#life doesn’t even have to be GOOD. as long as I can live and not be stressed and be lazy I will 99% of the time just do nothing

[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: IV | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 10,073

—  warnings: sexual tension, some nervousness, strong language, mention of sex, mention of breakup, mention of pain, crying, teasing, pain, screaming, some panicking, and nudity

—  author’s note: this is for now my absolute favorite chapter of this series. so many things happen & it’s a very vulnerable one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter 🤗 let me know what you think and thanks from the bottom of my heart for the love shown to this series ❤️

Chapter IV: standing next to you

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

Jungkook is patiently waiting for you at the fertility clinic’s entrance.

Today is a special day.

It’s the first day you’ll meet your little baby. However, it’s also a bit of a terrifying day because there’s a possibility that there’s something wrong with the baby.

The werewolf king hasn’t slept at all, too worried about today. Yesterday, you told him about this appointment, and he asked if he could come. How could you say ‘no’ to him? He desires so much to be involved, you can see it in his eyes.

Now that you’re both on the same page about the baby, it feels like you’re on cloud nine. You’re both going to have a child, except it’s definitely not going to be as planned. You were both planning on being alone, but you have each other now.

Jungkook senses you arriving in your car, his eyes completely drawn to you. Feeling your presence from far away is something very new to him; he never experienced it with anybody else. Not even with Yuna. He keeps wondering if it’s because you’re carrying his child, but that doesn’t seem to make any sense.

His entire being is always captivated by you. Whenever you’re around, you’re the only thing that truly matters. There’s something so different about you that he can’t quite explain. Being with you makes him feel good.

As you step out of your car, his eyes lock onto you, completely captivated by your beauty. You’re dressed in sleek black trousers and a white shirt that hints at your cleavage, an effortless yet striking combination. His gaze follows your every move as you open the passenger door to retrieve your long black coat and purse.   

The man swallows with difficulty. He finds you extremely beautiful, he’d even say that he has never laid his eyes on someone this pretty. Yuna can’t even compare next to you. And what makes you even prettier is the little life you’re carrying inside you. You’re the mother to his child which is quite a big deal though.

When you notice him, a bright smile appears on your face. His beauty is quite striking, and you wonder how you’ll be able to live a life with such a handsome man. You hope that the baby will take his good looks, because damn, Jungkook is alluring.

His outfit is a bit more casual than yesterday’s, but it’s still more formal than when meeting him at the town square. He’s dressed in blue skinny jeans, a white shirt, and a checked suit jacket. It’s simple, but definitely a great look.

Once you’ve reached him, you actually don’t really know what to do. Do you simply stay in front of him? Or do you kiss on the cheek? Or do you shake his hand?

“A simple kiss on the cheek is enough.”

Jungkook didn’t move his lips at all although you’ve heard him loud and clear in your head.

“Did you say something?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head.

That’s weird.

However, you decide to follow the voice in you heard—that probably was a hallucination. You get closer to him before pressing a gentle kiss on his squishy cheek. Both of your hearts start beating at the same rapid rhythm. For a moment, Jungkook notices how in synch your hearts are beating, but he doesn’t really give too much credit to it.

“Hello, Jungkook,” you say after the kiss.

“Hi, yn,” he takes a step back to look at you. “Ready?” he asks.

“Yes,” the brightest smile appears on your face.

The two of you head inside the clinic while casually talking about how you’re feeling about this appointment. By the looks of it, Jungkook is more nervous than you. You’re actually not really worried as you constantly hear your child’s heartbeat that grows stronger every day. The only concern there might be is if the baby has any malformation, but even like that, you feel that deep down, you know the baby is just fine.

The doctor—who gave you the extremely bad news of the sample mix-up a month ago—makes her way inside the room after you both got inside. She clearly doesn’t know how to act in front of you, but you decide to smile to put her at ease. On the other side, Jungkook seems closed off, he almost looks pissed.

“Hi Miss y/l/n and Mister Jeon,” she offers you both a smile while she invites you to take a seat.

The two of you sit down before she does the same. Jungkook clearly doesn’t look happy; he seems to still resent her for the mistake made.

“How have you been feeling?” she asks with concern.

“I’m actually doing great,” you inform her.

You look at your right to Jungkook, trying to check his reaction. His dark and intense eyes are fixed on the doctor, leaving you wondering if he’s planning on answering or if he’ll just keep looking at her like he’s about to kill her. By the way his jaw clenches, you assume he’ll ignore her. But, to your surprise, he breaks the tension with a sharp answer.

“Could be better,” he coldly says.

The sharpness in his tone makes you blink. “You could be nicer to her,” those are the words you’d definitely like to say to him, but you resist the urge to call him out. Jungkook turns to you abruptly, his expression unreadable, as always.

“What?” Jungkook asks, his brows furrowing. Your eyes widen as you realize what just happened. He heard you.

 “This woman gave me a hundred heart attacks,” he continues. “No way, I’ll be nice to her.”    

You stare at each other in silence, your hearts beating rapidly. None of you has moved your lips, but you’ve been mentally talking. This is too wild for you. Jungkook doesn’t understand how on earth that is possible, and you believe that it’s one of those werewolf abilities you’re still discovering.

��Again, I’d like to apologize again for this mistake,” she clears her throat, pulling both of you back into the room. “The costs have been fully refunded to you this week. In principle, you should have already received the reimbursement by now.”

You nod as you remember seeing your bank account increase a lot after receiving the money. It’s honestly so weird to have so much right now, but you’ll transfer most of it to your investment and spare accounts. There’s no way you’ll leave your money to lose value.

While the refund doesn’t erase the mistake, it’s a reminder of how messy this whole situation has been.

“Before we proceed with the ultrasound,” the doctor continues. “I’d like to confirm with you if you’ve made a decision about the pregnancy,” she says.

Jungkook’s unreadable and mysterious face sends shivers down your spine. The energy he radiates is heavier and darker, and you feel the storm growing inside him. He seems to have become a totally different person since entering the room. You know he’s furious at the clinic for their huge mistake, and you understand why. But now, you’ve both decided to keep the baby so in the end, it’s all good.

But still, you need him here, not lost in his anger.

 “Yes,” you gently say, offering a small smile before your gaze moves back to the man sitting next to you. “We’ve decided to proceed with the pregnancy.”

“Okay, perfect then!” she seems to relax now.

You can see that he’s holding back, you can sense his anger, but you don’t want to see him like this. You’re about to meet your baby. You place your hand on top of his to gently squeeze it, your thumb tracing soothing circles over his skin.

You instantly see his stiff shoulder relax slightly, and you can sense the heat of his anger vanishing, replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable. You hold onto his hand, willing him to stay calm. He remains quiet, though you can feel him shimmering under the surface. The doctor stands up and gestures toward the next room.

“We can go then do the ultrasound,” she stands up. “How would you like to proceed?”

You’re both confused about her question, not really understanding what she means.

“What do you mean?” you ask, glancing between her and Jungkook.

“This is a pelvic ultrasound,” she explains. “The baby is very small, so we can’t use the standard method.”

“Oh,” you both respond at the same time, the realization dawning on you.

“I’ll leave you then alone,” Jungkook instantly retorts while he shifts in his seat.  

“No,” you grab his arm before he can move, your eyes meeting his with determination. “This is your child too. You should be here for the first ultrasound.”

“If you’d prefer,” the doctor starts suggesting. “Mister Jeon can wait outside while you get settled. I’ll ensure your privacy is protected and call him to be next to you once you’re ready.”

You consider her words, appreciating the balance of practicality and respect. This approach seems reasonable, and it might ease Jungkook’s discomfort. You glance at him, silently asking for his agreement. After a moment, he nods.

“Fine,” his voice softens.

The doctor leads you to the room, and Jungkook’s hand lingers on yours for a moment longer before letting you go. Even though he’s not right next to you, you feel his steady presence, grounding you as you prepare to see your baby for this very first time.  

Once you’re in the other room, you remove your bottoms. The doctor gestures for you to lie down on the gynecological examination table and place your leg on the stirrups. This is such a vulnerable position, but you’ve been doing this a lot since you started this journey.

This is a room you’ve seen quite a lot, and it almost feels like a second house. The white sterile walls could make you feel uncomfortable, but the soft and calming lighting makes it feel like a warm room. It’s appeasing when you go through this entire process to procreate.

On your right, there is the ultrasound machine and a screen together with the material needed for the ultrasound like the gel. There is also the slim and long transvaginal ultrasound probe. It can look very scary, but it actually doesn’t hurt at all.    

“Perfect,” the doctor says once you’re perfectly situated. “I’ll put a little blanket on top to cover you,” she indicates.

You nod with a bit of nervousness. Knowing that Jungkook will see you in this open posture makes you feel a bit anxious. You’ve never come to any gynecologist appointment with any men, not even your exes. It would have felt weird, especially since you were more of a fuck girl. It’s weird to admit it but you’ve always been more comfortable in having sex with somebody than committing to them.

Obviously, you engaged in certain relationships, but it was mostly to try to fill the deep void inside you. There was one man, Elliott with whom you stayed for three years. He’s been the only man who felt right to fall in love with. He treated you right, loved you right, and made you feel right. However, your fear of losing someone special got the best of your relationship. 

This breakup knocked you down. You lost someone you deeply loved, just like you lost your parents. Since then, you haven’t engaged in anything with anybody. No dating and no sex. It’s been about focusing on yourself and understanding yourself better. And it’s been two years.

With this entire process of being a mother on your own, it didn’t feel like two years went by.  

The doctor leaves for a couple of seconds before reappearing with Jungkook. When your eyes meet, you can tell that this is a first time for him. His facial expression almost indicates some shock to see you in this position. It’s not really glamorous, but for now, that’s how you get to meet your little baby.

Jungkook stands at your left, his eyes going between you and the gynecologist material. A smile grows on your face while you watch him; he looks adorable.

The doctor takes the probe, covers it with a kind of long condom, and puts the gel on it. Jungkook’s eyes widen as he sees it, causing your smile to grow bigger. “Is it going to hurt?” he communicates through his thoughts.

“No, don’t worry,” you answer back before grabbing his hand to squeeze it.

It leaves you wondering how things would have gone if he had done this through surrogacy. Would he be present for the first ultrasound? It would be logical if he was because it is his child, but it would feel weird though. Well, this is probably he will never know since it isn’t about surrogacy anymore.

 “Can I?” the doctor asks with the long probe in her hands.

You simply nod, and she proceeds to insert it inside you.

“Just relax,” she tells you.

Jungkook avoids watching down by respect to you, but this is all surprising to him.

The coldness of the device catches you a bit off guard although you should have expected it to be this cool. By reflex, you squeeze Jungkook’s hand, and he obviously starts worrying. However, he caresses the back of your hand with his thumb. Just like the doctor, he wants you to relax.

For a moment, you turn to glance at him. His soft expression calms you down, and right now, you wouldn’t want anyone else to be next to you. It’s weird to think that you like his presence around you when you embarked on this journey by yourself. He wasn’t supposed to be here with you. If the samples hadn’t been mixed up, you’d be here alone.

Suddenly, you can see the image on the monitor move. The doctor is looking for the tiny little piece of life inside you. Then, suddenly, a blurry figure appears, and the baby’s heartbeat breaks the silence of the room.

Even though you’ve been hearing their heartbeat since the first day, hearing it loud and clear makes it emotional. The baby is really alive. His tiny moving heart is clearly visible on the monitor. A little tear of joy streams down your face.

The second the heartbeat can be heard, Jungkook squeezes your hand. His baby—or should he say your baby—is thriving inside your belly. This makes it real; he’s about to become a father. A little Jeon is about to join the family, and that fills his heart with a pride he can’t explain.

The circumstances that created this tiny human—and wolf—aren’t the greatest. But this baby has been more than desired by his two parents. The two of you are exceptionally happy to finally see the baby.

Nothing could have prepared you for this moment. It’s unique. It’s incredible. And it’s heartwarming.

The doctor is speaking in the background, but none of you seems to pay attention to her words. You’re solemnly focused on the tiny blurry figure on the screen. None of you speak; you simply embrace every emotion you feel, and your hands intertwined together. As you see the baby, you feel excited for the upcoming ultrasounds to see them slowly growing.

“All seems to be fine with the baby,” those words push you out of your reverie.

This is all that matters. If the baby is doing great, you don’t care about the rest. Life has been so chaotic lately, and this is the best news you ever got in the past few weeks.

“So, this was our last appointment together,” she explains while removing the probe. “From now on, you’ll have to be followed by your obstetrician. We will contact you throughout the pregnancy and after the birth to check up on you.”  

Jungkook is relieved that he won’t have to come back to this place. His eyes look down at your fingers entwined; you’re still holding onto each other. Even though he doesn’t want to admit it out loud, since the first second he saw you, he knows what you truly represent to him.

Since he met you, he’s been experiencing things he never did with anyone else. He’s been having such a strong connection with you. And now, you can even communicate through thoughts. That is a unique bond. A bond you only create with one person only. Your soulmate.

But that’s something Jungkook doesn’t want to admit or believe right now. There has been so much going on right now, and for sure, when everything will slow down, it will probably hit him in the face.

The father of your child leaves the room so you can get dressed. Once ready, you join him in the doctor’s office. He’s patiently waiting for you, and it truly warms your heart to see him here. You take a seat next to him while the doctor proceeds to explain certain things about what’s next with the pregnancy. She gives a bunch of advice which honestly seems to be helpful.

After fifteen minutes, you leave her office with Jungkook. It’s a weird feeling to know you’re never coming back here again. For a couple of months, you’d come quite often, but your project is finally taking place. You’re about to become a mother. A werewolf mother.

The two of you walk in complete silence until your car. You’re both still processing what you just saw and experienced. When you reach your car, you finally look up at him. He’s biting his lower lip, clearly lost in his thoughts.

“You’re okay?” you ask.

His eyes finally meet yours. There’s something in his gaze you’ve never quite seen before. You’re seeing a storm of emotions in them.

You see worry, the weight of responsibility already pressing heavily on his shoulders. You see vulnerability, something he rarely shows, he’s always composed under any circumstances. But beyond all that, there is something else. There’s awe, as though the ultrasound was a moment that truly humbled him. It’s as if he’s beginning to grasp the enormity of what’s happening, of the life growing inside you, and of the connection forming between the three of you.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “It’s just something special to see the little life forming inside you,” he admits.

“It is,” you offer him a little smile.

Jungkook looks so endearing right now, and you just want to hug him tight in your embrace.

“Tomorrow night is the full moon,” he then completely changes the conversation’s topic. “If you’re still okay with it, I’d like you to be at my place.”

This approaching full moon is making you nervous. It’s the first one you’ll experience as a pregnant lady, but it’s also probably going to be your first one where you’ll shift into a wolf shape. And that sounds pretty scary, especially since you’ve known about your werewolf heritage for like three days.

Jungkook takes a step closer, his hand delicately placing a strand of hair behind your ear. This simple gesture sends shivers down your spine, and your heart suddenly beats faster. Your eyes get lost in his, and the world seems to fade away around you as his thumb lightly brushes against your cheek.  

Since he has appeared in your life, you’ve been going through lots of ups and downs. He has unveiled the werewolf world to you together with a part of yourself you never knew. It hasn’t been easy, but his presence feels grounding and reassuring. Deep down, you kind of feel that he’s never going to leave you. It’s an unspoken truth that you can’t explain, but somehow, you know.

His face moves dangerously closer to yours until you feel his hot breath on your skin. Your heart hammers faster and faster in your chest, and for a brief moment, nothing else matters. There is no doubt that he’s about to kiss you, and truthfully, there’s nothing else you want more. But a small voice in the back of your mind whispers caution.

Today, you’ve experienced a lot of emotion, especially since you got to see your baby for the first time. You don’t want this kiss to happen because of the intensity of the moment. You want this first kiss to happen because it’s right, because you both want it with absolute clarity, not as a reaction to the whirlwind of feelings you’re navigating.  

His nose brushes against yours, his warmth pulling you in, and your lips are a breath away from meeting when you step back. Jungkook blinks, surprised. His eyes search yours, and you can see confusion and even a touch of disappointment in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, he’s definitely too surprised.

“I’ll be at your place tomorrow,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “Just send me the details.”

Before he can say anything, you jump in your car and slip away, your pulse still racing. As you’re driving, you try to steady your thoughts, pushing aside what almost happened. You’re not ready. Not just yet.

Following Jungkook’s address, your car slows down as you approach an imposing set of gates. Massive iron bars stand tall against the backdrop of the dense woods surrounding the estate, their presence as commanding as the man you’re here to meet.

You stop and glance around from your windshield before you leave the car. Beyond the gates, the large trees hide the driveway and the house. Your imagination starts to fill in the blanks. He’s the king, after all. His home must be grand, maybe even overwhelming.

On the wall beside the gate, a modern intercom system catches your eye. A silver button gleams in the sunlight, its simple design contrasting with the timeless feel of the gates. Your hand hovers near the button as you still look around you. You feel so small, standing here at the threshold of Jungkook’s world; one you’re not entirely sure to belong yet.

Taking a deep breath, you press the button. Barely seconds later, a voice is heard through the intercom.

“Hello,” you don’t recognize the voice. “How can I help you?”

Well, as the king, it wouldn’t surprise you that he has people working for him. He couldn’t possibly take care of his house by himself.

“Hello, I’m yn,” you say. “I was invited by Jung… Mister Jeon,” you answer.

“Hello, miss y/l/n, we were waiting for you,” the voice says. “Please follow the road to the mansion.”  

The impressive gates move to let you enter Jungkook’s estate. You instantly jump back into your car before starting the engine. Very carefully and slowly, you drive through the road, your eyes wandering around you. This is definitely a very impressive state, and there’s absolutely no doubt that the father of your child is wealthy.

After a little while, a sprawling, stone-clad mansion with dark and earthy tones comes into view. The architecture is both ancient and timeless, with arches windows, and carved details that hint at its long history. You can’t believe this is where Jungkook lives, and it also leaves you wondering if this is where your child is going to grow up. Well, most probably yes.

An impressive courtyard suddenly appears, and it’s surrounded by well-manicured gardens that lead into the untamed wilderness of the forest. It’s simply incredible.

You don’t really know where to stop your car, but a man dressed in black clothing runs in your direction. In order to not make him run more, you halt and roll down the window. He’s out of breath when he reaches you.

“Miss y/l/n,” he manages to say, and you offer him a little smile. “Please follow me with your car to the parking spot.”

