#there is always time to seek redemption

[mrmanbat]

We cannot be friends if you refer to any of the bats as “twinks.”

…

Like bro they’re all insanely fit and tall. Most of them aren’t even gay??

Sure some are lean but none of them fit the twink description.

[javierduffy]

drabble about chapter 3 javieran late night discord (campfire) conversations because i love writing the turning point where javier finally lets himself start making moves 💔☹️

“so,” javier gestures with his bottle, the last quarter of it sloshing to get his conversation partner’s attention, “tell me about yourself.”

“oh, i’m…” kieran fiddles with his hands, pries his eyes away from javier’s bottle as the other man takes a swig of it. if he let himself look any longer, they’d end up on his lips. “i’m just me, sir. just kieran duffy. ain’t got much to tell.”

“mh.” javier grunts a reply, and kieran would think that’d be the end of it, if not for the bottle thrust at him to punctuate the response. he thinks javier is just tipsy enough not to be offering essentially backwash on purpose. he hopes it is a kind gesture. he takes it and a swig to boot. rather not be drinking with a man so pretty, but he’d rather not be one to resist one, neither.

“”just” you say. what makes you so little?” javier’s beginning to pop another beer open on his seat. without the light of the moon, the scout campfire now feels like a long, long way from the clemen’s point camp, and he now feels like no one in the world could hear his curiosity. like not a soul in this world around could accuse him of gentility.

kieran, taking the new bottle as an offer to keep the old one, finishes off his drink. shakes his head like it’s bitter. like he isn’t trying to pick apart which taste is the beer and which is javier. “i ‘unno. suppose- no one’s cared so much before. i feel so little, i can’t say i feel right justified in going around and advertising myself. plenty of interesting folk around, and they sure don’t look like me.” javier cocks an eyebrow.

for once since months ago in colter, dark brown eyes meet green, and they stay there. grass plants it’s roots in rich soil, and it feels like home. kieran can see javier’s eyes flicker to his lips, and he convinces himself it meant nothing. uproots himself and looks back at the fire.

javier lets his eyes roam kieran’s profile a bit- his long lashes, his hooked nose, his sunspots- and suddenly he really, really needs another drink. he’s parched. he mirrors the other man’s fixation on the fire with another swig. “can’t say any of us nowadays look too alike. not unless you get the privilege of being born in the city, with money. every man has his story. if you think it is a competition, maybe you should consider yourself lucky that you haven’t lived enough chaos to be “interesting”.”

kieran snorts, “you don’t know the half of it… sir.” he tacks the term messily onto the sentence, hoping it’ll be enough to keep javier from strangling him to death for his tone. instead, he turns to see javier with a wide smile, drooping eyes creasing like a canine with it’s fangs bared. it makes kieran feel cold- like prey who yearns for the warm embrace of his predator’s breath on his neck.

“tell me then. what makes you so interesting and me so ignorant?”

[griffonsgrove]

omg hello!! I saw you post those vox headcanons and wow I was literally kicking my feet and giggling LOL. I also saw you take requests right now! (at least that’s what it said in your rules) and I wanted to request something : D

could I request general alastor headcanons with a GN! Reader please ? :D

Thank you!

General Dating Headcanons | Alastor

a/n: Of course my dear!! I love how Alastor is portrayed in the series, he’s easily one of my favorite characters! I’ve been wanting to do these for quite a bit, so thank you for the request!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Wordcount: 1991

Cw: Hazbin Spoilers, minor violence, mentions of death, murder

(PLATONIC):

Ah so you managed to capture the attention of the infamous Radio Demon? You should be honored he even considers you worth his time! Not most demons have that luxury, they never live long enough to see.

Al strikes me as the kind of guy who knows everyone, he’s very observant and has eyes everywhere (his shadow friends extend throughout the entirety of the pride ring). He’s got connections in just about anything. He’s bound to have at least seen you once.

That being said, he views other sinners as inferior to him, if you don't have any power, he doesn't really see you as much of a threat (let’s be honest even if you did, he still wouldn't feel threatened)

He’s quite intrigued when he sees a frail little thing like you walk through the hotel doors. You're here on your own free will, seeking redemption? Oh, this will be quite entertaining.

You’re well aware of who he is, having been in hell for quite some time, even before his 7 yearlong disappearance, you knew to be wary in his presence.

It often left you being timid or skittish around him at first.

The deer demon had a knack for popping up at the most inconvenient of times, out of nowhere it seems (perks of being able to shadow travel). He would scare the daylights out of you nearly every time. Whether it was intentional or not, it always got a good laugh out of him.

And that smile…He was always smiling, you can't ever recall a moment where he wasn't, not even a falter. It's definitely an intimidation tactic you think. After all, you're never fully dressed without one!~

Despite this, he’s a charmer. He has this flare about him that oozes confidence whenever he speaks with you, to anyone really. He’s able to talk his way into and out of anything. One of the many perks of being a showman. Alastor is witty, charming and entertaining to say the least. Life is never dull with him around.

And if you happen to be from the same time period?? It’ll only want him to be around you even more! Finally, someone he can relate to in this cesspool.

This man is quite the chatterbox. He looooves to reminisce about the good ol’ days, always talking about how things were in his radio days. He could talk for literal hours and not break a sweat. You’ll often have to politely interject when he rambles on for too long, not that he minds.

Did I mention he can cook too?? Really well, surprisingly. He claims he learned from his dearest mother. He had to put a name to her famous Jambalaya recipe! When you tried it for the first time your socks were nearly blown right off from how much cayenne pepper he put into it. He likes a little spice.

He's!! Always!! Humming!! The man loves to sing, he often finds himself absentmindedly humming old tunes from the 20’s as he goes about his day. Whether he’s out for a stroll, enjoying a nice cup of tea, or running around the hotel, he’s humming.

This has been stated before, but Alastor is not big on physical touch from others unless he's the one initiating it. There have been many times where he’s pulled you into a little dance or twirl while he explains something. It never fails to surprise you each time.

He’ll often use his microphone staff to push or touch something, more specifically someone. He doesn't like to touch sinners that often, God knows where they’ve been. You’ve seen him whack Angel upside the head with it before, the spider tried getting a little too close for comfort. But for you he’ll make an exception.

Very well groomed!! He puts a lot of effort into his appearance, and cares about how he projects himself to the public eye. His hair is always neatly styled to perfection, shoes shined, and is always dressed to the nines. I mean did you see how mad he got when Pentious ripped a part of his coat off?

As the two of you begin to spend some more time together, you find yourself often having little meetups, the both of you would chat, share a cup of tea and just enjoy each other’s company. He liked to sit on the patio, he had a little table, and everything set up for you two.

Alastor makes sure to keep an eye on you regularly. He may have his shadow sneak around and stalk you while you're out. He’ll use the excuse that ‘Hell is a dangerous place!’, He can't have some low-life sinner trying to harm you, that would make him a terrible friend!

Undeniably has a soft spot for you that he’ll never admit aloud, he genuinely enjoys your company and likes having someone around that will humor him and listen to his stories. Grandpa.

Overall, Al is quite a good friend to have, you feel like you can confide in him at any point, he’s surprisingly a wonderful listener. The more time you spend together only strengthens your little friendship. Even to the point where you both will grow to have a mutual respect for each other. He initially scared you at first, given his reputation, but underneath all the ruthless chaos is a true gentleman.

(ROMANTIC):

My man is sooo conflicted at first, He’ll spend hours in his den thinking about his feelings. (We’ve all seen the inside of his room, literally half of it is a swamp). The scenery can only soothe him so much as he contemplates on what to do.

This is probably where you will begin to less and less of him for a time being as he works out his inner turmoil.

But, once he finally comes to terms with these undeniable feelings, he decides to confront you privately, away from any prying eyes. Ahem Angel…

Very old-fashioned, this is where he will properly ask to court you. 

You’ll never know this but he was actually kind of nervous, he was worried you’d reject his offer, but imagine to his surprise when you said yes!! He kind of felt giddy.

Congratulations! You now have a cannibalistic deer overlord as your boyfriend

He’s such a gentleman, I literally cannot say it enough, the man was raised right and he respects you! 

You literally never have to open a door with him around. He holds your chair out for you, always walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, pays for every meal and is constantly giving you compliments left and right. And they say chivalry is dead.

Alastor loves to gift flowers to you. Every few weeks or so he’ll give you a new bouquet. They're different each time, some have a meaning while others he simply thought you’d enjoy. You have a special place in your room where you keep them.

Now that you’re in a relationship, the two of you are basically joined at the hip. Wherever you are, Alastor is not far behind. He doesn't want to admit it but the overlord is kind of clingy. He doesn't like being too far from you.

If there’s ever a reason he has to be away from you, he’ll often have a few of his little imp dolls watch after you. You always thought they were cute little fellas anyways.

The both of you aren't exactly private about your relationship, but at the same time you’re not screaming it out from the rooftops either. Alastor is well aware of the dangers you could possibly face due to his status. He’s made a lot of enemies in his time, and doesn't want to see you get hurt on his behalf.

That being said though, no demon in their right mind would try to threaten you.

God forbid they touch you either. They’d be ripped in half before they could even get another word out. 

He's fiercely protective over you. He tries to play it off as nonchalantly as possible, but you know he cares about you immensely, it’s rather sweet really.

Now about physical affection. Things will go very slowly in the beginning, as said before he's fine with things as long as he's the one initiating it. If you two are out for a stroll you’ll have your arm gently looped with his as you walk down the chipped sidewalks. You’ll have to be extremely patient with him, he’s not used to this “love” and “affection”

If you’re ever having a bad day however, he’ll slip out of his comfort zone for you, and allow you to hold onto him for as long as you please, in the privacy of your own room of course.

One of his favorite things to do with you, is to slow dance. There's something so intimate and special about it. It could be late into the evening, when everyone else had gone to their respective rooms for the night, If you listen closely though, you’ll hear the soft hum of music coming from Alastor’s den, he has you in his arms, the both of you gently sway in a slow waltz across the room to the quiet love songs emitting from his radio. It’s here that you truly savor these private moments with him.

Speaking of music, Al loves to sing to you. Oftentimes it may be a ballad or love song, and if you join in with him? He’ll fall for you even more. 

Cooking! He loves to whip up all his favorite dishes just for you, oftentimes you’ll help him in the kitchen, even if it’s the smallest thing. It's become an annual thing you two like to do together. He makes sure that you get only the best meat that this side of hell can provide.

He’ll often call you a mix of different pet names, here's a few of his favorites: Cher, Darling, Beloved, Dearest, Love, Mon Amour, Doll

Which btw on the topic of meat, Al is canonically a cannibal, he’ll often eat demon meat in his meals, and will have you try it at least once.

Admittedly has gotten slightly jealous of his own shadow. The mischievous thing was always trying to steal your attention away from him, oftentimes it would work, you would always give in and humor him, saying that ‘Even his shadow needed some loving too!’. With a strained smile, Alastor shoots a glare at the inky mass of himself, who just looks at him with a smug grin.

Will have you meet Rosie at least once. She’s one of his other closest friends, and a real sweetheart. At first she comes off as really scary and intimidating. but the more you get to know her, and she's for certain that you wont hurt her friend, she’s much more friendlier. 

You two actually bond together somewhat, having little chats about Alastor occasionally, or about her business.

It’s safe to say that this man would kill hundreds if not thousands for you. You have him wrapped around your little finger. If you ever have someone bothering you, they might as well already be dead, because this man will hunt them down like prey. And eat them too.

Honestly, Alastor as a lover is nothing short of wholesome. He’s so attentive and caring when it comes to you. Which is so refreshing to see, especially coming from one of hell’s most feared overlords. Things will most likely start of slow, but if you’re patient with him, all the hard work will be rewarded tenfold. He had initially thought the Princess of Hell’s Hotel was one of the biggest jokes of the century, but what he wasn't expecting was you to be one of the best things to come out of it. You both were cast down to suffer an eternal damnation in hell, but at least now you can endure it together <3.

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

.

.

.

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

[acid-ixx]

You know what would be a good add for you yan bat fam fic? We refer to our father as Bruce! We don’t call him dad or wtv we call him by his name sense we don’t see him as a dad!

I can just imagine the heartbreak look on Wayne’s face!! Ooo even better if we call him by his last name!

a/n: this !! it's already hinted at during chapter one that you literally despise writing bruce wayne as your father in legal documents and even hated him to the point of changing your last name back to your mother's after your eighteenth birthday. the angst potential was stated in this drabble so it's something i had already expanded on but i love talking about my plans for the story so yk. this is basically the reader disowning their own father LMAO. p.s. one of the paragraphs here would be used for the next chapter !!

bruce knows that you have every right to not even refer to him as your father— he is way beyond unworthy to be called "dad" or "father" or any parental name you had in mind. but he wishes you have a sliver of love to even refer to him as "bruce" like your other siblings would call him.

but no, the world always has something else in mind.

"sorry, mr. wayne. but i am not your child, and will never see myself as one. and you? you will never be my dad."

your heartless tone, the way you look at him like he wasn't your father, but a mere stranger. maybe in your mind, he was just a sperm donor for your mother, and he knows he would only amount to that, seeing as how he wasn't even there for when you were born; not acknowledging your existence for five years and simply taking you in when your mother had left you, then forgetting about you again—

it's now that it isn't batman who has gone too far but bruce wayne. your supposed father, the man who should've been there for you, to nourish your growth, watching you as you accomplish all the great things in the world.

he was supposed to be the man who should've kissed your wounds away whenever you go out to the park with him to play. he should've been the man who would sit on the crowded bleachers to watch you perform on a talent show. he was supposed to be the father who would hold you close to your chest as you cry about your first heartbreak, about your overdue projects, about the bullies in the school.

but he wasn't that father for you. and now, you seek love and attention from people who weren't even family. because they had failed you, he had failed you.

it reminds him of all the times he was left brooding alone, in the manor as he forces himself to remember the scene of his parents dying all over and over again.

yet it was you, his precious baby, that he had lost. not physically, but emotionally and spiritually.

he doesn't want to lose hope at any instance for redemption but fuck, he doesn't want to delude himself into thinking you would easily forgive and forget.

but damn it all, because he would have nothing to lose to show you just how much he loves you. and he will, he will spoil you rotten to the core, he'll give you the entire world if that meant he would hear you would call him your "dad" just for once.

[shewolfofvilnius]

I feel sorry for Orin

repurposed from an old Reddit post of mine

Edit: Wrote an epilogue fic where my Durge, Sofija, seeks redemption for her sister with the Gods

Raised from birth in the Bhaal cult and has never known ANYTHING else. Literally the result of incest between her mom and Sarevok (her father AND grandfather) - and for her entire life is actively manipulated and groomed to worship her "Grandfather" second only to Bhaal (leaving a disgusting implication that Sarevok might eventually try again). Literally every single day of her life spent in a murder cult, never knowing anything else.

Her mother is actively manipulated when Orin is seven to try to kill her daughter, only for Orin to reflexively kill her first, at which point Orin was briefly possessed by Bhaal himself (per some Sarevok dialogue). AT AGE SEVEN. And even from a young age, Orin's true gift is her artistry, a talent that outside the Bhaal cult probably could have been nurtured into something phenominal, but inside the cult is twisted into a sinisterness in the kill that, when she's out of earshot is decried as wasteful.

She eventually rises through the ranks (never have had any choice), having never felt a meaningful moment of compassion or kindness and, desperate to be cared about, sees the power and fear and respect her bloodkin (The Dark Urge) has gained and uses their hubris to take them out.

Ironically, in the timeline where Durge lives, they get a gift Orin couldn't even dream of - a 2nd chance. With their brain scrambled and the tadpole present but being interfered with, the Dark Urge got a chance to be someone new. (Whether they accept or reject that 2nd chance, they at least got a choice this time).

What did Orin get for her troubles? Her (grand)father openly coveted to either take her out, or worse, take her out - when the time was right, her own allies both detested her (Gortash openly revels at the idea of working with the Dark Urge again)

and most brutally, if you manage to confront her with the truth, any of it? About Sarevok, about her mother, etc? She immediately believes you. And for one (1) moment, maybe there's hope for her.

Hope that Bhaal immediately rips away; an Orin confronted with the truth and showing even the slightest hesitation is immediately forcibly transformed into the Slayer by Bhaal himself, with a strong implication that the core of the old Orin is gone forever win, lose, or draw. "No more doubts, no more fears, no more Orin. Become murder.". Seeing what Bhaal's reaction was the moment Orin had one (1) instant of hesitation also confirms that she'd likely have never had the chance to choose differently, either Bhaal would always step in or else she'd eventually meet her end.

Imagine the AU where Orin takes her CLEAR flair and artistic talent to become a truly great artist. Where she gets the same second chance that Durge got - If she'd been able to use her talent for impersonation and desire to great to do something powerful instead of being forced by her family from childhood into the family business of murder.

She literally never had a chance. Even Bane and Myrkul and their respective cults were never so unfathomably cruel, and she never knew anything else.

At least for my own first game, though, my Durge recognized that without her "sister," she'd have never gotten the chance to save the world, never met Shadowheart, never stopped a century worth of Ketheric's torture on Dame Aylin, never set in motion the liberation of the Githyanki...In the right world states, Orin unwittingly saved the world, but it's a world she'll never get to see or know, and probably never could have.

That's tragic as hell.

[himasgod]

Morax x Reader

Where your soulmark will unite you to him forever and ever, but you cannot be with him.

Where Guizhong, in her infatuation with Morax, casts a spell on him to make him forget his soulmark that binds you, an adepti, to him, and he falls in love with Guizhong. Years later, when Guizhong dies, Morax takes importance to you and tries to get back to you, but you, hurt, reject him and forget him. Many centuries later, Xiao, Traveler and Paimon have a single mission during the Moonchase Festival: to reunite you and Zhongli after so long.

(chat, did I cook? Seriously, this might be my favorite thing I've ever written on Tumblr. Around 900 words, give it a chance, I promise it'll be worth it :P)

In Teyvat, Soulmate Marks were more than just marks on the skin; they were a shared destiny, a divine promise that no matter the adversities, two souls were destined to meet and complete each other. To mortals, it was a comfort. To gods, it was a reminder that even they were bound by the universal laws of love.

Guizhong, the Goddess of Dust, had always been a visionary. Her intelligence and charisma had cemented Guili Assembly as a haven of prosperity and harmony. But deep within her heart was a desperate longing: to win the heart of the Geo Archon, Morax. Ever since she met him, she had been convinced that her place was at his side, not just as an ally, but as his eternal companion.

When her soulmate mark appeared, Guizhong held her breath in hope.

But her mark showed no clue that connected her to Morax.

Rather than accept this fate, her ambition and fear of rejection led her to commit an act that would change the course of both their lives: with a spell of illusions, she altered her mark to match his.

“Love is selfish… and it must be. For the sake of the Guili Assembly, for the sake of our vision, he must be mine,” she told herself every time the weight of guilt threatened to crush her.

Meanwhile, Morax’s true destiny was entangled with another adepti: you. You were a noble soul, whose mark reflected a deep connection to the land itself. Though Morax had never paid much attention to his own mark, the relationship between the two of you had been one of mutual respect. You, dedicated to the creation of medicines and the healing of Yakshas tormented by their karmic debt, had shared meaningful moments with Morax. Yet there had never been a declaration of love between you.

Morax's heart always seemed to be occupied by Guizhong.

You, though wounded, had accepted your silent role. If Morax found happiness with Guizhong, then that was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

Guizhong's death was a devastating blow to the Guili Assembly and, apparently, to Morax. For years, the Geo Archon mourned her loss, immortalizing her memory in the ruins of Guili. But deception cannot remain hidden forever. As time passed, the spell that had altered Moraxs mark dissipated, revealing its true form.

When Morax discovered the truth, an unfathomable rage took hold of him. Not only had he been betrayed, but he had also allowed his true soulmate to suffer in silence while he protected Guizhong's lie. In a fit of grief and disappointment, he erased from his memory any vestige of love he had felt for the Goddess of Dust.

