#what a tell tale on the state of your relationship

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

the thing in ad astra/de terra that lights up my brain like nothing else is the concept of cariad beads

cariad beads and cariad braids fuck so incredibly hard and I think about it constantly

[dcxdpdabbles]

Alley Boyfriends Part 2

It turns out pretending to be a fake boyfriend involved more planning than Danny had realized was necessary.

Personally, he was thinking he would occasionally be asked to hold Tim's hand in semi-public, tell people about maybe three or four fake dates, and be done with it.

Tim, on the other hand, created a backstory that would make any Dungeon Master weep in complicated worldbuilding joy.

"Why would we keep our relationship a secret?It has to be a valid reason for why we meet in a back alley most of the time but still go out in public to eat." Tim asked him, three notebooks spread around him. All three were written in code, but once they finished creating the tale to his preference, Tim planned on burning them.

Cause that was something people in Gotham did. He wasn't even joking. One of his coworkers invited him to a journal-burning just last week. He went to see what it was about, turns out it was this cities verson of a block party. There were a lot of little groups hudled around movaible fire pits, throwing in paper, laughing and drinking and just being merry.

He checked online to ensure he hadn't accidentally joined a cult. He hadn't; Gotham was just like that.

"I'm from the Midwest—a small town in the Midwest. Maybe I'm not out yet?" Danny suggests with a shrug, slumping in his chair to get comfortable.

Tim snaps his fingers at him with a manic light in his eyes. "That's brilliant. We'll have to go through all your social media to screen for any hints of you being in the alphabet mafia. Now, why would you worry about being spotted four states away? Internalized homophobia?"

Danny shrugs, watching Tim consider his notes, flipping between pages on all three notebooks. Apparently, to ensure their cover story worked, Tim needed to have a notebook dedicated to three themes. The first was their Mental choices—such as a profile of their personalities both before and after their "dating," when they fell in love, and how their upbringing affected them in romantic relationships.

Physical choice—such as how many times they held hands and where the dates were, their attraction types in the pshycal sense, and where they met.

Finally, there weres the Narrative choices—these were people outside their couple. Who saw what, when, and how?. Social media was in there.

"No. That doesn't make sense." Tim sighs showing him the Narrative one. On it are a jamble of words, written so tiny, even if they were noraml Danny would not understand them. "See? Your online humor is about thirty percent gay. Not to mention you've been to Pride in Gotham already."

Tim taps the other notebook, where, supposedly, he is gesturing to the proof of Danny being too comfortable in gay spaces to have internalized homophobia. Danny wonders why he needs this much information, and who the hell would look so far into their fake realtionship.

Once again he wonders who Tim is. Oh, he's been making coffee for the other for days now. Always having his travel mug ready to go at seven am sharp for the other to pick up in the Alley, and had texted him for quick meet ups to trade Heart Attak Coffee.

Sometimes they would send funny memes to each other, and ask eachother about their day. They messaged but it waswn't really deep.

It's also been too late to ask Tim for his last name. It would be embarrassing to admit he either forgot when the other told him or he forgot to ask. His mother would be horrified by his manners.

"It would be sense if we were closer to your hometown, but this would barely hold up against my employees, much less the family." Tim sighs taking a long sip of his coffee. At once, Danny watches his whole body relax, and his eyes light up.

He wonders about that too. Tim reacted to Heart Attack coffee like a ghost interacting with their Obsession.

Tim isn't dead or died from what Danny can tell, but he had obvious signs of death around him. Not enough to be liminal like Jazz, so he wasn't ecto-exposed nor haunted.

He has likely just been in many life-threatening situations. Danny had noticed back in Amity that people like firefighters, military, police officers, and the like- those whose entire jobs meant putting themselves at risk- had the sense of Death gently curling around them. Almost like a flirtation.

He seen a lot more people like that in Gotham, though ussally they were on the opposite side of the previous named workers and he realized that Tim had to be involded in something.

Something big, if the nice suits, expensive coats, countless flowers, tips, and free lunches were any indication. Should he be worried about being in a fake relationship with him?

"Oh! We're a secret because this is both of our first boyfriends!" Tim cheers after a moment. "We are both worried about two different things. I don't want to mess things up due unresolved attachment and abandonment issues not to mention my terrible self-worth and communication skills."

That.....is terrifying self-aware. Danny can only stare as Tim nods his head, flipping some pages and writing more notes down. He switches between green and blue ink pens whenever he is writting so he knows which note applies to who.

Danny thinks he's green.

"You, on the other hand, have a mix of fear of your family finding out, terrible self-esteem due to years of bullying, and fear of commitment. I think we both can play off feeling that if we can't be of use to people, they will leave us mentality, so we never set up proper boundaries just to be safe." Tip pauses, tapping the pen to his bottom lip, eyes focused intensely on his work.

There is a hint of....ghost in his eyes, gleaming just behind his humanity.

He is Ghost King, which means he does not control or know when someone dies, as that is out of his jurisdiction. Not everything that dies becomes a ghost, just like not every ghost has ever lived after all.

In fact, not all of his citizens were humans to begin with or came from humans.

He had command of demons, in the same sense that he did concepts like Time (Clockwork) because they were between Realms. The ones that fell between the cracks of the fabric of worlds were Danny's.

Still, he came to recognize that someone had the potential to be one when their time came. Tim was most definatily a ghost in the making.

That left the question. What would be his Obsession once Tim finished forming?

Something directly involved in his death like Box Ghost (Crushed by a box due to his co-workers' careless prank?) Or something he felt he should have been given in life like Young Blood (Too sick to enjoy his childhood like other children and resentful of neglectful parents who ignored his pain?)

Danny tried to picture it, but they could see a glowing figure racing about wanting coffee and being unnecessarily involved with event planning.

Then again, he thinks, watching as Tim takes small glances at him as if making sure he is still there. He might be Obsessed with routines and being needed by people.

It wasn't really about the lack of caffeine. Instead, it was about the fact Heart Attack Coffee had been a comfort since childhood. Tim needed to feel like he was in control. Danny noticed that the second the other had burst into tears after being denied the coffee.

It was like taking Ember's guitar. His soul had dimmed. That's why Danny gave it to him while carefully checking to ensure Tim wasn't being Overshadowed. If he was, then he would kick the ghost's ass in the alley, away from wandering eyes.

He shivers again when a coldness from his chest zips across his limbs. Ever since Danny developed his ice core, he felt that he had been susceptible to the cold. He still remembers the day his core formed, how he was shivering in the summer to Sam's and Tucker's confusion.

He often found himself piling on scarves and sweaters, even when outside of winter.

Gotham wasn't nearly as cold as Amity Park- they would get a lot of snow compare to here- but it didn't seem to matter to his core.

He gets up to drag over the space heater and figures he may as well get some hot chocolate. His stomach growls, reminding him food would be a good idea, too. "You want something to eat Tim?"

There is a grunt that he learned meant "Yeah, I can eat" from Tim's hunched-over form. He smiles, grabbinghe throw blanket to wrap around himself.

His apartment wasn't too bad considering it was close to Crime Alley. It was odd and a bit outdated, but it was enough space for one person, the hot water lasted longer, and there was no mold or break-ins.

It nearly made up for the fact the walls were paper thin, which did nothing to keep the bitter Jack Frost out; his landlord shut off the heat a few weeks ago for "maintenance" and did not turn it back on.

According to his neighbors, he always does so to save funds. It sucked, but none of them could afford to move away, Danny included.

It would be bearable if Danny's insides weren't literally freezing.

He starts to cook a nice warm soup, chopping up some chicken and noodles, mindful of Tim's continued muttering in the background. It's nice, like having his own white noise machine.

A second wave of ice-ice cold races over his body. Danny glances at Tim, but it seems the other had gotten comfortable near his space heater, and it would be rude to take it across the room just because he was cold when his guest was already using it.

Maybe he'll buy a second one at the second-hand store on his next paycheck. He watches his soup boil as he adds some spices for flavoring, curling in on himself as the throw blanket seems to not be warming him fast enough.

He hates when he gets cold fits like this. They don't happen as often now that he pratice with his ice core but they effect his human side the longer he goes without ising his ice powers.

In a anti-meta city like Gotham he just hasn't found a safe place to do that yet.

Danny's hands ache from the trembles running through them- he slips on some gloves, trying to squeeze warmth back into it. He then goes across the room to the hooks by the wall after giving in, there he puts on a scarf, his coat and a beanie so his ears can warm up too.

"Are you cold?" Tim asks as Danny returns to the stove

Danny laughs from where he is stirring the soup. It is such an understatement he can't do anything else. "Freezing."

"Why not turn up the heat?"

"Landlord shut it off." Danny shrugs at Tim's look of disbelief. "It's okay I've gotten used to it. Just need to make a nest of clothes later to warm up. Soup will help too."

"Does he shut off your heat often enough that you've gotten used to it?" Tim's voice is strangely flat. Danny shrugs.

"He shuts off stuff, like the AC and electricity all the time. A month ago, he shut off the water; that was a rough two weeks." Danny jokes, thinking of how often he had to use the public bathrooms at the library to brush his teeth; he showered in the community gym. He tells Tim this. "Thank the Ancients for the Waynes. If it wasn't for them funding the gym, library, and laundry mat I probably would have it worse"

Tim stares at him for a long minute. Without a word, he reaches for his work laptop, which lay close to the side in favor of the notebooks two hours ago.

Danny isn't sure what exactly Tim does for work—he isn't sure it's legal, so he reframes from asking—but he does know that recently, he has been over to Danny's apartment a lot more to hash out the details and doing remote work at the same time.

He boots it up, fingers flying over the keyboard at a speed that still impresses Danny, even after seeing him type for the past few days. Assuming he returned to work, Danny returned to his own task. He carefully pours them both two bowls- mindful of his gloves- and warms up the mild for their hot chocolates.

They are not the healthiest of combinations, but both boys are comfortable with odd food choices. He caries the tray back to the table, blaket dragging behind him.

Tim stares intensely at the screen, nodding thanks to him when he puts a bowl down by his hand. "What do you think of this?"

Danny glances at the screen and sees a really lovely penthouse. It's spacious, overlooking Gotham's diamond district with five rooms, two baths and even a boucany pool and hottub.

It screams money, with its large arched windows, dark carpet, and grey pillars. He even spots a grand piano in the living room. Danny whistles, "Damn, I would love to live there."

"Okay, it's yours," Tim says, clicking the chat box with the realtor. He types out a quick agreement for the purchase and opens another tab with his private banker and lawyers, commanding them to have the place ready for him in two days—all without reaching for his mouse. An agreement comes through before Danny can do anything other than gawk as Tim adds his name to the owner's list.

Tim seems unaware of Danny's flabbergasted look of awe as he taps into a few more tabs, researching cleaning crews and moving companies. "We can move you on your day off. The cleaners can help you pack if you need it while you're at work, and the moving crew can get it over the city for you. I'm also buying this place. It's ridiculous that he just shuts things off. "

Just who in the world is this guy!?

____________________________________________________

Across the city, Babs stares at Tim's online orders. She has been told to keep an eye on himbecause Jasons worries about his suspected drug problem.

Everyone in the family has been somewhat uneasy about the possibility. Babs will admit her heart broke when she found hours and hours of him meeting the same shady looking teenager entering the same back alley over and over again.

He always came out looking flustered and a bit jittery, and she also thought it wasn't a secret lover like Bruce and Dick had hoped. She had always been a least optimistic, and her cameras- even the ones she hacked into to review recorded surveillance for the past three showed her the ugly truth.

Tim was an addict.

She had been working on her letter for the intervention they would be holding for him, typing past her tears, when this popped up. She blinks and takes her glasses off to wipe them before checking to see if she is seeing correctly.

But nope, the words stay the same. She slowly reaches for her headset and clicks it on. At once, her ear overflows with various voices from everyone on the field.

Tim is the only one not out currently, but she can clearly see why.

"Tim just bought a penthouse for Danny Fenton. He also has two sets of cleaning crews, one to Fenton's address and one to his own. Two sets of moving crews have been added to both addresses, each ending at the same penthouse. He's going to be living with him," She announces, silencing everyone at once. "Does that sound like drug dealer behavior?"

"Omg," Dick cries at once. Relief and joy overlap his voice as he screams into the mics "Love wins!"

"Let's not celebrate too soon. We still have to figure out what the hell those alley meetings are about," Jason warns. "If it is a drug dealer, moving in together will be the worst thing possible to T."

"Agree. We prob him but carefully so he doesn't catch on." Bruce comands "Act as ussual to get as much information out of Tim."

"So.....we throw him a house warming/investation on his boyfriend party?" Steph asks the sound of wind accompanies her words. She is likely grappling towards Danny's apparment to check on Tim.

She has gotten the habit of doing so ever since Danny has been flagged by Jason. Steph has reported the same thing evertime. Tim seemed to just been doing work at Danny's table, drinking teas and cuddling together in front of Danny's cheap tv.

She thought it was all very domestic, even when her eyes tracked every movement Danny made. Of course she couldn't get too close least Tim would catch on.

"Exactly."

[godnectar]

Yandere himbo? >:)

・✶ ｡ﾟ𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎 ;

cw: toxic behavior, bae's hot, oblivious and delusional asf, kinda manipulative, jealousy, violence, guilt tripping,,,, justifications + probably a big ass etc. ( inbox )

𖣠 YANDERE HIMBO who possesses a genuinely warm and friendly demeanor that, along with his looks, easily draws people to him. the pure, charming, and easygoing smile he usually wears making it extremely hard for others to suspect anything about his hidden, darker tendencies — reason why you didn't really made a big deal out of his sudden but innocent looking crush towards you and just felt flattered.

𖣠 YANDERE HIMBO whose loyalty absolutely knows no bounds once you two got together after countless of sweet, sincere compliments, some appealing winks, and a few wholesome dates. he's hopelessly devoted to you, willing to go to extreme lengths to ensure his darling's happiness and safety twenty-four seven.

𖣠 YANDERE HIMBO who's cheerful facade is fast to crumble the next second he perceives someone as a threat to your lovely, fairy tale looking relationship, no matter if it's because of one of your friends getting to touchy or just one of your relatives making a disapproving comment about your choice of a partner. even though, he's also quick to apologize whenever you get mad as the familiar, beefy arms that hold you at night get covered with scratches after he holds your acquaintances in a chokehold deep inside an alley hours prior. unsurprisingly, guilt overcomes you as soon as you glance at his pouty lips and furrowed eyebrows, pained by your anger over his instinctive jealousy.

