#he hurt my soul and shatters it into a million pieces

[beefdogcoffee]

“you are a museum of everything you’ve ever loved.” — jiang cheng, who carries his mother’s zidian, cares for his sister’s son, kept chenqing with him and held onto a promise for 13 years, and even led the sect he inherited from jiang fengmian

[kentopedia]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.

contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total

notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold. 

your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.

the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity. 

the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants. 

chuuya kills them all — except for one.

the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards. 

“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding. 

he can feel the man swallowing. 

chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well. 

“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand. 

he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.

the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you. 

how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity. 

finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you. 

chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.

“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them. 

limply, they fall to the floor. 

chuuya rushes over to you. 

the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it. 

“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing. 

“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?” 

it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?” 

guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either. 

he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…

“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.” 

he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.” 

“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones. 

“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.” 

“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.” 

"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later. 

finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.” 

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .

the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion. 

normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off. 

with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.

though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him. 

he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage. 

“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.

but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course. 

but you… you’re different. 

“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.” 

akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own. 

he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.

there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable. 

mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you. 

as regrettable as that may be.

akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow. 

“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.

“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.  

even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy. 

akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets. 

what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.

and he can’t do that if you’re dead.

finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found. 

akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain. 

a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him. 

though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain. 

he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding. 

his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips. 

“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you. 

you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads. 

“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.” 

“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?” 

“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”

anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”

“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.” 

he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken. 

“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word. 

he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you. 

“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you. 

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies. 

though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest. 

his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well. 

dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating. 

but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe. 

he should’ve at least told you to take a friend. 

“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”

“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.” 

“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation. 

and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you. 

with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation. 

there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own. 

he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed. 

today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive. 

you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them. 

dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall. 

slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive. 

he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes. 

“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats. 

the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile. 

dazai hums. “you the leader?” 

the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you. 

“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all. 

dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him. 

you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become. 

he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple. 

it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you. 

“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.” 

“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”

you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.

“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.” 

you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.

“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?” 

you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.” 

dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.

thank you for reading !!! ❤︎

[suempu]

tw: nonconsensual kissing. graphic wording.

"you look lonely."

ivan sighs while you situate yourself on the sofa beside him. his room is pitch dark, save for the light from the tv broadcast.

mindless advertisements and commercials mix and buzz into the air, creating a fog of background noise. and you wonder whose poor soul is getting killed on that stage at this very moment.

you spread your arm and dramatically bring him into a side hug. "nothing a bit of booze won't fix. ha ha ha!!" exclaiming with the vigor of an alcoholic, ivan can only groan in frustration.

"i'm not getting wasted with you." his eyes look worn down, mouth wrinkling into a frown as he tries to hide the agony behind a stone cold face.

a part of him is comforted by your presence, a sense of normality washes over him. as if you two were still children playing across the fake fields and staring at the equally as fake sky, laughing as you tackled each other to the ground and picked flowers.

"too late, i brought the good shit." you snicker as you bring out weird looking bottles. you're not exactly sure how safe these are for humans but the aliens seem to love it so, who cares? "this was hard to steal by the way, i got it from those private rooms."

ivan stares at you for a moment and eventually rests his head on your shoulder. he looks at you, cold ice wall melting down and you're met with the sight of absolute pain and distress on his pretty face when he sighs.

"why does it have to feel like this?" he whispers, voice cracking from the amount of vocal training and warmups he's been forced to endure that day.

you take a deep breath and open a bottle, careful with your movements as his heavy head rested on your arm. "what? wanna runaway? you know i wouldn't hesitate if you asked." chuckling as you tried reading the labels.

ivan knows though. you're the closest thing he's got to a friend. you'd do anything for him and with him. and of course he'd do the same but... you're not the person he holds nearest to his heart.

"it's funny," he watches as you sniff the alcoholic aroma before taking a sip. "no matter how much they make us do these—things, no matter how much it hurts... why is this thing in my chest more painful?"

your face falls blank, glaring at the bottle before taking a big chug. you hope it'll get rid of your own pain, wash away all the emotions and feelings of him.

and its funny. because what kind of weird fucking love hexagon is this?

you despise till.

you wish you could tear his bones out and wear his skin, take out his tongue and say all the things ivan has always wanted to hear and keep his heart for your own.

"i wish i knew the answer to that."

looking down at him and seeing his exhausted face, makes your heart break. you want to gather yours and his shattered pieces and construct a deformed statue of love and just hope it'll be enough for him. enough to replace the burning loneliness he's been forced to go through.

but no. even if he were to love you, it'd take a million years to pass, thousands of stars to die, and hundreds of planets to explode until then.

you bump your forehead into his and watch as his eyes widen. smirking to yourself, you think, what more could i lose?

"let's be lonely together then. just this once."

you whisper before kissing him.

[cameronsprincess]

Pretty Blue Eyes — R.C

— summary: you see rafe at a party after he’d dumped you, and it hurts more than you thought it would.

— CW: 18+ only! angst, strong language, alcohol consumption, drunk!reader, hurt/no comfort.

— a/n: i’m so sorry. i love angst and when i’m sad, i have to make y’all sad too. this angst prompts list gave me ideas and i used dialogues 3, 14 and 20<3 likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3

I never knew losing him would hurt so much. Losing the one person I’d spent the last six months of my life with.

Six months might not seem like much to some, I understand people have gone through greater losses. But I’d fallen in love with him. Fallen in love with all the meaningless words he’d said. Fallen in love with his scent, his touch, his pretty blue eyes.

But he never loved me. I was just a game. Something to use to pass the time. I boosted his ego, made him feel special. And all the while, he was using me. Playing me. Making me fall in love with him, just so he could break my heart. It was random, and very unexpected. Four words was all it took to shatter my heart into a million little pieces — “I never loved you.” is what he’d said.

To make matters worse? He’d told me this right after we’d had sex. I gave myself to him. My whole self. And he took. He took and took, but never gave. He took until there was nothing left for me to give. He owned my soul, my heart, my body. He owned me, but I never owned him.

That was three days ago. Three days of crying myself to sleep, three days of not eating and drinking myself to death. Three days since I’d seen his face. I’ve tried to avoid him, but I knew I’d see him again. We live on a small fucking island for Christs sake. And he’s everywhere. He’s very well known. There’s no escaping him. And tonight proves that. He’s here. His pretty blue eyes watching me from across the room. I wish I could show him I don’t care, that he didn’t rip my fucking heart out and stomp on it…

But I can’t. I still love him.

“Are you okay?”

My best friend, Ashlyn’s, voice pulls me from the darkness I’ve allowed myself to crawl into. I slowly turn to face her, light brown eyes filled with concern intensely stare back at me.

I put on my best fake smile. “Yeah. Fine, why?”

Lie. I’m not okay, and I don’t know if I ever will be. But I can’t admit that.

She frowns. “You’re not okay though, I can see it in your eyes. Do you wanna leave? We can lea-”

I quickly cut her off. “No, no. It’s fine. Let’s just go get another drink. I’m gonna need them if I’m going to last here all night.”

Her frown deepens, but she nods her head. I internally thank the Heavens that she dropped the subject. I don’t want to talk about Rafe and how he’d absolutely obliterated my heart.

She grabs my hand, lacing her fingers with mine before pulling me off to the kitchen, and out of the eyesight of the beautiful, blue eyed man I once had all to myself.

“I’m thinking shots of fireball. Shit will get you drunk so fast.”

I laugh. “The alcohol version of red hot gum, I’m down.”

Laughing at my lame attempt at a joke, she grips the neck of the bottle, grabbing two shot glasses next and filling them both to the rim. I quickly grab mine, tossing it back and swallowing the harsh amber liquid. A shiver wracks my body as the burning liquid makes its way down my throat.

I cough, placing my hand over my stomach. “Fuck, I forget how much that shit burns.”

Ashlyn chuckles. “Yeah. But that’s what makes it great. The burn of this can help erase the burn you feel from Rafe being a royal douche.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. She’s right. I prefer the burn of the liquor over the burn of Rafe and his heartbreaking words.

She quickly fills the shot glasses again, handing me mine and watching as I down the amber liquid once more.

I slam the shot glass back on the counter. “Another, please.”

She smiles widely. “Atta girl. You’ll forget about the smug bastard by the end of the night at this rate.”

***

Ashlyn was right. I was…. twenty shots in?? I don’t fucking know, I was drunk. And I wasn’t thinking about the pretty blue eyed man.

I’m about to take another shot when a voice I didn’t want to hear anytime soon has me dropping the glass on the floor, clear liquid spilling at my feet as the glass shatters — representing my heart because of him.

“Y/N… I think you should cut yourself off and go home.. I’ll take you.”

I snap my head in his direction, those damn pretty blue eyes staring down at me. Looking at me like I actually meant something to him. Lies. He doesn’t give a fuck. He just doesn’t want me embarrassing him tonight. Fuck him.

With shaky hands, I grab another glass from the counter, my eyes never leaving his. I reach out and find the tall, glass bottle of Tito’s, pouring myself another shot and then downing it with my eyes on his.

“Fuck you, Rafe.”

He sighs, setting his beer bottle on the counter and placing his hands on my shoulders. His blue eyes search my face.

“Y/N. Please, go home. You’re drunk, and you’re hurting.”

I roll my eyes and scoff. Fuck him for trying to pretend he cares. He doesn’t give a shit about me. And I’m done caring about him.

“Stop acting like you give a fuck about me, Rafe. You dumped me. So it’s done. I just want to get drunk, and fucking forget I ever loved you.”

He glances behind me, his eyes taking in everyone that’s watching us. “Hey, can we please go talk outside?”

I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but he grabs my hand, pulling me outside. I’m so drunk I can’t fight him off. He pulls me all the way down the stairs of the front porch and down the long driveway until we reach his truck.

He opens the passenger door, tossing me inside and slamming it shut behind him. My heavy eyes watch him round the front of the truck before he hops inside the driver seat. He pulls the keys out of his pocket, sticking them into the ignition and bringing the truck to life.

I cross my arms over my chest with a huff. “Where the fuck are you taking me, Rafe?”

He glances at me from the corner of his eye before placing them back on the road. “Home.” comes his clipped answer.

I lean my head against the window. Why does he do this? He left me. Why does he care if I’m drunk at a party or not? Why can’t he just leave me alone and let me heal?

The smell of leather and his cologne fills my nose. I feel the tears begin burning the backs of my eyes, and I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. I lift my head, turning my head to the side to look at him. He still looks so good, and it hurts. He has one hand firmly gripping the steering wheel and the other lays lazily in his lap.

He has on a tight baby blue polo, and khakis with a backwards hat on. I want him to kiss me, and tell me everything will be okay. Tell me that he made a mistake and he does love me. But I know that won’t happen. He meant what he said, and there’s no getting him back, no matter how badly I want him back.

A few minutes later, he’s pulling into the driveway of my parents house. He puts the truck in park and hops out, rounding the truck to my side and opening the door for me.

He reaches his hand out, and I take it. My heart pulls in my chest at the feel of his touch again. I miss him.

He helps me out of the truck, and walks me to the front door. I turn and face him, wanting to get some things off my chest before he goes.

“Why’d you do it?” I ask softly, tears stinging at my eyes and threatening to spill.

He sighs, and the look in his eyes hold slight regret. “I can’t answer that… I just, I didn’t want to be with you anymore. And I’m sorry I hurt you in the process, but I couldn’t pretend to love you when I didn’t.”

The first tear falls, and I blink rapidly, swiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I still don’t understand what I did wrong..”

He places a hand on my shoulder, and I can’t stop the sob that is pulled from me.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N… I promise. I know this is so cliché, but it’s not you, it’s me. I just couldn’t commit.”

The tears are now flowing uncontrollably down my face and my body is shaking. I’m in pain. And he’s making it worse.

“I love you, Rafe. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m sorry.. I just can’t. You need to stop loving me.”

I choke out a sob. “I don’t want to love you anymore. But I do.”

He sighs, letting his head fall and his eyes look to the ground.

This is the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. I’m not getting him back. I’ll never have Rafe Cameron in my life again. And that thought alone has me spiraling into a depression I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back from.

“Say something, Rafe.” I choke out.

His head lifts, and his eyes find mine again. He’s went from looking regretful, to angry in just seconds.

“What do you want me to say? I left you. And now you’re showing up to my friend’s house, getting fucking wasted and causing a scene. What the fuck do you want from me? I can’t fucking force myself to love you! I just fucking can’t! I’m sorry, but that’s the fucking truth. I never fucking loved you, Y/N. Let it the fuck go.”

Another harsh sob wracks my body as I come to terms with the fact that he truly never loved me. He never cared about me. He used me, and I let him. I grab my house key out of my small purse and stick it into the lock. I push open the front door, turning to face him before I walk inside, I say, “I could have lived without knowing you never meant anything you told me. You fucking broke me, Rafe. You ruined me. A once bright and happy fucking woman, and you’ve shattered me. I fucking hate you, and I hope you’re happy. Please, just leave me the fuck alone.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I slam the door in his face, quickly locking it and sliding my back down the door until my ass hits the floor. I bring my knees up to my chest, curling in on myself. I let out a loud scream, knowing my parents aren’t home tonight. Sobs wrack my entire body and I feel the physical pain in my chest from where he once lived. He fucking broke me, and I will never forgive him for that.

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[seokgyuu]

Strawberry Wine - Part 1

Pairing: Lee Jihoon (Woozi) x Fem!Reader

Genre: Romantic Comedy, Strangers to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Fake Dating, Smut (not in this part) MDNI!

Synopsis: After breaking off your engagement to your cheating fiancé, you decide to take the planned trip to Paris anyway. A vacation alone with the honeymoon suite all to yourself seems like the perfect distraction. Just that, due to an internal error at the hotel lost soul Jihoon, who still isn't over his first love's death five years ago, is staying in the same honeymoon suite as you.

Warnings (in this part): mentions of cheating, alcohol consumption, angst, probably a not so good description of paris tbh, the word "cock" is mentioned once, slight sexual tension

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: hi everyone!! this is part one of my story for the world tour collab hostes by @svthub!! check out the masterlist here! this one is a bit of a... beginning, i guess, lol. the real drama and smut and all that will be in part two. but i still think this is a a fun part to get to know our characters! this not beta read and i might edit it later... thanks for reading i hope you enjoy <3 header & divider credit to @okiedokrie!

one; the author

The flash of the camera goes off and you’re almost sure your eyes were closed. The teenage girl next to you smiles brightly and waves at you once more before rushing off to go over to her mother. You lightly smile back and look over to your right where Minghao is giving you a thumbs up. Apparently, so you interpret his gesture, you’re holding up quite well for someone who just caught her fiancée cheating two weeks ago. 

You’re aware that you could have canceled the book signing today. No one would have been mad. But even though your heart is shattered to a million pieces and you don’t think you’ll ever heal from this hurt - you still need to earn money and make those who give you that money happy. Just sucks that the person you build this with is somewhere on the Bahamas with your biggest rival on the romance book market. Or, well, as your publisher says: your bestest friend on the romance book market. Since you’re both making money, of course. You can’t count the times you and her have been sent to events together, not saying a word to each other on the way there and playing happy family the second you are in front of the cameras. 

Her books weren’t even good! Boring and predictable if anyone asked you. Your ex had always agreed with you, even if he was her agent as well as yours. But Jaehyun was slick - he told her the same about your books. 

“Hi, oh my god, I love your books so much! I can’t wait for the next one!” It’s a boy with the brightest and whitest smile you have ever seen and for a second you can forget your sadness.

“Thank you so much. What name do you want me to sign?” 

The book signing ends about half an hour later. You’re in the car with Minghao who’s typing something on his phone as he sits in the backseat with you. 

“You did great, you know.” He says, not looking up. His words make your stomach turn uncomfortably even though you know he means well. 

“Thanks,” is your mumbled response, your head slowly turning to look out of the window. Minghao sets down his phone, realizing his words didn’t come out the way he wanted them to. He sighs.

“Best friend dearest,” he starts, “you know what I meant. Considering you have been in your room with no lights on and Adele on repeat for the last few months - you did exceptionally well socializing with people you don’t know.”

“It’s my job after all, isn’t it?” 

“No, your job is writing brilliant books, Y/N. This is just a bonus. Your books would sell wonderfully even without you doing this.”

Three months ago this would have made your chest fill with pride. You’d be beaming and agreeing with Minghao, content with your life and what you had made it to be. But now, it’s different. 

Now, all you feel is ache in your chest. No sense of pride, no smile in sight. No contentment with how your life is going. Joy has been missing in your palette of feelings for a long time. 

The city lights are what keep you awake. Exhaustion and the feeling of sadness that you have become so used to are close to make you falter, to make you want to go home and put those Adele songs right back on repeat. It’s not fair, you think. Not fair that your life was ruined this way and you can’t get back up. That all you’re able to do is live because you have to, not because you want to. And the closer July 17th comes - the more you feel yourself falling deeper into a hole. 

It’s hard to believe that three months ago you were a completely different person. A person who loved to laugh, who had fun game nights with her friends, cooked every day, went for runs in the morning, planned a wedding. You were a person who loved to love. All of this was accompanied by the person you had been sure you’d spend the rest of your life with: Jaehyun. He was tall, handsome, kind. You had met him through work - he had been assigned your agent when you switched publishers. He was your muse. Helped you with your books, made the sales sky rocket with the way he marketed you. 

For five years he was your everything. In some ways (ways you loathed) he still is. Your whole life revolved around him. Wherever you went - he did too. Whenever you fell - he was there to catch you. Nothing in the world could have ever prepared you for what was going to happen. But then again, when is someone ever prepared to be cheated on by the person they trusted the most in their life? 

To say it was a shock would be an understatement. Accidentally finding the messages he sent to her on his iPad. Confronting him and seeing his face fall, his expressions change into something you had never thought possible. He looked caught. Mainly because he was. Also because he never thought the truth would come to light. You had been the only one left in the dark. Everyone at the publishing house knew what he was doing. He and her. 

It wasn’t fair, you knew that, but in the beginning you couldn’t handle being mad at Jaehyun. Instead you focused all your anger on her, all the hurt you felt. It wasn’t like you had particularly liked her before - she was your rival, the person everyone always compared you to. She was younger than you, didn’t have as much experience - but she was more successful. At least to an extent. Her books regularly went viral on ‘booktok’, mainly because she wrote them like she worked in a factory. Every couple of months there’d be a new one - and people ate it up. You, on the other hand, liked to take your time, liked to write stories with captivating characters, with characters people could relate to - fall in love with. 

Suddenly your biggest rival became the person you hated and wanted to be like the most in the world. To be her would mean to have him. Him, who you still love so much, who still means everything. 

It is a little different now. 100 days later and you feel like you don’t love him as much anymore. Yes, it still hurts like hell and, yes, you want to stay home most of the days. But you don’t miss him as much as you used to. 

“Do you want to grab a drink?” Minghao asks now even though he already knows the answer. Gosh, you wish you could give him a yes. A smile and a yes. Instead, you only present him with the first, stretching out your hand and reaching for his.

“I need to get home, Hao. Today has been a lot.”

Minghao nods slowly, a sad smile on his pretty lips. He understands, he really does. But he also misses his happy best friend. Misses the way your eyes crinkle when you smile wholeheartedly , misses the sound of you honest laugh. No matter how many time will pass, he doesn’t think he could ever forgive Jaehyun for what he’s done to you.

Fighting with a french man on the phone at the crack of dawn surely had not been on your agenda for today. 

“I’m sorry, miss, but the cancellation period ended two weeks ago, there is nothing we can do.” 

