#oc: can't a man just be fucking sad?

[angstingantlers]

(Not) Real

Featuring: Finsterl Tyto & Hemlock [OCs]

Whump: post-abuse, past psychological abuse, flashbacks, paranoia, hallucinations of an abuser, verbal degradation, manipulative language. Nonhuman characters & fantasy setting.

-

Finsterl realised his brain rot was probably significantly worse than he thought when he started hearing the branches tapping at his window.

There were no trees outside. He was always careful to make sure there were no trees near his safe places, and especially not his home. A quick glance outside was more than enough to verify that no saplings had spontaneously sprouted since he last looked; nothing was near his window, no plants or animals in sight.

He still heard it. Insistent. Nagging. Even as he stared at the glass and saw nothing, he heard it there.

... It wasn't real. He knew that. Perhaps that's why he didn't immediately scramble for his gun when he heard the gentle giggle from the corner.

He thought it was the corner, at least. When he swung around, the sound only moved with him, staying behind him no matter which way he turned. His darting eyes stared wide and frantic into the empty room.

Finsterl shivered.

Still, he took a slow, deep breath and tried to shake the tension from his shoulders, turning back to his desk. Focus on work. Ignore the coiling shadows and the creak of wood and that fucking laughter dancing in the corners.

But no matter what -- he could never hope to ignore her voice.

Having fun, Finnie?

Sterl froze.

Get your gun. It's here. Get your gun get your gun get your--

"You're not real," he stated aloud. It was quiet, a shake under the words -- but it was full of conviction.

When he received nothing but silence in return for several minutes, that was almost enough to help his racing thoughts settle. Sometimes that was all he needed. Sometimes the real sound and weight of his voice could ground him well enough.

Foolish thing.

Do you really think you could do any of this without me?

Finsterl grit his jaw, his feathers slowly lifting as he fought to keep his breathing level. He knew he should just ignore it. It wasn't real anyway.

He still muttered to the empty room, "I can. I do not need you."

You will watch your research crumble to nothing and your mind right alongside it. Pathetic, ungrateful creature.

His claws tapped furiously on the desk. He reached for his coffee mug, cold and almost empty though it was -- raised it to his beak and inhaled, long and slow. The smell was weak and distant.

Her voice continued to croon gently.

Your weak little soul will never survive alone. Just look at you. You're broken. That you still believe you will ever save him is laughable. You can't even save yourself.

Useless.

"... If I am so damn useless, then what fucking good am I to you?"

It didn't reply to his question. Obviously. Because it wasn't real, and he knew that, just like he knew he should stop entertaining this.

But he listened to her words anyway, just like he always did.

Do you know how much work I put in to keep other Eldritch away from you? To prevent them taking advantage of your episodes and vulnerability? Such a fragile naïve mind, with such a powerful domain... Without me to shield you, they'll come from miles around to claim you for themselves.

"You invited them to me, you bastard," he hissed, voice cracking. "They only ever found me at all because of you."

They will come. And they will eat you alive. So many have already had a taste of your despair, and with a monster as pitiful as you... they won't be able to resist going for the full meal.

Just imagine what horrors they'll be able to commit with your hands, dear. You've already seen what they're capable of.

"... That isn't--"

Red pools swam in his vision, covered his desk and hands, his clothes, his feathers. Every breath tasted of iron.

Finsterl shook his head and blinked it all rapidly away, pointedly not looking to the shadowed corners of the room and the countless eyes watching him.

It wasn't real. She wasn't there. There was nothing there.

... I do wonder. Can you really keep all the Eldritch legions at bay with that little trick of yours alone? It may fought me off once, but does it even still function? Can you be so sure it's still enough to keep you out of their grasp?

"Shut up." It was barely above a whisper, half-choked by the panic gripping his throat and chest, bloody claws gouging at his desk. "Just shut up."

... Oh.

That damn giggling. Dripping with pity. Laced with fake concern.

Are you scared, dear?

Sterl whipped around and hurled the mug at the corner. It shattered against the wall, leaving nothing but a dark stain on the wood and scattered ceramic on the floor.

The spray of liquid almost looked like woven branches.

Finsterl tore his eyes away from it as his shoulders heaved, his fists clenched. It took him far longer than he would have liked to untense his muscles and finally sink back down into his chair. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't quite get his feathers to flatten.

It was all in his head. He knew it was. It always was.

Knowing never made it feel any less real.

[angstingantlers]

Similar vein but different direction, I adore terror mingled with stubborness or defiance. Someone who's scared out of their mind but they need to do the thing anyway -- maybe it's fighting a powerful enemy, maybe it's facing down their abuser, maybe it's dealing with a severe injury, anything that is incredibly urgent where they are the only one available to do it -- so they grit their teeth and do the thing despite the fear. And they might be shaking like a leaf and they might not be able to hear anything past the pounding of their own heartbeat in their ears but by god there's a determined glint in their eye and a growl in their throat as they throw themselves headfirst at the source of their fear because they are doing the thing. Someone's fucking got to and they don't see any other volunteers.

Just. Man. So much of the time a competent defiant character is portrayed as genuinely being fearless or is at minimum very, very good at feigning fearlessness and only breaks down later; but I really do love a character who gets afraid, gets very very afraid and visibly so, and has literally no hope of hiding that fear even if they want to, then at the same time they are still strong and reliable and independent in their own way. The pure embodiment of "Do it." - "I'm scared." - "Do it scared." At no point does that fear disappear, it's something they have to constantly manage and be aware of, and there are times when it gets too much and they know they need to take a moment before they implode entirely. They're used to hearing the word 'coward' when people see them flinch and cower back and tremble, to being perceived as flighty or easy to push around, to being overlooked. But put them in the ring and they can show you just how powerful of an emotion fear can be when channelled right.

(And then, of course, you have the moment when they run into something that overpowers them, when their willpower finally runs out and there's nothing left but raw, unfiltered fear... That's always a moment I enjoy immensely.)

And a special shoutout to cheerful sadism and gentle violence, as well. I'm not quite as brain-rotted about them but I love the incongruence of someone doing or saying something absolutely horrific with the most sickly-sweet demeanor you can possibly imagine. They're popular tropes for a reason.

What are y'alls favorite seemingly contradictionary emotions to combine?

Mine is resigned terror.

Like either being so used to fear or so aware that there is no escape from the thing that scares them so they're resigned to it, but they're still so very afraid.

[i-cant-sing]

Okay but I need yall to help me figure out the character(s) for the following scenario:

Imagine a romantic yandere falling for reader, and ofc reader isn't in love with yandere for obvious reasons like red flags. Maybe they did try dating, Yandere is a charmer, comes from a rich family, he's smart and hardworking and oh so head over heels in love with you. He's always taking you out on best dates, HAS to get you the largest fucking bouquets (excellent taste in flowers) and buys you expensive but well thought out gifts.

But for whatever reason, things dont work out and you break things off hastily and most likely over the phone before leaving the country. And yandere just- breaksdown. I mean my man does not have a good mental health as is, but you leaving, actually leaving him just breaks him down and he has a full blown panic attack.

I'm talking about yandere falling to his knees, clutching his chest and gasping for air, tears streaming down his face as he screams your name like a mad man. His family, they love him, they adore their son/brother/grandchild sm, it pains them to see him in such a miserable state. Yandere man is so delirious that he has to be sedated, tranquillised by medical professionals because he's just losing his fucking mind, babbling your name over and over again like a mad man. His condition only worsens as time passes, and so his family decides to take drastic measures because they can't see their beloved son/brother/grandkid so fucking dead and depressed and a shell of a once bright man. They love him so much, they only want ti see him happy, so they use their money and influence to track you down and try to convince you to return and take yandere back. When you refuse, they take the high way and force you to come with them, dragging you kicking and screaming to their private jet and fly all the way home, where yandere is.

You're in a dishevelled state, tears running down your cheeks as you struggle to free yourself from their grasps as they take you to yandere. And when yandere sees you... for the first time in months, his family sees the light return in his eyes as the yandere reaches out for you, scared that you're just his mind playing tricks. When he finally touches you, he is immeadiately pulling you into a hug, arms tightening around your body like a gilded cage as he cries into your shoulder and thanks his family for bringing you back. His family only smiles with tears in their eyes as they lock the door behind them when they leave, so that you don't go running away. Meanwhile, yandere has pulled you into his lap and he's looking at you with such sad eyes, staring at each feature of yours over and over again as if to memorise it all again. He can't help the tears that continue to slip out of his eyes, maybe he's crying that you're finally here, or maybe he's crying for all the time that's been lost when you weren't here. You fall asleep soon due to exhaustion, but yandere doesn't sleep a wink that night because he continues to stare at you and play with your hair very gently, finally closing his eyes when morning comes and he wraps his arms around you and traps your legs with his.

By now, you guys realise that the yandere's family is not only yandere for their son/brother/grandson but also for you. They are yandede for you too, but they're not allowing you to leave them or their son or even make him unhappy ever again. Some members are willing to let all you "tantrums" slide, while others are not so kind. BUT one thing is for sure, you're ALWAYS safe with yandere s/o, no matter what.

Now, for the characters I've had in kind for this scenario are:

Halim Mehmet Shah and the Shah Family (my ocs)

Dabi/Shotou and Todoroki clan (I am the OG creator of Yandere Todoroki Clan)

I wanna say Naoya or Toji but the Zenin clan hates them both....

Dick Grayson/Jason Todd and Batfam

What do you guys think?

Mood board for this scenario^^^(I love Pinterest)

[minisugakoobies]

Paradise | JJK - Epilogue

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: it's happy ending time!, lots of domestic cuteness, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), shower sex, teasing, dirty talk, someone gets a lap dance 👀, sex in the champagne room, aka sex at work (don't be that coworker!), unprotected sex (monogamous relationship with alternate bc), multiple orgasms

Word Count: 9.1k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: And now we've reached the end! I can't believe it's been three years this month since OC and Jungkook's story began!! A gigantic THANK YOU to everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, recommended, and/or sent asks about Paradise. This is for you! 💜

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you!  Tell me what you think of the ending! 💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist

Bzzzzzzt

Saturday afternoon dawns bright. You can hear birds chirping outside the windows, joined by the buzzing of bees.

Those are some loud fucking bees.

No wait, that’s your phone.

Bzzzzzzt

You grab it off the nightstand.

Huh, nope. No missed texts or calls.

Bzzzzzzt

What the hell is that sound?

Throwing back the covers, you lug yourself out of bed, snatch a t-shirt from the floor and yank it on, and traipse down the hall, following the incessant hum.

Bzzzzzzt

The noise leads you to the bathroom, where your boyfriend stands over the sink, examining himself in the mirror. 

“Hey, jagi,” Jungkook greets you warmly. “Did I wake you? Sorry.” He leans over, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“No, it wasn’t you. I heard some sort of buzzing.”

“Ah, yeah, that was me.” He holds up some sort of metallic grey tool. An electric razor? But he doesn’t have one of those. You know by now that he waxes for his job, and what little hair ever appears on his face he takes care of with a simple disposable razor. “Testing this out.”

“I didn’t know you had one of those,” you say, leaning against the doorway. 

“I don’t. Namjoon-hyung let me borrow it.” He tilts his head left and right, staring at his reflection.

“Borrow it for wh-oooh my god, Kookie, no!” 

Your question becomes a wild wail as your boyfriend brandishes the razor and in one swift move shaves off a chunk of his hair. Watching the dark locks tumble into the sink feels like a scene from a horror movie, unfurling in slow motion.

You glance at Jungkook. Where glorious waves once adorned the side of his handsome face, there is now naught but stubble. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook chuckles as he examines his handiwork. “What’s wrong, jagiya? You don’t want to see a fresh new me?”

“Not if it means sacrificing your gorgeous hair!” you pout.

Of course you love all of your boyfriend. Goes without saying. But his hair! It’s so pretty and thick and silky and fluffy and - 

-and he’s going to shave it all off??

Bzzzzzzt

Another swath joins the first. Two sad curls at the bottom of the sink. 

“Kookie, why?” you lament. “Your pretty hair!”

“Relax!” He laughs, running his tattooed fingers over the scruff that remains where he’s shaved so far. “It’ll grow back eventually. You’re starting to make me think you only love me for -“

Upon catching sight of the expression on your face, he trails off, eyes widening.

“Don’t be stupid,” you reassure him. “I love you for so many reasons. More than there are stars in the sky.”

He grins, turning away.

“Your hair is just, like, 25% of that. Maybe 30.”

“Okay, I’m kicking you out now.” 

“Don’t bother. I’m going. I can’t bear to watch anymore.” You spin on your heel, heading for the kitchen. “If you need me, I’ll be crying into my cereal, mourning over breakfast.”

“Could you mourn me up a smoothie while you’re at it?” 

As you raise your hand over your head to flip him off, he giggles, pausing in his task to admire the way your ass peeks out from under the t-shirt of his that you’re wearing, before disappearing back into the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you quickly whip up a banana smoothie, appreciating how the obnoxious whirr of the mixer drowns out the evil buzzing echoing down the hallway. Sticking the smoothie into the fridge to keep cold until your boyfriend finishes murdering his hair, you sit down to enjoy a bowl of your favorite sugary cereal.

It hasn’t taken much for you to acclimate to Jungkook’s schedule over the last few months since Jennie’s wedding. You’ve all but moved in, hanging around his apartment (usually napping) until he gets home from work in the early hours of the morning. Most of the time, you stay up for a bit, talking and helping him unwind (sometimes fucking, sometimes giving him a gentle massage to soothe his muscles, sometimes just letting him lay with his head on your chest). Usually near dawn you fall asleep, and then wake at noon to spend the afternoon together until he leaves for Paradise in the evening. 

So you've become accustomed to a midday bowl of cereal by now. Of course, it helps that you’re no longer bound to the 9-to-5 life, ever since you quit your job.

The bathroom is rather quiet for several minutes, so you figure Jungkook’s completed his horrible task. So you brace yourself for the sight of a shorn head - 

-only to be surprised when he strolls into the kitchen with a sharp undercut.

“Well?” He turns this way and that, striking poses as he walks over to you. “What do you think?”

His dark hair is slicked back, revealing a shorn section on each side of his head, perfectly highlighting his brow piercing. Long strands still flow on top, a swoop falling into his eyes as he smirks at you.

It defies the laws of reality, the way something like this can make your hot boyfriend even sexier. How is it even possible?

Standing, you extend your fingers, letting them run over the short hairs, enjoying the pleasant prickle. 

“I think I owe Namjoon a thank you card,” you murmur. The soft stubble tickles your fingertips, like fuzz on a peach. “Maybe even a gift basket.”

His smile grows as he draws you into his arms. “See, you were worried for nothing.”

“I really thought you were going to shave it all off!” you exclaim. Nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck, he laughs, amused huffs of breath dancing over your skin. 

“Nope.” He slides your hand into what remains of his hair, lithe fingers encouraging yours to wrap around his locks. “I am thinking about dyeing the rest, though. What do you think sounds better - cherry red or buttery blonde?”

“Blonde!” Did you blurt that out a little too fast? Maybe, judging by the cock of his eyebrow.

“Blonde it is.” 

“Do you want your smoothie?” You reach for the fridge door, but he stops you.

“I gotta clean up first. All those little hairs…” His eyes drop to your lips. “Time for a shower.” It’s an invitation that you’re all too happy to accept. 

Jungkook first steps under the spray of water to rinse away the hairs still clinging to his face and neck. But as soon as you join him, he crowds you against the wall of the tub, mouth meeting yours, hand diving between your legs, opening you up to take his cock. He’s a bit rushed in his movements, driven by a fervent need to bury himself inside you as quickly as possible, but you don’t care, just as desperate to feel him yourself. It doesn’t matter how many times the two of you do this - every time you need him just as much as you did the first time. 

When he slides into you, you let out a loud moan, knees already too weak to stand on. He holds you pinned against the tiles as he thrusts into you, wrapping one of your legs around his waist to help keep you up. “So good, jagi,” he grunts, setting a fast pace. All you can do is hang on, every stroke of his thick cock into your throbbing cunt making you sob his name, until your panting gives way to cries of ecstasy. He spills inside you then, his lips pressed to your cheek, breathing soft words of love across your skin. 

In the afternoon, after Jungkook has gone to meet Namjoon at the gym, you decide to take a walk downtown to get a little work done. It’s surprising to you how much has changed in the last few months. Before, the thought of working on a Saturday would’ve sent you into an anxious (and annoyed) spiral. But now? You’re not bothered by it at all. Apparently that’s what happens when you like your job. 

Not long after the wedding, you’d gone to the interview Wendy had graciously hooked you up with. Jungkook had helped you prepare, but you were still nervous as fuck. You needed to escape your current company. You needed this new job.

But as the interview progressed, that nervousness turned into a different sinking feeling. Because as the interviewer droned on and on about your responsibilities in this new position, it became more and more clear that you were essentially interviewing for the same job you were trying to leave. It wasn’t a way out. It was a trap. If you took this job, you’d be caught in the same quicksand, dragging you down again. 

Despite your growing sense of trepidation, the interview went incredibly well, and you felt pretty confident that you would be hearing from the company soon. Which left you with little time to figure out if you wanted the new job or not. 

In the end, it was your promise to Taehyung that made the decision for you. His presentation to the bank was a success, and with his new loan, he’d opened his own studio. Even though you’d done countless presentations over the years at your company, helping too many of their clients to count, this was the first time you’d actually felt joy at the result of your hard work. Helping Taehyung to achieve his dream was a special moment.

It also gave you an idea. A week later, you declined the new job offer. And turned in your notice to your employer. No more working for others.

Time to be your own boss.

It’s just a few blocks from your apartment building to where you’re headed. The bell hanging over the door chimes pleasantly as you let yourself into the little shop. Taehyung’s photography studio is technically closed on Sundays, but with the key he gave you, you can come and go as you please. It’s an arrangement that suits you well. 

As you’d expected, Taehyung is sitting in his office in the rear of the shop when you get back there. He nods a quiet greeting, then perks up when he sees the second cup in your hand. You’d stopped at the coffeehouse on your way here, knowing that Taehyung is still splitting his time between Paradise and his studio, which means he’s usually exhausted on Saturdays.

“You really are an angel,” he murmurs, grabbing the cup.

“I know,” you grin, taking a seat at the makeshift desk Taehyung had created for you. He’d been so grateful for your help that he’d insisted that you use his office as your own temporary workspace while you established your consulting business. You were in no position to turn down free rent, but you’d agreed to only if he let you act as his interim bookkeeper. It was only fair. “Where’s Yeontan?”

“I gave my assistant the day off,” Taehyung replies. “He’s back at the apartment with Ji and Min.” He pauses to stretch lazily. “Thanks again for helping with the move the other day. We still owe you and Kook dinner.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you pay up.” You never turn down a free meal, though honestly, it was enough of a reward for you that you’d gotten to watch your friend Jisoo fall in love with her two boyfriends over the last few months. That’s the word she’d used for them both the other day, when you all helped Taehyung move into Jimin’s place. You hadn’t seen Jisoo this head over heels for anyone since… well, since you’d known her.

Taehyung sips his iced Americano. “What are you working on today?”

“Going over the stuff Felix sent me. We’re meeting with the bank on Tuesday.” 

Having Taehyung as your first official customer had been a blessing. After he’d raved about you to the other dancers at Paradise, you’d suddenly found yourself with a whole list of potential clients. There was Felix, who wanted to buy a food truck for his baking hobby and start a brownie delivery service; Namjoon, who was considering creating an urban nursery for the plants he grew in his tiny greenhouse; and Bang Chan, who wanted to discuss the possibility of running his own gym. Even Hoseok wanted to introduce you to a friend of his who was thinking about opening up a male strip club called Outlaws. You’d barely struck out on your own and yet your calendar was already packed.

You pull out your laptop and settle in. “What about you, what’s on your slate today?” 

“Just going over some shots.” 

The other dancers at Paradise were the best hype team. They’d spread word of mouth about Taehyung’s photography and the studio had been booked since day one. Not that his talent didn’t bring in customers on its own. But it was so touching to see the others rally around Taehyung like that. 

The other dancers had also embraced you warmly. You’d already met most of them from your visits to Paradise or the night of Taehyung’s exhibit, but once Jungkook introduced you as his girlfriend, it was like you’d gained an entire family of siblings overnight. And now that you’re on the inside, it’s so easy to see the way they care for one another. No wonder Jungkook loves working there so much. 

Well, that, and the tips he makes.

Taehyung slides over so you can see his screen. “It’s Jennie and Yoongi’s session, if you want to take a look.” 

“Oh, yes, please!” 

Jennie and her husband had recently booked a photography session to announce Jennie’s pregnancy. As Taehyung slowly scrolls through the shots, you try and fail to will yourself not to tear up. Your friend’s baby bump gets bigger every time you see her and it’s unreal to think that it won’t be long until Baby Min is here. 

Wordlessly, Taehyung hands you a tissue. 

“Thanks.” 

After spending so much time with Taehyung over the last few weeks, you understand why Jungkook adores him so much. He has a very comforting presence, which is nice for you right now, since building a company from scratch is a nerve-wracking experience. 

“So, tonight’s the night, right?” 

Again you grin, nodding. “Yeah.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“Excited. But also if I’m being honest, a little scared.” 

Everyone - all of your friends and family - has been super supportive for you during this time, lending their help whenever asked. But no one has been more supportive than Jungkook. He’s listened to you rant about your worries and fears at two in the morning when you know he wants nothing more than to hit the pillow and snooze until noon. He’s made you meals when you were too busy to tear yourself away from your computer to eat. He’s spent so much of his own time taking care of you that you started to fret you’d turned into another job for him. 