𖣠 YANDERE HIMBO who as much as he lacks intelligence, probably also lacks comprehension for his actions' severity most of the time, leading him to justify some disturbing things such as his hostility, surveillance and obsessive keepsakes by saying it all comes from his undying love towards you, the light of his eyes.

𖣠 YANDERE HIMBO who genuinely thinks there's nothing wrong with what he does. sure, he might not be the brightest bulb in the box, nor the man with the healthiest mental state you'll meet — the latter being pretty noticeable, especially when you catch on the fearful stares some people send among all the praising others unawarely give — but at least he's trying his best at showing you that his... heart throbs only for his sweetling, right?

𖣠 YANDERE HIMBO who desires with all his heart for you to be as head over heels for him as he is for you, never giving up on trying to make you let down all of your guards to share his innermost yearns, fantasizing about an intense, exclusive and unique connection between you two where both seek to become the other's one and only.

"tell me how much you love me, my dear. need to hear you saying there's absolutely no one in your heart but me."

© godnectar 2023. please do not modify, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my permission.

[yanderenightmare]

...part two where alpha bakugou finally tries to court reader after a few years of possessively scenting her and walks in on her in her first hear

Bakugou Katsuki

TW: omegaverse, possessiveness, awkward relationship

part 1

gn reader

He’s trying to figure out how to get you to move in with him. 

He’s done at UA now, receiving steady work and paychecks. His apartment is nice, in a good and practical location. Everything is stable. Everything’s in place.

Everything except you.

He knows he hasn’t been the most reasonable mate throughout the years. His confession was nothing short of a threat – forcing you to wear his clothes so others would know you were taken. 

But he did those things to protect you, to keep you safe – which is his duty as an Alpha. He's done his side of the courtship.

In all honesty, you’re the one who’s unreasonable – you’re the one not doing your job. 

He’s not blind to see how doting other Omegas are towards their Alphas.

You don’t dote on him – never kissy or cuddly or lovey-dovey – at best, you’re passive with an inclination to be agreeable.

How’s he supposed to make any sort of moves on you when you don’t give him any signals? At this rate, the two of you will be left in a platonic state of… not friendship or kinship… just plain awkwardness – a stalemate.

It’s embarrassing… the two of you haven't even consummated your bond yet. In fact, and even more embarrassing – you haven't even kissed.

You may very well not even be mates at this point.

He can’t blame you, though… 

He’s not any good when it comes to you. He never has been. All your conversations are of him either tutoring you in subjects, scolding you for not wearing his clothes, or admonishing you for not telling him about your schedule.

Actually, almost every conversation you have with each other is of him shouting at you.

It’s no wonder you won’t kiss him.

“Oi – I’m done. Heading over now.” He grunts as soon as he hears the tell-tale silence of you answering his call. 

“Uhm,” 

He furrows his brows at the soft warble, waiting for more.

There’s heavy breathing coming from your line. Then, a whimper which only makes his brows furrow tighter.

“I’m – uhm, not really feeling so good.” You finally say.

More heavy breathing, followed by a wince.

“Maybe you shouldn't come...”

“Hah? You’ sick? What kinda sick? How’d you get sick?” He immediately starts berating. “This is why you can’t live alone-”

“Just don’t come.” You interrupt a little louder, offering a sigh. “I don’t want to make you sick too…” He thought he even heard a sniffle. “I’ll stay inside, so don’t worry. I’ll call when I feel better – you can come then, okay?”

A small beat passes.

“No. I’m coming now.”

“But-” You whine, but he hangs up.

Dumb brat. Getting yourself sick. This is exactly why you should live with him. You don’t wear a jacket when it’s cold. You don’t eat what you should. You don’t drink enough water. You don’t sleep when you ought to.

“Oi! Open up, brat.” He bangs on your door when he arrives a curt fifteen minutes later – unbothered by the many other students buzzing around the dorm.

He hears you rush to open, quick footsteps padding across the floor – before the door swings open.

You pull him in by the arm, shutting it quickly behind him.

“Don’t call me a brat where everyone can hear, you dummy.” You hiss, slapping his chest in no way that hurt.

Still, he raises a brow at you.

Then he makes another grimace. Narrowing his eyes as he leans forward just a nod – his broad shoulders squared and stiff.

You curl your brows at the stance, tilting your head in askance while his nose scrunches – sniffing the air between you – almost scrutinizingly.

“You’re not sick.” He suddenly accuses.

It’s an odd thing to disagree on. But it always is with Katsuki – ever the unreasonable Alpha. 

“Yes, I am.” You sigh, brushing past him. “I have a fever, and I feel funny.”

He grabs you before you get too far – although softly – holding you by your upper arms while leaning in closer – now with his nose sliding along your neck.

You feel flushed at the proximity. Odd, for some reason.

Something tickles deep down in your stomach, along with the brewing pain you’d felt all day.

“Feverish, restless, aching stomach?” He lists the symptoms with a raised brow, though more so in a statement. Clicking his tongue at the clueless look of askance you give him in return. “You’re in heat, you dumbass.”

This time, you really feel flushed. Eyes going moon-big at his claim – suddenly very nervous. And for good reason.

“No… how do you know?” You deny, shaking your head as though it would make him any less right.

“Tch-” He scoffs halfheartedly – not sharply like he so often does.

Dropping your arms, he straightens his back and looks off to the side – his voice low with something you’d never heard from him.

“You’re stinking up the whole place...”

There’s a blush dusting his cheeks.

The feeling is mutual.

He hadn’t been on board when you’d told him you were moving out of your home to your college campus. The thought of you living in close proximity to dozens of other alphas and trigger-happy betas made the vein in his forehead pulse – hands sweaty at his sides. 

But he’d helped you move nonetheless – if only to make sure your dorm was infested with his scent – veering off any unwanted bidders. 

“Such a dumb brat…” He sighed. Walking over to the door to make sure you’d locked it – you hadn’t, which only further made him scowl. “Got any idea how dangerous this is? Allowing everyone who walks by to know exactly how-”

“Don’t shout!” You bark back. Feeling nervous and tense and worried – all in all panicked. This wasn’t the plan. “The plan was obviously to use suppressants – but I've never been in heat before, so-”

“So yer sayin’ you had no plan. Tch, unprepared – like always.” He bites back – also panicked.

“Shut up, jerk.” Your fists ball at your sides. “You’re not helping- oww-” You keeled before you could rant – wrapping your arms around your stomach.

Heavy breaths erratically short, interrupted by whimpers and a wince. 

His scowl cleared – easing up when he realized his presence might have just made things worse. He’d showered after patrol, so the scent wasn’t as intense, but it was enough for you to react – knowing his pheromones were spurring your hormones into greater turmoil. 

“Shit.” He muttered – suppose with some empathy – before he scooped you up from where you were all about ready to kiss the floor, huddled over. “Alright then, brat...”

You were weak to his handlings – before you knew it, you were already placed in the bed – the two of you in a spoon – your back to his broad chest and his chin atop your head.

He was a little stiff – not unlike him – but you suppose he was feeling a little shy about the matter – his movements perhaps even slightly sheepish as he smoothed his hand over your stomach.

He went under your shirt but didn’t lift it off – placing his palm down flat atop the ache inside. 

Slowly, he began rubbing circles into the flesh – a little awkwardly until finding the right pace. 

It hurt at first – made you tense – but then it settled. The warmth soon soothed the churning within, making it melt, and you let out a relieved sigh – breaths still burdened, laced with pitiful whimpers you couldn’t help but let slip.

He suppressed a sound when you shimmied closer – trying to will away the warmth he felt swell in his pants.

But your scent had been clouding his head since he'd stepped into the room and was only growing thicker. 

“We don’t have to do anything else.” He stated through the haze in spite of it – as though renouncing the need even though you both knew what it was that was poking against your butt.

“You’re hard.” You argued bluntly – as you’d learned was your only tactic with him. 

Feeling him bristle. “Tch – blame your shitty scent – a man can only hold himself back so much…”

All clothes were still on – and yet… the fat thing that was tucked right alongside the thin cotton of your pajama shorts and undies… you wouldn’t deny it felt nice – couldn’t – not when you were so wet it was embarrassing.

“Stop.” You said – and his hand peeled off your stomach, making you grab and put it back in place. “No, not that – I mean…” 

You chewed your lip – shuffling your thighs – feeling hot all over before releasing another sigh.

“You don’t have to hold yourself back…” You could only barely say it – almost unheard in how timid a whisper it was.

He took a moment in fear of having misunderstood you – remaining vigilant in his cautiousness. Every nerve recognized what a fragile state you were in – and nothing dared defy the single dominant instinct he had telling him to cater to your every need – despite the other almost equally incessant urge he felt to hump you like a pillow.

“Y’gotta explain yourself.”

This time, you gave a whine – caught between vexed and desperate. Shrinking where you lay snug against his bigger body, curling in on yourself. “Please don’t make me say it, Katsuki – it’s so embarrassing, I think I might die.”

His heart beats faster at the vulnerable cry. He swallowed the pool of drool under his tongue – squaring his jaw, doing his best to keep his voice calm. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.”

“Ugh – you're such a bully-” You curl even further into a ball with a whimper.

Katsuki clicks his tongue at your behavior – briefly rolling his eyes before pulling you up beneath him. His red eyes, holding that pointed dour look – such contrast to the swiveling of your watery ones. 

“Tell me what you want.” His voice was sturdier now – an anchor you could hold onto.

You had often been unsure whether Katsuki really was the right mate for you even though you couldn’t really picture yourself with anyone else – let alone think of him with another Omega without wanting to trash your room like a wild animal let out of the cage. But looking at him now – into those bromine eyes – once so harsh and now so mature, making you feel so safe.

He was waiting for an answer, but your lips had other plans – planting themselves on his in a spur-of-the-moment kiss.

And what left them once the two of you parted was nothing short of heart-robbing.

“Please fuck me.”

[evangelical04]

A Single Daffodil || 3

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 11.9K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut, body image issues

Author's Note: is this being posted over a week late? yes but I'm in the middle of exams at the moment eek! on the bright side, I'll be able to work on this more often after this week since most of my exams will be done! and then I have about a month until my job starts so I'm planning to grind!! all that aside, we get to see them get married here, so exciting!! yoongi seems to be having second thoughts hmmm interesting. let me know what you guys think! i love to hear your feedback <33

Taglist:

@yoongisducky @kam9404 @sumzysworld @tarahardcore @viankiss @babystarcandylovejk @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @igot7fairlyoddparents @baechugff @pb89nv @peachytokki @ratherbfangirling @themwordsblog @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @kimmalik @honeyypages @captainchrisstan @khaimahfe @yoongibaybee

previous / masterlist / next

You nervously smoothed out the skirt of your dress in an effort to calm your nerves but found little success. The day of the rehearsal had come and in less than twenty-four hours, you were to be married. Your hands shook as you grasped the door handle of the entrance to the banquet hall. Hoseok laid a comforting hand on your shoulder before shooting you a reassuring smile. He had decided to attend the rehearsal at your insistence, citing seeing Joohee again as the reason, though you knew he could tell how worried you were. 

Mustering a small smile in response, you pushed open the door to see the ceremony space set up with nauseatingly bright flowers and ornate, crystal-laden light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. The chairs were decorated in satin sashes with gold embroidery and the altar was woven around with glittering flowers. Your mother was standing at the edge of the aisle, speaking to the catering service employee. She was dressed impeccably as always, her commanding presence demanding that you look at and respect her. Your father was sitting in one of the satin chairs, scrolling dully on his phone. Your mother noticed you standing by the door and quickly beckoned you over. 

As you approached, Hoseok following close behind, you noticed something at the end of the room. Standing at the end of the aisle was Yoongi, clad in the normal black suit you’d seen him in thus far, with his tie loosened and hair ruffled. He was speaking to his mother, who was adjusting his blazer, and his father, who stood off to the side, distantly nodding along. He had yet to notice your arrival, but you were fully enraptured by him. This was what you had been dreaming of since you’d met Yoongi outside that party so long ago, walking down the aisle to see him at the other end, promising your lives to each other in an act of fierce and nurtured love. But that wasn’t what was happening. Hoseok’s grip on your shoulder grounded you as you approached your mother. You could feel his arm laying across your shoulder blades and hanging loosely, but comfortingly, in an effort to brace you for your mother. 

“Nice to see you finally made it. You must’ve been in a rush if you only had time to choose that outfit,” your mother stated, not bothering to properly greet you or acknowledge Hoseok. She knew who he was and she didn’t approve of your close relationship with him, but she knew that she couldn’t say anything out loud lest her image be tainted, which is what you were banking on. 

Feeling Hoseok’s grip tighten at your mother’s careless words, you tried to subtly placate him, “Hello, mother. I’m sorry I’m late. Will we be starting soon?” Your mother only nodded curtly before turning away to speak to more of the venue employees. You let out a heavy breath before sitting down at one of the nearby chairs, not making an effort to try and greet your father. It’s not like he’d acknowledge you anyway. 

“God damn, you need therapy,” Hoseok whistled lowly. 

You let out a tired laugh, pulling him down to sit next to you, “Yeah, but we knew that already. Are you sure you’re up to face these guys? It can be a lot.”

Hoseok nodded, smiling kindly at you, before squeezing the hand you pulled him down with, “Of course, I am. I said I was here for you and I meant it.”

You grinned, having missed his fervent support and soothing touch, “Thanks, Hobi. You’re the best.” Hoseok only gave you another squeeze in response. 

“Wow, I’m offended,” came a voice from behind you, “I thought I was the best.”

You and Hoseok turned to find Joohee in a simple dress, hands resting on her hips. Smiling up at her, you nodded, “You know you’re in a league of your own. Hobi can’t even compare.” 

Hoseok scoffed incredulously, “You’re so fickle, how could you call yourself my friend.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you leaned back in your chair with Joohee joining, sitting on your other side. Your eyes drifted back to Yoongi, and you startled, finding him looking right back at you. He casually shifted his gaze back to his mother, who was still speaking to him, not sparing you another glance. 

“So, that’s him?”

You turned towards Hoseok, whose gaze was pointed at Yoongi’s form. You nodded, “Yeah, that’s him. My…fiance.”

