#maybe that last suicidal thought wasn’t all for nothing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prettyboykatsuki · 7 months ago

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I LIKE IT BETTER WHEN YOU CAN'T KEEP WARM | ODXNY

✮ tags ; heavy themes, gender neutral reader, mentions of past suicidal ideation, getting together, romantic tension, angst to fluff, extremely lovey-dovey ending, some implicit and suggestive content (lit one paragraph n non descript), themes of touch starvation, small height difference (reader is shorter)

✮ wc ; 6.3k (this is so shameful bye forever)

✮ a/n ; every time a semester ends i lose my mind and me writing this in several hours straight is evidence. if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a character study with the central theme of loneliness, i'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

i will spare you the insane rambling for the authors note at the bottom of this fic.

✮ synopsis ; he wants something. to live maybe. and if he could be a little selfish, to be with you. he wants that, too.

Bright.

Could just be the dark room he keeps himself in talking. His computer system and encrypted Internet browsers are all in dark mode - and his desktop set-up doesn’t have any L.E.D. strip lights to keep him company. He prefers it that way, the ambiance a better environment to work in when he’s doing his usual rounds. Down to the programs U.I. - Odxny spends most of his time in perpetual darkness. Cozy and familiar - totally safe and secure. Nothing but the low whirrs of a computers fan and the faint blinking of routers to keep him company.

You’re the brightest thing he’s had on his screen in a long time. You’ve got white walls and no precaution, really. You’re sitting at your own desktop - and he can see everything of your life in the background of where you sit. There are photos of you graduating high school, being around unnamed friends, vacations and trips, and head shots like the kind you take for a resume. It’s all so personal. Bookshelves, trinkets, poorly made clay sculptures. Posters of musicians you like and Studio Ghibli movies. Evidence of life surrounds you like a halo.

Awful. Angel comparisons to someone he’s only known for a day make him wonder if he’s more pathetic than he thought. He probably shouldn’t think so hard about a stranger, a real stranger. Thrim generated randomly, though he thinks it sounds like a name. Finds it fun to say, for better or worse.

Natural light pours in from a window nearby, casting shadows in your room. He already knows you, in a way. He did the background search. Where you were born, raised, grew up. The schools you went too, the career you seek. Bits and pieces of you are all scattered in his memory and are not at all thorough. He wasn’t really trying for that at the time, just needed to know if you were dangerous. There’s a cognitive dissonance. To know a life so thoroughly and to witness it is completely, and utterly different.

There’s miles between you. Must be thousands. He can’t remember the last time he’s really met someone, though. It’s hard not to notice that this feels akin to that. Like the embers of a campfire, glowing but not burning. A comfortable warmth.

Bright. His screen is very bright talking to you. Even obscured behind the mask, it’s a little difficult to look at it and leaves him on edge - restless and mildly painful.

When his vision adjusts though, there’s clarity. A person, a stranger - with an exceptionally nice laugh and who is exceptionally trusting. Odxny tries not to think too hard about the feeling of warmth that flutters at your overflowing sincerity.

The conversation is easy.

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

Odxny pretends to think on it. “Enough to keep you around.”

“See you later.”

“See you.”

You accompany your last words with a wave - short and sweet. Darkness pulls him in, back where he started. He has a mild headache from all the light.

You pick up on the language better than he thought you would.

He underestimated you. Can you blame him? Your choice is language is ArnoldC, for fucksake. Sure, he has limited knowledge on esoteric languages but can it really be in-depth enough to show you the basics.

(It can. Or at least, Od presumes this to be the case because you’re rather helpful in Incri’s hacks and Incri is hardly helpful to anyone in the world, no less the server.)

You pick up on things quickly with little guidance - always to the point and not usually making many errors. He has to commend your abilities and give you credit where it’s due. It’s not a hard language to learn, but for anyone with no familiarity with coding at all he’d expect there to be a learning curve. Even if you had coding language, it’s not like you knew SQL coming in.

You fit strangely well into the server somehow. You’re happy to learn and nonplussed about helping with small things, though you don’t know these people at all and have no reason to participate in their nonsense. You talk to Incri fine, and manage to get Pep to accidentally reveal telling information. Odxny finds all of this rather… entertaining maybe. More than impressive, really.

He has a hard time making sense of the feeling. He would hope you don’t think you’re under duress - given the fact your relationship in two days has been pleasant. Then again - maybe he’s missed some social cue and you do think that. It’s possible. After all, he doesn’t actually remember the last time he’s spoken verbally to anyone with very, very few exceptions.

He manages to call you again after the fact - opens the call with sincere and heartfelt congrats and feels pleasant seeing you take the compliment in stride.

You land on the subject of programming again, inevitably. He interrogates you a little more over your choice in language - almost like he can’t help himself. It’s basic curiosity. You had said you were the best in ArnoldC. A little research proved that to be true, presence of you in the forums of various esolang pages. He landed on many things. You’re the best at ArnoldC, but you also know Brainfuck for some ridiculous reason.

He thinks you’re a little ridiculous in general.

“It’s really for the love of the game, huh?”

You nod when he asks this. Smiling, bright and unbothered with a soft edge of smug pride that makes the muscles of his face twitch up. “Mhm. I like my little collection.

Odxny doesn’t doubt it for even a minute. He’s seen the proof, but perhaps he doesn’t need to mention that. “Your trophy case of ridiculous language?”

Your eyes come to life all of a sudden. “Wait. A real trophy case would actually be so cool.”

He pauses, blinking as the words sink before a smile breaks onto his face helplessly. “That was not to enable you.”

“Too late. I’m already looking up the ugliest wood trim display cases I can find.”

The laugh comes naturally. “You really are just like this?”

You look proud again. “What? Fun?”

Yes, Odxny thinks but doesn’t say. “Baffling.”

You ask Odxny to elaborate and he does. The conversation flows with frustrating ease. So easily that he mouths off about his plans to you without a second thought. He doesn’t know why he does it. Not really. He’s thought it through over and over - so it’s not like he needs to disclose it. He made his choice.

He thinks about moving it along. About ending the call or simply brushing past without going into any detail.

When he glances at the screen, you’ve got a pillow in your lap and your eyes completely focused on him. There’s that feeling again, alarming clarity in your gaze and brightness that causes him immense unease in the world he’s made of nihilistic, apathetic darkness. There’s a plan, always has been. He’ll do this and disappear and the world will soon forget him. If it happens that way, than at least this loneliness is a choice he’s made for himself and not something the world has cruelly decided for him.

His lips move faster than his head, than even his heart. Compelled by a nameless and brilliant force. “I don’t have any reason to stay. I’m just — tired. Of everything.”

“No reasons? Nothing makes you happy here?”

His response is measured. Quiet. It’s not secret. He finds his voice crumbles around the words anyway as if they’re a confession. “Not for a long time. I don’t feel much of anything, really. It is what it is.”

You frown. He’s seen it all before. Heard it all before. “That’s…”

He cuts you off quickly.

“We just met. And we’ll be strangers again soon enough.” He says with as much conviction and resolve as he can possible manage. Who he’s convincing remains unclear. “So, not to be cold but..you know.”

The disappointment in your face leaves an impression, but you relent. He tries to make amends for the depressing conversation of talking again and you perk up so genuinely it makes want to cry, in a distant and foreign way.

“Catch you later, then.” He says, and closes at out the call. The room falls dark for the second time. He blinks a few times to get rid of the light clouding his vision.

Wnpep is eager to teach you on the third day.

You’re eager in reply - matching energy with sharp wit and enthusiasm. Wnepep is a better teacher than Incri by several miles. Evident in how much faster everything falls into place for you. Not that you really need too much help in the first place. You break down the crumbling walls of an insurance scam with ease and come out of the other side more accomplished.

It’s a noble last hack, Odxny thinks. Not unsurprising from Pep - unofficially the most sane and likeable member. He figured it’d be something like this less than a matter of personal vengeance.

You go back and forth for a bit in admin chat. Od types an apology about winding you up and tries not to read too much into the innuendo of it as you reply back with your own faux offended replies. He insists he’s somewhat sorry, and you’re far from believing him.

He finds himself grinning at his screen while he texts you mid conversation. When the realization hits, he almost curls into himself from embarrassment - a hand covering his mouth like it’ll do away with the grave sin.

The inneundo happens twice in one conversation, before you get to call under the premise of a victory toast.

A brief conversation about the last hacks barely leaves room for much else except Odxny plans of total isolation.

“Mm. I should’ve known it would come back to this. Why do you care what I choose to do with myself?”

That baffles you in a terribly genuine way. “Am I not allowed to care about another person?”

Odxny speaks honestly. “You are but I mean…” He trails off. He knows how he feels. “I’m not really a person anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no one. I’m going to be no one. You have other things to fill your life with.”

There’s a vulnerable edge to his voice that he winces at when he hears it. It’s true isn’t it? All of it is true to Odxny, but especially where he says you have other things to fill your life with. You might share the same hobbies, but he’s seen it. He’s seen how different you are - your livelihoods, your existence. You’d be missed if you suddenly disappeared. Odxny knows the same isn’t true for himself. It’s been like that for a long while now.

(It’s crushing. That’s what makes your very ephemeral existence feel like a burden. Why it casts the shadows of doubt on choices he made, about how he would live so long ago. You care, don’t you? At least, more than anyone else in his life in the present. You care so undeniably, and so obviously and it is all so simple to you.

He almost envies it. Almost resents it, too. It’s such a small shred of humanity, the barest forms of sincerity but it is painfully raw. A split nerve. An open wound It’s not like the server, all of whom have accepted this distant fondness. It’s a delicate thread - spider silk accuracy and just as much strength. There’s conviction in your missing him and it haunts him.)

You think of what to say for a long time before landing on it. “I do. But I can care about multiple things at once,”

It sounds like I care about you too closely. He finds himself shivering. He’s truthful with you, unsure of how else to be when it comes to these conversations.

“That sounds burdensome.” He says. “Isn’t that exhausting?”

You don’t lie to him either. “Sometimes. But it’s worth the trouble.”

“Why?”

“Because I like your company,” You reply. Soft sincerity in your words. More clarity. More painstaking light.

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Why not?”

“If it was that simple then -“ Then it makes it seem like things could be different. He doesn’t say that. Stops himself before it can happen. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. Why do I feel like I need to prove this to you?”

He’s almost afraid to look at your face, wincing when he sees how knowing you look. Not in a condescending way - but genuine, full blown understanding. Like you see through him.

He wonders if he knows you as well as he thought he did.

Your face is so sympathetic. “Are you sure it’s me?”

He cuts the conversation short on his own - making an awkward transition from the topic at hand into whatever he can manage. It’s an awkward fumble - a poor attempt at distracting both of you from this line of thinking. You’re kind enough to let him have it. He asks about your hobbies. You tell him about how you like to try the weirdest things and combinations you can find in a restaurant.

He finds it suits you.

A lot of things suit you. Even your piss poor attempt at the Terminator that he quickly mimics - possessed by god knows what.

You laugh when he does. Brilliant and bubbly and characteristically warm. You say the words through giggles.

“That was so bad!”

“It was a lapse in judgment,” He replies back defensively, smiling against his will. He finds himself laughing too.

“I like your laugh, by the way.”

He pauses caught off-guard. “Oh? My laugh. Oh, uhm. Thank you.”

You make a face that he can’t read. Knowing. In a different way than the last. He feels nervous.

“I have been laughing quite a bit, haven’t I?”

You grin. Smug and deliriously happy. “Sure have.”

He looks away from you. “Ha...Odd.”

You giggle again. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, nose scrunched in genuine delight. It’s a pleasant sound but not because it’s particularly wispy or floaty or delicate. But it’s real. Pleasant in the way the white noise of park during summer. Pleasant like the varied playlist overhead in a record shop. Pleasant like a moment of humanity tucked between everyday. He clears his throat.

“I like your laugh, I think.”

You laugh again, gasping with faux offense. “You think???”

He tries not to feel so grounded by that sound and fails. “Yeah. I think. Laugh again.”

He tries not to add please. You shake your head like you’re reprimanding him.

“No, no, you have to earn that. Make me laugh.”

“Nevermind. Shut up.”

You do laugh again that time. He joins you soon after. “And now you laugh? At me?”

The conversation moves again, comfortable like a tide. You ask about his favorite language and he tells you as much. You’re quiet and growing cheeky, listening to him talk.

“So you do like coding.”

“Maybe a little.” He replies, not giving in. “You remember far too much of what I say.”

The conversation comes to a close again. He thanks you for how nice its been and you make an off-handed attempt to get him to change his mind. You could always talk more. The implication delicate beneath it.

We don’t have to forget each other. Odxny brushes past it - but says he’ll see you tomorrow anyway.

Extorting Elimfs childhood friend (?) is an easy enough endeavor. Odxny texts you through out - to ask advice on what things to take when he leaves.

He calls you again when its over too. He can’t find a reason for it - nothing that makes sense. He just wanted to call you. He hasn’t wanted something like that in a while, but he tells himself its fine. This is the last time you’ll ever know each other.

So its fine. He won’t waver.

He’ll just.. call you.

He asks you on your weed habits, mildly surprised when you tell him you smoke and take edibles sometimes too. The conversation loops back to the fund at one point. You don’t hide your displeasure about the whole thing today.

You’ve talked about it already. No need to keep bringing up. But you seem to feel so strongly and Odxny can’t figure out why. Can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know why every single time.

“Is it really so hard to believe I’ve come to like you in a few days?” You ask, after probing.

“In a way that matters, yes.”

You frown at him when he says that. It’s the most upset he’s seen you look, if he can call it that. You’ve never been upset when he’s been rude or insulting - but this is bothering you. It doesn’t help him pull away from you.

He says it again. Reinforces how temporary this all is. He’s trying to convince one of you. Both of you, maybe, of his unimportance.

“I don’t think that little of you.”

He finds it hard to reply to that. It’s that feeling against. It makes him uncomfortable. It’s not empty platitudes or some vague sense of responsibility for his life. All of it is real, and all of it is meaningful in how plain it is. You make it seem easy.

“It’s life. It’s normal. People come, people go.”

You shake your head. “Not for me. I can’t forget you that easily.”

He wishes you would. He’s painfully, painfully relieved that you wouldn’t it. He voices neither thought.

“Then- try! You’re putting so much on yourself, and for what? You don’t stand to gain anything.”

You shrug. “Peace of mind. Knowing you’re still out there.”

It’s heavy. The implication is heavy. He’s not going to kill himself. He doesn’t want that anymore, though he thought about it. At the beginning. Loneliness is more painful when you have memories of what not being that way was like - he thinks. At the start of all that loss, the hollowness bared an almost painful gravity inside of him.

It’s like being told to breathe or blink - becoming conscious of what was once a natural function, how full life was once when it’s escaped. He doesn’t want to kill himself, but living is meaningless.

These things aren’t paradoxical to him. They haven’t been for all this time.

(They weren’t until he met you at least. A mirror of wanting. Odxny looks at you and sees life reflected back. Despite it not being his, its moving. It’s beautiful in a human way, reachable. Tangible. Earned.

Wherever you are. Whenever you’re together, the black hole inside of himself seems to fade back into average planetary darkness. He becomes cruelly human again, feeling warmth and laughter.

He’s tells himself he’s not afraid of dying and that’s mostly true. He’s most afraid of living. Afraid he won’t be able to learn it again.)

He manages to tell you some of what he’s thinking. He has no clue how to start over. He doesn’t know if it’s possible. You don’t feed him any false hope, but he tells you how he sees it. You’re feeling pity for him right? And you should figure that out sooner rather than later.

“Is it really that easy for you?”

You shake your head. You’re smiling but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “It isn’t. But I have to try.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?”

“What?”

“Is this…?”

He cuts the call off when he hears himself, unsure of what answer he’s hoping for. The realization dawns on him too much, too quickly. The feeling of hope is loud in his chest but there is another feeling, embarrassing in it’s swiftness that follows shortly after.

Oh.

The servers shuts down after a mildly sappy adventure to close up shop. The closest Odxny has gotten to flirting with you in his own way. He’s sad to see everyone go, despite there being no other choice.

It’s easier than he thought it’d be. To give you his number he means, even after shutting the entire server down. After leaving everything behind. He gives you the choice to make. Call me if you still want it - a silent promise.

Maybe because deep down - some part of him always wanted to make this choice. Just maybe.

Your voice is different over the phone line. A little clearer, spoken softer. Just as lovely as it was the first time he heard it. Maybe more. Maybe.

The city beneath him is bright. So bright. It doesn’t hurt to look at, he thinks.

You call him every day.

You’ve been doing it for months.

He thought, at some point, you’d let up or start to forget. He’s been waiting on it to happen as horrible as it sounds. Like some self-fulfilling prophecy, he’d slip back into the background as is natural. A proof of his nonexistence, if you will.

You don’t forget though. He almost wonders if he’s dreaming when it happens. There’s a routine between you two, these days. You have your own life that you’ve been living the same as normal. When it’s night time for you, though - you hop onto your desktop and call Od like you’re two very average people.

There’s nothing solid to define your relationship aside from friendship as is. This is less frustrating than he expected it to be. Getting to know you better has only made him like you more. Your relationship is solid in a strange way. It’s been about six months total, and as corny as it sounds - Odxny feels like he’s known you for his entire life. You understand him in an intimate way, with vulnerable tenderness and radical acceptance.

He kind of misses the privacy of his old stomping grounds, but he doesn’t mind speaking though discord. It feels… normal. In a not displeasing way. You mostly talk to talk about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it’s your job search, other times it’s your part-time or friend drama. You’re vibrant as always. Without the wall of anonymity, Odxny gets to know of you like he’s just your average person. He finds he really, really likes that.

You play games together frequently. He’s never been interested in cozy gaming, but you play Minecraft and Stardew Valley together per your request. Odxny streams himself playing Ocarina of Time for you on Discord in the background sometimes too, and you keep it on when you’ve got work to do or you’re cooking or something else. There’s something very mundane to it.

You’re not doing anything with him today though. You’re calling him on facetime, rather than at your desktop. You’ve made the executive decision to laze around and Odxny has no problem joining you though you speak less than usual as a result of being sleepy. You had a long shift yesterday so perhaps Odxny can’t blame you.

“Need to get better shoes. For walking and stuff.” You say thoughtlessly. The corners of his lips twitch up.

“Yeah?”

You nod. Your face is smushed against your pillow at an unflattering angle. He smiles a little.

“Yeah. I’m on my feet for like nine hours when I serve and it hurts wearing flats. Need something sturdier even it diminishes my drip.”

He laughs at that. “Please never say that again.”

You continue onwards. “Decreases my aura, even. But alas, utility comes first.”

He snickers as he glances at you through the phone. You’re propped against one of his monitors as he does work on his computer. He’s getting back into programming for the love of the game, just seeing what he can do.

“Want help looking?”

“Feels a little ridiculous asking a super pro-hacker to shop Sketchers with me.”

“You seriously thinking of buying Sketchers?”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I’ll get tipped more if I get the light-up ones.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hater.”

You break out into genuine laughter as Odxny shakes his head in despair. It’s something you’d do, no doubt. You sigh.

“I really do want a break from work.” You roll around on your mattress. Odxny can hear your rustling but can’t see you much. “The chains of capitalism shackle me in place. Woe is me.”

Odxny thinks on what you’ve said for a long while in silence. The question comes up every now and again though he’s never brave enough to ask it. His ludicrous amount of disposable income however is still sitting in his bank, collecting dust. It’s been six months and he’s hardly made a dent in it.

“Do you want to come visit?” He asks, cringing at the sound of his own voice. The words are strained and a little too eager. “I can pay the difference for expenses for wages and stuff. And, uh. Uhm,”

He loses his train of thought trying to speak, worsened by the way you pop onto his screen when he says that. Your expression is unreadable to him, comfortable and even. You smile a little as you lift the phone so he can see what you look like laying in your bed. Your face is in full view.

“It’d be a little weird to visit you before we start dating officially, no?”

His eyes go wide at the implication. You grin, mischief and mirth making your eyes practically beam. He can feel a blush crawl up his neck as soon as he registers it.

“Excuse me? Why are you saying that like it’s already been decided?” He bites back, not sure what else he could say.

“So you don’t want to date me?”

“I didn’t- you - damn it,” He groans at his own bluster as he giggles on the other side of the line. So cheeky. Damn him for liking it and damn you for being cute. “…You are saying you like me right?”

Your face softens. He can feel his heartbeat quicken. “Uh-huh. Just wanted to take it slow. But I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“How long is that, exactly?”

You shrug playfully and the fact he can’t be within reach to kiss you feels especially harrowing. “A secret.” You smile again, all trouble. “So. Wanna date?”

“Terrible confession. Zero stars,” He says petulantly. He leans back in his chair and finds himself smiling uncontrollably. “Fine. I guess.”

Your laugh fills his room. He doesn’t get tired of hearing it. His face hurts from smiling.

He manages to stave off on the anxiety of you coming to see him for a lot longer than he thought possible.

Making arrangements proves to be a little difficult. You have to tell your roommates that you’ll be gone for a while but promise to still pay rent and explain to your boss where you’re going. You have a good enough relationship and have been working long enough for them to agree to keep a spot open so you can start working when you come back.

After that, there’s the matter of Visas. Odxny goes out of his way to make that process go much faster than normal, though he doesn’t actually tell you. Once all of that’s sorted, there’s living arrangements. Try as you might to insist to live somewhere else, his place is too spacious for him to let you stay anywhere else. You can take the guest room.

He pretends that all of this is just happening in his imagination. He doesn’t even know the last time anyone came over, let alone lived with him. He does his best to make things presentable, and makes a guest room for you to live in should you desire. He even buys more decor (plants and things) to make it look… less like a cave and more like a home.

Nothing really feels real until the day arrives though. It’s a long flight and difficult trip. You refused to let him pay for the tickets so he moved it around to get you into first class both ways through other methods.

You text him the terminal, the arrival time, any and all delays. Still. None of it feels real until he’s already waiting for you near the bags. He can feel his heart race, his lungs short of air. He’s never experienced something so ridiculously contradictory in his entire life. He wants to run away while feeling stuck in place.

The anticipation nearly kills him.

He would recognize your voice anywhere though. Like he did for so many days alone in the dark. A hand waves high, shouting as loud as it can.

“It’s you!”

The sound of sneakers skidding across tile floors make his breath hitch. His eyes go wide as you stand still in front of him, luggage in hand and a million-watt smile on your face. He feels his heart beat so loud, he wonders if he’s going to throw up.

“Hey.” He says, dumbly.

“Hi!”

The adjustment period to living together isn’t what he expects.

It’s been a long time since he’s been so close to another human being. It becomes clear that you’re really living together though when your things end up in the bathroom completely incidentally. There’s something about finding your sleep shirt on a towel rack that makes reality settle in. You’re living together.

He’d be stupid not to notice the purposeful distance between you. An attempt to be thoughtful and not overwhelm him. It’s never awkward when you’re together. You eat together, watch movies and play games while sitting too close on the couch. You’ve been on a date in the two weeks you’ve spent, and it barely took any convincing on your end to make him go along with you.

Isolation aside though, Odxny is not clueless to the conventions of modern dating. You avoid touching him too casually. He doesn’t blame you, but he can’t help but crave your presence with a little more bittersweet longing as the days pass. He has to get past it or bring it up eventually, but it feels like something he’s never going to get over somehow.

The opportunity to do so gets thrown at him all at once. You’ve been living together for sixteen days. A conversation about love languages is what undoes it.

“Whats your love language, Od?”

He gives you a quizzical look. “Dunno actually. Never bothered to look.”

“I’d guess… hm. Quality time maybe? Or words of affirmation.”

He shrugs as he sits next to you on the couch, glancing at your phone as you read through the different ones. “What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. I’m super touchy. With anyone who will let me, honestly. Bad habits.”

Odxny gives you a long look as you say it. He debates if he should bring it up.

“You don’t have to be so careful around me, you know?”

You look up at him, startled by the comment. Several things pass over your face before you settle on an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s not like I don’t want to. I just don’t want to be too much for you.”

“That wouldn’t happen.” He says automatically. You laugh good-naturedly.

“Your confidence is assuring, but you underestimate how touchy I am. I’m afraid of I get my hands on you, I’ll never let go again,”

He thinks he wants that more than is normal. He shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”

You give him a long look, seeming struck by an idea, before humming and standing up. You turn around with your hand out towards him. His brows furrow in bewilderment.

“Have some faith.”

He takes your hand and stands up with you. He likes that he’s taller than you. Staring at you, he feels your fingers clasp around his hand and his heart thuds - loud and messy.

“Your room or mine?”

“What?”

You laugh. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Or don’t actually, but I don’t bear lewd intentions.”

He crinkles his nose at the word usage and laughs. “Shut up.”

“Just trust me, okay?”

He concedes with embarassing swiftness.

“Okay.”

You lead Odxny to the guest room you’ve been living in for the last two weeks. The bed is well-made and all the new furniture he bought is occupying so many of your belongings. It makes him dizzy. You shut the door behind him as you lead him in. It just feels especially surreal.

Wordless, you let go of his hand and hop up onto your bed. Once you’re laying down, you prop up on your side with your elbow and pat the empty space next to you, smiling at him as you do. Once it clicks what your asking, he can feel his face grow hot. He can’t refuse it though, and he doesn’t want too.

The sheets you bought together smell like you. Between there’s practically no distance between you at this angle. He’s gotten to look at you plenty through these few days but it’s different. You scoot impossibly close to him until there’s nothing separating you.

Your breath is warm - a soft exhale leaving your lips as you inch closer.

“What’re we doing?” He asks in a murmur, stone stiff. You smile, coyly.

“Touching each other.”

He frowns at the joke. Your expression goes a touch serious right after. The sincerity is debilitating. “Can I touch you?”

He nods. Can’t do much more than that.

He stares at you with impending, long-suffering longing as you bring a single hand to his face and cradle his neck. He flinches unintentionally, but pulls your hand back when you try to move it. He wants this. You relax a little when he does that.

Your hands are softer. Softer than a heartbeat. He can feel the various cuts and scars from years of working against his skin but they’re still so soft. He can feel how warm you in such a brief touch his chest aches. Your hands cradle his face tenderly, thumb brushing across his lip with a smile brighter than thousands of lights. Something in your expression wreaks havoc on his heart. Something so raw and so gentle and so full within it - all directed towards him.

It’s been so long. So long. He’s never wanted something so bad he couldn’t remember needing. He’s never wanted to be closer to someone than he does to you in the moment.

“You’re handsome,” You say, so sweetly. Not a confession, but gentle appraisal. It’s rare he cries but he wants too. “I like looking at you. Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” He rasps, gravel in his voice unfamiliar.

You hum a little. Closing the space between you with a press of lips. It’s not chaste. Odxny is grateful for how long and how deep you linger. He wants it so badly. He wants you in some damning and unforgiving way. How could a human being feel so warm? Feel so pleasant with so little?

You press your foreheads together. His hand trembles when they grip onto your waist but you encourage him just a little. It’s just a kiss. His heart might beat out of him. It’s just a kiss. He thinks he loves you.

Your hand moves away from his face. You let it go underneath his loose shirt to touch his shoulder, running your palm down the plane of his chest. You squeeze his waist, and wrap your arms around his back and pull him to you until your bodies touch somewhere in the middle.

You guide his face to your neck and chest as you hold him. He grips onto you tight in response, a gasp in the back of his lungs at the sudden sensation. You coo above him, soft and light - your fingers threading through his hair and nails massaging his scalp.

Your voice sounds above him, despite how deep in a haze he is. He can’t do anything but cling to you with impossible longing. You speak softly as you pet him. Your heartbeat soothes his.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You tell him. There’s that familiar clarity that makes him want to cry. “I’m glad you let me come with you.”

He can’t think of anything to say back. It’s a soul-shattering emotion. “I love you.”

You laugh wetly above him. “I love you, too. So much.” And then much softer. “Let’s be together for a long time.”

You lay in each others arms until sunset. In small talk and silent murmurs. It takes him hours to work up the courage to kiss you again - but only minutes to take it further.

It’s desperate. Terribly. Inevitable. You’re beautiful in a way that is undescribable, best expressed through his teeth on your neck and his hands all over where he can reach - each grip and thrust and bite a reminder. You’re pretty when you’re pleased, warmth reaching up inside of him whenever you make the right face.

He buries himself in you. You’re soft and warm and beautiful and he wants to stay with you. Time is a thief. He damns the sun when it tears you from him come morning.

He decides to make breakfast when you wake up. Nothing complicated. You go to shower after him and he plates up toast and eggs and other various things. It’s half done when you come downstairs.

Your skin is still damp, and you smell of vanilla and soap. Your coffee sits in a cup on the table as you pad over to him. He turns to look at you as you reach your hand up and cup his face. You pepper a kisses along his cheeks stopping at his lips for the last one before you’re satisfied.

He fails in his attempt not to blush.

“Morning.” You grin. He tries not to be sick at the domesticity of it all and fails.

“Yeah. Morning.”

You sit at the counter and drink your coffee, glancing outside the window. “It’s bright outside.”

Odxny can’t tear his eyes off of you. “Yeah...” He agrees. He’s not torn his gaze away. “Very bright.”

✮ a/n ; i want all real life compsci men to kick rocks but odxny sweeped me off my feet in a way i can only describe as humiliating. he is a bit like astarion for me in that i see a lot of myself in him at least in the past. he is also incredibly babygirl and uhm . other things (fine. he's very gorjus.) but i truthfully was most compelled by his idealized idea of isolation. as the fic will show it resonated with me as a fellow compsci dork who also tends to isolate like crazy LOL

this fic was like a demon that possessed me. literally no meds, no caffiene - just balls to the wall demonic possesion of needing something out of my system LMAOO. and adhd of course. im working on all the other stuff too i promise. consider this a short interlude 👍🏾

#seekL x reader #odxny x reader #seekL #odxny #girl how the hell am i meant to tag this #normal fandoms tagging ettiquette means no fic but i dont think it applies here #what is my problem so genuinely

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whatswrongwithblue · 2 months ago

Note

Reader does actually try to walk off a cliff and Alastor catches them and gets furious and sexy about it and pounds Vexi... I mean reader into the mattress so hard she can't walk anymore and he ends up laughing saying 'let's see you try to do that again now your legs won't work'

Beta'd by @inuhalfdemon

For my darling @redvexillum, I know you're Overtime Vexi right now; working hard on the Discord server, keeping up with daily Kinktober posts, and also literally working an IRL job. This is a no pressure gift to you. Read when you have time and need a little pick me up. I even based Reader off of your avatar on your blog and used language specifically from my favorite fic of yours . . . you know the one *wink wink*.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: suicide ideation, suicide attempt, depression, mental illness, dissociation, possesive Alastor, Alastor owns Reader's soul, sex as punishment, angry sex, oral (fem receiving), p/v sex, shadow tendrils/tentacles, bondage, use of a gag, overstimulation, lack of aftercare, begging, dom/sub dynamic.

Falling

The warm night breeze ghosted through your hair; a gentle lover’s caress across the back of your neck. It calmed your nerves as you looked down at the drop below and you closed your eyes, thinking you could almost hear the wind telling you to take that final step.

Just one little step.

A few seconds of falling.

Then darkness. Nothing. Peace.

The wind kicked up a little harder, fanning out your wings, and nearly making you lose your balance. You gasped and flailed your arms, catching your balance before you fell.