But when you voiced this concern to him, Jungkook shook his head. “Taking care of you isn’t a job,” he’d said. “I do these things because I want to, not because I have to.”

You’ve never known anyone like him before. Never known someone who could be so selfless, so freely giving of himself all the time. So freely giving of his devotion, in every sense of the word. You can’t help but want to worship him yourself. 

Despite his claims that he’s doing these things of his own free will, you still feel like you owe him something. A sign of your appreciation. Hence your plans for tonight.

“Why scared?” 

You finish your drink, but don’t put the cup down, twirling it in your hands as you think. “What if I make a total ass of myself?”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snort. Of course he’d be confident, if he were in your shoes. Taehyung radiates an aura of exceptional self-assuredness. It’s difficult to imagine him being rattled by anything. If tomorrow he was told that he needed to perform emergency brain surgery, he’d snap on his surgical gloves without so much as batting an eye. 

“Listen, I know Jungkook. More importantly, I know how much he loves you.” Taehyung flashes you a reassuring smile as you look at him. “There’s nothing you could do tonight to change that.”

The funny thing is, you’re pretty sure he’s right.

Jungkook’s already making dinner when you get back to his place. The delicious scent of gochujang jjigae draws you into his kitchen, where he stands facing the stove, his back to you. Walking up to him, you can’t resist sliding your arms around his waist.

“Hi,” you sigh, burying your face between his shoulder blades, breathing deep the ocean scent of his cologne. 

“Hey jagi,” he hums, a happy note vibrating through his chest as he rests his tattooed hand on top of yours for a second. “Food’s almost ready. Can you grab some bowls?” 

As you reach into his cabinet, it strikes you just how domestic this moment is, getting ready for dinner with Jungkook, like you’ve done so many times before. Thankfully, he’s the one who usually does the cooking, while you help however you can (typically just by staying out of his way - it’s what you do best in the kitchen). It’s unbelievable how easily you’ve fallen into this routine with him. Not a trace of fear in you as you reflect on it. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be back in time to eat with me, but I made enough for two just in case.” He joins you at his little table, ladling stew into your bowls, before he takes the seat across from you. He’s dressed like he usually is for work, just a hoodie and sweats, since he’ll be changing into costumes all night.

“You’re too good to me, Kookie,” you simper playfully with a sweet grin, but you really mean it, knowing that if you’d texted him that you wouldn’t be back, he’d still make extra and put it in the fridge for you. 

He rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears betray him, turning pink. The two of you dig into your meal, quietly enjoying the food and each other’s company. 

“I meant to ask you,” he says after a few minutes, “do you know when Jin-hyung will be back in town?” 

When you’d called things off with Seokjin, you’d made him promise to keep in touch while he was out traveling for his cooking show. He’d taken that pledge to heart, texting you brief updates and sending photos from the road. You’re glad to have made another friend from this whole experience. Especially one whose name you can drop to make hard-to-get dinner reservations. (Seokjin gets a real ego boost when you do that - he’s the one who suggested it in the first place.)

Though things had gotten off to a rocky start between Jungkook and Seokjin, they’d become fairly good friends themselves. It doesn’t really surprise you, since they have more in common than they thought (not even counting you) - both are talented and determined, funny and handsome, not to mention both give a hell of a lap dance. Also, it’s hard not to love Jungkook, no matter how you meet him. 

“Um, I think last time I heard from him, he said he’d be back in two weeks for a short break.”

“Good. That should give me enough time to finish.” He doesn’t say anything else, but you can read between the lines so well with him by now. 

“Jin’s going to love his portrait,” you reassure him. 

As soon as Seokjin had seen Jungkook’s artwork, he’d wasted no time in commissioning the younger man to paint his portrait, to be hung in his newest restaurant. You know that Jungkook is thrilled at the opportunity, but he’s also a little nervous, wanting to impress Seokjin. It’s pretty cute, truth be told. 

You glance up to find Jungkook watching you with a small smile. 

“What? What are you looking at? Am I a mess?” You grab your napkin, dabbing at your face, but he shakes his head. 

“Nothing. I’m happy you’re here. I feel like I’ve barely seen you the last few weeks, you’ve been out working so much.” 

“Oh, right.” You scratch your ear, giving him an apologetic look. “I know, I’ve been busy.”

“I’m not saying that’s bad!” Jungkook raises his hands. “I just… missed you.” 

“Kookie,” you sigh, heart bubbling over with fondness. Your boyfriend is such a sap.

You set down your spoon and rise to your feet, locking your arms around him. He looks up at you with so much love in his eyes you nearly pinch yourself. But you don’t have to. This isn’t a dream, it’s your life. Silently, you thank the universe for everything you did that led you to this man. Then you press a gentle kiss to his waiting lips. 

“I missed you too. But I’m hoping all this will be worth it.”

“It will be, jagiya,” Jungkook asserts, cupping your face gently. “I know it’s hard. But you know what you’re doing. And you’re not alone - you’ve got so many people in your corner. Like me.” He grins, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “I believe in you.” 

There’s a sudden lump in your throat, making it impossible to speak, so you let your lips express what you feel. What’s left of your dinner sits forgotten as you climb into his lap, kissing him until you’re both breathless. Only then you’re able to whisper a quiet thank you. 

Jungkook’s right. You can do this. Especially with him by your side.

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:15): Are we still on for brunch tomorrow?

Bestie 😇 (8:17): Yes! I miss you guys

Bestie 😇 (8:17): This baby’s not even here yet and they’re already keeping me busy

Bestie 😇 (8:18): Plus I’ve been craving waffles for days

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19): We miss you too! 

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19):  And you too, YN! You work too hard

You (8:20): I know 😔I miss you all too

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:21):  I’ll be there!

Queen Ji 👑 (8:22): Yes we’re doing brunch because YN needs to tell us allll about tonight!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): OH THAT’S RIGHT!

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:23): Ahhhh that’s tonight?!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): Break a leg! 🙌

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:24): LET’S GOOOOO

Queen Ji 👑 (8:24): You are going to KILL IT

Bestie 😇 (8:24): *airhorn.gif*

You (8:25): 🙈🙈

You (8:25): We’ll see

You (8:25): But thank you 😘

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26): Oh no! None of that

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26):  Trust me, you’ve got this

You (8:27): And just how are you so sure about that?

Queen Ji 👑 (8:28): Jimin told me. He never lies

You (8:29): I knew I should’ve asked Namjoon

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:29): As if he wouldn’t tell me

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:30): I like the guy but he can’t keep a secret to save his life

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:31): Relax, you’re gonna be amazing! Just have fun with it

Bestie 😇 (8:31): Yessssss have fun

Queen Ji 👑 (8:32): But also put your back into it

Bestie 😇 (8:33): You should probably stretch first

You (8:33): Yes, eomma, I will

Bestie 😇 (8:34): I’m going to kindly ask that you never call me that again

You (8:35): But you’ll be hearing it all the time soon!!

Bestie 😇 (8:35): Not from you though! 🙅

Queen Ji 👑 (8:36): Sorry, eomma, we’ll behave

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Oh god, *especially* not from you

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Okay I’m out. I’ll see you all tomorrow. But don’t forget!

Bestie 😇 (8:38): 📣You’ve got this! 📣

Queen Ji 👑 (8:38): She’s the best mom

A few hours later, you find yourself alone in an unfamiliar space. A small room, containing only a handful of pieces of dark furniture. Velvet curtains drape three of the walls, while the fourth is a mirror. A crystalline chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the glass reflecting the soft lighting, scattering shimmering spots of illumination around the room as the bass pumping from the overhead speaker makes the decoration bounce.

You wipe your sweaty palms on the skirt of your dress, wishing you could take your friends’ advice and relax right now. Instead, your nerves are jumpy and your pulse is racing. The waiting isn’t helping. 

As you switch seats for the tenth time since you got here (you can’t decide which is a better place to sit, on the pleather couch or the matching chair), you adjust your dress, hoping you look more confident than you feel. Confidence is key for what you’re about to do, according to Jimin. 

Maybe you should’ve thought this through more. More practice would’ve been helpful, too. Why did you decide to do this now? You’ve really got to work on your patience, you think, eyeing the couch again before moving seats again. 

The curtains sway slightly as the door to the room opens. Immediately your mind empties of all thoughts as your adrenaline kicks in. It’s showtime. You sit up, trying to strike an enticing pose, waiting for the man who opened the door to finish locking it and turn around. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting t- baby??” Jungkook freezes, head cocking to the side in confusion. You knew that Jimin had told him he had a Paradise customer waiting for him in a private room.  “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” you grin, suddenly feeling really shy. Which is the exact opposite of what you need to feel right now, if you’re going to pull this off. “So, um, surprise!” 

Jungkook smiles, obviously thrilled with your surprise, and crosses the tiny space in two strides. You stand to greet him, taking in his outfit, a silky black shirt unbuttoned over a pair of black leather pants. He looks just like he did the night of Jennie’s bachelorette party, only with a new haircut. The fabric of his top is soft beneath your fingertips as you lay your hands on his shoulders, accepting his kiss hello. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but… you know you didn’t have to pay to see me, right?” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “I’ll dance for you any time.” 

You do know that, because he’s danced for you several times now. Sometimes he likes to get your opinions on a new routine, and other times… other times, he just feels like dancing for you. 

Knowing all this, you nod, smoothing down the folds in his shirt, trying to distract yourself from the way your stomach is tying itself in knots. Relax, you remind yourself, taking a deep breath. There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s Jungkook. 

“I know. But this actually isn’t about me tonight. It’s about you.” 

Applying a little pressure on his shoulders, you push Jungkook onto the couch. He looks up at you questioningly, but doesn’t say anything, merely takes a seat. That’s so like him - to read you so well that he understands you’ve got something planned, so he’s letting you lead the moment. Just that tiny act of deference heartens you, leaving you more sure about what you’ve got planned. 

You walk over to the panel on the wall that controls the overhead speaker. Your phone is already hooked up, and with a few swipes, you change the playlist.

“I wanted to do something for you, to show you how much I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for me.” For some reason it’s easier to explain why you’re here without looking at Jungkook as you do it, so you fiddle with the phone a little as you speak. “I know the last few weeks have been stressful, because of everything I’m trying to do, and I just… I want to thank you. And I thought this was the best way to do it.” 

When you turn back around, Jungkook’s watching you with such a rapt expression that you can’t help but feel almost foolish about being so worried about this. It doesn’t matter if you can’t give him a show on the same level that he does. You’ve got his full attention no matter what you do. 

You’ve got his love. 

With that comforting thought, you take a steadying breath, in and out, and then begin. 

Dancing is really not your strong suit, but the biggest lesson Jimin taught you is that it’s not the moves themselves that matter - it’s the attitude with which you perform them. It’s all about setting a mood.

So you let the music guide you. Let yourself sink into the groove set by the drums and bass. Jungkook lets out a tiny “oh, fuck,” when you start to shake your hips. You fight the urge to giggle, biting your lip in a sultry manner instead. You’re wearing a cute but simple dress, something that will be easy to remove when the time comes, but you dance like you’re dressed in the sexiest outfit imaginable, sliding the skirt up your thighs a little to tease him. 

Even though you’re only a few feet away from Jungkook, you take your time approaching him, dragging out the anticipation. His hands rise automatically, reaching for you, but you dodge his grasp, taking them in your own hands instead. Something else Jimin taught you - lay down the rules right away. 

“I’m here to dance for you, Kookie. So let’s get one thing straight - I’m the one in charge.” You squeeze his hands to draw his attention to them as you place them at his sides. “That means no touching me, unless I say it’s okay.” 

Jungkook blinks at your words, but he doesn’t argue or try again to touch you. “Yes, baby,” he says, eyes brimming with adoration as he nods at you, and again you feel a surge of confidence. 

With your back to him, you place a hand on both of his knees, guiding him to spread his legs apart. Then you lower yourself into his lap, laying back against his chest and tilting your face towards his. If either of you leaned forward the slightest bit, your mouths would touch, but you resist the urge, and he waits breathlessly to see what you’re going to do next. 

You bring your arm up, then trail your hand down his chest, across your breasts and stomach, and on to his thigh, just skimming past his crotch. His hips buck slightly beneath you, and you grind in his lap, giving him the friction he seeks. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll touch you all you want,” you whisper. 

Jungkook groans loudly. You glide around the couch until you’re behind him and run your hands down his arms and over his chest. The silk of his shirt is starting to stick to him where he’s sweating. You’ve barely started and you’re already having an obvious effect on him.

It’s not just his temperature that’s rising, you note with a smug smile when you return to your spot in front of him. The tight material of his pants barely restrains his erection. Again you sit on his thighs, facing away from him, throwing your legs out in a wide stance as you pop to the beat. 

“Shit, baby, yes,” Jungkook praises you with a deep groan when you lean forward, giving him a good view of your ass as it bounces. “Where’d you learn to dance like this?” 

“Well, um…” you pause to bend further, nearly touching the ground, enjoying how Jungkook swears quietly when he gets a glimpse of your panties, “you know how I’ve been so busy lately?”

“Uh-huh…” Jungkook responds mindlessly, far too occupied with the sight in front of him. He’s being so patient, keeping his hands at his side like instructed, but the telltale twitching of his fingers lets you know that he’s fighting hard to behave.

You decide to take pity. Just a little. Turning, you straddle him, and grab his wrists. “Here you go,” you wink, placing his hands on your hips. “Just hold on for me.” 

Jungkook hums, vision trailing up your body from where your hips are swaying to where your breasts are now in his face. 

“I was working, but I wasn’t at Taehyung’s studio. I was taking some lessons from Jimin.” 

He looks up at that. “Wait, you were what?” 

The surprise on his face makes you giggle. There’s that wide-eyed Bambi look that you love so much. As the next track on your playlist starts, something a little slower, you shift into a grind, dragging your ass over Jungkook’s lap. He hisses, fingers tightening their grip, almost bruising in their hold, but he doesn’t try to guide you like he usually does when the two of you are in this position. It impresses you, the restraint he’s showing. 

It makes you want to make him lose control. 

You run your fingers through his hair, lifting it off his face, and lean close to his ear. “I wanted to make this good for you, baby. Give you exactly what you deserve.” Your lips hover across his cheek, not touching, but your breath caresses his skin, making him shudder beneath you. 

“Jagi,” Jungkook swallows thickly, eyelids heavy with desire as he peers at you. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these moves from me.” 

You bite back another big smile. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

His hands fall from your waist as you spin around, nudging his legs apart. Following the rhythm of the music, you undulate your body down his, your back sliding down his chest, then down his lap, until you’re on your knees. Then you place your hands on the ground in front of you, lowering your bottom half to the floor in a slow humping motion, before flashing him as you whip your legs into a split in order to roll yourself onto your back.

“Holy fuck, jagi,” Jungkook gasps, digging his hands into the couch on either side of his thighs, desperate for something to clutch. “You’re finally gonna do it. You’re going to be the actual death of me.” 

Despite yourself, you start giggling. “Kookie! Don’t make me laugh.” You take your time rising to your knees, then to your feet, playing with the hem of your skirt. “I want you to take this seriously.” 

“Oh, I am, baby, believe me.” Jungkook bites his lip, nodding. His eyes follow the path your hands take, dragging the skirt up to reveal your lower stomach. Meanwhile, one of his hands has found its way to his crotch, squeezing his hard cock through his pants. You’d considered making another rule earlier, that he couldn’t touch himself, but truthfully, you want to watch him enjoy himself. 

“Good boy,” you purr, and Jungkook whimpers loud enough for you to wonder if you’ve tapped into something previously undiscovered about him, but you’re too busy to ponder it any further as you swing your hips, using his knees to help you drop yourself down to the floor again in a low squat. 

The power you feel as he watches you is beyond intoxicating. What you’re doing right now is nothing compared to the skill he displays when he dances, but you understand a little better why he does this for a living. You feel like you could do anything right now. 

As you come back up, you lean into him, hands on his chest, your face so close to his, and this time the need to kiss him is too strong, so you stop denying yourself, connecting your mouths briefly, just enough to have him chasing you when you pull away. Before he can protest, you distract him by pulling your dress over your head in one swift movement. 

“Baby,” he moans, eyeing the matching lingerie set you picked out especially for tonight, his favorite color and his favorite texture, the black lace just begging him to run his fingertips all over it. “Is that new?” 

Of course he’d notice. He’s got the contents of your underwear drawer practically memorized. Not surprising since most of the sets are from him. He’s got a thing for nice lingerie and you’re more than happy to indulge him. 

“Bought it just for you.” With your back to him, you straddle one of his thighs, centering yourself on the thick muscle, and roll your hips in slow figure eights. Grabbing his hands, you wrap them around you, placing one on your bra and the other just over the band of your panties. “Do you like?” 

Jungkook’s answer is a wordless growl as he strokes the lace. You hum, tossing your head back so it rests on his shoulder, and slip the hand over your lower stomach down further, until he’s cupping your mound. 

“Ah!” you gasp, hips jutting forward when his eager fingers go rogue and press against you in a sign of his slipping control. “I - I’m guessing that means yes.” 

“It means fuck yes,” Jungkook declares. “You’re driving me insane right now, you know that?” 

“I think I’m getting the idea,” you reply, trying to focus on finishing your dance and not just outright humping his hand. Tracing your fingernails down his forearms makes him loosen his grip enough for you to climb off him. As the next track plays, you drape yourself over the side of the couch so your back hits his lap, and lie there shimmying to the beat for a few seconds before unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. 

“Jagiya,” Jungkook rasps roughly, tongue licking furiously at his lips, and even though you’re only maybe halfway through the routine you’d been practicing, you decide to skip to the end, because clearly your boyfriend is close to breaking, and frankly, so are you. 

You throw your leg over his lap, straddling him again. Taking his hands, you lace your fingers together, using him as a counterweight to help you dip backwards, so low your head nearly brushes the ground, before you roll back up, pressing your forehead to his. You stare at his mouth and he stares at yours as you inhale a steadying breath to speak.

“You can touch me now.” 

The current of electricity simmering between you suddenly blazes out, igniting the air around you. His hands slide to the small of your back, and your arms loop around his neck, both of you pulling each other as close as possible as you meet in a charged kiss. Jungkook moans into your lips, tongue chasing the sound. Your mouth parts to let him in. 

Jungkook’s hands keep moving, gripping your waist, your ass, your breasts - it’s like he’s been starving for you, like those few minutes that he wasn’t allowed to hold you were an eternity and now that they’re over he must take his fill. Your skin vibrates beneath his fingertips, so much pent-up energy ready to burst, and you seek an outlet, grinding your hips down onto his. 

“Kookie,” you whine helplessly, and Jungkook grunts in response, rutting his erection against you, fitting between your legs so perfectly, the two of you like puzzle pieces coming together to form a complete picture of lust. 

“I’m here, jagi,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jawline and back to your mouth before continuing down the other side. “I’m here.” 

In a second, you’re on your back, watching Jungkook peel off his shirt before he covers your body with his. His kisses are just as greedy as his touches, and you lose yourself in him, devouring the desire on his lips with a wild ravenousness of your own. 

But as he trails kisses down your body, you open your eyes and stare directly at the chandelier hanging over you, and a thought hits you with startling clarity - oh, right, you’re still at Paradise. At Jungkook’s place of work. 

“Jungkook. Jungkook,” you repeat, threading your fingers through his hair to tug his head off your breast, where his tongue was lapping at your nipple. “Should we do this here?” 

Jungkook blinks at you a few times. “Isn’t this - don’t you want to?” 

Of course you want to. But all those times you’d pictured this moment, your best hope was that he’d enjoy the dance and promise to thank you in private later when he got off work. You hadn’t really considered that you’d do such an amazing job that the two of you would fuck on the spot. (Okay, that’s a lie, you’d considered it a lot. But still. Imagining fucking your boyfriend at his job and actually fucking your boyfriend at his job are two very different things.)

“I want to,” you reassure him, brushing a wandering drop of sweat from his brow. “I just don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. “Baby, trust me, I’m not the first one to do this. There’s a reason “no sex in the champagne room” is a saying.” He sees the mix of confusion and disgust on your face and laughs again. “I’m not worrying about it and neither should you. But if you are, we don’t have to do anything. This has been more than enough for me.”

“So… you liked your dance?” you ask in a tiny voice.

Jungkook lets out a pained groan. “Baby, I loved it. I can’t believe you did all this for me.” His hand brushes over your hip, playing with the lace there. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Not true.” If anything, he’s the one too good to you. “But I’m trying.” 

He kisses you again, slow and sweet. You feel yourself melting into his embrace. Any remaining concerns vanish as Jungkook lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth again with a messy kiss. If he’s not worried, why should you be? Besides, as you arch your back, chasing Jungkook’s tongue as he drags it down your torso, only an apocalypse could stop you now, and maybe not even that. 

“You know,” you start, gasping slightly when his teeth graze lightly over the swell of your stomach, “I’ve fantasized about this.”  

Jungkook glances up at you. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. I mean, I usually pictured you dancing for me, but, um, we always ended up fucking.” A flash of heat licks the back of your neck as you meet Jungkook’s eye. 

“That’s usually how I imagine it, too,” Jungkook informs you. The casual admission of this mutual secret fantasy stokes your arousal. Jungkook flames it further when he ruts his hard cock against you. “Sometimes you ride me, sometimes I bend you over this couch, but it always starts with me giving you a private show.” 

Your breath leaves you in a hiss. “Fuck. That sounds good.” 

“Which one?”

“Both,” you groan, rolling your hips. “All of it.” 