But the truth came at a price: how to face you after so many years of indifference?

You had found solace in your work. Alongside the Herblord, you had dedicated your life to creating remedies to ease the burden of the Yakshas and other Adepti. You had left behind any hope of a relationship with Morax. For him, there was no room in his heart for false gestures or empty words.

When Morax finally found you, he was greeted with a coldness he had never expected.

“What do you wish, Morax?” you asked, not looking up from the herbs you were grinding.

“I have come to apologize. To seek… redemption,” he replied, his voice laden with a sincerity he rarely showed.

“Redemption does not change the past. And your words will not erase the years of silence. Go find solace in Guizhong’s memories… or in your own decisions.—"

The conversation ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving Morax with a weight he hadn’t felt in millennia.

The Moonchase Festival filled Liyue with vibrant energy. The streets were adorned with floating lanterns, tables laden with traditional food, and the laughter of children echoed in the air. It was a celebration of togetherness, of remembering the past and looking toward the future. Among the attendees, the Traveler and Paimon moved with determination, knowing that the success of their plan depended on their discretion.

They had to bring you and Zhongli together after so many years again, and today was the perfect opportunity.

Xiao, who rarely participated in festivities, stood at the edge of the crowd, watchful. He had reluctantly agreed to help, aware of how much it meant to him to see Zhongli and you reconcile. Though his face remained impassive, the Yaksha couldn’t help but feel a certain hope. He had lost so much over the years; perhaps it was time to recover something.

The Traveler was in charge of taking Zhongli to the designated place: a secluded viewing point at the port, from where one could observe the spectacle of the lanterns ascending- so romantic.

Xiao, meanwhile, was accompanying you, who had accepted the invitation to the festival at the Herbalist's insistence, unaware that it was all part of an elaborate plan.

When the two reached the viewing platform, the atmosphere instantly became tense. You, recognizing Zhongli, stopped in your tracks and pressed your lips together. The ancient Geo Archon, for his part, showed a mix of surprise and something that seemed vulnerable, an emotion rare in someone like him.

"I… didn't know you'd be here," you murmured, your tone bordering on indifference.

"It was my initiative," the Traveler quickly intervened, trying to ease the tension. "I thought it would be good for both of you to enjoy the festival from a quiet place."

"Calm down?" you raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "I don't know what you're trying to do, but I don't think it's wise."

Before you could leave, Zhongli spoke:

"Please stay."

The tone of his voice, deep and solemn, managed to stop you. There was something in it, a sincerity that you hadn’t expected.

For long minutes, you both remained silent, watching the lanterns light up the sky. Finally, Zhongli spoke up:

“A long time ago, I was blinded by my own decisions. I allowed my judgment to be clouded by loyalty and duty, and in that process, I hurt those who mattered most. You. And my mark is binding me to you, it burns every time I think of you, and it has all these years. I know it burns you too. Guizhong moved me with her manipulative fingers, but now that she passed away so many years ago that I can't even count them… the truth of her lies has come to light. And I feel stupid…”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you turned to look directly at him, your eyes reflecting years of repressed pain.

“And what do you expect me to say? To forgive you after everything?”

Your tone was cold, but there was a tremor in your voice that betrayed the internal storm you were struggling to control. “After how you ignored everything I did for you, while defending someone who wasn’t even your soulmate?”

Zhongli looked down, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"I don't expect your forgiveness. I only hope that you'll allow me to prove that I've changed. That you'll understand how sorry I am for my blindness."

You let out a bitter laugh.

"You changed? Perhaps. But I changed too, Morax. Or I mean, Zhongli, I guess. Centuries don't pass in vain, and the wounds you left behind didn't heal easily. I'm not the same person who used to wait for you with hope. I'm now someone who learned to live without you, with this mark, but without you."

The silence that followed was heavy, but not hopeless. Zhongli, with his infinite patience, nodded slowly.

"I know. I can't pretend to erase the past or what I did. But I want you to know that I will never stop trying to make up for my mistakes. If you ever decide to give me a chance, I'll be here, waiting."

You looked at him for a long moment. There was something different about him; he was no longer the arrogant god who made unilateral decisions. There was humility in his words, a humanity you hadn't seen before.

“I make no promises, Zhongli,” you finally replied, your voice softer.

“But perhaps one day… we can try.”

Zhongli looked up, and for the first time in centuries, a small spark of hope lit up his eyes.

That night, though you were not completely reconciled, something changed between you. As the Moonchase Festival continued in the distance, Zhongli and you remained at the gazebo, sharing a quieter conversation. There were no promises, only a tacit understanding that time, though cruel, could also offer second chances.

From afar, Xiao, Traveler and Paimon watched the scene, Xiao's heart lightened.

Though he knew the road would be long, at least there was a start now.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[shrimpybbq]

affection is a remedy for many a problem

continuation of a contended husband is no menace to the kingdom

Aegon doesn't entirely change just because he feels loved and cared for, no. The trauma and lack of affection in his childhood still incites his drinking, but it's to a lesser degree. Still, it's not uncommon for his niece to wake to his slumbering frame reeking of cheap Flea Bottom ale, his late night antics with his sleazy friends having ended with the guards dragging his body into their shared chambers in the early morn. One would think she would be repulsed by such situations, and yet, Aegon often finds himself in the large tub with his wife washing his hair, her delicate hands bringing a soothing pressure to his waning headache. The Prince would be silent as a deep sense of shame settles over him, his expression settling into a grimace as he remembers the conversation that led him to Flea Bottom this time. His mother had been yelling at him for declaring his lack of desire for the throne - a desire that had never increased no matter the number of conversations they had. A sharp slap to his cheek before she sent him away from her chambers had been his final straw. He didn't remember much after that. Aegon is thankful that his sweet wife understands him, knowing he is trying to be better for her. She is always by his side.

The one thing that cheers him up the most is seeing his sweet little babies. The twins had come soon in the course of their marriage and though he'd been reluctant to become a father, there was soon nothing more important to him than caring for his children. He saw opportunities for redemption in them, and his wife was so good with them. She was motherly in a way that his own mother had never been, always coddling them and squeezing them tightly, praising them and laving them with affection. To see his own children loved so much healed something in Aegon. The married couple spend many hours together with the children in the nursery each day, playing with them and conversing. When the Twins had learnt of their mother's second pregnancy they had become even more excitable, always babbling to the babe and asking when their brother or sister would be born. As Jaehaera clings to her father and plays with his matching silver strands, Aegon can only look over at his wife and Jaehaerys as he presses his ear to her stomach, seeking to hear the babe. His heart swells at the realisation that he finally has a family that love him, and he who loves them more than anything in the world.

(I 100% believe half of Aegon's problems could be solved with a lot of love and affection)

[writers-potion]

Writing Morally Gray Characters

Morally gray antagonists and heroes can bring up many interesting questions about your story's theme and plot. Yes, your hero does want to save the world, but resorts to cruel ways of bringing peace?

Being morally gray can also mean that the character is highly goal- oriented and values efficiency and success over anything.

Deceiving Appearances

As is true in real life, a person's intentions aren't always obvious. A character, their title, background or really just how they look might at first indicate they're the hero type but surprise - they're not.

By hiding ulterior motives behind more apparent ones, you can add depth to your morally gray characters. Appearances can be deceiving, and that makes for a juicy read.

Morally Gray vs. Villains

Morally gray characters and villains are not strictly one and the same. Yes, there is overlap-they can be villains-but the distinctions are there nonetheless.

I don't think having a dark past to provide motivations for morally gray characters is too effective. They do intend to harm others, and sometimes, that's just the way they are.

Recognition

Your morally gray character should recognize that their choices can cause harm, intentionally or otherwise.

Although he's willing to risk the chance in his pursuit of knowledge, he does actively recognize that his actions can result in negative consequences. He sometimes acknowledges this before he does something, and sometimes only in hindsight.

Remorse

They must understand and experience remorse. When the consequences of their actions wreck and story world and kills people around her, she would certainly have regrets and even struggle to undo what she did.

The point here is, she won't regret until she has already caused the wreckage.

Redemption

Finally, when even they feel things have gone too far, your morally gray character must seek redemption however that manifests itself in your story.

For all their logic and reasoning, they are not without feeling. They can grow to care for other characters and go out of their way to help them at times, even save their life.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[sleepydeprived]

A Chance for Redemption

—A mysterious high school student appears out of the blue, bearing the face of the late Martha Wayne and puzzling even Gotham's greatest detectives.

[chapter 3]

Mama I’m Chasing A Ghost.

| Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x Reader

The floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom looked out onto the manicured gardens of the estate, and in the distance, was a view of Gotham that never seemed to change.

The same scenery, the same routine.

The butlers, the maids, the drivers who ferried me from one lavish location to another.

Every day was like the last, but with one major exception;

Gotham Academy

For the first time in my life, I had been thrust into a world that wasn’t mine. My mother had insisted I’d go, telling me it was for my own good. I was homeschooled my entire life, my education confined to private tutors and digital classes.

That is.. until my mother moved me to a prestigious school a few months ago. I don’t know what changed her mind. She was always so hellbent on keeping my life private. Her sweet little girl that only she knew about.

But now here I am attending a school that is closely watched by weird, content-hungry journalists and creepy paparazzis hoping to catch a photograph of children with high titles.

Nevertheless, I felt like an outsider. A puzzle that didn’t quite fit. I was the new kid—the girl who came out of nowhere.

But being an outsider didn’t automatically mean loner.

My presence didn’t go unnoticed.

I was different. People knew it, felt it, and stared. Maybe it was the fact that I came from a family—a clan—that held such an influence over Gotham’s elites. I was basically one relative away from a famous celebrity or a corrupt politician.

But, of course, there was also the resemblance to Martha Wayne.

It was a ghost of a resemblance, really, but it haunted me all the same. From the first day I stepped onto campus, I heard the whispers;

She looks like Martha Wayne.

The wife of Thomas Wayne?

She could be her daughter...

Or granddaughter.

It had started out as idle speculation, but as the days passed, the gossip only grew.

People stared, talked behind my back, and pointed at me when they thought I wasn’t looking. They didn't know me, but they had already formed an opinion. The mystery girl. The girl who had somehow, inexplicably, appeared out of nowhere. The girl who had the same smile, the same eyes, the same air of dignity and grace as Gotham’s most beloved figure. The figure whose tragic death had left an indelible mark on the city.

I had never cared for the attention. In fact, I hated it. I’m not interested in being some object of fascination, and that’s just how I was raised. I’m not Martha Wayne nor am I related to her—or at least, that’s what I’ve been told. The more people asked, the more I pushed that idea away. But the whispers were constant.

It made me think. A lot. So much more than what I preferred.

And suddenly, the buried thoughts from childhood of who and where my biological father was came rushing back.

Ever since I was a child, I had learned to bury my feelings—bury the questions about my father, and why my mother wouldn’t speak of him. There had been one conversation about it, years ago when my mother still had the time to let me in her study.

"Your father is not someone you need to concern yourself with," mother had said, her voice cold and stern. "Do not ask about him. Do not seek him. He is not a part of your life. Understand?"

And now, in the halls of Gotham Academy, that memory itched at me, more often than ever before. The bell rang, signaling the end of another school day, but I didn’t hurry to leave. I stood at my locker, staring at my reflection in the shiny surface of the metal.

Do I look like her?

————————

taglist:

@leeleecats @mariadvorak @deans-spinster-witch @rainlovewrites @xoacesgf @whiteoakoak @uknowimdumb @otterluver05

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby (part 4)

alastor w/ angel daughter reader

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

(requested tags: @insomniacfigure @pooplyface1423 @mo-0-o @thekanrojimitsuri2 @maliciousmace @nevermorekisses @wildfire153)

(thanks to my amazing editor for helping me with this chapter!! @kruncher mwa mwa! /p)

It's been half a month, and you still aren't sure if you really wanna do this.

Sure you have done your research on spells, blessings, everything to protect yourself and maybe even others while venturing into Hell, possibly even in battle if you felt brave enough.

But nonetheless, it was conflicting. Not only were you going to see your father again but you're going to be literally in hell-- the terrible place was always a tempting topic to bring up in a hushed conversation, though few actually dared to do it. It's the worst place to go to after death, everyone on earth hated speaking of it and mentioning it was somewhat like a bad omen, at least from how you've seen others react to it at certain times.

Why bother diving head first into a realm where none of it’s events or residents were any of your business? The souls are in hell for certain specific reasons, so why bother saving a world that was meant to be the end of the line.

Oh but-- Charlie.

Charlie Morningstar's case and evidence sure intrigued you, but was it really worth the risk? Is it worth the sacrifice, the hiding, the possible dying to try to save a bunch of sinners? All of them, more than likely... are very much similar to, if not the same as, your father.

"Maybe..n-.." you breathed out loud, your hand moving away from under your chin as you were stuck in thought sitting at your desk. You were reluctant, of course you'd be.

You looked down at your bag on the floor beside your desk, filled with supplies and necessities for venturing into hell-- you planned it out but-- was it really.. Do these sinners truly deserve to be saved? Helped?

Why, of course they do.

At the very least.. some of them. 

Those who genuinely want redemption and those who committed sins in which they had no choice before they died or to help others. Those are the ones who should be saved.

And from what you learned in the court trial exactly half a month ago, you could only imagine how many sinners Adam and his fleet of Exorcists slayed that were genuinely hoping for a better chance at this 'second' life.

Besides-- why not save lives? Even if they weren't worth saving, even if you didn't know them personally or at all. Isn't that why you got into heaven anyway? Because you sacrificed yourself for someone you didn't know in the slightest?

You died for that reason, what's so wrong in doing it a second time?

Besides, souls like that one sinner Charlie showed the court, Angel Dust, could be on the path to light and eternal paradise... you could almost feel it in your bones and you bet Emily did too.

Wait, that's right--

Emily!

You could have almost jumped from your seat, Emily was the key to your path to Hell! But how to get to her-- Sera was always around..

Oh-- No, no, this is too good.

Ever since the court day Emily has been getting a bit more distant from Sera, if you could find Emily alone once without any inclination you were seeking her out then you could do it! Convincing shouldn't be too hard, she feels the same way as you do in a certain way.

You've been so caught up in your plan to escape disguised as an exorcist that you couldn't see the answer right in front of you! All those weeks wasted-- the initial plan was bound to fail anyway no matter the amount of preparation since, according to your research, the exorcist angels were scattered everywhere in their HQ like a beehive swarm; like busy bees buzzing with bloodlust. They seemed to all recognize each other and have specific physical attributes that you lacked immensely, even if you were to try and steal a uniform you really couldn't because-- you didn't know where they kept them inside.

You took in a deep breath in and out, 'I'm definitely not coming back unscathed..' you thought 'but.. everyone deserves a second chance, even sinners. And if they really don't deserve it then might as well save them so that they may continue living out their eternal sentences with no easy way out.'

You then looked towards a corner of your desk, grabbing a small and recent photo you took with someone very dear to you. You smiled softly at it before letting out a gentle huff of confidence and then carefully stuffing that photo in your bag for your trip to hell.

You then grabbed your bag, put it over your shoulder, and carefully walked out of your home.

It was currently early night in heaven, the sky as always was filled with stars that glow immensely so that heaven is never in utter darkness. At this time of the evening everyone was home and getting ready for bed, shops closing, people walking home. Thankfully you've hung around Emily long enough to know that when she's bothered by something, she doesn't go to sleep easily till she can fix it, and from what you knew the extermination in hell was still going to happen. 

Your wings started to gently flap and as quietly as they could they flew you up to the home quarters of Emily and Sera, them owning a taller building than the ordinary 'winner' would have considering their higher statuses.

It wasn't that hard to fly by since there was no need for security or guards, heaven never exactly needed to be protected from the inside.

You made your way around a high up balcony, one that you knew led to Emily's quarters. You noticed the balcony doors closed but light flickered from within; she's in there.

Your feet carefully plopped themselves on the balcony, nervously lifting your hand to knock on it-- still hesitant.

'Do I really want to do this?' 

It was too late to even ask that now, for your hand already knocked on the glass surface of the balcony door, breath hitched-- you awaited an answer.

...

The sound of pitter pattering steps could be heard from the inside as they neared where you were standing, a figure approached you from behind the glass.

Emily!

You smiled and waved at her awkwardly as she looked at you with a mix of shock, joy, and exhaustion. She opened the door to you with anticipation.

"______! How are you!... wait-- what are you doing here? It's late, you should be at home.."

"Look Emily," you said breathlessly due to your anxiety. "There's no easy way to say this but I need a huge favor from you.. bigger than anything I could ever ask for and will ever ask for. Not only that but- I'm sure you'll believe in my cause.."

She hummed in thought, eyes narrowed at you in an attempt to see if she should listen to her head or heart. "I'm listening..."

You then nodded towards the inside of her room, silently asking if you could go inside so no prying ears could hear you, even if it's unlikely. She read the words in your expression as she nodded and welcomed you in, closing the door behind her carefully.

You started whispering, "I need you to teleport me into hell."

Emily's breathing scuffled a bit, absolutely shocked from your request. "Hell??.. but why?.. ______ you nor I have ever been to hell!.. you could get really hurt or worse die..!" she whisper-yelled in concern to one of her best friends.

"Well-- we aren't sure if they can truly kill angels but I've practiced a few spells to try to defend myself. You know I'm a lot faster with my wings and if I find Charlie I'm sure she'll keep me from getting hurt!.."

"Charlie?.." she asked, now fully remembering what happened on that fateful court day "Wait, you want to go to hell to see Charlie?"

You nodded, "I have to, it's the only way I can survive there. Besides, I need to help her.. you know that what Adam and Sera are letting happen is unjust and inhumane.. you and I both know and agree about this and you can help me by sending me down there."

"but.. _____ I--"

"Emily, the extermination is going to happen in less than a month now.. there's no time left to leave this in the air."

"______.. are you even sure you'll survive a second down there? how do you even know you need to be there, if you really want to help you can try and stay up here where it's safe--"

You let out a quick sigh of fear, afraid that she's getting cold feet "C'mon.. even with your influence Adam won't stop and neither has Sera ordered him to pause for even a moment.. Besides, if they need to have sinners show their improvement and actually redeem themselves.. they need someone who actually has been in heaven and knows how to get there. 

They need a role-model, an example, and I'm willing to help and sacrifice myself a second time to at least give other people a second chance at 'living'.

This time, you shut Emily up, she's speechless-- you truly took her breath away with how determined you were. You were right to some extent, help from a 'winner' for sinners, become just like them as a teacher and be an example could genuinely make much improvement and possibly open the case once more. 

She softly smiled at you, a small amount of pride swelling in her chest, pride that she has for you and hope that she has in your mission.

"Well.. I'll take you there but not without one thing--" she stepped closer to you and folded three fingers of her right hand, then crossed you with them in an all too familiar pattern. Right shoulder, left shoulder, forehead, chest. The sign of the Cross. A sudden glow shined from you for a split second as if a star bursted around you,

"A protection spell. To protect you from the strongest blow that encounters itself towards you, it only works once but it's the strongest spell I know that can be an extra safety net for you down there.. meanwhile I'll try my best to convince Sera to think differently about the genocides.."

"Oh.. thank you Ems!.." you hugged her and she hugged back tightly, both of you guys brimming in a flurry of hope, determination, and anxiety. "I won't let you down.. I promise when I come back, and I will, Adam won't need to kill anymore people with his exorcists anymore.."

"Just-- be careful, _____. You're one of a kind, no one helps and brightens things up like you do.." she backed away from the hug only to hold your hands and smile at you, conflicted but convinced by you.

"Promise. I'll be back before you know it."

"Pinky.. promise?" she took out her pinky finger for you to hold onto, to reassure her that she's making the right decision. Helping you.. she doesn't want to lose you by sending you down your death sentence.