A stupid lingering human instinct to save yourself. Your body’s nervous system fighting against what your mind desperately wanted.

You took a deep, steadying breath in, and tucked your wings in. They were tiny; pink and membranous things that seemed more for aesthetic than any kind of purpose. It’s not like you could fly with them. They were no more useful than your asymmetrical horns when it came to that skill only very few Sinners were lucky enough to have. And they weren’t even very demonic looking, as far as demon appendages went. Both your horns and your wings were pink, slightly darker shades than the pastel of your skin and hair. Even your fucking irises were pink.

While you quite loved pink as a human, it just felt insulting down in Hell. Like every other aspect of your demon visage. Useless. Infantile. Boring.

Nearly making you fall to your death by being caught in a sudden gust of hot air was the only favor your wings had ever done for you.

Not that you would permanently die, you lamented. Eventually you would re-spawn somewhere within the city. But re-spawning took hours, sometimes even days. And in that time would be nothing. When you were alive you always joked about wishing that you could just take your brain out of your skull, like a temporary death, just to quiet the awful thoughts and feelings your malfunctioning organ plagued you with day and night.

Here in Hell, you could actually do that. Again and again, if you so chose to.

All you had to do was jump.

Maybe it wasn’t worth it. When you came back, Alastor would certainly hunt you down and find you. And you could just see the disappointment in his face. Hear the disgust in his voice. How lowly he would think of his darling then, that she would perform such an empty and pathetic act.

But then again, he was going to find out who you were at your core eventually. Better to rip the bandage off and make him face just how truly damaged you were before you continued to waste his time further. He was bound to get tired of pulling you out of your depressed funks after enough time had gone by. And what good did you bring to his life anyway?

You were a distraction.

He had snapped that to you earlier that evening when you had interrupted his work at the hotel. Those last stinging words echoed through your mind, branding themselves into your grey matter so that you never forgot them.

Well, you wouldn’t be distracting him anymore after this stunt. He wouldn’t bother with you afterwards.

And if you found you really did enjoy the nothingness that came between death and re-spawning, the extermination wasn’t far away. All you had to do was stand in front of an exorcist and simply not move as they brought their blade down on you. Then it would truly be an eternity of peace and quiet for you.

No more distractions.

The thought came to you bitterly as you considered that Alastor was the one who had been distracting you. All these months of his attention, of him making you his darling, of him making you fall in love with him, had just distracted you for a while. But now the pain was back, worse than ever, with one small argument between you two and you realized if it wasn’t for him, you likely would have jumped off this roof months ago.

You could have let it all go during the last extermination, while everyone else was huddled safely inside the hotel.

What a waste of time. A useless, boring, distracting life.

A deep breath. A single tear sliding down your cheek. A last thought of warmth and safety whispering through your mind . . .

“Alastor.”

His name left your lips like a prayer and an apology.

You took a step over the ledge.

The street below became your entire field of view as you lost your footing entirely.

And then the world glitched.

Colors blended in choppy formation and static screamed in your ears, threatening to burst your ears drums. Everything was fuzzy and going dark and a strange tingling filled your body, like your very blood had turned to static.

And then you were back on your own two feet, standing face to chest with the red and black pinstriped suit you knew so well.

Unnaturally large claws had you by the shoulders and you tilted your head up, taking in the full view of a very angry Radio Demon.

Alastor towered over you, his antlers spread wide, his eyes turning like radio dials, and he lifted you up like you weighed nothing until you were face to face and your feet were dangling several feet in the air.

“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, his voice even more full of static than you were used to.

Your eyes went wide at the use of vulgarity from him. You could count with your two useless wings how many times you had heard him swear before and never had it been directed at you.

When you didn’t answer right away, he shook you, calling you by your real name rather than darling, which he never did. He demanded an answer but all you could manage was a little whimper before you broke.

Your chin quivered and you felt the swell of tears in your eyes as a sob squeezed your chest and erupted out.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out and then slowly, ever so gently, you felt yourself being lowered to the ground and then your face was pressed against the soft fabric of Alastor’s suit. His bow tie tickled the side of your face and his scent, heady with Spanish moss and cypress, and some other uniquely Earthy smell that was entirely him, filled your senses.

“Darling,” he said quietly, “my darling . . . why?”

You could barely breath through your sobs, let alone speak, so it took you a moment to gather the strength to answer. Clutching at the back of his jacket, you pressed your face into him harder, trying to hide your reasoning, bury your shame, pretend like every pathetic part of you didn’t exist.

But he had seen, hadn’t he? He had watched you take that step, had come up here to find you and seen that final microsecond when there was nothing but air between you and the ground below.

And he had altered reality to bring you back to him. To save you.

Half of you hoped that meant he really did love you like you loved him. Like he promised every day that he did, even though you never quite believed it.

The other half of you whispered an insipid little lie that was too tempting to not consider . . . that this whole stunt of yours was just another distraction.

“I don’t want to be a bother anymore,” you finally whispered, hiccupping and choking as you struggled to speak.

Alastor went stiff around you, and you thought then that he would finally push you away. Agree that you really were just a bother. That if he were to ever shackle himself to another soul, it certainly wouldn’t be to such a weak little wretch as yourself.

Instead, his long, clawed fingers grasped you by your chin, forcing you to look up at him. And though his expression was often hard to read, the strain in his smile showed anger while the burning in his ruby eyes showed pain.

“What gave you the idea that you could do such a thing? That I would allow it?”

“Wha . . . what?”

“You’re mine now, darling.” He pulled on your chin, forcing you on tip toe as he brought your face closer to him. “You belong to me and I don’t let what belongs to me just fly away. It seems you have forgotten that.”

His claws were digging into your cheeks and along your jaw line, stinging and threatening, even as he brought his lips down and gave you the gentlest kiss on the forehead.

“Perhaps I need to remind you of that,” he whispered to you, his voice low and tender, crackling with a passion you couldn’t misplace. He was angry, you realized, oh yes he was furious with you. But as the world went fuzzy once again, and you felt the familiar sensation of melting into shadow, and your soul blended with his, you could literally feel that burning rage inside of him being twisted and morphed into more direct emotions. Lust and desire filled what was left of your identity as Alastor transported you through the ceiling and walls of the hotel and into your room.

Now this was flying.

Alastor had sat you at the foot of your bed, making quick work of removing your underwear, lifting your pleated skirt above your hips, and kneeling before you, all before you had come down from the bizarre and disorienting high of being nothing but shadow with him.

Now you were reduced to a shell of a person, thoughtless and detached from your feelings and in the best of ways, as Alastor’s tongue made your nervous system aware of nothing else but the bundle of nerves between your legs.

Your knees were resting on his shoulders and already shaking as his tongue twisted and lapped at your clit, occasionally giving the swollen pearl a hard suck, as two fingers pumped into your core, working to pull a second climax from you.

Distantly you were aware of the flutter of your wings; a helpless reflex, along with the tremble of your legs. Tears streamed down your cheeks, though you paid that no mind either. Even if you had noticed them, you wouldn’t be able to place which emotion was drawing them from your eyes.

You only knew that this feeling; the intense physical sensation of Alastor turning you into a whimpering, wanton mess, allowed you to dissociate in the best of ways and everything that had tormented you to the point of standing on that cliff’s edge was completely forgotten.

The fingers of one of your hands wrapped themselves in a white-knuckled grip around his antler while your other hand found purchase in his red locks and you sobbed out his name as you came again.

Just as your walls began to clench, Alastor pulled himself from your clutches, leaving your cunt to clench needfully onto nothing. The abrupt lack of touch right at the beginning of your orgasm was torture and in his absence you pressed your legs together, searching for any friction that would allow for a fraction of the satisfaction his tongue and fingers should be giving you.

“Now, now, dear,” Alastor tutted, and you felt your legs forced back apart. “Remember, I’m here to make a point. And that point is . . .” You looked down to see tendrils of shadows spreading your legs farther open, tangling themselves around your thighs and hips. “. . . You’re mine.” He began undoing the top of his trousers. “And any rash decisions,” he pushed his trousers down below his waist, “like trying to jump off buildings,” he pulled his cock free and you salivated at the sight of its red and swollen tip already weeping pre-cum for you, “or pleasuring yourself without permission,” he leaned over you, his tense and wicked smile inches away from your lips as his took a painful fistful of your hair, “will be met with severe punishments.”

You swallowed, daring to meet his eyes with your own submissive, watery ones, and nodded.

“There’s my darling I know and cherish,” he said sweetly. His fingers left your hair and traced along your jaw until they came to your lips.

“And now that we’re at an understanding,” he snapped his fingers and your clothes vanished, “let’s see how well you can take your punishment.”

His cock thrust into you as black tendrils slithered their way up the rest of your nude body, pinning you in place. They teased and stroked every erogenous zone with lovely tenderness, their touch soothing and affectionate even as they forced you to near absolute stillness. In stark contrast, Alastor pounded into you, stretching you to the point of burning and igniting the still burning embers of your last orgasm that Alastor had left unfinished.

You came within seconds, your walls spasming hard against the fat width of his cock. Alastor drove on as if he hadn’t noticed, deep enough to hit the blind end of your depths with every forward thrust. The bruising combination left a dull cramp in your belly as your climax went on for several more moments, an intense combination of pleasure and pressure.

After the quaking within your core subsided, you went limp within the clutches of the shadows. Three orgasms as intense as the ones you had just experienced were more than enough to placate your mind and body and your teary eyes now began to droop with sleepiness.

And yet Alastor was clearly not finished with you.

“Alastor,” you pleaded, knowing he still hadn’t come but you intended to beg for him to be a little gentler with you until he had. Instead of letting you speak, however; a tendril that had been near your throat laced itself through your open mouth and synched itself around your head, effectively gagging you.

The only response you got from your lover was an angry red glow of his eyes as they narrowed onto you, before he gripped your thighs with his claws and continued on with his brutal pace.

Too much, too much, too much, you internally screamed, a fresh torrent of hot tears burning down your cheeks. Your teeth sunk into the meat of the tentacle between your lips and you strained against the ones holding your wrists down to the bed.

The brutal pace of your punishment went on for several more minutes; an eternity for your overstimulated sex. Everything between your ribs and your thighs burned and ached from the ceaseless, intrusive rhythm of Alastor’s body against yours. Inside and out, he continued to savagely ravish you, until there was nothing else for you to do but begin to silently cry and take the punishment he was dolling out.

Alastor pulled out of you with a suddenness that both relieved and confused you. Your throbbing cunt ached from what it had just been through but as your eyes met his, you felt an emptiness within you. Still wrapped in tentacles, you glanced down at his glistening cock before you looked back up at the sharp tooth smile on the face of the man that you feared and loved above all else.

He still looked as pissed off as ever but there was a softness at the corner of his eyes that hinted at concern and you knew him well enough to know he was worried he might have taken things to far.

As you felt the shadow tentacles begin to loosen around you, you felt a emotion so long-forgotten you almost didn’t recognize it.

Confidence.

And with that thought, you wordlessly turned yourself around until your lay on your belly, exposing your backside and the tiny pink wings you knew Alastor loved to play with whenever he was angry.

A moment came and went and you were just beginning to wonder if you had misread the owner of your soul. You opened your mouth to speak his name once more but before you could utter a syllable, you felt your arms yanked back by the wrists and a powerful tendril wrap around your throat, holding you face down into the mattress.

The shadows that were still around your hips tightened and forcefully lifted your ass into the air and you braced yourself a second before Alastor’s cock slammed back into you, filling you back up to completion and eviscerating that feeling of emptiness.

Tired and spent as you were, you moaned aloud and squeezed his member with every last bit of strength you had within your spongey walls.

You felt the long, slow drag of his retreating cock sliding against every sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you before another snap of Alastor’s hips had it rocketing back into you.

“Say it,” he commanded and you shuddered with your whole body, knowing what he wanted to hear.

“I’m your darling,” you replied, breathless and yet moaning again as he rewarded you with another thrust.

“And?”

“I belong to you.” He matched this thrust with a gentle stroke of a shadow across the membrane of one of your wings. “Mmmmmm, more,” you begged, as your wings gave a tiny, involuntary flap at the feather light touch.

But he had stilled behind you, waiting for your needfulness to build until you were begging.

“Please,” you sobbed out, feeling your chin quiver as all the emotions of the night came rushing back to you. “I’m sorry, Al’. I’m so sorry.”

As you spoke, the touching of your wings and the powerful movement of his cock began anew. You blabbered on, afraid if you stopped talking, the pleasant sensation of his touch within you and above you would end.

“I love you. I’ll never leave you. I’ll never even think about leaving you ever again. Not in anyway. Not even when your angry with me. Not even when I hate myself. Because I’m yours and I’ll always be yours. I’m so sorry, Alastor. Please don’t stop. Please, you feel so good. Fill me up, love. Because I’m your darling and I’ll be good from now on, please just fill me up. I’m your good girl and I love you and I want to feel you inside me. Please, please, oh God Al’, you feel so good, I’m – I’m – I-”

With a painful pull on your wrists you felt all the way into your shoulders, you felt him spill his seed within you as his body tense and every shadow of his went impossibly taut around you. The heat of his cum burned your walls and spilled down your inner thighs, coating you and marking you as his, and you came along with him, screaming into the sheets. Every tendril bruised into your skin, leaving marks around your throat, breasts, wings, hips, and thighs, as Alastor lost all control, even as he continued to pound into you with an uneven and desperate pace.

Everything blurred as you came down from the high together. You felt your muscles turn to jelly and give out in the final moments of your climax, just in time to feel Alastor finally still and begin to soften before he pulled out.

After several serene moments had gone by, the sheets beneath you began to move and pull away. As if in a dream, you felt your body being moved up the bed and then Alastor’s weight joined next to you as you were tucked into bed. Without being cleaned and without a word of praise or love, which he usually included in an aftercare routine for you.

But you knew, deep within the fog of your exhausted mind, that you deserved this. You would wake up in the morning marked by the bruises and the sticky mess between your legs, and only then would you be allowed to shower and heal yourself.

“Thank you,” you murmured with closed eyes as he finished tucking you in. “I don’t think I can move after that, let alone walk.”

An amused, deep chuckle came from Alastor before he pinched your cheek hard enough to make your eyes snap back open.

He got up from the bed, now fully dressed, and straightened his bow tie and monocle before marching towards the door with a pleased and arrogant look on his face.

“Good, my darling. That’s good. Let’s see you try to pull that nonsense again now that your legs don’t work. Sweet dreams,” he added as he opened the bedroom door and gave you one last warning smile before he slammed the door behind him, hard enough to knock a few decorations off the walls.

You sighed as you heard a lock clicking into place, knowing his point was made, and that he was still very much angry with you. But the storm had passed, for both of you. You relaxed into the soft pillow and closed your eyes, the first smile in days touching your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x you #alastor x y/n

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leonsdolly · 8 months ago

Text

Wicked Game

Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon leaves you for her, and you're not sure what to do now.

CW: nsfw 18+, infidelity, angst, suicidal thoughts, comparing yourself to her, masturbation, mentions of p in v

WC: 1.5k

“What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you…” You murmur along to the melancholy words that are floating around your room like butterflies. Actually, more like flies nearing the end of their life span - movement transitioning from an erratic flight to a lazy, almost purposeless dwindle until they’re on their backs with their legs sticking up in the air. That’s exactly how you are now that Leon’s done with you. A dead fly - no one could save me but you. Chris Isaak gets it. He gets it so well that he’s been looping for God knows how long.

Was it only last week that Leon left you for the ghost from his past? The one in red, haunting him in ways that you were oblivious to. Always bleeding red, like Bloody Mary or something. Maybe it was better if you’d feigned ignorance to the evidence. Maybe you’d still be able to call him yours if you played your role of a cross-eyed Mary jumping right into his arms with no protests, always playing it clean.

It was all because of a letter that was carefully tucked away in his desk drawer, folded and sealed with a kiss. No, literally a kiss. The bitch left her lipstick imprint in lieu of her signature. YSL, shade R1. You’d always been a Dior girl anyway.

You swore up and down that you weren’t purposely snooping through his belongings, that you were just looking for Scotch tape. The offensive document shook in your hand as you fearfully inquired about its contents. He was stuttering and ashamed and apologetic and all the things a good man is when he’s sinned. He let you cry and scream and sink to your knees with your head in your hands like you were never going to come back up, like you could die in this position and be encased in marble. A new weeping angel.

You know in your heart that you could never equate to her in his eyes. The knowledge that he’s probably been comparing you to her throughout your relationship makes you so damn ill. Maybe you should slit your own throat in front of him and let the crimson flow over your body so you can match with her. Bleeding red all over the place, letting him see nothing but that cursed color, the way he did all those years ago in the city where it all started. The way he’d still continued to do so after meeting you and promising all sorts of things you weren’t accustomed to hearing. You suppose you can’t fault him completely, it wasn’t like he intended on hurting you; he’d tried to overcome his adversities and forge a new home for himself, one that was pink and frilly and covered him in glossy kisses after a long day at work. But ultimately, it wasn’t enough. His allegiance lay with first red, then white, then blue.

You just miss him so damn much. You’re desperate enough for him that if he were to walk through the door right now, you’d take him back in a heartbeat. Sure, maybe you’d have difficulty meeting his eyes for a while, deep pools, murky with guilt and who knows what else. Your vision would be limited to the freckles on his neck, the ones resembling a vampire bite, but that’s alright with you. You’re familiar with the area, having kissed it so many times. You shouldn't be thinking about those little spots or anything else about him for that matter. He made his bed, and now he has to lie in it. With her. Pressed up against her with his face tucked into the crook of her neck. Oh God, now you're the one seeing red. Is there really such a thing as a red string tying two people together, keeping them bound for eternity? Hopefully not, because you're nauseous at the concept that it's always been her. She was right there beside his former bright eyed and bushy-tailed self, the version that had a vague understanding of how the world worked, before he was your solemn Leon. They trudged through the abyss together, leaning on one another for strength in the midst of a plague. You wish God would just deliver armies of locusts to devour you and him and her and the rest of the world. The end is here anyway now that he isn’t.

Your last memory of him is that pitiful look in his eyes as he gazes at you one more time. You said I was your baby. He said a lot of things, promised you the world, and look how things turned out. It’s sickening really, how cruel fate can be. Was this fate? You’re going to tie their disgusting red string around your neck and squeeze until your head pops off like a rocket. A blazing glory, capable of stealing his attention.

The thoughts of needing to be better so that he’d be with you again swirls around in your brain, filling up your entire being until you can’t bear it any longer. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to put a ring on your finger and give you his babies and hold you close on your deathbed. Your hand twitches, muscle memory activated from all the times you slipped your hand into his, anchoring you to him. I’m so sorry… Ada and I… We’ve been through a lot together. You can’t take this anymore. But I love you more than anything in the whole world… How am I supposed to live without you? He never did give you a proper response to that, silence encompassing the air between you.

You shuffle to the bottom drawer of your dresser and fish out a wrinkled shirt that had been shoved towards the very back, away from prying eyes - navy blue with the letters “RPD” emblazoned in white across the front. You slip it on and inhale the fabric draped over your frame, protecting you, hugging you as you crawl back into your bed. His arms really were the loveliest place to be. Firm and gentle, wrapped around your torso like your very own bullet vest. Shielding you from horrors you would never have to experience, he’d make sure of that. Or at least he had, anyway. His lingering scent fills your senses like whispers in an abandoned chapel. Something familiar, a sense of comfort in your hollowed out state. It takes over your grief for a second, and when you shut your eyes tight, everything is alright again.

You yearn to hold onto this feeling, but it dissipates once your eyes open, and you're isolated yet again. Your bottom lip trembles as you squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, gripping onto the hem of his shirt. His arms are around you again, and the smell of him is welcomed. It elicits a natural response from your body, begging for his touch, forming a silent prayer to any divinity who will listen. Your thighs involuntarily part as you reminisce on the feeling of his face in between them, tongue lapping at everything you have to offer. Whimpers fall from your lips as your other hand travels down to slowly stroke your clit the way he used to do it. There’s my baby. You’re his baby, still so good for him. You rub your clit faster and faster as the hand that was clutching onto his shirt for dear life comes up to squeeze your tits and pinch your nipples.

You realize that tears have been running down your flushed cheeks as you grind down onto your fingers faster in an effort to chase your high. Just like that… Sweet baby, my sweet baby.

He's probably fucking her at this exact moment. Cock buried miles deep inside her perfect cunt, perky tits bouncing at every thrust while she moans for him. You’re going to blow your brains out. What kind of sounds does she make when she’s getting the railing of a lifetime? Something more refined than your own little whines. Is she kissing those precious freckles on his neck, giving them all the attention they could ever ask for as he lets out his own delicious noises? You weep as you continue to rub your clit while slick leaks from your neglected pussy, begging for only him to fill it up.

You’re sobbing as you feel the release building up in your core, and you're bawling as you feel your pussy clamp around the ghost of his cock. You let out a cry of both pleasure and agony as you frantically cum all over your fingers. My perfect baby.

Shallow pants escape you as you simply lay motionless, eyes trained fixedly on the ceiling of your melancholy prison. You shakily bring your other hand up to wipe away the tears that have forged new paths for themselves on your cheeks and down to your pillowcase. I love you. You’ll always be my girl.

This world is only gonna break your heart. How are you supposed to live without him? Nobody loves no one. Chris Isaak needs to shut up.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy angst #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil

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peoniesnro · 26 days ago

Text

After the End| One shot

Sequel to Closure

Synopsis- You’ve lived your whole life haunted by monsters—relentless, painful, and unyielding. But your life changed at a winter carnival, when a fortune teller told you that your fate was woven with a man you’ve never met before. Kim Taehyung. Your life changed when she asked you to choose wisely this time because the last time, you and he couldn’t do it.Taehyung changed everything. He brought light to your darkness, hope to your despair. But that light came with shadows of its own. Because he wasn’t yours to keep. Now, all you want is one thing: not to fail this time. To rewrite your story and make the ending yours.

Alternatively

In which you finally get that one chance to tell each other- I love you- once more.

Paring- Kim Taehyung × Reader

Genre - Past lovers to ??/ Reincarnation

Warnings-TW- Hallucinations/ Auditory hallcinations/ Past abuse/ Suicidal thoughts. / Language/ SMUT- Make out/ Breast play/ Some public stuff/ Oral (M.recieving) (while driving)/ Oral (F.recieving)/Doggy/ Missonary/ Spoon Sex/ Unprotected Sex/Creampie/ Mutiple orgasms/ Degradation (Slut)/ Bondage/ Overstimulation/ Usage of sex toys/ INFIDELITY

Word count - 16k+

a.n/ Well, this one is requested by lovely @bubu2sworld because she thought they deserved more. So, here I am writing a sequel to my baby CLOSURE, when I never thought I will. Still, if you think the closure ended the way it should you can totally ignore this but to anyone who thinks they deserve more, this is for you. And I'm not sure if you can read this as a standalone because it's kind of connected. Anyway, thank you for the love yous showed you to the closure and I hope you'll like this one as well. ❤️

Read the original here- Closure

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now

Taehyung feels like a void. There’s an emptiness inside his body. He’s certain that he’s no longer made of flesh and bones. There are no organs. It’s just skin. Skin and the emptiness underneath it. He feels hollow. Nothing makes him full anymore. Nothing stirs him anymore. Happiness, love, fear, anger, nothing. Not even sadness. It’s empty. Or maybe it’s all sadness. Perhaps he’s lived with sadness for so long that it no longer feels like an emotion, but a part of him. It’s ripping him apart. It makes him detach from his surroundings. He almost doesn’t notice the figure that entered the living room. It’s only after that person creates a clanking sound does he tear his gaze away from the empty wall he’s been staring at.

It's her. With two wine glasses and a bottle of wine in her hand.

Birthday.

Her birthday.

Taehyung had completely forgotten it.

She has a sweet smile on her face. A smile that is enough to brighten someone else’s soul. Yet Taehyung feels nothing. Not even a flicker of warmth. He wants to see a certain cunning smile instead of that bright one. She stops midway as she takes sight of him. A sigh leaving her mouth. Despair clouding her bright features.

Taehyung is a great disappointment for everyone. He would like to change that yet doesn’t know how. He’s hopeless. Oh, how everything was just fine before that day. He would never call it cursed because no, it was a blessed day. But now, it’s bitter on his tongue that he feels bile rising to his throat.

………………………………….

Now

You sit on the rooftop of your apartment building. At the edge. You’re fifteen stories high. This is your favorite place. It’s empty and free of annoying tenants. There’s no people to ask how you’re doing when clearly, you’re doing worst.

And this is the place you hate the most at the same time. Because, when there’s no other sounds, voices in your head get so much clearer, louder, and inescapable. When there’s no one else around, the monsters who lurk around you become realistic as they’ve ever been.

This is your life. You’ve always lived with the monsters. Always get along with the voices. It has been like that since you were a little girl. Since you started living with your aunt. She never wanted you. And she made sure you knew that. When it all became unbearable, the voices and monsters came to keep your alone soul company. It’s not that they are always there. No, there were better days. There were months. Even years where you lived a normal life. You tried to get help. To make yourself better. But every time something goes wrong, they’d return. Like now. It’s been months since they’ve ever left your side. And there’s only so much pain someone can endure. Only so much sleepless nights and heartbreaks someone can bear. You’ve reached your limit.

You need this unbearable pain to end. Want it to be gone. You want to sleep peacefully even if it’s for a second. You want the bloody lady who’s waiting patiently for your demise, with her face beaten up to a pulp, to leave you alone. She won’t. No matter how much you beg. You hate her.

“Jump! End it. Do it now. You think this pain will go away on its own? It won’t. You’ll suffer forever unless you listen to me.”

She won’t leave you alone till you jump. She has your aunt’s voice.

This is not her. Right?

“No one needs you. No one ever did. You’ve been a burden since the day you were born. Do you think anyone’s life would be worse without you? They’d be better off.”

“Fucking leave, me alone!”

“Jump!”

Oh, how tempting that is. She will leave you if you listen to her.

“Nobody needs you.”

Oh, you know.

“Nobody loves you.”

Taehyung did. He did, right? He loved you. It’s just how things have turned out.

“JUMP!”

…………………………………

Six Years Ago

Taehyung lived a pretty normal life. Ordinary, yet undeniably happy. He had everything. A college degree. An acceptable and highly paid job. Idiotic friends who he loved dearly. Good parents. And above all, a girlfriend who loved him like he was her sun and moon. He lived his life to the fullest. Their story wasn’t the stuff of movies. He didn’t meet her while saving the world, nor were they enemies-turned-lovers, childhood best friends, or two strangers sharing a single bed for a night.

It was simple. Taehyung met her at a Halloween party at a frat house. She looked beautiful. He asked her out and she said yes. And they started dating. Everything was going fine. Until it wasn’t.

Only if he knew that one moment, a fleeting encounter is enough to change someone’s life, he would never have said yes to Namjoon’s invitation to join him at a winter carnival. Well, there was no way he could see the future. He said yes. And he waited till Namjoon arrive. He was with his girlfriend and other two best friends. They laughed and joked. Smoked and waited. He was living his best life. Love of his life pressed against his body. Surrounded by people he loved.

That’s when Namjoon came. Not alone though. He had company, in a shape of a woman who looked like a lilliput next to his friend.

You.

Wrapped in a winter coat that was too big for you. Had a beanie that covered your hair that made Taehyung wondered what color it was. Had big eyes that doesn’t had any light in them. You weren’t smiling. You weren’t bowing. If anything, you stayed stony. Dull. Annoyed.

But hell, how he felt a skip in his heartbeat. Taehyung never believed in the movie effect. It was a dramatic lie they created. In real life, there’ll be no slowing down of time. The world won’t disappear for a fractured second. Sounds won’t lower down into white noises. If it didn’t happen the time he met his girlfriend, then there was no chance of it happening again. He was sure about his love. How wrong he was, though. Because at that split second, it all happened. Everything slowed and blurred away so he can take a good look at you. You only turned slightly to look at him. Then you didn’t look away for that second. You hold his gaze. Taehyung felt his heart beating in his throat. He felt completely enamored by an angel whose wings were clipped. Angel who looked like the devil.

And you gave him a tiniest hint of a smile.

And in that instant, the universe seemed to realign—a stellar collision in the making.

………………………………..

Six Years Ago

You sat at a round table draped in a black tablecloth. That was the stupidest you’ve ever felt. And that was the most foolish decision you've ever made. You normally made a lot and that said everything about how stupid it was to sit inside a tent of a fortune teller. In a stupid carnival. It was the idea of the guy who was in all black. Tattoos and piercings. Later you learnt the name to be Jungkook. That day you hated his guts for forcing all of you to sit in front of a woman who wore a midnight blue cape. A hood covering her white hair. Her eyes glued specifically on you as all of you settled down. Odd. Yet, she did stare at you from the very moment you reluctantly entered the tent. Unsettling.

There were stars dangling from the tent’s ceiling and smell of burning incense gave you a headache. And the smoke had made you dizzy. It all looked funny. Everything. The woman was a fraud, you were certain. But Jungkook guy was excited about spending his money over a con-artist. You wanted to leave. Namjoon had his hand on your thigh, though.

You should’ve never agreed to Namjoon’s plans. You weren’t someone meant to be socializing. No, you were someone to isolate yourself from the people. That’s the way you helped yourself. See now, there were your own ways to deal with your own problems. That came in shapes of hallucinations and voices. You had bad and unhealthy coping mechanisms. When neither therapists nor psychiatrists could help, you found the best way to deal with them was to become a bad bitch. Tough. Bad enough so people won’t get close to you just to hurt you in the end. You became selfish so you won’t be hurt when other people are. Being the bad person gave you the control you always seek. The control you never had.

Namjoon should never have brought you there. Not just because you hated it but because that day was what caused your great dismay in the long run.

That day, without even you knowing properly you had started a journey that turned out to be pretty ugly. And beautiful. It started when Jungkook guy showed his hand toward the woman. Palm out. Hoping she would read his future. She had dismissed him. Her eyes was still on you. Felt like glowering competition to you that time. Then right at the time you were about ask ‘what the fuck is wrong with her’, she had spoken in a strained voice.

“Ah, your threads... tangled, woven too tight.”

“Sorry what?”

“Your fates, child. The strands of your lives. Twisted together, bound as one.”

“I don’t understand a shit you’re talking about.”

“You will, in time. Your destiny is knotted with his.”

She had tilted her head to her right. Silver haired man, who was the bad influence on Jungkook’s soul. The other one who had insisted this was a fun idea had perked up. You knew he was Jimin beforehand.

“What? With me?”

“No, not you, dear boy. Him.”

She had pointed a bony finger to the man who sat next to Jimin. The man who had burnt his hand earlier because he accidentally touched the butt of the cigarette he was smoking. All because he stared at you like you were a ghost. No. That wasn’t the case at all. He had stared at you like you were an angel.

You never learnt how to explain that moment. You’ve never seen him before. Not even a glimpse of him. But he had stared at you like he knew you for ages. And you had felt that too. A strange sensation in your heart. A tug. A sting. How it was odd. You never meant to smile at him. You don’t smile at strangers. But you did to him. It was strange.

Then there as you listened to an old fraud talk crap, you had notice he has mismatched eyes. He sat far away from you. The place had shitty lighting. Yet you did notice that. Maybe that was because you were at a staring contest back again. Your heart beating violently and breathing getting ragged.