Jungkook kisses your neck to smother his laughter. “It’s not too late, you know. I can make those fantasies come true.” His tone deepens as he speaks, becoming darker. Oh, you know this tone so well. He’s shifting to demon mode. 

“Another time. I mean,” you clarify immediately, not wanting him to misunderstand, “you can give me a private dance another time.”

“Aww, is my baby too worked up right now?” he teases, and this time he doesn’t bother to even try to hide his laughter when you whine, pressing your hips into him again. “Okay, jagi, I promise I’ll dance for you another time. I won’t make you wait any longer.” 

Again he slides down your body, kissing over the soft lace of your underwear. He pulls your thighs apart with his hands so he can stick his face directly between them. His stuttered breath blows hot over the damp material barely covering you. Impatient, you reach to push your panties down, but Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them over your head. “Kook!” 

Jungkook shakes his head at your pouty cry. Leaning over you, he catches your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling it to his mouth for another wet kiss. 

“Let me, baby,” he coos sweetly, and then he takes the lace band in his teeth and slowly drags your panties down your body using only his mouth. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” you moan, unable to tear your gaze away. Jungkook hums, dropping the sodden silk on the ground before lowering his lips to kiss your pussy. He’s sloppy and loud, and in a brief lucid flash of sanity you pray that the music covers the sounds out in the hallway. 

Jungkook always moves at his own pace, in his own time, and nowhere is that more evident than the way goes down on you. He loves building you up slowly, so slowly, until you’re going out of your mind begging him to let you cum. Tonight, however, he’s moving fast, slipping two fingers inside you, getting you ready for him.  If asked, he’d claim it was for you, but the truth is that he needs you as much as you need him right now. 

“Love the way you taste,” he murmurs, fingers spreading you wider, dragging his tongue over your clit. He curls his fingers, smirking at your gasp, and repeats the movement. It feels so good, too good, so your hand snakes out and grabs his wrist, and he stills, looking up at you in confusion. 

“Wanna come on your cock,” you explain.

He groans, reclining back on his knees. “Whatever you want, jagiya,” he says, fingers flying to the laces on his leather pants. He’s used to taking his time untying them on stage, drawing the moment out seductively, a marked contrast to the clumsy way he tugs on them now, trying to undo them as quickly as he can. 

With only a little bit of struggling, he pushes his pants down, then kicks them off completely. He wraps one hand around his hard length, thumb and forefinger pinching slightly just below the flushed head. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at him, taking in sight of this gorgeous man kneeling between your legs, looking every bit as hungry as you feel. 

“Tell me how you want it.”

You clench unconsciously at Jungkook’s command, mind running through all the possibilities. Honestly, you don’t care how, you just need him inside you now. 

So you reach out, gently prying his fingers away from his cock. Jungkook sighs when you take it in your hand, a sound of deep-seated contentment, like he’s been waiting all night for you to touch him. You understand the sentiment, thighs twitching as you slowly pump him a few times, using his slickness to make your movements easier. 

“Just like this,” you say, guiding him towards your slit. He hisses as you slide his head through your folds, and presses forward a bit, helping you coat him in your arousal. 

“Okay, jagiya,” he murmurs. He arranges himself between your legs, lifting one calf, then the other, over his broad shoulders. You shiver, breathless with anticipation as you catch the feral glint in his eyes. “Just like this.” 

A harmonious pair of moans fill the room when he enters you. He waits for a moment, because as rushed as his fingering was, it wasn’t enough to fully stretch you out enough for him. When you whisper, “okay,” he starts to move. The first few rolls of his hips are slow and easy, him savoring the tight warmth of your cunt around him, you delighting in the sensation of being filled so completely. He kisses the side of your knee, staring down at you as you whimper beneath him with every languid thrust. 

When your hands stretch out for him, he leans down, bending you in half to press his mouth to yours. He sinks deeper into you, your bodies locking together more closely, and you lace your fingers through his hair, until you’re breathing each other’s kisses like air. You whisper Jungkook’s name and he sighs yours back. 

“Love you so much, jagi.” 

His mouth nudges your head to the side in search of that sensitive spot behind your ear, and you open your eyes to catch sight of the two of you in the mirror. Even if the room were pitch black right now, you’d be able to see yourself lying there, the way you’re lit from within. Your love for Jungkook burns inside you like a star in the night sky, pulsing bright and steady. 

“I love you, too.” 

Jungkook’s pace steadies, his pelvis starting to bounce off your ass with more speed.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby,” you moan, watching him piston his cock inside you. “More, please, Kookie! More!” 

Never let it be said that your boyfriend doesn’t listen. He pulls out, getting off the couch, and, with strong hands gripping your thighs, positions you with your hips resting on the arm of the couch, to raise you high enough for him to plunge back in from a standing position. 

And then he gives you exactly what you asked for. 

Jungkook fucks you hard and fast. His furrowed brow drips with sweat as he snaps his hips into you. You know nothing could break his concentration now - eyes sharply focusing on your expression, ears listening for the change in the pitch of your voice. When he feels your walls starting to constrict, he grips your thighs to tilt you just enough to find the right angle to tap your sweet spot with every pump - 

“Jungkook!” With a loud gasp of his name, your climax arrives. Your cunt pulsates so tightly around him that Jungkook clamps his arms around your legs, pulling your ass flush against him so he can grind into you.

“Oh, fuck, jagi, ‘m so close.” His voice is already wrecked, sounding rough and broken. He bends slightly at the waist, forcing your legs closer to your stomach, putting you at an odd angle, but you’re still buzzing with pleasure so you don’t notice the stretch, just let out a low moan as Jungkook starts to move again. 

He bends further, sliding his hands behind your back, and then he lifts you, using that surprising strength of his to hold you as he slides around to sit on the couch. Your legs support you just long enough to straddle him, and then you sink down onto his cock, more than happy to collapse against Jungkook as he fucks up into you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek. “Always so good, jagi.” You meet his gaze, struck by the love you see in his eyes. No matter how often he looks at you like this, it makes your heart sing every time. You kiss him before sitting up, meeting his thrusts with your own movements.

“Come for me, Kookie,” you murmur sweetly, drawing your boyfriend’s eye with the movement of your hand as it heads down your stomach. Your fingers rub at your clit, rolling the engorged nub around, and the delicious drag of his cock inside your constricting walls has you hurtling towards a second orgasm just as Jungkook reaches his first.

Your playlist begins the last song as the two of you cling to each other on the couch. Jungkook’s arms are still locked around your back while you rest your head on his shoulder. He sings along quietly to the music, his soothing voice wrapping around you like a blanket. It’s a favorite song of his, just as it’s a favorite of yours - the song from your rooftop dance at Jennie and Yoongi’s wedding.

When the music ends, Jungkook sighs. “We should definitely do this again.” 

You laugh, sitting up. He grins at you and you lean forward to press a light peck to the tiny mole under his lip. “I may have booked you all night.” 

“Like I was gonna let you walk out of here anytime soon,” he scoffs. He stops your giggling with his kiss, lips soft and lingering, and you sigh, hugging him close again. 

There’s a part of you that can’t believe you just fucked your boyfriend in a strip club, but somehow it felt inevitable that you two would end up here like this. Like from the moment you walked in here all those months ago, there was no other way this would go. 

It was such a strange trip to think about. You had to go all the way to Paradise to meet the love of your life who lived next door. Fate could really take the most roundabout way, but the journey was more than worth it. 

“You really didn’t have to do all of this for me.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the moment. 

“I want to do everything for you,” you reply with a shake of your head. “You deserve the world, Kookie.” 

“I have everything I could ever want, jagiya. Right here in my arms.” 

Normally, this is where you would roll your eyes at him for being so sappy, but that’s hard to do when you’re blinking back tears. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, so he knows that you feel the same way. 

“You know…” Jungkook starts after a few seconds, then stops. You shake him a little to urge him to go on. “There is something else I’ve been thinking about. Something I want to do, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be into it.” 

“What is it?”

He glances down, and there’s the shy bunny smile that you remember from all those months ago. “I’d love to paint you.” 

“Naked?” you whisper, hand to your chest, looking scandalized.

He laughs, nose wrinkling in glee. “That actually wasn’t what I meant but I’m absolutely down if you are.” 

“We’ll see,” you grin, kissing his cheek. “One thing at a time. Right now, we’ve got this room to ourselves, and I believe you promised me a dance.”

“Yes I did,” Jungkook agrees, chin jutting out to catch your next kiss with his lips. “Anything for my love.” 

“I love you, too,” you sigh, kissing him back. 

************************************************************************

A/N 2: Yes, there will still be some drabbles down the line, but this is the end of the main story! Thank you for sticking with me! 💕

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2021-22-23-24 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[chappellroansdreamgirl]

officer!els<3

author's note - meow i love this woman.

content warnings - black!coded!reader ig????, fluff, els i love u ellie williams pls handcuff me to ur bed and police-brutalize me! , text msgs from reader that are very me-coded! , mostly just based off every grumpy but cool cop i've seen in media, lots of notes from me i'm going insane I NEED HER!!!!! , there's a white man in a pic i put... you have been warned, smut/suggestive shit at the end!

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- def wanted to be a cop when she was a kid and then was a total fucking juvenile as a teen. (duh!)

- always loved the police officers who barely ever gave troubled kids a hard time. (this is coming from a troubled kid. acab all the way except for u guys. well, still acab, but y'all r cool!) would refuse to talk to anyone except her favorites. i fully believe that's one of the reasons she would go into this workforce.

- when she got approved to start training to be a cop, u were home with her favorite strand of weed and she gave u a look like, "🤨🤨" , "can't be doing that no more baby, i'm gonna be a cop." , "...stfu and take the first hit before you piss me off..." , she's wearing a SHIT-eating grin before she takes it. (don't ask me how she passes her drug-tests!) (probably gets jesse to do it or someone idk maybe joel if she's lucky!) (def not joel...)

- ADDING ONTO THIS!^^ : every single time you smoke when she can't she'll look so sad or just side-eye tf out of you... "really?" , "what do you want me to do ellie..." u stopped smoking around her when she couldn't...

- this woman is so intimidating but once those cop dogs come on the scene she's so cute<3 . she's so smiley and happy they love her AND SHE LOVES THEM. she definitely sent u a picture of her with the group of the babies and was like, "can we adopt them all pls i love them ):" . you guys adopted a rescue pup shortly after...

- whenever you're doing ANYTHING EVER she flashes her badge at you and says something so loser of her , "don't make me handcuff you..." or makes finger guns with the sounds and GOD I LOVE THIS WOMAN.

- speaking of badges, she always has her badge on her. ALWAYS. it is EMBARRASSING!

- when she got her first arrest she was so happy:3 . i FEEL like she took a picture with the fucker and everything and she looked so proud of herself. "good job baby now pls get to the station before that mf breaks out of those handcuffs he looks like he's gonna murder u..."

- this is a headcannon of mine (and canon so why am i saying hc maybe it's just bcs it's more in-depth in my head.) but she loves kids and whenever she sees a younger person at the station, she makes sure that they're ok and have everything they need.

- with that being said, she HATES the teens who don't have a valid reason to be such delinquents. lovable delinquents are her soft-spot but those... THOSE ONES��.

- definitely is a kitten-saver-cop. hates getting the call but she responds every time.

- sends u this pic anytime u say something mildly threatening to her in text msgs:

suggestive/NSFW!

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- the day she got her uniform, you wanted to jump her bones. she came back home, poor girl was so tired and all you could think about is how good she looked in that shit.

- like i said... the badge is with her at all times... maybe this is too feral but i feel like she put IT in ur mouth and took a polaroid of it after u were done eating her out or SSAAAWWWWMMMMTHHHIIIIING. (pls let me wear ur badge baby i'm on my knees BEGGING YOU!)

- definitely joked about role-playing jailer/jailed and then it wasn't a joke anymore. y'all tried it once and couldn't stop laughing.

- has definitely used her handcuffs on u or vice versa. she gets so excited when u pull that shit out.

- ggggg...g-g-gu-....gggggggggguuuunnn ki-

- definitely has fucked u in the uniform. u two probs have had a quickie in the station bathroom on multiple occasions.

bonus round - police!els edit<3 :

[williceunleashed]

Me when I delve more into how fucked up Plasma is as a concept and how much it must have psychologically destroyed almost every single member outside of the Sages : 👍👍👍 im fine

Under the cut is a small analysis of Plasma as cult and how it's functioning might have affected the grunts (autism moment sorry)

Plasma is definitely some sort of religious cult, we know that (Ghetsis being some sort of prophet, N being so some sort of God-sent). The people within Plasma, outside of the Sages, are most likely vulnerable, mentally ill, or young and impressionable. We know that Plasma goes out of its way to choose people with little to no support system (N, Concordia, Anthea, the Shadow Triad...), keeping them isolated and making sure they can't be confronted with new, different opinions.

In fact, the Sages themselves are isolated from their support system, as they all come from different countries and are not native of Unova...... Outside of Ghetsis himself.

It's also suggested that Ghetsis is most likely abusive to his grunts, though we don't know to what extent, seeing how panicked the grunts who were hunting down Munna get when Mushana makes them hallucinate about Ghetsis.

The grunts, when moving as a group, are always seen moving in synch and in a very organized way. I think it's a good symbolism on how they stop identifying themselves as an individual, but rather as one single unit : They aren't a person anymore, they are a gear in the machine that is Plasma.

Cults are known to destroy their victims' sense of self, to then rebuild them to function entirely around their leader. Cult members are rewired to give their possession, money, belongings and if necessary even their body and life to their leader. You often see cult members defending their leader after their arrest and pleading to have them released, despite how vile their leader could have been to them.

Now for the part that shatters me : The Plasma Safehouse of Driftveil. This place makes me both happy and sad, in such a bittersweet way. In B2W2, the ex-grunts, alongside Anthea and Concordia, are seen staying around the Plasma Safehouse, still huddled together, instead of returning to a life or normalcy, miggling with other people, or experiencing the world like N did. The way they work is still very similar to B1W1 Plasma, with Rood acting as a leader, with how devoted they are to N's ideals.

There is this sad implication that these grunts are in no mental capacity to go back to a normal life. To me, the Driftveil Safehouse is just some place that was built specifically for Plasma's victims who were too traumatized to recuperate a proper sense of self and go back to a normal life. Of course these grunts are happier now, because Rood seems to be a gentle and kind person, and they are under the supervision of the pokémon league. And yet, the grunts still wear the uniform, they still behave as a unit, they still struggle to bond with outsiders to their group. They live with the guilt of having been part of Ghetsis's nefarious plans and they are too traumatized to be able to move past the cult.

Plasma grunts make me so sad man

oc is dardanne

[cornyforjk]

Drive you crazy | Day 4 | jjk

⤷ SUMMARY In which you are stuck living with an arrogant rookie racer who thinks of you as an obstacle, ready to ruin your glory, but things get heated when he has a pervy smile hidden under that pretentious attitude. Emotions that are complicated. You could never fall for your enemy! He's sabotaging you.

Pairing: racer!jk × racer!oc

Genre: angst and pure filth smut

Warnings: trash language

taglist: @tatamicc @jwnghyuns @nono13bnd @hagridshaircare @tatzzz-25 @suashifts

A/ note: Hello hello hello,,,, ik it's been like,what? 10 days. More than 10 days infact. But I was kinda stuck somewhere 🥴 and I did post part 4 one day but idk why it's format wouldn't be the way I wanted it to be,,, like ykwim. Anyways, I'm trying again and I hope it works today 🤞🤞 hope you guys enjoy 💕 (Added links for the first time thank you so much @redcherrykook ily💕)

___________________♡____________________

"What's with all these boxes?" I heard a sigh coming from the living room. Walking out of my bed I look over the commotion with a smile.

"Chocolates," I answer.

"Why?" He seemed pained looking at the bundle of sweets all spread out on the table. "Can't you keep them in your room?"

"But it's for you."

"Me?" He points at himself, innocently with huge bubbly eyes of confusion.

"But I hate chocolates." He points with disgust, ignoring my judging eyes and internal screams at his horrible taste.

Not only has he got a bad attitude but also bad taste buds.

"Why would you hate chocolate?!" I screech, "it's chocolate for fuck's sake! The only saviour at sad times."

"I don't like it. Who even sent it anyway?"

"I did!" My voice was wavering with panic. "I thought you liked chocolate...so I bought it as an apology." Watching his curious face drop into a sulky one didn't help my beating heart which probably pumped out my anxiety rather than blood.

"Where did you even get this information?" He arches his eyebrow in question.

"I googled it." My honest answer has him parting his lips as he tries to form words. "You are a famous rookie. The website has your likes and dislikes listed."

Jungkook dismissively waves his hand, "you had one job..." his voice lowered. "I will always hate chocolate." Those last words were barely a whisper. My eyes shot up towards his face, the quick vulnerability flashing back into his cocky self.

I clear my throat.

"It also said that you wear your special iron man socks while racing and in bed."

Subconsciously Jungkook crosses a leg over another trying to hide his redand yellow socks that look like the character.

"Well, you wear mismatched socks." He bickers, hands on his hip.

I shut my mouth tight, holding in a laugh that burst out sounding like a chicken having asthma.

"Ha-ha, very funny," the tall guy rolls his eyes walking out of the place.

"I still hate chocolate as much as I hate you."

___________________♡____________________

With a beaten body and tired scowl, I walked into my room slamming the door shut, feeling his eyes on my back, the stare leaves me frozen still staring at the wooden door trying to burn it as an escape option.

He doesn't question me. Doesn't ask me where I have been.Shows that he doesn't care.

And a part of me feels empty without his bickering, like half of our conversations depended on our arguments.

I tightly fist my hand towering over Jungkook, boring holes in his face watching him keep his motorsports book aside. He reads, has a hidden tattoo covering his left arm, shows respect towards invasive paparazzi...what all am I yet to know about him? It's like every time I feel like I figured him out he pulls out an Uno reverse card.

"Why won't you just let it go? I know where I went wrong and I am sorry I didn't listen to you. Fairly I didn't know what Alex was like and all you said was 'don't race' so it didn't help." I confess, fiddling with my fingers. He shuffles, getting on his legs and fleeting into the kitchen without answering.

"You didn't even answer-"

He turns around tearing a piece of tissue and stuffing it in my mouth as I gag. The taste of dried woody papermixing in my mouth.

"What the hell?!" "If you don't want me to permanently shut your porthole, then you better walk out of this place."

Storming out of the room I walk straight into someone's chest, wobbling back with a dizzy head, my eyes trail to his face. His familiar smile with dimples in view with his shiny golden brown hair.

"Mr Joon!" I exaggerate his name, trying to smile back but a pressed thin line forms.

"Is it about him?" He raises his thick eyebrow, uncertain to meet my eye as he scans the door behind me trying to gaze through with the help of a mere peephole.

"How do you know?""It's a small controversy going on around here. No wonder the cheerleaders are jealous." He blurts out, batting his eye whilst taking a step back. "Plus...you could say I know him a little too well."

"Should've seen that coming, no wonder he threw you that funny look in the hallway on our first day and pretended to not know you."

Namjoon chuckles, "sounds like our Jungkook."

"Our gang can help you with his bratty attitude, we have been in your position too many times." He smiles with glinting eyes, pulling me across the hallways behind the inn where the pool resides.

Namjoon waves over a group of young-looking men huddling around the patio, my eyes feel blessed at that moment when we make our way towards them, gaze residing on their flawless faces.

"Y/n, meet our gang. The bangtan boys." Namjoon lightly shoves me forward as all the boys create circle around me, my eyes glinting with excitement as each of them start questioning me with the same excitement.

"Hi! I am Jimin, the 'wanted' one," his orange head wobbled as he smiled sideways, coming over for a side hug that I returned with gratitude. Jimin was a well-known racer in the industry with millions of fangirls behind him almost all the time.

I turn around squealing when I find a mint haired guy waving at me with his boxy smile, "KIM TAEHYUNG AND SUNSHINE HOBI!"

"Sunshine what-" He's startled by my sudden outburst, my face reddening as I second-hand embarrass myself.

"It's a name given by your fans..." I kick the floor, whispering in a faint voice.

Hoseok chuckles with Taehyung, removing the leather gloves covering their hand as they bring it forward to shake with mine.

"Call us Tae and Hobi, it's cute coming from your mouth," they gigglechildishly, warming my heart.

"Operation win Jungkook over is in the process!" Hoseok's fist pumps in the air as everyone starts discussing a perfect plan to make up for my foolish mistake.

"He likes sugar mallows." Suddenly behind me appears Min Yoongi and Seokjin, the oldest racers here. My heart suddenly jumps out as I stare at them holding a few boxes of cereal.

Taehyung scoots over, Jin and Yoongie sit over smiling at me as I return with a nod. "He likes those marshmallow cereals? Wow-" I am left speechless at his selection of food.

"Trust me, he will go head over heels for this." Jin squeals, winking towards Namjoon which leaves me questioning.

___________________♡____________________

I take a deep breath ready for war. It's about to strike midnight as I walk back to my shared room, glancing back and forth at the dark hallways waiting for some kind of jumpscare, breeze from open windows letting out a hollered noise that has my skin shivering. I quicken my pace, slamming the door behind me to see Jungkook standing in the balcony with the wind ruffling his hair as if praising him.

I stopped in my tracks when my eyes landed on his broad back with muscular shoulders that turned me on, my fingers wishing to grab onto them leaving a trail.

Peeking into the open box of cereal given by Jin I wholeheartedly pour in some milk, my heart leaping as I think of offering some to Jungkook.