The man starts walking again, and this time you follow his direction. Everything about this seems unreal. A month ago, you totally ignored werewolves existed; you were planning everything to welcome a baby. And today, you’re here. You’re about to enter the mansion of the Werewolf King, and the father of your baby.

Seconds later, the man indicates where you can park. Once you stop the engine, the man opens the door for you. Wow, this is a first time, but you deeply appreciate it even though it wasn’t necessary.

“Thanks,” you say as you step out.  

“You’re welcome,” he bows. “Would you have any luggage with you?” he asks.

For a moment, you take a look at the man. This is definitely a footman, Jungkook’s personal footman. Honestly, this feels like being in one of those Christmas movies where a random girl meets a prince or king and they fall in love. However, in this case, you don’t fall in love and you share a kid.

“Yes,” you answer. “But don’t worry, I’ll take it.”

The man shakes his head. “I got personal orders from Mister Jeon to take care of it,” he says. “And I would also never leave a pregnant woman carry her luggage.”

Seems like you don’t have much to say here. He’s following his boss’ orders, and based on what you see, Jungkook won’t allow any rule to be unfollowed. And you’ll also feel guilty if anything happens to this man because of you.

“Okay,” you admit in defeat. “Then, let me just open the trunk.”

The man follows you and instantly grabs your small luggage when the trunk is opened. It’s honestly super weird, and if everything will be like this tonight, you’re not sure you’ll get used to it. For sure, Jungkook undoubtedly grew up in the middle of all this, but this is new to you.

“Please follow me,” he repeats.

Now that you’re closer to the mansion, you get to see every detail. The front features a massive, double-door entrance made of dark and polished wood, with ornate iron handles. There are also some stone statues around the façade, giving an air of mystery and foreboding.

Jungkook is standing in front of the door, with a little smile on his face. Honestly, you weren’t expecting to see him right here. You thought that his footman would guide you to a living room, or a study where his boss would be sitting and waiting for you.   

“Thanks, Jinwoo,” Jungkook says to his footman.

The man bows before entering the mansion with your luggage in your hand. As you stand before Jungkook, you realize now that he’s a king. It feels instinctual to bow. Kings are meant to be respected and acknowledged for their status. Your knees slightly bend, and your head dips forward, but before you fully bow, his voice cuts through your thoughts.

“No need,” he murmurs in your mind. “You don’t have to do it with me.”

His voice holds a quiet authority, but there’s also something else. Something unspoken, almost tender. For a moment, you hesitate. Bowing feels like the respectful, appropriate thing to do, but his response leaves you questioning the boundaries of his role in your life.

“Are you sure?”

His piercing and dark eyes meet yours, unwavering and resolute. “I am,” he answers, his tone leaving no room for argument even if he’s speaking through your mind.

The intensity of his gaze makes your breath hitch as if he’s reaching past your thoughts and speaking directly to the very core of you. And then, something changes in the air between you. It’s not just his words that stop you. It’s the way he’s looking at you. His expression is almost wounded.

Now, you wonder if you offended him, and the guilt begins to creep in. You’ve never met someone who held so much power yet dismissed the formalities that come with it.

For Jungkook, the title of king isn’t just about wearing a crown. It’s a mantle he bears with pride and responsibility. But when it comes to you, it’s as if he wants to strip away the formalities, the hierarchies, the distance. He doesn’t want you to see him as a king. He wants you to see him for who he truly is.

With you, everything is simply different. When you met him, you totally ignored that he was a king. Every time you met, you would treat him as anybody else, and honestly, it felt great. He wasn’t a king. He simply was Jungkook.  

“You’re different,” his voice softly brushes your mind again.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and the tension in your body slowly fades away. You try to let go of the urge to bow even though it feels weird. His strong presence almost commands reverence, but he made it clear: he doesn’t want that from you.

Jungkook gets closer, his hand brushing against your cheek to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Briefly, you close your eyes to savor the sweet contact of his skin against yours. This brings you back to yesterday when you were about to kiss. You regret how you walk away, especially since you desperately wanted to kiss him, but it’s better like this.

“Thank you,” you say as you open your eyes.

This sense of equality he’s extending to you warms your heart. Jungkook nods, his eyes softening before he takes a step back. This man is such a mystery, but it’s evident that he’s carrying so much on his shoulder. So much history, duty, and perhaps even loneliness that he tries to hide.

“Hi, yn,” he then says out loud as if you’re speaking for the first time.

“Hello, Jungkook,” you reply with a little smile growing on your face.   

“How was the road?” he gestures for you to come inside.

As the gentleman he has proven to be, he lets you walk inside his house first. You’re welcomed with a grand double staircase made of white marble, a marble that matches the floor beneath your feet. Along the walls of the stairs, there are hanging paintings of people. Probably Jungkook’s ancestors.

In the middle, a massive chandelier made of iron is hanging. The walls are impressively high, giving this space a grandiose aspect. This is for sure the kind of place you never thought of seeing in your life. Everything about this room screams ancient and power.

“The trip was fine,” you answer while your eyes get lost. “Although I thought at some point that I got lost,” you explain, your eyes now looking at the man behind you. “This is kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “As a werewolf king, it would be weird if I wasn’t surrounded by a forest.”

“It makes sense,” you admit. “But still, I was really about to call you with despair.”

Somehow, you can see in his eyes that he would have loved that. Saving the damsel in distress, but that’s not for you. There’s no need to save you, you can manage by yourself.

“You were about to call me?” he smirks with evident amusement in his voice. “I wouldn’t have minded. It’s not every day that I get to play the hero.”

You hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t get used to the idea. I can handle myself just fine,” you answer while crossing your arms with a small smile appearing on your face.

Jungkook tilts his head slightly while his smirk deepens. “Oh, I know,” his voice is softer now and his eyes are shining with admiration. “That’s one of the things I like about you.”

At his words, you can feel the heat beneath your cheeks. You weren’t expecting him to compliment you while insinuating that he has a way too big estate, but you take the compliment.

Your child’s father proceeds then to make a little home tour. For sure, he doesn’t show you all the rooms as it is not needed. The first thing he shows you is the bedroom you’ll be staying in tonight. It’s located on the second floor, and the decoration is very simple. It’s a king-size bed with two nightstands and some furniture. Your luggage is already placed on a fancy bench.

A bit further on the second floor, there is the dining room. You’ll be eating here tonight before it gets dark. Apparently, it’s important to eat well and enough before taking a wolf shape. It helps to calm down the hunger, and it lowers the risk to kill someone or an animal.    

On the third floor, there is his magnificent bedroom. It’s extremely big, you’d say your entire apartment fits in the room. It’s also very well decorated; there are many pictures and paintings, and the room breaths ‘Jungkook’. However, the most impressive part is the large walk-in wardrobe. He has a remarkable quantity of clothes.

Then, he guides you outside to an outbuilding. It’s a very rustic, ancient, and a big one, but it looks cute even though it’s a bit far from the main house. However, what stands out more is the strong smell. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s something that definitely draws you.

“So, this place was built for the full moons,” he begins to explain. “This is where we shift, and it avoids destroying the prestigious house my ancestors built. It’s also closer to the woods.”

As you get closer, the scent grows stronger.

“My ancestors also placed something in the walls to attract us. When we shift the scent is even stronger than now, and it was made in case we get out of control. That way, we won’t be going to the main house. It was made to protect the humans living in our house,” you nod at his explanation.

Jungkook opens the door, letting you in first. There’s absolutely nothing in this room, except for a fridge.

“I don’t really use this room anymore,” he explains.

“Do you completely control your transformation?” you ask.

“Yep, that’s the perk of being an Alpha and a King,” he explains. “I’m not influenced by the moon’s phases anymore, but I’ll be with you tonight.”

“And for normal werewolves, at what moment of the full moon do they start changing?” you ask with curiosity.

You need to mentally prepare yourself for what’s coming, there are so many unknowns. For sure, Jungkook will guide you every step of the way tonight, but you still want to know what is going to happen.

“As soon as the sun is down,” he says.

“Okay,” you reply.

For a moment, you just look at this empty room, your heart beating crazily in your chest. Seeing this makes you realize that maybe tonight, you’ll shift into a wolf. It’s a reminder of the heritage your parents hid from you all these years. Not only is this extremely scary, but it’s even more because you’ll have to do it without your parents; the people you loved the most.

“I’m scared, Jungkook,” you turn around to look at him. “So so scared,” you admit.

Jungkook comes closer, his right hand grabbing your left one. His thumb caresses the back of your hand, trying to comfort you as much as possible.

“I understand,” his voice is soft. “This is all new to you, and you’re pushed right through the possibility of shifting into a wolf. I’m sorry this is all happening to you, and I wish things were different.”

He pauses for a moment, his gaze locked onto yours. “No matter what happens, I’ll be right here, standing next to you.”

You squeeze his hand while you whisper, “Thank you.” His support undeniably means a lot to you, you’re not sure you’d be able to go through this without him.

“If I could, I’d take your place in a heartbeat,” he continues. “I’d take all the pain and carry this burden if it meant you didn’t have to suffer. I wouldn’t hesitate, not even for a second.”

Without any hesitation, you throw yourself into his arms to hug him. Pressing a cheek against his chest, you close your eyes. His warmth seems to melt away all the tension in your body. Jungkook has been giving you the comfort of knowing that you don’t have to face everything alone. He’s taken a bit aback, but he wraps his strong arms around you, holding you tight against him.

His lips press a gentle kiss on your head while you remain in this position for a little while. His heartbeat appeases your soul, and it’s the only sound that you hear. In the midst of all this chaos, you’re grateful you found Jungkook.

After dinner, with Jungkook, you go to the outbuilding. But before doing so, he hands you a ‘special’ outfit. It looks like a sporty outfit; it’s made of a black top with black leggings. However, it’s made of a very stretchy fabric.

Jungkook explained that his family developed an outfit capable of resisting the transformation some years ago. Instead of getting ripped off, the fabric detaches when you shift. Once you get back to your human form, you can easily put it back. Apparently, there are magnets inside.

It’s honestly impressive, but, at the same time, not surprising. It’s the royal family that we’re talking about. They have the means to create something like that.

Jungkook’s a big fan of this fabric; all his clothes are made of it. Since he’s not influenced by the moon, he needs adaptive clothes for whenever he wants or needs to turn into a wolf. He also mentioned that it’s very comfortable, which definitely is the case.

“This is impressive,” you say as you’re walking.

The man walking next to you is wearing a long-sleeved white shirt with baggy grey pants. He looks incredibly fine, but you try to avoid looking at him. You don’t want to seem like you’re obsessed with him when you’ve known him for like a month.

“Yep, it is,” he smiles at you.

Jungkook is unable to look away, you look like a damn walking meal. He’s very much aware that he’s attracted to you, otherwise, he wouldn’t have tried to kiss you the other day. But the damn full moon always intensifies any physical attraction. His eyes even still glance at your fine ass. Thankfully, you don’t notice anything.

Once you reach the outbuilding, you put down all the things you brought with you. There are some snacks, two blankets, and extra clothing in case something happens. Jungkook doesn’t fully close the door behind you because if he does so, you’ll be stuck here and might destroy everything.

Since the sun hasn’t fully set yet, you sit down on the floor with Jungkook.

“How was your first transformation?” you ask with curiosity.

“It wasn’t great,” he admits. “It was the day after I turned ten, and I didn’t want to shift. And believe me, resisting it is painful as hell,” he confesses. “On top of that, I was really angry so when I became a wolf, I was out of control. My father didn’t manage to catch me up when I was out in the woods, but he found me when I turned back to human. I was crying like a baby, and I couldn’t remember a damn thing. My father later found out that I had attacked somebody, but thankfully, nothing too bad.”

This doesn’t really reassure you. If Jungkook didn’t have a great first experience, how would be yours? Will you kill someone? Will you also lose control? Also, you’re pregnant so it might be even worse.

“Being a wolf is something I didn’t embrace for a long time, especially since I knew I would eventually become a king,” he confesses. “So for a solid two years, every full moon was extremely painful. Once I accepted it, everything became easier, but I was very young.”

“So our child will also have their first transformation at ten?” you ask, and he nods.

By then, you might probably be able to help your child as you would have gone through ten years of full moons. But that doesn’t change the fact that, right now, it seems scary.

“With my blood, our child will live this wolf experience very differently than any other werewolf. They will be a king or queen so they must be stronger and better prepared than anybody else.”

This kid seems to have gotten the golden ticket to be ‘special’. Merely a month ago, you thought this child would be a totally normal kid, but then, Jungkook proved you wrong.

“The fact that I’m from a different pack won’t have any impact?” you ask.

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “The royal blood is stronger than any other.”

 “So I’m basically just carrying your child,” you jokingly say. “It’s like I don’t contribute at all.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s in the mood to tease you back.

“Carrying our child,” he corrects with a smirk, leaning in slightly. “And trust me, your contribution is very… memorable,” he whispers in your ear.   

Shivers run down your spine, and the playful and cheerful mood has been replaced by something more heavy. By something hotter. And man, you crave so damn much to kiss this man. How will you survive this night with him by your side?

His face is way too close to yours, his eyes now locked on yours. His hot breath caresses your face, and his gaze is filled with lust. The two of you look at each other’s lips with so much desire.  The attraction you feel towards him seems to grow bigger and bigger every day. You’re sure you’ll end up giving in, but you haven’t changed your mind. This kiss needs to happen because you’re both sure about it.

You clear your throat before straightening up. Jungkook instantly retreats, sitting the way he was before getting too close.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay,” you say.

In the blink of an eye, the sun goes down, and the moon lights up through the darkness of the night. At first, you don’t really feel anything, you’re even convinced you’ll easily navigate through this night. But very slowly, the pain intensifies as your bones and muscles realign into a form they never took before. Everything inside you is moving. Everything inside you is being torn apart.  It feels like someone is pulling you in two different directions. You’ve never experienced this kind of pain.  

“Jungkook,” you almost scream as the bones of your right arm move. “Help me.”

Tears run down your face, and Jungkook cups your face in his hands. His thumbs clean the tears on your cheeks. He’s on his knees just like you so he can be at your level. It’s impossible for you to be standing or sitting because of all the things changing in your body right now.

His eyes are full of fear and pain as he obviously can’t do anything but watch you go through this. Obviously, he can understand the intensity of the pain you feel, but he can’t take the pain away. He has healing powers, but they don’t work for this kind of scenario.   

“I’m so scared.”

“I know,” he answers. “Don’t fight it, just embrace the pain. Scream at every moving bone. Scream when your muscles tear. But don’t hold anything back.”

You nod, your eyes don’t leave his as they seem to anchor you in some kind of way.

“You can do this,” he encourages you. “You’re so fucking strong.”

The next couple of minutes that feel like hours, you spend them screaming with pain. You understand now why the first full moon is painful. It’s the first time that your body adapts to your wolf shape. A wolf and a human are very much different.   

“You’re doing so great, yn,” his thumbs caress your cheeks. “You’re doing so well,” he repeats.

Suddenly, Jungkook sees your eyes becoming blue, and he mimics you, his eyes now turning red. The man in front of you decides to turn at the same pace so you don’t feel alone in this. For sure, it’s not quite the same, but at least, by the time, you’re fully a wolf, he’ll be as well.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Then, out of the blue, you feel the baby moving, and your hand instantly goes to your stomach. Your ears try to find the sound of his heartbeat, but you don’t find it.

“Something’s wrong?” Jungkook is looking at you with worry.

“The baby,” you simply answer, and Jungkook frowns. “I don’t hear the heartbeat.”

“Don’t worry, yn,” he says. “I hear it.”

“But I don’t,” you start crying.

Jungkook begins imitating the baby’s heartbeat to help you find it. Following his voice, you try to find the heartbeat, but you can’t. You never stop trying because right now, that’s what you need. You need to ensure your baby’s safety. This is already very painful and if on top of that, you lose your baby, it’ll be the end of you.

Swiftly, the heartbeat echoes in your ears which appeases your soul instantly. Right there, you notice the claws appearing in your hands. It’s impressive to see it coming from your body. It feels unreal. Your body is changing, transforming into something you don’t know. At the same time, you can sense his hands changing against your cheeks. It doesn’t hurt, but his skin texture is different.

After that, your teeth and ears change as well. Jungkook’s hands leave your face to give you room while you go through this transformation. And for a while, you remain like that, stuck in between your human and wolf shapes. However, the pain doesn’t fade away. It’s still there, but nothing has changed. Jungkook starts to pick up the despair in your eyes. You’re panicking.

“Yn,” he lifts your chin to make you look at him.

His red wolfy eyes meet your blue ones.

“I’m a failure, Jungkook,” you whisper.

Your cheeks are ravaged by the tears that have been running down your face since the beginning. It’s such a heartbreaking vision.

“I can’t even fully turn into a wolf.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he halts you before you add anything else. “Don’t say that. You’re far from being a failure.”

His fingers brush your chin with tenderness which soothes you.

“You’re fucking brave, yn,” he continues. “You tragically lost your parents, you’ve recently found out about you and this heritage, and since you’re ten, you’ve been navigating life in the most heartbreaking way,” he reassures you. “You’re doing way better than a lot of us, and we had at least ten years to prepare.”

His red eyes don’t ever look away from you. Even though they have a wolf aspect, you can see how soft his expression is.

“It’s okay to be scared, but I’m here. You’re not alone in this.”

You nod with tears still running down your face.

“Just let this happen, don’t fight it,” his voice is calm. “Take a deep breath and don’t focus on the pain.”

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and you try to focus on something other than the pain. Jungkook’s calm heartbeat invades your senses, and you decide to use it as an anchor. You decide to focus on it to forget about the pain.

Slowly, you feel your body complete the shift. Fur spreads over your skin, your hands become paws, and the clothes covering your body are now on the floor. The world around you now feels vivid and alive.

Your vision is totally different, and your senses are heightened. Everything seems to stimulate you, but somehow, you still manage to not react to everything.

“How do you feel?” Jungkook asks.

“The pain is completely gone,” you telepathically say.  

Even if you deeply desire to speak, in this shape, you can’t say much except growl. However, you can still have a conversation with him through your thoughts. It’s honestly quite a useful.  

“And everything feels different, but it’s fine so far,” you add.

He tilts his head, slightly confused.

“Okay, this is new,” he says. “Usually, people leave their human side when they turn,” he informs you. “But it’s good if you still have your human side while being a wolf.”

