#Completely forgot to mention her soul is fading

[sin-content]

The "something" au :3

Abit of a info dump hehe

This is Cindy, she at first like all the Sins started life happy and nice but at 10 years old.. here all her family died in a car crash, normaly Sin gets left with her mom and sister but not this time. she was left alone at home due to feeling sick, but getting the news they were gone.. she felt like everyone would forget her, like by them dying no one would remember her and so this feeling gave birth to SOMETHING but SOMETHING doesnt want to kill her or anything, he just wants one thing. For everyone includeing herself to forget her and so she fades from existance getting trapped in nothing with gaster(no void in this au, just nothingness between reality and fiction), but she noticed after awhile her friends didnt seem to remember her name.. she did though, but they kept forggeting untill she was a stranger to them, she tryed to stay but couldnt, she ran away becouse of the stress and ended up underground after awhile of running, she after once sleeping and almost turning fully invisible(or not real) she developed insomnia and paranoia, she stutters alot, she noticed she was also forgetting and started repreating words to herself like "Im Cindy, Im alive, Im someone in this world.. Im not gone, Im alright, I like drawing and my family alot, they died but thats alright, ill be fine" wich being undergound made her forget even more untill.. it became "IM SOMEONE. I HAVE TO STAY ALIVE, I WONT BE GONE. IM HERE, I NEED..... HELP" but no one even remembers her! How could they help? Even in fights, after about 10 seconds they forget who she is and why theyre fighting, she found ways to remind herself she exists like scraching herself to feel it and remind herself that way, eventually she scratched too much and wrapped bandages on herself so she could scratch without hurting herself, she got a bat and knife from the undergroud for self defence...

Though everyone who meets her meets the same fate. To forget her, SOMETHING wont let them remember, or even know where they were.. someone takes many forms but.. its really just a black blob with a shape and any body of any creature and with eyes, sometimes just one but ut can have as many as it wants! No one even sees SOMETHING.. well they do but.. forget it as they forget more about Someone, she sometimes hers about people talking about SOMETHING behind her or even them.. she has a small notebook where she writes as much as possible but sometimes the ink dissapers leaveing her with gaps.. but she keeps the drawings of SOMETHING that she drew while people discribed it behind her. She has memory issues and is always on the run from SOMETHING dispite not knowing ehat it is, she has magic but its not much, just healing and fire magic, she has another two abilitys but theyre long forgotten.. maybe one day someone can remind her how to use them.. and then she can get better maybe, all she knows is that SOMETHING is always there. And if she isnt carefull she will end up not existing..

Bonus: Error!Sans could not kill her due to the forgetting thing, he would forget why he is there and who she is and the forgetting would make his strings start to fade from existance, she could never Beat Error either so a draw it would be!

Here you go Lumi abit more of the Something au

hehehe ^^

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul _ Part 5 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

The Request

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 (here)

How you had such a depressing life was beyond Alastor. He didn’t understand it. Can’t comprehend it! But he pushed these questions back to tend to your sadden mood, tucking you in and lulling you to sleep

Alastor sat next to your sleeping form, the room pitch black save for his glowing red eyes that pierced through the darkness. His staff played soft music to calm you down and fill the silence of the room. The only tears you should be shredding are ones of joy and happiness 

The people you’ve mentioned, surely they were in Hell as well. They can’t be in Heaven for causing you such torment. He can’t let you see them, any of them. He needs to get to them first. However, for now, he can’t leave you alone in such a state

His eyes closed as he thought out how he’d torture them. Perhaps skinning them till they beg for mercy and your forgiveness? Pulling out their limbs and draining their blood? Letting the cannibals partake in a feast? No, no, he had to enjoy this. They were your tormentors when you were alive, he’ll show you that he can and will be your protector, even a guarddog if he must

But his heinous thoughts were put to a hold when you shifted in your sleep. He pushed away his thoughts while he watched your serene form rest. He put away his monocle, laying beside you and gently pull you closer to him so he was hugging you to his chest. His eyes drooped close. Perhaps he should let those unfortunate souls enjoy Hell a bit longer. If they crossed his path or yours, their voice will be on his everlasting broadcast

When things got slow for you, you found yourself hanging out with the hotel residents at times. They were an interesting bunch to say the least

Charlie was always happy to see you and would invite you on her little activities and exercises to redeem sinners. Though you’d mostly decline unless it catches your interest in some way. On the rare chance you join, she was very appreciative of your presence and wasn’t shy to thank you for joining in front of everyone. Her cheerful attitude was a bit of a hit and miss for you

There was one exercise that got you sharing something you’ve almost forgot

“Okay! Last two to share! Who’s going first?” Charlie beamed

“I’ll go first, My Darling needs all the time to recall!” Alastor directed the attention to him. “My joy in my hay day is my murders. Oh how I felt the rush when chasing my victims, hunting them like prey in the woods. The warmth of their body fading the moment I repeated stabbed my trusty blade into their weak bodies. The—”

“Okay, okay, you can shut it with the creepy killing. Sheesh.” Vaggie interrupted with a groan. She turned to you who was still in a daze, completely unfazed with what Alastor said. “You ready to go?”

“Huh? Oh, okay.” You snapped out of your daydream, unconsciously, your hand patted on your book that was strapped to your hip. “My joy when I was alive… I barely remember it, but I loved going to the library and read all the books I can.”

“That’s surprisingly cute considering you’re with that freaky smil—” Angel’s mouth was immediately shut with the slap of Alastor’s staff

You continued without flinching, this was all a normal banter between the two already now that you were hanging out with the crew more. “I frequent the library, borrowing and finishing a stack of books everyday. The librarian would recommend me new books or save me my favourite corner. I can even eat and drink in the library just because.”

Charlie’s head tilted, “So you love reading.”

“Not just reading. I love books of all kinds. Sometimes I rad that book just cause I liked the texture or the shape of it. I collect books and keep it like treasures. I hate lending books to other because they don’t care for it like I do.” You fondly smiled at the memory, “Then I got a bunch of notebooks too, because I love the design or the cover.”

Lucifer leaned back into his chair, “No wonder your powers are centered around books.”

“Better call you bookworm now! Hahahaa—” Angel was hit by two cranes, one from Alastor and another from Lucifer. Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk flinched with a face twisted to pain as if they felt that. Niffty was living in the moment, wanting one too

Husk gulped some alcohol, “You better shut that loud mouth of yours if you know what’s good for you.”

Everyone laughed and chuckled, Charlie concluding that it was a good exercise and bonding time since everyone was in attendance. Alastor got up and offered you his hand, bringing you two back to your room. You stayed out of it, being in a daze again

When Alastor asked if you were fine, you smiled and said you were fine, if you needed anything, he would be the first you’d call for. So he left you alone

You didn’t tell them. You were that absorbed into reading that you didn’t realize you were being bullied, you were used. You shared your dream of wanting to be a writer that people would love to read what you wrote and share it with friends, to entertain others. You shared your ideas with your friend but your ideas were stolen from you

The moment you handed in your writing, the publishing company said they had one already and that yours was not up-to-date. They rejected your writing. Days later, you saw the newest novel on sell. The title was so similar to yours that you checked the summary at the back. That was your story idea. But your work was rejected so how was it published?

Your nightmare came to life. A betrayal so painful and chilling. Your friend’s name was on the cover. You remember your hands shaking. It wasn’t rage you felt, it was disbelief and sadness. The trust you gave, the care you gave, and the attention you gave. It was all to stab you in the back

You watched from behind the screens at the achievement and success that should have been yours. All of it, it should have been yours to smile upon. But then you were crying and shutting yourself behind the world of fantasy, an escape from reality

Why? Why? Why!

Closing your eyes for a moment, you locked up those memories. They don’t mean much to you now. Not when you had Alastor with you and an unlikely friendship with Lucifer the King of Hell himself, then there was the silly demons of this hotel. Ironic how you found true friends in demons

That’s why when you saw Mimzy again in the hotel, you were skeptical and burning with rage. She had someone as amazing and caring as Alastor to call as a friend, but she’s abusing it without a care. How she has the guts to come back and ask for Alastor, you have no idea, though you’ve seen her kind when you were alive

“You’re a new soul!” Mimzy’s voice made you want to throw glass or grip something until it broke. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

“What do you want?” You eyed down at Mimzy with a bored expression

She let out a sound akin to ‘uww’ with a face of disgust. “You’re never gonna get your lucky someone with that attitude.”

Your eye twitched, “I never said I was.”

Mimzy gave you a fake shocked look, “Really? I thought you were going for Alastor!”

You groaned, heading over to the bar to ask Husk for something to drink (not alcohol) because you didn’t want this annoyance to follow you to your room

“Hey,” Mimzy sat next to you without asking, “You know what Alastor’s like when he’s upstairs?”

You ignored her, but your face of silent rage was enough to get her to continue

“You don’t know. He’s a realy lady’s killer! Not literally, but you get what I mean. Girls and ladies throw themselves at him and he doesn’t even bat them an eye. A nice wave and a dashing smile, then he leaves them high and dry! Oh, the broken hearts he had was definitely more than his body count and that’s something!” Mimzy laughed at the end

What’s that got to do with you? You thought to yourself as you aggressive sipped on your drink. Husk eyed you two while cleaning some glass to appear like he was busy. You’ll maybe admit, you were a bit envious of Mimzy that she got to see Alastor when he was alive, you wonder how he looked. Not like you were going to ask

Mimzy endlessly talked bad about Alastor behind his back. What happened to trying to apologise and wanting to make up? No idea, down the drain at this point. As the others around you wonder why you were still humouring the chatty demon, you were wondering the same. Why are you just sitting here and listening to all this?

“You should shut it, can’t you see you’re the only one talking here?” Husk spoke up, indirectly telling Mimzy to just leave you alone

“Aww, and you should do your job, bar cat.” Mimzy teased back. “I’m given this poor soul some attention cause Alastor’s too high of a standard to give some.”

“Ha! Jokes on you. This hot stu— I mean, cutie here’s always got smile’s attention.” Angel inserted himself into the conversation, climbing over the bar to stand next to Husk

You got up, “This is a waste of time.”

Mimzy faked another gasp, “No way. You poor poor thing. You actually fell for him of all people of this hellhole?” She got so close in your face and not to mention your personal space, “I understand why, but! Ha! That’s just bad luck! You’re bound to get your heart broken like all those poor ladies before you.”

Before you said anything, Husk’s wing separated Mimzy from you, “You really need to shut the hell up before you regret it.”

“You shut it fur ball! I ain’t talkin’ to you.” Mimzy snapped at Husk

Deciding that it was not worth your time, you started walking away. This was drama you didn’t want to be involved in and you didn’t want Alastor catching this happening since he sees Mimzy as a friend still

“The hotel won’t allow this.” Charlie tried to establish order and break things off

“Alastor will leave you in the dirt worse than whatever you were before once he’s had his fun with you! You might think you’re on cloud 9 now, but you’re going to be in a world of pain and hurt soon enough.” Mimzy continued, completely ignoring Charlie and Husk’s words

With each step you took, she continued as if singing a song, “Alastor only like things that entertains him. He never commits. He never cares. He doesn’t even have a heart to care! He’s so powerful because he has no room for ridicious things like love. The love he has is only for himself. Alastor is just a selfish heartless motherf—”

“Shut up!” You turned to her, a deep scowl on your face

“This is gonna be good.” Lucifer whispered to the others watching, “But bad for her. Yeah.”

“Shut you annoying f- mouth.” You snapped, unaware that your hair leviated a bit from your rage. “You don’t know how lucky you are to have a friend like Alastor. Alive and dead. But what do you do? You use Alastor’s name just for the fun of it and for your benefit. You just use it! How can you use your friendship with him like this! What’s wrong with your stupid tiny head?! In Hell, you’re supposed to treasure what you have. Not abuse it.”

Mimzy scoffed, “You think you’re so good? So righteous. Well, you would have been up there, now wouldn’t you. Don’t think you’re any better.” She smirked, “In Hell, we use everything and anything to our advantage.” Another gasp came and she covered her mouth, “Oh wait, could it be?” She got close to you, “Haha, you being so defensive and triggered by all this. You really actually did fall for him.”

“I love him.”

“Wait? Couldn’t hear you, sugar—”

“I love Alastor.” You repeated firmly and loudly

“What was that?”

Getting annoyed, you turned to the direction where the question came from. Perhaps it was all this anger in your system that made you slow to realize, “I said,” That you were now face to face with Alastor. “I love you!”

Note: This part's major focus has been mentioned in an ask already. And since it's confirmed that you and Alastor are dating in the latest asks and requests, I'm putting this scene in more detail since asks are trivia for the story

P.S. There's something new planned for future chapters~ Remember that lover and friend mentioned? OCs might be appearing cause I can't do rando short forms. Still thinking... You're thoughts? Or should I just end this series?

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

@mistpurpl3

@nevermore-ramblings 

@justboredforreal 

@youroneandonlysimp 

@falsemain

@scenteddelusion5

@anni1600

@readergirlstuff

@salutations-demonsanddappers

@mistpurpl3

@haruskrd

@biadoll21

@speedycoffeedelight

@wendds

@paninibit

[spencerreidswhore187]

Hymn for Her (2)

Ava x Beatrice (Warrior Nun) 

Summary: The discovery of a resurrected Ava, believed to be lost, sends ripples through Bea's reality, filling her heart with both joy and trepidation. However, the reunion takes a harrowing twist when Ava, transformed by otherworldly forces, becomes an unexpected adversary, unleashing violence upon the Order of the Cruciform Sword. Ava finds herself entangled in a relentless battle against the forces of darkness, the mystery behind her descent into darkness deepens. Meanwhile, Bea grapples with the conflicting emotions of love and despair, haunted by dreams that connect her to Ava's tortured soul.

T/W:  Descriptions of violence, blood and gore. Brief mentions of alcohol, guns and other weapons. Please let me know if I forgot to add something.

Word Count: 1k

Part One: An Unholy Darkness

Part Two: Echoes of Darkness

Part Three: Whispers in the Shadows

Part Four: Dance with Shadows

Part Five: Embrace of Light

In the quiet solitude of her chamber, Bea found herself enveloped in an uneasy slumber. As her mind drifted into the realm of dreams, a hazy fog descended, and she felt the subtle pull of a presence.

The echoes of distant whispers beckoned her, drawing her towards a silhouette bathed in an otherworldly glow. It was Ava, a reflection of her former self, standing in the space between reality and the imagination.

"Ava?" Bea's voice was husky, her breath catching at the sight of her. An ambient glow cast Ava's features in a surreal light, emphasising the haunted look in her eyes.

"I don't know how I got here, Bea. Everything is so confusing," Ava confessed, her voice was like a haunting melody. Her vibrant eyes mirrored a sense of loss and bewilderment.

Bea's heart ached at the sight of Ava's vulnerability. She extended her hand, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between them. The phantom touch sent shivers through Bea's soul, a sensation both tangible and intangible.

"You have to fight this, Ava. We'll find a way back," Bea implored.

Ava's gaze flickered, torn between fragments of memory and the encroaching darkness. "I'm holding on, Bea, but I’m slipping away."

In the dreamscape, fragments of their shared past materialised— laughter-filled nights beneath a blanket of stars, the warmth of their first kiss before the battle that separated them for so long and their unspoken promises of forever.

”Remember, Ava. Remember the love we share, the fights we faced. Hold on to those memories. They're your anchor," Bea urged, her words resonating like a lifeline in the swirling void.

Ava nodded, her grip tightening on the ephemeral fragments of their shared history. "I'm trying. Your love is the only thing keeping me from completely losing myself. But the darkness, it's relentless. I don't know how much longer I can resist."

As the dreamscape began to waver, a soft breeze carried the echoes of Ava's fading voice. "Bea, promise me. Promise you'll save me before it's too late."

"I promise," Bea whispered, her voice lingering in the emptiness as the dreamscape unravelled, leaving her alone in the silent sanctuary of her room. 

“In this life or the next,” she murmured to herself.  

Bea awoke with a start, her heart pounding with the weight of the dream that clung to her like a lingering mist. The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, casting shadows that danced in the corners. Determination burned in Bea's eyes as she clutched the sheets, the urgency of Ava's plea etched into her soul.

The love she felt for Ava was a flame that refused to be extinguished by the encroaching darkness. Bea knew that their shared history, the memories that bound them, would serve as a beacon in the looming shadows. Bea was ready to face the depths of the abyss if it meant saving the woman she loved and Bea would stop at nothing to reclaim the light that had once burned brightly in Ava's eyes. 

Her thoughts swirled, a tempest of emotions wrestling within her, yet a newfound clarity began to emerge. The dream had not only exposed Ava's torment but also revealed a glimmer of hope—a hope entwined with memories and love that the encroaching darkness couldn't fully erase. The echoes of their shared laughter, the warmth of embraces, kisses.

Bea's heart, initially heavy with the weight of Ava's distress, now bore the flame of determination. The dream, though haunting, had not only shown the extent of Ava's struggle but also provided a glimpse into the strength that still existed within her. The love that Bea felt for Ava was a force capable of penetrating the darkest recesses of the soul.

In that quiet chamber, as Bea rose from her bed with the moon casting a silvery glow on her face, she knew that the journey ahead would be fraught with challenges. Bea embraced the truth—the truth that Ava, no matter how lost she seemed, still clung to the remnants of their shared history. The love they had forged together was a lifeline, a lifeline that could pull Ava back from the brink of oblivion. She could save the girl she loved from the grasp of the encroaching darkness.

A/N: Thank you for reading ◡̈

[paradoxrealm]

A Return Worth Waiting For...~

(I just realized I forgot the title for my last submission aaaa I'm tired TvT)

Yes actually.~ It's not a pretty tale, I'll tell you that much, and it's not a quick one either. So, to keep it short, I'm... basically the rebirth of a girl who died from power she couldn't control because of someone who only wanted her for her power. She was someone's daughter... She was so, so loved... I watched that day she faded away in her father's arms... And her memory of that day is still vivid in her mind and mine... All that power tore her apart at the root... Right down to the soul till there was nothing left, and the pieces of her scattered across the universe... ...And those pieces came back together to make me. But... that someone I mentioned earlier, he is also a demon from my past as well as her's, because he found me, tried to use me because I now have her power and strength. During our last encounter with him he... quite literally took my soul. The Lights, Eclipse, he took all five fragments and carved entire chunks out of each of them to rebuild the girl that once was.

He didn't care how he did it... And he... ended up rebuilding her almost... completely in a sense. ...Because she had all of her memories.

She was aware.

And her mind was burning up because she had eons of memories of two separate lives inside her head... If it weren't for Mikearu she would still be suffering, and I would've been lost for good. By the end of it the other fragments were mended, but she remained as a sixth piece of me. The girl that once was, becoming the final fragment to the girl that is. But... because of the way she came into being, she's like Eclipse. She's a separate mind. And she's a shadow.

Well... a shadow in a different sense. She's a shadow of the past.

Her old name was Mesánychta... ...But, after having become a fragment, she took on the English meaning of her old name.

"Midnight"...~

...Would you... like to meet her?~

She looked to the puppetmaster with a slight hint of mischief in her grin as she carefully tucked the drawing back into her pocket.

_______________

He took a moment to respond, visibly trying to process all of that. “And that’s the short version?… Well then, I should know who’s in my world.” He gave a slight nod, crossing his legs.

[xgoldxnhour]

I Forgot Where We Were

@shelbysdevil

The lighting always gave her a headache. Some felt far too dim to see anything or anyone, baked in aesthetic and ambience while others felt spotlit by the fucking sun. It was either you see or you don’t—a limbo she felt entrapped in—the constant pull of invisibility and microscopic view. Perhaps that was reason why she hated these sort of things, a constant display of people’s opinions and intrigue of her work. Her heart and soul on display to pull and tug to one’s own desire—tangled into a marionette. No, she wished to fade into the background, which is why she comes with no introduction, blended in with the crowd, looking at the display of others’ work. Some of her favorite local artists were here and she wanted to support them.

Glass of champagne in her hand, she wanders, aimless in direction and yet poignant with purpose. Her twin brother, Jesse tags along with her throughout the night until he’s pulled away with his agent to go talk this and say hi to that. El smirks at the sight of his apologetic eyes as he’s here for support, not work, but she waves him off playfully—unbothered. She doesn’t need to word of his support to know its presence, his attendance alone is enough.

Alone, she passes the section of her pieces with a few stragglers of groups, making comments of composition and stroke form. Down at the end, she sees a lone observant, seemingly lost in one of the pieces. Notably, it’s one of her favorites. The collection is divided by light and dark—two fields of matter and destruction always at ends. A straight shot into her mind and how she sees herself. He stands before two large pieces that almost meet floor to ceiling. One is more noticeably a person but hands clawing and peaking through multiple pieces. It’s how she sees this world—always tugging and pulling at skin in order to morph into what it never was supposed to be. Manipulation. Assimilation. What this sort of work and industry does to free spirits and creative sorts. Perhaps it’s a bit narcissistic, it was made after a meeting that completely fell through and her collection was taken off a roster of a certain event. The other is far more abstract, white barely scratched onto black. The image almost resembles a hand reaching out—drowning. Typical Birdie Rune. An odd dichotomy of the brightness she likes to think her presence carries—but there always lies a darkness beyond the light.

When she walks up beside the gentleman, it didn’t take a social media guru to recognize who it was. Thomas Shelby was a well known name in this town and especially to those that know him as an astute actor. Though El used to mention in small circles that she went to college with the star—way back when. That Tommy was far different than the one everyone calls for today. A part of her wonders if that was still the same man that stands beside her today.

“It’s a bit macabre, don’t you think?”

[laikaflash]

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP

I know I mentioned this one months back, but the inciting incident for Tiger in a Fox Den was supposed to hinge on Mitsurugi still having a Soul Edge shard... Until I checked his SC4 storyline and saw that I forgot the thing literally FLEW AWAY in the prologue. So there went that. What sucked at the time was that I already had this tentative summary for the fic in my notes:

Having returned to Japan too late for the Battle of Sekigahara, Mitsurugi must adapt to a new era. For want of mercenary work, he gets by on a modest rice farm in Bizen, but he still holds a shard of the cursed sword to show for his journey. The shard attracts the attention of the Fu-Ma clan, and the very woman who pursued him over foreign lands offers him a challenge that will entwine them further than either would anticipate. For this, he must venture into the heart of Fu-Ma territory, and the trust of one ninja is not easily gained, let alone a whole village...

This was from the "throwing stuff and see what sticks" stage and it shows. I don't even remember what the challenge was supposed to be. By April, I was kicking around the idea of the swordsman claiming to Mitsurugi's eight brother (calling him Hachirou), which conveniently gave me a substitute catalyst for the whole thing. So, now the story kicks off with that guy showing up seven years early.

Also, conveniently enough, Mino and Ōmi Provinces (today's Gifu and Shiga Prefectures, respectively) were right next to each other, so putting Mitsurugi in Sekigahara not long after the battle puts him much closer to Fu-Ma territory. >:D

I'll close this with a snippet to give an idea of what I have planned:

Deep in a bamboo forest was a shrine that one would only find by a faded trail. This meandering dirt trail was narrower in parts, as though the grass was closing in. As the evening sun shone through the towering bamboo, Mitsurugi shaded his eyes with his hand and strode onward. A torii gate loomed ahead and he felt his skin prickle. His every instinct told him that someone’s eyes were on him, and he hoped it was so. He stopped well away from the torii and looked around in disbelief. There was almost a ring of weathered torii with stone lanterns in between. Completing the circle was a cave that seemed to have erupted from the flat ground, flanked by a pair of five-tiered stone pagodas connected by a hempen rope before the gaping mouth. Mitsurugi turned toward the sound of running feet. He stood alert, with one hand on his sword’s hilt, and slowly drew back as he spotted a blur of red. The kunoichi stopped at arm’s length from him, poised to draw the kodachi at her shoulder. Her eyes had the glint of a blade mid-draw. “Stop right there,” she snarled. “Get away from the shrine.” “It’s been a while, Taki,” Mitsurugi coolly said. “Did you miss tracking me down?” The kunoichi stood tense, ready to pounce. “It’s hard to miss when you’re the talk of every tavern in the province.” “Oh, already? I don’t suppose you’ve heard of the lout who’s been following me.” “Still picking fights?” Mitsurugi shook his head. “Not me, him. Some nobody who dares to call himself my eighth brother. If he’s going to keep it up, I’ll drag him over to the graveyard at my old village by his hair and show him.” His free hand balled into a fist. Taki stood back, her eyes widening. “I might’ve heard of him.” Mitsurugi relaxed and carefully took his hand away from his sword. “Good. As a matter of fact, I have one thing to ask of you. Since you’ve tracked me halfway across the world before, could you track down my so-called ‘eighth brother’?” “For what?” “Anything. I don’t care if someone put him up to it or he’s a retainer with a grudge. I want answers before I cut him down.” Taki quickly looked him over. “Not so fast, Mitsurugi. I have other responsibilities, but maybe I could help you.”

It was either this or an entire junk document's worth of stuff I scrapped from THAHS.

[dameronology]

a matter of time (tasm! peter parker) - 5/5

five: when we collide (a.k.a the epilogue)

summary: summary: peter parker has barely gotten over losing you and getting dragged into another universe where you’re still alive and kicking isn’t about to help the case. thanks to an ultimatum from stephen strange, peter has just a matter of days to make you realise who he is and what you had, or he faces losing you all over again. he better get to work. (playlist + masterlist) - this uses she/her pronouns

warnings; mentions of loss/death, swearing, no way home spoilers

AHHH i can't believe this series has come to an end. it has been an absolute pleasure to write and i am so thankful for everyone who has read it. i hope this ending is the one you hoped for!!

- jazz xx

In Peter Parker’s mind, you were forever young.