It’s too early and you are too tired. He is probably too by now, considering he has been saying this sentence at least five times in the past seven minutes. You pull a hand through your hair and let it drop back onto the mattress after.

“My wedding isn’t happening anymore, and you really won’t let me cancel the honeymoon suite?” Usually, you’d never snap at anyone over the phone - especially custom service personnel, but this is different. What he’s implying means you won’t get any money back from one of the most expensive purchases you’ve made. Worst thing about this: you paid for this yourself. Jaehyun had paid the location - which of course could still be canceled. But the freaking hotel stay in Paris of course was set in stone! 

“I am very sorry, miss. I wish there was more that I could do. Perhaps you can take the trip yourself and enjoy our beautiful honeymoon sui-“

You hang up on him. It’s not polite, you’re aware. But just the thought of being alone in the suite you were supposed to enjoy with your freshly baked husband… no, absolutely not. Then, fine, you’d have to live with having spent thousands of dollars on a hotel suite you wouldn’t be able to use. 

As if life isn’t horrible enough already.

When you sit at brunch later that day with Minghao and your mutual friend Mingyu, they both stare at you like you’ve just told them you decided to get Jaehyun’s face tattooed on your thigh. 

“Are you kidding me? You basically get to have a Paris vacation for free for yourself!” Mingyu says, the glass of mimosa he is holding in his hand is almost spilling with the way he moves his arm. You scoff.

“What do you mean “free”? I literally paid for it months ago!” 

“Okay, and did you already make that money back?” Mingyu continues and raises his brow. You stay silent for a moment. 

The restaurant Minghao chose is filled with people enjoying the vegan food made from scratch. Your own very delicious avocado toast with a side of fresh fruit and soy-yogurt is laying in front of you, waiting to be eaten. The mimosa Minghao had ordered for you remains untouched. 

“She has.” Hao decides to answer for you as he sips from his mug of matcha. You shoot him a glare.

“So what! I’m not going to go to Paris by myself when this was supposed to be my honeymoon!” You try to stay quiet, looking from Minghao to Mingyu and back. Judging by their faces, they don’t seem to understand the big deal. 

You envy them. God, how much you wish you could just do it. Go on that already paid for vacation by yourself, not give a single damn about Jaehyun and his new girlfriend. Your heart sinks. Just thinking these words is making you feel like crawling back into bed. 

Minghao groans and puts his mug back on the table. 

“Y/N,” he starts and his voice sounds more serious than you’ve ever heard him talk before - even Mingyu seems startled, “I get it, okay? I get that he hurt you, that he made you believe in something that was never going to work. He is an asshole, if not the biggest asshole walking freely on this earth. But you’re young! You’re young and you deserve better than this! Keeping to yourself, barely leaving your apartment - your bed, honey, it’s not good for you. I understand that you want to stay away, that the world is a fucking scary place without the person you thought was your person right there next to you,” he grabs your hand over the table, “but do you know what all of this means? That your person is still out there! That you can still find them! And what better place to start than Paris, the literal city of love!”

He means well. Just like the other night after the book signing. He means well and he wants just what’s best for you. No one wants you to feel better as much as he does. Then why does it make you so mad that he is asking this of you? That he is calling you out this way? 

You pull your hand away from his and grab your purse from the free chair next to yours. Both men gawk at you, startled.

“Y/N-,” Mingyu tries, but you raise your hand to interrupt him.

“You get it, Hao? Really? Has your significant other of five years also cheated on you with your biggest rival? Did you also have to cancel a wedding you put hours and hours of work and money into? Because I don’t remember this happening to you! So, I would really appreciate it if you gave me the time I need to grieve this relationship and decide for myself when I am ready to get out again!”

Without giving them another look, you storm out of the restaurant. Everything around you is a blurr and you only notice that you’re crying when you reach your car. Cursing to yourself, you move to open your car, tears dripping from your cheeks down onto your shirt. God, what a pathetic little woman. Crying in your car after yelling at your best friends for what? For caring? For only meaning to help? 

It takes a while before you manage to start the engine and get on the road to drive home. The radio is silent and for a second you wished you could turn off your brain the same way. Just one switch and all thoughts gone. All the self doubts and the hurt, all the thoughts of what-if and the wish to travel back in time and never have you take his iPad. 

You stop at a red light and wipe away some more tears. You don’t dare to look into the mirror and check your make-up. 

Never finding the iPad, you circle back, if you had never found it, you wouldn’t be in this situation. No, you’d most likely still be in a relationship with a man that cheated on you. That didn’t love you half as much as he claimed, that didn’t deserve the time and care you’d given him. 

When the light turns green, you continue your way, your thoughts still roaming around the what if. And while your heart yearns for him back, for what you believed you had - your head knows it’s better this way. Jaehyun isn’t the one for you, as much as you would have loved him to be, Minghao is right. It’s just that the thought of starting over with someone new makes you cringe, makes fear rise within you. Someone new to give your heart to and hope they don’t break it the way Jae had. 

Once you’re on the highway you think back about the time you had decided to travel to Paris for your honeymoon. It had been your idea, your wish. Your first ever book, even if it never made it onto a bestseller list or into the mouths of the best romance critics - it was set in Paris. The city of live, the city you decided would become your favorite even though you had never been. Spending two weeks there with the love of your life after becoming his forever, seriously, nothing had ever sounded as wonderful as that. 

Minghao’s words ring in your ear. Your person is still out there, he said. And that Paris, as the city of love, would be the perfect place to go look for them. Your knuckles turn white around the steering wheel. You never wanted to spend time in Paris with anyone but Jaehyun. 

Or maybe, you think as you take the exit leading to your neighborhood, the only Person you need to spend time with in Paris is yourself. 

two; the lost soul

He never should have listened to Jeonghan. No one should ever listen to Jeonghan. The cab driver is speaking in quick french that Jihoon knows he wouldn’t understand even if he spelled out every word for him. Then again, he isn’t even sure the driver is talking to him or just about him. Jihoon can’t really blame him. After all, he is the stupid American with the stupid big guitar case and a backpack almost bigger than himself. 

The backseat is hot and Jihoon’s sunglasses do little to keep the sun from blinding him. 

Paris in the summer sounded better on paper than it does actually experiencing it. It’s nothing compared to the summer in Arizona, where Jihoon grew up, but having lived in Vermont for a while now, he wasn’t used to the burning hot, scorching sun that threatened to give him the sunburn of his life if he didn’t re-apply his sunscreen every few hours. 

Tara had always laughed at him and his easily burned skin. She never burned, no, she got a tan right away, looking beautiful in the rays of sunshine dazzling on her skin like they belonged there. 

Right now, he misses her more than he has in a while. When he passes the beautiful architecture of his first love’s favorite city, he smiles even with the sun shining directly into his eyes. 

In all seriousness, Jihoon doesn’t know why he is here. It feels wrong to be here without her, but it also felt like he had to take the invitation from his friend. She would have never forgiven him, if he let this opportunity fly. Visit the city of love, the city she had always dreamt about, he knows as wrong as it feels, it’s the right thing to do. 

A few minutes later, the cab stops in front of an old looking building. Without saying anything, the driver takes Jihoon’s Euros and drives off after heaving Jihoon’s suitcase out of his trunk. 

Jihoon looks after the car, his dark hair falling into his forehead. Once the cab takes the next corner, he looks at the building, something stirring in his stomach. This… doesn’t look like the pictures on AirBnb at all. Quickly, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, happy he booked the data package at the airport back home. Opening his app, he feels like he’s about to throw up his airplane food.

It’s not there. The apartment is gone from the app, not newly put in under a different name, not just gone because of a glitch. It’s like it never existed. Jihoon curses, moving his fingers over his screen, calling the customer service only to be met with a french speaking automatic voice that doesn’t help him in the slightest. 

Hanging up again, he stares at his phone for a few seconds. He shouldn’t have come. It feels too much like a sign. Maybe he should try changing his flight to this evening, maybe he should try to run after that cab and-

The phone in his hands rings and he quickly picks up.

“Hello?”

“Jihoonie!” It’s Jeonghan, the only reason he is in Paris in the first place, “did you make it to the city of love?”

“Yeah, and I wish I didn’t,” Jihoon mumbles in response, brushing his hair out of his face.

“Why? What happened?” Jeonghan does sound concerned, which might be a first.

“My Airbnb doesn’t exist.”

Silence. Jihoon just knows his friend is trying his hardest not to laugh. Oh, to be Yoon Jeonghann and always get entertained by his friends’ miseries. 

“Jeonghan, this isn’t funny, okay? I’m about to call another cab and get my ass back home.”

“No! No, you can’t go home! You’re here and I’m going to make sure these will be two of the most amazing weeks of your life, alright? Look, instead of home, get your ass to my hotel. I think I might have a solution for your problem.”

When Jeonghan texts him the address and Jihoon hails another cab, he doesn’t dare to hope that his friend has an actual solution. 

Perhaps Jihoon should have asked Jeonghan more thoroughly what kind of Hotel he works at. Because this looks very different to the building Jihoon just left. This is art, this is a fancy hotel in the middle of Paris’ most elegant streets, people in expensive clothes walking around Jihoon who has only a backpack and a guitar on his back. Jihoon gapes at the building, words he has read a million times suddenly filling his head, suddenly coming to life.

The façade of the hotel stands proudly on the bustling Parisian street, an exquisite testament to classical elegance and modern charm. The building’s cream-colored stonework is adorned with intricate carvings and ornate embellishments, each detail meticulously crafted to perfection. Above the entrance, a grand arch frames a large window, its glass shimmering in the soft light of the early evening.

Striped blue-and-white awnings shade the windows, their cheerful colors contrasting beautifully with the building’s stately architecture. Delicate wrought-iron balconies extend from the upper floors, offering glimpses of lush potted plants and inviting chairs, perfect for an intimate evening under the stars.

The entrance is framed by deep blue columns, and a passageway, warm light spills out from within, hinting at the luxurious interior that awaits guests. A pair of elegant lanterns flank the doorway, casting a gentle glow on the stone steps below.

Above the entrance, a crest adorned with elaborate scrollwork and a regal shield stands as a proud emblem of the hotel’s storied history. The name of the hotel is etched in graceful letters, a promise of the enchanting experience that lies within. 

He doesn’t dare to move from where he is standing. Doesn’t dare to step foot into the hotel that looks exactly the way he had envisioned the one Tara would always read to him. Goosebumps erupt all over his skin and he swears there are tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. This must be a dream, a different reality, because there is no way Jeonghan works here. 

But when Jihoon lets his eyes wander over the façade and into one of the magnificent windows - he spots his friend. Spots him on the phone behind the wooden counter, writing something down. He is here and this is real. 

So, Jihoon slowly moves. One foot before the other, eyes glued to the entrance, nis heart beating in his chest. He feels silly, but he wonders if Tara had seen this as clear as he had back when she had read the book to him over and over again. 

A welcome warmth meets Jihoon inside. It’s just as beautiful as the outside, he finds, his stomach turning over once more. 

The lobby exudes a warm, inviting glow, courtesy of the golden chandeliers that hang from the high ceilings, casting a soft light over the polished marble floors. Rich hues of deep blue and soft gold dominate the color palette, creating a sense of opulence and sophistication. Jeonghan stands behind the mahogany desk, still talking on the phone, still not spotting Jihoon. 

Jihoon, who feels so insanely out of place in his worn out jeans and the old leather jacket, with his hair unkempt and his eyebrow pierced. He moves over to the front desk, trying his hardest not to care about the stares he is getting from the people who clearly know he doesn’t actually belong here.

Jeonghan’s eyes light up when he sees him, a wide smile now on his lips as he holds up a finger as if to tell Jihoon to just be a little more patient. Jihoon carefully puts his hands on the top of the counter, his eyes roaming the lobby again. 

“Of course, we can’t wait to have you back here again so soon, Miss Jones. Have a great day, bye bye!” 

Jihoon’s eyes fly over to Jeonghan again when he hears the phone click. 

“You’re actually here!” Jeonghan’s smile grows and he moves forward to give Jihoon probably the most awkward hug of his life over the counter. Jihoon laughs at that, patting his friend on the back. 

“Well, it’s either this or the streets,” he smiles, “you never told me how… grant all of this is.” He gestures with his hands, as if to make sure Jeonghan knows he means the hotel. His blonde haired friend chuckles.

“Yeah, I thought it would come off like bragging if I did say so. I never would have heard the end of it from the boys.”

Jihoon nods. He knows exactly what Jeonghan means. Still. He can’t shake the feeling that if he had known about this… his stomach drops again.

“It’s beautiful.” Is all he eventually says, ignoring the worried look of his friend. Jihoon doesn’t know (and Jeonghan will never tell him) but there was a reason he had never mentioned this to him. 

“That, it is,” Jeonghan finally responds, wiping the worry off his face and replacing it with a broad smile, “and you will get to live here for the next two weeks!”

“I will what?!” Jihoon’s eyes widen in surprise, “Jeonghan, I can barely pay rent at home, what do you-,”

“Obviously for free, dummy,” Jeonghan chuckles, “we have a free suite that has already been paid for, full price.”

Jihoon raises his brows, his hands feeling damp on top of the fancy counter.

“How come it’s free when it’s fully paid?” He asks.

“Well, there was supposed to be a wedding and…. now there isn’t one. They didn’t meet the requirements for the full or the partial refund. So, it’s free for the next two weeks since we can’t legally double book. You want it?”

It feels a little bit too good to be true, but Jihoon is in no place to turn down Jeonghan’s offer. The little voice in his head is trying to get to him, trying to make him speak the words to himself. It tries to get him to admit that this feels a lot like fate. Like a sign from above, from Tara. He doesn’t let it get to him. He’s not ready for that, and he’s certainly not melancholic enough for thoughts like this - even as a songwriter. 

“I do, thank you, Han, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”

“Oh, most certainly sleep on the streets. Find a rat for a friend, or maybe a pigeon. They are crazy over here,” Jeonghan sings as he types something in the computer, scanning one of the key cards he takes from the drawer beneath him. Jihoon watches him with his heartbeat in his ears. 

“Yeah, never been a big fan of rats. Or pigeons.” Jihoon dares to look around the lobby again, seeing all those people living their life, probably never worried about any of the things he worries about. He wasn’t lying when he said he has trouble paying his rent. Work hasn’t been easy these days. 

“Aaaaand, here we go!” Jeonghan grins brightly, “your key, Mr. Lee.” He holds it mid air, pulling it back slightly as Jihoon is trying to grab it. The latter gives him a funny look. Jeonghan pouts as he thinks.

“That rhymes. “Your key, Mr. Lee”.” Jihoon closes his eyes for a second. Jeonghan chuckles happily.

“Watch out, I’m coming for your job.”

“Well, stop it and do yours instead,” Jihoon replies, allowing himself to grin back at his friend and take the card from his hands, “where is this suite you promised me?”

-

Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned what kind of suite this is. There is nothing Jihoon can do but stare at his surroundings with his mouth and backpack dropped, his guitar slowly sliding down his arm. 

He is in the honeymoon suite. In retrospect, it makes sense. Jeonghan did say a wedding had been canceled. 

There are three rooms. Right now, Jihoon is standing in the enormous entrance way. Golden and blue like downstairs, with wood accents, a big round table in the center of the room that connected all the different rooms, a centerpiece of flowers as beautiful as a summer day adjoining it. The walls are high and plastered with fine drawing, ornating through all of the hallway and over to the other rooms. Flowers and patterns so elegant Jihoon doesn’t know how to even describe them. 

He feels out of place as much as he feels content. Letting his luggage rest on the floor, he moves into the first room. It’s a large sitting room, probably as big as his whole apartment back at home. Two couches of rich dark blue; cushions in different colors, some of them reminding Jihoon of the ocean, some of the sky, rich blues and light blues, and then there is the color of dawn, orange and yellow. 

A majestic cremé colored carpet lays beneath the sofas, a glass table standing between them. On top of it magazine stacks and a glass tray holding what looks like whiskey and two glasses. High windows let the sun shine through and Jihoon spots a balcony leading around the living- and bedroom, holding his breath as he imagines himself out there softly strumming his guitar with a glass of whiskey or wine. His heart warms at the thought of finally having peace. Peace in the city his former lover had loved so much. 

Next up he walks into the bedroom, a king sized bed greets him with white linen covers and pillows almost as big as his torso. It looks incredibly comfortable and he couldn’t wait to lay down and relax after the day he’s had. Golden curtains sway in the wind let in by an opened window, and the view is so poetic he almost feels himself tear up. Quickly, he looks away and instead finds his way into the master bathroom. It’s all held in gold as well, gold and white for a change, an enormous tub next to a high rain shower behind a glass wall. He sighs.

This is perfect. And he most definitely needs a shower right now. 

So, he retraces his steps and grabs his luggage, setting everything down next to the bed and letting his guitar rest in the corner of the room. He decides to actually unpack his backpack that probably doesn’t even hold as much clothes as he probably needs for this trip (he did think he had a washer, though) and places everything in the large closet opposite the bed. 

Finding himself humming, Jihoon allows a little bit more of that earlier peace to find place in his head and heart. Perhaps there is no reason for him to be worried - to look for something to go terribly wrong on this trip. Jeonghan is off work by now, and they’ll go catch dinner together, then he’ll come back here and maybe watch a movie, fall asleep to the sound of Paris outside his window. He doesn’t know what it sounds like just yet, but he’s already excited to find out. 

Ridding himself of his clothes and feeling another threat of tears when he touches the towels hanging in the bathroom, Jihoon finally lets himself step into the shower and wash all of his worries away. 

three; the mix-up

You don’t think your heart has ever beaten as fast as it does when you walk out the Charles de Gaulle airport and right into the arms of the driver Minghao has arranged for you. It’s not about the driver or the airport - but where you are. 

Paris, the city of love, the city you feared to visit after what had happened with Jae. Yet, here you stand. Handing the driver your luggage and fishing for your phone in your purse, texting Minghao you already found your driver and are now on the way to the hotel. It all feels surreal and like you’re going to wake up any second.

Minghao forgave you without hesitation. Hugged you close to his chest and cried with you as you told him you were sorry and that he was right. You needed to do this - needed to face your demons. Together, the two of you had finalized the plans, popping open a bottle of expensive champagne and gossiping about Jaehyun and who he left you for. Little by little, you knew, you would find yourself again. And perhaps Paris was the perfect way to start. 

The drive from the airport to the hotel was spent staring out the window. First you saw the highway leading from the airport to the city - greenery with trees on each side, all passing by you in a blurr. And then the beautiful streets of Paris. The fine architecture, the elegant bridges over the Seine. Heart warming at the sight of the city you dreamt about so much. Your first ever book had taken place right here, you had let your main characters kiss for the first time right there on that bridge leading from one side of Paris to the other, so close to the Louvre, to the glass pyramid you made them fight and make up all the same, just months apart. The sun is dazzling onto the dark water of the river, light dancing on the surface. 

The driver comes to a stop in front of the hotel about 45 minutes after your departure from Charles de Gaulle. He holds open the door for you and helps you out of the car, smiling at you warmly and finally getting your bags out of the trunk. You thank him in some broken French and he nods at you before finding his way back to the driver’s seat. 

One of the bell-boys spot you right when you walk in, their English sounding a bit like your French just now. You thank them and hand over your luggage, letting them help you carry it to the mahogany reception.

It is exactly like you remember it. You had never seen it in person, no. But you’ve found this hotel during your research, falling in love with it right away. It was a no-brainer that your honeymoon was to be held here. 

You felt overwhelmed at the sight of the colors you had tried so hard to bring to paper, at the sound of soft music in the background, at the knowledge this was real and you were gonna stay here for two whole weeks. 