"Hehe.. pinky promise." you took out your own pinky finger to wrap it around hers, another spark lighting up around your wrapped fingers as if sealing the deal.

"Good.. once again are you sure you're prepared??.." she couldn't help but ask-- she didn't want to lose her best friend..

"I'm ready to face what I have to face, ready as I'll ever be." you let out a shaky sigh, betraying you slightly.

Emily let out a shaky sigh of her own before stepping back and slowly summoning a portal, it starting from a little glow in the air to slowly trying to mass itself into your height and size so you may go through with ease. It was difficult since it was mostly Sera or Adam opening them with constant ease and she never really had to until now, unfortunately though.. it was starting to make noise.

You hold your bag as tightly as you could, double checking if all the zippers are closed before preparing yourself for the even growing yellow portal.

"I don't know exactly where the Hazbin Hotel is so-- be... be careful _____.."

You looked at her and nodded with confidence, a look of strength emitting from your face. 

There was shuffling from the hallway outside Emily's room, "Emily? What are you doing at this time of the night?" Sera could be heard from afar, her voice loudly echoing across and even through the closed doors. 

Emily sped through her magic as she used as much of her mental strength as she could to open up the portal, it shouldn't be that hard but-- she never had to do this, she never thought she would do this. She was only in charge of keeping you happy-- but if this were to make you happy, then she's obliged to do so.

The portal was finally big enough for you to enter through, both of you hearing loud oncoming steps coming from outside the halls and in a quick motion you waved at Emily with a smile, her doing the same thing before finally-- you jumped into hell.

Right as you disappeared into the yellow and gold void, she let herself go from holding it open and right as Sera was opening the door, without even knocking mind you, the portal disappeared from thin air and all that was left was Emily standing in the middle.

"What are you even doing?.." asked Sera looking puzzled.

Emily chuckled nervously, shrugging her shoulders "Practicing for next show's fireworks..? heh.."

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You on the other hand-- were being slammed against a hard metal surface that smelled like rotten flesh and food, dried blood, and other stinky items. Hitting your head against it causes you to groan in pain and slowly hold your head, the smell beside you slowly making you feel a bit sick.

Your halo, clattering to the ground, its glow still present on it.. confirming your status to still be an angel. 

"Fuck.." you mumbled, rubbing the back of your head while picking yourself up from the ground. Looking at your surroundings you were in a sort of alley, the metal surface being a large dumpster. Your wings flapped a bit to stretch them out from the hit you took. 

You look at your halo and feel a huge sigh of relief get out of your mouth, despite knowing that only becoming a fallen could only happen if the court officially banishes you from heaven from all you knew it still felt good to know you're still the same you. Besides, you didn't know if a winner has ever become sinner before so.. that at least helped your mind keep itself from flipping over.

God..but your surroundings?

It reeked.

You peeked a bit in the dumpster out of curiosity but the intensity of the smell made you wanna puke so your nose begged you to move away. Now looking at the exit out of the alley you first picked up your halo to then place it above your head, floating above you right after letting it go. Picking up your bag once again to hold it tightly near you so no one would steal it.. being as cautious as you could.

Slowly peeking out of the alley you noticed a humble little town with colors of red, shades of pink, and filled with a few sharp toothed people. Everyone walked around casually and happily, like how normal humans would. Despite how huge the place is there seems to be a lack of crowds.. as if half of the town is missing.

Huh, this place reminded you of a sunny day in New Orleans when you were alive. Is this.. really hell? You haven't come across any people jumping out to kill you or anyone else randomly but a few explosions from far away still made you jerk from fear.

You carefully stepped out of the alley, feeling especially out of place the moment you started walking out. People with various shades of gray skin, everyone with blacked out eyes, sharp teeth, and all still dressed in clothes from around the time you died, maybe a bit of more older fashions but still.. reminded you of back home on earth just slightly.

Each step you took was a new question that you gave yourself.. where were you? is this a level or part of hell? does hell look this way all the time? is the Hazbin Hotel of walking distance? is Emily okay? why does the air smell weird? is your dad Alastor around? is it obvious im not from here-- oh of course it is you have a fucking halo damn it.

'Everyone looks almost normal," you thought 'Maybe I can try to find someone to help m--'

"Oh!.." you bumped into someone, someone small. You looked down to see a fairly normal looking child with eyes entirely blacked out, no pupils to be seen. Geez.. you couldn't lie but they creeped you out a bit.

"Hello there.. sorry I didn't see you.." you spoke to the kid despite how weary you were, giving it an apologetic smile while waving a little towards them in a very awkward manner.

They spoke nothing but instead flashed you a large sharp toothed smile that made your blood curl a bit, what made it worse was what it did next.

"It's okay missy! I like your wings!" Normally you'd smile more and make small talk but-- then the kid took out a cut off hand from behind their back and started chomping it on it as if it was corn on the cob. With your skin crawling and your face as white as a sheet from the shock, the kid then proceeded to run off nibbling on the bleeding hand.

You stood there frozen, your stomach begging to release anything you ate before you came upon here. You slowly turned your head to the right, your peripheral vision noticing a large wooden sign.

'Welcome to Cannibal Town!'

'Well that.. really explains it.' you took a few deep breaths as you tried to control yourself and your upcoming panic as to not alert other cannibals of your fear.. but you could've sworn they could probably smell it off of you.

Would they eat you? Are they going to eat you?.. but some have been looking at you walking by-- are they getting ready to pounce on you, bite off your flesh and--

You stopped in your tracks, noticing how further you are in the town from all your overthinking. You looked up to see that you are at the front steps of a small stage?.. gazebo..? you couldn't remember how hard your heart was pounding.

All of a sudden you felt an incredibly sharp pain on your wing, one that made you shriek aloud and everyone suddenly stopped and stared at you. You turned to see an old lady with a cane looking very similar to other residents around you-- BITE your wing?? what the actual living fuck??

The old woman seemed to grin and licking the golden blood from the bite she got from your wings, fortunately for you she only bit and didn't actually get a chunk of your wing off instead.. either way it fucking stung the way a large wasp sting would.

"Angel wings.. not bad at all-- OUCH!!" The old lady then let out a shriek herself, being hit by the end of a sun umbrella this time and whoever was holding it was shooing her away from you.

"Shoo! Shoo! Susan!! Run off now! We don't bite new otherworldly guests like that!" The voice shouted before the old woman scurried off just as fast as she came. 

You whimpered a bit as your bitten and slightly bleeding wing leaned towards your hands, your palms and fingers then gently caressing them as an attempt to soothe the pain with tears brimming and silently sliding down your eyes.

"Oh I'm so sorry about that sweetheart, that old hag has no manners." The same voice, a woman's voice, called out to you. Her appearance also looks similar to everyone else, the only difference is her large hat decorated with elaborate feathers and adorned with a small skull. 

"Let me see that dear.." she leaned in with her hand reaching towards your wing but of course you flinched away from her, absolutely not trusting her in the slightest form your first terrible experience and the many words of others before you.

You looked at her with fear you've never felt before, fear that you haven't felt since your death. You quickly backed away, your injured wing cowering towards your hands and chest.

'Holy.. fuck..'

"The names Rosie, sweetheart, what's a pretty little thing like you walking around here with no sense of danger?"

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alastor held you in his arms as your nine year old self was fiddling with a toy in your hands after a long day of being taken care of by one of Alastor's lady friends. The man was coming out of work from hosting his famous radio show as he usually always did and now was entering his home after a tiring day from work and honestly he wasn't up for taking care of you right now. If anything he should've probably let you stay with the woman forever and he wouldn't have to be dealing with baby troubles..

Yet everyday you somehow always gave him a reason to keep you despite his almost heartless nature.

He walked in his home and closed the door behind him, locking it as well. Walking over to the sofa he turned on a nearby lamp before setting you down on the cushions and let you be in your own world while he then went to go eat something himself. You didn't have to since the woman that babysat fed you quite well and you liked what she gave so there was no need for you to be overfed.

Alastor went to prepare a meal for himself, not saying much to you in the process since all he wanted was to eat and sleep so better to just fill one of the boxes on that checklist as soon as possible. So while you were still distracted he quickly made himself a meal and started eating so he wouldn't starve before bed.

You were playing with your toy the nice lady gave you, mumbling small nonsense here and there while playing around. Until you decided to speak up loudly from afar,

"Papa, can I ask something?" you talked as you kept yourself entertained with your toy.

Alastor sighed a bit "Yes dear, what is it?" exhaustion evident on his voice that contracted to his permanent smile, be it small or big.

"Is it true that when you found me, my mama and papa didn't want me because I was an ugly and loud cry-baby?"

Alastor almost spit out his food, inevitably starting choking on it. Saving himself from dying of choking by drinking his drink he set with his food and calmed down. "W.. Why do you think that sweetheart? Who told you such an untrue lie!.." 

In truth, he didn't actually know why you were abandoned in that alley. All he found when he picked you up was you wrapped around in baby blankets in a basket and a note with a date on it, most likely your date of birth, but other than that he never knew why you ended up there and why. He simply just took you in and called you his own.

"The boys in the playground I played with said their mamas and papas knew you, and knew you found me. They then started saying I dress too girly and that my real mama and papa left me because I was ugly and a loud cry baby and that's why I don't have a mama and papa." Your little voice seemed to shake a bit but obviously tried your best to hide it away even at this young of an age.

But your father could see and hear right through you. 

Alastor sighed before taking one last spoonful of his food before leaving his meal there to walk towards you, settling himself on the same sofa you both always make the best of memories, this being one of them.

"Well darling, those boys obviously have parents who don't educate them! And are as dull as a doorknob if they say all that foolish nonsense.. you do have a mama and papa!"

You looked at him incredibly confused, since when did you have a mother?

He noticed this and laughed a bit at your expression "Silly, I'm your mama and papa! I do both jobs! I make you food, I have clothes for you, I give you a home, I get you ready for school, I talk to you all the time because you're mine!" He spoke cheerily, as if stating a very well known fact "Their eyes also must not be working also since I think I got the prettiest daughter in all of New Orleans if I do say so myself!" he pinched your cheek playfully, making you giggle. 

He continued on "Yes, you did indeed cry a lot as a small tiny baby but do you think I would've kept you if you were an enormous crybaby? Of course not! Which is why I still have you here with me." Alastor-- "And you dress too girly??.. why, but of course you'll dress the way you do.. you're my little girl! how will my little dove be able to shine in her natural beauty if she doesn't wear the most marvelous pieces of wardrobe I can get her!" He then continued to pinch both your cheeks at the same time, some of your cute baby fat still present on your face despite being a year behind in heading towards the double digits. 

You giggled and laughed loudly, smiling.. just the way you should always be.

Yes he was too tired for this, he was downright exhausted, but hey-- if he can keep an unfaltering smile despite feeling this then of course he can keep up with you even if he's not in the mood. You're the only person who he doesn't like to see in pain, in tears-- 

It's his job to do this, for what is he if he leaves you wilting by yourself with no 'light' of your own to guide you.

Certainly, he wouldn't even deserve to be called your father.

"Oh and dear?"

"Yes papa!"

"What are the boys' names? And their parents? I must have a little chat with them soon!..."

Oh, Alastor.

[jmliebert]

☆lovesick astarion☆

who has a voice like silk, luring you in with every whisper

who sips wine with you, even if it's bad, your arms touching

who hides himself behind wicked words and sarcasm, his heart wary

who is stargazing, lost in thoughts, yet his mind is always wandering back to you

who is self-confident, but also not confident at all

who desperately clings to his meticulously crafted facade of indifference, only for it to shatter when you offer him your kindness again and again and again

who laughs with you, only to realise he hasn't laugh like this for the longest time

who finds you weaknesses adorable

who lets you do his hair (!)

who visits your tent every night, craving not just the taste of your blood but also your company; he realises

who takes a long time to open up, but when he does it's heart-wrenching, soul-ripping, clawing at your insides type of experience

who seeks redemption in your eyes

who craves your touch, even if he's scared, even if he's conflicted

who cries in your arms

who sinks his teeth into your skin, breathing deeply, his longing reaching far beyond a simple thirst for blood

who cares for you more than he cares for himself

who longs to hold you close, quietly wishing he could stay in your arms for centuries

who falls for your gentle touch and knowing eyes

who often wonders how different his life could have been if only he had met you sooner, way sooner

who feels a deep need of your constant presence, but it's hard for him to admit it outright

who kiss your neck and lick your wounds

who wants to be strong so you never have to feel afraid

who would literally become ascendant, losing himself completely in the process, only to keep you safe

who is scared of how much he cares for you, how much power you have over him, you could crush him in the palm of his hand and the worst part is; he would let you

who gives you kisses that leaves you breathless

who lets you sleep with Halsin despite it not sitting right with him, only so you could stay close to him

who is learning his sexuality all over again with you

who appreciates your patience

who travels the world with you, trying to make up for the years he’s lost

who yearns with every fiber of his being to walk in the sunlight with you

who kneels at your feet, his lips brushing your hands with tender devotion

who lets his ears droop when you say something hurtful, his emotions showing despite himself, so vulnerable with you

who looks at you with a soul-piercing gaze, his crimson eyes haunting your thoughts

who would burn the world for you

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

about this part when I said he would let you crush him, I felt it so much during the quest(?) with the drows and this moment with a *thousand yard stare* and it fucking crushed me, okay? when i'll be romancing astarion again in my playthrough I wont even go there and this is the statement i'll live by

okay, anyway!

you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt 10.2

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: The wall breaks.

Tags: manipulation, mentions of blood, smut, cream pie, fingering, sauron needs a therapist he is unwell, wall sex, obsession, sauron pov,

Notes: you sluts convinced me. I'm very proud of this one, especially the first part. As always I love your feedback.

He splashed the water over his face, mind reeling back to hours earlier. He hoped his ruse with the blacksmith worked. Yes, he wanted a job and a fresh start. At least part of him did, the part that didn't seek to take over the world and force every race under the sun to their knees. But he also knew where you'd be. Of course he did. He could sense you anywhere. You'd never be able to hide from him. The sight of you with the boy made his blood boil, but it all served a purpose. To make you doubt. To make you think. To convince you, he felt nothing real for the elf. Nothing like he felt for you.

That wasn't a deception. He didn't feel the same for her that he felt for you. She was a powerful ally and the best pawn he could have at his disposal. She intrigued him, but in a different way than you did. She had such darkness in her, but she didn't acknowledge it. She was beautiful, of course. But you were different in ways that he dare not think too much of. The wall he has built in his mind was too strong to allow his mind to wander to what his feelings for you meant, where the deception ended, and his truth began.

The knock drew him from his thoughts, and he made quick work of dressing himself. He couldn't help but smirk. It was you, of course it was, and it meant that his plan had worked. In a moment, his face changed as he opened the door.

“When did you get back?”

The sound of your voice started a chorus inside his soul. The miniscule part of him that could feel love and affection and joy and hope came alive. Morgoth convinced him it was the weak part of him. Morgoth had worked endlessly to destroy that. Sauron could almost believe it was gone until he looked into your eyes, and it ravaged him, shaking his being and willpower and fighting against everything he knew and believed.

“Early this morning, before sunrise.” He spoke softly. Your silence was thick in the air. Perhaps he needed to do more.

“Sweet one, I am sorry for what happened before. I ..-”

“Do you love me?”

What?

No.

He didn't.

He couldn't.

He wasn't capable of it.

Inside his mind, the carefully constructed wall began to crack.

Do you love me?

The words rang in his ears, getting louder and louder until it was all he could think. His mind could not break free. There was no manipulating or deceiving his way out of this. His consciousness would no longer let him deny it.

He couldn't lie to you. Not truly. Not without regret. The lies he spoke to you were like needles coming from his throat and spilling from his tongue, gashing and cutting him before spilling past his lips. He could not lie to you.

Why?

He could not look you in the eyes and think of bringing you harm. He had tried. How many times on that raft had he thought of drowning you in the sea. Or stabbing you. He could imagine his body acting the movements. He could see it in his mind's eyes, but he could never do it. He could never harm you. He couldn't even make something else bring you harm.

Why?

You made him think of home. Of song and light and love. Of a time before time when everything was peaceful and quiet. Your touch brought him a warmth he had not felt in time unimaginable.

Why?

Why did he have to protect you? Why did he seek you out every moment of every day? Why did 3 days apart from you feel longer than the thousands of years he spent as sludge in a cave?

Why did you make him wonder? Wonder about the future, about his morality, about his redemption. About the mystery of if Maia and mortals could ever have children. Why did you make him think of a family?

Why was your mere presence so utterly groundbreaking to who he had become that it felt like an apocalypse had come over his very soul?

“Halbrand, do you love me?”

Your voice tore him from these thoughts, and looking at you, he knew. He knew.

And in that knowing he feared. He feared what he could do to you. He feared what others could do to you. He feared his old master long dead.

He feared because it was true.

He feared because he loved you, and he could no longer keep it hidden from himself.

“I do.”

He was not prepared for when you sprung on him, and he couldn't gather the willpower to hesitate. He had felt lust before, for others of his kind and for a select few elves, but what he felt for you transcended the physical. You tasted sweet, of course you did, and he couldn't help the groan that rumbled in his throat. His fingers dug into the plump flesh of your cheeks as if afraid you'd move away.

He had longed for this moment, it seemed for an eternity, but he knew that was not the case. He broke the kiss, holding your chin in his grasp as he kept your face away from him. He could not just take you. He had to know if you wanted him too. He craved it. And if you didn't want him, he would wait until you did.

“Sweet one,” his voice was deep and rough, looking down at you. You looked so pure and so innocent. “Tell me this is what you want.”

“I want this. I want you.”

You spoke with no hesitation. There was not even a moment. What he thought about in the quiet of the night with his cock grasped in his hand, the lewd sounds he'd only imagined you making, it was all about to become a reality.

“Fuck,” he groaned and made quick work of pulling you into his room. He pushed you against the door, knee between your legs and lips bruising yours. He could feel your arousal on the cloth of his pants, his tongue slipping inside of your mouth. You tasted so sweet. So pure. So good. He could never be sated.

Your skin felt soft in his hands. He squeezed and kneaded all of you. Your stomach. Your thighs. Your ass. Your breasts. The feel of your skin would be an invisible tattoo etched into his hands until the stars rained from the skies.

It was him who whined when you pulled away. He was desperate for more. His forehead rested against yours as he watched you. Your lips swollen and red, he could taste your spit on his tongue, and he needed more of you.

But only if you wanted him too. Only if you needed him to. The devastation of his love for you had been immense. He could not imagine the havoc your rejection would cause. One hand gently rested at the base of your neck to direct your eyes to him, his thumb softly caressing your skin.

“Tell me to stop, sweet one, and I will.”

You looked up at him, and his breath caught in his throat. How could anyone compare to you?

“I am yours.”

Oh, sweet one.

You did not know what you spoke. You did not know who you were saying this. He had selfishly claimed you, but in this moment, he felt almost broken because you did not deserve him.

“Do not say words when you do not know the weight of them, sweet one.”

“I am yours.” And suddenly you were leading his hand under your dress and to your soaked underwear. He had to grit his teeth to stop his eyes from rolling back. He doesn't dream, but he had dreamed of this. It was slick and wet and hot. And you smiled at him.

Fuck.

He did not care about his deception in this moment. He would fill you with his corruption, his darkness until it flowed from you like a fountain. Until it dripped in pools at your feet.

He moved his fingers against your clit, softly and slowly, “Has anyone touched you like this?” His voice was thick with desire.

You shook your head, but that was not good enough for him. He gently squeezed your throat, and he felt the blood that surged under his touch. One day, he would carve his name into your flesh, and he would lap at the blood that flowed from the wound.

“Use your words,” he mumbled softly.

“No, only you.”

Only him.

He slid his finger inside of you, relishing the sound it made. The wetness and slick on his fingers made him want to taste you, but he couldn't, not tonight. He knew he would spend forever in between your thighs, and he did not have the time for that.

