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imaginespazzi · 2 months ago

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Part 11: Free Fall

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 12 - Part 13

How many nights did you wish someone would stay? (Lie awake only hoping they're okay?)

(In which an angst writer makes her comeback in more ways than one)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff if you squint?

Words: 8.0K

TW: Swearing (that's probably it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Y'all are the sweetest people ever for being so patient with me but it's finally here! I'm hoping that I don't put y'all through this again but it is almost finals season so...fingers crossed. While you read this chapter, I'd like y'all to keep in mind how much you love me and how much y'all wanted a new chapter and of course my favorite phrase: for the plot! I tried to edit but I hate reading my own work back and so it's not as thorough as it should be and there's probably typos so lemme know. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely week my angels!

May 2025

It’s her first ever WNBA game -Dallas Wings vs Washington Mystics- and the first thing Paige notices as she steps onto the court is that the two courtside seats right by the Mystics bench are empty. The sound of music streaming through the speakers clashes against the raucous crowds; the lights are dimmed and there’s a riveting thrum of energy swirling the arena in anticipation for a generational talent’s professional debut. Paige has spent the days leading up to her first game immersed in basketball. Since training camps, she hasn’t let herself think of anything except how to make sure the ball went through the hoops, how to make sure the person in front of her didn’t score, how to win.

It’s easier that way. Because then she doesn’t have to think about how empty and cold her bed feels at night, doesn’t have to think about how much she craves to press call on a number she knows she should have blocked, doesn’t have to think about how the pieces of her shattered world are barely bound together by a tape of pretend. Paige can’t think of any of that and so she’s spent every second awake, clearing her head of all potential distractions and focusing on preparing for this moment.

Except, the moment is here now.

And all Paige can fixate on is the empty courtside seats.

The memories come back to her in waves; the two of them in those seats, pressed together -as close as it could be acceptable for their façade of best friends to be- as they weaved dreams of it being their turn on the professional stage. If she listens closely, Paige swears that amidst the chaos, she can still hear the echo of a promise that had once been made casually in conversation.

“When you play here for the first time, I’ll be right here cheering you on. Every single time.”

Another broken promise.

The truth is that the last few weeks as much as it’s felt like Paige is walking on a carpet of roses, there have been countless sharp thorns woven through the petals. She’s tried to avoid them -focusing on what she had, instead of what she’d lost- but they’d found a way to perforate through her skin anyways. And Paige knows she’s bleeding but she can’t scream, so she swallows the pain away instead. Memories of the past are piercing her feet and it feels like she’s leaving a trail of it feels incomplete without you behind her as she navigates the journey through her present, stepping towards a future that would be nothing like the one she’d imagined when she’d been a naive girl sitting in those courtside seats.

The courtside seats that are empty tonight.

Really it’s exactly what she should’ve expected. And there’s something so final about this moment, like the last flicker of a candle that had burned in secret. Paige hadn’t even realized she was still holding out for something but as she drags her eyes away from the seats and towards her father and brother who are practically vibrating with pride, she can feel the tautness of the string that she’d held onto. Because she hasn't told them; hasn’t told anybody about the breakup.

Something about vocalizing it had felt just a little too real and Paige had evaded any potential situation that would warrant her having to reveal the tirth. But it hits her now, looking at those damn empty seats that should've been -in another life would’ve been- filled by her other family, that the words she’d been too scared to say out loud -for fear of them being enshrined into reality- had already probably been spoken into existence by someone else. And it hits Paige now, that maybe she’s desperately holding onto a rope that has already been let go of.

“You good Bueckers?” she whirls around to find Arike looking at her, eyebrows raised in concern.

“I’m fine,” Paige lies; she’s gotten so incredibly good at that, “just thinking a lot of thoughts.”

Arike nods in understanding, “fair enough. But you got this dude,” she reaches out a hand to squeeze her rookie’s shoulder, “whatever you’re thinking, when you get on that court, none of it’s gonna matter. All that matters for 40 minutes is the game and that we come out of it with a win. You gonna help us win Paige?”

“That’s the fucking plan,” Paige smirks, earning her a matching one from Arike before the shooting guard saunters onto the court, ready for tip-off.

All that matters is the game.

Paige sucks in a deep breath, letting herself look over at the courtside seats one more time. This is her reality now. There’s no point in waiting for a regretful phone call or a surprise midnight knock on her door because it’s not going to happen. She feels a sense of hollowed acceptance as she finally turns away from the seats, plastering on a confident smile as she takes her place in the Dallas Wings starting five. And Paige is faced with the same truth that she’d learned at a far too young age; that people would leave her but the game never would.

***

Dallas wins the game by 17 points. Paige’s statline is 21 points, 6 rebounds and 8 assists with 2 steals and a block. It’s a respectable statement from the rookie and her teammates are overjoyed. She’s surrounded by them as they celebrate winning their first game of the season and there’s a sense of hopeful excitement about how the rest of the season could go. Her eyes go over the top of them to find the cute Dallas local reporter that Paige had befriended shooting her a congratulatory wink and she blushes a little bit, looking away bashfully. In the distance, Paige can make out a small crowd of people decked in custom Wings #5 jersey, whistling in excitement. Despite the home fans, their celebration still echoes around the stadium and the loudest cheer comes from her brother who stands next to her father, both of them beaming with pride. And It’s almost enough to prevent her eyes from wandering back to the empty courtside seats. Almost.

***

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. With the quick transition from the college season into the draft, Paige hadn’t had found time to go home inbetween. And so when the Wings had been making hotel arrangements for DC, she’d opted to stay with her dad and Drew in Maryland instead. But as she stands in the doorway to her bedroom, staring at a wall filled with pictures that are an ode to the past - collages that are practically a shrine to her broken relationship- Paige finds herself longing for the cold, unfeeling exterior of a foreign hotel room.

Paige’s life can be split into two parts. There’s the Before Azzi and then there’s the With Azzi. And the truth is that there isn’t much from the Before Azzi left in Paige’s life. Every inch of her current life has been touched by the brunette, illuminated by her presence and now, it’s tainted by her absence. Especially in Maryland. Since she’d met the Virginia native, the DMV area had always been synonymous with the Fudds for Paige and she can’t remember a time when she’d been here -when she’d been in this bedroom- and not had plans to see them- to see Azzi.

She takes a hesitant step inside, eyes gliding over each photograph and it’s like she’s being transported through time. The memories are as vivid as ever, bursting with color as they ellipse her mind. Paige can picture every moment like she’d lived it yesterday. She can still hear their laughter echoing through the air, can feel the softness of their hands -their bodies- brushing against each other, can still taste the lingering sweetness of their lips meeting halfway as they breathed silent promises against each other’s skin.

A silent sob wracks through Paige’s body as she brushes her fingers over the most recent image of them from December -the last photograph she’d had time to print out. It’s one that Drew had taken of them in the kitchen- Paige propped up on the counter and Azzi in between her legs, one hand on the counter with the other resting right against Paige’s heart. Neither of them had even noticed the little boy, too wrapped up in each other; they were in their own world like they often had been. Azzi’s head is thrown back in laughter -probably at some ridiculous joke her girlfriend had cracked- and Paige has that goofy - just for Azzi- grin on her face as she gazes at the brunette with nothing but adoration.

The picture is from barely six months ago but they look so young to Paige, so innocent, so naive, so fucking happy, so completely unaware that in a couple of months, one hesitantly spoken word would dissolve that happiness into a puddle of rubble.

No.

She thinks that one simple word is destined to echo through her ears, like that unpleasant screech of nails scratching against a chalkboard, for as long as she still has the ability to hear. Paige hadn’t even really heard it at first; it had been said so softly, so quietly, so brokenly and she’d barely seen Azzi’s lips move. For the briefest moment she’d tricked her mind into believing it was just the sound of the wind around them. But then there it was again.

Louder.

Stronger.

No.

Paige’s hands instinctively clasp around her ears, fingers tangling tightly through her blond hair, because she can still fucking hear it. Here in this bedroom, where every corner still holds a little part of Azzi -holds a little part of them- the sting of rejection is louder than it’s been since it had first hit. Because it’s not just the pictures. It’s all the little pieces of them they’d left scattered over Christmas break, thinking they’d come back to it together.

It’s a set of Azzi’s earrings -one Paige vaguely remembers picking out for her when they’d gone shopping a couple of weeks before- placed delicately on Paige’s dresser. It’s the pink sweater -that neither of them are sure who it originally belongs to but like most of their clothes, is basically a shared item at this point- haphazardly thrown over a chair. It’s that stupid book they’d started reading together -Paige lying across her girlfriend’s lap, toying with her curls as Azzi read the story out loud- still lying on the nightstand, waiting to be finished.

Despite being alone in her room, Paige finds herself rapidly shaking her head. Because she can’t do this. Can’t spend a night in this room that had barely ever been just hers, had always felt more like theirs. She can’t sleep on that bed, no when her last memory of it is being tangled in the sheets with Azzi on a cold wintry morning, their legs intertwined with each other as they’d giggled to themselves in between languid lazy kisses. And maybe it’s pathetic of her but she can’t find it in herself to unmake the bed, not when her last memory of the two of them in this room is her leaning against the wall, shamelessly checking out her girlfriend as Azzi neatly made the bed, chiding Paige for the nth time on the importance of tidiness.

“When are you gonna learn how to make your bed,” Azzi had sighed.

Grinning, Paige had wrapped her arms around her girlfriend from behind, slotting her face into the crevice of Azzi’s neck and brushing her lips against the patch of skin, “I know how to make my bed. I just never have to because I’ll always have you to do it for me.”

Except for the last few weeks, Paige has had to make her own bed and she fucking hates it.

Breathing sharply, Paige slowly backs out of her bedroom, gently pulling the door shut. She leans her forehead against the cool mahogany frame, trying to calm herself down. There’s been a nonstop dull ache in her chest since that night but tonight feels different, like the cold hands of the past have managed to dig under her ribcage and squeeze her heart -something sharp digging into her arteries- so hard that it hurts just to exist. Paige gives herself a couple more seconds, creating half-moons as she digs her nails into her palms, before she finally pulls away from the door, heading towards her brother’s room down the hall.

“You know you really should start knocking before you come into my room,” Drew says with a mock annoyance that’s betrayed by his large grin, as Paige slips into his room, “I’m almost a teenager.”

Despite the heaviness that’s still lingering between her lungs, Paige suddenly finds it a lot easier to breathe. Her little brother’s bedroom is dark, save for red LED lights and dim glow of the TV. Drew is reclined on his bed, gripping a white gaming controller between his hands.

“You’re always gonna be a baby to me Drewski,” she teases, stepping towards him to ruffle his hair, laughing when he ducks her hand and shoots her an irritated glare in response.

“Not the hair,” he whines and then groans as his eyes flicker back to the screen, towards the game he'd been playing, “damnit Paigey you just got me killed.”

“Hey hey hey, don’t blame me for your incompetence,” Paige chides.

Drew rolls his eyes, before reaching over to hand over the other controller, “you wanna play?”

Paige shakes her head, gently pushing his hand away, “nah I just-” she chews at her bottom lip, shuffling her feet with uncharacteristic nervousness, “I was just uh- just wondering if I could stay in here tonight? We could have a sleepover? Like old times? Just you and me.”

It’s heartwarming the way her little bother’s eyes light up -like he’s still the little boy that used to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, not almost a teenager who’ll eventually be taller than her- as he nods excitedly, scooching over to give his older sister space on his bed. Paige crawls gingerly onto the bed, hesitating for a second, before she lays her head on her brother’s lap, curling into herself. Drew is warm and inviting and familiar and for a second she almost forgets that serrated pain shooting through her nerves. But then it all comes rushing back and Paige has to swallow harshly to keep herself from giving into the fresh new set of tears that are re-emerging on her waterline.

“Paigey,” Drew whispers softly as he runs his finger through her delicate blonde hair, clearly sensing something’s wrong, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine Drew,” she means to keep her voice strong but it comes out as broken as she feels.

“Paigey,” the little boy’s voice is more worried now, “should I call Azzi?”

This time the whimper escapes before Paige can stop it as she tightly closes her eyes. She knows her brother means well; knows that Drew doesn’t really remember Paige without Azzi- doesn’t remember a time before his sister knew how to heal without the brunette’s touch. He’d watched Paige celebrate all her victories with Azzi and he’d seen the same girl hold his sister in all her tragedies, putting her back together every time she broke with promises of you’ll have always have me. From the moment Drew was old enough to understand his sister’s feelings, he was also perceptive enough to understand that Azzi was always what she needed, no matter how she was feeling. And it’s still true, Paige thinks; she wants nothing more than to say yes, wants nothing more than for Drew to call Azzi, so Paige can tell her how much she fucking misses her- how much she fucking needs her.

Perhaps it's pride or maybe it’s fear, but Paige doesn’t say what she wants. Instead she vigorously shakes her head in her brother’s lap, “n-no it’s fine. I’m fine. It’s late and Azzi’s busy-”

“Azzi’s never too busy for you,” Drew says indignantly, “I’m gonna call her.”

“Drew stop,” Paige’s voice is much firmer this time as she wraps a strong arm around her little brother’s knee, stopping him from moving, “we’re not calling Azzi.”

She could tell him now. After all, she’s going to have to when he inevitably asks why he hasn’t seen Azzi -why he hasn’t seen the girl who’s been a part of his life for more than half of it- in so long. But even though the words sit scratchily on the tip of her tongue, she still isn’t quite ready to spit them out; isn’t quite ready to confront reality.

“Why not,” petulance coats Drew’s tone.

“Because I’m fine and I don’t need- I don’t want to talk to her,” Paige lies.

The little boy scoffs, “you always want to talk to her.”

He doesn’t know the way that simple sentence turns the cracked pieces of Paige’s heart into dust as she tightens her grips on his leg, “Drew please- please just let it go.”

“Why,” Drew argues stubbornly, “why can’t we call her.”

“We just-” Paige’s voice breaks, as she scrambles to wipe her tears before they can wet her little brother’s shirt, “we just can’t okay?”

And there must be something in her voice -the anguish that no amount of trying is able to hide- that Drew pieces together to understand that this isn’t a battle he can win, no matter how much he and Paige might both want him to. The young boy slowly droops his body back to its reclining position, his fingers returning back to Paige’s hair as he begins to stroke her head again.

“It’s gonna be okay Paigey,” he whispers with all the hopeful innocence of a blissfully naive little boy, “everything gonna be okay.”

And god does Paige want to believe him. But the courtside seats were empty tonight. And she’s in the DMV with no plans to see the Fudds- to see Azzi. And she’ll never know the ending to that stupid book on her bedside table.

She wants to believe Drew but Paige isn’t sure how anything’s ever going to be okay again.

***

May 2033

It should be a joyful moment -the three most important people in her life congregating together- but instead as Paige quietly observes the scene in her living room -Drew silently seething, Azzi fidgeting nervously with her thumbs and Stephie babbling away amidst it all- she feels suffocated by this heavy gray cloud of apprehension lingering above her head. If she’s honest with herself, she’s been on edge for a couple of days now, since training camp had begun to be precise. Since she’d moved to the Bay Area, everything else in Paige’s world had been eclipsed by Azzi and Stephie. The mother-daughter duo were all-consuming and if she’s honest with herself, Paige had been more than happy to let her thoughts -and her heart- be consumed by nothing but the two of them.

It had been so easy to forget everything else and the tentative verbal three-way deal she technically had with the Valkyries and the Liberty had pretty much ceased to exist in her thoughts. That is until Angie Davis -the lynchpin in this agreement- had been selected, just as everyone had predicted, to the Valkyries. The Stanford PG had shown up to training camp with a shy smile and an eagerness to learn that all the rest of the vets on the team had warmly embraced. But all Paige saw in the girl was the ticking time bomb of a decision she’d forgotten she’d have to make. And it isn’t just the reminder of the decision that has Paige feeling at unease; it’s why she has to make this decision in the first place, the reason behind why she’d agreed to this deal in the first play, why she’d been so adamant for Talia to make sure she didn’t get stuck here.

Eight years ago, Azzi Fudd had broken her heart and Paige has spent every moment since, trying to collect the shattered pieces and reassemble them.

And the last thing Paige had wanted to do was give Azzi the hammer to smash her barely fixed heart again.

That’s what it had felt like when Talia had first brought up the Valkyries offer. It wasn’t that she and Azzi hadn’t been in each other’s orbit the last couple of years -it was impossible not to- but since the breakup, they’d never been around each other long enough, never quite been in the right situations, for that opportunity to present itself again. But Paige had known that if she came to the Valkyries, it would be an inevitability. That belief had only been strengthened the day she’d visited the Bay Area. She’d been adamant from the second she’d gotten on the flight that she couldn’t be persuaded to join Golden State, no matter how much she respected the organization and how well she’d fit into their system; no matter how much she adored the city and its love for her favorite sport.

But then she’d met a little girl who had an identical smile to the one that had held her captive since she was fifteen and barely knew what love was. And if Stephie with her doe-eyed wisdom that Paige would look great in purple wasn’t enough, then there was Azzi. Paige had expected Azzi to tell her to decline the offer. In a way that’s what she wanted; the masochistic need to feel the sting of that rejection again so she wouldn’t be tempted to burn herself in the fire again. But the brunette had done the opposite and Paige had known by just how quick her resolve had succumbed, that she’d been right to fear the inevitability. And it was that fear that had prompted the verbal agreement with the Liberty; an escape plan she’d forgotten she’d devised.

Because escaping had been the last thing on Paige’s mind the last few weeks.

All of Paige’s fears and apprehension had seemed to take a backseat the moment Azzi had smiled -hesitant but real- and said she was ready to try, the moment Stephie’s tiny hands had fit perfectly into her own.

But she can feel it all coming back now, bubbling to the surface and threatening to spill over like lava, wiping out this paradise she’s been in with Stephie and Azzi. It had started with the reminder of the Liberty deal but it’s Drew’s presence -his scowl directed at Azzi that feels like one of a brother still betrayed on his sister’s behalf- that had heightened it. Her little brother’s anger, and the genuine hurt that lingers behind it, feels like a dark reminder of Paige’s own heartbreak.

Suddenly she feels like she’s 23, playing her first WNBA game and instead of celebrating a solid debut, she’s sobbing in her little brother’s lap over the girl who had walked away.

“Miss Buecks,” Paige looks down to find Stephie crawling into her lap, “are we ready to order the pizza now?”

The little girl’s arms wrapping around her neck eases some of Paige’s discomfort as she smiles down at Stephie.

“I’ve been ready for ages. You were the one yapping away,” she teases.

Stephie pouts, “I don’t yap,” she turns her body towards Azzi, “Mama I don’t yap do I?”

Azzi’s own tense body seems to relax a little as she smirks at the two of them, “you definitely yap Stephie-”

“Mama,” Stephie protests, looking betrayed.

“But not nearly as much as your Miss Buecks yaps,” Azzi’s eyes twinkle with mirth as Paige splutters, jaw dropping open with mock offense, “between the two of you, it’s a miracle my poor ears haven’t fallen off.”

“Just for that I’m not adding veggies to the pizza,” Paige sticks her tongue out, causing Stephie to giggle and Azzi to roll her eyes at the display of immaturity.

Paige slips out her phone, pulling up their usual pizza place on doordash and quickly plugs in her memorized orders for everyone in the room as Stephie gets herself comfortable on the blonde’s lap. The five-year old leans her head back against Paige’s chest, who instinctively wraps her free hand around Stephie’s waist, keeping her securely in place.

“So uncle Drew,” Stephie says with a grin, slightly leaning forward as she addresses the man sitting rigidly on the edge of the sofa, “did Miss Buecks yap a lot when she was younger too.”

“Be careful how you answer that,” Paige warns with a good natured glare in her brother’s direction, trying to lighten his mood.

It works to an extent as a small smirk slips onto the edges of Drew’s lip, “oh she was a chronic yapper.”

“What does che-ronic mean?” Stephie asks, scrunching her nose in confusion.

Drew laughs, eyes glittering with mischief, “it means she didn’t know when to shut up.”

“Drew Thomas,” Paige guffaws, “you’re supposed to be my little brother, protecting your older sister’s honor and all of that.”

“Hey,” Drew raises his hand in surrender, “my older sister taught me to never lie, especially not to children.”

“Did you really talk that much?” Stephie asks, turning to Paige with wide eyes.

“Don’t listen to him Stephie-bean,” the blonde says, brushing her hands through Stephie’s curls, “it’s all bullsh-”

“Paige,” Azzi hisses immediately as the older woman bites her lip to stop the curse word from escaping.

“Bullsharks,” Paige amends, “fake news. False advertising. I was a calm and quiet kid for sure.”

Drew snorts, leaning back into the sofa and Paige lets out a soft sigh of relief at seeing her brother relax. Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, feeling a sense of calmness when she sees the younger girl’s nervous fidgeting has stilled and there’s a tentative smile on her face.

“You weren’t calm or quiet,” he says pointedly.

“Was too,” Paige argues stubbornly.

“Yes you were,” Drew presses, “Stephie if you don’t believe me, ask your Mama,” he turns to Azzi, “tell her Azzi. She literally yapped your ear off into becoming your friend.”

Azzi blanches, clearly shocked at having been so cavalierly addressed, and even Paige is a little surprised by the expectant “agree with me look” that Drew is giving the brunette after having spent the last moments practically glaring at her. But really it probably shouldn’t be that surprising. Because Drew and Paige are cut from the same material and letting Azzi into the folds seems to just come naturally to both of them. And it’s so familiar to when they’d all been years and years younger -two college students and a little boy - so familiar to the countless nights spent in Minnesota and DC and Connecticut where several silly arguments like this between Paige and Drew had ultimately ended with them both turning to Azzi -the forever moderator- in hopes that she’d side with them.

She’d always sided with Drew -much to Paige’s chagrin, though she’d been secretly enamored by the relationship between her girlfriend and her brother- and this time is no different as Azzi shakes off the shock, replacing it with a cheeky expression.

“Didn’t shut up for 14 whole hours,” she laments, her voice filled with teasing but she smiles at the blonde as if she’s reminiscing it, reminiscing the moment that began it all for them and Paige can’t help the hopelessly sappy smile she gives her in return.

“14 hours? You talked for 14 whole hours, Miss Buecks?” Stephie’s eyes are comically large as she echoes the number.

“Of course not,” Paige defends, eyebrows creasing as she glares at the other two adults in the room, “this is bullying. Stephie,” she whines, nuzzling her head into the little girl’s neck, “they’re ganging up on me.”

“There there Miss Buecks,” Stephie says diligently as she pats at the older woman’s cheek.

“We’re just telling the truth,” Drew shrugs.

“Exactly,” Azzi nods solemnly, “the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

She grins, reaching her hand out for a high five and Paige watches as Drew raises his own hand, ready to reciprocate. For a second it feels like everything is coming together; like the past could just stay in the past. But then he stops midair. The easy smile fades from his face and the previous tautness comes rushing back. He pulls his hand back, turning away from Azzi, who’s face slowly falls back. The lightheartedness from mere seconds ago is replaced by the tension from before and that burden of all that’s happened between us returns as a heavy weight pressed against Paige’s heart.

“Paigey used to yap a lot,” Drew says slowly, “like I said you couldn’t get her to shut up and then one day,” he pauses, angry eyes darting towards Azzi, “one day she just got quiet- she shut up- she stopped yapping all the time.”

“Why?” Stephie asks softly, her tone a mixture of concern and genuine curiosity.

Paige’s arm tightens around the little girl in her lap as she shoots her brother a pleading look, “Drew-”

“Because someone-” there’s so much venom in the word that it makes Azzi visibly flinch and Paige wants to soothe away the creases forming in her forehead, “someone broke her heart. And it took years- it took years to get her back to normal, to get her yapping again. To get my sister back to who she was.”

There’s pindrop silence as Drew seethes at his own words and Azzi rapidly blinks back tears, until Stephie turns around in Paige’s lap, tiny hands cupping the blonde’s face as she tries not to let her emotions show in front of the little girl.

“Someone broke your heart?” Stephie looks so upset by the idea that Paige wants to vehemently deny it, “how could anyone break your heart Miss Buecks?”

She means well -just a child concerned for one of her favorite people- but she has no idea of the dagger she’s just twisted in her own mother’s heart as a faint whimper escapes Azzi’s lips. Paige opens and closes her mouth, hopelessly looking at the brunette who’s digging her fist into the sofa, despair embedded all over her face.

“Stephie-” Paige tries to say.

“Don’t worry kid,” Drew cuts in instead, his voice steady and firm, “it happened once but I won’t-” his eyes burn with fire as he looks at Azzi, “I won’t let it happen again.”

“Stephie,” Paige says quietly after a moment, her gaze transfixed on Azzi whose doing her absolute best not to let her emotions show in front of her little girl, “sweetheart how ‘bout you show Uncle Drew around the house.”

“I don’t want to see the house,” Drew says petulantly as he stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest

“Yes. You. Do.” Paige grits out, trying not to curse when her younger brother rolls his eyes at her.

“C’mon Uncle Drew,” Stephie says cheerfully as she slips off of Paige’s lap and reaches a hand out for the man instead, “Miss Buecks has a really cool house and maybe we can go steal some of her cool clothes.”

Drew sighs but he’s not immune to Stephie’s infectious energy. A hint of a grin sneaks through the cracks as he accepts the little girl’s offer. Stephie starts to pull him towards the staircase but the perceptive girl stops for a second in front of her mother, a cautious look on her face as Azzi musters up a grin to mollify the little girl's concern and Drew adamantly averts looking at the other woman.

“Go on bean,” Azzi urges softly, keeping her shaky voice under control, “go show him the house.”

Stephie nods before gently pressing her lips against Azzi’s cheeks, eliciting a deep breath from her mother, before she practically drags Drew towards the staircase, already speaking a mile per minute.

There’s a pause, filled with a combination of the quiet rumble of Stephie blabbering upstairs and Azzi’s uneven breathing. Then the tears that the brunette had been trying so hard to barricade behind her eyelids starts cascading down her cheeks and Paige almost trips on her own feet as she moves towards her. She falls to her knees in front of Azzi, gently brushing her against her cheek, before wrapping her hands around her tightly formed fists.

“Baby don’t cry. Please I hate it when you cry,” Paige whispers softly, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s, “he’s just-”

“He’s right,” Azzi cuts her off, shaking her head.

“Az-”

“He hates me-”

“He doesn’t-”

“He does,” Azzi presses, her tears falling faster now, “and he should. Paige I did break your heart,” they both flinch at the blunt statement, “and he doesn’t trust me because of it and he hasn’t forgiven me for it. I haven’t forgiven me for it.”

“Baby,” Paige echoes again, unsure what else to say.

“Have you forgiven me?”

The question lingers in the air as Azzi looks expectantly at her and Paige stumbles over her words, trying to find the right ones. She doesn’t really know how to answer the questions; hadn’t been expecting to be confronted with it tonight. Paige wants to say yes; she wants to take away Azzi’s guilt so fucking bad. These last few weeks had been so perfect, Paige had convinced herself she was over what had happened almost a decade ago. But if she’s honest with herself -if she’s honest to the memories of every night she’d spent sobbing into her pillows, missing the girl in front of her and resenting her for walking away- Paige doesn’t really know if she has forgiven Azzi.

“Paige?” Azzi ask again, her voice breaking on the one syllable.

Paige’s face crumbles as she looks at the girl defenselessly, “ Az, I-”

The doorbell rings at the exact moment and Stephie comes excitedly barrelling down the staircase as the two women scramble away from each other, trying to compose themselves.

“Miss Buecks, Mama,” the younger girl hollers, “pizza’s here.”

Paige looks at Azzi who’s rushing to wipe away the remnants of her tears. She opens her mouth, desperately willing herself to find something, anything that could offer the girl in front of her some comfort; that could take their relationship away from the precipice of this cliff they’ve somehow found themselves on. But the right words don’t materialize and instead Paige closes her mouth and turns away, slowly heading towards Stephie as Azzi’s question continues to wreak havoc in her mind.

And she wishes she could rewind the clock and freeze them where they had been just a couple of hours ago, freeze them in a moment where the past hadn’t weighed so heavily on the present. But perhaps the past had always been there and they’d simply just done a marvelous job ignoring it. Except tonight, they can’t seem to ignore it anymore.

***

Paige thinks pizza has never tasted so terrible in her life. The mood at her basically unused dining table is numbingly sober; even Stephie has stopped her chatter, the little girl clearly picking up on the tense atmosphere around her as she quietly nibbles away at her slice of pizza. It’s in stark contrast to the innumerable dinners they’d had in the last three weeks; the three of them -Paige, Azzi and Stephie in between them- at the table or the counter or sometimes even the couch, raucous with laughter and smiles. Paige doesn’t understand how moments can shift like this; how last night could have been filled with giggles and grins and tonight is filled with nothing but a silence filled with too many unspoken words.

Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, who’s making a concerted effort to keep her own everted from both Bueckers siblings. The brunette’s question from before feels like a loud horn blaring in Paige’s ears, one that she can’t seem to find the off-switch for no matter how hard she searches for it. They’re barely a couple feet apart, sitting opposite each other with Drew next to Paige and Stephie next to Azzi, but the width of the table feels like it stretches for miles. Paige misses the warmth of Azzi’s body pressed against hers, misses the sly brush of their hands before their fingers would inevitably curl around each other’s underneath the table where Stephie couldn’t see.

“Miss Buecks,” Paige swallows, trying to shake off the feeling of is this us crumbling again, as she diverts attention to Stephie who’s smiling at her with that cheeky grin that means she wants something.

“What’s up Stephie-bean?” Paige asks and she’s convinced there’s magic in the little girl’s existence because despite the tightness she still feels in her chest, having Stephie close feels like a reason for her to breathe through it.

“Can I have a soda?” Stephie asks, using the palm of her hands to frame her slightly tilted face as she juts out her bottom lip in a pleading.

Paige grins, ready to concede as she often is with the little girl but Azzi speaks first, “no soda Stephie.”

Stephie pouts, “why not?”

“Because I said so,” Azzi says bluntly and Paige is taken back by the sharpness of it.

“Mama please,” Stephie begs, “please, please, please.”

“No Stephie,” there’s a warning edge to Azzi’s tone but Stephie doesn’t pay much heed to it continuing to plead and the irritation on her mother’s face -clearly exacerbated by other things- gets more and more apparent.

“Please Mama. Pizza just doesn’t go down right without soda,” the little girl argues, “can I please just have a little bit. Just a teeny tiny bit Please, please pretty please please-”

“Stephie, no” Azzi repeats, pinching the bridge of her nose as Drew and Paige exchange nervous glances.

“Stephie, yes,” the little girl argues, stubbornly crossing her hands over her chest.

“Ste-”

“I want soda. I want soda. Please, please, please, plea-”

“I said no Stephanie,” Azzi all but yells, startling Stephie into being quiet and making both Drew and Paige flinch. The little girl is wide-eyed for a second -not used to anything but her mother’s normally gentle way of dealing with her occasional brattiness- before her lips begin to tremble and big fat tears begin to spill down her cheeks. She scrambles out of her chair, beelining towards Paige and climbing onto her lap as she burrows her face into the blonde’s neck, wetting her shirt with tears.

“Shhh, shhh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige whispers to the little girl, gently rocking the two of them back and forth as she strokes her hair.

She glances at Azzi, who’s adamantly looking, her face stone cold but regret gleaming in her eyes, “Az-”

“No,” the younger woman says immediately.

“C’mon,” Paige says exasperatedly, “you don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“If it’s about giving her a soda, I don’t wanna hear it,” Azzi warns, “you can’t just give into all of her demands all the time, you have to learn to say no and she needs to learn to hear it.”

“I hear you but Az it’s a Friday-”

“Paige-”

“A tiny bit of soda to start the weekend can’t hurt. In fact,” Paige smirks down at the little girl in her lap as she coaxes Stephie’s face out of her neck so she can wipe away the tears on her blotchy red face, “I think a little soda to start the weekend is probably good for you.”

She feels her heart soar when it makes Stephie giggle, letting out a couple teary hiccoughs in between as she clutches onto Paige.

“I think so too Mama,” the little girl echoes, looking back at her mother with a timid grin.