Finally, you reach the counter where a small man stands and smiles up at you, his hair styled back.

“Welcome, how can I help you?” He says in perfect English and you place your hands on top of the counter.

“Hi,” you tell him your name, “I have a reservation.”

The man nods, looking up the reservation and finding it right away. Not marked as checked in, he notes and gives you another big smile.

“It is wonderful to have you, Miss. Will your husband be joining you?” 

You expected as much. While it does hurt a little, having to say these next words, you know it’s a step in the right direction.

“I will be staying here alone, thank you.”

It is more beautiful than you could have imagined and it takes you a whole lot not to start crying. Your luggage gets brought up by the nice bell-boys and you thank them by tipping them each 50 Euros. Their smiles make the loss of the money worthwhile. 

Once the door closes behind them, you dare to look around. See the beautiful entrance way in all its glory. See the living room in all it’s elegance, the high ceiling and windows, the smaller bedroom with a queen sized bed and a little reading nook, two ceiling high bookshelves standing around a comfortable looking loveseat. This must be what heaven looks like. 

There is nothing that can wipe that smile off your face. Everything inside you tingles with happy excitement, moving to go look at the master bedroom with the on-suite bathroom you remembered staring at for at least five minutes when you booked the room. Imagining yourself in the enormous bathtub with a glass of champagne and classical music playing, letting all the stress and hurt from the past months fade away with the notes. 

You don’t notice the closet and how there are clothes hanging inside it. Neither do you see the guitar case in the corner of the room. It fascinates you - how your mind tricks you into thinking you already hear the sound of water running, accompanied by humming along to a tune. Magnificent, what the mind can do. 

When you finally reach for the doorknob to push it down, yanking the door open in one swift move, you realize perhaps your mind isn’t as magnificent as you thought.

Jihoon doesn’t notice you until you scream. He swirls around, which is inherently a foolish thing to do inside a wet, slippery shower, his eyes widening whe spots you, reacting to your scream by screaming himself. He realizes he’s naked and tries to find something to cover him, taking a step forward to reach for the towel and forgetting there is literally a glass wall separating you two. 

Watching the man walk face-first into the glass and stumbling back, slipping on the wet floors and falling onto his ass would have made you laugh if it wasn’t inside your shower. 

“What the hell!” You yell, turning around so you don’t look at the naked man any longer.

“Who are you?!” He yells back and you almost gasp.

“I should ask you that!”

The two of you need to yell because Jihoon has not yet managed to turn the shower off. Only now does he (while rubbing his hurting back) get up, struggling in the process, his hand finding the lever to turn off the water. His nose hurts and his ass and his back. 

He moves out of the shower without running into glass this time, and wraps one of the soft towels around his waist. 

“I’m Jihoon,” he finally says. You think you’re suddenly stuck in a really bad movie.

“That- you’re telling me your name?!” You turn around again, staring at the stranger with disbelief in your eyes. 

“You did ask who I was, didn’t you?”

For a few moments the two of you continue to stare at each other. With every passing second you notice just how naked he is. Yes, there is a towel around him now, but you certainly did not… miss what was under there when you first walked in. As much as you don’t want to, your eyes scan the stranger, or well, Jihoon as he told you, stopping at his wet torso, the defined abs and the broad chest. He might be small in height but the rest of him seems… big. 

You swallow.

“If you’re done checking me out, would you mind telling me why you’re in my room?”

Heat spreads through your body and right into your face, your eyes jumping from his torso to his face.

“Your room? I’m sorry, this is my room!”

While Jihoon did hit his head, he isn’t hurt enough not to understand that you’re most likely telling the truth. But Jeonghan had said the wedding was off… that you wouldn’t come here. So, why on earth, where you here?

“I- I can explain,” he begins, taking a step forward only for you to take a step backward. He holds out his hand as if to signal he wasn’t going to do anything.

“Go right ahead,” you hate that your voice is shaking, but it’s not like it is an everyday occurrence you find a beautiful stranger in your hotel room. If this wasn’t your actual life but a book this might have been sexy, might have led to the bed behind you finding the two strangers entangled, giving in to the sexual tension between them. Not that there was any of that in this situation.

“My friend, Jeonghan, he- he works here. He told me this suite wouldn’t be used and so I- well he asked me if I wanted to stay here for my trip after I told him my airbnb didn’t actually exist and I needed a, uh, a place to stay.”

You blink at him.

“He just- he gave you my honeymoon suite for free?

Jihoon swallows.

“Well…,” he thinks a little longer on his answer, “yes. Yes, he did.”

Telling the truth is probably his best bet. 

You take a deep breath, turning away from him, clenching and unclenching your hands.

“As you can see, I am here. So, please, find somewhere else to stay.”

Jihoon saw it coming, obviously. It was all too good to be true. Without saying anything else, he walks over to the closet, ready to dress himself. Just that he didn’t quite calculate the new luggage now laying in front of the bed. 

It all seems to happen in slow motion.

Jihoon tripping over your suitcase, his hands desperate trying to find something to hold on to before he falls. As if on reflex, you grab his arm, yanking him up so he doesn’t fall flatly on his face, just that you somehow manage to yank him so hard, you fall off balance. With a high pitched squeak, you fall onto the bed, Jihoon landing on top of you, his towel falling off in the process of the fall and save. 

A naked man is on top of you, brown eyes wide with shock staring into yours. His hands somehow moved right to the sides of your head as if to catch himself from falling even further on top of you. 

You can feel him. Feel his breath on your face, his skin on yours, his friend against your thigh. More heat rises, your face, your neck, your chest, your core. It’s bad. This shouldn’t be happening right now. 

The two of you are so engulfed in the moment, you don’t even realize when the door opens yet again. When voices you would normally recognize without trouble seem to fail your ears this time. Jihoon’s face so close to yours - way too distracting.

“What the fuck?!” 

Realization hits you at the same time as recognition and you gasp, your knee coming up, right into Jihoon’s lower parts, a yelp escaping him as he slides off the bed, hands now covering his private area and his face in a grimace of sheer pain. 

You don’t even notice it. Not really, at least. Now it’s not his face that’s distracting you but the one you used to love for so many years.

“Jaehyun?” You whisper. And for a second you think he came here to make amends, to win you back, to get on his knees and apologize - then you spot her walking in, her eyes scanning the room with distaste. 

“Who is that?” Jaehyun asks and you feel your blood boil. 

“What are you doing here?” You ignore his question. He isn’t looking at you, but at Jihoon still on the floor. 

“Oh, well, you know. We thought that it would be such a waste to let this suite go to waste,” it is her who answers you now, her deep red manicured hands now curling around Jaehyun’s biceps. 

This bitch. Your blood starts boiling. Anger makes you see red. 

“You brought her here?” You hiss at Jaehyun who has the decency to look guilty at least. You snort. Then, your eyes find Jihoon who’s still on the ground, Jihoon who is still naked. Jihoon, who desperately needs a place to stay. 

God knows what makes you do what you do next. Desperation? Foolery? Who knows. But you move to help Jihoon up, grabbing the towel and holding it in front of his lower half. 

“Y/N,” Jaehyun starts but you interrupt him.

“I see that we both had the idea to bring our new partners, or in your case old partner, to the suite we booked together, Jae. But since I was the one who paid for it, I would kindly ask you to leave.”

New partner. Jihoon needs a few seconds before he grasps what you just said. 

“New- new what?” He mumbles, but you clear your throat to drown out his voice. Jaehyun’s face is priceless and you don’t want the bluff to be uncovered so quickly.

“That is your new boyfriend?” She asks, her brows raised. You can see that she’s checking him out - his abs, his cest, his pretty face. It makes your insides turn with hatred and disgust. 

“Got a problem, Sierra?” You reply, your jaw tense. Her eyes only briefly meet yours.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m glad to see you finally got out of that moping phase, honey. It really didn’t suit you.” 

Your grip around the towel tightens. 

Slowly, Jihoon begins to understand what is going on. Who these people are. There was supposed to be a wedding and a honeymoon, but neither of these happened. You are the bride, or well, were supposed to be the bride. And he, the man you called Jaehyun and who had caused all the color to fade from your face, surely seems to be the groom who… never got to be the groom. And judging by the way you reacted to him and her, he guesses the reason the wedding didn’t happen was… the woman you’d called Sierra. 

Blinking a few times, Jihoon realized that you were trying to convince him that he was your new boyfriend. That you had brought him here, to this hotel. It was ridiculous and straight out of a bad movie, but somehow… even if he didn’t know you, he felt like he should help you. And so, he let his arm wrap around your waist, catching you by surprise. 

“I would kindly ask you to leave us be. You have done enough.”

Your head swirled to look at the man next to you. His stern face and his wet hair. Drops of water sliding down the side of his neck. 

“How long has this been going on?” Jaehyun asks, ignoring Jihoon’s request. You turn to look at him again.

“That’s none of your business. You heard him, Jae. Leave. This isn’t your room anymore.”

Another beat of silence falls between the four of you. You try your best to ignore Sierra and cling onto Jihoon’s hand like it was the only saving grace. Perhaps that was true. Holding Jae’s gaze and trying to calm down your hurting heart, your wishes to throw something at him. 

“Fine. I heard the honeymoon suite in the Hilton is much nicer than this one, baby.”

It is then that you see it. The rings on her finger. Your stomach drops. He married her. Oh, you’re about to throw up. Jihoon seems to notice your change of emotions, quickly clearing his throat.

“Great. Have fun in Paris then.” 

He carefully takes the towel from your hand, wrapping it around him fully again. Then, he looks at you. The overwhelming urge to give you a hug is almost unbearable.

“Maybe,” Jaehyun said, “since we are both seeing other people and have moved on - we could grab dinner sometime this week. All of us.”

Jihoon sees the way your eyes shake at the suggestion. And he is just about to say no, that that’s not a good idea, when you push your shoulder back and hold your head high.

“What a lovely idea. We’d love to, isn’t that right, baby?” You interlock your fingers with Jihoon’s and he stares at you for just a second, before nodding.

“Sure,” he breathes out, looking at Jaehyun and Sierra. 

It most certainly isn’t a lovely idea, he is well aware of that. This whole thing isn’t a good idea. But here he is. Holding the hand of a woman he barely met twenty minutes ago. A woman who has seen him naked, a woman who had his half hard cock against the inside of her thigh. A woman he had been closer to than any other in the last five years. 

No, this wasn’t a good idea. This was an awful, horrible idea that could only go so, so wrong. 

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

You

So I went from listening to "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry (because it was stuck in my head for some reason) to listening to Burying the Dead by Kevin Kiner from Star Wars The Clone Wars and all I could feel was angst. Obviously I have to pass it on.

Summary: Astarion realises he's known all along what it means to live, all thanks to you

He can feel the stickiness of the liquid sandwiched between your palms, feel it sliding down his wrist and trail along his forearm. He can feel your hand slowly slipping from his grip, your fingers weakly grasping at his palm for purchase, unwilling to let go. He doesn't want to let go either, but your ragged breaths remind him of the pain you're in, the hurt in your eyes tearing his soul apart.

"It's alright, love. Everything's going to be alright." A lie. He bites down hard on his bottom lip, feeling tears prick the corners of his eyes and swallows as hard as he can, willing his sorrow away.

Just endure it for a while. Until they move on.

Your chest is barely moving, crimson bubbling from your lips as you desperately suck in whatever air your weakening lungs can. Your eyelids flutter, your body fighting to shut down and Astarion has to force his hands to stop trembling, his undead heart crying out with each weak gasp that slips from your fading body.

He brings your bloody hand to his lips, hating the way the sweet taste floods his mouth. The smell fills his nose and his fangs reveal themselves, his body urging him to drink but he forces his mouth shut, pushing down the hunger that threatens to take over.

Your lips move, but Astarion can't make any of them out, rendering your final words lost forever. His hand shakes as it clasps tightly around the hilt of his dagger, his eyes squeeze shut as he inhales deeply. He can't do this, he can't.

He can't kill you. But he has to.

His dagger trembles as its tip hovers over your heart, the steel of the blade reflecting the setting sun. The evening sunlight casts a beautiful yet saddening glow over you, framing you in its radiance like it has a thousand times before, but today is the last time he will ever see you bask in the sun.

The poison has chewed its way through almost your entire body, your pained laboured breathing is all that remains. He has to do it now, put you out of your misery or the poison will drag your suffering out until your lose your mind, and he can't let that happen.

His fingers tighten around the hilt, hoping that it will stop the dagger from shaking so much and forces his hand to move downwards.

One strike and it will all be over. One strike and you wouldn't have to suffer any longer.

Blood springs forth from the new well he has created and he gags. He loves your blood, yes, that is an undisputed fact. It nourishes him, tastes absolutely divine, but only when it's you giving your blood of your own accord. Not like this, not when it's being poured out all over the ground, not when it steals you away from him.

He watches as your body twitches for the last time and hears your last breath leave your lips, a quiet thank you for everything he's done. He stares blankly at your now dead body, mind and body numb to the core.

Where does he go from here?

He sits on his heels, feeling the pent up tears trickling down his cheeks. It starts out with quiet sobs, soft whispers of words he never got to say to you that grow louder as he starts to cry, his heart shattering into a million pieces. Reality hits him hard. You're gone now, forever. He will never see your radiant smile again, never hear your melodious laugh again, never feel the warmth of your skin as you hold his hand tightly, never feel the softness of your lips, never…never see you again.

He wails out his agony to the deaf gods above, the tears flowing freely as he curses the hand he's been dealt, wanting nothing more than to have you back. He'd made a promise to you, to always be by your side, to never leave you but that promise lies broken at his feet, buried beneath the dirt you too will soon lie under. He will live on, alone once again, with the weight of world crushing him.

He cries until he has nothing left to give, cradling your now cold body against his chest, and feels exhaustion taking over. The sun has set, turning the sky pitch black with few twinkles from the stars above. He remains where he is, kneeling in the bloodstained dirt surrounded by the forest and the creatures that inhabit it, holding your cold corpse tightly and ignoring his body's call to rest. He doesn't want to rest, he wants you, he wants your warmth.

He wants this all to end.

He contemplates the idea, nearly giving in when a familiar whisper pulls him back from the brink.

"I want you to live."

He lets out a pained chuckle, even in death you're still there for him, catching him when he falls. He remembers exactly when you had said those words. It had been at his tent after everyone else had fallen asleep, under the moonlit sky as the campfire was fading out. You'd held his hand in yours, a fiery earnest look in your eyes as you delcared out loud that you didn't want his body in exchange for keeping him around.

"I want you to live. That's all. What living means to you, I don't know, but I suppose that's what life is for, to find out what all these fancy words mean. I know you'll find it, you're the kind of person who will."

He presses his forehead against yours, drawing a shaky breath and closes his eyes. He steadies himself and lets the breath out, opening his eyes to take in the sight before him.

"Darling, I…" His throat clogs. This is stupid, he's talking to a corpse. You can't hear him anymore, you're dead. His words will never reach you, but he has to get this weight off his chest, and maybe by some miracle your soul will hear what he has to say. He regrets not being able to tell you this while you were alive, but he supposes it's better late than never. Besides, it's more than just words he wanted to say to you, it's a declaration to himself, a reaffirmation of what he's discovered alongside you.

"I've found out what it means to live. It's more than just staying alive, more than just waking up to the next day. It's making my own decisions, choosing what I want to do, knowing who I am and who I want to be. You've taught me all that, you've shown me what it's like to live, and I…I thank you for that. It's because of you that I'm free from the shackles of my past, it's because of you that I know the path I should take. I owe you so much, more than I've been able to repay you, but knowing you, you don't care about it."

Astarion lets out a huff of amusement, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"Still though, love. You could've asked anyone else to ease your suffering. It's not fair, to make your beloved vampire do all the work."

He looks to the sky, wondering if you're able to see him through all the damn clouds and laughs. He can't stop laughing at the absurdity of it all. The laughter soon turns to sobs, fresh tears dripping onto your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, darling."

[solarecliipse]

if i dare to say !

akaashi keiji x reader.

a/n: sooo my laptop got broke, and i had a hard time getting it repaired, which is why this one's coming like a week later than it was suppossed to, but here it is! in some days i'll have the kageyama x reader too, so keep your eyes open. make sure to take care of yourselfs and get enough sleep :)

you can still remember the way he looked at you that day, eyes cold and distant, like a stranger wearing the face of someone you used to know. the words he said, the way he broke you apart, still echoes in your mind like a song stuck on repeat.

“it’s not working,” he had said, his voice devoid of the warmth that once embraced you. “we need to end this.”

you had asked him why, your voice trembling, but he only shook his head, refusing to give out any real answer. “it’s just better this way,” he had said. And then he walked away, leaving you standing there, with your soul shattered into a million pieces.

for weeks, you tried to understand what went wrong, replaying every moment in your head, searching for signs that you might have missed, but all you could find was more pain, more confusion, until you couldn’t take it anymore. you had to let go, even if you didn’t have all the answers.

months passed, and the wounds he left behind began to heal, slowly and painfully. you forced yourself to move on, to build a life that didn’t revolve around him. you surrounded yourself with friends, threw yourself into your work, and even began to rediscover the things that used to make you happy before he came into your life. it wasn’t easy, and there were days when the ache in your chest felt like it would never go away, but you kept pushing forward, determined to find yourself again, to be whole without him, even if it meant staying away from the things you shared.

and just when you thought you were finally getting there, he came back.

you were sitting at a café with a friend, yukie, laughing over some silly story she was telling you, when you saw him. he walked in as if he belonged there, as if he hadn’t ripped your heart out and left you to pick up the pieces alone. 

you froze, laughter dying in my throat. yukie noticed the change of demeanor and followed your gaze. “oh no,” she muttered.

 “what’s he doing here?” you ask in a hoarse voice.

“i don’t know”

he hadn’t seen you yet, and you had half a mind to slip out before he did, but it was too late. your eyes met across the room, and his face lit up with a smile that made your stomach churn.

he walked over, and you couldn’t help but notice that he looked just the same. same tousled hair, same easy smile, as if no time had passed, as if nothing had changed, but everything had changed. at least for you.

“hey,” he said, his voice annoyingly casual. “it’s been a while.”

“yeah,” you replied, your tone clipped. you wanted to say something more, something sharp and biting, but couldn’t find the words.

yukie glanced between you, clearly uncomfortable. “i’ll, uh, leave you two to talk,” she said, grabbing her purse and giving you a look that said, call me if you need an escape. you nodded, appreciating her unspoken offer, but stayed put. even if it hurt, you needed to hear what he had to say.

“so,” he began, once yukie was gone, “how have you been?”

you stared at him, incredulous. “how do you think i’ve been?” you asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

he winced, as if the words had physically hurt him. “i know, i know. i messed up, okay? but I’ve been thinking about things, and i realized that i want us to be friends again.”

friends. the word hung in the air between you, heavy and unwelcome. you almost laughed at the absurdity of it. “you can’t be serious,” you spat, crossing your arms over your chest.

“i am,” he insisted, leaning forward as if that would make his words more convincing. “i miss you. i miss us.”

“us?” you echoed, shaking your head. “there is no ‘us’ anymore, remember? you made sure of that.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i know i screwed up, and i’m sorry for that, but I was going through a lot, and i didn’t know how to deal with it. breaking up was a mistake, i see that now.”

a mistake. that’s what he called it? a simple mistake, like forgetting to return a phone call or misplacing your keys. not the complete and utter devastation of someone’s trust and heart.

“well, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” you said, voice shaking. “you didn’t just hurt me, you broke me, and now you think we can just go back to being friends, like nothing happened?”

