and the people in York are so kind that if you get lost, all you probably need to do is identify a Yorkshire accent and they will probably fucking TAKE you to your hotel. We had like three people ask what our bus stop was, or where we were going, because they were worried we wouldn’t know where to get off. The Minster is a very impressively large church and they are doing some fantastic restoration there. My favorite place in York was the Sam Smith’s pub where we got to having a whole conversation with this gal and her friends, one of whom, she warned us, was, “a total chav but harmless” and she actually knew where Montana was, and as we were all chatting, told one of her friends, “oh you could fit the whole country in it” so I have no idea why she knows that but I was impressed, first time I’ve encountered someone who both knew where it was and the fucking SCALE of it. She was great, her friends were fun, I was annoyed and embarrassed by the older American couple in our “pub pod” for lack of a better word that didn’t seem to want to engage with their warmth and friendliness. (But it gave us all a good topic of conversation about where in America is like North England and where is like South after they left ahaha)

#Doc Does Christmas

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theteasetwrites · 1 year

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The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 94: Stand Inside Your Love

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 11 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, scary situation, violence ❧ Word Count: 7.7k

❧ In This Chapter: You aid Daryl and Rosita in hiding Eugene from the Commonwealth Army, but there's danger afoot, and more obstacles prevent your people from getting home.

❧ A/N: Things are getting intense for our dear reader and her hubby (I'm sorry I had to use that word). Also I just had to include this scene with Eugene. It was so cute how he tried to fight Daryl omg. I also wanted to take an opportunity to have reader talk to Eugene a bit, since they haven't really had too many interactions yet and also he dated her bestie so I mean I feel like they have some common ground there. Of course we get some sweet Daryl/Reader moments too because they're adorable together and they care so much about each other it's literally precious. Anyway, I'm excited to see where this all goes...

In the impending darkness of the coming evening, when the sun had just barely begun to set over the horizon, you sat alone in a familiar interrogation room, similar to the one you’d sat in several months ago when you first arrived.

The slightly chilly April weather was enough to have you wrapping yourself tighter in your housecoat as your toes curled inside your slippers. You had been so unceremoniously whisked away from your apartment, taken by Commonwealth soldiers to “answer a few questions” about the day’s events. Daryl was gone. He was in the church where he’d been hiding Eugene, protecting him. Perhaps it was a good thing that he was gone when they came, since you knew he’d make a bit of a fuss out of them manhandling you.

The children and Dog had been taken to Carol’s house, where you were assured they’d be taken care of until you returned from your questioning. They had asked where Daryl was, but you simply said he’d gone out for a jog. You knew Daryl wouldn’t voluntarily go for a jog if his life depended on it, but they didn’t, and it seemed plausible.

So you waited nervously, shivers periodically running down your spine as you gazed around the room, thinking of all the things they would possibly ask you.

You knew it would have something to do with Sebastian’s death, of course, and you knew that they knew Eugene and his girlfriend, Max, were responsible for the events leading up to it, but you weren’t sure why they thought you’d have anything to do with it. Of course, you were friends with Eugene, but you hadn’t been doing much these past two days except staying inside and recovering from your pregnancy.

Maybe it was just a formality. You just hoped this didn’t ruin your people’s plans of getting home. Sure, you’d admit to having something to do with the newspaper headline that came out last week, exposing Sebastian for the things he’d done, but that wasn’t treason, it was just revealing the truth. What Eugene and Max had done was also the truth, but now you just wanted to go home. To Hell with saving the Commonwealth. Maybe it was selfish, but you’d had enough of it, and your people and your family were the most important things now.

Sometimes, you thought of Rick Grimes, what he would do. You knew that Rick often had to make decisions that weren’t easy, and sometimes, those decisions involved putting his people’s lives before the lives of others. Though you felt for the Commonwealth’s citizens, you figured that the best way to save them would be to leave, regroup, and come back stronger. That is, if you came back at all.

Daryl thought about it, too. He’d told you many times since Rick died, how he was trying to do things the way he’d do them. You always reminded him, though, that he was his own person, and that he was just as good as Rick. To you, he was better, but Daryl was better than everyone to you. He was your Daryl, your sweetheart. Of course he was the best. Nothing would ever change that.

So now you thought of Daryl, wondering what he was doing. You hoped he was all right, since he was risking his life by hiding Eugene. Rosita was, too. They were both protecting him in that church, conspirators. You supposed you were now, too, since you knew where Eugene was, and you weren’t about to tell anyone.

Certainly not Mercer.

The heavily armored man came in with a folder in hand. You briefly glimpsed your name scrawled on it. Your records. They were pristine, of course. Nine months was hardly enough time for you to get into trouble, and besides, you were, after all, an angel. The only indiscretion you were guilty of was being a little sassy towards the late Sebastian Milton, and perhaps a little public indecency when you touched Daryl’s privates under the table in that diner.