That stupid denim jacket of yours; the faint smell of stolen cigarettes and your mum’s Chanel, splayed all over your baggy band shirts and clinging onto every last morsel of his bedsheets and existence. He’d spent the better part of the last three years trying to curate it in his head, all so that he wouldn’t forget. And even when years passed and the sound of your laugh and scent of your shampoo began to fade, he never forgot your face. He never forgot your bright eyes or wild hair or the glint in your irises every time you made a verbal attack on some unsuspecting soul. Peter had spent years trying to convince himself not to think about what you would look like now – it would hurt too much. The things that could have been.

Little did he know, that slightly older image of you was even more beautiful than he could have imagined. You didn’t look that different, a little wiser and more tired maybe, but completely familiar as you sat across from him in the coffee shop. Your hands were resting on a latte, eyes watching the window as strangers passed through Lexington Avenue. You always met here, everyday on your lunch break - the same way you had almost every day since Stephen Strange had sent you back to your original universe two years ago.

“Pete, are you staring at me again?” your eyes flickered back to him with a smile.

“I’m people watching,” he shot back.

“No, I’m people watching. You’re…me watching,” you corrected him. “What are you thinking about?”

“It’s two years tomorrow that you came back,” Peter replied. “But it kinda feels like you were never gone.”

You smiled. “Yeah, I know. It feels like a pipedream, huh?”

For him, it had been a nightmare. Five years of sitting and mourning, going over that godforsaken night in his head and wondering on a cycle about all the things he could have done to save you. It had eaten him alive; digested his heart and spat it out, half working. He’d slept-walked through all those days, half a man with half a heart.

Peter had never believed in soul-mates- he was a stickler for the idea that love was nothing more than a chemical reaction. Maybe in the same way that nuclear weapons were just a chemical reaction.

“Do you ever miss that world?” he asked. “Strange’s world?”

You shook your head. “Barely. My life there wasn’t really mine and the versions of the people I loved there weren’t really them. I s’pose I miss annoying Strange sometimes but pissing off a wizard isn’t worth giving up a single thing I have here.”

You’d made more of a life for yourself here now – the first few weeks had been hard, though. Strange could do a lot of things but he couldn’t undo the fact that everyone that you had died. With a little help from Peter and some of his shadier contacts, you’d managed to craft an elaborate story about faking your own death because of a weird discovery you’d made at work. And with Kurt Connors and Maxwell Dillon returning too all of a sudden, it was believable. Just about.

You were a high-level scientist at Oscorp now; there had been a few close calls with your colleagues almost stumbling about the multiverse, but you’d managed to divert their attention. You were sitting on secrets that nobody else - aside from Peter, of course - knew about.

“C’mon,” you stood up, sticking your hand out towards your boyfriend. “I gotta get back to the office. Walk with me?”

“Of course,” Peter smiled.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his side, leading you out of the coffee shop and into the busy street. New York was exactly the same as it had been in Strange’s universe, just minus the Avengers - that had its perks and its downfalls. Perks, because it meant you didn’t have to worry about your car being destroyed in an incident every time you parked it in the city (insurance was a bitch). Downfalls, because it meant there was so much you didn’t know. The Avengers had discovered every threat and protected the world from it, but you didn’t know if this world was prone to the same ones. Aliens, monsters, robots…all pretty normal things for that world but not so much for your one.

So good so far though.

–

Your apartment was dark when you got in later that night.

It was a nice little place; a converted brownstone on the Queens/Brooklyn border, but still close enough to the tunnel and bridge to get to work in Manhattan. Naturally, it cost a small fortune, but your job paid well and Peter’s connections to a certain webbed hero definitely helped his photography career as well. It was crammed full of photos; ones of you and Pete on holiday; ones of your family; ones of you in high-school, wide-eyed and grinning at prom. You’d practically traveled the entire world since you’d gotten back, all trying to make up for lost time.

You crept inside quietly, shutting the door behind you. The living room light was off, save for the television; an old episode of Seinfeld was playing in the background. You couldn’t help but smile at that - it had always been Peter’s favorite show. Speaking of the devil, he was passed out on the couch, a book splayed open on his chest and a half-eaten pizza beside him.

“Evening, handsome,” he sleepily mumbled. “I missed you.”

“It’s literally been five hours,” you chuckled; you ran a hand through his hair and kicked off your heels, letting him pull you into his chest and wrap his arms around your waist.

“Better than five years,” Peter shot back.

You buried your head in his chest, letting out a small mmm of agreement. “I can’t argue with that.”

“You smell like hydrochloric acid.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you groaned. “I’ll go wash up. Don’t move.”

“I ain’t going anywhere.”

Standing back up, you grabbed your shoes and headed through to the bedroom. After a long day, the only thing better than your own hoodies and sweats was Peter’s hoodies and sweats - and because he was a man in the twenty-first century, he seemed to own about a thousand of them.

You tossed your own clothes into the wash and pulled open the wardrobe, rifling around the top shelf for his Midtown graduation hoodie. Blindly feeling around, you grabbed the material of the blue jumper and pulled it; it came crashing down, hitting the floor with a hard thud.

“What the…” you frowned, grabbing it from the floor. A small box came tumbling out. A ring box.

It had fallen open on impact, revealing a red and blue ring. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was beautiful; there were tiny little spiders engraved into the band. No guesses on what it’s purpose was.

“Hey, have you seen my charger-” Peter entered the room, brown eyes widening when he saw what you were holding. His hair was sticking up everywhere and he had pizza down his front. Sexy.

“I didn’t mean to find it!” you quickly said. “I was just looking for your jumper and…fucking hell, Parker. You are really bad at hiding things.”

He swallowed, nodding slowly. “I really am.”

“I can put it back and pretend I never saw it-”

“- no, I’m glad you did,” Peter took a step towards you, placing his hands on your hip. “I’m not very good at finding the right moment to propose.”

“When did you buy it?” you asked.

“About a week before you died,” he confessed. “I held onto it for a really long time and then you came back and…I guess I forgot about it.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured. “I love it.”

“Would you have said yes?” Peter asked. “I know we were young but-”

“- of course I would have!” you cut him off. “I’d say it then and I’d say it now.”

“You would?”

“Yes!”

“So,” he gently tugged the ring from your hands. “My back kills right now, so I can’t get on one knee but…will you wear my ring?”

“I would love to,” you gave him a watery smile, trying not to burst into tears and absolutely destroy the moment. You almost came close when it slid onto your finger, a perfect fit.

“Cool,” Peter gave you a smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Peter pressed a kiss to your lips and pulled you into a tight hug; he refused to let go for a few minutes, just holding onto you and savouring the moment. He’d done that a lot over the last two years. Who could blame him? He had already lost you once; already taken for granted what you had.

Now you were back, and he was whole again.

[softykooky]

sanctuary: seven

summary: the absence of you is a void that they never thought they’d have to experience again. they were fine before they met you. but the sky would fall before the boys would be fine after you’ve gone. 8.03k words.

genre: mafia au, ANGST, poly au

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings (READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION) :  toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, eating problems, alcohol abuse, abandonment issues...

rating: NC17

author’s note: okay I lied there’s going to be another part! I just couldn’t fit all that I wanted and I figured it was better to give you guys something now instead of making you wait another century for me to wrap up the story. please let me know if I forgot anyone in the taglist! please let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!

♡ series masterpost ♡ 

Just leave.

Just leave.

Just leave.

Like a cruel rhythm or a drum that keeps on beating in your chest to remind you of the pain that rips through your heart. 

You’re such a fool, Y/N. 

Should you blame them for growing tired of you? Even snapping at you like they did, or did you deserve it? It was so easy for you to wither back into the mindset your father had trained you to adapt at the slightest intrusion. Now, after that massacre in the kitchen with the people you trusted with your whole being, you weren’t sure if it was possible to think otherwise. 

Through the warm tears that have clouded your eyes, frantically stuffing the little belongings you have into a backpack is otherworldly difficult. Your heart hurts. Your soul hurts. Your entire being hurts and you can only wonder how many times a person can be pushed aside and unwanted until they just completely break. You wonder how close you are to that point. 

There’s anger running through your veins, cocktailed with devastation and confusion, but you’re not sure what it is you’re angry at. Were you angry at them? Could you ever be angry at them, even after they did something like this? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore, but that wasn’t important. 

There was one objective in sight: pack up and get the hell out before you let anyone else completely destroy you. 

But even then, you can’t help but to think about how they hadn’t even bothered to come after you. None of them did. And it ignites a different fire of pain that you’re finding harder to ignore. You’re halfway through shoving your shirts into the backpack when a soft voice sounds from your doorway. Jun is standing there, fiddling with her apron and warm sympathy on her face. 

“Y/N, sweetie, they’re just...maybe give them some time. Please don’t go”, Jun sighs. 

“No, Jun. They don’t want me here anymore”, your voice cracks at the realization. “I’m not going to stay and be unwanted. I won’t do it again. I-I can’t.”

When the last item is tucked into the pocket of your bag, you swing it onto your shoulder. The weight of the backpack feels as though it’s pulling you deeper into the ground. Like you are sinking and there is nothing you can do but wait until your head is submerged. 

“Jun…” you breathe out, wiping away a warm stray tear, “could you...could you tell them that I’m sorry? I-I’m not sure what for, I guess for everything. But could you just tell them?”

Jun nods solemnly, though the reluctance is clear on her expression. Even she can recognize that you have nothing to apologize for. “I will, honey. Are you sure about this?”

“I have no choice, Jun. I love them and I-” you cut yourself off. 

This is the first time you’ve been able to say it out loud. You love them. You’ve fallen in love with them and the timing could not be worse. But all in all, you consider yourself lucky. There was no way you would have recovered if you confessed and all seven of them inevitably rejected it. Perhaps this fight just saved you the great pain of knowing they cannot love you back. 

“And I need to go.” 

You’d have to leave before dinner. Through the back door.  The one that no one thinks you know about but as always, no man gives you nearly enough credit as you deserve. You’ll tell the guards you’re going out for a walk and pray they don’t question the overstuffed backpack you’re hauling. You’ll just open it and run and…

Find a new home? A new life? Find a new set of souls that will cherish and care for you and make you feel like you’re actually meant to be in this world? 

You love them. That much you know is true. And perhaps people like you weren’t meant to have love in this world. 

“You’re excused, Lee. Be grateful you’re still here.” The venom in Namjoon’s voice remains clear as day, even after your ungraceful departure from the kitchen. You had left so abruptly with so few words that they weren’t able to even try and stop you. 

They still can’t see straight through the searing anger that pulses through their entire being. Anger at the world, and the traitors, and the idiotic rookie that lost them thousands in shipments. 

But the anger at you had faded a long time ago, the moment you bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. However, the boys were nothing if not stubborn. Why did you have to get in the way of their business? Why couldn’t you just remain kept away, for them to keep safe and away from the dangers of the outside world?

Jimin is the first one to make a move to the staircase, up to where you were packing, trying to be stealthy until the leader catches a glance of him. 

“Jimin. Stop. Just let her cool off”, Namjoon sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows to relieve his tension headache. He was usually the sensible one. The leader of the pack telling everyone to keep their cool. But the load on his shoulders has been getting far too heavy and you were the light breeze that caused it to collapse. 

“You should wait to calm down before you talk to her, anyway. That vein in your forehead might pop out of your skin”, Hoseok snidely remarks. 

Jimin scoffs, running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that day. 

“Everything we’ve been doing has been for her best interest. Why is she making this so difficult?”, he exhales, frustration still licking at every word. But with a mere glance at Jimin, anyone in the room could tell that he truly held no antipathy towards you. That his words were coming from an unresolved pool of anger that had been bubbling away for ages.

“You don’t think she means it, do you?”, Taehyung mutters, eyebrows still creased in intensity. “The leaving part?”

“Where could she go Taehyung? We’re all she has at this point”, Yoongi speaks. A layer of irony coats the room as Yoongi remembers the words he had spat at you in the heat of the moment. A vicious declaration to tell you to leave, and he feels a string of guilt twining itself around his lungs. He numbs it away, of course. As he does everything else. 

Jin takes a deep breath. “Listen, we’re all stressed and sleep-deprived. Why don’t we just calm down separately and talk it over at dinner? I’m sure by then, this whole thing will be completely forgotten.” His words sound sure and steady. Jin hopes they don’t notice the worry that bleeds into his voice. 

A chorus of agreements and hums quietly sound across the room as the seven of them shuffle out of the kitchen and slowly saunter into their respective rooms. And as they tiptoe past your bedroom, where your door was shut tight, the boys can’t help but feel the rationality that has begun to trickle back in. The logic and reason that had abandoned them during the fight had slowly returned, and the thought of you on the other side of that door made them all want to barge in and hold you again. 

Maybe they overreacted. Maybe they were wrong. Pride, however, was a stern mistress, and the potential consequences of their actions hadn’t yet reached their thoughts. They hadn’t realized the poison of their words.

 They would wait a bit longer. 

Everything would be okay after dinner. 

The first thing you realize after leaving is that you chose the wrong pair of shoes to attempt an escape on foot. Of course, you had to be wearing the new ones that the boys just bought you that hadn’t been broken in yet. The heel was digging into your skin painfully, undoubtedly leaving red marks and calluses. Your feet ached with every step, but you had to soldier on. At least until you found somewhere to rest for a bit and figure out where the hell you would go.

 A glance down at your phone has you eternally grateful for your past self for remembering to charge it. Hopefully it would last you until you found somewhere for the time being. 

There was no more family in the country besides your immediate ones. And you’d rather swallow knives than go back to that. The thought of them makes you sad though when you remember Soyeon.

 You wonder how she’s doing. The things she’s been up to. Is she shopping as much as she always does? Is she happy? Does she miss you? The train of thought makes you scoff at your own patheticism. Even after everything, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her. You would always love your sister. 

The Bangtan manor hadn’t been as far away from the city as you had thought. On the other hand, you weren’t exactly paying attention to the time. Just let your feet carry you where they wanted to and stared blankly at the passing ground, trying to empty your thoughts as best you could. The sky was beginning to darken and the wind blew a bit colder but you refused to let it slow your pace. You couldn’t let yourself feel. Not yet, anyway. 

The first motel you see is the one you enter. It’s not grand by any means; more of a fixer-upper. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet reeked of age and dust, and the receptionist was chewing gum and scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. The place was a dump compared to what the likes of you tended to live in. But you had limited cash, and this would have to do. 

It takes you three times clearing your throat for her to notice that a customer was at the front desk. 

“Hello. I’d like a room with one bed, please.” 

She doesn’t hide her blatant scrutinization of you, visibly looking you up and down with something akin to disapproval. Her phone is tossed on the counter annoyedly and she snaps her gum, wheeling her chair closer to the computer and clacks away on the keyboard. 

“ID and payment, please”, she drones, holding out a hand without sparing you another glance. When she looks at the card you have placed in her palm, there is a spark of recognition. The Yoo family name. She must have seen your name in the paper or something. The ambassador’s daughter. In a place like this?

You are eternally grateful when the receptionist says nothing; just hands you back your card and dangles a key from her red-nail polished index finger. You two exchange no more words. The only sounds in the lobby are the clinking of the metal key, the padding of your footsteps on soft carpet, and the smacking of the bubblegum between her lips. But it is enough to begin to allow the loneliness in. The fear of it all. The uncertainty and utter devastation that you have left behind the one place that had just started to feel like home. 

When the door of your motel room closes, and it is just you... 

You with the clothes on your back, the necessities in your bag, and all the feelings you have kept bottled up for weeks on end. It is more than easy to collapse in a cathartic heap as soon as the lock clicks in place. 

Who cares if the walls are paper-thin? You scream it out on the undoubtedly dirty floors. The agony of being so close to happiness only to have it ripped away from your hands. The pain of knowing them, only for them to push you out of their lives. 

You don’t weep for anyone else. Not the seven boys you loved, not Soyeon, not your father, not Jun. 

You cry for Y/N. 

You cry for the realization that maybe the thing you’ve been chasing your entire life is simply not in reach. That peace was something you had to fight for, completely alone. That they don’t love you back, or even nearly as much as you loved them. If they did, you wouldn’t be here, desperately trying to hold yourself together for what seems like the billionth time. If they loved you back, well...you reckon that reality only exists in your surreal dreams. 

There were distant cousins. In the states. And if you could get a hold of them, you had faith they would be willing to fly you over. You could spin an excuse at the drop of a hat. Maybe something about wanting to see America for a while and get away from your normal routine in Seoul. Something about needing space or enjoying time with missed relatives. They’d believe it. You’ll leave as soon as you can, hopefully in the morning. 

Naturally, this night is sleepless and you swear the sky is darker than usual. It’s starless, and even the moon is nowhere to be seen, hidden behind overcast clouds and you want to cry even more. Because after everything, is it still too much to let you feel the light? Is it still too much to let you rest under a gentle nightscape? 

You make a promise to yourself. To Y/N. 

You wouldn’t let her chase after pipe dream happiness anymore. You wouldn’t let her be so naive, so hopeful for something better. You’ve had your chance at finding it, and after more bumps and bruises, have come to the conclusion that maybe it merely does not exist for you. 

You promise her a lifetime of loneliness and solitude. But those are familiar things. Comfortable things. And you would take that over a broken heart any day. 

As soon as they fell onto their respective beds, all seven of them had drifted off to sleep. It seemed that days of constant work, chugging black coffee, and pulling consecutive all-nighters had taken its toll, and the boys finally caught up to the pure, unadulterated exhaustion. 

The seven of them slept through the night, plans of dinner completely forgotten as they glued themselves to the comfortable bedding. Unfortunately, with needed rest came a clear mind and the realization that they had been completely and utterly horrible to you ever since it all went down. 

Jungkook is the first to wake up. He brushes his teeth and slips on an outfit with a rapid fervor, ready to put everything behind him and just...hold you. Because he realizes it’s been weeks since he actually has, and maybe that’s just the thing he’s been needing. To feel your frame in his arms and hear your soft breathing. 

“Taehyung! Get up!” Jungkook pounds on the door of his hyung’s room. He hears shuffling from the other side, and a rustled bedhead emerges from a dark cavern.

“What Jungkook? It’s too early for this”, he grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Hyung we all slept like the dead through dinner. I’d rather not let this whole thing with Y/N marinate for any longer. Get up and let’s talk it through, I know you miss her like crazy too.” Jungkook does his best to keep his voice down since you were still sleeping in the room beside Taehyung’s. He has to round up all of them first before asking you to come out. 

So he does. Sweeps his floor and the one above to awaken the other six men. Jin and Namjoon were the only others who were dressed and ready to tackle the day. The rest of them moved like zombies to rid themselves of the sleepy fatigue. 

Somehow, they all manage to congregate in front of your door, nervously staring it down while the tension in the air choked them. It’s unnerving. The radio silence coming from your room. You must be really upset, and reasonably so. Hoseok clears his throat, twisting his hands together out of nerves, and glances at the others. 

“Well? Should I knock?”, he whispers. The other six nod solemnly, glaring at the door like it might combust at any moment. 

He steps forward gingerly and raps on your bedroom door thrice. The seconds trickle by like molasses, even slower when there is no sound from your end.

 He knocks again.

 Nothing.

 A third time. 

Complete and utter silence. 

“Y/N?”

Hoseok’s eyebrows deeply furrow, and with trepidation, he twists the doorknob and swings it open. The bedsheets are made, duvet untouched and pillows stacked neatly against the headboard. The curtains are drawn and everything looks fairly clean. Almost as if there was no one in there in the first place. Now that he looks closer, the only sign of you being there was the vase of brown and wilting peonies on the bedside table. The ones they had gotten for you months ago. Even your scarce amount of belongings were nowhere to be found. 

In the ache of the silence, nothing can be heard but their utter shock. Their minds jumping to the worst conclusion but still in denial because there’s no way that you would do that. No way they could have lost you when they all loved you so much. 

“M-maybe she’s in the basement. Or the library. I’m sure she didn’t….she hasn’t….”, Jimin cuts himself off as he drifts off into all the terrible possibilities. Namjoon yells at the guards downstairs from the second floor, and the sounds of their rushed footsteps to find you in this giant house is the only noise that reaches their ears. 

“Jun!” Taehyung hollers down below, where she is undoubtedly fussing away in the kitchen or slaving over a boiling pot. The woman calmly emerges upstairs with a sharp gaze, head held high and shoulders stiff in her posture. There is no emotion on her face, except the faint disappointment as she stands in front of the seven men.

“Where is she?”, Yoongi growls, stepping forward like a huffing beast, but Jun remains unbothered.

“Where is who?” Jun monotones. 

“Don’t play dumb, Jun. Where is Y/N?” She scoffs at the concern dripping in Yoongi’s voice. How ironic that the very person who maliciously told you to leave was now in pieces at your absence. 

“I was surprised you even noticed. It’s not something you’ve been doing as of late. Noticing”, Jun calmly retorts. She’s never been one to be afraid of them. Never scared to stand up to them, because though they were grown men, they often still needed some mothering. 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Jungkook spits, frustratedly gripping at his hair.

“Is it not true, boys? Y/N’s been practically invisible to you these past few weeks. Who knew it would take a mere fight to finally get you guys to pay attention to her.” Jin’s reflex is to immediately respond with an argument. But the words die on his tongue when he realizes the truth in Jun’s statement.

The seven of them stare at her in silence, still high-strung on stress and anger, but intent to listen to her words. 

“She left.”

The two words that they had been so desperate not to hear sound like a death knell when they fall from Jun’s lips. Their blood runs cold, and the temperature in the house drops to subzero. A moment frozen in time and all they can do is be forced to come to terms with their actions . The room immediately explodes into desperate questions and exclamations to their head housekeeper.

“Where is she? Did she say where she’s going”, Hoseok tearily yells.

“Did she leave a note?” Jungkook chews on his lower lip until it bleeds.

“When did she leave? She couldn’t have gotten far.” Jimin grabs Jun by the shoulders, forcing her closer as if he could look in her eyes and pretend she was lying.

“Excuse me if I am speaking out of turn, Sir”, Jun clears her throat, “but what did you think was going to happen?”

The seven of them are stunned into silence, swimming in utter confusion and worry about where in the world you could be. If you were in danger at all. 

“She’s been left by herself for weeks. In this big, cold house while you all were wrapped up in your business. Tried talking to you so many times, but you all pushed her away.” Jun sighs disappointedly.

Her words ring with truth, and perhaps that is the most painful part about it all. The boys can’t do anything but stand there and listen. You were dear to Jun, and she wouldn’t let the fear of standing up to her intimidating bosses keep her from saying the things you didn’t have the courage to. 

“Y/N, she...she’s been struggling. Did she tell you that? Wouldn’t sleep for days, so I sometimes snuck melatonin into her afternoon tea. But still, she’d come out of that bedroom with dark circles that almost looked painful. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her toss and turn all night, Taehyung.” Jun spares him a glance. Not malicious or accusing. Just genuine curiosity and it makes Taehyung want to burrow himself into the ground. 

Namjoon’s heart drops as Jun continues speaking. How could they have been so oblivious to everything? So out of touch and wrapped up in other priorities that they seemed to completely forget about you? Arguably the most important person in their life. 

“Sometimes, she even refused to eat. Couldn’t even stomach a cup of soup, and she’s gotten so thin, I had to tailor all her clothes.” 

Jin’s eyes widen at the statement, his throat in knots and the sinking feeling in his gut only magnifying. Like ice water to warm skin. That’s how Jun’s words felt to their system. Like they had been so blind this entire time, so distracted by everything else that they forgot someone who had become one of the most important people to them. 

“Forgive me for speaking my truth, sir. But I’ve never quite felt such disappointment when I heard the things you said to Y/N yesterday. A-And I don’t condone her decision to leave. But can you blame her?” Jun sighs, exasperated as her worry for you seeps into her consciousness. 

Jimin pushes away the tears that have clouded his eyes, looking down at the marble floors so that no one sees the gloss that wasn’t there before Jun started speaking. He pretends not to notice the way Jungkook’s tremulous and shaky breathing, or the way Yoongi’s fisted hands have turned completely white from the tension. All he can think about...all they can think about...is you. 

Hoseok coughs, clearing his throat and steeling his voice to not show emotion. “Did she tell you where she was going?”

Jun shakes her head solemnly, twisting her apron in her hands. The boys begin to make their way downstairs, tension in the air thicker than ever and only one priority clear in their minds.

“However…”, Jun’s small voice stops them in their concentrated footsteps. “While she was packing, she told me to say one thing to you all.”

It’s expectant. They almost don’t want to hear it at all. Hearing it would affirm that they are completely undeserving of you. That you are an angel among beasts whose love language is to destroy and wreck. That maybe leaving them would be the best thing to happen to you. 

“She told me to tell you she’s sorry. For everything.”

Everything is what you deserved. Everything is what they would do to prove that to you. 

Korea from the view of your aunt’s private jet was a bittersweet revelation. It was beautiful. So achingly and hauntingly beautiful with the ghosts of your past and the shattered promises for the future. If you squint, you could still make out remnants of the Han River. Traces of a place that seemed to cry for you as you left for the states.

You didn’t want to be truthful to yourself. You didn’t want to admit that you wouldn’t miss Korea because of the people or the landscape or the weather. You’d miss it because they were there. That home had been so close you could nearly taste it. 

The trip was a chaotic blur. You faded in and out of sleep, in a hypnotic trance that proved to be your body’s self-defense mechanism to repress every emotion you had felt since you left. Stewardesses offering you flutes of champagne, drivers loading and unloading your luggage, the words of everyone around you flowing in and out like a stream of water that you ignored. 

“I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Y/N? Really, you must come visit more often. Your uncle and I have missed you terribly.” 

Your aunt had always been a kind woman. She was from your mother’s side, and like everyone else, so oblivious to the true nature of the Yoo family. How sinister things truly were behind those closed, gold-plated doors. Their house was grand, large enough so that you could make yourself scarce and wouldn’t be a disturbance. Though you couldn’t help but to notice the lack of boyish voices drifting down the hall, or the rhythm of Taehyung’s hands on the keyboard in the room next to you. 