Hoseok studied your sullen form for a moment before grabbing your shoulders and giving you a friendly squeeze, “At least he’s hot!”

Joohee and you laughed at his antics before hearing the large, wooden doors to the entrance open once more. A group of handsome men entered, about four, only one of whom you recognized as Joohee’s older brother. The group approached, laughing together while walking towards Yoongi. Joohee stood, shouting Seokjin’s name, calling him over to your small group. Kim Seokjin smiled at the sight of his sister before breaking off from the group, one of the men following after, while the others continued to Yoongi. 

“Hey, Joo, how’s it going,” Seokjin smiled easily, ruffling his sister’s hair. She swatted at him before answering, “Good, but mom’s been on my case lately to come home.”

You looked on in envy, wishing you had a similar, friendly relationship with your own brother. Kyungsoo was nice enough to you, when he cared to acknowledge you. He had been primed by your parents to take over their company since he was young, but they’d made sure that the two of you had stayed competitive academically. Even though you were younger, you tended to do better in your studies, something your parents never let Kyungsoo forget. As a result, he’d grown extremely distant with you and you rarely spoke now. Actually, you weren’t even sure if he was coming to the wedding. 

“There’s the bride-to-be! How are you feeling,” Seokjin’s voice boomed, snapping you out of your daze. 

You smiled politely at him, “Hi, Jin oppa, it’s nice to see you. I’m feeling alright, as well as I can.”

Seokjin nodded sympathetically, “I know Yoongi hasn’t been the best, but give him some time to adjust. If he’s still an ass after that, let me know and I’ll beat him up.”

You laughed as he puffed out his chest and raised an arm to display his muscles. Joohee rolled her eyes before punching him lightly in his side, “Oppa, no one wants to see that. Here, let me introduce you to Hobi.”

Hoseok stood to greet the older man, no longer obstructing your view of the other man who had followed Seokjin out of the group earlier. He was quite tall, though not as tall as Seokjin, and well built, with tattoos flowing down his hands, curling around the small wrinkles of his fingers. His shaggy black hair framed a boyish face that wore a polite smile. Why did he seem so familiar?

“Jeon Jeongguk,” you blurted out, almost stumbling to stand and confirm your suspicions. He turned to face you, with you now realizing that it was, in fact, the same streamer you’d been following for the past few years. You hadn’t recognized him immediately without his usual garb of sweatshirts, headphones, and piercings littering his face. 

“Hi, you’re Seo Y/N, I assume,” he smiled, eyes crinkling. Feeling slightly starstruck, you nodded dumbly. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, Kook, she’s a big fan of yours. She watches your streams all the time,” Joohee interjected. Your gaze shot towards her, sending her a silent message. 

You know him? And you didn’t tell me? 

Joohee only shrugged sheepishly, Sorry, must’ve slipped my mind.

You gritted your teeth, I’m so interrogating you later.

Jeongguk’s voice called you back to him, “Really? That’s cool, I always love meeting fans.”

Feeling your cheeks redden, you stumbled slightly over your words, “Yeah! I love all your videos, you got me into a couple of new games I didn’t think I’d ever enjoy,” you finished, laughing awkwardly. 

Jeongguk took it in stride, bashfully scratching the back of his head, “Thanks, I appreciate that. So you’re into a lot of games, yourself?”

Seeing an opportunity, you relaxed, feeling yourself brighten at the chance to talk about your favorite subject, “Yeah! I actually work for O.K. Gaming in their planning team. I’m not really into MMOs, but I like a lot of RPGs and platformers, my favorite right now is actually this indie one from the U.S. that’s been out for a couple of years, Celeste, it got put on the switch but I played it on my PC. But I’ve been branching out, thanks to you! Watching you play all the old Zelda games made me want to get into it too, but I ended up starting with Breath of the Wild because it looked so pretty, the graphics are just amazing! So are the mechanics, I was really impressed with how-”

“Woah, there,” you heard Hoseok, laying a hand on the small of your back, “You’re gonna scare him away.”

You laughed awkwardly, noticing the shocked expression that painted Jeongguk’s face, “Sorry, I tend to get over-excited when it comes to that stuff.”

Jeongguk seemed to snap back into the conversation, shaking his head wildly with a large grin, “No, that’s great! It’s been a while since I’ve been able to geek out with someone. We should totally hang out, what’s your number?”

You felt yourself slip back into a comfortable smile before taking Jeongguk’s phone to put your number in while he excitedly mentioned the games he was thinking of streaming next. Handing his phone back, he glanced at it before looking back up at you, “Hey, is it okay for me to call you noona? I do the same with Joohee noona.”

Slightly surprised at his forwardness, you nodded, “Yeah, that’d be nice. I don’t think I’ll call you Kook though.”

He laughed brightly, “We’ll work our way up to that.”

One of the other groomsmen called both Seokjin and Jeongguk back to the altar, leaving you to bask in the feeling of having met one of your favorite content creators and becoming friends with him, ignoring Hoseok’s quiet teasing at your geeking out. The bliss didn’t last long though as you heard your mother clap her hands and ask everyone to sit near the front. Hoseok’s hand slipped into your own, giving it a gentle squeeze, along with an encouraging smile, before letting you and Joohee join the others at the front. You’d wished that you could put Hoseok in your wedding party, but you knew your mother would never allow it. You were grateful already that he’d come to the rehearsal despite not being able to do anything the entire time. 

You and Joohee took your seats at the front, sitting next to some other young women you recognized from your mother’s galas, likely the rest of your bridesmaids. Your mother had been kind enough to let you choose Joohee as your maid of honor, but you knew she’d only allowed it because Joohee’s family was high up enough according to her standards. 

Your mother positioned herself at the altar, addressing everyone with a confident tone, “Now that everyone’s present, I’ll let Mrs. Shin go through the itinerary for today.” Your mother then stepped aside, joining your father on your family’s side of the aisle.

A small, stout woman with her hair in a tight bun and a string of pearls adorning her neck took the stand, “Hello, I’m Shin Miyeon, the wedding planner for this event. For today, we’ll start with a rehearsal of the entrances and ceremony, which will be followed by the entrances for the reception and a run-through of the timings for the dances tomorrow. We’ll end with a joint dinner, and then we’ll be done. Let’s get started.”

Mrs. Shin immediately started directing people, the bridal party being the first, and pairing them up by height to walk together. Joohee was quickly whisked away, leaving you shaking nervously, as this was all beginning to feel a bit too real. The thought was suddenly occurring to you that you really were going to be marrying Yoongi and he absolutely did not want it to happen. Sinking further into your seat, you sent an encouraging, but wavering, smile to Joohee who was paired with her brother due to their similar heights. Your eyes drifted towards Yoongi, who was sitting calmly on the other side of the aisle, swiping through his phone with an unimpressed expression. How could he be so nonchalant about all this?

“Mr. Min, Ms. Seo, please join me at the entrance,” Mrs. Shin’s voice called out, making you raise your head in her direction. You felt your heart rate speed up and your hands clench, you weren’t ready for this. Your vision almost seemed to cloud as it felt like a hand was closing in around your throat, and your breath started to stutter. You absolutely were not ready for this. Your life was about to change, arguably for the worse, and you had to spend it with someone who wouldn’t even acknowledge you. You could distantly hear Mrs. Shin calling your name once more but it felt like you couldn’t move, your body didn’t feel like your own. Gaze lowering to the ground, it seemed like spots were taking over your vision. Your breath continued to quicken and you could feel yourself beginning to fully lose control of your breathing.

This can’t be happening.

You needed to get ahold of yourself, there were people all around you, not to mention your mother and Yoongi. But no matter how hard you tried to ground yourself, the control you had over your body kept slipping away, and it only caused you to freak out further. A pair of smart, black dress shoes came into your view and you lifted your head to see Yoongi looking down at you with a raised eyebrow through your blurry vision. 

“Are you coming?”

You forced yourself to hold your breath, letting it out slowly after counting for a few seconds, before nodding and standing on wobbly legs. You didn’t have time to break down, you had a job to do. 

Following Yoongi and Mrs. Shin to the entrance doors, you pointedly avoided eye contact with your mother while sending shaky smiles to Joohee and Hoseok. You had to get a grip. 

“Alright, let’s go through the order we’ll be going down the aisle. Can the rest of the wedding party please come down here?”

You were squished up against the door with Yoongi at your side as the wedding party took their places to arrive at the altar before you. Setting your eyes straightforward, you resisted any temptation to glance at Yoongi to see his expression. You couldn’t face him after he’d witnessed you almost experience a full-on panic attack. Focusing in on Mrs. Shin’s firm tone was an easy distraction, as you watched her guide your wedding party down the aisle and to the altar. Slowly but surely, she made her way to you and your groom, with Yoongi being directed first.

“You’ll walk before Ms. Seo and take your place next to Mr. Kim at the stand,” Mrs. Shin said, guiding Yoongi toward the other end of the room. You watched as he gracefully strode down the aisle, casually stopping next to Seokjin and turning to face your direction. The action made you pause, almost breathlessly, as your gaze connected. However, his eyes didn’t last long on your form, as they slid over to Seokjin and Yoongi began conversing with him. 

You couldn’t help the disappointed feeling in your chest, despite knowing full well you had no right to suffer it. Yoongi wasn’t yours, he would never be, something he had made quite clear in your limited interactions. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel a tugging in your stomach, a pain in your forefinger, at his blatant dismissal of you. Biting your lip, you cursed inwardly, now was not the time to fall even deeper for your husband-to-be. 

“Ms. Seo, please follow me. You can hold this in place of your bouquet,” Mrs. Shin said, handing you a nondescript water bottle. A quick glance at Hoseok’s form turned to face you had you confirming that he was making fun of you as you had suspected. You brushed off his giggles and stepped in what you hoped was an elegant manner after Mrs. Shin, following her down the aisle. 

You deliberately avoided looking at Yoongi’s face, knowing that he wouldn’t be watching you. Did you want him to? 

Yes.

You almost scoffed. What a ridiculous notion. What you were in need of was a good, old reality check, not playing into the fantasy of marrying Yoongi for love. As you passed Hoseok, he whistled wolfishly, earning a disapproving frown from your mother. It was exactly what you needed though, pulling a laugh out of you before discreetly flipping him off from behind the water bottle. You felt the tension leave your body at Hoseok’s familiar antics, finally feeling relaxed for the first time that night. Maybe you could do this, after all.

Reaching the altar, Mrs. Shin proceeded to give minor notes to the rest of your wedding party as you stood awkwardly next to Yoongi. You could hear his soft breaths as he waited patiently for Mrs. Shin to address you both, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at or try to start a conversation with him. Yoongi seemed to be doing the same, keeping his eyes forward and occasionally glancing at his watch. 

You felt lonely. You were standing next to the person who was going to be your partner for the rest of your life and yet, you felt a deep and painful distance from him. You could feel his warmth, hear him shuffling beside you, but you deliberately shied away from brushing elbows to solidify the separation between you. Yoongi seemed so calm and indifferent, it made you feel a troubling combination of envy and anger. 

Why couldn’t you be as blase as him about this? Why was he so apathetic in the first place? Didn’t he care about you at all? Was he judging you for not being aloof yourself? Why didn’t he want to engage with you at all?

It hurt, to say the least, but the rational part of you annoyingly came to his defense. Realistically, you knew he had no obligation to try and converse with, or even care about, you. So why were you still so hurt?

“Mr. Min, Ms. Seo, please join me at the doors. We’ll run through it again.”

Mrs. Shin’s voice put a halt to your spiraling thoughts, making you register Yoongi turning around beside you. Following suit, you joined behind him, taking a glance at your watch. Only about thirty or so minutes had passed.

You sighed, this was really going to be a test of your endurance. 

The cushioned chair felt welcoming, even though your company did not evoke the same feeling. Your mother was sitting across from you and her cold stare made you shrivel into your seat. Hoseok was placed on the far end of the table with Joohee, making them achingly far from you. Yoongi was next to you in a performance pretending this was a willing marriage. Not that the restaurant staff would care. 

You scowled internally, lamenting the fact that you couldn’t even eat dinner comfortably. Your mother was sending you cursory glances while talking to Yoongi’s mother, and your dad was talking business with Yoongi’s father, and with Yoongi conversing with Seokjin, you were painfully lonely. You resorted to quietly playing with the napkin in your lap and staring at your empty plate and wine glass in front of you, desperately wishing you could drink to make the dinner easier but you knew your mother wouldn’t approve. 

“Y/N noona?”

You looked up, making eye contact with Jeongguk, who was sitting next to you, previously talking to another groomsman with stunning dimples next to him. 

“Oh, yes,” you responded, straightening in your chair. 

“I wanted to talk to you some more about the games you mentioned earlier since we didn’t get to finish,” he responded, a bright, bunny smile decorating his face. 

You felt yourself smile warmly in response automatically, his joy and bubbliness seemed to be contagious, “Yeah, I’d love to. What would you like to know?”

The conversation with Jeongguk proved to be your oasis in the desert of the stale and stiff conversations happening around you, especially between your parents. His encouraging smile put you at ease and made the tension flow out from your fingers. You were grateful that he was so engaging, keeping you distracted from the shifting from the aloof and dominating presence you felt beside you. 

Yoongi had remained relatively quiet throughout the whole evening, only having spoken to you when you were on the verge of breaking down. He spoke quietly to his friends, not bothering to introduce you to them, and had barely looked in your direction. Part of you couldn’t deny it upsetting you, but you constantly reminded yourself that this was to be expected. 

The both of you had made no commitment to each other outside of appearing as a couple when it mattered, he had no obligation to be friendly towards you. It felt like your mind was going in circles continually trying to keep your emotions in check and avoid crossing the boundaries Yoongi had so clearly laid out. 

The thought entered your mind once again, Is this what the rest of your life is going to be like? 

It certainly felt that way. 

You felt Yoongi shift beside you once again, making you flinch. Thankfully, Jeongguk didn’t seem to notice, too engrossed in describing his most recent gaming obsession with you. You felt hyper-aware of Yoongi’s presence, whether he was right beside you or at the other end of the room. It bothered you how much he affected you, but you almost enjoyed it at the same time.

There was something pleasant about the feeling of falling in love with someone, regardless of whether it was a tragic infatuation or not. The rush of your heartbeat whenever you caught a glimpse of him, the way your breath hitched when you accidentally brushed shoulders, the way your fingers itched to grasp his hand, it all felt so romantic in a way. 