Other than that, you were clean as a whistle.

“(Y/N) Dixon,” said Mercer, now sitting as he read from your file. “109 Union Street. Apartment 3. Unemployed. Married to Daryl Dixon with two biological children, Robin and Westley Dixon, and two wards, Judith and RJ Grimes. Can you verify this information to be true?”

“Yes,” you said, though you didn’t like the sound of “unemployed.” Of course, you knew your job had ended when it was decided that you all were going to leave, but it still sounded harsh.

“Where were you during the Founder’s Day incident?” He was always quite straightforward.

“I was at home,” you answered truthfully. “With my kids. Well, except Judith.”

“Where was your husband?”

He spoke as if he hadn’t any relation to you and your family, as if he hadn’t been just starting to almost get along with Daryl before all this happened.

“He took Judith to Union Square to see the wrestling match. I was watching them from our balcony. H-he had nothing to do with this, either. He didn’t even know it was going to happen, none of us did.”

Mercer quickly scrawled something on the outside of your folder, but you weren’t quick enough to catch it. “But you’re good friends with Eugene Porter, aren’t you?”

That was an understatement. He was family, as much as he annoyed you at times. At one point, he was in love with your best friend. You knew things about him you probably shouldn’t have known, but Beverly wasn’t shy about exchanging… details. Likewise, there were little tidbits about Daryl that Bev had taken to the grave.

“We’ve known each other for over ten years,” you said. “We’ve been through a lot. He’s my friend, yes… And he’s a good person. What he did, there was a reason for it. It wasn’t senseless. It wasn’t intended to go the way it did. Those walkers… Someone should be looking into those walkers. Someone killed those people, let them turn, let them loose in the square. Whoever did that got Sebastian killed, not Eugene. He was just… playing Sebastian’s own words.”

Your attempts to remove the blame from Eugene seemed to fall on deaf ears. “Mrs. Dixon,” he said, “this isn’t about clearing Eugene’s name. It’s about finding him.”

“If he’s found, will he get a trial?” you asked. “A fair one?”

“He’ll get a trial.”

You scoffed under your breath. But not a fair one.

“He’s already been found guilty,” you said. “The trial is just for show, right? So everything looks democratic?”

Mercer didn’t answer, he just kept looking at you with that stern, stoic expression. When he did speak again, it was with a question.

“Do you know where Eugene Porter is?”

“No,” you said sharply. You kept it at that. Lying was never your strength, though you’d gotten better at it.

“Does your husband?”

Your patience began to wear thin. “No.”

He flipped open your file again, reading something you couldn’t see. “Your husband is a loyal man, Mrs. Dixon.”

Your lips tightened and your back stiffened. Whatever he was getting at, you didn’t appreciate it, even if everything he was about to say was true. The point was that he was betraying your people, though you knew that he sided with you. He must have.

“He’d die for his family,” he continued. “One thing I respect about him.”

“He’s a good man,” you said, never missing an opportunity to say so. You’d defend Daryl until you were blue in the face.

“He is,” Mercer agreed. “But he’s also impulsive. Reckless. He wouldn’t hesitate to put his life on the line to protect one of his own. Eugene, he’s one of his own.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair. There was no doubt in your mind that Mercer was onto Daryl, but he clearly still didn’t know where Eugene was. That was good. You just hoped he couldn’t tell that you were lying. Maybe if he knew you better, he could, but so far, he seemed to trust you. Well, trust you enough not to torture you, but then again, would he torture you? A woman who had just given birth, the wife of his former colleague? He seemed to have respect for Daryl. Hurting you would violate that respect.

“Daryl has nothing to do with this,” you reiterated once more. “He has been home the last few days, taking care of me and the kids, getting us ready to go back home. He doesn’t have the time to help Eugene with this thing, or to do whatever it is you think he’s doing. I don’t know where Eugene is. Daryl doesn’t know, either. Are you going to interrogate our kids now, too? Even the baby? You know, he can’t talk yet.”

Mercer was not amused by your sarcasm. “You’re free to go,” he said. “If Daryl is helping Eugene,” he added, “he’ll be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, just so you know.”

“He’s not,” you quickly replied. “I would know if he was, and he’s not.” Lying. So much lying. You hated it, but if it kept Daryl and Eugene safe, you’d do it over and over again. “We just want to go home.” This time, you spoke more softly, almost pleadingly. If you had to beg for your people’s freedom, you would. “What Eugene did, I am sure he did it because he wants to help the Commonwealth, not hurt it. After everything that has happened, the best thing for all of us is just to go home, back to Alexandria.”