You offer a kind smile to the butler, who gently sets your singular backpack on the plush bed that screamed out your name. 

“Thank you so much for everything, Aunt Kim. I promise I’ll transfer over the money for the plane fees and carry my weight around here for the time being.” 

Your words make you nearly wince with the uncertainty of your wobbly plans. Where would you even get the money? Ask your father? Ask them? 

“I....I promise to be out of your hair as quickly as I can”, you shakily breathe, failing to convince yourself. Yet your aunt only holds a kind smile and a warm gaze.

“Stay as long as you want, dear. It’s the least we could do to repay everything your family has done for us over the years. Especially your father.”

You know you cannot blame her oblivion. Not when it is such a well-guarded secret. Yet her words douse kerosene to the fire in your chest. Tugs at the stitches of the subconscious wounds you have yet to heal. It makes you remember them. Your boys. How they would burn at hearing such words, grit their teeths and spit poison at anyone who held your father’s name in a high regard.

Or would they? After everything, you’re not so sure anymore. Painful or not, it makes you miss them even more. 

So you smile. Bite your tongue, hold your fists at your side, and thank her again for the kindness she has shown you when you had nowhere else to run. America felt different. The air itself seemed like a culture shock. Being the ambassador’s daughter had prepared you for fluency in English and how to carry yourself diplomatically, but the journey ahead was bound to be rough. 

For the first time in your life, you would be the only one you had to care for. Not Soyeon, not your mother, not Bangtan. You’d have to do this by yourself, now, and though all the emotions you have locked away will inevitably return to confront you, this sanctuary for now would have to be enough.

You were surprisingly more difficult to find than the boys had expected. Traveling alone with no clunky belongings meant you were able to move more quickly than they had anticipated and the motel you stayed at was paid for in all cash. However, nothing in the city could really happen under Bangtan’s watch, and here you were. Video footage displayed on the screen of their basement office, and they can only feel heartache as they watch you through the screen. 

“She checked out in the morning. Got picked up by a gray SUV and taken to the airport.” Taehyung drones, eyes still glued to the screen. Like looking at your pixelated face would bring you closer to him somehow. He missed you. They all did. 

“The plane’s not registered with any public company, so I’m guessing it’s a private one belonging to her family.” Taehyung adds on, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the table. The air was tense with frustration. Anger at themselves and at each other for letting his happen. For making you run away. 

“Any idea where it’s going?” Yoongi quietly murmurs from the end of the long table. 

“America.” 

America. You felt so discouraged and hurt by them that you had to go all the way to America. They did this. This is their fault.

“So? What are we waiting for? Tell the guards to prep the jet to America. We’ll bring her back”, Jimin gawks at Namjoon, who nurses a glass of scotch like it’s his lifeline. The room falls silent awaiting their leader’s course of action, but the six of them are left speechless when Namjoon himself starts laughing. The kind of laugh that sends chills down their spines. So raucous yet emotionless. So full of hidden pain. Namjoon tips the rest of the glass down his throat, looking at them all with a hopeless expression. 

“What makes you think she wants to see us? After what we put her through? Hell, I’d be surprised if she lets us within a 10 foot radius.” Namjoon’s words are cruel, but they can’t help but to believe it to be true. 

“N-No. She’ll understand that we were stressed. I-If we just explain everything, I’m sure she’ll-”

“Don’t you remember what happened in the kitchen? What Jun said? She’s been withering away for weeks, Jimin, and none of us gave enough of a fuck to notice. We made her feel invisible.” Namjoon chuckles, but there is only pain in his tone. One that he drowns out with another swig of top-shelf whiskey. 

“We can fix it. We can go to America and fix it”, Hoseok stares down the leader, insistent on making efforts. 

“No we can’t Hoseok”, Jin’s brows furrow, eyes lighting with fire, “Jun said she didn’t sleep. She didn’t eat. I wouldn’t take us back either.” 

The boys know better than to take it personally. They were all heartbroken in the wake of your leaving, so desperate to get to you yet ashamed of themselves, apprehensive of if they even have the right to chase after you. 

Jungkook leaps up from his seat, chest huffing and hands raking violently through his hair. He paces back and forth, eyes swimming in hurt and frustration until it all seemed to combust through his body, flinging his office chair to the side to find any form of catharsis. 

He spares a poisoned glance over to Yoongi’s direction, who still sits with his eyes glued to the floor, as if ashamed of his mere existence. 

“You.” The malice in Jungkook’s voice is crystal clear.Yoongi’s shirt collar is acquaintanced with Jungkook’s fisted hand, and he grips onto the older man like a viper to its prey. As if blunt force could make you come back. The other five boys could only watch. 

“You did this. You told her to leave. Now she’s gone. I loved her, Yoongi.” Though Jungkook’s words are pumped with antipathy, the sheer devastation is heard most through it all. Yoongi doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t even make a move to push the younger off or shield himself from oncoming hits. Just sits passively with a monotone expression, staring into Jungkook’s eyes with a blank gaze.

“You’re not faultless. You yelled at her too.” 

No, none of them are faultless. And perhaps Yoongi’s words were the nails in the coffin, but they all had part in pushing you to that brink. Jungkook’s eyes gloss over with defeat, and the grip he had on Yoongi’s shirt loosens. He steps away, unable to meet any of the gazes of his older brothers or the footage of your distressed face on the flat screen monitor. Leave. That’s all he’s known to do.

“Jungkook?” Yoongi holds no anger in his voice. It stops Jungkook in his tracks as he waits for his hyung to finish. 

“I loved her too. We all do.”

They can only pray they’ll get to tell you. 

The diner two blocks away from your aunt’s apartment complex is the last place anyone would expect Ambassador Yoo’s eldest daughter to be, much less employed at. You had spent the last two weeks scouring the area for a place that would take a girl with no prior work experience, a pending student visa, and no contacts or references. But here you were, working a minimum wage job and saving every penny to make something of yourself in this entirely new country. 

It hasn’t been easy. Trying not to think about the seven boys that you left back home. The seven boys that you love so desperately and hopelessly, and foolishly thought they felt the same. It’s in the wee hours of the night that you toss and turn, closing your eyes and imagine yourself back at their manor. You will your brain to manifest the clacking sounds of Taehyung’s keyboard from across the wall or the footsteps of Yoongi’s bulky shoes when he walks past your door every night. 

You miss them compulsively so. And perhaps they do not deserve your thoughts or heartache, but it belongs to them. Even after everything, you still belong to them. But you won’t give yourself the luxury of thinking you mean more than someone who they took pity on. 

The days are the same. You get up early in the morning, put on a pot of coffee by yourself much to the disapproval of the housekeeper. Though it’s baby steps, you feel more independent this way. The coffee is terrible, of course, but it’s the thought that counts. 

You leave before your aunt even leaves her bedroom, dedicated to your full-time job and earning money whenever you can. The pay is almost humorous, and a week’s worth of your labor probably equates to what Soyeon spends in a day. But it is your work. Your money. And though everyday starts and ends with heartache and longing for a life you once had in your grasp, it feels refreshing to learn to only need yourself. 

“Y/N”, your manager sighs as you stumble through the door with frazzled hair and painfully dark under eyes. “You’re late.”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. Traffic was insane this morning. It won’t happen again.” Your hair is expertly swept back into a haphazard bun, fiddling with the apron around your waist before jumping to the orders that have begun to get cold on the counter. 

The work was simple. Slow. But it was honest and enough for you. The diner was calm; a refreshing environment from the one you had in Korea. 

“Here you are, sir. Black coffee and a side of toast”, you muttered in a sugary sweet voice, fake smile stretched on your face to hide the perpetual pain in your chest that has not went away since you left the Bangtan house. It’s easier these days to just not think about it. To completely repress the trauma of your father and the boys and the failed therapy. The smile drops as soon as you turn around to walk back to the counter. 

“Rough morning?” Lina’s voice is gravelly, rough from the coffee and 15-minute smoke breaks she takes every lunch. 

“Something like that.” You collapse onto the cashier counter, holding your head in your hands to will away the pounding ache of your temples. 

“First it was me completely sleeping through the morning alarm. Then it was the bus detouring and making five extra stops they usually don’t”, you huff.

“Y/N?”

“And don’t get me started on the fact that I decided to drop my phone in a puddle when I was running here.”

“Y/N.” Lina’s voice cuts through your venting monologue. She stares past you, as if there was something behind you captivating her attention. 

“I think someone is staring at us from across the street.” Your brows furror at her words, whipping around to the window. When you see him. The air in the diner thins until it completely disappears, and the breath is stolen from your lungs. 

Your paled face and shaking hands is what he sees from where he’s standing, clad in a black hoodie that covered his head, but you could recognize him in your sleep.You are both frozen in time and chaos, staring at each other like you both did not belong. Eyes glued to the other like you are both too good to be true.

 Are you imagining it? Through the tears that reflexively pooled in your eyes and the way your body quivers, are you finally going insane and imagining a person who has been plaguing your mind for weeks? 

Your feet carry you into action when your mind is still stuck in shellshock, bursting out of the diner doors with desperation on your tongue, hands reaching out as if it would span across the streetlight and bring him closer. 

“Jin?” You are not quiet. You scream his name across what feels like a chasm, but is only just a couple meters away. Your legs usher you into the open street, and cars veer and honk to avoid your form, frozen on the crosswalk. 

It takes you one second to blink and him one second to disappear into the crowd. Like he was never there at all and your mind was playing cruel, evil tricks on your already crumbling soul. A ruse that Lina was in on, just to torture your decimated spirit. 

Could you allow yourself the luxury to think that he had come to see you? You didn’t know if you even wanted him to, didn’t know if you had it in you to forgive and forget.

“Jin.” 

It comes out as a shaky whisper under your breath. A broken voice that longs for something she cannot have. Something that was so far in space and time it now felt like a figment of your imagination. You allow a tear to fall, your heart to crack a bit more, and return to the diner.

“Where have you been running off to these days?” The words are snide. Coated in feigned concern and curiosity and meant to be a jab at Jin’s recent absence in Bangtan activities. They are easy to fall from Yoongi’s lips as he steals another swig of the McKellan whiskey he’s been saving up for a special occasion or a rainy day. What more fitting than to mourn the space in his heart where you used to be. 

Jin stays silent, only giving the intoxicated Yoongi a heavy eye roll and trudging past him. To say that the seven men were in terrible shape after your departure is a gross understatement. But Yoongi’s onset alcoholism seemed mild compared to how the rest of the boys were faring.

Both Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t left their rooms since finding out you were in America, only the sounds of their computer keys, heavy footsteps, and the empty food plates left at their doors to signal that they were alive in there. Namjoon had thrown himself into work, picking up the slack of all the other boys and sometimes emerging from his office at the early hours of dawn looking like he hasn’t slept in a week. His gaunty face and the way his once fitted shirt now falls loosely on his shoulders tells Jin he hasn’t eaten much either. 

Hoseok could more often than not be found in the training room, breaking and bruising himself to numb him from the pain of losing you. He takes it out on the poor gang recruits that were unlucky enough to be chosen to spar with him. 

And Jin? Well, Jin spent his days away from the house. Away from the business and the drugs and the people. He never tells anyone where he’s going or when he’s coming back and they are all too drained to try to ask. The boys live together but not truly. Just exist and breathe in the same space and too resentful of themselves and the others to fix the fragments you left behind. They miss you. Long for you and burn for you like they never have for anyone else. 

See, it’s one thing to not know where you are and be forced to be away from you on the basis of ignorance. But to know your exact location, have the time and resources to easily get to you, yet can’t come to you because they’ve hurt you immeasurably is a different kind of torture. A different kind of ache that haunts their souls at every waking moment. You are so close and so far away, and they only have themselves to blame for the distance. 

“Jun, can you make a meal for Namjoon? I’ll take it up to him.” Jin sighs to the housekeeper, shedding off his coat on the kitchen stool. 

Jun nods knowingly, fully aware of the effects your absence has had on the masters of the house. And she is not blind to Jin’s indifference or the way he is doing worlds better than the others. 

“He’ll probably try to yell at me and make you go away first. But he’ll be thankful eventually.” Jin nurses a cup of tea to warm him after his journey. Ones that he takes every week and for days at a time. 

Jun nods again, assembling a tray of food that Namjoon will undoubtedly leave to get cold either at his door or the end of his desk. Before he leaves, however, Jun spares the man a knowing glance and a sad smile. 

“You may want to return the private jet more promptly next time, sir. The others have gotten...wary.” 

Jin’s eyes widen at her words, frozen for a millisecond in his footsteps as realization strikes in that he hadn’t been as inconspicuous as he thought. He says nothing as he departs from the kitchen. Only stares at the marble floor and wonders what would be the next time he’d get to see you. Even if from a street’s distance. 

It takes four syncopated knocks before semblance of a noise emerges from behind Namjoon’s closed door. It comes in the form of an angered grunt, but Jin is no stranger to his leader’s brunt. He opens the door with no further permission. 

Namjoon is in worse shape than he had expected. His hair is another level of unruly, greasy and matted and looking like the man ran his hands through it a billion times. The paperwork strewn across his desk and floor reflects the mess in Namjoon’s own head. Like he is suffocating himself in his work but still finds breath in his lungs. Still finds you in his thoughts. 

“You need to eat”, Jin states demandingly. Namjoon only hums in response, keeping his eyes glued to the work in front of him. Jin pushes the tray into his line of vision.

“Eat, Joon. You can’t work if you starve. Y/N would want you to eat.” 

Your name makes his pen stop writing. Makes his eyes widen like he hasn’t heard it said aloud in ages. It’s pathetic to Namjoon, really. How much one person has affected him.

“How would you know what Y/N wants, Jin? How would any of us?” He sneers, resuming the scribbling on his paper. Jin sighs dejectedly, opting to leave the food on his table and not be bothered with trying to help someone who so clearly didn’t want to be helped. He turns around to leave. Until Namjoon opens his mouth again. 

“Unless….”, he teeters, “you do know what she wants.” He tosses the pen and papers aside, crossing his arms and sitting back in the desk chair. 

“Unless you’ve been going behind our backs to see her.”

Had he been turned around facing Namjoon, the younger would have seen the clear exposed truth on his face. The blatant and unhidden look of guilt and shame that he quickly masks once he whips to face Namjoon. 

“What are you talking about?” 

The responding statement is quick. Too quick. Too accosting. Namjoon squints his eyes. 

“Only the several days these past weeks you’ve disappeared from Bangtan’s radar. The bills for the jet fuel sent to my directory. The pilots you’ve been pulling away from our forces in Korea to personally tend to whatever shady business you’ve been hiding under my nose.” 

Namjoon’s words are rapid fire, piercing into the facade that Jin thought he had so carefully crafted. He should’ve known nothing goes unnoticed under the leader’s eye. 

“Namjoon, I-”

“Just be glad I didn’t tell the others. Especially Jungkook.” The thought of the youngest makes him sigh. Jungkook has always been so volatile. A ticking, emotionally-charged and codependent time bomb hiding under that muscle and masculinity. Namjoon knew better than to expose something like this just yet.

When he looks up at the man standing in the doorway of his office, he’s looking straight past him. Through the window like it was you he saw in the sky. Observing him now, up close and with more attention, Namjoon finally gets to truly see him. 

On the surface, Jin is faring worlds better than any of them. He’s clean and freshly showered, hair coiffed to perfection like it usually is. He dons a black button up; perfectly ironed without a crease in sight. But Namjoon knows him better than that. Jin looks so utterly drained it stirs sympathy in even the darkest of hearts. His eyes communicate something his words can’t: Seokjin is completely lost without your light. 

“I’m sorry.” The words come out breathily. Like he’s been waiting to say it all this time but couldn’t. 

“I just…”, he stares down at his hands, “I just needed to see her. See if she was doing alright after we…” Jin trails off, not able to face the truth of their actions just yet. And though there is lingering anger in Namjoon, he can’t help but to feel his distress vicariously. 

“You know, she’s a waitress now. At this small, run-down diner downtown. With a cute little apron and everything”, he chuckles softly, sadness seeping in every word. 

“She lives with her aunt and uncle, and walks everywhere because she doesn’t have a car, at unholy hours of the night which keeps me up every night constantly worrying about her. But that’s Y/N, isn’t it? So careless of her own safety and well-being.” 

Namjoon refrains the smile that creeps on his face at the thought of you. 

“She was smiling when I saw her. I could still see she was sad but she was smiling. Like she always does just so other people feel happier around her.”

“Jin, you don’t have to-”

“And she’s lost so much weight, Namjoon. She was trying to yell out for help and all we did was ignore her.”

Jin’s words are nails on a chalkboard. Vinegar in wine. It makes them both nauseous and rueful, and the oxygen in Namjoon’s office suddenly becomes all too suffocating. Your presence, or lack thereof, has left a heavy residue on the walls of the manor. 

The two boys sit in silence for a moment, before the sound of thumping boots on hardwood flooring echoes down the hallway, getting louder as it approaches the office. The door is nearly taken off its hinges as it violently swings open. Taehyung stands in the threshold, sweat on his brow and chest huffing up and down like an overexerted engine. He is pale in the face, hands trembling at his side and the sheer shock in his gaze tells the two older men that the words preparing to slip from his tongue are not going to be pleasant. Jin and Namjoon brace themselves for impact. 

“It’s Y/N”, his whispered voice quivers. Their hearts drop. 

“There’s been an accident.” 

taglist:  @pinkyhim​, @deolly​, @loveyoongles​, @drunkzseok​, @hope122598​, @uwunamjoon​, @nomimits7​, @bubblebunnylia​, @aquaalanah​, @juliie-ocha, @daydreambrliever​, @btsbabby​, @blank-et-noir, @myheartstaysinkorea, @rosiethefairy​, @tiredjedi, @lovemyself-persona​, @jeoncookie-bts​, @annoyingpessimist​, @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh, @btstxtgenre, @taesugaar​, @hxsxxk-180294​, @bubbletae7​, @uglyratlmao​, @hopetookmysoul​, @supertweetycherry​, @missseoulite​, @barbikatherine​, @jamesfrickingbuchananbarnes​, @sunsetsnsirens-blog​, @vanilla-smash​, @lmaosani​, @onionhaseyeo​, @i-dumb-bitch, @euphxriajoon​, @justpeachyjoon​, @dabbingangels​, @h5naaa​, @parkmaeri, @softescapism​, @bena-baby, @myjiminmychimchim, @moments-of-melancholy​, @krystle1990​, @chatsgotmytongue​, @vi-hoshi​, @unlikelylittlemiss​, @rosey-roseau, @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag​, @kookiebbyxx​, @thebleuprince​, @dreamer95​, @jinana-iactium​, @holaaaf​, @small-babycat, @h0bi-c0re​, @katbonv​, @embrace-themagic​, @jiminmochee​, @fanoffandomss​, @mwitsmejk​, @mrsfortune1306​, @raadia​, @kookima​, @bonesfordayss​, @dinoboysindahouse​, @jiminie-lovely​, @queenceline22​, @jikooksgirl19​, @somewhereinthestarss​, @kookieskiwi​, @lynnfanficreblogs​, @vintageroses10​,

[lolita-lollipop]

yandere other mother x reader- Coraline au

warnings- yandere behavior, platonic yandere, manipulation, slight infantilism, mentions of neglect, false reality,

this one really isn't bad, but just to warn you, if any of these things trigger you, please don't read!

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“Y/n this is insane! Can’t you see that she’s crazy?!” Coraline yelled at you from inside the dusty room while the three ghosts watched, their mouths had been sewn shut long ago, so they weren’t able to intervene. You stood there, feeling like you wanted to cry, this “other mother” was amazing, your real parents never showed much affection, going far enough that it could be Called neglect, so when your other mother held you in her lap, and braided your hair, and gave you warm hugs, and kisses on the cheeks, you felt happy. Your other father was just as amazing, but still, their treatment of you felt similar to one of a baby’s, always treating you like a young child who can’t think for themselves. Coraline noticed this far earlier, while you remained happy and oblivious, the buttons for eyes were the last straw for her.

“I know okay! I just, she’s so nice, I don’t even know what to think anymore, you know what it feels like to actually have parents… I don't, my entire life I’ve been shoved in a little blue house down the stairs and told ‘don't disappoint us’ by my parents! I just want to feel loved… it’s just, it’s just not fair” you spoke, lip quivering, you couldn’t even remember the last time you allowed yourself to cry, you weren’t supposed to love the “other parents” but you did, they were the parents you never had, and you just had to live them. At this point silent tears were trailing down your cheeks, Coraline remained fuming at you, not even sparing a moment to acknowledge the two small black buttons that seemed to appear out of nowhere, peeking through the wall.

“That doesn’t matter, do you really want tiny little needles poking in and out of your eyeballs? Do you really want to leave your real parents behind? Do you want me to leave you behind?” She seethed, you shook your head, letting out a few small whimpers and sobs under your breath, you hated that she was right, you hated it so much, you couldn’t just leave everything in the real world for this parallel universe void of life, you should want to back there right? where no one cared about you, where no one loved you, where you were nothing.

“Coraline? Is that any way to speak to your friend?” A soft voice rang from behind your form, the few lost souls floating in the room ten up, showering to the far corners where the other mother couldn’t see them, then you felt warm hands engulf your waist, pulling you closer to the women’s chest, you subconsciously leave into her warmth, she glared down at Coraline, stoking your head lovingly. In reality, she hadn’t wanted for you to get pushed down here, but Coraline was getting in the way, and you just got caught in the crossfire, she did make sure that your landing was softer though, while Coraline's was harsh.

“You don’t get to tell us what to do, you aren’t her mother.” Coraline breathed out, slimming her eyes into a harsh stare at the woman in whose chest you were sobbing into. One moment, you were in the cold cellar-like room, the next, you were back in the baby pink room that was yours in this place, your true room was a boring white, with a ritzy mattress in the middle, and a small cabinet that served as a closet. Although you didn’t particularly like the color pink, it was nice to know that someone cared enough to bring true colors into your life. The other mother continued her embrace, picking up and cradling your head against her shoulder, you felt a wave of drowsiness overtake your senses, it hit you like a pound of bricks, and you squeezed the back of the women’s shirt to see if you were dreaming or not, her hold just felt so… comforting.

“Was she mean to you darling? Don’t you worry your little head about it, shhhhhh, just fall asleep, mother will take care of everything.” She spoke, bouncing slightly up and down with each step she took towards the large bed that was displayed in the center of the room. You barely muttered a small “wait” before falling asleep in her arms. She tenderly placed your body under the silky sheets, wrapping you up with the soft fabric and placing a small pig plushy next to you, keeping an eye on her precious’s little daughter while she tended to some “housework”.

The second you went unconscious you slipped into a weird dream, you were walking on a thin sheet of water, in a pitch dark room, it was so cold like someone had dunked you in a bucket of ice, you stared out into the nothingness, gradually growing more anxious, where are you?

“HELLO! IS ANYBODY OUT THERE!” You screamed, only to be greeted by the echo of your own words, nothing more, nothing less. You started to swivel around in a moment of panic, having just about no idea what could happen to you in this dark abyss. That was until you dek the floor below you disappear, and you popped into existence into a completely different place, it was a medium sized room, the layout was similar to a grocery store, multiple shelves made the room feel smaller, what was odd about it, was that all the shelves were packed with hundreds of snowglobes. You admired the pretty glass structures as you slowly walked down the aisles, each had a completely different design, with little figures inside, you found it adorable, ogling at the pretty things. That was until you heard quiet clicking of heels, and your other mother came into view.

“There you go, now don’t be rude to me! You are a very lucky girl that I’m even letting you live, you should know much better than to taint my daughter's mind with your filthy voice, oh you make such a great addition to my collection! Enjoy your stay, forever” she chimed, you were positive that she couldn’t see you, mainly because you were standing frozen directly in front of her, and she hadn’t acknowledged you. At least you weren’t freezing anymore! You tiptoed closer to the snowglobe that was just placed among the collections, wondering why your mother was so enthusiastic about it. And saw nothing special about it, other than the bright yellow raincoat that adorned the figurine.

you remained completely unaware. of the thousands of button eyes that watched you from the globes, begging to be shattered, and set free.

“Pretty” you muttered to yourself before the world faded again, and you were back into your body, snuggled up under the covers, clutching the pig plushy close to your chest, you felt awake, but also very asleep, forgetting your entire dream the moment your eyes opened, slightly surprised to see that you were still in the pink room, in the other house. You could hear the feint sound of your bedroom door opening, the creak rang through the room. And the other mother smiled softly at your lovable position, cooing under her breath, trying not to be too loud and wake you up.

“Darling, we have to get up now, oh I know I know your still tired, but it’s dinner time, you can’t stay in bed all night, little sleepyhead, my little sleepyhead.” She spoke, rubbing your shoulder while you groaned at the sudden speaking and noise. You didn't know how long that dream lasted, but you did know that it was odd, so odd that in fact, it made up your mind for you about the whole button eyes thing.

“Uhm- Mother? I-I’m sorry, but I- I don’t want to put buttons in my eyes.” You muttered, awaiting a harsh reaction, but instead, getting another one of her sweet smiles, she picked you up again and sat you in her lap, your small frame getting engulfed by hers.

“Oh is that what you were worrying so hard about? Don’t worry honey, you never were going to have to sow buttons in your eyes, it was just to see if I could trust you, and I know that I can trust you now.” She stated, calmly, a little too calmly. So… she lied? You got in a fight with your best friend because she wanted to “see if she could trust you”?

“Oh- okay, where coralline though? Can I talk to her? Please, mother?” You started begging after seeing her stoic expression, why did you want to see her? Was she not good enough for you? Coralline was mean to you, she hurt her little girl! Why did you want to see her? We’re you going to leave your mother for a snobby brat? She tightened her hold on you, pressing you closer to her, whispering little “shh” or “stay with me” in your ear, for some reason, you couldn't place what Coraline's face looked like, even though you had seen her just earlier, any memories of her were slowly dimming, fuzzy spots started appearing in any of those memories, and like turning of a staticky tv, they disappeared. You couldn’t even remember the name “coralline” after a few minutes of being cradled in this women’s lap.