“i’m not saying we can go back to how things were,” he said quickly. “i just… i miss having you in my life. can’t we at least try?”

you looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, didn’t feel that old, familiar pull. the one that used to make you forgive him for everything, that made you overlook the things that hurt. instead, all you could feel was exhaustion, you were tired of fighting for something that was already dead.

“i don’t think we can,” you said quietly, finally admitting the truth to both of you. “too much has happened, and i’ve changed. i’m not the same person you left behind, and i don’t think you are either.”

he looked at you, his expression a mix of regret and something else you couldn’t quite place. “i understand,” he said after a long pause. “i guess i just hoped…”

“yeah,” you cut in, not wanting to hear whatever hope he had been holding on to. “well, we can’t always get what we want.”

he nodded, standing up slowly. “i’m really sorry,” he said, and for the first time, it was like he actually meant it. “for everything.”

you didn’t answer, instead looking away. what was there left to say? he lingered for a moment, as if waiting for you to change your mind, but when you didn’t, he finally walked away.

after he left, you sat there for a long time, staring at the empty seat across from you. and you should have felt relieved, maybe even proud of yourself for standing your ground, but all you could feel was a deep, aching sadness.

[mrshesh]

thinking about "the distraught father adopting an orphan daughter" trope but with price and ghost :( like imagine, the reader is a younger girl in the task force, and she has kind of become like a daughter to them but they've never really disclosed it, and one day she just mutters "i love you, dad" to them (individually) :(( how do you think they'd react?

"i love you, dad." - simon "ghost" riley x reader

overview: calling simon "ghost" riley dad for the first time

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gender neutral reader, platonic

genre: fluff, angst

a/n: hi anon! i looooove this request :( i've actually been thinking of this exact scenario for sooo long! however, i couldn't really think of anything for price. so if someone can help me out by sending some ideas & headcanons to me privately, i will make a price version asap! and, as much as i love the father-daughter trope, i decided to keep this gender neutral, so everyone can feel included. i hope you love it.

TW! mentions of abuse and torture. proceed with caution.

Simon’s father was the devil personified. His dad is the epitome of evil to him, even more so than his captor, Roba. He cringes when he sees a dad and son being affectionate with each other in public - it pains him to think about what could’ve been, how he could’ve turned out. He knows most of his trauma stems from the abuse his father put him through, which has forever shattered the image of fatherhood in his mind. 

That is until you came along. 

Simon immediately felt drawn to you when you joined the Task Force. Being the youngest member had difficulties, yet you took it like a champ and kept toiling while still being so bright, colorful, and full of life. He admired that about you. 

He found himself worrying for you more than he liked. If you were reckless on a mission, he’d pull you aside and yell at you, scolding you for pulling such stupid stunts at the risk of your being. But after every talking-to, he’d give you a gentle pat on the head with shaky hands. “You need to be more careful, mate.” He’d mutter, feeling a pit in his stomach. Why does he care so much? And why does he feel the need to protect you? 

He would keep an eye on you at all times. He’d ensure nobody got too touchy with you and that everybody on base treats you with the respect you deserve. If he saw you getting mistreated, he would use his authority to punish the person hurting you. He would then turn to you, his eyes softening as he stares at you through his balaclava. “You tell me if anyone’s hurting you, alright?” 

The day Simon realizes he loves you like his own child is the day you open up about your past to him. At this point, you’ve known each other for a few years. 

He has always known that he has a special love for you, but he never came to terms with it until this day. 

When you tell him about all your painful experiences in life, he can feel his heart tear open and get shredded into millions of pieces. Regardless of what you’ve been through, his soul aches for you. That day was the first time Simon ever hugged you, and he vouched to care and be there for you as long as he was breathing. 

Today, you’ve had a difficult time falling asleep. Tossing and turning in bed can only get you so far, and the thought of drinking warm milk at this time makes you physically ill. You’re in the comfort of your room, but you don’t feel the amenity. You need someone to talk to. 

You know that Simon is usually up during this time - he who deserves sleep the most gets it the least. Insomnia’s a bitch. 

You decide to send him a text. 

You: “You up?” Read, 3:38 AM.  Simon: “Yeah. Why are you awake?” Read, 3:38 AM.  You: “Can’t sleep. Your sleeping habits have rubbed off on me.” Read, 3:39 AM.  Simon: “Welcome to my world.” Read, 3:39 AM.  Simon: “Is everything okay, though?” Read, 3:39 AM. You: “Yep. Just need someone to talk to, that’s all.” Read, 3:39 AM. Simon: “So you decide to text me?” Read, 3:40 AM. You: “I would’ve texted Johnny, but he fell asleep at midnight.” Read, 3:40 AM. Simon: “What’s so wrong with me?” Read, 3:40 AM. You: “You’re a grumpy, old man.” Read, 3:41 AM.  Simon: “Thanks, mate. 🐶” Read, 3:41 AM. You: “You’re welcome.” Read, 3:41 AM.  You: “Don’t worry, though. I like that about you.” Read, 3:42 AM.  Simon: “Not enough to be your first texting option.” Read, 3:42 AM.  You: “Don’t hyper-fixate on that, I’m begging.” Read, 3:42 AM.  Simon: “It’s funny.” Read, 3:42 AM. You: “It’s not. 🙄 It’s so boring I’m starting to feel sleepy, actually.” Read, 3:43 AM. Simon: “That’s good. Go to sleep, mate.” Read, 3:43 AM. You: “Yeah, might as well. You should sleep, too.” Read, 3:43 AM.  Simon: “I’ll try.” Read, 3:43 AM.  Simon: “Goodnight.” Read, 3:44 AM. You: “Night. I love you, Dad. ❤️” Read, 3:44 AM.  You: “Hold on, before you go! I have a question.” Read, 3:44 AM. You: “Hello?” Delivered, 3:50 AM.  You: “Simon?” Delivered, 3:55 AM.  You: “Did you fall asleep?” Delivered, 4:01 AM.

You sit in your bed anxiously, not knowing whether you fucked up. You know Simon had a rough past with this father, but you didn’t even think about that when you sent that text. You feel an instant regret wash over you, rereading your messages hundreds of times, hoping Simon will open them. 

Your spiral of uneasiness is interrupted by a hurried knock on the door of your room. You can hear breathing, almost panting, through the door - you immediately know it’s Simon. 

You walk to the door, hesitantly opening it, only to be met by Simon’s bare, tear-stained face, and the whites of his eyes have turned a bright red. You stare at him in shock, only stepping aside to let him in your room. 

You close the door behind you after he enters your accommodation, and you turn to look at him right away. Your eyes meet instantly, and you feel a cloud of shame pour down on you, coating you in an aura of grief. “I’m sorry.” You instantly whisper, and your own eyes sting. “I shouldn’t have… said that.” 

He doesn’t respond, only looking at you as if you’re the only matter in the universe. Everything else has become nonexistent - a vacuum. 

“No.” He sniffles, stepping closer toward you. He had a panic attack right after you called him dad - and you know it. “No.” He repeats, his tears spilling out of his eyes. “Don’t be sorry.” He whispers. He reaches out to you hesitantly, his trembling hands gently gripping your shoulders. He holds them there for a few seconds, getting used to the feeling. 

Before you know it, he pulls you into him, burying his face in the crook of your neck and weeping quietly into you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him cry. Ever. 

He’s stiff as he embraces you, his shaking body telling you everything you need to know. Your heart breaks for him, resulting in you biting back your tears - you’ve got to be strong for him. But you can’t.

You let your sobs fill the air, your arms wrapping around him to hold him close to you. 

You stay in each other’s embrace, pouring out your emotions for one another. You don’t even dare to speak until Simon has calmed down slightly, his breathing getting slower and softer. 

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, kid. More than you know.”

[angxlofvenus]

A Shoulder To Cry On Pt. 2

Requested By: @saturnsapothecary Genre: Hurt/comfort Ship: Side Characters x reader TW: Mentions of crying, physical touch, Distressing situations (not specific), hugging, mentions of kissing, sad Solomon, Word count: 805 words AN: Hi! This is the second installment in this, This one is sad just like the last one and has some depressing topis, please heed the TW and happy reading!!

Find Pt. 1 Here! (Demon Brothers edition!)

Diavolo

You can hear this man's heart shatter into a million tiny pieces

He just wanted to surprise you at the HoL but he never expected to see this!

Runs up to you and kneels in front of you, “What’s wrong, my dear?” 

He doesn’t have much experience with consoling people but everything comes to him so naturally as he gently lifts you from the ground and brings you to your feet before asking you to accompany him to the castle

Once you all arrive, He’ll send Barbatos to start you a bath and will try to make your stay as comfortable and luxurious as you let him.

Unlike the others he actually can do something about your problem, He is the prince, One day king, of the Devildom- He has a lot on his plate but you will always be his top priority no matter what.

Barbatos

He had come over with Dia to attend a meeting with Lucifer, While the two conversed he decided to pay a quick visit to you, Not knowing what he would discover,

A soft gasp resounded throughout the room as light steps, almost like a ghost grew nearer and nearer.

His presence would almost dance around you as his eyes took in your being, Looking for signs of wounds or anything else that the naked eye could find.

Very slowly, a gloved hand would take your face, No words were spoken as he looked into your eyes, His hand would curve around your arm and gently rise your body up before creating a portal to lead you to the HoL, Sending a quick text to Lucifer and Diavolo of you whereabouts

He’d lead you to a couch in a private sitting room before disappearing for a couple of minutes, coming back with tea and a large box of things, He’d set the tea and other assortments down on the coffee table.

He would settle himself beside you at a comfortable distance, Just in case, Before pulling things out of the box, Tissues, A blanket, etc 

He’d bundle you up and would start preparing the tea as he’d let you talk about the situation/anything you’d want to talk about

He isn’t allowed to fix tiny things with his powers, But he will always be there for you- no matter the outcome.

Simeon

Oh this sweet angel

He could probably feel your distress through the door

One of the only people to actually know what to do, He is an angel who not only is raising another angel but is also a very naturally nurturing person

He is by your side before you can even register that he’s there, His presence washes over you like the sun as he immediately frets over you in a soft tone

You get to your feet with his help, He leads you to the bed before tucking you in with a soft hand running over your forehead (He would also kiss your forehead if you’d like)

Sleep takes over your tired state as he whispers reassurances and praise to you, He is a warm soul and will help you in any way he can

Solomon

He was just returning a book he had borrowed when he saw you.

His entire body stiffens up as your own racks with sobs

“Mc..?” he says in a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear

You meet his eyes, Swirls of grey remorse float through his eyes as he tries to understand what he’s seeing

He lingers near the door as he watches you try to get yourself together, Unsure of what to do.

“I-How can I help?” Your eyes will meet his again as he searches for an answer.

Whatever you want at that moment, He’ll do. If you want to talk, He’s all ears, If you want comfort, His body will slowly unwind- muscles untensing, as your bodies melted together

He is in a world up against demons and angels alike, fighting over your attention daily. But if he can be there for you in these moments, Minds so close together, Him helping you, That would be enough.

Luke

“Mc!-” The boy would say cheerfully as he entered, Once he saw you though, Whole demeanor change.

A little gasp leaves him before he runs towards you, Immediately looking you over, “What have those demons done to you!?” 

Please reassure him that everything is okay, This boy is jumping to conclusions as soon as he sees your face

He will hug you tightly as tears well up in his eyes, What can he do to make it better? He just wants you happy- You don’t deserve this!

Will invite you to come and de-stress at the Purgatory hall by baking with him.

Will definitely be over protective of you for a couple weeks after that

[1arkspur-aconitum]

DEAD AND GONE (s.r.)

SOULS OF POETS DEAD AND GONE, WHAT ELYSIUM HAVE YOU KNOWN?

[PART TWO OF THREE]

IN WHICH: Spencer apologises for his reaction to finding out her previous profession, then has a very curious request...

PAIRING: Season3!SpencerReid/Fem!BAU!OC

CATEGORY: Comfort, fluff

CONTENT: swearing, classic BAU violence, established secret relationship, Spencer being awkward (as usual), very brief discussions of drug and alcohol addiction, discussions of death of a former lover, suggestive themes (16+)

WORD COUNT: 6k

PUBLISHED: 16/10/2024

I BARELY SPEAK TO him the next day.

In fact, I think I said a grand total of three words to him–nothing more than required, nothing at all like our usual long, babbling conversations. No, I avoided him ferociously, like he’s a rat and it’s 1348 in London.

Thankfully for me, Hotch put me with Emily out in the field rather than doing the geographical profile with Spencer. I wonder if Derek spoke to Hotch, but that might be doing Aaron Hotchner a disservice. He is a master profiler, afterall.

Spencer knocked on my door last night, not long after I had fled the bar, but I didn’t open it. I couldn’t. His words hounded me into what meagre sleep I could manage, pounding through my head as I took a shower, bruising into that soft spot in the centre of my chest I reserved only for him. All I could hear since he uttered it was him calling me disgusting. 

I know that I should try my best to get over it. Should focus on solving the case rather than on what my boyfriend thinks of my past. Emily spent a considerable chunk of time trying to reassure me that there is nothing for me to be ashamed of, but I don’t know anymore. The way he said it, spat it, still has its claws deep within my self doubt.

Coming from anyone else, I might’ve been able to brush it off, but coming from Spencer, the one person I thought would never judge me, would never hurt me? It’s proving harder to handle.

Spencer, to his credit, gives me my space. He doesn’t try to talk to me any more than necessary, doesn’t corner me somewhere to demand a conversation. Yet I do feel his eyes on me more than anyone else’s.

He watches me with that annoying carefully guarded expression, as if I might break at any moment. It’s patronising and, quite frankly, very annoying. I’m not made of glass. I have had worse things said to me, it’s not like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces because he said some harsh words that he didn’t mean.

Or, at least, I hope he didn’t mean. 

He wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it. That annoying voice in my head chases me throughout the day, clamouring for my attention along with the words Spencer uttered. It’s safe to say I wasn’t fully there. 

It was ultimately JJ who solved the case. She was the one who found out about the janitor that had been making his way up and down the strip of clubs, the one who encouraged Garcia to dig deeper into his history when the surface layer looked boring. 

In fact, JJ was also the one who apprehended the guy. Part of me feels guilty for not being the one to solve it, another part even guiltier for letting Spencer’s words have such an affect on my deduction skills, but the happy looks on Tia and Jas’ faces as they embraced my colleague in thanks was enough to lift my concerns.

We all agreed that we would go out for drinks tomorrow night, leaving us all one night to recover in our hotel rooms from such an intense order of business. I’m secretly very grateful. It gives me some time to wallow in my own self-pity, eating Oreos and watching whatever crap I can find on the tiny TV in my hotel room. Nothing a good cry can’t sort out. 

I’m propped up on the pillows not long after we left the police station, having politely refused the offer of a drink from Derek, and escaping. I don’t want a pity drink.

The TV flickers with something I am decidedly not paying attention to, crumbs littering the bed. Oreos are usually a cure-all for me, but today they’re not having the desired effect. Nothing seems to be making me feel any better.

This sucks. I knew this case would be rough, but I didn’t think it would be rough for these reasons. I expected the teasing, I expected being blasted with questions, but nothing could have prepared me for the way Spencer called me disgusting. Called me a hooker when I know that he knows damn well what the difference is. I didn’t realise how much I craved Spencer’s approval until he pulled it away from me like a rug from under my feet. 

I wonder if I should go and talk to him, but I don’t particularly want to. All I want is to stay here in my cocoon of sadness until it tires me out enough that I fall asleep.

I am just about to get up to make myself a hot chocolate, hoping that warm milk will encourage me to pass out so I can stop thinking about the way Spencer looked when he spat those words at me, when there is a knock on my door. 

I choose to ignore it, hoping that whoever it is will just go away. I sink  further into my bed covers and reach for another Oreo. The packet is empty. What a travesty. 

The knocking continues. It gets louder, more insistent, until I have no choice but to groan loudly and clamber out of bed. I stomp to the door. It’s safe to say I’m royally pissed off. All I want is to lounge around and be sad, but no matter what, whoever is on the other side of the door is almost guaranteed not to let me. 

I yank the door open, fully prepared to give whoever is on the other side a piece of my mind, but the words die on my tongue when I see who it is. Spencer stands in the hallway, looking adorable in his shirt and tie, hands tucked behind his back. He’s wearing his glasses, too. It’s as if he knows how much they affect me. 

‘June–’ he starts, but I cut him off.

‘What do you want, Spencer?’ My voice is cold, flat, mimicking the way he spoke to me not 24 hours earlier. I don’t really want to talk to him, not when it’s him who has forced me to do so. 

‘I…can I come in?’ He asks, glancing nervously down the corridor. 

‘No.’ The word is bland, disinterested. I cross my arms over my chest, staring up at him with as much hurt I can muster. I’m doing my best to ignore the way my heart is pounding against my ribs. I shouldn’t be affected by him, not when he’s said those things to me, but I am. I hate that I am. It’s Spencer, though, so of course I am affected by him. ‘I don’t really want to talk to you right now.’

‘Please..?’ Spencer sounds so pathetic, looks so earnest, that I find my facade crumbling just a smidge. ‘I just want five minutes. That’s all.’

I debate for a few seconds. ‘Fine. Whatever.’

I turn sharply on my heel and stalk back into my room, not caring to see if he follows. He does, and closes the door behind him softly. He’s usually always so tender. I flop onto the pillows and pick up the empty Oreo packet, glaring at it as if it’s the cause of all my problems. The silence is tense. Heavy. I glance at him expectantly. 

Spencer is standing awkwardly at the end of my bed, wringing his hands together as he looks anywhere but at me. I can tell that he’s nervous, but I don’t know why. I’m the one who should be nervous. He was the one who decided to be cruel, to say those words to me, and yet here he is, acting as if I’m the one who hurt him. To tell you the truth, it pisses me off a little. 

‘I’m sorry.’ He blurts the words out, barely more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. When I look up at him, surprised, I find him already watching me. Those beautiful brown eyes of his are completely unguarded this time, as vast and deep as an ocean. ‘I’m sorry for saying what I said last night. It was stupid, and mean, and I don’t know why I said them because I didn’t even mean them.’

‘You didn’t mean them?’ I repeat, measured voice laced with disbelief. It’s not as firm as I would like it to be, though. ‘You sounded pretty convincing when you said them, Spence.’

‘I know, I know I did, and I’m sorry.’ Spencer’s eyes swim with remorse, and he takes a tentative step towards me. I don’t move, body frozen as I listen to what he’s trying to tell me. ‘I was…I don’t know, I was angry. I lashed out and said things to make you angry, too. For that, I’m sorry.’

I pause, weighing up his words, and swing my legs off of the edge of the bed. I gaze up at him, head cocked. He’s confusing me more than usual. He seems genuine, standing there with his open expression, his nervous hands, but I still can’t shake the feeling that he was also genuine last night. 

‘Being angry doesn’t excuse the way you spoke to me, Spencer.’ I choose my words carefully, letting him see the furrow of my brow. ‘It doesn’t wash away the fact that you called me hooker in front of our friends, or the fact that you called me disgusting. It doesn’t change the fact that you hurt me.’

‘It’s not–I’m not trying to make excuses.’ Spencer flinches, before he carefully drops onto his knees on the carpet before me. He looks up at me and I can tell he wants to touch me. A hand reaches out, thinks better about it, and falls into his lap. ‘I’m just trying to explain. I know I hurt you, and that’s the last thing I wanted to do.’

‘Then why did you say it?’ I sigh, running a hand through my hair. My words are meek, exposed as a cliff to a crashing shore.