He seemed understanding of that, but not enough to reassure you that you’d all get back home. The truth of the matter was that things were more complicated than you all had been led to believe when Carol made that deal, and now that Sebastian was dead, Governor Milton wanted justice for her son’s death.

“(Y/N),” he said, “if Eugene doesn’t turn himself in, and if your people make this harder than it has to be, I can’t guarantee your family’s safety. The longer he’s free, the less likely you’ll see Alexandria again.”

On the way home, you sneaked through the streets, taking a detour to the church. Perhaps Daryl would be angry at you for doing so, but you needed to touch base with him. Outside the door, you knocked lightly, looking around to make sure no one could see you. Thank God that the sun was starting to set, and people were settling down, tucked away in their homes after the day’s horrific events.

Several moments later, you heard a light movement behind the door. It must’ve been Daryl, who else would it be? “It’s me,” you said in a hushed tone.

You heard an exasperated huff, no doubt belonging to your husband, who unlatched the lock and abruptly pulled you in by the wrist. He poked his head out briefly to look around, then shut the door as quietly as he could, though he wanted to slam it. He latched the lock, though, with great frustration.

“What the hell are ya doin’ here, woman?” he asked in a low, yet obviously irritated voice. You stepped back and crossed your arms, slightly upset with the way he greeted you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Mercer just questioned me.”

“He hurt you?” he asked immediately, eyes intense and serious as he looked you over. He didn’t think Mercer would be the kind to do such a thing, but then again, he was proving to be more loyal to the Commonwealth than he had initially thought, and they weren’t above torturing people for information, he was sure of it.

“No, he just asked me questions, asked me if I knew where you and Eugene were. I didn’t say anything. Did he talk to you, too?”

“‘Bout an hour ago.”

“We need to leave.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Where are the kids?”

“Carol’s house. Have you talked to the others?”

He looked around the empty church for a few moments, as if to find somewhere to hide you, too. “Yeah, we’re gonna leave at dawn, if we can get out,” he said, taking you by the forearm and leading you to the front pew where his crossbow sat, ready to fire. He sat you down just as Rosita and Eugene came out from the back room.

“(Y/N),” sighed Eugene. He looked weary. The dark circles under his eyes were much more prominent than usual. He looked more exhausted than he did the times he stayed up all night at the library researching whatever topic he was interested in at that moment. You distinctly recalled lifting his drooling face off of a book on ancient hunter gathering techniques, and he looked better then.

“Eugene,” you replied, standing up to hug him. It took him a moment to register your arms around him, but he wrapped his around you, too, and soon rested his chin upon your shoulder, as if it was a welcome relief. Daryl had sometimes told you that your hugs could chase a storm away, and perhaps he was right. “How are you holding up?”

You squeezed his shoulders, prompting him to raise his head and look you in the eyes. He looked sorrowful, guilty, and regretful. “Reckon better than I deserve. I don’t suppose you have any news on Max’s whereabouts?”

“No,” you answered sadly. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen her since earlier.”

“It may seem trivial, in light of all the melee and mayhem, but I’m the one who should truly be sorry. It’s my actions that put you all in extremely compromised situations.”

“No, don’t be,” responded Daryl. “That prick had it comin’.”

“All right, what we need to do now is figure out how to get you out of here,” said Rosita.

“I know a way,” answered Daryl. “The east gate. I know when the shifts change. Might be a window we can slip out.”

You nodded as you thought, envisioning the plan in your head. “That’s a good idea. We can meet up with Aaron and the others on the road, heading towards Alexandria. Get the kids, everyone out in one fell swoop.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Eugene anxiously listening to your words. He knocked his hand against the railing he leaned upon, and made a sour, uncomfortable face. “Eugene?” you asked. “What’s wrong?”

“At the risk of sounding ungrateful for all your efforts on your behalf,” he said, “I cannot leave without my beloved. I need to go find her.”

Your lips quivered slightly. You felt for Eugene. Though you hadn’t spoken to him much about her since she died, Beverly was once his first love, and you missed her. Now, it seemed he really did have a new love, and if he lost her, you’d be devastated for him.

The romantic in you, too, wanted to find her. Eugene deserved love just as much as anyone else, and though you almost said something, Daryl, your much more pragmatic husband, beat you to it.

“You got every trooper in the city lookin’ for ya. You wouldn’t make it a block.”

Oh, Daryl, you thought. For once, be impractical. Of course, Daryl didn’t have a problem throwing caution to the wind when it came to you or his family, but you knew how Daryl thought, and Max wasn’t quite family. It would take convincing for him to let anyone risk their life for her.