“Give in Azzi,” Paige matches the pleading smile on Stephie’s face as she turns her focus onto the brunette, “she deserves a little treat

“I know what she deserves. I think I know what’s good for my daughter,” Azzi says steely and Paige feels something cold squeezing through her ribcage, “no soda Stephie. End of discussion.”

My daughter.

The thing is Paige doesn’t even really think she has the right to be upset over Azzi’s statements. Really, it’s nothing but the truth. Stephie is Azzi’s daughter and Azzi definitely knows what’s good for her daughter. So why does it sting like this? Why does it feel like little shards of ice piercing into her heart, leaving deep gashes that have her whole body feeling like it’s freezing over? Paige knows why, knows that these past weeks had been enough to trick her mind into believing the mirage that Stephie was hers. But now Azzi’s flicked her fingers against it causing the whole fantasy to come crashing down and Paige feels herself slowly getting buried under the rubble of it.

“Right," she says softly, trying to keep her voice steady, “she’s your daughter and you know best,” she ignores the tinge of guilt in Azzi’s eyes as she turns to Stephie who looks like she’s ready to protest again, “you heard your Mama Stephie. No soda tonight.”

“But Miss Buecks-” Stephie whines.

“No sweetheart,” Paige says gently, shaking her head.

The little girl narrows her eyes before letting out a frustrated groan as she slips off of Paige’s lap. She loudly stomps her feet, glaring at all the adults in the room before she angrily storms upstairs. It’s so unlike the usually even-keeled little girl that Paige thinks it’s probably a reaction to the tension she can sense between the adults. Her eyes drift over Drew -who’s chewing at his lips in a similar manner to how his big sister often does- before locking with Azzi’s and she feels that familiar guilt of there’s always collateral damage for our mistakes pooling at the pit of her stomach. The brunette breaks eye contact first, letting out a heavy sigh before she follows behind her daughter and Paige lets her face fall into her hands,

It feels like everything’s in free fall, like during an earthquake when everything shakes and the books -the complicatedly tangled stories of the past and present- go flying from their shelves. Paige rubs at her eyelids, trying to make this helpless feeling go away. Her fingers are coiled tightly around a rope, just like they had been on that night eight years ago and just like that night, she can feel the tips of them starting to bleed. She can feel Drew’s gaze fixated on her; can tell he’s contemplating whether to say something or not. Swallowing, Paige pulls her face out of her palms to look at her brother, a decisively defiant expression on her face.

“Something you wanna say?” she asks him, cocking her eyebrows as if she’s daring him to speak.

Drew hesitates for a second before an almost identical expression crosses his face, “what the fuck are you doing Paige?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Paige replies airly.

Drew narrows his eyes at her, “seriously?”

“Seriously,” Paige shrugs.

“This was supposed to be a temporary arrangement Paige,” Drew says, ignoring the way his sister flinches at the reminder as he drops his voice lower so they can’t be overheard, “you were supposed to be with Golden State for one season, hopefully win a championship and then you’d be off to New York at the end. That was the plan but clearly all of that has gone flying out the window. You’re getting attached to this city, this life, to them.”

A barely believable “of course I’m not,” flutters weakly off of Paige’s lip as she blinks rapidly at the accusation.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Drew curses, “Paige your bed looks like it hasn’t been slept in, in days. There’s almost no groceries in your fridge or your pantry. From what I saw of the garden, it’s basically been left for dead. Your closet is half empty and it sure as shit isn’t because they’re all in the laundry because as Stephie puts it, Azzi says that their laundry basket is three times heavier than it used to be with all your clothes.”

“I-I don’t-” Paige stutters, “that- that doesn’t- doesn’t mean-”

“It’s been two months -if even that- two months Paige and I think you're in even deeper now than you were the last time,” Drew spits the last two words out bitterly like their flames on the tip of his tongue and the sparks of it singe Paige’s skin.

“That’s not- I’m not-” she tries to justify but it sounds hollow to her own ears.

“You are,” Drew says exasperatedly, “what are you gonna do when she walks away again? When she lets you go again, what are you gonna do Paige?”

Her little brother isn’t cruel but Paige swears she’s never heard anything more aimed to hurt than these perfectly directed arrows he’s launching straight at her heart. The defense of she’s not going to leave me stays stuck in her throats, battling against the harsh thoughts of she already has that are taunting her.

“She- I- you- this- I don’t- you can’t-” Paige doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say; she feels like a fish spluttering outside of the water, desperate to breathe air that seems to kill her the more she inhales it.

Drew looks away, his face crumpling slightly, a mixture of sadness and guilt gleaming in his eyes, and Paige can tell that he hates himself a little for being the one to cause her this torment, the one to make her face the darkest possibility of her reality.

“I was there Paige,” he says softly, “I was the one who watched you break in ways that I didn’t even think you were breakable,” his voice snaps, “and I was the one who watched how hard you had to work to put yourself back together. I don’t wanna see any of that again.”

“Drew,” Paige whispers.

“And it wasn’t just her,” Drew continues, “you lost her family too.”

Paige gulps at the reminder, “they were still there. They came to games. They were at my wedding.”

Drew shakes his head, “but it wasn’t the same and you know it. You lost her and you lost them and this time,” he bites his lip, like he wishes the next words weren’t sitting on his vocal chords, waiting to spill out, “this time, if you lose her, you’ll lose a lot more.”

“What do you-” Paige heistates, unsure if she even wants to ask, “what do you mean?”

Her little brother pauses, mouth opening and closing like it’s painful to speak, before his eyes drift towards the stairs and Paige feels her heart sinking even before Drew says the words she knows he’s about to say.

“You’ll lose her daughter. You’ll lose Stephie.”

“No,” the whispered syllable is out before Paige can even stop it, “no, no, no, no-”

“Paige-”

“Stop it Drew,” the blonde says louder than she wanted to as she clutches at her heart, trying to keep it whole as the tears overflow over her waterline.

“Stop what Paige? Stop saying things you already know deep down but are choosing to ignore? Is that what you want me to stop doing?” Drew asks harshly.

“Drew-”

“There’s a reason you didn’t want to commit to the Valkyries and you know it. There’s a reason you only wanted to be here for this season.” her younger brother says firmly.

“I know,” Paige whispers, “I know.”

Drew’s eyes soften, “stick to plan Paige. Let the Liberty be the end goal. You’ll be in New York by the end of October.”

Paige bites her lip so hard, she can taste that morbid taste of iron on her lips as she opens her mouth to say something. She’s not sure if it’s to argue with Drew or to agree and she doesn’t get a chance to find out. Instead there’s a sharp intake of breath and then a quiet, timid voice laced with accusation and Paige feels the blood drain out of her body as she slowly turns around to find Stephie and Azzi -their faces ashen with identical expressions of betrayal- staring at her.

“Miss Buecks, you’re moving to New York?”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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yandere-sins · 3 months ago

Text

Monstober - Day 2: Werewolf/Werecat

I had a request for the continuation of my last werewolf!boyfriend story for at least a year now... time to make it nasty, ehehe >:3 I dedicate this to all my monster readers, and those that really enjoy knotting. >:3

First Part here!

Prompt: Werewolf/Werecat | Full Moon // Claws // Beastly Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Fem!Reader, Dub-Con, Praising, Degradation, Knotting, Knotfucking, Nicknames, Cunnilingus, Orgasming from pain, Use of pheromones to make darling horny, Mentioning of sexual manipulation, Monsterfuckery (more animal than human in this case), Talking about pregnancy), Violence (Breaking a door, Biting, Blood Mention, Mention of claws), Animal behavior, Monster descriptions, Very long post

"I know... Maybe... But the smell... No, no, no... Ah, I want to..."

Scraps of a conversation—one not held with you—reached your drowsy mind, slowly pulling you out of your dreams, which were almost as grim as reality. Ever since you discovered your boyfriend's true nature on that full-moon-night weeks ago, your depression had grown more and more. You fought at first, reasoned, pleaded to what was left of your sweet boyfriend. But the animal had taken roots too deep for you to tear them out.

And now, there was not much to do other than sleep.

The cottage had never felt like home, but it was suffocating now. When he wasn't around, you were locked up. And when he was home, he was overbearing, doting, and downright creepy. You caught him sniffing the bathroom door more than once just because you hid inside the room for a while. He explained that he just wanted to ensure you were okay, but you couldn't be so sure about it.

Hearing him pace back and forth behind the bedroom door wasn't as alarming anymore as it should have been. It didn't alert you right away, since he always seemed to be around, even when he wasn't. But this night was special, and between depression naps and being force-fed canned ravioli, this time, you did strain your ears after shaking off the initial drowsiness.

"Ah, awake, good, good... No! No, not good, not good! No..."

You sighed, listening to his rambles turning into a soft whine, the longing scratching of his nails against the bedroom door. From your position on the bed you spied the key still dangling from the lock, followed by countless steel locks snapped into place next to the frame. He had advised you to do it, and spending a night alone in your room was more of a pleasure than you cared to admit.

It was another full-moon night.

The first one since you found out, to be exact. And it hadn't been you who raised concerns at realizing it, your ex still remembering the blood bath he left after last time. It hadn't been intentional, but after throwing you across the parking lot, scratching you with his claws while carrying you, and biting your ankle when you didn't want to stop fighting, he had been devastated, wishing to avoid the bloodshed at all costs.

Of course, you wanted to avoid getting hurt again, too, even if your feelings and desires had become relatively meaningless over time. You still wanted to fight, but hiding was your second best option, and knowing he cared just a little about your well-being gave you some hope that not all was lost. One day, you'd escape him, but maybe not on this particular night. All you had to do for now was wait it out, keep quiet, don't alert the beast of your presence.

"Hrngh, mate... need to... mhm, no. Not like this..."

If only he wasn't so damn annoying.

"Just shut up!" you yelled, unable to fall asleep even after trying your hardest. It was bad enough to be in this situation, you didn't need a velcro werewolf to add to your misery and deny you the one thing you liked doing—sleeping in peace.

A soft whine escaped your ex as he halted in his tracks, and you sighed, feeling stupid that you blew your cover completely. Now that he knew you were definitely awake, he'd probably create an even bigger ruckus, especially when you refused to let him in. You heard his body rubbing against the wood, followed by the sound of his sniffing, and you cursed the door for being so poorly soundproofed. Ever since you found out what he was, he didn't hold back the strange mannerism his other form brought with. And you wanted nothing more than to escape the weirdness of this inhuman beast.

He groaned on the other side of the door, and you groaned inwardly as you realized even his breathing had gotten annoying.

"What are you even doing?" you asked him, not needing to yell for him to hear.

"N-Nothing..." he stuttered, sounding dejected and pathetic as he mumbled it into the doorframe. He had always been a lousy liar, but saying this while behaving like a mad dog was almost insulting. Some more hums and sighs reached you ever so often, the creepiness of it all rattling you every time.

"Can you go away?" you asked, annoyed. You wouldn't be able to go back to sleep like this, feeling constantly threatened and grossed out by his presence like this. But your ex merely slumped against the door, letting out a mix of a groan and a growl. It was as if he was on drugs—and not the good kind.

Grabbing your pillow, you wrapped it around your ears, hoping to eradicate the sounds coming from the door. But like so many times before, your hopes were literally smashed as you heard the frightening sound of violently cracking wood.

Immediately, you sat up, staring wide-eyed at the door. It was a small frame of pliable wood, but for some reason, you had felt safe with it separating you from the monster outside. As if it, with all the locks he installed and let you manage, could keep him out. But as you watched the door bend, his body slamming into it from the other side, you realized it had never been enough, not nearly.

"S-Stop!" you called out, and an inhuman growl escaped from behind the splintering wood.

"No stop," the beast growled back, the sounds of claws raking over the wood sent goosebumps down your spine. "My mate..." he sighed in that awful, inhuman voice, and you gulped as you listened to the sniffs. "I know where you are, Mate. So desperate, so in need."

You gasped as his shoulder finally broke through the door, pulling out of the hole it punched through, only to be replaced by his face. You sat completely still as his eyes roamed, taking only milliseconds to find and fixate on you. He had already shifted most of his features, hair growing where it wasn't supposed to, eyes turning from soft green to an intense emerald, his pupils small and digging into you.

Both of you stared at each other for what felt like hours, but you were surprised when he groaned once again, sounding desperate as he withdrew. Before you could say anything, his arm—already fully shifted, with claws for nails and the greyish-brown fur of an animal coating his skin—burst through, getting caught on the splintering wood, yet not caring as it pawed at the locks. Desperate to get it. To get to you.

"Mate," he whined, stopping in his tracks. "Let me in, yes? Let me make you feel good."

You shook your head, unable to voice your thoughts. As if you'd let that thing inside and do harm to you. No matter what it said, that wasn't going to happen.

Another growl, the door shaking while he gripped the first lock, yanking at it. After losing his grip once, he tried again, and before your very eyes, the first lock crumbled in his fist. He wouldn't be stopped by something puny like this, whether you helped him or not. You carefully clambered out of bed, not feeling safe cowering anymore. Desperate, you fiddled with the lock on the window, hoping it would be just as easily removable as your ex made it seem.

Crunch, gone was another lock on the door, the wood bending and creaking further as a body much larger and heavier leaned against it.

Just your lock didn't budge, even as you yanked and begged it to give way. "Come on," you whispered, and the beast growled from behind you, only encouraged by your words to break another one of the door locks.

But suddenly, in the middle of your frenzy to escape before the werewolf could get to you, you heard a whine louder than any before. The arm retracted, and you listened to the chaos unfold outside as the body of your ex slammed into the furniture in the hallway, scraping along the walls.

"No! No, stop! She's scared, she doesn't want this!" This was clearly your boyfriend's voice, begging with something—most likely himself—to stop. Your heart swelled with thankfulness, knowing he was the only one able to subdue the beast. But it was strong, as it had showcased so many times now.

"Yes, she wants," the beast growled. "She's fertile, she's ready. We waited so long to be one. Be one with our mate. Now we have her, and she needs us!"

"But she's not a werewolf! She's not ready for... for this!"

There was so much disgust and hate in his last words, and although you could imagine he meant this situation, you weren't sure if that was truly what he was implying. Maybe there was something more, something even worse, awaiting you that only your ex knew about.

Much to your own shame, your thoughts drifted temporarily, and you were unable to shift them back to focus. Fertile, ready, being one. It suddenly clicked what this monster wanted, and heat flooded your body, causing your core to clench. This had never been about hurting or scaring you.

The monster was, quite literally, trying to mate with you.

A gravelly groan escaped the beast, and you shuddered, feeling caught as the sound raked through your body unwillingly.

"There, she's ready. Waiting for us. Need us," it growled before softly whining, the sound of your boyfriend's voice not reemerging this time.

"I'm ready, too, need to see that pretty cunt, lick up that sweet scent."

Never once since finding out about your ex's secret had you thought about sex with your boyfriend. Depression killed most of your libido, and his touches disgusted you rather than excited. But he, on the other hand, or perhaps that beast controlling him, apparently had.

Looking out of the window, you had a full view of the bright full moon, hanging like an executioner's axe above your head. Even if you could escape this room, you knew you couldn't outrun the monster. Not with his enhanced senses and abilities. You could try to fight him, but your chances of success were slim with his superior strength and the possibility of you freezing up when you were face to face with the creature.

What should you do then? Simply... give up?

You shuddered, another cracking reminding you the monster was again working on opening the door. On getting to you. He wouldn't stop. He didn't when you screamed and begged, didn't when you were obviously afraid. There was no reasoning with an animal, and tears welled up in your eyes.

"Mhm, sad... Mate sad," your ex whined through the gap in the door, his voice mixing into the monster's way of talking. As if to lure you, like the big bad wolf had with little red riding hood. "Soon. I'll be there soon."

You knew it would be.

Surprised, you found yourself in front of the door, watching as the gnarly arm yanked at the second to last lock, impatiently trying to tear it off. There wasn't much you could possibly do to save yourself, but it was all too much to bear for your psyche. Tears fell freely as you reached up, not even realizing you had come so close to the beast, and brushed your hand over his fur. He stilled, letting go of the lock as he reached up instead.

Your breath hitched as you thought he would wrap his paw around your throat, but instead, his palm cupped your face, clawed thumb wiping away the tears. "Open the door," he rumbled softly, commanding it despite the gentle instruction. "Let me come in, mate. Let me comfort you."

His hand fell from your face, brushing down your body. There was something so strangely sensual in this huge paw of a hand gently caressing your body, even if the claws could slit you open at any given moment. You were going crazy, but you didn't move, didn't shove him away as you should have. He drove over the curve of your breast, his knuckles getting caught on your nipple, flicking it one after the other before he moved on to the side of your hip. Then the hand slit around the small of your back, pushing you closer to the door before settling above your ass.

Its presence was like a threat, and you reached up with shaking hands, slowly fiddling with the key to the door before unlocking it. Two more to go.

"Good," it growled. "I can smell your arousal. I'll see to it soon, pretty mate. Open it. Open the door."

Click. Did you want it to? Did you perhaps want that werewolf to get to you, ravage you like the beast it was? Had you gone insane after a month of isolation and depression? Your breath hitched as you reached for the last lock, the steady growling turning into more of a purr as his hand spread over your asscheek, slowly rubbing it, fingers dipping down too low for comfort with his elongated tips. Yet, when he pulled them from between your legs, you followed his touch, chasing the tingles he left in his wake.

Yes. You had gone insane. Fuck, you must have been mad, but your hands acted on their own as they unlocked the last barricade between you two.

"I-I'm opening it now," you announced, and the monster hummed appreciatively.

"Yes... Yes, you open it now, sweet thing. Let me in."

Your breathing ragged, the last lock clicked open much too easily, and you stepped backward as the wood creaked open. The monster's arm retracted after pushing down the handle from the inside, the splintered wood cracking out of the way as the creature's massive body broke through the frame.

There was more growling as it got stuck in the small opening, his body way too massive to fit, but it was too eager to wait. The werewolf jammed into it, shoulder and legs getting caught as he couldn't decide what should go first.

You gasped, noticing he hadn't even shifted fully yet, with much of your ex-boyfriend's features remaining as you caught his gaze, looking at you with desperation and sorrow.

"S-Sorry," he stuttered, his voice the growl of a beast, yet you knew it was your boyfriend talking to you. Telling you he couldn't stop it—no, he couldn't stop himself. You needed to stop differentiating the two when they were one and the same. And you were what they wanted, they desired, even if his rational part tried to protect you from the one that ran purely on instinct. You were prey. Prey that the werewolf wanted to fuck and then devour.

For some reason, that revelation made your heart race faster, and your legs clenched tighter together, a shuddering breath escaping you.

"Pretty mate," he sighed. "Pretty, pretty. So needy, so ready."

"W-What do you mean?" you asked him, and his grimace twisted into a grin.

"I can smell it. You are ripe and fertile. You're gonna take my seed and you will enjoy it, begging to have my cubs."

A gasp escaped you as you were slowly backed into the wall to the side of the bed. It was moments like these that made you regret not caring enough before. Not stealing a knife from the kitchen or asking for silver to protect you. Fuck, how could you have been so stupid as to open the door?! How could you do this to yourself?!

Your core clenched, and the shameful realization finally dawned on you. It had been some time since your period, and that meant... you were ovulating. Your libido may have been off, but nature didn't miss. Especially not if your boyfriend had some weird, werewolf pheromones you didn't notice before. It was your only explanation for wanting this thing anywhere close to you. You two used to have a very active sex life, but you had always used protection, and he had never pressed you to do what you didn't want. Maybe that made you too easily persuaded now, in this situation. A false sense of trust

"Don't be scared," the creature purred, reaching out his fully shifted arm towards you. "I'll take good care of you. I'll start right now."

With that and the terrifying sound of wood breaking, that massive monster plummeted to his knees, more hair sprouting as the full transformation took place. You watched in horror and awe as his snout elongated, teeth sharpening, and ears protruding from the top of his head. You wanted to throw up, but you had no time as the snout leaned forward, landing right between your legs.

The deep inhale could be felt through all the layers of clothes on you, and you felt your own wetness betraying you as it seeped into your panties. The monster was way too huge, even as he knelt, his body bending in what must have been painful for him just so he could kneel before you and sniff your privates mercilessly, driven by the need to satisfy his and your cravings.

Pushing his snout upwards, an electric shock went through you as it flicked your clit, maw splitting to allow his tongue to lap out. It was so damn long, able to easily slip between your asscheeks from his front-facing position. And it moved like a separate entity, a snake able to buckle and twist, eager to taste all you were offering.

Claws hooked beneath the waistband of your pajama, and you squeaked as he rapidly pulled them down to your ankles. His tongue moved out of the way only to let the fabric pass, immediately slinging back between your legs, licking up all the excess wet coating the inside of your thighs. You let out an involuntary moan as the tip of his tongue poked at your entrance through the fabric, and the monster chuckled, his tongue vibrating along to the sound.

It was almost too much. Your body bent forward, the monster's shoulders perfectly in reach to grab onto, and you leaned into his snout. He took it as a sign of your willingness, arms reaching out to support you by the hips, and you whined as the thick muscle pressed into you teasingly. You'd never be able to take it fully, and the fear gave you another pang to your core, making you imagine what it would be like inside you, winding and twisting around.

You felt so embarrassed that you were thinking about these things, not understanding why your body would crave them. But you couldn't stop. Couldn't stop thinking of the ways it could lap at your folds, play your clit, or dig deeper than anything ever had before. Maybe with a tongue like this, your orgasm wouldn't be an every-once-in-a-while thing but a constant, double, triple pleasure that only you got to experience. You were fucking going insane, and the shame almost turned you on more.

"So good," the monster praised, and the deep sound shuddered through your body. You raised onto your tiptoes, realizing you were so close to the edge of depravity. But that was when he sniffed your soaked-through panties, inhaled with a long, deep breath before suddenly closing his maw, leaving you breathless and violently tingling.

"You're ready," the creature announced and you whined as he pulled the last bit of pressure—his nose—from your clit, leaving you with nothing. You didn't know you could be this needy, but your fingers curled into his fur, silently willing him back to give you the earth-shaking orgasm he had built up to.

"You need to be filled up, sweet thing. Need my seed to swell your belly until it bursts and give you what you desire, little mate."

His hold on your hips grew uncomfortably tight, but before you knew it, you were lifted off the ground. A breathless gasp escaped you as you were carried over to the bed, your head hitting your pillow with a soft "Uff!" escaping you. But when you opened your eyes, the werewolf was right there, his legs spread on either side of the bed, one arm gripping the iron headboard that creaked underneath the pressure of his grip.

It felt incredibly threatening to have him hover above you like this. Still, at the same time, you couldn't help but flush with heat as he looked down at you, that massive monster looking at you as if it was either lovestruck or famished, satisfied some inner demons of yours. That was, until your eyes fell below his waistline, seeing the red, angry erection that awaited you there, jutting out of the fur and merrily spilling precum as if it was lube.

With a groan, your ex reached down, gripping his massive cock awkwardly in his clawed hand. More cum gushed from it, and his hips pounded forward into the hold. There was no way you could take that, its girth unimaginable inside your small, human pussy.

Some of the hot spill touched your bare legs, your pants discarded on the floor where you had stood, and you jolted from the heat. It spread like wildfire, the thought of being filled with it almost sending you over the edge right then and there. The idea of your womb filled up with this hot, heavy seed was so enticing to you, although you didn't realize it had been a kink of yours. Something felt so off about your reactions, yet you couldn't determine what. You couldn't turn your eyes away from his cock, not even as his hand slid back, fingers spreading further to envelop the bulbous growth at the base. You swallowed thickly as you watched him squeeze and massage it, the discomfort clear in his movements, yet his tip just wouldn't stop spilling.

"Open your legs," he growled, and you shuddered as hesitation and willingness fought inside of you. It seemed the monster didn't have the same concerns as you had, willing to tear you open just to get his dick wet. And a part of you wanted to be the one wetting this dick, but this time, rationality won.

"N-No, it won't fit!" you squeaked, slamming your legs shut as hard as you could and moving backward until your shoulders hit the iron frame.

"It will," the werewolf snarled confidently. "You are more than ready, little mate."

"No! No, you will hurt me! I can't take it--"

The deep growl that clattered his teeth shut you up fast, and you turned your head away as he lowered his towards yours. His snout ran from your temple to the side of your throat, brushing away your shirt to expose more of the soft area between your shoulder and neck. When he licked over the spot, you felt a jolt of pleasure rake through you, a weird kind of connection developing with this monster.

"You are my mate. I long prepared you for this—longer than you realize. Spread you wide, marked you, let you smell my pheromones. You were always going to be mine, even when you didn't know it. You were ready before you found out about this, but tonight, you'll finally take your place as my mate. Mine."

Pushing his hips down, they connected with yours, and you temporarily forgot to clench your thighs, allowing the monster to rub his cock against your cunt. It was hot, wet, and ready, and with your soft whine, you signaled that you were, too.

With his free hand, he reached down, grabbing your left leg before pulling it to the side. With another sniff in the air, the monster let out a satisfied rumble before stretching out his pointer, slipping the claw under the fabric of your panty.

You gasped as the fabric tore at the smallest of tugs, easily giving way to your bare pussy, and you felt almost the same sense of shame as you had at your first time with your boyfriend. Shy, virginal. Perhaps because, to this werewolf, with his heightened senses, you were much more exposed than normally. He saw, smelled, and tasted everything so much more and did so with the greatest of pleasures.

"Mhm, tight," he commented as he looked down.

"Too tight," you whined, and he snorted.

"Perfect."

Pushing your leg back, he brought his own forward to secure it in place, and letting go of the headboard, he swept your other leg up to rest it above his. You hadn't even noticed the swift lifting of your hips he did, only feeling the softness of your blanket underneath them when he had already elevated you. He was surprisingly considered for a beast, but that wasn't what you should have been thinking about.

"Hold here," he instructed, guiding your hands over your head and to the iron rods that made up the headboard. With shivering hands, you grasped them and looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes not wavering from yours as he reached down to position himself.

"Good girl," he chuckled, and you couldn't help more heat spreading to your cheeks as you looked away first.

Cursing the wave of excitement, only measured against the fear of being penetrated by something so big, you whined softly as you felt his tip press against your entrance, your pussy gaping after this promise of finally getting the orgasm you had been denied before.

His snout leaned down, brushing against the side of your face reassuringly, and you heard that eery purr rumble in his chest again. With his own hands gripping the top of the headboard, you began to realize what you had allowed. You shifted on top of his lap, pulling yourself further away, but his hips followed, caging you between his body and the headboard.

"No, no wait!" you whimpered, panic spreading through you as your body prepared with all the adrenaline it could muster.

"No more waiting, little mate," he replied and his hips snapped forward.

A soundless scream ripped from your throat, your spine arching as the whole shaft of his cock invaded you, split you wide open, and tore your entrance as the bulb tried to follow into your depths.

"It's too big!" you complained, but your words were all but one big moan that only encouraged him more. There were no words to describe the feeling, a mixture of pain that turned into pleasure, that burned with even more pain before finally pressing all the right spots. And you were so full.

You felt your toes curl as you came, overwhelmed to the point of tears. Tears that were licked up by an eager tongue, wet and hot as it found your lips, pulling them apart to invade your mouth as well in an abhorrent kiss to fur-covered lips. His tongue was choking you, fucking your throat as his cock made little juts inside you, guiding you through your orgasm.

It didn't take him long to find a rhythm, his cock rutting into you madly by the time your high was broken, only mind-shattering sensitivity remaining. The headboard creaked and shook as he used it to drive himself forward and deeper into you. Soon, your wetness and his precum pooled beneath your cunt, and when he dragged his cock back, preparing for an especially deep push, the knot at the base slipped inside with it.

This time, you did scream, loud enough to make him jolt, his cock kissing even deeper as your bodies collided. The werewolf growled, pulling his knot free, and your shriek turned into a loud moan, your eyes rolling back. And so he did it again, fucking the mass into you again and again. You couldn't scream every time it spread you open with blunt force, but every time it did, you felt like losing your conscience.

Soon, he didn't even pull it out fully anymore, only moving inside of you. The knot grew, and you squirmed, uncomfortable with the mass spreading inside you. "No!" you whined, but it wasn't convincing when it sounded like a plead for more. You completely lost control as his cock bulged inside you, the beast growling as a hot spurt of cum splashed your inner walls.

And as if the floodgates opened, more spurts followed, spilling all inside you with no chance of escaping. You wished it didn't give you that ugly, fulfilling feeling of yet another orgasm, but you weren't spared. The werewolf groaned as you clenched around him, and you shook violently while more and more cum filled your womb. Just like he promised, he filled you up to the brim, expanding your insides as if he had already gotten you pregnant. You felt both nauseated from the feeling of fluids swapping around inside of you as well as so damn satisfied by feeling full.

Growls and howls escaped him, maw lowering back to settle between your shoulder and neck. You didn't notice him licking the spot over and over while you were still orgasming, as if this was the first time you had ever reached such a high. Groaning, you let your head fall back, arching your body against his, not realizing this had been your biggest mistake.

Pain worse than anything you had ever felt before shot through you, and your scream died down quickly as blood gushed from your shoulder, his teeth burying deeper as you tried to rip yourself away from the monster. He was groaning, lapping at the wounds his maw caused and his cock jerked inside you, causing all the fluids to sway.

You reached around his neck, driving your nails through his fur and into the taut skin on his back. You whimpered and pushed your body into his pleadingly, willing him to stop. It hurt so much, and yet you felt almost back at the edge of your orgasm, your hips unwillingly rutting against his, the knot moving back and forth around your entrance.

Only when you came again did the werewolf stop his bite, howling at the sight of you shuddering violently beneath him. And finally, he was satisfied, your blood dripping from his maw as he pumped his cock into you again a handful of times, making sure you were plugged up well.

"Mine," he rasped. "All mine. My mate, my bitch."

His hand fell to the swollen part of your stomach, and you groaned as he applied some pressure.

"And soon," he hummed, satisfied as you felt another pump of cum fill you up. "You'll bear my pups like a good mate. And I will fill you up again for more like you were always meant to be."

You barely registered the words, but the tears falling from your eyes were proof that you understood. Understood what you had allowed to happen, understood that you were indeed what he claimed you to be. His bitch, his little breeding pet. His.

"Good," he chuckled, and you let out a sob, realizing he could feel your giving up, the despair overwhelming you. But to him, it was only one thing: submission. He didn't need you to voice it to win a battle you couldn't have fought if you wanted to. And you were too helpless to make him think otherwise, too exhausted to argue, too full to deny what you were.

Tugging his knot back, you realized he was slowly able to pull it out, and you whined, feeling the first spurts of seed run down your legs. But he pushed it back the second he noticed it, humming as he seemed to enjoy your warmth.

"You're all mine now, you belong to me," he growled, victorious. But then a whine broke through, and you watched as the werewolf hunched over, one hand gripping his head. Concerned, you didn't know what to do, but when you tried to move, you felt his knot inside, and the pleasure that shot through you made you flush with heat and moan.

"God..." you heard him whine, and you looked up, not in the eyes of a beast, but those of your ex. You saw your own reflection in them, undone, bloody, and sexually satisfied beyond recognition. He whined again softly, but you didn't believe his words when he sobbed them quietly. Not with his knot pulsing inside you still, leaking seed everywhere.

"I'm so, so sorry..."

#Monstober 2024 #werewolf #yandere werewolf #yandere!werewolf #monster #yandere monster #yandere!monster #yandere #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere fanfiction #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere tw #yandere headcanons #yandere drabbles #yandere oneshot

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postmoe · 5 months ago

Text

In the Next Moment:

Yandere/Alpha Gojo Satoru x Omega Reader

I can't even tell you how long ago I started this. I had no idea how to end it and I took away and added a bunch of things haha. Here is your alpha Gojo Satoru, here to save the day and take you for himself!

omegas are lesser creatures, familial abuse, self-deprecation, like your father in this is literal scum

What kind of God deals a life like this? Where status is given the moment you’re born. Where you can be cast away at birth and shoved into a home just for having the wrong scent. It used to be that families would wait until puberty before they knew what breed their child would be. Now? Now they have the technology to make accurate guesses. Not one hundred percent, but, accurate enough.