‘I told you. I was angry.’ Spencer sits back on his haunches, copying my motion. His hair is pushed away like Prince Charming yet again, his eyes so wide underneath the thick lenses of his glasses. It’s almost as if he’s intentionally making this difficult for me.

‘Why? Because I used to be a stripper? Because, like I said last night, it was my old life, and I don’t regret it–’

‘No–no, it’s…’ Spencer hesitates, pushing his glasses up with the back of his hand before looking down at his lap. His mouth twists in discomfort. ‘It wasn’t because of that, not really. It was–’

‘It was what?’ I encourage, leaning forward slightly. Most of the malice has dropped out of my voice, and I’m now trying to make him feel comfortable enough to continue talking.

‘It was because you didn’t tell me.’ He says finally, looking me dead in the eye. ‘And then, you sounded so…so happy when you were telling the others about it that it…it upset me.’

‘It upset you?’ I repeat, brow furrowing. I’m even more confused than before, but at least the anger has ebbed away. We’re having a discussion about it, and that’s probably for the best. The last thing I want to do is lose Spencer. ‘I don’t understand. Why would that upset you?’

He looks away from me, chewing the inside of his cheek, his hands working furiously together in front of him. I reach out and let my fingers brush against the back of his knuckles. When he looks back at me, I try to look as open and receptive as I can. This is a safe space for him. I won’t judge him. 

‘Because…well, because I thought you trusted me.’ His voice is so soft, so vulnerable, that it damn near breaks my heart. I offer him the palm of my hand in the space between us. He takes it. This physical contact seems to give him the courage he needs to keep talking. ‘I thought we were getting closer, and then you drop this bombshell on me in front of everyone, and it felt like…like you were keeping something hidden from me.’

‘I…I wasn’t trying to keep something hidden from you, Spence.’ I feel a pang of guilt. I can see how he might think that–after all, it’s not like I didn’t have a couple of opportunities to tell him before we stepped foot in the strip club. ‘It’s just…it’s complicated. That was a really weird time of my life, and a lot was going on.’

‘Like what?’ He asks, squeezing my hand gently. His thumb traces soothing circles on my palm. It sends a familiar warmth blooming in the pit of my stomach, a stark contrast to the coldness I felt last night. ‘I want to understand. Please.’

‘Alright.’ I sigh, and pat the bed next to me. ‘Get up here. I don’t want you to hurt your knees and we might be here for a while.’

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. He clambers up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged in front of me. Our knees bump together and he shyly pulls both of my hands into his lap. His cold fingers start to fiddle with my own as he waits expectantly for me to start talking.

My heart twinges in a mixture of adoration and fear. What I am about to tell him is a lot, and if he was mad about me ‘hiding’ the stripping thing, then this might be what breaks him.

But I shall tell him. And I’ll tell him all of it. 

‘Okay. Okay.’ I take a deep breath and shake my shoulders loose. Spencer’s eyes are locked onto me, patient, waiting. I’m so nervous that I’m sure he can feel my hands shaking between his. Spencer gives me an encouraging nod. ‘So…so I started dancing for a specific reason. In fact, I did a lot of things I shouldn’t have done–would never have considered doing–because of, of this reason. Um. God.’

‘It’s alright. I promise I won’t judge you–not like yesterday.’ Spencer’s voice is softer than I deserve. 

‘I had a fiancé.’ The words tumble out of my mouth and fall into the space around us.

The room is deathly silent. I’m not sure either of us are breathing. I can’t bring myself to look at him, not wanting to see how he’s taking the news. What I do know is that his hands around mine stop fiddling. I rub my lips together and then the words don’t stop. 

‘I met Jay when I was doing my first undergrad, the Classical History one, and we…clicked. He and I moved in together whilst I was doing my Cornell degree, after five years. He proposed not long after that. We were to be married once I graduated.

‘Uh…I kinda assumed that would be it for me, y’know. One true love. But…well, not everything works out the way you think it will.’ I say, looking up at him to find him staring at me, those brown eyes stained with that confusion and hurt I saw yesterday. I have to keep going, have to get the words out. ‘I know. It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?’

‘What happened?’ Spencer’s voice is quiet, but surprisingly steady, his shoulders a firm line. He’s gripping my hands so tightly that it hurts, but I don’t mind. We both need the physical contact. 

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I’m about to say. What I’m about to relive. 

‘He died.’ 

It’s raw. Harsh, the words grating against the back of my throat. 

‘I came home one day from a lecture and…and someone had broken in. Trashed the place. I found…I found Jay in the bedroom.’ I stare down at the bedspread, not seeing the bland hotel pattern but the lifeless form of my old lover. ‘Someone had…he was shot. There was nothing I could have done.’

‘Oh, June…’ Spencer’s voice is so thick with sympathy that I could chew it. He squeezes my hands and I finally look up at him. His eyes are lined with silver. He looks as heartbroken as I feel, as if he’s feeling the pain as acutely as I am. I have to look away. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It–it was a long time ago.’ I force a smile onto my face, but it’s brittle. Likely to snap at any moment. ‘After that, everything broke down. I left Cornell–I couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t live in that same apartment–and went to New York. I didn’t know what to do. I was lost and alone and I just…didn’t want to feel that pain anymore.’

‘So you started dancing.’ Spencer’s tone is laden with understanding, so impossibly gentle. He looks at me with his characteristically kind eyes and I can tell that he regrets everything he said. Part of me forgives him then and there. I nod, trying not to let the tears fall. ‘It was a way to escape.’

‘Exactly.’ I whisper, voice barely audible. I hate the way it quivers. ‘Amongst other stuff. I started taking drugs–I mean, I’d smoked weed and shit before, but after Jay it was like I didn’t care. I slept with random people. Started working as a stripper. I was spiralling. I lost myself in other people, other things, until I didn’t have to think about what happened. It worked. For a while.’

‘But not forever.’ Spencer finishes my sentence for me, intertwining our fingers. He’s looking at me differently now, as if he’s just realised something that makes him view me in a different light. Considering that he’s not letting go of my hands, I have to hope that it is a good thing. ‘And that’s why you slept with that guy, the regular.’

‘Yes.’ I confirm, hating the shame that creeps up my neck. I don’t want to hide anything from Spencer any more, though. There’s been enough hiding. ‘I slept with him because, for a brief moment, he made me feel something other than grief. It wasn’t real. It was simply filling a void. God, I was a mess back then.’

‘So…what made you stop?’ 

‘My mother.’ I half-laugh, blinking back tears and rolling my eyes at him. ‘Who else? She heard about what was happening from Tia–I still haven’t fully forgiven T for that, by the way–and essentially kidnapped me.’

Spencer chuckles, but it’s not fully humorous. ‘She…she kidnapped you?’

‘Yeah, she did. She lives in this commune in Illinois–fully self-sufficient and a massive bunch of hippies.’ I say the words with so much love that it brightens every syllable. ‘The commune saved my life. They helped me process Jay, get off the drugs I was on, taught me better coping skills. Encouraged me to complete my degree. I haven’t looked back since.’

‘And you don’t regret it?’ Spencer asks, thumbs now tracing gentle, casual circles on the softest part of my wrists. It warms my chest. ‘You don’t regret what you did, or what you had to do to get through it?’

‘No, Spence, I don’t.’ I smile at him, the action finally reaching my eyes. ‘I mean, I wish I’d done some things differently, but I don’t regret it. I loved dancing. I learnt a lot about myself and made some excellent friends. Yeah, the circumstances were shitty, but I wouldn’t trade in all the good times for a few bad ones.’

Spencer regards me for a long time, his eyes searching mine, scouring my face. I let him see everything. I don’t hold anything back, letting myself be an open book for him to read. I let him peer into the darkest parts of me without fear. Without qualms. This is me. I have nothing to hide from him anymore. He can take it or leave it. 

He lets out a long, shaking breath. 

‘Thank you…for telling me.’ He says, angling his head as he continues to inspect me. Spencer pauses, shifting so his elbows are on his knees. Our interlocked hands drop into my lap. I could lean in and kiss him if I wanted to. But I won’t. ‘I should have known…I just…I just got so jealous when I heard you talking about it that I couldn’t think anymore. I really should have known better. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s alright, Spence.’ I offer him a reassuring smile, feeling a crushing weight lift off of my chest. I lift our hands and press a careful kiss to the back of his. ‘I understand why you reacted the way you did. It was a lot to take in.’

‘It was.’ He admits, gaze softening with a small smile. ‘But I’m glad you told me. I want to learn everything about you. Even the most difficult parts. Actually, especially those parts.’

‘Oh, really?’ I say, my tone laden with teasing. ‘Especially the most difficult parts?’

‘Well, I’m not sure I like the way you’re saying that,’ Spencer says warily, but my broad smile is infectious and soon he’s grinning at me. ‘But yes.’

‘Don’t worry, I think I’ve just told you the worst of it.’ I laugh, pulling one of my hands free to brush a strand of his hair behind his ear. His skin is so hot it’s nearly feverish. He leans into my touch, pursing his lips slightly. ‘And don’t you dare get hung up on the word ‘think’, Spencer. I know you. If something else comes to me, I’ll tell you, alright?’

‘Alright.’ Spencer agrees, his voice soft. It’s clear we’re both done arguing. 

I smile gently and slowly start to clamber into his lap. I take my time, not wanting to rush him, and giving him plenty of opportunities to push me away. He doesn’t. In fact, his hands drop to my hips and tug me closer. Once I’m settled, I spot how his eyes flicker from mine to my mouth and away. He looks as if he wants to say something, so I wait, curling my fingers in the fine hairs at the back of his neck. 

‘I…I have a question.’ 

‘Alright. Ask away.’ I raise a curious eyebrow, my heart pounding so hard against my ribcage that I’m pretty sure he can feel it too. I have no idea what he’s going to ask, but I am ready for anything. I’ve already laid my soul bare to him, there isn’t anything more to hide. I wonder if this apprehension is what Prometheus feels when he hears the eagle’s wings. 

‘Do you…I mean, would you ever…’ He turns bright red, as if he’s embarrassed by the question he’s attempting to ask me. Spencer looks down at the space between us, his hair tickling my chin as he rests the crown of his head against my collar. I wait patiently and rub soothing circles into his back. ‘Would you dance for, for me?’

‘Dance for you?’ I repeat his question. I cup his cheeks and gently pull him away from where he’s hiding, forcing him to look at me and see that I am not laughing at him. That I don’t find the request funny, or humiliating. ‘You mean, like how I would in Elysium?’

‘Yes.’ Spencer nods, voice firmer now when he sees there is no sign of distaste or disapproval in my eyes. He looks so vulnerable, so open, that it melts my heart. 

Affection floods through me. I want to show him that I am not ashamed of my past, that I am willing to share something that brings me so much joy. Even though dancing is laden with the Jay thing, the drugs thing, I still love it. It’s freeing and a massive boost of confidence, and if Spencer wants to witness me doing that, then who am I to deny him.

‘Why, of course, Spencer.’ I smile, smoothing a thumb under his eye. His eyes widen with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. Spencer leans forward and presses a tentative kiss to my lips. It’s chaste but still sends a shiver down my spine. ‘I would be honoured. You just have to let me make some calls first, alright?’

This will be fun…

Elysium isn’t too busy when we arrive, which I take as a good sign. There are a few regulars dotted about in individual booths, scantily clad women meandering through them, dishing out lap dances where requested.

Familiar pop songs blare through the speakers as two girls dance on the stage, a bed of green money laid out on the floor for them. It’s smoky, heady, and it might be my own anticipation, but it feels as if the whole space thrums with energy.

The music threatens to break through my skin, the bass reverberating through my skeleton. It feels good to be back.

I make my way towards the bar, pulling Spencer along behind me. We were chatting on the way here, but the closer we got to Elysium the more apprehensive he became. Spencer doesn’t talk much when he’s nervous.

I’ve been trying to loosen him up, but all I can really do is hope that it’s a good nervous, an excited nervous, rather than an ‘oh my god what am I doing’ nervous. I don’t think Spencer has ever had someone strip for him like this before.

No pressure or anything, June. It’s not like he’ll forget it. 

‘Alright,’ I say, encouraging him to sit on a stool near the bar. He has a slightly panicked look in his eye, unsure where he’s allowed to rest his eyes. Andrea leans casually against the surface, her large breasts almost spilling out of her tiny bra, a bemused look on her face. I smile warmly at her and she raises a hand in greeting. I turn back to Spencer who is staring at his lap. ‘Can you order us both a drink?’

‘You’re leaving?’ Spencer says, jerking his head up to look me in the eye. 

I laugh and step between his knees, carding my fingers through his long hair. ‘Yes, but not long. I’ve gotta go get changed, but I will come back for you soon. Is that alright?’

‘I…I can’t come with you?’ He says meekly, fingers digging into the backs of my thighs.

‘No, not backstage, sweetheart.’ I try to keep the humour out of my voice. It’s sweet that he doesn’t want me to leave him, but I have to. ‘I promise I won’t be long, alright.’

‘You promise?’ 

‘Yes, Spence, I promise.’ I kiss him softly on the lips, careful not to smudge any of my lipstick, still smiling into his mouth. He’s impossibly on edge. Hopefully a drink will ease the tension. ‘Just relax, order a drink, and I’ll be back before you know it.’

I squeeze his thigh gently before pushing away from him, nodding once at Andrea. She and I have known each other for a while–not as long as I’ve known Tia and Jas, but long enough that I know she’ll take care of Spencer without shoving his face in her tits. Or without letting other people shove his face in their tits. 

Carefully, I pick my way around the edge of the room, headed towards the backstage doors, where I can see Jas talking with a stripper I don’t recognise. Jas is dressed in silver today, a slinky number that sticks to her curves and accentuates the long legs I’ve always been so jealous of. As I walk, a duffle bag bumps against my hips. 

‘Junebug!’ Jas grins, spotting me. She grabs me by the shoulders, glancing over my shoulder to where I’m sure a still dazed and confused-looking Spencer is sitting. Her face tightens. ‘Tia said you’d called–I am so sorry, by the way, if I had known, I wouldn’t’ve–’

‘It’s alright, Jas.’ I laugh, brushing her hair from her shoulder. She seems genuinely apologetic. ‘The team doesn't know, otherwise I would’ve stopped you before you made him blush as much as you did.’

She throws her head back and laughs, taking my arm and leading me through another secret door. ‘I suppose it’s your turn to make him blush now, Junie.’

These corridors are familiar, painfully so–I got so drunk I nearly threw up in that storage closet over there, I smoked a bowl with Tia in that dressing room, did a line of cocaine off Jas’ breasts in that one. They hold the memories of the me I never thought I would become, the me I never thought I would escape. With every step I take, I wonder what it would take to tip me back into that person. 

‘Alright, here, you can use my dressing room.’ Jas stops at her door and pushes it open. ‘Tia’s with a client right now, but she should be done in about fiveish mins, so you can find her afterwards. She’s got the key.’

‘Perfect, thanks for doing this, by the way. I know it’s kinda last minute.’ I smile, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. ‘And the team are still down for drinks tomorrow, by the way, if you guys are. If you need me to sweet talk Harold, I can try.’

‘It’s all worked out already, I think Amy and Beth are coming as well, so should be fun!’ Jasmine reciprocates, pressing a kiss to my cheek before pushing me into her room. ‘Now, hurry up, you’ve got a doctor to knock the socks off of–what are you gonna wear?’

I tug her in after me with an eye roll. Of course she wants to know all the little details.

Jas’s changing room is sparsely furnished aside from a plush armchair angled in the corner–it’s the same one we once both managed to fit on, sharing a spliff and laughing as Tia reenacted a particularly interesting lap dance she performed. A table is pressed up against the wall, the edges of it as chipped as the mirror propped up on top. A few polaroid pictures have been stuck to the frame, and I can see my own face beaming out at me. 

‘Give me your phone.’ Jas says, and I oblige her, busy rummaging around in the duffle bag. Soon after, the sound of my playlist starts to hum through the room. It’s soft, trance-like, and alluring. The music I always prefer to dance to. ‘Alright, show me what you’re gonna wear.’

When I turn around to show her the lingerie set in my hands, she’s sprawled out on that armchair, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Her eyes widen and she just nods at me with delight. 

‘I’m kinda nervous.’ I admit, not caring if Jas sees me naked. I strip off my current clothes and start to put on the lingerie. It’s new, so Spencer hasn’t seen it before–in fact, I bought it specifically for him, in the hopes that we might be able to make use of it on this case. It’s dark green, skimpy, and covered in embroidered lace and beads. It leaves very little to the imagination.

‘Really?’ Jas asks, popping a piece of bubblegum into her mouth. ‘Why?’

‘I mean, I haven’t danced for someone else in a very long time.’ I murmur, straightening the tiny bra so that it properly accents my boobs. It’s not as if I don’t remember how to do it, I’ve been taking pole classes intermittently in Virginia, when our schedule allows. ‘And I’ve never danced for someone I actually care about.’

‘Aw, you’re adorable.’ Jas gushes, blowing a bubble. ‘You’ll be fine–you look gorgeous, by the way. Do you need to borrow some heels?’

‘Please.’ I laugh sheepishly. ‘They’re not exactly something I pack for a case.’

Jas unfurls herself from the chair and heads to the only other piece of furniture in the tiny room. It’s the infamous wardrobe–Jas keeps every outfit she’s ever worn on site, and works kind of like the inhouse dry cleaners. Everything is available as long as you can fit into it, and as long as you give it back. It saved my life many times. 

‘Oo, black, please.’ I call over to her as I slip into a small, black slip dress that I’ll wear until we get to the private room. It makes the lingerie more special, I think, if he doesn’t get to see it right away. 

‘Here you go.’ She grins, passing me a pair of classic black stiletto stripper heels. They shine in the soft light, and I can see that the material is littered with sparkles. Simple enough for what I know Jas has in that wardrobe, and they make my legs look a mile long when I try them on. ‘Perfect. You look gorgeous. Come on, now, get out there and show the doctor what you can do!’

‘Alright, alright!’ I laugh, grabbing my phone quickly before she wrestles me out of the door. I’m leaving the bag here. I give her a quick, grateful hug as she hurries me out of the door and back into the main part of Elysium. 

As I step out of the backstage area, I start to hum along to the music, letting the sound of it start to move my body in a way I haven’t done in a while. Teasing, sultry, a slight warm up for what is about to happen. Jas smacks my arse quickly and wiggles her fingers in a goodbye. I watch as she disappears amongst the crowd, searching for someone to wring dry. The bass makes the floor shake, as familiar as an earthquake. 

I spot Spencer at the bar, looking as out of place as he ever has. He sits exactly where I left him, but this time he’s nursing a large drink, my own still sitting on the bar. One leg is crossed over the other, and he keeps his eyes resolutely on the glass in his hand. He looks so adorable in his glasses, in his shirt and tie, so awkward, that my heart swells a little. This is the last place Dr. Reid would ever be found in, and yet here he is. 

He’ll get over it. I reassure myself, smoothing slightly clammy hands down my dress. God, I’m actually really worried about this. My heart pounds an unsteady rhythm against my ribcage, sweat sticking my thighs together. He’s going to remember every single second, so it has to be good. I’m probably just freaking myself out more with that thought.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself, and start to walk towards him. I do it lazily, seductively, allowing myself to fall into the stripper mindset. The small slip dress barely brushes the swell of my thighs, showing off a hint of the garter I’m wearing. Spencer spots me almost immediately and his whole body tenses. 

He likes the dress, that much is obvious. His mouth parts as his hungry eyes scour every inch. The low neckline, the short hem, and the slight sheerness of the fabric means that when the lights wash over me, he can see a sneak peak of what’s to come. Spencer swallows hard, unable to stop staring as I approach, absentmindedly putting his glass down on the bar.