Where it all came crashing down was the reality that Yoongi didn’t feel a semblance of the same way. Your spiked heartbeat was met with his indifferent exterior, your hitched breath with his calm and even exhales, and your twitching fingers with his clenched fist. It was detrimental, damaging even, and it was taking a toll on, not only your emotional wellbeing but your self-confidence as well. You were so swiftly rejected by him that it was a blow to your self-esteem. You hadn’t felt particularly great about yourself prior to his crushing dismissal, but you had certainly been in a downward spiral since then. 

Too often now you were scrutinizing your appearance in the mirror, choosing baggier clothing while hating the silhouette, and catching yourself while speaking. It wasn’t logical or warranted, but that didn’t stop your overactive mind from whispering your insecurities quietly every day. Maybe Hoseok had a point. You really needed to look into therapy.

“Noona?”

“Oh, sorry, I was just zoning out,” you blinked, tuning back into Jeongguk’s honey-sweet voice. 

He smiled sympathetically, something you seemed to be on the receiving end of a lot lately, “That’s okay. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m alright,” you nodded, not wanting to divulge the cacophony of thoughts swimming around in your head, “Please, continue with what you were saying.”

Jeongguk’s energizing smile made a reappearance, making you relax further into your chair. You let his dulcet voice lull you into a comfortable conversation for the rest of the dinner, trying not to react whenever you felt movement beside you. 

“Thank you all for coming, we appreciate your being here. We’ll be meeting at the venue tomorrow at nine, so please be sure to be on time,” your mother concluded, your group standing outside the restaurant. With that, the crowd slowly dispersed, your parents speaking to Yoongi’s at their cars and the bridal parties filing out into respective vehicles as well. You leaned back into Hoseok’s firm torso, letting his arm encircle your waist and his chin rest on your shoulder. 

You didn’t often let people touch you, but Hoseok was a rare exception, having broken your barriers down in college, and served as a comforting touch whenever you needed it. It evolved into more casual affection, a similar version being displayed between Hoseok and Joohee, and you accepted it as just part of his personality. You knew how it looked to people around you but you simply didn’t care, Hoseok was a good friend, and you’d be damned if you were going to refuse the little human contact you allowed. 

Joohee was talking animatedly to Hoseok about something or other, you weren’t really paying attention. Hoseok’s warmth soothed you, making your eyelids fall in the exhaustion from the day’s events. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught your mother frowning at you, but you paid no mind. For the first time since the announcement, you wondered if she’d finally leave you to your own devices now that you were doing the ultimate show of subservience to her. 

Kim Seokjin’s booming voice startled you from Hoseok’s grasp, making him switch to leaning against your car door. You spotted Seokjin’s tall figure making his way over to you, the other groomsmen following behind. Yoongi was also tailing Seokjin, making you stand up straighter and try to steel your expression. 

“Joo, Y/N, we’re gonna go for some drinks to celebrate Yoongi’s bachelordom ending, want to join? You’re welcome too, of course, Hobi,” Seokjin smiled kindly. You almost flinched at the mention of Yoongi’s bachelor lifestyle ending, apparently, he hadn’t told his friends about the rules he’d set. 

Joohee’s face hardened towards Yoongi, apparently realizing the same thing you did, before turning sickeningly sweet towards her brother, “No thanks, oppa. We’re gonna head back to Y/N’s.”

“Oh, c’mon, noona,” Jeongguk looked at you imploringly, eyes shining, “It’ll be fun! We can hang out more!”

You smiled apologetically as you felt Hoseok wrap a protective arm around you, noting that he was probably on the same page as Joohee, “Sorry Jeongguk, maybe next time.”

Jeongguk shrugged, turning to the other groomsmen, the dimpled man with tan skin and a model-esque-looking man with dark eyebrows and lighter hair. Seokjin furrowed his eyebrow slightly, mouth upturning into a small frown, “Well, okay, but I’ll be taking you out to celebrate at some point, Y/N. Mark the date!”

You laughed quietly, waving him off with an acquiescing nod. The men filed back towards their respective cars, heading to bars or someone’s house, you assumed. You began turning further into Hoseok to face your car before realizing that Yoongi was still standing there. 

Pausing, you looked at him questioningly, feeling Hoseok’s grip tighten. Yoongi’s dark eyes narrowed at your intertwined forms. 

“Do you need something, Yoongi-ssi,” Joohee asked in a clipped tone. You almost cringed at the blatant contempt. 

“No,” Yoongi responded quietly, “I don’t. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He nodded politely in your direction before turning to walk back to his car, pausing for a last glance at your bemused face. 

“What was that,” Joohee scoffed, flipping off Yoongi’s silhouette. 

You shrugged, not knowing what to make of it either, “C’mon, let’s just go home. I need to get drunk.”

Joohee entered your car and you were just about to follow before Hoseok pulled you back, making you almost stop in your tracks.

“Y/N,” he sighed, looking into your eyes, “Are you really okay?”

You pulled your hand out of his, tired of being treated in such a fragile manner, “Yes, I’m fine. As good as I can be. I just want to go home.” You felt bad for snapping, but you were irritable after a long day and you wanted to get out of your dress and wipe off your makeup. You turned back towards the car before Hoseok spoke again.

“I know,” Hoseok said softly, “But there’s something off about him. I can’t place it. It was the way he looked at you, especially when I was hugging you.”

You twisted your head in his direction quickly, “Stop. Seriously, Hoseok, I really don’t need to be thinking about that. The last thing I need for this stupid infatuation is to think that there’s something there when there isn’t. I don’t need you putting those kinds of thoughts into my brain.”

Hoseok recoiled before scratching the back of his head and shooting you an apologetic glance, “You’re right, sorry. Let’s just go home, yeah?”

You both entered the car, Joohee leaning forward from the backseat to glance at the both of you.

“Is everything cool with you guys,” she questioned, likely having witnessed the scene outside the car. 

“Yeah, just fine,” you said bluntly, gripping the steering wheel. What were you doing? Hoseok was just expressing concern. You didn’t have a right to get so worked up and take out your anger on him.

Sighing, you let yourself relax into your cushioned car seat, turning towards Hoseok who was in the passenger seat, “Sorry, Hobi. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s totally fine,” Hoseok smiled comfortingly, “Don’t even worry about it. I know how stressed you’ve been.”

“No,” you protested, “That isn’t an excuse. You were just looking out for me.”

Hoseok laughed jovially, “Hey, it’s fine, I promise. If anything, I’m glad to see you letting out some emotion, I was beginning to get worried that you didn’t get angry anymore.”

“Oh, she can get angry, alright,” Joohee mused from the backseat, “You’re just not around to see it anymore.”

You laughed, feeling relief at Hoseok’s easy acceptance of your apology. You started up your car, pulling out into the street. 

“Let’s go get shitfaced in your living room,” Joohee cheered from behind you, Hoseok laughing along loudly. 

A smile formed on your face, making you chuckle at Joohee’s exclamations. You were lucky, luckier than you thought initially. Even with everything going on, you felt your heart fill at your friends’ gracious and kind attitudes toward you. You continued driving to your apartment, feeling a touch more confident about your ability to get through tomorrow relatively unscathed. 

Your dress felt constricting, but not in a way that a seamstress could fix. Despite your unfounded confidence the night before, standing behind the closed doors of the aisle sent a fresh wave of anxiety through your veins. 

How were you going to get through this? Yoongi was waiting on the other side, at the end of the aisle, about to become your partner for life. Except, you weren’t going to be his partner in the same way. 

Initially, Yoongi was supposed to walk down with you, your entourage partnered up like you’d practiced at the beginning of yesterday. But Mrs. Shin didn’t like the visual, making her change it to a more traditional style ceremony. Go figure that she wouldn’t think the sight of you and Yoongi walking together 

A sick nausea curled in your stomach, making you clench the audacious bouquet, letting a few petals fall to the floor. You felt a hand clasp your shoulder, making you turn, seeing Joohee’s concerned frown. 

“Hey, it’ll be okay, I’ll be right there. You can do this,” she squeezed your shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah, I can do this,” you repeated, attempting to calm your nerves. A small voice in the back of your mind whispered, wondering if Yoongi had the same nerves. 

The thought almost made you scoff, there was no way. Nothing much in his life was changing other than getting a roommate he had to take to galas. 

You knew that wasn’t a fair sentiment. Yoongi was as negatively affected by this arrangement as you were, he was just taking a more emotionally removed approach. Maybe you should learn from that. 

Mrs. Shin appeared next to you in a flurry, “We’re about to open the doors. Are you ready?”

You nodded stiffly, knowing the answer was that you’d never be ready to marry Min Yoongi. 

Hearing the muffled piano begin to play, signaling the start to your bridal party’s entrance, you released a heavy breath, trying to paint on a passive exterior. Joohee whispered some small last bits of encouragement your way before taking her place in front of you. 

The doors slowly opened, letting your bridesmaids walk down before you. You could feel your hands trembling.

Hidden from the audience’s eyes beside the door, Mrs. Shin gestured at you, mouthing that you were up next. 

Taking a moment to close your eyes, you steeled your nerves and took a step forward. You could do this. It was just a walk, that’s all it was. 

You repeated the mantra in your head as you took more and more steps down the aisle, focusing your gaze on the ornate carvings above the altar. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your mother gesturing for you to smile, and you responded automatically, letting a small smile adorn your mouth. It felt hollow, but that wasn’t what mattered. 

As you approached the altar, your gaze naturally shifted down to Yoongi, who was poised in a statuesque manner. He looked radiant, the black suit fitted perfectly to his chest and tapered at his waist. His charcoal hair was styled, showing his forehead, displaying his clear, smooth skin. His hands were clasped in front of him, your eyes tracing the outlines of his fingers, and his aura exuded confidence. You purposefully kept your gaze away from his face, not wanting to see the expression that he wore. 

Reaching the steps up to the altar, you carefully climbed each one, making sure not to trip over the hem of your dress. You took your place next to Yoongi, feeling him turn to face the officiant. As the officiant began speaking, you felt yourself breathe out slowly, trying to recover from the initial stress. You had the first step done, the rest wouldn’t be so hard. 

Thankfully, you could zone out for most of the ceremony, with the officiant droning on in your ear. Most of this was for show anyway, you didn’t really need to seem present. It was lucky that you were facing away from your audience, allowing your eyes to glaze over and subtly stifle yawns. 

You barely processed Yoongi’s presence throughout the ceremony, trying not to glance in his direction. He hadn’t really acknowledged you, but it didn’t surprise you. In a way, it almost pained you that you were getting used to his apathy this quickly. 

Another blessing came in the form that you didn’t have to recite vows. The attendees of the weddings had seen far too many arranged marriages to sit through another cycle of canned and rehearsed vows. It felt especially lucky to you as well in that you wouldn’t have to look into Yoongi’s eyes as you declared your devotion to him. 

The ceremony itself quickly came to an end, and you were forced to turn to Yoongi, making eye contact accidentally for the first time that day. It sent a rush of heat to bloom in the apples of your cheeks and the pace of your heart quickened. It felt pathetic, really, to let him have that effect on you. 

You extended your hand as Yoongi gently took it, sliding the cold metal of the ring onto your finger. Your hands felt numb from staying in place so long during the officiant’s speech, but Yoongi’s warm touch sparked new life in them, making them tremble in his grasp. 

Letting out a shaky exhale, you took Yoongi’s hand in your own, noting the smooth planes of his palm and long digits. You internally cringed at your quivering fingers as you slid Yoongi’s own obsidian wedding band onto his finger. Letting go as soon as you were done, you let your hands fall back down to your sides. You pointedly avoided any eye contact with Yoongi, knowing what was next. 

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

It felt like the air was sucked from your lungs. You knew this was coming yet it still scared you. You weren’t so much afraid of the kiss, you’d kissed plenty of people, but you were afraid of what it would ignite in you. 

Yoongi left you no room to hesitate as he grasped your cheeks and gently tugged you toward him, almost making you stumble. Your eyes widened as he leaned it, his own closed. Reflexively, you almost pulled away. 

“Relax,” you heard him whisper, too quiet for even the officiant to hear, the warm breath from his words gently caressing your mouth. But you couldn’t stop shaking. You clenched your eyes shut as he leaned in closer before feeling the skin of his thumb covering your lips. His thumb pressed against your lip for just a second before he pulled back entirely, dropping his hands back down to his sides. 

You hovered, unsure of what just happened. Did he cover your mouth for the kiss? You weren’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, you were admittedly relieved, not wanting your first kiss with Yoongi to be under these circumstances of obligation, and it certainly spoke to his respect for your own consent. Even though you were sure there wouldn’t be any more chances for a kiss anyway.

But a more sinister and greedy part of you wished he hadn’t shielded you, craved the soft touch of his lips against your own. You, ashamedly, wanted to share a romantic moment with him, even if it was a guise for a happy marriage. Just feeling his slightly calloused fingers grazing your cheeks was enough to leave you wanting more. 

Applause startled you out of your trance, making you turn towards the audience and plaster a smile on your face. Scanning the crowd, you spotted Hoseok clapping, sending you an encouraging smile. You breathed out, feeling minutely comforted by his sweet smile. 

Yoongi took your hand, holding it, as you began walking down the aisle. You’d practiced this yesterday, so your body was almost numb to the situation of his thumb rubbing against your forefinger. 

Almost.

A nasty thought slithered its way into the forefront of your mind.

That was the same thumb that he covered the kiss with.

As you walked down the narrow pathway, making sure to smile at the sea of guests your mother had invited, you could feel your gaze growing hazier. This was all getting to be a bit overwhelming. Your feet were hurting in the heels your mother had made you wear, the jacquard of the dress was starting to dig into your skin at the bust, the hairpins lining your hair were hurting your scalp, and the scent of Yoongi’s cologne was intoxicating. 

You and Yoongi reached the end of the aisle, walking past the doors and letting them close behind, leaving the both of you a few minutes to catch your breath before you were whisked away from the reception. Yoongi quickly separated from you, taking a water bottle from an attendant and downing almost half of it. Your hand felt cold suddenly. 

Another employee offered a water bottle to you as well, and you gratefully accepted, taking a swig immediately. The cool liquid soothed your scratchy throat, feeling it go down with it being the only thing you’d had today by way of food. The attendants then gestured for you to follow them into separate changing rooms, preparing hanboks that your parents had wanted you to wear during the reception. 