“Fuck, do you hear that?” His finger moved faster, the wet sound of your arousal filling the room. “My sweet one,” he cooed, “fucking soaked at the thought of my cock, huh?”

He breathed heavily, his cock was achingly hard. He was addicted to the feel of your cunt and the sounds it made as he fucked it. The way you backed against his palm, the blissed out look in your eyes, he watched it all intently. He added a second finger and as your lips parted, he hungrily tasted your mouth once more. It was sloppy and wet, his teeth tugging at your lips. He couldn't get enough. Grunts and groans and growls ripped through him as he fucked you with his fingers harder and deeper. His lips trailed to your neck, licking your salty skin and sucking until your skin turned red.

You belonged to him.

You whimpered and gasped, and he needed more of it. He gently rubbed your peaked nipple and that was enough. You were a squirming mess as you came, soaking his hand.

“That's it, that's my girl,” he mumbled softly, his fingers never ceasing. “C'mon sweet girl. Fuck, look at you. Look at that pretty fucking face.”

He watched you intently as your body relaxed and your head hit the door. “That was incredible,” your voice was soft and spent.

He chuckled, his thumb coaxing you to look at him. “Pretty girl, look at me.” You did as he told you, his hands cupping your face. You were so pretty. So beautiful. Especially now, exhausted from how hard you came.

“That's my girl,” he squeezed your cheeks in his hand. “My pretty fucking girl. I need you to look at me, okay, and I need you to be honest. There is nothing more I want right now than your cunt squeezing around my cock but I need to know you want that too.”

“Yes, Halbrand, please.”

And that was all it took.

It was a blur as he moved clothes to the side but the moment his cock slid inside you, any moral dilemma or internal conflict disappeared. Only you mattered. Only how perfect your cunt wrapped around him was important. He held your face so he could watch how you reacted to him and he could tell from your lidded eyes and flush face you felt it all too.

"Fuck,” his breath hitched.“Fuck. Does my cock feel good, sweet one?”

You nodded, but again, that wasn't enough. He needed to hear your voice say it, “No, no, no. Use your words. Let me hear it.”

“Your cock feels good,” you breathed out.

Hearing you say that made his cock twitch inside of you. “Such foul words from such a pretty mouth.” His thumb traced your bottom lip. “I'm going to move now.”

You nodded before catching yourself, “please.”

One day, he'd have to make you beg for him.

He looked down to where your bodies connected and moved, watching his cock fuck your cunt for a moment before his attention turned to you. Your eyes rolled back and lips parted like a cock drunk slut already. His cock drunk slut. The slick sounds filling the room pulled his attention back to where you two met. The way you stretched around him was intoxicating to watch.

“You're taking my cock so well, sweet one.” He kept moving, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

Your hips moved to match his thrusts and the fingernails in his skin. You had broken so easily. Given into him so easily. He knew he could take you wherever, knew by the look on your face that you'd be his to fuck whenever he pleased.

“You're mine,” he whispered. “This my fucking cunt, isn't it?”

“My cunt is yours,” you whined.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

He thrusted deep and hard, watching your face. You were his. His alone. No one could have you. No one could dare. He'd burn the world to the ground and everyone with it. He'd drown the world in blood. No sin was too dark for him to commit, not if he ended back here. Deep inside you.

Your eyes fluttered closed, and he couldn't have that. He roughly squeezed your cheeks until your eyes opened.

“Eyes on me. Focus on the feeling. I want to see how good I make you feel. Look at those pretty eyes. Those. Pretty. Fucking. Eyes.” He gasped, his grip on your face tight. You whimpered and arched into him.

Something about how you looked at him in that moment, he realized you owned him. He was yours. No one else's. No elf. No Maiar. There was only you. You were his religion, and this was his worship. He was yours. You owned him. He was ruined for anyone else. Perhaps you were not made for him, but he for you.

“You feel that cock, huh? It's yours, only yours. This is your cock, sweet one. I am yours.”

He could tell you were close, and he was too. How he wished it was his true name falling from your lips. He fucked into you harder and harder.

“Tell me you love me,” he whispered, “tell me you love me, and I will come undone.”

He needed it. He needed the release. He was desperate.

“I love you.”

It was music to his ears. Moments later, when your cunt clenched around him and cries ripped through your body, he was soon to follow. His head buried in your neck as his warmth coated you. Your name passed through his lips. He would never be sated. He would always need this.

And later that night, long after you fell asleep, as he caressed your face, he knew he could never go back across the sea. He would stay here with you and prove his redemption to the valar. That he would start a family with you. That he would make you happy. The only thing that mattered more was keeping you safe.

Nothing mattered more than that.

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Rewatching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and this gets me every. time.

I've always felt Spike's redemption arc is one of the more compelling narratives in the series. A ruthless and charismatic villain, he's forced to ally with Buffy to defeat common enemies. Still a selfish, soulless demon, he develops feelings of lust, then comes to genuinely care for her, Joyce and Dawn. Seeing the pain he causes Buffy drives him to seek a soul, believing it's the only way he can become worthy of her. And then full circle as he sacrifices himself to save the world.

Doesn't hurt that James Marsters did such a bang up job portraying Spike!

[jiminrings]

anything

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 10k

glimpse: yoongi doesn't want to move on from his ex because she's everything he's ever known, whereas you want to move on from him because he's everything you've ever loved.

alternatively, yoongi's your best friend and you've been in love with him your whole life.

[ angst, fluff, friends to Not Friends to lovers, pitiful amounts of Yearning And Pining, emotional constipation, second lead taehyung being unbearable And delicious somehow, jealousy, the harrowing argument of what it means to seek growth n seek comfort, VINDICATION!!!, redemption ]

notes: because i've decided that i will never become sick of writing lovers who are doomed but not really, here we are 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ to get the full experience, pls listen to the song that was the inspo behind this!!

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! 

Yoongi's only ever been with one woman his entire life.

Ever since he turned old enough to introduce someone to his parents without them mistaking it for puppy love, which in his case was at seventeen years old, Yoongi quickly realized that he doesn’t ever want to introduce anyone other than Haein.

Yoongi, at his fresh age of seventeen, made a pact to himself to never bring someone home again if it’s not Haein, because bothering a nineteen-year old you for your own house slippers to lend to his girlfriend (he didn’t want to spend his allowance buying a nice pair when he could just sacrifice his dignity by groveling at your feet for it) was too much of a hassle.

He didn’t like the fuss that came with forming crushes. Yoongi’s spent countless nights scrutinizing his first love’s actions during recess and microanalyzing her tone towards him from the morning earlier— he doesn’t want to go through any of that again. 

He doesn’t want the grown-up equivalent of it either, because all throughout high school and some bits of college wherein he and Haein were together and totally not broken up in a perpetual on-off cycle as usual, Yoongi thought that he was set for life with her.

Unlike you, he hasn’t had his share of multiple first kisses. Yoongi, not even once, stepped into a bar with wandering eyes and a hopeful perk to his tone. He hasn’t worried about making first impressions again, nor has he ever had to ask how many people came into the picture before him.

In Yoongi’s eyes, it’s only been Haein the entire time. There’s no before, during, and after her, even if the last phase in time is just something he hopes for and is not set into stone. 

It’s still Haein for him, the kind, starry-eyed girl that wore your house slippers when she stepped foot into his childhood home for the first time to meet his parents, and it’s been her ever since.

It’s still her, because she never knew that the slippers she wore was actually yours, which made it her one and only designated pair, so much so that she even took it with her when she moved in with Yoongi in their shared apartment.

It’s still her, because you’ve gone through multiple pairs ever since, and so did the boyfriends you took home to meet your family.

It’s still Haein, because Yoongi hasn’t moved on from her even if they broke up for good (or atleast that’s what you’ve heard in verbatim and what Yoongi refuses to confirm) a year ago.

"There's nothing wrong with being with someone new," you snort, your tone bordering on condescending to which Yoongi predicted correctly, simply because you’ve had this conversation a million times already. 

You told him that in your attempt to comfort him when Haein broke up with him back on the second semester of their first year in college, wherein he found himself wailing against your sheets at your dorm.

You told him that in your attempt to appease him when he broke up with her during their junior year, wherein he had to wipe at his tears furiously before fixing his tie because it was only hours before your graduation and both your parents downstairs are calling for a picture.

You tell it to him now too, in your attempt to convince both Yoongi and yourself, as he starfishes on your couch while reminiscing what could’ve been another anniversary (albeit choppy and not at all continuous) of the first time they held hands.

"Yes there is," he groans, his emotions maturing enough not to cry helplessly unlike the past breakups, but not enough to stop glomming onto you. “I don't want to talk about my favorite color again. I don't want to answer how many siblings I have. I don't want to be asked the extremely quirky question of whether I think pineapple belongs on pizza or not, again!"

"It's only normal to introduce yourself again and again until you find the right one for you!" you laugh, your self-built amusement keeping the entire situation light for you because if you don’t find a way to distract yourself from Yoongi holding onto Haein pathetically, just like how you do so with him, you’d be as devastated as him.

You’d be devastated too if you realize that there’s little to no chance of earning back the only person you’ve ever truly loved, if not more— except you’re not Yoongi, and he’s not Haein.

What you have to go through is more devastating because Yoongi’s never really been yours in the first place.

"But I want Haein to be right for me," he whines, his eyes sleepy from all the fatigue that comes with driving all the way to your place, just so he could be miserable around you and not apart from you. “Even if she's not, I want it to be her."

You’re quiet for awhile, and Yoongi doubts your silence because you’ve only ever chewed his ear off whenever he started moping about Haein. He’s noticed it ever since you were young; you’d never let a single second pass without overwhelming him with your words whenever he thought too deeply, too lowly about anything. You didn’t give him a break to even think when it comes to times like these, so Yoongi grows even more concerned when you give him a break.

He’s used to the noise that is you trying to distract him from everything that pains him.

"For the record, you already did those things twice in your life,” you murmur after some time, looking up from the glass of wine that Yoongi poured you and bought for your collection before he made the decision of crashing out over Haein in your living room.

"Oh my god, did I kiss someone while I was drunk? When you dragged me out for drinks last week? When-… when it was, uh, when it was the anniversary of me and her moving in and-…”

"No, you monogamous asshole," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. "You did it with Haein."

"What are you talking about?" Yoongi tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to comprehend what you’re saying.

You still look annoyed at him, as you’ve always done whenever he comes to you crying about her, but now, you look more subdued; like you’re a little more melancholic for god knows what reason (Yoongi knows it’s definitely not about him and Haein’s breakup), and a little less agitated at having to have this conversation for the nth time.

"I knew you first, Yoongi," you remind faintly, shoulders offering a weak shrug. "You had to do it all over again for Haein when she came into your life, but I don't see you complaining."

Yoongi hits pause on his agony to frown slightly, sitting up on your couch in order to nudge you with his shoulder. ”But that's different because I grew up knowing you. It's only natural for you to know me this way.”

The snort that leaves you borders on offensive, and Yoongi automatically narrows his eyes when he senses the hint of sarcasm in your smirk.

”You mean know you as intimately as your one and only girlfriend did? Maybe even more than Haein actually does know you?"

"If you put it that way it sounds weird, but yeah," Yoongi scoffs defensively, crossing his arms on his chest before looking up at the high ceilings of your apartment in surrender. “Aren't just close friends basically lovers without the formalities?"

Yoongi’s only ever been with one woman his entire life.

You figure it’s because of that so he doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

You figure it’s because of Haein’s monopoly on his feelings and experiences that you convince yourself that Yoongi hasn’t been kicked around enough, to realize that what he’s saying is enough for you to assume a higher, closer place in his life.

You figure that Yoongi only knows love because of Haein and not love itself, enough for him to tell you that being close friends with him is the equivalent of loving him in that light, only without the coveted crown that comes with being his first and only love that Haein still possesses.

"You're right," you mutter, downing the rest of your wine and the assumption that Yoongi knows it’s him whom your hearts yearns for. "It does sound weird when you put it that way."

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s a manny. 

More specifically and less confusingly, Yoongi’s a male nanny and he enjoys the job.

When you graduated two years earlier than he did, all he talked about was how happy and envious he was for you over being born earlier than him. He told you that you were unfair (and so were your parents) by bringing you to the world earlier and not as the same time as him, even detailing how he wants to be just a day older than you instead of you being ahead by two full birthdays.

When you graduated two years earlier than him, proving just how lucky you were (even if Yoongi argues that it’s your sheer intellect and not something as silly as luck) by landing a coveted job, all Yoongi could talk about was how he wanted to follow in your footsteps.

He’s not in the place where you are now, and although neither of you are bitter about it, some part of Yoongi still thinks what could’ve been.

“I should’ve never brought it up,” you apologize sincerely, nudging him with your knee to get the point across because you didn’t really mean to throw him into a loop.

You’re sure that Taehyung, your colleague who’s one year your junior and knew both you and Yoongi from college, didn’t really mean to offend the latter either, or atleast that’s what you think. 

You only opened up about your brush-up with Taehyung in the elevator because it was your first time bumping into each other having worked in the same company for so long, and you thought (read: thought) that Yoongi would be amused about the interaction too.

You thought that Yoongi would be amused about your encounter with Taehyung because the third question he asks you (the first asking how you were doing and the second asking if you were single) ventures straight to Yoongi and what he was up to. 

You thought he’d be amused that Taehyung still remembers how the both of you were attached to the hip despite being apart in year levels, but with the way Yoongi scowls (even for just the briefest second), you knew that you hit a sore spot. 

“Nah. It’s okay,” Yoongi exhales, glossing over the random question of Taehyung asking if you were taken before willing himself to forget it completely, and moving onto the facet that you thought offended him. “It pays well, honestly. I didn’t think I would ever score a job like this.”

“Me neither,” you shrug lightly, being relieved when you see the playful roll of Yoongi’s eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he whines, throwing his head back in faux annoyance, to which he may or may not attribute to Hwayoung’s (one of the children he looks after) tendencies.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, Yoongs. It’s just that, well, I pictured that you’d be this hotshot data analyst, or I.T, or something equally as technical and now-…” you trail off, the smile in your face genuine. “You’re a hotshot nanny.”

“This wasn’t my dream. You knew that,” he snorts, asserting his point by once again bringing up your extensive knowledge about him. “But I was just strapped for cash this one time, and I was behind on rent and my stupid, complicated job at my old company didn’t pay on time– then you already knew about my neighbors being these newlyweds with twin babies and before I knew it, I was looking after them! I was making bank by staying up like I’ve always done, and I get an audience when I’m talking to myself!”

Yoongi doesn’t overestimate your familiarity for him, and neither does he overestimate your sincerity towards his decisions. You judge him, sure (you’ve never made your annoyance for his weakness for Haein and his affinity for their backwards-moving relationship a secret), but you’ve never actually discouraged him from anything.

You didn’t talk him out of getting back with Haein all those breakups ago.

You didn’t talk him out of applying for unrelated jobs outside of his degree.

You don’t talk Yoongi out of anything, even anyone, that’s capable of bringing him joy.

“You love what you’re doing and you’re earning a shit ton. You don’t have to be affected by what an old classmate is asking.”

“That old classmate is working in the same Fortune Global 500 company as you are,” he chuckles just a little bit bitterly, making you nudge his knee a little harder this time. “But still,” he deadpans. “It’s okay. I’ll get over it. I can consider this as practice anyway.”

“You’re… opening up a babysitting company…?”

“Stupid,” Yoongi snickers, squeezing your knee tightly before his hold disappears. “No! I mean practice before I have a family in the future!” he laughs, shaking his head at you as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world; as if his optimism for a future with Haein isn’t persistent. “I don’t know what’s Haein’s take on working if we ever do have children, but either way, it’s nice to know that I already have the basics mastered.”

Whenever you least expect it, even if you should know by now after spending so much of your life with Yoongi, he reminds you of your place.

“You and Haein aren’t even together now,” you mutter, keeping your gaze low.

“Can you shut up?” Yoongi groans, slouching in his seat. “I’m not saying we’re gonna have a family now. I’m saying maybe we’ll have one in the future.”

“But you’ve been broken up for years.”

“Again, Y/N,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, the playfulness between the two of you slowly but surely dissipating. “I need you to be quiet.”

( ♡ ) 

Your parents like throwing thanksgiving parties for you and your siblings.

It’s quite literally the joint event for all seasons because your parents don’t even dare to set out cake for anyone outside of your family to eat when the holidays come, promising to make the party they excessively fuss about to be an umbrella for the rest that they miss throughout the year.

It’s an event that none of you really asked for but your parents insist on anyway; mostly to celebrate their accomplished children, and just a tiny bit more to brag about the lives they’ve managed to cultivate.

Yoongi, like for every other thanksgiving party that your parents have thrown, shows up in his most prized suit. It’s his most expensive and cleanest one to date, and it’s a suit that he reserves only for your parents’ shenanigans; not for a relative’s wedding, and not for a rich friend’s event either — he wears it just for you.

“I’d hate to be your unemployed cousin during this time of the year,” he jokes, being unable to look around the room without locking eyes with atleast one of your relatives or mutual friends and waving at them, yet Yoongi’s not really peeved about it at all.

“Yeah, that side of the family hates us,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders loosening when you realize that you have nothing to be anxious about, especially when you’re just across the person who knows you the most.

You have your fun in these thanksgiving parties, and Yoongi has his own. Your definition of fun means owning up to your achievements and not attributing them to luck, poking fun at your siblings behind their backs, and maybe striking up a conversation or two with a family friend that you forgot was more handsome than you thought he’d be.

Yoongi’s fun on the other hand, only ever revolved around you and Haein when it comes to these parties. Now that the latter wasn’t invited this year and he’s not capable of trailing after her like a puppy, feeling like an outcast amongst a sea of accomplished individuals, Yoongi can now trail after you, feeling like he belongs.

“Look at my parents. They keep boasting about you so much, you’d think they gave birth to you,” he nods his head to them, talking your aunt’s ear off as they keep gesturing to you, grinning when you catch their gaze.

“I don’t look at you as a brother. Gross!” your nose scrunches, making Yoongi roll his eyes and subsequently kick you lightly in the shin.

The two of you, thankfully, are okay. The awkward conversation that transpired about Taehyung’s curiosity and Yoongi’s own insistence of a future with Haein seems to never have sprung up in the first place.

You’ve known each other for a lifetime; it only felt appropriate, nevermind unhealthy, to let familiarity take its toll to make the two of you complacent enough to not apologize to each other and still be okay by the next day.

“My parents didn’t graduate college, but you knew that already,” Yoongi talks, gaze still holding out to his parents from a distance like it’s a stare he can’t break off because his eyes feel too comfortable. “They found a lot of things– a lot of people annoying because they made them feel inferior, but we never felt that way with your family, y’know?”

You’re not one to deny the distance between you and Yoongi; everything from your age difference, to how your childhood house overlooked his, and even to the feelings you share and don’t share, there’s an imbalance the two of you would never be able to tip.

“Your parents are genuine, close friends with my own, and your family never pitied ours,” he smiles, eyes crinkling in gratitude as he does so.

“I know that,” you return the sincerity, eyes set on his while his gaze is directed elsewhere. “But where’s all this coming from?”

“I see the way you look at me,” Yoongi shrugs, the second that it takes him to turn his attention to you making you falter.

You don’t know if you’re more scared or relieved at the possibility of Yoongi knowing about your feelings.

“And how do I look at you?” you test the waters, tilting at your head to try and closely gauge the tiny smile on his lips, but you come up empty.

“I can’t tell exactly, but you always look at me with some sort of guilt.”

“Why would I look at you with guilt?” a breathless laugh escapes you, the ease plastered on his face making you more and more pressured.

“I don’t know either! You tell me,” Yoongi laughs brightly, slinging an arm across your shoulder to which no one bats an eye to, because although they don’t know the two of you as well as you know each other, they have a semblance of it.