“Well, be that as it may,” replied Eugene, “I cannot, I—I will not leave without her. At the very least ascertain her safety.” He spoke with such passion, such pain in his voice, that your heart ached for him. You knew how he felt. When your beloved was taken by the Saviors, you desperately wanted to rescue him, to know he was safe. To this day, you were sure that if Daryl hadn’t miraculously returned that night, you would’ve died trying to save him. You were grateful that you hadn’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have had all this time you had with him since, but when someone you love is in danger, you must at least try, and you did.

“We’ll find her,” you said, and as you spoke, you felt Daryl’s eyes narrowed at you. He could be pissed at you all he wanted, but you weren’t about to let Eugene lose another person he loved. Even if Beverly and him had separated before she died, you knew that they both would always love each other. Besides, when you saw the worry in Eugene’s face, you saw the same worry in Daryl’s whenever your life was in danger. Your empathy was too strong to let that go. “At least we’ll try. I’ll try.”

“Nah, no way,” Daryl quickly added. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere. You just had a baby for Christ’s sake.”

You tilted your head at him in protest, but he did have a point. You weren’t quite physically ready to be running around the Commonwealth. You had Westley just the other day, though it seemed ages ago now.

“Okay,” said Rosita. “Eugene, you stay here, I will go look for Max. If I can find her, maybe we can get both of you out. Is that a deal?”

Eugene sighed in relief, and nodded. “Deal.”

You were relieved, too. Though you wanted to help, it was best that you stayed behind. Daryl handed Rosita a knife, and you hugged her before she left. “Be safe,” you whispered over her shoulder.

“You too,” she said, and as she headed towards the door, Pamela Milton’s voice could be heard from outside, on the PA system. It had been on a loop, going off every hour, on the hour. This time, though, it felt particularly ominous.

“Attention, my fellow citizens,” it said. “The perpetrators of these horrific events cannot be allowed to go unpunished.” You and Daryl looked at each other, then both of you looked to Eugene. “Anyone providing information on the whereabouts of these individuals will receive a generous reward, while any persons found aiding and abetting these fugitives will share their fate—that of swift and final justice.”

When the shade of night swallowed the city, you found yourself sitting on the front pew, head in your hands as you thought of the next move. Rosita hadn’t been back yet, and there was no sign of Max, either. Daryl wouldn’t let you leave the church, planning on going back to get the kids when the time was right. In truth, you were worried about them, especially Westley. He had plenty of bottled breastmilk for Carol to feed him, and plenty of formula, too, but that was your baby, and he was only a few days old. You should’ve been with him.

In the corner of the room, Daryl was lighting the last of the candles with his old silver lighter. You lifted your head for a moment just to watch his hand cup the light, and the orange-red coloring of his palm reflected off the flame.

“You should sleep,” he said, turning to face you. “I can keep watch all night. There’s some blankets in the back. I’ll get ‘em for ya.”

“No,” you said. “I want to stay awake, just in case. Have to be ready to go.”

Daryl huffed as he sat beside you, leaning back on the pew. The stained glass of the windows caught the flickering light of the candles, illuminating its vibrant colors despite the darkness of the surrounding night. He studied your profile, framed by one of those windows. The fuzziness of the outline of your hair combined with the stained glass and the glow of the candlelight to create an almost halo-like effect. Moments like this reminded him of the reason why he called you “angel.”

And yet, you were stubborn. He hardly had room to judge, since he was even worse than you in that department, but your stubbornness could drive him crazy. He wanted you to just sleep, instead of incessantly worrying as you had been since Rosita left. He knew you wanted to go out after her, and to check on the kids, but that would only happen over his dead body.

“You ain’t leavin’ this church without me,” he said. “You know that, right?”

“I know, Daryl.”

There was silence between you for a little while then, but more than ten years together made the silence natural. In fact, everything between the two of you seemed natural, always. There wasn’t much that could make you feel uncomfortable around each other. Eugene was somewhere in the back room, and Daryl was grateful for that. He was grateful for any amount of time he had to be alone with you, even while outside, an entire army was looking for you.

“Kids are safe,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “I know you’re thinkin’ about ‘em.”

Of course he did. Daryl knew the exact pattern of your heartbeat, especially since his beat to the same rhythm.

“I am,” you confirmed. “Mostly Westley…” Your voice broke a little, thinking about your baby, so helpless and confused in a strange new world he couldn’t even comprehend. “I should be with him.”

Daryl’s hand overlapped yours, squeezing it tight. The warmth of his touch climbed up your arm and into your chest, where your heart swelled at the feeling. His other arm wrapped around your back, coercing you to his side, where you rested your head upon his shoulder. Your free hand naturally clung to his vest as you let a few tears absorb into his shirt. You were choking up just a little, but you wouldn’t let yourself break out into a full on cry. Strength could not escape you now. You needed to be brave, though as Daryl’s hand rubbed up and down your back, you wanted to be weak, to crumble as he held you. It would be so easy to. Daryl would never judge you, never ridicule you for your emotions. In fact, he admired them, how much you felt. Of course, it hurt him, too. Every tear you cried was another crack in his armor, making him more vulnerable to his own emotions. That was secondary, though. What mattered to him most was chasing those tears away.