In your case, call it lucky or not, your family didn’t send you away to a home. Omega’s aren’t completely useless, and can fetch quite a high penny on the market. Every day you were reminded of your failures as their daughter, that being bred by them should have produced an alpha.

“This is all your fault,” your mother would say to your father, “Your cousin is an omega, it runs in your bloodline!”

“How was I supposed to know?! No one ever spoke of them I had no idea until we did the test!” He would shout back.

It’s a common argument you heard growing up. One that would seep into the marrow of your bones and claw its way into your dreams. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Even though they argued with each other, at the end of the day it came out to you being wrong. You were a curse.

Eventually, your mother left. Being an alpha with you in the home, it was irredeemable. She had not bonded with an omega like her DNA screamed, your father a Beta and those relationships were never to last if an Omega came into the picture. Just an example of the homewrecker in your genes.

He would drink and smoke on the couch all day and night. “We had such a happy family, such high hopes for you…” Another swig of the bottle in his hand, “It’s your job to take care of us now. Your mother did everything. Go make some money and bring it back home.”

Quivering, afraid to even speak in front of him, you had to ask, “B-But what if people find out I’m a- AH!”

You cower as the bottle smashes against the brick wall next to your head, glass and liquor breaking around while your father stands and screams, “You stupid bitch! Go get blockers, fuck! How hard is it to come up with things on your own? You’re so fucking pathetic, stupid fucking omega,” he continues to grumble as he storms past you, “Clean up this fucking mess.”

Of course, you’ve thought about running away, thought about life outside of your home. The realism of it is not pretty, though. You’ve seen how omegas are treated on the streets if they get caught, they’re not allowed in the city because their scent can be such a disturbance. You have to be really taken care of to live amongst others. If you weren’t so rare then it wouldn’t be an issue, but unfortunately omegas can’t be shared around to every alpha.

Getting blockers is probably the hardest job. Most doctors don’t want to sell them to you unless you have a good reason for being an omega, ie; rich spouse, breeding bitch, selling, etc. Anything on the black market is a gamble between being really good or really shit. Eventually, another omega you came across in passing had recommended a ‘hole in the wall’ doctor. They hide down an alleyway in the slums of the city but are open to helping omegas. When you went there it had ignited your fear and you started releasing poor, omega pheromones. Many, hungry looks your way were cast, though thankfully you made it out in one piece.

Now you were left to try and survive in the wild.

“Yo!” Your head shoots up from the stall oven, seeing a familiar head of white hair and blindfolded head.

Honestly, you were shocked, once people found out the ‘lovely’ attendant at the crepe stall was an omega, they generally never returned. “Ah,” you try not to gape at him, “You’re back. You didn’t come with your, um, students?”

It’s been a little over a year now that you’ve manned the crepe stall in a deserted park. You think that’s why your boss put you here, because not many people came by so business wasn’t that great; it also gave him a good excuse to berate you when you didn’t meet income quota. Earlier this week you were met with a unique set of customers, one of them being this man and then two younger boys and a girl to whom he introduced as his students – very proud of them. In that same interaction, whilst the students were enjoying each other’s crepes and you were making his, he had suddenly leaned in and inhaled a few times, sniffing you and grinning cheekily, “You’re an omega, aren’t ya?” It shocked you because you shouldn’t be smelling like anything right now, the sugary crepes usually enough to hide and scent that seems to waft from you. Now, he had returned alone, acting as if you were buddies, “My dear students are in a fierce battle! I have made some time to see my favourite crepe omega.”

His words were too loud, you had to look around in fear that maybe he was trying to let others know, trying to get you boycott. However, no one was there. Was he trying to bait you? Maybe you should just go along with it, “Did you really like them that much?”

He perked up, arms open in a welcoming stance, “Of course! The food, the chef, both are a delicious snack~.”

Flirting?! Definitely a joke.

Your shocked expression must’ve spoke volumes as he laughed at you, wiping a faux tear from his blindfolded eyes, “Don’t be so unsure of yourself. Surely a treat like you gets hit on all the time.”

“Are you hearing yourself,” you blurt out without thinking. How could he be so casual about this if he weren’t planning something sinister. All the memories of manipulation and abuse from strangers in your life come flooding back, your body subconsciously recoiling in on itself in defence. Your voice is meeker now, “Please, if you’re going to do something just get over with it.”

The man’s footsteps sound calm as he strides towards you, his hand reaching forward. You cringe in on yourself, awaiting a slap or a hit, only for your body to be taken over by surprise when he speaks, his index finger pointing towards the flat stove-surface of the kiosk, “Your crepe is burning.”

“Oh no!” You squeal, quickly going to flip it off the surface and onto a serviette. Tears start to collect in your eyes as you think of all the different ways you’ll be punished, “Shit shit shit. He’s going to know! He always knows and I can’t hide it, I’m screwed-“

Silence engulfs you as you watch, stunned, at the man who picks up the hot and charred crepe, worms out his tongue and opens his mouth, before scoffing it down in a single gulp. He pulls out a few bills and sets them on the kiosk counter, “Whew! In hindsight I should have put cream or something on it. Definitely not as good as the first one I had.” Honestly… What was his deal? He didn’t question your shocked expression, only smiling and reaching out his finger to wipe at a stray tear, using the kiosk to lean over and reach you, “Name’s Satoru. Or, well, Gojo is my last name and tends to be what others go by. For you, cutie, I’d rather be addressed by something more to heart. So, you free after this? I know a great restaurant near here.”

Your mouth opens and closes, gaping like a dehydrated fish. You didn’t need to look down to see his arms begin to sizzle on the pan, the sound and smell enough to alert you both. Ven so, you informed him with ghostly words, “Your arm is cooking.”

“Not gonna move it ‘til you say yes!”

… You couldn’t believe what your day has come to, “Okay.”

The restaurant he had decided to take you to was something way out of your budget, and just as you were about to voice your concerns for it, he quickly put his finger to your lips and spoke, “Shh, I know what you’re going to say and don’t worry. I’ve got us covered.”

Neither of you were particularly dressed for this place, he wearing a black uniform with the neck of it covering his chin, and you in your small, ripped (not by design) shorts and oversized t-shirt. Even with this, the waiter at the front smiled widely at Satoru, “Gojo-sama! What a pleasant surprise. Table for two?”

You were thankful that the waiter didn’t acknowledge you. No greeting yet no glare or scowl either. Satoru flicked his fingers into guns and pointed at him, “You betch’ya! One of those cosy, independent booths, please.”

“Of course, right this way.” The waiter lead you through the open area of the restaurant, many patrons idly enjoying their dinner with their loved ones by quiet candlelight, whilst the ones you walked slightly too close to were able to smell you and tell just what breed you were, some even trying to complain to their designated waiter. You just hung your head in shame until you got to the booth, following Satoru’s lead until you heard a door being slid shut.

Quickly, you turned to face him, seeing that he had shut you both in a secluded area with a table, the walls made of a deep coloured screen that didn’t quite go to the ceiling, yet provided all the privacy one could need in a place like this. “Don’t worry,” he says, walking around to pull out a chair for you, “The owner and I get along real well. I’ve helped them out a few times.”

He slides the seat in as you sit, and you still can’t get over the fact that he hasn’t done anything bad to you yet. This man has singlehandedly given you the most kindness you have received in your entire life. Perhaps he wants to break your heart in the end, at least you might get a free meal out of it. “I see… Are you a chef? Is that why your hair is up like that and you didn’t flinch when you got burnt?” You knew some chefs were godly in the kitchen and a little stove sizzle wouldn’t quit them.

Satoru laughed, bringing his hands up to act as a resting spot for his chin, “Nooo~ Not a chef, and my hair just sits this way with the blindfold.”

Which brings you on to your next question, “Why do you wear a blindfold? How can you navigate like that?”

His cheeky grin only widens, his hands now moving to sit flat on the table so he can lean forward and whisper, “Would you believe I have… Special powers?”

This made you quirk your eyebrow, now you were unintentionally leaning in as well, “Huh? Behind your blindfold?”

Satoru chuckled, leaning back again in his chair as he nonchalantly waves the discussion away in the air, “Ah, I don’t think you can handle this conversation just yet. Oh! I know, how about this,” he holds his hand up, five fingers pointing towards the sky. Using his other hand, brings down his thumb so he was only showing four fingers, “Four more dates and I’ll reveal my eyes to you.”

Another flustered expression overcame you. You hadn’t even finished this date – this is a date?! – and yet he was already planning more. Subconsciously, you tilt your head away from him, shoulders coming inwards as you mutter, “I don’t have anything to offer you, Satoru.”

“I just,” he falters, and for the first time he sounds a little unsure of how to say something. Easily, his motions fluid and controlled, like he knows exactly what he wants to do, he reaches for your upper arms and pulls them forward, sliding down the length of your arms until he can comfortably hold your hands, “I just need you to be there. That’s all I want.”

You swallow thickly, thinking it over. It wouldn’t hurt to see how tonight turned out, and even if you said no, he knows where you work. You suppose you can see where this takes you, until it falls flat like it should for an omega.

That night, you managed to tip toe back into your home, your father snoring on the couch. It was a miracle you weren’t berated, at least you had thought so until the morning.

Cooking breakfast for him, he had decided now was prime time to slam his fist into the archway of the room, making you flinch as he roared, “You stupid bitch, don’t think I didn’t notice you not home last night. Where the fuck were you?”

What to say… Could you lie? You’d have to lie, he would accuse you of trying to do something shady if you said you had a date. No omega would get a date, especially you, and so that would mean you were planning something bad. Or maybe it was your catastrophising thoughts that made you see it this way, a defence mechanism, if you will. “I was working late,” you tell him, quietly, “My boss is trying to extend the crepe business into later hours for couples on dates.”

To this, your father scoffs, planting his body at the table as he awaits his meal, “No couple would want an omega to serve them, you might try to make off with their mate.”

You really did try to hold your tongue, but maybe Satoru’s easy-going behaviour had mellowed you out a bit, “I just thought you might want the extra money.” It wasn’t a smart-ass comment, but no matter what you’d say he would take it as one.

This morning, he seemed to have had a bad hangover, as he could only growl out, “What was that, you runt? Know your place.”

Oh, how you desired to spit in his food. You gazed longingly at the bacon and eggs you were making, such a simple meal. Last night you had come home to see new pizza boxes laid around. Honestly, you felt a sort of betterment from that. You had dined like royalty, and he was stuck here eating shit from a sole. If only for last night, you were better than him.

…

“A curse?” You questioned, your wide eyes looking over your teacup. It was an authentic, British set, Satoru had taken you out to a little garden café on the other side of the city. It was amongst some of the historic temples around, the trees making you seem far away from the city and the food a kind of exquisite you had never been privy of knowing.

He grinned at you, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling from behind his dark glasses, “That’s right! Kind of like a ghost or a monster. They feast on collective, negative energy and such, I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

You tried to keep an open mind, “And you… Hunt them?”

“Yeah! See, now you’re getting it,” he grins, excitedly.

With a smile, you set your cup down and ask, “Are you an author, Satoru?”

He waved his hand dramatically in the air, “Oh, you flatterer, you. I’m not that creative, it’s just my job.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t help the creeping feeling that he was lying to you. Like, this was your third ‘date’ together and he still had yet to bully you or do something horrible. This wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to make you scared and freak out. Maybe he wants to laugh at the weak, little omega and her fear smell. Is that why you were in a crowded café?

“Hey, hey,” he reaches over, holding your hands in his, “I can sense you’re troubled but not for the reason I’d think. You still don’t trust me, do you, (Y/n)?”

Your mouth opens and closes, unsure how to word your thoughts. You were caught in a predicament you didn’t want to be in. Of course you still didn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust him after everything you’ve been through. Would he take such offense to that?

Satoru seems to take your shock as his answer, smiling sincerely at you, “I don’t blame you, it’s okay. That’s why we’re doing these dates! Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from now on.”

Flaming heat erupts on your cheeks, the feeling of his thumbs caressing your skin feeling like an iron, “How can you just say that? You don’t know me and I’m-“ you stop suddenly, looking around you to notice the faces of disgust, you really didn’t need to finish that sentence. Your blockers had grown thin, so now you were cutting them in half to try and spread it out since your doctor was on holiday. Unfortunately, they didn’t prevent the smell of your pheromones enough, it was painfully obvious everywhere you went.

“Ah, my darling omega, you truly are sweet,” he inhales, smiling contentedly, “Once you realise the world is your playground, nothing else matters. I could kill everyone here and take you away, and as long as no one can stop me – and trust me, they can’t -, anything is possible, and your dreams really can come true.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, his words always bordering on genuine and humour. Even with the knowledge of Satoru’s like to play, the undeniable dark truth of a true alpha manages to waft in the air.

Like a switch, he grins widely, all teeth and charisma, “That’s not saying I will, but it’s such a nice feeling, don’t you think?”

It’s quiet as his words sink in. You think about your life so far, how you couldn’t even get away with greeting someone without a knife to your throat and spitting words of how an omega doesn’t get to speak without their alpha allowing them to do so. As much as you’d like to punch them in the gut, you don’t think you’d really want to kill them, everyone growing under their own circumstance. Instead of getting into political debates, you think you don’t want anymore stares and judgement for today, deciding that even if Satoru is okay to talk to, you’re still uncomfortable, “I suppose so, it must be nice having such strength, and being able to see… Curses.”

The rest of the date was enjoyable, and he even answered some of your questions about the creatures he hunts. Apparently, omegas are prime suspects, easy to feast upon and no one questions when they go crazy, the second lot of victims being alphas that had an omega as a child. You’re honestly surprised you and your father haven’t been attacked yet if that’s the case.

Satoru drives you home and it’s relatively quiet in the car, the thrumming of the almost noiseless engine enough to fill the silence. You go back to what Satoru says during your date, and now you’re memorising the smells he emitted during your conversation. Before, it was hard to really tell since you were stressing, and the restaurant was full of blooming alphas and betas. However, now it was lingering through the car. He had spoken so easily about death and killing, like it was second nature to him next to breathing. Some curses were sentient, able to talk and think, and then there was the comment about killing everyone else in the restaurant, who were definitely not curses. He was happy, proud even, to have that kind of strength and show it off to you. Tonka bean and vetiver… Perhaps even an orange blossom. It was nice, even if the reason behind it was a little morbid, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes and indulge.

The scent got stronger, and suddenly you were startled by a low chuckle, your eyes flashing open to see you were leaning towards him. Satoru had slowed down in front of your house and turned the car off, his cheeks a flush in the dim light, “Having you relax around me like that feels so nice. I can’t tell you enough how happy you’ve just made me.”

You open your mouth immediately to say sorry, only to close it after a moment’s thought. He doesn’t smell like he’s trying to bully you or mad that you thought you could get so close to him without repercussions. How much longer can you hold out from someone who is being so kind to you?

“You don’t have to reply to that,” he tells you, saving you from thinking of an acceptable response. Satoru gets out first, hurrying to your side while you unbuckle yourself to let you out. You smile at him and let him take your hand, holding you close as he closes the door and pushes you against the car. A small gasp is pushed from you, surprised at his boldness. You’re lucky that this neighbourhood was relatively quiet, no one being awake at this hour to see you with anyone. “I really want to kiss you,” he says, face inching closer to you, “You have no idea how hard it was for me to hold back in the car.”

Your eyes shift in nervousness, hands coming to press to Satoru’s chest, “W-wait, s’too soon-“

“It’s fine,” he cuts, not letting you get another word out, smashing his lips to yours in a frenzied kiss. Your eyes dilate, his scent and taste making your heart jump with a certain anxiety – excitement – you’re letting your shoulders relax and clenching the front of his shirt as he takes the lead. Maybe… Maybe this isn’t so bad… His leg finds its way between the both of yours and gently grinds down, a small moan slipping from your mouth at the electric feeling. Next, he starts to slowly introduce his tongue to your mouth, the wet muscle a new sensation to you.

Suddenly, you’re hit with an overwhelming pain, your gut tightening and your eyes watering as you double over into his chest. Your body is hot, panting, you lean into him and can hardly hear anything. Satoru is speaking, saying something, ‘sorry’ and ‘test’ are two words you think you understand but you can’t focus on sounds. What does help you, though, is the gentle caress his hand brings to your head. He holds you tight, safe, his pheromones echoing security and comfort through your mind. You mumble into his clothes once you feel you’re able to talk again, “Wh-what was that? That hurt so much…”

Satoru hums, both hands coming to your face which he cradles and regards you with loving eyes, “Have you ever been in heat, (Y/n)?”

You sniffle, shaking your head, “No, I’ve taken suppressants since the day they found out what I was. It made puberty really difficult…”

Satoru’s lips curl into a frown, “I imagine it would. It seems your body jumped into overdrive, the stimulation from kissing alone too much for you.”

Your arms curled around yourself for some comfort, “My suppressants, they’re running low so I’ve been halving them to spread them out but they’re just making me feel sick.”

“When did you start halving them?” He asks, eyes now wide with worry.

“Uhm, I think about a few days ago? But I can’t get a hold of my doctor and it’s hard to find anyone that will willingly prescribe suppressants.” Your head falls into his chest, a feeling of defeat washing over you.

Satoru pets your head, quiet in thought before he says, “Why not just stop taking them?”

You have to laugh at that, tilting your head to look up at him, “You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not,” he closes his eyes, burying his nose in your neck and holding you close, “You’ve got me now, I’ll look after you. Fuck, you smell so good.”

“Satoru-“ Your wrists are caught in his as he stares you down.

Or, at least that is what he appears to be doing. You’re stuck in his grasp as you wait for him to make his statement, which he does once your lips smacks shut, “You don’t need to hide who you are anymore. Just think about it, ‘kay?”

To get him off your back you give an exhale of defeat, rolling your eyes to the side and complying, “Fine. I’ll think about it. Cool?”

His charming grin is almost enough to even fool you into thinking it was okay to relinquish your omega self to him, “Cool.”

Things were not cool. Not long after getting inside, your father had waited to pounce once the car Satoru drove was out of sight. Your vision had waned with the punch he threw at you, your body colliding with the hallway wall. “Disgusting!” He had spat, literally, his saliva landing on your cheek and barely missing your eye. His foot was next to make contact, kicking you hard enough in the stomach that you threw up a little of your dinner, “You reek of a fucking omega! I see you whoring yourself out, slut. Tryna hide the money from me, eh?”

Another kick had you crying out, this one on your bicep and knocking you back to the ground. You wailed as he bent down and held your hair in a tight and painful grasp, “I’m not! I swear, I have no money!”

He ignored you, his breath badly stained with alcohol, however, you were certain even without the influence he wouldn’t hold back, “Tryna seduce me? Hm? Your own father? You fucking wretch. If you don’t stop that smell right now I swear to whatever fucking God is out there…”

You were bawling now, you could only assume your hormones were worse, your own senses dull to the smell of you. It hurt internally as well, your omega working overdrive as you try in vain to calm down so you didn’t have to endure the full impact of emitting such helpless hormones. It may not have worked the way you wanted it to, but, your father seemed to calm down with a sneer.

He threw your head to the floor and began walking away, “If you don’t get back on those fucking meds by tomorrow then I will kill you. I promise you that.”

You didn’t dare reply to that, thankful that he decided to walk away while you were still breathing tonight.

How fitting the weather is today, the clouds a dark grey and the skies pouring with rain. You had one umbrella with a hole between two of the spines but it was better than nothing. This morning you left the house with a bag packed and a small suitcase, only the essentials.

You were on a bus ride to the other side of town to see your doctor. If they weren’t going to pick up the phone then you’d have to arrive suddenly. If he didn’t have the suppressors then you weren’t going to go home, in fact, you weren’t entirely sure if you were going to go back anyway. Perhaps a life on the street was better than this. A woman’s shelter wouldn’t take you in for the fact that you were an omega, and an omega shelter had an 80% chance of being a front for something worse than illegal.

The bus stops where you need to be, the passengers loudly exclaiming that they’re happy you’re finally leaving. It doesn’t hurt so much today, you just have one thing on your mind.

‘Why not just kill yourself?’

You stop at the thought, in the middle of opening your umbrella, standing in the rain. It was a thought, right? Ending it was always a nice joke but holy shit that voice sounded like it was right by your ear and… genuine. You weren’t exactly scared, a little shocked, sure but, maybe you should bring that up with your doctor, too.

However, as you got closer and closer to the clinic, you began to think they weren’t open. Though there was the receptionist’s and the doctor’s cars outside, the curtains were drawn, the lights were off and the sign, once you got close enough to read, was saying ‘Closed’.

Your hand reaches to your heart as you feel it thumping hard in anxiety, your pheromones beginning to linger around you as a thick, steady aura. Thank goodness this place was off the city boarder, not many people around to subject you to bullying and hatred. You look back to the cars again, both of them parked neatly in the small lot. Even if it’s closed, you need to push past your nervousness and gently demand your medication. If you didn’t… Well, he knows just as well as you do.

You knock on the glass with a firm hit, calling out for good measure, “Dr. Kodoka, it’s me, (Y/n).”

Silence.

You knock again, if they don’t want to be disturbed then the earlier they open up to you the better. “Dr. Kodoka, please, I really need to talk to you. It’s an emergency,” you plead, hoping he could tell by the sound of your voice how desperate you were.

Your gut drops as more silence is your only response. You probably should have tried this first, grabbing the long handle of the door and trying to open it. No surprise, it’s locked. Perhaps there’s a back entrance? Oh, you feel so seedy scrounging around a doctor’s office.

Past the skip bins there’s a narrow entrance just wide enough for one person between the building and a wired fence. You’re not sure why the wired fence is even here, it’s not attached to anything and only separates a portion of the office from an open wheat field. Luck smiles upon you as you try this door, the entrance clicking open and allowing you to step into the darkness.

One deep breath before you call out has you positively gagging at the disgusting scent that assaults you nose and mouth. It’s unavoidable, the little bit of vomit that works its way up your throat is involuntarily spat out onto the linoleum floor. What. The. Fuck.

This has to be the worst experience you’ve ever been through, the tears in your eyes falling freely as you persevere through the smell. You know you need to call the police, you know something like this isn’t normal. However, if you do, and they find out you’re an omega here to purchase suppressants then there’s a good chance you’ll both be dead. It’s happened before, police getting trigger happy or beating up omegas and any allies. Of course, society doesn’t care. More filth off the streets.

There’s a sound towards the entrance, something being knocked over, as well as some sort of ‘sludging’ noise. Could it be one of them trying to get to the door? Someone must be alive! You quietly move towards the entrance, past the main office, the break room, and peak through the broken door of the reception. It’s horrendous.

All the gore has been maintained in this area. Limbs, a spine, half a head that has been poorly cut from the top of their skull through their chin- and that’s only the background. In the middle of it all, this giant, wrinkly, slug-like creature appears to be waking up. It has an amass of arms and hands over it’s back and sides, and one twitching on the tip of its tail. The stalks that would be its eyes slowly raise, turning in all directions as if looking around.

You fall against the door, your entire being freezing up in a shock mode. The thud of your body hitting the floor alerts it to you, and you notice now that instead of eyes, it was wearing the distraught faces of the doctor and receptionist. The receptionist still had one of her eyes hanging from their socket, whilst the doctor was completely eyeless, with only a couple of teeth and the tip of his tongue drooping from the gaping mouth.

It hones in on your position and starts charging at an alarming pace, the only thing you can do is scream your throat raw as your end nears. It’s too horrifying, too real to be a dream you can escape. The creature splits its mouth with human-like teeth in mismatched rows and thrashing hands over its body and you can’t look away from your demise.

You don’t blink, and because you don’t blink it’s hard to believe anything happened.

As fast as light itself, a man appears and slashes the slug in half, horizontally through its open mouth with a light so white there’s a tint of blue to it. The guttural scream it lets out is so closely related to a human’s that you are only filled with more fear. The man, who turns to give you a cocky wink and that you can now see is Satoru Gojo, makes a crude display of holding his index and middle finger in front of his face and slowly licking his digits with the flat of his tongue; before slicing the creature up into smaller pieces until it bursts into sprays of blood and nothingness.

Your hearing was skewed, you barely recognise his footsteps as he walks towards you and bends down to hold his hand out. You tell your mind to grab it, to accept his kindness after saving you but you’re caught in your own sense of dread and confusion as not a speck of blood is seen on Satoru or his white hair, or his devilish smile, or that black coat with the collar sticking around his neck.

Satoru’s smile softens and he’s sure you can’t hear him when speaks to you, “Ah, I see we’ll have to cut our deal short. That’s okay, we’re only one date off anyway.” He reaches for your hands, placing them both in one of his and stroking the backs with his thumb. He then slowly removes his blindfold and tilts your chin with his free hand to force you to meet his silvery gaze, “(Y/n), sweetheart, look at me. Everything is okay now.”

His eyes are so blue… White… Silver… They’re like crystals or diamonds or two pools of galaxies – they’re out of this world. His lashes are gorgeous too, and for some reason you feel a ping of jealousy amongst all this chaos because how can a man be so beautiful just by taking off his blindfold. Like a character taking off their glasses to reveal they were beautiful all along. Wait, what are these thoughts? In this horrible situation you suddenly feel like giggling.

Satoru chuckles, keeping your focus solely on him as he lifts you in his arms to carry you out. People in suits run past you but neither of you pay them no mind as he keeps talking, “What silly thoughts are going through that omega mind of yours?” You laugh incredulously, feeling your body fall heavier in his arms he adjusts you, “There it is, there’s that adrenaline leaving you. I gotcha, sweetheart.”

You’re sat on the back of an ambulance with a blanket around your shoulders and a bottle of water wedged between your legs. A few feet away is Satoru, talking to someone so casually you wouldn’t think he just killed a monster with his own hands; literally. You watch as he dismisses the person and walks back over to you with a smile, his blindfold back on and his hands coming from his pockets to bring you into a side embrace, “How are you feeling? That was quite an experience, huh?”

Trauma makes people react differently to things, so if this was his job then it makes sense he wouldn’t be so distressed. “I smell of decay,” you sigh, though you weren’t covered in filth you definitely had some stains. Even without the mess, the stale air in the clinic was enough to cling to you. You squeeze the blanket tighter around you, “How could something like this happen? They were generous people. Kind; caring.”

Satoru seemed to think for a moment, as if deciding what the best thing to say right now would be. Whether it was helpful or not, he opted for the truth, placing one of his large hands below your neck for comfort, “They were helping omegas, and regardless of their personality, a lot of stigma comes from there. Constant stress to keep a secret, harsh words from the few friends and family that know, it all adds up and creates the perfect scent for a curse to trail.”

“I remember you saying you that they are attracted to negative energy. So, rather than feeding off the energy itself they eat the humans?” You ask, though you already know the answer to that. You just can’t wrap your head around how this is even possible. You recall his eyes, how pretty they are beneath the blindfold, “Is that why your eyes are so striking, because you have the power to fight them?”

A laugh bubbles from his chest, his hand squeezing your back, “Sort of. Not everyone is like me, though. In fact, no one is like me.” He steps back, arms open wide and head tilted towards the sky, “I’m the most powerful sorcerer to exist! Killing that creature used nothing but a flick of my wrist.” When he looks back to you there is a strange, powerful feeling that emanates from him, even some of the detectives around you seem to tense, “Nothing can touch me. In turn, nothing will ever touch you.”

What he says should be something kind, words of protection and safety. However, as his gaze burns through the blindfold and into your own, you feel like your breath has been whisked away and your body is being pulled to the ground, trapping you in place for him. It only lets up when your phone begins to ring, and to get out of this awkward feeling of a situation you answer it, “Hello, this is (Y/n).”

The voice on the other side of the phone makes you almost vomit, your father sounding almost melancholic, “(Y/n)… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted like that. Come home.”

You’re at a loss for words. He wants you home? No, that’s a lie, you can’t understand what is going on with him. Something tickles your ear and you jump to see Satoru leaning close so he can listen to your conversation. He smiles at you and nods, whispering, “Say yes.”

Satoru saved you and promised to protect you. He wouldn’t be telling you to agree if you were going to get hurt, you’d like to believe. So, swallowing your hesitation you reply, “O-Okay, dad. I’ll come home.”

He breathes a huge sigh of relief, “Thank god, thank you, (Y/n). Thank you so much.”

You hang up and look to Satoru with worry, “Do you think he’s going to kill me?”

“Nah, I won’t let him,” Satoru says, confidently. You think you can trust him, especially since you watched him take down a strong monster, your angry alpha of a father would be no match for him. He sees you’re still worried, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand and his smile doing its best to calm you, “Let’s finish up here.”

By the time you two are at your house the sun was low in the sky. Satoru had parked down the street this time, the two of you walking slowly down footpath to avoid suspicion. You were already on edge, however, when Satoru told you he wanted you to go in alone, you froze up completely.

He just stood there, allowing you to process what he said. You started by shaking your head, grabbing onto his hand, “No. No, please, you said-“

“-I said I’d protect you and I will. I’m going to go around the back, you just walk up like everything is hunky-dory, ‘kay?”

With a squeeze of your shoulder, he skips around, his carefree attitude not exactly lifting your anxiety. One thing is for certain, though, and that’s that you’ve seen him kill the other curse before. You know he can do it. You trust him. Alpha status aside, if you have any friend in this world then it’s Satoru Gojo.

You take your time going up to the front door, hand trembling as you reach for the knob. It’s unlocked, the door creaking open ominously. You get a cold rush through your body, the inside at freezing temperatures. It’s unnatural, making you step back in shock and shivering in what you could only describe as unease.

But it’s okay, because Satoru is here. He said he would protect you and the prospect has you feeling your cheeks flush. He’s like… your alpha.

The inside is quiet, save for the humming of electricity coming from the fridge. You walk slowly in and look around, spying your father in lounge room on his recliner, hands intertwined as he leans forward. You don’t shut the door, feeling just a tad easier with the escape route.

It isn’t until you’re standing before him that a whistling of wind causes the door to slam shut on its own, the locks clicking in place unnaturally. Your confused look in that direction has him huffing a laugh. Your father doesn’t give you the courtesy of eye contact, “You know that on the day you were born, your mother and I were at our happiest?”

It’s an odd way to start a conversation, and though you were certain this was a trap of some kind, you don’t know what else to do except respond meekly, “I didn’t know that no.”

A humourless laugh accompanies the way he sits up, shoulders slumped, and eyes dazed behind you, “No, of course you don’t. We only told you once when you were just a newborn. Once you got your status in life, well… It was too shameful to ever bring up again. We were completely embarrassed we every felt that way about an omega.”

He’s not just staring off into nothing, you notice the way his eyes look specifically behind you. Is it Satoru, did he come inside? You turn your head, only to go rigid and fall back in fear. Not another one… Not another curse.

It was too tall for the ceiling, curving over like a hook with its head twisted to be partially upright. Tiny mouths were strewn over its face and down its neck, human teeth in all sorts of odd places like the lips and cheeks of the creature. The main mouth was skewed to the side and grinning openly down at you, and the eyes that are sunken, almost giving a hollow effect, were as dark as a black hole; though you knew instantly that it had its gaze locked on you. Four lanky arms reach from its shoulders, the body a crooked mass of black and its fingers twitching in all the wrong directions with painful cracks of possible bone.

The worst part that solidified its presence was when it spoke, his voice raspy and words barely tangible, “Dau…ght…er… Path..et..ic ome…gck.a. Delectabblle—dinn….eerrr.”

You jumped at the firm hands on your shoulders, keeping you in place as the curse limped forwards. Your father spoke in a neutral tone, “It appeared not long after your mother left. At first, I didn’t know what to make of it, who to contact or what to do. Eventually, I started nurturing it. It grew with every argument we had, relished in my anger and pain. I let it feed off me and now it wants more. Now it wants you. You’ll do this, right? It’s the only good thing you’re for, after all. It’ll save me, your family.”

Tears streamed down your face, head shaking as you shifted back. Even with the bit of adrenaline you were able to muster, you were no match for your father, forced to endure the visual of this creature’s fingers itching to get a hold of your flesh. You could only sob, no words coming out, not even to call for Satoru.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to. Your saviour appears once more, and as though the curse is nothing but a guy on the street, he places his hand on its back and gives a low whistle, “Low blow, dad. And here I was excited to finally meet my father-in-law.”