“You carry the weight of a past undone. Shadows of a life lived before. A tragedy. You’ve crossed paths now to mend what was broken... or to fail once more. Beware. Cycles repeat, and pain lingers. Choose wisely this time.”

You almost didn’t hear her. The man across from you was enchanting.

……………………………….

Six Years Ago

“Here’s your drink.”

That was the first moment the man, who apparently carried unresolved issues from your past life spoke to you. While placing a hot cup of cocoa on the picnic table in front of the food stall. You were looking at the Ferris Wheel. Glinting with thousands of multicolored tiny lights. How magnificent. Yet you knew it won’t look the same in the morning. It was an allusion. Another scam. Without the tiny lights it would look hollow. Like how you were. If anyone could’ve stared deep into your soul, or if anyone could see your bare soul, they would see how ugly you were. How scarred and hollow you were. You’ve been thinking about that when the intrusion had come. You had averted your eyes from the enchanting scene of Ferris Wheel to the man who stood next to you. Had glared at him with skeptical eyes.

“Oh, sorry- Namjoon asked me to take this to you.”

“Thanks.”

You were a well-guarded person. You never allowed others to get close to you. When it was slowly happening, you made sure to hurt them enough that they’ll run away. But it was always better to never let them come close to you than hurting them later. Only exception in your life was Kim Namjoon. So, you were thoroughly annoyed when the man with black hair and mismatched eyes proceeded to sit next to you. It was only you two there.

“I didn’t invite you to join me Mister.”

“Oh, fuck, sorry, I-I…”

He had such an adorable expression. Eyes wide in panic and face starting to flush in embarrassment. You hated how your heart had pained at the sight.

“No... no... I mean that’s fine. Like, I mean, I could use some company.”

And like you’ve never made him uncomfortable; he had grinned widely. He had a boxy smile. Beautiful. You had found a split second of a moment where your guard had slipped away from you. You found it impossible to avert your gaze away from his lips.

“So, how do you think our fates are tangled up? How do you think we’re going to mend what’s broken.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t tell me you believe those bullshits too.”

“Bullshits?”

“Yes, Mister, that was a scam. That’s how she’s earning money.”

And he had grinned even more widely. You were being hostile. He didn’t deserve those kinds of harsh treatments. Hadn’t done anything wrong to you. Yet, there he was. Smiling.

“Yeah maybe... maybe not... Namjoon told me you’re a photographer?”

“That’s part time. I just love photography.”

“Well, then maybe you’ll be the photographer in my wedding. That’s how our fates are connected.”

“Oh, you’re getting married soon?”

“No, not soon but I’ll be proposing to her soon. I don’t know when but..”

“Ah!”

For no clear reason, you had felt a pain. A deep sting in your heart. You didn’t want to admit it but strangely it hurt.

“And my name’s Kim Taehyung.”

He had stretched his hand for you to shake. You didn’t. You ignored him completely. Because you felt hurt.

“I didn’t ask for your name.”

“That’s fine. It’s my choice to tell you.”

To your horror, he patted your head then. Your damn head. Over your stupid beany. You never believed the feeling of time slowing down. That moment, though, that happened. You had gaped at him with wide eyes.

His mismatched eyes were the most beautiful you’d ever seen.

And beneath one of them rested a small mole.

………………………………

Six Years ago

After months. For the first time since Namjoon returned you had a night terror that night. Wasn’t the usual one. Instead of running away from your aunt, you saw a flashing lights of a truck. Then you felt the pain. Endless pain. And there was the Taehyung. You saw him crying. Broke your heart into tiny million pieces before you open your eyes.

Your monsters returned that night.

You knew someone was under your bed.

………………………………………….

Five years ago

Taehyung never expected to see you again. He missed you, however. Taehyung didn’t think it was possible to miss someone he had met just for such a short time. To miss someone who was hostile to him for no reason. He did. He missed the stony-faced rude girl dearly. Funny, considering he had only spoken to you for ten minutes at most, exchanging barely fifty words. Yet, you haunted his memories for a year. In a good way. Taehyung thought it was because he was curious. Curious as to know what made you, you. The indifferent one. What stole your light. To know who clipped your wings. Or it was because of the fortune teller. Whatever the reason was, he couldn’t deny that he thought about you quite often.

True, Namjoon was still a best friend of his and he had all the opportunities to ask about you. Yet, he didn’t. He couldn’t—not with a girlfriend and Jungkook’s mention of you being Namjoon’s lifelong crush. He blamed all the messed-up sensations he felt on the winter air and bright lights on the carnival. He always loved the winter. Besides he was comfortable with his girlfriend. There were no reason to ruin that. Only if that was the plan of universe as well. It wasn’t.

He was at his favorite Samgyeopsal place that day. Place always had long queues in the evenings for takeouts. He could’ve ordered online. But the restaurant always messed up the online orders. Every good thing has its tiniest flaw. He stood as the fourth person in the long line when someone cut the line. Pushed their tiny self in between Taehyung and the person in front of him. A scowl formed in Taehyung’s forehead. Was about to confront them when an icy voice muttered an apology.

“Sorry but I’m late to the strip club.”

Late to where?

Then they had turned. Had looked at him with wide eyes. No light in them. Just hollow and dull.

You.

Once again, Taehyung felt the same effects. The hustle and bustle of Samgyeopsal place had vanished. Only person remaining in the room was you. Gaping at him with your mouth adorably open. And he knew you recognized him.

“Oh, you. Taehyung?”

“Uh- Hi!... Didn’t expect─”

“Aren’t you going to yell at me?”

“Yell at you for what?”

“For cutting the line?”

“Oh, it’s fine it’s you.”

“That’s bad Sailor… You need to learn to treat people fair.”

You had said something else. But he didn’t hear them. No. Something was happening to him. Something strange. He was in pain. Not physically. It was internal. His heart was aching. He wanted to hug you. Touch you. Knew you would slap his face hard enough for him to lose some of his teeth if he tried, though. That was the moment he realized he wasn’t just missing you. He was longing for you.

“Hey! Taehyung? You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, of course. Bu-but I know you, so it’s fine.”

“You don’t know me at all. Three hours spent on a carnival a year ago doesn’t count.”

True. You told the truth. That was the period of time he knew you. Three hours from a long day. A year ago. Yet there he was, fighting the urge to touch you. The line was getting shorter. Sooner you would’ve been the person to take your order and vanish again. He didn’t want that. Something was pushing him to change that. At least you weren’t being so hostile toward him that day.

“Let’s dine in.”

“What?”

“I don’t know you so, let’s change that. Have dinner with me.”

Taehyung had waited with bated breath for you to turn the offer down. You didn’t. All you had done was smirk. And that smirk was cunning. It was the most beautiful he has ever seen.

………………………………

Five years ago

You should never have agreed to have dinner with a stranger. Taehyung was a stranger to you. Handsome and adorable in his sweater, yes. Yet he was still a stranger. Despite everything, you had to stick with one piece of advice your aunt gave you.

Stranger is a Danger!!!!!!

And that was the only time you disobeyed that advice.

You inspected his mismatched eyes while stuffing your mouth. The eyes you’ve missed. It wasn’t possible but you did. It was either your monsters and the voices inside your head or a pair of mismatched eyes and a mole. A boxy grin that kept you awake at night. No matter how hard you tried to keep the thoughts sunk, Taehyung always found a way.

“What?”

“Huh? Nothing. Are you sure your girlfriend won’t mind you being late?”

“Oh, not girlfriend, fiancée. Proposed to her a few months ago.”

Oh.

You had frozen. It was just like that first time. When you sat at a picnic table looking at a Ferris Wheel. It hurt to hear him say he’s about to get engaged. But that time to hear he is finally engaged; it felt like a knife piercing through your heart.

Why?

There was no reason. You didn’t even know him. You were strangers. Was that love from first sight? Bullshit. You never believed in those kinds of fairy tales. You might’ve so broken that you start to feel pain for the things you shouldn’t. But you couldn’t deny that it hurt. Couldn’t deny that you felt angry. For no reason.

“You okay?”

“Yes, of course. So, you had an engagement party and didn’t invite me?”

“Oh, no. There was no party. I just proposed to her. Had Jungkook and Jimin singing ‘All of me’. That was it.”

“Thank God, you didn’t invite me. Can’t stand those two people.”

It was a joke. A distraction from the pain you felt. Taehyung understood it. Showed you that boxy grin. Only thing it did was intensify the pain, however. You needed to leave. Wanted an escape. Felt suffocating to be in his presence. You nearly had it when you excused yourself for bathroom. But life had different plans.

“Oh, I knew it was you.”

Shaky voice had interrupted you. A voice you never wanted to hear in your entire life. You were having chills even before you turn around to confirm that the voice belonged to the same person who made your life a living hell. It was. In a blink of an eye, you were staring into the wrinkled face of your aunt. You abuser.

Despite all the effort you had put into coping with your trauma. Despite how hard you worked to develop a cold heart and a strong mind that won’t break at simple matters, you pathetically started breathing heavily. Right at the moment your eyes landed on her. A loud ‘no’ chanting inside your head. Screams starting to echo. Visions of her bloody face closing toward you starting to cloud your vision. You didn’t know she was saying something. You didn’t hear a thing. All that you heard was the venom in her voice. Over and over again. Like a mantra. The way she asked you to die.

“No… No, fuck no… get away from me.”

You had thought you were saying those words in your mind. In reality though you weren’t. It was a period you lost from your life. Where you weren’t living in the real world but inside your head. Maybe it wasn’t for a long time. But enough for you to cry a river and scream till your throat tasted like blood. You cried for your life. Begging her to save you. Then right at the time you thought there were no escape, it all vanished.

You were sitting on a cold floor of a busy restaurant. People were staring down at you with such horrified looks on their faces. Pity. Fear. You had gaped at them return. The senses finally getting on to you. Your aunt wasn’t there anymore. You felt relieved, for a moment. Then had felt helpless. You had a panic attack in front of so many people. You hated it when they looked at you like you were a wounded, caged animal. You wanted to disappear but couldn’t help the new tears escaping from you. That’s when you felt the warmth behind your back. Next you noted the arms wrapped around your petite figure. Lastly a soothing voice reached your ears.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s fine. You’re fine. I got you.”

Taehyung was gently rocking you. Like you were a child. Nobody in your entire life had held you like that. Not even Namjoon because you never fell apart in front of him. For your whole damn, painful life you had no one to hold you.

…………………………..

Five years ago

Taehyung had refused to let you go home alone. You were annoyed partially but happy mostly. It was embarrassing enough that he saw what he saw. But he didn’t leave you. No matter how hard you tried that day. Which was a great mistake. He should’ve listened to you. Should’ve left you to manage your own miserable life.

He didn’t. Even though you hated it, you had to let the guy enter your safe space. Your apartment. A place that never felt like home at all. You thought it should’ve felt more pathetic as you sat on the couch. Waiting for a stranger to bring you a glass of water. You should’ve felt more helpless to have been pampered by a stranger in your own house. Strangely though you didn’t. You felt secretly relieved. Because you weren’t alone. You knew, all the voices and monsters were about to mess up your entire night that day. There was no way they would leave you alone after what happened. So, you were grateful for him. Even though you didn’t tell him that.

But then after a few hours of just sitting there in silence, he had stood up to leave.

“Well, I should go then. She... uh- you know, I’m late.”

You panicked. Hard. So hard that you had jumped toward him. Had hold on to his arm before he could take a single step away from you. You were scared. Didn’t want to be alone. Not even for a minute. It was ridiculous how you blurted out suggestions as if it were natural. Like you knew him. As if you hadn’t acted all tough and annoyed at him earlier. The thing is, though, he made you feel safe.

“Want to hit the club with me?”

“What?”

“I mean, it’s going to be fun. Be spontaneous sometimes, sailor. You’re not getting any younger.”

“What? This is bit weird you know?”

“Well, you invited me to have dinner with you. You hold me when I was breaking apart. You sat down next to me in my own house like we knew each other for ages. And you said you wanted to change the fact that we don’t know each other. So, what’s so weird about it?”

In addition to being a bad bitch, you were a good manipulator.

“I… what club? I mean strip?”

“No need to be so worried.”

“Wait? Do you really work as a…”

“What a stripper?”

He hadn’t answered that. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips though. And it was enough to heal your scarred soul.

“No.. I’m not. I was about to go there as a punter. To a male one. But we’re not going there. We’re going to a normal one. You know, where there’s no show going on for you. Would’ve preferred the strip cub though.”

You had no intention of clubbing that night. You loved clubbing. Getting drunk. High. Stoned. Then getting laid. You did that on the worst nights, though. That night you had thought it would be a good one. Well, things always changed. Yet, Taehyung didn’t need to know that. You didn’t want him to leave you alone. You had waited with bated breath. Heart pounding violently in your rib cage. Then after some long few tortures minutes he showed you that adorable boxy smile.

“Yeah, sure why not. But why though? Why now? Wouldn’t sleep help you the best.”

“It would, but I need someone to exhaust me to sleep. So, sailor, we are going hunting.”

………………………………….

Five years ago

Taehyung didn’t know what had happened to you earlier. He didn’t know what caused it. Only that he panicked too. That he wanted to help. While you broke down the floor, he had made sure to force that old lady out of the place. He didn’t know who she was. But maybe, he thought, that she was the person who had stolen your light.

And in the end, when you asked him to join you for a club, all he wanted was for you to feel better. Couldn’t say no to your eager eyes. Or simply he was reluctant to let you go.

So, he joined you at a club. And had watched, watched, and watched. Sitting at a stool near the bar while sipping on a neat whisky. It burnt his throat, yet he couldn’t feel it. His eyes were on the dance floor. On the figure there who was tangled up with a strange man.

He felt bile rising up to his throat. Regretted ever agreeing to come with you. He felt so fucked up at the sight of you grinding shamelessly with another man. It was a mixture of feelings. He felt bothered. An urge to rip you away from the man who was squeezing your ass cheeks like there were no tomorrow. Then he felt a stir in his lower stomach. Which had nothing to do with feeling bothered. No. It had everything to do with the way his heart was beating madly. About to leap away. It had everything to do with how he couldn’t look away, no matter how much he wanted to.

You were fucking captivating. Dancing under the disco lights. Your movements were deliberate. The way you swayed your hips. The way you had wrapped your hands around the stranger’s neck. Your lips an inch away from him. Taehyung knew the stranger must be smelling the alcohol on you. Taehyung knew the stranger must be feeling your soft breaths on his lips. Knew it must be tingling. You had your perfect breasts pressed against the stranger’s chest. Taehyung knew they must be feeling so soft. You had your hips tightly pressed against the stranger. And so, Taehyung knew the stranger must be having the time of his life by feeling your soft flesh against his hardened dick.

Taehyung shouldn’t have thought about that in the first place, but he did. And it wasn’t that he thought about the way the lucky bastard might feel. No, Taehyung was simply imagining it himself. Watching you move from a distance, and he was imagining it was him. With you. It was him having the time of his life while pressing his hardened dick on to your soft skin. Hardened? Yes, he was rock hard. His pants were too tight in his crotch area. Too hard and the bulge visible that he had to turn away immediately to hide it from your view when you suddenly returned.

“Hey there sailor, enjoying the night?”

“Eh, can’t complain.”

“That’s not the answer I’m looking for. Want to join me for a dance?”

“Oh, No. No... I’m fine.”

“Yeah? Fine by me then.”

“Why’d you leave? Looked like you’ve caught your prey tonight, hunter?”

“You’ve been watching?”

“Uh- no- I- I just saw.”

“It’s fine. He is the catch but it’s a game.”

“Game?”

“Mhm. When you want to have good night- I mean a kind of night where you would fall asleep right away, you need to make them desperate.”

You leaned forward. Closer to him. You didn’t sit down on the empty stool. Bent down instead. It was a bad idea. Or maybe the bad idea was Taehyung letting his gaze averted from your face to your chest. Your low neckline was doing a poor job hiding what’s inside. Taehyung’s brain malfunctioned. His mouth went instantly dry. A whimper nearly escaped him at the sight of that delicious cleavage. Perfect. So, fucking perfect. Only he could’ve buried his face in it right there. Only if he could’ve smelled you. And you made it worse.

“So, I would give them a taste and leave Mr. Kim.”

It was a whisper against his ear. A shiver ran down his spine. It had been a great struggle for him to find his words.

“W-wow, y-you’re a vixen.”

……………………………………

Five years ago

You had frozen. Entirely. A sharp pain coursing through your entire body. Intense and unrelenting. It wasn’t entirely physical, but you felt it reverberated through every cell of your being. For a minute, it was like you were having a heart attack. And you were distraught. It felt like grief, as if you'd lost someone dear. That pain was deeply etched to your heart. You were certain that you’d never be able to escape that sensation. Even your eyes started to sting again. Pricking with unshed tears. You could’ve cried. Could’ve made a fool out of yourself for a second time that day. Taehyung had saved you, though. Distracted you with a shaky inhale of his breath. When you turned your sorrowful gaze to him, he was no longer looking at your face. His eyes were fixed on your breast. At the skin that was revealed to his eyes.

You had thought you imagined it when you saw him eyeing your cleavage earlier. He wouldn’t do that right? But he was. Shamelessly staring. And a shiver ran through your body. Made you visibly tremble. The painful sensation you were feeling replaced with something more sinful. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander. Roam across his broad figure and stop right under his torso. Fuck! He was hard. Bulge visible. His pants was straining against his hardness. You thought you had conflicting emotions at that moment. Part of you believed he wouldn’t do that. And the other part thought you might not be the reason. Then he changed it.

“Does it work every time?”

When you looked back at his eyes they were on fire. His mismatched eyes. His beautiful brown orbs were burning with desire. Your knees buckled under the intensity of that gaze.

“Course, it does. What, do you think it won’t work on you?”

It was a dangerous game you were playing. Among every little thing you couldn’t take, rejection always held the first place. You might’ve been reading the signs wrong. And the entire situation was so wrong. Not that you cared. You were a bad person. You had done far worst things in your life. However, you believed Taehyung might have cared. He seemed like a good guy. Loyal. So, you had brace yourself for the inevitable rejection when his next words came as a whisper.

“Maybe… We should try find out.”

“You want me to try that on you?”

“Please.”

That was it. It was all Taehyung’s fault. You couldn’t hold responsible for your actions. You were the bad guy, and he was supposed to be the good one. He asked for it. And you, a horny woman who was far too broken to think about morality, had no control over denying that. Above all, you really knew how to play.

“Sure thing, sailor. It’s easy, like this.”

You angled your head, so you were facing him properly. Still, bent down. Made sure you were only millimeters apart from his pink lips, when you spoke again. Wanted him to anticipate a kiss you never were about to give.

“Men are easy you know…”

You placed your hand on his shoulder. Felt smug and proud when he slightly shuddered. When his muscles tightened under your barely there touch.

“Flashing my tits always make it easier… but this way it’s better.”

Dragged your palm down through his chest. He waited patiently. Swallowed harshly. Eyes never leaving yours. You dragged your palm down, down, and down. Through the expanses of his sculptured chest and abs. Didn’t even hesitate a bit when you hovered your palm over his crotch. Fighting with yourself not to lose your control and give in right there. Kept your hand there for a few seconds.

“And this is the part I love the most, sailor.”

You changed the position of your hand instantly. The poor guy nearly whimpered. Only for a moment though. You never gave him time to mourn the loss when you were grabbing his hand.

“Please.”

You made sure you mumbled that one word in a way it spills liquid neediness into his brain. Then at the same moment you raised his hand up. Pressed his palm into your left breast. Gave him full privilege of touching your soft mound completely. He moaned. He fucking moaned. So did he understand what you meant by ‘please’. You didn’t expect him to jump into action right away. He did and you failed not to moan as well. He squeezed your soft flesh while his breathing got ragged. He did it over and over, repeatedly. You allowed that to happen for how long you have no idea. You almost didn’t want it to end. Were simply falling into an ecstasy under his touches. What brought you into reality was when his lips grazed over yours. You withdrew fast as thunder. Completely. Pushed his hand away. Took a moment to compose yourself.

“Not so easy sailor, you should try harder.”

Turned around and walked away with your heart pounding in your throat.

………………………………..

Five years ago

Taehyung had sat there motionless. He was sure his brain was broken. Oh God, everything about this was wrong—what he’d done. But his real problem lay elsewhere. Crossing moral boundaries didn’t seem to strike him as a bad thing. He had his gaze fixed on your retrieving back. On the sway of your hips. The way you never even looked back. You disappeared at a corner. He knew you went to the bathroom. There was a possibility that you might not return to him. And it hurt Taehyung. Both in his chest and lower. His cock was so hard inside his pants. Hard it hurt. Your breast felt so soft in his hand. Your breath made him sigh in relief. He felt like an animal who works on its instinct. He couldn’t control his actions. Especially when he saw that man who had you grinding your hips against him followed you.

Taehyung wasn’t prepared to see you leave with another man that night. Not after you had his cock jump at the sight of your cleavage. He worked on autopilot mode. Wasn’t seeing clear when he practically sprinted after you. Bumped on the strange man who was halfway there. Only slightly caught you disappearing through the bathroom door. Taehyung didn’t give a fuck about the sign that said it was for women. Nor did he care about the shrieks he heard from the few punters who stood near the sinks as he pushed open the door. Only thing he saw was you. Only person who existed there were you. Gaping at him with your wide eyes when he grabbed your arm and turned you around.

“Taehyung!”

“You can’t do that, Vixen. That’s so fucking cruel.”

Thats all he said to you before he crashed his lips against yours. His lips lingered for a brief second before moving against yours—desperate and rough. Felt relieved, though. Instant relief. Turned you around and pressed you against the bathroom door. You took a minute. Taehyung liked to think you were surprised. Then you gave in willingly. It was the best feeling in the world when you parted your lips without any reluctance when he brushed his tongue against your lips. Seeking permission. You tasted better than anything in the world. You smelled better than anything. You were so soft against his hard body. And you lapped against his tongue like you were gone mad. Sharing one breath and creating a mess of spit. His cock was throbbing bad. He wanted you more than he needed to breathe at that time. You pulled away first. Gasped for air.

“Do y-you realize that w-we have an audience?”

“Don’t care.”

He fell back into your lips hungrily. He was pretty sure you would’ve let him have you right there if it wasn’t for some punter saying that they minded. You were forced to withdraw. Taehyung wasn’t having it though. He needed you.

“Please Vixen.”

……………………………

Five years ago

Taehyung’s desperate plea had affected you far more than he realized. He had turned you on so hard, apparently. Had unleashed a monster. And how he loved that. You were so needy, and impatient. Pretty. Hot. Gorgeous. The most amazing thing he had ever seen.

You and he had stumbled yourself out the club. Not wanting to stop sucking each other’s lips. It was your idea to go back to your place. And he were just trying to do that, but you were so impatient. Had thrown yourself on him ever since he started driving. He’d had one drink but couldn’t bring himself to care. Wanted nothing more than to go to a place where he can savor and devour you all the much he wanted. He wanted to do it faster, but you were a distraction. You had started it by kissing his neck. Trailing your tongue on his sensitive spot. Then you had escalated it by finally touching his hardened length through his pants. Squeezed and rubbed.

You teased the life out of him. Had played with your cunt, all the while he struggled to keep concentrating on the road ahead. How impossible that was when you bunched up your dress around your waist. Spread your legs and started to rub your cute cunt over your lacy panties. Taehyung was sure he’s going to crash. Then you pushed the fabric to the side. Moaned needily as you pushed a finger inside you. What a show you put for him. You pumped and pumped and pumped. Dripping on to the leather seat of his car.

“Holy fuck, baby. Jesus.”

“Need you Tae. Oh, fuck I can’t... Need more... Can I jerk you? No... no, can I suck you off?”

“Fuck, I’m gonna crash lady.”

“No, you won’t. C’mon you can. You’re a tough guy aren’t you. You can handle a little teasing.”

“Oh, fuck… you are a vixen. You gonna kill us both.”

You slipped your drenched finger out of your cunt. All he could think was how delicious you would taste. He had opened his mouth before he could think about it. Before you could wipe your finger on your thigh. You took the hint. Pushed your finger inside his mouth gratefully. It was embarrassing but he nearly cried. You did too. Didn’t wait a second longer before you were fumbling with his belt. Taehyung’s hips bucked upward involuntarily. His cock twitching as you freed him from the tight confines of his pants.

From there it was a hazy blur. You ruined him. From the very moment your warm lips wrapped around his flushed tip. You were a fucking vixen through and through. Such a tease. Knew exactly what you were doing when you gagged and chocked yourself on his cock. Slurping and drooling. Sucking the life out of him. Keeping him lost in your warmth till his cock throbbed nearing the release and you had stopped. Taehyung complained. Not for real though. He loved every minute of it. And by the time he parked in front of your apartment building, Taehyung was surprised how he even managed that. He took a moment to collect himself as you were still going on it. He was in ecstasy. Immense pleasure. Yet if you had thought he had given you full control, you were so wrong.

He bunched up your hair in his fist. Bucking his hips upward. Pressed you down. Kept you there before let go. You slipped his length out of your mouth. Gasping and panting.

“Cum, sailor. Want to taste you.”

He used your hair to straighten you up. Looked at your ruined face. Fucking ethereal.

“Yeah, you want that? Too bad, princess. I want to ruin that tight little hole first, fill you up, and make you beg for more. Tell me you'll let me.”

Couldn’t help but kiss your wet lips. You nodded into that kiss.

………………………………..

Five years ago

It was the best sex Taehyung had ever experienced. From the very moment you managed to enter your apartment in one piece to where he had you beneath him, his cock stretching your cute cunt open, it all felt like a dream to him. You pulsed around him violently. Frantically. He made you cum twice before having you warming his cock. Both times on his tongue. Sucked and lapped on your cute clit for so long. Overstimulated you to a point you actually cried.

Funny part was that it wasn’t about showing you who was in control or taking sweet revenge for the torture you put him during the drive. No, it was entirely his feral desire. The desire to keep lapping against your sweet slick. He was starved. To keep his head buried between your thighs and get drunk on your smell. He was high. He felt inhuman, insatiable. He could’ve gone for days like that. Fingers knuckles buried inside your cunt and massaging that sweet spot. Tongue circling around your twitching clit. Drinking your sweet essence. Unfortunately, though, he had to stop before you became too tired to pleasure his aching cock.

He held on to a loose thread of sanity as he watched you squirming beneath him. Eyes teary and mouth agape. He wanted to move but felt greedy to do so at the same time.

“Shit, I don’t want to start.”

“Y-yeah? Fuck… W-why is th-that?”

You giggled beautifully. Breathlessly.

“Starting it means, ending it sometime princess. Don’t want to stop.”

He pressed himself more into you. Relished the feeling of your warm walls clenching and unclenching around him. Your warmth. Having you stretched so wide and the sensation of your tightness struggling to adjust to him. Your arousals soaking his length. It was a dream to have you. To fuck you. Raw. He didn’t want that to end.

You had gone still at his words, however. Watched him with an unexplainable yet sorrowful expression. And he knew what was coming. He didn’t want you to voice that out. You did.

“I hope you know what you’re doing Kim Taehyung.”

Shit. He wanted to silence you. So, he dragged his aching cock back just to slam inside you. It didn’t have the desired effect. You moaned loudly and arched your back. Yet before he could repeat his movements, you spoke.

“I hope you realize that you’re cheating Kim Taehyung.”

It should’ve turned him down the moment those words left your sweet, seductive lips. But how fucked up he was that it didn’t make any difference at all. His hunger for you still roared inside him without a hitch. He gave you another harsh thrust.

“I hope you know; you’re an engaged man and you have a fucking fia─”

“Holy fuck, shut up you little minx. Shut up! Just use that mouth to moan my name, go on.”

He stilled himself inside you. Ground a bit. And opted into an animalistic pace straight away. And you did what you’ve been asked for. Moaned his name so sweet that his head spun. Yet there was a single thread of sanity left on you.

“Tell me you know Taehyung. Don’t go fucking blame me after this.”

“I know. All right. I fucking know. Damn know.”

He leaned forward. Kissed you hard. Withdrew only to grab the underside of your thighs. And to push your legs toward your torse. Bent you in half. Fucked you the hardest he could.

“It doesn’t matter vixen, you know. It’s only happening this one time. It’s fine.”

Told to himself more than to you. You had looked at him with void eyes. No emotion. Or not. Taehyung thought you were hurt. But you nodded. Understood. And he threw the care away. You did too. It was all pleasure. Each drag of his cock inside your warm walls. Each hit against your sweet spot. Each clench you made. It all was perfect. Perfect in the way how he wanted more even when he was already buried deep inside you. He wanted more of you. Wanted to make that last long. Especially since it was supposed to happen one time. Taehyung wanted to make you lose your mind. And he did.

Made you hold your own thighs so he can go deeper and harder. Played with your cute clit. All it took was few flicks and you were cuming undone crazily. Had put your legs over his shoulders. Kissed you hard when you came again. Had you on your knees. Yet in the end, he wanted even more. Even when you were so spent. When you lost the ability to stay up on your knees long ago. Taehyung would say it was the only reason why he fell to the bed laying on his side. Got you in the same position. Pulled you to him till your back was pressed against his chest. His hand under your neck. Curled it so you would be even closer. Held your leg up while he entered your warmth again.

Fuck, that was no ordinary way to fuck a one-night stand. He spoon fucked you, while he held you so passionately. Kissing your neck and coaxing you. Praising you for being such good dirty slut for him.

“Like that pretty slut. God, take it. Doing so fine baby. I’m so close. So close.”

“Taehyung… I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. You will. Take me baby please. Want to cum deep inside you. Tell me you want that, hm? Tell me you want my cum deep inside your slutty cunt. You gonna keep them inside, don’t you?”

“Taehyung please…”

Weren’t it the sweetest sound when you moaned his name. And when you add a nice beg in the end.

“I got you baby. Let go one more time for me? I know you got more. You can cum more for me slut.”

“Oh, fuck…”

“Yeah? Shit, feel so good princess. You feel fucking good. Don’t want to fucking stop.”

Taehyung had his face buried in your neck the whole time. Your scent was intoxicating. Addictive. You felt like home. Even though it didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know you. Not even your name.

“What’s your name?”

He never stopped railing your cunt as he blurted the question out. You giggled breathlessly. Taehyung felt you shake against him.

“Seriously, Kim? You- fuck- you’re fucking me to the next week, but you don’t know my name?”

“You never told me.”

“Why would you want to know my name?”

“So, I can moan it.”

You told him your name. And Taehyung stuck to his words. Moaned it over and over again. Even moaned it when you were the one who was cuming again. Squeezing around his twitching cock hard. Desperate to milk him. Crying his name. Taehyung held you close because he wanted to. You were so good. And the way you gripped him was the final straw for him.

It was pathetic how he whined. Almost cried when he came. It was otherworldly. The feeling. But it was all over the moment he lost it. The moment his hips stuttered, and he couldn’t edge himself anymore. Rope after rope of white cum had shot into the confine of your womb. Satisfactory. He felt whole for a minute before reality had hit him. Bad. It was bad. Even then, he hadn’t rushed away from you. No. He had waited till he couldn’t anymore. Had cleaned you up despite your half- hearted protests.

Eventually, when he gathered himself, you were fast asleep. And the thing that had made Taehyung felt most guilty was the way he kissed you softly before he left.

………………………………..