Jungkook shifts into his wolf form, and you’re blown away. A large wolf has now replaced the man standing in front of you. He’s even more impressive as a wolf than as a human. His stature is intimidating yet majestic, exuding both dominance and grace.

His fur is a blend of silvery grey and white, making his red eyes stand out a lot. His eye color adds an intense energy to his appearance, signifying his role as the king and the immense power he holds.

“Like what you see?” his voice echoes in your mind.

Even though you don’t have a human aspect anymore, you still feel your face get hot. You look away with shyness.

“You’re so majestic,” you admit.

“I’m supposed to be the king,” he answers while his muzzle appears in front of you. “I know I have a more imposing stature as a wolf.”

This is all so crazy. Never in a billion years would have you thought this was going to happen. You’ve turned into a wolf with a guy that is a werewolf king. On top of that, you’re calmly speaking with a wolf as if it’s the most normal thing. 

“What color is my fur?” you ask with curiosity.

“It’s a deep dark brown,” he says while his eyes glance at you. “Very pretty color.”

Is this man going to make you blush all night long?

“Thanks,” your eyes don’t look away this time.  

Jungkook now shows you how to walk, move, and adjust to your new body. Every step feels foreign, it feels like you’re learning how to walk again. As you’re walking towards the door, you have this feeling that you’re walking like an injured dog. But it’s your first time, you can’t be harsh with yourself.

The two of you head towards the door that opens to the woods. At first, you stumble slightly because your legs feel strange. But slowly, you realize that you’re walking. Really walking. The ground under your paws feels solid, reassuring. The more you move, the more natural it becomes.

As you walk towards the forest, you start to gain confidence, and it makes you feel powerful and free. It’s not easy to describe, a mix of awe and exhilaration that courses through your veins. Never in your life have you felt this way. It’s like this new form isn’t just a part of you—it’s always been waiting for you to claim it.

Your heart beats faster, not with fear, but with an exciting sense of possibility. You glance at Jungkook, whose red eyes shine under the moonlight. He senses your transformation is more than just physical. He gives you an encouraging look before he runs, his sleek sliver-and-white fur shining under the moon.

Jungkook keeps looking back at you to make sure you’re following him. However, you take your time because you want to adjust to this new reality. Slowly, you begin to move, your steps becoming steadier with each passing second.  

As you enter the depths of the forest, you realize how deeper everything feels around you. It’s like you’re discovering for the first time what it feels like to be walking in the woods. The earthy scent of the moss and leaves fills your nostrils like never before. You feel every blade of grass under your paws, and the night wind brushes through your fur, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

Over your head, the full moon glows in the dark, and its energy courses through you and heightens every sensation. It’s overwhelming but in the best possible way.

You push forward, your paws digging into the earth as you pick up speed. Jungkook slows down, waiting for you to catch up. His glowing red eyes are filled with pride and encouragement, and he swears he has never seen something as beautiful. Watching you discover everything he has taken for granted is heartwarming.

When you finally reach him, you stand next to him for a moment before you run past him. He’s definitely surprised, and soon, he’s running beside you. For the first time, you don’t struggle to keep up. You’re racing with him, your movements fluid and sure. The two of you snake through the trees, your bodies moving as though they’re part of the forest. You’ve never felt so alive, so connected to the world around you.

Jungkook keeps a steady pace beside you, and his presence grounds you in this surreal moment. You really can’t describe the feeling of having the wind rushing through your fur as you run. Eventually, you end up slowing to a stop in a clearing bathed in moonlight. Your breathing is heavy, but your heart has never felt this light before.

Jungkook steps closer, his voice echoing in your mind: “You did it.”

You look at the father of your child and realize this is so much more than just a transformation. It’s a bond, a shared experience you’ll for sure never forget. As overwhelming as it’s all been, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world.

This is your new reality, and it surprisingly feels like home.

“I did it,” you think to yourself, but Jungkook hears it.

The wolf next to you has never felt so much pride over someone turning into a wolf. He was present when his younger siblings made their first steps as wolves, and even though he was very proud of them, with you, it’s completely different. And he wonders if he will feel even more pride once your baby shifts for the first time.

For the rest of the night, you just walk through the woods, flirting with the city’s limits. Jungkook’s own forest seems to know no end, but it definitely gives you all the space you need to freely run. Surprisingly, you don’t meet any other wolf, but you don’t mind. You’re just too thrilled to discover this new body.

“It’s time to go back,” Jungkook informs you as he notices the darkness of the night leaving room for the sun’s light.

The father of your child guides you back to his outbuilding. Since you have no clue where you are, you simply follow him. Very quickly, you reach the large space. This time around, Jungkook closes the door once you’re both inside.

“So,” he stands in front of you. “To shift back to your human form is easier, but it’s more emotionally draining,” he explains. “It’s not painful, but it’ll take a lot of energy from you.”

You nod, it’s logical that it also contains its fair share of difficulty. Now, you just need to know how to go back to your human form.

“What do I need to do?” you ask.

“You need to set free the wolf inside you,” he tells you. “And visualize yourself as human.”

Well, seems easier said than done. How do you even set the wolf free? You’re definitely not very very sure how you should approach this, but you’ll try.

You close your eyes, but all you can think of is how you felt tonight. This has been by far one of the best experiences of your life. It was painful—you won’t hide it, but the aftermath made it worth it. You’d go through that pain again just to be able to walk so freely.

For a moment, it’s all you can think about, and it doesn’t help to shift you back into your ‘normal’ self. Then, you open your eyes and watch Jungkook.

“I don’t know how to do that,” you say.

The impressive wolf standing in front of you seems to think. He doesn’t really know what to tell you, he’s been able to shift so easily for over fifteen years. It’s easy to guide someone through the pain, but when there isn’t any, he simply doesn’t know what to say.

“Maybe try to think of someone you cherish, or a good memory, or at least, something that makes you happy.”

For the second time, you close your eyes. Your mind runs through all the positive events you lived, and one stands out from all of them. It’s a memory with your dad.    

When you were little, you’d love to go to the shopping street downtown. There were always tons of people—something deeply annoying—, but you’d love to run through every store window to look inside. Your father would go to some of them to buy ‘grown-up’ things. You don’t remember what it was exactly because you didn’t really care back then. All you wanted was to see everything the store had.

At the end, there would be a pretty big café. If you’d behave well, you had the right to eat a pastry with orange juice. Obviously, you’d always make sure to wear your best behavior because the reward was worth it. For the pastry, you’d always go for a croissant with chocolate in it. Every time, you’d hope that the café would have this croissant. If not, you’d take whatever there was.

Your father would always take an espresso with a cheese toast. The smell of his coffee would always comfort you. Even right now, you can still smell it, and it has the same comforting effect. Those are the most precious souvenirs you have with your father.

After his passing, you never went back to that café. Felix tried to bring you there, but you’d refuse. You didn’t want to replace the souvenirs with your father. This café was your dad’s and yours, nobody else's. A little tear runs down your face as you remember that you’ll never be able to create new memories with him in that special place.

Without realizing it, you slowly shift back into your human form. When you realize it, you slowly open your eyes while standing up. Jungkook is still a wolf, but in a matter of seconds, he’s back to being a human.

Your eyes widen when you’re graced with a naked Jungkook, and you instinctively put your hands in front of your eyes. You weren’t really expecting this, and especially, to see this man naked any time soon. He chuckles, but then, it hits you— you’re naked as well.

“Shit,” you mumble.

Then, his warm hands wrap a blanket around you. You uncover your eyes to look back again at the werewolf king. He’s still very much bare, and you try to avoid staring below his chest. It feels totally inappropriate.

“Thanks,” you offer him a little smile.

To your surprise, his right arm is fully covered in tattoos. Honestly, you would have never imagined him with body art. He doesn’t give the type; perhaps it’s because he’s a king. Actually, you’ve never pictured any king adorned with such markings. And it truly makes him look a million times hotter.

Let’s not even talk about his toned figure…

Your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his body. His squared and broad shoulders look like they were carved from stone, and his muscular torso is just as well mesmerizing. The way his chest rises and falls with each breath is hypnotic, and for a moment, you can almost feel the raw power lying beneath his skin.

Your eyes linger longer than they should, and you suddenly find it hard to meet his eyes again. You can’t deny it—his presence is utterly magnetic, and it stirs something deep within you. 

Suddenly, you’re violently hit by the fatigue. You didn’t see that coming, but after this amazing night, it’s normal.

Jungkook grabs the clothes on the floor, and you turn around so you don’t stare any longer at him—or should you say drool over him. He looks way too good for his own good. While looking at the wall facing you, you yawn and rub your eyes. You really need to sleep now.

“You’re tired?” Jungkook asks.

“Very,” you answer.

The man appears in front of you, fully dressed with a smile on his face. His cute face contrasts a lot with his very muscular body.

“Let me take you back home,” he says when he realizes just how tired you truly are.   And before you even know it, you’re in his arms while he carries you to his mansion.

[moltengoldveins]

hi part of it is that you are a human not designed to work like that! And part of it is that we are the first generation to live and work the vast majority of our lives indoors, a deeply unhealthy environment for a human! And part of it is that most workplaces are shockingly unhealthy environments! And while we are in no way the worst off in history (re: factory workers circa 1880) we are certainly not the healthiest workers, and we live in an environment designed to remove as much of our human contribution to our work as possible! You spend a third of your life filling a role that your bosses would rather a robot fill, but it can’t because you are cheaper and more adaptable. This is not a healthy role for a human to fill! I work 8-5 and it kinda sucks? But it’s getting better, and I work in an Incredible workplace with engaging interesting work that I get to continuously improve on where I can See how I am benefiting the company and the people around me AND my coworkers are amazing and it STILL drains me.

it is normal for you to feel this way! There are solutions, some of which are internal (unfortunately, using your phone less and sleeping more is one of these things, hate it so so much but it’s real) and some of which are external (find a job that is at least remotely interesting but more importantly challenging, something that you can improve at over time and progress in, something that is actually work, and not playing a cog in a clock, take political and social steps to make those job the kind of jobs bosses are incentivized to create) and most importantly? Keep going.

Take tiny steps to improve your life around your job, make sure you don’t get caught up in the dopamine rabbit trail of social media when you get off a grueling shift: it feels good, but it makes the eventual crash all the worse. Even if it’s just sitting in silence with your eyes shut for fifteen minutes: that will give you more to work with than an hour of scrolling. Find a non-caffeinated tea you enjoy and make it whenever you need a dopamine hit, take a shower in the evening if you feel like shit after the day is up, find an educational YouTube series or learn a handcraft and use that as a relaxation technique instead of doomscrolling. Find mindless exercises and activities that aren’t the internet. You need rest, you need to shut your brain off, but the internet is worse than sitting in silence, even if it doesn’t feel like it. It’s tailor-made to be an addictive substance. think for a minute about the way you spend time online like it’s cigarettes and you will probably notice some problems. Do your best to live in the world around you: check your library notice board, join a craft club, or a coding group. Take the time to fill what time you have with rest that is restful and fun that is fun. And most importantly: don’t forget that it’s ok to fail at this. You are being asked to be an adult in a deeply inhumane environment - the goal should never be ‘success,’ there is no ‘success’ state. The goal is consistent long term improvement in what you can control.

Love yall 💜 plz drink water.

I genuinely wonder how anyone can be capable of working a 9-5. Everyday. I actually think im not mentally equipped to deal with that. Not even as in "i dont want to". Its just that im currently working 15 hours a week max and i already feel like i have to structure my days around that. On top of my depressive episodes im forced to power through sometimes, it already feels exhausting enough as it is. A 40 hour work week would actually break me

[makingspiritualityreal]

While the 2nd house represents security within the self and one’s immediate circle and origin (housing, provision from family), the 8th house represents security within the other in the context of interpersonal relationships.

That of course doesn’t have to define the nature of the relationship. We need to feel secure within the other to have any lasting bond after all. Having a boss you can trust can make it easier for you to climb a career ladder, even if life rocks the boat and achieving some goals seems impossible. Having a romantic partner you can trust will make you feel secure even during an argument with them. All of that is necessary to have trust in the long term process occurring in these situations.

Afflictions to the 2nd house or the 8th house can really mess up our life, because they ruin our ability to rely on something solid, whether that’s in a context of self sufficiency coming from blessings of birth in the 2nd house or building a mutual support network in the 8th house. These houses really are cornerstones of our life in some way, and with those foundations shaky, we can struggle to make progress in other areas of our life.

Notice, that having a solid well placed malefic in one of these houses is not necessarily a bad thing, especially a well placed Saturn in Libra or Aquarius in the 8th could be very good for business. Afflictions can also touch benefic planets through aspect and mess up our chart. I know someone with Sun conjunct Venus in the 8th house and because these planets are enemies, Venus, although a benefic, has been completely destroyed in this chart as Sun burns Venus. This person always tried to control their partners and was selfish in relationships and ended up alone as a result, devoid of that mutual partnership security the 8th house could provide.

The other most difficult alignment (although that could be mitigated by other planets) is having the Nodes in any configurations in houses 2 and 8. The Nodes are the most karmic baggage we carry, and the difficult situations we find ourselves in as a result of them belong to the hardest in our lives, as, unlike Saturn, it can’t be simply resolved with slow and steady progress of gradual hard work. People with this configuration have a very difficult time feeling grounded or trusting anyone after the painful karmic family and relationship arrangements, that made them see the worst of humanity among those who should have been the closest.

[mossangelll]

joe goldberg x reader hcs

a/n: not enough joe goldberg x reader content so i decided to make some!!

cw: unhealthy relationships, toxic behaviour, violence, implications of stalking, manipulation

you are his obsession, his lifeblood, his sole reason for living

he isn’t drawn to you for any particular reason - he will lock eyes with you and something inside of him just knows that you are the one…this time

however, if you have some kind of vulnerability that makes you an easier target that will definitely increase your chances of catching his attention

he places you on a very high (and let’s be real very unrealistic pedestal)

you truly can do no wrong in his eyes

joe has your schedule perfected to a science and at the start of your relationship, before everything inevitably goes to shit, you found it kinda cute

it starts to get a bit disconcerting when he not only knows your schedule, but your mother’s schedule too…and he hasn’t even met her yet

joe is the kind of guy to stay awake for hours just to watch you sleep - and then quickly pretend he was always asleep once you wake up

he may not be the most experienced, but he makes up for it with his undying devotion for you

he doesn’t care about his own pleasure as long as he knows he can make you feel good

he wants to feel useful and that he plays an integral role in your life, he wants to know he won’t be replaced by the next person you meet

this ties into his horrendous insecurity/abandonment complex and jealousy issues

he has to be the most important person in your life, no ifs or buts

unlike any well adjusted person, joe has no qualms about hurting or even killing the people close to you (or even those attempting to get close to you) if he thinks they’re standing in the way of your relationship

he’s no stranger to having to work for love, in fact he rather likes having to put a little “effort” into it, but he’d rather not make a bigger mess than he has to

so, he starts off by lightly harassing whoever is in his way and working up from there until they get the hint

you lose a lot of friends this way and turn to joe as your main source of comfort

he stops being just your boyfriend and becomes your best friend and main confidant too - bad, bad news

he takes advantage of your vulnerable state and plays you like a fiddle

he isn’t overtly controlling in the sense of directly telling you where you can or can’t go and who you can or can’t see (depending on the stage of the relationship)

instead, when the red flags aren’t as blaring, he will instead gently persuade your decision-making so it seems that you chose to decline yet another invitation from your friends

joe is a genius when it comes to ensuring that he isn’t seen as the villain - he IS the og male manipulator

one thing about joe is that he loves the gross, human side of you; the side you’d rather keep tucked up in the dark, away from prying eyes

he’ll collect all sorts of things: perfume, makeup, deodorant sticks…used menstrual products, nail clippings, worn underwear, hair from your drain, floss, even your used bath water if it comes to it

in the show we see he views these “keepsakes” as a trophy collection, but hidden - smart

to expand on it more, it’s almost like his own little private museum collection of sorts

sure, he can’t risk anyone, especially you, finding his stash but he also he can’t risk any damage to his precious goods

there’s nothing truly off-limits to joe in that regard - as long as it can connect him to you in some way he feels a deep compulsion to have it

don’t get it wrong, though, if you deviate from this impossible image of you that he’s constructed in his mind you’ll have a rude awakening

joe enjoys being a voyeur to your perversions, getting to luxuriate in all your guilt and shame; if you’re open about whatever dark or shameful side you may have and even proud of it (e.g. love quinn), the illusion is shattered for him and he must start anew

masterlist

[hollyhomburg]

Prey Animals (13)

—  Pairing: Yoongi x ot6, Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader

—  Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, enemies to friends to lovers, Healing & Themes of trauma,

—  Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

—  Words: 9.5k

—  Warnings: Sexual abuse, Humiliation, Physical abuse, Dissociation, Ptsd, Psychological horror, Briefly thought about self-harm, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Confessions

—  Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! — 

(48 days before, Yoongi).  

You pace back and forth in the entryway. Thinking hard.

It’s nearing 6pm and Geumjae is going to be home soon. But Yoongi isn’t here yet. Hadn’t come over to see you at all today and that’s strange. He texted you last night after he walked you home and dropped you off and asked if he could come over tomorrow too.

You’d said yes, but tomorrow is today now and the afternoon slips and passes you by with not even a knock at your front door. The house is empty down to the dust bunnies. Yoongi is usually a man of his word. He’s usually a gentleman.

Gentleman do not leave young ladies waiting.

You’d double and triple cleansed, there isn’t even any mascara on your eyelashes, not dark staining below your eyes beyond the deeply carved bags that have permanently etched themselves on your face since you’ve gotten married. It would be suspicious if you wore any today when Geumjae had explicitly forbidden you from leaving the house, from breaking your routine, while he was a city away.

Your husband is usually very very particular about your routine. But there have been quite a few breaks in it over the last few weeks.

Geumjae smelled like another omega when he came home last night. A scent cloying and sweet, neither the sweetness of flowers nor baked goods just a mindless sweetness. Almost perfume. There was even lipstick on his collar, bright pink like bubblegum.

You hadn't felt anything at all when you noticed, no revulsion or shame or regret, nothing but a tiny bit of relief.

You're not supposed to be relieved that your husband is seeing another omega, you're not supposed to not care. You only care about Yoongi and your meeting tomorrow. He's always on the other end of your phone, waiting.

Geumjae hasn't checked your texts in a long, long time. You're careful to delete all the ones you have with Yoongi after you read them. Committing the words to memory.