Letting the attendant dress you in the hanbok gave you time to process what had just happened. You were now married to Yoongi. You had filled out the paperwork about a week prior, but the bells and whistles of the ceremony made it feel much more real. Sighing, you took solace in the fact that the hardest bit was done. 

But was it really?

Now, you had to sit through a reception, thanking guests for coming and pretending like Yoongi actually liked you. Exchanging recycled pleasantries and fake smiles with your parents’ social circle and business partners was less than appealing. 

The employee quietly told you that she was finished and moved aside to let you look in the mirror. 

You tried to be happy about how pretty you looked, but all you could see were your bloodshot eyes and the slightly cakey makeup trying to hide your eye bags. At least the hanbok wasn’t as tight as your dress. 

Exiting the dressing room, you caught sight of Yoongi in his dark blue hanbok with white pants. He looked striking, as always, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be starstruck at this point in the day. You just wanted to go home and lie down. You were led to the reception hall where guests were already mingling for cocktail hour while the food was being prepped to be served. 

A man whose name you didn’t know announced your arrival and the guests turned in your direction and began to clap. Yoongi grabbed your hand in his once more, the suddenness of the action making you flinch. You entered the hall, smiling and greeting guests politely. You couldn’t even recognize anyone staring back at you. 

Yoongi led you through all the guests expertly, exchanging greetings and small talk smoothly like he’d done this before. You felt like you were in a trance, repeating the same pleasantries and shallow questions. How was he so good at this?

You finally reached the end of the guests, moving to your bridal parties. You hadn’t even seen your parents, your mother was probably talking to guests herself. Joohee pulled you into a tight hug, holding it for a second longer before releasing you with a comforting smile on her face and sympathy in her eyes. The other bridesmaids didn’t bother going beyond quick congratulations, which you were grateful for. You didn’t know them anyway. Hoseok was next to Joohee, also immediately encasing you and attempting to ruffle your hair, but you moved your head out of the way. He stepped back, taking a moment to look at you before speaking. 

“You’re doing well.”

Your eyes became watery as you mustered up a shaky smile, something about him praising you for what felt like thankless effort almost pushed you over the edge, “Thanks, Hobi. Love you.”

“Love you too, always.”

“Hey, I love you too,” Joohee protested, making you bark out a laugh. 

“You’re my number one, Joo,” you smiled, taking her hands and squeezing them. She grinned widely in response before punching Hoseok in the arm. 

“Ow, what the heck,” he grumbled.

“Because I love Y/N more than you,” she responded petulantly, leaving Hoseok to only roll his eyes in response. 

The antics made you smile, giving you room to breathe in the stifling room of business partnership discussions. 

“Y/N,” Yoongi’s deep voice rumbled, making you freeze before turning to face him. His eyes laid on your figure in what felt like a scrutinizing manner, making you squirm under the heavy gaze. 

“I’d like you to meet my groomsmen,” Yoongi stated, gesturing behind him, “You already know Jin hyung.”

You nodded mutely, sending an unsure smile in Seokjin’s direction. Why was he doing this? He hadn’t bothered to introduce you to them before, why did it matter now? Were you supposed to introduce Hoseok too, then?

“This is Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi continued, moving his hand to clap the tall, dimpled man’s shoulder. The man smiled politely, the dimples faint with the minute movement, and stepped forward, putting out his hand, “Hi, I’ve known Yoongi since college. It’s nice to meet you.” 

You shook his hand, feeling quite exposed under his dragon-like eyes, “Nice to meet you too. I like your hair.” It was a rule that you’d made with yourself, to try and give at least one compliment to each new person you met. You found that it made them much more open and friendly towards you, and it didn’t hurt to receive compliments in return.

“Thanks,” Namjoon said, smile widening and deepening his dimples. His firm grasp on your hand grounded you, but you still felt your cheeks grow hot at the contact. Why were all of Yoongi’s friends so hot? “I like your hair too,” he finished. You smiled in response, pulling your hand away before your blush became too obvious. 

“This is Kim Taehyung,” Yoongi’s voice pulled you out of the stupor Namjoon’s visual put you in, “I met him a bit after college. He’s a pretty famous jazz performer.”

The model-esque man from the previous day stepped forward, rendering you speechless. Seriously, what was with this friend group? His elegant cheekbones and narrow nose perfectly complemented the kind eyes that adorned his face, and the sandy blonde hair that fell on his forehead. He quickly took your hand in his, kissing the top, making you gasp in response.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Taehyung said, his voice was a smooth baritone that sent shivers down your spine. He looked up from your hand, eyes hooded from his brow bone, making you quickly pull away at the stunning visual. 

“Thanks,” you stammered, trying to collect your thoughts, “You have a pretty smile.”

Taehyung’s face broke out into the aforementioned expression, an adorably contagious boxy smile, as he straightened up, “Thanks!”

“I actually listen to some jazz myself, though not that much,” you mentioned, wanting something to connect over, “I’ve been very into Kenny Garrett recently.”

Taehyung’s smile brightened, letting out a low chuckle, “Yes, he’s pretty great. You should come to one of my shows then, I’ll send you a ticket.”

You heard Yoongi clear his throat. 

“You and Yoongi hyung a ticket, of course,” Taehyung finished, winking at you before turning away to greet Hoseok. 

“And, lastly, this is Jeon Jeongguk. He’s the son of one of my father’s friends, so we grew up together,” Yoongi concluded, but Jeongguk interrupted. 

“Hi, noona! You look so pretty,” Jeongguk smiled, excitedly hugging you. You laughed in response, patting his back before retorting, “Thanks, you look pretty too.”

Jeongguk pulled away, laughing jovially, “Thanks! I told Yoongi hyung we already talked but I don’t think he believed me.”

You stiffened, glancing at Yoongi, whose face was impassive, “Oh, I see.”

Yoongi stepped forward, blocking Jeongguk from your sight, “And who’s your guest?”

“Oh,” you stuttered, flustered by his closer presence, “This is Hoseok. We met in college, but he lives in Busan now. Well, not for much longer, he’s looking to move here,” you rambled. 

Hoseok chuckled before placing a hand on your shoulder, “Hey, I’m Jung Hoseok. It’s nice to meet you.”

Both men shook hands before Hoseok returned to your side, “I’ve been by Y/N’s side ever since our first year, it’s a surprise I’ve lasted this long,” he finished with a short laugh. 

You elbowed him in the side, only making him grimace and slip his hand down to your waist for a teasing squeeze, “I work a dance studio in Busan but I’m planning on opening my own here.”

“Impressive,” Yoongi stated in a monotone voice, “You two must be close.”

“The closest,” Hoseok grinned, pulling you flush to his side, causing you to struggle, “We’re very familiar.”

Oh no.

That’s Hoseok’s shit-stirring voice, you knew it well. One glance at his sardonic grin had you wrestling out of his grip and trying to move on in the conversation to avoid whatever Hoseok was planning, “Yeah, we and Joohee are all really good friends. We were practically inseparable until Hoseok moved. We should all get lunch together sometime so you can get to know them better.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Yoongi said, almost eerily calm, eyes set on Hoseok’s impish smile.

You deflated at his words, forgetting for a moment that Yoongi didn’t want you to mix personal lives. It was embarrassing to say the least, and you felt like you came off as desperate. You felt yourself curl inwards before muttering a quiet, “Sure.”

Yoongi sent a curt nod in Hoseok’s direction before turning away to return to his own friend group, leaving you flustered and disconcerted next to Hoseok. He grinned triumphantly before noticing your abashed state, quickly pulling you into a soothing hug. 

You pulled away, not wanting to be embarrassed anymore tonight, and reached for a passing waiter’s tray of champagne. You didn’t usually drink at public functions, but you felt like this was a worthy exception. The bubbly liquid felt necessary to get through the rest of the night, and you welcomed the warming sensation enthusiastically. You didn’t catch Hoseok’s concerned gaze nor the other stare that fell on your form from a far darker pair of eyes across the table. 

You were exhausted. Every limb in your body and your brain itself were screaming out with soreness and fatigue. It felt like a light at the end of a tunnel when guests began filing out and the party came to a close. 

You were decently buzzed, but still sober enough to be aware, from the multiple champagne glasses you drank. Joohee had made sure to keep you well hydrated, somewhat numbing the effects of the alcohol on your body. 

The rest of the reception had gone by quietly, with you and Yoongi separated for the majority of it, greeting what guests you hadn’t and barely talking during dinner. You were conflicted, somewhat grateful for the ease the lack of Yoongi’s presence gave you, but also finding yourself missing his confident aura. 

You waved the last guest out, before letting yourself collapse on a nearby chair. Joohee patted your shoulder and Hoseok wandered off to grab your belongings so that you’d be ready to go. Your mother closed the door to the room before approaching you, Yoongi’s parents in tow. 

“Yoongi,” his mother called, pulling him away from his friends who were seated at another table. He approached, arriving at your seat at the same time as your mother. 

“You’ll be going home in the car we’ve called for you,” your mother stated, leaving no room for argument. You were going to stay in Yoongi’s apartment now, “I assume your things are already there?”

You nodded timidly.

“Right, well, we’ll leave you to it. Would you like to join me and Woohyun for some drinks,” your mother asked Yoongi’s parents.

“Yes, of course, we’ll have a driver take us to your home. Yoongi, be good now,” his mother said, patting Yoongi’s shoulder and giving you a polite smile. You mustered up what you hoped was a smile in response, but you wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a grimace instead. 

Your mother offered you no goodbye and instead gathered your father and gave some closing instructions to the cleaning staff, before swiftly exiting. You were left looking at Yoongi, who was mouthing something to his friends, waiting to see what he would do.

Joohee squeezed your shoulder before leaving you to help Hoseok with your bags. Hoseok didn’t really need help as you didn’t have much except the clothes you’d arrived in and some electronics, but you could tell Joohee wanted to escape the tense atmosphere. You couldn’t blame her. 

Yoongi turned toward you, making you stand automatically to meet his gaze, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, let me just,” you started before being interrupted by Hoseok arriving with your bag. You chuckled awkwardly as Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, watching you take the bags from Hoseok. Joohee was next to him, fiddling with her phone in an effort to not engage, you assumed. 

“Are you leaving,” Hoseok asked, to which you nodded in response, “Well, have fun. Call me anytime, I’ll always be there.” He pulled you into a hug, making you melt in his embrace. You soon felt Joohee’s arms wrap around you as well, “Me too, we’ll talk later.” They released you before giving you encouraging smiles. You couldn’t say you felt the same level of confidence. 

Facing Yoongi, you gathered your bags, noting his one bag at his side, likely containing his suit. He nodded curtly at Hoseok and Joohee, who waved in response, before turning on his heel and walking towards the door. You stumbled after him, waving a messy goodbye to Hoseok and Joohee, and finally catching up to Yoongi holding the door open for you. You tried to muster a grateful nod, but seeing his cold expression, you moved quickly to get out the door. 

Awaiting your arrival outside was a sleek, black car, with a chauffeur standing patiently holding the door open to the backseat. You took a quick glance at Yoongi, who gestured for you to enter first, so you did, leaving your bags sitting outside. Yoongi climbed in afterward, quietly asking the driver to put the luggage in the trunk. The two of you sat in silence, waiting for the driver to finish packing the luggage away. 

It was finally over.

Somehow, it didn’t feel that way. The relief you’d hoped to feel was nowhere to be found and you were left with only the biting anxiety that Yoongi’s silence incited. You played mindlessly with the seams of your hanbok, finding it slightly uncomfortable to sit in the backseat with. Yoongi didn’t seem to share the same discomfort, scrolling idly on his phone and not acknowledging your presence. 

You wished you could do the same, but you’d left your phone in your bag after not having used it all day. Instead, you turned to the scenery outside your window to keep yourself occupied. The driver soon started up the car and began heading to Yoongi’s apartment. Watching the scenery fly by gave you time to think about what was waiting for you there. 

You hadn’t visited Yoongi’s apartment yet, too afraid and uncomfortable to set foot inside a space so truly and specially his. Most of your things from your own apartment were apparently already set up, courtesy of his maid, Mrs. Lim, whom you had been in contact with when you first dropped off your things. You had been in a rush, trying to get to a dress fitting, and Mrs. Lim had insisted that you give everything to her and that she would make sure it would be ready for you when you came. 

You supposed now was that time. 

Yoongi was still silent beside you and you weren’t sure what to say to him. You hadn’t really spoken for the rest of the night after his odd introduction to Hoseok. It frustrated you how the little things he was doing kept messing with your head. 

You weren’t an idiot, you knew that his actions could point toward jealousy, but you refused to consider that as a possibility. Not only would it contradict his entire attitude towards you, but you couldn’t allow yourself to feel even a sliver of hope that Yoongi might harbor feelings toward you. The constant self-regulation was taxing and you dreaded the idea that this would be your future, constantly reminding yourself that your husband doesn’t love you and to not get confused. 

Your thoughts halted with the car as the driver pulled into the entrance of the large building that housed Yoongi’s apartment. It was dark, so you gladly accepted the help of the chauffeur in getting out of the car. He kindly handed you your bags before bowing and driving away. You didn’t have access to the building yet, having called Mrs. Lim for your past visits, so you looked helplessly at Yoongi to unlock the door. 

He didn’t spare you a glance as he punched in his code and stood aside to let you in. You nodded in thanks anyway and shivered at the cold nipping at your cheeks. Yoongi led you to the elevator, pressing the 9th-floor button, silently standing in the opposite corner from you. 

Sighing internally, you almost laughed at the blatant display of the contempt he held for you. For the first time, you thought of him as slightly immature. 

The elevator doors slid open and Yoongi led you to a hallway with only four doors, each housing a penthouse apartment. The farthest door was Yoongi’s, you learned, as he held his thumb up to the pad before hearing a click and pushing the door open. Mrs. Lim was immediately there to greet him. 

“Mr. Min, let me take your things. Oh, Ms. Seo! Here, I’ll take your bags to your room. Wait, should I call you Mrs. Min, now?”

You smiled at the sweet, older woman, nodding your greeting, “Hi, Mrs. Lim. Please, just call me Y/N.”