“Cmon darling, let’s go eat dinner now, your father made it this time, I’m surprised he hasn't burn down the kitchen!” She spoke, getting a few sleepy giggles out of you. After helping you down the stairs she led you to the dining room, where you went on and sat at the large table next to your two parents. And so, you forgot about your “real” world, staying young forever here, even growing younger and smaller as time went on, forgetting about coralline, and your parents, and the small door, you lived your life happy, dressed in frilly pink clothing, learning to lobe your mother as she grew more obsessed with you, she got what she wanted in the end

You stayed mother’s little girl forever

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have a great day today :)

[spenciegoob]

Pathetic and Tragic

Summary: It’s been years since the BAU has tried to catch this unsub, so when Spencer figures out where she is, why did he feel the need to go alone?

Pairing: Spencer x Fem Unsub!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: mentions of murder/blood, slight bondage, hair pulling, choking, gagging, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, slight degradation

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: Hi! This is for a contest by @spenciebabie and I’ve chosen the one-shot prompt why don't you make me? 

Masterlist

____

The case was never supposed to last this long. Spencer knew that, Hell, the whole BAU knew that. A woman with ties to the highest degree of one of the most infamous organized crime families should have been the FBI’s top priority, and for a very long time, she was.

Then the case got complicated, and while Spencer’s mind clouded with an unbearable lust for a woman that would take his life with zero hesitation, the team lost one of their greatest players.

It was tragic in every sense of the word, the way Spencer’s mind replayed their first interaction, his lips feeling her breath on him after all this time, and the bullet that always rested in his bag.

He felt pathetic in that moment, letting her take control of his morals with her vice like grip on his mind, body and soul.

“FBI, freeze. Don’t move.” Finally, the BAU had found who they were looking for since her first appearance on their radar 8 months ago. More importantly, Spencer caught her trying to flee a scene she had no business being at. She looked so out of place, the blood and gore that laid a trail to her small, almost fragile figure making Spencer believe for a split second that she couldn’t have possibly done this.

But time moves quickly, and the second fleeted when she turned around to flash a wicked smile his way.

And Spencer Reid was the one who froze instead.

“Doctor,” she greeted with the utmost of poise and delicacy. “I do believe I have a job to do, so I’m sorry to inform you that I cannot follow your request at this time.”

She was taunting him, and Spencer would fall into that trap again and again if it meant her eyes remained on his.

But this was a criminal, a murderer, a sociopath, and he will not lose his footing this time. Not even for a flawless god-like woman.

“Y/N Y/L/N, you’re under arrest for the murder of Tristen Kepler, Michael Gerdinski and Harold Bennet.” Spencer’s voice was slowly losing its confidence as her face turned from one of pure hilarity to confusion.

“Is that all? You might be missing a few names.” She was proud of her work, it was insufferable. Spencer’s anger level was slowly rising, and if she continued to dance circles around his mind, the task at hand being forgotten, it was going to get dangerously high.

“You won’t shoot me, Dr. Reid,” she continued as she took a step towards him, the grip on his gun tightened.

“How do you know?” Spencer’s voice shook with the same uncertainty as his finger shaking over the trigger. She was right, he wasn’t going to shoot her, but Spencer couldn’t confirm the thoughts of a narcissist.

“Because,” another step. “I’m unarmed, and you, Spencer Reid,” another step. “Are a man of morals and righteousness, and justice.” She spit the last word with so much venom that the story behind her rage could have been the world’s most tragic villain arc.

The whole case was quite tragic.

“Don’t take another step.” Spencer was easily a foot taller than her, and with one scan could tell he weighed twice as much as her, but she still found a way to make his blood run cold with both fear and excitement.

“Or what?”

Spencer could’ve sworn he only blinked and she was directly in front of him, but that wasn’t entirely the truth. She had laid a fog over his mind, taking away his intelligence and peeling back every layer of his mind so only the thought of lowering his weapon in favor of getting on her good side remained.

She was challenging him to do something, but instead of the snake charmer charming the snake, she charmed him.

Spencer must have been hallucinating on the high of being closer to her now, but he could’ve sworn the crime scene they were in was starting to grow the same vines in the Garden of Eden, because there she stood handing Spencer an apple.

Like Eve, Spencer took it.

The second his gun lowered slightly, she pounced. She had him disarmed and on his back before he had time to process the feeling of her skin on his. If the impact to the ground didn’t knock the wind out of Spencer, her close proximity would.

She had a heel digging into his wrist closest to his gun that was only inches away, taunting him for his pathetic lust. Slowly, she bent down, entering the fog, black smoke mixing with his innocent, white cloud to create a gray that he wouldn’t dare call dull.

“I’m sorry it has to be like this, Spencer. Truly, I am.” Her eyes left his to scan his face before she reached over to his gun. The thought crossed his mind that she was going to kill him, but would that be so bad when he was breathing the same air as her?

She emptied the chamber into her hands, only leaving one bullet. He walked this road before, he knew his chances.

“One bullet, one chance.” She spun the chamber before slamming it back in place. “God, I really hope you live.”

For a split second, they shared a gaze clouded with desire for the other. Spencer let his mind fade into what her lips would feel like against his, or how her body would tremble under his. She had control now, but he knew from the way her eyes begged, even just for one second, she wanted him to flip the roles and take her right there. He would’ve too if it wasn’t for the cool metal that pressed against the side of his head.

Click!

An empty threat, yet she still smirked. “Today’s your lucky day, Doctor.”

She looked up to where a single headlight shone through the window above them, her hair trickling down to brush against Spencer’s neck, and he sighed at the small contact. It was pathetic, really.

“That’s my ride. See you around.” With that, she winked and ran off towards her getaway. Spencer laid there, taking in shallow breaths that escaped him during their interaction.

She had been stalling him, and he fell for it.

Spencer still carried around that bullet as a reminder. A reminder that he needs to catch her, she was too dangerous, and anything less than her being imprisoned for life wasn’t good enough. 

It was also a reminder of how he felt when she was with him, over him, dominating him. Spencer never felt that helpless, that pathetic, that hungry for someone, and he wasn’t ready to let that go quite yet.

There was no new case that came in this week, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep that nagging feeling at bay when it came to her this case. They needed to shut it, Spencer needed to shut it, because maybe, just maybe, he could sleep better at night knowing he won.

“Delivery for Dr. Spencer Reid,” a voice called from the entrance of the bullpen. Spencer’s head shot around, finding a very harmless looking intern holding a small package in his hand looking around.

Cutting the kid some slack, he made his way over. “I’m Dr. Reid.” The kid smiled before handing him the little cardboard box. It fit in the palm of his hand, and was completely blank except for the small drawing of a snake on the top.

His blood ran cold, and his lungs forgot how to breath, just like they did a year ago.

A year ago today.

Spencer didn’t wait any longer, ripping the box open despite the strong glue that held it shut with its secrets.

Oh Spencer, hasn’t anyone told you not to open Pandora’s box?

The bullet inside rattled around the small container, one of the bullets that belonged to Spencer before she took them for her trophies.

She may have not killed Spencer, but she definitely took something more than just bullets with her that night.

He knew where she was, and she wanted him to.

Spencer could’ve told his team, hell, he was going to need the backup, so what stopped him from doing so as he raced for the crime scene that has since been cleared and reopened for the public to ignore the ‘No Trespassing’ sign?

Lust, lust is what stopped him, and it was pathetic.

Pathetic and tragic.

She knew he arrived, even if he turned the lights of the SUV off before pulling up the small warehouse. The air around her grew heavier with anticipation as she waited for Spencer to enter the room, no doubt waiting for the element of surprise.

She almost missed his light footsteps approaching her from behind.

“You’ve changed,” she called out. Spencer froze again, just like he had the first time. Was this pathetic enough?

“So have you,” his voice was calm, not caring for tiptoeing anymore. She was right, Spencer had changed, and now he took very little chances with instability.

“Yet here we are, repeating the same cycle as last year.” She turned to face him, and if she was less of a professional, she would have let her hunger for Spencer shine through. He had definitely changed, his hair was longer now, but still beautifully curly and framing his face, the one that was sharper, stubble on his cheeks. 

Spencer was a man now, one she wanted to strip down to nothing both physically and emotionally.

“That’s not entirely true,” he shot back with a sense of cockiness to his tone, cockiness she had no patience for. “I’m not letting you go this time.”

She snorted, actually snorted in his face. “You cannot be serious. You think I would lead you to me just to turn myself in?”

“You’re coming with me, whether you want to or not.” There was no room for argument, but she had other plans. She saw the lust in his eyes a year ago, and though time passed, that passion when he was looking at her still hasn’t faded. She just needed to push his buttons a little bit.

“Why don’t you make me?” It was the final straw, the last drop of water before the dam broke, and Spencer made no effort to stop himself from taking her head in his hands and smashing their lips together in both anger and desire.

She moaned against his mouth, wrapping her hands around his neck to find their place in his hair. Spencer had other plans, because he grabbed both of her wrists before turning her around and bending her over the metal table behind them.

“Listen, Princess,” Spencer whispered into her ear, his lips grazing the shell as he bent his whole body over her to press her further. The cool metal was digging into her hips, but she couldn’t complain when it also meant she felt Spencer’s hard erection on her backside. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, and then I’m going to take you in where you’ll rot in prison for the rest of your life. Do you understand?”

“Only one of us is getting ruined today, and it’s not me.” Apparently, that was not the answer Spencer wanted, because he grabbed a fistful of her hair to pull her back against his chest, making her gasp and squirm against his strong frame.

“Watch the attitude,” he growled out before reaching down with his other hand to unbutton her black jeans. “Now let’s try that again. Do you understand me?”

She only responded in a whimper as Spencer’s hands reached inside both her pants and panties to run his fingers through her slick folds.

“Use your words, Princess.” She tried to grind down on his fingers, but Spencer was quick to remove them from her pants. Bringing his hand up to her neck, he wrapped it around before squeezing lightly. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes, I understand. Just please, Spencer.” She never would have thought that the awestruck doctor she wooed a year ago would be so rough with her, and the surprise just added to her need for him.

“Please what, Princess?” Spencer taunted.

“Just do something,” she barked back, immediately regretting her decision when he let go of her neck to push her by her head back onto the table with more force than necessary.

When she heard the click of his handcuffs, she started her relentless squirming. “What the hell, Spencer? I thought you were going to fucking do something!”

“Who said I wasn't?” He asked before completely ripping her pants down her legs, the cool air hitting her bare pussy, causing a shiver to run up her spine.

So this was the game Spencer’s playing.

“God, you’re already so fucking wet, Princess. Wanna taste you.” He gave her no time to register his words because Spencer dropped to his knees and licked a strip up and then down her folds, flicking her clit before taking in completely in his mouth.

Her mewls and groans bounced off the concrete walls around them, only urging Spencer on more. He suckled softly on her clit before flicking it back and forth repeatedly with his tongue at an incomprehensible pace. The knot in her stomach was forming, and at this rate, it was going to unravel fast.

“Spe-Spence I.. I’m g-gonna” Spencer brought his fingers up to her core, replacing his tongue with two slender digits.

“Do it, Princess. Come for me.” He pinched her clit roughly, and that was the final push over the edge, her moans loud consisting of incoherent curses and his name.

When she started to come down from her high, Spencer stood straight up again and started unbuckling his belt. She started to squirm and push back into him at his slow movements.

“I know you’re probably enjoying watching me struggle, but if you could please hurry the fuck up,” she said as she lifted part of her upper body to turn and look at him. She never got a good look, because Spencer reached out and slammed her back down before pushing all of himself into her waiting cunt.

She yelled out at the sensation, Spencer groaning before saying, “What did I tell you about that fucking attitude?”

He set a brutal pace, giving her barely any time to adjust before pulling out so just the tip remained, and then slamming into her with a rough, animalistic force.

“Ah, ah, ah, Sp- Spenc-” He grabbed her by the hair again, using it as leverage to pull her back onto his cock, making her scream out again.

“Shut up,” Spencer groaned out, annunciating each word with a thrust while he reached forward to shove two fingers into her mouth. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

She moaned around his fingers, causing him to press down on her tongue, gagging her. Spencer could feel the way she started to clench around him.

“You gonna cum, Princess? That’s it, cum with me.” Spencer’s thrusts grew sloppier as they both ran towards their orgasm together.

When they both finally reached their high, Spencer could’ve sworn he saw stars, his cock twitching in her pulsing warmth, milking him of everything. For a split second, their bodies had become one.

But time moves quickly, and the second fleeted when his actions caught up to him, and he ripped himself from her.

She was still shaking and trying to catch her breath when he undid the handcuffs that were burning her wrists. Confusion spread through her as she used her arms that still felt like jelly to push herself up off the table.

“Why... why’d you uncuff me?” Spencer looked up through his eyelashes at her from where he was redoing his belt, his face unreadable.

“Get dressed. I can’t arrest you half naked.” He looked away from her with a blush on his face as she bent down to pull her pants back up. When she looked back up at him from where he was trying to see from his peripherals if she was dressed again, she caught a glimpse of the man she met a year ago.

“That’s not the reason, Doctor. If you have a question, ask it.”

“Why’d you stop?” Spencer finally turned to face her, catching the surprise on her face before it morphed into that same wicked smile that rendered him helpless last time.

“Would you have come if I kept killing?” He didn’t have to think about his answer, it was the reason he was hoping was true.

“No.” She slowly stalked over to him, but this time she didn’t flip him on his back. Instead, she cupped his cheek, and he didn't hesitate to nuzzle into her palm.

“I still have 4 bullets,” she said softly. They locked eyes again, but this time, the lust they indulged in melted down to a mutual understanding.

“I’ll see you next year, Doctor.” With that, she walked around him, shutting the door with a slam on the way out, leaving Spencer staring at the silver with no attempt to chase after her.

Pathetic and tragic.

____

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[1kook]

netflix & chill

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality. warnings grinding, 2 seconds of sub kook, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla but [ passionate ], unprotected sex, dirty talk tags use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc wc 10.2k !! wow!!

will I ever write a serious jk fic? NO. this entire thing was based off this pic of jungkook which i’ve said before that i would print out in sepia filter and crumple and stuff in a drawer n then tell my kids 35 years from now was a long lost lover i met on a cruise to the bahamas and never saw again ty to mia more @daechwlta​ for being there during my brief crisis over this fic 🥺

When Namjoon had first not so subtly mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date, it was with a faux air of disinterest that you had masterfully pried the details out of him. Namjoon has a friend, he said, a friend who was kinda sorta attached to his hip. And while Namjoon loved the kid, he also thought this friend could use some social interaction outside of Namjoon.

Now you and Namjoon weren’t exactly the most conventional of friends for him to be proposing blind dates to you at whim. He was your senior at school, your mentor in your scholarship program, an educated man studying for his masters. So when he’d first uttered the words you were immediately on the fence. Sure, the two of you knew each other well and probably got along better than most mentor-mentee pairings among your year, but you doubt Namjoon knew enough of your tastes to offer you up for a blind date.

According to Namjoon, his friend was a kid in the same year as you, making him not so much as a kid as he was your classmate. You brushed it off at first, spewing some bullshit excuse that you’d rather focus on your studies, and how dating was a distraction to your education, as if you hadn’t spent the weekend prior binge watching some Spanish novella while you dutifully ignored your essay.

The second time Namjoon mentions it you agree on the spot. Life on campus could only be interesting for so long, so you might as well make the best of it and go on as many stupid dates as possible.

Namjoon is over the moon.

He tells you he’ll pass your phone number on over to that friend of his—“Jeon Jungkook”—and promises you you won’t regret this because his friend was amazing, really. And for Namjoon to sing his praises for just any underclassmen was unheard of. In fact, besides you, you don’t think Namjoon knows many other students younger than him, and if he did, you hardly doubt he would regard them so highly.

So he gives his friend your number, and so ends your weekly meeting with your mentor. You only realize on the walk back to your dorm that you forgot to ask him about some club at school, the whole goal of this week’s meeting, but by then you don’t really care, the whole conversation fading into the background.

In fact, you forget about the whole ordeal until Friday night rolls around and you’re once again, binge watching another novella on your laptop, when your phone suddenly vibrates.

You were by no means a loser at school, a friendless nobody, but you were also not the outgoing, school-spirited student on the front page of your school’s website, and thus had nearly every app that could produce a notification on your phone muted, every text thread silenced. The only notifications and messages you allowed were from your email and from your roommate, and considering the fact Doyeon was face down in a puddle of her own mid-semester tears right across from you, it was probably your email.

Much to your surprises, it isn’t that “Monday’s Class is CANCELLED” email you were hoping for, but instead some unknown number in a text notification. You roll your eyes, click it open thinking it’s a reminder from some store or from some guy claiming to be from your bank, only to pause at the words written inside the little grey bubble.

hey its jungkook!!! joon gave me your number to I guess ask you on a date soo are you free tmrw night??

The excessive punctuation reminds you a little bit of your kid sister back home and the dorky emails she’ll send you from time to time. It’s with that memory and a smile on your face, that you’re suddenly reminded of what exactly this message is saying. “Oh shit,” you mumble, moving to sit up and reread the text. Doyeon complaining loudly in the background has you reading it twice more before you understand it, and by then there’s a fluttery feeling in your chest.

You were by no means easily swayed by people, but this guy had received praise from Kim Namjoon of all people, so he definitely had some prestige to his name. He doesn’t seem overbearing from this one text he’d sent, but he also didn’t seem completely disinterested.  

You try to match his nonchalant energy, letting him know you were in fact free and down to meet him, just to let you know more details.

You won’t lie, there’s a giddy feeling bubbling within you at the prospect of getting all dolled up, hitting the town, pawning a free meal off some unsuspecting college soul, and maybe even hitting it off. It’s been a while since you’ve dated, sue you.

Jeon Jungkook’s response crushes those dreams as well as hurdles you straight into a nightmare.

cool!! was thinking i could cook for us at my place, drink a little wine, maybe Netflix and chill a little bit??

You are blown away by the absolute gall of this man, to butter you up by painting a pretty picture only to reduce you to a mere booty call. The fact he had felt confident enough to say all that within the same sentence blows your mind.

Did this Jeon Jungkook, who you had no idea of what he looked like, who had no idea of what you looked like, seriously just invite you over for some quote unquote Netflix and chill?

Who, in the ever living hell, was this guy who so sleazily invited women over to fuck with no qualms about who they were?

You’re offended that Namjoon would set you up like this, pawn you off to such a greasy friend. But then again, you guess not everyone knows their friends thoroughly, because this Jeon Jungkook flirtatiously inviting your over for some sex sounds nothing like the golden boy Kim Namjoon had raved about earlier this week. You click your phone off, tapping the device against your lips as you ponder how to best rip this jerk to shreds via text.

It’s amidst Doyeon cursing out her statistics teacher that an idea hits you.

Tomorrow was Saturday night, and as far as you knew, you really didn’t have anything else going on for you anyway. You’d take Jeon Jungkook’s offer, let him cook you a free meal and drink some of his wine. He mentioned having his own place, and vaguely you remember Namjoon saying he lived alone, hence his introverted tendencies, so you could slip in and out without doing that walk of shame through a boy’s dorm hall.

Not that there would be anything to feel shameful about. In fact, if you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.

Ha! That would certainly teach the asshole not to use his poor, unsuspecting friends to reel in nice girls like you into one night stands.

You could practically feel the devil horns begging to poke out of your skull, the forked tail wiggling behind you, as you click your phone back on and text Jeon Jungkook a great!! what’s your address :)

——

Saturday morning and afternoon are as boring as they usually are. You do a little homework, and spend thirty minutes filling Doyeon in on your master plan, which she eats up and even gives you some pointers—“and then you can be like, ‘you sick freak, as if I’d let you near this 5-star, Michelin reviewed, Gordon Ramsey approved coochie’ and throw the whole plate at his head!”—before getting ready for your little date at Jeon Jungkook’s.

You try hard to look good, harder than you would have if he hadn’t offended you by reducing you to a booty call, and Doyeon helps. She does your eyebrows all nice and natural, dusts the thinnest shin of liquid highlighter across the high points of your face, the whole shebang until you’re looking like a sexy, glowing goddess. You shimmy into a pretty dress, nothing too fancy nor too casual, and even pull on those strappy sandals you’d bought on sale last winter before blowing a kiss to Doyeon and meeting your Uber downstairs.

You don’t quite remember what the reason behind Jeon Jungkook living in such a swanky neighborhood a few minutes from campus was, if it was from a job you vaguely recall Namjoon mentioning, or if it was just purely hereditary, but his place is nice. It’s a connected townhouse, something you’d expect a newly wed couple to live in and not some douchebag third year.

Worse comes to worse, you get banned from this rich neighborhood after humiliating one of its residents in his own home, not that you’d ever make it big enough to live here anyway.

You’d texted Namjoon sometime that morning to let him know you were meeting his friend, an ominous text with an even more ominous smiley face attached to it. But it seems Namjoon is easily blinded by underclassmen he trusts, if Jeon Jungkook’s assholish feats and your own suspicious behavior is anything to go by, because he texts you back a polite have fun! he’s a little shy, so it might take a while for the ball to start rolling hahahaha.

Shy my ass, you think closing the door of your Uber behind you. You double check the address that had been texted to you, walking up to the neat townhouse and knocking against the polished door.

It’s a little chilly, and you hope finding an Uber is easier later tonight when you make your grand escape. It’s between these thoughts that the door swings open, revealing the most handsome man you’ve ever met.

He’s attractive, disgustingly so, with dark hair and light brown tips to contrast, tickling his cheekbones. His dark eyes are round and imploring as they meet yours, gaze almost innocent and doe like as he takes you in. He’s got this soft, blue turtleneck on, and it looks like it should be a seasonal sweater reserved for the holidays but he pulls it off nicely on this premature spring night. His pretty pink lips move, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking.

“___?” He says, and his voice is deep, yet soft in its own unique way. You nod, like a stupid bobble head, because your throat constricted the moment this beautiful angel opened the door. “It’s cold outside, come in!” He urges you, out stretching his palm to make sure you don’t trip over the slight step up the door as he brings you into his home.

“Hi,” he exhales when you’re finally inside, standing a little too close to you in his small entryway.

“Hi,” you finally choke out, a little dazed by how handsome he is, and the sudden realization that you’re supposed to throw your glass of wine at him tonight because he’s a douchebag dawns on you. You blink yourself out of your stupor, taking a step back and gesturing towards your sandal clad feet.

“Oh!” Jeon Jungkook exclaims at the sudden realization. “I forgot to set out a pair of slippers for you,” he sheepishly admits, before he excuses himself to go get some. There’s a tiny ottoman pushed against the wall, beneath a long mirror, that you take a seat on it, carefully unstrapping your sandals.

All the while, you’re deep in thought.

It makes sense that someone like Jeon Jungkook was so forward in inviting you over for sex during your first interaction. Realistically speaking, the guy had it all. He lived alone in a swanky townhouse in a wealthy neighborhood (you finally remember Namjoon saying he did some app developing for major companies—yeah, still in college but already making it big because he was that good), and looked like the blueprint for the perfect man, someone who’d impress your parents. On top of that, the man was was a 21st century Adonis. You hadn’t missed the flash of ink on his knuckles, or the way his jeans had hugged his legs.

He’s making his way back now, inspecting the slippers in his hands, and you don’t miss the way the jeans are pulled taut around his thighs in particular.

Yeah, he definitely knew his way around a woman’s body, there was no way he couldn’t have.

You slip your feet into the slippers he places before you, wiggling your toes around, before glancing back at Jungkook. He smiles warmly, a little beauty mark beneath his lip making itself known. He takes your hand, pulls you up onto your feet, and begins guiding you down the hall and to what you assume is the kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured asking you three hours before you came over would be too awkward,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at you again, and upon seeing your inquisitive stare, quickly turns away with flushed cheeks.

Oh this man knew the game, and he knew it well.

Jeon Jungkook still thinks he can play that cute campus boy being set up by his senior card now, after he’d shown you his true colors last night via text. But he has a big storm coming. As much as you could admit he was good to look at, you would not be fooled by some pretty face and tasty food. No, you came here with one goal and one goal only, and that was to give Jeon Jungkook a piece of his own two-faced medicine before running off to tattle to Namjoon.

You reach the kitchen and the heavenly smell of Alfredo sauce swarms your nostrils. “I… I’m still new to cooking, so I hope you don’t mind some Alfredo pasta,” he admits, shy smile adorning his features as he avoids your gaze once again to toy with the dish towel by the sink.

You creep closer to the counter, where two meticulously presented ceramic plates sit beside a wine bottle, and the glands in your mouth suddenly go into overdrive in their rush to make you salivate, and you choke out an overly eager, “it looks amazing!” before you know it.

Okay, you came here with two goals.

——

Jungkook carries the two bowls in his big hands to the dining room beside the kitchen, and you follow behind with the bottle of wine and two glasses as you set the table together. The utensils are already there, but Jungkook runs back into the kitchen anyway to return with some fancy cloth napkins for the two of you.

Just as you're tugging a chair out to sit, Jungkook beats you to it. “Ah, let me,” he smiles, and your heart thunders nervously in your chest as you return the expression, brushing your hands beneath you before sitting down and letting him push you in. Jungkook takes his own seat in front of you, and before you can dig in he calls out to seemingly nobody, “Alexa, dim the dining room lights.”

The overhead lights dim, and with their overbearing glow gone, you can finally appreciate the battery powered candles snuggled neatly into a little bowl on the table between you two. You ooh appreciatively, and Jungkook looks proud of himself.

Then, he says, “Alexa, play…Date Night Playlist.”

You blink, and a soft piano tune begins filtering through a speaker he’s hidden somewhere in the room. Even with the fake candles being your main source of light, the flush on Jungkook’s cheeks is evident as he gestures towards you to eat.