Four years and four months ago

You never saw him. Not even once since your little dirty tryst. You wanted to ask about him from Namjoon, but your ego was larger than the galaxy. No, you couldn’t lower yourself like that. Besides, he had told you it was just a one-time thing. Funny. Normally you left men wanting more. They had always come back. Not Taehyung. You understood though. Just because you felt satisfied to be the bad guy, it doesn’t mean he would too. You had fully expected that was the case. That Taehyung would stick to the good. Would do the right thing. Until that day.

It was storming outside. You were in a critical state. A shadow lingered in the corner of your living room, and screams echoed in your mind. You planned to leave the house for a good drink and a hunt that night. That was when you heard the knock on your door. And the person outside it was someone who you never expected to see again.

How ridiculous it was the way you were grinning from ear to ear like a mad woman when you opened the door. Finding a soaked Taehyung, covered in a black hoodie.

“Well, hello, Mr. Kim Taehyung!”

“Hi, vixen.”

“You’re passing by?”

“One more time. Just one more. I need it, baby, please.”

He startled you with his sudden outburst. You didn’t get to ask anything more. Simply because he was lunging at you. You didn’t get to do anything more than letting out a surprised yelp when he intruded your house. Lips pressed hard against yours. It was too quick how he thrusted his tongue inside your mouth, taking advantage of the surprised gasp.

All you saw was the door closing behind him before he had your back against the wall next to the door. You kissed him back. You did. Just after the few initial seconds of surprise passed away. Slipped your tongue inside his mouth too. Moaned at the sensation you felt only once before. At the addictive taste. He tasted like winter. You used to hate winter. It was dull and gloomy. But when you were kissing Kim Taehyung, you fell in love with the winter. He was the bright side you never saw. Your head started spinning. Above all, the screams inside your head vanished the moment his lips landed on yours. And you knew the shadow was gone too. You were the one who pulled away, first. You could’ve died if you didn’t.

“Wh- what are y- you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“Thought it was supposed to be that one time?”

“I know Vixen, I fucking know. Can you please- just… Fuck- let me fuck you one more time. I just need one more time. Can’t get you out of my head.”

Well, you didn’t care at all. You were at peace with the information that you were the bad person. If Taehyung wanted to take part in that, you weren’t going to stop him. Because you were selfish. He had no idea how much you missed him. How hard the past few months were for you. Your invisible friends have started to annoy your ass more and more since the day you woke up to an empty bed after he fucked you to the next life. That- the day he came back- was the only day you felt relieved. You were not going to play the hero who you never were.

So, of course, you said yes. An eager one. That’s all it took for Taehyung. He almost tore your clothes apart. His soaked ones following afterward before he had you straddling his sculptured thighs naked. Sat on your couch, grinding on his bare cock while he lapped against your hardened nipples. You went on it for what felt like hours. Your sticky arousals soaked his hard cock while his saliva made a mess on your tits. He created reddish artwork on your skin. And you clenched around nothing every time.

“Want me to tie you up to your bed, vixen?”

“Fuck..”

“Hm? Answer me slut?”

“Yes…. please.”

“Holy fuck! Gonna make you cum hard baby, don’t worry.”

That was your first bondage. You never allowed any man to tie you up to anything. Not even to tie your hands together with their silk ties. It took more than trust to let someone have you that way. You never felt safe. You always wanted to have your control even when you were too drunk to care. You hate it when you don’t have that control. With Kim Taehyung, however, you didn’t care. You consented to be tied to your bed gratefully. You felt safe. You trusted him more than you trusted yourself.

There was not a single ounce of doubt when he secured the knots around your wrists. There was not a drop of fear when he ate your cunt like you were a full course meal. Not even when you knew he’s going to overstimulate you. He would make you cum until your thighs shake. And you had no safe word. Yet you trusted him. So much. You felt nothing but blissful pleasure when he finally had enough of your taste. His hardened length visibly jumping. You didn’t hesitate to tell him where you had your vibrator when he asked for it. Knew you were up to a good time. So, you were.

Your back throat was raw from all the moaning when he finally thrusted inside you. You had missed the stretch so badly. He had the damn vibrator pressed against your already sensitive clit when he started pounding you on to the mattress.

“You feel good princess?”

“So- fuck- s- so good Tae... Oh, baby... shit...”

“Ahh, shit, such a tight cunt. Just like I remembered. Nobody fucked you after me?”

You only managed to shake your head. It was the truth. Not that you didn’t want. You wanted it badly. But nobody felt the same. So, you gave up on the kissing stage.

“Really? Really princess? Y-you didn’t? Fuck…. You gonna kill me. Holy fuck!”

And he was going to kill you too. It scared you how you didn’t know a way to handle that much pleasure. You wanted to touch him. Badly. Your hands itched. Restrains dug scarlet marks into your wrists at how hard you moved your hands against them. It was pure instinct that made you want to claw at his back. You couldn’t. That was torture.

“Wanna- wanna….”

“Yeah baby? What do you want?”

“Wanna touch you… Tae please.”

“No… No princess. Just take it. Hm take it. Take my cock like a good slut.”

It’s not like you had any other options to be fair. You had to take it. And you did graciously. Lost the count of how many times you fell over the edge. Convulsing around him. Somewhere between your fourth orgasm and his first, you lost your senses. Just cried for him to untie you because you wanted to touch. At last, he relented. Untied you. You jumped at the opportunity. Pulled him so close to you. Didn’t even mind his weight crushing you. It was just like the first time. You didn’t want to end.

“Go again, please, Tae. Again, I want more. Keep filling me up.”

“Fuck, sure you can take it?”

“Positive.”

So, he did. Without the vibrator and restraints. And it wasn’t a fuck. It was love making. He stared into your soul through your eyes when he gently rocked you into your mattress. Held you close to him the best way he could.

“Let’s cum together baby. Cum with me.”

You didn’t know what the best was. Cuming hard when he violently pounded you or when he slowly built the tension and made you let go together with him. Both felt ecstatic. So much your heart broke when it was over. When he cleaned you up and plopped next to you. It was all over again. And you thought you would wake up to an empty bed next day.

………………………….

Four years and four months ago

You didn’t wake up to an empty bed. For once, the emptiness was replaced by something tender, something real. When you woke up and tried to adjust your tired eyes to the bright light, your eyes had landed on a snuggled figure next to you. Then you had felt the warmth of that figure. Your bed wasn’t cold. And you felt how tight his arm was wrapped around your waist. It was wholesome. It was heartbreaking. He hadn’t left. He didn’t know how much it meant to you. You had watched his peaceful face that morning. Like a creep. The way he breathed. Way his lips were pouty. You didn’t dare to move a finger. Felt like a dream that was too good to be true. A single wrong move could make it all vanish.

It didn’t. He woke up sometime after you. And to your relief he knew where he was. Had mumbled a groggy ‘morning’. Your heart was doing the tango. Wanted to kiss him hard. You didn’t, though. You just stared at his face. He did the same until he finally felt bored of it and opted to play with your hair. It was peaceful. Peaceful in a way that made you do something you thought impossible.

“You know, when I was a kid, monsters lived under my bed.”

You never meant to tell him that. No. It slipped your mouth before you could stop. Nobody knew. Not even Namjoon. Your aunt knew, just because you ran to her when the first monster crept out under your bed. She didn’t give a fuck. You had to deal with your monsters on your own. You were a little kid. But what else you could’ve expected when she was the one who created those monsters.

You kept them as a secret. Were afraid of people treating you differently. Were afraid of Namjoon treating you differently. Had thought he would not want to be your friend anymore had he known. You always thought, if there was a someone who would eventually know, that someone would be Kim Namjoon. Your best friend since you were little kids. The boy next door. He was all you had. His house was the place you ran to when your aunt was too drunk, making your life hell. He was your only relief.

Then he betrayed you. He found a girlfriend when you were fifteen. You were jealous. Scared. But that wasn’t what broke you. What broke you was when he came to you to let you know that he’s flying abroad. And he did. You were left alone. Partially you hated Namjoon for that. You always waited, though. Thought the monsters would go away when he came back. Because that’s how it was before he left.

Funny, how it wasn’t he who made your monsters go away in the end. True, he brought the light you were craving. Only not in the shape of him. Still, you didn’t mean to tell it to Taehyung. At that moment you were so sure you made him run away from you. You were beyond surprised when he just stared at you. Affectionately. Brought his hand on your hair to cradle your cheek.

“You did.”

You had remained still. At the verge of tears. He was supposed to run away. Yet you nod anyway.

“My-uh- aunt, she… um used to… I mean she didn’t really treat me well. And this one day she came home all bloody. I don’t know what happened but- uh- I was so scared of her. She- fuck… well, she kinda took her anger out on me and ever since that day, monsters lived under my bed.”

You sniffled. Tried hard not to cry when Taehyung changed his position. Dropped his hand to your waist again. Just to pull you closer to his still naked body. Hugged you so close. Inhaled shakily yet, he didn’t run away.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry that happened. I wish I could have been there to protect you.”

“It’s not your fault. Why would you be sorry for something that you have no control of?”

“Do they return often?”

You didn’t know how he knew. Were you that visible? You wanted to tell a white lie. That you were fine. Something made you tell the truth, however.

“They do but I’m not afraid anymore.”

“Call me when it happens the next time.”

“Why? Told you I’m not afraid, sailor.”

You failed to hold your tears. Especially, when he hovered over you. Kissed your lips.

“I know. Just call me.”

He made a severe mistake that time. You and he made a severe mistake. You agreed in the end. Just before his soft kiss started to deepen. Before his lips started to trail down your jaw and neck. Before they ended up on your already hardened nipples. Nobody questioned how it shouldn’t have happened again.

……………………………..

Five years and three months ago

You didn’t call him until a month passed. Taehyung considered visiting you unannounced again but felt like a scumbag for even thinking about it. You were not a sex toy for him to use. And he still had a fiancée. Who was innocently unaware of his infidelity. He wanted to have better control over himself. Not to commit the same sin again. Convincing himself he was only meeting you to help made it seem acceptable, though it wasn’t just an excuse—he genuinely wanted to help. Not that he knew a reason. He just did.

Because he finally knew what made you, you. Knew it was your aunt that made you broke apart in a Samgyeopsal restaurant. Knew how it happened. How the said aunt clipped your wings. He wanted to help. Felt an urge to protect you. Be next to you each and every minute so, no monster, no human would be able to harm you.

So, when he received a call from an unknown number. When he heard a sob from the other side when he answered. Taehyung had gone into a frenzy. There was only one thing on his mind. That you needed help. You needed him. You had only muttered one word.

“Taehyung…”

His heart sank at that. Shattered. Brain started to ring alarms. There would be no other way to explain that feeling than fear. He thought you were dying. You weren’t. When he finally reached you, he found you curled up next to your couch. Screaming with your hands covering your ears. Tears streaming down. One word chanted through your dry lips. Desperate.

“No. No. No. No.”

Taehyung didn’t know what he should do. So, he did what he thought would be helpful. He hugged you tightly. Told you he was there. And kissed you passionately. Tasted your tears on your lips. It felt like hours passed until you finally calmed down. But when you did. When your cries fade into little whimpers, he finally felt like he could breathe.

…………………………..

Five years and three months ago

You never wanted to be a burden. Yet somehow you became one. Taehyung said that’s not who you are. But you knew you were. You started to rely on him completely ever since that day. From the very moment he stepped inside your apartment while you were crying for a little relief. When it was over, you knew you had to let him go. You couldn’t though.

“C-Could you, um… stay a little longer?”

“Course, I can.”

You sighed in relief. Snuggled against his chest. You sat on the floor next to the couch. Both of you. As long as he was there, the bloody woman won’t return. You knew it. You were staring to calm down. Collecting the shredded pieces of you. Still very shaken from your earlier outburst. You never learnt a way to cope with it afterwards. At least not until Kim Taehyung happened.

“Want to forget it ever happened vixen?”

“I would like to.”

He said nothing when he got to his feet. Said nothing when he fished for his phone. You watched him with a curious gaze until the sound of music filled the silent air of your apartment. Reggae- rock. It was, ‘can’t remember to forget you’. You rolled your eyes to the back of your skull. Shook your head so fast that it made you dizzy.

“Oh my god, no, Taehyung.”

“C’mon, it’s fun.”

You protested the best you could. Yet ended up swirling under his arms after he pulled you into your shaky legs. You were reluctant as hell at first. It was amazing how he eased you slowly. How he made you swirl and sway your hips. You didn’t even realize you were actually dancing in your living room with a man you had no business being with. Didn’t know you were grinning like a fool. In your baggy hoodie and leggings. He didn’t have to make you dance anymore. You did it by yourself. Pressed you back to his. Wiggled your shoulders in sync with him. Sung the lyrics through top of your lungs.

I rob and I kill to keep him with me

I do anything for that boy.

I’d give my last dime to hold him tonight

I do anything for that boy.

Only you didn’t know that was the truth. That in the long run, you would really do anything for him. And that won’t be enough.

In that moment, it was the life. It was one of the happiest memories in your distraught life. You saw the universe in his eyes that day when he finally turned around and turned you to face him as well. He was happy. You were happy. In a little bubble you created.

“Gosh, sailor, you’re crazy.”

“Yes, I am.”

He mumbled before softly kissing you.

……………………………….

Three years and six months ago

You called him rarely first. Then more often. Then every day. First, it was when the voices and visions got unbearable. Then it was for no reason. And he was more than happy to visit. After few months, you didn’t have to call him anymore. He came every day. He danced with you every day. He fucked you every day. The thing was, though, you both knew it was temporary. You thought you were just fine. You did it because you were the bad guy. That thought shielded you against the guilt. So, you kept thinking that. Until, of course, you couldn’t anymore.

That day when he rocked you onto your bed while staring at you with those sparkly eyes, you knew something had changed. Not in him. But in you. You weren’t doing it to be the bad guy anymore. You weren’t doing it to feel like you have control anymore. No. You were genuinely enjoying every moment with him. You loved them. You loved the way he looked at you. Loved the way he talked to you. Loved how he smiled at you. Loved how he laughed. Walked. Ate. Slept. Loved his smell. Loved his presence. Simply, you loved him.

You inhaled a shaky breath. There was no denying anymore. You loved Kim Taehyung. In a crazy way. Just like on your second day together, you hadn’t meant to voice your thoughts. But once again, the words slipped out before you could stop them.

“I love you.”

He had still immediately inside you.

“What?”

“I love you, sailor.”

…………………………….

Three years and six months ago

Taehyung had panicked too much. Too hard. He never expected to hear that. You surely didn’t love him. It couldn’t be true. It was such an unexpected confession. He stumbled away from your bed. Had denied what you said. Shook his head. Got dressed in record time. Had stormed away from your apartment while you looked at him with wide innocent eyes.

He didn’t even give you time to explain. Didn’t give you the explanation you deserve. Vanished from your gaze. You called him several times. He ignored you. Just because he was so scared. You couldn’t love him. You knew he was engaged. Above all, he couldn’t accept your feelings. You were worlds apart. He had every intention to keep ignoring you. To hide away from the world. And you stopped calling him too. He knew you had a huge ego, that you wouldn’t even look at his face again.

He thought that would be the case. But how hard that day was for him. He was a huge mess through and through. His heart was aching like someone was squeezing it in their hand. He felt like he was physically bleeding. Yet he could’ve made the day if it wasn’t for the call he received from you at midnight. He never ignored your late-night calls except that day. He didn’t answer. Waited few minutes lying in his bed, imagining how it might be for you. He knew you hadn’t called to say anything else. He knew so much about you by then, that he knew you called him because you were scared. Knew the visions might be back. Knew you might be hearing the sounds.

And that was when he realized how much he cared. He cared always, yes, but that’s when he realized that. He cared too much. Too hard. He couldn’t stay away from you. Couldn’t ignore your calls for help. You were too precious. Even though he didn’t know you had been his everything lately.

Taehyung practically jumped from the bed. Ignored his startled fiancée. Broke every speed limit as he raced to your place. Just to find you nowhere. Nowhere in your apartment. That was the first time he had felt hollow. A strange sensation shot through his spine. His heart was beating in his ears as he stood still in your living room. Trying to clear his head and think straight. That’s when he had heard the sobs. Muffled. You were inside. Somewhere there. He followed the sound. Slowly and quietly until he found you finally. The sounds came through your closet. Taehyung didn’t think it was possible to feel more heart broken. He did somehow, when he sprang open the closet door. Gaze falling on to the figure in a fetal position. You had looked up at him with your red and puffy eyes. Your panicked expression morphed into an angry one in a blink.

“Why are you here? What the fuck are you doing here Kim? Why are you here? Get out. Leave. I don’t want you here!”

He didn’t listen to you obviously. Crouched down before you. Touched you when you started to thrash. Throwed a tantrum.

“No. No for fucks sake vixen, I’m not leaving you like this. I’m so sorry baby.”

“You did once. You can do it again. Fucking go away Kim.”

“I’m sorry princess. No, stop─”

You were stronger than a lioness that day. He had a great struggle holding you still, pulling you into his body. You tried your best though.

“I don’t want your fucking pity, Taehyung, I don’t want it.”

“I’m not giving you my fucking pity! I’m fucking giving you, my love”

He yelled. You stopped wriggling like a worm at once. Everything went still for a minute before you broke apart. Crying hard into his chest. He cried too. But at the same time, he made sure to tell you he loved you like it was a mantra to calm you down.

“I fucking love you too Vixen. I love you.”

…………………………………………

A year ago

From the moment Taehyung confessed his love for you, your life turned completely around. It wasn’t the sour and dull life anymore. It was bright as summer and comfortable as winter. Sure, there were heart breaks and days you cried. Like how your heart broke when Namjoon confessed to you in a fancy restaurant. You had blinked at his face stupidly. You couldn’t believe it. That Namjoon liked you. You had a fat crush on him until the day he left to states. You thought you harbored the same feelings when he came back too. But somewhere on the line things had changed. Even though Namjoon was very special to you, you had to break his heart. You were in love with Namjoon’s friend. For years. Namjoon understood your rejection, but he shut himself out from your life.

It hurt you. But you knew he was hurt too. There were other incidents too. Sometimes you fought with Taehyung. You cried a little. He brought you cupcakes instead of beer after those fights. Brought you Orchids. Despite everything you were living your best life. Things changed for good too. Like how you loved winter. Because he tasted like winter. Because he took you to that winter carnival. Only you two. You giggled like a teenager. Enjoyed everything like a toddler. He showed you the things you missed. Healed the little girl inside you. Taught you it was okay to love someone unconditionally. To be loved unconditionally.

He made you watch cliché movies and read you books. You learnt how beautiful it was to dance in the rain. You looked forward to his silly dates. You missed him when he was gone. But with everything, you both knew in the very end of the silver line there was a looming darkness. You ignored it the best you could though.

“Do you think she meant this?”

Taehyung played with your hair- a habit he developed- as you lazily laid there after he fucked your brains out. It was noon. Harsh sunlight was creating glowing patterns on his face. You looked at him wearily.

“Who?”

“That fortune teller. She told our fates were tied together.”

“Really sailor, you still believe those shits?”

“You don’t?”

There was such tender look in his eyes. How you loved him. You turned to your side to face him, thinking his question through.

“Well, I don’t want it to be real, so, I don’t believe.”

“Why?”

“Because she said we had unresolved issues Taehyung, that’s bad. And…. She said that cycles repeat. She said something about pains lingering. If it was true, then that part comes true as well. If it was true, then something bad happened to us in that past life Taehyung. I don’t want that again. Don’t want you gone.”

Taehyung had frozen for a minute. Had looked at you with his eyes pouring out his heart. Had kissed you deeply. Held you close.

“It won’t. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

You trusted him that day. But you forgot that your life isn’t supposed to be that good.

………………………

Six months ago

It was storming just as it had been the day Taehyung suddenly popped up in front of your apartment door, after months of your first day. And he had knocked on your door similar to how he had done then Instead of simply walking inside as he used to. You were so surprised to find him there soaked to the bones. Ironically wearing a similar black hoodie. And you, stupid you, had grinned uncontrollably to see him there. Only until you realized he wasn’t smiling back. Until you noticed that his eyes were puffy and red. Undoubtedly from crying. Even the tip of his nose was red. He hadn’t spoken a word. Not a single word before you understood it for yourself. He had this look on his face. Somber. Distraught. Guilty. Hesitating. It all screamed one thing. That loomed darkness was there.

You knew. Before he could tell it, you knew. And you jumped into action before anything else can happen. You desperately had believed it won’t happen if you stop it before he says anything.

“No. No. Taehyung. I- fuck- I don’t want to hear it. Turn around please. Leave.”

What you wanted didn’t happen. He spoke. Instead of listening to you he spoke.

“She knows.”

“So what? I don’t care Taehyung. Turn around. This isn’t happening. You’re not- you’re not- not─”

Your words had muffled by a sob that erupted from your throat. You didn’t want to cry. It meant, it was happening. No, it wasn’t.

“Look, I- (__), I’m s-so fucking so-rry baby─”

“No, you’re not, you’re not sorry Taehyung. If you’re really sorry, don’t do this to me. Don’t─”

“She doesn’t deserve that. I wasted her whole life. I can’t do that to her.”

She doesn’t deserve that. So, you did?

He wasted her whole life. So, he didn’t waste yours?

He can’t do that to her. But he can do that to you?

You took a step back. The tears were out of your control now. That wasn’t how it meant to happen. It was meant to be a happy ending. You did your best. You did everything you could. You never asked him to make a decision. You always soothed your heart saying, he would do it at the right time. You always understood his situation. You made peace with being a secret, and not being able to tell anyone who your boyfriend was. You did everything. In the end, it wasn’t enough. None of it was enough.

Despite all your efforts there stood Kim Taehyung. The man you loved dearly. Loved crazily. Blindly that you didn’t even see that you wouldn’t be the one he chose. He stood there while tears rolled down his cheeks as well. But in the end, he was leaving you. For her.

You carry the weight of a past undone. Shadows of a life lived before. A tragedy. You’ve crossed paths now to mend what was broken... or to fail once more. Beware. Cycles repeat, and pain lingers. Choose wisely this time.

Pain lingers. It sure hell did.

You were starting to lose the ability to breathe. You dug your nails to your fists. You wanted to stay calm. Talk it through. Yet the pain made it come out all wrong.

“So what? You gonna walk away like that? Do you realize, how much of prick you are?”

“No, don’t do that.”

“Do what Kim? You cheated on her for years and only now you realize─”

“Shut the fuck up (__).”

“Oh, I will. I will shut up. I will be the one to shut up and bare it when you’re tossing me aside after using my body for years.”

“That’s not what fucking happened.”

“Then what the fuck does happened?”

“I didn’t fucking use you. You knew what you were getting yourself into. Don’t blame me like a hypocrite (___). Don’t fucking do that.”

“I didn’t know Taehyung. I fucking believed in the lie you told me.”

“Well, then why did you fucking let me lie. Maybe you should’ve thought better before slutting yourself for me. I should never have visited the carnival that day.”

That had hit hard. Like a slap. Shut your mouth. Only pain remained in the suddenly silenced air as you looked at him with pathetic eyes. It took him a minute. Then he nearly lunged forward, shaking his head violently. You recoiled instantly.

“No, fuck I don’t mean that vixen. Fuck, I’m sorry. Hey, baby─”

“It doesn’t matter Taehyung. Guess what? You’re so right. It’s my fault. Should’ve known better. I’m a slut and I would put that into good use.”

“No, vixen wait.”

“Bye Kim. Live your fucking life.”

You closed the door in his face.

……………………………..

Now

“There’s no hope anymore, is there Tae? You were long gone when I found out?”

Taehyung just blankly stares at her face. Sighs. Drops his head into his hand. Ever since he left your apartment, it hasn’t been the same. With him. With her. Taehyung has forgotten to smile. He has drowned himself in alcohol. Nothing helps though. He wants you. He needs you. Like how he needs air. He misses you. Your warm smile. Your voice. Your scent. Oh, he loves you crazily. Blindly. He now realizes that he can’t do this.

He wanted to do the right thing. Right by her. Because he thought that’s how he would find peace. This isn’t peace, however. He’s living in a burning hell. Each passing second without you feels like an eternity in a pit of fire. He loves you. He can’t do it. So, he shakes his head. Biting back the tears.

“I- uh I─”

“Save it Tae.”

The despair in her voice is visible. Taehyung doesn’t know what to do. To add more to his misery, he feels a sensation that is unexplainable but enough to make the hair in the back of his neck stand. To give him chills. He doesn’t like this. It’s uneasy. Scary. He feels helpless.

“You’re such a fool Tae. A coward.”

She adds at his silence. Taehyung snaps his head toward her. A bit offended at the words yet says nothing. So, she continues.

“You cheated on me for years. Years Taehyung. That’s not a simple mistake. That’s- that’s…. You love her. Even though you told me it was just physical needs, you love her Tae. You barely talk to me anymore. You don’t eat, sleep. You barely leave the house. You, Kim Taehyung, are not the man I once fell in love with. You were long gone when I found out. But do you know what makes my heart break the most? It’s that after everything, you were a coward who couldn’t even make the right decision.”

She steps forward.

“You weren’t brave enough to fight for what matters the most. You broke my heart, and then her heart and in the end, you decided to hide away? Gosh, how much of a pathetic coward you can be?”

“Wh-what do you mean? I- I did the right thing.”

He finds his voice lastly. Is too shaken by her sudden accusation. She hasn’t talked to him this straight or rude even the day she found out.

“Did you? No, you didn’t Tae. What you did was choose the easy path. I am that easy path Tae. She- she is the hard path. All the judgments, and facing Namjoon, all of your friends, our friends, our families. And not to mention that she isn’t exactly normal, is she?”

“She. Is. Normal.”

Even Taehyung can’t comprehend the way he’s shifted from a mourning widow to a protective wolf in one minute. He is glaring at her now. She doesn’t even wince, however. Gives him a soft smile instead.

“There you go. You should’ve done that way earlier. Fight for what you want Tae. Not everything comes easy in this world. You’re an asshole. But guess what? People always make shitty mistakes. This doesn’t justify what you did, but I don’t think you and I ever will be the same again. We’ve been engaged for forever now. You’ll never marry me. Even if you did, that would be a great mistake we both make. You’ve become part of her.”

Taehyung blinks at her face. His throat is constricting. Eyes burning. He wants to say something. But what can he say when every word she utters is true. He was a coward. He let you go, and now he gets this feeling that everything is about to end. He gets a bad feeling.

“I don’t know. I- um… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Do you love her?”

Taehyung sighs heavily. Nods. What good it’ll do by lying anymore.

“Y- yeah. Ye-yes. Fuck… yes, I do. I- fuck I’m sorry but I do. I love her. And- and holy shit I feel like it’s too late. I feel like somethings wrong, and it drives me fucking crazy.”

Taehyung rubs his face in frustration. He’s going to explode. Something’s wrong. He can’t breathe.

“Well, I’m not going to be the bigger person here and ask you to run to her Tae. And I won’t say that I’ll forgive you either. But…. My grandma used to say that you shouldn’t ignore it when you get a bad feeling about something.”

With that she turns around and leaves. Taehyung watches her for minute. A long one. His brain struggles to process what just happened. Until it suddenly kicks him. He shouldn’t ignore the bad feeling. It’s still not the way how he should do it. She deserves a better explanation. An apology. A sincere one. She deserves to know the truth. But he needs to see you first. He would do it right this time. For real. Right by you. He would just find you first.

…………………………..

Now

You wonder if this is how it was in the past as well. Just as the fraudulent woman told you. She said that it was a tragedy. That you were met to mend what was broken. Or fail. And what happened was the latter. You failed, once again. Funny, how you’re believing it now. You were so adamant of believing it was a scam. Now here you are. Perch on the edge of your rooftop. Thinking about your past fucking life. You let out a shaky laugh that spirals into something maniacal.

Your life is ridiculous. You lived your entire life battling a battle that nobody else can see. Monsters. Voices. Hate. No friends. No love. No light. Then when you met the man who was supposed be tightly connected with your fate, you thought you finally won that battle. Well, it seems you were wrong. You lost it even before it starts. Now, you’re too tired to keep fighting. It’s suffocating. Exhausting. When Taehyung left that day, the voices and visions became unbearable. There’s not a single day you slept peacefully. Night terrors when you were asleep. Shadows and screaming when you were awake. No amount of alcohol or endless nights spent clubbing. No man who you brought home was able to help you.

Sure, Taehyung brought the light to your world. And he took that light away by himself. Like a candle flicked off. Now it’s only darkness and you don’t think you’ll ever see a light again. You never had anything to lose. But now when you sit here staring into the road down, bustling with vehicles and people, you feel like you’ve lost everything. Maybe, somewhere in between before Taehyung and after Taehyung, you lost your hope. Desire to hang into life. It’s not like anyone would ever miss you. Would they?

Would Taehyung miss you?

Did you die first in your past life? Did he miss you then? Did you kill yourself before? Was that because he rob your light? Does it matter anymore?

Oh, you’re tired. So, tired. You need a peaceful moment. Just one is enough. Maybe in your next life, you will have a normal life. Good family. Parents who won’t abandon you. Good friends. A life without monsters. And maybe… just maybe…. You would meet Taehyung again. The man who wasn’t scared of your haunted scarred soul. The man who helped you to fight them. Your anchor. He was the person who held you to your life lately. The man who you still love like he’s your sun and moon. And then he won’t choose anyone else over you. He would stick to his promises, and you’ll love each other until you grow old. There will be no tragedy.

You turn your head slightly to look at the looming presence of the woman next to you. She has an evil smile on her lips. She’s winning after all. You’re giving up.

“Jump!”

……………………………

Now

Taehyung storms inside your apartment. Surprised that you haven’t changed the password. It’s like that day. It’s empty. No sign of you. He steadies himself in the middle of the living room. Staying quiet in hope to hear your muffled sobs. Like how it was the last time. Only, that he can’t hear anything. Only the hum of your fridge and the ticking sound of your wall clock. It’s empty. It’s silent. Eerily silent. Taehyung is visibly shaking. He is covered in sweat. So, he shrugs his jacket off. And that has nothing to do with the fact that he took stairs instead of the elevator. But everything do with the fact that he’s terrified.

Something is wrong.

It’s night. Did you go to a club? Bar? You don’t have many friends. Taehyung knows you and Namjoon fell apart after his confession. You can’t be at someone else’s house then. He had called you thousand times by now. You haven’t responded. Yet he tries one more time. Dialing your number with his hands shaky. Trembling badly. Cursing when it takes him more than necessary time to unlock his damn phone. When he finally does, he puts the phone on speaker and wait. Waits till the call connect and starts ringing. After what feels like hours, it does. And Taehyung can hear a phone ring inside the apartment. It comes from your room. He checked there earlier. You are not there. But your phone is, apparently. You went somewhere without your phone.

You don’t do that. You have so many demons. You don’t feel safe without your phone. You won’t leave it unless you don’t need it anymore.

Why would you not need it?

Where are you?

Where would you go?

Taehyung’s head is spinning. He feels like banging his head against a wall so that he can think straight. He tries his best to rake his brain for any kind of idea. He knows you after all. It can’t be this hard to guess where you would be.

Where?

A place you like.

A place you don’t like.

Taehyung slowly raises his head. An idea dawned on him.

The rooftop. You like that place. You and he used to stargaze there. And you hated that place. Said those voices become the most annoying when it’s quiet. Taehyung turns around like in a dream.

That’s where you are.