“He’s gonna be all right,” he said. “Soon as we can, we’ll get him and the kids and everyone else outta here… It’ll all seem like some kinda weird dream.”

You huffed against his shoulder. “What if… not all of us make it out?”

Those words caused him to hold you tighter. He’d been thinking about that. He just refused to believe it could even happen, though he knew it could. There was a high chance of every plan he had, every contingency he’d thought of, every scenario he’d worked out in his head for the last few hours, going awry. Hell, it was already going awry, with Rosita out looking for Max. There was rarely certainty in this world, but just for once, he wished something would be predictable.

At least you were predictable. You were something he could understand, something he considered certain. If he could at least control what happens to you, your safety, then he’d be content. And yet, he couldn’t fully predict that, either. With you here now, you were more at risk than ever. Now, you were an accessory to Eugene’s crime, along with Daryl and Rosita. At least he could hold you now, and feel just a little bit of comfort in the midst of this predicament he found himself in.

To him, you were absolute, a promise as sure as the sun rising in the morning, bringing hope back to a grim world. That was one thing he could always be sure of, at least he tried to.

“Ain’t no use in thinkin’ about that,” he replied. “What’s important is what’s goin’ on right now. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it, like we always do. You and me, together.”

His uncharacteristic positivity surprised you, as it always did when he said such things. “We always end up running, huh? Running from something.”

“Runnin’s just a part of fighting,” he said. “Sometimes ya gotta run so you can fight, ya know?”

That damn man, always saying something so simple yet so profound. Wisdom was something that came naturally to Daryl. In another life, you swore he would’ve made a great philosopher. Well, at least to you. Then again, you didn’t know much about philosophy.

“Yeah…” You sniffled back a few tears, lifting your head to meet his gaze. The corner of his lip curved upwards just a tiny, almost unnoticeable amount. Seeing your face would always somehow make him react. After all these years, you still bewitched him, mind, body, and soul. “And running isn’t so bad when you’re with me. Fighting is even better.”

“Yeah, it ain’t so bad… Just gotta get through tonight.”

You lowered your head. “Helping Eugene will cost us,” you said. “I know he’s family, and I wouldn’t ever abandon him, but I’m scared that… things are going to get worse before they get better.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, nuzzling you. “We’re in this mess together,” he said. “Eugene did a good thing, exposing that asshole. Maybe now more people will follow. We ain’t alone.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still slightly skeptical of his optimism. “Are you feeling okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, why?”

You swept away some unruly strands of hair to hold the back of your hand to his forehead. “Hm… You feel fine, but what have you done with my Daryl?”

He scoffed. “I just don’t want ya to lose hope. You keep me goin’, ya know. Ain’t no use in doin’ somethin’ if the most important person in the world don’t believe in it.”

“Me? I’m the most important person in the world?”

He tilted his head, and you knew you were in for some sarcastic teasing. “Nah, Eugene. Course it’s you, crazy woman. Who else would it be?”

“Oh.” You laughed just a little, and for a brief moment, you forgot just where you were, what was happening outside. It didn’t matter, really. How could you think of anything besides him, that man who cared so deeply for you that his entire being was devoted to making you happy?

A smile went a long way, because as soon as your lips curled ever so slightly, he smiled, too.

“How are you feelin’, anyway?” He gently touched your stomach, where your former baby bump had “deflated” quite a bit.

Not great. You were still bleeding a little, you had periodic afterpains, your breasts were engorged and sore, and you just felt much more emotionally fragile than usual, which was saying something. Essentially, you felt as though you were having the worst menstrual period of your life. Still, you couldn’t complain too much. There were so many things that could have gone wrong with the birth, both Westley’s and Robin’s, and yet all you had to deal with were the basic postpartum symptoms, and both your babies had been healthy. You only had one thing to say: “I am never giving birth again.”

“Yeah,” agreed Daryl. “Two is good… We got a little girl and a little boy. That’s perfect. You didn’t tell me how you’re feelin’.”

“I feel like I just gave birth, Daryl.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” you replied. “Just have to go through it, I guess.”

Daryl knew you well enough to know your insecurity with being perceived as “weak.” Sometimes it kept you from admitting to your pain, or made you underestimate how much you were hurting.

“You don’t gotta go through it alone,” he replied. “I’m here… Let me take care of you.”

Your lips formed into a soft smile. “Honeybear,” you laughed under your breath. “I’m the least of your worries.” You took his hand in yours, bringing it to your lips to bestow a kiss on the back of it. “Eugene is your priority.”