With two bowls in my hand, I make my way to the open porch. Jungkook hangs his head between his shoulders, grasping the railing tight with visible veins running across his arm.

"Are you alright?" I whisper, mostly startling him as he lifts his head with an alarmed expression. "I bought vousome cereal?" With uncertainty I raise the bowl in thin air waiting for his eyes to pool with excitement, maybe he would be jumpy on his feet at the smell of sugary soggy cereal, but no. He didn't move an inch.

He just let out an exasperated sigh of defeat. "Go away," Jungkook mumbled slowly, looking away from my eyes.

"What's on your mind Jeon," I placed the bowl aside, trying to take a look at him from behind and for the first time I felt his huge bulky body standing tall beside me. He seemed so big and strong, the intimidating expression being a compliment to his looks. He looked even more beautiful at night.

"You don't have to share, just have this with me." I gesture over towards the milk-filled bowls with a pressed smile full of hopefulness.

"Fine." He harshly grabs a bowl scooting over to sit on the floor casually with his legs crossed. "But you can sit in the chair!" I exclaimed but he shook his head. "I like it here." He meekly said.I have no choice but to sit facing him, watching the beautiful view of California that left me breathless, it just seemed like a dream, but what felt even more surreal was the man sitting in front of me with his midnight black bangs covering his doe eyes, slurping the milky marshmallows with content.

"Feeling better?" I quietly ask. Earning a hum.

We sat there quietly with comforting silence, little squeals of pleasure and sugar kicking in our bodies. Raking our spoons in the milk scooping up the crunchies while playing with loops.

"How'd you know I like this?" He questioned.

"That will be my secret." I wryly smile, shoving the empty bowls at the back, making room for my feet to spread comfortably.

"You do know you just served me cereal in the middle of the night?" he whispered playfully.

"Think of it as a midnight snack." I wink."Jungkook...I am sorry." I breathe in, "I hurt people, that's what I am good at. Unfortunately." A bittersweet chuckle leaves my parted lips, guilt seeping in when I try forming words. "We didn't start on the right foot, why not try the left this time?"

Bringing my hand forward, I wait for Jungkook to shake it. Just give me a chance. We are just racers ready to come at each other's throats, But, Why not try to get along?

For once.

"I don't need a protector Jungkook, just a friend."

He brings his hand forward, hesitant when our warm skin grazes together, I feel him enveloping my hand in his, a wave of satisfaction gushing over me.

I never want to let his hand go. It feels safe and soft like a newborn. But they don't fit together perfectly.

We are two different people, with different views. Being friends witheach other is hard for us, hard to understand. No wonder they don't fit perfectly.

"Don't tell me you use baby lotion now," I smirk. He looks away, trying his best to hide the small curve rising atthe edge of his lips.

Maybe Jeon Jungkook knows how to smile after all.

He silently grabs the bowl behind me, stuffing his mouth with cereal and continuing to stare at me. Even in the dark, I could make out his droopy eyes, dark circles, that were carrying all the unexplainable tension he didn't share.

"Go to sleep, grinch, or would you like me cuddling you till you've fallen asleep," Nudging him with a teasing tone he smiles, a little toothy grin that fogged my brain.

He snorts, "You need therapy Y/n."

"Therapy is just paid gossip my boy."

I pat his head, going in for the ruffle when he swats it away, his facial features tensing with a line between his eyebrows."Tomorrow's the race. "

I stop in my tracks. Glancing back from my shoulder, This sudden unexplainable tension filled the air, my heavy breath visible.

What got me so nervous all of a sudden?

I start tapping my foot, fiddling with my nails, biting the inside of my cheek.

"And...?" I felt the back of my neck warm up, tiny beads of sweat sliding down my back.

He wouldn't do anything to hurt me tomorrow in the name of race? Would he?

Jungkook just sighed, standing tall, his dark silhouette walking towards me whilst I stood frozen. I feel his eyes staring into my soul, his hand slowly placed on my shoulder. I stiffen at the small strokes he skims on the sides of my neck.

Everywhere he touched my skin would burn with fire, hitching breath stuck atthe bottom of my throat. But my eyes clung to his illuminated skin under the moon.

He's beautiful...

Jungkook pulls me out of his trance with a throaty cough, pulling me closer as I squeak. "If they overtake your path then turn to the side and let them. Their desire to win is unquenched, and people do anything to satisfy their thirst."

"Don't come in their way, Y/n."

___________________♡____________________

Day3 | Day5

DM me or send an ask if you wanna be added to the taglist.

[the-faceless-bride]

Yandere Oc (Valarie) × Reader ⚰️🕊

This series is A DARK ROMANCE/HORROR and may have content that some readers may find disturbing. Triggering. Or harmful. I strongly suggest that if you don't enjoy Dead Doves content this story isn't for you. @pricegouge had inspired me to get into writing like this again for their AMAZING slasher 141 stuff. So thank you for the inspiration to continue this.

Proluge: "Stranger..."

As most times in your life. You're bad decisions came from your friends and their wild ideas. Your boyfriend Mike, your friends, Jessica and Ashley had all decided that this week would be a party week! No rules, no responsibility, no consequences for anything! It was part time.

And it was draining your social battery...

Before your boyfriend you were a homebody. You liked being alone with your music, your fantasies, and your cat... well...

You tried to stay positive, this trip was for you after all. You'd been so sad when your cat Gizzmo passed away, they thought this would cheer you right up. Apparently, they don't know you very well. Not like you thought anyway...

At the moment you were at a bar/club; drained, a bit tipsy, and a bit jealous at the sight of Mike dancing a bit too close on Jessica. Ashley had tried an chatt a bit, you'd always liked her a little more than Jess. She at least checked up on you here and there. Jessica seemed more interested in just coming around for Mike.

"Not having fun?" - a voice calls to you over the music, turning your head you see a handsome man. Shoulder length hair pulled into a low ponytail, his bands and strands falling to Frame his gorgeous face. His voice sweet and seductive like honey. - "not really, and not looking forward to the future either!" - You yell over the booming base of the speakers, - he raises his brow confused on what you mean, - "my friends found some pond they want to skinny dip in after this! My friend Jessica suggested it! I'm not to thrilled to go swimming in a random pond!" - "ah, I see. Not alone then! That's good, i wouldn't wanna go to 'Dead Hookers Lake' alone either!" - Dead... what? - "w-What does that mean?" - You ask scooting over in your barstool to get closer to the tall man. - "Well, It's kinda a rumor y'know? Just something this small town says! Apparently with all the passers-byes some folks end up missing! But they can never really say for sure. This town is almost a ghost town by now! So really, it's just something scary people say to keep pretty girls from wandering out too late at night!" - oh, great. Just what you need. A story that's gonna fuck with your tipsy brain and make you paranoid all night long. Thanks random stranger at the bar. Just what you needed. - "you staying here long?"- you were about to answer but then that paranoia set in, - "I can't tell you." - "...why?" - "cuz you're a stranger."- that just made the man pause. Just... staring at you...

"BABE!!" Mike yelled across the bar, - "LETS GO!!"- he called with the wave of his hand Ashley and Jessica already making their way out. Giving the stranger a short good bye you lightly jogged to Mike before looking back at the strange man once more...

"Are you sure about this?"

You call to your friends and boyfriend, who had already stripped down and gone into the cool muddy water. "Ugh! Stop being a Debbie Downer!! Get in, it's fine!" Jessica called back, making a face to Mike before giggling.

"MHmm," - you make a noise of uncertainty and slight disgust, "the water looks questionable to me!" You respond, "It's fine Babe just drop the tee-shirt already"- Mike said, a bit uninterested. You knew why, he was busy staring down Jess.

Then again, you couldn't blame him, she was very pretty.

Dusty blonde hair, honey brown eyes, plump lips, a full curvy body with great legs and very nice breasts, hell even you looked.

But now, it made you all the more self conscious.

But taking a deep breath, you slowly dropped your boyfriends shirt you had been holding infront of you to hide yourself for a bit longer before the inevitable.

Dead hookers lake. Huh. If you felt anything touch your leg you were gonna flip.

Getting into the water, after many little pep talks you slowly tip-toed through the water to reach your Boyfriend. Every now and again anxiously looking around the water, looking for nothing and everything. Ripples in the water distorting the shadows of the pond, making shapes of horrors just below the surface. Your eyes looking around picturing what could be right there and you wouldn't even know it till something touched you. A fish, a plant, a body, HELL even a crocodile or something! Finally making it to Mike, you pull and cling on to him like a baby koala. Refusing to let go, and slowly the paranoia and anxiety started to disappear.

"What the hell was that-"

Until it came rushing back, "what's what?" Jessica asked a confused and disgusted Ashley, "I think I just stepped in something?" Ashley reaches under, her lip curling up in a grossed out face before starting to rise whatever it was she stepped on out of the water.

"I think it's like a dead fish or something-"

A Hand.

A Mushy. bloated. Discolored. Rotted. Hand.

And everything begins happening all at once.

Ashley is screaming, dropping the hand back into the water, watching the loose skin stretch and wrinkle as it sinks back to the bottom where it once laid. Jessica is rushing out of the water, a never ending stream of- "oh my God. oh my God. Oh My God." 's leaving her soft pleading lips, Mike rushing to get you all out of the water and to your phones to call the cops.

This can not be happening. It just can't. You feel your chest tighten as it gets harder and harder to take a steady breath. You fight the urge to gag as you too begin to rush out of the water.

"They're gone."

Huh?

"What do you mean "'they're gone.'" Mike?!"

"Our phones! THEYRE ALL GONE!"

Everyone is in full panic mode now. Mike and Ashley looking feverishly on the ground to see if maybe they had fallen, Jessica is now telling herself this isn't read. And you're vision is getting Hazy.

Then a Scream.

an ear bleeding, gut wrenching. Scream.

The scream turns to a gurgle, and Jessica holds her neck as she bleeds freely from the new wound. Eventually falling as the tries to press the hole in her neck. Twitching as the dirt and mud covers her naked body, ruining her perfect skin as the rocks under her leave cuts and scrapes against her backside.

"JESSICA!" Mike screams; a mix of fear, horror and anger.

And within a fraction of a second, Mike and Ashley take off running.

Not bothering to fully get dressed. Ashley tossing on her long sweater and Mike is boxers, you clumsily pulling on Mike's tee-shirt and panties as you try and keep up, "wait! Please! Wait for me! Please don't leave me!" You scream out to them, trying to navigate the way out of the thickly packed wood that over casted the dirt trail. And then as you tumble from a tree root a large hard hand grabs you, pulling you to a strong chest and holding you down.

In a panic, unable to use your hands and the large hand comes close to your nose and mouth with a cloth you toss your head back hoping to hit something to make the attacker let go, a man gasps but ultimately it only seems to hurt you more than him... and in that moment a sweet smell hits you, the soft cloth over your face being the only comfort in that moment.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of them. You just rest for now. Goodnight Darling." The voice slowly fades away.

A/n: here is what "Stranger" looks like, you'll get his name in the first chapter.

And here is voice claim. (Let me know if it doesn't work. It's been weird. And dont mind the capcut 🤓💀)

[0luv9]

this love || mattheo riddle

Summary: he should know better, he should understand that it's pointless but he is a fool, acting like he knows better despite the years of fruitless pining. He lingers just for the off chance- that you could be his.

[post hogwarts setting]

Beware: angst, a bit of fluff, minimal plot (the plot itself hasn't been explored much), she/her pronouns used, mostly written in second person, kinda fast-paced, brief mention of drinking, reader has been wronged, some parts of it are fast-paced, reader's oc boyfriend, marriage, misusage of magic, blood and fighting, hospitals.

(I don't know what I just wrote)

Words: 8.1k

He knew he was fighting a losing battle, knew that from the very moment, his eyes fell on you for the first time. Yet he can’t help but try, try and win this battle, to win you over because he knows it’ll be worth it. There’s no explaining behind this unreasonable love for you, there’s no clear moment where he came to the realization, that it’s something he’s always known, to be in love with you.     

But you are in his arms, your boyfriend, the perfect man, the sight telling him to look away, telling him that you are off limits.     

How can he forget you though? You are the reason he breathes nowadays, but you are so blissfully unaware of the turmoil you’ve caused. Whenever you are in his sight, his heart pounds violently against his chest, he has never felt this way towards someone else and he doesn’t think he’ll remain sane any further.  

Mattheo was never a sane man, so why pretend otherwise?     

He’s a fucking hypocrite, has made you a bad habit of his, he wouldn’t like it if someone stole you away from him, but he’d gladly steal you away from anyone else. But you are you, ever so loyal to your boyfriend, you've been with the guy for over 5 years now, sweethearts of Hogwarts and now sweethearts of the ministry.     

It's been three years since you've all left Hogwarts he was waiting for you to break up with your boyfriend, but it never came, it wasn't some case of stupid teen love like he thought it was, in fact, it became even serious-     

He should have given up long back, but he just couldn't help himself, he hasn't changed much over the years, old habits die hard. Troublemaker then, troublemaker now. Mattheo wanted to beat the shit out of your boyfriend Lucas, how could he though? It would hurt you and there was no excuse he could give; it would only strain your relationship with him.     

He wants to make a move but knows your answer will always be negative, so he keeps a stone over his heart and pines after you from afar.     

...     

But it's not enough, it's never enough. One look at you entering the room with fucking Anderson feels like a hundred knives stabbing through his heart all at once. You are in emerald green, the same shade as Lucas' shirt, his arm around you, looking ever so beautiful. Mattheo closes his eyes, hand over his burning chest trying to calm himself down as Lucas leans down to kiss you.     

"They look so good together," he hears Pansy gush from his side, his friends agreeing, and he can't even bring himself to look in your direction. Would it be the same if it was him instead of him? He can only imagine being Lucas, it's pure jealousy he feels towards the man.     

Why did he even come to this party? To see you, of course, there hasn't been a single day where he hasn't seen you, but he fucking forgot that you wouldn't be alone, you are never alone, he's always with you. It wouldn't be the same without the two sweethearts, it was the ministry's doing after all.     

He thinks though, would Lucas love you like him? Mattheo just wants you to be his, it pains him to know that he can never be with you. You have so much control over him, but you don't even know, he smiles when you smile, he's angry when you are angry, he's sad when you are sad-     

Has memorized each detail of yours, made you a constant in his life, fell in love with you all over again, with every smile of yours, with every word of yours, with every hum of your voice, with every movement of yours, he just couldn’t help himself, you took over him, it was inevitable.     

Ever since the day you walked into his life, he walked with you, always together. Two worlds of their own, revolving around each other, that was until you found your sun, found someone else to revolve around but he was still tied to you, still circling you and always ended up colliding with him.      

...     

Why did you have to choose Lucas and not him? He's known you longer, he's liked you long before him, you were his best friend before you were Lucas’ girlfriend but why did he come first in your books?      

You turned his world upside down that Thanksgiving day during your sixth year, running to him smiling and blushing, he thought you were about to confess to him but instead, you told him about your crush on Lucas and how you had scored a date with him- all out of the blue, he never saw it coming, who even was Lucas? “Lucas Anderson, he’s in the same year as us, the Ravenclaw perfect!” Then he never heard the end of it.     

You with that stupid smile of yours, it was a sickening sight really, he loved seeing you smile but he couldn’t stand to look at it when he knew it was because of your boyfriend. It was as though, he had been replaced, it was no longer “Mattheo this, Mattheo that-” “Lucas! I’ll be wearing this to the party, or should I wear that dress, you know the blue one you love,” hanging off Lucas’ arm, navigating through the mess you and the girls had made in the common room, with those lovesick eyes-      

‘Get over it’ he tells himself, but he can’t help the ugly feeling creeping up on him, Mattheo feels like throwing up as the nostalgia surges through him at the sight, you used to hold onto him like that, he silently looks at you, there’s grief in his eyes.      

As the days pass by, he realizes how you no longer sit with him, how far you’ve been. And he can do nothing but watch you from a distance, can’t object so he seals his lips together, never mentions it, waits for the sweet honeymoon phase to be over but it never ends...     

It’s been five years, and you two are still sickeningly in love with each other, it’s all in his face, he steals a few glances in your direction, can’t spare much more than a few seconds because it pains to look at you all happy in some other guy’s arms, the one who does right by you, the one who never gave you a reason to walk away.      

Anderson made it all look so easy, he swayed you off your feet the moment he met you and here he was, Mattheo Riddle, still trying to quantify his unending love for you, he misses you, so he drinks your favourite drink, in the memory of you, you are the star of the night, the centre of the ballroom, too bright for his eyes, too sweet for his tongue, like the wine and rum you drink.      

But he savours it, it’s the closest he can get to you nowadays, he’s gotten used to living like this, in pieces, each part seeking you in different ways, some part of him begs to hear your voice, some part of him longs for your touch but he can do nothing about it because Mattheo Riddle doesn’t have the privilege of being loved by you, he’s just another man in the endless sea of your admirers.      

Even the silence feels uncomfortable now, he can’t just stick to his old ways, he can’t just silently watch the two of you dance in each other's arms, moving gracefully around the expanse of the shiny floor, he excused himself, a strong drink in his hand. Tears prickled down his face the moment the midnight breeze made contact with his skin, his head spinning with images of you, the memories of you, of the last moments of you with him, the last time you properly talked to him.      

Mattheo remembers how you’d clean him up after he was bloodied up during some fight, how you’d lecture him, how soft and careful you were with him. How you’d patiently listen to his rants, helped him with his short-tempered nature, helped him navigate through all the academic stress. He remembers the healing touch of yours, the way your fingers threaded through his hair, massaging his forehead, humming to him as he lay his head in your lap, easing him of the sharp stingy headache, continuing your ministrations until he dozed off comfortably in your lap while you rested your head uncomfortably against the wall.     

His heart swells as he reminisces those days, those memories that probably meant much more to him than they ever meant to you, even today’s grief and sorrow can’t stop the fond smile from appearing on his face. He’s been on this journey for so long, he understands this feeling too well, letting his mind wander, smiling at the sweet times till he remembers how it’s no longer in his fate to be in your arms, reality punches him in the gut, old habits die hard- he had gotten into a lot of verbal sprawls at the ministry, it got physical a few times and you weren’t there beside him, instead you were beside Lucas, sending him a pitiful look and that was about it, he had come to expect of you to be by his side whenever things got nasty, you had always been there but now, you were a stranger, were you even there to begin with? The look of pity was so unlike you-       

The loud conclusive thump of the band pulls him out of it, out of all the questions, of what was and what could’ve been. He hears footsteps nearing him and quickly walks into the first door he sees. Wiping away his tears, ruining the sleeves of his navy suit, it’s draining him to love you but but but he can’t just fucking stop.      

Mattheo didn’t realise what happened in the next few seconds, the door to the closet he was hiding in opened and someone entered the tiny space closing the door after themselves, it was you, damn his unfair fate.      

You look surprised as you take notice of him, your hand reaching the door handle shaking it frantically, locked.     

You glance down at the handle whispering “Alohomora,” It doesn’t work instead your head feels heavy, and you don’t have your wand on you, you look at Mattheo and then look towards the handle, silently asking him to open the door, “Don’t have your wand?” you shake your head, it’s amusing, the situation the two of you are in, he has his wand with him but he’ll pretend otherwise, he’s gotten you with him after so long, “Me neither and I was never good at wandless magic,” it was a lie of course, but anything to be with you.     

It was strange though, why wasn’t your wandless magic working, that too with such a simple charm, he pushed that thought to the back of his mind, he couldn’t focus, not like this, not with you so close to him. Breathing the same sir, enclosed in a tight dark place, it feels surreal, he’s losing it. Mattheo can feel your strong gaze on him, you try to create some space between the two of you, but he holds you close, there’s no space what were you even doing?      

You close your eyes at the contact, the touch was cruel, it was intrusive, it felt as though your mind was being probed- it hurt, physically hurt. It felt wrong, it burned where he touched you but there was an itch his touch was scratching, the longer he held onto you, and you started melting, the pain minimising by seconds, it no longer felt like a punishment instead it felt familiar, comforting, knocking you off your alarmed senses. You slowly breathe in, taking in the smell of his cologne and the smell of strong whiskey on his breath and... and- strawberry daiquiri, his hand left yours as you opened your eyes, his eyes were sad, he was Mattheo, your best friend!     

Your vision unfocused and focused back again, body aching at the loss of contact, mind blank, veins burning, he looks away for a second and your heart clenches uncharacteristically. There's no actual logic behind your next move yet you do it because you ache for it, you don't exactly know why but you pull his face down and kiss him. He pulls away almost instantly after the initial shock, what the fuck are you thinking?     

The light that seeps through the little cracks of the door falls onto your face, lighting it up, making Mattheo gulp at the sight, you look up at him with eyes so unnaturally blown off, hazy and dilated- you tug his collar staring at his lips, Mattheo inhales sharply and bends down to kiss you because, "Fuck it."    

He holds your face tightly in his hands, cold metal rings digging into your skin, it's all he has ever wanted, there's no morality to hone here not when he has you right where he wants and why should he care that it's wrong, when you clearly don't? Mattheo kisses you with such fervour that your mind spins, your knees going weak all of a sudden making it hard for them to hold you up and body going numb unable to pick up on the feel of his body against yours, darkness surrounding you even when you shoot your eyes open, you feel yourself sink and then- nothing.    