The sickening dread intensifies tenfold. He breaks into a run the moment he leaves the apartment.

Whatever you’re doing up there, it’s not good.

Taehyung doesn’t believe he can run this fast. He does somehow. He takes the stairs instead of elevator again. Can’t waste time waiting for the stupid thing. He runs fastest he can. Feeling his pulse thundering. He can’t be late. He has things to tell you. He needs you to know he made the wrong decision. Wants you to know that he loves you. Needs to tell you that he loves you. He wants to tell you that the day he met you at that carnival was the best day of his life. And it was the best decision he ever made.

He feels like he saw heaven when he finally reaches the top. When he can finally see the rickety door to the rooftop. He yanks the door open. Like how he did open a closet door once. His gaze immediately lands on the figure sitting on the edge. Like how it did land on a figure in a fetal position. The figure turns slightly to glance at him. Like how those eyes looked upon him like a deer caught in a trap last time. This time though, instead of getting mad at him, you look away. No emotions in your eyes. Not even a sign that you acknowledged him. You just turn around.

And Taehyung’s heart stops.

“Vixen, NOOOO!!!!”

……………………………….

Now

You stop.

Freeze.

You were just about to jump. About to end the misery. About to have your peace. You knew someone came. Your blurry vision prevents you from seeing them clearly, and their presence makes you rush, hoping to act before they can stop you. But that voice. Wait? Did they call you Vixen?

You turn around slowly again. Blink. Tears roll down your cheeks, clearing your vision. It takes some minutes for your brain to register that he’s here. Kim Taehyung is here. It takes some time for it to make any sense. Takes time until you finally clearly see him. Standing there. Panting, eyes glittery with unshed tears. He’s taking little steps toward you. His hands up in raised in a gesture of surrender. As if to let you know that he is no harm to you. Ridiculous since you always knew he wasn’t.

“S-sailor?”

You ask groggily. What if this is another hallucination of your mind.

“Yes baby- me. It’s me.”

He takes another step toward you. Slow. Puts one of his hands down. Again slow. Only to stretch it forward. Hesitating.

“Why?”

You look at his hand for a moment before looking at his face again. A single tear has rolled down his cheek.

“Wh-what do you mean why?”

“Why are you here?”

“For you.”

“Yeah?”

You keep looking at his face. He takes another step. Now he’s at a length where he can touch you. He doesn’t, however.

“Yes, I am. Baby- c-can you? Uh- please?”

He stretches his arm toward you. Is asking you to take it. Silently.

“What do you want Taehyung? Why you came back, when you just fucking left me. I can’t do this anymore. I- I, I’m fucking tired. I need to end this damn pain.”

You turn your head to look at the woman. She is no longer there. Because Taehyung is here. But that’s temporary. The moment he will go again, she’ll return. And it will happen anytime soon now. Because Taehyung would leave again. Inevitably. He would leave you again.

“I know baby, I know. I know it hurts. B-but… listen to me, will you? Just get down from there so we can talk. Let’s talk. Please. Please baby….”

“There’s nothing to talk about Taehyung. You can’t do this to me. Go where you belong.”

“But this is where I belong. Baby don’t do this. Don’t leave me to suffer again”

He sounds desperate. Helpless. Why though? You’re the one who should be desperate here. And what does he mean again?

“I’m not the one who left. What do you mean again?”

“I- I d-don’t know. I feel like I’ve lost you once. I know it’s crazy, but I can already fucking feel the pain. I feel like I’ve suffered before. Vixen please don’t do it again. Don’t- fuck, just please get down.”

You can see his hand tremble. Can hear his voice shake. He wants to touch you. You know that but he’s afraid. Like you. You wipe the tears from your hoodie sleeve.

“You wanted to go Taehyung. You chose her and─”

“I know. I’m a fucking coward baby. I am. I made a fucking mistake, but do you think I deserve this kind of punishment? To lose you forever? Do you think I’ll survive this, knowing I lost you forever? Please, Vixen, I’m begging you. Just one chance, that’s all I ask for.”

You simply look at him. He tilts his head back for a moment, trying to steady himself. He’s a mess. You’re a mess. He’s crying hard. It breaks your heart. You hate seeing him cry. Can you trust him, though? What if he leaves again? What if the woman returns again? But then what if he cries this way for the rest of his life when you’re gone? Despite everything, he is here, isn’t he.

“We can try again. In the correct way this time. I’ll be there for you; in every step you take. I’ll help you; you’ll help me. We can try again vixen. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“I don’t know sailor. I’m tired. I want them to be gone forever. Monsters, sounds. I- what if you leave me again?”

“I- God, please trust me this once baby. I won’t. I love you. God, I love you so fucking much it hurts. We’ll make them go away forever. We can do it. I got you. We can light it up baby. Trust me please. Just once, all I need is one more chance.”

That’s all you need as well. One more chance. You take a moment. You don’t know if this is going to work. All you can do is trust him. He broke it once. Maybe you won’t trust him fully now. But what if he works for it. Really hard. Maybe you’ll learn to trust him again. He said he’d help you. You’ll heal. He promised he’d do it right this time. After all, you don’t want to see him cry. You love him. Still. Blindly. Crazily. Sue you for that but you do. Maybe you have a chance, and you shouldn’t wase that.

No, you shouldn’t waste your chance.

You should choose wisely this time.

After another long second, you place your hand in his slowly. He lets out a shaky breath in relief. You get down from the edge with his help. Your legs are too shaky to keep you up right. Yet that’s no problem because you’re in his arms the moment you are down. He pulls you into a fierce embrace, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go. Peppers every inch of you he can find with kisses. Hides his face in your hair. Inhales deeply.

“Thank you. Thank you, Vixen. God, thank you for fucking trusting me. I- God, I promise I’ll make it work. Not gonna let you go again. No. Never. I- I...”

He stutters through his tears. You hide your face in his chest. Let yourself drown in the smell of winter. Get closer as it’s physically possible. Oh, you missed him. What if you’ve never got a chance to be in his arms again? The thought makes you greedy. You clung to him for your life. Still trembling.

There’ll be a long way to go. It will be hard and easy. The road will be smooth and rocky. It will certainly require some work. But in the end, nothing matters. You’re in his hands. Again. And you’ll make sure you are making the right decision from now on. That you won’t let if fail. Won’t let you and Taehyung fail.

“Do you know I love you. Gosh, I thought I’d never get to say that to you again─” Taehyung pulls away to peer at your eyes. Presses a kiss to your lips. Hugs you tight again. “─ I fucking thought you’ll never know. I─”

“I love you sailor.” You interrupts his ramble.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Say it again then.”

“I love you. God, I fucking love you. Let’s say that more often from now on.”

He quietly laughs this time.

“I love you.”

THE BEGINNING.

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farfromstrange · 1 year ago

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Is It Over Now? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader ; (hinted) Frank Castle x Reader ; Elektra Natchios x Matt Murdock

Summary: Matt cheated on you, and you are trying to navigate through it.

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, break-up, mention of cheating, song references (Taylor Swift), inspired by 'Is It Over Now?', (some) Matt "slander", (somewhat) suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumptions, hint at smut

Word Count: 1.7k

A/n: 1989 TV came out and I am losing my shit. Is It Over Now? Is my new favorite song and I just had a brain fart that made this. You can read this if you're a Swiftie and catch the references or just read it without listening to the song. It works either way.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

To be fair, there was a time when you thought it would never end. The thought of ever having a last kiss with him would have killed you back then.

He told you that you were the love of his life. You believed him. He was yours, certainly. You can’t deny that.

You were happy, you laughed and cried together, and part of you figured that if you ever broke up, you would find a way to work through it somehow.

Maybe in another universe, you are still together. Maybe in another universe, you two are still friends. Maybe in another universe, you never had to lose each other.

In this reality though—in this brutal, unforgivable reality—everything changed in a matter of a day. And there is nothing you can do about it now.

Your flower was withering in secret, and you didn’t realize what it was doing to you. Every time you woke up alone, every canceled date, every time he called you and told you he wouldn’t make it home tonight, it was sure to build up to this.

But this, whatever the hell this is, it hurts beyond compare.

He said you were a rose, but now that you look in the mirror, you only see a rotten mess.

The past few months have done this to you. He has done this to you. The paper airplanes crashed and burned. There is nothing left but pure bitterness and this hatred you have toward yourself and him; you just want to land your fist in his face, and then maybe your own because how could he hurt you like that after making you love him so very much?

You loved him so much, but now you doubt he ever loved you back.

Date after date, coffee after coffee, nights spent together on his couch and in his bed, sharing laughter, sharing tears, it all feels like a hoax now.

You held him when he was unconscious, stitched him up and told him he was going to be okay. Where was he when you were bleeding out from your own battles? You wonder.

His smile used to be your safe haven, the epitome of innocence and strength, but now it only makes you angry. It makes you resent him. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you still do.

So much has changed, and all it took was one day.

One day.

Three hundred days, all wasted in one.

If you think about it, you spent almost an entire year attached to each other’s side. You moved in together. You kissed, you had sex, you shared secrets you wouldn’t have told anyone else. You helped him hide away from the world, from his enemies, made the world go quiet, and comforted him while he cried. You waited up, you worried, and you almost lost him more times than you can count, and you still stayed.

When no one else would take a chance on him, when he felt everyone was against him and going to leave him, you acted as his rock. You stayed.

You thought he was the one.

And then it just… ended.

You gave him the benefit of the doubt when you found her in his dress shirt on his leather couch. The very same couch you two often shared passionate nights on, but at the same time it used to be a symbol of so much more than that.

You let him explain. He explained that she got seriously hurt after showing up out of nowhere, and he just wanted to help without putting you at risk. You believed him because that is the kind of man he was in your head. He was going through some things, things you couldn’t possibly understand, and she was the connection. You tried to understand. In the process of understanding him though, you lost yourself.

That is something you will never forgive him for. Making you care, making you love him, and unintentionally making you give up on yourself while he continued to break your heart.

You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go, but in the end, it was the only way. Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, you have to remind yourself.

He did the one thing he promised he would never do. He broke your heart and your trust into a million pieces that you are now left to pick up on your own.

You didn’t want to see it before. You were too in love to open your eyes.

He wouldn’t do such a thing, right? You remember repeating that to yourself, to your friends, to Foggy and Karen, but Karen saw him with her, too, and she gave you little hope.

Still, you believed in him. You believed in his morale and his faith. You had faith in him, not even in God but in him and the man he pretended to be—and somehow, he still picked up the knife when you weren’t looking and buried it in your back.

There were so many signs, but you were blind. So many flashing lights. Red flags. Screaming voices in the back of your head begging you to think. You were in a forest full of trees, yet you saw nothing.

When you came home to find his lips on hers, that’s when you knew. Too little, too late.

He called your name. He told you, “This isn’t what it looks like!” But you lost count of the times he used the same line in relation to her.

To anything, really. He always knew how to talk his way out of something when you were together, although back then, it was mostly harmless.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. “And you turned right back around and fucked her!”

“It was just a kiss,” he argued.

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No,” Matt was adamant because he could hear your heart breaking.

The way you spoke to him was so eerily quiet. That was how he knew he lost you, and he tried to fix it with nothing but his hands.

But that is not how you fix a broken vase. That’s how you make it worse and hurt yourself in the process.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“No. Fuck you, Matt!”

You tore the necklace with his initial off your neck and tossed it at his feet. You couldn’t even look at it. You wonder what happened to it after he picked it up.

“I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was there when no one else was, and this is how you repay me?” you said.

You should have never let him fool you.

At least you had the decency to keep your lonely nights to yourself.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt tried to beg again.

You wouldn’t let him. Thank God you were strong enough to withstand the tears in his eyes.

“You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock,” was one of the last things you said to him. “I wish we’d never met.”

Three hundred days. You fell in love. You finally knew what love felt like, and then…then he turned around and fucked it all up.

“We’re done.”

Some days, you still regret it, but if it was so easy for him to toss all this time together down the drain, he probably wasn’t worth it.

But God, you were so in love.

Sweet nothings whispered in your ear are gone now. You’re all alone in your bed. No one to cuddle, no one to touch. It has been a while since you heard someone say, “I love you,” and mean it. You felt loved until you didn’t. Until the life he led ate him up.

Instead of talking, instead of fighting with you, he drove you into a tree. A car that didn’t need sight, and still he crashed. It was winter then, the snow painted red by the blood of your broken heart. Your favorite dress torn up as you tried to escape. He reached for you the same way you reached for him, but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t there when you needed him most.

Part of you feels bad. You could have worked through this if he hadn’t kissed her. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. In the end, it killed you. It killed him.

You killed each other.

Though there are still days when you think about jumping off of very high somethings just to get his attention. Just for him to see you. To come to rescue you. It is a hurtful and selfish thought. Yet, you can’t help it.

He was your first true love.

Your mind keeps repeating the same sentence: It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told you once.

He searched for something greater in the bed of someone he loved before. You weren’t his first love. You should have known he would say that and not mean it.

But when exactly did you go wrong?

Was it over when he stopped coming home at night? Was it over when he forgot your anniversary? Was it over when he canceled your birthday dinner? Or was it over when he shoved his throat down his ex-girlfriend’s throat in front of you and acted as if it didn’t matter? Was it over then?

“Another one for the lady,” a voice pipes up beside you.

Your empty glass of tequila disappears, now replaced by a full one. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on.

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger.

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He sits down next to you. “You look miserable.”

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand with a mention of your name.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say.

Broken people make bad decisions, but whether it was over when he took her right there on his couch, or it was over when you told him it was doesn’t matter.

It is over now, and all you want to do is forget.

You need to forget Matt Murdock.

And if this stranger called Frank needs to unbutton your blouse to help you do so, you will gladly follow him home.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @ravenclaw617

(also, I keep tagging you in stuff, but I also think you might like this @blackshadowswriter)

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #daredevil x reader #daredevil angst #angst #no happy ending #songfic #is it over now by taylor swift #elektra natchios #frank castle #frank castle x reader #x gender neutral reader #elektra natchios x matt murdock #cheating trope #lizzi writes #charlie cox #matt murdock imagines

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shadowandlightt · 5 months ago

Text

Of Nightmares and Memories | Fourteen| Azriel X Rhys' Little Sister! Reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Talks of death.

A/N: SO a lot of feelings in this one. I hope you guys like it, I'm really getting excited about where this story is about to go.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen

When you wake up hours later, the sun is high in the sky. The first thing you notice is that you aren’t in Az’s room anymore. But instead you’re in the room that you grew up in. You haven't been in this room since you came back. In fact, you’d been too afraid to come up here. Too afraid of the memories it would bring.

“Az?” You question, looking around the room to find it empty.

He was gone. No trace of his shadows, even your own that floated about the room seemed to want nothing to do with you. You screwed it all up this time. You used him, Gods, you should never have taken him to bed. That shouldn’t have been your first time with him. That wasn’t how that was meant to go.

Tears blur your vision as you bury your head back into your pillow and begin to sob. You can’t help the tears, can’t do anything to try to stop them. You don’t want to. You need to feel the pain, because you can only imagine how Azriel felt. How used he must’ve felt, knowing you were only there for a distraction.

You loved him, so much. But all you could think of last night was not feeling everything else. Then you were so consumed by the feeling of him, that you forgot to feel about him. You felt dirty, so fucking dirty that you wanted to scrub every inch of your skin raw. But you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of the bed. So you didn’t.

You stayed in bed for the eternity of the day. You didn’t move, opting to stare at the wall instead, feeling everything and at the same time feeling nothing.

The following day, when you finally dragged yourself from your rooms, you were confronted by Rhys, who had nothing but worry in his eyes. You nearly broke down into tears again at the sight. For so many years, you never thought you’d see him again. You never thought you’d have him hold you, and comfort you, even if you didn’t deserve his comfort.

“Take me back to the townhouse,” You cry into his shoulder, “I can’t stay here.”

“Okay,” He whispers into your dark hair, followed by the sound of his wings unfurling.

You hold your breath as he shoots to the sky, being as gentle as possible. Azirel must have told him that you had some sort of reaction from flying. So when you land on the rooftop of the Townhouse, you can’t help but vomit into a nearby plant. You heave and heave until there’s nothing left in your stomach.

“Are you alright?” Rhys asks as he holds your hair back.

You can only shake your head, feeling the scars on your back burn again. You fall to the ground, Rhys’ arms still holding you as you begin to cry. You sob again, feeling the weight of the world that you now live in. The world without your mother, and even your father. The world in which you were the reason your mother died, because you didn't fight hard enough to save her.

“I didn’t fight,” You sob uncontrollably, twisting to bury your head in his shoulder once more.

He smelled like her, and like your father at the same time. Jasmine, like her, and pure night like him. It made you cry even harder. Made you miss them even more. Made your heart break just a little further.

“Shh,” He whispers, “You did your best.”

How he knew what you were talking about, you don’t know. Maybe your mind was wide open for him to read. But you couldn't feel him there. Maybe he just knew you better than you thought, even after all of these years.

“You were a mere child, Y/N, I’m not sure I could’ve done anything differently at your age,” He admits, “No one blames you for what happened. You were a victim, not a cause.”

Your head shakes without permission. You hear what he’s saying, but you can’t believe it. You won’t allow yourself to believe it. So instead you cry and cry, without the energy to fight with him it’s all you can do.

Eventually you make your way to the room that’s now been designated as yours, and hide in the bed once more. It’s all you can do. All you have the energy for. Rhys pokes his head in and checks on you before dinner. The twin wraiths leave a plate at the foot of your bed, but you can’t bring yourself to eat.

All you want is Azriel, but you don’t deserve him. Not after how you used him. Not after what you took from him. Even carrying the weight of your mother’s death, you’ve never felt as guilty as you do thinking about what you did to Az.

You aren’t sure how much time passed before Mor is barging into your room and clinging your curtains open, “Enough is enough.”

“Go away,” You moan, turning away from the windows.

“You aren’t allowed to sulk here any longer. Rhys might be content to let you wither away, but I will not.”

“Leave me alone, Mor.”

“I won’t pretend to know what the devil happened between you and Az, because you seemed to be coming back to all of us before whatever it was ... but it’s time to move on.”

“I’m happy staying here.”

“Don’t make me get Cassian.”

Her warning made you gingerly sit up, muscles screaming in protest due to not being used in so long. You were allowing yourself to become even weaker, something you swore you wouldn’t do.

“Talk to me,” Mor begged, “Let me in…let someone in. Don’t keep locking yourself away, both physically and metaphorically.”

“I don’t know how anymore,” You admit to her, “I don’t know how to be anymore.”

“What happened between you and Az?” She asked softly, “I won’t tell anyone.”

You shake your head, unable to put it into words.Cassian was probably the only other one who knew, unless Az shared with Rhys, so he could understand why you were the way that you were.

“I slept with him,” You whisper, “I used him for sex. And it felt so good. But then when I woke up and realized what I had done...I couldn’t face him.”

There’s silence for a moment, before Mor wraps you in her strong arms. She smooths your hair down, and strokes you back, like a mother comforting her child. It brings tears to your eyes once more.

“Az wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t want to,” She confirms, “You did nothing.”

“Our first time shouldn’t have been because I was looking for a distraction,” You cry out.

She continues to hold you, trying her best to soothe you as you work through everything in your head. You tell her about how flying made you feel, and how you needed a distraction and the only thing you could think of was Azriel. You told her about how you and Lucien used to use one another in that way, back when you were being held in Spring. How you were the first person he’d been with since his brothers held him down as they killed his love in front of him.

You told her everything. The words flowing out before you could stop them. What you couldn’t put into words you showed her in her mind, so she could understand. She sat in silence and let you talk until you had no words left, and then she did something you hadn’t expected.

“It’s time to forgive yourself,” She says carefully, “None of that was your fault. You’ve heard us say it before, but really hear me now, Y/N, you know what my power is. So you know I speak the truth, it was not your fault. You did what you had to do in order to survive, the same thing Rhys did under the mountain. You are blameless.”

“But I-”

“Your mother wouldn’t want you to live like this,” She states, “So if you’re going to do anything, live. Live for her, because you and Rhys are all that is left of her.”

You feel something in your chest as you notice a shadow dancing in the corner of the room. It wasn’t one of yours, you realized with a pang in your chest. He was checking on you…even after what you did. He was making sure you were okay.

“Have you talked to him?” You question, nodding over to the shadow.

“He wanted to give you the space you needed to figure things out,” She nods, “Not because he doesn’t want to be around you, but because he thought you didn’t want him near.”

“I always want him near,” You sniff, wiping away your tears.

“I’ll be sure to tell him that when I see him,” She smiles brightly at you, “Now, let’s get you dressed. The twins made quite the spread downstairs and Feyre and I cannot eat it all alone.”

“Where’s Rhys?”

“With Amren, trying to help decode the book.”

You nod and force yourself to stand, the shadow now curling around your ankle in an attempt to get closer to you. Like it knew you wanted Azriel near, but his shadows were the next best thing. You wanted to ask where he was, but didn’t want to know at the same time. You knew he was working his network of spies hard.

So you eat with Feyre and Mor, laughing about the random stories Mor seemed to come up with over the course of the meal. And once it was over? You didn’t retreat to your rooms. Instead you found yourself on the terrace soaking up the last few rays of sunlight left of the day. Your head was tilted up towards the sky as your eyes were closed.

You can feel a presence behind you, but you can also feel shadows lapping at your feet. You hesitantly smile and open your eyes, “Are you going to sit?”

“I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”

“I figured your shadows would’ve told you differently by now,” You try to make your tone light and teasing, even as you feel nothing but anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“They did,” He confirms, “But still.”

You motion to the seat next to you, scooting over slightly to make room for his wings. Those big beautiful wings that even you didn’t touch that night. Truthfully you weren’t sure if he would’ve let you touch them.

“Do you regret it?” He asks you suddenly.

You turn to look at him, golden skin glowing in the late day sun. He looked beautiful. He always did. How could you even think about regretting him? Azriel was like your heart walking outside of your body. The missing piece of your soul. You could never ever regret being anything with him.

“No,” You say quickly, “No Az. I could never regret you.”

“I just thought-”

“I regret how it happened,” You admit, “I regret that I used you as a distraction, but I could never regret you.”

His head is bowed low as he nods. You know him well enough to know that his own need to prove himself, to be wanted, is showing through. You’re both broken, in more ways than one. He spent twelve years in captivity, not being shown an ounce of love. You now know what that's like. You know what it can do to a person.

So, you get up and slide into his lap, gently tilting his chin up so he’ll look at you, “Azriel, I will never regret anything with you. You’re my heart.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. It makes you smile as you lean down to kiss him. Really kiss him, softly and slowly. His hands hold onto your hips, holding you in place as he kisses you back. You can feel pieces of your heart slowly coming back together, like he’s the glue you needed.

“I don’t want space,” You whisper against his lips, “Not from you. Never from you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, princess.”

You stayed with him up on the terrace until the sun was long gone and the stars shone in the sky. You kissed him until your lips were swollen and bruised, but you didn’t care. Being in his arms felt better than any drug ever could. Mor was right, it was time to forgive yourself for everything that happened.

“I’m sorry,” You finally speak, “For making you feel like I regretted you. For making you feel alone.”

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone,” He sighs, “Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” You shake your head, “Now come, I’m hungry and smell dinner downstairs.”

He barks out a laugh and stands once you’re off of his lap, leaning down to peck your lips once more. The simple action leaves you feeling warm all over. Leaves you wanting more from him. But you also know now is not the time. So instead you lead him downstairs and into the dining room where the rest of your family is gathered.

“There they are,” Cassian all but shouts, “We were wondering if you were going to join us!”

“Leave them be, Cas,” Mor scolds him before turning and winking at you.

Rhys is nearly beaming, and Feyre is smiling sweetly at you. You take a deep breath and find your place at the table, next to Azriel, like it’s always been. The conversation flows easily as you all eat. You find yourself laughing alongside Cassian, who’s more or less howling at one point. You feel normal again, your chest doesn’t feel empty.

“We leave in the morning,” Rhys finally says, stopping the laughter.

“For what?” You ask, feeling very much out of the loop.

“The Mortal Queens have agreed to meet with us,” He explains, “You’re more than welcome to join us.”

You find yourself shaking your head before you speak, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Are you sure?” Az asked you, “You won’t be an imposition.”

“No,” You say again, a little stronger this time, “I think the best thing for me to do is to stay here in Velaris.”

“Okay,” Rhys relented, “We should be back tomorrow night, at the latest. Hopefully the Queens don’t keep us waiting.”

So you see them off in the morning and then pace around the house whilst you wait for them to return. Amren, being the only one who can possibly translate the book, is busy trying to do just that. So you pace, and pace, and pace. No doubt wearing down the luxurious carpet in the townhouse. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You know, more than likely, that no harm will come to them. But you still can’t help but worry.

You finally settle on the couch after an hour or so, and must drift off because you don’t hear them when they come back. You don’t hear the hushed conversation, recounting everything that happened. No, you only stir when Azriel gently brushes your cheek and whispers your name.

Instantly your eyes fly open and you surge forward to hold him. He lets out a little laugh, holding you back, tucking his face into your dark hair.

“I was only gone a few hours,” He says softly, arms tightening around you.

“She was worried,” Rhys fills in for him, “Which she shouldn’t have been, it was just a meeting.”

You shake your head, and place a kiss on Azriel’s neck before pulling back and giving your brother a crude gesture. He barks out a laugh before motioning for you to follow him outside. You look to Az who just nods, and moves to help you stand from the floor that you’d ended up on.

“We need to talk,” Rhys said calmly.

You nod and follow him outside, feeling panic well up in your gut. Something happened, something that would change the course of the war. You could feel it.

“We have to go to the Court of Nightmares,” He says once you’re in the courtyard, “I told you that I wouldn’t leave you out of this. And as much as I wish she wouldn’t, Feyre is coming, so you have a decision to make. You may come, and play the part, or you can stay here and they’ll know nothing different.”

“Why are you going?”

So he explains, putting an emphasis on needing a distraction. And as much as it makes you sick to your stomach to think about going back there, after so many years, and playing the part of the cruel princess that you played all of those years in spring…you knew you needed to go.

“If you need a distraction, then you really will need me,” You admit to him, “I’m unwed and unmated, from the most powerful line in our history. If Mor was the top of the market, imagine what I’ll be. No male will be paying attention to what anyone else is doing.”

“I don’t want to put you in that position,” He shakes his head.

“You aren’t putting me in any position,” You argued, “I’m offering. I won’t sit idly by and let others fight this war for me. If this is what I can do to help, then so be it.”

“Azriel won’t like it.”

“I won’t like it either, but I’ll do it. For our family, I’d do anything.”

Tag List

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@amara-moonlight @annamariereads16 @maddybraps @saltedcoffeescotch @wallacewillow0773638

@minnieoo @st0rmyt @hunterksmith @sleepylunarwolf @sh4n

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@mybestfriendmademe @azzydaddy @lilah-asteria @quinzzelx @mp-littlebit @tothestarsandwhateverend

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#acomaf #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger

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throneofsapphics · 1 year ago

Note

Can i ask for something similar to it only takes three azriel x reader but like where reader struggles with an ed and suicidal thoughts and it gets really bad

If not thats ok I understand that can be triggering i loved how you wrote for it inly takes three it was good I really enjoy your writhing your very talented 🤍

from the shadows

Summary: “It would’ve been nice, you supposed, if he’d cared before you were already balancing on the edge.”

Warnings: toxic parents/friendships, ed, suicidal ideation, drinking, depression

Word Count: ~2.7k

A/N: ahh you’re so kind, thank you for the request!

Did you want someone to notice? Not really. These battles were supposed to be your own to fight. Every time you’d brought it up to your parents, they told you it means you need to be stronger, that your mind is weak.

You stared at the food in front of you, waging a mental war with it. Each time you tried to touch food, words and memories would slide into your mind.

The half-finished plate is pulled away from you. “Don’t eat too much, dear,” your mother tutted.

Closing your eyes, you let out a long breath.

“Are you going to eat that?” Cassian asked.

“All yours,” you pushed it towards him. He shot you a grateful grin, and slid your food onto his plate. You could’ve sworn you saw a muscle in Azriel’s jaw flex, but he didn’t say a word.

You registered everything, but none of it held any meaning. Nothing mattered, you were trapped in this endless void. Haze clouded your world. Muted colors, dimmed voices, even the air surrounding you felt lifeless. Each smile a facade, each action and response carefully measured, everything designed to make it seem fine. To make you seem fine.

There wasn’t any other option. Anything else felt like failure to you. Weak, weak, weak. Each time you’d reached out before - every time to your parents or old friends, your hand was slapped away with a scathing gaze and cutting remark.

‘Just deal with it.’

‘You’re being dramatic.’

‘Stop looking for attention.’

So you did. Everything stayed inside - under firm lock and key. Your conscience argued against itself, you had different friends now. Friends that gave the appearance of caring, that seemed genuine -

“Hey,” a voice called, a hand waving in front of your face. Blinking, you brought your consciousness back into the present. Mor. “Where did you go?”

Was that concern or worry in her tone? Maybe.

“Just a memory,” you forced a smile you hoped was reassuring. She didn’t look convinced. From your peripheral, you spotted narrowed hazel eyes watching you, a shadow swirling around the bearer's ear. “What do you have planned for today?” You deflected.

Mor, face still lined with a tinge of worry, took the bait.

Laying on the bedroom floor, studying the dips and whirls of the ceiling, the hard wood surface dug into your back. Today was the day you’d decided to say something. To build up the courage to ask for help. Azriel, who you’d always gone to. It was getting bad enough you knew something needed to change, and you were the only one who could start it. ‘Asking for help makes me strong,’ you reminded yourself.

The door creaked open, and you knew who it was before he saw you. Maybe you should be embarrassed, getting caught like this. But … you’ve already hit the bottom, and it didn’t matter anymore if others saw it.

A scarred hand loomed in front of you, coming from an amused looking Azriel. You took it, and his fingers closed around you, warm and comforting. He yanked you to your feet - hard enough you stumbled forward a few steps, catching yourself with a hand on his chest.

“You’re lighter than I remember,” he commented, scanning over your body. Your shoulders lifted and fell. Azriel frowned, but dropped your hand - leading you out of the room instead.

“Where are we going?” Your voice was rough. When was the last time you’d spoken to someone? Working in the library, doing research, didn’t require it, and people were rarely around the townhouse.

“Meeting,” he answered - his voice a bit short. Like he was annoyed you had to ask. You dropped his hand.

A meeting nobody had told you about.

“I didn’t know.”

He cast a sidelong glance at you, studying you briefly, deciding if you were lying or not. When had he started questioning that? Throughout all of these years, you’d provided him with nothing but honesty. Azriel, your close friend and on and off lover.

Maybe he read the confusion on your face.

“You’ve been hiding something.”

That made you pause in your tracks. “Excuse me?”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“What do you mean?” Fury rose in you, heart pounding, chest tightening, face blazing.

Azriel stood there, watching you with that cool quiet. Long enough you realized it was a tactic, waiting for you to offer up information. Like you were one of the prisoners he interrogated. Gods, your anger only grew and grew.

“Ask me,” your fists clenched. “Ask me what’s wrong.”

His mouth tightened at the corners, a sign you were testing his patience.

A clock ticked in your head, counting each second, both of you staring at each other - seeing who would speak first. Thirty. That was it for you. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, turning on your heel. If he didn’t have the decency to ask, you wouldn’t tell him a damn thing.