Procuring time for your meeting today had taken a fair bit of effort last night, questions about where he'd been and who he'd been seeing a carefully curated ruse. You were the picture of a pouting omega, bratty, expectant. Wondering where your husband had gone and if he'll be here tomorrow.

You're a good actress. You know if you don't pretend Geumjae only makes it worse.

“I’m not allowed to want to spend time with you now. Is that it?” You’d said with a pout, after your careful questions for Geumjae had drawn his suspicious eyebrow. And then tried again, “you keep me locked up in this house without anyone, I hate being alone.”

And that enough had made him grin, Geumjae doesn’t miss an opportunity to deny you again, to torture you in some new way. Isolation is one of his old weapons. Geumjae is only too happy to tell you that he’ll be indisposed all day tomorrow, probably until late. You'll get no respite from your loneliness, no relief and no companionship.

Good.  

You texted Yoongi, told him, and he replied with a little :] Face. Not the emoji, the :]. You haven’t felt so young in years, you certainly have never kicked your feet over a text message. You’ve never felt your age, not since you first put on your wedding ring and said I do.

But Yoongi makes you feel that, almost young, almost anxiety-free. Almost a lot of things.

But now, Yoongi makes you worry.

Usually when you know your husband is going to get home you hide yourself away in some corner of the house. You linger on the couch or the kitchen if you’re feeling brave. Either to fulfill the fantasy of the doting omega wife or hide away if the abuse the day before had been particularly brutal.

You certainly do not wait in the foyer for your husband to return home.

You pace back and forth, eyes on the driveway, waiting for the crunch of pea gravel. The cleaning staff and the private chef were dismissed hours ago. Dinner is in the fridge covered with cellophane. Granted, you’d waited longer than usual to text Yoongi. Longer than you maybe should have.

You (1:12pm): If you’re not going to show up, can you at least give me a heads up.

You (2:30pm): The chocolate lava cake’s gone cold.

You (4:04pm): I'm gonna make you eat all my desserts, even the pies, to say you're sorry for flaking on me. You're a flake, like a pie crust.

You (4:44pm): Yoongi?

You (5:30pm): Are you okay?

All of which had done unanswered, the messages don't even have the little delivered sign next to the text. This is uncharacteristic for him. Abnormal. An outlier in your dataset. A lump of something in sifted flour. You’ve paced back and forth for the last hour before making the decision, opening up a familiar contact. One that you've dared not text. Not since before.

You (5:57pm): I think I might need your help again.

You hit send, and then at the same moment, a familiar dark green sportscar pulls into the driveway. It’s engine a low hum. Any normal person wouldn’t have been conditioned to hate that color or feel fear at the sound of a car, but you have been. The sight of it sets you on edge, makes your heart beat quick but this time you don’t rush to hide yourself away, to be quiet.

Your hair stands on end in the entryway. You begin to tremble viscerally when you hear Geumjae tread up the steps, hear the turn of the lock.

Geumjae is whistling when he comes in, a jaunty tune. He doesn’t immediately notice that you’re standing there. You shy away from his presence and keep your gaze on the ground. You're so good at being still, at sinking into the backdrop. It takes him a few moments to notice you're there.

He lifts his head, eyes wide for a second and then narrowing. You don’t break routine unless you want something and if you want something you usually have to barter. Geumjae likes taking what you don’t want to give. His glare falls into a scowl, and he places his gun down on the small table just inside the door after he takes out his wallet and keys.

He does not click on the safety.

He shoves past you, almost knocking you into the wall. Your shoulder throbs but you follow him. He turns hand raised. You flinch and close your eyes, but the slap never comes.

Geumjae strokes down your cheek, fingering the hollow of your cheekbone. You blink and bite back the impulse to gag. Keeping your lips pursed.

“What. Do. You. Want.”

A bit of saliva hits your face but you do your best not to tremble.  His voice is devoid of emotion or empathy or even rage. That much shouldn’t surprise you. You look into his eyes, the same eyes that Yoongi has only empty. Devoid of their warmth or half-humor. Blank and flat. It takes all of your energy to be brave. But it’s easy to be brave for Yoongi.

“I think somethings wrong with your brother.” Your voice comes out as hardly more than a whisper, but it’s steady. “I think something happened to him.”

~-~

Yoongi’s knuckles are bloody, that’s the first thing that he’s aware of when he comes to.

Blood feels different than water, slippery, and dries quicker on his fingertips as he starts to fight his restraints. His fingers grip the wood, the handrail of the chair he sits in. He startles, a sticky feeling and the taste of blood in his mouth and throat. At odds with the sandpapery feeling of his tongue and gums. The inside of his cheek feels tender. He tongues it where he’s bitten it.

The room is dark, but he’s not alone. Coming out of a chloroform daze is dizzying at best and nauseating at worst. One second the figure is across the room, the next he’s right next to Yoongi gripping his hair and pushing his slack head away violently. Yoongi does not feel it, Yoongi is having a hard time feeling anything in any clarity. He watches as the man in front of him traces his knuckles with a knife, there are small cuts up and down his fingers already, Yoongi can see the bone on one of his knuckles but the rest are thin, almost superficial. They will still scar.  

Yoongi cannot feel the pain, Yoongi can hardly feel anything over the cold.

Panic starts to bleed down his back, just as the realization that he’s immobile. Bound to this chair by a crisscross of dark ropes. The scratchy kind, not soft. He struggles. But they’re bound too tight. Yoongi doesn't have anything on him, not a gun nor a knife, not that he could even move an inch to use it.

“For a second I thought I used too much chloroform. It’s good that you’re awake, now I can make it slow.”

The man is nondescript. Yoongi does not recognize his stature or his voice. Nor the color of his eyes behind the ski mask. Brown, but not dark brown. This person is surely a stranger to him and yet he laughs as though he's just won the lottery practically shaking with anticipation as he drags the knife down Yoongi’s cheek.

“Interesting how this has all played out. You in the chair at the end of my knife for once.”

Yoongi hesitates, the fuzz behind his eyes more indicative of drugs or a hangover rather than a concussion. The man grabs his hair, making his neck arch so he can trace the knife over his jugular.

"You better have a good way to get out of this." Yoongi spits, at least his words don’t come out slurred.

"I don't need a way out." The man hums deep. “I’m not the one whose about to die.”

“You think people won’t know? Come on, I’m watched like a hawk. There’s not a person in this city that doesn’t know where I am and when I’m gone. They’ll know, they’ll find out.” Yoongi’s pulse beats so quick he can feel it against the ropes that bind his body.

“You’re not some god, you’re just cut from the same cloth as your shit brother, and you'll get no fair trial, just like he got, you didn't even wait, you didn't even- piece of shit-” His knife presses under Yoongi’s throat, hard enough that if he breathes, he’s dead. Yoongi’s pulse thunders treacherously loud. A beat of sweat or blood drips down his collarbones. “This is for-”

Yoongi looks up at the sealing. Closes his eyes and thinks of Seokjin. Of the pack. Of Jungkook's curly hair through his fingers, the sound of Jimin's laugh. Taehyung's deep hum at nighttime when Yoongi curls up with him not to sleep but to dream and read. He thinks of Hoseok in the front seat of Namjoon's car. He thinks of Namjoon, his hands. Bigger than Yoongi's. Yoongi’s knuckles go white as he grips the chair and imagines the kiss of the knife against his throat is Seokjin’s lips instead.

The next breath that comes out of his chest goes easy,

The world explodes.

The metal door at the front of the room cracks open with a boom so loud it rattles Yoongi's bones. The room fills with the smell of smoke and gunpowder. Flashes of light bloom in the darkness. Gunshots. Something hot rips by his ear, barely nicking him. The chair explodes, and Yoongi feels at least one shard of wood bury it’s self in his shoulder.

And then it's quiet beyond the ringing in his ears and the figure is no more, lying on the floor in a bloody heap. A bloody heap that people step over. Black figures that half blend into the darkness. Shouting his name, shouting something that Yoongi can’t hear over the ringing in his ears.

Something bright tickles his face, silver hair, a discarded ski mask on the floor. Silver hair covers his face- Moonbyul?

There is another figure, smaller than her, wearing a bulletproof vest that doesn't fit, too big. It makes it hard for you to move but you still duck underneath a tall alpha to cup his cheeks. For a second, Yoongi even thinks it’s real.

Yoongi sags against your body weight. Saying something he can't hear through the ringing. Mouth moving around the words. Your lip- your lip is bloody again and the side of your face-

Yoongi tucks his chin into your shoulder. You're shaking. Blood drips down his ear from where the bullet nicked him.

Face wounds always did bleed a lot

Moonbyul looms over you, pushing you aside gently to cut him loose. The second that his hands are slack he grips yours, both of them in his. His blood slides across your hands. He can’t even speak, can hardly see.

Everything goes from muffled to too loud. Yoongi feels nauseous and tries not to vomit on to you. “It’s okay, Yoongi, it’s okay you're going to be okay-"

Yoongi presses his face against the side of your neck, breathing deeply.

You smell like cake. The fresh kind, just out of the oven, Neither vanilla nor sugary nor milk sweet. Somewhere between sugar cones and fresh bread. You smell like warmth.

Yoongi noses into your scent gland and his eyes roll back.

~-~

Yoongi is on the bottom floor of your house, not in the sitting room where you usually take your coffee and cookies and pastries, but in the grand dining room with the glittering chandelier. It’s nearing 4am and he feels like he’s so tired he could scream.

There are more medical supplies on the table than can be found in the typical small city emergency room, and more opioids too as the family doctor checks him out after stitching up his ear and the cut on his knuckles. The rest are too shallow for anything more than band aids and cream.

But still. Yoongi’s hands are basically sort of wrecked. If it weren’t for the painkillers, he doubts he could move them at all without serious discomfort.

She shines a light in Yoongi's eyes. The family's on-call doctor is paid handsomely for her ability to keep quiet and produce a mostly sterilized mini operating room in any of their kitchens, backrooms, or dens. Yoongi’s seen her remove many bullets and knives in his lifetime. He’s even seen her re-inflate a collapsed lung in a parking garage. She's familiar. Her face pinched in concentration and concern.

There are some people like her that the family keeps on retainers, not a part of the family, not officially but inexorably tied to them. Like the hitmen and the crime scene cleaners that dispose of evidence. She technically doesn't belong to a single house. They're subcontractors in their world, underworld temps.

An emergency meeting of the heads of house has been called, and they gather, looming over Yoongi like a menacing set of helicopter parents or maybe vultures intent on picking him clean.

Geumjae is wearing gloves, black, leather maybe? Or are they plastic? he’s always particular about leaving fingerprints. Certain things have never been trained out of him- even if he’s no longer doing any dirty work.

Yoongi knows better. Geumjae crosses his arms, watching Yoongi.

He disappeared a moment ago, into the other room. It had taken everything Yoongi had in him not to go check on you. He had heard Geumjae's audible command. "Go change and clean yourself up, you're getting blood all over the sofa. And come back down, we're not finished yet."

Geumjae is angry, Yoongi can smell it in the air, probably because it's Moonbyul who was the savior and the hero of tonight. She's the one who actually tracked Yoongi down, who organized the hit on the unoccupied warehouse where he was stored. She gets many appreciative touches to her shoulders and a few approving nods. But her silver eyes remain fixed on Yoongi, not cold, but still calculating.  

You'd gone to her, must have. If you were there when he was found, no one mentions your name. No one congratulates you. It irks him. If he was more awake and less dulled from painkillers right now, he'd probably say something.

“I don’t understand how this happened or why. He’s a beta, he can’t be killed.”

Moonbyul's omega- Hyejin, the only omega in attendance turns back to them, whip-sharp. Correcting her. “Anyone can be killed.”

The head of house of the Miyazato family drops to his knees in front of Yoongi and takes his hands in theirs. It takes everything in his self-control not to rip his hands away, now bound with thin sutures. "I promise��Sajangnim, we'll find out who did this and dispatch them swiftly."

The others clamor to offer similar supplications. "I'm prepared to offer 20 men to rotate outside the cottage so that you'll never be alone Beta-shii."

"The 59th precinct is at your disposal, give the order and we'll comb the streets."

"Why would you comb the streets Meimei? The man who did this is already dead."

"But maybe they had an accomplice!"

Yoongi can't tell if it's all the talking that's giving him the headache, if it's the chloroform, or because he hasn't drunk any water in almost 24 hours. Hyejin cracks a bottle of water and hands it over when he asks.

"What kind of family are we if we can't protect our own?" The doctor stops her fussing, and Yoongi holds his head in his hands.

"We all need to be more careful."

"Enough."

Although his words are quiet, the world falls silent. Someone offers their hand to help Yoongi stand but he doesn't need it. Pushing himself to his feet using the edge of the dining room table. "All of this can wait for the morning," Yoongi says thank you and goodbyes, mostly to Moonbyul. Thanking her with a hand on her shoulder. She grips his arm back, leaning low to whisper in his ear.

“You know I’m not the one who deserves your thank you.”

Yoongi swallows and nods. Most of the family files out, sending fearful or jealous glances in Moonbyul’s direction. No doubt her actions tonight have moved her up on the hierarchy. Slipping on their shoes in the entranceway, Double-checking with the men stationed outside the front door.

But Yoongi doesn't pay attention to them. Yoongi walks to the sitting room.

You are sitting there on the same fine furniture where You and Yoongi usually take your tea and cakes. Two men are guarding either window in tactical gear, with all manner of weapons on their waists and holding AK-47s and handguns tucked into holsters at their waists. The dress you wear is dainty and delicate. A white night dress. Yoongi notices one of them looking at you, promptly trailing their gazes away when Yoongi comes into the room.

You turn to look at him and Yoongi almost chokes on his next breath.

The left side of your face is black and blue, and your cheekbone is split. Lip split too, mottled all the way down to your collarbones. So black and blue that he doubts makeup could cover it up. Yoongi can tell by the way that you hold yourself that your body is hurting, that Geumjae has hurt you. All likely, because of him. Because you'd tried and succeeded in saving him.

Yoongi takes one step into the room.

“Shame on you both for not inviting me to the tea party” Geumjae snickers from behind him, to the side, standing out of view. Yoongi’s fists tighten, and the bandages on his hands pull taught. Irritating his cut knuckles. "Can I come to the next one?" He taunts.

At the sound of Geumjae’s voice you turn away from Yoongi and stare straight ahead.   

~-~

(35 days before, Yoongi)

As the weeks drag on Yoongi’s attention gets spread thinner and thinner, the deadline for selecting Don draws nearer and nearer, and Yoongi watches you disappear through his fingers, like smoke or steam.

The softness you’ve shown him and your easy meetings become a memory. No longer. Because you had to tell Geumjae about them to convince him that Yoongi was missing, to save him- you had to let your husband know.  Your simple routine of cooking together and coffee in teacups gets farther and farther away. Becomes little more than a memory.

A good memory. Your last good memory maybe, because Yoongi is leaving soon.

You become more and more silent as the weeks go on. When he sees you at family dinners, you’re vacant. Nothing behind your eyes that looks like life. Your eyes slide over Yoongi like he’s not there. Like he doesn’t exist to you.

During the weekly family dinners, you look more and more worn. Thankful that no one asks you to speak. Hardly even bothering to pick at your food and make it look like you’re eating. Even across the table, Yoongi can’t tear his eyes away from you. He has to keep it in his seat- to not make an issue out of it under the hawk-like eyes of the heads of the family. There's little that he can do beyond jab at Geumjae and watch you fade.

You don’t look at him, even when he speaks to you. You respond when he asks you a direct question. But you keep your responses brief. Your voice cracking like you haven’t used it in days.

He walks by the house near constantly, whenever he’s not called upon, waiting for an opening. An opportunity. Hoping that this time when he walks by there won't be any cleaning cars parked on the sidewalk or one of Geumjae's fancy cars parked in the driveway. It feels like he's some stray, pacing back and forth and scratching at your door.

At family dinner times, if he extends his legs as far as he can go without slouching in his chair. He can get his ankle side by side with yours. Your skin feels cold most of the time. Most of the time you're shivering. Geumjae has...changed your uniform.

Before you saved Yoongi's life, the things your husband made you wear were fancy and demure, more in line with what the other omega’s in the family wear. Now they're scandalous and out of place. Plunging necklines and short hems. Geumjae forces you to wear increasingly more unseemly things regardless of the cold and the season. He can tell you’re uncomfortable with what you’re wearing by the way that you fidget constantly pulling down the hem and up the neckline.

But Yoongi guesses that it’s just another way for him to control you. To humiliate you. To parade you around.

Geumjae invites Yoongi over for tea, and Yoongi can't stay away. He has to see you.

When he enters the house is cold and quiet. There are none of your usual staff around, no cleaning ladies or private chefs. Just more armed guards standing tall and muscled, willowy and quick. All alpha’s. There is one by the door wearing a suit to let Yoongi inside, but the rest are in tactical gear. Geumjae isn’t the only head of house whose called on a more permanent detail in the wake of Yoongi’s abduction.

Everyone is on edge, if Yoongi could be abducted so easily then they’re all fair game. Regardless of the moratorium on murder during the 120-day period.

When Geumjae invites him in you’re just sitting there in the Livingroom. You don’t meet Yoongi’s gaze when he says your name. There is no recognition in your face at all. You are a doll perfectly trained. Sitting pretty and slutty in the clothes that your husband has picked out for you.

You are sitting on the couch with your legs Infront of you. The thong you wear does little to provide any bit of modesty. Most of you is hidden by your legs, pressed together so hard bone meets bone. In any other scenario Yoongi would look away, would give you your privacy, he can see the darkness of your nipple through the translucent lace of your bralette. Too small, much too small. It makes anger boil behind his eyes, makes his hands shake.

There are six armed guards in this room. All alpha’s. One by the exit to the sitting room, one by the entrance to the dining room, one by each window, and one more by the stairs. They’re all from the Min family. Distant relatives and distant cousins. Yoongi even recognizes one of the alpha women for her short brown hair alone. All of them armed to the teeth just like the night he was brought home. They watch you out of the corner of their eyes, Hands on their guns.

You do not raise your eyes to meet Yoongi’s gaze.

Geumjae grins, staring at Yoongi, watching the horror on his face with something like excitement as Yoongi takes in your predicament. “I’ll get your coffee; she told me that’s what you liked. She’d have made honey cakes for you, but she’s been rather busy.”

Geumjae’s eyes rove your body, raking it, tearing it up just by looking. He looks at you like he wants to devour you, consume you and make you nothing but shit after digesting. You shouldn’t feel so hurt by it, but every second his eyes are on you, every inch he sees hurts. A knife poking you from the inside out would hurt less. A bullet would be gentler.