You won’t lie. Jeon Jungkook was extremely endearing.

This much becomes evident the further you get into the meal. As small talk devolves into full fledged conversations and story telling, his shy demeanor slipping away but still sticking to the edges of his personality, you begin to have a more difficult time connecting this Jungkook to the one who had less than 24 hours ago asked you to come over and “Netflix and chill” with him.

But the more you speak, the more distant that image begins to feel. For one, Jungkook does put on a fairly reserved aura for you, telling you about his job but refusing to brag about it even when you egg him on. He has no qualms gassing up his friends, Namjoon in particular, who Jungkook claims is his role model for some unknown reason, given the fact they are neither in the same major nor in any of the same clubs. They’re friends, point blank period, but Namjoon is very obviously a star in Jungkook’s eyes.

Additionally, he’s quite embarrassed to admit why Namjoon had been so set on getting Jungkook to date, but eventually tells you it’s because Jungkook’s last girlfriend had been during your freshman year—two whole years ago! It makes you wonder what he’d been doing since then, if he’d used the time to fully invest in his work or if he’d been mingling around, unbeknownst to his friends, which would explain the flirtatious offer that landed you here.

Still, a part of you refuses to believe last night’s Jungkook and tonight’s Jungkook were one in the same, and if they were, what had made this shy man so unabashedly invite you over for some sex. Was this act all a ploy? Or maybe, was he purposefully trying to ward you away by coming off as a gentleman now that he’d seen your face and wasn’t interested in you anymore?

Apparently it’s neither of the two, and you don’t realize this until you finish your meal and make your way into his living room to finally get down to the long awaited Netflix and chilling. It’s only when you sit down on the couch, smack dab in the middle, because at this point, you’re not gonna throw your wine at Jeon Jungkook like you planned, he was too nice. And if this niceness was an act to get in your panties, you didn’t care at this point. He was hot, achingly so, and at least you’d get a good fuck out of it.

But as you said, apparently not. Because Jeon Jungkook sees you purposefully take up the entire middle of the couch, sultry eyes staring him down, and decides to sit flush against the armrest, somehow leaving a good foot between the two of you, despite the fact you’re sitting next to each other.

Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend the situation, before he’s asking you what you want to watch. “Um,” you say, pointedly staring at him and not the screen. “Tr-Transformers?”

The way Jungkook’s eyes light up is insane, already round eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he eagerly rushes to select it from whatever streaming service he has, probably not even Netflix, all the while chattering on about how much he loves that series, and is so glad you do too.

The whole time, you’re struck by the oddness of his casual tone, the way he’s overly invested in the 20th Century Fox opening, and how he’s very carefully avoiding intruding in on your personal space.

The last point in particular has you wanting to pull your hair out, because you want Jeon Jungkook intruding in on your personal space. You want him pressed so tightly against you you can’t breathe, you can’t move, until you’re drowning in him as he finally lives up to his promise of some Netflix and chill, because you want him, and you want him so. very. bad.

“Oh, I forgot the popcorn!” Jungkook exclaims, and you jump at the sudden volume of his voice, because he’d been pretty silent as he avidly watched the first few minutes of the movie. “Sorry,” he chuckles, and his leg brushes against yours as he shuffles between you and the coffee table on his way out. You vaguely hear the popping of the popcorn in the kitchen, but you’re too distracted by your suddenly overwhelming thoughts.

Okay, one thing was for sure, and that was that Jeon Jungkook definitely had no fucking idea what the phrase Netflix and chill meant, because the way he’d zeroed in on the movie and the popcorn, and not you, was unheard of on such invitations. You deduce he probably heard it somewhere, and, now understanding the true nature of Jungkook’s sweet and shy personality, made no such perverted connection to the phrase.

Which meant he most definitely did not demean you to a mere booty call, like you’d deluded yourself into believing, someone he could hump and dump with no regrets, before calling Namjoon up to thank him. Which meant he’d had no ulterior motives in meeting you tonight, just planning to get to know you at the suggestion of his friend, and had—unbeknownst to him—successfully wooed you thus far.

Which was great! If you turned a blind eye to the evil, conniving plans you’d made without even meeting the guy, and the subsequent flood of self-inflicted disapproval when you realized Jeon Jungkook was a sweetheart who definitely did not deserve having a glass of wine thrown at his face after making you a home cooked meal and giving you the full Olive Garden experience, with his dimmed lights and candlelit dinner and piano music on the background.

Yeah. Perfectly fine.

The only problem now was that you had become so dangerously smitten with the man that you wanted to sleep with him. You wanted that Netflix and chill, needed it like it was the last slot in a daycare class and you were a soccer mom of five wanting to get at least one kid out of the house for the summer for the sake of her own sanity. You were desperate.

No, you scold yourself. This was fine, this was good, this was perfectly okay. If anything, this just further made you enamored with Jungkook, because it proved how gentlemanly he was by not trying to sleep with you on the first date.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, the devil on your shoulder crooned.

The microwave in the kitchen stops, and you hear the sound of cabinets opening as Jungkook pours the popcorn into a bowl. On screen, the main character is meeting a bunch of giant cars-turned-robots, you don’t fucking know.

But the devil was right.

Jungkook hadn’t offered to sleep with you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Furthermore, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be seduced into wanting to, your evil brain suggested, and the hope that had slithered it’s way into your chest from the very moment Jungkook had opened the door, took that fact and ran with it.

“What’d I miss?” Jungkook says when he returns, popcorn bowl in hand.

“Oh, um, he was with the car,” you offer, trying to stop the nefarious smirk from slipping onto your features. Jungkook laughs, cute and airy as he shuffles past you.

He’s too absorbed in the screen, not looking as he sits down, closer than last time until his thigh brushes yours and he jerks back in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry,” he flounders, goes to move away but you act fast.

You grab onto his upper arm with both of yours like an octopus, keeping him flush to you as you gaze up at him with wide eyes. “No, it’s okay,” you rush to assure him, loosening your hold as he tentatively relaxes beside you. You glance down at the popcorn bowl in his hand, swiping a piece to pop between your lips. “It’s easier for us this way,” you say, and you’re pulling that straight out of your ass, because you hate popcorn and have literally zero desire for it and wouldn’t have reached for it anyway if you weren’t trying to convince him this was all for popcorn sharing purposes.

Jungkook’s eyes briefly flicker down to where you’re munching on that popcorn, your lips, before he’s quickly averting his gaze. “Ah, y-yeah,” he agrees, and though he tries to relax back into the couch, you can still feel the tension of his muscles as he settles beside you.

With his eyes no longer trained on you, you snuggle closer into his side resting your cheek against the soft material covering his shoulder, finally letting that devious smirk slip onto your face. You keep yourself close to Jungkook, loving the way his warmth permeates the thick sweater he’s wearing, even if he’s still overly into the movie. You know he’s seen it before, because he keeps telling you random tidbits like, “they use this in the next movie!” Or “he ends up becoming really important in the sixth movie,” and you want to listen to this endearing nerd’s commentary, you really do, but once your brain is stuck on horny, it is stuck on horny.

He doesn’t even eat a lot of popcorn, setting it down not ten minutes later onto the coffee table. You release him as he moves forward, but quickly latch onto him again when he sits back down.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook is way more relaxed then, shrugging you off to rest his hand on the couch behind you, and you inwardly squeal at the prospect of getting to cuddle up to his body, and not just his arm. You cuddle in close to him, leaving your slippers on the ground as you tuck your legs up onto the couch cushions.

Jungkook is so warm and firm, and you know it’s your horny brain speaking, but you swear you feel a tight set of abs underneath the palm you rest on his stomach, and you give an experimental brush over the area. His heart picks up, you hear it by where your head is leaning against his chest, and you tilt your head up to give him a curious glance. His cheeks are red, and he doesn’t look at you even though you know he sees you, so you decide to kick things up a notch.

You sigh loudly, peeling yourself away from him to properly level him with a pout. “Jungkook, aren’t you hot in this?” You ask, pinching the wooly material between two fingers and pulling it from his skin. Jungkook finally looks away from the screen, nibbling his lower lip as he takes in your quizzical expression.

“Um, only a little… but it’s fine!” He rushes to say, and you recall from your conversations over dinner that Jungkook doesn’t much like people fussing over him, so you quickly change gears.

You press a hand against your cheek, the same one that had been resting against his shoulder earlier. “Oh, well… it’s really itchy,” you announce, and his eyes widen, one hand absentmindedly reaching to clutch the material at his chest. “It’s making me really itchy,” you emphasize, and part of you feels bad for taking advantage of his caring nature, but this is all for the greater good, you convince yourself. “Do you mind taking it off?”

“I, uh, yeah,” he agrees, reaching for the hem of his sweater before carefully peeling it off. When he pulls it over his head, you can’t help the triumphant grin that overtakes your face, though you quickly mask it when he finally frees himself from the material. “Better?” He says once he’s clad in only a plain black shirt.

“Mm, much,” you sigh, and nearly soak your panties then and there when a tattooed sleeve comes into view. “Woah!” You exclaim, snatching his wrists up to examine his skin. “What’s this?” You marvel, tracing every inch of delicious skin with your predatory gaze. Jungkook huffs out a laugh, and you glance up to watch as he rubs the back of his neck in that same embarrassed way he’d done multiple times throughout your night together.

“My tattoos,” he says, and then seems to realize the simplicity of his statement and rushes to add to it, “I hope you don’t mind?”

You hum, shifting onto your knees to face him as you continue tracing over a huge tiger lily by his forearm. “Why would I? It’s your body,” you say, and watch the nervous glance melt off his face as he regards you with something new. Something akin to wonder as he lets you trace over more of his ink, nodding along to your words.

“Yeah… yeah!” He agrees, and you grin at his sudden zeal. He chuckles, physically relaxing beneath your touch, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s been all night as you continue rubbing your hands over every tattoo on his skin, and then purposefully focusing on the ones near his bicep. “Sorry, ‘m just used to people pushing off their own opinions about them onto me,” he explains, and for a moment, the horniness that had been fueling you all night fades away, and you let your hands trail down, past his wrist, until you’re sandwiching his hand between yours.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks,” you tell him, eyes hard as you imagine anyone imposing their stupid thoughts on Jungkook, who was too good for this world. “If you think they’re cool, then they're the coolest thing in the world.”

He smiles at you, and you’ve seen this smile about a million times tonight—when you first came in, when you talked about yourself at dinner, when you mentioned this stupid movie—but it has something swelling in your chest. Something too intimate for a first date, so you quickly move to repress it.

Glancing down at his hand in yours, littered with smaller tattoos across his knuckles, your brain whirls into action. Bringing it up between the two of you, you turn his hand over to line your palms up. “Wow, your hands are so big,” you sigh, slowly reverting back to dirty thoughts as you twist yours and Jungkook’s hands this way and that. He snorts, bends the tips of his fingers over yours just to hear you ooooh again.

“Yeah, they’re pretty big,” he agrees, completely ignoring the film playing on the screen, which is a huge win in your eyes considering how deeply he’d been watching it earlier.

Finally, you see an opening and pounce.

“Well, that means something else is pretty big too,” you murmur, chancing a glance up at his face. His face is the perfect definition of composed, and you can tell when exactly he processes your words because those little pink lips part in surprise, red slowly filling the apples of his cheeks. You let go of his palm, letting it slide between your fingers until it falls limp beside him.

Jungkook watches you with wide eyes, as you raise yourself up onto your knees. “Jungkook?” You mumble, giving him no warning before you’re throwing a leg across his lap, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his thighs.

“Y-Yes?” He stutters, brown hair falling away from his face as he stares up at you. You flash him a sweet smile, and you can tell it relaxes him because his fists unclench beside him.

“You’re a really nice boy,” you sigh, and when you’ve scooted your knees a little closer to his ridiculously thin waist, you finally let yourself sit. You find yourself right before his crotch, which he desperately tries to hide as he shifts around, but can’t with you on top of him. You let your hands flutter to rest at his shoulders, and he gulps. “You’re so sweet and cute,” you add, relish in the flush that climbs up to his ears. “But I’m a little sad you invited me over to Netflix and chill, but won’t do just that,” you pout, a finger tangling itself in a soft strand at the back of his head.

“Huh?” He stutters, eyes nearly bulging out when you wiggle around again. “I-I’m sorry?” He huffs, and when you move too close to his crotch, where his jeans are slowly growing more and more strained, he panics and reaches a hand out to steady your waist.

You feign confusion, flashing him another pout as you duck closer until your noses bump against each other. “You know what it means, don’t you, Jungkook?” You inquire, eyes falling dangerously lidded as you swallow up every inch of his appearances.

He stutters, hands moving up and down as if he doesn’t know where to put them anymore. But you know exactly where Jungkook can put those hands, and you waste no time catching his wrists in your hands to guide him towards your hips. “No?” He breathes, fingers flexing against you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“It means,” you purr, shifting forward until you’re flush against where you need him most. You can barely contain the whimper that climbs out of your throat when you finally feel the rough material of his jeans against your panties. “It means you wanna fuck, Jungkook,” you exhale, tossing your head back as your body basks in the slight reprieve, the way Jungkook squirms beneath you aiding greatly in providing that sensation you craved.

“It’s nothing more than an excuse,” you huff, placing a hand on the back of his neck to steady yourself. At your touch, Jungkook jolts, thighs jumping beneath you and you stifle another groan when the zipper of his jeans prods against your core. “For you to fuck my brains out while some s-stupid movie plays in the background.”

You’re not sure when, but sometime during that last explanation your hands had fully delved into the thick tresses of Jungkook’s hair. You give an experimental tug, and poor Jungkook, so lost in all that you’re telling him, lolls his head back for you easily until the long expanse of his neck is available, soft creamy skin yours for the taking.

You pounce, kissing the skin gently at first, before sprinkling in a handful of nibbles. He’s sensitive, devastatingly so, as he gasps at a particular suck. You suction your lips on the spot below his ear, carefully biting down on the skin as he unravels beneath you. “Will you do it, Jungkookie?” You murmur against the shell of his ear,

He nods eagerly, and his fingers hurt where he’s pressed them deep into your waist, like he’s trying to brand you as his with his mere strength alone. “Y-Yes,” he exhales, hips jerking when you swipe your tongue over the pretty mark you’d left on his perfect skin.

You smother your smirk against his neck, grinding down on him once again. “Yes what?” You tease, and let his strong hands roll you against him afterwards.

“Yes, I-I’ll…” he stumbles, eyes dazed as he watches you through hooded lids. You raise a brow at him, shifting in his lap. It’s enough to kickstart him back up, and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you just like you want,” he rambles. He surprises you when he begins rutting up against you, so animalistic and uncontrolled, nothing like the sweet Jungkook that had indulged you over dinner. “I’ll make you come, p-promise,” he rasps.

You smirk down at him, hoping he doesn’t see the metaphorical horns sticking out of your head the further he falls into your trap. Before he can say anything else, you surge forward, slotting your mouths together for the first time that night.

It’s no surprise that Jungkook kisses just like he speaks, carefully like he’s afraid one hard press of his lips will ward you off. His lips are smooth, a fact you’d hyper-fixated on all night as he spoke, but before you can ponder on that any further, something hot and wet is prodding at your lower lip.

The gasp you barely manage to contain ends up escaping anyway when Jungkook’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head to the side as his tongue slithers into your mouth. You become obsessed with the way he touches you, every bit the gentlemen he’d been all night, fingers just barely pressing into your cheek like he doesn’t want to mess up your makeup. His other hand, snuggly wrapped around your waist, pulls you tighter against him until your chests are pressed together.

And that tongue. That tongue of his that leaves no room for argument, quickly shutting down any attempts of yours to overtake him. He’s graceful about it too, one nudge enough to convince you he’s got this, he’ll take care of you. You whimper, a sound Jungkook swallows before he’s biting down on your lower lip.

When he pulls away, his lips are red and glossy, and you wonder if yours are too. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he sighs, gazing at you like he can’t believe you’re there in front of him.

Before you can say anything else, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck to brush kisses over your skin. “Let me eat you out,” he begs, but his voice is so silky and smooth that it doesn’t sound so much as a plea as much as it does a suggestion. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you jump in his hold.

It’s at this moment where the sudden realization hits you, the feeling of having the reins yanked out of your hands. You so vividly controlled every aspect of Jungkook just a few moments ago, when you’d had your own mouth on his neck, and carefully coaxed him into some sex.

But it seems Jeon Jungkook isn’t as soft or as pliable as you had dubbed him to be, and if the way he’s begun subtly rolling your hips into his crotch is any sign, he certainly wasn’t the submissive type either. Which leaves you wondering, exactly what type of person was Jungkook in bed?

Well, you had all night to figure that out.

“Hey,” he whines suddenly, ripping you out of your thoughts. You glance down at him, registering the bored set of his eyes and the unimpressed quirk of his lips. “Pay attention to me.”

You blink, lips twitching. You can barely muffle the giggle that tears itself from your throat, leaning your forehead on his shoulder as your body shakes at his suddenly childish words. Jungkook chuckles too, as if suddenly realizing how out of place his own statement was. “Sorry,” he smiles, cheeks pleasantly rosy and you can’t even stop yourself from kissing him silly.

Jungkook, bless his heart, let’s you rain down a good three kisses on him before he’s pushing you down on the couch beside him. There’s still a slight gleam in his eyes, but the rest of his face schools itself into a hungry expression as he drinks in your body laid out before him. “Let me eat you out?” He asks again, voice but a soft whisper.

You nod, heart beating loudly in your chest as he shuffles down until he can press a kiss to the tops of your thighs. He hasn’t even done anything that intense yet, but you already feel the muscles in your leg ready to spasm just from his proximity.

He’s mouthing at your skin, nudging your legs apart, and you, usually so confident in your sexuality, can’t find the courage to look at him as he so lovingly carries out his ministrations.

As if sensing your sudden bout of shyness (you! shy! Doyeon was gonna tease you about this for the rest of your life once you recapped this for her), he places a soft kiss just below where the hem of your dress begins, before pulling back and uttering, “this okay?”

You hum in response, face warm from just imagining how good he must look down there, peppering your skin with kisses. Your heart nearly rips itself out of your chest when a strong set of fingers wraps around your wrist suddenly, sliding over and around your hand until he’s tangled them with yours.

At this, you nearly break your neck trying to look at him, only to be met with an amused smile. Jungkook gives your hand a squeeze, and you barely get to appreciate the schoolgirl flood of emotions in your chest, when suddenly his free hand comes out of left field, cupping the back of your knee to push your legs further apart, before gliding across the expanse of your thigh to push your dress up.

If Jungkook holding your hand was enough to make your heart skip a beat, Jungkook pressing a chaste kiss to your panty-clad mound was enough to send you into cardiac arrest. Your leg twitches at the sudden touch, a gasp catching in your throat at the delicate path he kisses over your panties, until he’s flicking his tongue over your clit. “Oh,” you moan, and against your better judgment, your free hand is tangling itself in his silky strands.

Jungkook smirks, what sounds like a tiny chuckle muffled as he continues mouthing along your sex, until your panties are soaked both from your arousal and his saliva. Your little thong stares him in the face, and he groans at the sight, glancing up at you with those wide eyes of his like you’re his entire world. “Can I?”

Jungkook gives your clit one final kiss, before he lets go of your hand, and you can’t help the whine that leaves you upon the lost contact. Jungkook eats it up, pressing a kiss turned smile against your knee as he tugs your underwear down. It coils up as it goes, until he’s pulling a tightly twisted maroon thong off your ankles, and tossing it off somewhere behind him.

If his mouth felt good through your panties, it feels even better without. You mewl when he brushes his lips over your clit, plush lips working your sensitive bundle of nerves, sly tongue occasionally creeping out to toy with you further. “Jungkook,” you cry out, back arching. He licks and slurps likes he’s a starved man, and you're the first meal he’s ever had. You want to sob from how good it feels, his tongue flicking over your bud like he just can’t get enough.

He pulls away to catch your gaze, doesn’t let it go as he runs a lone finger over your slit, coating the digit in your own arousal, before carefully plunging it into your warm, wet heat. “Is this good?” He rasps out, watching your facial expressions carefully as he wiggles his finger deeper into your core, his other hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you still. You moan, feeling like a boneless heap of organs beneath this insanely handsome man who can’t keep his hands off your quivering pussy.

His fingers don’t let up, slowly pulling out before plunging back in. The room fills with disgustingly wet sounds, but that fact drifts to the back of your head the faster his fingers go. Your eyes roll into your head, your body twitching with each press of his fingers.

“Is it good, pretty?” He repeats, and since you’re not looking at him anymore, the sudden lick against your clit has your back arching and your thighs quivering with surprise. “Tell me it’s good, ___,” Jungkook croons, and you nod in a hurry.

“It’s good!” You cry, moaning loudly when he slips another finger into you, scissoring the two inside of you. “It’s so good, Jungkook—y-you’re so good,” you moan, and nearly cry actual tears when he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing down against the most sensitive spot within you.

Jungkook doesn’t let up, continues licking and slurping against your sensitive bud, even when your orgasm hits and you’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t let you go until he feels the warmth coat his fingers, feels the wetness begging to seep out of your plugged pussy. He lets you go then, only to move closer to your hole and replace his fingers with his mouth. There, he carefully catches and collects the cum that trickles out, mouth warm against your trembling body.

Your body quivers with each long drag of his tongue over your sensitive cunt, and you’re about to ask him to stop, when he finally pulls away and pushes himself over you, arms caging you in as he stares down at your withered form. “Kiss,” you manage to gasp out, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question. “Kiss me,” you repeat, and then, thoughtfully, “please.”

Jungkook complies, leans down to connect your mouths in a sweet kiss. You’re blinded by the delicacy of it all, that you in no way see coming the sudden substance that slides down your throat from his own. You choke at the sudden intrusion, belatedly realizing it’s your cum he’s pushing down your throat, the cum he didn’t swallow.

“That’s it, pretty,” Jungkook croons, licking up the residual come that hadn’t made it into your mouth. “See how you taste for me. Isn’t it sweet?” He murmurs, pushing his tongue into your mouth as if he regretted not saving any for himself. It’s the first time you’ve had your own pleasure in your mouth, so you’re not exactly sure how to feel. What you do feel is the overwhelming surge of arousal at seeing Jungkook rave about it and lap it up inside your own mouth.

He kisses you for a few moments, mouth moving languidly along yours. One hand reaches down to rub soothingly at your inner thigh, like he’s coaxing the feeling back into your body after lulling you into one of the most heavenly orgasms of your entire life. You whimper when he bites down on your lower lip, like you’re still too sensitive to reciprocate, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. He lets you go, licks over where he’d bitten like an apology.

After a few minutes of just this, of feeling like the most cherished girl in the entire world, Jungkook finally pulls away and levels you with a dashing smile. “All good?” He asks, hands still trailing up your waist until they’re framing the swell of your breasts, where he gently circles your nipple.

You nod, dazedly staring up at him and it’s at this exact moment that you realize there’s something stiff poking at your hip. You glance down, and Jungkook glances down with you, until you’re both staring at the hard on he’s hiding beneath his jeans. Jungkook chuckles, low and dark by your ear as he experimentally presses it against you.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is untangling itself from around his shoulders and slithering down his front. You cup his erection, his shaky exhale giving you the courage to toy with his belt buckle until it’s undone and you're battling with the button on his jeans instead. You put up a good fight, but in the end the angle is too tight for you to properly undo it, and Jungkook brushes your hands away with a soft kiss to your lips.

He pushes himself off you, and you’re immediately craving the warm press of his body against yours the second he’s gone. “Get that dress off for me, pretty girl,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, rendering you completely speechless as you gawk at his body. Jungkook glances down at you as he goes to undo his pants, a shapely brow raising in your direction and a soft quirk of his lips gesturing for you to do as you’re told.

You spur into action, wiggling the dress up and over your breasts until you’re pulling it over your head and letting it drop beside you on the floor. You’re just in time to see Jungkook push his jeans down his hips, a classic black Calvin Klein underwear band glaring back at you.

The chance to marvel at Jungkook’s thin waist framed by that tight underwear is gone as quickly as it came, and you’re greeted with an even more mouthwatering sight when he pushes the elastic band down, and that big cock you had alluded to springs out of its confines. You groan, subconsciously rolling your hips into the air as you take in the sight of his cock, mushroom tip swollen and flushed. There’s a thick vein that runs along the underside of it, one you only see when Jungkook grasps his dick in his hand and tugs upward like this isn’t his true form, and he can get bigger.

“Ready?” He asks, biting down on his lip as he continues to stroke himself. You nod, wiggling closer to him until the backs of your thighs rest on top of his, knees knocking against his waist. He grants you one more of those kind smiles, before he’s leaning down to press a hand beside your head, the other lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Running his cock over your folds one last time, collecting as much of your cum as he can, he brushes a kiss against your cheekbone before he’s pushing in. You moan, throwing your hands around his neck as he pierces through the initial ring of muscle surrounding your warm heat. “Holy shit,” you choke, mouth dropped open as you pant like a dog against his shoulder. “J-Jungkook,” you cry, legs tightening around his waist the closer his body presses against yours.

Once he’s at the hilt, pelvis flush against you, you can’t help the series of whines and mewls that escape your lips from being so comfortably filled to the brim.

To your surprise, Jungkook is the first to speak. “Fuck,” he groans, breath hot against your ear. He sounds fucked out, once silky voice raspy with need as he grinds his hips against you tentatively. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He huffs, both hands coming down to wrap around your waist, your back arching under the wonderful hands that find themselves squeezing every inch of your back in an effort to pull you closer.

His mouth brushes against yours from this new position, and Jungkook puckers his lips, tongue coming out to lick at your bottom lip. You nearly cry when he finally pulls his hips away, relieves his cock from your tight heat before surging back in. “Wanted this from the moment you walked in, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Jungkook grunts, repeats the same motion until he’s picked up a steady pace of pushing and pulling, each roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy crawling up your spine.