Azriel expected you to offer everything up on a silver platter. To come to him for everything, like you had in the past.

You were about to, and now you felt like a fool for even thinking of it.

For all this time, you thought you’d kept it hidden well enough that nobody noticed. Now it’s clear - he’d seen something, and chosen to ignore it, watching from his shadows and not doing a damn thing. If the person you trusted the most saw you struggling and didn’t bother, what does that mean?

It meant you weren’t going to crawl all the way to someone who wouldn’t move an inch for you.

You prayed you’d somehow find the strength to deal with this on your own.

Feet and instinct guiding, you found yourself down by the Sidra - a secluded area. You fell, gravel digging into your knees and palms, hands pulling at your hair. A shield wrapped around you, cloaking you from sight and sound. Nobody could hear your screams, and right now - that’s the way you wanted it.

Distantly, you heard the rain clattering on your shield, the sound normally would bring comfort - but now it felt like some kind of beating drum, like a haunting melody. Light flashed in your vision, streaking across the sky before striking the ocean. Maybe it would hit you too.

Screaming. It could have been hours or minutes you sat there, tears flooding from your eyes and throat burning. It was supposed to make you feel better, but if anything it got worse. Numbness overtook you, drowning out every other sensation. You could fall off a cliff and feel nothing, maybe until your broken body hit the rocks below.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

Was it that? Or did it make you strong enough to end your own suffering?

Different images flooded your mind. Fighting back a laugh at one of Mor’s presents, offering your thanks instead. Watching live music in the rainbow. Azriel taking you flying for the first time.

Like cold rain, the thought of him pulled you out of your mind. What would he say if he saw you like this? Probably nothing, but he’d think you’re pathetic.

Good thing you didn’t give a damn what he thought anymore. You stood, brushing the gravel from your knees and palms, frowning at the small indents left behind on your palms, and let the shield disappear.

This was where the Sidra tumbled out into the ocean. The rocky cliff, seldom frequented, where you could truly be alone.

You didn’t really want to die … but you took another step towards the edge, peering closer. This way wouldn’t be quick, your body would break but you’d lie on the rocks below for hours, maybe trapped between them - slowly drowning under the waves.

“Y/n,” someone called - and you startled, body starting to launch over -

Shadows curled around you, dragging you back several feet, Azriel’s arms wrapped around your waist - holding you tight. “I’ve been looking for you,” he murmured, still holding tight.

At least your shield had done its job. Still, he was the last person you wanted to see right now. Catching him by surprise, you stomped on his insole and wiggled out of his grip - just like he’d taught you. Taking a few steps, not daring to turn your eyes away from him, you watched something like fear cross over his features.

He held his hands up, palms facing you. “Stop, please.”

Water sprayed against your calves. You’d gotten close to the edge again, without noticing. Looking over your shoulder, it would only take a few more steps.

Do it, the demon in your head screamed at you. He’d be relieved.

Turning your gaze back to him, worry shone there. It would’ve been nice, you supposed, if he’d cared before you were already balancing on the edge. There was no doubt his shadows would interfere if you got any closer, but for now he was giving you a choice. Letting you choose to walk away from the edge. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand turned - reaching out to you instead. Teeth tugging into your bottom lip, you realized there was a decision to make.

It really wasn’t much of a decision at all, you ignored his hand, and brushed past him - making for the Townhouse.

Like an annoying guard dog, Azriel trailed you the rest of the way home. You didn’t see him, but you could feel his presence - moving through the shadows. You’d walked away, hadn’t you? He could leave you the fuck alone now.

Stopping for a bottle of wine, you made your way back to your bedroom. Meeting forgotten. Leaning your back against the door, a bit of magic popped the cork out. Funny, wine was one of the few things you could tolerate now. Maybe because of the release it brought.

You scented him, then heard a knock. You ignored it.

A sigh, and the sound of someone sliding against wood.

Azriel wouldn’t leave you, not like this. His shadows peered inside to tell him what you were doing. Sitting against the door, drinking right from the bottle. He could feel your warmth through the wood, a barrier separating the two of you. He mirrored your position.

If you didn’t want him inside, that was fair enough, he still wouldn’t leave. Not when you were just standing on the edge of a fucking cliff. Two hours spent searching for you when he noticed a small disturbance in the rain - droplets displaced before they struck the ground, and decided to wait a few minutes. Just in time for you to appear.

You’d always come to him in the past, and it was wrong for him to expect you to again. He’d already cast a thought out to Rhys and told him to clear everything for the next week.

Azriel had just nodded off, when he heard movement. He barely had time to stand before the door swung open, spotting you - half empty bottle of wine on the floor, bracing your hand on the wall next to the door.

“You can leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The door slammed shut again. Fine, he could wait.

“Talk to me,” Azriel pleaded and grabbed both of your hands, squeezing, his thumbs running over your knuckles. You ripped them away from him, shooting him a scathing look and storming past into the dining room. Inviting him in had been a mistake. The intent was to prove you were fine, and tell him he could stop hovering on your doorstep, but if anything he seemed more worried at the end.

You couldn’t hear anyone else in the house. Good. You didn’t want to deal with anyone. Sitting at the dining table, a plate appeared in front of you - a single muffin. One of your favorites. Swallowing harshly, you reached one shaking hand out for it.

Inches away, your hand fell to the table. Fuck.

Just one bite, you told yourself.

Steeling yourself, you reached again. Trembling fingers peeled back the paper, and you brought it to your lips. The scent of blueberries filled you, and the feeling of crusted sugar brushed against your lips.

One bite.

“Hey,” you heard Mor. The spell broke, and you dropped the muffin back on the plate. “Don’t let me stop you,” she winked, pulling out the seat across from you. Her own muffin appeared, and she took a bite herself - moaning at the taste.

Somehow, that helped, and you took one of your own.

You hadn’t noticed him, thankfully, but Azriel watched from the shadows and felt like an idiot. Somehow, Mor’s presence for a few minutes brought more light to your eyes than he’d seen in months. Or maybe it was that you managed to eat some of that muffin.

Those hours he sat outside of your door … had they been worthless?

Maybe, maybe not, but at least he’d proven he was there for you - even if it was a bit too late.

If you didn’t want him physically in your proximity, he could wait in the shadows.

Waiting didn’t help before.

He’d read the expression on your face - on that cliff, and understood your anger.

Azriel was waiting for you to come to him, when he should’ve been the one reaching out.

Walking out of hearing range, his palm slammed against the wall, forehead resting on the cool wood. If he couldn’t do this one damned thing right, what did that say about him?

For a while, Azriel really did think you were getting better. You smiled more, ate more, and had a spark of life in you. But, as the weeks went on, he saw you draw further into yourself. Plate half full, eyes dull. This time, he’d actually do something about it - even if you shoved the door in his face.

Your door was already open, so he pushed a bit further, knocking.

Bleary eyed, you lifted your head from your desk and sighed, but jerked your head. He surveyed your room, taking in the books piled everywhere, empty bottles, clothes strewn over chairs haphazardly. A mess.

“What do you want?” The words weren’t sharp or cutting - although he’d prefer that to the emptiness in your voice. The bleakness of your expression, even though he could only see your profile - eyes unfocused on the book in front of you.

“You’re struggling. Again.” Not the most eloquent, but he got right to the point.

“What’s it to you?” Narrowed eyes finally looked up at him. Cautious. Wary. Even months ago, you’d never looked at him like that before.

“I care about you.” Maybe he expected your eyes to soften - to show some kind of understanding, but if anything they only hardened further. You didn’t believe him. He tried a different tactic. “Is it that hard to admit you need help?”

“Yes,” your voice rose, but he didn’t take a step back or flinch. He could deal with your anger, anything’s better than the distance, and that veritable wall you put up between them.

“Why?”

“It means i’m weak,” the first tears lined your eyes as you shifted in your chair to face him. He could see all of the sharp angles of your face, even more defined now - and not in a good way. There was no shine to your hair or eyes, none of that normal glow to your skin.

“You don’t believe that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

A sigh, and your hand ran down your face. “Why are you here, Az?”

“I don’t like seeing you … hurting.”

“You didn’t bother before,” you countered.

“And I regret that,” cautiously, he reached out and grabbed your hand. You didn’t protest or fight him, and he took that as a good sign, letting his other hand brush away one of your tears, the droplet catching on his thumb. Even with the tear gone, he brushed his thumb across your cheek again, savoring the smooth feeling of your skin. Ever so slightly, you leaned into him. Catching yourself, you jerked back, but didn’t let go of his hand - if anything you seemed to grip onto him tighter. As if he might disappear and leave you by yourself again. That wouldn’t happen.

“I don’t know how you can help.”

His thumb brushed back and forth over your knuckles. “We can figure that out.”

The slightest smile appeared on your face, and lingered.

azriel taglist: @acourtofinkandpapyrus if anyone wants to be added please let me know!

#azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #acotar drabble #acotar x reader

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strawberrygirll13 · 1 month ago

Text

I care about you

Dazai x Reader

Pt 1

Warnings: Depression, self harm, mentions of suicide attempts, mental illness.

The restaurant was quiet, save for the occasional clinking of plates and murmurs of other diners. Candlelight flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the table. Across from you, Dazai sat back in his chair, his arm lazily draped over the backrest, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know,” he started, swirling the wine in his glass, “if this steak were my last meal, I think I’d die happy.”

You set your fork down, a sense of unease already creeping in. “Dazai…”

He didn’t seem to notice the warning in your voice, his eyes gleaming with something darker. “But,” he continued, his voice calm, “if I were to go, I’d want it to be something more dramatic. Something… poetic. Maybe a leap into a river. Or from a high-rise at sunset. You know, something that would leave an impression.”

You couldn’t keep the tension from building in your chest. “Dazai, I really don’t like it when you talk like that.”

He paused for a moment, the grin still playing on his lips. “Oh? Why not?” he said, tilting his head, seemingly unfazed. “It’s the truth. I’ve tried a few things, you know.”

Your fingers tightened around your napkin, and you felt a cold chill run through you. “What do you mean ‘tried a few things’?”

Dazai leaned forward, his gaze sharp as he looked directly at you. “Well, let me think... I’ve tried hanging myself, drowning myself—Yokohama Harbor, to be exact. It was freezing, but strangely peaceful. I really thought it would work that time. But no, a fisherman pulled me out before I could go under for good.” He chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Pathetic, huh?”

You felt your heart drop, but he kept going, unperturbed. “I also tried jumping in front of a train once. The timing was all wrong, though. I only got clipped, nothing serious. And then there was the time I tried poisoning myself, but the drink was too weak. Didn’t do the job. But you know, the one that came closest? Cutting my wrists. I really thought that one would do it. I got pretty close, but again, I ended up surviving.”

Each attempt, each method, he listed it so casually, as if they were simple anecdotes, nothing more than stories to amuse himself. The weight of his words pressed down on you, suffocating, until you couldn’t breathe. You felt a mix of disgust and helplessness, your stomach twisting in knots. This wasn’t just dark humor; this was the product of something deeper, something broken. And it was eating at him.

“Dazai,” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please, stop. I don’t want to hear this. This isn’t funny.”

He raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by your reaction. “Why not?” he asked, genuinely curious. “It’s just a little dark humor. Surely you, of all people, aren’t disturbed by some harmless stories?”

“Harmless?” You stood up abruptly, unable to sit through it any longer. “It’s cruel. It’s wrong. I don’t know why you think this is okay, but it’s not. I care about you, Dazai, and hearing you talk like this…” You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “It makes me feel awful. Can you not see that?”

He looked at you for a long moment, his smile never wavering, though his eyes were colder than usual. “Cruel?” he repeated, amusement still in his tone. “You’re being dramatic. It’s not as though anyone would care if I actually died, anyway. Hell, the world would probably be better off without me. It’s not like I have anyone who would mourn me.”

You shook your head, a knot forming in your throat. This wasn’t just about his words anymore; it was about the way he saw himself. The way he thought of his life as something so expendable.

"And you know," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I’ve been thinking about finding a beautiful woman to share my final moments with. Someone who wouldn’t mind a little poetic death. I’ve been looking for someone who’d be willing to… you know, commit double suicide with me. My dear friend, you’d do perfectly." His grin was wider now, predatory, and it made your skin crawl.

You stared at him, unable to process how casually he could say something so horrifying. “Why would you say that to me? Why would you ask me something like that?”

He laughed, but it was an empty, hollow sound. “Why? Because you’re one of the few people I actually respect. I thought you’d find the idea appealing. You’re beautiful, aren’t you? You would make a perfect match for me in the end.”

Your hands shook at your sides, but you didn’t back down. “No, Dazai. No. I don’t find any of this funny. You’ve made me so uncomfortable tonight, and you did it on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted to make me feel bad. Well, congratulations, you’ve succeeded.”

He blinked at you, for the first time showing a crack in his indifference, his smirk faltering for a split second as he processed your words. But before he could respond, you turned and grabbed your coat, slipping it over your shoulders.

“I’m leaving,” you said, your voice firm but quiet.

Dazai didn’t say anything. He just watched as you moved toward the door, his gaze unreadable. The air between you had shifted, and you couldn’t quite understand it, but you knew one thing for certain: You couldn’t sit there and let him pull you into his darkness.

With one last glance at him, you stepped out into the cold night air, the weight of the conversation lingering with you, but you didn’t turn back.

The days following that tense dinner were markedly different. You kept your interactions with Dazai strictly professional, your usual casual conversations replaced with curt, pointed words. Whenever a task required communication, you went through others—Kunikida, Atsushi, anyone else who could serve as a buffer between you and him. Dazai, however, wasn’t one to let things go unnoticed, especially when they disrupted his carefully cultivated routines.

You knew he’d noticed the shift—he wasn’t an idiot. But instead of apologizing or addressing it directly, he chose his usual route: mischief.

It started small. A sly remark here, an exaggerated sigh there. When you ignored those, he ramped it up. During one meeting, he’d kept dropping pens onto your side of the table, leaning over to retrieve them with the kind of smug grin that made you want to throttle him. When you didn’t react, his antics escalated.

The breaking point came one quiet afternoon when you returned to your desk only to find his desk… wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

He’d moved it.

Right in front of yours, so close the two desks were now touching, effectively making it one long, cluttered mess of books, papers, and his personal junk. Your side was spotless, as always, but his was overflowing—documents spilling over onto your workspace, a half-eaten bag of snacks perched precariously on the edge, and his coat draped lazily over your chair.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the absurdity before you, willing yourself to stay calm.

“Do you mind?” you finally asked, your voice cold as you folded your arms.

Dazai, leaning back in his chair with a lopsided grin, didn’t miss a beat. “Not at all. Cozy, isn’t it?”

“It’s not cozy,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes. “It’s invasive. Move your desk back.”

“But I like it here,” he replied, spinning his pen between his fingers. “Better lighting. Better company. Well... not bettercompany, but you’re here, so it’ll do.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. Instead, you sat down, pushed his papers to the far edge of your desk, and went back to your work.

This didn’t deter him in the slightest. Over the next hour, he kept finding ways to encroach on your space—tossing paperclips onto your side, humming loudly, even nudging your coffee mug with his own until it was teetering dangerously close to the edge.

Finally, when it seemed like he might actually topple it over, you shot him a glare. “If you spill that, I swear—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, leaning in closer. “Yell at me? Ignore me some more? I think you’ve got the ignoring part down pretty well already.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to your work with tight-lipped determination.

His frustration, though, was becoming harder for him to hide. You could see it in the way he kept drumming his fingers on the desk, in the exaggerated way he sighed every five minutes, in the way his usual lazy demeanor seemed a little too deliberate, like he was trying too hard to act like this wasn’t bothering him.

And then, he started writing notes.

At first, he didn’t even try to be subtle about it. He scribbled something down on a piece of paper, folded it neatly, and slid it onto your side of the desk.

You ignored it.

A second note followed, then a third. You didn’t open any of them, and the more you ignored them, the more frustrated he seemed to become.

By the fourth note, he didn’t even bother folding it anymore. Instead, he scrawled the words in large, dramatic letters across a sheet of paper and held it up directly in your line of sight.

“ARE YOU STILL MAD?”

You didn’t look at him, but he kept the note there until you finally sighed and muttered, “Yes.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting an actual answer. Then, with a grin, he grabbed another sheet of paper and scribbled again. This time, he slid it across the desk to you.

“WHY?”

You stared at the note for a moment before crumpling it up and tossing it back at him. “You know why,” you said, your voice quiet but firm.

For once, he didn’t have a quick retort. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his grin faltering ever so slightly as he watched you go back to your work.

But, true to form, he didn’t stay quiet for long. Moments later, another note landed on your desk.

“CAN I MAKE IT UP TO YOU?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t trust yourself to, not yet. And so, the silence between you stretched on, heavy and unresolved, while Dazai sat across from you, bored, frustrated, and—if the look in his eyes was any indication—just a little bit lost.

The silence between you two stretched unbearably as Dazai fidgeted with his pen, occasionally glancing at you, though you didn’t spare him a single look. Despite his antics, you were determined to hold your ground. He deserved to stew in this. To feel the weight of your anger and hurt.

Yet, as the minutes ticked by and the tension grew thicker, you found yourself caving. Not entirely, but enough for curiosity to override your stubbornness. With a sigh, you picked up your pen and scribbled something on a piece of paper, sliding it over to him without looking up.

“Did you mean it?”

Dazai, for once, didn’t respond immediately. You heard the faint rustle of the note as he picked it up, followed by a pause. Then, slowly, he scrawled something down and pushed it back toward you.

“Mean what?”

You stared at the words for a moment before writing again.

“That you want me to die with you?”

When you slid the note back, you refused to meet his gaze, your fingers gripping your pen tightly as you waited for his response. The air between you felt suffocating, heavy with the unspoken weight of the question.

It took him longer this time. You heard the soft scratching of his pen as he wrote, then paused, then wrote again. Finally, the note landed back in front of you.

“Yes.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at the single word, simple and honest in a way Dazai rarely allowed himself to be. When you finally looked up at him, his expression was unreadable, his usual playful grin replaced by something quieter, something that almost looked like vulnerability.

“I wasn’t joking,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Not entirely, at least.”

Your throat felt dry, and you weren’t sure what to say. For all the times Dazai hid behind humor, behind his endless games and tricks, hearing him admit something so dark, so raw, left you momentarily at a loss.

“Why?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, though the motion felt forced, his usual air of nonchalance cracking at the edges. “Because if I had to go, at least with you… it wouldn’t feel so empty. It’d be poetic, don’t you think? Two kindred spirits, disappearing together.”

“That’s not poetic, Dazai,” you said firmly, anger creeping into your voice. “It’s selfish. It’s—” You stopped yourself, exhaling sharply. “It’s cruel that you would suggest that.”

His lips quirked up in a half-smile, but there was no humor behind it. “I told you, I’m a selfish man. You should know that by now.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you didn’t reply. Instead, you leaned back in your chair, the note still clutched tightly in your hand, as the weight of his words settled over you.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dazai,” you began, folding the note neatly and placing it in front of him, “but unfortunately, I do not want to die. And I’d prefer it if you could refrain from doing so either.”

You stood up, your chair scraping against the floor as you grabbed your bag. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

But before you could take a step, his hand shot out, quick and instinctive, his bandaged wrist wrapping firmly around yours. It wasn’t harsh or forceful, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks.

“What the hell?” you blurted, glancing down at his hand, then back at him.

For the first time since the conversation began, he looked genuinely caught off guard. His grip on your wrist wasn’t calculated; it was almost desperate, as though the very thought of you leaving—even temporarily—was unbearable.

“I… You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his tone lighter than his expression betrayed. But the crack in his voice, subtle as it was, didn’t escape you.

Your brow furrowed. “Dazai, I work here. I’m just going to the bathroom. I’m not running off into the sunset. Good god, you have issues.”

His lips curved into a faint smirk, but it lacked his usual humor. “Issues? That’s putting it lightly, don’t you think?” He released your wrist, his hand lingering in the air for a moment before he let it drop back to his side. “I guess I just don’t like the idea of you walking away from me… even if it’s just to the restroom.”

“Dazai,” you sighed, softening your tone despite yourself, “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through them before his usual mask slipped back into place. “Promise?” he asked, leaning back in his chair with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You gave him a flat look. “I’m not promising anything. It’s a bathroom break, not a grand betrayal.”

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the weight of his touch—or the way his voice had faltered, even for just a second. Something about it lingered, clawing at the edges of your mind like an unanswered question you weren’t sure you were ready to ask.

A few hours later ~

The office was quiet now, save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the rustling of papers as you gathered your things. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of a single desk lamp. You glanced over at him. His desk—still obnoxiously pressed against yours—was cluttered with papers he hadn’t touched all day. He’d sat there for hours, throwing the occasional quip your way, but you hadn’t said much in return.

It wasn’t just the silence that made the air feel heavy; it was the weight of his words from earlier. He wanted you to die with him. The thought lingered, intrusive and stubborn, no matter how much you tried to shove it aside. You couldn’t understand how he’d asked you something so selfishly, so casually, as if it were just another joke in his endless repertoire.

Shaking your head, you slid your bag over your shoulder and moved toward the door. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

“Wait,” his voice called out, stopping you mid-step. You turned to find him standing now, hands stuffed into his pockets as he leaned against the edge of the desk.

“What is it, Dazai?” you asked, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Let me walk you home,” he said, straightening up and taking a step closer.

You blinked at him, the question catching you off guard. “Are you going to say some weird shit?”

His mouth quirked into a half-smile, though it lacked the usual cockiness. “You know, probably. I mean, it’s me.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were suddenly unsure of himself. “But… I won’t ask you to, you know, do that with me again. Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers in mock sincerity.

You narrowed your eyes, considering him for a moment. “Fine,” you said finally, letting out a small sigh. “But only if you promise.”

“Promise,” he repeated, a flicker of amusement returning to his voice.

As you pushed open the door and stepped into the cool night air, he fell into step beside you. Something about the way he kept just a half step behind, letting you set the pace, felt quieter than usual—almost careful. It wasn’t like him. Then again, nothing about today had been.

The street was quiet as you and Dazai walked down the path, the only sounds being the soft crunch of your footsteps against the pavement and the occasional rustling of leaves in the trees. The streetlamps above flickered on, casting a dim, golden light that illuminated the sidewalk in a soft, almost melancholic glow. The night air was cool, a refreshing change from the stuffy office, and you relished the brief quiet that came with the walk.

You didn't mind walking. You’d never been one to rely on a car, especially when the journey gave you a little peace of mind. Besides, the apartment was only about a 20-minute walk away, and you had plenty of time to clear your head. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

As you walked in silence, your thoughts wandered. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Dazai today. His words from earlier still echoed in your mind, but it wasn’t just that. Something about his behavior had felt off—a bit too distant, a bit too… real.

It was strange, but despite everything, you couldn't deny you had feelings for him. Not that you really had a choice, considering how often you saw each other. But you were realistic about it. The idea of him ever feeling the same was almost laughable. He was too much of a mess, too much of a broken puzzle for you to figure out. And even if he did have feelings for you, you weren’t sure it was something you could trust.

The walk continued in silence, and you pulled your coat tighter around you, keeping your thoughts to yourself. But then, without warning, Dazai held out his arm for you.

At first, you were confused. You didn't know what he meant by the gesture. But when he huffed, his voice edged with a hint of impatience, “Come on, I’m not going to bite you,” you could feel a wave of hesitation wash over you.

Before you could respond, he looped his arm through yours, locking it there with a firm but gentle grip. It surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome. For a moment, you just walked, trying to process what had just happened.

As you did, your gaze slipped over to him. The soft glow of the streetlights caught his brown hair, highlighting the faint tousled mess of it. You’d always admired the way it looked, even when he didn’t seem to care much about it. You wondered, though, how much of his body was covered in bandages. His neck and wrist were always covered, but what about the rest of him? Did he hide it under those clothes, or was there more to it?

The thought made a knot form in your stomach, and you quickly shoved it away. You hated the idea of him harming himself. The thought made your chest tighten, and you didn’t want to think about it—not now, not here, not with him.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?” Dazai’s voice broke the silence, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it.

You looked up at him, startled, but there was a strange softness in his expression that made you pause.

“Nothing,” you muttered, not wanting to admit to the tangled thoughts swirling in your head. “Just... you know, thinking about work.”

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Really?" he teased, but there was something more guarded in his eyes now. "Because you seem distracted."

You went quiet, your eyes shifting away from his, not wanting to meet his gaze anymore. The cool night air suddenly felt too heavy as the silence between you both stretched on.

Dazai noticed immediately, his pace slowing as he watched the subtle tension build. He didn’t push it at first, but after a few moments, he muttered, almost absentmindedly, “I hate how you don’t let me into your head.” His voice had a quiet frustration in it, like a gnawing irritation that wouldn't let go.

You stiffened, the words from earlier still replaying in your mind. You knew he wasn’t going to drop it, not without pushing the issue. You didn’t want to discuss it, but you couldn’t stay silent either. "Well, it’s kinda difficult to let someone in who has basically said in their own way they want me dead." You kept your voice steady, trying not to let the vulnerability slip through.

The words hung in the air, and Dazai didn’t immediately respond. His arm, still locked with yours, shifted slightly as if he were considering his words carefully.

Then, he spoke. "Y/N, my darling, you and I have two very different perspectives on death." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle between you. "To explain it in the simplest terms, despite how morbid it may seem to you... it is a compliment."

His tone was strange, detached, but also oddly earnest. It was as if he truly believed that what he was saying made sense. And for a moment, you wondered if he even understood how much his words stung.

You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, your steps slowing to match his. The city seemed farther away now, the night air colder.

"It doesn’t matter how you intended it, Dazai," you said, your voice firm but not unkind. "You are not well. The way you think… it’s all twisted."

Dazai let out a laugh, sharp and self-deprecating. "Oh, I’m very aware," he said with a smirk, though his eyes betrayed something softer, something less cavalier.

The rest of the walk passed in silence. He didn’t let go of your arm, keeping it interlocked with his, as though he feared letting go would shatter whatever fragile thing existed between you both. The city lights grew sparse as you reached your apartment building, and he walked you right up to your doorstep. Even then, his arm stayed linked with yours, his grip firm but not forceful, as if he wasn’t ready to let you go.

Dazai finally stopped, taking a deep breath. His hesitation was unusual, almost unsettling. "Can I ask you something?" he said, his voice softer than usual.

You sighed, fishing your keys out of your pocket. "I’m not going to say no, am I?"

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "When you say you care about me… do you mean it?"

You froze, caught off guard by the question. He wasn’t playing this time. There was no sly grin, no teasing inflection. His eyes, brown and deep as they were, searched yours with an almost childlike vulnerability.

"For someone as smart as you are, you’re being quite moronic right now," you said, your voice gentler than your words. His expression shifted slightly—confused, maybe even a little hurt. You softened, letting out a breath. "Of course I care about you, Dazai. I care about you a lot."

He blinked, processing your words, before making a quiet "Oh-ohh" sound, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the information. It was such a Dazai thing to do that it made you smile despite yourself.

Sliding your key into the lock, you turned it and pushed the door open. But before stepping inside, you hesitated. Something tugged at you, a feeling you couldn’t quite ignore.

"Oh, hell, screw it," you muttered under your breath before turning back around. Gently, you reached up and cupped his face, your fingers brushing against the bandages on his cheek. His eyes widened slightly as you leaned in, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his irises, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

When you pulled back, his expression was one of pure shock. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. You gave him a small smile, your hands still resting against his cheeks.

"Why don’t you think on that, Osamu Dazai," you said, your tone light but meaningful. Then, pulling away, you stepped inside and closed the door behind you with a quiet click.

For a long moment, Dazai stood there on your doorstep, the night air brushing against his face, his lips still tingling from the kiss. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile curved across his face—one that no one else would have recognized.

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willowswiththorns · 7 months ago

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I’ve noticed a drought in Jess Mariano x readers. I’m not use to writing fics so I’ll do some head canons for now. As always if you have any suggestions, my commissions are open. Thank you for reading - Willow

Jess Mariano Drabble

First thing that needs to be stated is that Jess Mariano is a complex character, so I am breaking him down by a few seasons at a time.

Season 2 :

Meeting Jess in Stars Hallow will be an interesting and almost intense experience. You’d meet either at Luke’s, in high school, or in the bookstore.

If you meet at Luke’s, you’d catch his eye. He wouldn’t say anything, but he would subtly make his presence known. A good example would be him helping Luke for the first time by bringing over your plate of food/drink before abruptly leaving the diner.

Now if you both meet at the bookstore, you would most definitely get his attention. He’ll sneak past you a few times, trying to peak and see what books you were looking at before finally saying something regarding the book. Once the conversation starts, it’ll last a good while and end with him giving you a book recommendation before heading out. He’ll give you one little last glance back.

If first meet at high school, it’ll be the least amount of interaction. You’d be sitting beside him in the back row of class, zoning out and looking around until your eyes fall on him. Jess isn’t paying attention to the lesson either, he’s more invested in a small book he snuck into class . He’s so zoned into the book, he doesn’t notice you staring into him. It wasn’t until the bell rang that he’d look over for a second and notice you. He’d stare at you, a bit confused before he’d get up to walk away.

Now the second time you bump into him, he’d seem a bit more comfortable with you. You’d be sitting on a bench by the gazebo reading when you feel movement by the space beside you. “Hey “ is all he’d say at first before looking down at your book. “The Virgin Suicide? That sounds interesting” he’d tease softly in his monotone voice. He’d then grab your book and take a look at the back “Jeez, this look depressing-“ he’d hand the book back and ask you your thoughts about it. You both would be talking about the plot about the book and how it was inspired by the author’s teenage babysitter. Needless to say you were both debating literature for a while.

After that quality time at the park, the chances of seeing Jess again is high. In fact, if he sees you around town, rest assured he’ll find his way over to you. He isn’t opened about his past with you, so deep talks are out the window. However, he’s open to chatting about day to day things in his life. Any conversation about your day to day life you’d notice how intently Jess listens in. He shows he listens to you, he even sometimes brings up small details you’ve mentioned briefly in conversation. The most you’ll hear if he talks is about his uncle or how the town’s people don’t like him that much except for maybe two girls, you and Rory.

You and Jess meet up a lot more after his trip to the Independence Inn wedding. However in most of his meet ups he seems a bit withdrawn, and you can’t help but wonder why. If you push for why a bit with Jess, he’ll grumble about how Rory kissed him. Needless to say the relationship gets a bit rocky from here, however if you comfort him well about the situation with Rory, he will come to you more about his feelings. Slowly but surely, you both become closer to each other, confiding to each other about each other’s past experiences. You open up to him about your living situation and lack of plans for the future, how you’re afraid of being alone but know staying with your parents past high school will only make you a financial burden onto them. He eventually opened up about how his dad wasn’t around, how his mom was unreliable and dumped him off to his uncle as soon as she couldn’t handle him anymore.

Season 3 :

The summer between you two is nothing short of amazing. He’s practically glued to your hip, and it’s a bit of gossip for the town of you both potentially dating. However neither you nor Jess has confessed any romantic feelings to each other, so the rumors were just that. You’d be found either at Luke’s with Jess, or Jess would be spotted sneaking up into your room to spend time with you. Lying down on his bed, you listened to Jess reading Howl by Allen Ginsburg out loud. He’s only holding the paperback with one hand while his other was in your hair, slowly letting his fingers scratch gently at your scalp. “ The wage they pay us is too low to live on. Tragedy reduced the numbers. This for the poor shepherds- Y/n?“ he’d only pause once he’d realized your usual commentary was replaced with soft almost quiet snores. With a sign, he’d put the book on his nightstand and got more comfortable so he can join you in your little nap.