‘Hey, handsome.’ I smile, stepping between his legs and running my hands over his smooth hair. He still has his glasses on, which makes him look even more awkward. His hands wrap around the back of my thighs, callused hands against bare skin. 

‘Hey.’ He murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. He blinks a couple of times in rapid succession, like he does when he’s thinking really hard. A permanent blush brightens his cheekbones. ‘You look…beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ I smile at him, biting my lip. His eyes are drawn to movement, lips slightly parted. There’s still a tension in his shoulders that I want him to lose. I want him to enjoy this, after all. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Terrified.’ 

‘Aw, sweetheart, that’s not what I want to hear.’ I say gently, leaning down and pressing a kiss to each of his cheeks. His skin is red hot. ‘Can I ask why? Is it me?’

‘What? No, it’s not you.’ Spencer says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He pulls one of my hands out of his hair to press a kiss to the palm of it, the most tender thing he has done for me in a while. A familiar warmth pools in the pit of my stomach. ‘You’re the only thing keeping me here. I’m just…I’ve never done this before.’

‘I know.’ I say softly, a slight smile turning the corners of my lips. ‘Funnily enough, Spence, it doesn’t surprise me that you’ve never done this before. I would be more concerned if you had.’

‘No, I mean–I don’t know. I just feel so out of place.’ He flushes and leans in closer, as if he’s worried that he’ll be overheard. His next words are a hiss. ‘When I…when I asked if you would dance for me, I meant back in the hotel.’

‘We can go back if you want, Spencer,’ I sigh, tilting his face up to mine and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Spencer is soft, pliant, and grips the back of my thighs tighter. ‘But, if you want me to dance for you, then I want to do it right. And the only way I can do that is here. Look, why don’t we just go to the private room, you might feel more comfortable there.’

He thinks it over for a couple of seconds, fingers secretly brushing up the backs of my thighs. I resist the urge to shiver at the action, fearing that any movement might scare him off. I wait patiently. We have time. Eventually, Spencer grips my hips with his big hands and nods. He’ll do it. 

Victorious, I pick up our drinks and encourage Spencer to stand. He doesn’t let go of my waist as I lead him through the crowd, headed towards where I can see Tia. I kind of like him like this. Dependent. Clinging to me as if he’s worried I’ll slip out of his grasp and vanish. 

Tia grins at us as we approach. She’s dressed in a shimmering gold number that matches Jas’, sticking to all the right places. Her long dreads are piled atop her head in a messy bun, a few stray strands framing her gorgeous face. She leans casually against the wall next to the door that has the PRIVATE neon sign above it, a mischievous glint in her eye.

‘Well, well, Junebug, look at you.’ She gives me an appreciative look, and I bask a little in it, showing off the heels. Tia then turns her attention onto Spencer, a bemused look on her face. ‘I should have known, honestly. From the moment I saw you, I was like she’s gonna be all over you. June here’s always had a type.’

I laugh, watching Spencer look sheepishly at Tia. His cheeks are a deep crimson, and he keeps glancing down at his feet, as if he’ll be told off for looking too long. ‘You’re not wrong, T. You’re not wrong. To his credit, this one took a little bit of convincing.’

‘Somehow, I don’t believe that. June always went for the pretty boys.’ Tia steps up to Spencer, smooths a hand across one of his shoulders. Spencer tenses, the hand on my hip tightening. He looks up, eyes darting between us, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension and what I hope is pride. I laugh again through a sip of my drink. Spencer swallows. ‘And let me tell you, they always went for her.’

‘Alright, alright, don’t tease him.’ I pout, rolling my eyes at her behind Spencer’s back. I’ve only just got him to relax, I don’t want her to rile him up again. She’s always like that, though. She gives me an apologetic look and quickly takes her hand off of my boyfriend. My heart calms briefly. ‘Can we have room three? That’s still the one with the big sofa, right?’

‘Yeah, of course.’ Tia nods, using a key around her neck to unlock the PRIVATE door. It opens onto a corridor lined with black doors, each with a small, circular window covered by a blind. Small lights at the top shine red or green to show availability. Most show red. She leads the way, and I take Spencer’s hand in mine, pulling him along behind me. ‘That’s always been your favourite, hasn’t it?’

‘I think I just like the sofa, honestly.’ I grin, glancing over my shoulder at Spencer. I am very pleased to see that his eyes are on my arse as I walk ahead of him. When he realises I’m watching him, his cheeks get even redder if that’s possible. I squeeze his hand to reassure him. He’s allowed to look at my arse, and I know that he knows that, I think the environment makes him think that he can’t. ‘Plus, I always used room three.’

‘I know, I never use it anymore because it makes me think of you.’ Tia says, stopping in front of the aforementioned room. She unlocks it with a flourish and pushes the door wide to let us in. I lead Spencer inside, Tia giving him a once-over as he shuffles past her. She winks at me before addressing him. ‘Good luck, Spencer. You’re gonna need it.’

‘Oh, I already know that…’ Spencer smiles shyly at her. 

Tia sketches a mock bow to us before tossing me the key and closing the door. 

Game time.

THANK YOU FOR READING! PART THREE CAN BE FOUND HERE.

[cairoisashapeshifter]

Mortal

♡ Word count; 858

♡ Warnings; Mentions of blood, death, violence, angst, cursing.

♡ Genre; Reverse Comfort & Established Relationship

♡ Notes; Wrote this while listening to a song, not sure how I feel about it, but decided to put something out there even if it was a small drabble.

♡ Summery; Heimdall needing comfort from mortal!reader after he is confronted by their mortality.

Silence fell in the great hall, no soul dared to breath wrong in the direction of the God whose fist dripped strings of blood. And, as he moved the crowd made sure to part for him and for you. "Heimdall!" He kept moving, his steps unfaltering. "I did not want this" Heimdall stopped at your words before turning suddenly anger as hot as coal seething through his eyes and words "I don't care what you wanted, I don't care what you think this isn't about you, I promised no harm to befall you, and he laid his hands on you. He broke my word, the word of a god under my roof. Count yourself fucking lucky his alive." Behind you, healers surrounded the unrecognisable man hoping to salvage his life, Heimdall had beat him to a shape other then human, they didn't know if they could do much. You did not care. Your eyes still focused in the direction where his figure disappeared, brows furrowed and horror shining through your features.

Love made Kings fools, peasants abundant, and Gods sometimes monsters.

The room was quiet expect for the slight splashing of water, he was inside the washroom cleaning off the blood from his hands, unlike his brothers, he hated being dirty, hated the feeling of blood on him. "Hemie... I-" you try to reach out, to comfort him but he flinched out of your touch as if it were hot iron "Don't touch me" he breathed out, you retreated your hand "Heimdall it's ok-" "leave". You frown. "I never left you before when you needed me, I won't start now" He cringes at your soft voice and places both hands on the basin of water "My only job was to keep you safe, as a god, as your husband it was my only job and I failed" somehow during his low toned words he found himself with his arms wrapped around you and yours wrapped around him, he sounded broken like a glass shattered into a million pieces

"It's not your job Hemie-"

"Yes it is, I am the God of Forsight, the watcher and protector of Asgard, and a mere fucking low life managed to hurt the one thing I care about more then my fucking title" anger returned to his voice, yet he didn't raise it at you.

"You weren't there"

"You're right I wasn't there" You pull away to look at him. His face had become unreadable, he looked completely neutral, an empty canvas ready to be painted on.

"I wasn't there" his lips shakily quirked up "would I not be there when someone decides to kill you? Would I not be there if you fall or if an accident happens? Would I come home one day and find you dead? Is that it?"

The once warm Himinbjörg felt cold. No longer did the hearth banish away the shivers or the tears, instead, it seemed the orange glow called for it. Light fell on the man you fell for, illuminating the side of his face making his glowing eyes shine even brighter. After not hearing an answer, his already stiff body turned rigid within your embrace, he seemed to find it unbearable as he quickly pulled away while still keeping himself close to you.

"You're a mortal"

Those three words were enough. A gentle hand placed upon his cheek, you pull him close resting his head on your shoulder. You move a hand to the back of his head threading your fingers through his hair, the other you pulled over his back and hugged him with it tightly. Heimdall was afraid, he was afraid to loose you.

"I thought.... thought that your mortal life span didn't matter, that I had a hundred years with you. But it's not enough, its no where near enough, I can't bare the idea of anything less than an eternity but I learned to cope, I learned to enjoy the time we had but now? Knowing it's not just you growing old but that it could be a simple fall or a bad meal away for you to leave me? That it could...that it could be one fuckers bad day for you to die? and I wouldn't even be there"

"One day I will die sure-" He moved you before you could finish, now, you laid on the bed with his face stuffed in your chest and his arms holding you so tight it ached slightly. "Stop it. Just... just stop don't talk I don't want... I don't need..." His voice trailed off when he felt your fingers scratch his scalp easing his tense body and forcing his voice to catch in his throat, "I know, it's okay, I'll be okay, you'll be okay Heimdall" he felt a chuckle leave his lips, a breathy pained laugh tempered with his voice giving out "A mere mortal comforting a god, how funny" you only responed by kissing his forehead. You never saw him this way, vulnerable, open like a new born baby bird that fell from his nest, "Well let's hope the mortal is doing a good job with it"

"You are"

[thequeenviana]

Ensnared

Pairing: Yandere Kim Taehyung x OC(Yuna)

Warning: This story is a work of fanfiction and is purely a product of the author's imagination. It does not depict any real-life events or individuals. While some characters may be inspired by real-life idols, their portrayal in this story is fictional and not representative of their true selves. Please note that this story may contain triggering content, including themes of abuse, gore, murder, humiliation, bullying, rape, and other mature and dark themes. Reader discretion is advised, especially for those under the age of 18. If you are uncomfortable with such content, it is recommended to refrain from reading and kindly disregard this story.

Synopsis: Yuna finds herself questioning her husband's love and fidelity. She becomes convinced that he has fallen out of love with her and is engaging in an extramarital affair. Adding to her distress, her husband refuses to acknowledge their relationship publicly and instead presents someone else as his wife. Despite the heartache, she chooses to stay by his side, hoping for a change. However, the question lingers: How long can she endure this situation before reaching her breaking point?

​They say that being in love is a beautiful and magical feeling, where two souls intertwine and create a bond that can withstand any storm.

But, why is it that in my case, it feels like something is missing?

My name is Yuna, Kim Yuna, a 26-year-old woman who is married to the one and only Kim Taehyung. He is not only the world's famous CEO but also a self-made model of his own modeling company, which goes by the name of "Kim's Fashion Empire." We have been married for almost two years now, but why do I felt like he was embarrassed to reveal me to the whole world,that he claims someone else as his wife that brakes my heart.

I don't understand how this happened, but he claims that our marriage is just a facade to protect me from his rivals. However, deep down, I can't help but feel that he is protecting himself more than me. There was a time when a reporter asked him about his rumored wife, and the whole world was eager to know who this lucky girl was. Many speculated that it could be a celebrity or an idol, especially Nova, who was working closely with him. We had countless fights over this, but he always managed to calm me down with his sweet words and promises to reveal me to the world as his wife.

The day finally arrived when he introduced Nova as his wife to the public, and it shattered my heart into a million pieces. What hurt even more was when the reporters asked for proof, and without hesitation, he kissed her in front of everyone. As I watched this heartbreaking scene unfold on television, tears streamed down my face, and my heart felt like it was being ripped apart. Meanwhile, our second-anniversary cake remained untouched, a symbol of the love we once shared but now seemed to be crumbling away.

When he finally came home, I couldn't contain my emotions any longer. We erupted into another argument, and in my pain and anger, I slapped him and pushed him away, forbidding him from touching me with his filthy hands. He had the audacity to try and kiss me, even after kissing that woman! But, being the foolish woman that I am, I couldn't think straight. I gave in to him once again, swayed by his sweet words, apologies, and manipulative explanations. He made me believe that he only did it to protect me from his enemies, who would stop at nothing to bring him down by using me as a weapon. And in my weakness, I allowed him to win me over, as he tightly embraced me, and I cried myself to sleep.

I know I may seem foolish and naive, but please don't be mad at me. I truly love this man with all my heart, and it's that love that keeps me holding on, hoping that one day, he will truly see and appreciate the love I have for him.

​...

​It was 8:46 a.m., and I stepped out of the car, a smile gracing my face. I adjusted my dress and held onto the lunch I had cooked for him. With a mask and cap on, I entered his company, always in awe of its grandeur. His intelligence and hard work had brought him to this position as the CEO of the number one top modeling agency, making him the most handsome man in the world. I couldn't help but feel immense pride in my man.

As I walked towards the receptionist, she greeted me with a warm smile, and I returned it graciously. Making my way through the VIP elevator, I ascended to his office. The sound of the elevator opening made me look up, and I stepped out, heading towards his office door. However, my smile faltered when I saw them again. Him and Nova, standing side by side, engrossed in conversation. I watched as they seemed to be getting closer, his smile widening as he listened to her. I didn't allow myself to dwell on negative thoughts and cleared my throat to catch their attention. They both turned towards me, and Nova quickly distanced herself from him, his smile fading as his eyes met mine. It had been a while since I had seen him smile like that, but not for me, for another woman. Was this a sign? No, I couldn't let myself think that way. I cleared my mind and approached his desk as Nova excused herself and left us alone, maybe for good. Ugh, why was I feeling jealous again?

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his face void of emotions, twirling his expensive and favorite pen between his fingers.

I smiled at him and placed the lunch box on his glass table, but my actions halted when he said, "I already ate lunch." I couldn't help but notice another lunch box on his table. Did he... no, Yuna, stop it. I cleared my throat, looking away from him, trying to control the hurt emotions that threatened to overflow and the tears that welled up in my eyes.

"Oh, is that so? Then I'll just go," I said, not giving him a chance to respond, and quickly walked away.

I heard him call my name, and I stopped, waiting for him to burst through the door and stop me from leaving, but he didn't. This was new. He had even neglected our planned dinner date last night and hadn't given me a valid reason for canceling. But, being the understanding wife that I am, I didn't pester him and simply supported him, assuming it was for business. He had changed. My consciousness whispered these words, but I laughed them off, trying to stop myself from overthinking.

​.....

​"C'mon, Yuna, are you really that naive?" My friend Ria said to me in disbelief. I hissed and looked down, finally letting my tears flow as I cried helplessly in her comforting embrace.

I had decided to meet my friend because I didn't know what to think anymore about my situation. I poured my heart out to her, explaining his behavior towards me and the signs that maybe he no longer loved me. My friend suggested that perhaps he had been using me all along and that he was only staying because of my late father.

My father and he were close business partners, and that's how I met and fell in love with him. When my father fell sick with cancer, he made him promise to take care of me and love me unconditionally. But now, it seemed like the man my father entrusted me to was drifting away from me.

"This is wrong, what he is doing is wrong, Yuna—what the hell?" Ria frowned at me, and suddenly our attention shifted to the television in the cafe. Not only my friend and I, but all the customers in the cafe turned their attention to the TV. I struggled to maintain consciousness, gripping my friend's hand tightly, even though I could hear her hiss in pain. Right now, I didn't care. My focus was solely on the TV screen.

The reporter flashed a sweet smile as she updated everyone on how Kim Taehyung, my husband, was caught by a paparazzi in one of the most luxurious hotels in Seoul, dating his fake wife, Nova. My heart shattered once again, for the millionth time. Maybe there was no heart left to be broken in me anymore, considering the immense pain I had endured since marrying this man who had promised the world to me. He had promised to protect, cherish, and love me, but they were all sweet lies thrown in my face just to make me his submissive wife.

I saw adoration and that wide, charming smile that had once made me fall in love with him, now directed towards the woman he held at the waist in the picture displayed on the television. The reporter smiled widely at the sweet display, and everyone watching seemed oblivious to how much it was breaking me. He had succeeded in breaking me. Kim Taehyung, aren't you done? What have I done to deserve being made a fool of? I only loved and still love you, but why?

What's even more heartbreaking is that just two hours ago, he had informed me that he had an important meeting with Mr. Jung. Little did I know that it was just an excuse for him to meet his secret lover behind my back. I understand that he claims to be using her as a way to deceive his rivals and make them believe she is his wife, but this is too much. It's no longer about that. I can feel it, strongly. He has been cheating on me right in front of my face all this time, and I am the foolish one who ignored all the signs.

Pathetic. That's what I am.

​.....

​Kim Taehyung walked in with his fake wife, Nova, by his side, basking in the glory of the cameras flashing and capturing their every move. He proudly gripped Nova's waist tightly, wearing a proud smile as they made their way through the doors of the ball. All eyes were on them as they entered, and Kim Taehyung reveled in the attention. The compliments and adoration thrown their way only fueled his arrogance.

He had it all - money, fame, looks, real estate, and more. But the most important thing to him was his perfect little wife waiting for him at home. Despite his recent avoidance of her, he claimed it wasn't because he had fallen out of love. No, it was something else, something he couldn't quite explain. He knew he would go insane if she ever walked away from his life. There was an addiction, a need that consumed him.

The reason for his distance from his wife was the presence of someone in his den, someone who was interfering with his life. He needed to be careful and find out who it was. He couldn't wait to put an end to their existence for making him stay away from his wife. The thought of shedding blood excited him, and his fingers itched for that feeling of thick liquid on his skin.

He needed to discover the identity of the person spying on him before they found out who his real wife was, the woman he had sworn to protect. There were already three people he and his right-hand man, Jungkook, suspected. He was waiting for them to make a wrong move.

Amidst his thoughts, Jungkook leaned in and whispered to him, his fake smile still plastered on his face. "Mr. Kim, some paparazzi have captured pictures of you and Nova leaving the meeting at Veroza and claim that you were on a date. I believe madame has already seen it."

Anger coursed through his veins, and he clenched his teeth in frustration, but he maintained a forced smile for the onlookers. "Is she at the mansion? Don't let her leave under any circumstances," Taehyung demanded through gritted teeth. He was already on thin ice with his wife, and he knew his recent ignorance towards her had caused her to overthink, especially after what happened in his office earlier. Although a sick part of him enjoyed seeing her jealous and then reassuring her with physical intimacy, he knew he needed to talk to her tonight. However, he wasn't sure if she would believe him if he explained that he was only there for the meeting. His mind was in turmoil.

"Boss, bad news. Madam hasn't returned home," Jungkook began, but before he could finish his sentence, Taehyung angrily stormed out of the ballroom, his eyes burning with rage. Jungkook followed closely behind, and the guests and everyone present witnessed the scene, leaving Nova feeling embarrassed and alone.

​

​....

The two black sports cars raced through the busy streets of Seoul, disregarding traffic lights and causing chaos. Pedestrian officers and even the police were instructed to make way for the racing cars, as orders from higher authorities had come in to ensure their passage. The honking of the cars echoed through the streets, creating a sense of urgency and danger.

"Fucking track my wife this instance!" Taehyung's voice boomed through the earpiece, filled with anger and determination. His eyes burned with a murderous intensity as he accelerated, pushing the car to its limits.

"Jeon, you know what to do to that traitor. I will take care of

the lamb and my wife," he commanded through the earpiece, his voice laced with a deadly tone that instilled fear even in the young man who had worked for Kim Taehyung for many years. Nobody wanted to cross paths with Kim Taehyung if they valued their lives.

.....

​The dark alleyway remained eerily silent, with the cold wind whispering chilling thoughts to anyone who dared to walk through this part of the street. It had gained a reputation as a place where numerous murders had taken place.

"Where's the money?" the tanned, imposing man asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. His red eyes indicated that he had just finished using drugs. The man with the hood scoffed and handed over the envelope containing the money. The tanned man grinned, satisfied that he was about to receive the payment he desired.