You want to cut out every inch he looks at, what to peel away your skin like a butterfly shedding its chrysalis or a worm hatching wriggly. You wish you could take what he sees, what he likes, and shove it down his throat and make him choke on his own satisfaction.

He likes looking at you, and you hate it. Your vision goes shaky, and your breath starts to feel bigger than your lungs, an earthquake from the inside out, a catastrophe that only you can feel.

You’re trembling faintly. Yoongi’s not sure that if it’s from fear or the cold. Yoongi’s jaw tightens, but beyond that he gives no outward reaction. Of course, Geumjae had interrogated you about your weekly (sometimes daily) meetings. Of course, he throws the evidence of all he knows back in Yoongi’s face now.

Geumjae goes to get the teapot, and the second he’s out of sight Yoongi pulls off his sweatshirt and puts it over your head, guiding your arms through it. You need a little help. One of your hands is so swollen that you can’t open your fingers. Yoongi wonders if Geumjae stepped on it or if you held it up Infront of your face when he was hitting you. Both options make him feel sick with anger. Breath hitching when your fingers skim his for a second. Squeezing his wrist hard.  Yoongi’s mouth goes dry. And he knows he has seconds.

“There you go, there you go. you’re so cold,” but you don’t respond. “it’s alright. You’re gonna be alright, I promise.” He says, barely daring to whisper the words. The men around the room stare straight ahead blankly.

You don't respond. Staring blankly off into space. Yoongi's hands shake with rage, wishing there was more he could do. But all too soon Geumjae’s tapping of his leather shoes returns to the doorway. Holding a fresh pot and a pretty gilded teacup, smiling when Yoongi looks back up at him, crouched Infront of you, standing to his feet at his presence. Barely resisting the urge to put his body in-between yours and his.

“See Yoongi? I told you she only needed a firm hand- she’s as good as tamed now.”

Your tea party does not go as it normally does. Not this time. Yoongi does has a job in the family- and that job is primarily to offer advice. Geumjae actually does need his help with something and Yoongi is bound to offer it. He makes his words clipped and his sentences shitty. Geumjae gets increasingly more annoyed the more predictable Yoongi’s responses become. But Yoongi would rather bite off his own fingers than help.

They talk through the business of the mole, if anyone’s found who orchestrated Yoongi’s abduction yet. Which house- if any house, was the man connected too.  

You don’t even lift your teacup to your mouth. Yoongi tries not to watch you more than Geumjae, tries but it’s hard.

Eventually Geumjae does not feel like playing along with him. Gets tired.

“Eat.” He commands, and you lift a biscuit to your mouth. “chew” he commands. And you chew. Yoongi’s cup clatters into its saucer. “Actually, I changed my mind, spit it out. Can’t have you gaining too much weight.”

Geumjae holds out his hand, and you spit it out into his hand. Geumjae wipes the chewed food on your face. It’s not a lot. You’d hardly taken a bite. But Yoongi does not manage to stay in his seat. Geumjae mirrors him, pressed almost chest to chest with Geumjae in seconds.

“You can’t be fucking serious- you-” rage feels like muteness, Yoongi is going to hit Geumjae, is going to lose his temper if he’s not careful. Yoongi shoves him, and Geumjae laughs.

You pull on Yoongi’s pant leg, just once. And he makes the mistake of looking down.

“I think my brother is tired,” Geumjae says, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in Yoongi’s collar. There is still chewed food on his fingers.  “We can continue talking tomorrow when you’re not so worked up.”

Geumjae looks down at you. “Princess, give him back his sweatshirt, we can’t have him walking home in the cold without anything can we.”

The sweatshirt pools around your waist and goes almost to your knees when you stand up. Yoongi is already fairly average for a man, Yoongi has always liked his clothes big and baggy, and his sweatshirt looks massive on you. The soft swells you had when he first met you are gone now.

You stand up wordlessly, you reach for your hem right there regardless of the guards (and Yoongi’s) eyes on you. You lift them hem over your head. Pealing the sweatshirt off of your nearly naked body without a thought.

You are tiny. Smaller now than when he met you. He can see every one of your ribs when you lift your arms over your head to take off the red sweatshirt.  

Yoongi wonders what else he's made you do Infront of them. Geumjae smirks, looking satisfied.

That’s what does Yoongi in.

"Turn around." He snaps, and every one of the guards follows suit. Even you listen, staring to turn before Yoongi sets a hand on your bare shoulder. Tilting your face up to his. Making you look at him.

His sweatshirt falls to the floor.

The men in their uniforms and guns turn. You raise your eyebrows, like you're confused, like you think it's you being ordered. But Yoongi just cups your cheek.

You almost flinch at the gentle touch, so unused to it. To being touched with anything like this. To being touched without it being painful.

Yoongi can see the blood draining from Geumjae’s face. Can see the guards straighten up, their hands readying on their guns, Nervous.

"Go upstairs and put some close on." You are only too happy to follow Yoongi's orders, to slink past the man at the stairs, teetering on unsteady footsteps as you ascend the staircase up to the second floor.

Only once you’re out of sight does Yoongi address the alpha’s in the room. Each of them standing up a little straighter. As if they finally remember who Yoongi is. They should remember.

He should remind them.

“Turn back around.” They turn. “Take a step back.” They step back. Yoongi watches a drop of sweat blead down Geumjae’s temple. He grins, showing his teeth.

“Hand me your gun.” The guard closes to him takes a handgun out of its holster and hands it to Yoongi. Geumjae’s grin falters just a little.  Yoongi flicks off the safety, appraises the gun quickly before he takes the clip out. Popping the bullets out onto the floor one by one, they fall to the floor with a clink. heartbeat by heartbeat. More than one alpha flinches as the last one falls.  

Yoongi liberates the stock from the barrel lets the gun fall to pieces around him.

“Another.” The next man hands him the gun and Yoongi does not disassemble it, just takes it and flicks off the safety.

“Actually, I changed my mind, look at him. All of you. Look at my brother. Don’t you dare fucking blink.”

Geumjae does not show any outward signs of fear as Yoongi holds the gun by his side. he doesn’t look anything other than cool and calm. Yoongi lets the silence stew for a moment. Just a moment.

"If he does that to her again, you are to call me. Any alpha that does will be compensated accordingly." Geumjae's sneer worsens. But he doesn't interfere. They stand like that. Separate from each other by a few feet. Yoongi’s hand sweaty on the gun.

"If it wasn't for what would happen to her, I'd put a bullet in your head."

"If it wasn't for your sub gender, I'd put one in yours."

Yoongi and Geumjae glare at each other from across the room for a second. Then Yoongi puts on his sweatshirt. He lifts the gun, “I’m keeping this.” And tucks it into the pocket.

He leaves.

He tucks his nose into the collar and puts up the hood against the oncoming rain. Pausing on the street corner. It smells like you. The sweatshirt.

When Yoongi looks back at the house, there is a figure upstairs silhouetted in the window. He nods at you, and you nod back.

~-~

(22 days before, Yoongi)

Yoongi wears your sweatshirt until your scent fades from the fabric. But even after it feels like the smell of rain follows him always. It’s a rainy winter. Not cold enough to snow but cold enough to freeze.

His long walks cover him in it, at the constant complaints of his detail. He can only dismiss the young alphas that the family appoints to guard him so many times. Guarding the beta against another assassination attempt is a privilege they say, an honor. But Yoongi just needs some peace and quiet. Just needs some space and time to think through his plan, more and more flimsy feeling as the days stretch on.

Things get worse and they don’t really get better.  

Geumjae takes Yoongi’s continual presence as a personal threat. He can’t take it out on the beta, so he takes it out on you instead. In the field, Geumjae is the perfect leader, cool and calm and collected. Sure, he shoots first and asks questions never but there are worse heads of house. People who are less competent. Geumjae is capable of showing restraint.

Just not with you.

At home Geumjae lets his worst impulses run wild. Before Geumjae knew about the tea parties (Yoongi has yet to find a word he likes better) he never invited Yoongi to your personal family meals. But now he gets invited to every single one.

He sees you in all manner of get-ups, scantily clad and see-through dresses, skirts that barely cover everything but never anything as bare as the very first time. He sees you wear lipstick smudged. Mascara runny. Bruises boldly on display.

Yoongi promises himself quietly, that if he ever gets you out of here, you’ll never get hurt like this again.

Yoongi tries to intervene, tries to, but it never goes well for you, so he stops himself. Geumjae likes to make Yoongi watch.

Yoongi’s is there when he backhands you after you drop a plate. Yoongi doesn’t keep himself in his seat- can’t stop himself from standing and grabbing his brother's arm before he deals another blow. And maybe it only makes it worse for you because you’re twice as bruised the next time he sees you, but Yoongi’s hands shake with the way you’d looked at him from the floor- holding your cheek defiant and alive. Like you still have a fight left in you.

It’s a look he tries to remember as time goes on and your fighting spirit fades.

You don’t deserve any of this from Geumjae, not the backhanded compliments that have you pushing the food around your plate. The ones that have you not eating at all, not even the sweets that you make, piles and piles of them.

Geumjae makes you bake a chocolate cake, bringing it out to Yoongi on uneven footsteps, the heels you wear towering. It's a pretty cake, topped with cherries and chocolate ganache. It smells like Yoongi smells when he's happy. Only once you've put it on the table does Geumjae push your face down into it.

When Geumjae leaves the room. Yoongi uses a rag to clean your face.

Yoongi’s surprised he didn’t realize it sooner; that you hardly eat at family dinners. Maybe it would be easier to stomach if you weren’t so small. Terribly thin. "She's gained weight since our honeymoon." Geumjae justifies when Yoongi asks. "She's a good wife brother, she knows to do anything she has to do to keep me in her corner."

He thinks back to the moon family dinner and how you’d almost collapsed because of your tight corset. He wonders if that was because of hunger or truly because you couldn’t breathe.

He doubts he’ll ever know the answer.

~-~

Yoongi stops coming over. Stops coming on Mondays and Wednesdays, and you stop texting him.

Well, not entirely.

You develop your own code. You send Yoongi a blank message, a simple text without any words in it, and he’s on his way. And anyone who saw it, Geumjae or otherwise could just assume that it was a typo, a but dial. An accident.

Even if it's anything but.

All he has to do is see your contact light up his phone before he's up and out of whatever place he currently haunts, the docks, an apartment for a meeting, an underground storehouse for stolen goods. You text and Yoongi always comes.

If you don’t send him anything. He knows better than to try.

~-~

(10 days before, Yoongi).

The day comes again when Yoongi gets a text and comes to your house and finds the windows dark, finds the house empty. You are sitting on the couch again. Blankly staring off into space. You don’t react when Yoongi calls your name.

You’re done up but not even the thickest full-coverage makeup could hide the bruises. Yoongi wonders why you try. He gets down on his knees Infront of you and takes your hands in his.

He got an empty text a few minutes ago, he might have stayed nearby at a coffee shop down the block. He’s taken to waiting there when he doesn’t have someone calling upon him. One family or another that wants his ear- or more likely another chance to convince him. The days are counting down, pretty soon anyone but him will be fair game.

Yoongi knows the heads of house are not above murdering each other to become Don. Once the moratorium on murder is over, Yoongi fears it will be all out war.

In truth, Yoongi has no idea who he’s going to choose, no idea at all if he’ll choose Geumjae or Moonbyul or any other family members. Yoongi’s hasn’t thought about it much- but he probably will have to over the next few days.

At least before the Gala.

For now, Yoongi kneels down Infront of you with a creek of his knees, pulling your hands into his. There is no one here. No one here at all besides you and him. “I’m going to take you away okay? Just for today. I’m getting you out of this goddamn house.” You do not respond. Staring blankly ahead. You are already dressed, in comfortable clothes. Yoongi helps you into some snow boots. Yoongi ties the scarf around your neck.

You don’t go far because he’s not sure you could manage it. You still don’t say anything, but you don’t need to. He takes you to a diner down the block. The food is cheap and greasy and filling. The booth in the back of the shop is secluded and there aren't even any cameras.

You eat half your plate, and Yoongi counts it as a win.

You sit on the same side of the booth, and after you're done you lean your head on his shoulder. Your eyes are still staring blankly ahead, and your voice is so soft barely a whisper.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend.”

Yoongi tries not to pay attention to the warmth of your body, failing not to luxuriate in it, to savor it, to imprint the feeling of your body resting gently against his. Happy to be a refuge, happy to be a safe harbor however temporarily. He carefully threads his fingers still crisscrossed pink with scars through yours, finally healed enough that you can move your fingers.

The top of your head will smell like him by the time you pull away. He hopes he smells like you too. You’ve never scent-marked him, you’ve never nested or shown even the slightest omegan instinct Infront of him. Yoongi has never put thought to it before. But now he wonders if you’ve just never felt safe enough for any of that to come out. He's still never smelled what your scent is like when you're happy. Maybe there was that one moment when you rescued him- but he's half convinced that was a dream anyway.

“Finally feel like talking Ey?” You exhale against him, your body limp. You don’t pull away from him, you don’t even look up at him. Yoongi wishes you'd fight him, that you'd banter back. But it scares him, it scares him that you don't even have that in you anymore.  

“At the beginning, Geumjae forbade me from talking to anyone that wasn’t him. I was so scared back then." Yoongi can almost taste the memory of that fear on your scent, he breathes in, imprinting the scent of you to memory. Even if it's your sad scent, even if he hates what it represents.

"I didn’t know how to act like you guys do, how to be taken seriously, how to say this the right way, how to dress like that-"

"I don’t act in any-"

"Yes. You do. You’re different but you can’t help it." Yoongi goes quiet, let's you speak. The tone of your voice firm. "I couldn’t understand what they were saying anyway. But it was still so isolating.”

You watch the people bustle back and forth out the distant windows, the people bundled up against the cold and snow. Underneath the table, you clutch at Yoongi’s hand. Your grip isn’t harsh, But Yoongi knows it’s the strongest you can make it.

“I didn’t speak to another soul for weeks, months, not even to him. It made him so angry when I wouldn’t even react, but I’d go to this little place inside my head, far away from Geumjae, far away from anything he could do to hurt me. A place where he can’t touch me. I still go there sometimes. I’m sorry."

Yoongi’s heart is in his throat. “It’s alright.” He says after a moment, unsure what to say to that and unsure how to provide a comfort that you’ll accept, that will do more good than harm.

“I tried to do everything, I tried to be perfect, I tried to be what they wanted and look at where it’s gotten me.” your eyes flicker up to his, “look where it’s gotten both of us.”

You’re silent for a long time after that, but Yoongi doesn’t prod you for more, on the contrary. “You don’t have to speak if you don’t want too, I don’t mind.” You tap your fingers against his knuckles, gently exploring the scarf tied to his wrist, now worn and frayed at the edges because Yoongi hasn’t taken it off in weeks.

You don’t say another thing for the rest of the night. Not when he leans in, resting his cheek across the top of your head. Clouds blanket the city, but even above the cloud cover, there’s not a star in the sky.

~-~

(7 days before, Yoongi)

The promise of home looms, uncertain. Yoongi has not tried to reach out to the pack since before his phone was broken and has not contacted them at all in 113 days. He wonders if they’re going crazy still or if they’re mad enough that they don’t give a shit about him anymore.

By this time next week, Yoongi will have made his choice. By this time next week Yoongi could be on his way to them.

Freedom is a dirty word, tastes like rain on his tongue. What is to become of you then?

Maybe it’s better this way, maybe it’s better if they never know. And Yoongi can live with a mostly clear conscience because at least for a brief while, he'd had gotten to fall in love and have it reciprocated. Not just once but 6 times. Yoongi knows he's gotten more love than most. In the end, he's done everything he could to protect them.

Yoongi closes his eyes looking up at the ceiling in the cottage, intent on daydreaming until he falls asleep. It’s late now, nearing 1am. He really should get some sleep. The gala and the naming of Don is barely 7 days away, 6 if Yoongi counts the days by the date and not by the number of sleeps. The minutes tick down, as important as a heartbeat. The red alarm clock in the corner blinks, and his suitcase remains in the corner, still open. Yoongi has never really unpacked. Never intending on staying for long.

Yoongi has just closed his eyes when a short knock comes at the front door.

(Like I said, Yoongi's conscience is mostly clear, mostly, but not all the way.)

Yoongi blinks awake at the sound of it, quick short efficient wraps against the wood. He runs a hand through his hair annoyance flaring because he’s tired. Wrapped in a robe stolen from the hotel as he opens the front door, the knocking never pausing.

“What the fuck do you- shit-”

You tumble into his arms, clearly having used the front door to prop yourself up. Your front is covered with so much blood that at first it’s hard to tell where you’re bleeding. Panic and fear build and fight to a crescendo as Yoongi drags you inside and kicks the door shut before anyone can see.

Yoongi knows what a lot of blood looks like.

For a horrifying moment, Yoongi thinks that Geumjae has tried to slit your throat.

But then your head moves, lolling to the side in his arms, and he registers that it’s uneven, down your chin to your jaw, not across like a smile. He doesn’t know how you got past the people stationed at the front of his driveway. He wonders how you managed to get them to let you through. Especially looking like this.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

Maybe you just asked nicely. You're kind of a hard person to say no to.

“Don’t apologize, here sit-” you’re holding a blood-soaked cloth under your jaw, Yoongi has to gently cajole you into taking it away. The fibers stick to the gash. The blood barely clotted because whatever cut you was surgically sharp. It’s deep, deep enough that it splits, and Yoongi can see the place where your skin becomes flesh. It's just at the spot where your throat meets your jaw, on the underside of your chin. Yoongi’s not sure if you need stitches. Probably.

 His eyes flicker from it to your eyes.

“He-” You swallow, and wince, and the gash moves. Yoongi has never seen you cry before, has never seen your eyes fill with tears but they do now, wet. Gathering.  “He threw a glass at me.”

Your clothes are soaked with blood. Soaked. Boiling in rage. Yoongi holds your jaw and seals up your gash with a little bit of glue suture that sings so bad that you do cry. And Yoongi can do little more but tell you he’s sorry again and again until he’s done. Forehead pressed to yours letting out these little shushing noises as he tosses the packet and the bloody gauze to the side and holds you.

At least it stops bleeding.

Yoongi wishes he could call Namjoon; Namjoon would know if you needed stitches or medical attention. Namjoon would know what to do- would know what to say and how to get you out of here. He’d soothe your pain and your aches better than Yoongi ever could.