They know how you and Yoongi are friends; how you and Yoongi are close friends who are basically lovers without the formalities.

“We’ve known each other for a lifetime, Y/N. There’s nothing about one another that could surprise us anymore.”

“That sounds so boring,” you mutter, the words slipping out of you before you could even control them, effectively dampening the sentimental mood that Yoongi’s in.

“Excuse me?” he asks, a little bit offended but a lot more hurt over your comment.

“We’re not always gonna be the same, Yoongi,” you continue, staring at your feet with your voice low because it’s not like you can retract your words anymore; they’re as out there as you are when it comes to loving Yoongi silently.

“Do you… not want to be friends with me anymore?” he whispers, arm suddenly stalling as he tries to deduct whatever the hell you could possibly mean.

“Where did that come from?”

Yoongi chuckles uneasily, almost regretful he even said that outloud in fear of manifesting it. 

“I don’t– I-I don’t know! It’s just weird with the way you’re talking. Like you purposely want us to change.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t,” he emphasizes. “If you’re already comfortable with the life that you have now, you don’t need to change,” Yoongi blinks slowly, unfamiliar with the way your eyes lack emotion. “I have you. I have the manny job. I have Haein.”

You’re quiet as you let Yoongi think and simmer in whatever he had to say, and he hates it.

“Is this life not enough for you yet?” he asks hesitantly, the premature scoff that leaves his throat making the bitterness linger for the slightest second. “What more could you want?”

You want to say it’s only him whom you lack, but you stay quiet.

You give Yoongi both the silence and the space to think, and he realizes that he’s never wanted to be overwhelmed by you more.

( ♡ ) 

Things have been awkward between you and Yoongi.

You didn’t mean to sound beyond ungrateful and out of touch, but simply (and maybe even arrogantly) put, Yoongi just didn’t get it. 

He didn’t get where you were coming from because he’s only stayed in one place long enough to call her his future. He didn’t get what you could be possibly going through because Yoongi only longs for comfort and not change because the latter wouldn’t benefit him in any way.

He’s right about him having the manny job makes him happy because he gets a heavy check and a learning experience. He’s also right, even if he’s rarely accurate when faced with her, about having Haein because you figure that if you were in his position, you wouldn’t ask for anything more.

If you were anything like Yoongi by having had the privilege of harboring the person you love and the life-long burden of having to yearn for her, you would be satisfied too.

It’s been a full week since the two of you talked and it’s the longest you ever went without any communication. There’s no texts coming from your end, but there had been plenty of it coming from Yoongi’s.

Yoongi, your best friend, knows that you didn’t end your thanksgiving party in the happiest note because he happened. He felt apologetic about it ever since because he didn’t mean to sound self-absorbed to the point of projecting his selfishness onto you; painting you as the villain would be the last thing he’ll ever do because he knew that between the two of you, you were the stronger one.

You’re the more rational, focused one who studied the same degree as he did, yet actually amounted to something infinitely more even if he’s the younger one who had more opportunities than you ever did.

You’re the more unyielding one between the two of you, because you can stomach ignoring him for a week while he’s about to lose his mind.

Yoongi could send a hundred more texts wherein he pretends to have mistakenly sent a discreet, low-lying sorry to you (because the two of you barely ever apologized to each other) instead of another person. He could react to a message of yours from two months ago just to try and see if you would comment on it.

He could even call you by Haein’s name just to purposely piss you off because he’d settle for anything if it meant breaking you out of your silent treatment, yet you don’t even move an inch whether he calls you on your phone or lingers in the coffee shop you frequent at in your workplace.

Yoongi can pull a hundred different reasons with most of them involving how he’s running errands with the children he looks after. He can say that Hwayoung knows your name (and he’s not lying about it either) and that she asked where you worked, and the both of them just happened to be in the area during their morning walk. He can say every excuse under the sun just to try and get you to talk to him, but you won’t budge.

Yoongi doesn’t like change but he likes the days wherein you rant to him about your day and ask how his went, just like every week before this one. He doesn’t like growth in the guise of everything he’s comfortable with being stripped away, but he likes the nights wherein he could call you and ask you to look after the children in the living room while he goes to the bathroom, when really, he’s just standing from a distance to look at you coo at them.

So when Yoongi got the call from your brother, asking him for a favor to look after your nephew if only he was free for the day (he wasn’t, but he made it work nonetheless), he immediately jumped at the chance of maybe, just maybe seeing you drop by at your family’s home.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says under his breath when he locks eyes with you in the nursery, your presence only being a surprise to him alone because he didn’t think you were staying with your parents the entire week when normally, you’d be a little high-strung staying with them after three consecutive days.

“Just been busy. Sorry,” you reply quietly, your apology only being an afterthought because you’re unsure who’s at fault.

“Me too,” Yoongi clears his throat, bouncing your sleeping nephew on his arms as he indiscreetly makes his way to you. “I’m sorry too, I mean.”

It’s weird for the both of you to apologize to each other.

It’s weird for you to see Yoongi in your childhood house and have no one question his presence, because the scene of him cradling your brother’s baby with a cloth strewn over his shoulder and your sister’s headband on his head to keep his hair away from his face, only looks right.

It’s weird for Yoongi to see you so torn up over him, and it’s even weirder that all the anger he had towards you for ignoring him just immediately dissipated.

Yoongi puts your nephew down on his crib with a precise gentleness to him, his hands cramping up not because he spent so long trying to get him to calm down, but because he doesn’t ever know what to do with them whenever you face him.

“You didn’t have to do this for my brother, y’know? You shouldn’t feel pressured to say yes just because he asked,” you clear your throat, filling the silence in with your voice that Yoongi has missed so badly.

“What are you talking about? I’m not on the clock right now,” Yoongi furrows his brows, the frown on his face evident. “I’m not here as a manny. I’m here as an uncle.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” he snorts, the snarky expression from him cutting through the tension between you. You could just throw your head back out of relief, knowing that Yoongi’s not that mad at you, but the both of you know you’re far from the clear.

You’re far from the clear when you don’t make a single move to come towards him across the room, even if it’s the only thing you wanted to do the past week.

You know you’re far from the clear and even further from moving on when it’s Yoongi who comes to you, his pace slow yet definitive, his fists unclenched for once as he practically leaps towards you in the end.

It takes one, two seconds for you to realize that although it’s Yoongi who made the first move to get close to you, it’s you who puts your hands on his cheeks, forehead rested against his with your eyes closed, tightly. Painfully.

Yoongi opens his eyes when you do, staying in your grasp even if he realizes that you almost kissed.

“You can read my mind, Yoongi, right?” you whisper, pulling apart briefly to look up at him, yet close nonetheless because you could still practically hear his heart beating out of his chest.

“Yeah,” he swallows the lump in his throat, the hand he has around your waist loosening for just a fraction of a second, yet you don’t need it— you don’t need him to unravel further to confirm what you’ve always known.

“So I don’t need to say it out loud,” you smile tightly, the shaky sigh that leaves you making Yoongi’s lips purse out of guilt. “So I don’t need to say it out loud that I love you,” you say in your mind, eyes already stinging even if Yoongi hasn’t let go of you yet.

“You don’t,” he affirms, his voice hoarse as his hand on your waist still doesn’t budge, the other cradling your wrist because he can’t decipher if it’s him wanting to keep your hand on his face, or if it’s him keeping you away. “You can read my mind too, right?”

You nod earnestly, the smile that he gives you even being tighter than yours.

“Right,” he clears his throat. “So I can’t— I-I don’t have to say it either,” he whispers. “I don’t need to say out loud that the feeling isn’t mutual,” you read in his mind, the silent admission effectively relieving you of the weight you’ve carried ever since you knew him.

Yoongi’s phone ringing is the only thing that snaps the both of you from your daze, your immediate composure being shaky despite having prepared for this for so long because you knew it anyway.

You know that no matter how much Yoongi looks like he belongs to you, your life, and everything in between, you still won’t stand a chance against the person who’d make him drop everything new for the promise of coming home to everything he’s familiar with.

“It’s uhm— it’s Haein,” he explains, the nervous grin he has on face being infectious despite your very own appearing for a much different reason. “She wants to talk about things.”

“You don’t have to let me know,” you shake your head, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Go, Yoongi.”

.

.

.

You’re not ignoring Yoongi anymore.

Apropos of nothing, Yoongi and Haein are talking again.

They’re not together, yet, but you know how it always ends between them anyway, so you steel yourself for the worst despite it being Yoongi’s best.

( ♡ ) 

You badly want to change.

You badly want to change and although it’s not Yoongi’s fault, the way he hovers around you makes you feel otherwise.

You already made well on your promise of not shutting him out whenever things get tough for you, but even then, no part of the way you’ve been acting recently ever appeases Yoongi.

He’s accustomed to you growing like you always have been, yet he didn’t even think that you changing bit by bit could ever impact him this greatly, Sure, Yoongi’s happy that you’re no longer ignoring him intentionally, but his stomach still turns every time you do reply to him at an ungodly hour and he’s reminded of your little joke (he hopes it is) that you’re more active at that time of night because of your extracurriculars.

Yoongi’s happy that you still turn to him, but a large part of him, if not the entirety, grows bitter when he sees you looking happier nowadays and he can’t tell if it’s because of something you’ve already told him or if it’s because of something totally unrelated and how he could never know, because the one thing that he made you promise is for you to keep being his friend.

You’re still Yoongi’s friend before, during, and after your confession, and he doesn’t know if that placates him.

Yoongi doesn’t want to amount to anything less than a friend to you but he doesn’t want to be your family either. He wants to be whatever it is in your life that knows why you’re smiling so much and why you barely rant to him.

He wants to be whatever, whoever, it is your life in order to know that you’re seeing Taehyung right from your mouth and not from your brother’s like he’s a jaded suitor that’s been anticipating bad news.

Yoongi wants to matter enough, as if he already doesn’t, to know about you having a boyfriend.

“You have a boyfriend and you didn’t tell me?” he spits, the way he barrels into your apartment with his own keycard being unceremonious. 

Yoongi knows today’s your rest day and he knows that by this time, you’d be on a call with him to ask about his day and entertain Hwayoung who keeps butting into your conversation. By this time, it would’ve still been you and him, whether or not Haein and Taehyung were in the picture.

“You’re hooking up with the guy that talked shit about me, and you didn’t bother telling me?”

“Taehyung didn’t talk shit about you,” you scoff, closing the door after him as you follow him into your living room.

Yoongi’s eyes widen comically, heart clenching when he realizes that you have no comeback for anything else he’s said, jaw clenching as he points a finger at you.

“He fucking looked down on me-…”

“He was just shocked!” 

“Are you seriously defending him instead of being on my side?!” he exclaims, the sarcastic chuckle that leaves his lips rubbing you wrong because for any other person and any other instance, you’d laugh with him too.

“Do you not expect me to?” you snarl. “You’re dragging my boyfriend’s name to an argument that you started, and you don’t expect me to defend him?”

“You’re being a hypocrite,” he grits, nostrils flaring in sheer anger.

“And if I am, then what about it?!” you throw your hands into the air, poking your finger at his chest yet he refuses to get out of your face. “Have you not ever been a hypocrite when it comes to defending the person you love?”

It’s not your glare that gets him to back off.

It’s not your hostile, defensive nature towards Yoongi, in defense of Taehyung, that makes him deadly silent.

It’s you, holding up a mirror for the same blind defensiveness that he’d always carry whenever your words just barely graze Haein’s honor.

You’re guilty of judging Yoongi, but not of dissuading him from pursuing Haein like he’s always done — Yoongi, however, can’t say the same for himself.

“I hope Taehyung’s worth it,” he spits. “I hope he’s worth treating me like this, because not once have I ever made you less of a priority even when Haein was still in the picture.”

The use of was makes you pause, the past tense making you blink owlishly and finally take a step back from Yoongi as if it’s just your proximity to him that was the raging problem.

“Haein was my girlfriend but I never, never turned my back on you. I never made things awkward for us. I never stopped showing up for you, even if it costed me with her. I never made you feel the way you’re making me feel now,” Yoongi heaves, jaw clenching from how hard he’s ignoring the lump in his throat.

You chuckle sarcastically, the briefest glimpse you have of yourself in Yoongi’s words making you feel utterly pathetic. “Yeah? And how am I making you feel now?”

“Like we haven’t known each other our whole lives.”

( ♡ ) 

It’s been months since you and Yoongi properly talked to each other.

Life got in the way between the two of you and as much as Yoongi didn’t want to push, you didn’t want to grow out of the comfort that you already had with Taehyung either.

There were still texts and calls, but in between Yoongi getting whisked away for his employers’ vacation for a change and you being content with your job and your boyfriend as your comfort, neither of you made any drastic moves after your fight.

The only apology that Yoongi could get out of you after storming off from your apartment was you asking if he had already eaten dinner two nights after your fight, while the only apology that your close friend could ever give to you was that he hadn’t (even if he actually did), just to get your conversation rolling.

You feel guilty reserving parts of you from Yoongi, namely Taehyung and how he fits into your life, even if it’s always been established that there’s no use hiding. You know a terrible lot of information about how Yoongi and Haein are in bed against your will, and Yoongi has an awful amount of knowledge about your preference for condoms and how you like your men. 

There’s guilt in your chest and you don’t think it would ever disappear for as long as Yoongi’s still in your life. Being defensive about anyone outside of your family and Yoongi, specifically because neither are synonymous no matter how much Yoongi keeps recurring from your family’s mouths, is something entirely brand new.

Taehyung is new to your system, just as Yoongi was all those years ago, and it scares him more than it scares you.

The concept of lagging behind someone who had just been a casual topic of interest (more specifically because he had seemingly offended you and him) then became your boyfriend overnight feels like a giant slap on the face because Yoongi, not once, has ever entertained the possibility that you’d be as lovesick as him.

He didn’t think that you were also capable of being defensive about a loved one who isn’t him, just like he is over Haein. 

He didn’t think about how angry and offended he’d feel seeing you become so protective of someone who doesn’t know you like he does, because in Yoongi’s defense, Taehyung doesn’t know shit about you.

Taehyung does not and will never know you like he does, because he never trailed after you and idolized you in everything that you do, so much so that he only pursued his degree because you did before him.

Unlike Yoongi, Taehyung never had to be taught by you how to drive and what it means to have his family’s manual transmission car stall right after the stoplight turned green, because it meant you having to comfort Yoongi who was in tears after being honked at, and you lying straight through your teeth to his parents by saying that he was excellent and should definitely be trusted with driving the car alone with Haein to take her on dates.

Unlike the person you know the most, Taehyung never had to have the conversation with your dad about looking after you in college despite being younger, yet puffing his chest out nonetheless to agree because he made it his personal mission.

Taehyung will never be Yoongi and the latter takes pride in it, except now, he feels that Taehyung doesn’t ever want to be in his position—

Why would Taehyung vie for his position when it’s clear that he’s at an advantage?

Yoongi ignores his feelings and grievances the best that he can, yet unlike the old him who could endure so much shit because it meant having you to lean on, he can’t help but explode now that it’s you whom he can’t see eye to eye with.

“Taehyung and I were thinking of eloping,” you say out of the blue, your admission feeling appropriate (in your eyes, atleast) because you and Yoongi have so much to catch up on after being apart and he strayed the topic towards your sister who’s expecting her first child.

You thought it was your turn to say something equally as life-changing, because with the way Yoongi hasn’t talked about Haein once and you assuming that it’s because they were back together and he was just shy to talk about it, you bit the bullet first.

You thought wrong, clearly, because the happiness completely drains away from Yoongi the moment you finished your sentence.

“What?” he asks. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, don’t be stupid,” he repeats, eyes narrowing at you in anger. “You’ve only been in a relationship with him for months-…”

“I’ve known him for years-…”

“And that still doesn’t justify you marrying him just because you feel like it,” he spits, your revelation far from making him happy like you thought it would. “Stop being stupid, Y/N. You’re not marrying Taehyung just because you’re in another one of your impulsive moods.”

Your mouth falls open at that, scoffing in disbelief because Yoongi isn’t letting up in the slightest with the way there’s no hint of his outburst just being a sick joke.

“I’m not being impulsive. I really do want to marry him!”

“Oh yeah? How’s married life going to work out for you when-…”

“I only told you because I wanted to let you know. I wasn’t asking you to weigh in, Yoongi,” you snap, crossing your arms in defense while Yoongi only steps towards you.

The thought of eloping with Taehyung crossed your mind once after a weird dream, and you thought nothing about it at first so you texted him and went right back to sleep. What you didn’t expect was that he didn’t hate the idea at all (in fact, he was even happy that you thought about it), and Taehyung’s confirmation for something unlike you, for something that resembled to settling and being comfortable, changed you completely.

“You don’t expect me to interfere when you tell me you’re going to make the biggest mistake of your life?” Yoongi huffs, his eyes widening over your seeming indifference. 

“Who the fuck are you to tell me that getting married to Taehyung would be the biggest mistake I’ll ever make?”

“I’m your closest friend! I know you better than you know yourself and-…”

“You don’t,” you retort. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all or even respect me when you think the worst of Taehyung when you barely even know him!”

“I could know Taehyung for a decade and still think the fucking worst of him!” Yoongi raises his voice, laughing humorlessly as he runs his hand through his hair. “I could know Taehyung or any other guy for a lifetime and still think that they won’t ever be good enough for you!”

The laugh that escapes you is offensive.

It’s as offensive as Yoongi making your graduation about him by crying to your sheets because Haein broke up with him, and it’s as offensive as you scoffing to his face when he said that having his job serves as his practice for a future with her.

“What, because you’re in love with me?” you spit, trying to trigger something in him just so he could leave you be, for good, because everything that’s he’s saying to now– with the defensiveness you’ve only heard from yourself whenever he rationalized trying to get back with his first love — takes you right back to your previous pining.

Yoongi’s only silent, trusting that you could read his mind, and you’ve never hated knowing him as much as you do than now.

“You’re telling me that you’re in love with me, right when I decided I was sick of loving you my whole life?” you whisper, the tears stinging from the corner of your eyes making your heart clench. You’ve been called too stubborn. Too calculating and too heartless, even by your own family, and for you to unfold in front of Yoongi this easily makes you wail. “Are you shitting me, Yoongi? Are you— are you out of your goddamn mind to tell me this?”

Yoongi looks down in shame, the truth of him being over his first love not relieving the weight on his shoulders like he foolishly expected, because everything he falls short when he sees you crying.

“I didn’t want to get back to Haein with something weighing so heavily on my chest,” he whispers. “I didn’t want to get back with her because you just ignoring me for a fucking week hurt more than any breakup I’ve had with her.” 

Yoongi, vividly, can remember how distraught he was. He can remember how he can’t recall a time wherein he didn’t have you to depend on, as if he didn’t ever outgrow the phase of him idolizing you and following you wherever you went.

As if he’s still the seventeen year old him asking to borrow your slippers for Haein, while deep down seeking your approval for her because he didn’t want to do anything without you beaming at him.

“I-I felt… I felt like I was losing my mind, Y/N.”

“Can you read my mind right now?” you ask, shakily exhaling as you look down on the floor.

“That’s a really stupid thing to bring up right now,” Yoongi breathlessly chuckles, letting his hair brush past his eyes because he’s a little terrified of looking how distraught, how disappointed, you are. “But no.”

“Do you not want to say it out loud?” he asks, making you laugh silently as you gathered the strength to sit next to him, yet not as close as you always did. “Whatever it is, it’s not like I’m going to give up now,” he mumbles, looking down on your hand that’s rested on the cushion, your pinky finger just centimeters away from his, yet he can’t move to hold you like he wants to.

You wanted Yoongi and he wants you, and there’s only so much points where you could intersect until you say what’s been lingering in your mind, just like every other apology the both of you have passed up.

“We need some time apart, Yoongi. We need space,” you mumble. “We need to figure it out on our own before we figure it out together because-…”

Yoongi finishes your thought for you, head tilted down and hand outstretched with the hope that comes with being a little too late for someone who’s waited a little too long.