“Pfft,” he scoffed. “I’d sooner be responsible for my wife. Least she’s pretty.”

Rolling your eyes, you kissed his cheek. A reward for his flattery. “I know you don’t think finding Max is as important as getting out of here, but Eugene loves her. What if it was me in her position, hm?”

“I’d be out there myself lookin’ for you. Wouldn’t leave till I found you.”

“And that’s how Eugene feels about Max.” Well, Eugene had, up until this point, not tried to go out looking for Max himself, but just before you could say anything else, you heard the sound of a window opening. It came from the back room, and you stood up quickly, while Daryl took the lead, finding Eugene poking his head out the open window, looking around.

“Tryin’ to get yourself caught?” asked Daryl, a hint of a threat in his gruff voice.

Eugene promptly closed the window, then stepped back, looking between the two of you. “I was merely peepin’ at trooper activity levels so as to allow my assistance in Rosita’s search for Max.” He began to make his way towards you and Daryl, but his destination was the door. “Tired of standin’ on the proverbial sidelines.”

Daryl stepped forward, placing himself in front of Eugene. He was calm, as usual, but Eugene’s face contorted in an attempt to look threatening as he looked Daryl up and down. It was quite amusing to you, seeing Daryl and Eugene face to face like this for the first time. The two hardly ever had interactions, since Daryl found Eugene to be a bit annoying. Good natured, but annoying, nevertheless. Kind of like a weird cousin.

“You’d be wise to step aside, hoss,” said Eugene. His head inched a little closer, swaying side to side as he spoke again. “No need for this to get ugly.”

Trying to remain serious, you strained your face, keeping a laugh in the back of your throat. Eugene might’ve been technically larger than Daryl, both in height and weight, but he lacked any brawling experience, which Daryl had in spades. Not only that, but you knew that Daryl would never fight Eugene, especially not now. Still, it was, for lack of a better word, rather cute how passionate Eugene was about rescuing his girlfriend.

For his part, Daryl remained silent, and you wondered if he, too, was trying to hold back a laugh at the idea of fighting Eugene.

“Very well,” said Eugene, stepping back as he rolled up his sleeves. “(Y/N),” he said, still eyeing Daryl, “I sincerely apologize in advance for any bodily injury I might inflict upon your husband in the process of physical altercation, mano a mano. I suggest you avert your eyes.”

He cracked his neck and balled up his fists, holding them in a fighting stance. Meanwhile, Daryl stood perfectly still, just watching him. After several moments, his body swayed and he moved back, extending his arm towards the door. “Go ahead,” he said, voice low and calm.

Eugene looked confused, but slightly relieved, as he slowly lowered his hands. He walked past you and Daryl, but stopped before he could make it out into the main hall of the church. “You’re not trying to stop me,” he said.

A few beats of silence passed until Daryl responded. “You ain’t goin’.”

Eugene lowered his head as he moved back into the room, sitting himself down on a bench. “Because I’m a coward,” he said.

“No,” answered Daryl, and you were proud of him. “It’s because you’re smart.”

“I’m a liability,” he replied. “Always have been.”

“No, you’re not,” you said. “You’ve always been an asset to us, and a friend.”

He shook his head. “An asset? Relying on others to survive, counting on their courage due to a dearth of my own. Hell, the only way I bucked natural selection was my penchant for prevarication.” You were both silent, and you weren’t going to be the first to admit that you were unfamiliar with that terminology, though based on his track record, you assumed it meant lying. “Means lying,” Eugene added, confirming your suspicion.

Daryl bobbed his head. “I figured.”

“Yeah, well, I’m ashamed to say it’s my only discernible skill.”

Your heart broke a little for him, so you passed by Daryl to sit yourself down next to him, gently touching his shoulder. “That’s not true,” you said softly, minding his delicate state.

More silence settled in, and your words didn’t seem to soothe him. “Do you think people are born brave?” he asked. “Or do they become it?”

Daryl stood silent, then walked past Eugene, patting his back as he said, “Both.”

When Daryl left the room, Eugene looked at you, his countenance much more serious than you’d ever seen it, and Eugene always looked quite serious. “(Y/N),” he said. “Now that Daryl is gone, may I ask you something?”

You offered him a small smile of encouragement. “Of course, and you know, there isn’t anything you can’t tell me in front of Daryl.”

“I know, it’s just… Well, he ain’t exactly someone I imagine would be particularly forthcoming in discussing matters of romantic love.”

You huffed a small laugh. It was always a little strange to you how people could perceive Daryl, the sweetest, most sentimental and romantic person you knew, as a stoic, unfeeling man, but then again, you saw a different side to him. You always did.