There’s a pressure now in the air, one that has you curling in on yourself, and causing the curse’s open smile to turn into a low hanging frown. Its head spins on its neck, trying to get a look at the man that has it. Your father is more concerned about the words Satoru spoke, though, the tips of his fingers digging painfully into your skin, “’Father-in-law’? You whore. I knew you were out selling yourself. Looks like even to the end, you’re nothing but an embarrassment. That’s all going to change, though. Now you and your boy toy can die together.”

Satoru laughs, and before you can even blink, he appears behind your father and grabs his wrist, easily shattering the bones and causing him to let go of you. You shift to the side, away from both him and the curse as he screams. Satoru tuts at him, waggling his finger nonchalantly in the air, “Parents should protect their children, not sacrifice them. Honestly…” His voice lowers into something almost sad, though you’re wondering if Gojo Satoru was actually privy to that emotion in the first place or if he was just a really good actor, “People like you disgust me.”

A bright light that radiates such an intense heat envelops the lounge room. Your arm comes up to cover your face, eyes squinting, all you can hear are the pained cries of your father and the garbled curse. It sends fear coursing through your body, even if Satoru is on your side, just what sort of power does he control? The carnage you expect to see once your eyes adjust isn’t anywhere. The light is gone, everyone else in the room is gone, thin burn marks are left where your father and the curse once was.

You jump at the hand on your shoulder, your saviour appearing once again out of nowhere. He smirks, acting a little flustered, “Sorry, are your eyes okay? I just wanted to show off a little bit.”

Again, he’s able to treat this like it’s any other menial task. You ask him, voice quiet, “Where are they?”

He tilts his head at you, a little pouty that your first concern was them and not the praise you should be heaping on your hero. He squeezes your shoulder, comfortingly, “What do you mean? They’re gone, does it really matter where?”

It takes a few goes on shaky legs, but, you’re able to stand and face him, “I’m just a little concerned what even happened. Watching you fight the other one, I couldn’t wrap my head around it, and now this- … Are they…?”

“Dead? Yes.”

You exhale at his blatant response. Is this something you should blame yourself for, the killing of your father and that… thing? Or is that just your life-long need to put any negative responsibility on you for merely being born an omega.

Satoru wraps his arm around you and leads you out of the lounge room to help your overclocked mind, "Here’s what would have happened if I didn’t do that: The curse would eat you, devour your father, and then go on a rampage hunting primarily other poor omegas. It’s happened before, baby. Besides,” he cups your face in his hands, making you look up at him, “He was a horrible man. No loss. Can you really say you loved him?”

The only love you had for your father was before your scent kicked in. After that, he was worse than a stranger to you. You fiddle with your fingers, abashedly looking away, “What happens now?”

“Now,” he excitedly jostles you, the smile on his face huge, “You come with me!”

Your eyebrows furrow, his goofy attitude somehow lessening the severity of the situation for you, “I can’t just do that.”

“Sure you can! Where else are you gonna go?” He questions, awaiting an answer he knows you won’t be able to think of. He takes your hands in his and gets down on one knee, “(Y/n), I know it hasn’t been very long, but when I say I’ve finally found the love of my life-“

Cheeks burning, you push away from him, trying to cover up his teasing laugh with your hands to your ears, “Stop! Stop stop stop stop stop. Fine, I’ll come along with you.” You don’t think you can ever get used to being flirted with, especially in the unique ways that Satoru comes up with.

He gives you a gentle push, “Go grab some valuables, baby. We’ll leave once you’re ready.”

Satoru watches as you move up the stairs, grumbling about the sudden use of ‘baby’ he’s started getting attached to. Hah, how he really does love you. His hand comes to the straining of his cock in his pants, palming the ache that’s been prevalent for a while now. Not long now, he can’t way to absolutely ruin you. An omega that’s never had a proper heat, and he gets to be your first toy, just as much as you are his. His luck truly is divine, if anyone deserves it, it’s definitely him.

#yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere jjk #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #abo #yandere satoru x reader #alpha x omega #yandere gojo x reader #yandere x reader #yandere alpha x omega #alpha satoru gojo #jjk x reader

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itsagoodluckkiss · 7 months ago

Note

Hi, I wanted to make a request about Luffy x female reader. The reader is feminine but clumsy, emotionally-reserved, unexperienced and kind-hearted. Smart and funny, with a soft spot for Luffy. . As for the plot, "she fell first, but he fell harder", slice of life with a little angst would be perfect. I'm desperate for fanfiction about first experience in everything kinda stuff. I'm not a minor, so it would be very good to see some sensual and awkward smut. I would be glad to read anything you'll write about Luffy x female!reader and I hope that you liked my request (^o^)/ sorry for bad english

It's Okay ~ Luffy x F!Reader

First of all, thank you for being my first request, you made me really happy and I'm really sorry for the really long wait, we had a really rough couple of months. Also, it's the first smut I've ever written so read this with patience. English is not my first language either and I'm sorry for any mistakes. Anyways, I had fun writing this, I hope you'll like it, lots of love!

Words: +3k

Warnings: hurt/comfort, op spoilers, ptsd, mentions of character death, comfort sex, smut with plot, oral (f!receiving), virginity loss (both), unprotected sex, cockwarming, fluffy ending kinda?, no use of Y/N

MDNI

Quiet days on The Thousand Sunny were as rare as mythical zoans. Not only because of dangerous encounters but also because of how calm the whole crew was today. Even your walking ray of sunshine captain was not as wild as usual. But you couldn’t really complain as you could focus on your task in silence.

The tailor of the crew, responsible of sewing, stitching and mending every piece of fabric on the ship. And that included the sails. Strong winds the night before managed a large tear and the next island was a couple of days away. So you had a job to do. Standing on a rope ladder, you effortlessly worked through the sails with elegance. Every piece of fabric in your home deserved care, as you’d always say when you mended the torn up clothes of your crew mates.

You were proud you could provide your family with loved and cared clothes and everything else they needed, top priority along with the dream of becoming the best tailor the seas had ever seen. Your mind wandered away to the smile of your captain every time you placed the fixed straw hat you came to love so much on his head, while you automatically repaired the sail. But your gracefulness started and ended at the needle in your hand.

Looking away into the sea for one second resulted in you prickling your finger. The sudden feeling caused you to lose your step and balance and you yelped as you fell from the ladder, expecting a hard fall and a trip to Chopper’s infirmary. But the land never came, arms wrapping around your frame, drawing you to somebody’s embrace. In fear, you wrapped yourself around your savior’s waist like a koala, your flower patterned dress coming up slightly. Your face went to the crook of his neck for one second, immediately recognizing who it was, and you raised your head to look at him in embarrassment.

“Hi there!”

“Luffy, thank you, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright. Was on my way to check if you needed help. Guess I was right.” he said laughing.

You smiled and hugged him tightly as he put you down on the deck. You were embarrassed, part of it because of your own clumsiness, another part because of the way Luffy’s hands lingered on your waist before letting you go.

“Are you almost done? Picked up a new card game from the last island and I want to play with you.”

“Oh, ah, I, I still have some, some work to do...?”

You didn’t. You also didn’t know why you said that. You said a lot of stupid stuff lately. You loved spending time with your captain, especially when you knew there wouldn’t be a crazy fight following you in a few hours. Falling in love with his brown eyes, his goofy and brave personality and his loyalty to his friends was the reason you said yes to joining the Straw Hats after you helped them save Robin in Ennies Lobby.

But ever since you returned to Sabaody, it’s gotten harder to contain the feelings for your first love. The other night while you two were keeping watch and talking about things you loved, an “I love you” escaped your lips without thinking, proceeding to an inept attempt to cover it by saying how you loved he is such a loyal friend. You felt the blush rushing to your cheeks as you looked again on his face and noticed something you were seeing more and more these days. His trademark smile was reduced to a small upward line and in his eyes there was a gleam of sadness. You couldn’t have that.

“It’s fine, I’ll see you around later I guess-”

“On another note, I can always finish it later. Let’s go play, Captain!”

And you grabbed his arm, running like a child playing chase across the deck toward Nami’s tangerine trees, laughing as you tripped on your two left feet, Luffy holding you upwards and laughing in the process, always there to catch you.

The ship was in motion, light rain falling from the night sky as Luffy found himself walking aimlessly on the empty deck. His black hair tousled, his straw hat dangling from the string around his neck, his posture slumped, trying to find some sort of relief in the breeze that hit his face. His trembling hands grip the railing, his gaze lost towards the vast ocean, unable to back focus on anything but his most recent nightmare. Memories of Ace's death spreading, like poison in his veins, once again. He tried to steady his breathing but failed as hot tears run down his cheeks, silent sobs leaving his body, trying not to wake up his crew. He hadn’t talked to anyone about Marineford. There was no reason for his friends to see him in that weakened state. He could tell that everyone felt guilty because they weren’t there for him, he didn’t want to feed that ugly feeling inside them.

You felt restless, worry prickling your skin like a hundred needles at once. Sleep wouldn’t do you a favor so you hoped off bed to get some fresh air on the deck and some moments of peace to think. Luffy’s sad eyes lingered in your thoughts. You couldn’t help but think about how much he had changed since you first met. You remembered the scrawny, eager, brave boy he was. Now his hair was longer and spikier, and he looked stronger than ever before, he was almost a man. Despite his carefree looks, a lot had changed about him. Yes, he was still as eager and resilient and determinated as ever, yet more mature, as much as maturity applied to him. And that big scar across his chest was the only testament of the fight he gave alone two years ago, as he hadn't talked to any of you about it. Not that he had to. You all knew you would wholeheartedly give him the support in any form he’d need. You’d do what you knew best. Take care of the people you loved. And from the moment you joined the crew, you knew your heart belonged to the straw hat captain.

You spotted Luffy in the front of the ship. It was unusual for him to be up and alone this late at night. Your eyes filled with concern, you walked closer to him as you noticed the trembling in his form, worry rising in your chest. Your hand caressing his shoulder slightly, you didn’t want to scare him or make him feel worse.

"Luffy?" you asked softly, voice barely audible over the wind.

Luffy wiped his tear streaked face quickly and tried to control his heavy breathing, wanting to be like his usual self, even if he knew it was too late for acting.

“I…”

He took a deep breath trying to hold it all in. He was the one that was supposed to help people through their crying and problems, to protect them. He couldn’t protect his friends in Sabaody, he couldn’t save his brother. He swore he’d never let anything like those things happen again. He didn’t want to be seen as weak. Not again. Not in front of his crew. Not in front of you.

“It’s okay, Luffy.”

His eyes met yours, a warm and safe gaze, always inviting and full of love, ready to be a place of comfort and joy to anyone that needed it. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder and back, taking him in a comforting embrace. His arms went immediately around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as silent sobs left him once again. He hugged you tightly, hyperventilating as he let every last feeling of grief and pain out. You felt your eyes well too, the pain your favorite person carried alone enough to make you want to scream.

“It’s okay… you’re okay… it wasn’t your fault…”

“I couldn’t… I thought you… were all dead… and… I was right there… I couldn’t save him… he left… in my arms… it should have been me!”

Your heart ached listening to Luffy's sobs, tears running down your face as well. You pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, and looked into his red, puffy eyes.

“Listen to me! Don’t say that again, ever! We all know you’d never let us down. You did everything you could, Luffy, you always do, and it’s enough for us." You said, voice shaking, carrying all the sincerity in the world. "And you always were there for him. You gave everything you had! He loved you so much and you saved him because you showed him how loved and cherished he was! You're still doing everything you can to keep his memory alive. That's what he would want! Don’t do this to yourself, please.”

You wiped the tears off his face and squeezed his cheeks like you usually did when you shared food and laughs together, managing to drag out a small smile from the boy.

“How about we go grab some tea and biscuits from the kitchen before Sanji comes down from his watch and go to my room?” you suggested, knowing Luffy would never say no to food.

“It’s on!”

Stealth wasn’t your strongest suit as you somehow always managed to hit on something. And with Luffy beside you, havoc was almost always certain. Getting out of the kitchen as fast as you could, before Sanji’s yells could reach you, you run into the ship, down to your handicraft’s room. The warmth of the cabin enveloped Luffy, feeling a little more like his usual self now, as he took in the room. That’s were all your great works laid, with needles, threads and sewing machines all over the place. From clothes and blankets to large embroideries hanging from the walls. You laid a soft, fluffy blanket on the ground to sit on. You sipped your scolding tea as Luffy munched on a cookie, taking in your works.

“I don’t know how you can make beautiful things like these.”

“I’ve practiced it a lot. And I love it. I’m glad you like it, Captain.”

You smiled widely, gaining a toothy grin from him.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For always being here.”

You were thinking your next words for a moment before moving the cups and plate from the blanket, taking his shoulders gently as you both laid on the ground, your eyes looking at each other, taking his hand into yours.

“It's alright to not be fine, you know… I'll always be here for you, no matter what.”

“It’s… I’m not thinking about it most of the time… I just have nightmares… it’s hard sometimes.”

“And that’s completely logical, Luffy, you’ve been through hell! I collapsed when I heard the news and couldn’t be with you. I would have run to you if I could. I love you so much and I’m sorry I wasn’t there and…”

You were the one tearing up now, cheeks red from embarrassment as the words slipped through your mouth without thinking. You knew Luffy would be shattered when you heard about Ace. The only thing you wanted was to hug him until you pulled all his pieces back together. He met your gaze. Luffy was never interested in romance. He didn’t thought he needed it. Until he met you and for the first time, he wanted someone to join his crew not only because he wanted them as a friend and they’d be a great addition, but because he felt something different, something he couldn’t quite understand. The only thing he knew was that he loved you a little differently than the rest of his friends. It was his turn to brush the tears off your face now and you melted from his touch. You tried to speak but before you could, his hand, warm and slightly trembling, cup your cheek. His lips pressed into yours, just for a moment, before drawing back only inches from your face.

“I think I love you too.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, heart pounding against your ribs. Never had you thought you’d hear those words from Luffy. Of course, you knew he loved everyone in the crew, but this felt different. You felt like you would burst into flames as you blushed even more.

“You, you do?!”

“Yeah… you’re sweet and strong… always by my side… you’re very important to me…”

You let out a gasp of surprise as you hugged him tightly and crushed your lips into his clumsily, both of you laughing at your enthusiasm. Small, sweet kisses evolved into longer, more passionately ones and soon you were underneath him, his hands caressing your thigh beneath your dress, your hands slowly pushing his vest off of him.

“Are you okay?”

“I am, you?”

“Me too.”

Soon, your clothes landed somewhere else in the room as you felt him caressing your skin everywhere and you gasped into the kiss, him taking advantage of your parted lips to push his tongue into your mouth, tangling it messily with yours. His lips travelled down your neck and lower, soon to be between your legs. A feeling of self-consciousness crept over you as you closed your legs and he smiled up at you as he caressed your thigh.

“Hey, it’s okay, we can stop if you want.”

“No, I want this, I’ve just… never do this before…”

“Neither do I. We’ll find it together. But I want you to be comfortable. You can stop me if you don’t feel okay.”

You smile down at him and relaxed a bit, allowing him to spread your legs and start kissing the inside of your thighs. It felt so good to share another experience with him, and his touch was gentler than you thought it would be. He positioned your thighs on his shoulders and before you could react, his mouth was on you, his tongue licking a stripe before latching onto your clit. Your head fell back immediately as a choked out moan slipped through your mouth, one hand flying to his hair, pulling on his locks gently as the other grasped the blanket beneath you. His eyes were on you, his look was magnetic and focused on the task of making you feel good. A finger circling your tight hole, it pushed inside you slowly as he sucked on your clit, making you whimper from the pleasurable feeling. The stretching inside you new and welcomed, a combination of his mouth and a second finger breaching in has your orgasm approaching faster than you expected. He curled his fingers upwards, hitting repeatedly a spot you had never reached before on your own and it pushed you over the edge unexpectedly. He smiles against you as small moans left your mouth, your whole body shaking, your head spinning.

Coming down from your high, he crawls back on top of you and kisses you passionately, your tongues intertwining. You can taste yourself through the kiss, and it makes you long for more. He breaks the kiss and smiles down at you.

“How was that?”

“Luffy, it was… amazing. How did you know-”

“Didn’t. Just did what felt right. Are you okay to continue?”

You nodded eagerly and he grinned at you, his lips back on yours again. Your hand sneaks between your bodies to grab his dick, gently pumping him up and down, bringing him close to your folds. He moans into the kiss and swats your hand away, gliding himself between your now soaked pussy, his tip touching your clit every time, sending small jolts of pleasure down your spine. He breaks the kiss, his face only inches apart from yours, staring into your eyes.

“You’re sure?”, he whispered.

“Yes captain, please…”

A shiver run through his body as he hears your plead, and he moves his tip against your entrance, pushing in. A small gasp escape you and a sharp hiss leaves his mouth as he slowly slides into you, his movements awkward but gentle, the feeling of your warmth around him making him slightly tremble as he bottoms out. It felt slightly uncomfortable for you at first but the pain you expected to feel was nowhere to be found. His lips were on your neck, nibbling and sucking gently while his arms roamed your body, trying to make you relax as he stayed still, waiting for you to adjust to him. A few moments passed and your hand cupped his chin, bringing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss.

“Feels better now?”

“Yes, Luffy… please, move…”

He smiled down at you and placed another soft kiss on your lips as he began to move, taking it slow and tender, setting a rhythm that made you gasp, the pleasure spreading over you. One of his hands on yours, intertwining your fingers as the other grabbed your thigh to keep you against him, his forehead on yours, eyes closed as you both relished the feeling of your bodies pressed together. His speed picked up slightly as he finds a steady rhythm and you moan his name, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close. He smiles widely and kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth, your fingers running through his hair, gently tugging at his dark locks.

One hand gripped your thigh rougher now, pushing it upwards, the shift in position allowing him to go deeper, the other sneaking between your bodies to rub at your clit. Your face buries in the crook of his neck, trying to choke down your moans, the knot in your stomach tightening as his thrusts grow faster and sloppier, you feel that he’s close too.

Your lips connect again in a messy kiss and your back arches as you come undone, crying out through the kiss, your nails dragging down his back. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, his hands grab your hips to drag you to him as he fucks you through your high, his hips stuttering, feeling your walls squeezing him tight, pushing him over the edge with you.

You stay like this for a while, hands wrapped around each other, his face buried in the crook of your neck, savoring the moment. He places a tender kiss on your cheek and turns to face you, his head on your shoulder.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel… wonderful…” you say with a sigh as you smile up at him. His hand caressing you cheek, he placed another sweet kiss before stretching his hand to grab another blanket nearby, covering the both of you. He then lies flat on top of you again, his arms wrapping around you, and closes his eyes, still inside you.

“Luff, we…”

“Can’t move, I feel snuggly right now.”

You laugh softly as you hug him back, feeling his breath slow down as he slowly falls asleep, your eyelids getting heavy as well, a content smile playing on your lips.

“Goodnight dummy…”

#luffy x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #luffy x you #luffy smut #one piece smut #luffy x female reader #monkey d luffy #monkey d luffy x you #monkey d luffy x reader #one piece fanfiction #luffy x y/n #monkey d luffy x y/n #luffy x reader smut

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mononijikayu · 2 months ago

Text

no. 1 party anthem — geto suguru.

“....What about my laugh?” He asks you, his cheeks flustered like cherry wine. “Is…is the sound good?” You matched his flustered cheeks. “It’s…It’s like a song.” “A song?” “My favorite song.” You admitted to him, slowly smiling as you shyly looked up to his flustered gaze. “Your voice is my favorite lullaby. But your laugh? It’s my favorite song.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: post hidden inventory, pre-jjk 0, heavy angst, romance, falling in love, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, break up, slice of life, timeskip, depression, hurt, mourning, loneliness, trauma, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, profanity, depiction of break up, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of loneliness, mention of events post hidden inventory, mention of events in jjk 0, cursed user! suguru, jujutsu sorcerer! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7.7k words

NOTE: i've been getting into arctic monkeys again (as you can tell) and i have to say, no. 1 party anthem has done things to me these past few weeks. AM is such a good album. i really don't think that one can get any rawer in story telling about the sorrows of parting the way AM had depicted it. so i hope you listen to it one of these days, if you haven't already. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this. i love you all so much!!! see you on the next one <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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IT WAS A SURPRISE, TO SEE HIM TONIGHT. It had been nearly five years since you last saw Geto Suguru, but the weight of his absence still lingered in the quiet moments of your life. And it had taken your breath away, you knew that much. Because you had already resigned yourself to never seeing him again since that night.

But you can’t help but wonder about all the suffering and grief that had carved its way through those five years, shaping the person who stands here now.

The you of the present feels like a stranger sometimes, a mosaic pieced together from shattered moments, each shard reflecting a memory too painful to hold but too significant to discard.

There were nights when you lay awake, your mind replaying fragments of what once were half-formed smiles, laughter that now seemed like it belonged to someone else, and the weight of a bond that had been torn apart, leaving jagged, unclean edges that never truly healed.

You’d press your fingers against the raw places, testing their tenderness, reminding yourself that the pain was real. That he was real. But he wasn’t here anymore. He had chosen his life. He had made his bed with his reality. And so must you.

It all felt like another lifetime, one so distant it seemed almost like a dream. The person you were then, the one who loved him, trusted him, believed in him. That person feels impossibly far away now. You’d convinced yourself you’d buried that version of you alongside the memory of him. And with time, you believed it.

You never expected to see him again.

And yet, there he was.

The sight of him felt like a blow, like the ground had shifted beneath you and left you unsteady. His presence unraveled the delicate stitches you’d used to bind your wounds, pulling them loose thread by thread. He looked both the same and different, an unsettling contradiction that left you breathless.

Time has not been kind to either of you. You knew that much. Geto Suguru was a handsome man, he always was and he always will be. But you could see things that people wouldn’t. You see everything, you know everything about him. Maybe more than himself.

If time had not been kind to him, you could only judge from afar about things that had happened to him. You could see it in the lines etched into his face, the heaviness in his gaze. But what struck you most was the familiar ache you thought you’d buried. it resurfaced all at once, sharp and unforgiving.

You told yourself you’d moved on. You told yourself he was a ghost, a memory that had no power over you anymore. But standing here now, your heart betrays you.

And for a moment, all the pain, all the nights spent grieving, all the years spent rebuilding—none of it seems to matter. For a moment, you forget the hurt and only remember how it felt to love him.

It happened on a random Friday night at a bar you frequented with your other sorcerer friends. It was a hub for sorcerers to gather after missions. With how Satoru and Shoko were also getting too busy to hang out with you, and Nanami not frequenting such a place, you had no other choice but to find yourself some new people to mingle around too when they weren’t free. Life doesn’t stop when you lose someone.

So, you ended up finding this bar. And over the years, you have become a regular. Even more so, you found new people to meddle life with. You all of course still can’t meet everyday. But it was more regular than most of your other relationships. That gets you through the day most of the time.

The bar in itself wasn’t special. It was a cozy, dimly lit spot with just enough charm to make it feel like a second home. But it was yours, a place where you could laugh, unwind, and forget the world outside. It was ironic that he of all people would show up here. Perhaps the universe had a cruel sense of humor, or maybe fate had finally decided to intervene.

Geto Suguru hadn’t been looking for you that night. Or maybe he had, in some subconscious, desperate way. His sources, mutual acquaintances, whispers from insiders had led him here, for business.

It’s why he had a special grade glamour on. But even he didn’t fully understand why he had stayed for a while. He didn’t need to. Someone else could have done this for him.

But when he stepped into the inner corners of the bar, his purple eyes scanned the room almost out of habit. Nothing much intrigued him in this place. It was too common, too crowded. It wasn’t his fashion. It wasn’t his scene.

But then, he looked further away and stopped.

In that moment, he knew that he saw you.

The moment froze. You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in the warmth of your friends’ laughter. But he noticed everything. The way your smile lit up the room, the easy way you leaned into your conversation, the carefree aura you carried.

It was a stark contrast to the image he had of you locked in his mind: the you who had walked away from him, or maybe the you he had walked away from. He couldn’t decide anymore. He never made up his mind about that. Perhaps doing so would have hurt more.

When your eyes finally met, it hit you like a tidal wave. Recognition. Shock. Something unnameable. No one else would see the cursed energy glamour the way you would. You would notice.

You would see him. All of him. Only you could do that in a way people will never know how to. No one else could tear apart Geto Suguru the way you have, the way you will for all his life.

For a heartbeat, it felt like no time had passed, like you were back in that shared moment before everything fell apart. But then reality set in, and you turned away. Too quickly, too deliberately. You excused yourself from the table, and when you returned, he was gone.

Geto Suguru had fled back to the club he’d come from, his chest tight with a cocktail of emotions he couldn’t untangle. He should’ve known better. You were no longer a part of his life. He’d lost the right to be. And yet, he couldn’t let it go.

After downing two more drinks, the gnawing need to see you again overpowered him. He left the club and returned to the bar, heart pounding, searching. Asking the bartender if they’d seen you, scanning every corner of the room for a glimpse of your face. But you were gone.

Suguru wasn’t sure what hurt more: the hope that had flared in his chest when he saw you or the emptiness left in its place when you disappeared.

He hadn’t planned on this—on seeing you, on unraveling in public like this. Life after you had been a blur of responsibility and regret. You’d moved to Fukuoka to teach to get as far away from Tokyo as possible and he focused on his new family, his new vision.

Geto Suguru poured himself into work, convincing himself that distance was the answer. Just as much as you had thought the same thing. Out of sight, out of mind. But you were never truly gone from his thoughts, and the years only deepened the hollow ache. And perhaps, neither was he.

Now, both of you are back in Tokyo, perhaps even just for tonight. He was sitting alone at the bar, he stared into his glass, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the edges. He was alone, so far away from you and your warmth, and your smiles and you who was everything.

The laughter of strangers around him was a cruel echo of the joy you’d shared with your friends just hours ago. He drank to dull the pain, but it only sharpened the edges of his misery. Each sip dragged him further into the pit he’d been clawing his way out of for years.

Suguru hated himself for the way he felt, for the way his chest still tightened at the thought of you, for the way he still longed for something he’d already destroyed. He had made his choices, he stood by them firmly.

And yet as the night wore on, his mind spiraled further into the what-ifs and could-have-beens, until he was too far gone to remember why he started drinking in the first place, he could only think how miserable he truly was.

By the time Suguru stumbled out of the bar, the night had deepened into an eerie quiet. The streets were nearly empty, save for the faint hum of passing cars and the distant laughter of people heading home.

The cold air stung his skin, but it didn’t sober him. Nothing could cut through the fog in his mind, the haze of alcohol and regret that weighed him down.

He wandered aimlessly, his thoughts circling back to you like a cruel refrain. How could you look so happy? How had you moved on so effortlessly when he was still stuck in the wreckage of what you once shared? Part of him wanted to be angry, but the anger never came. All that remained was the bitter taste of self-loathing.

When Suguru finally stopped walking, he found himself at a familiar park; a place you’d both loved. The benches were worn, the trees towering silhouettes against the starless sky. He sank onto a bench and buried his face in his hands, the chill of the night pressing against his flushed skin.

Memories rushed in unbidden, as vivid as the night you first kissed under those very trees. He could almost hear your laughter, feel the warmth of your hand in his.

It was unbearable, the way the past clung to him like a second skin. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the sheer weight of his emotions, but his chest heaved, and he let out a strangled sob, his breath fogging in the cold air.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had convinced himself that leaving had been the right thing to do, that the distance would save you both from the inevitable pain of being together.

But in his effort to protect you, he had only condemned himself. And now, seeing you happy, surrounded by friends, made him realize just how deeply he had failed.

Meanwhile, you ended up back at your friend’s apartment, all the laughter and enjoyment had come fading as the events of the night replayed in your mind. Seeing Geto Suguru again had been a shock you weren’t prepared for. None else noticed but you. If anything, it was as if he had wanted you to know that it was him.

You couldn’t help but feel sick at the thought. He’d come back. But for what? Why have he come back? You’d been doing fine for the past ten years. And now in an instant, you find yourself unable to do anything about these tears that just pours out.

You’d spent years trying to bury the memories, to build a life that didn’t revolve around the void Suguru had left behind. And for the most part, you’d succeeded. But tonight had cracked something so deep within you, like a breaking dam. It was that wound you thought had healed. A wound so deep that maybe you never noticed it never healed.

Your friends noticed your distraction and tried to coax you back into the lighthearted energy of the evening, but it was no use. When it comes to Suguru, you knew you would never be able to pull yourself back from the brink. You left early, along with your friend and retreated to the quiet of your own space in her house.

Sitting in the dim glow of your living room, you stared at your phone, your thumb hovering over his name in your contacts. It had been years since you’d last spoken, and the silence between you was deafening. But tonight, it felt heavier, like it was begging to be broken.

Suguru, in his drunken haze, finally pulled out his phone. His fingers trembled as he stared at the empty message thread between you from all those years ago. He never changed phones. He just couldn’t.

Not when this held so much of you, more than you could ever know. And he’d hate to part with it. He hates parting with you. The cursor blinked at him mockingly, daring him to say something, anything. But what could he say? What words could possibly bridge the chasm he had created?

You both sat in separate silences, even far away from each other. Even then, you both carry the weight of your shared history hanging in the air, stifling you both whole. Somewhere between the spaces of what was and what could never be, a thread still connected the two of you in the frayed, fragile, but unbroken echoes of life.

And for the first time in years, you both wondered what it would have been like to say hello.

══════════════════

IT WAS A LONG TIME AGO, FLASHING IN YOUR MIND SO CLEARLY. Your relationship with Geto Suguru began like a slow sunrise—gentle, almost imperceptible at first. Everyone could see something beautiful about it. You could too.

But it wasn’t something either of you could pinpoint, the exact moment it started, but before long, the light of it had crept in, filling the cracks and chasing away the cold.

At first, you were just kids, thrown together in the chaotic, unforgiving world of jujutsu sorcery. Life and death weren’t just abstract concepts; they were constant, hovering over every breath you took, lurking in the shadows of every mission. But with him, there was something different. Something softer.

It started with stolen glances in the classroom, shared smirks over jokes that only you two seemed to find funny. Then came the late-night conversations that stretched far too long, but neither of you cared. You’d sit on the temple steps, the world silent except for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

“You ever think about what we’d be doing if we weren’t... this?” he asked one night, his voice low, almost hesitant. He looked at you then, his dark eyes searching yours like he might find some hidden answer there.

“Sometimes, when I have some time. I think about it. With you, me, Satoru and Shoko.” you admitted. “But then I think... would we have ever met? If we were just ordinary people?”

He smiled, that small, almost private smile he saved just for you. “I don’t think the universe would’ve let us miss each other.”

“Even just the two of us?” You wondered at him.

“Especially the two of us.” He grinned even wider, patting your head.

Those words lingered with you long after that night, as did the quiet weight of his presence. Suguru wasn’t just your teammate or your classmate; he became your confidant, your safe place. The one person who could make you feel human, even when the world tried to strip that away.

There was lightness in your connection, a reprieve from the heaviness that came with your lives. The warmth of his laugh, the way his shoulders relaxed when you were around. It was as if the two of you carried pieces of each other’s burdens without ever having to say it out loud.

Everytime you were with him, you felt like everything was whole.

The world made sense when you were with him.

And you were proven right each and every single time.

He was the only one for you in this world.

It had been a long day, and exhaustion lingered in the edges of your mind, but he sat across from you, legs crossed lazily, and the smallest smile teased at his lips. You remember telling a joke.

You don’t remember it in its entirety but you knew it was something about the absurdity of the higher-ups’ newest “ingenious” strategy and for a moment, his guarded composure shattered.

He laughed.

It wasn’t just a chuckle or a polite hum. No, it was a real laugh. It was as though life had existed the first time he laughed. It was so bright, unrestrained, and utterly disarming.

The sound was pure, and for a moment, you could almost forget the weight he carried, the things he wouldn’t talk about late at night when the shadows seemed to pull closer.

“God, that laugh.” you murmured, half to yourself, but he caught it.

“What about it?” His voice held a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with curiosity.

“It’s… nice. Unexpected.” you said, and you could feel your cheeks warming under his steady gaze.

“....What about my laugh?” He asks you, his cheeks flustered like cherry wine. “Is…is the sound good?”