You nod, eyes screwed shut as pleasure warms every inch of your body. It’s even worse to not see, because every sound and every touch is magnified tenfold, until you’re drowning in sensations. Jungkook’s choked groans, the slide of his hips, they all become too much too quickly and you’re choking back a sob.

“Fuck,” he groans, glancing down at your withered form like an animal as he picks up his pace. His hold on you tightens, never letting your body move away from him and he begins jack hammering in his thrusts, swallowing your cries with his lips. “Had me thinking you were a nice girl,” he huffs, and you wonder if he knows how tightly he’s holding you, how this grip will most likely leave you with fingerprint bruises tomorrow morning. But then again, you don’t care. All you care about is Jungkook’s voice and his body, guiding you toward completion. “But all you wanted was a quick fuck.”

You steel yourself to look at him again, and when your eyes finally open and focus, you’re wishing you hadn’t because Jungkook looks so hot over you. His pretty eyes, the ones that had led you into a false sense of comfort throughout the night and tricked you into believing he would be easy to bend to your every whim, are hard now. “Isn’t that right, doll?” He spits, and you whine when he punctuates this question with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips. His balls slap against your ass, and you squirm beneath him as you begin to feel the beginnings of an orgasm build in your core.

“I-I thought—“ you stammer, tone pitched from the way he jostles you with every thrust he gives. “Y-You wanted that,” you weekly defend, canting your hips down in a feeble attempt to progress this along.

He snorts, captures your lips in a rushed kiss where he wastes no time snaking his tongue inside your mouth. His saliva trickles into your mouth, and you whine as he purposefully lets it happen, pulls away just the slightest to pucker his lips and let a thick trail of spit fall straight into your open mouth. Satisfied with his little stunt, he rams his cock against you once more.

“If you wanted a quick fuck,” he says, nearly loses himself in your pussy, “you came to the wrong guy, sweetheart.”

You’re too caught up in the nice drag of his cock against your pussy, the tip of his cock stopping him from ever pulling out completely, that it takes you a second to process his words. “H-Huh?” You choke, teary eyes flickering across his face wildly as if the answer will be right in plain sight.

But all you’re met with is the soft pull of his lips as he flashes you a smirk, pearly white teeth tugging at the pink flesh, as he levels you with a glare of his own. Before you can question him further, he’s letting go of your waist to hike your knees into the crook of his elbows, his pouty lips growing further away as he leans back.

This shift has his cock nudging up, rubbing against the hood of your clit where a bundle of nerves he’d only briefly brushed before sits. You shriek in pleasure, writhing beneath him as the sudden sensation hits you full force. “Jungkook!” You sob, his hips slowing to a grind as he watches your face crumble beneath him.

“You like that?” He murmurs, rutting his hips against you shallowly. The change of pace, the rabid piston of his hips slowing to this, has your body melting into his touch. You barely manage a nod, eyes fluttering open and shut as his hips move sensually against you.

His cock brushes against that sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, and you’re a mewling, puddle of emotion by the third thrust. “Pretty girl,” he hums, letting go of one leg to place a hand above your mound, thumb circling your clit until you’re trembling beneath him. “Did you think I would fuck you and kick you out?” He husks, watching your body like he’s a lion and you’re his prey.

Your brain is far from comprehending anything at this point, reduced to a mere mass of nothingness as he continues moving against you, fingers rubbing your clit in all the right ways.

“Well, you were wrong about that, doll,” he huffs, and you’re blessed with the sight of his head lolling back as he loses himself in the tight grip of your pussy, skin glistening with sweat, trailing from behind his ear and over his neck, until you’re watching a pearl roll over his collarbones. “I don’t do that,” he informs you, and he pinches your clit between two fingers, hard enough that you almost miss his next words as you moan. “No, baby, I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he spits, and you whimper at his words. Finally, he lets go of your knees, right as you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and you moan out in protest as he ducks down to cage you between his arms again.

“Please,” you beg, voice hoarse as his hips slowly return to their pace from before. He’s still not pulling out as much, keeping his thrusts shallow as he kisses a trail up your neck and over your jaw.

“Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever want to leave, pretty,” he says, kisses the corner of your mouth as his hips pick up pace. You wanna cry, feeling so warm and cherished in his arms, his voice telling you how good you’re doing as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens until you’re begging him for more. “Do you want that?”

“Yes! Yes!” You sob, rolling your hips against his like a madman as you chase your high.

Jungkook hums, smile smushed against your lips as he watches you desperately writhing beneath him. “Yeah? You want that?” You nod, mewls swallowed by his kisses. “Then cum for me, pretty girl.”

You whimper, just as he bucks into you once more, and suddenly you’re falling apart. It starts in your lower back, the ecstasy climbing it’s way through your body until you’re quivering and sobbing in his embrace, muffling your sounds against his shoulder. The muscles in your entire body tighten painfully, until suddenly a wave of contentment washes over you, and you’re too weak to even hold onto him anymore, arms flopping back onto the couch cushions beneath you.

The whole time, Jungkook mutters encouragement against your jaw, keeps his thrusts short but quick, guiding you through your orgasm. When you’re done, he presses an open mouthed kiss beneath your ear, pulling away to look at your boneless frame beneath him.

A few pistons of his hips later, and Jungkook is coming inside of you, cum coating your walls as he hammers his way through his orgasm. He pulls out when he’s done, and you instantly feel your mixed arousal drip out between your thighs.

Woozy from the wine and the two orgasms, you fall asleep soon after.

——

“Good morning,” you murmur, standing at the doorway leading into the kitchen, an area you’d only been able to find after stumbling around the upstairs of the house in confusion.

Jungkook whirls around, wide eyes taking in your appearance. You clutch at the hem of the big t-shirt you’d pulled on, the only article of clothing you saw that was thrown over a chair in a bedroom you didn’t dare snoop around. “Morning,” he exhales, calculating gaze never leaving you as you tiptoe over to him by the counter.

He doesn’t say more, spluttering into action when you peek over his shoulder to see what he’s up to. “What’re you making?” You inquire, and his hands begin fidgeting with the knife.

“Oh, um,” he stutters, and perhaps he’s overly aware of your presence so close beside him, because he suddenly doesn’t remember how he’s supposed to cut an avocado. Cute, you think. “Just, um, toast with avocado spread…”

You hum. After a moment, it seems Jungkook is able to quell his nerves, and he carefully slices the avocado open, spreading its innards across the toast. He hands you the first piece, which you take after masking your own surprise, and soon after he’s turning away from the counter as the two of you eat in silence.

After a few thoughtful munches of bread, you speak. “Thanks for carrying me to bed,” you say, refusing to look at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, almost a little too fast and you barely bite down a grin as he rambles on. “Wasn’t gonna leave you on the couch, especially not when you were so tired after… ah, yeah.”

It’s the reserved way he carries himself that gives you the balls to look at him. His ears are flushed adorably red, like when you were at dinner last night talking about his job, and all you wanna do is pinch his cheeks. “Yeah,” you agree, and then add with an air of faux shyness, “you were really cool last night.”

It’s the little devil in you begging to jump out, curious to see how far you can push Jungkook before he shifts into that suave version of himself from last night, and you would feel bad had the corner of his lips not tilted up in amusement.

He chokes out a laugh, mutters a “yeah?” and you don’t stop yourself when you jump into his arms and kiss that avocado spread right off his lips.

——

On Tuesday afternoon, Kim Namjoon is in the midst of delivering another sermon-like speech on the importance of utilizing your student ID when visiting any of the Starbucks within a two mile radius of your school, when you spot a chestnut head of hair from the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, Joon! My ride's here!” You yelp, shoving your notebook into your bag as you stumble over yourself in your haste to leave.

Namjoon blinks. “Huh? I thought you lived on campus?”

You nod, that giddy feeling starting up in your chest as he comes closer to where you and Namjoon have taken up residence on a table in the commons for your weekly meeting, and by the time he reaches the table Namjoon is still in the midst of questioning you.

“Jungkook,” You say, all dreamily and dazed, and you know this because Doyeon caught you with this same exact look on your face after he dropped you off at the dorms Sunday afternoon.

Namjoon startles. “What the f—“

“Hi,” Jungkook beams, leans down to brush a kiss against your cheek, which only serves to make you even more ditzy and dumb in the face of this handsome man. “Oh, hey, hyung.”

“What’re you doi—“

“All set?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring whatever his beloved senior was saying in favor of taking your bag off your shoulders. You nod, have to swallow a giggle down when he takes your hand in his. “Bye, hyung.”

“Bye, Joon!” You barely remember to throw over your shoulder, too busy wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm to hear Namjoon blabber in shock. 

“Kids these days,” he huffs.

[ part 2 ; hulu & woohoo ]

[giorno-plays-piano]

Crimson Gods

Pairing: vampire!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: non-con, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of death and suicidal thoughts, allusion to breeding.

Words: 2362.

Summary: Living in the world where most lands are governed by the Noble, ancient vampires who shed human blood simply for their own amusement, you try leading a quiet and secluded life along with your mother. Sadly, you aren’t prepared when a vampire comes to your town.

P.S. When I was younger, I really, really loved Vampire Hunter D. I watched the movie again yesterday, and here’s the result ahahah. 

______________

It was way past midnight, but you couldn't force yourself to sleep, tossing and turning in your comfy bed while thinking of your travel tomorrow. You were supposed to leave the town for the first time in years to visit your grandmother who lived in the Northern Frontier Sector, and now you dreamt of how you were going to embrace her, kiss her cheeks despite her scolding you for not behaving properly in public. You hadn't seen her in 7 years. After the incident, you had never even once left the town, and your grandmother could hardly travel so far due to her age. Of course, you kept exchanging letters, but how could a cold letter, though written with great respect, replace a live communication?

While you kept wondering how your encounter would go, all of a sudden it felt cold under your cozy cotton blanket, and you reluctantly got up to take a huge comforter out of your heavy wooden chest. Why was it freezing tonight even with the windows closed? You were just in the middle of September. To be honest, you hardly remembered the last time the weather was so bad as you wrapped a comforter around your trembling shoulders, thinking whether you have to take your winter nightgown instead of light muslin one you were wearing now.

Throwing a glance at your window, you saw the frosted panes and furrowed your brows, refusing to believe it. Dear Lord, you lived in the Western Frontier Sector, not far to the North! Was it really going to snow out of nowhere tonight? As you moved closer to look at an empty street, you realized that a huge cross on top of a building on the other side started crumpling with a disgusting sound as if it were made of paper, not pure silver to protect citizens from the creatures of the night. Several crosses on the buildings down the street had been destroyed, too. Quickly, you looked down only to find the flower beds withering within seconds despite your beautiful roses blooming just a couple of hours ago. Now they all turned black.

You stilled on the spot, unable to believe your eyes and covering your ears from that horrifying noise. You had only seen something like that once, and it was the time when most villagers had already been dead, turned into beasts without a soul who craved for blood as much as their masters did. That night you had lost your beloved father as you fled your house in a rush, just a little child back then, and, once you arrived in the town, had never even once left your new home.

The crumpled crosses, dead flowers and a sudden temperature drop could mean only one thing: a vampire had come to the town. It wasn't some upyr, oh no, it was one of the Nobles, maybe even an Elder if you were unlucky.

Dear Lord, what a Noble wanted in a peaceful town like this? There were neither treasures nor mechanisms of the ancient, nothing that could potentially interest a Noble. Except that they might be simply eager to shed human blood for their own amusement...

Before you screamed at the top of your voice to wake up everyone around, you heard the sound of a large mirror in your room breaking, and then felt somebody's strong grip on your throat despite no one being in front of you. The world turned black before you uttered a single word.

_______________

Moving a heavy crimson curtain a bit so you could look out the window, you gasped, watching the corn fields far beneath looking like neat pieces of cloth. The view was incredible! You had never seen anything like this before, though you certainly didn't remember travelling in such fine carriage ever before either. It was truly stunning, made of black steel, shining in the sunlight as if it only been made yesterday. Steven laughed when you said it out loud, explaining that this carriage had been more than a century old. Apparently, the Nobility's carriages were miraculous since you couldn't find even a single scratch on the surface.

"Be careful, sweetheart." The man behind your back said, gently bringing you closer to him and further from the window, curtain falling back and hiding the two of you from the outside world. "Night does not fall yet."

"Forgive me my curiosity. I have never seen anything as magnificent." You smiled sheepishly at the handsome blonde-haired, blue-eyed man in a long black cape with red lining.

He let out a low chuckle, taking your hand and kissing it briefly while you forgot how to breathe for a second, deeply embarrassing by such outpouring display of affection. You lead a rather quiet secluded life in the town, pretty much never being around men of your age: your mother was going to choose a respectable husband for you herself, so you never worried about it before. Now, however, you felt ashamed for being so close to a man despite loving him dearly. Oh, what would your mother say if she saw you now? Wouldn't she be worried? Would she approve of your marriage to a No-

You blinked as you stared at the handsome man's pale face, feeling all your worries fading away. As long as you stayed with the love of your life, nothing else mattered, right?

"If that is what you wish, we will travel by air a lot more right after I present you at Western Frontier Court, sweetheart." His deep, silky voice made you let out a nervous chuckle as you felt your cheeks growing hot. "My, aren't you adorable?"

"Please, Steven, stop it!" You furrowed your brows as he grinned at you, baring his sharp fangs you paid no attention to. "I cannot believe I am getting married to you so soon. It feels... strange. A little unsettling."

"And why is that?" There was some wariness to his voice.

"It's just... I have never imagined myself being married to anyone. Surely, I thought of having a family at some point, but it was so distant. I have never even pictured myself close to a man, let alone a High Lord like you." You admitted honestly, biting your lower lip and averting his gaze. "You have never been married before, too, have you? Aren't you frightened even the slightest bit?"

"A little." He answered too soon, yet you disregarded it as well. "But I have no doubts we will make a good couple, sweetheart. I will cherish you like no other man ever would."

Embarrassed to the point your face was on fire, you decided to drop it, not knowing how a nobleman like Steven Grant Rogers could have an audacity to say such things. He was completely shameless! You hoped he was going to be more reserved while presenting you at court; you pictured your grandmother fainting if she heard him speaking like now.

What was Western Frontier Court like? You had never been there, not than any human ever could: as far as you knew, not even all vampires could serve the Nobility living in the high castle surrounded by mountains. You heard its peaks were covered with snow all year round.

"Have the king ever visited your castle?" You suddenly asked, back to your curious self.

Steven's face became even paler. "He did on several occasions, but it was a long time ago way before I was even born. I have only seen him once, and I do not think I will ever forget this encounter."

"Oh, is he as frightening as the legends say?"

"You cannot describe it with words, sweetheart. But do not be worried, he had been asleep for more than a thousand years now, and he surely won't wake up just to attend some Noble's marriage." A faint smile twisted Steven's lips as he drop a soft kiss to your forehead. "Actually, please do not refer to him as a king. The Nobles call him the Great One."

"Oh, I see. Thank you." Nodding, you turned your face back to the window covered by a crimson curtain, biting your lip again. "Can I watch the sunset a little? I won't be long, I promise."

"As you wish, sweetheart. Please come back to me once you are done, it is going to be a long night."

Gesturing to the large black coffin laying in the middle of your carriage, the man brushed his cold soft lips against your cheek and got up from his seat, smiling at you watching him. You remembered being very unhappy once you learnt there was only one coffin: you had never thought you would lay close to your betrothed with your head on his chest before your marriage. How terribly bold it was of Steven to make you sleep so close to him! However, you were content he had never even once tried touching you inappropriately, always treating you with respect: he said he admired your purity and innocence while not many Noble women were bothered by them.

Once he got inside the coffin, you lifted the curtain again, squinted as rays of bright light pierced the darkness of the carriage. Oh, how incredibly beautiful was the sunset in front of you. You had seldom seen such lovely sight as this. Would you miss the sun once you reach the high castle? You surely would, you thought. Hopefully, your betrothed would keep his promise to travel with you, and when he fell asleep during the day, you would walk in daylight all by yourself.

As you kept staring at the bright sky coloured in orange and pink, all of a sudden you thought why did you have to live in the high castle with Steven while your home was far away from the white mountains, in a little human town where you spent the last several years. Oh, right, you were engaged to the Overseer of the Western Frontier Sector, the highest Noble guarding the lands where you were born and raised. He was a peerless warrior and a fierce leader, a vampire respected by other Nobles.

A vampire? Steven was a vampire? Why would you be engaged to a vampire, let alone the Noble? The Overseer of the lands you were born and raised, the one who had taken advantage of those poor humans living in the Western Frontier Sector and let other Nobles ravage your cities and villages, destroying everything on their way.

You were engaged to the vampire overlord, a ruthless, cold-blooded being who could wipe out every human in these lands if he desired so. No, he was not your betrothed, the man you promised to marry willingly. He was the one who kidnapped you from your own bed at night, casting some spell over you to make you forget who you were.

You clamped a hand around your mouth to stop the pathetic sounds you were making as you cried, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Dear Lord, why was the Overseeker doing it to you? What could he gain from this cruel game? Seemingly nothing, except for having some fun with a silly human girl. But that what the Nobles were doing once they got bored, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction, you thought, happy you were given a chance to escape - even if it cost you your own life, it was still for the better.

"The Overseeker of the Southern Frontier Sector did, not that I expect you to know. Now, please, come back here. You had enough time watching the sunset."

You couldn't believe your eyes, watching him say it with such confidence. Was he willing to keep playing his twisted game even when his sweet facade fell?

"Why do you pretend as if my death matters to you? You will kill me soon anyway. Does it bring you so much pleasure to murder one more pathetic human?"

"I won't kill you, sweetheart. It has never been my intention."

There was something to his voice, some emotion you struggled to describe that made you feel bitter and regretful. Was it all truly going to end like this? You were so young, supposed to have your whole life ahead of you, now faced with a choice to either let a vampire consume you or jump out the carriage and fell to your death.

"Than what was it? I assume you have been living for more than thousands of years. Aren't you a little too old for playing these games still?" You chocked on a sob, barely containing your tears as you trembled in front of the Overseeker.

"I am not playing a game." He admitted tiredly, suddenly taking the black glove off his hand. "All I wish for is a loving wife who can bear my children and bring peace to my lands. I have been wandering human cities for a great while before I found you, strong enough to carry a dampiel after a few genetic enhancements. Please, do not struggle. I have not come to make you suffer eternal torment."

For a couple of seconds you stared at him with your mouth slightly open, unable to utter a single word. You had expected the vampire to say anything but this. Was it still a game? Now you hoped it was because even being drained till the last drop of blood was better than carrying a dampiel, a child of both vampire and human, feared and loathed greatly by both races. When you recovered, however, you quickly turned the door handle and pushed the door, willing to wait no longer.

But the door did not give to your pressure. To your horror, it stayed still as if it were a solid piece of steel.

Feeling the iron grip of the Overseeker's fingers on you shoulder, you yelped as he dragged you back to his coffin with force, closing the lid before you had a chance to escape. The next second his fingers were on your neck, suffocating you before you lost consciousness just like the night when Steven Grant Rogers kidnapped his human beloved.

______________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @lovelydarkdaydream @ninefuckingoneone @jaysayey @megzdoodle​

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Guilt

Sam Winchester x Reader (x Dean Winchester, sort of?) 

Word Count: 1660 what is wrong with me why can’t I drabble

Warnings: Oh boy this one is naughty. Lust curse and the consent issues that come with the territory. Soulless Sam being kind of a dick, because that’s what he does. Filthy smut, twisty emotions, and some degradation-flavored dirty talk. 

A/N: @littlegreenplasticsoldier​: “With my remaining 5% battery, may I pls request a Dean/Sam/reader threesome but one of them is remote in some way (left a note/on the phone/gave instructions). Xo” 

This is... something like that, anyway. Kinda obsessed with the prompt, kinda want to expand on this, definitely could’ve written another couple thousand words here. 

ANYWAY. Enjoy. 

“Yeah, Dean, it’s bad,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “Like, she’s about to go sit on a fencepost bad.”

I squirmed and fisted my hands in the cheap motel duvet. Sam looked me up and down, smirking. It was the feral, sharp smile that I’d gotten a little too used to since his soul went M.I.A; he looked like he was mentally undressing me, and it usually pissed me off, but in that moment I couldn’t deny how much I liked it. 

“Look, dude, I know this is the sort of thing I shouldn’t be comfortable saying, but… there’s only one option here.” He paused again, wrinkling his nose expressively. “Quit the prim and proper shit, Dean, just let me get her off.” 

He listened for a minute while I waited, rubbing my thighs together, fighting the animalistic urge to spread my legs and beg. It was only getting worse; I could feel the curse clawing at my insides, winding me up with every labored breath. 

“Don’t worry, Dean, I got this,” Sam said into the phone. “You can clutch your pearls later. Yeah, okay. Bye.” 

He strode over and passed me the phone before matter-of-factly popping the button of his jeans, and if it was physically possible for me to blush hotter, I would’ve. As it was, my entire body felt like a goddamn wildfire. 

“Hey, princess,” Dean said gruffly. I closed my eyes, basking in the warm familiar sound of his voice. “You okay with this? It’s just… I think it’ll be a good six hours, no matter how many fuckin’ traffic laws I break.” 

I still had my eyes squeezed shut, but I could feel the mattress dip as Sam sat down on the bed. 

“Can’t wait that long,” I whispered. “Can’t… fuck, Dean, I miss you so much.” 

“Yeah, you have no idea. This is so fuckin’...” He huffed out a breath. 

“Can you just… can you just talk to me for a minute?” I asked. 

I tried to wedge the cell phone between my shoulder and my ear as I fumbled with the button of my jeans. I heard a low chuckle and when I opened my eyes Sam was staring down at me, amused and unapologetic and totally naked. He batted my hands away and got my zipper down, and I closed my eyes again, listening to the staticky rush of Dean’s sigh, trying not to think about who was pulling my jeans off and settling between my legs. I still had my t-shirt on, and it felt like thick itchy wool on my oversensitized skin, but I couldn’t stand the idea of being stripped bare. 

“You gonna imagine it’s me?” Dean asked, low and growly and possessive.  

“Y — yeah.” I made a squeaky, strangled noise as Sam slid two fingers up into me without warning, but then I groaned at the tingling full-body shiver of relief, my voice loud and obscene before I bit down on the fleshy part of my palm in an effort to hold back. 

Sam started fucking me lazily with his fingers, thumb rubbing my clit every time he buried them in me, and I was trembling already, rocking my hips, trying to hold back a slutty moan. 

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Dean said roughly. 

“Yeah,” I whined, arching my back and seeing sparks behind my eyelids. “I — nnnnnnhhhh, fuck, Dean, I — I’m so close, this is crazy, I want — I wish it was you. I’m sorry, I can’t — can’t help it.” 

“Not your fault. Do whatever you gotta do, okay?” 

“‘Kay,” I breathed. 

“‘You gonna come for me? Let me hear you.” 

For a second I hovered on the brink, trembling and straining. 

Then I felt Sam shift, his tongue a soft smooth flicker as it curled between his fingers to taste me. I bit my lip so hard that tears stung my eyes.  

“You’re dripping all over the sheets,” Sam said, so quiet that I was sure Dean wouldn’t be able to hear it over my harsh breathing. “Making such a mess… you’ll be a mess, too, by the time I’m done with you.” 

I groaned and arched up, coming with the sort of blackout intensity that felt like a free-fall, squeezing around Sam’s fingers over and over. 

There was a moment of breathtaking relief, as it started to fade. For a split-second I thought that was it; maybe that was enough. Then Sam’s calloused fingers dragged against something hot-sweet-sharp inside me, and that feverish desire was sparking up again, rising fast. I collected myself just enough to bring the phone to my ear. 

“I’m gonna hit the road,” Dean was saying, and I knew he was trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice was grim and unhappy. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? Love you.” 

“Love you, Dean,” I breathed. 

“Do what you need to do,” he echoed. 

I hung up, tossing the phone away like it had burned me, and let out a frustrated groan. Sam pulled away so that I could sit up and wrestle with my shirt. I felt so fucking empty, and the need to be touched was immediate and overwhelming. 

“Jesus,” Sam muttered. “This is gonna be a thing for the two of you, huh?” 

I let out a strangled laugh, struggling with my bra. “You’re his brother. You don’t think this is a little fucked-up?” 

“Not really,” he said casually. As soon as I was naked he was crawling up my body, slinking gracefully, caging me in with all that lithe rippling muscle and smooth skin, and for a moment I just stared up at him, incapable of logic or guilt or anything other than want. He hovered over me, smirking. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I accused, clenching around nothing and trying not to look down his body. 

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since I met you,” he said bluntly. “Are you really going to pretend you haven’t imagined it?” 

I shook my head stubbornly. “I’m in love with Dean.” 

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” he retorted. 

My heart was racing. Holding eye contact felt like having my finger in an electrical socket. “God, you can’t be — you’re not Sam. You’re not.”  

He rolled his eyes. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself.” 

“Sam wouldn’t —” I choked out, but I couldn’t take it and I couldn’t lie any more. I couldn’t hold on to coherent thought with the desperate roaring heat under my skin, like some fierce primal scream was drowning out everything else in my head. 

I grabbed at his shoulders, dragging him down against me and hooking my legs around his waist, trying to rub myself against him. He chuckled and rolled his hips, letting me feel the thick length of his cock where it was trapped against my lower belly, and I whined shamelessly, feeling like I could come if he so much as brushed against my clit the right way. 

“If you’re so sure I’m not Sam, then what’s the problem?” he pointed out calmly. “One less thing to get hung up on, if I’m not his brother.” 

And I was pretty sure there was a problem with that logic, because I shouldn’t be this wet and eager for anyone else, but I was done arguing. 

“Fuck me,” I snapped. “C’mon, just — I can’t, feel like I’m losing my fucking mind, just —” I reached down between us, shaky and uncoordinated, trying to get him inside me without putting any space between our bodies. 