Your feelings regarding Jess definitely have grown over the summer together, sadly it wasn’t too long before he was caught making out with the girl from your science class, Shane. He was still around more and still having the habits of cuddling in bed reading with you or looking at records together at a store, it’s just sometimes Shane would invite herself. Shane was always very touchy and flirty with Jess, but she was never really heinous to you. The only time she’d show agitation with you is if she wants alone time with Jess and even then you’d find Jess sneaking into your room later that night to see you.

With your now duo becoming a trio, you had gotten to get to know Shane more and actually got along with her well. She offers you any hair tips and tricks since she works at the Beauty Supply. Other than the awkward times where both Jess and Shane would have awkward acts of PDA in the most random places, being able to hang out with them is a pleasant experience.

Once Rory comes back to town it becomes a bit more tense of an environment. Even though Shane doesn’t notice Jess using her to make Rory jealous, you notice almost right away. Trying to talk to Jess about the situation only makes him mad and shut down completely with you, so much so that you don’t accompany him and Shane to the 24 hour dance. You find out rather quickly that shit hits the fan when you see a crying Shane at your door, explaining everything that went down. After comforting her and walking her home, you decide to stop by Luke’s only to find that Jess isn’t home. Luke mentions that he’d pass the word to Jess that you stopped by. With that you head home.

Once Jess and Rory’s relationship became public, it has become clear that any free time would go to his new girlfriend. Seeing Jess occasionally is bittersweet, the most he’d do when seeing you around town is use the free hand that’s not wrapped around Rory to wave to you. It isn’t until one night he comes to you all frustrated, not telling you what’s happening to make him upset. He doesn’t really open up until a few hours later into the night after you get him in a more comfortable spot. Everything about his life that’s bugging him, Rory and his love life, flunking out of school, bumping into his father for the first time, and the town hating him are all reasons as to why he’s upset. It wasn’t until you slowly tried to hug him that he looked at you. Jess isn’t the type of guy to cry in front of anyone, but just looking him in the eye you can tell he’s exhausted. Grabbing his hand, you slowly dragged him into bed, making sure he took his shoes off before putting the blankets on the both of you. “You don’t need to do this, this was a mistake-“ You smiled and shushed him , curling up next to him. “ Shut up and sleep. Goodnight Jess” As you slowly drifted off to sleep, you hear him whisper a goodnight to you.

When you wake up, the bed is empty. There was no trace of him still being in your room. A little bit of panic hits you as you get up and grab your phone to dial to Luke’s. Luke picks up and when you ask if Jess made it home safely, he hesitant to answer. After a little bit of pushing, Luke tells you that Jess skipped town.

Season 4 :

It’s been a long while since you’ve seen Jess, but the memories of him still stick with you. The most memorable thing is that last night between the two of you. How he let you curled up against him and how his arms slowly wrapped up around your body. Your parents are concerned about how you lock yourself in your room unless you have to go to work. They force you to get out the house for the festivities in town. The ghost of him lingers everywhere you go, it’s a shock when you see a glimpse of Jess at one of the town’s festivals. You see him chase after Rory and you can’t help but feel your heart swell. With slowly steps, you go to Jess’s car as you see him quickly run from Rory to his car to drive away.

Jess almost hits you on his way out of town. His brain has sent him reeling so much over the fact that he confessed to Rory that he almost hits you. Seeing you in front of his car with the look of pure fear and heartbreak in your eyes fills his chest with guilt and dread. He never truly said goodbye to you, but he wasn’t never the best at goodbyes. Not being able to handle any more heartbreak, he turned his car around you so he could speed away.

At this point the thought of Jess sends feelings of loneliness strike through you. He’s a runner from all his responsibilities, not thinking about who he hurts. All the times you both spent together just for him to leave not once but twice without even uttering a goodbye to you.

One morning eating at Luke’s, an older woman comes in asking if Luke was around. Since your mouth was full of fries, you pointed at Luke talking to Lorelai. With in a matter of seconds Luke pulls this mystery woman to the kitchen to bicker and argue before the woman walks off upstairs.

After a few days of ease-dropping, you find out that the mystery woman Luke was arguing about was actually his sister, Jess’s mother. She and her fiance, TJ, were planning their renaissance wedding in the town’s square. After one day of eating at Luke’s and looking at some jewelry that Liz had out for sale, she asks about who you were. Smiling, you explain how you eat here regularly and was actually a friend of Jess. Liz’s smile beamed bright as she’d grab your arm “ You should come to TJ and My’s wedding! I’m sure Jess would love to see you there!” You smile and look down at your shoes before awkwardly answering with a small, “I don’t think he’ll want to see me-“ Shed cut you off “ Nonsense! Please come, me and TJ would love for you to join us!” With a small sign, you agreed to come.

The day of the wedding was delightful to say the least. You asked Mrs Patty if she had any renaissance themed clothes you could wear to the wedding, and she brought out a very pretty gown she had in her costume closet she has for her dancers. The town square was filled with people in costumes, you’d fit in just fine. Finding a place to sit was a bit difficult, but a man who claimed to be TJ’s brother let you sit up a row in front of Luke and Lorelai. “Lorelai you look amazing!” You’d say, spin around to talk to the woman behind you. She’d show a beautiful smile and reply back “thanks hon! You look great too! I think I actually sewed that up for one of Mrs Patty’s recitals last year-“ you let out a little chuckle “ I guess I got busted, yeah I borrowed it from Patty” you both chat a bit more until you see Jess walk down the isle. Your eyes met before you’d force yourself to look away. As Liz and TJ got to the alter, Jess takes a seat next to you. You can feel his gaze dig into the side of your face as you try to keep your eyes on the ceremony. After the wedding, you do your best to keep your distance from Jess. It’s better to just be away from him rather than let him hurt you by leaving unannounced again. When the after party ends, you’re quick to make your way home, reminding yourself to just drop off the dress to Patty tomorrow morning.

As you’re making your way over the bridge you hear Jess call out to you. You try to speed walk more but to no avail, you feel a strong hand grip your wrist and pulled you towards him. “ Jess-“ you’d cry out in shock as he holds you close. Looking up, you can see the anguish in his eyes, his face trying to not be too expressive as he tries to find out what to say. “ y/n….I” you try to pull away but he doesn’t budge. “ I know I left and I’m sorry. I miss you, and I love you…” you shake your head “ you can’t just come back after leaving me twice and god!” You push him away “ you can’t just say you love me!” Tears slowly started to form as you try to walk away again, him tailing close behind. “ I’m different now! I know you couldn’t count on me before but you can now! It’s different I promise. We can leave together, right now! “ You stop your walk and turn to him. “ what’re you talking about? “ he’d grab your hands and get closer to you. “Let’s go. We can leave this town and be together. We don’t need to stay here y/n. Please, you can count on me now I promise.” The both of you stand awkwardly on the bridge now, not sure what to do. You stand there for a minute and ponder your choices. You can either say no and go back to your home or you can say yes and run away with the man you fell in love with years ago.

You look away and let go of his hands. “ Jess I…” you started but Jess sighs “ forget it. It was stupid to ask…” with a turn, he starts to walk away. “Wait! Jess- “ you yelled out again. “ what?” He asked, stopping abruptly and turning back to you. “ I thought about it… with my work and my family I should say no.” The look of rejection plastered on his face. You let out a weak laugh, tears now streaming down your face as you finished.

“But I love you too, and I’d be a fool to let you leave me again. Help me pack?”

Season 6 :

You both have had your ups and downs these past few months. Jess rooms with a few guys he works with up in a Philadelphia bookshop, meanwhile you’ve saved up enough for a cute little apartment from the two jobs you’ve been working at nonstop since you ran away. Jess usually spends the night at the bookstore, but when you’re both off he prefers to stay at your studio apartment.

Tonight you were celebrating the release of Jess’s first book. He has it set up and ready to sell to the public, but for tonight he’s all yours. He’d let out a low chuckle as you’d wrap your arms around his waist, kissing up his neck before hiding your face. “ Congratulations honey~” you’d whisper softly, your breath tickling his neck. His hands slowly play with your hair as he uses his free hand to take a sip of his champagne. “ thank you.” He whispered back, turning his head to you so he could place a little kiss on your head.

Day of the book being released to the public was a very hectic one to say the least. The room that was usually quiet and empty was now packed with people. Jess stayed close to you as he talked to customers, his hand gently on the small of your back. The smile on his face grew as he saw Luke and his niece, April enter the store. You both immediately go to the pair and greet them. Luke giving both you and Jess a strong hug. The conversation was pleasant as you mostly just listened to the three talk amongst themselves. Another familiar face meets your vision and you tense up a little. Jess feels you tense up and follows your stare to see none other than Rory Gilmore. She smiles and says hi to you both, and you let out a small hi before looking at the ground. Everyone resumes talking as you zone out.

After Luke and April wave goodbye and head out, so did many other customers as the store was getting ready to close. You and a few of the guys who also own the place start cleaning up as Rory and Jess talk. You do your best to not listen to their conversation, but curiosity consumed you. Their conversation was pretty tame for the most part, but something in you can sense that Rory misses Jess in some ways. As you see her lean in for a kiss, Jess stops her and gets up. He wishes her a safe trip home and gives her a small hug before walking over to you, his hand grabbing yours as he walked Rory out with you.

When Rory left, you looked up at Jess with worried eyes. You trusted Jess completely and have been through everything with him, but some part of you feared he might still have friends with Rory. It seemed Jess could read that off your expression almost instantly and tried to reassure you. “ You know I love you and only you, right?” He’d ask you, his hand slowly moving to be around your waist. You’d give a small nod, looking away. You hated how easily he could read you now. A small smile would form on his face as he’d move you to face him. “ She’s my friend and that’s it. I promise. I love you y/n. “ he’d tell you before slowly leaning in to kiss your lips.

AYITL :

It’s been years now, the both of you have already tied the knot and been together for nearly a decade now. You both agreed to get married, but not have a big reception like everyone else. In fact, the people who came to watch you and Jess get married was Jess’s family. Now you both live together in a nice apartment, enjoying the married life. Jess is working on his book and overall working on his self improvement more, meanwhile you are working your dream job and helping Jess out with his new book he’s writing.

When Jess mentions heading back to the small town you both met at, you were a bit nervous. You hadn’t seen your family since the night you ran away with Jess. Sometimes you wondered how they were doing, if you leaving ever really hurt them in some way. Dread and guilt hit you like a freight train at the thought. There was only one time you tried to call your parents during the first few months after you ran away, and even then hearing them pick up and ask who was calling scared you so much, you hung up almost instantly. Jess had to hold you that night as you cried. The memory alone made you feel sick, however you know going with Jess was the right approach.

Entering Stars Hallow sent you back to the time you were a young teen. It was like the town has barely changed, and by the look in Jess’s face, he seemed to feel the same. After parking the truck, you both walked up into Luke’s Diner. Luke looked a little older now, but he seemed the same as the many years before. The older man was quick to come and hug you both, welcoming you in for food. You watched the both of them talk for a bit before spotting your mom walking into the diner. Your eyes met hers as she stood there in shock to see you. The fear of her hating you for running away without a goodbye flooded back. “ Mom-“ You were cut short by your mom running over to hug you tightly. Both Jess and Luke seemed a bit tense, watching the scene unfold. “ I’m so sorry.. leaving the way I did. I know you probably don’t forgive me for leaving. I’m sorry” Tears started to well up as you apologized. “ I’m sorry for leaving you and Dad, I just didn’t know how to tell you-“ Your mom shushes you gently and doesn’t let go. “ You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay, Jess reached out a few years ago in your behalf and kept us updated. We’re just happy you’re happy honey.”

After that nice encounter, it felt like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You let Jess go to the gazette to visit Rory as you talked to your mother some more. The idea of Jess and Rory use to plague your mind of worry, however Jess has done nothing but be loyal to you so the fear overtime vanished. You showed your mother the wedding ring you have and smiled. For the rest of the day, you spent time with your family, you did have a decade of time to catch up on with them.

Later that night you came to Luke’s upper apartment to sleep. Luke moved into the Gilmore house a few years ago, so he loans out the upper apartment for you and Jess to stay In whenever you both were in town. Yawning, you kicked off your shoes and stripped off your clothes so you could change into your pajamas. Jess came out of the bathroom, stretching as he watched you change. “ How did I get so lucky to have you?” He’d ask, walking over to you and kissing your neck. The feeling of his lips on your skin makes you shutter slightly, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. “ Hmmm I don’t know babe~” you’d tease playfully and in red he’d let out a fake gasp of shock to play along. The kisses up your neck and jawline didn’t halt however, he was just getting started. “ God I love you so much “ he’d whisper in your ear before turning you to face him. You both locked eyes as pressed yourself against him. His eyes were filled with love and adoration for you. He is the love of your life, and you are the love of his life. With a loving smile, you kiss him on the lips. He tried to deepen the kiss, however you push him away for only a second. You only had one thing to tell him before you’d continue .

“ I love you too Jess.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you guys enjoyed this. I’m running on a few hours of sleep, so if the pacing or grammar is a bit off I’m so sorry. I tried to keep true to the timeline and add more details to it. I also wanted to add more information towards y’all’s character, but if you don’t like the family part I totally get it. Please let me know what y’all think in the comments. My commissions are open so let me know 🥰 thank you guys again for reading and supporting my writing. Have a wonderful day everyone! - Willow

#jess mariano #my work #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano imagine #gilmore girls #gilmore girls x reader

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madwomansapologist · 10 days ago

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YOU LOVE BLOOD TOO MUCH (BUT NOT LIKE I DO)

★彡 synopsis: awakened in a new era, sukuna found endless opportunities to hurt and maim others. he also found you, a sorcerer with an ever-expading soul bonded to oaths of pacifism and self-control. allured by the strength you decided to hide, sukuna realized this era could be far more fascinating.

chapter three: the first night or the one ryomen sukuna contemplated suicide.

warnings: ryomen sukuna being a bully, thoughts about violence, he isn't beating the flower lover allegations, a bit of hurt/comfort (c'mon yuji deserves a hug), cannibalism thoughts once more, tw human earthworm.

word count: [1,8K]

kill count: [0]

“Their blood will warm your hands”, his mocking echoed in the empty dorm. The large room felt smaller. “I’ll keep their heads intact for you to stare at their dim eyes.”

Yuji bit his tongue, tasting a bit of iron. He forced himself to concentrate solely on taking his clothes out from his backpack. It was hard. For the first time in his life, smoothing clothes he didn’t fold well enough was the best thing to do. The less annoying, too.

Ryomen Sukuna. A strong and arrogant imaginary demon, as Gojo-sensei explained earlier. Yuji witnessed firsthand the King of Curses’ unending taste for bloodshed—a heart stopped beating in his hands last night.

Yuji knew better than answering those constant provocations. What difference could it made? Not when his new roommate had no real power to hurt him. Not when this is all his fault. Not when Yuji fears those shallow threats may prove themselves not so shallow.

But no wit or willpower could make Yuji ignore a mouth ripping into his palm. “And don’t forget, brat, that it all will be your fault.”

After the slap, silence came. Except, it wasn’t after. The mouth disappeared on its own accord the moment before Yuji slapped his hand. The silence wasn’t his doing. There was no fulfillment in it.

Arguing with him is pointless, Yuji tried to convince himself. He knew it was the truth. Sukuna threatened to massacre, tried to eat a human heart, promised to kill his teachers. If a part of him feels guilt, it’s a really silent one. Then why am I not convinced?

Yuji kneeled down on the floor to grab his uniform, and the act felt too much like admitting defeat. Maybe it was. After all, confronting Sukuna only resulted in pain. But that’s fine. As long as Yuji is the only in pain, he doesn’t mind.

His frustrated silence made Sukuna rejoice.

A host for something greater. A weak receptacle that hasn’t earned respect. A walking dead body. That’s all the brat is. Sukuna will remind him of that at every change he gets, a promise he’s more than willing to keep.

The kid thinks having control over this body makes him untouchable and fails to comprehend how profane it is for him to keep on breathing. Unless this decadent era made them weak and stupid, sorcerers all across the country know about Ryomen Sukuna’s return. And they’re all terrified of it. Who wouldn’t be?

Control won’t protect him. The only thing that someone can always rely on is strength, and that the boy lacks immensely. His mentors won’t be near all the time, and because of them Sukuna understood there is friction between sorcerers and those in command. It won’t take long until control isn’t enough.

Does the weakling even understand his situation? If this world remembers his titles, then every sorcerer knows this peaceful era will be destroyed. Curses, humans, sorcerers: they all died the moment Ryomen Sukuna reincarnated.

Nothing will survive because nothing can stop the King of Curses, but anyone could kill this brat. He can bite his tongue to not argue and fear being the reason for someone’s death, but Sukuna knows it will be sorcerers to send the boy to his death. A wrong shot, a stupid move, and Yuji Itadori will bargain.

I’ll give you anything, Sukuna can almost hear his cries, taste his tears.

I want everything, Sukuna is ready to respond.

Except there is an obstacle. Someone that should’ve died. Someone smart enough to understand he would take full advantage of the boy’s naivety, valiant enough to restrain his possible movements for the near future, arrogant enough to do it with a smile.

A knock and the boy moved from the floor. He took a deep breath, forcing a smile to spread on his face. With the door unlocked, your silky voice and lily perfume reached them both.

“Good. You’re still awake”, you sighed. Showing him the box in your hands, Yuji’s smile became a bit more genuine. It made Sukuna want to puke. “I got you a few things.”

The boy took a step back, allowing you into his dorm. You dared to smile. Passing by them, the fluidity of your soul made Sukuna’s flesh crawl. The stupid boy assumed you were a monk, Sukuna don’t think you could ever be one. A fervid torment. That’s what you are.

Closing the door, Yuji looked at the wall and became aware of how embarrassing his poster was. “Are you still working, sensei? It’s super late.”

“I’m staying on my old dorm for a few weeks, my house is under renovation”, you put the box on a desk. You were right, Yuji only brought his clothes. And that poster. “Most days, I work until 2am, so consider this a deserved break.”

Yuji came closer, sneaking a glance inside the box. “You studied here too?”

“The director used to be my teacher.” Humidifier, bed sets, table lamp, towels, pillows, trash can: you placed everything on his bed and leaned against the table. “Talking about Yaga, did he hurt you a lot?”

“I’m fine, sensei! No worries. Thank you. For everything.”

You cocked an eyebrow. Crushing the box between you thumb and index, you transformed it into a one-inch cardboard ball. “If you need me, feel free to knock on my door. Goodnight, Itadori.”

He opened the door for you, hand stiff against the knob. You passed by Yuji, fingers tracing lightly at his knuckles. A heartbeat later, all of his hidden injuries were gone. “Sleep well, tough boy.”

“I meant it”, Yuji rubbed his hands. Sitting on the bed, he started fiddling with your gifts. His defeat diminished, giving place to a twisted gratitude. Sukuna considered biting you once more. “Thank you.”

Your hand lingered on the knob. There is so much you need to do, but there you were watching Yuji’s light withering. You imagine no one can escape a lonely night. Not on their own, that is.

You took a step back, tilting your head to check the hallway. Megumi was still awake hence the shadows moving through the doorway. Looking at your phone, you faced once more the fact it was late late and you have much to do

“Or would you rather watch a movie?” It wasn’t an empty offer; one you silently hoped Yuji would decline. You meant it. This kid is worth accumulating some work.

Yuji faced you, eyes widening as his energy suddenly came back. He didn’t bother pretending it wouldn’t be a nightmare to spend the night alone—with Sukuna. “Can we?”

“Fushiguro is awake”, you said. “He slept all day to recover.”

Yuji knocked on Megumi’s door until he opened it. Eyes small and hair damp, it took Megumi a moment to take off his headphone. The way Yuji smiled gave him chills. Something bad was about to happen.

“I was trying to sleep”, Megumi muttered.

“With that loud music?” Yuji taunted. Megumi said nothing in response. After all, the three of them were listening to Evanescence. “Let’s watch a movie, Fushiguro! You don’t have anything better to do, right?”

“Tea for you, popcorn for us”, you decided. Walking away, you threw Megumi your keys. “Don’t waste my time with a boring movie.”

In an instant, you were gone. Megumi took a deep breath, gesturing for Yuji to follow him. “You weren’t annoying her, right?”

“I wasn’t, Fushiguro”, said Yuji. “I’m polite.”

As they crossed the campus dependencies, Sukuna perceived the residuals of different cursed energies. Some recent, some about to disappear. He saw amulets at every amenity, seals on the training grounds and classrooms, felt different barriers beneath the earth. It all smelled like Tengen.

There are things time can’t change. Sorcerers intruding his plans, weaklings displaying underserved courage, Tengen adding a touch of rot into anything she does. Or is it a he now? Not that it matters, they always stink the same.

Once the darkhaired sorcerer unlocked a wide door, another presence overwhelmed Sukuna’s senses. Dense residuals, tart and menacing. Your cursed energy is nothing like your soul.

Sukuna wonders how your technique feels like. You can use weapons, reverse cursed technique, tolerate fatal wounds. Still, you haven’t attacked him with everything you have. What sort of damage can your own hands do? Can you entertain him for long enough?

It won’t matter. Sukuna might taunt you, drenched in the warm blood of the blindfolded sorcerer, and allow your battle to last more than a couple seconds to drink on your fear and rage. At the end, killing you will be easy and forgettable, a disappointment just like every other dispute.

Every sorcerer with impressive positive energy forgets how simple it’s to defeat them. Cursed energy comes from the gut: one doesn’t feel anger in their toes or jealousy with their eyes. Heal yourself all you want, ignore the loss of a heart, but positive energy still comes solely from the brain.

And Sukuna’s specialty is cutting meat.

It’s convenient, really. That your blood tastes so good. Eating is a privilege of the living, and that Sukuna will demonstrate to you by finally sinking his teeth into your heart. He hopes your meat doesn’t disappoint him too.

“She calls this a dorm?” Yuji whistled. As he sat on the couch, Megumi turned the lights on. “This place is huge.”

“What movie should I put?” Megumi sat with the remote control on his hands, searching for something interesting. He frowned as if it was a life-or-death situation. “Do you like terror?”

Yuji walked around the living room, not touching anything but wanting to. Tall stacks of books besides your already filled bookcase, sealed dagger and axes on the kitchen counter, lavender incense burning near bloodstained yukatas.

On a sash, Yuji noticed a symbol. One that you wore earlier too. “What does that beetle on sensei’s robes means?”

“It’s a scarab, Itadori”, Megumi explained. Yuji took the control from his hands, searching for something fun. “The sigil of the Minamoto clan.”

Yuji put on a movie and paused. “Can I ask you something?”, he whispered. After Megumi nodded, he leaned closer. “Why Gojo-sensei called her a monster? Are they really friends?”

Megumi sighed. Of course he did that. “She’s been called that since her birth.”

“But why?”

“She wasn’t supposed to be alive”, Megumi hesitated. “There are rumors. Too many rumors. That her mother did everything to abort. Surgeries, teas, hairpins. Sensei wasn’t supposed to be born. I don’t know the whole story.”

“So that’s why I sneezed.” The two boys jumped in place, but all you did was laugh. You placed a tray with popcorn bowls and a teapot on the coffee table. “What movie are we watching?”

It took Yuji a moment to breath again. “Earthworm man.”

That night, Yuji had fun meanwhile everyone else in your house considered suicide as a viable option.

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milliesfishes · 9 months ago

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౨ৎ꣑ৎHold Up౨ৎ꣑ৎ (Pray You Catch Me Part Two)

[fem reader] contains: mentions of pale skin, cheating, suggestive, self harm (non-suicidal), manipulation, angst, innocent reader, reader cares to some level about snow. pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader summary: (au) you’ve been married to the president of Panem for awhile now, and you thought things were going well, until you find out he’s been cheating. (Chapter 2) author’s note: thanks for the love on chapter one <3 excited about this one. Series Pinterest Board Series Spotify Playlist

When Coriolanus had started to court you, he’d exhibited certain behaviors you’d taken note of. Some of them were regular things, but one stood out above all others.

He was possessive. One of his hands was always on your waist, or your thigh, wherever he could reach, wherever was appropriate for the setting. Whenever you were speaking with anyone at the events the two of you attended, especially if it was a man, he kept close watch. His gaze was sharp, piercing, and anyone could feel it on them even if they weren’t looking in his direction.

Every touch, every hint of protectiveness swam through your head as you laid next to him, back against his chest as he held you like a doll.

Sleep was not your friend that night.

Your mind was fully focused on the hand he’d put over you, how it had slid under your nightdress, resting on the skin of your hip, and your emotions ran wild, swirling around until sunrise when you finally landed on one. Anger.

The audacity he had to make plans to meet another woman for something so glaringly carnal and then come back to you, his obedient little wife, like nothing had happened. Your hand gripped the pillow under your head, feeling like you could tear it in half. The black nightdress you’d picked up felt like sandpaper on your skin.

Sitting up slightly, you looked over at him. The most powerful man in Panem, fast asleep, so vulnerable, so…human. His blond hair was a little messy, his breathing soft. Even now, he was annoyingly perfect.

Suddenly, as your mind wandered, it struck you that you had no idea how long he’d been seeing her. You knew it’d been at least once because he’d mentioned last time. This could have been years in the making, and you were just too naive, too stupid to see it. Hell, it could’ve started long before he’d begun courting you, and you’d been none the wiser. You hardly knew anything of his past, except what his being in the public eye afforded you.

The hand on your hip was heavy, like a weight, and you glared down at it. In the past, you would’ve allowed it, not wanting to wake him. Maybe you’d have even enjoyed the feeling.

But this was not the past.

In one motion, you shoved his hand off you, tugging your nightdress down and moving as far away from him as you could on the bed. You pulled the pillow out from under your head and put it firmly between the two of you, your back to him. It was a small act of rebellion, but it was all you had right now.

When morning came and the sunlight spilled through the windows between the wine red curtains, he’d awaken and wonder why he wasn’t holding you anymore. But he wouldn’t think much of it, likely figuring you’d shifted around in the night. He’d be confused, but it wouldn’t affect more than a few minutes of his waking mind.

It was all you had right now.

Several hours later, Coriolanus was gone for the day, and you tried to occupy yourself. It was not an easy task. It felt pathetic waiting around for him to get home, but you didn’t know what else to do.

Wandering into the closet you shared, you ventured over to his side, running your hands over his shirts and jackets, inhaling his scent. You’d never explored his things before, keeping to your dresses and heels. He’d never outright told you not to do this, but you assumed he didn’t necessarily want you to.

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. It was the least you could do after what he knew hurt you.

You took a shirt off its hanger, pressing the fabric to your nose. Men’s cologne, roses. That was him. When you put it back on the hanger, you made sure it was a little less neat than before.

Now you were at his jackets, and you took a red one off the hanger, noting the pants it matched on a shelf, crisply folded. Going over to the floor length mirror, you pulled it on, smoothing it over your body. You were still wearing the black nightdress from the night before.

Wearing his clothes felt strange, but you liked it. It was…powerful. You put your hands in the pockets, turning to look at yourself from a new angle, when you felt a loose scrap of fabric. Lace.

Your eyes widened, a feeling of dread taking over as you hastily pulled it out. A stark black pair of panties, ones that did not belong to you.

Mind racing, you thought back to the last time he’d worn this jacket. A month ago, a fundraiser you’d attended. You remembered that night because he’d been unusually affectionate, pressing a kiss to your forehead when you’d leave to talk to a friend, his arm around your waist holding you close when he was speaking with a senator you couldn’t remember the name of. You’d felt…well, not loved, but cared for. Like maybe, just maybe this could be more.

But evidently he’d gone straight to her afterwards.

The staff of the mansion was discreet, and they wouldn’t dare ask questions if they found a pair of panties in his pocket. They’d have likely just put them right back where they found them after the jacket had been cleaned.

As all this hit you, your face crumpled, and you knelt on the floor of the closet, still holding the panties, and cried softly. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. You didn’t know why you were surprised he was stepping out on you, but it was the fact that he’d made you think he cared about you, and allowed yourself to care back.

You were just another pawn in his game.

Men like Coriolanus wanted to be adored, without risking their own necks. Let everyone else feel, be vulnerable, devote themselves. On some level you had known that before, but now…now it was glaringly obvious.

As was what you had to do.

You wiped your tears and took off the jacket, hanging it up right where he’d see it when he walked in. The panties were still bunched in your fist as you stalked out of the closet, heading for the bathroom. A plan was hatching in your mind, and you gritted your teeth, your expression dark.

Tossing the panties on the counter, you pulled out your curling iron and plugged it in. As you waited for it to heat up, you got out a washcloth, twisting it in your hands. It was your wedding anniversary today, so you knew for sure he’d be home tonight. That’s why he can’t meet her tonight-

Shut up, you told yourself, fanning a hand over the curling iron, making sure it was hot. You picked it up, inhaling softly. There was a moment of hesitation. Was it worth it?

Then you thought of the way your heart had fluttered when he pressed his lips to your temple, the way you’d smiled sweetly at him when he told you that you looked beautiful on his arm…

You shoved the washcloth into your mouth and brought the curling iron to your neck, pressing it down hard.

Perfection is attainable, you thought as you sat at the dining table, across from your usual spot. His place was set at the head, and you were often situated to his left. But tonight you’d requested you sit to the right, a subtle change that’d unconsciously put him on edge.

You looked ravishing, in a dress with a deep neckline, thin straps, and hardly any back. Deep red. His signature color. One you hadn’t dared to wear before. There was a rose between your fingers, and you were twisting it, eyes on the entrance to the dining room.

At last, he appeared, as handsome as ever, his face serene. There was little reaction to the sight of you, but it was there, and you relished in it.

“Dove,” he greeted, coming closer. You made no move to stand and welcome him as you usually did, instead looking up at him innocently, the end of the short stem of the rose in your mouth.

He sat in his chair, eyes on you. “Your dress…”

“Oh?” You looked down at yourself as if it were nothing. “I found it in the back of the closet. I know you usually like me in black…” you let that statement hang in the air for a moment. “...but it’s a special occasion.”

Coriolanus watched you, something you couldn’t pinpoint in his eyes. “I was only going to say you look lovely.”

You merely smiled at the compliment, setting the rose down in front of you, your hand beside it. He picked it up, his elbow on the table, kissing your fingers. “Happy anniversary, dove.”

Hating the little flutter your heart gave, you kept your eyes on him, a little smile on your face as you brushed your hair behind your shoulder with your free hand.

Immediately his eyes caught it, his expression growing cold.

The dark burn mark on your neck, bruising and almost looking like…

You looked innocently at him, taking note of the change in his face. “Dearest…?”

His grip on your hand was tighter. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

Frowning, you kept your expression light, pretending not to know. “I don’t-”

“Your neck,” he hissed. “What the hell is that?”

You didn’t respond, only looked at him, your eyes blank like you had a secret. His silence was furious, and yet internally you were having a laugh. Cheaters are always paranoid that their partners are cheating. This was something you'd known when you burned your neck earlier, and the seed you’d planted was in full bloom. “Curling iron accident.”