You matched his flustered cheeks. “It’s…It’s like a song.”

“A song?”

“My favorite song.” You admitted to him, slowly smiling as you shyly looked up to his flustered gaze. “Your voice is my favorite lullaby. But your laugh? It’s my favorite song.”

That was the beginning. That laugh became your favorite sound, a lifeline in the chaos. It became the thing you sought, the thing you tried to coax out of him in fleeting moments between missions or during those rare stretches of quiet.

You had stolen moments, the two of you. Too many to count, too many to want to forget. It was when life wasn’t pressing its cruelty upon you. Late nights stretched into early mornings, both of you lying in the grass, the stars above almost as bright as his gaze.

“You see that one?” you whispered once, pointing to a cluster of stars. “It reminds me of you.”

“Oh? How’s that?” he asked, smirking slightly, his head tilted in mock challenge.

“It burns so brightly you can’t help but stare,” you said without thinking, and the smirk faded into something softer, something almost shy.

“Careful, I might start believing you, you know?” he murmured, looking away, but not before you caught the blush dusting his cheeks.

“But aren’t I correct with what I said?”

“Ah, you’re just as cheeky as Satoru.”

You grinned at him. “But I’m better than him, aren’t I? Because I’m your favorite!”

Suguru laughed, his cheeks warm like a scarlet sunrise. “Yeah, yeah. You are my favorite.”

And then there was the kiss. It happened on an evening like any other. It was only a normal day. A day like any other. Nothing special at all.

You had been talking, your words flowing so easily it felt as if you were spinning threads of a tapestry you had both been weaving for years. Somehow, you just belonged together.

When he leaned in, his hand brushing the side of your face, it wasn’t a surprise. It felt inevitable, like the tides meeting the shore. Like destiny itself had been guiding you here. You felt like you were home as you found yourself overtaken by him.

When his lips met yours, it was as if the world stopped turning. It wasn’t fireworks or an explosion. It was just warmth that was familiar. The breeze of evening moonlight. it was a sigh, a soft release of tension you didn’t realize you had been carrying. Everything else fell away. It was just him and you.

And in that moment, you knew.

He was the one for you.

He was the love of your life.

“This feels... right, don’t you think?” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

“It does. Perfect.” you whispered back. “Like it was always supposed to happen.”

You didn’t just love him. No, you recognized him. Across time, across lives, across every distance imaginable. You had found him, and you would find him again.

Every time. Every lifetime. And you would love him, fiercely, until it burned you alive. Because he wasn’t just a part of your world—he was your world.

For a while, it was perfect. Together, you built a fragile sanctuary amidst the chaos. Even as the missions grew harder and the burden of protecting the world loomed heavier, you found solace in each other.

Geto Suguru would hold you close on nights when the horrors of your work were too much to bear, whispering reassurances that tomorrow would be better.

But tomorrow wasn’t better.

The world began to crack around him. He had blamed himself for Amanai Riko. For Satoru’s brush with death. For failure of a mission that relied so much on him. And that had buried him under, even before he had come and gone to the grim reaper’s arms.

Everything you had loved about him slowly faded, like memories of yesterday. You saw it in the way his smiles became rarer, in the way his laughter came less easily. He grew quieter, more distant, and when he came back from missions, he wouldn’t talk about them anymore.

Instead, he’d sit in silence, staring at nothing, as if the weight of what he’d seen was too much to put into words. As if nothing in this world mattered at all. As if nothing was worth living for.

At first, you tried to pull him out of it. You were the only person that could do something like that, if Satoru couldn’t. You have tried hard. You really did.

You did as much as you could to remind him of the ideals that had driven you both to fight in the first place. Of the future that you could have together, where you could be happy.

But Suguru wasn’t just tired of everything—he was angry.

And he didn’t want to hear anything more about those ideas.

They had failed him, as much as the adults had already done.

He wasn’t in the mind to talk anymore, he was tired of talking.

“They don’t deserve it.” he said harshly, that one night, his voice low and simmering. “The people we save—they don’t even know what we sacrifice for them. They go about their lives while we bleed for them. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not about fairness, Suguru.” you said, reaching for his hand. “It’s about doing what’s right. They are weaker than us. They don’t know the world of such suffering. But we do. Suguru—”

But he pulled away, shaking his head at you. “Maybe what’s right is letting them fend for themselves. Maybe what’s right is taking back control.”

“Suguru, you can’t—”

“I have had enough of it. I can’t….I can’t have any more of this bullshit. Please.”

You didn’t recognize the man sitting before you. His words were sharp, edged with bitterness that scared you. You tried to argue, to bring him back to the man you had fallen in love with, but Geto Suguru was slipping through your fingers, and no matter how tightly you held on, you couldn’t stop it. The more you tried, the more he pulled away.

The breaking point came on a mission, one you didn’t share with him. You weren’t there to see the moment he made his choice—the moment he decided that humanity was no longer worth saving.

You only heard the aftermath: Suguru Geto, once a protector, had killed. He had killed too many people. Even his own parents. He had turned his back on everything he once stood for. And all to be free. All to stop those voices in his head. All to stop being miserable.

When you confronted him that day, you were trembling. A part from anger, part from heartbreak. You looked at him, eyes so brimming with tears as he stood there with those dark purple orbs narrowing at you.

Almost as though he couldn’t care less about it all. It was as if he didn’t carry the world on his shoulders anymore. In that moment, it was better that their suffering freed him. That’s what it looked like to you. And that broke you. More than you could even say. More than you could even understand.

“Tell me it’s not true, Suguru.” you said, your voice cracking. “Tell me you didn’t do it.”

But Geto Suguru didn’t lie. He’s never been good at lying. If anything, you didn’t need him to say anything. You already knew the truth. You’ve seen the bodies. You’ve seen the reports. But somehow, hearing him say it.

Perhaps that’s the only way to make it real. That’s the only way to know the truth. He looked at you with calm, unflinching purple eyes, the same eyes that used to hold so much warmth. How could such warm eyes feel so cold, so lifeless, so devoid of the will to live?

“They deserved it.” he said simply, his hands resting on his pockets. “The world needs to change. And I’m going to change it.”

You stepped back, shaking your head, tears streaming down your face. “This isn’t you, Suguru. This isn’t who you are.I know…I know who you are. Please, just…Just…”

“It’s who I’ve always been.” he said, and the certainty in his voice shattered you.

Tears fell from your eyes, to the point that you couldn’t see anymore. You let out a guttering cry, your hand covering your lips as though you know you can’t let it out anymore. You can’t stand like this in front of him. But you couldn’t move. You couldn’t stop staring at him. Where did your Suguru go? Where was he?

“I don’t know you anymore.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You sobbed, looking at the ground. “Who are you? Where’s my Suguru? Where is he?”

For a moment, just a moment, his mask slipped. You saw the guilt in his eyes, the pain he was trying so hard to bury. Not because he’s hurt others, no. But because he’s hurt you. That burns him more.

That kills him more. But then it was gone, replaced by the resolute facade he had built to shield himself. He knew he couldn't come back. He’s gone too far for him to walk away from it.

“I hope you know that….I’m sorry.” he said to you, watching you close your eyes. As though wanting to pretend that this was just a bad dream. “But this is the only way.”

You wanted to scream, to grab him and shake him until he saw reason. But you knew it wouldn’t make a difference. You always knew better than that. He was resolute. He always has been. And so, he would not turn back. Not even for you.

The Geto Suguru you loved was gone. He was killed. He was consumed by the darkness he couldn’t escape. And you will never get him back. The last time you saw him, he was walking away, his silhouette fading into the distance. You stood there, rooted to the spot, the weight of his absence crushing you.

In the days and weeks that followed, you replayed every moment, every conversation, every sign you had missed. You blamed yourself, even though you knew, deep down, that this wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have saved him.

But that knowledge didn’t make the loss any easier. You were sure that he was the love of your life. Geto Suguru has been your love, your partner, your everything.

And now he was gone, leaving behind nothing but memories and the ghost of what could have been. And now you had to pick up what’s left from the desolation that swallowed everything whole. If not you, who will?

In the weeks that followed, life moved on around you, but you felt like you were frozen in place. The routines of being a jujutsu sorcerer continued. Day in day out, it was missions, training, meetings. But somehow, it all felt hollow.

Every face you saved, every curse you exorcised, felt like a mockery of what you had lost. How could you keep protecting a world that had taken Geto Suguru from you? How could you keep meeting with faces that didn’t know how to protect a child? How could you keep finding yourself living like this over and over?

But you still did it anyway.

You knew it was the right thing to do.

Suffering or not, you had to live.

You had to continue on.

Your nights were the hardest. Sleep became a distant memory, replaced by endless hours of replaying the past. You found yourself going back to the places you had shared with him.

The quiet park where you used to sit and watch the stars, the ramen shop where he’d always order extra broth, the training grounds where you’d spar until you were both breathless with laughter.

But those places were empty now, stripped of their meaning. Without him, they were just shadows of something you could never get back. Things that were just gone, forever lost in the abyss of his own making. An abyss you had sealed just as much, by continuing to live the way you have.

The news of Geto Suguru’s defection spread quickly. Whispers followed you wherever you went, people looking at you with pity, like you were some tragic figure in a story they couldn’t stop retelling.

Some were kind, offering empty condolences that only made you feel worse. Others were cruel, blaming you for not seeing the signs, for not stopping him before it was too late.

But the worst were the people who said nothing, who looked at you like you were a ticking time bomb, as if Suguru’s choices had tainted you by association. You could feel their looks, you could always hear the double entendre in their words. But you could hardly care at that point.

You tried to drown it all out, focusing on your missions, on anything that would keep your mind occupied. But no matter how hard you worked, no matter how many curses you destroyed, the weight of Suguru’s absence clung to you like a second skin.

And then, one day, you saw him again.

It was purely by accident, something you couldn’t expect.

It had only been a mere few months after he had left.

It was on a mission in a remote village, where rumors of a powerful curse had been reported. You had gone in prepared for anything—or so you thought. What you weren’t prepared for was the sight of Geto Suguru standing in the center of the chaos, his presence commanding, his expression unreadable.

Your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. He looked the same, and yet so different. There was an edge to him now, a coldness that hadn’t been there before. A brutish layer that protected him from the world.

“Suguru.” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He turned to you, and for a split second, something flickered in his purple eyes—recognition, maybe even regret. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the calm detachment you had come to fear.

“You shouldn’t be here.” he said, his tone almost gentle.

“You don’t get to tell me where I should be. you shot back, your voice trembling. “Not after what you’ve done.” After what you’ve done to me.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t come here to fight you. Leave, and I’ll let you go.”

“Let me go?” you echoed, anger bubbling up inside you. “You don’t get to ‘let me go’ for shit, Suguru. You left. You broke everything, and now you’re standing here like none of it matters. I should kill you right now where you stand like the kill order says.”

“It does matter. Everything I do, it matters. To me, to the world I’m building.” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “More than you’ll ever understand. That’s why I’m doing this.”

“No, Suguru. You aren’t.” you said, stepping closer to him. “You’re doing this because you gave up. Because you let the worst parts of this world consume you. And now you’re trying to justify it by pretending. And I just….I have had enough of that excuse. Even when we fought, you used that excuse.”

He flinched at your words, the only crack in his otherwise unshakable composure. For a moment, you thought you had reached him. But then his expression hardened, and he took a step back from you.

“This isn’t about us, you know that.” he said. “It’s bigger than that. Bigger than you or me.”

“It was never just about us, you idiot.” you said, your voice breaking. “But we could have fought for something better—together. Instead, you threw it all away. You threw me away.”

He didn’t respond. He knew you were right. You could see it in your eyes. He tried to open his mouth, to say something. But instead, he turned and began to walk away, his figure fading into the distance once more.

You wanted to call out to him, to beg him to stay, to fight for the man you once knew. But you didn’t. Because deep down, you knew that man was gone. You would just be lying to yourself if you tried to pretend that it would work.

And as you stood there, watching him disappear, you realized something: this was the last time you would let him break you. Geto Suguru had chosen his path, and now it was time for you to choose yours. You had to.

Even if it meant living with the weight of his absence for the rest of your life, you would carry it. Because that was what it meant to keep going. He wasn’t willing to live with you, for you. He wasn’t willing to do that. And so, you had to. You had to do it for you. To survive.

══════════════════

HE FELT LIKE HE WAS GOING TO THROW UP. Geto Suguru stumbled into another bar, his head swimming with alcohol and frustration. The neon lights buzzed overhead, casting garish colors onto the crowd of strangers.

It was a different place, but it might as well have been the same. Everywhere he went, it felt the same: loud, crowded, meaningless. He was chasing something he couldn’t name, knowing full well it wouldn’t fix the hollow ache inside him.

He spotted a girl at the bar, standing alone for just a moment, and something in him shifted. It wasn't an attraction—not really. It was desperation. I may suggest there’s somewhere I might know her, he thought, smirking to himself, just to get the ball to roll.

He approached her with a feigned air of confidence, the kind that only comes from being far beyond tipsy. His words slurred slightly as he said something about a shared connection, a vague memory he knew didn’t exist. She tilted her head, intrigued despite herself.

Suguru leaned in closer, his voice low and coaxing. “Come on, before the moment’s gone.”

It wasn’t like he was falling in love. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want her heart or her promises. He just wanted her to do him no good, to help him forget for a while. The girl gave him a look—soft, inviting, a subtle tilt of her lips that sent a rush of blood through his veins.

It turned him on more than it should have. He didn’t care about her name, her life, or her story. It was the thrill of the chase, the electric jolt of fleeting desire. But before he could take another step, a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“She’s with me.”

Suguru turned to see a man standing there, tall and stern, his presence like a wall between them. The girl stepped back toward her boyfriend, her gaze dropping in awkward apology. Suguru laughed bitterly, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Didn’t mean to intrude.” he said, though the sting of rejection burned.

He retreated to the edge of the dance floor, his drink in hand, watching the pulsing crowd around him. The music was deafening, the lights dizzying. The club was a house of fun—or at least that’s what it was supposed to be. People were laughing, dancing, losing themselves in the moment. But for Suguru, it was a prison. A trap.

The room spun, not from the alcohol but from the crushing realization that it wasn’t enough. This place wasn’t enough. These people weren’t enough. She’s not you. No, she isn’t. She never will be. No one else can ever be like you.

No matter how many drinks he had, no matter how many strangers he flirted with, the truth was inescapable. You and he weren’t together anymore. You had been the only thing that made sense in the chaos of his life, and now, without you, everything felt hollow.

The club blurred into a mess of sound and light, but all Suguru could feel was the emptiness gnawing at him. He was trapped in this cycle of meaningless nights, trying to fill the void you left behind. And deep down, he knew it would never work. Because no matter how hard he tried, no one could be you.

Nothing here was worth staying for.

So he comes outside, the cold greeting him.

But he could barely feel it stab through him.

The alcohol in his veins dulled everything except the gnawing ache in his chest. He stumbled down the street, the neon lights of the club fading behind him, replaced by the harsh glow of streetlights. His breath came out in uneven puffs, his mind swimming with thoughts he didn’t want to face.

His phone was a familiar weight in his pocket. He pulled it out, his fingers fumbling over the screen until he found your name. He was too drunk to be a coward now. He wasn’t going to let the cursor mock him this time. Not again.

Somehow, it was muscle memory—he didn’t even have to think about it. You were still in his contacts, still in his life in the smallest, cruelest way. If anything, he memorized your phone number. He knew it too well, he’d never forget it. He stared at your name for a long moment, the cursor blinking on the call button.

The voice in his head screamed at him to stop, to put the phone away and walk home.He didn’t need to do this. Not right now. Not ever. But the alcohol silenced that voice, replacing it with raw, unfiltered need. And seeing you tonight….what more did he need to be an excuse? He had to call you. Even if it was wrong, he had to.

Before he could stop himself, he hit the button. The phone rang. Once, twice. With every passing second, his heart raced, his breathing shallow and unsteady. He almost hung up, almost let the moment slip away, but then you answered.

“Hello?” Your voice was soft, confused. You had changed phones. But you still used the same number. He knew that. But you probably, over time, had forgotten his phone number. He had expected it. He was after all, worth forgetting. “Who is this?”

It was late, and you hadn’t expected to hear from him—hadn’t heard from him in years. If anything, you never should expect anything from him. But the sound of you made his chest tighten, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He leaned against a lamppost, the phone pressed to his ear like it was his last lifeline.

“S’me again, babe.” he slurred finally, his voice thick with alcohol and emotion. “Suguru.”

There was a pause on your end, heavy and loaded. He could almost feel the weight of your hesitation, the way your breath hitched as you processed his call. It had been a long time. Ten long years. And now, just now, he called.

“What do you want?” you asked, your tone cautious, guarded. It wasn’t the warmth he remembered, but it wasn’t cold either. It was somewhere in between, and that hurt more than anything.

“I don’t know, honestly.” he admitted, his voice breaking. He laughed bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “No, that’s a lie. I know. I just… And I just….I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop… missing you.”

“Suguru…” Your voice softened, but there was something else there too—sadness, maybe even pity.

He hated it. He didn’t want your pity. You had known that even when you were younger. But he knew you couldn't help it. Still, just maybe, even just tonight, you’d drop it. You’d pretend, just as he was. He wanted you to tell him that you missed him too, that you still thought about him late at night, that he wasn’t the only one trapped in this endless spiral.

“I saw you tonight.” he blurted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “At that bar. Can’t remember the name, honestly. But you just….You looked so happy. Like you don’t even think about me anymore. Like I’m nothing.”

You sighed on the other end of the line, and it cut through him like a knife. “Suguru, it’s been ten years. What did you expect? I….I didn’t expect my life to be frozen, waiting for an impossibility that will never come.”

“I don’t know. I just…” he said again, his voice rising with frustration. “I thought maybe—maybe you’d feel the same. Like… like this thing between us isn’t over. Like it’s still there.”

“It’s not. And you…you know this.” you said quietly, and the finality in your tone made his knees buckle. He sank onto the curb, his head in his hands.

“It is for you, maybe…. he whispered, his voice cracking. “But not for me. It’s not over for me, and I don’t know how to let it be. Babe, I loved you. I still do. Maybe for the rest of my fucking life. But I…I don’t know what to do.”

The silence on your end was deafening, and he filled it with a broken laugh. You had the right to your silence, you always will. After what he had done, even just last night? Why shouldn’t you just be quiet? Why shouldn’t you just hang up right now?

But on the other side of the line, you were bitterly weeping in the quiet. Just taking in his words. Everything about your lives had been a tragedy, a tragedy that you could never forget. Both of you were living those past lives that can never come back. And you shouldn’t. You can’t. Not now, not ever.

“I’m drunk, you know?” he said, as if that excused everything, as if it would make you forget the raw, painful truth he’d just laid bare. “I shouldn’t have called. I just… I needed to hear your voice.”

“You need to go home, Suguru.” you said gently. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was what he expected.”You have daughters to go home too, remember?”

You’d always been kind, even when you were hurting. Even to people that hurt you. He’d always known that. But somehow, he wondered if that kindness was why you’d stayed in his contacts all these years—because part of you knew he might need it someday.

Because he knows you’d be merciful to him, no matter what he’d done. No matter what he’d caused you. You’d pick up that phone and answer him. You’d let him hear your voice, like you used to do for hours and hours when you were younger.

“Yeah, you’re right.” he said, dragging himself to his feet. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll go home.”

But as he stumbled down the street, the phone still pressed to his ear, he couldn’t help but say one last thing. “You were the best thing I ever had, you know that? The only thing that ever made sense. In all of my life. And I love you. I’ll love you forever for it.”

He heard you inhale sharply, but you didn’t respond. Not for a while. You took a moment to let out a small sob, as though trying to hold yourself together. And Suguru could imagine it. How it shatters him. Ah, he had made you cry again like this.

“You were the best of my life, Suguru.” You finally say, almost the saddest he’s ever heard you talk. You were still mourning him, he supposed. “The love of my life. You always will be, Suguru.”

The line went quiet, and then, mercifully, you hung up.

Suguru stood there for a moment, staring at the screen, the word “Disconnected” flashing at him in a cruel, mocking rhythm. His hand tightened around the phone, his knuckles turning white as the fury bubbled beneath the surface. He nodded to himself.

He wanted to scream, to hurl the phone into the street and watch it shatter into irreparable pieces, as if that would somehow undo the splintering inside him. But instead, his anger collapsed inward, folding into a hollow resignation.

He shoved the phone into his pocket with a rough, jerking motion, his breaths shallow and uneven. He reached for a cigarette with the same hand, fingers trembling as they pulled it free. His lighter almost instantly lit the edge into a fiery smoke.

The first drag burned, the bitter smoke searing his throat and filling his lungs. It didn’t matter. He needed the distraction, needed something to keep him grounded when it felt like the world had slipped from beneath his feet. He lit the next one before the first was even finished, the acrid haze curling around him like a suffocating ghost.

He kept walking. The city stretched out before him, a labyrinth of muted lights and shadows that felt more hostile than familiar. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional distant wail of a siren or the shuffle of a stray figure in the dark. Cold wind bit at his skin, cutting through the thin jacket he hadn’t bothered to zip up.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

This was the last time you’ll see each other.

He was going to do his plan soon enough.

And you won’t see him again, not ever again.

275 notes · View notes

lieslab · 10 days ago

Text

Call your mom

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Felix X gn reader

Summary: Your best friend finds you teetering on the edge of suicide in the middle of the night.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 2.2K

Suicide and depression resources

Trigger warning: Suicide, depression, self-hatred, brief mentions of pills, guns, self-harm, hanging, fear of life after death, and fear of being alone.

A/N: It's the first day of 2025 and if you're struggling with thoughts like these, please stay alive. I had a weird urge to drop this which means, at least, one of you is struggling right now. Please pick up the phone and call someone. Stay alive. I know it seems so hard when you're drowning, but you really have no idea what good things are waiting for you. They will find you, I promise <3

_ _ _

At midnight, Felix’s eyes shot wide open without a reason or why. He had just been asleep and yet, as he laid with his cheek pressed against the warmth of his pillow, there wasn’t the usual sleepy haze. It was almost as if he just opened his eyes and hadn’t been sleeping for the past few hours.

He laid there trying to figure out the reason for it, but none came. The steady sound of his breathing filled the room and he glanced over. The full moon was out tonight and she was watching over everyone, at least, that’s what he thought.

He didn’t know why your face appeared in his head. Somewhere deep in the subconscious realm and far from his understanding, something tugged on him. It ushered him to go and it forced him out of bed. In the darkness, almost like a shadow savior, he slipped on his slippers and rushed out of his room.

It was the one thing he actually liked about your shared apartment building. Your apartment was just down the hall. All he had to do was leave his unit, turn left, walk straight, and turn left again. The path was so familiar that he could do it in his sleep.

He tugged the wooden door shut behind him and didn’t bother locking it. He jerked on the oversized hoodie and rounded the corner, that’s when he saw you. The look on your face, it was one he’d never seen before.

The length of the hallway was barren at this time of night. Lights were secured above your head and dimmed down for the evening. The dimness couldn’t hide the tears pouring down your cheeks.

You couldn’t breathe with your thoughts piling up again. You’d been here before, but this time was different. This time, you were sure if you stepped foot in your apartment building, you wouldn’t come back out alive.

So you paced over and over and over again. Stuck between the urge in giving it all up and trying to find the strength to continue. Living was hard and it was even worse when your own brain hated you.

How much longer could you last? Too stuck in your head, you stamped yourself as a burden. You cut holes in your own heart and let yourself drown in your own hurt. Blood stained your hands and it was always all your fault.

A lump sat in your throat and the tears wouldn’t stop dripping. You wanted to keep going. You wanted to try again. You wanted to bite down on that small sliver of hope and cling to it, but you were also tired. This self-destructive cycle led to nowhere. You were tearing your mental sanity to shreds and your muscles were quivering from trying to keep your head held up one more day.

Just one more day. Just one more try. Just a little more. Another step. Another meal. Another memory creeping back from the depths of your mind and rerunning. Your brain was on fire and screaming.

Torn between letting go and staying here, you were breaking down. The oil in your machine ran out months ago. Every step weighed a thousand pounds. Your bones creaked and your soul ached. You longed for inner peace, but it never showed up.

Your dreams were dead. Your brain stamped them out weeks ago. You deemed yourself the family failure. The unlovable one. The kind of person that people steered themselves clear from because you were just too much.

The weight of your thoughts was breaking your back. Your brain screamed at you to stay, but you couldn’t find peace in sleep anymore. Where people found joy in the rainbows and sunshine, you couldn’t find that anymore either. You ran out of love to give a long time ago.

Wouldn’t it just be better to give up? To finally rest. To go to sleep. Swallow pills. Pull a trigger. Slice the vein. Step off the stool and let your windpipe close forever. The hurt was temporary and god, it’d hurt, but the peace afterwards…

You didn’t know what came after this. Maybe it really was heaven or hell. Maybe the rumors were true and you’d burn for eternity for killing yourself. Maybe you’d wake up in another life and in the arms of a new mother. Shiny eyes of another father would be cast upon you.

Or maybe it’d just be nothing. An eternal darkness and no matter what happened or where you went, it’d just be black. You’d cease to exist. You’d have all this and then nothing ever again.

You didn’t hear Felix the first time that he called your name, but you felt him. You smelled the familiar scent of minty toothpaste and eucalyptus. Your teary eyes reached up to find his and his heart shattered.

He cupped your cheeks and his heart squeezed with terror. “What’s wrong?” He whispered as he wiped away your tears.

You tried to speak, but your words turned into a whimper that got stuck in the back of your throat. How were you supposed to tell your best friend that you wanted to end everything? How were you supposed to tell them that you were so tired, you wanted to go? It was time for you to go.

Maybe it was selfish to not think about the hurt you’d cause him, or maybe it was selfish for him not to see the hurt that harbored in your heart. Would he ask you to stay if he knew you were drowning inside yourself? The darkness swallowed you whole and no matter how much you tried to swim to the surface, you never made it.

Did he know this was the last time he’d see your defeated face? Would he remember the bags smeared beneath your eyes? Would he know that your eyes would close soon and they’d never reopen? The next time he’d see you, if he was lucky, you’d be clutching your own cold corpse in the cramped casket.

His freckles were like constellations and if you were lucky, maybe you’d land upon the stars. Maybe the weight of everything would cease to exist and the lack of gravity, from wherever you landed, would make you float. The warmth of those brown eyes was home. Wherever you ended up, you wanted to feel that similar warmth.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded softly. “What’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. Why did he have to find you at this time? You tried to keep him out of the convoluted mess of your head and heart and yet, here he was. He stood in front of you like the savior you’d been praying for, but now it was too late.

The flip in your head was made. It was time for you to go. This world wasn’t meant for someone like you. You opted to roll the dice, spin the wheel, and pull the slots. You’d take your chances in the next life.

“Nothing,” you hoarsely uttered. “I’m just having one of those nights, you know?”

You were way too calm about this. He watched how frantic you were when he first rounded the corner. Your eyes looked around desperately, like you were searching for something that wasn’t there.

“Why are you lying to me?”

His voice was a sweet honey and you desperately wanted to free fall. You wanted to melt into the floor and never exist again. You couldn’t stay near Felix for too long. He’d give you another reason to stay.

“I-I should go to bed. You’re in your pajamas, you should go get some sleep.”

His head shook and his messy blonde hair shook with his head. “No way. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what’s going on with you.”

Your mouth opened, but words didn’t come out. How were you to truly explain this weight in your heart? How could you bare the shell of this body? If you admitted it all, would he call you selfish? Would he break off this friendship and leave you alone forever?

“Felix,” you weakly got out. Fresh tears blurred your vision. You reached out to his stomach and gripped the front of his hoodie.

“What is it?”

“I-”

“You can tell me and I promise, I won’t judge you.”

You didn’t deserve his goodness or his grace. You didn’t deserve this warmth and this sunshine. This savior should have stayed in bed and let your plans unravel, but here he was. You’d been praying for a miracle, for some reason to stay, and here it was, but it made your heart hurt. You were just so tired.

“I want to kill myself.”

His eyes locked onto yours and for a brief moment, silence buzzed between the two of you. You held your breath waiting for a response and he couldn’t breathe. You didn’t have time to react as he jerked you into his arms.

He pressed your head against his shoulder and you gasped. His arms squeezed around you and created a cage of love. “You’re not leaving my sight.”

“Felix,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to speak right now. We’ll go back to my apartment and I think I have your mom’s phone number. I’ll call your mom and I-”

“You can’t!” You jerked away in a panic. Your eyes were wide as you stared at him. “I don’t want to make this a big deal. She’s sleeping right now and-”

“I have to.”

Your head jerked and you tried to shove him away. He caught your hand and squeezed it tight. “Let go of me!” Your voice raised as you pulled away.

“No!”

“I’ll never forgive you!”

“I don’t care!”

“Felix, let go! I’ll stop being your friend! Don’t call her!” More tears filled your eyes. “Please, don’t call her.”

“I’ll call your mom. I’ll call your dad. I’ll call your siblings and I’ll call the cops.”

“You’ll lose me,” you weakly threatened. “I’ll never forgive you and I’ll hate you forever.”

His own tears fell from his cheeks. “Then lose me. Never talk to me again, I don’t care. As long as it means you’re still alive, I don’t care. I’ll lose you either way, just don’t give up on life.” “I’d rather deal with the weight of losing you that way than the weight of writing your obituary. The world doesn’t need me to describe how good you are when it flows from you naturally. Please. Think this through for me.”

You hated him so deeply right then and there. You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to swing and shake him. Didn’t he understand what he was doing? He was purposefully making you a burden now. Your internalized hatred of yourself would become everyone’s reality. You truly would be a problem now.

“I know you’re struggling and it’s true, I don’t know how much you’re struggling. The future must seem fickle now, but I won’t give up on you. You deserve the future that you talked about months ago and I won’t stand by and let you rip that chance from your own hands.”

“I will call whoever and I will scream at the top of my lungs to grab the attention of our neighbors. Not because I want to embarrass you, but because I love you. I won’t stop loving you, even if I have to stand here holding you and repeat the words for the rest of the night.”

“Please,” he pleaded, “just give it one more day and trust me. I will find a way to help you. Don’t let whatever demons you’re fighting win.”

It didn’t matter that your neighbors were sleeping. It didn’t matter that you were out in the open. The sobs you had been hellbent on suppressing finally slipped out. Your knees buckled and he slung you against his body.

Your head curled into his body and your shoulders shook. His arms squeezed you and he pressed your head against his chest. The heavy thump of his heartbeat made you cry harder.

Every organ inside of you was alive and every day, they fought to keep you alive. Memories were created from the people around you. Even when things got tough for others, how many times had you dropped your issues and been there when you were needed?

You hadn’t met all the people you were destined to meet yet. Still so young, you had so much time left. So many seasons to enjoy and so many new hobbies to try. Unreleased songs and new movies that you’d love.

Things don’t always last forever and neither would this discouragement and hopelessness. One day, you might be teetering on the edge of ending it all, but the future version of yourself sits on a couch at ease. They’re staring outside, drinking their favorite drink, and contentedly watching the bright yellows, blinding oranges, and soft pinks disappear as the sun goes down.

The night will not unveil the horrors in your head and it will not be feared. It will bring new adventures and the reminder that the sun will shine again. The people you love will be by your side. You’ll find new reasons to fall in love with the world around you. A bad day will just be a bad day and not stain your life worthless forever.

As Felix gripped you, he uttered a silent prayer. Whatever was out there, whether it was merely his own subconscious or a god, it helped him save you. He’d call your family and he’d find you help.

For one more day, you’d continue living, but this time, you wouldn’t be carrying the weight of your sadness and hurt alone.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy

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yanderestarangel · 1 year ago

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HEADKANONS SYZOTH | REPTILE MK1 WITH S/O

A/N: Some people asked for Syzoth, so here you horny b*tches. Do you want to make a request? Read my blog rules in the pinned post, comments and reblogs are welcome♡

TW: sfw and smut headcanons, afab reader, masculine and feminine pronouns used in pet names "good boy/good girl", breeding kink, vaginal sex.