She smiled at you, taking your things and rushing off to the upstairs portion of the apartment. It left you standing awkwardly next to Yoongi, who was typing something out on his phone. You took the moment to let your eyes wander around the sparkling apartment. It looked straight out of a catalogue with cool tones and neat furniture with an open concept. He had smooth, black leather couches surrounding a large TV with a path into a dining room that housed a large table and comfortable-looking chairs. That was next to a large kitchen with a wide counter in the middle and a sleek, silver refrigerator and oven. It looked nice, but not welcoming. You preferred warmer lighting and more touches of color, with some plants, but you reminded yourself that this wasn’t your space to customize.

Or was it? You weren’t really sure. It felt like you were invading Yoongi’s home, but wasn’t it your home now too? Should you be able to decorate it to your liking as well? Or at least compromise? The thought of addressing that now felt too overwhelming and you didn’t want to piss off Yoongi so early into your stay. 

“You can go change and get ready to sleep. We can discuss the ground rules now or tomorrow morning, your choice,” Yoongi said, snapping you out of your observation of the apartment. 

You nodded absently, wondering what other rules he had, “I can come down after changing.”

Yoongi hummed in response before taking off to the stairs, evidently going to change himself. You stood awkwardly by the entrance, not knowing exactly where your room was, and decided to take hesitant steps toward the stairs. 

“Oh, Ms. Seo, let me help you to your room,” came Mrs. Lim’s comforting voice from the top of the stairs. You gratefully accepted her help and followed her through the halls as she gave you a tour. 

“Over there is Mr. Min’s office, and just next to it, his bedroom. He has another office downstairs for his work, this one is more for personal use. There’s a bathroom here, but you have an en-suite bathroom in your bedroom anyway. There’s an extra room downstairs that I’ve fashioned into a bit of an office for you if you’d like to use it. That’s the guest bedroom there, the hallway bathroom is mainly for that one. Sometimes Mr. Min’s friends will stay over if they’ve drunk. Ah! Here’s your bedroom.”

You entered, enjoying Mrs. Lim’s chattering as she gave you a mini tour. Your bedroom was large with a queen-sized bed and soft-looking sheets with a fluffy comforter. There was a desk in the corner and a vanity in the other. You noted a door on the side that must lead to the bathroom, and your bags sitting on the floor by the desk. 

“Through that door is your closet and bathroom. I’ve set up your closet for the most part and tried to make it homey, but please feel free to decorate it to your liking! I’m so excited to have another woman here long term, Mr. Min doesn’t always make for great company. Oh, but don’t tell him I said that!”

You giggled, enjoying the motherly presence Mrs. Lim provided, and began unpacking some of your bags from the day, “Thank you, Mrs. Lim. I appreciate you doing all this for me. And please, call me Y/N.”

“Of course. Do you need assistance getting out of your hanbok?”

“No, I think I’ll be alright, thank you.”

“Right, then I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be off shift now so I’ll be heading home, but please feel free to call me if you have any questions.”

“Of course, thank you, Mrs. Lim. Have a good night.”

She bowed before exiting and you breathed out, sitting on the plush bed, making the comforter balloon around you. The room was nice, definitely, but it felt a bit stale and unwelcoming. At least you could customize this area without having to worry about Yoongi. You opened the door to the closet, marveling at the size and open entrance into the bathroom with a large tub and shower. Your clothes were nicely organized and you had no trouble finding some pajamas to change into with an old shirt you’d stolen from Hoseok and shorts. 

Quickly undressing, you neatly hung up your hanbok and slipped into the shower, grabbing the necessary toiletries from your bag. You relished in being able to wash the hair spray out of your hair and loosen it from your scalp, glaring at the pile of hairpins that sat on the granite counter you’d spent upwards of five minutes removing. The warm water soothed your aching legs and the soapy bodywash felt rejuvenating. 

You swiftly finished showering, not wanting to keep Yoongi waiting, and wrapped yourself in a towel before loosely drying your hair. You preferred to let it air dry, so you only lightly patted it with a towel. Drying off the rest of your body, you donned new undergarments, pausing on whether or not to put on a bra. You usually didn’t wear bras to bed, but you didn’t want to go down to meet Yoongi braless. 

You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation and pulled on a comfortable sports bra, before slipping on your shorts and t-shirt, finally feeling comfortable. Quickly checking your reflection in the massive mirror, you headed down the stairs to meet Yoongi. 

He was sitting on the leather couch in a loose white t-shirt and black sweatpants, almost taking your breath away at how beautifully casual he looked. You’d only seen him in suits so far and seeing him in loungewear with wet hair and a towel around his neck left you flustered. He noticed your presence, eyes running over your form making you feel embarrassed. 

He gestured for you to join him on the couch, setting aside his phone to lean forward on his knees. You sat on the loveseat across from him, not quite sure what the etiquette was at this point. 

“Okay, so I’ve already told you the general rules I have. Basically, don’t enter my space without knocking and please, do not go into my upstairs office. I’ll do the same for you. You’re free to set up your rooms however you like.”

You nodded, all of this seemed pretty fair so far. 

“You can use the kitchen however you like, just let Mrs. Lim know what groceries you want. If I have guests over, I’d prefer if you stayed in your room, but I won’t force you. This space is as much yours as it is mine, now.”

You continued nodding along, making some notes of getting a TV for your room so you could properly entertain yourself when his friends were over. You wouldn’t exactly want him coming into the room when you’re with Hoseok and Joohee either. 

“You can invite your friends over whenever you want, just let me know in advance. I’ll be sure to do the same for you. Also, if I have any of my own partners over,” he continued, the last words causing you to flinch, “I’ll make sure to let you know. Please just give us some privacy and try not to be out in the common space when they’re here. Of course, I’ll extend the same courtesy.”

The harsh reminder of the openness of the marriage left you squirming in the chair. You didn’t want to remember that Yoongi would be fucking other people in the home you shared. 

“We can add things as we get used to living together. Anything you want to add?”

You shook your head quickly, just wanting to go to bed as soon as possible. Yoongi nodded, rising, before sparing you one last glance.

“Alright, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight,” you squeaked, watching him ascend the stairs. After his form disappeared into the hallway, you leaned back on the loveseat, exhaling harshly. What a conversation. You’d have to take some time to get used to this. You returned to your room feeling heavily conflicted. As you set up your phone and watch chargers, you thought over the conversation. 

Objectively, Yoongi was being relatively fair, letting you exist in the space in the same capacity as him. Yet, you still felt unhappy. You knew why. You wanted him to be only yours, to have the same exclusive outlook you did on the relationship. You were upset with yourself more than him. 

He had made this clear from the beginning, that he had no intention of stopping any partners outside of the relationship. He clearly didn’t want to have a relationship with you, sex or not, so what he was doing now was completely fair.

You couldn’t turn the emotional part of your brain that craved to have a real romantic relationship with him. It was almost annoying and you were frustrated at yourself for continuing to feel this way. 

Climbing into bed, you continued wallowing, deciding that you’d pity yourself tonight, but the next day, you’d have to pull yourself together. You’d taken a couple of weeks off at the insistence of your boss, even though he knew you weren’t going on a honeymoon, and you wanted to enjoy sleeping in. 

It was time to adopt Yoongi’s approach and try to remove yourself emotionally from the situation. How hard could it be?

Yoongi couldn’t focus on his book, ultimately setting it aside on his bedside table. He furiously rubbed at his eyes, feeling frustrated. 

His eyes hadn’t been listening to him lately. They seemed to constantly wander after your figure, finding your face and curves at every corner. The past couple of days, they had barely strayed from you, watching as you cuddled up to that man, Hoseok. 

Who was he? Were you two together? Was Hoseok in love with you? More importantly, why did it bother Yoongi so much? 

He groaned, feeling annoyed that your relationship with Hoseok was getting to him so much. He had been the one to set the boundary of it being an open relationship, so why did it bother him so much that you seemed to be employing that? Yoongi knew that he had no right to feel this way and was only further annoyed that he continued to do so. 

And what was with your budding friendship with Jeongguk? When did you two become so close? Yoongi buried his head in his hands, shouldn’t he be happy that his friends and wife are getting along?

Wife. It felt odd to say, or think, that. You were his wife now. Except he’d made it clear that the title didn’t change anything between you, nor would it change his actions. Despite his earlier resolve to not let this marriage affect him, you seemed to be having a great effect on him. 

He’d followed your form and mannerisms throughout the past couple of days. He’d noticed your trembling hands and avoiding eye contact. When the two of you had been about to kiss, he could feel your body shaking beneath his hands, prompting him to cover your mouth for the kiss. 

He hated how tempted he’d been to fully kiss you.

Throughout the rest of the ceremony and reception, you’d been largely withdrawn, until you’d met with Hoseok. Yoongi was frustrated that you didn’t seem to be able to stand up for yourself, that you played so well into the role of a trophy wife, but he’d been even more upset at your close contact with Hoseok. 

The man had laid his hands on you so easily and seeing the way Hoseok’s fingers curled around your waist and your smile when you talked to him made Yoongi’s blood boil. Why hadn’t you smiled at him like that? 

Yoongi bit his lip, he knew that wasn’t your fault. He hadn’t been welcoming at all to you, he’d barely given you a chance to talk to him. Yoongi was just steadfast in his mission to continue on with life as normal, he didn’t want this marriage to change anything. He knew it wasn’t fair of him to be upset with you going along with his requests. 

You were dangerous. 

You were dangerous in the way that you nodded along to everything Yoongi asked, in the way you refused to let your mask slip and show any emotion, in the way you smiled so brightly with Hoseok and Jeongguk, in the way your cheeks tinged pink when Taehyung kissed your hand and Namjoon smiled at you, and in the way you looked so comfortable and natural in your pajamas. 

Yoongi had to suck in a breath when he saw you entering the living room with your freshly washed and damp hair, falling in wet curls strands around your shoulders, making a wet spot on the oversized dance team t-shirt. 

That was another thing. Where had you gotten that shirt? It was far too big for you, Yoongi knew that well. It was obvious in the way it fell past the hem of your shorts, tantalizing his eyes to rake down your legs, and it was for a college dance team. Were you on one in college?

Or, Yoongi’s mind raced, was it Hoseok’s? Hadn’t the man said he worked in a dance studio? The thought made Yoongi fume, just how close had you two gotten? 

But he paused, what right did he have to feel upset? Yoongi had been in bed with another woman just days ago, it wasn’t fair of him to judge you for doing the same. He’d said that you were allowed to sleep with or date whoever you wanted, so why was he so angry at the idea of you and Hoseok? 

Another sigh escaped him, he didn’t have it in him to deal with this tonight. Just the idea of you a few rooms down in that too-big shirt and too-short shorts was enough to drive him crazy. 

He reached over, turning off the lamp next to his bed. He’d unpack his feelings in the morning. Yoongi turned over, settling into bed, ignoring how empty and cold his hand felt without your warmth. 

previous / masterlist / next

[chaedomi]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐃 ✦ btvf

fem!child!reader x ariadne valentine (platonic!yan), violence, abuse, death, unhealthy relationships; unable to witness your death a second time, your sister desperately strives to change your fate, even if it meant ridding of others to prevent it. ꨄ — masterlist

HERE’S A fun fact. Did you know that if you were to encounter a Mermaid, the higher the chances are of encountering a Siren as well? In addition to the creatures viewing each other as family, because of a mermaid’s delicate nature, sirens are naturally possessive of them. They become drunk and hypnotized by a mermaid’s affection, and thus, diligently fulfill a mermaid’s desires to preserve the shine they thrive off of. It’s an interesting tale, to learn the charmers become the charmed. However… if The Mermaid were to ever fall, so will The Siren as their main source of warmth has died. They will descend into madness and become the hostile nature they are known for or even worse, willingly succumb to the hands of death.

In the past, both you and your half-sister, ARIA, led a pitiful life. Throughout your years, your stepmother would force your sister to consume a potion, rendering her speechless, whereas yours will gently hug you, encouraging you to always remain neutral. It was confusing and painful, as it seemed those were the only moments your mothers cared about you both. Your stepmother, quiet as a mouse, and your mother, apathetic as a heart of stone.

During those times, you and Aria were grateful for each other, more so Aria, as she would cling to your tiny body crying and trembling while you tenderly kissed her cheeks and wiped away her tears.

Eventually, the truth came to light when you were the age of five, and your sister, ten. Through the season of spring, your mother passed, inclusive of your stepmother, who apparently went mad and took her own life after hearing of your mother’s death. By eavesdropping on the maids, it was then you both learned of each other’s identities, Aria, a Siren, and you, a Mermaid.

Sirens, gaining the name of the ancient monster, that flowed through your stepmother’s blood, through their songs, they possessed people, treated them, controlled them, and shook their emotions. Mermaids, gaining the name of the mythical creature, that flowed through your mother’s blood, through their tears, they shed milky crystals that held the power to repel a siren’s song. With those tears too, they were capable of granting grand wishes whether great or small, destructive or creative. Despite how dangerous their power was, they were harmless and good-natured.

Twelve years ago, your father had kidnapped a Mermaid and a Siren, presenting them to the world as they were originally known as myth. That Mermaid was your mother, and The Siren, your stepmother.

Your mind was too young to understand the information told and realize how dire the situation was. So, it worried you to see your sister in a constant state of panic and tears every now and then. You had asked her several times for the reason for her grief, but she brushed your concerns off each time, snuggling closer to you. And your worries slowly diminished as well as you returned the hug. Till… it happened one night when your father was unbelievably drunk out of his mind.

It was sudden, you were telling a story to your sister while she clung to you before your father barged inside the room, a wave of hatred visible in his eyes. One thing led to another and your sister was dragged outside the room by the hair. Even though you couldn’t make sense of what was happening, the sword that was tightly grasped in his hand as he took your sister away, was enough for you to spring into action. A silly game of tug-of-war it was, you, screaming your lungs out while you pulled at the hem of your sister’s nightgown, and your father, effortlessly dragging you both, to where he pleased. What it took to stop him, was the perfectly sweet voice of your sister, and the solid gems that fell from your eyes as you wept. He resembled a total madman, reaching toward you both as he cackled about the materials he could possess. You could only cry harder as your sister hugged you, burying your head against her chest.

Your lives were horrific beyond that point. Living the lives of a Mermaid and a Siren, you both were forced to mature quickly, learning and hearing unspeakable things. Becoming caged animals, you were pressured to fulfill the greed of scum. And despite all the abuse you suffered, you continued to push smiling, even when the exhaustion taking a toll on your body became more visible with each passing day.