Mattheo freaks out when you go limp in his arms, he mutters a quick spell to unlock the door and pulls you out, making you sit against the door, patting your face and trying to wake you up. “Riddle!”– it’s Lucas, rushing by your side, taking you from Mattheo’s arms into his own, the worry on his face is akin to the one on Mattheo’s but there’s terror in his eyes too as he looks up at Mattheo, “What- What happened–” he just looks back down at your unconscious self, gulping hard at the crease of your brows, easing the tension with his fingers, “I don’t know- I just found her, like this you know...” he lies through his teeth and Lucas shakes his head, not paying any serious attention to the man in front of him when his girlfriend is unconscious in his arms, “I’ll take her back home, don’t worry-,” then Mattheo hears the man mutter to himself, “I hope, she’ll be alright,” Anderson picks her up in his arms, spares Mattheo a quick glance and rushes out.     

…    

Are you even there-? He tries to be around you, but you always look out of it, never paying any attention to him, in fact you don’t even look his way while he’s out here staring at you, every thought leads up to you, it was tiring and worrisome because you are smiling, so brightly, so close to him but somehow your light doesn’t reach him anymore.     

You both work in different departments of the ministry but he always has found a way to be around you, he’ll never stop. Why should he stay away from you? He doesn’t fucking like the fact that you are ignoring him and it’s more annoying because it’s not like you are actively trying to avoid him, you just act like he doesn’t exist, like he's some stranger, there’s no active effort in your actions- he is your best friend for fucks sake the least you could do is treat him like one.    

How can he live with such distance from you, you who acts like he’s a nobody, he’s always near you, always around you but somehow you keep straying far away- how is supposed to handle you, the you- who pretends that the kiss never happened, who pretends that you didn’t stain his lips with your lipstick, the woman who tainted him and pretended like she didn’t do it, why’d you kiss him like you love him and then act like it didn’t fucking happen- running off to your happy to go relationship, there was something off, very off about you, you didn’t look bothered in the slightest, it wasn’t like you, at all.    

Mattheo couldn’t stand to look at you kiss Lucas as though you weren’t onto him the other night, how can you just move past it?    

…    

It hasn’t even been a week since the party and his friends are getting ready for another one, he loves them, but he is in no mood to party not after what happened, how would they know anyway- neither you nor him have spoken about it, why’s there no guilt in your actions as you hold onto Lucas?     

The party, yes something about ‘the current events that took place, call for a big celebration’ he didn’t pay much attention to his friends, not until they mentioned your name, “They both will love it, especially her-” “I am sorry, what are we celebrating?” he finally took part in the conversation, all heads at the table turned towards him, “She didn’t tell you?” Blaise was the first one to break the awkward silence, “Tell me what?” at this, his friends shared a look, as though he had said something ridiculous. Why can’t they just tell him, instead of asking rhetorical questions? His patience was wearing thin at their silence, he stared at Draco, the closest to him, gaze so intense it compelled the blonde to speak, “Anderson proposed-”     

Mattheo was on his feet the next second, he had heard enough, storming off to your department floor, you had some explaining to do. You sure had the audacity to play with him, he never expected such a wound from you.   

There you are, alone and working, he walks towards you in vexation, you stand up as you hear his angry feet, he stands in front of you breathing heavily.     

There’s no longer a spark in your eyes as you look at him, you are within his reach, yet you feel so far away– your sweet smile is still there but it feels different. “Good afternoon! What can I do for you today?” your voice is polite, and his eyes fall to your left hand, there it is– the sign of his blatant rejection. You kissed him and now not even a week later you are engaged to someone else, he doesn’t get it. Should he be selfish and break the truth to Lucas, have you all for himself? Would you even want that- will you ever fucking choose him? He harshly grips your hand, pulling it up, in front of your face, as if mocking your decision, “what’s this?” he squeezes your ring finger so carelessly, it hurts him that he doesn’t seem to care about your happiness for once, you only smile at him tilting your head to the side, “An engagement ring, sir-” he drops your hand, your words sting but your actions sting more, there’s not an ounce of guilt on your face, you simply look at him as if he’s some rando, who has no place to question you.     

Mattheo balls his hands into tight fists, nails digging into his palms, shutting his eyes, bringing the fists up to his forehead trying to soak it all in, it’s nauseating, what happened?! What’s happening- you looked, felt, heck even sounded so different, it was you but then he looks at you a second longer and he no longer sees the eyes he fell in love with. Your mere existence is like poison, spreading throughout his body without his permission, he tried, okay? Tried to get rid of you, tried not to fall in love with you-     

You used to smile, and he used to look for the source, capturing the moment in his heart, trying to recreate it, he loved to make you happy. Mattheo doesn’t remember a life where he didn’t love you, he couldn’t just think beyond you once the inevitable happened, you made him happy, you made his life better, and he knows no other way of existing other than being helplessly in love with you, no matter how much it hurts, just tell him you love, even if it’s a lie.    

No. Don’t do that, he won’t be able to let go of you, no matter what you do, you send his head spiralling, he just wants you to love him, is that too much for him to ask? You were his happiness throughout the years but why were you withdrawing now? After getting him hooked up, addicted to you, he blames you for this, but he doesn’t- how could he? You are so sweet, the one he loves.     

He can’t handle it, it’s stupid to love someone who doesn’t love you back, he looks at the huge blue stone on your finger, and his hand itches to throw the ring out, but he can’t do that, so he walks away from the woman he loves.     

‘There’s something special about diamonds no matter how generic. Colours are pretty, sure, but I love the simplicity of a diamond, if someone proposes, I don’t think that’ll ever happen ha-ha-ha, but I’d love a small, polished diamond imbedded in a thin rose gold band. Something fragile, worth the extra care, like this life of ours,’ He remembers your exact words, he had been pestering you near the end of the fifth year to tell him about your future, about your ideal wedding, it was him trying to plan for you, for both of your future together, both of you were tipsy when you had your heart to heart, it was a darn cringy way of doing it but back then he thought you liked him back, he thought it was given that you’d get with him when the two of you grew up, how fucking naïve-     

…    

Mattheo was tired, he was just existing for the sake of it, going through the endless files, signing here and there on parchments, he hadn’t spoken in the past few days, he held onto his silence, there was no point. “She resigned, honestly, I didn’t see that coming but if that’s what she wants, I support her,” there they were, his friends talking about you, “I mean, Anderson just got a promotion, he makes a lot of money, she doesn’t really have to work,” this was new,  something was very wrong, did you really change this much? There’s no way you’d leave your job just like that, Mattheo knows how much you cherished that job, it was your dream job after all. Money was never in the equation before, but why is it such an important variable now? You told him you’d work that job even if you made only a few knuts throughout the year.     

“Anderson asked her to leave the job and she just did, she really loves him to do that, he didn’t even have to repeat himself,” Even with Mattheo making much more than Anderson he wouldn’t even think of asking you to leave your job, the one you worked so hard for, the one you tirelessly competed for, nothing made sense anymore. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, had you really given up this easily? What’s going on? He can’t even talk with you without breaking down, he can’t talk to you because it seems like you no longer recognize him, he himself doesn’t recognize you, he doesn’t see you in these choices of yours.    

Maybe he doesn’t know you like he thinks he does, you have changed but he still doesn’t find himself falling out of love, why can’t he stop caring? And why can’t he do shit about it?!     

...    

It’s been days since Mattheo has last seen you, it's night, and he hasn’t properly slept in days, why did you have to steal his peace? He roams the streets like a crazed man, he goes wherever his feet take him and it’s no surprise that they halt right in front of your house, what was he even doing here? You were getting married in a week, time was flying by so fast, and he was running low.     

He wanted to tell you to not do it but what will he even say? ‘Don’t marry him because I love you?’ Would you even care- Does he even have the right to say something? Would his words even change a thing? Riddle didn’t come here to cry but he can’t help the tears, he’s a wretched man, he feels helpless, there’s not much his body allows him to do these days. He sinks to his knees for a moment, to shed tears at the nameplate on your door, it’s the name of the woman he loves, the one who is soon about to be an Anderson, taking the name of some other man, the one he could never be. He tries to collect himself and walk away like the coward he is.    

Earlier he used to say, ‘at least she loves me in my dreams,’ but nowadays, he doesn’t sleep too well, the dreams don’t come to greet him anymore- his imagination is no longer blissful, the reality is too dark, too etched in his life to ignore, to think otherwise.    

He gets up and kicks the trash can in front of your house in frustration, he doesn’t anticipate it falling over and making such a loud sound.    

But you are glad, the noise breaks you out of the deep trance you were put in, you wake with a jolt, your heart beating rapidly, and there’s not much going in your mind, you take a second to look around, it’s your room but it looks so different from what you remember, you feel weak, drained. You peek out of the curtains beside your bed from where the sound came, it was Mattheo!   

You jump onto your feet and run downstairs, swinging the front door open, you don’t have a single thought in your mind except the one that asks to see him, your heart aches, there’s no other way to describe this painful longing that burns you, you’ve numbed everything out, you don’t feel the cold floor beneath your feet, the sting of the cold air that pushes past you, you just want to be close to him.  

The sight of you was like a wound to his chest, the dishevelled state of you, the weakness on your face, the visible lines of despair on your face. You freeze for a second when you see him but then you are onto him, throwing your arms around him, hugging him tight, it all came crashing down when his arms wrapped around you pulling you even closer. There’s unending comfort in his embrace yet it doesn’t take away the sorrow, all you feel is relief surging through your body at his touch, it’s overwhelming, everything dawns upon you, and the mind that had shut itself earlier now begins running a thousand miles a second, you can’t help the tears, there’s no other way of saying that you are not fine, everything feels too real, you feel alive- like you are breathing for the first time in forever. There’s so much left unsaid, untouched but you can’t pull away just yet.   

But he can, he puts his hands on your shoulders, examining your face contoured with hurt, but there are no physical wounds he can whisper cures at. There’s just the continuous stream of tears gushing down your face, the ones that wet his shirt, he can only wipe them away. He watches you with such concern, so much worry, you open your mouth to tell him that it’s okay, but nothing comes out, his hands come to hold your face, you try again, ‘Mattheo’ no sound still, only your lips move, your throat burns, you cry again. What’s happening? There are just tears that could give him the answer, but he doesn’t understand, has no clue, your breath hitches again and through your blurred vision you beg him to hold you close.   

He pulls you back into his embrace, rubbing your back trying to soothe you, the other hand holding your head close to his heart. Mattheo had always been stupid when it came to you, but it never hurt him this much, so stupidly in love with you, always overtaken by his delusions that if you were with him, he’d never let you feel any pain but now that you were in his arms, eyes pleading, he couldn’t do a thing. He just wants to take away all the ills that bother you, wants to take away all the pain but he doesn’t understand a thing, he begs the stars above to let him understand this silent cry of yours.   

There are innumerable questions he wants to ask but he wouldn’t understand so, the words die on his tongue, like they always do when you are with him. This love that had always been silently killing him, hurt him like no other, was now threatening to spill all that was left unsaid into the silence of the night, words protected within the vicinity of his mind, it was overbearing, ready to spill, and it was getting hard to hold onto it.   

You release yourself out of his hold and suddenly he feels a lot colder, the cool breeze seeps through the wet patches on his shirt, making him shiver but he pushes it all aside when you hold onto his hand and tilt your head. “Should- Should I take you in?” he hesitates as he speaks, all his focus on you trying to understand whatever it is that you were asking of him, you shake your head and point at him, “My house?” you nod, the frown on your face softening a bit at his words.  

Mattheo holds you close and walks you to his house, but you stumble quite a few times for him to just ignore, he silently picks you up, you don’t protest, there’s no point, your mind is hazy, there’s no strength in your limbs, so you just hold onto to him. But the hold you have on him is suffocating to him, he can’t be happy about you being close to him, not when you were hurting.   

Gaunt Manor, it's your first time here, he dreamed of bringing you here albeit the scenario was different, it was happy, but the present was sad, in his dreams he’d bring you into the house as his happy wife, but it never worked out, you were entering the residence of the man who didn’t dare to call it his home, it was never warm and welcome, it was just familiar, he doesn’t know how it’s supposed to bring peace to you, how it’s supposed to make you any feel better than the cold outside.   

He places you on the couch of the huge living room, mutters a spell and the lamps light up the room, then he’s kneeling in front of you, waiting for you to ask anything of him, a bit disappointed in his inability to make things better. Your eyes are red and puffy, you try to speak again as you look at him instead your mouth runs dry, and you can’t feel your voice, it’s a sad attempt at nothing.   

Mattheo suddenly rises to his feet, and an unwanted thought strikes him, you'd rather be with your fiancé in such a moment of vulnerability, “Should I call Anderson?” He doesn’t want to look at you because it’d sting to know that he’d never be your first choice- you are quick to shut his train of thought, you hold his hand and urge him closer, shaking your head, the thought left him as soon as it came, the tears were back, they tell him, that all this has something to do with Anderson and it fucking angers him.  

His grip tightens around your hand as you try to pull away once he kneels in front of you, you frown when he doesn’t let go, there’s grief in your eyes, sorrow that he doesn’t get, he sighs lets go but keeps close and looks out for your next movement. You breathe in slowly, chest heaving with tension as you look at your left hand resting in your lap, the blue gem on your finger sending shivers down your spine, it was ugly, the feeling that it gave you, you close your eyes not wanting to look at it as you try to pull it off your finger, your jaw clenches, teeth crushing each other. Several small needles poke at your skin, they dig deep into your finger as you try to remove the ring, you feel the hot blood starting to ooze out.   

Mattheo’s eyes dart up to your face, you can't scream, you can't tell him how much it hurts, you can just shake your head at him and cry, tears rapidly running down your face wetting your collar. You go to wipe them instead you make a mess, staining your face with blood, the scene breaks him, you being so helpless.  

He wipes off the blood and tears, you don't shoo away from his touch instead you close your eyes and lean into it, biting your lip because the needles are still digging into your skin, his attention shifts to the ring, he tries to pull at it, but you flinch away, he instantly lets go, muttering all the spells he knows, it doesn’t work.  

He asks if you can write it all down, you try to hold the quill, but the tremors are evident in your grip, your hands are shaking frantically, and you clench your fists trying to make it stop but it’s fruitless, like all your attempts at taking control over your body. 

Mattheo clasps his hands over yours in a reassuring grip, the touch sends sparks through your veins, then you hear screaming, something trying to wake you up, then breathing becomes a manual task, you feel your throat tightening, you start coughing, pulling your hands away from his and cover your mouth. 

You taste iron, then the salts from the tears and sweat along the way as you purse your lips. The vibrations of your heart started ringing in your ears, all your senses heightening, making you cower into the couch, it was cold, it was hot, you were being pushed into pitch darkness, and you hear different voices going round and round, it’s Lucas, it’s Mattheo, it’s your friends, all calling your name, you are falling- it's an endless loop you are stuck in. Why should you go through this torture when you did nothing to deserve it? When all he can do is watch, watch you go through all that pain. Lucas is in front of you, smiling and holding a bouquet, of all the flowers you love, you are in a white gown, he’s in a white suit, there are people around the two of you, and you are tied up? There are binds around your wrists and legs, and you can’t move a muscle while Lucas walks towards you bending down to kiss you- and black.  

Happens again, he bends down to kiss you, but you don’t- can’t move, Lucas’ shirt gets red, his smile gets even wider as he pulls back, it stretches and stretches, and there’s blood on your lips, on your dress, you try to move but your body doesn’t cooperate, as though it has been paralyzed- “Mrs Anderson,” and it goes black.   

Mattheo wanted to be your knight in shining armour, wanted to be the person you’d blindly fall back on but right now, things were different, he felt hopeless, and he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if something happened to you under his watch, he quickly grabbed a piece of scrap parchment and ink, writing to St Mungos, they’d know how to help you, right?  

… 

He’d always wait for you, even if it takes you an eternity, no matter how many lives it takes, he won’t truly live until you become his, happily his. He’d take anything you give him but he much rather take away all your pain than see you in such agony.  

Mattheo sits by your bed, the surroundings worry him more, ghostly white all around, putrid smell of different potions, incoherent yelling from behind the curtains, he can’t seem to secure a private room, no matter how many times he tries, all the wealth and so-called influence seems useless now. 

You wriggle and twitch in your sleep, his hold on you never falters, they put you on some drugs, and your body was trying to fight it, it’s been two hours since he brought your unconscious self here, you screamed and cried in your sleep. No one was telling him what was going on, all the nurses did was come ruin your peace every few minutes, pushing a vial of liquid past your lips making your body stiff with tension and then you’d cry, he could feel your skin get hot, could feel the quickening of your pulse.  

He was about to yell at some people because why the heck was no one talking to him? They’d spare him a glance and then rush past him, they were hearing him, but they weren’t responding properly, dismissing every question of his with an excuse. You coughing up blood was his last straw; he grabbed the first nurse he saw; he didn’t give a flying fuck that she was an older woman, didn’t care about the nasty look she was giving him, “What’s going on with her?” he pointed to your bed, his eyes were red, tired and frustrated, they turned sombre at her scrutinizing gaze, “Please just tell me,” he was quite literally begging.  

The woman walked over to your side, holding your hand, muttering a few enchantments and cutting the ring band off your finger, sighing as she faced Mattheo while checking up on you, “Strong dosage of Amortentia,” “WHAT?” Mattheo was towering over her, yelling, eyes wide with anger, “Yes, an accumulation of over four years-” “WOULDN’T THAT KILL HER?” “You would know-” ”WHAT?!” 

” Don’t act so innocent, it doesn’t suit you,” and there it is, the filth that is attached to his name, Mattheo Riddle, son of Tom Riddle, a father he never had, the one who died before he was even born. But it’s the truth, his truth, one he could only wish to escape from. He had always been his son, it didn’t matter if tries to change his name, he’d always be Riddle, and everyone knew him as one. Abandoned by death, he never knew himself- Mattheo as someone who could love or someone worthy of being loved. It was unfair, to be treated as his father’s son, that’s all he could be.  

Embraced by fellow Slytherin heirs, not because they still believed in blood superiority but because they were alienated and knew the fate that shone at his feet, for it was the same colour as their own shadows.  

Maybe that’s why he fell for you, the first person to smile at him who wasn’t adorned in green.  

All his life he had been paying for the mistakes he never made, and had been trying to get rid of the black stains on his name, they were slowly fading but it was hard, to have to constantly prove himself, there was no integrity in their judgement, he always had to walk an extra mile to show them that he was worth it, for years he tried to walk away from the very name he was, a Riddle. But today, he doesn’t try, he’ll gladly be what they made of him, son of the dark lord.  

Because the spell is right at his tongue, he very well means it but it’s you that stops him, you sit up on the bed, looking around frantically, he rushes to your side and hugs you tight, sits on the edge of the bed, you wrap your arms around him, crying yet again but this time you call out his name, “Mattheo,” and there’s nothing he could be more grateful for. 

And right on cue, the nurse gasped loudly rushing out the small space, realizing something. He looks at you though, in relief, your voice is back, “How are you feeling?” he whispers, distress visible in his tone but he tries to hide it from you, “hurts,” you croak out and it hurts to even talk, you hug him again, his touch was soothing, his presence was made you relax but it was short lived, few nurses rushed to your side, trying to pull you off him but you were crying not letting go, being away from his touch tormented you.  

“It’s going to be okay, you are going to be okay,” he presses his lips to your forehead, he himself didn’t want to pull away but he knew no cure, he was dependent on them, he promised you again, there was hope in his words, it was definitive, you were going to be okay, he’ll make sure of it, he squeezed your face before being pulled away, “I’m here.” 

They put you to sleep, some things happen right in front of his eyes but all he sees is the grief-struck face of yours, the sunken eyes and he tries not to think of what he had been told, he seals his eyes shut, the way yours are. But the horror is still present, it’s dark after all.  

Lucas is there, walking up to you, his white suit turning red as blood drips off him. 

Mattheo was about to beat Lucas up. He won’t though, not yet, not until you are breathing properly, and speaking properly. “I’m sorry,” it’s the nurse from earlier, she walks away just as he opens his eyes, “At least tell me what’s going on,” desperation clings to his words, the woman sighs glancing at your sleeping form, she gulps as she tries to find the words, there’s humility in her voice, “someone has been giving her small dosages of amortentia but gradually as her resistance level rose, so did the dosage and there are negative effects to this, the love potion has been perfected so many times, each version stronger than the previous one, the side effects also become worse. Retaliation makes it worse, she tried her best to break free.”  

At this point, the woman started shedding a few tears, it was hard to believe such a monster would exist and it was not his son, these wrongs weren’t done by the man in front of her but because of the man in front of her. You should have burned from his touch, but you didn’t, he wasn’t the man he was supposed to be.  

‘Antidote side effect- the victim will burn from everyone’s touch except for the supposed true love-’ Infirmary guidebook volume one.  

... 

You love him?  

He is loved back?  

There’s so much to feel, it overwhelms him. His chance at a good life was snatched away from him, his love was stolen from him, and he was angry. You were in love with him all this time, he would have never known if it wasn’t for his stupid heart walking up to your doorstep. He can’t bring himself to be happy because you are sad, you are in pain, you were about to die, a few more doses and he would have lost you forever. This dumb fucking love, it’s maddening.  

Mattheo looks at you, the red patches on your legs, the scars on your arms, the uneven tones caused by bruises, the side effects, the reason you were covered up all the time. He wanted to knock fucking Anderson out but he dare not leave your side.  

He wants to beat himself up for not noticing, he prided himself in loving you, and thought no one would look at you like he did, but what was this love worth when it couldn't save you from all this trouble. What was this pride even about? There was nothing to be proud of, not when he couldn’t see the bright eyes dimming, not when he didn’t see the unusual becoming the usual when he didn’t see constant becoming the story of the past and change becoming the new constant.  

He blames himself; he blames all the excuses he gave, that you were doing alright just because he couldn’t put his pride away and just ask you.  