Syzoth is a caring and protective lover. He's the kind of man who knows what it's like to lose everything, he lost his family because of Shang Tsung, so he will love you and cling to you as if you were his last chance to be happy in the world - what a technical, and truth -

He met you after helping Liu Kang and his fighters, you were a citizen of the earthly plane and met Syzoth through Liu himself, he said that the two of you would make a cute couple, making Syzoth blush slightly when he looked at you and then looked away. his face flushed but he knew it was true, you really were a beautiful and kind person, everything he was looking for in a life partner.

He started visiting you, bringing you flowers he picked himself, of several different species, some still came with fresh dirt on the stem but what mattered was the man's intention, right?

Syzoth would jump up to your window in the middle of the night, so to be with you, he would also maybe watch you sleep, sometimes the concept can be scary but he likes to see you lying there, peacefully and protected from the world and the evils of men. He even swore to protect you regardless of what happened, he failed one family, he wasn't going to fail another.

Syzoth and you dated for years until he asked you to marry him, he hoped to save the necessary money and also build - himself - a house for the two of you, it would be a house in the forest, fairy tale style, with a flower garden in the background, a small lake in front and several little animals scattered around the property, a dream that Syzoth has always had of a calm and homely life.

Your wedding was simple, few people were invited and it was the first and last time he wore a suit in his life, a fine suit given as a gift by Johnny Cage - who was invited to be best man at your wedding, along with from Ashrah, who was the godmother - it was a quick but extremely beautiful ceremony, being held in Empress Sindel's gardens, she herself authorized the ceremony, while you were able to smile and shed tears of emotion.

You two will have a calm and simple life, with Syzoth giving you everything for a comfortable day to day life. He will also be the type who prefers you to stay at home, he is extremely paranoid because of Shang Tsung's traumas, in other words, he will give the speech: "-You are my husband/wife, I will give you everything I want." you need in this life, just stay home and take care of yourself, please (Y/N).” -He says this in a calm but emotional voice, gently taking him in his arms, while holding back tears as he remembers the family he lost, please, just stay at home for this man.

Syzoth is the type who also loves knowing the culture of the earthly plane, he didn't even know what a cell phone was so if you give him one, he will be confused, but he learns extremely quickly - He will use your photo in everything, like wallpaper, profile icon etc, he has basic social networks to communicate with you, you found about 56 calls from Johnny to him, and he didn't answer any of them leaving poor Cage talking to himself -

He likes to hang out indoors when the two of you are alone. You will see him practically 24 hours a day naked around the house, exposing his physique and tattoos to you, hugging you from behind and kissing you on the cheek, while flexing his muscles on your soft skin.

He is not jealous, he trusts you and knows that you love him, but please don't push his buttons by trying to make him jealous on purpose, he will get extremely upset and go to sleep in the living room or outside the house, or even cry, he is a little sensitive and explosive with very intense feelings.

He likes to be suffocated between your thighs, I don't know, he then loves to feel the pressure of the soft flesh of your thighs pressing his face, he gets extremely hard, whether with him sucking your pussy or just with him between your legs, he smiles and I even beg you to squeeze harder. "-Yes my love, harder, squeeze me with your thighs, I love you so much Fuuuck-" -He spoke in a breathless voice, between his thighs while squeezing you with his hands.

He has a breeding kink, deal with that too, regardless of whether you are a man or a woman, he will get you pregnant.

Syzoth is not a virgin, but he is also not extremely expert, he knows the basics, so please teach him what you like, especially him paying attention to your clitoris, he will understand and massage it with his fingers and tongue, after seeing your reactions of pleasure he will become addicted to working on your clitoris, sucking you for 24 hours, you will have at least three orgasms in the day, with Syzoth between your legs looking at you with his penetrating green irises, eating you from the outside while you trembled under the touch of his tongue, he has a sexual pattern, with his favorite sexual positions being:

The Captain : Seeing you lying down opening your legs for him and exposing your beautiful pussy makes Syzoth want to cum even without penetration, but he can handle it, for you. He gets on his knees on the bed, holding both of your ankles in a V position, to further expose your open and wet pussy to him, he penetrates you slowly, stretching you little by little. "-Fuck sweetheart, I really love his pussy, I could fuck you all night you know? I can move right?" -He spoke between moans, starting to move his hips while watching your reactions of pleasure upon receiving his cock.

The Hot Seat : He loves to sit on the edge of the bed, spread his thighs and hold his hard cock, so you can sit with your pussy on it - he likes to do this position when you are already tired and overstimulated - Syzoth loves to see your ass bouncing him, while his dick enters your pussy, he uses one of his hands to stimulate your clitoris, while he uses his feet on the floor to have more momentum to fuck you, while the other hand cups your breast, squeezing it lightly, placing kisses sloppy behind your back. "-Please keep it up, yes, take it all like the good boy/girl you are, just take my seed inside your uterus, just cum on my cock dear." -He said breathlessly, already close to cumming inside you, well, he always cums inside you.

He also likes being blindfolded during sex, being tied up, having orgasms denied, and loves being called "my love" in addition to liking praise kink.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

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natalchartnurtures · 8 months ago

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PAC: Mitski, what about me is eternal like the.. moon?

I had so much fun doing this

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 1:

'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love mine, mine, mine Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love is mine, all mine, all mine

I'm sitting right in front of your cards in utter awe. I got goosebumps when I laid eyes on your cards, pile 1. Let me begin by saying this: you've seen some DARK and truly terrible times, haven't ya? Even as I say this, it feels like an understatement. There have been times when you were stripped down to bare bones, and you had to "grow back the rest of you." I apologize for the gruesome metaphor (but hey, I'm just the messenger; this ain't really coming from me :p). Maybe you've had to encounter times when you felt painfully lonely, stuck in your head and in your general life too, like your spirit was beaten down. Or maybe it felt as if the universe snatched away something you thought was incredibly precious? But I hear that it wasn't what you thought it was; that's why it had to go. You probably didn't see it that way at all, and THAT'S ALRIGHT because we don't have Spirit's perspective, now do we? I see that you really struggled to put yourself together after that somewhat 'impossible-seeming' loss. It seemed like it came outta left field.

BUT GUESS THE FUCK WHAT. You, my friend, took this PAIN and these fucked up times and turned it into a damn palace of gold. You read that right. What's eternal about you? Your alchemy. Your fire. Your willpower. Your ability to take life by the balls. Your refusal to let it beat you to dust. Your refusal to be small. Literal goosebumps, you feeling it yet? It's your connection to God/Source/Universe. Your faith. Your mastery of your mind, babe. Yeah. You've somehow mastered your mind in this process of putting yourself back together. Acknowledge that ish! 'Cause you really did do that.

Nothing can ever get you to stop dreaming, and much less trying to stop you from achieving them, love. You're a powerhouse of energy, and God bless anybody who ever underestimates that (you included side-eyeing you right now). Not you getting low key called out, haha.

Don't get me wrong, though; being a powerhouse of energy doesn't necessarily mean being in everybody's face trying to assert your dominance, y'know? It can look like silent crying in the middle of the night and waking up the next day determined to overcome the thing that made you cry the day before.

Your light is what's eternal about you. It never goes off. Like ever. Your dedication to learning and growing through whatever, and I mean WHATEVER, life throws your way is what will never die, sweetie. It's like a part of your essence at this point. I hope you're proud of that and know that it's what will bring you to your success in life, whatever that looks like for each one of you beautiful ass people reading this :)

Haha, that's so cute; I just heard Spirit go "you're going places, sweetheart" ><

And with that, let's end your FABULOUS, goosebumps-inducing (btw, I don't say that about just ANYTHING), and awe-inspiring reading here.

Thank you, pile 1, for sharing your energy with me today. I love you guys so, so much and… not gonna lie, I'm low key honored to have been in your presence today. Haha, see ya!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 2:

My baby, here on earth Showed me what my heart was worth So, when it comes to be my turn Could you shine it down here for her?

My god, why is there so much happening as I tap into your energy, pile 2? And I mean it in a nice way, though. I heard T Swift's song "The Last Great American Dynasty" as I was shuffling for you, and I heard Spirit go, "she's sweet and salty," lol. We'll see how all that plays into the reading eventually.

The first thing I noticed was your incredible balance within your mind and heart. It's shocking. Maybe you've been working on getting these aspects of yours to agree with one another and balance each other out, or it's simply your personality, but… pile 2, this beautiful mind-heart balance is what's eternal about you, love. Your peace. Your calm. The childlike innocence of your heart blending seamlessly with your mind's unending curiosity for life. Your emotional intelligence. The way you flow… like water, I heard. Wow! I find that so amazing, ugh, like can we be friends, pile 2? T-T, 'cause I definitely need some of that in my life right now, not gonna lie, haha.

There's that AND then there's a whole other dimension to you where you give 'life of the party' vibes as well. OH, so maybe that's why I heard Spirit say "sweet and salty," like two very different things but produce a wonderful taste together. Complex. Addicting. You make people want to come back for more, pile 2. Mmmmmm! Love that!

You have this laid-back vibe to you as well that a lot of people in your life appreciate. I see that your ability to lighten anybody's day is what's eternal about you awwww. I heard "she's the sunshine of my life." UGH, this is too wholesome for my heart; please save me. You seem to really perk up people's day/week or just life in general. You give, like, Saggi vibes, bro. It doesn't matter if you have that in your chart, but it's just your soul. The eternal aspect of you feels bright, expansive, loving, and so vibrant in energy, my god. You've also got strong feminine energy too… you must be really good at attracting 'cause you're strong in your feminine energy AND you're chill and detached from it at the same time. Effortless manifester, master manifester are some words that come to mind as I describe this.

Your divinity is what's eternal about you. Your 'witchy vibes.' Your embodiment of your highest truth. Your commitment to maintaining this divine connection in your day-to-day. Bro, what's eternal about you is that you can turn any old mundane task/thing into something fun and magical and full of meaning and symbolism. You live life deep, and even though there aren't a whole lotta people who can join you there, you wouldn't have it any other way. It's your raw authenticity, babe. Circling back to "The Last Great American Dynasty" song, maybe you're like Rebekah that T Swift sings about, "the most shameless woman this town has ever seen." People tend to call raw, authentic women shameless, but you couldn't care less. You will forever do what you like 'cause you're a free-spirited divine mystic in the body of a teeny lil human. Love it.

That's all I have for you, pile 2. Thank you for spending time with me! I love you so much <3

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 3:

Moon, tell me if I could Send up my heart to you? So, when I die, which I must do Could it shine down here with you?

Ah, my divine activators. What's eternal about you? Your intensity. BS detection might as well be your middle name. Sherlock Holmes who? 'Cause you're the new detective in town, baby, sniffing out illusions, falsities, fake people, LIES, victim mentality. None of that runs free with you around, I'll tell you that. It's your capacity to hold divine truth, lovingly, which is INCREDIBLY hard, btw. You can't stand half-assed people and people who seem to not have their "heads screwed on straight." Lmao, what kinda people are you surrounded by, pile 3? Ooh, I heard that you're divinely planted where you are so you can activate a lot of people into awakening to their true selves, but it looks like nobody wants to actually awaken. Lmao.

-Side note: My heart goes out to you if you've been surrounded by really difficult and chaotic energies that bring you down a lot. That SUCKS so hard, bro. Been there myself too lately, and it's not a fun merry-go-round to co-exist with. Just keep being your amazing cool-ass self, ok? Things will work out eventually. You already intuitively feel that things will get better, so trust that feeling!-

If I could describe your energy, I would use the Phoenix rising from the ashes symbolism to do so. Ohhhhh, as I told you that, I saw a vision of T Swift's music video of "Look What You Made Me Do," where she comes out of the grave and sings, "Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time." I'm a fan, pile 3. Omg. That's some badass ballsy energy, and I'm so here for it right now. You're the epitome of what psychological death and rebirth looks like. You're the textbook definition. And THAT'S what's eternal about you. No matter where you are or what you end up doing in life, you'll always be able to "rise up from the dead" and do it iconically too. Haha, I literally heard that. Lmao. This ability of yours is an extension of the greater aspect of you - your higher self. Whoa… I just heard you've had this ability for lifetimes and you will take it strongly with you to the next ones as well. Powerful. It's etched in your soul, pile 3. You know what you want and how to get it, even if not immediately; you always do eventually. It's the security you possess within yourself that's eternal, love. Nothing can really shake you at this point. Lmao. You've got a strong-ass foundation.

-Side note: I'm really seeing a healed and fully realized root chakra for you. If you haven't gotten there yet, you're well on your way! Good job! Root chakra work is the most brutal, btw, so… you really have my respect. Haha, moving on-

You have warrior energy present quietly in your personality as well. You give spiritual warrior vibes. You don't prefer to live in it 24/7; it's simply something you tap into when a situation calls for it. Otherwise, I see you being quite heart-centered, full of love, looking at the world with rose-colored glasses. Your inner child is what's eternal about you. Your divine sensitivity and your capacity to hold your emotions without judgment and live big from a place of heart. You embody the energy of water in my eyes, tbh. Life-giving but also destructive if need be, and there's absolutely nothing weak about water. Phew. You are eternal as the oceans are.