“Because we’ve known each other our whole lives.”

Yoongi refuses to break even if he comprehends exactly what you’re saying, because there’s no point in it when he knows he’ll never be angry at you. You can defend him and you can hurt him all at once, yet he’ll never curse you, simply because there’s no point picking at wounds he’ll keep on licking anyway.

“Do we just-…” he shrugs lightly, pinky finger painfully close to yours until he makes the heavy move of lifting it, just enough to to cover yours. “Do we find our way back to each other? Is that it?”

“That’s the plan, hopefully,” you smile, sucking in a breath you never thought would be this heavy. “I’ll find you if you find me.”

“I’ll find you when you find me,” Yoongi corrects. “We’ll find our way back to each other.”

You resent comfort and Yoongi abhors change, but there’s only so much the both of you could take until you realize that the only thing constant in your lives is each other, no matter how many seasons pass you by.

For Yoongi, it’s you.

Despite everything, it’s still you.

( ♡ ) 

The year that you spend with Yoongi flitting every once in awhile like he’s only a friend, and not the man you’ve first loved, is a year you didn’t think you’d ever spend.

Despite you and Taehyung separating amicably, he still took with him the love that you sincerely invested. He wasn’t the first boyfriend you’ve ever had, and although you were no stranger to heartbreak, he still imprinted a large chunk of him onto you.

At one point in your life, you did want to marry him; and at several points in your life after him that you don’t even think of denying, you really thought it would be him if not for the life that you led.

You don’t resent Yoongi for loving you a little too late because there’s no point in it, as much as Taehyung doesn’t even hate you in the slightest for letting him let you go in pursuit of the change that the both of you badly needed.

Yoongi could never bring himself to hate you either, even if being apart from you gnawed at him from the inside. Making something out of himself had been his biggest plan outside of pursuing you from a distance, because as soon he tendered in his resignation letter to his employers and cried right in front of the children he looked after, Yoongi won’t ever lie and say that he wasn’t scared.

Yoongi resents change even if you’re someone who yearns for it, and even with the terror that wracks his bones of starting new without you being there for him as his safety net, Yoongi does it scared anyway.

He does it scared with one eye closed as he puts the degree he’s only learned to love because of you to work, developing an app for families to look for certified, trustworthy nannies.

He does it scared anyway with his heart barely into himself and fully into you when he shows up a full night early before your family’s thanksgiving party, donning his reserved suit as he clutches a new pair of house slippers, which again, like always and just like he is, is only for you.

For you, it’s Yoongi.

Despite everything, it’s still Yoongi.

[gyu-tori]

When The Reaper Weeps | K.TH

Pairing: grim reaper!taehyun x fem mortal!reader Genre: Angst, Romance, Mortality, Second Chance

Summary: The afterlife, where death waits in shadow, Taehyun walks the line between humanity and duty, a grim reaper bound by unyielding rules and a heart he has long denied. Cold and distant, he collects souls with precision—until one last wish changes everything.  

Y/N’s days are numbered, given seven days before the after life welcomes her. Her final mission is simple: mend the broken ties of her past.

As the days slip away, Taehyun’s carefully constructed world unravels. Y/N’s determination forces him to confront the emptiness in his existence. When choices arise—between rules, rebellion, and a love neither is prepared for—Taehyun must face the cost of defiance.  

Will he remain the Reaper, bound to his duty, or will he weep for the first time in centuries?

Warnings: taehyun is a bit of a tsundere, mentions of death, major character death(ish), reader is already dead, let me know if I missed any!

Word count: 12.4k

The quiet stillness of the afterlife was the only constant that Taehyun had come to know. The cold winds of eternity blew through the halls of the reaper’s realm, carrying whispers of the souls he’d escorted to their final resting places. Most of them faded into nothingness, their cries for help or hopes for redemption dissipating the moment they passed beyond the veil. It was his duty to guide them, and that was all. A grim task, but one that he carried out with cold efficiency.

Taehyun’s hands, always steady, gripped the scythe tightly as he watched the elderly woman in front of him. She was fragile, trembling with fear and sadness, the weight of her approaching death finally sinking in. Her eyes met his, seeking some kind of comfort, some sign that her journey would be gentle.

"What lies beyond isn’t for you to know now," he said, his voice as cold and unyielding as the winds. The words were automatic, a rote response that he had long since perfected. There was no room for sympathy in his role, and he had learned to suppress any flickers of emotion that might arise.

The woman’s hands shook as she clasped them in front of her, a final prayer for peace on her lips. "Will it be kind? The afterlife, I mean. Will it be peaceful?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Taehyun’s gaze softened, just for a moment. He had heard that question a thousand times before, but this time, it lingered in the air, thick with the weight of her fear. "All you need to know is that your soul will rest, and that is enough."

As he raised his scythe, the motion fluid and practiced, a pang of guilt tugged at his chest, though he quickly buried it. It was foolish to care. Souls were meant to pass on. They all did.

He pulled the soul from her, watching as the light faded from her body. The process was familiar, mechanical, but for a fleeting moment, something about her lingered in his mind, something he couldn’t quite name.

As he faded back into the ether, his scythe still in hand, the brief sensation of her fear remained with him—a reminder of the humanity he had long since abandoned. The wind rushed past him as he disappeared into the void, but that fleeting moment, that brief spark of emotion, stayed behind.

It wasn’t supposed to matter. Souls moved on. They always had. So why did it feel different this time?

She wasn’t ready to die.

Y/N laid on the hospital bed, surrounded by the sterile scent of antiseptic and the hushed murmurs of the doctors outside the room. Her body, frail and weak from the illness that had taken hold of her over the past months, felt as though it were no longer hers. She could feel the pull of death, an invisible force dragging her deeper into the dark abyss, yet she fought it.

There was still so much to do, so many things she hadn’t said, hadn’t fixed. The regret was a heavy weight on her chest, suffocating in its intensity.

Her eyes fluttered open as she heard the faint creak of the door, the cold, quiet footsteps that followed. She turned her head, her vision blurry from the painkillers they’d given her, and there he stood. The reaper.

Kang Taehyun.

His presence was as imposing as it was cold, a figure of dark silhouette framed by the dim light spilling in from the hallway. His scythe, dark and gleaming, rested in his hand with an aura of finality.

Her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of fear and confusion swirling in her chest. She had imagined this moment so many times, but never like this. Never with so much unfinished business.

“Are you here for me?” Her voice was soft, weak, but there was an unshakable resolve behind it. She was ready. Not to die, but to make a wish. A wish she needed more than anything in the world.

Taehyun didn’t respond immediately. He stood in the doorway, his cold eyes scanning her. The air seemed to grow heavier, and she could feel his judgment. The reapers were not known for their compassion. They were silent, emotionless beings who did their duty without question. It was a matter of fate, of inevitability.

“Your time has come,” Taehyun said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion, as though the words came from a place as distant as the very afterlife itself. “There is no place for you here anymore.”

But Y/N’s gaze never faltered. “I’m not ready,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Please... I have a request. A final wish.”

Taehyun's expression didn’t change. He didn’t care for wishes. Souls were meant to pass, and once their time was up, they moved on. There were no exceptions, no delays. It was the way of things.

“You have no time for such things,” he replied coldly, his eyes never leaving hers. “You’re wasting what little remains.”

But Y/N, though frail and nearing the end, still had strength. She pushed herself up slightly, ignoring the pain that seared through her body. Her voice became more desperate, her words sharp as a plea. “I have one wish, one thing I need to do before I go. Please. I want to fix things with my little sister. I’ve hurt her so much over the years. I need one more chance to make things right. One more chance to say I’m sorry.”

Taehyun felt a flicker of something—something he couldn’t name, something he had long since abandoned—but he pushed it aside. Emotions were for the living, and he was no longer that. He was a reaper. He collected souls. That was his purpose.

“No one gets second chances,” he stated, his voice flat and final, as though sealing her fate with the words. “You’re being selfish. There is no time for you to play at redemption. Your soul belongs to the afterlife.”

Her heart sank, and yet she did not relent. “Please,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Just seven days. Just seven days, and I’ll go peacefully. I promise.”

There was silence between them, an air of finality that Taehyun couldn’t shake. For a brief moment, he considered it—her request. He could simply take her soul, and it would be done. But something gnawed at him, something buried deep inside. The desperation in her eyes, the raw vulnerability she displayed. It was foreign to him. She was so different from all the others.

Taehyun's eyes narrowed, his hand tightening around the scythe. He could feel something in the pit of his stomach—something unshakable, a shift in the air, as though fate was tugging at him. He stepped back from the bed, the weight of her gaze following him.

Before he could speak, a voice rang out from the shadows.

"Taehyun."

A figure emerged from the corner of the room. The head reaper, Soobin, appeared like a shadow in the doorway. His presence was commanding, his eyes sharp with wisdom.

"You're being too hasty," Soobin continued, his gaze flicking from Taehyun to Y/N, then back to the reaper. "She’s not asking for much. Seven days. A mere week. Let her have it."

Taehyun’s gaze flickered, his face betraying the smallest hint of surprise. "You can’t be serious. We don’t give second chances. We don’t interfere with fate."

Soobin’s expression softened ever so slightly, a touch of sorrow in his eyes. “Even we were human once, Taehyun. We understand what it means to want redemption. To feel the weight of unfinished business.”

The words struck Taehyun like a physical blow. He had long since buried his humanity, and yet... something in Soobin’s tone made him question his certainty.

"You’ve always followed the rules," Soobin continued, his voice calm but firm. "Perhaps it’s time to let her try. Seven days. That is all she asks."

Taehyun stood in silence, his hand tightening around the handle of his scythe. A storm of conflicting emotions churned inside him—frustration, confusion, and the gnawing sense that he was being forced into something he couldn’t control.

Finally, he exhaled, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the decision had crushed him. “Fine,” he muttered. “Seven days. But if she wastes this opportunity, I will return her soul without hesitation.”

Soobin’s expression softened just a fraction. “You’ll do well, Taehyun. Just remember... there are things even reapers can’t ignore.”

With that, Soobin disappeared back into the shadows, leaving Taehyun alone with Y/N once again. He could feel the weight of her gaze, the silent hope in her eyes. Something had shifted—something he wasn’t sure he understood. But the words were out, and there was no turning back now.

"You have seven days," Taehyun said, his voice colder than ever. "Do not waste it."

Y/N nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I won’t," she promised.

And so, Taehyun’s reluctant task began.

Taehyun stood by her side, watching in silence as Y/N gathered what little strength she had left. It had been a few hours since Soobin had granted her seven days to fulfill her wish, and though Taehyun was reluctant to admit it, he found himself watching her more closely than he had ever watched any soul before.

Y/N was different. She wasn’t like the others. The other souls he had collected were often resigned to their fate, accepting the inevitable with a quiet grace, or they fought with fear in their hearts, their cries drowned out by the pull of the afterlife. But Y/N was determined. There was no giving up in her. She had an energy about her that felt almost... alive, despite the state of her body.

He had barely said a word to her since the agreement was made, the silence between them stretching like an endless chasm. He had his orders, and he intended to follow them. Seven days. That was all she had. Seven days to fulfill a wish that had little chance of succeeding.

"You’re supposed to be my guide, right?" Y/N’s voice was soft but filled with determination.

Taehyun glanced at her, his face unreadable. "I’m here to make sure you don’t waste the time you've been given." His tone was clipped, formal. He didn't owe her anything more than that.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with an expression that was equal parts challenging and weary. "How can I not waste it if I don’t even know where to start? I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just... trying to find my sister."

Her words were heavy, and despite his best efforts, Taehyun could feel a flicker of something in his chest—something like sympathy, but not quite. It was a feeling he had long since buried, and he quickly stamped it down, pushing it into the deepest corner of his mind.

"Start by listening to me and following the rules," he replied curtly, avoiding her gaze as his hand tightened around the scythe’s handle. “You need to stay out of trouble. No unnecessary interactions with the living. No distractions.”

She nodded, though her face was still clouded with doubt. “I understand.”

But Taehyun could see the doubt in her eyes. She wasn’t the kind of person who could follow rules so easily. He could already tell she wasn’t going to let go of her mission that easily. It didn’t help that the very concept of human emotions—the ones she clung to—puzzled him. He had seen them before, but he didn’t understand them. They were irrational, unpredictable, and they often got in the way of his work.

As they walked through the shadowed streets of the city, the weight of her sadness settled heavily in the air. Her body, still frail from the illness, moved slowly, but her determination was unmistakable. She refused to stop, her mind set on finding the one person who had once meant the world to her.

Taehyun’s gaze flicked from her to the quiet streets around them, his senses alert. The afterlife always felt close in moments like this—like the very air around them was charged with the weight of the dead. Souls wandered the streets in their ghostly forms, unaware of their fate, and Taehyun couldn’t help but wonder if they, too, had once been as driven as Y/N. Driven by love, regret, and unfinished business.

As if on cue, they encountered someone who was anything but quiet.

From an alleyway, a figure emerged—a tall, charismatic soul with an air of defiance around him. His eyes, gleaming with mischief, met Taehyun’s with an expression that could only be described as smug.

“Ah, what do we have here? A reaper and his charge, how quaint.” The man smirked, leaning casually against the wall.

Taehyun’s posture immediately tensed, the air around him growing colder. “Yeonjun,” he said in a low voice, his eyes narrowing. “I told you before—stay out of my way.”

Yeonjun chuckled, unbothered by the threat in Taehyun’s tone. “Oh, I’m just passing through. I don’t want to get in the way of your little... assignment.” He turned his attention to Y/N, a grin spreading across his face. “But I’m curious. Are you really going to follow a reaper’s orders? You’re not really his type, are you?”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, confusion and curiosity flickering across her features. “Who... who are you?”

“Yeonjun,” he said smoothly, “a soul who’s... well, I don’t really belong here. I’ve escaped the system. I live by my own rules.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were no big deal.

Taehyun’s gaze hardened, his hand tightening around his scythe. “Don’t listen to him. Souls like him only bring chaos.”

Y/N glanced at Taehyun, then back to Yeonjun. There was a hint of intrigue in her eyes, and Taehyun felt a knot form in his stomach at the way she looked at the rogue soul.

“But he’s free,” she said softly. “He doesn’t have to answer to anyone.”

Yeonjun flashed her a knowing smile. “Exactly. You see, Y/N, you could be free, too. Why bother following the rules? They don’t care about you. They don’t care about your little wish.” He turned his gaze to Taehyun, his expression turning mockingly serious. “You really think this cold-hearted reaper is going to help you? He’s just doing his job. He’ll take you straight to the afterlife without a second thought.”

Y/N hesitated, her gaze shifting between Taehyun and Yeonjun. Taehyun’s heart clenched—he could see her beginning to doubt him, doubt everything he represented. And yet, deep inside, he knew he was right. Souls like Yeonjun were dangerous. They didn’t care for anything other than their own freedom, their own selfish desires.

“You’re wrong,” Taehyun said, his voice colder than ever, the weight of his words cutting through the air like a blade. “She is not like you. She is not some rebellious soul looking for a way out. She has something to accomplish.”

Yeonjun tilted his head, his grin never faltering. “We’ll see about that. Seven days, right? That’s hardly enough time to do anything. You think she’ll be satisfied with some half-baked apology? Let’s see how this plays out.”

He lingered for a moment longer, his eyes locking with Taehyun’s one last time, before he disappeared back into the shadows of the alley.

Y/N remained silent, the weight of Yeonjun’s words hanging in the air. Taehyun could feel her doubt festering, a crack forming in the wall she had built around her heart.

He clenched his jaw. This was the last thing she needed—someone like Yeonjun planting seeds of rebellion in her mind. She had to focus. She had to—

“You’re not like him,” she said suddenly, her voice quiet but firm. “You care.”

Taehyun froze, his mind reeling. Her words were unexpected, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond.

“You care about something,” she continued, looking at him intently. “I can see it. You’re not as cold as you pretend to be.”

He felt his pulse quicken, an unfamiliar heat rushing to his face. He quickly turned his gaze away, hoping she couldn’t see the flicker of emotion in his eyes. He couldn’t afford to care. He couldn’t afford to let her see him for what he was—something more than just a reaper.

“I don’t,” he replied curtly, his voice laced with icy detachment. “Now focus on your mission. That’s the only thing that matters.”

The days were starting to blur together, each one passing with a quiet urgency that seemed to weigh heavier on Y/N’s shoulders. She had tried to reconcile with her younger sibling twice now, each attempt met with rejection. The first time, she had been met with an angry outburst, her sibling accusing her of abandoning them for years, and the second time, they had simply turned away, too hurt to face her.

Taehyun remained by her side, his presence a constant reminder of the weight of the task at hand. He said little, only offering cold and practical advice, but his silence often felt heavier than any words could be.

"You're making it harder than it needs to be," he said one evening as they walked through a desolate part of town, the fading light casting long shadows over the pavement. "You're not going to win them over by pushing. They need time."

Y/N was silent, her eyes fixed on the ground. She didn’t want to hear that. She didn’t have time. Her soul was slipping away, and every moment spent with her sibling was precious. She couldn’t afford to wait.

"I know," she said quietly, her voice breaking slightly. "But I don’t have time for that. I just want... I just want to fix everything before it's too late."

Taehyun’s lips pressed together in a thin line, his thoughts distant. "You can’t fix everything. Sometimes people... people aren’t ready to forgive."

Her words were sharp, but Taehyun caught the crack of emotion in her voice, the rawness of the hurt she carried. "I’m not asking for forgiveness. I just want a chance to make things right. To show them that I care. That I never meant to hurt them."

Taehyun stopped walking, his gaze settling on her, his usual stoic expression faltering for a moment. He couldn’t understand it—the human need to keep fighting for something that might never come to pass. He had seen enough souls over the years to know that people didn’t always get what they wanted. But there was something about her conviction, something that tugged at him, even though he was reluctant to admit it.

"I can’t promise anything," he said quietly, "but I’ll make sure you get a chance to try."

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. It was a fleeting moment of vulnerability—one that Taehyun quickly masked with his usual indifference. He quickly turned away, hoping she wouldn’t see the flicker of something else in his gaze.

Before she could respond, a voice interrupted them, smooth and teasing.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the reaper and his charge," a familiar voice called out. It was Beomgyu, a reaper whose presence was always accompanied by an air of mischief. He appeared from the shadows, his expression amused as he approached. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything too sentimental."

Taehyun stiffened, his irritation flaring at the sight of Beomgyu. "What do you want?" he asked, his tone colder than before.

Beomgyu’s grin widened as he walked toward them. "Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to see how my favorite reaper is holding up. Looks like you’re babysitting another soul. How’s that going?"

Y/N frowned at the teasing tone in Beomgyu’s voice, sensing the tension between the two. She had seen Taehyun’s frustration before, but this was different. He seemed genuinely irked.

"It’s fine," Taehyun said curtly, ignoring Beomgyu’s attempts to rile him up. "I’m doing my job."

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Your job? Is that all you’re doing, Taehyun? Just... following orders?" He let out a small chuckle. "You’ve got a good heart buried under all that coldness. Too bad you don’t know what to do with it."

Taehyun’s grip on his scythe tightened, but before he could retort, Beomgyu’s expression shifted, his teasing demeanor replaced with something more serious.

"Listen, I get it," Beomgyu continued, his voice quieter now. "I’ve been where you are. There’s a reason the rules exist. I broke them once, thinking I could save someone who didn’t belong in the afterlife. It didn’t end well. Don’t make the same mistake I did."

Y/N looked between them, sensing the weight of Beomgyu’s words. "What happened?" she asked softly, her voice gentle, yet full of curiosity.

Beomgyu’s gaze darkened for a moment, his usual mischievous attitude slipping away. "I got attached to a soul. I thought I could help them, give them a second chance. But I ended up making things worse. I lost my position. And the soul... they disappeared. Like they never existed."