He didn’t like that you had to suffer just because you loved him, was his name that cursed? In his dreams, for you to love him, the consequences were always bright. This love isn’t fair, he would’ve died not knowing any of this, the truth would’ve haunted him for the rest of eternity, and he’d forever be stuck in a loop of regret and guilt.  

Why couldn’t it be simple? Why did you have to get hurt?  

There would be no one left if there were no you, he’ll make fucking Anderson pay, he risked killing you just so he could keep you to himself, this obsession is not admirable, it’s unfathomable to do such things to someone you claim to love.  

Mattheo will never be able to forgive himself, not when he ought to be the one who cared and loved you the most.  

... 

A week later you were on your legs, weak but stable, and both of you were summoned for Lucas’ trial. Your chest swelled when the judge declared a lifelong punishment, Mattheo held your hands in his as Anderson was being escorted out, you knew the reason behind the determination in his eyes, who were you to stop him? You sighed and looked down, it’s not something you could watch though, he gently kissed your hand and reminded you, “He deserves it,” yes, he does, you were still recovering from side effects, and others’ touch still burned. Therefore, Mattheo’s touch was comforting in ways beyond physical, you didn’t want that touch to be corrupted by his blood. 

“ANDERSON!” before the man can turn around, Mattheo’s fist meets his face, there’s no stopping this, no spell would amount to the satisfaction the hit gave him. Mattheo won’t be done till death threatens the man, he loved you too you know but he would have never sacrificed your happiness for his, yes, he was selfish, but it never came at the cost of your peace, your freedom. 

It was torture, to confine someone, to close all their options, make them braindead, to hurt someone, to steal someone away from themselves, to do all this without feeling guilty, doing it intentionally, over years and still not sensing the wrongs and fucking stopping.  

No one tried to stop him, no one drew their wands up, they just watched- a man trying to find compensation for what he had lost, what she lost- he would never find it and Anderson needs to know that no amount of punishment would compensate his wrongs. No amount of begging or apologising would save him, he is what he made of himself. He knew what he was doing, till his blood wore thin, till he saw death, Mattheo won’t stop and for the first time, in the court of law, violence is the answer.  

The people see a man they’ve wronged, they see the man they read incorrectly and the man they honoured and it’s not who they thought it was, they stay silent because it’s the only apology they can give.  

In this eerie silence, all you can hear is pain, Lucas and Mattheo, the two men in pain but it’s so different from one another, one carries the wound that would heal within days and the other hones a wound of hurt that’d never heal, only fade. 

You pull Mattheo away from the unconscious man, there’s only so much pain you could afford to see on his face, you don’t look back as you walk him to the restroom. 

Between his legs, cleaning his wounds, not scolding him though, Mattheo smiles sadly, this familiarity strikes at his heart, “I love you,” his tone is solemn, this is what he would’ve lost- has lost, tears swell up in his eyes, Mattheo gently held your face in his bruised hands, with utmost sincerity you whisper those very words back, his lips met yours- in culmination of years' worth of longing, love, all things unsaid and all things lost. Amidst the darkness of all misunderstandings, all the mourning, there is hope, there’s love waiting to blossom, it looms over their wounded hearts, lips on each other like a seal, a promise of healing, there was no better confession you could ask for this love, the one that transcends words. 

...

[mercars-musings]

Will You Fall In Love With Me Again?

Fandom: Dragon Age - The Veilguard

Pairing- Emmrich Volkarin x TransMan!Rook {OC in particular}

TW- depicted: anxiety, self doubt, briefly mentioned psychological torture, failed attempt at calming ones self down from anger, self doubt; genre: reunion, hurt/comfort, angst, angst with happy ending, fluff. ~MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE END OF VEILGUARD ~

Description-

After trying to claw his way out of the fade for the past 7 years, Rook is pulled back into Thedas only to be confronted by the fact that time passes differently outside of the Fade.

{Aka. Rook is mentally decemated by his time in the Fade which leads to him & Emmrich having a heart to heart about how much they love eachother.} Ps. The title of this fic comes curtosey of my hyperfixation on Epic the Musical & the fact I can't listen to "Will You Fall In Love with Me" from the Ithica saga without thinking of these two fuckers ;-;

Word count- 3.6k

Read on AO3: Here!

~ ♡ ~

An unfamiliar chill settles deep within Rook's bones, raising the proverbial hackles on the back of his neck.

Cool air was nothing new, Rook had experienced the unreasonable coldness of the fade for years at this point. Every waking moment he spent there was accompanied by the numbness of exposed skin and the crystallisation of stray tears on his cheeks. Both being an unfortunate aspect of the new reality he had found himself in.

The coolness he was experiencing now, however, was far from the norm. This coolness prickled at his skin, stabbing into his muscles as if reawakening the nerves that had long since desensitised. It was rejuvenating in a sense. Rook might have actually welcomed the feeling if his mind wasn't already preoccupied with well… whatever the hell that was.

Just ahead of Rook, the air had begun to ripple and fluctuate. The entire fabric of the fade had begun stretching & contorting in gorgeous hues of blue & silver; the low crackling noise that emanated from it intensified with each new fracture beginning to form at the edges. It tugged at the world around Az, threatening to claw something unknown into existence. The view would be hypnotising if it wasn't so nerve wracking to see in the usually impenetrable walls of the fade.

Nothing could snap Az out of his terrified awestruck stare, that was until a loud crash ricocheted through the fade & a strikingly familiar hand burst through the centre of the disruption, with a fervour that could only be described as desperate and frantic.

"Is that…" Rook breaths, his voice catching in his throat before he could finish his thought.

"I believe that's your queue kid." A husky voice chimed in from behind him.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Az eventually looked over at his friend. He watched as a sad smile tugged at the dwarf's lips & a knowing look glinted in his eyes.

There's no fucking way… after all this time… ?

"ROOK!" A voice that Az had almost begun to forget screamed through the fade tear, "DARLING! FOLLOW MY VOICE!"

"It's not very nice to keep your friends waiting," the shorter man continued, nodding towards the rupture in the fade. "Or do you want to spend another 7 years flirting with frostbite?"

Az knew it was a joke, but it still seemed to help him finally snap out of the surprisingly comfortable haze he'd spent the last… Gods know how long, stuck in.

There was no way in Hell that he would spend another second in here longer than he had to.

Without another word, Rook dropped to his knees, throwing his arms around the Dwarf & pulling him in for the tightest hug he could possibly manage in his fatigued state.

"I'll miss you Varric", he mumbled after a few moments, once tears began to sting at the corners of his eyes.

Varric chuckled lightly as he returned the hug, tightening his grip around the younger mans shoulders for the next few moments.

"I'll miss you too kid… now will you get the hell out there & stop whatever shit chuckles' is up to this time?"

Rook snorted at the comment, slowly letting go of Varric before rising to his knees & giving a faux salute. However, before he could finish his jest, the crackling of the tear suddenly turned into ragged sputtering.

"We can't hold it open much longer-" Emmrich's voice echoed through the tear, before he was cut off by a more aggressive yell from the Veilguard's resident scout.

"Rook where the hell are you!?"

With that, Az turned on his heels and began to run at full speed towards the tear. Only glancing back momentarily to see Varric's form slowly dissipate into the rest of the fade as Rook was dragged forward & back into his own world.

~

Rook stumbled forward, barely able to keep himself from falling face first into the cobbled stone beneath him. Though, only just, as he instead felt himself crash onto his knees. Az didn't mind though, the coarse rubble that had begun to cut its way into the calloused joints helped ground him. The searing pain contrasted the almost numb aches he felt back in the fade, letting him know that wherever he was now, he was at least somewhere that let him be more grounded in his body.

"Rook…?" He heard the familiar voice from earlier, though this time it featured a hint of uncertainty.

Still somewhat dazed, Rook looked up towards the noise, only to be met with a face he'd never in his wildest dreams thought he'd get to see again. Wordlessly, Az stared up at the older man, his eyes widening into saucers as his chest swelled with something he hadn't felt for quite some time.

Hope.

However, the hope was soon joined by a wave of confusion as the man's eyes fully adjusted to the light.

Everyone looked… exactly as Rook remembered them.

Not similar, not very close, exactly the same. Like, no more than a month had passed since… but it had been years. Rook knew it had been years, he's felt the ache of every single day passing him by as he stayed trapped in the Fade, helpless to save his friends… his world…

After a few moments, Az realised everyone was still staring at him in wait.

He'd forgotten to answer Emmrich, of course he had. No more than a few moments out of the Fade and Az was already acting like a fool again.

Rook opened his mouth to try and offer some form of an answer. Though, no matter how hard he tried nothing seemed to be coming out, it's as if all the screaming he'd done in the fade had torn his vocal chords to shreds, and now outside of the Fade his body was finally able to reflect that.

Unfortunately, the pain in his throat was only the beginning. Soon Rook felt his limbs begin to weigh heavily and his joints start to grate. His stomach ached & his head began to swim as if his body was finally being crushed by the weight of the exhaustion that had made itself at home in his bones for so long.

Before anyone knew what was happening, Rook collapsed forward onto an astonished Emmrich once again. Unable to stay conscious for much longer, Az mustered up the strength to utter one final, disbelieving phrase.

"You came for me…"

~

Upon opening his eyes, Rook tiredly looked around him, taking in the dark grey landscape that expanded far beyond his view. The cold air nipped at his skin once again as a familiar numbness began to seep back into his bones.

Az bowed forward, as the realisation dawned on him, his body shook as his frame curled in on itself and tears stung the corners of his eyes anew.

He hadn't escaped.

He'd just fallen for another one of the prisons cruel tricks.

How could he be so foolish as to think that he'd actually make it out of here? Never mind back into the arms of the man he ached so deeply for.

Frustration bubbled beneath the surface as Az trembled in place, the rage that he had managed to subdue during his first few years in the Fade was now starting to claw its way back up into his mind yet again.

In an attempt to stave it off, Rook shakily raised a hand to his chest, pressing lightly into the middle of it as he tried to remember the breathing exercises that Emmrich had taught him all those years ago.

In for 3… hold for 3… out for 3… & Repeat.

The years he had spent in the Fade hadn't been kind; during each & every moment he had been plagued with his doubts, his fears & his regrets. With each step he took he was reminded of every failure in his life & with each breath he was reminded of the good that he would never get to experience again.

So of fucking course this was just another trick.

In for 3… hold for 3… out for 3… Repeat.

Why not right?

Nothing in this Gods forsaken place would ever let him go.

In for 3… hold… out for 3…

It was a prison built for Gods, and Rook was no God.

Of course he wouldn't be able to escape.

In for 3… hold…

The odds were stacked against him, as always.

It wasn't fair.

None of this was fair.

In for 3…

All he had ever tried to do was help others: help Tevinter do better, help Varric find Solas, help his friends battle their own demons, help the world save itself from the worst of the worst.

And what was his reward?

Torture.

And with that thought, the rage had officially gnawed its way into his throat and he had to let it out before it consumed him once and for all.

~

An ear splitting, heart wrenching scream ripped its way through Rook as he lurched upright. The scream wracked its way through his body, racketing through his already tender vocal chords and into the dim light of the room he found himself in.

Az might've started to panic that the darkness that surrounded him was just more of the fade, if there wasn't a sudden dip in the bedding to the left of him. The new & independent movement caused Rook's head to snap in it's direction, only for him to be greeted by a silhouette that he hadn't seen in years.

Due to his stint in the darker parts of the Fade, Az's eyes were able to adjust to the dimness of the room quite quickly & after a few moments his breath painfully caught in his throat.

It was Emmrich.

"Darling, are you alright?" His Amatus' cooed.

Rook barely heard the question though, between the pounding of his heart & the blood rushing through his ears it was a wonder how he could hear anything honestly. So, instead of answering, he simply stared incredulously at the man before him, trying to process his words.

Was he alright?

After a few moments, Rook shook his head slightly, trying to push past the adrenaline pumping through every limb of his body.

"What happened? W-where's Elgar'nan?" Az managed to choke out, his throat still seemingly sensitive from whatever damage it had sustained in the fade.

Emmrich raised his hand slowly, cautiously hovering it over Az's as he waited for some form of confirmation from the Qunari. Instead of saying anything, Rook simply raised his own hand to meet Emmrich's & in return the older man immediately interwove his fingers with Rook's.

"Dearest, it's okay. Nothing has happened yet." Emmrich answered in a hushed tone, seemingly trying to keep his voice quiet enough to not startle his lover any further.

"W-what do you mean nothing's happened yet?" Az sputtered.

Nothing means, he's still out there. But if he's still out there how are they still in Emmrich's room in the lighthouse? Wouldn't he have levelled half of existence by now?

"We're still looking for him Az," Emmrich began, placing his free hand on Rook's cheek. "Which means we're safe."

"We're safe," Az muttered back, half in response to his lover & half in an attempt to convince himself.

It didn't make any sense, did the team and Elgar'nan enter a stalemate after they'd taken Ghilan'nain off of the board?

If they had, surely the stalemate couldn't still be happening, it had been years… but Emmrich wouldn't lie… not to Rook and definitely not about something this serious.

Although everything in his body screamed at Rook that there had to be a mistake, that none of it made sense… Rook was weaker than he'd like to admit. The idea that things hadn't completely gone to shit in the last few years was too tempting… and the idea that Emmrich was lying to him was too much to bear right now.

So, any argument he tried to form simply died on his tongue, and after a few minutes of trying to protest, Az's better judgement became easily overridden by his desire to lean further into Emmrich's touch.

The necromancer's gentle touch was a feeling Rook had almost begun to forget, though feeling it again seemed to thrust the memories back to the forefront. Warm, soft hands… eyes full of genuine adoration… the scent of Lavender & freshly turned dirt. The latter meant he must have visited the Necropolis recently, good to know that it was still around.

Taking a few seconds to reacquaint himself with his lover's features, Az's eyes traced along every crease that had been earned over years of life; every freckle whether it had been there the day Emmrich was born or whether it simply appeared one random Tuesday; and every well, everything that had made itself at home on his Kadan's face.

Enamoured wasn't a strong enough word…

Seemingly amused by how enraptured Rook had become, Emmrich brushed his thumb against Az's cheek, tightening his other hands grip in Rook's own hand.

"I've missed you so much Darling."

A gentle blush began to spread along Rook's cheeks as he tried to tear his eyes away from Emmrich sheepishly, though he'll admit he had done a pretty shit job at it since his eyes didn't even really budge.

It had always been so hard to look away from that man.

Sadly, all this wonderful bliss still couldn't fully silence Rook's cascading thoughts, especially not…

"Please… tell me this is real." Az blurted out, practically begging for the reassurance as he tightened his grip around Emmrich's hand. Tears began to sting at the corners of his eyes again, threatening to break the dam that kept them at bay.

In response, Emmrich simply leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against the corner of Rook's eye, seeming to stop one of the tears in its tracks.

Az blinked momentarily, tears slowly starting to roll down his other cheek before wordlessly, falling into the necromancer. Sobs started to rack their way through his body yet again, though this time, for a very different reason.

He was home…

His joints ached as his body trembled against Emmrich's, though the pain could be a problem for future Rook, for now all Rook cared about was finally being able to hold his lover again.

Emmrich wrapped his arms around the larger gentleman, moving the hand he was using to hold Rook's cheek and placing it on his back. Slowly he rubbed circles on the Qunari's back in a motion that he knew Az had always found comforting.

"I never… I can't believe I'm here" Rook managed to choke out after a few moments.

"Nor I, dearest." Emmrich whispered, smiling slightly as Rook raised his head and their eyes met once more. "I was worried I'd never get to see that charming smile of yours again."

This earned another blush from Az as he felt his stomach flip slightly in the way that only a heartfelt compliment from Emmrich could make it.

"How… how long?" Az finally thought to ask, once his shyness subsided.

"Two weeks…" Emmrich sighed, shifting his gaze to their still interlocked digits momentarily before returning his gaze back to the man before him.

"Two-?" Az choked out, jolting backwards slightly as his wide eyes met Emmrich's sad ones.

The pair sat in silence as Rook's brain tried to work it's way through the answer he'd been presented with. The utterly ridiculous, observably incorrect answer…

Two weeks…

Two weeks?

But… how?

Rook knew it had been longer than that, he had lived it for fucks sake.

And then, a skin crawling thought, wriggled its way into Az's mind.

Breaking from Emmrich's embrace, Rook swung around and frantically opened the bedside cabinets. He flailed his hand around in each cabinet until he found the old hand mirror that he knew the professor kept nearby for emergencies.

Emmrich snapped his fingers which brought the lamp on the bedside table to life, seemingly knowing exactly what Rook was trying to do.

As the Qunari's face came into view in the mirror, a gasp caught in his throat.

He looked like absolute shit, which was to be expected after how long he'd been in the Fade alone. Though, what really alarmed him was the obvious signs of ageing that had now made themselves known on his features: his pink hair was now mostly greyed; deep wrinkles that were once only noticeable when Rook had slept particularly awfully were ever present; his face was paler; new cuts were making their way into scars; & his makeup had long since faded.

He looked early thirties now while Emmrich still looked…

"Emm…" Rook mumbled, realisation setting in that his lover {give or take a few extra bags under his eyes} looked the exact same as he had the day that Rook…

And with that, the dam broke once more.

"Gods, these fucking tears!" Az growled through gritted teeth, using his free hand to aggressively brush them away. "You'd think I'd be too fucking dehydrated to cry after…"

The words get stuck in his throat as all the pain & fear that surrounded him in the Fade returned two fold, crashing down on him as tried to wrap his head around the shifting of his world yet again.

"… after 7 years." Az finally muttered in disbelief.

Emmrich's eyes widened at the length of time Rook had seemingly been left alone in the fade to suffer while he - the so called "Fade Expert" - had floundered to find an entrance into the prison.

Now, Emmrich was no fool, clearly his beloved had aged somewhat, meaning longer than Two weeks had definitely passed by for him but… 7 years? That's almost the entire length of time it took for Emmrich to earn his professorship!

"My dear…" Emmrich was the one to choke on his words this time, "I am so sorry I wasn't able to find you sooner… to save you from…" Pausing, Emmrich seemed to weigh his options before he finally settled on the question he needed an answer to the most. "What happened?"

Az wanted to joke: say something that would make Emmrich smile again, something that would cut through the heavy feeling settling in his own chest and making him feel like he would all but suffocate under all of the days revelations. But… after seeing the genuine concern etched into his partners features, Rook decided that he would try to be brave & answer genuinely for a change.

"Nothing… good." He sighed, "the things I saw… the grief I felt… I don't know- how to… explain it." Rook admitted, turning his gaze down as his hand found its way back to Emmrich's and the men interlocked their fingers once more.

Emmrich's energy shifted after Rook's admission, changing to be more comfort oriented rather than fear centred. He couldn't change how long it had taken them to rescue Az but he could certainly be there for the man for as long as the spirits allowed.

"Take all the time you need my Darling Boy," Emmrich cooed, taking Rook's chin in his free hand & gently raising it so the younger gentleman was eye to eye with him again. "However long you need… I'll be here for you."

A short breath left Az as their eyes met, the Qunari seemingly freezing in place momentarily.

"Are you sure?"

Emmrich raised an eyebrow slightly, confusion now painting his features. "Of course Az, why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm not the same person," Rook croaked, "The pain, the fear, the rage it… it helped me survive in there but now that I'm out- I'm not sure… I don't think I know how to- to deal with it all. And I don't expect…"

Az trailed off, unable to continue speaking his train of thought aloud in fear that he would let slip the fear that had been squirming at the back of his mind since he'd realised he really had escaped the Fade.

"Az… talk to me. Please" Emmrich pleaded, concern lacing every word once again.

He was really bad at pretending not to be concerned, pretending not to be freaked out… well pretending anything really. He was an awful liar, it was something Az found so incredibly adorable about his Amatus. It used to brighten his day but… not right now.

Right now, Az was scared.

"What if… what if you hate the new me?" Rook asked, his voice barely a whisper at this point.

Emmrich's eyes softened as his partners words sunk in.

Of course Rook's self doubt would return stronger now than ever before, especially after all the torment he'd just been through.

"I do think it's far too late for that possibility to rear its ugly head, Dearest." The necromancer answered, slowly moving his hand from Rook's chin to brush a piece of greying hair behind the Qunari's ear.

A light blush formed across Az's cheeks once again, causing a smile to dance across Emmrich's lips as he continued. "I've fallen much too hard… I fear I shall fall in love with every single version of you My Dear."

A moment passed as Emmrich's answer settled over the two gentlemen, and although Rook knew it would be a long time before he could truly believe it, it seemed like this was all the confirmation he needed for right now.

Before he could really register what his body was doing, Az found his free hand had made its way to Emmrich's waist coat, grabbing a hold of it and pulling the necromancer closer as their lips crashed into each other. Az ignored the shooting pain in his joints in favour of relishing in the love of the man he had spent the last 7 years dreaming of.

Responding just as emphatically, Emmrich lurched forward though, slightly to the side of Rook, placing himself further into the bed. He deepened the kiss as he pulled Rook into him, opting to be the one to take the brunt of the weight, as they fell deeper into each other.

Both men's chests swelled with a warm feeling that they both had missed dearly in their time apart.

Love.

[angstingantlers]

Please meet Finsterl Tyto, the very tired, very misfortunate owl-man who is the reluctant target of most of my bloodthirsty tendencies. He began life as my TTRPG player character for a friend's homebrew campaign in early 2023 and has had a chokehold on my thoughts ever since. Since I would like to post some writing involving him, I thought it prudent to provide a little introduction. Apologies that it's long, I simply adore my boy and talking about him...