Suddenly, eerie and painful screams pierced through the dark alleyway. The tanned man's right hand, which had been intact just moments ago, was now blasted off. He fell to his knees, writhing in pain and clutching his mangled arm. His screams intensified when he saw his fingers scattered on the floor, blood splattered all around. The hooded man stood frozen, unable to move, as he stared at the once-arrogant tanned man now kneeling before him, his right hand obliterated.

An eerie, manic laugh echoed through the alleyway, accompanying the sound of approaching footsteps. The hooded man felt a shiver run down his spine as he turned away from the lifeless body on the ground to see someone in the distance. The figure walked slowly, deliberately, towards them, continuing to chuckle in a dark and unsettling manner. The moonlight briefly illuminated the man's face, causing the hooded man to gasp and step back, only to slip in the dark pool of blood from the tanned man. He found himself face to face with the man's severed arm.

As the figure continued to stalk towards him, the hooded man could hear a deep voice speaking through an earpiece. "Thanks, Jimin hyung. I'll take it from here," the voice said, followed by another chilling laugh directed at the hooded man's terrified expression. The figure crouched down in front of him, a sick smile on his face, and looked down at the lifeless body on the ground. The blood continued to flow from the man's severed arm, creating a macabre image akin to a faucet running.

"You should just mind your own business, young man," the man's deep, menacing voice echoed as he stared at the hooded man with madness in his eyes. The hooded man shook his head, wanting to plead for his life, but no words came out. He was too terrified by this man, this angel-faced monster who had just committed murder and laughed about it.

Before the hooded man could react, a knife sliced through his neck, catching him off guard. He choked on his own blood, desperately clutching his throat as blood gushed out. He tried to scream, but his cries were muffled as the mad man repeatedly pushed the knife into his mouth, silencing him. The man's famous boxy smile widened as he spoke.

"And these eyes too," he said with a sickening smile, proceeding to carve out the hooded man's lifeless eyes. Blood splattered everywhere, but the man only found amusement in the gruesome act. He continued his sadistic torture, chopping off the hooded man's hands, reveling in the pain he inflicted.

Once he was done with his never-ending torment, he stood up, his handsome face twisted with a wide smile. In the distance, a booming sound echoed, as if something had been obliterated in the faraway distance. The man laughed again upon hearing it. His earpiece buzzed, and he heard the voices of Jimin and Jungkook.

"Boss, it's done," they said.

A wide, chilling smile spread across the man's face as his eerie laugh resonated through the eerie alleyway, accompanied by the two lifeless bodies lying before him.

"Now, where are we again?" he asked himself, pretending as if he had done nothing wrong. "Ah, yes, to my beautiful runaway wife," he chuckled. "Time to bring her back home."

He walked away, humming an eerie tune, leaving behind a trail of darkness and terror.

.....

Jungkook and Jimin stood together, watching the burning building as firefighters and police worked to control the fire and keep civilians away. The cries of family members and fans of Nova, who were likely among the victims, filled the air. Jimin casually ate a burger, seemingly unfazed by the tragic scene unfolding before them.

"That man is really crazy for his wife, willing to burn the world and kill for her," Jimin commented between bites. Jungkook scoffed and looked up at the dark sky, now surrounded by thick smoke.

"May heaven help her escape his madness," Jungkook whispered, his voice filled with concern. Jimin overheard and laughed in response.

"I wish the same, but based on what that man has done, he's deeply obsessed with her," Jimin added before groaning and clutching his stomach. Jungkook raised an eyebrow, looking down at Jimin.

"What? Are the dead seeking revenge on you already?" Jungkook mockingly asked, bursting into laughter. Jimin shot him a deadly glare.

"Shut up," Jimin retorted.

After a while, both Jungkook and Jimin decided to leave the scene, leaving behind the aftermath of destruction and tragedy.

.....

Ria sighed sadly as she observed her sleeping friend in bed. Tears stained her cheeks, and her eyelashes were still wet from crying. Ria leaned against the doorframe, worried about her friend's future. She was broken by her husband's betrayal, and it had brought her to a state where she cried herself to sleep.

Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass interrupted Ria's thoughts, causing her eyes to widen. Was someone breaking into her house? She quickly ran to the kitchen, grabbing a knife and feeling her heart pound with adrenaline. She looked around the dark surroundings, then dashed back to the bedroom where her friend slept.

Locking the door, Ria didn't realize that the intruder would only laugh at the thought that it could stop him from getting what he wanted all along. Yuna stirred in her sleep and groaned as Ria shook her to wake her up. But when Yuna saw the fear on her friend's face, she immediately became uneasy and scared, sensing that something was wrong. Her eyes widened when she noticed the knife in Ria's hand.

Ria shook Yuna's shoulders, trying to get her attention. "There's someone in this house," Ria said, her voice trembling, which only made Yuna clutch the bedsheets tightly.

"What do you mean?" Yuna asked, still bewildered by the situation.

"Hush. There's someone who broke into my house," Ria replied, but before she could finish her sentence, someone banged on the door, causing both of them to scream.

The banging continued, and a scary, deep voice resonated from the other side of the door, a voice that both of them recognized all too well. "Open the door, babe," Taehyung's voice rang out, filled with anger. Yuna looked at Ria, shaking her head in fear. She had witnessed Taehyung's anger before, nearly seeing him beat a man who had flirted with her to the brink of death.

Ria gulped and hugged Yuna tightly, glaring at the door, which was seconds away from being forced open. When it finally burst open, Taehyung stood there, his heaving form and the darkness surrounding him instilling fear in Ria. But she remained strong for her friend, gripping the knife tighter.

Yuna shook her head, afraid to face her furious husband. Ria widened her eyes, finally taking notice of Taehyung's appearance. He was covered in blood, as if he had bathed in it before coming to find his next victim.

"Hand me over my wife now," Taehyung demanded, struggling to control his urge to harm the woman who had influenced his wife to leave him.

Ria stood her ground, gripping the knife tightly. "Stay away from her and leave this place! Or else, I will call the police!" Ria screamed, attempting to scare him away. But a cold fear ran through her spine when Taehyung only laughed and took short steps toward them.

"Busan, at xxx address," Taehyung said blankly, smirking at the terrified female. Ria's eyes widened, filled with horror. No, he wouldn't.

"Oh, I would," Taehyung said, seemingly reading her mind as he chuckled and stopped just an arm's length away from them.

"Don't touch them!" Ria suddenly screamed, causing Yuna to startle and look at Taehyung, making eye contact with him. He smirked, opening his arms as if inviting her to take them, but she shook her head, overwhelmed by fear at his appearance. She felt an urge to vomit.

"Now, wifey, come here, or else more people will be killed today, hm? Let's not make it worse," Taehyung taunted.

Yuna's eyes widened in fear, and she cried out loudly, trembling in terror. This man was a monster. How could he do this?

Ria stood there, paralyzed with fear, accidentally loosening her grip on the knife, which fell to the ground. She looked down in defeat. Her family's lives were on the line, and she felt powerless.

Taehyung saw this as an opportunity and grabbed his wife, who screamed and struggled to break free. Annoyed, he punched her in the face, gripping her hair and punching her again. Yuna lay unconscious after those two punches, and Taehyung sighed, picking her up.

Suddenly, Taehyung stopped in his tracks and looked back at Ria, who had remained quiet throughout the ordeal.

"If I were you, I would stay the fuck away and never come back," he threatened one last time before walking out of the house with a proud smirk on his face.

However, guilt flickered in his eyes when he noticed the bruise on his wife's beautiful face. He sighed again.

"This wouldn't have happened if you had just behaved,"

he mumbled to himself as he placed her in the backseat and drove away, taking his wife back to his cage, waiting for her. He was sure this time he wouldn't let her leave him again. He had gone crazy for a day when she left him, losing control in front of the party and the cameras that captured his every action and shared it with the media and his fans. It was all because of his wife. God, he didn't know what would happen if she managed to escape his grasp.

...

The guards quickly opened the giant gates as they saw the fast-approaching black car racing inside. The car came to a stop and parked perfectly in front of the gold and white mansion. Taehyung stepped out of the car, still dirty and disheveled, but his undeniable handsomeness remained. He ignored the wide-eyed gasps of the maids as he swiftly walked to their room, carrying his still unconscious wife.

After cleaning himself and his wife up, Taehyung stood on the balcony, puffing on his cigarette and closing his eyes. He chuckled at his thoughts, then glanced at his wife and the handcuffs binding her to the bed.

He left the room and made his way to his study, situated in a far corner of the mansion. Sitting down in the chair, he turned on the TV to watch the news about the still-burning building where he had been just hours ago. His name appeared on the screen, along with Nova's picture. He laughed as the reporter offered condolences to him and the woman's family, scoffing at their sympathy. He poured himself a glass of wine, smirking at the situation.

"You can come in," he said, and the people outside the door entered. They marveled at how he could sense their presence even without looking. Well, it was to be expected when there was always a paparazzi tailing him.

"Boss, we successfully eliminated all the people at that event," Jimin said, playing with his gun as he slumped on the couch, closing his eyes. He still felt the pain in his stomach after eating the burger from the event that they had blown up, killing everyone inside. Jungkook sat quietly at the far end of the couch, his face stoic.

...

Taehyung twirled the alcohol in his glass and looked up at the two. "I can see that," he smirked, his gaze shifting to the TV screen still displaying the burning building. The sight brought a creepy smirk to their lips. They had grown just as mad as their boss, even if they didn't admit it.

...

Yuna stirred in her sleep, attempting to soothe her aching jaw. But when she felt restraints on her hands, panic washed over her, and she let out a surprised yell upon realizing her wrists were handcuffed to the bed. "No! What is this?" she exclaimed, tugging on the restraints in a panic. Her fear intensified when a dark, dominating voice filled the room, though she couldn't see its source due to the darkness.

"You really think you can escape from me, my love?" the voice asked, madness swirling in its eyes as it looked at Yuna, his prized possession, who began to cry.

"Since the day you married me, you have become mine, forever tied to me whether you like it or not," the voice continued. It stood up and slowly crawled onto the bed, causing Yuna's panic to escalate. She cried out in fear as the figure loomed over her, kissing her cleavage and neck. It was then that she realized she was only in her undergarments, making her feel vulnerable.

"Stop!" Yuna yelled, but her voice was muffled by the sudden, harsh kiss that silenced her. Her husband devoured her lips as if it was his last.

Yuna spent the entire night crying helplessly as her own husband forced himself on her, claiming it was an act of love and asserting his ownership. But for her, it felt like he was raping her soul. She hated herself for being powerless, unable to stop the repeated assaults. As exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she teetered on the edge of consciousness, she heard him whisper in a dark, chilling tone, "You are mine, forever and ever, and no one can change that." He devoured her lips once more before darkness claimed her completely.

​

[sabrondabrainrot]

It's tinfoil hat times I have more observations for eagle eyes listeners (yes a Nightvale ref)

This will contain spoilers for recent TSAMS and LAES!

I gotta go to bed so I won't be able to contain everything but just some stuff I noticed recently and something I've been thinking about.

I won't be as organized as usual, warning spoilers below!

Picking apart what Dark Sun said and did...he used the word expunge. I don't know if this is problem of VA's picking a word that sounds cool...or they picked it know what it means? Expunge is a word that means 'to remove', 'delete', 'strike from the record'. So...why would he collect data on Sun's choice to kill Nexus and expunge that across the multiverse? Why would deleting that make Suns turn on Moons? I'm too tired to think about it past this but...it's interesting. What if D!Sun did delete something?

The biggest thing between Sun and choosing to kill...its his love and trust...but I wonder how Sun's decision to choose the greater good and his family would delete something? That sparkle nighttime Sun was beating his Moon while crying that he hated him...but did he actually? How can we know? I can't wait to find out more about the entire Sun on Moon violence. D!Sun said it was his hate for Nexus but that's not the case...because Sun himself stated he still can't get himself to hate Nexus. We also know, the only reason Sun's magic worked was because of what Ruin did...so I think my theory about the NSP and SP interacting to possibly make Nexus into a new being still stands. D!Sun knew Ruin planted that device when he made Sun choose.

I feel like history just keeps repeating itself where Sun's choices will never be choices and his decision will always be made for him. Moving into more stuff! The recent episodes omigod!!! Moon! He finally stepped up! I still have many things to point out though. I was talking in @goodolddumbbanana dms because like...we're both still disappointed by the episodes...(I won't type the entire dms cause like I want banana to do their piece too without me speaking over them)

When Moon talked to Sun at the pier, he still managed to make it about himself. Did anyone else notice that? He turned it into his normal "I hate myself" routine. He proceeded to let Sun know he's the best brother ever...but Sun just...I don't think he believes it. Even if Lunar and Earth also both tell him that. Even Solar. He just won't believe it.

Looking at how Sun's entire...existence has gone, it's pretty understandable why he'd think and feel this way.

He hasn't been shown by his family (except Earth) he's the best so why would he believe it? Especially coming from Moon who's done nothing but lie to him and break promises. Moon stepped up but...was acting annoyed to take care of Sun. He just was acting like he was ready to get stuff over with. Then...When Sun finally asked the million dollar question. "Did you hate me? Do you hate me?" He's always been asking that and never got a straight answer. Moon has always acted like he really did hate him in the past. Worst of all? Moon told Sun he did.

He told his emotionally beaten brother who's soul is shattered, that 'Yes Sun, I did hate you'...Moon...being honest in this particular situation...I don't think it's the best idea.

Moon, to an emotionally unstable - highly fragile - Sun, basically confirmed Sun's darkest fear. The soul deep ache Sun feels. It's not...gratifying...Sun may now have closure that 'wow he treated me like that because he did hate me' but the big issues with this? Moon has not really changed how he treats Sun. He stopped physically hurting him but he still hurts him. In small ways. We saw that first hand in the last few eps. He left to avoid Sun entirely. He broke promise after promise. He'd rather throw himself a pity party then buck up and just be there for Sun.

Sun always leads with the best intentions. He tells Moon he loves him. He encourages him. He builds him up. (I think i've said this before lol)

Then we get the MVP Earth ep. That episode was honest to God beautiful. Earth is an amazing sister and Kat knocked it out of the ball park with her vocal performance today. She put in so much emotion. I like how Earth's breaking point wasn't her taking care of Dazzle or Sun. Her breaking point was how her family was treating her and Sun like shit. They both left them to their own devices. It was so sad. I was wondering when they kept showing Solar who was taking care of Sun and honestly it makes so much sense it was Earth.

Then in the same episode she said Lunar is acting strange. I'm going to be honest, I know exactly why Lunar is acting mad at Earth.

I don't get a ton of opportunity to talk about Lunar. In the recent episodes his sorest spot was prodded by Taurus. Taurus is basically telling him to get over himself.

Which...I don't agree with how Gemini and Taurus are going about it. Letting go of your hate and hurt is so important but them just telling Lunar to do it isn't going to work. He needs to be taught how to.

So why is Lunar mad at Earth? Never forget, Lunar hasn't developed much he's still a very selfish immature person. He's mad at Earth he's stagnating. He's blaming her for his stunted emotional growth. He chose to numb himself to deal with his emotions and if he admits that was wrong then it'd be a long time of wasted efforts. He would have so many regrets if he admits he's been doing everything wrong.

After all, If Lunar wasn't so apathetic about N!Moon would he have made a difference in him becoming Nexus? (No, but Lunar could be thinking about that)

Lunar, I believe, is blaming Earth for not 'fixing' him. He doesn't understand he needs to want to change himself for it to happen. (it's the same thing for Moon, he knows he's flawed but has given up on improving) I think Lunar just kind of assumed Earth was supposed to automatically make him better with him not doing any work himself.

Then the crux of why he's mad at Earth.

It's simple.

She's friends with Eclipse.

That's really what it is.

Think about it, he hates Eclipse. Eclipse is now in the front of his mind to the point he's acting odd and watching Nutella ads for hours. He's trying to mute his rage. What Taurus and Gemini said would anger anyone.

Telling a victim to not only get over their abuse but also get along with their abuser? It's plain wrong. Lunar has the right to hate Eclipse, the only problem is that it is harming him. Hatred will always be someone's undoing. It is a negative, putrid thing that only destroys.

He's been shoving his emotions down for so long they're bound to explode. I know Lunar loves Sun and wants to be there for him but he's been apathetic for so long now he can't. So he's lashing out and projecting his own self anger onto Earth. She's right there after all.

Solar is basically acting like a keeper to everyone and despite doing better for Sun, Solar is still emotionally distant. Moon physically isn't there. Lunar won't lash out at Monty. He won't take his frustration out on kids like Dazzle and Jack.

Earth is also just...too nice. So yeah, I absolutely understand why Lunar is angry at Earth. He's being totally unfair and immature about it too, because it's not like there's other problems, ie Sun is literally broken and can't leave bed.

but I digress, I like that Moon is stepping up. I just hope he doesn't keep dropping the ball. I think Sun right now truly doesn't think Moon cares...Moon is going to have to do a lot to show him otherwise. I'm glad Lunar finally checked on Sun and I hope he does it more often, because Sun loves Lunar too. He loves the entire family. Earth was right to cry about how they were failing Sun.

I'm really proud of Earth and Solar for stepping up to help Sun.

[seokgyuu]

Strawberry Wine - Teaser

Pairing: Lee Jihoon (Woozi) x Fem!Reader

Genre: Romantic Comedy, Strangers to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Fake Dating, Smut (not in this teaser, but the actual story!) MDNI!

Synopsis: After breaking off your engagement to your cheating fiancé, you decide to take the planned trip to Paris anyway. A vacation alone with the honeymoon suite all to yourself seems like the perfect distraction. Just that, due to an internal error at the hotel lost soul Jihoon, who still isn't over his first love's death five years ago, is staying in the same honeymoon suite as you.

Word count: 1229 (the teaser)

Release date: Part 1: 4th of August, Part 2: tba

A/N: this is a teaser for my upcoming fic for @svthub's world tour collab! I want to thank the admin team for arranging this wonderful collab and also @okiedokrie for the beautiful header and divider! All the smut warnings will be in the actual fic!

The flash of the camera goes off and you’re almost sure your eyes were closed. The teenage girl next to you smiles brightly and waves at you once more before rushing off to go over to her mother. You lightly smile back and look over to your right where Minghao is giving you a thumbs up. Apparently, so you interpret his gesture, you’re holding up quite well for someone who just caught her fiancée cheating two weeks ago. 

You’re aware that you could have canceled the book signing today. No one would have been mad. But even though your heart is shattered to a million pieces and you don’t think you’ll ever heal from this hurt - you still need to earn money and make those who give you that money happy. Just sucks that the person you build this with is somewhere on the Bahamas with your biggest rival on the romance book market. Or, well, as your publisher says: your bestest friend on the romance book market. Since you’re both making money, of course. You can’t count the times you and her have been sent to events together, not saying a word to each other on the way there and playing happy family the second you are in front of the cameras. 

Her books weren’t even good! Boring and predictable if anyone asked you. Your ex had always agreed with you, even if he was her agent as well as yours. But Jaehyun was slick - he told her the same about your books. 

“Hi, oh my god, I love your books so much! I can’t wait for the next one!” It’s a boy with the brightest and whitest smile you have ever seen and for a second you can forget your sadness.

“Thank you so much. What name do you want me to sign?” 

-

The book signing ends about half an hour later. You’re in the car with Minghao who’s typing something on his phone as he sits in the backseat with you. 

“You did great, you know.” He says, not looking up. His words make your stomach turn uncomfortably even though you know he means well. 

“Thanks,” is your mumbled response, your head slowly turning to look out of the window. Minghao sets down his phone, realizing his words didn’t come out the way he wanted them to. He sighs.