There was a heavy pause. Taehyun knew the story all too well. It was one of the reasons he kept his distance from the souls he was tasked with guiding. Attachment only led to pain. But still, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder... Was there a better way?

"You’re right," Taehyun said, his voice flat, though the weight of Beomgyu’s words hung in the air. "The rules are the rules. And I’m not about to break them."

Beomgyu eyed him for a moment longer before giving a resigned sigh. "Just don’t say I didn’t warn you." With a final smirk, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving them alone once more.

Y/N watched the interaction closely, the silence between them stretching. "Is it really that dangerous to care about someone?" she asked quietly.

Taehyun’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, he said nothing. "Yes," he replied finally, his voice low. "It is. The more you care, the harder it becomes to let go. And in our world... you have to let go. It’s the only way."

But even as he spoke, he could feel the truth of it slipping through his fingers. His resolve was crumbling, piece by piece, as he spent more time with her. He had never cared about a soul this much, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

"Then why do you keep helping me?" she asked, her voice soft, but filled with a quiet challenge.

Taehyun froze, his heart skipping a beat. She was right to ask. He didn’t know why he kept helping her. He had tried to remain detached, to keep his emotions in check, but the more time they spent together, the harder it became.

"I’m not helping you," he muttered, almost to himself. "I’m just doing my job."

Y/N didn’t say anything more, but the look she gave him was one of quiet understanding, as if she saw through the walls he had carefully constructed around himself.

The next day, they were joined by Huening Kai, the newest reaper, still learning the ropes. He had joined their group without much fanfare, and despite his soft-hearted nature, he had already begun to question the ethics of their duties.

"Is it really right to just... take souls without knowing the full story?" Huening Kai asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity. "What if they still have something to do? What if they’re not ready?"

Taehyun glanced at him, the irritation that had been simmering beneath the surface resurfacing. "It’s not our place to decide," he replied curtly. "The rules are set. We don’t question them."

But inside, Taehyun couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if he had questioned them—if he had listened to the voices like Huening Kai’s, or even Beomgyu’s.

As hours and hours dragged on, each moment more suffocating than the last. Y/N’s attempts at reconciliation with her sibling had begun to feel like futile gestures, her heart breaking a little more with each rejection. Yet, she never gave up. Even when she felt the weight of failure pressing against her chest, she stood tall, determined to finish what she had started.

Taehyun watched her from a distance, his gaze sharp, but his mind conflicted. Her determination was both admirable and frustrating. She was too stubborn for her own good, too attached to the idea of fixing things. And yet, there was something in the way she refused to give up that gnawed at him, something that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, humans were capable of something more than mere selfishness.

That night, as they walked through the quiet streets, the weight of unspoken words hung between them. Y/N had just returned from another failed attempt to speak with her sibling. Her shoulders were slumped, her face drawn with exhaustion, but there was a flicker of defiance in her eyes. She wasn’t going to let it go.

"I don’t understand," she said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Why is it so hard for them to forgive me? I know I hurt them, but... I’ve changed. I’ve spent so much time regretting what happened, and yet they... they won’t even let me try."

Taehyun didn’t answer at first. He had heard her speak of her regrets before, but tonight, her pain seemed to resonate deeper than it ever had before. Her voice trembled, and for a brief moment, he found himself wondering if he understood her pain more than he cared to admit.

"People don’t always forgive," he said softly, his voice almost too quiet for her to hear. "Sometimes, they can’t. And that’s not something you can control."

She stopped walking, turning to face him. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but there was no anger in her gaze, only a quiet sorrow. "But I didn’t mean to hurt them. I never wanted this."

Taehyun’s heart clenched. He didn’t want to feel this—didn’t want to feel anything for her. But her pain, so raw and honest, made it impossible to ignore.

"Not everything is as simple as you think," he replied, his voice hardening again. "People hold grudges for reasons that go beyond your actions. You can’t expect them to forgive you just because you want it."

Y/N nodded slowly, as though accepting the harsh truth of his words. "I guess I’ll just have to keep trying, then," she said, her voice quiet but resolute. "Because I can’t leave this world without knowing I did everything I could to make it right."

Taehyun watched her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Despite himself, he felt a flicker of admiration for her unwavering resolve. But that was dangerous. Dangerous for him.

"Don’t get too attached to the idea of it," he warned her, his words cutting through the silence like a blade. "People don’t always get what they want. You need to be prepared for the possibility that you may never get the chance to make things right."

Y/N’s gaze softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I know. But I have to try. Even if it’s just for me."

Before Taehyun could respond, a sudden rustle in the air caught their attention. They both turned to find a familiar face emerging from the shadows.

Yeonjun.

The rogue soul had appeared without warning, his usual cocky grin in place as he sauntered toward them. Taehyun tensed, his grip tightening on his scythe. He didn’t want to deal with Yeonjun right now—not when things were already complicated enough.

"Well, well," Yeonjun drawled, his eyes flicking between the two of them. "It looks like you’re both still at it. How’s the soul-sitting going, Taehyun? Still keeping things under control?"

Taehyun’s eyes narrowed. "This is none of your business, Yeonjun. Stay out of it."

Yeonjun’s grin widened, his gaze lingering on Y/N. "Oh, I think it is my business. You see, I’m a bit of an expert when it comes to breaking the rules and finding freedom. And I think your little friend here could use a bit of that."

Y/N frowned, confusion flickering in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Yeonjun’s gaze softened slightly, though his grin never faltered. "I mean, why bother with all this... pointless struggle? You’ve got the time you need. The rules don’t have to control you. You can be free, live your life on your own terms. No more waiting, no more regret. Just... freedom."

Taehyun’s jaw tightened. "Don’t listen to him. He’s nothing but trouble."

But Yeonjun wasn’t deterred. "Come on, Taehyun, don’t be so rigid. You know as well as I do that the system is flawed. Why should she have to follow rules that don’t make sense? You want to save her, don’t you? Then let her go. Let her live."

Y/N turned to Taehyun, her expression uncertain. She had been listening carefully, and part of her felt the temptation rising within her. What if Yeonjun was right? What if there was a way to break free from this cycle of duty and loss? But even as the thought lingered, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of her own promise to herself—to try, no matter the cost.

"I... I don’t know," she murmured, torn between the pull of Yeonjun’s offer and the responsibility that Taehyun had placed on her shoulders. "But I can’t just... give up. I need to finish what I started."

Yeonjun’s expression softened, his usual smirk replaced by something almost like understanding. "You’re a stubborn one. But don’t say I didn’t offer you a way out."

With that, he turned and disappeared into the night, leaving the two of them alone again.

The silence that followed was thick, the tension between them palpable. Y/N glanced at Taehyun, her heart heavy with the weight of the decision that lingered over her.

Taehyun didn’t say anything at first. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He was too caught up in the storm of his own thoughts, in the doubt that Yeonjun had planted in his mind.

Finally, Y/N broke the silence. "What do you think, Taehyun?"

Taehyun’s gaze hardened, his usual cold exterior slipping back into place. "It doesn’t matter what I think," he said, his voice low. "You’ve made your choice. Just don’t expect it to be easy."

She nodded, the resolve returning to her features. "I won’t give up. I’ll find a way."

And though Taehyun couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud, a part of him wished—just for a moment—that she didn’t have to struggle so much. That there was an easier path for her.

As the days wore on, Y/N’s resolve never wavered, but the strain was beginning to show. She still visited her sibling, trying every approach she could think of to mend the broken bond, but each attempt was met with rejection, or worse—indifference. The closer she came to the end of her time, the more desolate the world seemed.

Taehyun, on the other hand, found himself increasingly caught between the rules he was sworn to uphold and the emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. His duty as a reaper had always been clear: to collect souls and ensure that the natural order was maintained. He’d never been one to question the process, nor had he ever felt any significant attachment to the souls he collected. But Y/N was different.

Her tenacity, her refusal to give up even when everything seemed lost, stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite understand. He hated how she made him feel. How he wanted to comfort her, wanted to ease her pain, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He wasn’t supposed to care.

One evening, as the two of them walked in silence, a heavy fog began to settle around them. The streets were deserted, the usual sounds of the living muffled under the dense mist. Y/N had returned from another failed attempt to reach her sibling. Her eyes were red, and though she tried to keep up her usual determined front, it was clear she was exhausted—emotionally, physically, and mentally.

Taehyun glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his gaze lingering on her for a moment too long. Despite everything—despite how much he wished he could stay detached—he found himself walking just a little closer to her.

"You should rest," he said, his voice softer than usual, though he still couldn’t quite bring himself to meet her gaze. "You’ve been pushing yourself too hard."

Y/N shook her head, the movement small and almost imperceptible. "I can’t rest," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not yet. I have to try… even if it doesn’t work out. I can’t leave this world without knowing I did everything I could."

Taehyun clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the scythe at his side. "It’s not worth it," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Some things can’t be fixed. Some things are beyond your control."

Y/N stopped walking, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that caught him off guard. "I don’t care," she said quietly but firmly. "If I don’t try, then I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Even if I can’t make things right, at least I’ll know I gave it everything I had."

Her words echoed in Taehyun’s mind, each one striking him with the force of a thousand emotions he couldn’t name. He wanted to shout at her to stop—to give up before she hurt herself even more—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her to stop trying, not when it was so clear how much it meant to her.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, the fog enveloping them in a quiet, almost surreal stillness. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of unsaid things.

"Why do you care so much?" Taehyun asked, his voice barely audible, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the question, but she didn’t hesitate to answer. "Because I have to," she said simply. "If I don’t care, then I’ve wasted everything. My life… my time here. I owe it to myself and to the people I’ve hurt to make things right."

Taehyun turned his head, his expression unreadable. He didn’t know what to say to that. He had never understood that kind of commitment, that kind of stubbornness. In his world, everything was final. There were no second chances, no room for regret. Souls were collected, and that was that.

But Y/N wasn’t like the other souls he had guided. She wasn’t resigned to her fate. She was fighting it with everything she had, and in that fight, Taehyun found something that threatened to unravel everything he thought he knew about the world.

"I don’t understand you," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Y/N smiled faintly, her expression a mix of sadness and understanding. "You don’t have to. You just have to let me try."

Taehyun’s heart skipped a beat at the softness in her voice. He wanted to say something—anything—to make her stop, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he found himself nodding, albeit reluctantly.

"Fine," he said, his voice clipped. "I’ll give you another day. But after that, you’re on your own."

Y/N’s eyes softened, and for a brief moment, the walls she had built around herself seemed to crack. "Thank you, Taehyun."

He looked away quickly, his face flushing ever so slightly, but there was something about her gratitude that made him feel both uncomfortable and... something else. Something he couldn’t name.

As the fog thickened around them, they continued their journey, the silence between them carrying an unspoken understanding. Despite everything, despite the rules, despite the inevitable end that loomed over them, something had shifted. And neither of them knew what to do with it.

That night, Taehyun found himself standing on the edge of a rooftop, staring at the dark sky. The moon was hidden behind a thick cloud, and the stars were just barely visible through the haze. His scythe lay beside him, its cold steel gleaming faintly in the dim light.

He thought about Y/N—about her refusal to give up, her strength, her resilience. He hated how much it bothered him. He wasn’t supposed to care about her. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything for any of the souls he guided, especially not one who was determined to defy the natural order of things.

But as he stood there, the wind ruffling his hair, Taehyun couldn’t help but wonder—what if he could help her? What if, for once, he could break the rules and save her?

But that was impossible. He was a reaper. He followed the rules. He couldn’t let himself get caught up in something as dangerous as hope.

A soft sound broke his thoughts, and he turned just in time to see Y/N standing at the edge of the rooftop, her eyes on him. She looked smaller under the vastness of the sky, her figure barely more than a silhouette against the dark backdrop.

"You’re thinking too hard," she said quietly, her voice reaching him in the still night air.

Taehyun didn’t respond at first, his gaze fixed on the ground. He wasn’t sure what to say to her—how to explain the conflict inside him without betraying everything he stood for.

"I know," he muttered after a beat. "But I can’t help it."

Y/N stepped closer, her presence strangely comforting. "I think you’re the one who needs to let go," she said softly. "Not me."

The words hung between them, and Taehyun felt a strange tug in his chest—a pull that made him want to listen, to understand, even though he knew he couldn’t.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away from her, his gaze falling back to the city below. "You’re wrong," he said quietly. "Letting go is impossible."

And yet, as he spoke the words, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be wrong—wrong about everything.

Y/N’s determination never faltered, though the toll it was taking on her was becoming apparent. She had grown quiet, her spirit slowly eroding with every failed attempt to reach her sibling. But despite the exhaustion in her eyes, the weight in her shoulders, she refused to give up. Every time she stood before the closed door, every time her sibling looked at her with cold, hurt eyes, she stood her ground.

Taehyun, too, found himself growing weary. Not from his duties—he was as efficient as ever at collecting souls—but from something he couldn’t explain. He had always been cold, detached, but something about Y/N, something about the way she refused to back down, was slowly cracking the wall he had so carefully constructed around himself.

He watched her one evening, as she stood by a window, looking out at the world she could no longer be a part of. The soft glow of twilight bathed her figure, highlighting the exhaustion etched on her face. Her shoulders were hunched in weariness, her eyes distant, but when she turned to face him, there was still that spark of determination in her.

"How much longer do I have?" she asked, her voice tired but resolute.

Taehyun hesitated, his mind fighting with itself. He knew the rules. Seven days. That was all she had. But it felt wrong, saying it out loud. Saying it to her, when she was so close to breaking, when her resolve was the only thing holding her together.

"Two days," he said softly, his voice betraying a hint of something unspoken. "Then you’ll be… taken."

She nodded, but he could see the way her face tightened, the faint quiver in her lips. He wanted to say something to comfort her, something to ease the pain he knew she must be feeling. But the words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t allow himself to say anything that might make him appear weak—because the moment he did, the moment he showed even the slightest crack in his armor, she would have power over him. And he couldn’t afford that.

Instead, he simply nodded curtly, his eyes avoiding hers. "I’ll be here, like always. If you need anything."

Her gaze softened, but there was a sadness there that made Taehyun’s heart ache in a way he couldn’t comprehend. She wasn’t afraid of death, not really. She was afraid of not finishing what she had started, of leaving behind a broken world and a broken family. And Taehyun knew, deep down, that no matter how much he tried to distance himself, he couldn’t ignore the pain that reflected in her eyes.

The next day, as Taehyun stood outside, waiting for Y/N to finish her visit with her sibling, his mind wandered back to his own past. To the things he had left behind when he died.

He had been human once—before the coldness, before the endless duty that bound him to the afterlife. He too, once had a family, friends, dreams. But all of that had been taken away from him when he crossed over to the other side, when his own soul had been claimed by the Reaper’s scythe. He had been assigned to guide the souls of others, to ensure they moved on to their next life—or to collect them when they refused. But over time, his humanity had withered. He had become numb to the pain of others, indifferent to the lives he saw pass through his hands. After all, what did it matter? He wasn’t alive anymore.

But then he met Y/N, and everything started to unravel.

She had been a breath of fresh air in a world that had grown stale, a reminder of everything he had lost but could never get back. Her strength, her kindness, her determination—all of it was so human, so raw. And it terrified him.

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Taehyun."

He turned to find Y/N standing a few feet away, her gaze a little more distant than usual, but there was a hint of something else there too—something like peace, something like acceptance.

"You look lost in thought," she said with a small smile.

Taehyun straightened, instinctively pulling his cold mask back into place. "I was just waiting for you," he said curtly, his eyes scanning the area, looking anywhere but at her. "Are you ready to go?"

Y/N nodded, but there was a weight in her expression, a heaviness that Taehyun could feel pressing against his chest. She had come to terms with it. She had accepted the reality of what was happening, and for the first time, Taehyun wondered if she might have already given up on her mission, on the family she so desperately wanted to reconcile with.

"I’m ready," she said softly, the words almost a whisper. "But I wanted to thank you… for everything."

Taehyun’s brow furrowed slightly. "For what?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of confusion.

"For being here," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "For guiding me when I didn’t know what to do, for not leaving me to face this alone."

He was silent for a moment, the words taking him by surprise. He hadn’t expected gratitude. Not from her, not when he had done nothing to earn it. He had only done his job, after all. It wasn’t as if he had any choice in the matter.

But then, for a brief moment, his eyes softened. It was fleeting, almost imperceptible, but Y/N caught it.

"I’m just doing my job," Taehyun said, trying to brush it off, but his voice was softer than usual, almost as if the words themselves were reluctant to leave his lips.

Y/N shook her head, her eyes sad but full of something else—something deeper. "You could’ve just taken me when my time was up," she said, her voice steady despite the emotion behind her words. "But you didn’t. You’ve been here, watching over me. You didn’t have to. And I know it’s not easy for you. But you’re still here."

The words struck Taehyun harder than he expected, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar sensation. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

"I’m not a hero, Y/N," he said finally, the words almost a whisper, as if he were trying to convince himself more than her. "I’m just a reaper. This is what I do."

Y/N’s eyes softened, and for a brief moment, she reached out, her hand brushing against his arm in a gesture of comfort.

"I know," she said quietly, her gaze searching his face. "But you don’t have to be just that. You can be more."

The moment lingered between them, a quiet connection that neither of them knew how to navigate. For Taehyun, it felt as if the world itself had paused, as if he were standing on the precipice of something he couldn’t understand but could no longer deny.

With a final, lingering glance, Y/N turned and began walking, her steps heavy but steady. Taehyun stood still for a moment longer, staring after her, his thoughts in disarray. He had spent so long keeping everything at arm’s length, convinced that his role as a reaper was all he needed to fulfill. But as the days dwindled and Y/N continued to fight, he found himself questioning everything.

He had never been one to defy the rules, but for the first time, he wondered… what if, just this once, he could break them? What if, just this once, he could save her?

With a bitter sigh, Taehyun followed her, unsure of what would come next, but knowing deep down that whatever it was, it would change everything.

The next day arrived with an oppressive silence hanging in the air. The world seemed to hold its breath, as if even the universe itself was waiting for Y/N to complete her mission or for the inevitable moment when she would be taken. But Y/N wasn’t ready to surrender, not yet.

She had spent the morning pacing, trying to think of another way to reach her sibling. Her resolve, though worn thin, remained steadfast. It had to. This was the only chance she had to make things right, to repair the fractured bond before her time was up. But with each passing second, she could feel the walls closing in on her, the weight of impending death pressing down on her chest.

Taehyun was no better. Every day, as he followed her, he found himself becoming more entangled in her world—her pain, her determination, her humanity. It was the last thing he wanted. But there was something about her that made it impossible to look away. Every time she failed, every time her heart broke a little more, he felt it too. It wasn’t just sympathy. It was something deeper, something that gnawed at him from the inside out. And every time he looked at her, he could see it: the raw vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.

He hated it. He hated how much he cared.

But it wasn’t like he could walk away. He had a duty, after all.

That evening, Taehyun watched from a distance as Y/N stood at the edge of a small park, gazing at the trees and the sky, her expression distant. There was a wistfulness in the way she stood, as if trying to hold on to every last ounce of life she had left. It wasn’t fair, not to her. He knew that.

He stepped forward, his footsteps quiet on the grass. "Y/N," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She turned to face him, and for a brief moment, the flicker of something familiar passed across her features. It was sadness, but also something else—something that made Taehyun’s heart ache in ways he didn’t understand.

"You’re still here," she said softly, her voice barely audible.

"Yeah," Taehyun replied, his gaze softening despite himself. "I’m still here."

She looked at him for a long time, as if weighing something in her mind, and then, with a deep sigh, she spoke. "I’m not giving up, Taehyun. I won’t."

"I know you won’t," he said quietly. "But time’s running out."

She nodded, but there was something resolute in her eyes, something that told him she wasn’t about to give up, even if the world around her was crumbling. Her eyes met his, and for the first time since he had met her, there was no fear, no desperation in them. Only acceptance.