He didn’t bother teasing anymore, just lined up, rubbing the head of his cock against my slick cunt, pressing in and sinking down. The sharp painful stretch of it registered along with the too-full toe-curling pleasure, splitting me open inch by inch until I wasn’t sure I could take any more. Then he snapped his hips forward the last inch, burying himself in me completely with this grinding, twisting thrust, too fucking much. 

“This isn’t how Dean fucks you, is it?” he asked, right up against my ear, hips circling, and for a moment the words didn’t make sense. 

I opened my mouth to tell him to stop talking, dimly aware that the mention of his brother should’ve made me uncomfortable, but instead what came out was a needy, blissed-out moan.

“Does that feel good?” 

“Yeah,” I gasped.  

“So stop wasting time thinking about Dean,” Sam snarled. 

“Don’t.” 

“Best thing about not having a soul? Not wasting time feeling guilty for taking what I want.” He punctuated the last word with a vicious twist of his hips, and electricity lanced up my spine. “Right now you just want someone to hold you down and fuck you until you can’t take it any more. You want it rough and hard and fucking filthy, and you’re glad Dean isn’t here to see you begging like a whore… aren’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

“You’re glad it’s me.” 

I knew it was fucked up and twisted and humiliating. I should’ve denied it. 

“Am I wrong?” he growled. “Look at me.” 

I tried to focus through the sting of sweat and the blurry haze of endorphins. His lip curled, contemptuous, and there was a hard flinty glitter in his eyes, but he still looked so much like Sam that I forgot how to breathe. Sizzling pressure was rising in my core, building rapidly. I couldn’t think straight. 

“You’re… you’re not wrong,” I stammered. “Please. Please don’t stop. Feels so good, just — Sam.” I caught a glimpse of his fierce, satisfied smile. 

“Are you going to waste time feeling guilty?” he murmured, voice cracking. “Or are you going to take what you want?” 

Enough. 

I let out a low, desperate groan before surging up to kiss him, and he bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

“You know what I want,” I whispered. “Shut the fuck up and give it to me.” 

I might not ever get the chance to do this again, after all. Might as well enjoy it while I could. 

[jenomark]

Part 6: WinWin, The Catch

➔Pairing:  WinWin x Reader (Female)  ➔Other Members/ Characters: Lucas, Ten, Hendery, Xiaojun,  Kun, & YangYang ➔Genre: Smut (+ angst, + fluff, + plot) ➔Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, yelling, cursing ➔Word count: 6,455

➔Summary: You don’t know what you do. You don’t even know who you are. Some would call you a whore. Some would refer to you as a sex worker. All of your clients would say you’re damn good at your job.

MASTERLIST

FOUR MONTHS LATER

  Life is a whirlwind of many things: emotions, disappointment, new beginnings, and things too complicated to understand. It’s years of fuck-ups, of getting lost in the shit that hurts you, and finding out that sometimes the truth should stay buried. We’re meant to live life like it’s the last one we have, but a lot of us can’t even choose what to eat for dinner. Maybe that’s the joy in living, in just being. Maybe we should all be proud of being fuck-ups, instead of trying to be something we’re not.

“I don’t think life can get any sweeter than this.” WinWin said. 

 You tapped your glass against his, the frozen, pineapple liquid spilling down the sides. The taste of the drink is refreshing and so sweet it makes your teeth hurt, but you don’t care. You’re sitting on the beach in a plastic chair, the sun dipping into the ocean, and the company of a man you enjoy right next to you. Life, through its ups and downs, was finally looking up.

“I don’t want to go home.” you said. “Do you think people at work even miss me?”

WinWin laughed quietly, just a little wind through his nose. “I would miss you.”

“I bet you would.”

  Since coming to the island for the past week, you and WinWin left the hotel room many times. You went snorkeling, exploring different parts of the culture, ate gourmet dinners, and got massages by professionals who avoided your sunburnt shoulders. On the days when you couldn’t seem to make it out of the door, you both fucked on the beautiful white linen bed, sometimes with the sliding door open, and every time without any inhibition. 

“I miss you every day.” he said. He leaned over to kiss you, the taste of the drink on the edge of his lips. 

  When he brought out his phone to text his family back home, you let your eyes gape openly at his body. He was so pretty on the eyes, every muscle put to good use. You didn’t regret the order of the way things happened to fall together, just that you hadn’t met him sooner. It seemed lifetimes ago that you were hitting him up for one last bang of the century. You smiled at the memory, letting it salivate in your mind until he was done texting.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

  WinWin took your hand, which was something he did whenever he was feeling affectionate. You liked the attention, the way he put his phone down and focused on answering your question. “My family are asking what time our flight home is tomorrow. And if I’ll stop by on the way back to my house.”

“Did you tell them yes?” you asked. “I miss your mother. She’s just the face I feel I need to see.”

“You don’t know how happy that makes me feel.”

  He leaned over and kissed you again. There was a cheeky look in his eyes, as if asking how easy it would be for you to straddle him on the beach chair and take his cock right there. Neither of you were sex fiends during your regular life back home, but vacation time meant making time for your relationship. 

  Luckily for the public, you were both interrupted by the waiter asking if you’d like a bite to eat. After declining, you both gathered up your things and practically ran back to the hotel for a night of fun and pleasure.

  It wasn’t love, exactly. You would be the first to admit that love was hardly a driving force in your life. At first, though lust was an option, you ruled it out fairly early. Your entrance into WinWin’s life was less about pleasing someone sexually and more about pleasing yourself. You stayed around him because he was different. Deep down, you hoped it wasn’t because he was a culmination of all the boys in your life- Ten and his safety, Hendery and his optimism, Xiaojun and his hunger for life, Kun and his stability, and YangYang’s wholesome friendship. He even had Lucas’ taste for laughter and fun. 

 For a while, you wanted it to be love. You wanted love at first sight to be a  real thing so badly. You saw WinWin, you knew he was the one, and you fucked him real good. You chose to let it be more. Still, months later, you chose to keep the relationship because there was always the possibility that you were both lovable. You could be normal, even get the 9-to-5 job and stop fucking people for money. It could happen for you. 

 The car ride home from the airport felt a little off. Being away from the ocean made you feel stale. You didn’t know how to face normalcy again, how to ease your way back into a city that held so many awful memories. But WinWin held onto you like he could solve everything, made you feel like you could be the adult you needed all your life. 

“We’re here.” WinWin said as the car pulled up to his mother’s house.

 She didn’t know her son paid for someone like you, or that he was the last one ever. As far as she knows, he met you out with friends, and the rest was history. She didn’t know about your past, didn’t seem interested in it either. She was the kind of woman that judged no one, that welcomed everyone through her door with a hug and a feast fit for kings. It was far removed from the family you had grown up with.

“You both look sun-kissed and beautiful.” she said, hugging you, and then tugging on the edge of WinWin’s ear. “ Welcome home. I made you a nice home cooked meal. I know it’s not as good as the 5 star food you’ve been eating for the past week.”

“Mom, I’m sure it’s delicious.” WinWin said. “And I am starving.”

“Me too.” you said. “It’s really nice for you to cook for us. I feel so thankful.”

 Being with WinWin’s family made you feel safer than you’d ever felt. They truly welcomed you into the fold. It was easy to imagine the rest of your life like this: taking vacations, coming back to meals cooked by a mother who cares, and being lovingly accepted into another family like you were one of their own. Your past could easily melt away, along with any of the bad taste that got stuck in your mouth.

  You felt yourself getting misty-eyed. Thankfully, WinWin’s mother didn’t notice. She walked away to tend to her meal, leaving both of you in her living room. Unfortunately for you, WinWin was also an attentive boyfriend. He noticed you were on the verge of tears right away. He wiped them away for you, his brown eyes looking concerned.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine. I think I’m just tired and overwhelmed.”

“Do you want to go home?”

“No, no.” you said quickly. “I’m happy to be here.”

  The smile WinWin gave you lit up your soul. He brought you in for a hug, his excitement growing in the childish way he had. You held him tightly, too afraid to let go.

No, it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t not love, either.

  That night, you made love.

  In the beginning of your relationship, all the men before him would pop into your mind. There was the roughness of Lucas, the tenderness of Ten, and the intensity of Hendery. Every so often, you wished WinWin was as good as Xiaojun was at oral. You incorporated the carefree attitude YangYang taught you into your sex life, taking WinWin for a wild spin. You avoided Kun, and every feeling he brought up within you. Every so often, you would dive back into the deep end and meet WinWin, and you would merge all the men together. He would never know, and you’d never ask if he had any inclination. 

  Something changed a few months in. The sex got better, and you were more present. You were with him for the whole time, pressing down on his chest and riding the high that belonged to only him. You fell hard. You two were good for each other, matched up right in all the best ways. He didn’t need help in any department. He was whole and complete, and he made you feel like a goddess. 

 “You’re thinking.” WinWin whispered, kissing your forehead.

 He pushed his cock deep inside of you, the words out of your mouth coming out breathless. “I’m not.”

  “Okay.” he said, giving up before he started.

 He fucked you so well that you both forgot about everything. It was only until you were dreaming that everything came rushing back. You dreamed of the men, of the paradise lost, of WinWin’s mother wishing you were her daughter-in-law.

  Office jobs on a Monday never once seemed glamorous, but it was all you needed to feel ordinary. You stayed at your desk and watched the screensaver on your desktop fade in and out, like a heartbeat. Cheek resting against the palm of your hand, you sighed. You waited for lunchtime like the rest of the office girls. You didn’t gossip, didn’t show anyone your new nails. Your desk wasn’t decorated, but you were settled in for a while. The company liked you so much that you moved on from being a temp really quickly, which either made people love you or hate you.

“How was vacation?” a colleague asked. 

  You had become one of those people that shows vacation photos on her phone. There was WinWin laying on the beach, his toned stomach covered in sand. There was a photo of you posing by the sign of a restaurant, your arms thrown around him and your leg popped up. You hardly recognized the girl in the photos, though you’d spent 20+ years in her body.

“I wish I were in your shoes.” she said. “Your boyfriend is dreamy.”

“Thank you.” you said. It was hard to keep the amusement out of your voice. You were used to women fawning over him because he was so handsome, but when it was a married women with five kids, it made you hope you’d never be like that. 

“It looked like such a nice little vacay.” she said. “So luxurious. How did you pay for all of that?”

“Savings.” you said.

  Though you weren’t doing sex work anymore, the money from your secret apartment felt like it was never ending. You had sold so many things that reminded you of the men you saw over the years, choosing the money and a better life for yourself. It didn’t bother WinWin that you had more money than him, though he wouldn’t let you buy him a damn thing.

“Lucky.” she said before moving back to her desk.

  Your eyelids were heavy, and the bottom of your feet sore. You dragged your feet through the doorway of your new, modest apartment, and threw your stuff down on the floor. You didn’t check your phone, just sat down on the couch and let your head fall back. You drifted off to sleep and only woke up to a knock on your front door. Picking yourself up, you walked over, swung it open, and screamed when WinWin picked you up and spun you around.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

 He kissed you passionately, letting your body slide down his before he let your feet plant on the floor. You felt breathless, and could tell that your face was hot just from seeing him again. There were days you kind of wanted to share a home with him, to see him every single day. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so taken aback by him every time you saw him in the flesh.

  You didn’t fully get a good look at him until he moved away from you and went over to the fridge for a drink. He was wearing a dark blue suit and his hair was slicked back from his forehead. He looked expensive, and the smell trailing behind him reminded you of the vacation you’d just left.

“What are you all dressed up for?” you asked.

“You and I are invited to a party.”

“A..party?” you asked. “On a Monday night? I’m exhausted. I just had my full day of work after a week of beauty and sunshine. Baby, the last thing I want to do is party.”

  Then, as if everything suddenly made sense, you remembered that your birthday was in a few days. Your mind was whirring. You didn’t want WinWin wasting money on some nice party when he’d put up more than his share for the vacation.

“Please.” he said, pouting. He took a drink from inside the fridge and set it on the counter. “I wouldn’t go without you.” 

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ve seen your closet. You have plenty of dresses.”

“I won’t know anyone there.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t tell you who was going.”

“I’m running out of excuses, aren’t I?” you asked.

  WinWin smiled and came over to hold you. “Yes. I’m not a party animal either, but for some reason, I really want to go to this one. It’s at that nice hotel downtown that was just built. Imagine a night full of cocktails and dancing, coming home and collapsing in my bed. Fun, right?”

  You closed your eyes. When you opened them, you said yes. After all, you didn’t want to ruin a possible surprise. WinWin picked you up and spun you again. ‘Round and ‘round in circles you went.

  The dress you wore was too tight. You felt so bloated in it that, on the car ride over, you kept fidgeting. WinWin calling you beautiful didn’t help, but the sulking definitely did. Arriving at the party made you so nervous that you forgot about the ill-fitting dress. You weren’t ready to be in front of people you loved, if it was a birthday party. You were stressed about who would attend, and who would not. 

“Holy fuck.” you said, looking up at the hotel it was being hosted at.

 In another life, it felt like you had been there before. It was much too swanky for your new taste, but there was something so familiar about the exterior that you couldn’t help but stare at it. The cream of the building and the black marble accents were stunning to look at, even more so than your date.

“We’ll stay no longer than two hours.” he said. “Does that sound good?” 

  You were unsure, but you did agree. He took your hand and led you across the street, the red satin dress you were wearing flying up with the wind. You smoothed your hair down with your free hand and walked through the revolving door with him. Inside, the building was even more gorgeous. It must have cost a pretty penny, and would have taken years to import all of the textures.

“Who invited you here?” you asked. “Someone from work?”

“My cousin.” he said. “ You’ve met him before.”

  You were whisked into a ballroom full of people. It was clear that, by the lack of people you knew, it was not a surprise birthday party for you. It made you a little sad, but you tried not to show it.

 Being among crowds was never fun for you, but feeling his hand on the small of your back relaxed you. You were thinking you could enjoy the night anyway, but WinWin walking away to fetch drinks made the fear creep up your spine again. You sat down at an empty table and scanned the hoards of people dressed in expensive designer clothes, your eyes raking it all in. You assessed that the reason you were so uncomfortable is because the environment reminded you too much of the life you had four months ago.

“Here.” WinWin said, setting your drink down.

  You took a big gulp and set it back down, watching strangely as the condensation from the glass formed a ring on the tablecloth. For a bit, WinWin sat with you and held your hand, his eyes watching people laughing and chatting along.

“I can’t find my cousin. He’s not answering his phone.” he said, not able to peel his eyes from the crowd. 

“Should we go look for him?” you asked.

  There was a weird tension in the pit of your belly. You pushed the drink away and vowed to not drink anymore. You joined WinWin in looking for his cousin, even though you didn’t know which one he was referring to. His family was big, and they all looked so different from each other, but they all had the same cute laugh and love of ordering things online. 

“Let’s dance.” WinWin said, rising to his feet.

  You looked at the hand stretched out before you. He was speaking and moving too quickly. You felt like you were being pulled in every direction. The lights of the ballroom chandeliers were too bright, the air too humid. Still, you took his hand and let him bring you to your feet.The heels were killing you, but they were the only shoe that matched the dress.

“Are you okay?” you asked. “You’re acting really weird. “

“Weird?” he asked. “How?”

“I don’t know.”

  You wiped sweat from your forehead and felt nauseous as he led you both around the floor. It was the first time you wished you were anywhere but with him. Being at home and sleeping sounded much more exciting than the truth of where you were. 

“Can I spin you?” he asked.

  Before you could tell him that he couldn't, WinWin spun you around. You held onto his shoulders and caught your breath. He spun you one more time, your body losing slight control, and then he let you go.

  All you could see were the lights in a blur before they stopped. You were too aware of the arm that had caught you. You looked down at the floor, at your feet crammed into your heels, then you closed your eyes tightly, and opened them again. You looked up and was met with a chest that didn’t belong to WinWin. Clutching the arms tightly, you used the body to bring yourself up all the way.

“Lucas.” you said, your voice shaky. 

 Dressed in a white button down and a light blue suit jacket, Lucas was there. His face was a little slimmer, but the same eyes were looking back at you. They were wide and hard, not a lick of concern in them. For a moment, you were transported back in time. It was where you were supposed to be, with the man you thought you were going to marry. You blinked and started looking for WinWin.

“You like him?” Lucas asked.

  You removed your hands from Lucas’ arms and he dropped them to his sides the same time you did. You looked into his eyes and tried to muster something to say. The last time you saw him, you couldn’t get the right words out. Your storyline was very much unfinished. 

“Does he check all the boxes?” Lucas asked. “Safe. Able to pay. Puts up with your lies and insecurities.” 

“What?”

  You looked over at the right time to see WinWin moving up to your side. You felt relief. You waited for him to berate Lucas for talking to you that way, a hero to save the day. Instead, he held out his hand to Lucas, as if asking him to dance.

“Four months.” WinWin said to him. “I want extra for having to sleep with her so many times.”

  Lucas opened his jacket and took out a wad of bills. He peeled out so many pieces of paper that you lost count of them all. “Here is half. You get the rest of the money in a while.”

  WinWin took the bills without counting them and tucked them into his own jacket. He gave you the tiniest apologetic glance before walking away. Confused, you started to walk after him but was stopped by Lucas' big arm.

“What are you doing?” you asked. “I’m following my boyfriend. Let me go.”

“Your boyfriend?” Lucas asked. “Wow, you really bought it. The con artist gets conned.” 

 Your brain was trying its hardest to make sense of what Lucas was saying. Any minute now, you would wake up from your nap on the couch and you wouldn’t be standing in the middle of a hotel ballroom with your ex-boyfriend. When that didn’t happen, you stormed off across the dance floor, your eyes searching for WinWin. You took out your phone and began texting, but a big paw of a hand snatched the phone from you.

“He won’t text back.” Lucas said.

“Give me that.” you said, swiping at him. “Why are you here? Did you follow us?”

Lucas laughed. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what? You’re a psycho.” you said. “You broke up with me, remember? You left me. Let me live my life. I’m happy.”

  Without your phone, you walked outside, through the revolving door and down the rabbit hole. You could hear Lucas’ heavy  footsteps behind you. When you were out of earshot, he placed his hand on your shoulder gently and spun you around to face him.

“Give me my phone, or I will call the police.” you said, not enough bravado in your voice.

  Lucas handed you the phone, but you yanked it from his hands anyway. There were no messages from WinWin, and nothing of note. You looked for the car you arrived in but it was gone. You swallowed the lump in your dry throat and closed your eyes again.

“Why did you hand him money, and where did he go? What was he talking about?” you asked. It was the question you’d wanted to ask all along but was too afraid to ask.  “Please, nothing snarky. Tell me the truth.”

“The truth? Like you told me the truth?” Lucas asked.

“Lucas, please.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

  You were facing him head on, tears rolling down your face. Everything felt too chaotic, too blinding. Your thoughts were swimming in your mind, each one making no sense from the last. If what you believed to be true was true, you needed to know how it all went down.

“I set you up.” he said. “Sicheng, that’s his real name, was never interested in you. I paid him to like you, to fuck you. “

“He was my client.”

“Wrong.” Lucas said. He moved out of the way so that people could pass by. “I paid him to pursue you. It wasn’t easy, I’ll give you that. I had actually given up hope, but then you came right in at the end.”

“You’re lying to me.”

“I’m not.” Lucas chuckled darkly. “I paid him thousands of dollars. I paid for your vacation. I’m thousands in debt, but hey, who cares. I finally did it.”

“Did what?” you asked, wiping a hot tear from your cheek.

“Humiliated you the way you humiliated me.” he said. “Fucking guys for money behind my back? Why couldn’t you just cheat like normal people? Fuck, I wanted to marry you.”

  It was quiet, the traffic from the sidewalk dying down. You leaned against the side of the building and felt how truly tired your body was. The fire in Lucas’ eyes calmed down a little bit, too.

“I know.” you said quietly. “I saw the ring.”

“Shit, you really fell for everything.” he said. “I planted that ring. I thought that if you believed I was going to propose, you would catch yourself in the lie. I thought you were smarter than me, but tonight proves that theory. You’re not smart at all. You should have seen your face when you saw the house key. ”

“Why would you do this to me?” you screamed, grabbing the attention of someone waiting in traffic.

“You did this to yourself, sweetheart.”

 You turned around and put your arm against the wall, leaning your head down against it. “I don’t understand. WinWin and I are a real couple. I’ve been with his family and his friends. I love him.”

“The family thing wasn’t my idea.” he said. “I had nothing to do with that, but I find it funnier this way. How does it feel being so blind-sided that it’s ruined your life?” 

“Fuck you.”

“No.” he said. “Fuck you. Exactly, how many people have you slept with? Did you get tested before you fucked me?”

  You walked away, walking down the street to God knows where. You groaned when he kept following you, and you stopped in front of a well-lit display window. In the light, you could see how beat your reflection was. The dress was pretty,  but your insides were shining out and they were ugly.

“You thought you could fool me.” Lucas said. “I followed you to some places, you know? Saw all the freaks you were with. That one guy? Hendery? I talked to him, acted like I was a stranger. He was so fucking in love with you that I was jealous. Can you believe that? I was jealous of someone who had you about as much as I did. It’s a real shame what you did to him.”

“Shut up.”

“He thought you would be together forever.” Lucas mocked.

“You don’t know a thing about Hendery.”

“Wrong again.” he said. “I know a lot about men like Hendery. The sad, rejected men that tried to love you. I was one of them.”

  You checked your phone again, your last attempt at hope. All you wanted was to see WinWin’s name pop up, to text you that he was bringing the car around, and that he was going to take you away from the crazy man before you. 

“If you knew....” you began, feeling dejected. “...why did you let it go on for so long?” 

  Lucas seemed to really think about the answer. In the light, he looked so handsome and young. You were reminded of the man he was when you first met him. You felt a little pang in your chest where your heart used to be.

“I guess I wanted to see if you would change, if you would love me.”

“I did love you.”

There was hurt and anger in Lucas’ eyes. “Loved me enough to cheat on me?”

“It was just a job.”

“Was I just a job, too?” he asked. “ I knew about the extra apartment. I really meant nothing to you.”

“This conversation is going nowhere.” you said. “I’m sorry I did that to you. I should have been upfront about who I was and what I was doing with my body. I fucked up, and I fucked your life up. And you, in return, fucked me up for the rest of my life.”

“This isn’t my fault. This is your fault.”

“I don’t care whose fault it is, Lucas.” you said. “You and I were done. We never would have lasted.”

“So, you strung me along to make yourself feel better?” he asked.

“No I-”

“-Like you did with Sicheng.” he said. “I’m not an idiot. I know the ins and outs of everything that happened in the last few months. It’s a cycle. The people you fuck keep you feeling better about yourself long enough for you to move on to a new one. I was just the unfortunate asshole getting caught in the middle.”

“I’m not talking about this right now.”

“And there it is, the denial.” he said. “Look at how you turn away from me when I tell you the truth. All those men and not one of them could ever call you out on your bullshit? Where is the love there, huh? Where are any of them now?”

You threw your hands up into the air. “I don’t know. They’re not here, Lucas. You hate me so much, but you’re the only one here. The last man standing. Congratulations, you did it.”

  A car pulled up to the curb. You texted a friend for a ride, someone you didn’t know quite well. You didn’t have anyone else. While Lucas was talking, you were figuring out how best to run away from him. The knowledge hit you hardest where it hurts. You didn’t think anything could ever be the same again.

“I have to go.” you said. “I can’t be here anymore.”

“Yeah? Just like that?”

You held the car door open. “Yeah. Just like that, Lucas.”

“And you don’t have anything else to say?” he asked.

“I do, actually.” you said. “To those I’ve fucked and fucked over, I’m sorry.”

THREE YEARS LATER- LUCAS

  He stood very still, so still that he could hear the tiny giggling coming from the other room. Lucas smiled to himself and tried to ignore it as best he could. If there was one thing he was good at, it was acting.

“Ready or not, here I come!” he yelled, his voice booming. He loved pulling silly voices. It was something that brought him so much joy. “You better not come out until I find you-u-u-u-u-u.”

  With the heaviest of footsteps, Lucas walked across his house. It was dramatic the way he walked, and it only brought out another tinkle of laughter from the east side of the house. Lucas walked into another room and made fake footsteps like he was walking away.

 There, in the corner, the top of a tiny head peeked out from behind a toy box. As if sensing him, the head poked back down. Lucas fought the urge to laugh. He played dumb and moved around the room, loudly checking behind places no human could hide behind.

“It’s very difficult to find her.” he said. “I wonder if she is in this room.”

 Another giggle, another pull at his heart strings. Before he could move over to the toybox, a little girl ran out from behind it and into his arms. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” she yelled, giggling as her father Lucas scooped her up into his arms. “You found me!” 

  Lucas swung her around and planted kisses all over her heart-shaped face. His happiness was always with her, even when it was hidden. Lucas set his daughter down and knelt down to her level.

“Now,” he said, his face serious. He tried not to laugh as his daughter put on a serious face, too. “Now, we have to find mommy.”

 With her hand in his, they walked through the house to look for the missing puzzle piece of their family. 

THREE YEARS LATER- TEN

“What is love to you?” 

 Ten sat across from his date. There was something in the question that made him cock his head to the side. His smile lit up when the person sitting across from him broke out into a similar smile, a clear embarrassment striking them unannounced. 

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Ten said. “It’s a fair question. Do you have an answer for it?”

“I don’t.” 

“Well, I do.” Ten said.

  It was Ten’s assertiveness that got him the date in the first place. That, and the way he was so open about everything. He didn’t know if the person across from him was his soulmate, or if he even believed in that. Still, it was fun getting to know someone. In a way, it was like getting to know yourself. 

“I think love is everything.” he said. “I think it’s in everything. It’s in the company you keep, in the weather you wish was different. Love is a painful reminder that not everything can stay the same. It’s the gentle way someone wishes you a good day. It’s an old blanket that smells like memories from long ago. Love is scary, but scary things are fun, too. We all want love, and we all want to be loved. It’s hope, and it’s full. I used to think love is never being left, but now I think leaving someone often means loving them so much that you do what is best for them. Love is...yeah..I love love.” 