Such a selfless soul you were too, quick to jump to others' needs instead of yours. Whenever your sister silently wept after a song, you would rub her head in comfort, sweetly hushing her as she lay in your lap. Whenever she was angry, you would squeeze her hands, attempting to calm the brewing storm in her heart. Whenever she felt as though she couldn’t make it, you would kiss her cheek, saying that she has done so well.

She, of course, soaked up every affection you provided. Too occupied wallowing in her sorrows and the comfort she will receive afterward from you, she forgot that you were also affected, dealt with the same ill-treatment, as well as that you had your limitations. So when the day arrived when you had no tears left to cry, her heart shattered.

It was a pitiful sight to witness, your sister in a mess as she cried desperately to you, begging for you to stay. You wished that you could, but the longer your head rested on her lap, and her cold hands held your cheeks, you felt more of your life fade away. So you forced yourself to cry, to shed one more tear, and it fell.

With that tear, you wished, that perhaps in another lifetime, both you and your sister could enjoy your days in endless glee, like free birds soaring in the sky.

As you drew your last breath, your sister too accepted her death, willing to perish alongside you. You were her joy, her motive to continue her days. But, when you left, so did those things. And she sang her last song, calling to whoever could come and console her weeping soul. Even when her savior came and held her in his arms, your sister’s eyes never left your corpse as she continued to sing. Maybe, if she died, she’ll be reunited with you in the depths of hell, unknowing of the white glow that shone by your corpse as she closed her eyes…

…So it came as a great surprise when she reopened her eyes not to hell, but to a lovely floral scent wafting in the air… As it dawned on her that she reverted to her ten-year-old self her head immediately snapped to the spot beside her on the bed, a lump visible under the duvets. With a shaky hand, she slightly tugged it downward… revealing your adorable face.

She almost cried there on the spot, leaning forward to press a kiss against your temple. She remembered that wish you made on your deathbed… could this outcome be a result of your wish being granted? If so, she will not take it for granted. Your father… who ruined both of your lives, she will inflict vengeance on him. She will save you from your fate no matter what it takes.

“MY YOUNG Lady, you seem upset. Is everything alright?” Dana asked, chuckling lightly. Damn right, she’s upset. And no, she’s not alright. Can’t she tell? She was considered to be weak physically, but, god, the sight in front of her filled her with so much rage that she was capable of snapping the spoon in her hand in half.

The maid assigned to you was just doing what she ought to do, heeding your commands. If you tell her to bark like a loyal dog, she will do just that and obey your orders. So, naturally, if you had instructed her to spoon-feed you the food brought to the table, the maid would oblige.

Aria's teeth sunk further into her bottom lip, listening to how you squealed and laughed in glee when the maid gently wiped the crumbs off your face, chuckling along with you. Why were you acting so sweet and loving to someone you just met? She was there longer than that maid ever was, no? She was the only one there for you when you suffered, so rightfully, whatever abnormality or emotion you may feel, she is the only one allowed to witness it.

"What is it you don't like, My Young Lady?" Tearing her eyes off the sight that sickened her greatly, she stared blankly at her caretaker, who contrasted her expression with a beaming smile. She was so focused on the scene that she hadn't realized her body moved on its own, scribbling messily on the piece of paper she used to communicate.

She slowly wrote again. “You don’t like the maid, My Young Lady?” Dana tried to hide her amusement over the situation, albeit terribly, I may add, the fingers pressed against her quivering lips a dead giveaway. “So, that’s why you have that frown… Young Lady, are you perhaps jealous?”

Jealous? The feeling inside her body burns too hot for it to be deciphered as jealousy. What she felt was a pure unspoken rage that could tip over at any given moment. Such anger she felt… was similar to the night she confronted her drunken father after she awoke as a child. In short, she didn’t want this maid to just leave. She wanted her gone. Entirely.

“Hmmm…” Dana frowned at Aria’s discontent. Pinching her chin in thought, she glanced in your direction. “The Other Young Lady does not know how to use cutlery correctly, hence why she always seeks assistance. However… Ah!” Dana snapped her fingers as a thought popped up. “Why don’t you feed The Other Young Lady instead?”

The rate at which Aria immediately perked up was comical. Eyes sparkling like fine jewels, she was practically buzzing in her seat! Satisfied that she made her Young Lady smile, Dana quickly moved to update your maid on the change of plans.

You were very confused when your maid abruptly stood from her chair, big-doe eyes staring when she stood near the doorway with a large smile plastered on her lips. But when your sister approached you, taking the spot the maid sat on to feed you, all questions vanished. You were already glad to see your sister just… there, so, think of the wave of happiness that rushed over you when she wrote she wanted to feed you!

The food served became tastier now that your sister was the one feeding you. And with a full mouth of food and eyes that glimmered in admiration of your sister, you huffed out an ‘I love you’ as best as you could. It was a bit gross to see some bits of food fly out of your mouth, but the warmth that clenched her heart from your genuineness overpowered her disgust. Smiling fondly, she wiped your messy mouth before leaning over to press a loving kiss on your forehead.

Your happiness truly is the source of her own happiness. Keep smiling for her, she will do anything to preserve it and anything for you, her little mermaid.

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

[tyrian-witch]

Some B.S.

(Steve x Reader)

Synopsis: after a dumb fight with your mom, you call Steve to take you away from your troubles

Warnings: not super proof read, mentions of dysfunctional family, hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, Steve being an awesome supportive bf

A/N: don’t worry, I’m working on chapter four of In This World of My Own but this was kind of a vent post and I had to write it out :p don’t mind me

~~~

“Hey, can you pick me up?” you say softly through the receiver. “I need to get out of here.”

Your boyfriend clear his throat on the other end. He must have been asleep and now you feel bad for even calling. “Yeah, of course,” he says, half awake. “I’ll be over in ten, is everything okay?” Despite his sleepy state, he didn’t miss the the way your voice cracked; he knew something was up.

Sniffling, you shake your head. “I don’t even- frickinknow at this point.”

“Just hang in there babe, I’m coming to get you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He hangs up and immediately throws on a pair of jeans and his navy blue sweater which he’s come to understand is your favourite one whenever he wears it. Slipping on his shoes, he snatches his keys and jacket, and soon enough, he’s on his way to you.

~~~

Steve’s car is parked a block away from your house, the streetlights illuminating his prized BMW you’ve become so familiar with in the past few years you’ve known each other before dating. You approach the car with your arms tightly crossed against your chest, an action Steve’s come to associate with any time you feel upset about something- not in a childish manner, more so as a gesture of feeling small or remorseful about whatever just transpired, not that it was really your fault. Often, you usually only do it after you’ve had a silly fight with your mom.

Sighing heavily, you sit down in your designated spot next to Steve in the car, the warmth of it enveloping you, along with his scent which has brought you comfort countless times, including tonight. You reach over and give him a big hug and he wastes no time in holding you close to him.

He places a kiss on top of your hair while caressing it.“What’s going on, honey?” he asks softly.

You pull away from the hug and swipe a hand down your face, another sniffle escaping you. “It’s just…” you shake your head in disbelief. “It’s just another one of those- stupid fricking arguments,” you grumble. “Like, I can’t even- like-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he coaxes gently, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Take your time.”

Curling in yourself, you rest your head against your knees. “Can we drive around for a bit?” you ask, your voice small and timid.

“Yeah, of course babe, where’d you wanna go?” He begins backing out of the parking space, putting a hand behind the head of your seat to make sure nothing was in the way, and then drives forward.

He sees you shrug from the corner of his eye before you answer. “Maybe we could stop for a milkshake?”

“Yeah? A milkshake?”

You nod.