And Seokjin and Jimin would know how to comfort you when you shake so bad that Yoongi can barely do more than dab at it with a cloth. Try to make sure it’s clean of all the glass shards. Taehyung and Hoseok would know how to make you smile after this and Jungkook- Jungkook would hold around your waist, would wrap you up in him to protect you. Using his body as a shield.

They don’t even know you yet and this, Yoongi is sure of. Yoongi is useless at this without them. Yoongi is useless. All these weeks you've been hurting. And he hasn't really been able to protect you at all. Has only been able to minimize the damage and fix you just enough that you’re not dead.

But how many more close calls can you have? How many more days of abuse can you endure?

They’d love you, he’s sure of it.

Exhausted and shaky he stops your bleeding. Yoongi gets you a fresh change of clothes. His sweatshirt is still so large on you that it dusts your knees. It makes you smell like him and if the situation were any less dire it would make Yoongi purr.

While he picks the last of the glass fragments out of your hair, he voices what he’s wanted to say for months. He’s tired of dancing around it.

You watch him wary.

“You know- I could get you out of here if you wanted. If you asked me to do it, I’d make it happen.”

You recoil like Yoongi’s the one to throw a glass in your face. Pulling back from his touch, a shard of glass, pearly, a bit rainbow where it's shattered in concentric circles. Plops onto the small round table.

You're almost breathless with how shocked you are. “I can’t. I can’t leave Yoongi. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill you and I can’t be the reason why you don’t go home, I’ll-” You’re speaking so quick he can’t interrupt, can't tell you to damn the consequences. It’s like all your words have been kept back by a floodgate, rippling out now. Your voice shaky with fear. “He’ll get better once you name him Don, right? Then he just won’t be so angry all the time- right? He'll have everything he wants and that will satisfy him. And he’ll be out of the house so much it will hardly feel like we’re even married.”

Yoongi knows that this is just what you've been telling yourself over the last few weeks. That you'll say and think anything to convince yourself that things will one day get better. Anything to give you just a little bit of hope. You are a creature of survival, and survival subsists on hope.

You look like you’re begging Yoongi to reassure you. When you both know that nothing is going to change, some people are just rotten to the core. And Yoongi can’t be forceful with you when you look like you might run out of here just as quickly as you came. Yoongi wonders how long it will take Geumjae to find you and how badly he’ll hurt you this time.

You both know there will only be more of this- more of you trapped. More pain and more terror. Unless you trust Yoongi.

If you trust Yoongi.

Yoongi speaks- trying to figure out what will keep you here the longest, trying as long as he can keep you out of harm’s way. “You don’t deserve this sweetheart; you don't deserve everything he's done to you. You deserve to be loved.” Yoongi's voice cracks, and he sees from the way you recoil- he must have touched on something sensitive. A soft spot or an open wound that Geumjae has made in you.

How many times has he screamed at you that you’re no better than a worm beneath his boot? That you are nothing? Every bit of love you've ever gotten was something you either had to earn or pay for. You won’t show Yoongi it, but there’s a scar on your lower back. A word that Geumjae put there when you had yet to learn your lesson. Each letter hurt when he carved them into your body. Forever. You know they scared bad. He cut deeper than the one on your jaw.

Worthless.

It's written on you in scar tissue. Written on your soul too. There is no hiding it. The sooner Yoongi learns the better.

“Who’s going to love me, Yoongi? Not when I’m like this,” you gesture to yourself, failing to meet his eyes. Holding yourself like it’s the only thing that can give you comfort. And all Yoongi can think is that there is nothing about you that deserves the utter disgust in your voice. He knows, distantly he can hear Seokjin telling him. This is just the low self-esteem talking. Another side effect of the abuse. Damage that goes deeper than any physical bandage or medicine can heal.

The only thing that could help is time and love, and you only have one of those things.

In 6 days Yoongi will be free, but you? You won’t be free from this until Geumjae puts a bullet in your head or someone puts one in his.

His whispered confession is true as he holds the cold cloth back to the cut on your jaw. Beading with blood from the amount that you’ve talked. He hopes his words will soothe that spot too. Any and all damage his brother has done, Yoongi wants to heal.

“I could love you,” he says it so casually like it's nothing. But it's anything but nothing to you.

You shoot up, standing so quick that the blood rushes to your head and you teeter. You can’t see Yoongi’s concern through the tears clouding your vision. You narrowly avoid his outstretched arms, instead gripping the table to keep yourself from falling over. Shaking your head vehemently. Your shin knocks against the coffee table hard as you back away from him. His hands go out to grab you, but he thinks better of it.

“You can’t Yoongi- he’ll kill you. I won’t be the reason why you die- I won’t.” You promise vehemently. “You need to get back to your pack, you need to make it up to them. They need you.”

He takes one step forward. “But you need me too.” You do, that you can’t argue with no matter how much you want to. “Don’t tell me it’s too late to save you when we both know it’s not.”

“It’s not, but I wish I was beyond saving so that you wouldn’t try.”

“You think I have a choice? That I meant to-" love you, he breaks off, half shouting at you now. "Before I met you, I was going to come to this fucking city, name someone Don, and fuck the family for good. I was going to disappear. But now I can't.”

Yoongi realizes his mistake the second you flinch. Sometimes words can hurt too. Can hurt worse than physical damage. When your voice goes soft rather than forceful Yoongi knows he's fucked up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a burden. Let me make the choice easier for you.” You don’t grab your jacket, you fold the cloth, put it on the kitchen counter, and walk out the door.

By the time Yoongi runs after you, you’ve already disappeared down the garden path and into the maze of neon lights. Sinking into the crowds of drunk college kids and businessmen hoping to nurse their hurts in a bottle of liquor. You disappear like a shadow or a wraith. Like you’re already a Spector, already dead.

That night Yoongi dreams of you again. It’s the same dream that he had months ago where he was lying on the fur with the skylight and snow up above. The fur beneath him feels silky and cool, and he lies there just watching you.

The dream is the same. Only this time you're the one with the gun.

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

- Ahhh I really like the line ‘Geumjae likes taking what you don’t want to give.’ I think it sums up his character and the type of abuse he puts her through really well.

- Incase it’s not clear- Geumjae did not believe the m/c and punished her when she tried to get him to go to Yoongi. But because she texted Moonbyul (or Hyejin really, it’s up to you to decide who she texted) they were able to rush in and save him. I have to admit even I’m not sure if she’s actually there when Yoongi is rescued, I think it might just have been him hallucinating because of dehydration. I also think Geumjae could have punished her, left the house in a rage/annoyance, and Moonbyul showed up soon after to go rescue Yoongi. I don’t think it really matters what order of events occurred only that it’s Moonbyul and the m/c that saved Yoongi.

- Sajangnim means boss in Korean! Just for clarification

- I think the moment that the m/c looks away from Yoongi is the moment that Yoongi realizes that he’s falling in love with her and that if he leaves her to Geumjae he’ll never forgive himself.

- (Trigger warning: sexual abuse, rape, non-consensual sex acts), I think that Geumjae made the m/c suck him off and raped her infont of the guards at least once, he probably also invited any of them who wanted her to have her and then cut off the dick of the alpha who stepped up to rape her. He also probably made her do lewd things for their entertainment. I think at least one of the guards did report what happened back to Moonbyul, but she didn’t do anything about it or make any move to save the m/c. If anything she probably just took notes to use it against her in the future, to know how to threaten and subtly trigger the m/c to be more subservient. Moonbyul is more of a fan of psychological abuse than physical.

- I feel as though, maybe Yoongi’s words of ‘it’s alright’ are patronizing? But I don’t know what the m/c could hear in this situation that would be comforting. Idk, maybe I’ll think on it some more and change the dialogue here eventually.

- I don’t know if any of you have ever had your skin glued shut but let me tell you it is so fucking painful! It’s literally like! So much more painful than stitches or worse. Maybe because the stuff my abuser used on me was definitely not body safe and I’m pretty sure it was like- hobby glue or the kind they use in tactical but! It’s the worst!! Truly would rather be stabbed again than have to go through it.

[eggsaladstain]

thinking about how the first time peter sees rose again is most likely also the first time he’s heard his real name in months, and how rose subsequently spends the rest of the season reminding him of his humanity and who he really is, only for peter to throw away his career and convictions without hesitation in exchange for her safety

thinking about how rose struggled with ptsd and worked so hard to get back to a good place mentally, yet she jumped headfirst into danger as soon as she heard that peter was in trouble and put her career and safety at risk to help him because she knew he needed her, only to realize in the end that the life she wanted was incompatible with the path peter had chosen

thinking about how, even after 10 months apart with no contact, they both immediately fell back into their old patterns with rose watching the surveillance feed while peter slept, and peter picking up dinner, and rose having a dangerous and not-entirely-legal plan that peter had no choice but to go along with, and the banter and the joking, and the way they worked so well together and supported and protected each other

as much as i loved their immediate connection in season 1, the angst and tension in their relationship in season 2 was just immaculate – it’s about the yearning and the understanding and the hurt and the mutual sacrifice and the fact that they’re better together and they want to be together but can’t for reasons outside of their control

it’s the fact that peter is aware of how much better his life is with rose in it, both personally and professionally, and his absolute certainty that he can protect her even as much as it worries him to know that she’s in danger

it’s the fact that peter comes to the realization this season that he himself is the cause of that danger, that she will never be safe as long as she’s associated with him, that just because he can protect her doesn’t mean that she wants to live the kind of life where she constantly needs protection

it’s the fact that things are different this time around, because she’s more than just a witness he needs to protect, because he knows her now, because he cares about her, because he will never be able to live with himself if something happens to her

it’s the fact that peter gave up his life for hers, he became a traitor in exchange for her safety, and he'll take that secret to the grave so she can move on with her life and forget about him

it’s the fact that rose sees peter slowly losing himself to desperation and suspicion, falling further and further into that dark place she herself once inhabited, so she chooses to stay with him, to support him and protect him in her own way, to make sure he never forgets who he really is

it’s the fact that rose has never felt more like her old self than when she’s working the case with peter, and she feels more alive than she has in a long time that night after the party, until she sees the worry and panic on peter’s face when he realizes she didn’t keep her promise

it’s the fact that she understands the guilt he feels from each loss, and the fact that she could never put him in a position where he might have to mourn her too

it’s the fact rose likes peter, likes the two of them together, but she doesn’t know how they could ever have a normal life together, but she could never forget about him either

it’s the fact that they both sacrificed so much for the other but it still wasn’t enough to keep them together in the end

i am foaming at the mouth, i am rattling the bars of my enclosure, i am impatiently waiting for season 3

[movingmusically]

Unscripted - Part 2

Original Request:

Can I request an austin one shot where austin and single and the female lead is not she is In an high profile relationship like tomdaya and they are happy and engaged but she and austin are co starring In a movie together and they fell in love

Word Count: 8,836

Masterlist

Part 1

The flight back home felt surreal, the stark contrast between the immersive world of the film and the polished, relentless pace of your everyday life almost jarring. As your car pulled up to the house you shared with Jack, a wave of guilt swept over you. This was your life, your future, and yet, for the first time, it felt like you didn’t quite belong in it.

Jack greeted you at the door with his signature easy smile, pulling you into a warm hug. “Welcome back,” he murmured against your hair, his hands firm on your back. The familiarity of his touch was grounding, but it also brought with it a weight you couldn’t ignore. You hugged him tighter, hoping the embrace would erase the unease that had taken root inside you.

“Thanks,” you said, stepping back and offering a small smile. “It’s good to be home.”

He helped you with your bags, asking about the shoot as you walked inside. You gave him the highlights—the beauty of Big Sur, the camaraderie of the cast and crew, the challenges of working without a script. You kept your answers vague, glossing over the depth of what the project had meant to you and avoiding any mention of Austin. Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about the connection you’d built on set or the moments that still lingered, unbidden, in your mind.

For the first few days, things slipped into an easy rhythm. You and Jack ordered your favourite takeout, caught up on TV shows you’d missed, and stole quiet moments together in the calm of your shared home. It felt familiar, comforting even, but there was something underneath it all—a distance neither of you acknowledged but both seemed to feel.

The tension only surfaced when the topic of the wedding came up again during dinner one evening. Jack had been scrolling through photos on his phone, showing you images of grand venues with towering ceilings and sprawling gardens.

“What about this one?” he asked, holding the screen toward you. The estate was stunning, no doubt about it, but its grandeur made your stomach twist.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “But don’t you think it’s a bit… much?”

Jack frowned slightly but kept his tone light. “It’s a wedding. It’s supposed to be big, isn’t it? We’ve only got one shot at this—don’t you want to make it memorable?”

“I do,” you said softly, setting your fork down. “But memorable doesn’t have to mean hundreds of guests or some enormous venue. I’ve always imagined something smaller. Something more personal.”

He leaned back in his chair, watching you with a thoughtful expression. “Smaller, like what? A backyard barbecue?”

You let out a soft laugh, though the comment stung more than you cared to admit. “Not a barbecue, but something more like a celebration. Just the people closest to us, somewhere relaxed where we don’t have to worry about keeping up appearances.”

Jack exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I hear you. I do. But I think you’re underestimating how much people expect from us. We’ve got friends, family, colleagues—all of them are going to want to celebrate this with us. A small wedding just isn’t practical.”

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of his words settling heavily. “I know there’s a lot to consider, but I just don’t want us to lose sight of what this is about: us. Not everyone else.”

Jack nodded slowly, but his expression didn’t soften. “I’m not saying it’s all about everyone else, but they’re part of our lives too. We owe them something.”

The conversation ended there, but the knot in your stomach remained long after you’d cleared the dishes. Jack retreated to the living room to make a few work calls, and you found yourself staring out the kitchen window, the ring on your finger catching the faint glow of the streetlights outside. It wasn’t just the wedding. That much was clear.

The next weekend, you and Jack stepped out for brunch at a café in the heart of the city. The morning was crisp, the kind of autumn day that begged for warm drinks and quiet conversation. You tried to focus on the present, to enjoy the simplicity of being with Jack, but the weight of your unresolved feelings was still there.

The conversation lingered as you left the restaurant and walked hand in hand down the quiet street. You didn’t argue, but the difference in your visions for the wedding hung in the air, unspoken but palpable. You wanted to believe it was something you could compromise on, but deep down, you weren’t sure either of you would be entirely happy with the other’s version of your day.

In the distance you spotted the glint of a camera lens. Your stomach sank. Paparazzi.

Jack seemed unfazed, slipping his arm around your waist as you made your way down the street. “Just ignore them,” he said under his breath, his voice calm but firm.

You nodded, but the awareness of being watched made every step feel heavier. The cameras clicked furiously as you reached the car, the flashing lights momentarily blinding. You climbed inside quickly, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding as Jack started the engine.

The headlines came the next day. Pictures of you and Jack walking side by side, smiles faint but stiff, were plastered across tabloids with captions like “Trouble in Paradise?” and “Hollywood’s Golden Couple Looking Less Than Happy.”

Jack tossed one of the magazines onto the kitchen counter, his jaw tight. “Do they ever get tired of making stuff up?”

You glanced at the cover, your heart sinking. “It’s just noise,” you said, trying to dismiss it. “People will forget about it in a week.”

“Still,” he said, his tone sharper than usual. “It’s like they’re waiting for us to fail.”

“We’re not failing,” you said quickly, though the words felt more like a reassurance for yourself than for him.

Jack’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he let out a breath. “I know. Sorry. It just gets to me sometimes.”

The cracks deepened over the following weeks. The conversation about the wedding remained unresolved, each new suggestion from Jack feeling like another reminder of how out of sync you were. But it wasn’t just the wedding—it was the way he talked about the future, about stepping back from acting to start a family.

One evening, as you sat together on the couch, he brought it up again. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice steady. “Maybe after the wedding, we could take some time to really slow down. Focus on what matters. A family.”

You hesitated, your stomach tightening. “You mean… right away?”

“Why not?” he asked, turning to face you. “We’ve both been working nonstop for years. It feels like the right time.”

You stared at him, struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for that yet,” you said carefully. “There’s still so much I want to do.”

Jack frowned, his expression a mix of confusion and disappointment. “Like what? You’re at the top of your game. What more do you need?”

“It’s not about needing more,” you said softly. “It’s about… not feeling like I’m done yet. There are roles I want to take, stories I want to tell. I’m not ready to step back—not yet.”

Jack leaned back, letting out a long breath. “I get that,” he said finally, though his tone was resigned. “But at some point, we have to figure out what’s next for us. We can’t just keep going like this forever.”

You nodded, but his words stayed with you long after the conversation ended. The growing distance between you felt insurmountable at times, and no matter how hard you tried to bridge it, the cracks only seemed to widen. You told yourself it was just a phase, that every couple went through rough patches, but deep down, you weren’t sure if that was true.

At night, as you lay beside Jack in bed, your thoughts wandered back to the set, to the quiet intensity of filming, to Austin. You pushed the memories down, but even as you closed your eyes, you couldn’t escape the feeling that the life you’d built was starting to feel like someone else’s.

*

The gala dinner was as glamorous as you’d expected—a glittering blend of industry titans, rising stars, and carefully curated opulence. The film was already generating buzz, and the event felt like a celebration of its success, even before it had premiered. You arrived with Jack, the two of you quickly swept into a swirl of handshakes, polite laughter, and clinking glasses.

Jack’s hand rested at your waist as you navigated the room together, his charm on full display as he chatted easily with producers and directors. You followed his lead, slipping into the polished rhythm you’d perfected over the years. But despite the familiar ease of it all, your thoughts kept straying to the possibility of seeing Austin.

It didn’t take long. You spotted him across the room, standing in a small circle of people, his laugh low and easy. He looked effortlessly put together in a tailored suit, his presence magnetic even in a room filled with celebrities. Your stomach tightened, a flicker of nerves you couldn’t quite suppress.

Jack noticed your attention shift and followed your gaze. “There’s Austin,” he said, his tone neutral but with a flicker of curiosity.

You nodded, your chest tightening slightly. “Yeah. Should we go say hi?”

“Why not?” Jack said, steering you through the crowd with his usual confidence.

Austin turned toward you as you approached, his expression softening with recognition. You offered him a small smile. “Hi,” you said, your voice warm despite the faint tension you felt.

“Hey,” Austin replied, his gaze flicking between you and Jack. “Good to see you.”

“You too,” Jack said, extending his hand. “Nice to actually get to talk this time. I think we only managed a quick hello when I visited the set.”