Ahhh, pile 3, that was sooo much fun! Thanks for stopping by, and I love you soooo much!

~~~~~~~~~~~

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yoonmetogether · 2 months ago

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Not In the Cards ch. 1 Play Nice

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader - brother/mob boss!Jin, brother/mob boss!Jungkook genre: mafia, e2l, sloooooow burn, age gap summary: As you and your brothers finalize the plans for the next chapter in the family business, you end up discovering things that you didn't expect. And upon meeting the man assigned to guard your life, you think the universe must really have it out for you. And you don't like it. Not one bit. warnings: angst, arranged marriage, drug addiction/rehab, family drama, parental loss, age gap, alcohol, smoking, mentions of speed racing, crime, drugs and weapons trading, night terrors, ptsd, guns, reader has a knife (and an attitude), character death minors pls dni wc: 19k buckle up, folks!!!

teaser l prologue l ch. i play nice I prelude. strangers 1/2 l ch. ii I

You make a mocking face at your phone, specifically the social media app that shoves pictures in your face of your university friends opening up their architecture firm that you were meant to be a part of. Good for them, you think sourly to yourself. You would be happier if you were there with them, before your dreams and plans to settle down in one place were foiled.

It’s been almost a year since they were, right before you finished up your second to last semester of grad school when your brother called to tell you that your father had died.

Your father, who never looked you in the eye. Your father, who you spent too much of your childhood vying for his attention, especially as a teenager, around the time he started to pay more attention to Jungkook. Like when you purposely flunked classes, hoping he’d care enough to yell at you to do better, only for Jin to show up to teacher meetings in sunglasses and a mask but the disappointment wasn’t hidden underneath. Or when you went around shoplifting with your friends and got caught by mall security, wishing he’d be the one to show up and get you out of trouble. But yet again, Jin came in another disguise, and the disappointment was the same. He knew what you were doing, but didn’t have the heart to tell you it wasn’t worth it, because your father would never care. He barely acknowledged your existence.

So, at the news of his passing, you felt nothing. That was until you realized that it meant everything would fall on your brothers’ shoulders. And suddenly, you became a part of the very thing Jin worked so hard to keep you away from. Your duty and prospects became that of carrying out your father’s legacy. Before you knew it, you were set to be engaged to the son of a casino owner, so that you would take over the casino in the city your brothers ran, streets filled with crime and money fueled by Crow blood.

Kim blood. Dirty blood. Your blood.

Over the summer, you finished up your last semester, rushed through six classes in order to complete all of your credits. You honestly don’t know how you pulled it off. Three weeks before you were scheduled to graduate, Jin called, bearing the bad news that Jungkook had relapsed and was back in rehab, so you needed to come home right away. You didn’t get to walk the stage. And you certainly couldn’t give the school an address to send your diploma to. So everything was lost in the wind.

Jungkook was still in rehab by the time you got a ring shoved on your finger. None of your friends know about the engagement. Granted, none of them can even be invited to the wedding. You can’t even tell them where you’re living now.

You probably will never speak to them again.

Locking your phone and dropping it in your lap, you sigh dramatically as you look out the window at the cloudy weather, the rain that pours on the windshield, the thunder that rumbles from above. It’s been cloudy a lot lately. Or maybe the gloom that’s been sitting in your chest ever since you got engaged has made everything around you seem dull and gray. Even your house is decorated without color, thanks to your minimalist fiancé who has no taste for style. He thinks as long as things are expensive, they’re worth having even if it’s all fucking ugly. Your fiancé didn’t care for your opinion when he picked out the house and furniture, despite the fact that you just graduated with a minor in architecture.

You’re just glad he picked a spot in the woods, right outside of the city.

You’ve always had a talent for decorating, handing it off to the fact that you’ve moved so many times throughout your life, having to buy new furniture since you couldn’t drag it everywhere you went. You became the queen of thrifting. As long as you had your keyboard, favorite posters and plushies, you were good. You took care to make your place your home, a reflection of you and your interests in order to keep you grounded, help you feel like you belonged somewhere, even though you never stayed in one place for too long. Jin preferred it that way, felt it was safer. But it meant you couldn’t have normal friendships or relationships because they wouldn’t keep in touch if you dropped out halfway through the year to transfer to a university in an entirely different place, sometimes a country. It was very destabilizing, and it made things equally lonely, and your brother tried to make up for it by wiring you substantial amounts of money for you to use freely, but responsibly.

You never touched that money. Because how could you as a college student, who worked part-time, low wage jobs, explain the luxuries that your brother’s money could afford? The money that could pay for a few hundred thousand parking lots of the most expensive and rare cars, at least five cities worth of houses, maybe even feed a small country, much less your tuition and rent. No, you would get by on your own. Sometimes you found yourself at a poker table, often dabbling in an underground gambling ring because that’s where you could make the most of your money. (You couldn’t bring yourself to go to a casino. It would make you think of Jungkook and how much he was struggling). Who would expect a young girl who looked like she got lost on her way to a club to be any good at placing bets? It’s not your fault you grew up around brothers and friends who taught you how to play cards, molding you to have phenomenal skills in seeing through people and their tells, that they gave themselves away through their eyes. You learned how to pull off the perfect poker face, faking being naive and innocent, got them to fall in your trap and leaving them in shock when you walked away with fat wads of cash in your pocket. You guess that made you a hypocrite.

But there were times when you ran out of money and had to choose between paying a light bill or buying groceries, and you found yourself considering withdrawing from those offshore bank accounts, but you knew once you started, you wouldn’t stop. So, you would end up eating the best meals of your life in a dark and cold apartment, sitting alone with the guilt of knowing your brothers would be hurt to think you were ashamed of them.

That guilt still lingers, especially now that you’re riding in a tinted SUV, lavish seats and custom interiors, materials and technology not found in cars of the average citizen. You're well out of the bounds of average by now. You don’t feel like you belong even though your brothers are in the exact same boat.

“Is everything alright?” Mr. Han asks from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, just..." you sigh, each breath you take doing the opposite of calming the anxiety racing in your veins. "I was supposed to be managing this architecture firm with my uni friends by now, working on biophilic design that connects spaces with nature and all that.”

You hope you're hiding your bitterness better than you think, remembering how excited you’d been to finally do something you were passionate about and how quickly the ball was dropped on that.

"That sounds interesting. Maybe you can incorporate some of that at the casino when you’re doing the renovations."

"Mm. But I don't know if my future father-in-law would be down to have a bunch of plants and windows all over the place." Mr. Han laughs. "Well, if you're the one in charge once you’re married, I don't see why not."

You smile, grateful for his support, but you know as a female CEO among a board of directors and investors that are majority men, you will only get so much leeway. But you'll have to make do with what you have. You’re an expert at this point.

"You've done a good thing by coming back to your brothers now that things are complicated." "I just... I don’t know if I can do it. Y’know. The other part."

That part being the real reason you're getting involved at the Stay Gold casino: to take care of business that belongs to your family. Not just supervising the renovations, or overseeing the slot games, blackjack and roulette tables, but keeping a tight chokehold on the money that flows in and out of all that gambling. Money that serves as a front to what you'll be taking care of behind the scenes. Essentially, you'll be a loan shark. And that's what's been keeping you up at night, knowing what comes with ensuring certain associates make their payments in timely fashions, especially if they're buying protection. At least you’ll be putting your business degree to use. "You are just as smart and tough as your brothers, if not more. You'll be able to handle it, I have no doubts, Miss Jeon."

But I’m not like them, is what you want to say, but shouldn’t because it would be a lie.

"Thanks, Mr. Han. And you know you can call me Angel.”

"Of course. I'm always here if you need anything."

And you know he means it but it's a small comfort. Mr. Han has been your brothers’ driver for as long as you can remember, always so kind and considerate, making you wonder how a man like him ended up in a job like this. When you found out you were going to have to be chauffeured around, you weren’t exactly ecstatic because you love to drive, love the freedom that comes with it, but you figured with Mr. Han, it wouldn’t be so bad.

The SUV drives through an underground tunnel, leading into a narrow road surrounded by a forest that takes you to the gated driveway of your brothers’ extravagant mansion. Mr. Han cracks open the window to speak with the armed guard who then waves to someone you can’t see and the iron-gates buzz open. The tires slowly rumble over the cobblestone, past the grand and meticulously landscaped lawn with many guards littering the property, up to the roundabout in front of the house where there's a tall, sharp-jawed, and suited guard waiting for you. Yeong, the (devastatingly handsome) man who’s been assigned to escort you whenever you show up to meet with your brothers. He opens the door and greets you politely as another guard appears from the back of the car. This one doesn’t say anything as you get out, and you’re glad because you’ve never seen him before and you don’t like interacting with any of your brothers’ men whom you haven’t met. You remind yourself and your constricting throat that these men work for your family, and you’re safer with them around than not. But still. You hate being followed and made to feel like you can’t go anywhere by yourself.

Before you can make it to the porch, your brother enthusiastically swings open one of the large double doors, quickly beckoning you in and shutting the door. As you step in and shuck off your shoes, you notice the indiscreet way he gives your outfit a onceover, like he’s never seen you in sweats before.

“Well, you didn’t have to get all dressed up just for us.” You glare at him, lifting your middle finger.

“Shut up, Jin. Just because you sleep in your suits.”

“That’s Jinnie to you,” he says through puckered lips, squishing your cheeks. “C’mere.”

He pulls you into a strong embrace that you weakly pretend to fight off.

“Missed ya, kiddo.” Taking your coat, he kisses the top of your head, and you mumble similar sentiments into his chest with a small smile that quickly turns into a scowl when he roughly rubs his knuckles into your hair.

You push him away and scurry towards the dining room, stomach growling at the wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen. If there’s one thing you’ve missed now that you’ve moved out (again), it’s Jin’s cooking. Your brothers too of course, but that’s a given.

Jungkook is there sitting in his spot, to the left of the head of the table, already eating. It looks like today is one of his good days, and you find yourself smiling. He's eating his food and not just picking at it, the bags under his eyes aren't as prominent, and his hands are steadier than usual.

"Hey, loser. You couldn’t wait for me?" you say to Jungkook as you sit across from him.

“You’re late,” he mumbles, mouth full of food, glancing at you as he chews. “Is that why you look like shit?”

“Funny, ‘cuz I dressed up like you today.” You stick your tongue out at his glare, becoming distracted when you notice something at the corner of his bottom lip.

“What is- oh that’s a stud. I thought it was a big ass zit.”

“Piss off.” He waves your hand away when you tease poking at the metal ball.

You live for bullying your brother, even though he’s two years older than you. He was pretty mean to you as a kid, so this is just payback. Sure you were annoying, but what are little sisters for? At the end of the day, you know he’s your ride or die, just like you are for him.

“It’s cute. What’s next, a tongue piercing?”

“I draw the line at tongue piercings,” Jin intervenes, calling out from the kitchen. Him and his supersonic hearing. You snicker and Jungkook just rolls his eyes.

“Any new tats?”

He shows you the additions to his full sleeve and you marvel over the designs that he created, asking the inspiration or story behind each one, always fascinated by his talent. You have a knack for drawing yourself - you wouldn’t have the passion for architecture without it - but it’s never been on the same level as Jungkook’s. Dude can paint museum-worthy landscapes and portraits within an hour. He’s annoying like that.

When you’re done examining his arm, you sit back in your chair, snatching a morsel of his food on the way and he grabs your wrist in an attempt to stop you but instead stares at your sleeve.

“Wait, this is my jersey,” he says, ignoring the way you fight to wrestle out of his grip. “I’ve been looking for this!”

“So what? It looks better on me.” You rip your arm away and you’re already halfway out of your chair just as your brother lunges over the table to grab at the jacket. You spring up and out of the dining room, a shrill laugh escaping when you look back to see Jungkook dashing after you.

You may have grown up with him, done taekwondo and thrown loads of rounds in boxing gloves with him, even gotten him into a headlock once or twice, but now he’s built like a bus, and he could bulldoze you down in two seconds flat with no regrets. And it makes you want to scream your head off.

Sprinting into the living room, you clamber over the back of the couch, knowing Jin would kill you if he saw you with both feet on the cushions, but you’re much more worried about Jungkook closing in on you.

“Go away!” you shriek when he leaps over the couch with ease, like he’s a damn gold medalist in Living Room Olympics.

“Give me my jacket!”

“I’ve had this for like three months, how are you just now missing it?” You point out as you attempt to use the coffee table as a barricade.

“I told you to stop stealing my clothes.”

“It’s only because you have such a cool style.”

He pauses to look at you like he won’t fall for your bullshit compliment. You take this lapse as an opportunity to make a run for it into the kitchen where Jin is filling a carafe of water with fresh-cut berries, rushing to hide behind him at the counter like you used to do as a kid. Jin acts unbothered, barely noticing the way you’re gripping the back of his sweater like a lifeline, only looking over his shoulder when you make a noise as Jungkook jogs towards you.

“Cheater.”

"Yah, come on, you two," Jin admonishes as Jungkook tries to grab you, making you hurry to Jin’s right, holding his bicep as if his big guns will protect you.

"He started it."

"Did not!" Jungkook exclaims, and you childishly stick your tongue out at him.

“Give your brother his jacket,” Jin says in a parental tone. “But I like it.” Turning around, your oldest brother levels you with a look that mirrors the one Jungkook gave you a few minutes ago and you know not to argue anymore, begrudgingly shrugging off the jersey and throwing it at your brother who catches it with a victorious smile.

“Come on, kids, let’s go eat,” Jin says as he picks up the carafe and three glasses.

Both hands on your back, Jungkook pushes you and you stumble forward.

“Ow, don’t push me. Jinnie!”

“Big baby," Jungkook mumbles through his teeth.

“Big bitch," you fire back.

Jin clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath, something about how is it that he has two siblings in their mid-20s who still act like children. And it is pretty interesting, considering you and Jungkook are about to assume control of the fucking mafia. But it’s been years since you’ve played around with your brother, and now that he’s about to take over for Jin, who knows if you’ll ever be able to do this again. The thought creates a bit of a hole in your heart, like digging a grave for something that isn’t gone yet.

Once Jin turns his back, leading the way into the dining room, you and Jungkook exchange various gestures that all silently mean “fuck you.” Jin shoots a knowing glare over his shoulder that makes you both hide your offensive hands behind your backs, forcing yourselves not to laugh.

“Are you two ever going to grow up?”

“No,” you both answer simultaneously. Jin huffs and looks between you two with a shake of his head.

“Sit down and eat before the food that I put my blood, sweat, and tears into gets cold.”

You and Jungkook share an eyeroll at Jin’s drama, digging in so he won’t start some dramatic monologue about cooking.

"So, how are you doing?" Jin asks you a few minutes into the meal. "Fine," you shrug, too focused on the food to give a more complex answer.

"You’re all settled in at the house?"

“Mhmm,” you hum indifferently, feeling your appetite slowly start to slip away. You were hoping you could have a nice, normal night with your brothers, pretending that you aren’t dreading going back to the house, to a fiancé you know next to nothing about and all of the work and unpacked boxes you have waiting in your wing of that big ass, bland ass house.

“How are you two getting along?” Internally sighing, your shoulders deflate.

“He’s not horrible, I guess. But he’s just… I don’t know. Boring. And lame. He thinks his tattoos make him look cool.” You glance at Jungkook and gesture to his sleeve.

“Which is something the two of you have in common.” Jungkook’s lip curls and he points his chopsticks at you and flinches. You blow him a kiss in return that you change to a middle finger.

“He also acts like he’s never been to the grocery store. And I very seriously doubt he can tie his own shoes. His butler does pretty much everything for him.” Just the word ‘butler’ makes you want to throw up, not to mention the fact that you’re about to marry a guy who needs one.

“But things are going okay?” Jin asks just as you shove more food in your mouth. Can’t a girl just eat?

“What is this, twenty questions?”

“I’m just checking in.”

“Okay, but can we not do this right now? Please.” You ignore the way your brothers share a look.

“If things aren’t going well, you need to tell us.”

“Things are going as well as they can for an arranged marriage. We might live on opposite ends of the house, but we’re cordial. You’re not really expecting me to actually like this whole situation, right?” Jin regards you carefully.

“No, but you do need to make sure it all works out.”

Suddenly, you've completely lost your appetite. You scowl and drop your silverware, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed, refusing to look at them both staring at you.

“God, Jin. I agreed to marry him, didn’t I? Picked up my entire fucking life to come back here and help out even though you promised-” You point harshly at Jin who looks at you with a small frown as his fingers rub on the edge of a napkin. You know it’s not his fault but damn, it hurts that he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“That I would never have to do that. What more do you want? An heir or something?”

They both wince. “No, of course not.”

“Then lay off my ass about it. I’m fine, okay? Don’t be a helicopter.” “Honey, I just want to make sure he’s treating you right.”

“What does it matter? I’m stuck with him either way. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can. I’m only-” But you don’t want to hear anymore. With a grimace, you pick up your plate of unfinished food, scoot back your chair and stand up to head into the kitchen.

Jin leans forward with a heavy sigh, steepling his fingers, resting his forehead against them and closing his eyes.

"Way to go, hyung," you hear Jungkook mumble as you storm out of the dining room.

Stewing, you put away your leftovers and start to clean up the counters, knowing you’re the one being dramatic now but you can’t help it. This is supposed to be your safeplace, here with your brothers, especially since time with all three of you together is running out. Right now, you want to forget about all your responsibilities, all the things you have to step up to that you never imagined doing, and you wish your brothers would just go along with it. But they’re more realistic than you, it seems.

You hear dishes clink in the dining room, and soon you’re joined by your brothers, all silently working to clean up the kitchen. You pay no mind to their attempts at getting you to lighten up by nudging your shoulders, flicking water in your direction, and taking over the dish scrubbing, and it isn’t until Jin shoves a glass of sparkling cider in your hands just as you try to make an escape to the living room do you lose your resolve.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Jin says as he and Jungkook corral you towards the couch.

You huff, fingers rolling on the stem of the glass, swirling the red content inside, and sit on the plush cushion, your brothers on either side of you.

“I’m not. Just- I can’t remember the last time all three of us have been in one place and I didn’t want to talk about any outside stuff. I just wanted to pretend that things are how they used to be. Because what if-” A lump forms in your throat.

“What if this is actually the last time?” Jin reaches forward and grabs your hand, a serious line knitted through his eyebrows.

“It won’t be. I promise.” “You’ve always told us to never make promises.”

“Well, I made the rules so I can change them. I am going to come back,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but-”

“You know something’s starting right now? Okay, Ariel,” Jungkook cuts in, grinning when you snort and Jin shoots him a scowl, leaning over to roughly ruffle his hair. You laugh at Jungkook’s dirty look when he thinks Jin just messed up his hair and Jin tries to fix it but ends up making it worse and a small hand-slapping fight ensues. This is what you’ll miss. This dynamic, where no matter how hard you all try, you can never be serious.

“Do you think we can go on a trip?” you ask out of the blue, casted by a nostalgic wave longing for memories that make you feel normal.

“Y'know, to the cabin? Just for a couple of days.” Jin smiles, but it’s small. Jungkook doesn’t look at either of you.

Ever since you can remember, any spare time Jin had, he whisked you and Jungkook away to a cabin somewhere in the mountains, never going to the same spot twice. You waited for the days that Jin would show up at the boarding school, make up some excuse to get you both out and drive up to a cabin where he would let you both run wild. In the woods was where you learned how to ride your bike and climb a tree, legs swinging from a branch with Jin standing underneath you, arms held out like you’d fall any second. You were too busy yelling at Jungkook to stop throwing sticks and leaves at you from a few branches above. A cool summer sunset by a river was where you caught your first fish that Jungkook ended up chasing you around with for a good five minutes. You screamed at the top of your lungs, Jungkook cackled maniacally, and Jin did his best not to laugh, only grabbing the fish out of his brother’s hands once you began to run around him like a maypole. Later, you got your revenge by shoving the chopped fish head in his face after Jin started cooking. Jungkook cried all throughout dinner and, in your stubbornness, you refused to apologize so Jin made you hold hands for the remainder of the night until one of you caved.

As you got older and Jin got busier, he would allow you to make plans with your friends to go to a cabin in a discreet location, whether that was in the woods or by the beach. You loved your friends, but you always found yourself missing Jin, wishing he was there to cook and make lame dad jokes, play guitar by a fire he started and act out ridiculous stories until you and Jungkook were rolling on the ground with stomachs that ached from laughing so much.

It wasn’t until you were much older that you realized those trips to the cabin were the only times the three of you spent together where Jin wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder. Sometimes though, he wouldn’t speak for a while, a blank yet morose energy surrounding him that he could only shake himself out of if you and Jungkook poked and prodded him enough. In the woods, he never wore a mask or sunglasses or a variety of hats like he did when he came to pick you up from school. Later down the line, Jungkook had to do that too and that’s when everything started to change. You could no longer see each other unless the location and meeting times were planned in advance, and there were always some men in suits, sunglasses, and dark coats with wires hanging out of their ears accompanying you.

A year after Jungkook graduated from secondary school was when things fell apart. Jin made you promise to never speak about either of them to anyone, and helped you come up with a pseudonym. By the time he shipped you off to study abroad once you started university, you never used your real name and neither did they. From then on, you only spoke to your brothers on the phone, one that you had to pick up at a convenience store and dispose of once you were done. The calls were typically short - Jin asking if you were doing well in school, if you ate enough, had enough money. You rarely spoke with Jungkook, as he spent a lot of time going in and out of rehab, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was learning the family business with Jin. You missed him, your partner in crime, and you wished you could take him with you, keep him away from your father so maybe he could have a chance at healing, but that wasn’t in the cards. Jin explained time and time again, that this was how things had to be. He may have raised both of you, been the reason you were alive and thriving, but he had no control over the circumstances at home. You couldn’t go back, he wouldn’t let you, and for a while, you thought you’d never see your brothers again.

(There was a time when you did go back, but they never knew about it. When you were feeling homesick, you took a plane to Jeju to visit the place where you spent a few summers with your brother and your friends. You spent a few days reminiscing about old times, old friends. It was nice to get away, to feel something familiar for a moment, hang on to memories that you would give anything to relive. But you don’t like to think about that trip anymore. And sometimes you wish you’d never gone back.)

Now you just want to go to the cabin to cling onto the past, of how things used to be, because you know nothing will ever again be the same.

"We can't, Angel. I'm sorry. I have to leave in a few days." And just like that, the wave crashes onto shores of despair.

“What? You said you had until next month.” Your brothers share another look, another tell that they’ve been keeping you out of the loop of something.

“I do, but I think it’s best to leave earlier so it won’t be glaringly obvious that I got tipped on my arrest warrant.”

“Yeah, probably,” you agree dejectedly. “It was just hard not being home all this time, so I wanted us to hang out. I guess I like you guys or something. Weird, right?” “Totally. ‘Cause we hate you,” Jungkook teases. You scoff and grab a pillow to whack him with over Jin’s head. Jin laughs and lets you get in a few hits before tugging the throw out of your hand, whacking the side of your head, and tossing it on the other end of the couch out of reach.

Silence sits between you for a few moments until Jungkook stands, tugs you up on your feet, and shoves his phone into your hands.

He tries to teach you dance moves from Tik Tok trends, laughing a little too hard when you mess up, and Jin ultimately has to break up a small wrestling match. After you finish filming one video that will forever sit in drafts, Jin gets out the game console and wipes the floor with you and Jungkook on Super Mario. He brags loudly, enticing you both to tackle him, but despite your conjoined efforts, he somehow gets you and Jungkook into simultaneous headlocks, not letting go until you profess that he’s the unmatched master of Mario.

Jungkook then puts on his favorite movie, to which you and Jin stifle groans as you’re made to watch Iron Man for what has to be the millionth time. Jungkook just claps giddily when the Avengers theme song blares through the speakers and neither of you can deny this small happiness. It’s good to see him smile. But throughout the movie, you shoot him small glances out of your periphery when you notice him biting his nails and you know he’s zoned out, and that it’s not a good place where his mind wandered off to. You gently grab his hand and push it down, and he goes to cross his arms like he’s ashamed, but you keep hold of his hand, folding them together and resting them between you. Giving your palm a squeeze, he offers you a tiny smile and goes back to fully engage with the movie.

When the credits roll, you tease Jin for immediately yawning and stretching as he announces he’s turning in. You ask Jungkook if he’s up for a game of Overwatch that he starts up without a word and passes you a console.

After a few minutes of playing, Jin emerges from the kitchen with a couple bowls of snacks and bottles of your favorite drinks that he sets down in front of you on the carpet. You both thank him in unison without taking your attention off the game and he huffs an endeared laugh.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Jin murmurs from behind you both, ruffling your hair. “Crazy kids.”

“Night, grandpa,” you smirk, laughing when Jin pushes your head.

He goes upstairs and leaves you to play the game. But every now and then, you glance over to Jungkook, wanting to check in on him. It’s been a minute since you've had a one-on-one.

“You look like you’re doing good.”

“I’m trying,” he mumbles a bit stiffly, eyes unmoving from the screen, and you take in his tense expression.

“That’s all that matters, bro.” You lightly punch his bicep, and he playfully tips sideways. “You know you can talk to me anytime.”

“Yeah.” It doesn’t seem like he wants to, at least not about certain things, but you need him to know that of all the things that are changing, the fact that you’re his kid sister who he can lean on will stay the same.

“I wish I had been home more often,” you say tentatively. “I know Jin couldn’t always be around.”

He shrugs, nose scrunching. “S’alright, I wasn’t alone. D was there.”

You’ve heard about D. How he had Jungkook’s back in a jail fight a few years ago when Jungkook had a habit of lashing out and starting fights to prove he was tough. Which he was but that didn’t matter if he was outnumbered. When he was booked for a DUI (riding on his motorcycle half-drunk like a dummy) and forced to go through withdrawal, it increased his violent tendencies. After accusing a burly man twice his size for looking at him the wrong way, he found himself getting beat up on by three grown felons in the middle of the yard. He would’ve ended up with a cracked skull if it wasn’t for D. And from then on, he became your brother’s guardian angel of sorts and eventually began working for them.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow at dinner.” You hum, mildly disinterested.

Joy. Spending an evening with your brothers’ capos and guards is just how you wanted to enjoy your last weekend with the both of them. Not.

“And, um, we workout at the boxing club every Friday. Maybe you could join us.”

You look over at him incredulously. There was a time when your brother acted like you tagging along with his friends was a punishment worse than hell.

“You mean you want me to box with you?” He shrugs.

“Gotta make sure you can still fight.”

You roll your eyes. Of course you can still fight. You’ve just been able to get out of precarious situations before you had the need to throw hands. For the most part. That’s the difference between you and your brother - he goes looking for trouble while you do your best to avoid it. But neither of you will be backed into a corner and made to stay there. You won’t go down easy.

“So you down?”

“I won’t be getting in the way of boy time with D?” Smiling, he shakes his head.

“Nah. But you could stand to learn a thing or two from him; he’s a damn good fighter.”

“Better than you?”

“No one’s better than me,” he smirks.

“I guess I’ll have to see for myself.” He chuckles and fakes a slow punch on the side of your head.

“You still have that knife I gave you a few years ago?” You think for a moment. Right before you went abroad for college, Jungkook gave you the blade he carried with him everywhere, one that was sheathed in your favorite color and had a strap attached to it. You cherish it, but you’ve never had to use it. But you figure that’s about to change.

“Oh, yeah, it’s somewhere. I didn’t have a lot of time to really organize when I was packing. Why?”

“You should keep it on you from now on. Just in case.”

“You mean you’re not gonna be around to protect me, big brother?” you tease. He shoots you a little smile but when his eyes focus back on the screen, you notice him squint and nibble on his bottom lip for a second. You can’t help the feeling that he’s keeping something to himself.

“Not always.”

You frown. There was a small comfort in thinking that you could rely on him when for years you’ve been apart, but now as new circumstances arise, you don’t know if you’ll be able to see each other as much as you want to. Definitely not enough to make up for lost time.

Just as you’re about to tell him not to worry because you’re a big girl, more of an assurance to yourself, he clears his throat to change the subject again.

“D is really cool, I think you’ll like him.” You offer a mostly sincere smile, thinking to yourself that it sounds as if your brother is trying to sell you on D’s character. You don’t think you’ll care much for it, since he’s Jungkook’s security and all and you won’t be interacting with him much. But you’ll try if it means something to your brother.

“If he’s anything like you, then I doubt it.” His head snaps in your direction and in a fraction of a second, his arm hooks around your neck and pulls you into him, forcing your face into his shoulder so you can’t see a thing.

You fight your way out of his headlock, exclaiming when you notice that he’s beating your ass on the game, and lean on your elbow to press your foot on his cheek in an attempt to distract him, but he only laughs. You complain and cuss him out as he starts winning and reach over to wrestle the controller out of his hands. As you tussle loudly, Jin’s upstairs bedroom door opens and he calls down the hall,

“Keep it down! I need my beauty sleep!”

“You sure do!” Jungkook shouts back, sending you both in a fit of giggles when you hear his door slam shut loudly in response. You come to a truce, if only to save yourselves from facing a grumpy Jin in the morning.

You play and talk into the wee hours of the sunrise, until you slump next to each other and pass out, bellies full and faces covered with evidence of Jin’s snacks that you demolished.

The sky is a gray-blue hue when you’re stirred by your brother talking in his sleep and his incoherent mumbling makes you coo. But just as you go to cover him up with a blanket, he yells out nonsensically, leg kicking over a near empty bottle and sending the rest of the contents into the carpet. His arm shoots up into the air and panic begins to set in when he thrashes around on the floor. After getting the dishes and consoles out of the way, you run up the stairs to Jin’s room, barging in without knocking so you can quickly wake him up. Shaking his shoulder, you stutter out his name and he groans upon being disturbed.

“God, what-” “He’s having a night terror.” Without a second missed, Jin flings himself out of bed and races out of his room and down the stairs, with you following close behind.

Once back in the living room, Jin rushes to Jungkook’s side, who’s now flailing his limbs and shouting but still fast asleep. You watch as your oldest brother gets on his knees, not hesitating to grab Jungkook’s arms, pin them to his abdomen so he can pull him up and against his chest, all while calling his name to try and wake him. Jungkook’s eyes fly open with a gasp and his body reacts violently against Jin’s who almost ends up with an elbow in the chin. But Jin is an expert at handling Jungkook’s episodes, and he knows just what to do to keep them both safe while he gets him to calm down.

“Shh, bunny,” Jin hushes as Jungkook’s body fights him, rubbing his chest and shoulders to soothe. “It’s okay. I’m here, your sister’s here, you’re alright.”

There are visible tears streaming down your brother’s face and you have to sit on the step and cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from crying. It hurts so fucking bad to see him this way. It’s been years since the last time you’ve witnessed this, but you know he’s had many in between that Jin has been around for.

“Honey,” Jin calls to you softly above Jungkook’s sobs. “Go up to my bathroom and get out the lock box that’s under the sink. His medicine’s in there. Grab my wallet too, on the dresser.”

With a solemn nod, you stand and turn around as Jungkook slings an arm over Jin’s shoulder to hide in his neck, and your foot freezes mid-step when you hear him loudly wail again and Jin hushes him, rubs his back, and you hurry up the stairs again to grab what you hope will let Jungkook get some rest, some escape, some peace. You come back down with the lockbox and wallet to find Jin sitting on the couch, Jungkook curled up under a blanket with his head in Jin’s lap, chest heaving as he lays on his side. You approach them slowly, and Jin quietly instructs you to get out a small key from his wallet to open the lockbox, which carries Jungkook’s medicine that helps with his anxiety and parasomnia. You head into the kitchen to grab a glass of water while Jin encourages Jungkook to sit up and by the time you return, he seems to be breathing a little easier. After he drinks down a pill, he lays back down and you hope he’ll be able to sleep without another disruption.

You and Jin watch him for a few moments, and when it finally seems that he’s settled, you share a collective sigh of relief. But still, you’re worried. It scares you to see him that way.

“When was the last time this happened?” Jin looks so tired as he tries not to frown.

“More frequently now that you’re back home. Usually he does better when you’re around but. He feels bad that you’re doing this. He thinks if it weren’t for him and everything that happened, you could’ve stayed abroad and made a life for yourself.”

It’s true. You would never say it to their faces, but it is the truth.

“But… then I would never see you guys again.” Your throat tightens.

“And now that you’re leaving,” you sniff, tears threatening to prick your waterline. “I don’t want him to be alone.”

In the dim light, Jin beckons you over, soft affection in his eyes, and you squeeze in between him and the end of the couch. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

“You’re a good kid, honey. Even though I never wanted this for you, for either of you, I feel better knowing that you’re going to look out for each other.”

“Me too, Jinnie.”

He pats your arm and you sit quietly for a few minutes with your head on his shoulder, starting to feel sleepy again, safe and assured by Jin’s embrace. Jungkook is snoring now, the meds must’ve kicked in. He won’t talk about this in the morning, and neither of you will ask him to.

"And, about Jay,” your eyes blink open at his gentle tone. “I was thinking maybe what we can do is send him out on business trips so he's not around as much.”

You smile, arm curling around his thick bicep. “Thanks, Jinnie.”

“Just play nice, okay? It’ll all work out.”

You nod, too tired to let that potential burden add to your stress. Pretending to be completely fine with the engagement is the least of your worries right now.

The venue that Jin chose to host the small get-together of you and his men sits on the private top floor of one of the many skyscrapers he owns that you’ve had dreams of designing. Yeong walks at a comfortable distance behind you, quiet but gentlemanly. Stoic, which seems to be a uniform demeanor among your brothers’ men, one Jin expects you to replicate. You know that’s really your father’s expectation, but he’s gone. You would find it difficult to respect him anyway.

Striding into the dining hall, you pay no mind to all of his henchmen in the room, only giving focus to the one who stands out among them all, and not just because of his looming height and broad shoulders. Nor are you intimidated by the commandeering authority that follows him wherever he goes.

“Jin!” you call, making all heads turn to you but you act as if no one but your brother is here. He twists to face you with that shining smile of his that you know is reserved for a select few.

When you walk over to the table, air hazy with cigar smoke, liquor, and low conversation, you keep your expression polite despite the heat that spreads through you when all eyes fall on you. Yeong is close behind and reaches out for a chair once you approach the head of the table, greeting your brother who stands up from his proverbial throne to welcome you.

“Hey, sis. You look nice,” he says warmly, leaning in to welcome you into your seat and you smile, thanking Yeong who pushes in your chair once you sit. Just as you do, Jin leans in to whisper in your ear,

“You’ve got to get used to not using real names here, Angel.” Pulling away, you cringe and mouth your apology that he dismisses with a singular nod.

“Uh, where’s bro? He always gives me shit for being late.” Jin smiles as he sits back down.

“He’s on his way. He was at the gym with D.”

You nod and take a look around the room, noticing that you’re the only woman. Since your brother is here, you’re not worried, but it does feel suffocating. Is this how it’s always going to be from now on?

“How you doin’, Angel,” a deep voice says on your right, and your demeanor brightens when you glance over to see Namjoon pulling out the chair next to you.

“Oh, hey, Moon! Aren’t you sick of me by now?” You tease as he sits down, heart blipping at the beautiful smile on his face. You’ve been working with him these past couple of months, Namjoon preparing and training you for your role at the casino. Extremely intelligent and well-versed, he’s not your brother’s right-hand man for no reason. He knows all of the Crow’s business dealings like the back of his hand, and you feel confident having someone like him to guide you. That paired with his easy-going and wholesome persona, and the fact that you could chat with him about books and music for hours, you can’t deny your itty bitty crush on him. If only you weren’t engaged and he didn’t have a girlfriend. At least one of you is in a happy relationship.

“Of you? Never.” You ignore the mild warmth in your cheeks and playfully nudge him with your elbow. Damn him and his natural charisma.

“So, are you ready for next week?” Ugh. You don’t like the anchor of dread that wrenches in your gut at the thought of finally becoming an official member of the family business.

“No,” you mumble because there’s no reason to lie to Namjoon.

“Oh, come on. Yes, you are.” Your palms start to sweat and you put the menu down so as to not ruin it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” you say quietly, stealing a glance at Jin to make sure he’s not listening, glad he’s too busy accepting a top-off on his drink.

“You have a mentor as amazing and smart as me, you’re more than ready.” You roll your eyes at his cheeky grin.

“You’ve been hanging around Jin too much,” you mutter and he laughs.

“Well, just know that no matter what, I’ll be right there with you so you don’t have to worry.” That fact makes you breathe a little easier, but there’s still a layer of anxiety underneath your skin. Just then, a slender, vaguely familiar man walks in and heads straight for Jin who does a double take, immediately holding out a welcoming handshake that lingers a little too long once the man accepts.

“Who’s that?”

“Jung,” Namjoon answers with a single glance. You hold up your menu to hide your face as you whisper,

“Agent Jung?” He nods and turns his cheek to utter another reminder.

“Just be careful where you say that.”

Right. You never know who could be listening, so it’s probably not a good idea to mention the man’s real identity in all this. The CIA agent posing as an informant, but really he’s in cahoots with your brothers, covering up their dirty tracks with the occasional bribe of public officials.

“He goes by Hope, but close friends call him Hobi. You could probably get away with calling him that.”

“What’s he doing here?” You can’t help but watch closely the way your brother engages with Hope. His body language is rigid and fidgety, like he’s nervous, but his eyes are soft and wide. Small indications that there’s definitely something going on between the two of them and you’re excited to gossip about it with Jungkook. Because you know all too well how good Jin is at lying.

“Well, your brother wanted you both to be acquainted because the feds might take an interest in you once you take over the casino. He’ll come back to work undercover again if that happens.”

You still as realization takes over, muscles in your face hardening as your heart does a somersault.

“Is that the big secret?”

“What?”

“They’ve been keeping something from me.”

“Um, I’m- I don’t know,” he says in an uneven cadence, and, looking over at him, you notice a slight purse of his lips and realize he’s a terrible liar.

You just got here, but you already need a breather. The cigar smoke isn’t helping either, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom to get some fresh air.

As you rise, Yeong habitually appears next to you, but you place a soft hand on his shoulder, shaking your head to tell him it’s not necessary to escort you out. You internally scream when he looks over at your brother, as if needing his permission to let you go without accompaniment. Jin waves two fingers with a nod, silently dismissing Yeong’s duty and you try not to let that small interaction visibly bother you as you turn away from the table.

The bathroom is empty, thank god, but now you just feel isolated. Especially when you pull out your phone, eager to call up one of your friends and vent, but even if they might pick up despite being on another part of the hemisphere, there’s no way you could tell them anything.

You blink and a face you haven’t seen in a long time spawns in the forefront of your mind, heart sinking when you know he would be the one to call at a time like this but you haven’t spoken to him in years. Not since he had a falling out with your brother and left town shortly after without a word, breaking your heart because you thought you were more important to him than that. But you understood why he left the way he did. You just sometimes wish he could’ve taken you with him.

With no one to call and nowhere else to go, you finish up in the bathroom with a deep breath and a practiced smile in the mirror, rolling your eyes at yourself and heading for the door with a sigh at how fake you look.

When you emerge, your attention is buried in your phone, and you end up bumping into someone in the hallway.

“Oh, sorry,” you blurt, two hands hovering on your shoulders when you stumble back from being caught off guard. You don’t look up right away, gauging from the black fitted suit and long trench coat that this is one of your brother’s men.

“No, my fault,” he says and the gravelly timbre in his voice tickles a part of your brain. Normally you’re good at reading people, sometimes from just their aura, but there’s something about him that you can’t quite place. So you keep your head down.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Yeah, he definitely works for your brothers. Everyone who knows who they are, calls them ‘boss’ or ‘sir’ and as their sister, you deserve the same title and respect that comes with it. Another thing you’ll have to get used to. But it still fills you with an odd feeling that you don’t really like, and you excuse yourself, not waiting for him to step out of the way so you can head back to the dining room. As you pass him, you catch the earthy musk of his cologne mixed with underlying traces of mint and something woody and it makes you involuntarily look over your shoulder to see what kind of man wears such a scent, only to find that he’s not there. He disappeared just as quietly as he’d approached.

Back in the room, you smile upon seeing Jungkook sitting to the right of your brother, and you can’t help but go up behind him, playfully smack the back of his head with your clutch, and sit beside him like nothing happened.

“You took my seat,” you say, feeling his glare on you.

“Children,” Jin grits through a smile just as Jungkook opens his mouth to argue. “Let’s not do this in front of company.”

Jungkook huffs in annoyance and opts to pinch your leg under the table, and you hold back a squeal, not daring to retaliate when Jin glares at the two of you over the brim of his glass.

As you turn your attention to the menu, you notice in your periphery Jungkook looking over his shoulder, lifting his hand to someone behind him. When you look back as well, your heart palpitates at the sight of a tall, lithe man with black hair that reaches his neck, slicked behind his ears, and eyes hidden by tinted shades striding towards the table.

“Hey, D,” Jin says to the man as he steps up next to him. “Good to see you.”

So, this is the infamous D.

“Boss,” he acknowledges, and turns to Jungkook to tap his bicep with the back of his hand. “Sorry I brought him late.”

“No worries, you’re just in time to order. Take a seat.” D nods and you watch him slightly lift his chin over Jungkook’s head, no doubt taking a glance at you that lasts a mere second before moving to walk behind your brother and consequently you. Time seems to freeze as he starts to pass you, and although you can’t see his eyes, you feel them lock on you, and your heart does gymnastics before stopping completely.

No way. No fucking way. The man who stands above you can’t be the same man who you shared a night with, years ago. A night that creeps back into your memory after you think you’ve forgotten. And a face that haunts your dreams and makes you miss something you never really had. At least, not long enough to count for something.