Big old infodump is under the cut, along with some sketches and art of him, varying in age from recent to just over a year ago. (Also for clarity, most of these are watermarked under my main's username, but are indeed my art.)

[Mentions of psychological abuse, gaslighting, paranoia, hallucinations, isolation, and self-destructive behavior. Some artwork featuring blood, injury, and possible scopophobia triggers.]

A 37 year old Scholar of Mathematics and researcher, Finsterl (he/him) works for a branch of the government focused on dealing with misuse of magic and magic-based catastrophes throughout the country. He takes advantage of the office's findings and resources to funnel all his spare time into his personal research -- namely investigating miscasts and trying to uncover a way to eradicate them entirely. His long-standing goal is to be able find the inverse of any given spell in order to undo its effects and thereby reverse miscast spells. He is very nervous around magic, and almost afraid of his own Math-based magic, and tends to prefer relying on either his intelligence or his gun to solve any problems he comes across, treating anything other than the most trivial magic as a last resort.

Now if he sounds like a decently put together man so far, I assure you, he is not. He is at his absolute best erratic and neurotic, and he is very, very rarely at his best. More often than not he is short-tempered, blunt, anxious, and has a tendency to keep himself isolated to protect himself from the danger he perceives to be all around him, pretty much constantly walking the precipice of a breakdown. He experiences frequent paranoia and hallucinations, and struggles with memory and dissociation and keeping track of reality. At his worst, Finsterl will refuse to sleep or drop his guard at all -- and he refuses to let anyone get close enough to help with any of this, out of fear either he'll get them hurt or they will take advantage of his vulnerability to hurt him. As far as he's concerned, anything can be a threat, and the moment he suspects danger he'll unquestioningly bite first.

There are a lot of things that contributed to Finsterl's mental state, but primary amongst them is his treatment at the hands of a powerful Eldritch, an otherworldly shadow-monster, that approached him at quite possibly the darkest moment in his life to offer a sympathetic hand. It introduced itself as Hemlock (it/she), and said she would help him, protect him, be a much needed friend when he had no one else to turn to... and in return, he could lend her his body to possess whenever it needed to take care of some business. And since Eldritch don't have the best reputation, it even gave its word not to harm a single feather on his head. An easy enough deal, right?

Except the sweet and helpful Hemlock swiftly became a demanding, sadistic mistress. It used its influence over his soul to torment him and slowly break down his mental stability, forcing him to be reliant on her for basic functioning. It encouraged him to be fearful of the world and paranoid of others, it ran him in circles whenever he tried to question her, it would flip between gentle and vicious on a dime, it criticised him and terrified him before easing back just enough to avoid breaking him completely. It convinced him he was deeply unwell and needed her. And throughout it all Hemlock continued to present a front of kindness and comfort. Finsterl swiftly lost faith in his own judgement and perception, spending most of his time infested with her influence and wracked with anxiety and terror, desperate for her company and help and yet dreading her visits, and especially dreading when she would demand to use his body.

It came to a head when Finsterl realised that she was possessing him without his knowledge, often while he was asleep, and that made him question all the times she had convinced him he'd been in a fugue or daze and done things he doesn't remember. Hemlock never physically hurt him, certainly... but he slowly realised the full extent of the situation he was in and how much control it had over him, how deeply it tormented him, and how helpless he was to stop it. With nothing else to lose and his mind barely hanging on by a thread, he mangled his soul to stop it from possessing him, then pulled together what little of him remained and told Hemlock he wanted it to leave. She realised she had lost her grip on him and, uncertain of what he'd actually done to block her or what else he might be capable of doing, chose to abandon him with a few choice words about how he had no chance by himself, and he would learn that one way or another; and that some day she would be back, and she would be expecting his apology.

That was seven years ago now, and he's been trying to keep out of her possible sight since. Finsterl struggled greatly to get himself back to a semi-functional state, his desperate efforts to prevent possession leaving deep, feral, living magic scarring his soul and maiming his memories. He struggles to this day to identify what was true and what was false about what Hemlock told him, and doesn't know how much of the psychosis and paranoia is her continuing to haunt him or all in his own head. Truthfully, he just doesn't know what it means to exist without fear anymore. It's an omnipresent part of his life, a racing anxiety and dread buried deep under his skin that never goes away even in his calmest moments. And he almost finds it comforting; if he's afraid, that means he has something he can drive towards action, it means he can react and prepare for danger. He doesn't resent the fear in the least... he believes it keeps him safe. He believes it keeps him alive.

Finsterl clings to his research as his singular lifeline, the one thing that means he can't shuffle off this mortal coil just yet. It's more important to him than anyone could possibly understand and he's in no rush to explain why either. Outside of that, he's closed himself off from everyone and everything around him, second-guessing every friendly hand extended his way. He's learned that the deepest scars come from the most delicate knives and he refuses to let himself get betrayed again -- even if it means drowning in his own isolation and self-destruction.

... So, you know. It's really annoying that there are folks in the office that are so insistent on being his friend. And on helping him be better, whatever that means anymore. Especially when half of them can't even take care of themselves.

[The red owl, Eric (he/him), belongs to @victoryillustrations.]

[oddinary4bts]

November Sun | jjk

☆summary: whenever he breaks, the november sun shines on him. and jungkook chases you across the sky - but you've gone some place he can't reach you now.

☆pairing: Jungkook x reader (I genuinely don't think the gender is ever mentioned? please let me know if it is so I can adjust this here), mentions-ish of Namjoon x reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, it deals with heavy themes)

☆genre: grief au/funeral au?, exes au, angst

☆warnings: angst, like. Just angst. OC is dead and Jungkook is grieving her. Curses words, very light mentions of sex, flashbacks of moments when jungkook broke. mentions of christianism (the funerals are held in a church), mentions of alcohol, jealousy. Namjoon is a broken man as well

☆word count: 3.7k

☆a/n: I started writing this tonight because I was sad and then just realized I won't have the strength to look back on it ever again so I'm posting it even tho it hasn't been beta-ed, and even tho the person that makes my moodboards is unavailable rn. Idc. It needed to be out of my system, and now it is.

☆a/n pt2: I know this piece is extremely heavy. If you ever need to speak, please reach out to me. My blog is a safe space for every single one of you <3

☆☆☆☆☆

                The church is a tall building. Grand, elegant in its simplicity, though it cuts against the blue sky up above in stark lines, shaped like a prison.

Jungkook thinks life has become a prison a while ago.

It’s a mystery, why your family chose this space for your funeral. You never believed, never practiced. Is it a betrayal to mark your passing in a space that feels so unlike you?

Jungkook thinks it is.

He sighs, chases the heaviness away the same way the clouds chase themselves in the sky up above. He doesn’t know how the sun is shining in the blue expanse of the sky. It’s November, yet the day is warm, the sun is blindingly glowing. It feels like a crime – how can the sun shine in a world deprived of your existence?

Jungkook doesn’t want to know.

Only knows that he’s watched from afar the people that gathered on the front steps. Chatting, heads hung low and shoulders bent forward. He heard sniffles, he heard laughs, and he just waited for everyone to go in to get closer.

Jungkook doesn’t know why he was invited. Why someone from a distant past figured he would need to be here, to share his grief with people that could understand.

Though Jungkook thinks no one can understand.

He remembers you, in all your glory. His first love, when he had been a stupid college kid who didn’t know what he wanted in life. You were two years older, and now... and now one day he’ll be older than you. Because you've stopped aging, you came and went like a moment in time, when he'll still be here for who fucking knows how long.

He chases the thought away with a long inhale, holds the air in knowing that it’s choking him up before he lets it out on a sigh.

You were beautiful. A star that walked the Earth, only to return to the night sky above far too soon. He had loved you dearly, in his own twisted way. Had tried to be what you sought, what you needed, until he had realized he was never going to be enough.

Would you still be alive today, if he had fought harder?

*****

                “I’m not doing this,” you said. “I’m so fucking done with your indecision, with your fear of commitment.”

Jungkook scoffed. “Please, you graduated and now you think you’re so high above me. Get down from the fucking horse, Y/n, it’s not going to bring us anywhere.”

He’d said the words hoping that they would hurt you. And they did: he saw you physically recoil as if he’d punched you. As if the words had been a physical blow, and not just letters of the alphabets shaped into words and sound, into arrows to pierce that beautiful soul of yours.

“Maybe I don’t want us to go somewhere anymore,” you replied after a quiet moment of breaking hearts.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“I know.” You sighed, slightly shaking your head as your eyes fell to the floor between you and him. “I know, but I mean it.”

“Please,” was all Jungkook thought to reply.

“You say please all the time,” you told him. “You beg me, and for what? We always circle back to fighting, to hurting each other.” You paused, and though you were avoiding his features he could see you blinking back tears. “Maybe we aren’t supposed to be together at all.”

“Don’t say that,” Jungkook warned. “Don’t you fucking say that. I love you. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“I love you too, Jungkook,” you answered. “I’ve loved you since the first day I met you at that stupid party last year.”

Jungkook felt the tear rolling down his cheek, felt the gravity pulling on his heart until it was shattering on the ground.

“Then why stop now?” he asked. “Give me time, Y/n. I’ll graduate, and I’ll be able to move in with you, and to provide for you and give you everything that you need.”

You sighed heavily, finding courage to finally meet his gaze. At the stark finality shining behind your pupils, Jungkook’s knees weakened. His whole fucking body weakened, ready for the blow.

For the end that was coming for you and him like a car barreling down a dead-end street.

“But I’m tired of waiting,” you answered. “I don’t want to spend my life waiting around for someone.”

“I’m still in college, I just can’t move in with you right now…”

“I know, Jungkook. I know.”

He wanted to fight. Wanted to tell you to stay in his dorm tonight, and to never leave again. But he could tell that you were already gone.

So he steeled himself. Readied himself to let you go even though you were the blood in his veins.

“I’m holding you back, aren’t I?”

You wiped a tear on your cheek, blurring behind those in his gaze. “You are.”

He choked on a sob, hiding his eyes behind his hand as if that would stop the breaking. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you reassured him. “We just aren’t at the same place in life anymore.”

An empty silence surrounded you, so loud Jungkook could hear every beat of his heart in his ears, could feel the walls pressing in.

“I don’t want you to go,” he softly said.

“I know,” you murmured. “I…” You choked on a sob, and it took you a moment before you managed to continue. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed, a sound so devoid of joy he wondered if he’d ever feel happiness again. “Please don’t be. You’re allowed to want more.”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Anger rose up on the horizon of Jungkook’s conscience, and he pushed it away. He refused to be angry at you, refused to put the blame on you when you made it clear that you wanted him to move in so long ago, and he disregarded it without even once thinking about it.

“I’ll find you again,” he promised, voice strained and heavy with emotion. “I’ll graduate and find you.”

You stepped closer to him, gently cupping his cheek. “Go find someone that loves you for what you are, Jungkook.”

“And you don’t?”

“I don’t want you to settle for someone that asks too much for you,” you explained, renewed silver lining your eyes. “Find someone that loves you for who you are, right now.”

“Fuck that,” he choked out, and he pulled you flush against his chest. “Fuck this nonsense. ”

“I’m so sorry,” you cried against him.

“Don’t be,” he reassured you, though he was crying too. “Don’t be. Give me a few years. I’ll have it all figured out in a few years.”

*****

                The priest at the front of the church is going on and on about something that Jungkook doesn’t care to listen to. It’s impersonal, nothing like you, like the vibrant girl he remembers. So he lets his memory guide him to you, where you’re awaiting him. Your lips on his, your hand running through his hair. Your own hair catching in the wind that time you’d gone hiking, and he’d believed being at the top of the mountain with you felt like he had won in life.

Or that time you’d driven on the coast, windows down, screaming the lyrics to a song he can’t listen to anymore. Now the song is haunted by ghosts of a past he never learned to let go, perhaps because for months after the breakup he’d kept the conviction that he’d find his way back to you. He’d believed it the same way he believed the sun would always rise in the morning. A simple truth of nature, that nothing could ever break.

Except a car accident, apparently. Because all it took was a car accident to wipe you off the surface of the Earth, to take your light and shove it into shadows, into darkness and a void so wide he knows he’ll never find you again.

But he’d believed he’d find his way back to you. Never let anyone in after you, for the months and years it took him to graduate because he always knew he’d find his way back to you. You were his silver lining, the finish line at the end of the race. On a November day, just as sunny as today, Jungkook reached that finish line.

He did find you again, only you never knew.

*****

                Jungkook had never felt so light before. Like he had grown wings, like he was soaring in the clouds up above. Though the sun was out, the weather was cold, wind running cold fingers through the lapels of his coat until he found himself shivering as he made his way to the flower store.

He’d get the biggest bouquet for you, and then he’d head to where he knew from a common friend that you lived now. It was Saturday, and he hoped to catch you unaware, to catch you in the middle of cleaning your apartment the same way that you cleaned it back when you were dating.

The image of you, with your hair pulled back in a high ponytail as you danced around instead of sweeping the floor shone in his mind, brighter than the star in the sky above.

He bought the flowers, heart beating fast in his chest. Because it was time. It was finally time to go home, to tell you that he did everything he said he would, that he changed and now had a job that could support what you both wanted. He wanted to ask you out, and in his dreams you had been answering yes every single time since he had decided to go see you.

His heart fluttered as he gently rested the flowers on his passenger seat, careful not to damage them. Memories floated to him, and a smile grew on his lips as he remembered you, screaming out the window that day you had driven along the coast. You had stopped to watch the sunset in the waves, and he’d kissed you stupid on his back seat until every single inch of your skin knew about his love.

He couldn’t wait to create new memories with you.

He drove carefully, enjoying the warmth of the sun now that he was safely hidden from the wind. You actually didn’t live too far from where he did now, and soon enough he parked his car near your building. He got out of the vehicle, almost running to the other side in his excitement to grab the bouquet on the passenger seat. When it was safely tucked in his hand, Jungkook shut the car door, locked it, and started walking to your building.

He didn’t even know which apartment was yours. He believed fate would guide him, and so he crossed the street to your building, trusting the universe for what was to come next.

He heard your laugh before he saw you. Love swelled in his chest, and he wondered if you were laughing because you’d seen him, because you’d known that he’d come back for you.

And then he saw you. The wind was ruffling your hair, which he assumed had prompted the laugh. Your eyes were closed, hands struggling to push the wild strands behind your ears.

You were more beautiful than he remembered. Shone brighter, with the same stuff that stars consisted of. He was struck for a moment, watching you with his bouquet hoping that you’d open your eyes and see him.

The world slowed down to a stop, and time halted, and Jungkook watched you, feeling at home for the first time in years.

The illusion fractured the instant someone else came into view, making him realize that you hadn’t been laughing at the wind. No, perhaps your laughter took root in the dimples gracing the man’s cheeks as he smiled at you, as he pecked your forehead before grabbing your hand.

Jungkook ducked behind a car, clutching the flower bouquet like a lifeline the moment that you turned towards him. Did you hear his heart breaking? Did you hear the mockery in the November sun rays – you’d broken up on a similar day, years ago.

Jungkook couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think around the shattering of his heart, around the blood turning to ice in his veins as he heard you speak to the man – Namjoon, he heard you call him.

He would have rather not known the name.

Still Jungkook drank in the sound of your voice, trying to shape it into the words he was so willing to hear you say today. It didn’t work, and soon enough your voice disappeared, leaving him in a deafening silence of wind and sun and the realization that after all, he had come back too late.

Perhaps he should have known that he'd be too late.

*****

                When Jungkook received the call last week, he’d sat outside in the silence until he thought his eardrums would start bleeding. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t breathed, hadn’t done anything other than to stare at the fading light of the sun.

He wonders, why is it that whenever he breaks, November sun is shining high above? As if the universe takes pleasure in his torment, in undoing him until he barely counts as a human being anymore.

He got pissed out drunk that night. Last time he had been as drunk was when he had found out you were dating someone new, that day he had come to find you.

And now he wonders, if he had approached you that day, would you still be dead today? Would life still have put you on that road with its drunk driver so that you could meet your end?

Or would you be laughing at some dumb comment he’d make, telling him that he’s stupid with eyes so full of love he wouldn’t be able to do anything else but agree with you?

It’s hard to tell. So, he doesn’t try to figure it out – he has an eternity ahead of himself to figure out how to live without you anyway.

Maybe in all his misfortune Jungkook actually had some luck. He’s learned to grieve you a while ago already, and perhaps grieving someone that still lives is harder than grieving someone that’s passed. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he knows anything. Just that, so far back in the past he should have said fuck it and move in with you. It was such a simple request, but he had been too young and dumb, and he’d forever live with the regrets of it.

If someone from your family notices his presence at the funeral, recognizes him from your shared past, they don’t say. Especially not as the end of the ceremony comes before he’s had a chance to really take in the picture of you, smiling, over there next to the urn with your ashes.

You’re ashes now. Everything that made you – your laugh, your smile, the way you carried yourself with that simple elegance – all of it is gone to be replaced with mere ashes.

He doubts they can hold the truth of your essence, but then again he doesn’t think anything can, or anything ever will again.

He blinks away the tears as they come, leaving the ceremony like a whisper in the wind. He doesn’t want to speak to your family, doesn’t want to see them coddling the man that you loved, that survived the accident when he should have been the one to go.

Jealousy and selfishness are ugly, Jungkook realizes. But it’s easier to hate the man that took you away from him, no matter how unknowingly he did it.

And Jungkook tried to hate you once. He tried hard, in the months after that fated November day, when you’d laughed to that man’s joke, smiled when he’d smiled that soft dimpled smile of his. He had tried, because hating you felt like it was the only way he wouldn’t hurt. But he still hurt – he still hurts.

All he’s been able to do in his life since you broke up is hurt, and he highly doubts he’ll ever feel differently again.

Perhaps he’ll grow numb. Perhaps he should have grown numb a while ago.

At least that’s what he’s telling himself days later, when he’s looking at the tombstone they picked out for you. The finality of your name and the dates, the ending, is unnerving. He wishes it was fake, wishes it was a joke, and that he didn’t spend most of his life loving someone that moved on to a new love in just a few years.

It’s been over a decade and he hasn’t moved on even a little bit.

He kicks the ground, mad at the leaves littering the ground where you’re buried, as if they’re sullying you. And as if laughing at him, sun rays pierce through the clouds up above, that dreaded November sun making an appearance when it should stay gone.

He allows himself to cry. To break down, to sit on the ground and curse everything and everyone that’s ever been between you and him. He curses his stupidity, curses the sun and the leaves and the etchings on the stone. He hates everything. Hates himself, hates you, hates the whole fucking universe for taking you away, for not giving him the chance to be with you.

That’s how Namjoon finds him. Jungkook’s tears have receded, and he’s just sitting there, an empty shell that once held love and laughter and your lips on his. He hears the scuffle of Namjoon’s steps, of his cane as he walks up the path.

The man’s features are grave when Jungkook can’t help but glance towards him, sees him ambling up the path with that cane, the only indication that he too was in that car accident. And Jungkook wonders if Namjoon knows about him. If Namjoon knows that he wasn’t the first man whose love for you was a bottomless ocean, one Jungkook has drowned in time and time again since you broke up.

Namjoon remains standing, and Jungkook remains sitting. Like there’s an understanding between them, and silence conveys more than words could. Jungkook doesn’t want to move, and Namjoon clearly doesn’t have anywhere to go.

Jungkook thinks the Earth has revolved around the sun at least once before Namjoon scrapes his throat.

“It’s hard to believe that she’s gone, isn’t it?” he speaks, deep voice carrying the weight of the universe.

Jungkook doesn’t deign reply as his eyes fill with tears, though he refuses to let them out right now.

Especially not in front of the man you loved after him.

“You’re Jungkook, aren’t you?”

The simple sentence makes Jungkook lose it. He hides his face in his hands, his whole soul bleeding out under the November sun.

“She told me about you,” Namjoon continues, and Jungkook is convinced he hears pain, tears and grief laced with Namjoon’s words.

What did you tell him, Jungkook wonders? Did you tell Namjoon that you should have waited for Jungkook, that you should have given him a chance to become what you needed?

“She loved you a lot,” Namjoon adds after a silence, and he chokes on a sob. “She never forgot about you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Jungkook asks with that broken voice, raspy with disuse.

He hasn’t been able to speak since you died.

“You deserve to grieve. She loved and loved, and I wish it would have been enough for her to live…”

“Stop,” Jungkook begs. “Please.”

Namjoon falls silent, offering salvation to Jungkook, though Jungkook doesn’t know if he deserves it.

Would he have been able to offer salvation to someone in his position if the situation was reversed? He highly doubts it.

“It’s just…” he trails off when he finds words again. “You got fucking years with her. You got years of loving and-“ it breaks on a sob. “And you were fucking engaged.” Jungkook pulls at his hair. “You were engaged, and all I got was months. Not even a full year.”

“I’m sorry man,” Namjoon answers, voice so broken Jungkook wonders who’s suffering the most.

He doesn’t think it’s himself.

“Was she happy?” Jungkook eventually asks, once he can’t stand the silence hanging around. Once he can’t stand the etchings on the stone, the void in the universe that used to be filled with you.

“I made her as happy as I could,” Namjoon replies truthfully, his voice strained but not as pained anymore. As if he’s reached a conclusion, clarity filling his mind.

Not needing to hear more, Jungkook gets up, dusting himself off.

“Good talk,” he says, fighting against the next onslaught of tears, and then he’s storming off.