“Yeah, it was a busy day,” Austin agreed, shaking Jack’s hand. “It’s good to finally chat properly.”

Jack’s smile was easy, his tone friendly. “Y/N’s told me a lot about the project—it sounded like a really unique experience.”

“It was,” Austin said, his focus briefly shifting to you before returning to Jack. “Definitely one of the most challenging but rewarding projects I’ve ever worked on.”

“It’s a great team,” you added quickly, feeling the need to contribute something. “And Celeste really pushed us in ways I didn’t expect.”

Austin nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, she has a way of doing that.”

There was a brief pause, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but still carried a weight you couldn’t quite define. Jack’s arm rested casually at your back, his presence steady but unmistakable. You shifted slightly under the weight of both their gazes, your pulse quickening for reasons you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Well,” Jack said after a beat, his tone light. “We won’t keep you. I’m sure we’ll run into you again tonight.”

“Of course,” Austin replied, his voice easy. “Enjoy the event.”

“You too,” you said, your voice just barely steady as Jack began to guide you away.

As you walked through the crowd, Jack leaned in slightly, his tone casual. “He seems like a solid guy.”

“He is,” you said quickly, your voice firmer than you expected. “Really professional.”

Jack nodded, his attention already shifting to the next conversation. But as much as you tried to refocus, you couldn’t shake the way Austin’s voice, his presence, lingered in your mind.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversations and carefully crafted smiles. Jack was in his element, charming everyone in his orbit, and you tried to match his energy. But every so often, you caught sight of Austin across the room, his presence like a magnet you couldn’t resist.

Eventually, you excused yourself, slipping out onto the terrace for some air. The cool night breeze was a welcome relief, and you leaned against the railing, letting the distant hum of the city settle your thoughts.

“You have a habit of escaping,” a familiar voice said, and you turned to see Austin standing a few feet away, a cigarette between his fingers.

“Only when I need to breathe,” you replied, your lips curving into a faint smile.

He stepped closer, his movements unhurried. There was a moment of silence, not awkward but heavy with something unspoken. You looked out over the city, the hum of distant traffic filling the space between you. Finally, he broke the silence.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, his voice quiet but warm.

“Good,” you said, the word feeling too small for everything you wanted to say. “Busy. You?”

“Same,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Feels like I haven’t stopped since we wrapped.”

You nodded, your mind flashing back to the last days of filming, the weight of everything you’d tried to leave behind pressing against your chest. “The film—it’s been getting great buzz,” you said, your voice soft.

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze shifting to you. “Celeste sent me some of the early edits. It’s… different. In a good way.”

“Different,” you echoed, the word catching in your throat. “That’s one way to describe it.”

He smiled faintly, and for a moment, it felt like you were back on set, caught in the strange, electric connection that had grown between you. His gaze lingered on you, searching, as though he could see the cracks you were trying so hard to hide.

“You’ve changed,” he said finally, his voice low. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but… you seem different.”

The words hit you like a jolt. You looked away, your fingers tightening around the stem of your champagne flute. “It’s been a busy few months,” you said, your voice carefully neutral.

“Busy doesn’t change who you are,” he said, his tone gentle but certain. “But I guess it’s not my place to say.”

Your chest tightened, a swirl of emotions threatening to surface. “It’s complicated,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t press, but the weight of his presence was undeniable. When you turned back to him, his expression was soft, understanding, but there was something else in his eyes—a quiet longing that mirrored the ache you’d been fighting to ignore.

You didn’t notice you’d stepped closer until your shoulder almost brushed his. The warmth of him was a stark contrast to the cool night air, and the faint scent of his cologne sent a shiver down your spine. He looked at you then, his gaze dipping to your lips for the briefest moment before returning to your eyes.

You stepped back quickly, your heart racing. “I should get back,” you said, your voice unsteady. “Jack will be wondering where I am.”

“Of course,” he said, his voice soft, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. But as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you. “Y/N.”

You hesitated, your hand on the door.

“I’m really glad we worked together,” he said, his words laced with quiet intensity. “I mean that.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and slipped back inside before the pull toward him could overwhelm you.

Back in the room, you found Jack deep in conversation with a producer, his easy charm on full display. He looked up as you approached, his smile widening as he reached for your hand. You let him pull you close, the warmth of his touch grounding you, even as the echoes of your conversation with Austin lingered in your mind.

The night wore on, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. The space between you and Jack felt more pronounced, every laugh and touch feeling like an act you were performing for an audience. Across the room, you caught sight of Austin one last time. He was talking to someone, his expression relaxed but his eyes distant.

You looked away quickly, guilt and longing warring in your chest. Whatever had shifted between you and Austin, whatever spark still lingered, you knew you couldn’t let it consume you. But even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t escape the feeling that something had been set in motion, something you weren’t sure you could stop.

The car ride home with Jack was quiet, the kind of silence that was comfortable only on the surface. Jack rested his hand on your thigh, his fingers absentmindedly drumming a rhythm that should have been soothing but only heightened your unease. Your gaze stayed fixed on the city lights streaking past the window, but your mind was elsewhere—back on the terrace, the way Austin’s gaze had lingered on yours, the weight of his words still pressing against your chest.

Jack glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “You’ve been quiet since we left,” he said, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

You forced a small smile. “Just tired,” you replied, your voice carefully neutral. “It’s been a long night.”

Jack nodded, his attention shifting back to the road. “It was a good night, though. You handled yourself brilliantly. Everyone loves you.”

“Thanks,” you said, the words feeling hollow in your mouth.

He didn’t press further, which you were grateful for, but as you pulled into the driveway, the tension in your chest only grew. You’d been holding onto too many feelings for too long, each one pulling you in a different direction, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep everything buried.

*

The living room was strewn with wedding magazines and loose papers, a small tablet perched on the coffee table displaying a sleek website for potential venues. Jack sat on the couch, his laptop balanced on his knee as he scrolled through an email chain with a wedding planner he’d found through a colleague. You sat cross-legged on the floor, an untouched cup of tea growing cold beside you.

It wasn’t exactly the wedding you’d imagined.

“I think the guest list is manageable now,” Jack said, his tone upbeat as he glanced at you over the screen of his laptop. “We’ve cut it down to about 120. That’s pretty small by Hollywood standards.”

You nodded, tracing patterns on the edge of the rug. “Yeah. Smaller,” you said, your voice carefully neutral.

He frowned slightly, sensing your hesitation. “I know it’s not what you originally wanted,” he said, his voice softening. “But I think it’s a good middle ground, don’t you? It’s not the huge spectacle everyone expects, but it’s still special.”

You managed a small smile, not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm. “It’s a compromise,” you said, echoing the words you’d told yourself over and over since the planning had started.

Jack set his laptop aside, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Hey,” he said gently, catching your gaze. “Talk to me. What’s bothering you?”

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “It’s not… bad,” you said carefully. “It’s just… all of this—the guest lists, the menus, the colour palettes—it still feels like we’re planning something for everyone else, not for us.”

Jack exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get that,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “But I want it to feel right, Y/N. For both of us. I’m trying to find that balance.”

“I know,” you said quickly, reaching for his hand. “And I appreciate it. I really do. I just… I never pictured something this formal. I always thought it would be small, intimate. Just us and the people closest to us.”

His fingers tightened around yours, his expression softening. “I want that too,” he said. “But I also want to celebrate this properly. I don’t want it to feel like we’re hiding.”

You nodded, the knot in your stomach loosening slightly. “We’ll figure it out,” you said, though the words felt more like a reassurance for him than for yourself.

Jack smiled faintly, leaning back against the couch. “So, what about a date?” he asked, his tone shifting to something lighter. “We should lock something in, right?”

You reached for your phone, pulling up your calendar. “Let’s see…” you began, scrolling through the next few months. “I’ve got the Greta Gerwig project starting in a few weeks, and then there’s a press tour…”

Jack’s face shifted, his smile faltering. “Right. And I’ve got…” He trailed off, his expression tightening.

You looked up at him, your stomach twisting. “What?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I got the offer for the lead in that film I told you about. The one shooting in New Zealand.”

Your heart sank. “When?”

“In four months,” he admitted, his voice heavy. “It’s a three-month shoot.”

The words settled between you like a weight, the implications hitting you both at once.

“That’s…” you started, your voice catching. “That’s a big deal, Jack. You should do it.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I mean, I already said yes. It’s the kind of role I can’t turn down. But the timing…”

“It’s fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’ll figure it out.”

His eyes softened, but there was a flicker of doubt there that you couldn’t ignore. “Ok. You’ve got the press tour. And the new project. How long does that one run?”

“Two months,” you said, your voice quieter now. “But then there’s the post-production work. ADR, reshoots… It’s a lot.”

Jack leaned back, his expression heavy. “So we’re both about to disappear for most of the year.”

The truth of it settled over you both, the reality of your lives pulling you in opposite directions. You sat in silence for a long moment, the plans and compromises scattered around you feeling suddenly insignificant.

You looked at him, your chest tightening at the weary look in his eyes.

“We’re both busy,” he said finally, his voice quiet but heavy. “I get that. But sometimes it feels like we’re barely in this anymore. Like we’re just… going through the motions.”

Your throat tightened, the truth of his words hitting you like a blow. “I know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel it too.”

He nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”

Neither did you.

*

You’d just wrapped your latest project, a gritty drama that had demanded every ounce of your focus and energy. The long days on set had been a welcome distraction from the strained reality of your relationship with Jack. With him halfway across the world, the distance between you wasn’t just physical anymore. Calls had become shorter, text messages less frequent. When you did talk, it often felt like you were tiptoeing around something unspoken, both of you avoiding the cracks that seemed to widen with every passing day.

Throwing yourself into work had been your coping mechanism, and for a while, it had helped. But now, with the film behind you, there was no escape. The press tour for the improvisational project you’d filmed with Austin had arrived, and you’d thrown yourself into that instead, grateful for the busyness and the change of scenery.

It was during one of these interviews, seated side by side in a sleek hotel suite, that you felt the first real crack in your resolve. The journalist had asked a question about the improvisational nature of the film, and Austin’s response had been so earnest, so thoughtful, that you found yourself watching him with a mix of admiration and something deeper you didn’t want to name.

“It was all about trust,” he said, his voice steady but warm. “We had to rely on each other completely, and I think that shows in the final product.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on him for a moment too long before turning back to the journalist. “It was definitely one of the most intense but rewarding experiences of my career,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

The interview moved on, the journalist’s questions shifting to lighter topics, but your mind lingered on Austin’s words. Trust. He’d said it so simply, but it carried so much weight. That trust had been the foundation of everything you’d built together on set, and you felt its echoes now, in the way he listened so attentively to the interviewer’s questions, the way he leaned toward you slightly as though his presence alone could steady you.

After the interview, as you stepped into the hallway, Austin fell into step beside you. “That went well,” he said, his tone casual but kind.

“Yeah,” you agreed, glancing up at him. “You’re good at this stuff.”

He smiled, his gaze warm. “So are you.”

It was such a small thing, but the way he said it made your chest tighten. There was no ulterior motive, no performance. Just sincerity. It was a quality you’d come to admire in him over the course of the shoot, but now, with everything so raw and strained in your personal life, it felt magnified.

As the tour continued, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t just his looks, though that was part of it—the easy charm of his smile, the quiet intensity of his eyes, the way he carried himself with a confidence that never felt arrogant. But it was more than that. It was the way he treated everyone around him, from the journalists to the hotel staff to the fans who waited outside the press junkets for hours just for a moment with him.

He was kind. That was what struck you most. Kind in a way that felt rare, especially in an industry that so often rewarded the opposite. You watched the way he spoke to people, always present, always genuine, and you felt your chest tighten with something you were beginning to recognise but couldn’t admit.

There was a moment in the hotel lobby one evening, between events, when you saw him chatting with a fan. She was nervous, fumbling over her words, but he knelt slightly so they were at eye level, his tone gentle as he reassured her and took a photo. You watched from a distance, your heart aching in a way that felt both sweet and unbearable.

Later that night, as you sat in your hotel room scrolling through the day’s photos and interviews, you found yourself replaying small moments in your mind. The way Austin had touched your elbow to guide you out of a crowded room, the way his laugh had filled the car during a quiet drive between interviews, the way he’d looked at you during that panel discussion when you’d stumbled over a question, steadying you with just a glance.

You weren’t just attracted to him. You were falling for him.

The realisation hit you like a jolt, your chest tightening as you set your phone down and pressed your hands to your face. It was so much more than you’d let yourself acknowledge before. You didn’t just admire him, didn’t just appreciate his presence. You were in love with him.

And it wasn’t just the idea of him, either. It was the reality—the warmth of his kindness, the quiet strength of his support, the way he made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in so long.

You lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling as the weight of it settled over you. The feelings you’d tried so hard to push down were impossible to ignore now, no matter how much guilt clawed at you. Jack’s name flickered through your mind, and you squeezed your eyes shut against the wave of shame that followed.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, the truth was there, undeniable. You loved Austin. And with every passing day, it was becoming harder to pretend you didn’t.

*

The press tour had been a whirlwind escape, a way to throw yourself into work and momentarily forget about the cracks that had started forming in your relationship with Jack. But now that you were home, the weight of reality settled heavily over you. The house was familiar, but it didn’t feel like home anymore—it felt like a place where unresolved tensions lingered in every room.

Jack was leaving in a few days, flying halfway across the world for six months. You’d barely had time to reconnect before his suitcase was back in the corner of the bedroom, half-packed and looming like a reminder of everything you hadn’t talked about.

Dinner that night was quiet, the clink of cutlery on plates the only sound. You could feel the tension between you like a physical presence, heavy and suffocating. Jack was the first to break the silence.

“Have you thought any more about the wedding?” he asked, his voice careful, almost hesitant.

You sighed softly, setting your fork down. “I have,” you said, glancing up at him. “And I think we’ve done a good job meeting in the middle. It’s bigger than I wanted, smaller than you did… but it still doesn’t feel like me, Jack. I’m trying to get on board with it, but…”

“But you’re not,” he finished for you, his tone tinged with frustration. “Y/N, I get that this isn’t your dream wedding, but it’s not exactly mine either. We’ve both compromised. Isn’t that what marriage is supposed to be about?”

“It is,” you said quickly, your voice cracking slightly. “And I’m grateful for that. But it’s not just the wedding, Jack. It’s… everything.”

His brow furrowed, his fork paused mid-air. “What do you mean, ‘everything’?”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. “I mean, the wedding has made me realise how different our visions for the future are. It’s not just about the size of the guest list or the colour palette. It’s about what happens after. You’re ready to settle down, to start a family, and I… I’m not.”

Jack’s fork clattered onto his plate, the sound sharp and jarring. “We’ve talked about this,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “You said you wanted that too—just not right away.”

“I do want it,” you said, your eyes welling with tears. “But I don’t know when, Jack. And every time we talk about the wedding, it feels like this countdown to a life I’m not ready for yet. You’re ready to step back, but I’m just getting started. There are still roles I want to take, things I want to do. I can’t give that up—not yet.”

He stared at you, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “I’m not asking you to give it up. I’m asking you to find a way for both of us to have what we want. Isn’t that the whole point of being together?”

You shook your head, tears spilling over now. “It feels like we’re on two completely different paths, Jack. You want to slow down, start a family, have this settled life. And I feel like I’m barely getting started. I don’t know how to make those paths line up.”

His shoulders slumped, and he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “So what are you saying? That this isn’t going to work?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I’m just… scared. Scared that we’ll keep trying to force this and end up resenting each other. Scared that one of us will always feel like we gave up too much.”

Jack’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, blinking rapidly. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I don’t know how to keep us together when it feels like we’re falling apart.”

The admission hit you like a blow, and you reached for his hand, your fingers trembling. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t know how to fix this. Every time we try to talk about it, it feels like we’re just going in circles.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability beneath his frustration. “I love you,” he said simply, the weight of the words almost too much to bear.

“I love you too,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “But sometimes… sometimes love isn’t enough.”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of everything you couldn’t say. Jack’s hand tightened around yours for a moment before he pulled away, standing and pacing the length of the dining room.

“Maybe we’re trying too hard to hold onto something that isn’t working anymore,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm.

You nodded, your heart breaking even as you acknowledged the truth of his words. “Maybe we are.”

He turned back to you, his eyes glistening with tears. “I don’t want us to hate each other,” he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t want us to turn into something we’re not.”

You stood, closing the distance between you, and wrapped your arms around him. He held you tightly, his face buried in your hair as he whispered, “I wanted this to work so badly.”

“I know,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “I did too.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of quiet tears and whispered goodbyes. You sat together on the couch, your hands entwined, saying everything you needed to say even as your hearts broke. There was no anger, no blame, just the quiet understanding of two people who loved each other deeply but couldn’t make it work.

When Jack left a few days later, his suitcase packed and waiting by the door, he turned to you one last time. “I hope you find everything you’re looking for,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. “You too,” you managed, the words barely audible.

As his car disappeared down the street, you stood in the doorway, tears streaming down your face. The house felt impossibly quiet when you stepped back inside, the echoes of your life together lingering in every corner.

But even through the pain, there was a small, fragile sense of relief. You’d made the right decision—painful as it was—and now, for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope that the path ahead might hold something new, something true.

*

The awards ceremony buzzed with the kind of electric energy only Hollywood could generate. The film had been nominated for multiple categories, including Best Picture, and the stakes felt impossibly high. You hadn’t attended an event like this in months—your first red carpet since the breakup—and the thought of facing the cameras, the questions, and the inevitable whispers made your stomach twist with nerves.

But tonight wasn’t about you. It was about the film, about the months of work that had pushed you to your emotional limits and left you forever changed. You’d spent the afternoon carefully preparing—your team perfecting every detail of your look until you finally felt like someone ready to step back into the spotlight. The gown you wore was sleek and understated, a shimmering black that caught the light just enough to feel glamorous without being ostentatious. It was a deliberate choice: elegant, confident, but nothing that screamed look at me.

The red carpet was as overwhelming as you remembered. Flashes exploded in bursts, reporters called out your name, and the cacophony of voices blurred into white noise. You smiled for the cameras, answering questions with poise, but the effort of it all left you breathless by the time you made it inside.

The venue was grand, its high ceilings adorned with intricate chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the sea of perfectly dressed attendees. You navigated the room with the same grace you’d worn on the red carpet, exchanging polite smiles and making small talk as you slowly made your way to your table. The cast and crew had been seated together, a mix of familiar faces and new additions filling the space with laughter and quiet anticipation.