“He’s a lot more romantic than he appears,” you said. “But go ahead. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Eugene swiveled in his seat to face you directly. He always had such strange little mannerisms, but you found them rather endearing. “I’m not leavin’ here without Maxine,” he said. “I can’t, I won’t. She means too much to me. I suppose what I was going to inquire was… do you think I should turn myself in?”

Your eyes widened. It was the last thing you predicted that Eugene would ask you. “Eugene,” you began, “I… I’m not sure I can help you make that decision.”

On one hand, you would be quick to say “no,” but on the other, you didn’t want to sway his decision either way. Perhaps it was what he wanted, so you asked him.

“What do you want to do?” you said.

He swallowed hard, averting his gaze as he thought on the question. “Well, from my preliminary meditations on the matter, I wholeheartedly believe that… the best thing for everyone would be to walk right into the cold arms of the law and profess my guilt to the crime I so foolishly committed.”

“Why do you think that would be the best thing?” you asked, trying to make him think harder before he came to any conclusion.

“If I turn myself in, confess to everything myself, say I acted alone, Max’s name will be cleared. If I leave without her, she’ll face execution. I’d be throwin’ her to the wolves, as it were.”

There was a lot to think about there. You were silent for a while, trying to think of what to say to him. Now you knew why Eugene wouldn’t discuss this in front of Daryl, who would’ve been less understanding. Of course, Daryl would turn himself in in a heartbeat if it meant saving you, but Daryl’s prerogative was protecting his own, and Eugene was, as Mercer had pointed out to you, one of his own.

“I think… I think you should think about this. A lot. I mean, Rosita hasn’t come back yet. Maybe she’s found Max. They could be here any minute. You should wait. We can get you both out of here, Eugene. We will. No one wants you or Max to be punished for doing the right thing, and you did do the right thing. A brave thing.”

Tears seemed to well up a bit in his eyes as his lips quivered into a sad smile. You wondered if anyone had ever told him that he’d done a brave thing.

“I’ve done the math in my head,” he said. “The probability of Rosita returning with Maxine is unlikely, and if, in the worst and much more likely case scenario, Max has already been captured, it’s all the more reason to save her by sacrificing myself.”

“N-no. Eugene, just think about this.”

“(Y/N)... Do you ever think about Beverly?”

You were taken aback, but you nodded. You thought about her often, almost everyday. There was so much you’d wanted to say to her before she died, but such an opportunity to do so is a rare luxury in this world. There were so many deaths that had struck suddenly and without the chance for closure.

“Yes, of course I do.”

“I know what she would want me to do, and she’d tell me that love is the last thing we’ve got, and that I should hold onto it as long as I can. This is how I hold onto it.”

It was the clearest thing you’d ever heard Eugene say. It wasn’t muddied with his extensively verbose vocabulary or any strange figures of speech that you failed to understand. He was speaking from his heart, not from his mind. Maybe that, for once, somehow made more sense.

“Eugene, Bev would be proud of whatever decision you make. She loved you, even after things ended. I know that you’ve been a hero in more ways than most people, and you don’t have to be a hero now, but I understand that you love Max, and if this is what you think you need to do for her, then I can’t stop you.”

With a single tear beginning to fall down his cheek, he lowered his head and sniffled. You always admired how sensitive Eugene was. It was rare for a man to cry as much as he did, and it was refreshing. Perhaps others would see it was a sign of weakness, but you saw it as quite the opposite. It takes strength to let yourself feel those kinds of emotions.

“See?” he said. “This is why I cannot freely express my innermost feelings in front of Daryl.”

“Oh, Eugene,” you sighed, taking his hand in yours. “Daryl is much more understanding than you think he is. Besides, he cries, too. There’s no shame in it. Strong men cry, and even stronger men would do anything for their love. I don’t know Maxine very well, but I know she’s very lucky to have a man like you.”

He raised his head, looking at you through his tears. “Really?”

“Really. Now, you just think about this for a while. Don’t make any rash decisions before Rosita comes back. She cares about you, too. We all do.” You stood up to bend over and peck his forehead with your lips. Eugene might’ve been older than you, but you sometimes saw him as a little brother, just because he could be so fragile. “I think I’m going to sleep now. You should, too. Daryl will be on watch.”

You crossed the room to return to the main church hall, but you turned back to face Eugene when he called out to you one last time.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yeah?”

He struggled for a moment to articulate himself, but he finally stuttered, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Sleep settled in for only a handful of restless hours, but it was enough to get you going again in the morning, eager to see your children. Rosita returned at dawn, but she was alone, and she had grim news: Max had been taken into police custody, and you knew from last night’s conversation that Eugene had no choice but to turn himself in and try to clear Max’s name.

That was out of your hands now, so you left Rosita and Eugene in the church, while you and Daryl went to Carol’s to reunite with the children.

There were still more preparations to be made if your family was to escape, and Daryl was itching to get you and the kids out, with or without Eugene.