“Best friend dearest,” he starts, “you know what I meant. Considering you have been in your room with no lights on and Adele on repeat for the last few months - you did exceptionally well socializing with people you don’t know.”

“It’s my job after all, isn’t it?” 

“No, your job is writing brilliant books, Y/N. This is just a bonus. Your books would sell wonderfully even without you doing this.”

Three months ago this would have made your chest fill with pride. You’d be beaming and agreeing with Minghao, content with your life and what you had made it to be. But now, it’s different. 

Now, all you feel is ache in your chest. No sense of pride, no smile in sight. No contentment with how your life is going. Joy has been missing in your palette of feelings for a long time. 

The city lights are what keep you awake. Exhaustion and the feeling of sadness that you have become so used to are close to make you falter, to make you want to go home and put those Adele songs right back on repeat. It’s not fair, you think. Not fair that your life was ruined this way and you can’t get back up. That all you’re able to do is live because you have to, not because you want to. And the closer July 17th comes - the more you feel yourself falling deeper into a hole. 

It’s hard to believe that three months ago you were a completely different person. A person who loved to laugh, who had fun game nights with her friends, cooked every day, went for runs in the morning, planned a wedding. You were a person who loved to love. All of this was accompanied by the person you had been sure you’d spend the rest of your life with: Jaehyun. He was tall, handsome, kind. You had met him through work - he had been assigned your agent when you switched publishers. He was your muse. Helped you with your books, made the sales sky rocket with the way he marketed you. 

For five years he was your everything. In some ways (ways you loathed) he still is. Your whole life revolved around him. Wherever you went - he did too. Whenever you fell - he was there to catch you. Nothing in the world could have ever prepared you for what was going to happen. But then again, when is someone ever prepared to be cheated on by the person they trusted the most in their life? 

To say it was a shock would be an understatement. Accidentally finding the messages he sent to her on his iPad. Confronting him and seeing his face fall, his expressions change into something you had never thought possible. He looked caught. Mainly because he was. Also because he never thought the truth would come to light. You had been the only one left in the dark. Everyone at the publishing house knew what he was doing. He and her. 

It wasn’t fair, you knew that, but in the beginning you couldn’t handle being mad at Jaehyun. Instead you focused all your anger on her, all the hurt you felt. It wasn’t like you had particularly liked her before - she was your rival, the person everyone always compared you to. She was younger than you, didn’t have as much experience - but she was more successful. At least to an extent. Her books regularly went viral on ‘booktok’, mainly because she wrote them like she worked in a factory. Every couple of months there’d be a new one - and people ate it up. You, on the other hand, liked to take your time, liked to write stories with captivating characters, with characters people could relate to - fall in love with. 

Suddenly your biggest rival became the person you hated and wanted to be like the most in the world. To be her would mean to have him. Him, who you still love so much, who still means everything. 

It is a little different now. 100 days later and you feel like you don’t love him as much anymore. Yes, it still hurts like hell and, yes, you want to stay home most of the days. But you don’t miss him as much as you used to. 

“Do you want to grab a drink?” Minghao asks now even though he already knows the answer. Gosh, you wish you could give him a yes. A smile and a yes. Instead, you only present him with the first, stretching out your hand and reaching for his.

“I need to get home, Hao. Today has been a lot.”

Minghao nods slowly, a sad smile on his pretty lips. He understands, he really does. But he also misses his happy best friend. Misses the way your eyes crinkle when you smile wholeheartedly , misses the sound of you honest laugh. No matter how many time will pass, he doesn’t think he could ever forgive Jaehyun for what he’s done to you.

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. ﹙ the snake deity of deceit. ﹚: zhào talisen  164 .𖹭 ݁

. . . scary? my god you’re divine !! 🍒 : “ i am the face that stares back at you in the mirror, tormenting you before your heart shatters like the millions of glass pieces that previously occupied the golden mirror frame you built for yourself ”

꒰ verse ꒱ 164

꒰ species ꒱ corrupt snake god, primordial rhytraari

꒰ ethnicity ꒱ chinese 

꒰ age ꒱ unknown ( millennia )

꒰ gender ꒱ male

꒰ mbti ꒱ isfp

꒰ alias ꒱ copper resentment, the copper rhytaari, copper primordial rhytaari, copper wrath ( by ecpd 781 ), copper siren, copper boy, the great snake, the serpent of the lake, duckling, emerald’s right hand, ( shrimpie ♡ )

꒰ story ꒱ 

a master of lies - the deity of deciet and great destruction. serpent to most, siren to some - a mad god is what he actually is.

a being of chaos, a chaos that hungers forever and on — craving discord and destruction, awakened by this. . . underlying hatred for the world, a hatred unknown. what caused this to stir in the first place?

taking form of a giant serpant that many write about in their numerous mythologies across the eras. too busy sucking out the souls from their physical bodies and luring them into the waters of his river, his lake. tearing them open and degrading them from entering the vicinity. stupid humans, stupid, stupid mortals.

why enter the ever dawn when it is rumored to be a place where none come out of once they enter? was their deaths not enough to satisfy their knowledge, did they truly have to go search? stupid, mortal, creature.

the being has no love for this world. . . why?

who is to say?

none will, the mouths that were once able to are dirt filled and bone now.

 

꒰ appearance ꒱

copper eyes with maroon undertones. slitted pupils 

long, straight black hair that trails behind him, he often has it up in some form of a half-bun. has copper streaks in his hair 

tan skin with copper glimmers all over his body. has copper freckles all over his face. androgynous and sharp facial features  

7’11” tall ( 241.3 cm ) with a slender figure 

hands ad forearms are stained in copper colouring 

snake features, such as eyes, fangs and general features 

rows of sharp teeth and an elongated tongue 

sharp talons 

typically dresses in lots of traditional clothes in regards to his culture. especially long, elegant hanfus

gold and copper chains and necklaces all around him. on his clothing as well 

red painted lips 

copper and gold bracelets crafted with opals and pearls 

lobe and upper lobe ear piercings 

gold nose ring 

midline tongue piercing 

opal navel piercing

can turn into a giant snake that often dwells within lakes and water bodies

 

꒰ personality ꒱

alluring and charming, a silver-tongued, cunning and deceptive being which thrives off of discord and feeds on resentment.

carries himself in an eerily calm manner, an effortless cool confidence following wherever he may step.

when displaying wrath and malice, it is usually put into a serene and calm font, his enchanting voice misleading you into false safety.

deceitful, loves spinning the truth and playing mind games on people.

sinister — you find him often delighting in chaos, unafraid to step on a few eggs if it means he can have his way.

a master of manipulation, the rhitaari indulges in sadism of the highest degrees and often gives into his violent tendencies.

a sociopath, far from forgiving.

eager to put people in their place and remind them of his power, all with a smile on his face, laced with kindness.

he is patient, yet determined and willing to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals.

in spite of his general aura of elegance and control, talisen can be quite erratic and even impulsive; something that can lead to catastrophic evens.

despite his malevolence, the rhitaari can as a matter of fact extend kindness to those he deems worthy of it. he does not fancy hurting the innocent. . . unless they can be used as leverage.

he is a possessive man, and has a tendency to grow beyond obsessive over the ones who hold his heart, which can result in quite the yandere behaviors from him.

though, he may be this confident being, it all ultimately falls short when the deeper parts of his soul are observed.

he is deeply wounded from the past. ashamed and guilty from the choices that he made and commit to. . . though, the show must go on, must it not?

 

꒰ with a lover ꒱

sweet and gentle with a lover, caring and nurturing

so many possessive undertones, hidden well by his deceptive behaviour. he is most definitely yandere esque. wants you all for himself — so that he can put you into his and his husbands’ cottage, and keep you there. where you can just simply be, and enjoy life them

always doing his best to assure that you are feeling good. and when you are not he’s immediately running to you to bring you comfort or whatever it is that you may need

dances you around the cottage or the forest grove, singing soft melodies to you

composes many poems and songs for you

very touch starved man, which means his hands are always resting on you, whether it be your hips, waist, thighs, shoulders — anything he can touch really

when you are not around him to touch, cuddle or simply speak to — he gets irritated very quickly

can be extremely teasing and flirty. especially with his words and touches. can get exceptionally touchy

can pretty much the definition of a puppy that forgets how big it really is. randomly picking you up and slinging you around gently, or simply just holding you close, stealing kisses and randomly throwing you into bed to cuddle

expect lots of random midnight walks

sooooo many kisses and huggles through the day

 

꒰ strengths ꒱

alluring song and beauty: his songs and beauty are enchanting, much like that of a siren. he is able to put people in trances with this and lure them to their watery demise.

he is proficient with enchantments, and often uses them for his mischievous deeds, causing discord and chaos wherever he may step foot. also uses enchantments to his advantage as a way of drawing in wanderers and onlookers into his river.

illusions: born with these illusionary powers even before he was a rhytaari, he has now mastered the skill of creating entire empires in one simple flick of the wrist. this means when you walk into one of his illusionary fields you may experience intense brain fog, nausea and start hallucinating, as you are walking into something that is seemingly real but isn’t. he uses this method to also lure people to him and kill them.

charms: he has taught himself charms throughout his years, using them to make people tell him things when they refuse to do so.

teleportation: the ability to travel from one place to another instantly, with so much as a thought. this includes multiversal and realm teleportation.

silver tongue: something he has always wielded, he can be both incredibly deceptive and convincing. able to work his way around someone’s head and pull at them like the strings of a puppet. he is talented in the ways of manipulation.

mind-reading: the ability of telepathy, however, he can only do such if he is deeply connected to the person or know the person very well.

shapeshifting: the ability to shift his form into whatever he so desires, this can range from different people and beings to animals.

divinity: he is considered to be a corrupt god and therefore obtains catastrophic abilities, that of which allows him to quite literally have the ability to rip into universes

 

꒰ weaknesses ꒱

. . . 

 

꒰ relationships ꒱

rishen herrera: husband, best friend, ‘deceased’ ( dies and reincarnates repeatedly )

alessio agresta: husband, work partner.

1311 rishen herrera: boyfriend, different universe ( verse 1311 )

9948e rishen herrera: close friend, different universe ( verse 9948e )

9948v rishen herrera: close friend. . . different universe ( verse 9948v )

zhào talisen: bullying victim, variant, different universe ( verse 781 )

zhào jìngyì: bullying victim, variant, deceased, different universe ( verse 9948e )

209 jìngyì herrera: bullying victim, variant, different universe ( verse 209 )

1311 jìngyì agresta: bullying victim, variant, different universe ( verse 1311 )

 

꒰ extra ꒱

he can turn into a small duckling when visiting people that he is fond of.

he is omnilingual yet his preferred languages are english and chinese ( mandarin )

he also knows all sign-language

he torments his variants ( doppelgangers ) across the multiverse, projecting his self-hatred onto them

he smokes with a kiseru pipe.

owns several familiars who were left behind by previous owners.

he can travel the multiverse with no restrictions.

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

Our goddess and savior: Natasha Romanoff

Katya is good at ending up in bad situations. Natasha is good at getting her out of them.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 1.7k • Warnings: descriptions of gore and an execution This is part of my series where I post small scenes I've written over the years that have never seen the light of day because they didn't fit into the story the way I wanted them to Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

A/N: this one is for you @milfs69420

2010

Katya's wrists ached where the rope cut into them, a wooden pole digging into the valley between her shoulder blades. She tried to feel for the small knife hidden in the sleeve of her mission suit, but they'd successfully managed to strip her of all her weapons. There was nowhere to go, and her muscles were aching as she used the pole to keep herself up.

Fuck this mission. And fuck herself for messing it up once more. 

Maybe Natasha was right and she really was the worst best spy ever. Somehow, she always walked out with the correct information or the right person's heart pierced by her knife. But it was always after almost dying or getting hurt.

Right now, Katya found herself on the other side of a firing squad. About ten men patiently awaited orders to empty the magazines of their automatic weapons into her body. Behind them, a hundred more from their shitty organization gathered to watch the whole thing happen, like pathetic little sheep.

They were using her for propaganda and a demonstration of power. How nice. 

''Look,'' Katya sighed exasperatedly, using her last bit of energy to cover up her dread. If she was going out, she was going out with sass. ''I know I'm pretty, my girlfriend says so, but is the display really necessary?'' 

God, she could really use Natasha right about now, mere moments away from a possibly very shitty death. Imagine getting delivered back to SHIELD with hundreds of bullet holes in her body. 

A wave of guilt nearly brought her to her knees. That would leave her gorgeous girlfriend traumatized for sure.

''Yes.'' A short man in front of her answered. He barked orders at the firing squad earlier. Now he was slowly pacing back and forth, waiting for something. Katya wasn't sure what. His French accent annoyed her. ''You're an example.''

''Of beauty?'' She feigned an exaggerated smile. ''Thanks.''

''No. Of idiocy.'' He scoffed, stepping up to her. His creepy little eyes traveled up and down her body in disdain, as if he was bitter he didn't get to shoot her himself. ''Thought you were one of the best. The Ghost.'' 

Katya wasn't backing off—not that she could. She squinted at him when she spat out her code name. ''Yeah, well, I have a reputation of messing up.''

''Clearly.'' He smirked when he heard someone coming up to him, stretching out his arm to receive something. ''So, this is you paying the price for it.''

Dread swirled in Katya's gut as she watched him fiddle with the mysterious thing in his hand. He'd turned around and walked back to his men, so it wasn't clear what it was, but she had a bad, bad feeling about it. Worse than her upcoming death. ''What's that?''

Smugly, the man turned around, lifting and pointing the object at her. It was a video camera. ''I am going to film this, if that's alright with you? Give your friends something to remember you by.''

All the blood drained from Katya's face at once. Gone was her attitude.

She could handle dying. And she was pretty sure Fury would shield Natasha from ever seeing her destroyed body. But if this shitty little man got her death on video, he would dangle the footage over Natasha's head and use it to absolutely destroy her soul. 

Katya could handle dying, but she would not drag her girlfriend along with her.

''No. Don't,'' she said firmly, her whole body on edge. She wanted to snatch that recorder from his hand and throw it so hard against a wall that it shattered in a million pieces. But she was helpless, tied to this godforsaken wooden pole like a witch in the seventeenth century.

The man's smirk widened. ''Oh, someone's getting queasy.''

Katya's fingers curled into fists to keep her fearless composure. ''You can kill me all you want, but don't put it on tape. That's really not necessary.''

''Too bad.'' Slowly, he backed up, until he stood between the row of shooters. He was enjoying it, this asshole. He knew he had her on the edge of desperation. ''Any last words?'' When the red light on his recorder started to flicker, Katya knew it was too late.

''None meant for you.'' 

Defeated, accepting of her upcoming fate, she closed her teary eyes, leaning her head back against the pole. 

Death was fine by her. That wasn't the part she feared. But all Katya could think about was the people she'd leave behind. People who would actually care if she was gone now. 

Well, just one person, actually. Natasha. How heartbroken she'd be. She would never let another person get close again, give up on love forever. Maybe she'd run from the pain, give up on everything good she was achieving with SHIELD. All that growth, everything that made her into a human being again, gone. 

In this moment, though, there was nothing else to do but accept the situation. Dozens of soldiers, tightly tied to a pole, defenseless; Katya was stuck and utterly hopeless. 

''Guns ready!''

Nat, I love you. It's the only thing she could think of. I love you, I love you, and I'm so sorry I'm leaving you again. Please, forgive me. 

''And—''

His voice got cut off by a choking sound.

Katya's eyes flew open, disoriented and confused. Her heart raced in her chest as she followed the noise of the video recorder shattering on the floor to the man from before. 

A knife sat deeply lodged in his throat. Blood sprayed out of his artery, his mouth wide open as he fruitlessly clawed at his neck. But there was absolutely no fixing this. His knees instantly gave out, and in a mere five seconds, he was as dead as they could be.

Frantically, Katya looked around for the thrower, her savior. Although from the precision with which that knife was thrown, it could only be one person. The only one almost as good as her. 

The realization made her laugh, and she dropped her head back against the pole once more. This time with a wide smile on her lips. 

''Always the dramatic entrance, darling!''

Like she was in the walls, Natasha's chuckle echoed all around. The dozens of aimless men in front of Katya were spinning hopelessly in their spot, raising their guns, trying to find her, but Natasha was nowhere to be found. The shadows loved her as much as the setting sun loved her orange hair. 

A horrifying humming filled the space, a slow tune which made neckhairs rise and skin crawl. Something straight out of a horror movie. ''You look so pretty tied up, baby.''

Despite the situation, Katya felt her smile morph into a sly smirk. She shifted restlessly, eager to get out of these ties now that rescue was near. ''Then why don't you come down here and help yourself?''

''I am here, baby.''

She jumped six figurative feet in the air, her wrists painfully sliding across the rough wood from the pole. Natasha's voice sounded from right behind her, where she had never expected it. ''Jesus!''

''Close your eyes,'' Natasha muttered, her mouth close to Katya's ear.

''Why—'' A loud shriek left her lips. The sound of a million gunshots bounced off the walls of the warehouse, amplified by the bare concrete and metal support beams holding the place up. It was deafening. If it weren't for the hands covering her ears, Katya feared she may have had a ringing in her ears for a week. 

Her eyes closed all on their own as—what must be—SHIELD STRIKE teams laid down fire upon everyone in the room. Natasha must have brought them with her when she realized what the situation was like. Katya recognized an execution when she heard one. She couldn't say she hated this one. Something about karma. 

The noise abruptly died out. Safe for some rattling of empty bullet shells, the warehouse was completely silent after Natasha took her hands away. The dozen, quick-moving, heavy footsteps that moved in on the very dead crowd were mere whispers compared to the thunderstorm from before.

Natasha sighed, stepping in front of Katya with a disappointed yet amused shake of her head. It was probably the near-death experience, but Katya had never seen anything more beautiful than this. Was this what religious people saw when Jesus came to them in a dream? ''You really did it this time. A firing squad.''

Katya grinned, trying not to focus on all the dead bodies behind her girlfriend. The relief she felt was indescribable. Natasha saved her life once again. ''Impeccable timing, honey.''

''I let you sweat a bit. Was here, like, fifteen minutes ago.'' Natasha shrugged, pulling another knife from her thigh to cut the rope with. 

She pretended not to see the murderous glare Katya sent her as she disappeared behind her again, because that was such a dick move, to try and teach her a lesson by almost letting her get murdered. It wouldn't even work, because Katya just kept ending up in these situations, even if she tried to be more careful. Especially then.

''Hey, what were you thinking about right before I treated that guy to my knife?'' Natasha knowingly asked as she cut away at the rope around Katya's wrists. ''You had that frown on your face.''

They both knew she did that dramatic mental goodbye, but Katya refused to give in to the teasing. Relieved, she brought her hands to her chest when they were freed, rubbing her raw wrists. ''Thinking about the chicken I had for dinner. It was very good.''

''Mhm,'' the redhead hummed skeptically. She returned to Katya's front to cut away the rope around her ankles, tossing her hair over her shoulder before she crouched down.

''And about how sexy you look in your mission suit.'' Katya's eyes lit up, risking everything by staring at Natasha's cleavage while the woman had a very sharp knife very close to her Achilles heel. This top view just did wonders for her chest. ''By the way, that knife and the psycho tint after? Incredibly hot.''

Natasha smirked, her gaze flickering up to Katya's. ''I thought you'd like it.''

Like? Katya had nearly crumbled on the spot. ''Baby, I think once you cut me loose, my knees might give in on me.'' She chuckled humorlessly.

Somehow, Natasha looked excited by that fact. ''I'll have to carry you then.''