THREE YEARS LATER- XIAOJUN

  He lit the candles, one on each end of the table. Getting lost in the flame was an option, but Xiaojun had many steps to take. He smoothed out the table cloth, the fine linen unwrinkling before his eyes. There was peace in watching everything come together, in the controlling things. 

“Perfect.” he whispered.

  Moving around the table, he fixed two of everything, even two napkins of the prettiest shade. The dishes resting on the table were cleaned so properly that not even a stray hair found its way there. The drinking glasses were sparkling. He could see his reflection in them both, his handsome face full of content.

“Whaaa, so perfect.”

 Xiaojun took a seat in one of the chairs. He felt the wood of the armrest, a seat fit for a king, and he smiled to himself. The dinner jacket he was wearing was a little oversized, but it was pressed in a way that made him feel happy.

 A man walked into the room and served food on both sides of the table, the tastiest feast money could buy. A bottle of wine was tipped into the glasses, not a drop wasted.

“Thank you.” Xiaojun said softly.

  After the waiter disappeared, he looked at the empty chair on the other side of the table. The steam from the food rose up high, and with it, Xiaojun’s expectations. He took one savory bite of food. After, he took a bow to the seat that would remain empty for the rest of his life.

THREE YEARS LATER- KUN

“Therapy is at five p.m, don't be late.” she said.

“I don’t know why we’re going to therapy if we’re not going to work on our marriage.” Kun said. “Please help me understand.”

  His ex-wife looked at him like she saw right through him. She was unbothered, not willing to waste a single emotion on the man before her. “It’s for the children.” was all she said before she got into her car and drove away.

  Kun sat by himself on his front porch swing for a long time. His new house was smaller and bought with his own money. There was only enough room for him, and for his children whenever they wanted to see their dad on the weekends. With the end of his marriage, everything else seemed to go, too. He no longer had a job after getting caught having an another affair with one of the real teaching assistants. He figured it was a fair bit of karma for all the bad things he’d done, but it still didn’t make it an easy pill to swallow.

 Occasionally, he would call your old phone number in hopes that you’d pick up, but you never did. It was probably for the best.

THREE YEARS LATER- YANGYANG

  The massive backpack on his back made him sway a little. He found it so funny that he couldn’t read any of the signs in the foreign language. He’d met a lot of people on his travels, and each one found it charming that he was so carefree and kind. All it took was a smile from YangYang and the citizens were cured.

“Where are you going?” a traveler he had just met asked. He was an older man, way older than YangYang’s grandfather. He’d decided to travel and live a bit after his wife died. He was everything YangYang aspired to be, maybe, without all of the death.

“I don’t know.” YangYang said. “I guess, wherever the wind takes me.”

“Well, that’s a start.” the man said. “The train is here. Best go on your way, then.”

 YangYang felt sad about having to say goodbye to the man. It was always like that over the last few years. He struck up conversations with so many good people, all of their stories worth telling, and then he’d have to say goodbye. Occasionally, they would exchange social media and whatever, but it never felt the same.

“This was nice.” YangYang said. “I really enjoyed hearing stories about your wife. She sounds like someone I would have liked.”

“You would have.” the old man said, his gaze on some distant memory. “Have safe travels and remember what I said, kid. Never stop. Take care.”

  YangYang accepted the man's clap on his shoulder, even though it made him sway even more. The train stopped before him, windows slipping by. In the reflection as it slowed down, he thought he saw someone that looked an awful lot like you behind him, but when he turned around, no one was there.

THREE YEARS LATER- HENDERY

  Since it was raining, the park was empty. Since he considered himself an idiot, he didn’t bring an umbrella. 

 Hendery approached the park bench like it was a bomb that could explode any minute. He looked around before taking off his jacket and stretching it across the surface to soak up some of the water. Then, he sat down and looked out over the grass. He blinked rain off his eyelashes and looked down at his lap. He did everything he could but check his phone. Over time, he looked up at the sky and let the water droplets hit his face. When he had done all the waiting he could do, he got up from the bench. 

“Well.” he said, looking down at his soaked jacket.

 Hendery picked it up from the bench and flung it over his shoulders. He took one last longing look at the bench for beginning to walk away. He was stopped by footsteps coming up from behind him. He turned around, placed the jacket back on the bench and sat down again. Hands on his knees, he stared straight ahead.

“You’re late.” he said.

  The person sat beside him on the bench, their hands on their knees, staring straight ahead. At the same time, the person and Hendery looked at each other. 

 There wasn’t an apology you could say that would fit the crime. Hendery knew that. He looked straight ahead again, but he moved one hand from his knee and used it to hold yours. Your clasped hands sat between you on the bench, solid and true.

 You looked at him before staring straight back ahead. Though it was pouring now, and your skin was slimy and your clothes wet all the way through, you didn’t seem to mind anymore.

[darksapphire29]

Imagine #6

You give Peter the silent treatment while you try to accept the newly discovered truth.

Warnings: silent treatment, mentions of death, stressed Peter (ya know, this is just a recurring theme that can probably be expected in most (if not ALL) my imagines), tiny OOC Pan (but I don’t think it’s that OOC), crying?? Umm... trigger warning for ppl who are still recovering from season 3 and/or season 5?? (I AM)

Peter was scolding Adam for something when you first left your tent.

“You idiot. You never pick dreamshade without gloves. Do you have a d-death...?” He stuttered a little, losing his trail of thought at the sight of you. You looked awful.

Your skin was pale, your eyes lined with a darkness that hinted at a lack of sleep. You stumbled a little as you wandered off into the forest to gather some fruit for breakfast. You didn’t even look at him as you passed, and his stomach dropped.

All but forgetting his annoyance, he walked briskly after you. You weren’t even following any of the trails. He passed the huts and ignored the confused look Felix sent his way. All he could think about was what was wrong with you. Were you ill? Hurt? Did something happen last night? Yesterday? He didn’t know, and was determined to find out.

When he caught sight of your cloak, he ran right up to you. He grabbed your shoulder, and you stopped. You didn’t turn to look at him.

“(Y/n),” he started, walking around your body with a hesitance that caught you off guard. You had honestly expected him to be mad. When he stood in front of you, his eyes filled with concern, you found you couldn’t look at him another second, so you turned your head away from him.

Peter furrowed his brows. You were never the shy type, always standing up for yourself and speaking out against him. It was one of the both impressive and frustrating traits he loved about you.

“Why aren’t you following the trail?” He searched your face, trying to read your eyes. But just as he was about to catch them, you looked away from him. Somehow, the boring new shades of moss by his feet were more interesting than Peter. It was too peculiar for him to leave alone.

“Is something wrong?” He asked again. The (tall/short) girl before him said nothing, all too lost in her thoughts. Was this a game to him? Or did he seriously have no idea? The most obvious answer was that he was mocking you. That he found your anger towards him amusing and silly. But you wouldn’t retaliate. That was what he wanted. Instead, you walked right past him and continued on your way.

Peter felt as if you had dug out his heart and jumped on it. Twice. His confident stance faltered as he watched your back. You were acting so… different. But then again, it was unnervingly familiar. Only, the last time you had acted so demeaned by his presence was almost a hundred winters ago. When his shadow first brought you to Neverland, and you were still jumpy and untrusting from your past life. Why were you suddenly reverting back to your old self?

When you began to fade into the forest, he chased after you. Peter followed you for a while, calling your name and demanding you talk to him.

You didn’t answer his questions, completely disregarding his presence. You wished he would just leave you alone. After everything you had learnt, all the secrets that had been laid before you, you needed to be alone. You needed time to think. And you especially needed Peter to go away. But no, Peter Pan never fails, and he was more than ready to win this game. Only it wasn’t a game, and if he wanted it to be, you weren’t intending to play.

Annoyance clouded Peter’s mind, and he tried so hard not to let you anger him. So hard. But it wasn’t getting any easier.

“(Y/n), come on!” He tried, throwing up his arm and following you deep into the forest. “Where are you even going?” Luckily for the both of you, he was Peter Pan, not some Lost Boy. Because if he wasn’t literally half demon, neither of you would be able to get back.

You really didn’t know where you were going. But all that mattered right then was the distance between you and the boy who’d broken your trust. Although, deep down, you were grateful he had followed you. Otherwise, you would be completely lost.

You didn’t know how to forgive him, and by the sound of it, Peter hadn’t even realised what he’d done. You chuckled. What a narcissist. Of course, he hadn’t thought it would offend you. But you couldn’t approach him about it, or anyone, really. What a girlish thing it was, to be so hurt by such a thing. Secrets like this one were more damaging than any poison or sword. But how could he have known? This was a grown-up sort of thing, and Peter was still only a child.

“(Y/n)!” He shouted again, and you jumped, having forgotten he was even there. “I can literally feel the rage in my blood.” He threatened, but you were unfazed. Nothing could hurt more than—

“Please, don’t make me force you!” His voice cracked a little on the please. Your heart clenched. He was trying to hide his desperation, but you could sense it. You wanted so much to just turn around, hug him, tell him it wasn’t his fault.

But that would be a lie. Because it was his fault. It was entirely his fault. He should have shared all those damned thoughts with you. If only he’d opened his stupid mouth, confessed, revealed everything. Instead, he’d left you to stumble blindly in the dark. But the idiot forgot to take the oil away from the lamp, and now that you’d shed some light on your life, things would never be the same. And it was this senselessness that kept you away from him. Like two magnets of the same pole—it was all Peter’s doing.

But the most disturbing truth? Your very soul threatened to shatter at the very thought. How could he have kept such a thing from you? How could he have been so careless? You tripped on a few sticks and roots as your blood threatened to boil over with rage. Had he even spared your feelings a thought? You shook your head and quickened your pace.

Peter watched you stumble along, your hands clenching and unclenching like you didn’t want him to know they were shaking. He was near you, now, and he reached out for you again. Wanting so badly to touch you again, even for a second. But then you took longer strides, taking him off guard, and his fingers missed you completely. He growled in frustration. He’d had enough.

“Fine.” His tone darkened. Chills ran down your spine, you skin crawling with goosebumps. He had never spoken to you like that before, and it scared you to no end. “But don’t say I didn’t give you a chance!” With that, he appeared right before you, and you collided with his chest. You leapt back almost immediately, like fire to your skin. Meeting his eyes for a second, you found a hint of pain behind them. But it was replaced with frustration before you could blink.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He was so lost. So hurt. You wouldn’t even look him in the eye long enough for him to see the (e/c) in them. That beautiful (e/c) he would so often lose himself in.

Quickly, he reached for your shoulders. His hands rested there, his grip gentle but firm, not wanting you to leave him behind, again. You still didn’t speak. He missed your voice, your laugh, you eyes, your smile. It had probably been an hour, but that was already too long. He clenched his jaw.

“(Y/n), this isn’t a game. Talk to me.” As much as he didn’t want to, he was losing his patience. He spoke through gritted teeth, his hold on you tightening, his eyes set in a nasty glare. His hands were harsh on your skin, and your eyes glistened with an unholy fire. You didn’t move.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Breathing through his nose, veins popping out of his neck, he shook you. Hard. Your hair fell over your face, and your cloak would’ve fallen off if Peter wasn’t holding it there. Tears stung at your eyes as your body was thrown around, your shoulders aching.

“TALK TO ME!!” He screamed, fuming. You nearly broke down at his anger. He stopped, but you didn’t do anything. He had hoped you would yell, scream, cry, shove him off, kick him, slap him, run away, anything! You just shivered a little under his hands, but other than that, you held yourself together. His eyes reddened, almost like he might cry, himself. “Why won’t you just look at me, at LEAST?!” A part of him was begging, but the rest of him was infuriated.

In spite of yourself, you looked up at him. Your eyes were probably swollen, your skin whiter than usual, but you hardly cared. You glared at him so hard you might’ve set him aflame.

“Well then, Pan.” You croaked, a single, hot tear falling from your eye. “I’m looking at you. I’m talking to you. I’m even bloody crying. You’ve won. Now get the hell away from me.”

He stepped back, not meaning to look cocky. He was shocked. He had won, but that wasn’t important. The look on your face was important. That angry tear was important.

“I-I—” he stuttered. What could he do? You were obviously upset with him. But why? What had he done? For a short second, he thought hard about everything he could’ve done wrong.

Nothing came to mind.

“What did I do?” It was an innocent question, but when he finished, you were so pale he feared for your life. It came out so wrong. So demeaning. Ridiculing. It sounded exactly like him, and for once, he really didn’t mean for it to sound like that. 

Your usually bright and (e/c) eyes darkened a few shades. He winced.

This was not going to end well.

“What did you do?” You laughed. It wasn’t joyous and contagious like the one he obsessed over. It was maniacal, nearly psychotic. Like his laugh. “Oh, I wonder!”

“(Y/n), please—”

“Oh, no! You don’t get to speak. It’s my turn.” You spat, waving a hand in his face. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Peter was completely taken aback. Fear placed his confusion and he worried for his own sake. So much was happening, now. Who knew what you had discovered?

He had wanted to keep his plans to himself. Everything he was doing, everything he planned to accomplish, he knew you wouldn’t approve. Even to save your own life, his life, everyone’s lives, the whole of Neverland. You would insist on finding a better way until your final breath.

“Kidnapping people? Using some girl? Taking a kid from his family and keeping him against his will?” The colour was quickly returning to your face, but even when you tanned to your normal colour, you continued to redden with every breath. He tried to get a word in, tried to explain himself. But it was no use.

“I can’t believe you, Pan!” He winced again, that familiar pain building up in his chest once more. “What happened to you? Why are you doing this? You used to be fun. You used to really care about everyone.” Your face was wet with tears, tears that wouldn’t stop, and Peter wanted nothing more than to hold you.

He remembered those days. The days where he and the Lost would just play around and joke and tease. When nothing mattered but you and him and Neverland.

But then, he remembered the day he returned to Skull Rock. The day he was reminded of his incoming doom. He knew what was coming. He knew it had to be done.

“(Y/n), please listen to me.” He started, but you weren’t finished.

“But you wanna know why I’m upset?” Peter didn’t say anything, he didn’t even nod. You were suddenly calm, and it scared him more than your angered screams.

“You told Felix you were—” A broken sob hacked at your throat, and you collapsed into Peter’s chest. Pride be damned, you were sick of this. Sick of being angry and scared and alone. You needed Peter, and when he wrapped his arms around you, that was it. You were finished. Your eyes red. Yours cheeks soaked. Your hands shaking. Your hair in more of a mess than usual. Your lips quivering. And just like that, you broke down.

Peter pulled you closer, just holding you. He didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. You knew everything, and there was no way to assure you that everything would be okay. Because he didn’t know that. And as he held you to his chest, he let out a few tears himself. In minutes you were both huddled together on the ground, dirt and leaves sticking to your clothes. You clung to one another as you cried, his hands stroking your hair while you clutched onto his shirt.

Peter shushed and soothed you, stroking your hair as cries escaped his lips.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” he croaked out between sobs. You just nodded, clutching onto his tunic and gasping out that it didn’t matter. Peter kept apologising anyway, his hair tousled, his face puffy and stained with tears that you feared would never stop.

You sat like that for a long time, your sobs filling one another’s ears and more water leaked from your eyes than you knew you had in you. Because nothing was okay, and as you sat in the dim and cold light of the sun—lost in the middle of the Neverland woods—neither of you knew if it would ever be okay again.

[wlntrsldler]

unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)

PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader

WC: 2.2K

UNREQUITED MASTERLIST

-

PART 3

“Y/N!” 

You heard the twins’ cheery voices from across the hall. You looked up to see their grinning faces, completely unbothered by the fact that they got themselves two weeks worth of detention with Umbridge. Fred and George happily made their way over to the bench where you sat by yourself. 

“Hello, boys,” You smiled, eyes darting to the red scars on the top of their hands. “What happened to you two?”

“Umbridge.” They grunted, wincing in pain as their open scars oozed small droplets of blood. “She’s brutal.” 

“Well, now I feel horrible.” You frowned, examining their hands. “I should be going through this with you.”

“Nonsense.” Fred hushed. 

“Our job is to make you smile.” George stated. “Bringing you down with us is quite the opposite of that.” 

“Your job?” You questioned, confused by their choice of words. “I appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think my happiness should be your job. You two should be taking care of yourselves.”

“Yeah but we never break a promise.” 

A puzzled look took over your face, unsure of what they were talking about. Before you could ask them about it, they said their goodbyes and left you alone once again. You sighed, returning to the comfort of your book. The whispers haven’t stopped. In fact, they haven’t slowed down from the time you’ve arrived at Hogwarts. Granted that it's only been a day, but you would think that Wizards and Witches would find comfort in other things rather than the loneliness of a half-blood Hufflepuff. 

You continued to ignore their words and their constant need to tiptoe around you. They feared you. It was like they were afraid of you now that you were alone. Cedric always was the more popular one. Outgoing by nature and easy on the eyes. You remembered the attention he got once he was chosen to be a champion and the envious eyes of every girl who saw you beside him at all times. Envious eyes followed you as you entered the Yule Ball with him, hand in hand, with an irreplaceable smile etched on your face. 

You never once thought that you’d miss those envious eyes but right now, you’d much rather take those over their eyes of pity. 

You closed your book, stuffing it in your book bag, before getting up to wander around the castle. Although you’ve attended Hogwarts for years, you seemed to not know your way around. You always relied on Cedric to take you from one place to another, never once imagining that there’d be a day where he wouldn’t be two steps ahead of you. 

You heard a soft humming coming from the girls’ lavatory, one that you didn’t even know existed. You followed the voice, ignoring the signs saying that it was out of order. You peeked around and saw a ghost, a girl, twirling in the air all by herself. Had it been any other day, you would’ve ran away in fear that you’ve angered the ghost, but something about her pigtails and sweet voice assured you that you’d be alright. 

The lavatory was empty, hollow almost. It was unused and not cared for in the slightest.. Had it not been for the ghost, it would’ve been deprived of any sign of life. The air was chilly, a lot colder than the halls that led up to it. And it was so quiet. The silence was eerie. You could no longer hear the chatter from students just a few meters away. It was like the sounds bounced off the walls. 

“Hello,” You greeted, stepping out from behind the wall. “That’s a lovely tune.”

She turned around, stunned, but it subsided once she took a look at you. “Why, hello there. Thank you, a friend of mine taught me the song. What brings you here?” 

“Just wandering,” You shrugged. You motioned to the empty lavatory. “May I join you?”

“Of course,” She smiled, floating down towards you. “Are you wandering because you’re lonely?” 

You blinked a few times, taken back by her question. You pondered for a moment, deciding if you should lie to her as you’ve been lying to everyone else who asked you about your well-being. You decided not to lie, not really seeing any consequences of being truthful to a ghost. “Yes, how did you know?”

“A lot of lonely souls find their way to me.” She responded nonchalantly. “My name is Myrtle.”

“Nice to meet you.” You nodded, realizing that she was the ghost everyone mentioned. You didn’t think that the rumors were true, but now that you’ve met her, you didn’t mind it. “My name is Y/N.” 

Myrtle grinned, eyes lighting up at your name. “Y/N Y/L/N?” 

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused, but nodded anyway. How did she know who you were? “Yes, that’s me.” 

Her bubbly laugh filled the silence of the room. She twirled in the air, excitement evident in her actions. “You’re Cedric’s friend!” 

“You know Cedric?” 

“We met once.”

“May I ask how?”

She giggled like a schoolgirl, blushing behind the hand she used to cover her mouth. “I helped him with the golden egg.”

Your voice faltered. “I see.”

“Oh my,” She frowned. “I seem to have forgotten. I apologize.”

“It’s quite alright, Myrtle.” You gulped, blinking back tears. 

“Hmm,” Myrtle mumbled. “He talked about you the entire time. By the end of it all, I became so excited to meet you. I made him promise that he’d let me meet you if I helped him figure out the clue.”

You smiled a bit at her confession, knowing that Cedric would’ve taken you to meet her if fate hadn’t taken him so soon. “I’m sorry that he’s broken his promise.” 

“You seemed to find your way here anyway.”

-

You sat beside Hermione at the Gryffindor table, trying to focus on their smiles rather than the jabber around you: “She’s a Hufflepuff, why is she sitting here?” “I guess that’s what happens when you’ve only got one friend.” “Poor girl. She lost Cedric and now she’s as lost as ever.”

It’s been a few weeks since your arrival at Hogwarts and you were starting to find your ground again. You started hanging out with the Trio more often, as well as continuing your adventures with the Twins. You’ve slowly started to learn how to live again. The other students, however, have not. It only made it worse that the only friends you did have were from a different house. 

Hermione grasped your hand and gave it a little squeeze in appreciation, “I’m glad you’re sitting with us. I was getting scared that you preferred the twins.”

You smiled, “I could never replace you, Hermione.” You motioned towards Harry and Ron, who were gulping down food before they even chewed it, from across the table. “They, however, can be replaced.” 

Ron looked up at your words, eyes narrowing, “Hey, that’s not nice.” 

“Don’t worry, Ron,” Harry nudged him, not looking up from his pile of food. “She knows she loves us.” 

“Sure, Potter. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at your silly banter, happy that you're slowly reverting back to your old self. She knew that you’ll never truly be who you once were but the way that you smile at little comments and laugh at stupid jokes makes her feel a bit hopeful. The boys were also relieved to see you sitting with them again. They knew that you left to be by yourself when you first arrived at Hogwarts and they decided that it would be best to leave you alone. They didn’t want to push you or pressure you to hang out with them but in all honesty, they missed you. They missed you terribly. 

You continued to talk about nothing for a few minutes before a package landed in front of you. You looked down at it, inspecting the address, and the wrapping parchment. The trio stared at you, urging you to open the it. You obliged and started to rip apart the parchment. Your heart sunk as you saw a familiar yellow fabric under a note from your aunt. 

It read: “You forgot this and I saw it in your closet when I was cleaning out your room. I saw it was a bit dirty so I took the liberty of putting it in the wash for you. We love you and we miss you.” 

You moved the note aside, taking in a sharp breath when your fingers touched the sweater. You saw that the stain where Cedric’s blood once was, was faded, leaving an ugly orange mark where his initials were embroidered. Your hands shook as you lifted it up to place near your chest. You didn’t realize that she would be going through your things. You weren’t expecting this to show up in front of you. 

As you choked on your sobs, you heard the whispers start up again, but this time they were all jumbled. You didn’t care enough to say anything. You got up, sweater in your hand, and ran out. You heard Ron call out for you, silverware clattering as he tried to follow, but Hermione placed a gentle hand on his arm, reminding him that you process grief differently. You ran towards the path to the secret passageway, shoving past everyone who stood in your way. Once you got there, you froze upon seeing people standing near it. You didn’t want to risk anyone else knowing about it. 

Sighing, you made your way to another part of the castle that you’ve grown fond of. As you climbed up the steps, you stared down at the sweater in your arms. It was pathetic how something so small could have such an effect on you. You were aware that death is something of the inevitable. But maybe it was your muggle side that never understood it, how everyone managed to recover from death so quickly. Even Harry who didn’t even know about the Wizard world seemed to recover so fast. You never understood it. 

As you neared the astronomy tower, you heard a familiar tune. Someone was there, humming something that you swore you’ve heard before. You looked inside and saw Draco leaning against the railing, staring off into the distance. His robe was swaying in the wind, his fingers tapping against the metal following the rhythm of the tune he was humming. 

His expression was unreadable. His eyes were stone cold and his jaw was set. He clenched it ever so slightly. Draco closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling through his nose. He looked almost peaceful up there. The murmur of his chest, the rustling of the winds in the distance, and the soft creaking of the steps were the only things heard. 

“Who’s there?” 

You flinched, not knowing what excuse you would have to say as to why you spent a good few minutes staring at him in admiration. Mustering up the courage to speak, you revealed yourself to Draco, hiding the sweater behind your back. “Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be here.” 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, not fully turning his body to face you. 

“I’m assuming the same as you.” You shrugged, taking his question as an invitation to join him. “Needed to get away.” 

“This place is occupied, Hufflepuff.” Draco noted, annoyance laced in his voice. “Find your own place.” 

You ignored his comment, planting yourself beside him. He moved a few steps away, irritated by your stubbornness to stay. “I suppose I haven’t said my proper thanks for letting me off the hook with Umbridge that one night.”

“I don’t need your thanks.” He commented, now facing you. His eyes were a bit glossy and his voice was scratchy. It seemed like he’d been crying. “But I do need you to see yourself out.” 

Again you ignored him, staring him straight in the eye. “What tune were you humming? It sounded familiar.” 

“Y/N.” He said, more sternly this time. “Leave.” 

“No.”

Draco sighed, running his fingers through his hair. You noticed that the ring was no longer on his finger. In fact, the only indication that he was a Slytherin was his robe, which was unusual for him. He often liked to wear his house pride in every way possible. You found it quite obnoxious at times. 

“Fine,” He finally settled, stepping away from the railings and towards the steps to exit. “Then I’ll leave.” 

Before he could take his first step down, you spoke up. “Why didn’t you tell Umbridge about me?”

He paused, hand gripping the sides of the staircase. You heard him gulp. “Don’t question it. It’s annoying.”

“But I want to know.” 

“Don’t make me change my mind. I’ll march over to Umbridge right now and tell her that I saw you that night.” Draco turned around, almost spitting his words out. 

“Sorry. Nevermind, then.” You cowered a bit, not expecting his harsh tone. You looked down at your feet, embarrassed that a simple change in his tone already made you seem weaker. When you looked back up to look at Draco, you could’ve swore that his face softened for a minute. You stared at him turn back around to leave. 

Just as you faced the railings, once again, Draco’s voice echoed across the room. “My mother used to sing that song to me when I was a child.”

“Huh?”

“The song I was humming.” He clarified, head poking out from beyond the steps spiraling down. “My mother used to sing it to me.”

-

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