Austin was already at his seat. He looked up as you approached, his face lighting up with an easy, warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, rising slightly from his chair. “You made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, managing a smile that didn’t quite mask your nerves.

As you slipped into your seat a few chairs away from him, the rest of the table began to fill with the familiar faces of the production team. Celeste arrived shortly after, her energy as magnetic as ever, her soft grey gown a striking complement to her usual unassuming brilliance.

The ceremony began, and as the awards were announced, the tension in the room began to build. When the film won its first award for Best Sound Design, the table erupted into cheers, Celeste clapping exuberantly before raising her glass in a small toast to the sound team.

Between awards, the conversation at the table was lively, punctuated with laughter and shared memories. Celeste turned to you and Austin at one point, her expression softening as she placed a hand lightly on your arm.

“I’m so proud of both of you,” she said earnestly. “This film… it wouldn’t be what it is without the trust and vulnerability you brought to it. You carried so much of its heart, and I hope you know how extraordinary that is.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat, her words hitting you harder than you expected. “Thank you,” you said quietly. “That means everything coming from you.”

Austin, seated across from you, nodded, his voice equally sincere. “I don’t think I’ve ever worked on something that felt this… real. You pushed us in ways I didn’t know were possible.”

Celeste smiled warmly, her gaze darting between the two of you. “That’s what makes it so special. It’s rare to capture something so raw, so alive. I’ll always be grateful to you both for taking that leap.”

The conversation lingered in your mind long after Celeste had turned to speak with someone else. You stole a glance at Austin, finding him already watching you. He gave you a small, reassuring nod, and you felt a flicker of the trust that had defined your work together.

As the evening progressed, the film continued its winning streak, culminating in the announcement of Best Picture. When the title was called, the entire table erupted into cheers, a whirlwind of applause and celebration. You found yourself pulled into a series of hugs, but when Austin wrapped his arms around you, the moment felt different—longer, steadier, as if grounding you amidst the chaos.

“We did it,” he murmured, his voice warm against your ear.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. “We really did.”

The applause and speeches blurred into a wave of euphoria, the weight of the achievement sinking in as you stood together on stage with the rest of the cast and crew. The moment felt surreal, a culmination of months of work and emotion condensed into a few fleeting minutes.

The after-party was held in an opulent ballroom, the perfect backdrop for the industry elite to unwind after the ceremony. You floated between groups, a glass of champagne in hand, the glow of the night still warming your chest. The congratulations from colleagues and acquaintances were plentiful, and you did your best to accept them graciously, though the noise of the room felt overwhelming at times.

You spotted Austin near the bar, laughing with a few of the cast members. He caught your eye briefly and gave you a small wave, but before you could make your way over, another familiar face approached.

“Y/N,” came a voice, rich with warmth and mischief. It was Sophie, one of your co-stars from a previous project. She looked stunning, as always, her emerald gown shimmering as she leaned in for a quick hug. “You’re glowing tonight.”

“Thank you,” you said with a small laugh. “It’s been… a lot.”

“I can imagine,” she said, her tone dropping slightly. “Especially after everything with Jack. I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but… are you okay? I mean, it must be hard seeing the headlines and still being so put together.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but you managed to maintain your composure. “I’m fine,” you said, the practiced answer coming easily. “It’s been a while now.”

Sophie nodded, her expression softening. “Well, for what it’s worth, you look incredible. And you’ve got so much going for you—this film, all these awards… you don’t need anyone to complete you.”

“Thanks, Sophie,” you said, your smile genuine but small. “I appreciate it.”

She gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before disappearing back into the crowd. You turned away, exhaling quietly as you moved toward a quieter corner of the room.

“Y/N,” Austin’s voice came from behind you, soft but steady. You turned to see him standing there, his expression tinged with concern. “Are you okay? I saw Sophie talking to you.”

You nodded quickly, though your throat felt tight. “Yeah, I’m fine. She just brought up Jack, and it… caught me off guard.”

Austin hesitated, his hands slipping into the pockets of his tuxedo trousers. “I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up,” he said carefully. “I didn’t want to overstep.”

You shook your head, managing a small smile. “It’s fine. Really. It’s just… a little strange sometimes, hearing other people talk about it like it’s still fresh.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze warm and steady. “If you ever want to talk about it… I’m here.”

The simplicity of his words, the quiet sincerity in his tone, made your chest tighten. “Thank you,” you said softly. “But I think I’m finally starting to move forward.”

His smile was faint but understanding, and the two of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background. It felt natural, easy—like slipping back into a rhythm you hadn’t realised you’d missed.

The energy of the party shifted as the hours wore on. The initial rush of excitement mellowed into a relaxed, almost intimate atmosphere. The room was filled with soft laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the low hum of conversations that had become more personal as the night stretched on.

You found yourself gravitating toward Austin more and more, drawn by the calm he seemed to exude in contrast to the buzz of the crowd. The two of you had settled into a quiet corner of the room, where the chatter softened to a gentle backdrop and the lighting felt warm and forgiving.

“This is nice,” you said, leaning back against the plush cushions of the seating area. Your shoes were long abandoned, and you’d curled your legs beneath you. The champagne flute in your hand was still half-full, but you weren’t in a rush to finish it. “Being able to just… be, without a camera in my face or a question about my personal life.”

Austin chuckled softly, his posture as relaxed as yours. “It’s rare, isn’t it? These moments where you don’t have to perform for anyone.”

“Rare and precious,” you agreed, your gaze drifting over the room before settling back on him. “I’ve missed this—the quiet moments.”

He nodded, his smile soft. “I get that. Sometimes it feels like the only time you can really breathe is when the spotlight moves to someone else.”

For a while, the conversation meandered through safe, familiar territory—funny stories from the press tour, the chaos of awards season, and lighthearted jokes about how Celeste had probably orchestrated her own victory dance when the film won Best Picture. But as the noise of the party faded further into the background, the space between you shifted.

The way he looked at you felt different—softer, warmer, yet somehow more intense. You found yourself leaning in slightly, as though drawn to him without even realising it. His hand rested on the arm of the couch, fingers brushing against the fabric, and you resisted the sudden, irrational urge to reach out and touch them.

“Austin,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his name on your lips made your chest tighten. “Can I tell you something?”

His gaze flicked to yours, the easy smile on his face fading into something more serious. “Of course.”

You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat. But the look in his eyes—steady, open, and utterly patient—was enough to push you forward.

“Being around you tonight,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “it feels… easy. Like I can breathe again. And I didn’t realise how much I needed that until now.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but his expression was full of understanding. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said softly. “You deserve to feel at ease.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers tightening slightly around the stem of your glass. “It’s not just tonight, though. It’s… you. It’s how you are, the way you make everything feel so… uncomplicated, even when it’s not. You’re just… so good, with everyone. And with me.”

The confession hung between you, the air growing heavier with each passing second. His lips parted slightly, his eyes searching yours, but he didn’t speak right away. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the vulnerability of the moment threatening to overwhelm you.

“I don’t know when it happened,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper now. “But somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing you as just a friend. And I’ve been trying so hard to push it down because it’s messy, and it’s not fair, and I’m scared of what it means. But I can’t keep pretending it’s not there.”

Austin exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as though some invisible weight had been lifted. “Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I think I’ve always seen you as more than a friend. I just… didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the raw honesty in them hitting you like a wave. “I thought it was just me,” you admitted, a faint laugh escaping you. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’s nothing, but it’s not nothing. It’s never been nothing.”

His hand shifted slightly, the tips of his fingers brushing yours where they rested on the cushion between you. The touch was so light it could have been accidental, but the way his gaze lingered on yours told you it wasn’t.

“It’s not nothing,” he said softly, his voice steady. “But I don’t want to rush you, or complicate things more than they already are.”

“You’re not,” you said quickly, your heart pounding. “Austin, you’re not making things harder. If anything, you’re the only thing that’s been making sense lately.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavily in the space between you. His fingers brushed yours again, more deliberately this time, and your breath caught as the warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked suddenly, his voice low but steady.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Out of here? Like… now?”

He smiled faintly, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles. “Just for some air. No cameras, no crowd. Just us.”

Your pulse quickened at the suggestion, but you found yourself nodding before you’d even fully processed the question. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I’d like that.”

The courtyard was quiet, the soft glow of string lights above casting warm pools of light onto the cobblestones. A faint breeze rustled the leaves of the ivy climbing the walls, and the gentle trickle of the fountain filled the silence. You let out a slow breath, trying to ground yourself, but your heart was racing, every nerve in your body alive with the weight of what had just been said.

Austin stood close, his hands still in his pockets, like he was holding himself back. His gaze hadn’t left you since you’d stepped outside, steady and searching, his expression open in a way that made your chest ache.

“This feels…” He paused, his voice low, unsure. “It feels like we’re finally being honest.”

You nodded, your fingers gripping the edge of the wrought-iron bench beside you for balance. “I think we are,” you said softly. “And it’s terrifying.”

He let out a breathy laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Terrifying doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

You smiled faintly, the tension between you shifting, charged but no longer stifling. He took a step closer, his movements slow, deliberate, like he was giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

His hand lifted slightly, hesitating for a fraction of a second before brushing against yours. The faint touch sent a jolt through you, your breath hitching. Your gaze flicked to his mouth, then back to his eyes, and the unspoken question hanging in the air passed between you, heavy and certain.

You didn’t wait for him to close the gap. Pushing up onto your tiptoes, you slid your arms around his neck, your fingers threading into the soft waves at the nape of his neck. His breath caught, but he didn’t hesitate, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer as your lips met.

The kiss started slow, tentative, like the first notes of a song you’d been waiting to hear. His lips were soft, warm, moving against yours in a way that felt both careful and electric. You tightened your hold on him, your fingers brushing the base of his hairline, and he made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, almost like a sigh.

As the kiss deepened, you caught the faint taste of champagne on his lips, the sweetness mingling with the warmth of his breath. His tongue brushed against yours, tentative at first, before the kiss grew bolder, the restraint between you giving way to something more urgent. A soft whimper escaped you, and his hands tightened at your waist, grounding you, pulling you closer until there was barely any space between you.

Your body melted against his, your heart pounding as the heat of the kiss spread through you. The world around you—the fountain, the courtyard, the muffled sounds of the party inside—faded entirely. All that remained was the feel of him, the way his tongue explored yours, the gentle scrape of his teeth on your bottom lip as he broke the kiss just enough to catch his breath before diving back in.

His hands slid from your waist to your back, his fingertips pressing into the fabric of your dress like he couldn’t bear to let you go. You felt his hair between your fingers, soft and slightly mussed, and the quiet intimacy of the moment made your chest tighten.

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless, your lips tingling. His hands stayed on your back, holding you close as his thumb traced small, soothing circles just below your shoulder blade.

“You taste like champagne,” he murmured, his voice rough, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“So do you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “And strawberries.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he said quietly, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “For so long.”

Your chest tightened, a swell of emotions rushing through you—relief, longing, and something deeper you weren’t ready to name. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I just didn’t know how much until now.”

His hands shifted to cup your face, his thumbs brushing lightly across your cheekbones. “We’ll figure this out,” he said, his tone steady despite the faint shake in his hands. “Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, your lips brushing his in a soft, almost tentative kiss. It wasn’t urgent this time, but lingering, filled with quiet promises neither of you needed to say aloud. When you pulled back, you felt steadier, lighter, like the weight you’d been carrying for months had finally started to lift.

In the soft glow of the courtyard, his gaze held yours, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe. Whatever happened next, you weren’t alone in it. Not anymore.

[doodler16]

Emily is just an Angel version of Charlie, but her naivety and innocence compared to Charlie makes more sense story building wise since Emily was born and raised in Heaven and taught about goodness and redemption. So her being naive and innocent about sinners being “innocent people” makes sense since again she’s been sheltered and lived in squeaky clean environment, where everyone is nice.

Whereas with Charlie was born and raised in hell but is a princess so she lived in a sheltered privileged, comfortable environment where she was on top of the food chain and lived in caste system that fucked over the poor. It’s why she can’t understand or empathize with Angel’s problem because she never had to worry about anything in her life except about making mom proud and protecting her kingdom. She wont help or ask her dad to break Angel out of his contract. If it’s explained in S2 that no one knows how to break a contract or Lucifer “just can’t” than they r2 and Viv can fuck themselves it’s just an excuse to make more rape fetish content, which based on a leak seems actually what it is.

Charlie like her father do nothing to help lower class like hellhounds and imps. The extermination isn’t the reason why the hierarchy was set up, her father and seven princes did that and it’s been making fucking over the lower class for decades.

HB fucks over Charlie’s character because all the world building issues like the hierarchy and lower class being made into servants and pets that can barely make ends meet and at the mercy of the Goetias. Charlie as a princess could’ve stepped in and stop it of made fairer rules for imps and hellhounds, but she didn’t? So what has been doing all these decades? Also you would think she’d be blitz trial since she’s not part of the seven deadly sins she’s still a princess and has duties is a representative of her father. Charlie and Lucifer both fucked everything because of their inaction.

Yeah basically like you said Emily is the angel version of Charlie. As annoying as some of her lines are about Hell, I hope season 2 makes her realize that the people in Hell aren’t as innocent as she thought they are.

Charlie is a coddled woman who lived a sheltered yet comfortable lifestyle. She didn’t have to worry about basic necessities like rent, housing, or being a slave. You are right, Anon the hierarchy in general in both Hazbin Hotel and especially Helluva Boss does fuck over both Charlie and Lucifer.

Lucifer looks ten times worse than he already does because he doesn’t do anything regarding his kingdom. Being depressed isn’t an excuse. I even have to wonder how hell was able to survive for so long without Lucifer. Did the overlords have a deal with Lucifer to take control over Hell temporarily?

Charlie is just a white savior of Hell, I wonder what lame excuse Vivziepop has for these soul contracts. Her and by extension Raphielle cannot milk Angel Dust being Valentino’s rape slave forever. Let the spider man be free and go to Heaven and reunite with his sister. 🤣

[sfznyxio]

-ˋˏ THROUGH THICK AND THIN ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. with your kin swept away by the cataclysm, you have no one to rely on other than your wits. the curse of being immortal has you start fresh in the modern world as a citizen of inazuma, living alongside humans and yokai. throughout your life in the moral realm, you’ve met many interesting people. out of all of them, one becomes your rock and a shoulder to cry on. out of the blue, you say whatever is in your heart. they’ll reach out for your hand to let you know they're listening.

CHARACTERS. arataki itto, gorou, yoimiya

CONTENT. gn!reader. canon-compliant. immortal au. hurt/comfort. 0.5k wc. rewrite of phase six at my old main blog @/verxsyon. itto is half- immortal due to his oni blood. gorou is fully immortal due to him being some sort of yokai. yoimiya stays mortal. references to voicelines when you ascend characters to phase six, or in other words, from level 80 to 90. they’re part of the dialogue, which will be italicized.

VERA. you can tell from the old title that i’m terrible with titles. what even is phase six? good thing rewrites exist, amirite?

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ARATAKI ITTO

once an oni, always an oni. that’s a farewell from the villagers when they drove him out of his home for an incident he wasn’t involved in, just because of his half-immortal heritage. the streets ridiculed him; he spent so long fending off for himself until he met granny oni. you remind him of his younger self, even the strongest people need support the most.

“this is the cliff that me and the boys go to sing our hearts out to, you know, loosen up,” he says. “if you want, make sure you’re loud and clear so the ocean can hear you. i gotta warn you though, my voice is so amazing that it’ll blow you away.”

“but in all seriousness…” he helps you up on your feet, and you’re able to see the beauty of the world down below — the ocean that is waiting to hear you sing and the unknown ahead. “just because i made it to the top doesn't mean i’m gonna forget all the things you've done for me, okay? i’ve still got your back, anytime, anywhere.”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. GOROU

top dog. the ever-victorious pointy-eared general. those nicknames are what he believed he didn’t deserve. an immortal like yourself, he has lived through and fought in countless wars for centuries to be acquainted with loneliness. most of his best soldiers are gone. that kid teppei, one of his brightest, is gone. he’s never been so afraid.

“out of all the wars i fought in, this war against the shogun scared me the most,” he confesses, squeezing your hand tightly. “i wasn’t ready to face any more casualties after teppei. i wasn’t ready to lose both kazuha and the traveler after almost getting executed by her judgment. and when i thought all hope was lost…”

“… you were there beside me to assure me that it’s not. i should be the one thanking you. to return the favor, i’m always here to listen if you need me.” his face lights up and his tail starts to wag. “with momentum on our side and close camaraderie, we are unstoppable. thank you for your guidance. this is a victory that belongs to the both of us.”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. YOIMIYA

despite being a mortal, she understands the perspective of an immortal through fireworks. mortal lives are fleeting, she had said to the traveler. once launched into the sky, they disappear. whereas for immortal lives, they can keep watching them disappear forever and ever. she knows that she’ll be gone while you continue to live on, but it doesn’t explain her rather cheerful demeanor.

“oh, why am i happy?” she tilts her head to the side. “well, it’s not because i’m about to leave eventually. it’s because you’re here with me. i’m glad to be able to spend this moment with you. whenever i look at my creations, i don’t think of them being a representation of every mortal living here.”

“i think about the enjoyment i had watching them with my pops, my friends, and my special someone. even when i’m gone, you still believe i’m here.” she stands firm and proud, flashing a peace at you. “never fear, yoimiya is here! evil begone! justice prevails! think this is a good way to introduce the powers you've taught me to the children? isn’t it cool? hehe! hey, tell me if anyone picks on you, too. i’ll stick up for you!”

[ziracona]

I’m finishing White Collar a decade later and it’s ruining my life

[nonsensechemicals]

covert npd is awesome and i want to live and i’m going to listen to song about pirates

[graevs666]

I feel like I died so many years ago

[flippedorbit]

i’m gonna be so for real, if things don’t start changing for me in good ways i will be disappearing off the face of the earth

[floral-hex]

Hey, do you got doctors appointments you need to schedule but haven’t for whatever dumb reason (for me, laziness. probably. no no, complacency. That sounds better)? Well, go do it! Now! or soon! You need to just hurry up and schedule that shit! I’m sorry! Make the call! You gotta! You’re probably gonna have to wait multiple weeks for the appointment anyway, so if you wait until the problem is really bad, then you’re just condemning yourself to waiting extra long to get checked out. Jeez!

[heartbreakfeelsogood]

[pastel-rights]

And then I finally end it off with some doodles of them… they make me feel things.