“Shift’s about to change,” he told you that morning, now packing the last of the emergency supplies into his backpack. You had made it back to your apartment from Carol’s unnoticed, but with the six of you and Dog, it drew a lot of attention.

“We should probably split up,” you said, quickly changing Westley’s diaper as he squirmed on his changing table. “Too many of us all together, with all our stuff… It might look suspicious.”

Daryl nodded, though the last thing he wanted was to split up the family. It seemed dangerous, especially considering that now the Commonwealth Army was seemingly not going to let any of your people leave before Eugene turned himself in, and even then, you didn’t trust them enough to wait and see.

“All right, you meet me and the others by the east gate. There’s that warehouse, the one where Aaron got that wagon. No guards. You meet me behind that building, you, Robin, and Wes. I’ll take Judith and RJ and Dog.”

“Right,” you said, buttoning up Westley’s green onesie. “You should leave first, and we should take different routes. I’ll go through the square, you go the back way. My route is quicker, that way we should meet around the same time.”

“All right.” He anxiously rubbed his thighs, wiping the sweat from his palms.

“Daryl, (Y/N),” said RJ, peeking in from the other side of the door. “Are we going?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Get Dog’s leash on. I’ll be right out.”

When he closed the door, Daryl crossed over to you, hugging you tight as he kissed your lips. Your hands found their usual favorite spot on his shoulders, while his clung tight to your waist.

“I love you,” he said against your lips. “Be careful.”

“I will. I promise… And I love you, too. Very, very much.”

Your lips formed into an unavoidable frown, though you tried so hard not to show it. His hand lifted your chin, and you tried to look happier, but you couldn’t. “It’ll be over soon,” he said, only half believing his words. If faking it was what it took to make you believe it could happen, then he’d do what he had to do. Besides, a part of him did believe it. He had to. “We’re goin’ home. I promise, everythin’ is gonna be okay, angel.”

Well, now that he called you “angel,” you had to smile. Just a little.

“Okay,” you said with a nod, trying to reassure yourself. “Okay, you’re right. You’re always right. Always.”

“Nah, just when you need me to be.”

With tender goodbyes to his children, and one last kiss for you, he walked out the door with Judith, RJ, and Dog. Now, you were alone with Robin and the baby, waiting for the right time to leave.

You eyed your wristwatch like a hawk, with Westley sleeping soundly in the sling strapped across your chest. Robin tapped her feet nervously, looking over your shoulder, until it was time.

As quietly as possible, you shut the front door and made your way down the hall, each step more shaky than the last. Something didn’t feel right. It felt like you were walking into danger, even though you were barely ten yards from your apartment.

Robin must’ve felt the same, as she gripped your hand tightly, the other wrapped so hard around the strap of her backpack that it would surely be imprinted with the shape of her fingers.

“Mommy,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”

You squeezed her hand, then held your finger to your mouth as you looked down at her. “Shh...”

Turning the corner, your eyes widened to see two unfamiliar men in dark, discrete clothing walking swiftly towards you. Initially, you figured they were just two regular citizens you happened to not recognize, but when one of them grabbed your upper arm, it was too late to realize who they really must’ve been.

You reacted swiftly, though, yanking yourself free and twisting the man’s arm back until he let out a pained scream. Only letting go of Robin for a moment, you kneed him in the groin, sending him curling on the floor, but when you turned back to grab her, she was squirming in the arms of the other man.

Rage took over, and you couldn’t hear Westley’s crying over the incessant beating of your terrified heart. “Don’t hurt her!” you said, but your actions defied your pleading words. You lunged at the man, holding Westley steady as you elbowed his throat as hard as you could. You were never the best at hand-to-hand combat, but all that training Daryl had spent on you over the years must’ve been worth something.

Robin helped, too, biting the man’s hand that refused to let go of her. You pulled her back, but the man you’d knocked to the floor was up again, and he grabbed you from behind, this time with a much stronger hold.

The other man snatched up Robin like a ragdoll, now carrying her over his shoulder. “Let her go!” you bellowed. “Leave her alone!”

The man behind you covered your mouth with his hand, as the other quickly procured two burlap sacks from his coat pockets. One went over yours, the other over Robin’s. Westley didn’t need one, but he was quickly yanked from the wrap on your chest, and all you could hear was Westley’s cries and Robin’s voice screaming for you until they both became distant. You realized they’d been separated from you, and as hard as you tried to free yourself from the man’s arms, you were too weak.

You cried out every curse you could think of, every variant on “bastard” and “son of a bitch” and “go to Hell” until your throat felt scratchy and your voice faltered. Without any clue of where you were being taken to, you finally began to weep. All you knew was that you were sitting down, hands tied behind your back, and surrounded in darkness.

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