"Maybe," she began slowly, "I wasn’t meant to fix everything. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try. I’ll never stop trying."

For the first time, Taehyun didn’t know how to respond. He had never been good with words, never good at comforting others, especially not humans. But this… Y/N’s resolve, her refusal to bend, it made something inside him shift. For a fleeting moment, he imagined what it might be like to live with that kind of determination, to live for something bigger than himself. He didn’t know if he could do it. He didn’t know if he even had that kind of strength left in him.

But he wanted to believe. For her, he wanted to believe.

Before he could speak, a sudden rustling in the trees caught their attention. Taehyun’s senses immediately sharpened, his hand instinctively gripping the scythe at his side. He could feel the familiar presence of a rogue soul—someone who didn’t belong here, someone who had escaped their fate.

"Yeonjun," Taehyun muttered, his voice hardening as he scanned the darkening park.

Y/N’s eyes widened as the figure of Yeonjun stepped out from the shadows, his usual mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Well, well," he drawled, his eyes gleaming in the low light. "Looks like I’ve found you both. How’s the mission going, little soul?"

Y/N’s expression tightened, but she stood her ground. "I’m doing fine, thank you for asking."

Yeonjun laughed, taking a casual step forward. "Oh, I’m sure you are. But you’re running out of time, aren’t you?" His gaze shifted to Taehyun, and the grin faltered just slightly. "And you… still playing the obedient reaper? How’s that working out for you?"

Taehyun’s grip on his scythe tightened, but he remained silent. He hated Yeonjun with a passion—hated everything about him, from his rebellious attitude to the way he constantly undermined everything Taehyun stood for.

Yeonjun’s eyes flicked back to Y/N, a smirk spreading across his face. "You know, there’s another way," he said casually. "You don’t have to go through with all this. You don’t have to stick to these silly rules. I can help you escape. I can show you a life without death chasing you. No more reapers, no more soul collection. Just… freedom."

Y/N stared at him, her lips pressed tightly together as she considered his offer. Taehyun felt a sudden surge of protectiveness—he didn’t trust Yeonjun. He never had. The rogue soul was dangerous, and his offers were always coated with lies.

"No," Y/N said firmly, shaking her head. "I won’t run from this. I’ve made my choice. I’m not going to give up now."

Yeonjun’s smile faltered, but only for a moment. He took another step toward her, his tone turning more insistent. "And what about the people you’ve hurt? The family you can never make amends with? What’s your ‘second chance’ really worth? You’re just buying time, Y/N. Time you’ll never truly have. It’s all just an illusion."

Y/N’s hands clenched at her sides, but she stood tall, her voice unwavering. "Maybe I can’t fix everything. But I’ll try. I’ll do what I can, and if it’s not enough, then at least I can die knowing I tried."

Taehyun stepped forward, his voice low and commanding. "Leave her alone, Yeonjun. Your offer means nothing."

Yeonjun chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll leave for now. But remember, Y/N," he said with a pointed look at her, "there’s always another way. You don’t have to stay on this path."

As Yeonjun faded into the shadows, Y/N let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words still lingering in the air. Taehyun didn’t speak, but he could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the conflict gnawing at her. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that she was making the right choice, but the words never came.

Instead, he simply stood beside her in silence, the two of them facing the night ahead.

The clock was ticking. And neither of them knew what would happen next.

The final day arrived, heavy with the weight of its inevitability. It was a strange kind of stillness that surrounded them, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for something—anything—to break the silence. The clock was winding down, each tick bringing Y/N closer to the end, and Taehyun could feel it in his bones.

He had tried to prepare himself for this. He had tried to remain detached, to be the cold, unemotional reaper he was supposed to be. But as he stood beside her now, watching her take tentative steps toward her sibling’s house, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had already slipped out of his control.

Y/N didn’t speak as they walked. Her steps were slow, deliberate, but there was an exhaustion in her that Taehyun couldn’t ignore. Her hands were trembling, and the slight hunch in her shoulders betrayed the weight she had been carrying for far too long. The struggle to keep going, to stay strong when every part of her body screamed for release, was taking its toll.

She stopped before the door, hesitating for a moment as if she was unsure whether she was truly ready to face the past. Taehyun couldn’t blame her. The things she had left unsaid, the broken promises that had lingered between her and her sibling… It was a lot for anyone to carry, let alone someone who had only days left to live.

"You don’t have to do this," Taehyun said quietly, his voice soft but firm, though there was a strange uncertainty underneath it. "You’ve done enough."

Y/N didn’t turn to look at him. She simply stared at the door, her brow furrowing as she weighed her next move. "I can’t leave things like this. Not without trying one last time."

Taehyun took a step closer, but kept a careful distance. "What if it’s not enough? What if they still don’t forgive you?"

Y/N’s eyes flickered to him, and for a brief moment, their gazes met. There was sadness there, but also an incredible determination that made his chest tighten. "Then at least I’ll know I tried," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "At least I’ll know I didn’t give up."

It was the same answer she had given him countless times before. The same response that made him want to shout at her, tell her that there was no point, that she was wasting precious time. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he watched her reach out and knock softly on the door.

The moments that followed felt like a lifetime. Taehyun stood by her side, the air thick with tension as they waited for the door to open. It felt as if every breath they took was a countdown to something neither of them wanted to face.

When the door finally creaked open, Y/N’s sibling stood there, eyes wide with shock and confusion. There was a long, uncomfortable silence before they spoke.

"Y/N… What are you doing here?" The voice was cold, guarded. It was clear that the years of hurt hadn’t been forgotten.

Y/N’s face softened, but there was a tremor in her voice as she spoke. "I… I know I can’t undo the past. I can’t take back the things I’ve said or done. But I need you to know that I’m sorry. I regret all of it. And I just… I want to make things right before I…"

She faltered, and Taehyun could see her fighting to hold back tears. He knew how hard this was for her—how deeply she wanted to reach out, to close the distance that had formed between them over the years. But he also knew that no matter how much she wanted to mend things, there was a chance that it might not happen. People didn’t always forgive. Sometimes, things were beyond repair.

The sibling didn’t speak immediately. Instead, they just stared at Y/N, their expression unreadable. The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, and Taehyun’s patience was wearing thin. He wanted to tell Y/N to leave, to save herself from the heartache, but he didn’t.

He watched as Y/N swallowed, her breath shaky, and she took a tentative step forward. "Please," she said softly. "I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I just… I need you to know I’m sorry."

Her words hung in the air, fragile and vulnerable, and for a moment, Taehyun thought maybe, just maybe, they would make a difference.

But then the door slowly closed, the sound a final, painful confirmation that her sibling wasn’t ready.

Y/N stood there for a long time, her head lowered as if the weight of the world had just crashed down on her. Taehyun took a step forward, unsure of what to say, but knowing that he needed to say something.

"Let’s go," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "It’s not worth chasing something that won’t change."

But Y/N didn’t move. She stood there, motionless, her heart broken all over again. Taehyun watched her for a long moment, his thoughts in turmoil. He didn’t want to see her like this. He didn’t want to see her hurt.

But more than that, he didn’t want to see her give up.

He reached out, his hand tentative as it brushed against her arm. "Y/N…"

She looked at him then, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and for the first time, Taehyun saw just how much she had been carrying. All the weight of the world, all the pain of her past, all the love she had been holding on to in the hope of redemption—it was all written in her eyes.

"I tried," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I really tried."

And for the first time, Taehyun understood what it was like to want something so desperately that it hurt to even speak of it. He understood the agony of seeing someone you loved slip away, of not being able to make things right.

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to comfort her. But he couldn’t let her suffer like this, not when there was still a chance. Not when there was still time.

He pulled her into his arms, awkwardly at first, but then more firmly, holding her close as if he could keep the world at bay for just a moment longer. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have the words to make this better.

But he held her, and for the first time in his existence, he felt the warmth of something human stir within him. Something deep and aching that made him realize just how much he had changed since meeting her.

Y/N let out a shuddering breath, and for a brief moment, it felt like everything in the world had paused. She leaned into him, allowing herself to feel the comfort of his presence, even if just for a moment.

But the clock was still ticking.

They both knew it.

And in the end, there was nothing they could do to stop it.

The night stretched on in silence after that moment. Taehyun held her as the weight of what was happening pressed heavily on both of them. Time was cruel in its consistency, ticking away regardless of the emotions that churned in their hearts. Y/N’s breaths were shaky, each exhale a quiet surrender to the reality that she might never get the closure she sought. And Taehyun, standing with her in that small, broken moment, felt something within him crumble—a part of himself he hadn’t realized was still intact. A part that had once believed in the value of his role, in the necessity of following the rules, of keeping his distance. Now, standing beside her, he realized that it wasn’t enough.

He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected to care.

But it wasn’t enough to just care. She was still running out of time. And he was bound by the same cold, unwavering laws that had governed his existence for so long.

When she finally pulled away from him, her face was streaked with tears, but there was something different in her eyes. There was no resignation, no defeat. There was resolve, tempered by sadness, but it was there. She wasn’t going to give up. Not now.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she wiped her eyes. "I thought… maybe if I could just say it one more time, it would make a difference."

"It’s not your fault," Taehyun replied, his voice rough with emotions he refused to acknowledge. "Not everything can be fixed."

Y/N shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line as she took a steadying breath. "I know," she said quietly. "But I had to try. I had to do everything I could."

He nodded, his throat tight. He wanted to say something more—something that would bring comfort, something that would make all the pain, all the hurt, go away. But there were no words. Not now.

For a long moment, they just stood there, the sounds of the world around them fading into a quiet hum as the night deepened. Taehyun’s thoughts were a tangled mess, but in that moment, there was a single thought that kept returning to him.

She was still here. She was still alive, and that was a miracle in itself.

But it was a fleeting miracle.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Taehyun spoke, his voice quieter than before, but laced with a tenderness that was foreign to him. "I’ll take you back. We can’t stay here."

Y/N’s gaze flickered to him, her expression unreadable for a moment before she nodded silently. She didn’t argue, didn’t protest. There was no more fight left in her—not after everything she had done, everything she had tried to fix.

As they walked away from the door, Y/N’s head hung low, her shoulders slumped with the weight of defeat. Taehyun’s heart ached for her. There was nothing he could say that would make it better. But he had to try to do something.

"I don’t know if it’s enough," she whispered, her voice barely a breath in the cool night air. "But I did my best. That’s all I can do, right?"

Taehyun remained silent for a long moment, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He didn’t know how to answer her. But he found himself unable to walk away from her—not yet.

"You did more than anyone could," he finally said, his voice steady. "You fought for what mattered, even when it seemed impossible."

Her lips curved up slightly, but there was no joy in the smile—only the faintest trace of something like peace. "Thank you," she said softly.

As they made their way back toward the place where time was ticking down to nothing, the atmosphere around them seemed to grow even heavier. It was as though the very air was thick with finality, as if the end had already been written and there was nothing left to do but walk the path to meet it.

But there was still something left to do. Still one last decision to make.

Later that night, Taehyun found himself standing before Soobin, his form cast in the dim light of the ethereal realm where the reapers convened. The weight of his actions pressed heavily on his chest, but there was no turning back now. He had done something he wasn’t supposed to do, something that could cost him everything—his position, his very existence as a reaper.

"Soobin," Taehyun’s voice was firm, yet there was a thread of uncertainty running through it. "I need more time for her."

Soobin’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a certain weight, a depth of understanding that made Taehyun uneasy. "You know what this means," Soobin replied quietly, his voice heavy with the gravity of their world. "You’re asking for something that could undo everything you’ve known. A reaper’s duty is to maintain balance, Taehyun. To preserve order."

Taehyun clenched his fists at his sides. "I know," he said, his voice trembling with the truth of it. "But what if the balance isn’t right? What if it’s broken?"

Soobin’s gaze softened for the briefest of moments, a flicker of something familiar in his eyes. "Even we were once human," he said cryptically. "We were given the same choice—to live, to love, and to face the consequences. And we made our choice."

"I’m not asking for myself," Taehyun said, his words coming faster now, desperate. "I’m asking for her. She deserves a chance. A real one."

Soobin sighed, long and heavy. "You are asking for the impossible," he said, almost sadly. "But I cannot change the rules, Taehyun. You know that. This is not something that can be undone. Her time is running out."

Taehyun’s heart pounded in his chest. He knew what he had to do, and the consequences were beyond anything he could fully comprehend. He had to make a choice—his duty as a reaper or his feelings for Y/N.

And as he looked at Soobin, as he thought about everything that had led him here, he realized that the rules didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was her, and what she had fought for.

Without another word, Taehyun stepped back and raised his scythe. His hand trembled, but he knew what he had to do.

"Taehyun, wait," Soobin warned, his voice low and firm, but Taehyun’s mind was made up.

"Just this once," Taehyun whispered, his heart breaking as the words left his lips.

The moment his scythe cut through the air, he knew the price he would pay. And yet, he didn’t hesitate. For her, he didn’t hesitate.

The light around them began to flicker, the air growing colder with each passing second. And then, as if the very essence of existence itself had shattered, Taehyun made his choice.

He would save her. No matter the cost.

Struggling with his steps, Taehyun returned to where Y/N was. Seeing his state, she frantically ran up to him, just as his legs gave up on him. “Taehyun! What happened?” she holds him in her arms, tears welling up in her eyes seeing him like this. 

“I did it…” he weakly says, “You’re safe now.”

“Taehyun…” Y/N whispered, her voice full of sorrow and fear as his body grew lighter with every second that passed, as if gravity was losing its hold on him. “Please don’t leave me.”

Taehyun’s gaze softened as he looked at her, his body trembling with the force of the afterlife’s grasp. “I won’t leave you,” he promised, his voice barely audible. “Not now. Not ever.”

But even as he spoke those words, he knew they were a lie. The consequences of his actions were already taking hold, and he could feel himself slipping away. His once-immense power as a reaper was dwindling, and with it, his existence in the afterlife was being erased. His body grew heavier, and the light around them began to dim.

Taehyun looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with a deep sadness that pierced her heart. “I can’t stay, Y/N,” he whispered. “Not in the way you want me to. But I’ll always be with you. Even if you can’t see me.”

Tears spilled from Y/N’s eyes as she clung to him, refusing to let go. “I don’t care about the rules,” she cried. “I just want you to be here. With me. Alive.”

Taehyun smiled faintly, his form growing weaker by the second. “I’m sorry. This is the price I must pay. But know this, Y/N: I love you. And I’ll never forget you.”

With those final words, Taehyun’s form flickered like a candle in the wind. Y/N’s heart shattered as she watched him fade away, his essence slowly being consumed by the afterlife.

And just like that, he was gone.

The world around her seemed to crumble, as if the very foundation of her existence had been torn apart. She collapsed to her knees, her sobs echoing through the empty void. She had lost him—forever.

But even as the tears fell, she could feel a faint presence lingering in the air around her. The love they had shared, the bond they had formed, was still there, somewhere. She didn’t know how, but she could feel it.

For a single, suspended moment, everything was still. Time itself seemed to hold its breath.

Then, with a sudden rush of energy, the light enveloping Y/N burst outward, and her body collapsed to the ground in the human world, alive. She gasped, her chest heaving as air flooded her lungs, her heart pounding wildly as if racing to make up for lost time.

But the memories were gone.

The love, the anguish, the fleeting moments they had shared—everything that had made the last seven days hers to cherish, to mourn—vanished like a dream upon waking.

Y/N sat up slowly, dazed, her eyes scanning her surroundings. The world felt… unfamiliar, like a place she hadn’t seen in years but somehow knew by heart. A faint ache lingered in her chest, a bittersweet longing she couldn’t name. It whispered of something important, something precious lost to her. But no matter how hard she tried to grasp it, it slipped through her fingers, leaving only a vague sense of gratitude.

Taehyun’s fall from grace was swift.

The moment the forbidden magic completed its work, he felt the pull—an immense, tearing force that stripped him of everything that made him a reaper. His scythe, his cloak, the weight of his power—all vanished, dissipating into the void as though they had never existed.

He stumbled, the ground beneath him hard and solid in a way he hadn’t felt in centuries. For the first time in as long as he could remember, his body ached. The world around him wasn’t ethereal or formless; it was real, tangible.

Human.

His memories as a reaper blurred and fractured, the clarity of his existence splintering as his consciousness faded into the soft haze of mortality.

When he opened his eyes again, he was someone else. A human man with no scythe, no duties, and no name but the one he had been given in this new life.

And yet, there was something that lingered—fragments of a past life he couldn’t quite shake. In his dreams, he saw a woman. Her face was a mystery, her name always just out of reach, but her presence was undeniable. She was there, in his mind, in his heart, haunting him with the weight of something he couldn’t remember but couldn’t let go of.

He lived a quiet life now. The days passed in unremarkable fashion, but he found himself drawn to certain places, certain moments. As though some invisible thread were guiding him, pulling him toward something he had lost.

It was a quiet afternoon when their paths crossed again.

The small bookstore was warm and inviting, the scent of old paper mingling with the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the café next door. Taehyun stood near a shelf, absently flipping through the pages of a novel he had no real intention of buying. His mind wandered, as it often did, to the dreams that had plagued him for as long as he could remember.

Then, he felt it.

A presence.

It was subtle, like the first note of a forgotten song, but it struck him with enough force to make him look up sharply. Across the room, she stood by a display table, her fingers trailing lightly over the spines of a row of books.

He didn’t know her name, didn’t know who she was, but the sight of her filled him with an overwhelming sense of familiarity. His heart raced, his chest tightening as if something deep inside him had been waiting for this moment.

Y/N glanced up, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, she froze, her breath catching in her throat. There was something about him—something she couldn’t explain but couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t recognition, not exactly, but it was close.

“Hi,” she said, her voice soft, hesitant.

Taehyun blinked, startled by the warmth that spread through him at the sound of her voice. “Hi,” he replied, his voice quieter than he intended.

An awkward pause lingered between them, neither knowing why they felt compelled to speak, why their gazes held for a beat too long. Finally, Y/N smiled, a small, uncertain curve of her lips that sent a pang of something indescribable through Taehyun’s chest.

“Do I know you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “You seem… familiar.”

Taehyun hesitated, the words on the tip of his tongue. Did she? Did he? He didn’t know how to answer. All he knew was the pull toward her, the way his heart seemed to recognize hers even if his mind couldn’t.

“I don’t think so,” he said finally, though the words felt like a lie.

Y/N nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Maybe I’m just imagining things,” she said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced.

Taehyun smiled faintly. “Maybe.”

They stood there for a moment longer, the noise of the bookstore fading into the background as the weight of something unspoken hung between them. Neither of them could name it, but neither wanted to let it go.

“Well,” Y/N said, breaking the silence, “it was nice meeting you… again, maybe?”

Taehyun chuckled softly. “Yeah. You too.”

As she turned to leave, something in him stirred—a sudden, desperate urge not to let her go.

“Wait,” he called after her.

She turned, her expression curious.

“Would you… like to get a coffee sometime?” The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and for a moment, he felt like he was holding his breath.

Y/N’s smile widened, a hint of something brighter, warmer in her eyes. “I’d like that."

© all rights reserved ─ @gyu-tori 2025

Rei's Notes ✎: I wasn't expecting to write another fic this fast, but I really enjoyed writing this. It might've been done a tad bit rushed so I hope it still makes sense. I was just randomly inspired and wanted a bit of angst so here it is. I will be spacing out my releases after this though so I don't run out of ideas and writer's juice lmao. This is still my second ever fic so I hope you give it as much or even more love than the first!! ^-^

P.S. I really love reading out your thoughts and how the fic made you feel so please don't hesitate to share your opinions in the comments or through reblogs, I would really appreciate it~

Taglist: @yunverie @dawngyu @hueningstar @hhoneyhan @vicurious28 @xylatox @baekberrie @immelissaaa