Storming away from you, from everything that you meant to him. And maybe the sun rays really are mocking him in that beautiful November sky, because Namjoon says, “I don’t think she ever truly was happy after you, though.”

Jungkook stops, convinced someone just stabbed him right in the heart. He doesn’t think the organ can beat anymore, doesn’t think he can live anymore. He just wants to be dust on the wind, to be forgotten, and to stop fucking feeling all the time.

“She was calling off the engagement,” Namjoon continues. “She…” Jungkook turns, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen such agony as the one that graces Namjoon’s features right now. “She said she shouldn’t get married to me when she still loved another.”

Clouds pass in front of the November sun, and Jungkook remembers the smile on your face whenever you’d catch his gaze. He remembers the way you’d lovingly cupped his cheek even when you were breaking up with him. He still feels the ghost of your fingers on his skin as he holds Namjoon’s broken gaze.

He holds Namjoon’s broken gaze, unable to offer the man salvation. It might make him a monster, might make him selfish and jealous and everything that he finds disgusting about humanity. But Jungkook doesn’t care.

Not when he realizes that perhaps, perhaps he’s the one that you’re waiting for on the other side of the veil, so that you can rest in the eternity of afterlife together.

And perhaps, perhaps there’s some sort of beauty in the thought.

☆☆☆☆☆

I am crying and in pain and I am sending everyone that read this whole thing lots of love and if you need to talk just hit me up bc grief is a bitch and we hate her and I just wish I could take everyone's grief away

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[clownhara]

is there like a jester ocs 101 i do wanna learn about them

Putting these under a read more because this might get long

My family :)

Edward Roberts-Rosales: I made too many jokes about this bastard being my dad and now he's my dad. High key wants to fuck plants. Evades taxes like no ones business. Kind of a shit guy but it's funny to watch him mess up everything so we keep him alive for that alone Max Rosales: My better dad. Can really do so fucking much better than Edward but he settled </3. Is a plant man. Likes baking. Is the dad that actually loves me. Heron Rosales: I don't do to much with her but I'm trying to do more. Max's trans sister. Wants Edward dead and honestly, we don't blame her. Average chronic pain haver tbh please get her some Ibuprofen. Boaty McBoatface: My brother who is a boat. Edwards favorite son, despite being terrified of being on boats after he was the sole survivor of a ship wreck. I fuckinh hate this thing

Project Moon adjacent ones

Despise Domek (Or just Des): Local Enkphalin hooked rat. Goes by it/they but people close to it can call them she/her. There are two remaining people who can call them she/her. Steals things from people it likes to keep a piece of them, so don't invite them to your house. Things WILL go missing. Says the phrase "Well it didn't kill me so I'm fine" way to god damn often. Ambrose Domek: Not actually related to Des at all his parents just stole Des's parents last name. We heart religious fanaticism to the point of self harm!!!!!! Has two boyfriends and has convinced himself neither of them like him. Him and Des are besties :) Keith: Real Jester-heads remember Keith. I made this bastard before Ruina came out and he keeps fucking staying relevant to whatever game is out. How does he do it. Lobcorp him is Geb and Myo's adopted son, a Rabbit, and had a complex where he's gotta prove himself 24/7 and ends up getting his leg ripped off. Ruina him is trying to find Gebura again after the whole Library situation happened, and is wildly distraught after learning Myo's whole deal. Limbus Keith is content, much older, runs a weapons shop, and is gay married to Heathcliff. Jesus Christ I made him before the new translation of Lopcorp happened I think HOW LONG HAS HE EXISTED WHAT THE FUCK

Damien Domek: Also not related to Des, just took it's last name because he liked it. They are qprs though. Also is broke as shit but mostly stays out of the Rat lifestyle by just old fashioned robbing people. Loves lying to people for fun and profit, but he is honestly a pretty nice guy. Minus the lying

Randos

Arlo: Disgusting rancid cyborg scientist who needs to bathe and touch grass. I adore him though. Ellie: Arlos little sibling. She/they user. Kills people for money and feeds the bodies to the eldritch horror that follows her around Hector: The eldritch horror that follows Ellie around. usually just looks like a dilf tbh its easier for Ellie to explain. Can't actually speak so he usually just talks telepathically while making a bunch of hums, chirps, and clicks to mimic speaking.

Oleander: Local unethical scientist that unethicaled a bit too hard when trying to revive his even worse older brother and turned off most of his emotions manually to avoid coping with the mental toil. Sad! Many such cases. Can't feel any emotions other then joy now. Kinda sucks but he certainly doesn't seem to upset about it :)

Simon: Oleadners brother. Kinda. Moreso a robot piloting Oleanders brothers body. Fucking hates Oleander but after Oleander lobotomized himself Simon begrudgingly takes care of him now. Despite his complicated feelings, he's wildly overprotective.

Cybel: A robot Oleander made! They are meant to gather as much information as they possibly can in case some horrible event happens that kills off humanity. is quite literally indestructible. Likes ice cream.

Octavius: I made this guy to be a danganrompa villain back in high school and I succeeded too well. I fucking hate this fake ass bitch

Tabb: This fucking guy. Trapped in a time loop but he doesn't know and its technically not a time loop. Met his (now) husband ages ago but died shortly after meeting him, so he revived Tabb, then the two got married, then Tabb died again so Halt (the husband) revived him again but he lost his memories then halt died and Tabb revived him the Tabb died again so Halt revived him but he lost all his memories so they dated again and got remarried then Tabb died again and you get the idea. Very nice guy, a bit anxious, perfectly normal minus the dying thing. If it wasn't for him losing all his memories and Halt tampering with shit so he was in love with him i uh. Don't think he'd actually like Halt all that much tbh

Halt: Just wants to be happy with his husband :(. Sad he unethicaled all over that science. Hey are you noticinga theme here. Also he's a cat boy but thats really not relevant to his depression issues

Urge: Halts kinda milfy twin sister. Really sick of all of this loop bullshit because she gets to watch her bestie Tabb die repeatedly, so she packed up her bags and left. Can't be in the same room as Halt without them getting into a fist fight. Do you see the themeing with their namesan d their ideals. Halt is kinda halted in place but Urge keeps pushing forward because she has the urgeto move on. Do you see it. It is almost 1 am

Russel: A kid that got roped into this whole mess because he walked in on a Tabb revival tube without permission. Sticks around Urge most of the time. Had a bad homelife to put it mildly, so Urge took him in.

Theres way more of these bastards but these are the most relevant ones. I am going to bed now. Goobnight

[emocl0wnpp]

Finally i had time to write the LJ headcanon post..or well my "LJ rewrite"...so here it is!

My LJ rewrite/headcanons!!

( I'll try to leave my oc x canon stuff out of here as much as i can)

🎪

Basics:

Name: Laughing Jack or LJ (or Jackie if you're very close with him)

Age: probably over 200,but in human years honestly no idea-

Gender: AGENDER/GENDERLESS LJ PROPAGANDA!! (He presents as male and refers to himself as one,but technically he can be anything)

Pronouns: honest to god he doesn't care,but since Issac called him a boy,he uses he/him,but otherwise he don't give a fuck

Sexuality: bisexual

Height: 225cm/ 7"3

Twins with Laughing Jill(he's younger by like 10 minutes,Jill treats that as 10 years)

Idk how to list this but he's british🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧

🎪

Personality:

Honest to god i don't remember his canon personality💀💀

Basically,he's a jerk. A little dipshit who will cause trouble with his tricks and pranks,especially if he doesn't like you. At first glance he's quite mean and sarcastic,buuut if he finds you cool enough/gets attached he's a whole different person(totally not projecting onto him rn)

Once he actually likes someone enough to consider them a friend,he's much kinder and sweeter.

He's pretty caring actually

He will hold back on his mean and sarcastic comments..unless you're into that

He tries ANYTHING to keep his friends close,literally anything. Magic tricks,jokes,drowning them with candy and affection,tieing them up in his circus so they can't leave,the usual things

He has trouble understanding emotions in general,especially other people's,and has trouble managing his own,ESPECIALLY his anger and saddness

Terrible,horrible abandonment and attachment issues

He's very impulsive,he usually does/says things without thinking them through first(again totally not projecting)

I'll dare to say that my version of LJ has Borderline personality disorder

Idk if this counts to personality or no but my man is touch starved. Touch him once and he won't let go of you

🎪

Other important stuff idk how to categorize:

Scratches himself a lot,especially when he's uncomfortable or nervous...and since he has sharp claws they leave marks(that's why his arms and stomach are wrapped up)

Used to be ashamed of his freckles so he covered them up with makeup(not anymore tho :3)

His favourite candies are lollipops

Dark humor is his favourite thing in the world

my man can stretch his limbs as long as possible,comes in handy when he's lazy to get up to grab something

His british accent comes out when he talks too fast

Throws around medival knight words for fun/to annoy others

He has a circus :^D

And in that circus he has little ghost kids running around(he won't admit but he's kinda like a father figure to them)

He has a little doll collection at his circus

He mostly kills kids between the ages of 10 and above,unless the kid is like extra annoying or something

Like i mentioned before,he's terrified of abandonment

Claustrophobia. Specifically he's terrified of small spaces(thanks to being locked in a small box for god knows how long)

Also fight me but he has a small fear of the dark,mostly in small spaces

🎪

Design/looks:

CONFETTI FRECKLES!!!

Like a lot of them all over his face and body

He has a little mole under his left eye

Scars on his stomach and arms(mentioned above)

His nose can bend (and it goes limp when he's sad/j)

His tongue is long af and is striped

Now that i mentioned stripes he has some on his arms

Used to wear his hair in a low ponytail,but after some time he just stopped caring about his hair..and himself in general

Okay this one involves a bit of oc x canon but hear me out, he was very lanky and skinny,but after meeting Claws he got a bit thicker and more muscular

Small matching tattoo with Claws!!

(For those who find this post before any of my other posts Claws is my creepypasta oc-)

I'll add more pictures of my design for him but i don't have much yet--

Aaaand I can't add any backstory related stuff cuz haven't really changed anything yet-

But i'll edit this post if anything else comes to mind!!

[dsnzfb]

Counting Numbers

OC writings :)

Cactus/Rose, 1.2k words, M/M, cold snz.

It's much fun to have your boyfriend be so observant of you that he knows you're sick before you do.

"-hhaAAiish!!"

"...Ten!" A grin spread on Cactus' face, confusing his boyfriend.

From behind a tissue, Rose choked out a "Pardon?" 

"You've sneezed ten times today now."

"Thanks for counting, I... I think? You usually just say 'bless you'." A pointed sniffle, the taller man lowering the thoroughly used tissue from his irritated nose.

"This many in such a short time? Are you feelin' good, baby?”

Rose frowned, "...Sensitive. Sorry, this must be so gross, I- hhiiTshh!!"

"Eleven. I don't think it's gross, you can't exactly control it. Well, you're tryin', but..."

"Hhah- ahh- hhaaAAa-!! aaSshii!! Hhatshhiew!! Gghwaagh.." he whined pathetically, accepting another handful of tissues from his boyfriend.

"What's that, twelve, thirteen?"

"If it keeps on like this," the redhead blew his nose softly, "We'll find out how high you can count."

"Bully! But not wrong. This is more than regular sensitivity, you allergic to somethin' around here? Did I forget to dust? Or are you comin' down with a cold?" Cactus traced a thumb over his cheek slowly, intimately, "Either way, you know I'm gonna look the fuck after ya, right?"

"Language..." Another sniffle, despite his previous efforts, "Ugh... I should send you away so you don't catch this thing, if I have fallen ill..."

"But....?"

"But I... God, this is so selfish, but I want you to stay. Take care of me, give me cuddles..."

"Hah, that's a cold, all right. Tch, poor thing, you only get this clingy when you're sick. Mind if I check your temp?" Cactus didn't expect a fever, but Rose had surprised him before. All he needed was a gentle 'mmm' for permission, and he clicked his tongue.

"Startin' to get a little warm, but that might just be that my hands are cold. Whatever, gonna make you rest and take medicine anyway, should help with those body aches you get when you're feverish."

"How do you remember all this?"

"I try so I can help better next time. It's not creepy, is it?"

"No, it's swee--aahiigGSH! H-hhah- hahchii!! Hhashhii!! Aaeeshiiiu!! ...Wah."

 "Bless you, baby. See, I've lost count already. I'm just gonna say you're gonna sneeze like, a bajillion times today."

Wrapping his arms around himself and dropping the crumpled tissue, a shiver ran through Rose's body, a sad and tired expression on his face as he accepted that he was, in fact, quite unwell. Without saying a word, Cactus pulled his scarf off and easily wrapped it around his boyfriend's neck, smiling at Rose when he looked up in surprise.

"But that's-"

"Shhh, shh. Gotta keep you warm. That any better?"

"....Mm, it is rather nice..."  

"Need anythin' else? Is it prime time for you to obtain a 'boyfriend hoodie'?"

Rose laughed, hiding his lower face behind the familiar-smelling scarf. "You give that up, you'll never get it back. You're lucky I know how much this scarf means to you, so... Mercifully, I won't steal this."

"You want me to carry ya to bed?" Cactus continued, Rose rolling his eyes as a response.

"Cactus, I'm not an invalid. It's a little cold, the sofa is more than fi... Fi... Ffi-IIishh! Iihtsshi! Iishiie! Tsshiew-iishhIiew!! AahptshHh! Kktshhiiu!"

His eyes snapped open as he realised what he'd done.

".....Oh mby god." A nervous sniffle, "I'm so sorry."

"Whoa, bless you, bless! Jeez, you good? We hit a hundred yet?" 

A thick, warm hand caressed Rose's hair. Slowly, his eyes closed again, leaning into the touch. It felt so nice against his aching head.

Wait, no, wait, stop distracting him.

"C-Cac, I sneezed on your scarf, how are you not mad? Are you mad? I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to, my nose just tickles s-so bad right now, even just mentioning it-"

"Bless you."

"Aag-hh- I- I haven't even- s-sneezed again yet...." Rose's nose scrunched up, nostrils twitching in irritation.

"Listen, Rose... I seriously don't mind. It can be washed. You need the warmth, and it was there. I'm not gonna be mad about you getting sick, I knew what I was signing up for when I put it on ya. You can let 'em out."

"G-ggh- no, it's... Don't wanna do it again... Bad enough I... I... Hhih-... Did it before..."

Cactus blinked at him, nonplussed. 

"You serious? It's already done, just let 'em out. Hey, better yet, get that tickle out with a biiiiiig sneeze. Big breath in, that's it. Think of dust. Think of, uh... A cute, fluffy dog."

This man was going to kill him. He couldn't. That's Cactus's scarf. He wears it every single day, no matter how hot it is. And here Rose was, sneezing into it and dirtying it! The disrespect of it all!

"I... C-cah-... Can't..."

"Yeah, ya can. Come on, imagine somethin' real tickly. Ooh, one of those stereotypical feather dusters! You know the ones, that come with the french maid outfi-"

"Caaaaac, s-stop, I.... I need... T-to..." Rose's chest shuddered with hitches, eyebrows tugging higher and higher, "Need... Need... Hhi-iih-!! Iihh...."

Stray fibres from the scarf itself weren't helping matters, yet he wasn't pulling it down, or taking it off. It brought a smile to Cactus's face, and it made him want to tease the florist relentlessly.

"Come on, I know you wanna. I know you gotta. It's really no problem, you can sneeze against me if you want."

"A-a-absolutely not! You- I... It's... Nng-ggh... Gghk-TSsh-! Iighshh! Ttsh! Ii-iih-iihTSHii!! Iktshiew! I-i-iisSHhiew! A-ah... Ahh'ttshHIIi!! G'ttSHHEw!! Aauaagh, oh, god..." 

Cactus blinked at him, "Whoa, bless you! Damn, that was a lot, are you do-"

"GghTSSH! HHht-tsshiew-iishHhew!! IitshHHEee!! Ii-h... Hht'shShew! P'tshiu!!" Rose interrupted him, the held-back fit tumbling out.

"Guess that answers that question. Jeez, bless you a kajillion times." The barista grabbed a handful of tissues, offering them up to his incapacitated boyfriend. They were taken gratefully, Rose motioning for Cactus to turn around with a single finger.

“Really?”

“Dod’t look at be. I’b a bess…”

He obeyed with a chuckle. He's seen Rose in much worse states, yet he was embarrassed by this. So cute. Cactus couldn't help a wide grin on his face as he heard Rose blowing his nose and groaning in upset, likely at the ‘mess’ he made of the scarf.

Snf!

“Cactus, I have to wash this before I return it to you. I'm not having you catch this because you wanted to do something nice for me.” There was a rustling sound that accompanied this, which Cactus surmised as Rose attempting to clean the scarf off at least a little. He snuck a glance, and smirked at his suspicions being confirmed.

“I mean, you will return it, but keep it as long as you need.”

“Caaac…”

“Look, you put it on, I'll get you some medicine, some tea, then we can snuggle and watch that show you like. Whassit. ‘Dick’s Deals’? It'll be like you never left England.”

Whether Cactus got it wrong on purpose or not, Rose almost choked with laughter regardless. “P-Pffft- do you mean ‘Dickinson’s Real Deal'? It's just bad daytime TV, you don't have to do that.”

“Ah, but there ain't nothin’ better when you're feeling like shit, right?” He stroked Rose's hair, smoothing it out after his intense sneezing fits left it disheveled, “You've done the same for me.”

“....Mmm. Don't be long, then. I want you here.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” 

[luizd3ad]

Lie To Me | Regulus Black

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Regulus Black x EX! GN!Reader, GN!Reader x GN!OC WC: 888 CW: Angst, talks of breakup, not being able to move on, use of Y/N, Cursing, OC is mentioned like once Author's Note: I didn’t think anyone would want a part two to Amnesia so I couldn’t decide if I should do a happy or sad ending so I did both, this is the sad ending Summary: Evan and Barty ask you to visit your ex Regulus since he's been having a hard time moving on. Pt 1 Amnesia

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .

Why did you agree to do this? Why did you let Barty and Evan convince you this was a good idea?

A part of you was irritated that Alex thought this was a good idea as well. Alex was your partner, why did they say they were comfortable letting you do this?

Honestly a part of you was hoping they wouldn't be okay with it so you could use it as an excuse to not do this. But here you are.

While you knock on the door you hope that Evan and Barty were wrong and that maybe he moved or maybe he wasn't home.

But luck was not on your side today apparently. 

There he was, Regulus Black. The man who was supposed to be your forever. 

You could see now why Barty and Evan sent you. You could tell he hadn't slept in days, that he wasn't eating right and there was no hint of the last time he had seen the sun.

“Hi, Reg.”

You say softly. He looks stuck for a second.

“Can I come in?”

That seemed to bring him back.

“Um, Yeah. Yes.”

As you walked in you looked around and noticed nothing looked different. Everything that you left looked the same. It was kinda heartbreaking.

You sit down on the sofa while Regulus sits on one of the armchairs.

“How have you been, Y/N?”

“I’ve been good, Regulus. Really good actually.”

He just nods, not looking at you and then whisping.

“You look happy.”

“I am. How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

You sigh and look at him taking in everything. It didn't take a genius to see he wasn't fine.

You couldn't help but be irritated. You came here as a favor to Barty and Evan because they are so worried about him. You didn't know what they expected you to do. You couldn't get him to talk the last few months of your relationship. Why would this be any different?

“I know you're not fine. I can see it, Regulus. I'm just here to try and help. To give you some closure, help you move on. I can't do that if you won't let me in, even just a little.”

He just sat there, he didn't move or say anything’ You clenched your jaw. You didn't want to be mad but you couldn't help it.

You were supposed to spend your life with him but all that went down the drain when he started doing what he's doing right now. He threw away the future you both planned together because he decided to shut you out.

A part of you felt bad because you weren't as patient as you used to be with him. Maybe it was the love that made you patient because right now you felt anything but.

You stand up shaking your head.

“This was a waist of fucking time. I should have known better.”

You started walking towards the door.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything real, Regulus. Open up like you used to.”

You turned around to face him and he stood up, sighing.

“I wish we never fucking met because I can't get you out of my head. I want to forget you, but forgetting you hurts more than remembering you. Everywhere I go I’m reminded of you and it fucking kills me but that pain is the only way I know you were ever really mine. When I close my eyes you haunt my fucking dreams, it always start the same, everything will be just like before then you just leave, over and over again. So no, I’m not fine, I'm not fucking happy.”

He had tears streaming down his face. His voice was getting slightly louder with every word, and you could see the heartbreak on his face.

It hurt a part of you.

“Regulus, you can't keep living like this. You can't keep living here, especially with pictures of us up on the walls, with my books here, with the things that we shared. It's holding you back.”

You say softly looking around at all the things that he kept as reminders of you. 

“You need to move on, Regulus.”

“I can't. You're all I have.”

Regulus whispered, his voice cracking. You close your eyes and take a deep breath feeling all the hurt and pain that you worked so hard to get rid of coming back up.

“Regulus, I'm not yours anymore.”

You didn't mean for it to come out as a whisper but it did. You didn't know when you started to cry but you could feel the tears running down your face.

“Don't say that. I know that you don't but if I ask you if you love me, can you just please lie to me? Please?”

You could hear him gasping for a breath in between words. You close your eyes, sighing and then you look him in the eyes.

“I can't do that. I'm with someone, and I'm genuinely happy. You deserve to be happy too.”

“So that's just it? There’s no hope? I lost you?”

He looked so broken, so sad. You wished that you could just hold him and put him back together but that wouldn't be fair to either of you and you knew that.

“Yeah, Reg. There’s no hope.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .

Lover Of Mine (Alt happy ending)