As he passes, you catch the smell of the cologne that matches exactly to the scent of the man you bumped into in the hallway. Nausea creeps up from the pit of your stomach and you quickly look away, but to your absolute horror, your brother stops him in his tracks right beside you.

“Oh, D. Meet our sister, Angel.” On your right, he swivels on his heel and your breath catches in your throat when he tips towards you in a respectful bow.

“Good to meet you.” He holds out his hand to offer a kind greeting, but it only makes you sick. You swallow thickly, wanting nothing more than to ignore his offering, but you know you can’t purposely be rude, especially not in front of Jin. You have to be polite to him, no matter how much it might kill you, because you can’t let your brothers catch onto something that shouldn’t be there. And after years of playing poker, you’ve learned how to perfect hiding how you really feel. For the most part.

So, swallowing your rage, you muster the courage to turn in your seat to face him, plastering on the fakest smile you can manage and reach out to grab his hand, breath catching in your lungs at the lightning you feel at his warm, soft but slightly calloused touch because you remember them so, so well.

Sometimes in your loneliest, darkest moments, you close your eyes and conjure up the memories of the way those hands once ran over every inch of your body, just like those lips, those eyes, and other parts of him that graced you and lit up your skin, sunk into your bones in a way that made you ache. And that ache lasted, in your heart, in your gut, in between your legs ever since that morning when you woke up expecting to see him next to you, only to find cold and empty sheets. Like he was never there. And you found yourself wishing you could rip out the ghost of his touch from beneath your skin, but it was practically etched into your soul, like it was meant to be there forever.

“Pleasure,” you say through a sickly-sweet smile, wishing you could see beyond his shades for any sign that he knows who you are, or if he’s just forgotten you. It has been three years after all. You catch a light, but noticeable scar slashed vertically on his right eye, partially hidden by his dark glasses. Your heart pangs when you don’t remember that being there the last time you saw him, but he hurt you, intensely, and now he’s acting like he doesn’t know you so fuck him. The sight of that scar compels you to look down at his hand clasped in yours and, in a flash, turn it sideways so you can see the diagonal gash that starts at his knuckles and ends by his wrist, which you do remember. You let go of his hand as if it scalded you and turn your attention back to the table, your mind and pulse racing at this feeling of yet another situation being out of your control. You want to tell your brothers right now about everything, get him off your back and out of your life, but knowing what consequences he would face stops you. He’s lucky Jungkook considers him a friend. Because otherwise, you’d have him thrown into the bottom of the Han river.

Jin calls for rounds of wine and whiskey as the group of men engage in small talk, and you appreciate your brothers who include you as much as possible. You hear conversations of Jin asking Namjoon how it’s going with your onboarding for the casino, and you do your best to contribute, but it’s hard to do it through the static going on in your head that you can’t quell, brought on by the man sitting across the table a few seats down, next to Hope who’s chatting his ear off. He has not looked your way once despite your many stolen and partially involuntary glances, only adding fire to the flame.

Two hours pass for everyone to finish off their meal, drinks, and conversation about work and other things that you tune out. Eventually, Jin starts to hint that he’s ready for the dinner to come to an end, and you sit quietly as he thanks his friends for coming. They all bid their goodbyes and most offer handshakes and arm taps as they wish him well. When they turn to go, Jin’s eyes linger on their backs until the next friend comes up.

As you wait for your brother to end the night for you as well, all who’s left is D, Namjoon and Hope, and they move closer to the head of the table once the rest of the room files out. A pit settles in your gut when D sits directly across from you.

Those goddamn shades. You can’t even tell if he’s looking at you.

“Thank you all for staying after,” Jin says after he returns to his chair, knocking back the last of his drink. He gestures to the table. But you speak before he can continue, pretending to check your manicure when Jin looks over, so he doesn't catch the way you were just staring down the man across from you.

“Isn’t it rude to wear sunglasses inside?” You ask your brother. “I thought you were all about respect.”

Jungkook nudges you and whispers behind his hand, “Why are you being a dick?”

You don’t respond, acting as if you didn’t hear him. Because you can’t answer that. Jin sighs and there’s a subtle squint of his eyes at you before he gestures to the man beside him.

“D, if you wouldn’t mind.”

D says nothing (you want to scream that’s not his real name but you’re not sure if your brothers even know that) and raises his hands to remove the sunglasses, expression remaining blank. Once they’re folded and slipped into the inside pocket of his blazer, he finally lifts his bare gaze to you, scar on full display, and your heart slams in your chest. Because those eyes that seem to look right through you, are far too cold and vacant, void of everything that made you once believe you had a shot at something real.

“So, since you’re starting at the casino next week, I want to discuss security. I’m assigning you new detail.” You look at Jin with a puzzled expression.

“What's wrong with the team there?”

“I'm talking about your personal guard." Your eyebrows furrow. So this is what your brothers have actually been hiding from you.

“Isn’t that Yeong’s job?”

“He doesn’t have enough experience to handle your protection around the clock.” “Around the clock? You’re joking.”

“I’m not."

You huff and cross your arms. “And if I don’t agree?”

“That’s not an option.”

“Fine. Who did you hire to basically stalk me?”

“D will take on as your guard and driver.”

Ha. Haha. This isn’t real. What kind of joke is the universe playing on you? And why are you the punchline?

You turn to Jungkook. “Isn’t he your security?”

“Yes,” Jin answers. “But since you’re going to be dealing with the public and crews and potential feds at the casino, D has the knowledge and experience to help with everything, so he’s being reassigned to you.”

How can it be this fucking coincidental for the man who dug a crack into your soul, filled it with light, and crushed it when he left with no warning become the new head of your security? Complete and utter bullshit.

"Angel,” Jin mutters, urging you to say something.

“Fuck this,” you spit, eyes darting to the man you speak of to see if your words affect him but when he doesn’t give anything away it only makes you angrier.

“I’m not doing it.” You stand up to head for the door, but your brother's loud, bellowing voice puts a halt to your escape.

“Yes, you are. This is not a game; you don’t have a choice.”

Your head spins. This is too much too fast. All of your control and independence is being ripped out right from under you, and you already feel weighed down by it. Seething, you glance between him and his men, and you don’t want it to look like you’re throwing a temper tantrum. You wonder if this is why your brothers chose to tell you here, in front of everyone, testing you to see if you’ll control yourself.

“I already can’t drive myself anymore, and your guards have to be up my ass when I come here. Yeong has to check in with you to make sure I’m allowed to go to the fucking bathroom alone, your dirty cop is gonna pretty much spy on me at work, and now you want this goon to follow me around everywhere?”

“Look, I know you don’t like this, but-” “No, I don’t.”

“But,” he continues sternly, glare on you growing harsher. “I don’t think you realize the calamity of the situation you’re about to be in and I have to take all the necessary precautions to ensure your safety.” “Meaning I have to be fucking babysat?” you spit with vitriol, and Jungkook puts a hand on your elbow in an attempt to pull you down a notch now that Jin’s expression is contorting into one that shows he will not entertain this conversation for much longer as your brother. Being the boss in front of you has never been something he’s wanted you to see, but right now you’re pushing the limits. You don’t care, so you rip your arm out of Jungkook’s grip who resigns with a sigh while you keep your fiery stare on your oldest brother where there’s a likeness in his own.

“Don’t speak to me that way, Angel.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m a little kid, Jinnie,” you sneer, using his nickname un-endearingly.

“I told you about not using real names,” he booms, fist falling on the table. You don’t flinch.

“You’re one of us now, you need to start acting like it. And you’re going to start by listening to what I say and showing some respect. Otherwise, we’ll have to have an entirely different conversation, and I really don’t want us to go there.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’d be stupid to fuck around and find out.

“As a woman in this business, you are much more vulnerable and at risk and it’s my job to protect you. That’s just reality. So you need to have security in place, especially by tomorrow. Am I being clear?”

You grind your teeth. “Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I go home now?”

“I’m about to go over the plans for tomorrow. Sit down.”

“Please, I want to go home; I have a lot of things to do. You know I haven’t even unpacked everything yet? I’m practically sleeping in that office.”

You do your best to keep out any expletives, even though you have many to fire off, so you don’t show more disrespect, but your mild lack of control has you muttering under your breath, “No thanks to you.”

Beside you, Jungkook presses his hands together in front of his face like a prayer while Jin shakes his head, eyes closing, and rubs a hand over his forehead like you’re giving him a migraine.

“I’ll get you some help, I’ll get whatever you need. But right now, I need you to stay so we can talk everything out because shit is about to get real. Please sit down.”

You do so with extreme reluctance, the concoction of conflicted emotions swirling in your chest making it increasingly difficult to pay attention to any of what he says. As parts of your mind and body drift in and out of your subconscious, you’re startled out of a staring contest with the edge of the table by Jungkook nudging your shoulder. Relaxing your jaw that was painfully clenched, you lift your head to notice that all eyes are on you, minus one particular pair.

“Sorry, what?”

Jin sighs and gestures to the other side of the table. “Hope was asking if you’d be willing to meet with him in a couple of weeks to check if you have any problems to report.”

“Sure, whatever. I mean, I don’t have a choice either way, right?” you mutter, throwing your brother's words back in his face. You feel Jin’s eyes burning a hole on the side of your face and you know you’ll get an earful from him later.

You glance over to see Hope looking at you with a half-smile and there’s a bit of guilt at how you just came across. You really want to disappear.

“Is that all? May I be excused now?” you ask Jin tersely. He rubs a hand over his mouth like he’s preventing himself from further calling you out. Keeping his stare locked with yours, he raises a dismissive hand.

“D, can you escort her down to the garage? Mr. Han will drive her home.” You close your eyes in relief. “And exchange information on the way; you’ll be picking her up tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, boss.”

You turn around before he stands up, making a beeline for the door because you’re boiling up like a tea kettle. The room seems to be chasing you, closing in on you, like a hand around your throat that you can’t fight off. By the hairs raised on the back of your neck, you can tell he’s coming up behind you so you pick up the pace, jamming your finger into the down button on the elevator. You silently thank it when it only takes a few seconds to arrive, the one thing on your side tonight, so that you can step in before he reaches you. You rapidly press the close button, your eyes narrowed in the harshest glare at his face as he sticks out his hand but he’s too late, the doors rumble shut, sealing him out.

Alone in the elevator, there’s so much going through your mind that it hurts to think. So many emotions and feelings are swirling in your chest that you have no idea where to start to pick apart and process. All you know is that you want to get as far away from him as possible. How the tables have turned.

It’s freezing down in the garage, and Mr. Han has yet to arrive, much to your chagrin. The bubbling beneath the surface of your skin grows to a rage when you hear leather shoes pad onto the concrete.

“Angel-”

Oh, hell no! He doesn’t get to be casual. He doesn’t get to say your name. It’s not your real one, but it was real to him.

You twist around. “Don’t be informal."

Expression unchanged, he apologizes and corrects himself then steps forward with a hand held out, carrying your coat that you forgot upstairs.

You give it a side glance and snatch it away, tucking it under your crossed arms, because you prefer to be stubborn and cold. You refuse to face him, even when he clears his throat and takes another step towards you.

“Let me give you my number,” he says, reaching into his inside pocket to pull out his phone. An indignant laugh bubbles in your throat, too painful to let out.

Now… Now you get his number?? This is the universe laughing at you right in your face. You say nothing, not even acknowledging what he said, as if you didn’t hear him at all.

You just stare at the curb, desperately waiting for Mr. Han to pull up and take you away. In this moment, he’s your only friend in the world.

Seconds go by, and the man beside you reaches back into his jacket, trading his phone for… a pen? He then plucks out the white handkerchief folded neatly in his chest pocket, spreads it on his palm, and flicks the pen over it before passing it to you.

You stare at the handkerchief, at the numbers messily stained on the fabric, and crumple it in your hand, balling it into a tight fist.

Acting on autopilot with a question that’s been spinning around your mind since you shook his hand at dinner, you whip around to face him, faltering slightly when he’s closer than you realized.

“Did you know?” you snap. “This whole time. Did you know about me?”

His face remains emotionless and even though he’s not wearing his shades, you can't see any kind of reaction in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Oh. So he's a fucking coward. And he wants to play games.

"Then let’s get one thing clear,” you grit, holding up your pointer finger. “If you think I'm gonna be nice to you, think again. And since you couldn’t give a shit about me, don't pretend to be nice either."

You get right in his face, but he doesn’t react or move away, and you wonder what it would take for him to stand down.

“Cross me in any way, I’ll tell my brothers who you really are.”

You stare, unblinkingly, in his eyes, searching, waiting for any sign that he’s the least bit intimidated by your threat. But there’s nothing. Just blank, soulless eyes. And to think they once set your heart on fire. Now they’ve turned it to ash.

How you ever fell for them, you’ll never know.

Clearly, you’re a fool.

“We’ll see how long you last, Min Yoongi.”

When you get home, you decline all calls from your brothers and march into your room, not bothering to change, and dig through all of your unpacked boxes searching for an old plastic bag containing a hoodie and a chain that you’ve been carrying around with you for years but you don’t know why. You find Jungkook’s knife, but not the bag and now you’re left with the aftermath of a tornado on your bedroom floor. You spend all night putting everything in its place until the sun rises and your mind is numb, anything to ignore the swarm of angry wasps buzzing in your head because the man you’ve been trying so long to forget just somehow stuck himself in your life, like a knife in your chest.

For the rest of the day, you throw yourself back into the plethora of files you’ve poured over with Namjoon for what seems like hundreds of times. You go through all the budgets, contracts, blueprints, and black books until time bleeds into the late afternoon. But you can’t rest, for those harsh, dark eyes will come back to haunt you in your dreams. You’ll have flashbacks of that night, of him and it will only cause your chest to collapse into a black hole and swallow every last drop of color in your soul.

Jay saunters into the foyer, wolf-whistling upon seeing you and an unsettling feeling takes over when he walks up to you.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream come true?” he muses, shamelessly checking you out and you shoot him a fake smile.

“Thank you,” you say politely, borderline sarcastic, and focus your attention on your reflection in the mirror as you fix your hair and earrings, putting your best poker face on now that your fiancé is standing a few feet away.

“You’re having dinner with your brothers again?” “No, we’re meeting with the commission tonight.”

“Ah. Scary,” he says, a teasing smile on his face. You have a feeling that he actually thinks that, hence why he hasn’t offered up an opportunity to show you off, even though the commission consists entirely of men.

“Will you be alright?”

You don’t know how many times you’ve internally rolled your eyes since you’ve met him. Do you have ‘I’m helpless’ tattooed on your forehead or something?

“Yep. I shouldn’t be out too late.”

“Then I won’t wait up for you.” His tone is light like he’s still making jokes but you are in no joking mood so you bite your tongue. You weren’t expecting him to, nor would you want him to do that. Your phone pings and a rush of heat floods you when you know who it is, announcing his arrival.

“Okay. I think my ride’s here, so I’m gonna head out.”

“Let me walk you.” You want to argue that it’s not necessary, the less time spent interacting with him, the better.

Play nice, Angel, Jin's voice rings in your head.

Play nice.

So, you let him accompany you down the hall, help you on with your coat, and open the door for you that you politely thank him for.

In the driveway, a waxed black palisade with tinted windows is parked parallel to the main entrance, exhaust running, and your nostrils flare when you see Min Yoongi - oh, excuse you, D - standing next to the passenger's side, waiting for you with his hands clasped.

“Who’s that?”

“The security my brothers hired,” you say nonchalantly, even though there’s a burning rage in your chest.

“Huh. I thought you had an older driver.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have any security experience, so.” You notice that your fiancé seems to be somehow bothered by that information, but you don’t press it because you really don’t fucking care.

“Well, have a good-” But he interrupts you, tearing his attention away from the car you’re dreading having to ride in.

“So, my dad wants us to have dinner with them. Maybe you can make some time next weekend? He’ll want to know how things are going at the casino.”

Oh, god. That is the last thing you want to do. Jay’s parents are extremely conservative and traditional, and you can’t imagine what they’ll have to say to you now that you’re living with their son. But again, you have to play nice.

“Sure, I’ll let you know my schedule.”

“Sounds good,” he nods and just as you start to turn, he grabs your hand, the one with the oversized diamond sitting on your ring finger, his head quickly moving from the driveway to lean in and kiss right on the jewel and it makes you feel a bit icky.

“I’ll see you later,” he says from your knuckles with a noticeable grin. You plaster on a tight smile and subtly retract your hand.

“Have a good night.” He nods and lets you go, watching as you make your way down the marble stairs. You think to yourself this would be the time you might appreciate his help, considering you’re in heels and it’s freezing outside. But you don’t really want him to touch you again so you rely on the railing.

“Take care of my fiancée for me!” Jay calls out as you make it off the porch. Your eyes roll back so far in your head you have to close them and walk blindly for a few seconds. As you approach the car, you keep your head down, refusing to see how D responds to that. Although you don’t think he would, since he’s given you no indication that he even has emotions anymore as of yet.

From one man that pisses you off to the next. To say you're fuming would be an understatement.

Wearing a sleek black suit, a long winter coat to match, and, since it’s still light out, those dark sunglasses, he bows to you in greeting before opening the door, gesturing for you to get in.

"Good evening," he says as you approach, and you don’t reply, don't even look at him. You hate him, you really do, so why is it that his dark, quiet yet thunderous voice makes your heart skip a beat?

You feel his gaze on you as you reach for the back door, completely ignoring him, and slide into the warm car, slamming the door shut before scooting to sit behind the driver's side. You don’t want to be tempted to look at him in the rear-view mirror.

The passenger door closes and you whip out your phone, refusing to stare at the man swiftly striding around the front of the car. As he does, you wonder why the fuck he thought you would want to sit next to him. You’ve never felt comfortable treating your drivers like chauffeurs but this driver is a special case, and you hope that he’s gotten the message.

When he gets in and shuts out the cold, you're suddenly overwhelmed by the loud, attractive scent of his cologne and aftershave, a certain musk and mint to it that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head for a split second. Fuck, he smells good, even with a hint of a cigarette. And expensive. You can only imagine the type of salary your brothers smuggle into his wallet, especially now that your safety is his sole responsibility. Protection like that doesn’t come cheap.

You dare him to say anything else, so you get out your case of earbuds with the intention to blast music and drown him out. But before you can shove them in, a stack of manila folders hangs in front of your face, held by long, thin fingers decorated by chunky silver rings. For a second you want to ask him what the fuck he’s doing, triggered by the fact that you’re so fucking over looking through files, even more so for him to be dumping more on you.

“What’s this?” you grumble, teeth clenching as you reluctantly accept the folders and draw them into your lap.

“Your brother wanted me to find you an assistant, so these are five candidates,” he explains, voice slightly muffled by the engine and from speaking to the windshield. “Take your pick and I’ll set up an interview.”

You can’t help your genuine surprise as you look over the spread he handed you, each file neatly organized with resumes, backgrounds, references and head shots. You wish he fucked something up so you'd have an excuse to call him incompetent, but he did his homework. And if he got all of this together since last night, then he’s more diligent than you want to give him credit for.

You swallow a scoff. "I'm allowed to choose? I didn't think I got a say.”

"If you didn't, I wouldn't be giving you options."

"Are you sure?” You snark, face buried in the files. “I know you answer to my brother, and you wouldn't want to get in any trouble."

A beat passes. "He's not my boss. You are."

Well. That is... the last thing you thought he would say. And you never would've considered yourself his boss.

Oh. You're going to have fun with this.

“These are all men,” you scowl after you flip through all of the resumes.

Yeah, just what you need.

You lean forward to toss the files on the passenger's seat, papers scattering onto the floor. Your instincts urge you to apologize and offer to clean up the mess, but your pride has you sitting back with your arms crossed, looking out of the tinted window indifferently.

“You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d just asked me what I was looking for. But I guess you don’t really care what I want, do you?”

You spare a glance into the rearview mirror, the top half of his face clearly visible, but… you still can’t tell if he’s looking at you. You don’t wait for a response, not thinking there’s anything he could say anyway, and let your earbuds do the job of shutting him out.

It isn’t until you’re halfway to your destination that you realize you didn’t text him at all until an hour before you had to leave, so how could he have contacted you before then? That’s beside the point.

He should know what you’re really throwing in his face.

The car barely pulls to a stop in front of the warehouse when a small group of guards swarm around to flank the doors. Taking out your earbuds, you stare out of the tinted windows at the suited men looking all around to make sure you’re in the clear. You feel anything but assured.

One guard is standing right in front of the door, essentially blocking you inside, and D gets out, apparently needing to be the one to open it for you and assist in your exit.

The air is crisp and cold when your heels hit the gravel, and you don’t miss the way D’s palm flips up as you start to stand, playing it off when you intentionally ignore the gesture by lifting his wrist to his mouth to speak into the mic connected to his earpiece that runs under his sleeve.

You shiver when you step out and D shuts the door, holding an arm out to signal you to walk forward, pressing a finger into his earpiece. The guards fall into formation around you, one in front, one on either side, and D right behind you. This level of protection feels a bit too much as they escort you into the maze of shipping containers, you aren’t the president or some A-list celebrity, but you’re about to walk into a den of wolves, so you can’t go without a pack of your own.

They lead you through the arid warehouse, filled with shelves of boxes ready to ship out on the harbor, some legal, most illicit. In the very back is a steel door, and the leading guard opens it, takes a look down in the stairwell, and beckons you forward. You step into the hallway and catch a glimpse of the emergency exit, door wedged open by a… silver cigarette case? That looks very much like the one you saw your brother slip out of his coat the other morning and sneak outside before Jin came down for breakfast. You head for it and a guard puts a hand out to stop you, but you push past him, D calls for you, paying no attention, and pop open the door, hesitating when Jungkook flinches and whips back his jacket, hand reaching for something in his waistband.

“Jesus, Angel,” he grumbles, letting go of his jacket to cover the handle of his gun, and takes a heavy drag of the cigarette. You bend down to pick up his silver case and the door doesn’t close and you don’t doubt that D is the one holding it open.

“Relax, it’s just lil ole me,” you say, eyebrow raising when he shoots a glare your way. "What's up, bro?"

“What was last night about?" he asks, a hot start. He leans over to snatch the case out of your hands.

“Hey!”

"Are you done being an asshole? You were pretty rude to hyung last night. And D and Hope.” His tone is testy as smoke pours from his lips.

Crossing your arms, you prop yourself on the wall with a huff and an eyeroll.

“Well, that depends. Are you done keeping things from me?” He sighs and scratches the wrinkle between his brows with his thumbnail.

“We knew you wouldn’t like it, so that’s why we waited to tell you.” “What about any of this do you think that I like?” You blurt in a raised voice that gets lost in the frigid breeze. He stares at you for a moment before looking away to take a drag, a tick in his jaw. You aren’t being fair, you know. Your brother is in the exact same boat. Neither of you signed up for this, but at least he wasn’t thrown into the fire at the last minute with little to no time to process anything. And his life isn't being guarded by someone who broke his heart.

"You can't be that way in there."

“I know. I'm sorry,” you try to recover. “It’s just-” As you stare out at the run-down docks, you can’t think of a way to explain what you’re sorry for. Instead, you swivel to face him and step up with a beckoning hand in the air.

“Can I have one?” Flicking ash on the brick, his expression changes to level you with a hesitant look.

“Since when do you smoke?” You don’t really since you hate the taste and the smell, but the kind of cigarettes that your brother buys isn’t as pungent and disgusting. Sometimes a little nicotine helps to take the edge off. And you’re very much on edge lately.

“Since I found out I’m about to become a criminal.”

He rolls his eyes. “What do you mean ‘about to’? Haven’t you been arrested before?”

“Not recently!” you exclaim. He’s one to talk! “Besides, that was for petty theft and I wasn’t even charged.”

“Don’t forget the time you spent a night in jail when you got caught speed racing. Hyung was so pissed he had to fly all the way out there to bail your dumb ass out.” Jungkook tilts forward, crossing his ankles as he chuckles out a puff of smoke.

“Well, it’s your fault I even know how to race.” He opens his mouth to argue but you shut him down. “Do you want me to go ahead and list out your rap sheet too? We would be here all night.”

“Go to hell.” You laugh at his disgruntled scowl.

“I’ll meet you there. Give me your lighter or I’ll tell Jin you started smoking again.”

He shakes his head, both of you knowing damn well that Jin would not approve of the two of you chain smoking.

“Don’t be a tattletale.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“No,” he grumbles. “You shouldn’t be smoking.”

“You shouldn’t either!”

“I know. I’m quitting soon and I'm not about to let you start.”

With a reluctant huff, you lean back against the wall, watching his smoke billow out into the night sky. The both of you shiver in silence. It’s quiet out here, save for the sounds of a ship horn blaring in the distance, and the wind whistling into the alley from the docks that carries the smells of bay water and the old rotting wood of the piers. Scents like these usually bring a sense of calm into your soul, but tonight, anxiety overrides them all. You doubt even nicotine could do anything to ease the disquietude in your head.

“I’m scared,” you confess. You glance over to see him staring down at nothing in particular, not blinking as he smokes and you want him to tell you that he is too, but he’s in no position to be. Not anymore. It used to show in his jaw, in between his brows, the rapid blinking of his eyes, but there’s none of that now. Looking at him now, gone is the boy you grew up with. And you know that’s because of how hard he worked to rid himself of all that fear, just like Jin, and what you have to do too.

“There’s no reason to be.” You look away with a frown, clearly not what you needed to hear, but his hand on your shoulder forces you to turn back.

“Listen. No one can do anything to us once they find out who we are.” You shrug off his hand. He takes a drag and blows it away from your face.

“Who’s to say they won’t?”

“Me. After tonight, I own this city and everything that belongs to us. That includes you, Angel. We’re not the ones who should be afraid.”

“Boss, it’s time to go.” You glance over your shoulder where a single, flickering light above the door shines down on D’s head as he holds it open with a flattened hand. You turn back to your brother as he sucks in a final drag before dropping the butt and squishing it under his heel. Exhaling smoke up to the sky, he hooks an arm around your shoulder and begins walking you to the door, not letting you fight your way out of his hold.

“We got this, sis.” You roughly push him and he finally lets go, clicking your tongue when he laughs at your glare.

“You do,” you mutter, straightening out your coat and smoothing down your shirt. Nervous habits. He stops and grabs your elbow.

“It’s us now. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe through a scared smile.

You keep your head up as you walk past D who slides against the door to put distance between you, yet still close enough to catch another whiff of his cologne. One breath and you’re aggravated that it’s him, another breath and the scent filters into your senses, leaving an undeniable calm.

Back inside, Jungkook claps a hand on D’s shoulder as the guards return to their formation to lead you down the stairs and into the den. Before you enter, you can tell just how crowded it is from the sounds of chatter and laughter that drips exorbitant wealth, and the accompanying stench of thick illegal cigars that makes your nose itch.

Jungkook walks around you to be the first one in the room and a wave of anxiety skids your heels to a stop. A presence that you’re coming to know all too well looms behind you, like he’s your shadow. More like a demon. Your eyes close to quell the drum pounding in your chest.

“After you,” he mutters, the sinful thunder in his voice mere inches away from your ear sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes fly open and feet move on their own accord to get away from it.

Fuck. That.

The ringing in your ears that stems from his voice and low-spoken words rumbling in a loop through your mind aids you in your ability to shut out the room and the way it quiets down as you walk to the head of the table where your brothers stand in wait for you. The rest of the men are also already standing and it just makes their intense, collective stare on you that much more stifling.

You remove your coat and a hand stretches out beside you that you silently allow to take it. Jin gestures for you to sit on his right, across from Jungkook, and waves for the commission to take their seats as well. Behind you, the doors close and one glance to the side shows D getting into place with your brothers guards by the adjacent wall, holding your coat.

With a polite, reserved expression, you take a sweep of the room and observe that these men are an assortment of strange faces and ones you’ve seen in Namjoon’s files. They’re all young and old. Father and son. Leaving you as the outlier. And that causes a lump in your throat.

Jin launches into introducing you and Jungkook, and all you can do is keep your back straight and hands on the table, respectfully paying attention as he explains how now that he’s going on the lam, the family heads will defer to Jungkook, and their crews and associates will report to you for any and all financial endeavors at the casino. As Jin speaks these plans into reality, you finally begin to feel the full pressure and burden of your impending responsibilities.

And this time your brother won't be there to bail you out.

The members offer your end of the table diplomatic nods of acknowledgement and subtle darting eyes between you and Jungkook.

But just as Jin gives Jungkook the floor, a deep, condescending laugh resounds from across the table, belonging to a smug, rugged man wearing thick chains and even thicker rings. All attention snaps to his interruption and your skin crawls when he fixes Jungkook with a leering, patronizing stare.

“I’m sorry, but with all due respect, do you really think your junkie brother can handle being in charge?”

Your eyebrows cross at the audacity. He’s speaking as if Jin is not the reigning top boss of this entire room and Jungkook is not about to step in and fill his shoes. There’s a slur to his words and the near empty decanter next to his glass indicates that he’s imbibed and probably incognizant. Because who in their right mind would dare to provoke the kingpin of the city’s mob syndicate like this.

You look over to Jin, expecting him to call out the man’s blatant disrespect, but both him and Jungkook are staring the man down with darkness and anger that you’ve never seen before. Perhaps they’re just giving him the chance to dig himself into a hole so deep he’ll have to stay there.

“And what about her?” the man with a greasy mustache points at you. You recognize him. “I don’t know if I can trust her capabilities with dealing business at the casino. I mean, what does she know?”

He’s underestimating you and you’re sure he’s not alone in that. Everyone else is just smart enough to keep their mouths shut. You feel the urge to pull your hands into your lap to frown at, but you just lean back in your chair, maintaining a cool expression as you wait for him to spew more of his bullshit.

“Yeah, sure they were born with the purpose of serving your father, but we all know they weren’t raised like you. So how can they possibly be prepared to take over in your place?”

“Because they’re my blood,” Jin finally says, voice steady and reasonable. But his narrowed eyes and blown out pupils tells you he’s anything but.

“Only by half,” he sneers. “Wasn’t their mother some low-life maid?” You feel choked by the mention of your mother and wonder just how much this man and the rest of the commission know about you beyond what they’re entitled to. Your chest squeezes when you catch eyes with Jungkook as he furiously picks at his fingers, probably not realizing he’s even doing it.

“See, that’s where the don went wrong. Choosing a peasant to procreate his back-up heirs with. Their blood doesn’t really count, at least not in my book.” Lee looks around as if to see who else is on his side, but no one takes their attention off of Jin as he rises and digs a hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder.

“He is the don now.”

Lee scoffs. “He’s a junkie! Just like your father.” Your fingers clench into a tight fist, the urge to stand up for your brother sending a violent rush through your veins.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Lee,” Jin growls in a malicious tone. “You’re forgetting your place. Don’t make me remind you.”

“My place,” Lee chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. He picks up his glass and bangs it on the table with a thud. “My place should be at the head of that fucking table with my son, not these little children. We should be the next in line now that you’re resigning!” “I’m not resigning,” Jin barks, fixing the entire room with a dead serious glare. “I’m leaving to avoid prison. Because if I go down, I’m taking everyone with me. Do I make myself fucking clear?”

Jin’s power reverberates off of the walls and it carves away some of your anxiety. He points a stern finger at Lee.

“They are the rightful heirs, just as I am, and I won’t throw away all of what I’ve built just because you don’t accept that.”

“What your father built,” Lee spits in contempt. Jin bends down with a heavy slam of his hands on the wood surface. “What my family built. And what my brother and sister will continue to build because it’s theirs now.” “Do they know that’s the only reason why they were born? Well, him at least.” Your face contorts in confusion when he points at Jungkook. Jin lifts his hands from the table and the tension in the room grows thicker as he stands tall. “Excuse me?” “It’s a fair question. Does she know that when there were rumors that Don Kim had a daughter, he adamantly denied it?”

Your fingernails dig into your sweaty palms when Lee slides his beady eyes to you.

“You were a mistake, sweetheart,” he lilts with an ugly, crooked grin. “What use would he have with a girl? All you’re good for now is playing trophy wife to appease the son of your father’s biggest investor. You’re just a pawn in his business plan, you have no real value.”

“Lee, that’s enough-” Jin snarls.

“Lee Dong-wook, right?” you starkly interject, staring unwaveringly at him and his rising eyebrow. “Didn’t you lose your business in the east harbors when you failed to keep quota and you couldn’t control disputes between the local gangs? I can’t remember exactly how much money and how many men you cost my brothers but I know it was a lot.”

Lee’s jaw drops, rendered speechless. A raging vein begins to bulge on the side of his forehead, turning his face beet red now that you’re doing the job of tearing him down from his high horse.

“But at least you still have this side of the harbor so you can trade paraphernalia with other parts of the coast. Like these.” You reach forward for a box of cigars in front of Jungkook, only to find it empty. To your surprise and everyone else's, you stand and move to pass behind your brothers, ignoring Jin’s hushed, “What are you doing?” as you walk over to Lee, hoping to exert some intimidation by standing your ground over him. You try to disregard the fact that he is twice your size and far more muscular but Jungkook’s words from earlier remind you that no one can hurt you now.

The shadow that follows you will ensure that.

You spot another cigar box next to Lee and another older man, and no one says anything as you lean in between them to take one out, snatching up one of the cutters as well. Holding up the cigar beneath your nose, you inhale the strong flavored mix of coffee and leather.

“Hmm, not bad,” you reflect, analyzing the stamped label before you snap off the end. “Kind of cheap, but I guess the tobacco isn’t what your customers are actually after. It’s smart, smuggling amphetamines in these. Just ironic that you move rock for a living but have the nerve to call my brother a junkie. I don't doubt you take samples.”

The lighter you pick up and flick open to fire up the cigar become the only sounds in the room. After disposing the metal on the table, you place the wrapped leaf between your teeth and brace yourself as you take a smooth drag.

“And you must be stupid if you think I don’t know that my father didn’t want me,” you say, blowing smoke up to the ceiling while you do your best to pretend that the strong hit isn’t scratching the hell out of your throat. You glance back down to Lee whose eyes are on the brink of bulging right out of their sockets.

“But you see, I’m not here for him. I’m here for them,” you point the cigar over your shoulder at Jin and Jungkook.

“You sure they’re not forcing you?” Lee challenges, tongue thick with rage causing specks of saliva to catch on his mustache. Gross. “No one can force me to do anything,” you reply calmly. “I’ll do whatever it takes for my brothers.” A moment passes, and then another, with no response and you think you’ve made your case. But just as you’re about to give up the facade that you’re enjoying this piss-awful cigar, Lee harshly spits out,

“Would you kill for them, little girl?”

Tilting your head, your mind races as you imagine all the ways you could show him how far you’re willing to go for both of them. A small smile creeps onto the corner of your lips around the cigar.

“Do you want to find out?” His mustache twitches. You blow smoke in its direction. “Are you threatening me?” “You tell me,” you shrug. “If anything, I’d be doing you a favor.”

“Pardon?” You lazily tap the cigar, unphased when the ash falls to the floor, some of it on Lee’s lap, earning a menacing glower.

“It sounds like you have a death wish. Coming in here and disrespecting my brothers even though you can’t do a goddamn thing without their say so. They own you and, now, so do I.”

Lee doesn’t break your stare but by the curl of his fist on the arm of the chair and his cheeks that tinge an even darker red, you’ve severely pissed him off. “You don’t have what it takes to kill me.” Taking that as a challenge, you reach down, lift the hem of your slacks, and snatch out the knife nestled in the strap around your calf. In a flash, you bring your sharp silver blade to the vein on his thick neck, smoke from the cigar dangerously close to his sideburns. “Wanna bet?”

A commotion erupts around you as two of Lee’s men move to defend him at a moment’s notice, weapon threatening to withdraw and your pulse glitches for a second at the potential danger. That is until a figure behind you pushes away Lee’s guard and you know without looking that it’s Jungkook coming to your aid. And next to him is that dark and menacing man smelling of mint and musk and intimidation.

“Well, I bet you’d hate to get killed by a girl. So I’ll save you your dignity.”

Lowering your knife, you lean away but pause when a goading sneer grows on his ugly mug.

“You’re weak. Just like your brother who can’t even man up and take responsibility for the casino because of what happened to his little-” Before he can finish that sentence that would have Jungkook flying off the handle, you stab the burning end of your cigar on the back of his hand, twisting a sear into his skin until he leaps up with a shriek.

“You bitch!” The cigar plants itself on the side of his neck, until your wrist is grabbed and ripped away, tobacco falling to the floor, just like the man who dared to put hands on you. As you’re pulled back by your brother, off to the side is D manhandling Lee’s guard into submission, face pressed into the wall with a gun shoved into the side of his head. Your brothers’ guards surround you and there’s a standoff with Lee’s men, the rest of the room watching on in shock, no one else daring to move lest they get caught in impending crossfire.

“Weapons down, now,” Jin’s terse voice booms. The guns slowly lower but the fierce glares remain pinned on opposite sides.

“Lee. You’re dismissed.” You think that’s code for, I’m not going to kill you in front of my sister. You know you’ve just made a cause for bloodshed.

“Have fun getting whacked,” you grin devilishly at Lee who can’t decide which burn hurts worse. “I hope your last thought is of my pretty face.”

In brazen stupidity, Lee steps forward but before his foot can even touch the ground, he’s sent flying back with your brother’s fists in his collar. A hand on your elbow tugs you away from the chaos you created, but you can’t look away from it, like it’s a car crash. But D steps in front of you just as you’re dragged to the front of the room by your brother. Your coat is swung around your shoulders and suddenly you’re facing Jin who guides you to the door. D appears right by your side.

“I knew you had it in you, kiddo,” Jin says with a proud glint in his eyes. On the other side of the room, your brother’s guards are doing their best to keep Jungkook and Lee apart as they usher him to the exit.

“D, take her home.”

The backseat of the car is warm on the ride home. Your hands are shaking, surely from the adrenaline. That’s when it hits you, what you just did. Fuck. You’ve never acted that way before, never purposely hurt someone because you didn’t like what they said.

But you liked it. The power you had, the confidence it gave you. And that scares you.

“Are you okay?” D asks tentatively. It’s then that you realize you’ve been crying. You flick a defiant tear from your cheek and wrap your arms tighter around yourself.

“What do you care?” you mumble bitterly. The rest of the drive is spent in silence. If you were sitting up front, you would’ve seen the way his fingers flexed on the steering wheel.

When he pulls up to your house, you quickly get out even though he starts to say something, desperate to be inside, away from him and the cold and everything that happened.

You don’t know why your office has become your safe haven, but you return there and collapse into one of the armchairs, weighed down by tonight, and what’s in store. Not to mention the extra weight added on your chest because of D.

So you cry. You cry until you run out of tears, but you don't think that could stop you with how much you're hurting. That is until you hear a knock on your office door. It startles you, you’ve never expected anyone to check on you, especially not your fiancé. Were you crying so loud that he could hear you all the way across the house? You don't think that much of it, too busy getting a hold of yourself to look presentable before cracking open the door.

His face is overshadowed by the hallway light, and you can't see his eyes that well. You try to hide your swollen, tear-streaked cheeks from him, but he peers over the door with a small yet gentle smile.

"What's wrong? Did things not go well with the commission?”

You quickly wipe away any stray tears, putting on a brave face as you open the door a little further.

"Ah, well. It was just a lot, y’know?” You scramble, because you can't actually tell him what's wrong. Obviously. You don't think you'll ever be able to tell anyone. And you definitely don’t want to admit that you’re being weak.

"I do. Everything will be okay. It'll all take some adjustment." Huh. That's... comforting, coming from him. Like he understands.

"So, I was just in the kitchen, raiding the pantries for some snacks. Would you care to join?"

“Sure. You, uh,” you tug your sleeves over your hands, clenching them with cold fingers. “You couldn’t hear me from all the way out there, right?”

He turns his back to you with a laugh, leading you down the hallway.

“No, but I noticed you came home late and, well, I just wanted to see how things went. But I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk to me.”

“You said you wouldn’t wait up.” “I was joking, but I guess it didn’t land well. You might have to get used to my sense of humor.” That was humor?

Damn. When did you get so mean?

On the island counters in the expansive kitchen, he sets out some bowls and fills them with snacks as you take a seat on one of the tall stools.

“Do you like any of these?” “Sure,” you shrug, reaching for one of the bowls.

“If there’s anything you want, put it on a list and I can send it off to be picked up.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I can do my own shopping. Thanks, though.” You’ll have to text your brothers later to tell them how right you are about him.

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind. I’m just trying to help out.”

You nod, chewing pensively, and he shakes his head to change the subject.

“Anyway, can you tell me what happened tonight? That made you so upset.”

You carefully retell bits and pieces of the meeting, leaving out the part when you stabbed an old man twice with a cigar. You give him the gist of how the family heads don’t entirely back the idea of you and Jungkook gaining control of the syndicate, to which Jay tells you they’ll have to get over it because you’re just doing your family duty.

For a while, you chat, finding that conversation with your fiance comes a little easier than you thought. You guess you just had to give it a chance. He gives you his support for some of the plans you have for the casino renovations and even offers to take a look at the blueprints. He cracks corny jokes every now and then that you have to force a bit of laughter because sometimes they don’t make sense, but you don’t entirely loathe this whole interaction.

He is very charming; you'll give him that. But you still have a prickly feeling that it’s all just an act to be good to you in order to impress your brothers and get on their good side. And once they’re out of sight, no longer around to look out for you, he’ll show his true colors. Maybe you’re just jaded and bitter.

But you don’t think you should let your guard down just yet.

You won’t make the same mistake again.

lmaoooo originally i was aiming for a 12-14k word count. whoops. but it's finally here! this has been a whirlwind. I've been wanting to get this out for a while but i've been kind of nervous about it. honestly im glad i waited because so many things came together for this part that i didn't have before. sorry for the wait.

xxx - claret

thank you for reading 😊

let me know what you think!!! <333

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