You’d made sure to only slightly curl the ends of your long hair, enough that what you said was plausible, but not entirely believable. His thoughts were almost visible on his face. “You expect me to believe you burned yourself?”

“You can ask Lisa,” you said, referring to one of the maids. “I rang for her to bring me ointment.” This was true, you’d called her in tears, showing her the mark. She’d applied enough medicine to stop the pain, but nothing except time would make the mark completely go away.

But you knew how his mind worked. He knew maids could be bribed, and pain could be fabricated. And you’d orchestrated it so it’d be frustrating for him to get to the bottom of this, because he already was at the bottom. His paranoia was almost too easy to manipulate.

“If I find out you’ve been with another man…” Coriolanus’ voice was quiet, the tone change making his words lethal.

You leaned forward, pulling your hand from his grasp. “And what if I am?”

His cold expression betrayed some surprise as you stood up, looking like a goddess with your hair spilling over your shoulders. In his usual color preference, you looked powerful, dangerously beautiful. “It’s hard to tell, Coriolanus. You work long hours. Spend a lot of time away. Maybe…just maybe, I could’ve gotten lonely. Maybe I could’ve needed someone to keep your side of the bed warm…”

In an instant, he stood, pinning your hands to the table and leaning over you, his hot breath in your face. You kept your expression calm, looking into his eyes boldly. He glared at you. “You wouldn’t dare-”

“You’re right,” you cut him off. “I wouldn’t. That mark on my neck is just a burn...” He must’ve thought you were a good actress, but not good enough that he couldn’t see through you. It was almost funny how easy he could be convinced. It’d hardly taken any effort at all.

You wrenched one of your hands out of his grasp, taking his hand and sliding it up so his fingers were hooked on the slit of your dress, dragging it up and over toward your belly so the panties you were wearing were on full display. Black, lacy ones.

His eyes widened as he recognized them, and you stared at him, expression hard. His lips parted slightly, and his eyes rose slowly to meet yours. You said nothing, shoving his hand away, your dress falling back over your legs. “...care to tell me what these are?”

Coriolanus’ blue eyes pierced yours, and you didn’t let yourself be intimidated by him. He was the president of Panem…but he was still just a man.

“You know,” he said simply, eyes searching yours.

You only stared at him.

He exhaled, biting his tongue and looking away for a moment. “How long have you known?”

“I don’t see why that matters,” you said, folding your arms across your chest, your chin held high.

His expression was firm, but he nodded curtly. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

Silence.

Coriolanus kept his eyes on you. “I never meant to hurt you, dove-”

“Don’t call me that,” you said softly, sharply.

He exhaled through his nose, a sure sign he was angry. “You had to know this would happen at some point. This was an arranged marriage for-”

You interrupted him again. “It’d be one thing if you’d always been cold. If you’d kept your distance and stayed far away from me. But you convinced me that you cared about me. You made me look stupid.” Your eyes bored into his.

He was silent, still glaring at you, but it had weakened. The words hit him exactly where you’d wanted them to.

You stood up straight, stepping away from him. “I’ll be staying in another room from now on, so if you’ll excuse me, I need to move my things.” You’d already enlisted Lisa to help move most of them earlier, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Absolutely not,” Coriolanus grabbed your wrist. “I can tolerate your anger, but separate beds will not be suffered. Or did you forget your vows-?”

“Which you already broke,” you pulled yourself away from him, turning your back, giving him one last look at you in the dress. “I think sleeping in a different bed will be fine.”

He wasn’t used to being interrupted this much, and he stood in silence as you walked away. Just before you got to the doorway, you reached up, sliding the panties down your legs, turning and throwing them in his direction. “Here. I bet she’s missing these.”

And with that, you left your husband in silence, the last hours of your wedding anniversary lost to the aftermath of his infidelity.

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slut4evanpeters · 2 months ago

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Bound By The Dark

Tate Langdon x Reader loosely based on Romeo and Juliet.

song i recommend listening to: living legend by lana del rey

warning: very angst, suicide, using medication to commit, romanticizing of death, tragic ending, themes of isolation, depression, emotional distress, do not read if ANY of these are triggers.

word count: 2.7k

notes: please read this with caution. if you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, please know that you are loved and supported. its never to late for help:)

The house had a history.

You learned that almost immediately after stepping foot inside the large, looming structure. It towered over the street, its cracked façade barely hidden behind sprawling vines and overgrown bushes. The real estate agent had brushed off any concerns you or your parents had, but there was a feeling. A thick, suffocating tension. That settled over the place, clinging to your skin like humidity. It smelled old, like mildew and stale air, and as soon as you crossed the threshold, you knew you didn’t want to be there.

But your family didn’t care about how it felt. They cared that the house was cheap, and that it was far larger than any other home you’d ever lived in. Your father said it was a “fresh start” for all of you. A new life in a new city. It was the kind of lie that parents told when they didn’t want to admit that things had been falling apart for a long time, and now this move was their last-ditch attempt to piece things back together.

But no matter how much you tried to embrace that optimism, you couldn’t shake the chill that seeped into your bones as you walked the long, winding halls of the house. Something was off, like the house was waiting for something, or maybe for someone.

The first few days were relatively uneventful. Boxes were unpacked, rooms were organized, and your parents seemed to settle in without much concern. Your room was large, with a window that looked out onto the overgrown backyard, where a twisted oak tree stood tall and crooked, like it had been there longer than the house itself.

But even in the bright light of the afternoon, the house felt wrong. Its walls creaked and groaned in the night as if it had a voice of its own. Sometimes, when you were alone, you could swear you heard footsteps echoing down the hallways, but when you looked, no one was there. The isolation was suffocating, and though you had tried to distract yourself with new schoolwork and social media, nothing could fill the growing void inside you.

It was late one evening when you first met him.

The rain had been pounding against your window, relentless and unyielding, when you decided to venture down to the basement. Your parents had explicitly warned you to stay away from it, but something about the basement called to you. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was fate.

The stairs groaned under your weight as you descended, the air growing colder with each step. The basement was dimly lit, the shadows casting strange shapes along the walls, and yet it felt strangely familiar. Like you had been there before, though you knew you hadn’t.

And then you saw him.

He was leaning against one of the brick walls, his blond curls falling into his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. His clothes were simple, almost dated—a worn sweater and jeans that looked like they belonged to a different era. But it was his eyes that held your attention—dark, hollow, and full of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Hey,” he said softly, as if he’d been expecting you. His voice was calm, almost soothing, despite the eerie atmosphere of the basement.

You froze, unsure of what to do. This was your house—wasn’t it? Who was he? How had he gotten in?

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice steady but your heart racing in your chest.

He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Tate.”

“And what are you doing in my house?” you demanded, trying to sound braver than you felt.

Tate shrugged, pushing himself off the wall and stepping closer to you. “I live here.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. He lived here? That couldn’t be true—you and your family had just moved in. The house had been empty for years. Or at least, that’s what the real estate agent had said.

“No, you don’t,” you said, frowning. “We just moved in. No one’s lived here for years.”

Tate’s smile widened, though there was something almost sad about it. “Not in the way you think.”

There was something about the way he said it—so matter-of-fact, so final—that sent a chill down your spine. You opened your mouth to ask what he meant, but before you could, the lights flickered, plunging the basement into darkness for just a second. When the light returned, Tate was gone, leaving you standing alone in the cold, silent basement.

You tried asking your parents if they knew anything about the previous owners of the house, but they shrugged it off. “No one important,” your father had said, brushing past the question as if it didn’t matter. “Some old family. The house has been empty for a while.”

But you knew that wasn’t true. Tate had been there, and somehow, you felt like he had been there for a long time.

It wasn’t long before you saw him again. It was late at night, after your parents had gone to bed. You were restless, unable to sleep, so you wandered the house, hoping to quiet your thoughts. As you passed by one of the unused rooms on the second floor, you felt a strange pull, as if something—or someone—was calling you.

You pushed the door open, and there he was, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. He looked up as you entered, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“You came back,” he said softly, as if he had been waiting for you.

“I didn’t come back for you,” you said, though even as the words left your mouth, you knew they weren’t entirely true.

Tate smiled that sad, knowing smile again. “You don’t have to lie. Not to me.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. There was something about him—something that drew you in, even though every instinct in your body told you to stay away. He was dangerous, you could feel it in your bones, but you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to know him. You needed to understand him.

“Why are you here?” you asked, stepping further into the room.

Tate sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. “Because I can’t leave.”

“What do you mean?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the weight of the answer was too much to bear. “I’m tied to this house. I’ve been here for a long time. Longer than you could imagine.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine. “Are you… are you dead?”

Tate’s eyes opened slowly, and when they met yours, they were filled with a sorrow so deep it took your breath away. “Yes.”

You weren’t sure how to process the fact that Tate was a ghost.

You wanted to deny it, to rationalize it, but the more you spoke with him, the more real it became. Tate had died a long time ago, but his spirit remained in the house, bound by some invisible force that kept him there.

At first, you were scared. You avoided the rooms where you had seen him, trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t real—that he wasn’t real. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were meant to know him. There was something about him, something tragic and beautiful, that pulled you in.

And so, slowly, you began to seek him out.

It became a routine: you’d wander the house late at night, knowing you’d find him waiting for you somewhere. Sometimes in the basement, sometimes in that forgotten room on the second floor. You’d talk for hours, sharing stories of your life, your dreams, your fears. And Tate, in return, told you about his.

He had been lonely for so long, trapped in the house with no one to talk to, no one to understand him. But with you, he felt alive again, even if just for a fleeting moment.

One night, as you sat together in the attic, Tate reached out and brushed his fingers against your cheek. His touch was cold, but it sent a warmth spreading through your chest, igniting something deep inside you.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, his voice trembling with something you couldn’t quite place. “This house… it’s not safe.”

“I don’t care,” you said, your heart pounding in your chest. “I want to be with you.”

Tate’s eyes darkened, filled with a mix of desire and fear. “You don’t understand, Y/N. I’m dangerous. I’ve done things… horrible things.”

“I don’t care,” you repeated, your voice firm. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and electric. Tate stared at you, his expression filled with shock and disbelief. “You… you love me?”

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “Yes, Tate. I do.”

For a moment, Tate didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were cool against yours, but the kiss was filled with an intensity that took your breath away. It was desperate, almost frantic, as if he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear.

But you didn’t pull away. You kissed him back, pouring every ounce of your heart into that single, stolen moment.

When you finally broke apart, Tate rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But we can’t… we can’t be together. Not like this.”

Despite Tate’s warnings, you couldn’t stay away from him.

Every night, you found yourself returning to him, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And each night, your connection deepened. You could feel it—the way the house seemed to pulse with a dark energy, as if it knew you were falling in love with a ghost and was waiting for the inevitable fallout.

Your parents noticed the change in you, though they didn’t understand it. You spent less time with them, more time wandering the halls of the house, lost in your thoughts. They tried to talk to you about it, but you brushed them off, too consumed by your love for Tate to care about anything else.

“You’ve been acting strange,” your mother said one morning over breakfast, her brow furrowed with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, though your heart felt heavy in your chest. How could you tell her the truth? How could you explain that you had fallen in love with someone who was dead?

But deep down, you knew it couldn’t last.

The house was getting to you. You could feel it in the way the walls seemed to close in on you, the way the air felt thicker, heavier. The longer you stayed, the more you realized that Tate had been right—it wasn’t safe. Not for you, not for anyone.

And yet, you couldn’t leave him. You loved him too much.

It was late one night when everything came crashing down.

You had been in the attic with Tate, your head resting on his shoulder as the two of you lay side by side. The house was quiet, the only sound the soft patter of rain against the roof.

“You know this can’t last, right?” Tate said suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stiffened, pulling away to look at him. “What do you mean?”

Tate’s eyes were filled with sadness as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re alive, Y/N. You have a life outside of this house. Outside of me.”

“I don’t want a life without you,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can’t leave you, Tate.”

“But you have to,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You deserve to live. To be happy.”

Tears filled your eyes as you shook your head. “I don’t want to be happy without you.”

Tate closed his eyes, his expression pained. “I love you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. But this… it’s not fair to you.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the attic, followed by the creak of the door opening. You turned to see your father standing in the doorway, his face pale with shock.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking. “Who are you talking to?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you realized that your father couldn’t see Tate. To him, you were sitting alone, talking to thin air.

“Dad, I can explain—” you started, but your father cut you off.

“We’re leaving,” he said, his voice firm. “This house… it’s doing something to you. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“No!” you cried, standing up and taking a step toward him. “I’m not leaving! I can’t!”

But your father didn’t listen. He turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the attic with tears streaming down your face.

Deep down, knew that without Tate, you’d be better off in the gutter. His presence was the only thing tethering you to the mess that had become your life, but it wasn’t enough to pull you out. That night, everything seemed so much clearer.

You made the decision.

Racing from the attic into your bedroom, your heart pounded in your chest. It wasn’t panic, but a strange kind of calm, like you had finally figured out the answer to a question that had haunted you for your time loving Tate. You went straight to the nightstand, hands trembling as you yanked open the top drawer. Buried in the back, behind half-empty tubes of lip balm and loose change, was the small box of paracetamol. You had kept it there in case of a fever, but that wasn’t why you reached for it now.

Sitting on your bed, the stillness of the room pressed in around you. One by one, you popped each pill from its foiled tray, their edges cutting slightly into your fingertips. You placed each one on your tongue, swallowing them dry, your throat burning as the bitter taste clung to the back of your mouth.

Once the last pill was gone, you sank back against the pillows, feeling the cool fabric cradling your head. A faint tune drifted through the air, a song you couldn’t quite place but one that felt familiar, almost comforting. Your vision started to blur, your head spinning gently, and your eyelids grew heavy. For a fleeting moment, you thought you felt Tate’s presence, like a shadow hovering beside you, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t try to stop you.

The world slipped away.

When you opened your eyes, everything had changed. You crawled out of bed, your limbs feeling light and weightless, but when you turned to look, your breath caught in your throat. There you were, your body, lying perfectly still on the bed. Peaceful. Almost as if you had simply fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

For a moment, you stood frozen, staring at yourself, trying to make sense of what had just happened. There was no pain, no fear. Just a strange sense of detachment, like watching a scene play out in a movie.

Then, from over your shoulder, you heard it. A whisper.

“I told you death was painless.” Tate’s voice, low and familiar, curled around you like smoke. You turned to find him standing there, the ghost of a smirk on his lips, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite read. “You didn’t need saving, after all.”

You looked back at your body one last time, then turned to face him fully. Maybe he was right—maybe you didn’t need saving. But the decision had already been made, and now there was no going back.

Hand in hand with Tate, you walked into the darkness together, the world you had known fading away behind you.

In the end, your love story was not one of happiness or hope. It was a tragedy, a tale of two souls bound by love.

Tate was your Romeo, and you his Juliet.

#tate langdon oneshot #tate langdon imagine #tate x reader #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon #tate langdon angst #evan peters #evan peters imagine #evan peters oneshot #evan peters angst #evan peters x reader #american horror story #ahs murder house #ahs murder house oneshot

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armandclocksitall · 5 months ago

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Object of Your Pursuit (Chapter 1)

Armand x gn! Reader (no y/n used)

Warnings: descriptions of death, suicide ideation

Armand strode into the bar. He knew he would gain nothing from being here. No human food or drink could ever quench him, but he chose to be here to escape his own thoughts of what went down just a few days prior. A 77 year long relationship torn apart in a matter of days by the first person who ever saw him for who he was. The 500 year old vampire had never been found out so fast, had never been found out ever even by himself. Louis was right, Daniel Molloy truly was as fascinating as he made him out to be.

Daniel, his fledgling. Armand never intended to make another vampire, but Daniel was different. And now he was being tracked down by him.

He sat in the corner of the crowded room as he thought about how things would play out. Maybe he’d just let Daniel kill him; 500 years was a long enough life. He never found anyone who had any interest in sticking around so why wait around any longer?

Armand was there for hours watching the people pile in and out of the building, the chatter never dying down. A rowdy bachelor party that would grow to regret their decision to drink so much the night before, a girl crying in the bathroom being comforted by her best friend over a breakup that truly will benefit her down the road, a man face down at a table, dead to the world having drank himself into unconsciousness rather than face the things that scare him, different people with different lives yet not at all breaking any molds.

They were all so boring. He winced at the word– boring. Maybe the most hurtful of insults he ever received from the man he loved. Armand was the only one who remembers that night so vividly, by his own fault of course. He can’t even claim that he thought what he was doing was right, he knew of the monumental fuck ups he committed and how they’d likely come back to bite him but he still did them. Lied to Louis, took credit for Lestat’s actions, tortured Daniel, manipulated people time and time again for his own benefit. He couldn’t tell if he was sorry for doing it or just sorry he was caught but now he sit here alone and still like a statue waiting to figure out his next steps.

The doors of the bar slammed open again, a gust of wind blowing through the bar giving a slight break from the man-made humidity indoors. A group of college students filing in talking of their upcoming exams, truly nothing groundbreaking. Complaints of a professor, what pages to study, blah blah and more never ending blah.

But finally something caught the ancient one’s eye, one of the students looked just as agonizingly bored as he felt. He entered their mind for only a second before feeling the thoughts wash over him.

They were thinking of a clock, counting the seconds until they were away from this group, this town, the school, everything. Nothing was keeping their interest and they were sick to death of it.

Sick to death, Armand thought to himself. It had been a time since he last hunted and a burnt out student would be quite easy prey, already halfway lured into wanting some long awaited rest. Normally he enjoyed a bit of a challenge but at his age, finding someone to drain wasn’t exactly difficult. He had sat there for hours with the senseless musings of humanity droning through his mind, he deserved an easy end to his night.

He stared at them, willing them to turn and lock eyes.

“Come to me.” The words were smooth as they slithered their way into the ear of his prey. “Come to me.” The words he projected into Lestat’s mind so many years ago.

The student turned feeling his breath on their neck, the words so clearly spoken and meant for them. They expected him to be just an arms length away as they turned but were intrigued to find the apparent speaker of the command across the bar with an intense stare.

They broke from their group, a muttered excuse of needing to go that was paid no attention. Slowly, they made their way through the crowded room brushing shoulders with people who each smelled of a different type of alcohol that burned their nose. Their eyes never leaving the fire like irises of the vampire, they approached his table and stared down at him.

“Mind if I sit?”

Armand wordlessly nodded his head at the chair in front of him. They sat and absentmindedly swished their half empty drink around in its cup. Their eyes met again waiting for the other to strike up a conversation. Armand straightened in his seat realizing they had no intention of speaking first.

“You’re bored.”

“Yeah?” they looked at him puzzled, “It’s a Thursday night at a bar in a college town, what’s interesting about that?”

“Not just tonight. You’re bored in general,” he said with a face devoid of emotion. This wasn’t an assumption. He just knew.

“Maybe, but you’re certainly not adding any entertainment factor,” they spoke, ready to walk away from this strange man completely.

“I can offer you something that might add to it though. It might interest you to–”

They cut him off, “I’m not gonna hook up with you.”

“That wasn’t what I was offering, though I’m flattered you at least thought about it,” his stoney face finally broke into a smirk. “What I was going to say is that it might interest you to at least listen to and consider my proposal.”

The student growing from bored to frustrated at his conversational pacing motioned for him to continue.

“I have a, let’s say ‘hobby’, of tracking people down. It keeps things interesting for me at my advanced age,” he chuckled to himself. “Would you be interested perhaps in being my object of pursuit tonight?”

“Your object of pursuit?” they laughed at his wording while rolling their eyes, “I already told you I’m not interested in hooking up with you.”

“Like I told you, that’s not my intention.”

“Then what exactly is your intention and why the hell would I wanna be apart of any of this?”

“I could offer you whatever amount of money you needed to live comfortably, more than comfortably, for the rest of your life. All you would have to do is make it to a location of my choosing before sunrise,” he reasoned as if this was an everyday occurrence for him.

“You’d give me money for you to hunt me down?,” they asked incredulously. “But only if I make it to wherever by morning; and what exactly happens if I don’t make it there?”

Armand raised an eyebrow at them, making it out like the answer was quite obvious. His eyes felt like razor blades cutting into them from across the table.

Every joke they could’ve made in that moment suddenly fled from their mind realizing exactly what he was inferring. “You’ll kill me.”

“Only if I catch you.”

The stuffy bar felt cold and suffocating in an instant, like all the air was sucked out of the room and all that was left was the two of them in a standoff waiting for the next move; the younger of the two discovering just how much danger they were in.

The thought sobered them immediately. They were sat across from a killer. The way he spoke of this plan it seemed this was far from his first time making the proposal. His words popped in their head. “At my advanced age,” their eyes scanned his face in confusion. He couldn’t be more than thirty years old, but his eyes are what gave it away; he was much much older than he seemed. The glowing irises clued them in that who– what was sitting across from them was not entirely human. It terrified them to their core that they didn’t immediately jump away from the horror that was this man but he was right, they were bored out of their absolute mind of life. This offer ended in two possible outcomes; they make it to where he tells them to go and they live out their life in the lap of luxury or they die. And they felt sick to their stomach that they actually found excitement in it all; years of the mundane ended, the first sense of twisted joy they’ve felt in recent memory and its the offer of being hunted like a wild animal by this creature.

Armand watched the gears turn in their head, watched as they rolled the idea and all its potential. He slipped into their mind to see their thoughts race a thousand miles per hour until everything became clear. They would accept.

“Where do I need to go?”

He smiled warmly at them as if he wasn’t planning their death as they spoke. “There’s a church about 5 miles west of here called Saint Mary’s, no vehicles allowed; it takes the fun out of it for me.”

5 miles. He expected them to not even make it five miles before he killed them. The realization was grim but they shook his hand before standing, “I take it I’m not allowed to tell my friends I could potentially be gruesomely murdered tonight?”

“It would certainly complicate things for me, but it’s nothing I couldn’t handle quite quickly. I’ll even give you a five minute head start,” he said smugly before making a shooing motion with his hand, “the clock’s already started.”

They approached their friends rigidly saying their quick farewells for the night, a half assed excuse made about needing to wake up early the next morning. As they exited the bar they threw a single look over their shoulder, noticing his eyes never left them for a second; a shiver wracked their body as they headed into the cool atmosphere of a quickly emptying street.

They pulled up the address and directions to the church on their phone with shakey hands, their heart was pounding but despite the lump in their throat they couldn’t bring the tears to their eyes. Adrenaline was coursing through their veins and yet they weren’t upset at the prospect of dying. The student squared their shoulders and began a quick pace towards their location.

A five minute head start, Armand thought it was hilarious. He could give them an hour head start and would still catch them. Obviously he wouldn’t but he was at least generous enough to wait twenty before standing from his chair and making his way to the street. A dreadfully bored college student is easy prey but even if he wanted a simple hunt he’s never had an issue with playing with his food.

Within minutes he was caught up to the student, staying far enough away and concealed to the shadows that they wouldn’t notice. He expected slight terror, maybe some sniveling at the prospect of death, a full sprint even; adrenaline makes humans do funny things. But no, none of that when he showed up, not any of those things. He had noticed they were bored but he never predicted they would react so– odd? The two were in a park, about three miles from the church, they had made it a good distance in the time he had given them. There was no panic, they were listening to music through a pair of headphones. It was two o’clock in the morning in a park lit only by the occasional street lamp, they weren’t worried about a vampire brutally murdering them; they didn’t even seem to worry that being so unaware of their surroundings at such a time could get them killed by a random stranger.

Armand scoffed to himself. Were they not taking this seriously at all? They were at a bridge that overlooked a small stream when they stopped. He looked into their thoughts, preparing himself to be offended by this human’s apparent stupidity. They were stopping to admire how the lights bounced off the water– while a murderous creature was after them, while he was after them. The next thought is what caught him off guard though. They were thinking about how if they died tonight they left behind no real regrets; they had nothing to quite look forward to in their future. He saw they had a general disinterest in life but never suspected them to be suicidal, though most humans even when suicidal have some sense of yearning for life; this simply did not appear in the student’s head. There was no sense of hopelessness; just apathy, a preparedness for death should it come to them.

It hit him at that moment, they felt the same way he did following his separation from Louis. A feeble minded human potentially understanding the depth of vampiric loneliness? He shook the thought from his head walking away from the scene, he was simply overthinking things. This night would only end one way; he would feed on and kill them and move on with his life once again.

It was another hour before they finally approached the church. They hadn’t seen him the entire night and considered that maybe it was just some weird scare tactic. Maybe they weren’t actually being hunted for sport by some otherworldly creature disguising himself as man. They wandered up the street seeing steeple up ahead, just a few hundred feet before they were guaranteed safety. For a moment, hope swelled in their chest; they could actually succeed at something. That moment all but vanished seeing a figure standing in the shadowed doorway; it was him. The air left their body knowing this would be the end. Their feet began to drag as they walked towards the man. How did he get here so fast?

Armand’s eyes followed the student. He saw the minuscule glint in their eye thinking they had made it disappear in an instant. It would’ve brought him joy in any other situation, but for some reason now it just made him feel a bit guilty.

“So I didn’t make it in time,” they shrugged apathetically.

“No. You didn’t.”

The two were at a standstill across from one another. The older of them looking at the other with a sense of curiosity.

“You aren’t going to beg for your life?”

They shrugged, “I knew the terms of the deal, I didn’t get here before you did. I’m gonna die, that was what you said would happen.”

Armand was met with a wave of conflicting emotions; it was so rare for him to spare a human life, and never if it didn’t benefit him somehow. Allowing them to live offered him no advantage by any stretch of the imagination and yet he found himself moving aside and motioning for the student to pass him. They stared at him in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“I haven’t touched the door yet so I suppose I’m not technically here.”

They held his stare as they walked past him and placed their palm on the door. “Does this mean you won’t kill me?”

He nodded already parting ways with the student, waving his hand dismissively, “I’ll see to it that the money is wired into your account, I’ve already got all your details so don’t worry about it.”

They stood there on the steps to the church speechless. What had changed since the beginning of the night? Before they had left the bar he seemed more than ready to kill them without so much as a second thought. They didn’t want to die but it left them with an overwhelming sense of frustration; who the hell was he? What the hell was his problem? They had half a mind to chase him down and demand these answers but by the time they had processed what had just happened he had disappeared into the darkness of the night without a single trace.

The following night, Armand was on the hunt again; tonight’s menu was a drunkard with an ego even bigger than his bar tab. He had no issue with this one, the man learned very quickly that this was to be taken seriously and was currently sprinting to his destination after Armand played a few mind tricks on him to raise the adrenaline. The vampire was waiting for a single mistake before he finally stepped in and was granted that wish as he watched the man trip over a curb, sprawled out over the sidewalk. Armand stepped out of the shadows next to him, making the man scramble away repeatedly failing to get to his feet.

“You were so close, a mile away and you would’ve made it,” Armand pouted mockingly. “You know the deal.”

The man was drunkenly sobbing, begging for his life as the creature before him stared him down apathetically. “Please, God, please. I don’t wanna die. If this is a message that I should clean myself up, I’ll do it. I’ll fix everything, please just don’t kill me, I’ll do anything. Just God, please!”

He sneered downwards. “God has nothing to do with this.” He spat, “You made your decision, you will die tonight by my hand.”

Terrified, the man finally made it to his feet and turned to run only to be grabbed by the collar and thrown into a nearby alley by Armand. He was effortlessly lifted by the 500 year old being, fangs sinking into his carotid.

Armand drank deeply from the man, his blood bitter with alcohol. It would have to do after the previous night’s happenings. The alcoholic’s heart slowed and he dropped his body waiting for it to come to a full stop. He was still haunted by that student unable to push them from his thoughts; who were they to occupy his own?

He quickly disposed of the body; he threw it in a dumpster, taking no care and breaking as many bones as needed to shove the limbs under piles of garbage. It was careless but the humans would likely write it off as another unsolved murder, no real suspicions had as long as he didn’t make a habit of this. He’s sure he would’ve taken more care if his mind wasn’t reeling thinking only of them. He was wandering the streets mindlessly having no true destination in mind. The sun would be up in a few hours, he should probably figure out where he is and find his way back to his coffin before sunrise. When he looked up he found himself in a residential part of the city, a place he’d never been before but around him he caught a familiar scent.

Armand rolled his eyes. Of course he would end up mindlessly wandering here. It was the scent of them. The apartments around him were all run down; fire escapes nearly coming off the sides of the buildings, iron bars over windows, sidewalks poorly paved and overgrown with weeds. He found himself calling out to them with the same words he had used the night before, “Come to me.”

Five minutes of prodding at their mind, summoning the student, a door to his left swung open. There they stood, in a frumpy pair of pajamas looking irritated at his presence.

“Decide you actually wanna kill me?” they jeered sarcastically.

“No, I spared you last night and I intend on sticking with that decision. I was just–” he paused, “in the area.”

They shifted their weight uncomfortably from side to side before making a decision, “Well if you wanna keep talking to me can we at least bring it inside; I don’t love wearing my pj’s in the street.”

He nodded before following them into the building up to their apartment. As he entered he noticed the inside was just as worn as the outside, albeit the decor added a bit of warmth to the room. It wasn’t highbrow interior design by any stretch of the imagination but it was lived in, something that could never be recreated by anyone else. Homemade blankets were strewn across a couch that had a few holes speckled over its fabric, the television was set to some random show on low volume, pictures framed on the wall some containing humans that the student seemed to care about, other just different pieces of art that they had collected over their time in this town. It was undeniably them.

They stared at him as he surveyed the room, silence overtook them for a full minute before he spoke. “This is where you live?”

Their eyebrow raised, “Yeah? I’ve lived here since I started college.”

“Are you going to get a new apartment with the money I gave you?”

They snorted, “Why? Are you planning on dropping by?”

His face was stone. Ignoring their quip, “Well now you can afford better, wouldn’t you want to live somewhere that isn’t so–” he chose his next words carefully so as to not offend them, “neglected.”

The student blinked, having not even considered the possibility of moving. “I mean, I guess I could. But I don’t think I will if I’m being completely honest.”

“You enjoy living here? Like this?”

“Well, a nicer place wouldn’t have my favorite sandwich shop up the street.” They laughed before thinking hard, “And just because I have money doesn’t necessarily mean I wanna completely change my lifestyle. I quit my job and paid off my student loans which is great since I don’t have to worry about those things anymore, but I don’t think buying into a luxurious lifestyle is gonna make me happy.”

“But you can buy whatever you want– do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, but money isn’t gonna buy me friends who care about me. Money won’t buy a family that isn’t constantly hovering, wondering how I’m doing since I moved three states away. I moved away specifically because of how bad they hovered and it still hasn’t stopped them. The government sucks, I’m stressed all the time, I don’t know if I’m happy with what I’m majoring in at college. Turning a hobby into a degree has taken all the joy out of what I once loved and I’m not even guaranteed a job once I get that degree. Money can buy comfort but it sure as hell won’t buy me happiness!” The words tumbled out of their mouth, their breath accelerated and tears came to their eyes. They groaned, bringing their hands to their face. “I’m sorry, that was a lot. I just don’t like thinking too hard about the future.”

Armand stood there stunned. They were right, in a very human way they were completely right. He was beyond rich and yet he also couldn’t achieve the happiness he had always yearned for. For the second time he was shocked that they had understood his exact issues. Who were they? Before he could think through his request, the words were blurted from his mouth, “Could I see you again?”

Read Chapter 2 Here

#interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #armand #the vampire armand #armand x reader #the vampire armand x reader

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