He smiles in adoration. “Okay, let’s get you a milkshake.”

~~~

You end up parked on an empty street with your milkshake of choice in hand, the plastic cup cool against your palms. It makes you shiver, but the rush of sugar lets you ignore the cold sensation. Steve has one of his own, and occasionally you switch between the drinks to get a taste of the other flavour.

“Okay,” Steve starts gently. “Do you wanna talk about it now?”

You nod while sipping on the drink.

He waits patiently as you muster up your words, the soft look in his gaze never faltering.

“Okay, so basically…” you clear the sweet taste from your throat. “What happened… is honestly… so…” you pause in between your words, trying to find the best way to put it into an explanation. “Stupid. It’s just plain stupid.” Throwing your hands up in the air as a tell tale sign of exasperation, you continue. “And the thing is, and- this is honestly so hilarious, it’s the most hilarious thing ever, you’re gonna laugh- I forgot to put mayonnaise on the corn bits that were cut up for my brother!”

Steve blinks once in amazement. “I… what??”

You raise your eyebrows and nod. “Yup.”

“So let me get this straight: your mom got upset at you because you forgot to put mayonnaise on Donnie’s corn?”

“Yeah, and it was an honest mistake that I forgot! I literally forgot and it’s even funnier because I was gonna have my own corn on the cob with mayonnaise and I was ready to warm it up in the microwave! I didn’t even think twice, I just took his plate out when it was done warming up and I brought it to him, and then I was going to put mine in and then my mom saw and that’s when the whole thing happened. Honest to god.” You’re breathing heavily after all the words have spilled out in a rush, trying to make sense of things.

“I told her it wasn’t that big of a deal, as if I can’t bring the plate back and add mayonnaise myself. Hell, Donnie can do it himself, he’s ten years old!”

Steve is staring into space as he’s listening; he’s trying to make sense of it too, he’s just as lost.

“Well, that’s not really the point, the point is I know Donnie eats corn with mayo, it’s common sense at this point, but I guess I was just so hungry that I was ready to put my own plate in the microwave. Again: without a second thought. I just forgot! But god forbid if I forget anything, it’s like the end of the fucking world. And it was for Donnie anyways! Not for her! I would understand if he was upset about it, then yeah, okay, but c’mon! Seriously?!”

Taking an angry slurp from your drink, you sink into your seat, feeling more worked up than you were before.

“I mean, yeah I get it,” Steve says, thinking of how to help. “If he was mad, then yeah okay, but it’s not like it couldn’t be fixed. I don’t get why she’s upset. If I was her, I wouldn’t even have you feeling the way you do.” He looks at you and rests a gentle hand on your cheek. “I would never put you through something like this over something so stupid.”

You scoff at the whole situation. “I know. It is stupid. It’s more than stupid, it’s- it’s bullshit!” Something clicks in your mind, and you can’t help but laugh. “She treats me like bullshit! She always always always has something to say! She always judges me and she loves to compare me to my sorry excuse of a dad.” The words roll of your tongue like venomous vigour and contempt, and in the midst of your rambling, Steve’s hand has left your face; he’s learned that when you get this way, it’s best to give you some space, he knows affection will be welcomed back afterwards.

“And obviously when I told her it wasn’t that big of a deal, that I could easily fix the problem, she got mad and said that I was patronizing her because I told her the same thing my dad always did: “it’s not a big deal.” Well news flash! It’s not! The world didn’t shut down, did it!? And I’m not my fucking father! I’m not! It’s like she only sees him in me, that’s why she always judges me and never sees me for me. To her, I’m only an extension of him, not separate from him, not as an individual, not as myself, just him.” Your chest is heaving up and down as you try to calm yourself. In a fit of rage, it’s like everything makes sense to you now.

Exhaling sharply, you take your boyfriend’s hand in yours and squeeze before letting go. “It sucks,” you tell him finally. “She’s never understood me. She doesn’t even try. But she’ll actively try to understand Donnie because she sees herself in him.”

You sit in silence for a little while to regain your tranquility, leaning your head against the dashboard. Steve is the first to break the silence.

“You know something?” he asks. “You’re right. It is bullshit. This whole thing is bullshit!”

You perk up at this but don’t say anything - he takes it as a sign to continue.

“It’s bullshit that she doesnt understand you, Y/n. I mean, I understand what that’s like, I mean my own dad is a complete asshole, and my mom well… I don’t know, she’s totally different from yours, but this isn’t about my family issues.” He takes your hands in his, causing you to sit up and take in his words. “It’s bullshit that she doesn’t think you’re a human being who forgets things. Sure, maybe you forget very often, but that’s not even bad. I would never hold that against you ever.”

Biting your quivering lip, you look away to avoid him from seeing your glassy eyes, but he gently tilts your face to look back at him.

“Baby, you are nothing like your dad. Not even a little bit. I know you hate being compared to him, and I’m sorry you’re constantly being misunderstood. I love you for you. I see you.”

Those last few words are what makes you let it all come crashing down as you cry into his chest, hands gripping the navy sweater tightly, hanging on for dear life. Heaving sobs rack through your body and bones as he holds you close to him and kisses the crown of your head, gently caressing your hair.

The milkshakes are long forgotten at this point, and as Steve keeps you close to his heart, he continues to remind you that he understands you, that you are human and make mistakes, simple mistakes like any other. When your crying dies down, you finally give him a kiss. You hadn’t kissed him since you set foot in his car. He kisses you back, slowly and softly, his hands cupping your face as he gingerly wipes away the remaining tears from your red cheeks.

The kiss is your way of telling him ‘thank you for being here, for understanding me’ and in reply, it’s his way of saying ‘I will always be here for you, no matter what.’

[allisie]

Hi, I love your writing ❤️

could I request something for Nate? like he and the reader are fighting and she gets hurt because he scared her and then he apologize? thank you 🥰

Simply Us

nate jacobs x reader

Euphoria Masterlist

NB // for some reason, when asked to write kinda angst stuff, I almost never follow script.

⚠️ warning ⚠️: Nate being a closer representation of his tv counter part, talk of insecurities, nate choking reader,

"Your fucking him aren't you. You trap me into this picture-perfect relationship and then go open your legs behind my back. Huh," Nate whispers into my ear. I had just gotten back from hanging out with Fez all evening at the convenience store.

"Jacobs what the fuck are you talking about," I ask.

"I should have known you're just like her, just repackaged. At least she looked the part of my perfect girl. At least she had the decency to do that much work in the relationship," Nate continued, his voice getting louder. Nate put his hands on the counter in front of me, effectively trapping me as he pushed his body onto mine.

"Why are you saying this? I didn't do shit. What are you talking about? I love you and you alone," you whisper, turning to face him. Placing your water on the counter.

"Did I say shit about love....... and you should be the first to know you don't need love to fuck someone. How can I ever trust you again" Nate moved his hands to my head.

"That's the thing with relationships, nate. You have to trust the other person in the relationship," I reply, my eyes searching his face for any signs of him believing my words.

"And have I ever, tested your trust. Tell me, when have I ever made you question my love for you," He asks, his hands moving to my neck. His eyes stared into mine.

"First month into dating, you still left flowers in Maddy's locker every day. Drove her to school, stayed at her house when you got wasted drunk," I state without a second of hesitation. Nate made me feel second to Maddie early in our relationship, and I would have left if it wasn't for the night he realised that I wouldn't stay if he didn't stop.

"Shut the fuck up," Nate shouts, "That was forever ago."

"Two hundred and seventy-nine days. You have no idea what it feels like being in a relationship with someone who loves someone else, but what else would I expect from THE NATE JACOBS, STAR QUARTERBACK, you will never have to feel how I felt," I shouted back.

"Shut the fuck up, you don't know what your talking about, you don't know me," Nate replied, his grip around my neck tightening.

"But I do, Nate. I have loved you since I was ten. Before Maddy, before you decided to become the buffest guy in the grade, I loved you when no one knew who you were in school. Then it all changed in one summer," I reply softly, my eyes filled with tears and my hands around his wrists.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP! YOU KNOW NOTHING!!" Nate shouts, his face turning red and his grip on my throat increasing.

"THEN TELL ME! OR AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH!! MAYBE I SHOULD GO GET MADDY!" I shout back before reaching up and slapping Nate across his face. Nate grip loosens around my neck as he tales a step back, and I move, putting more distance between us.

"I swear to god, I will kill you," Nate states after regaining his bearings. His eyes locked onto me.

"Do your worse. Just know that I love you until my last breath," I respond, tears falling down my face.

It was a couple of hours before we could look each other in the face. My neck had started to bruise in the shape of Nate's hand, and his face was scratched from my nails. I hid away in his bedroom while he sat in his bathroom. Walking out of his bathroom, Nate sees me sitting on his bed, my clothes exchanged for one of his shirts, and my hair pulled out of my face.

"Your hurt," Nate whispers.

"It doesn't matter, are you okay. Did I hurt you," I respond as I start to get out of bed.

"Yeah, I am fine. Let me take a look at you," Nate states, making his way over to me before I could even put my foot on the ground. He gently moves my head so he can see my bruising neck, "That looks serious. It's starting to bruise badly."

"I'll just cover it up. It's fine. You didn't mean it," I whisper as I wrap my arms around his neck.

"Stop justifying that shit. You should be running from me. Why are you so calm right now?" He asks before I pull him down into a kiss.

"I love you," I whisper again his lips.

"Your fucking crazy, you know that right,"

"Isn't that why you love me tho," I say, pulling him into another kiss.

"I am sorry," Nate whispers.

"I know," I whisper back.

[prettyboykatsuki]

wyll whos nice and kind down to his bones but develops a nasty jealousy streak….tugs you back behind some secluded corner of camp to kiss you something fierce when he catches how others at camp look upon you…starts smoking a cigarette

steadily yours | w. ravengard

✮ tags ; jealousy, established relationship, gn!reader, kissing / hickies, alcohol, silly and lovesick wyll

✮ wc ; 2k

✮ a/n ; ive thought about this ask for a week straight. its getting dire.

some minor spoilers for wylls romance like extremely minor and vauge!!! i am only just entering act three so pls dont spoil me but this take place vaugely post game lololol

The Blade of Frontiers is a good man.

This isn't a title he's given himself, but one bestowed upon him. Through tales and songs all across the city and uttered from the very lips of his lover - Wyll Ravengard has always strived to be a good man.

He can't assert this by any measure, but he knows best his own effort. For the sake of the city, for the sake of his people, for the sake of love. He wants very little to himself, and he fights with every ounce of him. His heart is in the city, but his soul is with you. Between these two places, there's no amount of sacrifice or burden he isn't willing to bear.

Part of being a good man is being the master of your own desires. What other men do is none of Wyll's concern, but he's always been adamant about keeping firmly on the straight path. Wyll wants love properly, much like how he wishes the world around him would follow.

Properly, with order and justice and care. That's how Wyll has lived his whole life.

And he's believed of himself that loving that way came easier upon him than it did others, though that was nothing he felt like bragging about. It never felt difficult to abstain from the ugliness of anger or jealousy.

That was before you. And this is after, this is post having your meeting. Wyll has had a relationship or two. Puppy crushes that fizzled off as soon as Wyll's responsibility began to overwhelming. Like, less than love, really. This time it is love, and love is incomparable to any sensation in the world. Not the cut of a blade against his skin, nor the warmth of a sunset. No mortal feeling could really measure to love.

In the aftermath of loving you, Wyll supposes, there is an ugliness within himself that he never really knew about. But maybe it's only normal. What else could there be after he's encountered the most beautiful thing the world has to offer, beyond even gods?

There are three things on Wyll's mind, lately. One, that he loves you more than he thought possible. Two, that he's relieved about the state of affairs. And three, he's very tired of feeling this way.

Not that he's tired of loving you. Things just aren't so busy anymore, and that means there's always people around. The people of the gate love you, and you're more hospitable than you let on. The camp is busy, rife with life every single evening and everyone is always so keen on meeting you.

You're busy, rightly - laughing and drinking. Though you're not much for talking, you do your duties as a host and tell stories when prompted. You seem to enjoy yourself in the well-earned reprieve and you've really do deserve very bit of that love and attention that's come your way.

So, Wyll knows feeling this way is ugly. The jealousy is ugly, and Wyll's not entirely lacking self-awareness about it. Though before he could chalk it up to other things, lately it's impossible. He knows that the Outlanders who come seeking your company have no idea you're engaged - and that they're simply men who desire you for the name you've earned.

A warrior, a hero, a myth - Wyll does not blame them for their curiosity.

But he feels pitiful to be so stirred up about it anyways.

He drinks tonight, though the carafe of wine is mostly full. The others speak amongst themselves. Astarion drifts by him, stands and sways in motion in the cool night air with a smug look on his face that Wyll is too dazed to catch.

Astarion speaks first. The sound is muffled first, impossible to make out in his own mind before a pale hand waves in front of his face.

"You know I'll have to thank your darling later for allowing me to see such a rare sight," Astarion drawls. He's sober, though there's wine in his hand all the same "The Blade of Frontiers, seething with jealousy. A marvel."

"I wouldn't call it seething," Wyll replies, still only half paying attention. His eyes are glued to you. He can't bring himself to look away.

Astarion laughs, a little pity in his voice , though Wyll can't really make out if it's sincere or not.

"But you'll admit you're jealous? My, Ravengard, you've changed." Astarion says. Wyll doesn't bother asking what he means, since it's true in any case "Forgive those poor Outlanders. It's hard enough watching them pine for one half the lovesick couple as is."

Wyll sighs.

"It's fine," Wyll says, though even he can hear how much he doesn't really mean it "It's not like they would know. I suppose many people wear decorative rings these days."

"Gods, this is funny. Just listen to you, I mean really. What a delight. I have half a mind to call the rest over just to witness it in person. Unfortunately I'm not so charitable," Astarion says back to him holding in a laugh "Whatever will you do, Ravengard? Maybe you could kick up a fuss, or pick a fight. People brawl at these things don't they? Oh what a sight that'd be indeed."

Wyll ignores him, but he does heed the advice. He would like to do something about it, though there won't be any brawl. He steels himself, passes an empty cup off to Astarion who makes a shrill laugh as Wyll starts walking himself over the fire.

When he arrives there, the conversation has come to more of a relaxed lull. You notice him even engrossed in conversation, flashing him a smile so beautiful he feels a little blinded.

He gives you one in return, disarmed. The outlander who's been trying to win your attention all night goes to address you again and Wyll is quick to interject.

"Ah, sorry - would you all mind if I borrowed them for a minute?"

You give Wyll a look of surprise, your eyes crystal clear. He feels guilty almost instantly, but continues anyway.

"Is something the matter?" You ask, your voice softened. You've been drinking, from the way your words melt together.

"Nothing serious, just something I wanted to talk to you about in private. That alright? Promise I'll return them before the night is over."

"As long as you promise," Says the very same one Wyll's been trying to tear you away from all evening. You laugh heartily before standing to your feet. You're beaming at him, brilliant - and Wyll goes back to his usual pleasant self as he gives his goodbyes.

He says something about promising before he whisks you off, faithfully ignoring the knowing looks of party.

And he takes you to a quiet corner of the camp, a short trail bridging between the main plot of land. There's some sturdy scenery, and rocks large enough to shield you from the outside and give you privacy.

He's cornering you a bit, admittedly - but you seem happy to see him. As soon as you're alone, you have your arms around his neck. There's a delightful air of excitement around you and Wyll finds himself filling with all the fondness in the world.

The faint sour-sweet of wine lingers off of your lips. Wyll looks at you closely, studies your expression.

"Sorry, sorry," You apologize, suddenly more comfortable. A side of yourself that you only show to him. How funny it makes him feel "I was happy to see you, is all."

"I can see that," Wyll replies, smug - just barely. You bat your lashes, dazed. It's unlike you. Wyll likes it. "I'm happy to see you too. Always."

"Is it something serious?"

Ah. He's caught isn't he? In a way, he's tremendously lucky you're not too sober. He's sure you'll tease him about it later.

"No, I suppose not. It's nothing at all, I just," He stumbles uncertainly at what he should say "Well, I wanted to speak with you."

"You could've joined us!"

Wyll gives you a sideways glance.

"Could I?" He says, before he catches himself. He adds the next words apologetically almost "That outlander you've been conversing all night seemed rather rapt with you. I doubt I could've interjected anywhere without fumbling."

You look like you're processing his words, but it's not as if Wyll is going to let you.

Wyll often says to you that you make him forget himself, and there are moments like these he find that to be more true than ever. It is unlike Wyll - strong and chivalrous, poise and charming - to bear so heavy a feeling in his heart that he has to express it physically.

Only you could make his silver tongue submit to such urgent, base instinct. Wyll kisses you in the most unromantic way he knows. It's not very gentlemanly. A kiss to claim, to sink, to swallow.

He kisses hard, and your lips are faint with the taste of wine. You make a noise of surprise before you melt into his arms. The warmth of his body makes him feel like he's burning to ash. His tongue touches yours, warm and hot nipping at your mouth.

When you pull away, Wyll decides it still isn't enough to curb the jealousy. He lets his teeth drift down to your neck. Sharpened canines that scrape against thin skin. Wyll sucks hard, enough to make all the capilliaries break.

And you sigh - a pretty, welcoming noise. Wyll is marking you. He leaves one after the other, in admittedly visible places. But he's not thinking about, not really.

Not until your voice breaks, the sweetest edge of desire to your words. He's not so debased to do anything to you while you're more than tipsy. He pulls away from you, blinks at you candidly - before the realization dawns on him in full.

By the gods, what's wrong with him? Embarrassment hits him afterwards, abject dread filling him as he peers at the dark marks along your neckline.

Did he really...? Really?

"Wyll," You say, strikingly sober and delighted all of a sudden "Are you...perhaps...jealous?"

He rubs his face on his hand, suddenly flush, turning his expression to one side. He can't deny it at this point can he.

"I wonder if my life will be easier once our wedding is announced in print," He offers sheepishly. You laugh loudly, absolutely elated as you press your forehead to his. He does the same, of course "The ring seems to be no more than decorative to everyone."

"Wyll Ravengard, I would've never guessed in a thousand years you'd drag me here because you were jealous."

"Please forget my uncouth actions at your earliest convenience my love," He says, groaning "I might die of embarrassment otherwise."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I get jealous over silly things all the time. I tell you as much."

"When you do it it's endearing. I'm meant to be a gentleman, yet in front of you - I lose my wits like I'm a boy no older than seventeen. It's maddening."

"You forget yourself?" You tease, characteristically. He laughs.

"A bit more each day, it seems."

"A little jealousy is healthy, Ravengard. Though, I'm not sure how we're going to return to camp in this state." You say, giving him a suggestive look "Perhaps we have a bit more to talk about here instead, hm?"

"We should be doing such things in a bed. Or a tent." Wyll insists. You chuckle like you know he'll give into you.

"Wouldn't it be more effective if that Outlander you're so jealous of saw me with a post sex glow, along with the hickies."

Wyll feels his skin prick with heat.

"You drive a hard bargain." He comments, voice soft as a whisper. You laugh.

"Maybe you're just an easy sell."

Wyll laughs heartily at that.

"Any one would jump at the chance for something so priceless, Hero of the Gate."

You give Wyll another smile, lovely and genuine - there's nothing smug about it. You kiss him tender, sighing happily into his arms. He finds himself helpless to his own joy.

"Then lets kill time here and head back,"

"Yes," He says, jealousy tucked away for now "Let's do that,"

[anyca786]

"TEN YEARS CAN CHANGE EVERYTHING"

Daemon Targaryen x sister/aunt!Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen

WARNINGS: canon typical incest/targcest (brother & sister &niece) poly relationship, family drama.

Series

The moon cast an ethereal glow over the beach as Daenys stirred from her sleep. A warm hand touched her shoulder, rousing her from her slumber.

She opened her eyes to find Daemon standing beside her, "We need to go," he said, his voice low and urgent.

Daenys sat up, her heart pounding in her chest. "What's wrong?" reading his face, she asked.

"The guards are looking for us," Daemon replied.

"The children are in trouble." Rhaenyra said, who was already dressed up. Daenys scrambled to her feet, her mind racing. She pulled on her clothes, her movements hurried and clumsy. Daemon helped her zip up her dress, his hands gentle but firm.

"We need to hurry," Rhaenyra said, her voice filled with panic.

Daenys nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. Without a word, she followed Daemon and Rhaenyra as they hurried towards the castle, their footsteps imprinted on the beach.

🥀

The doors open as Daenys and Rhaenyra wasted no time going over to their children, "Jace? Luke? Luke!" Rhaenyra's eyes darted to Luke's nose, as she examined it, "Show me, show me."

Rhaenys was consoling Baela and Rhaena wearing an expression of horror and mixed anger.

Daenys ushered for Baela and Rhaena to stand close making the girls quickly move into her nurturing embrace, looking wide-eyed and frightened, "Gods what happened? Who did this to you? I'll skin them alive." She turned her head to the people across the room and then her eyes stopped at where Alicent stood with Aemond.

'What happened - who did this?" Rhaenyra's eyes trained on the boys and Baela and Rhaena.

Daemon stood by the door observing the situation. He looked quite smug seeing the damage done to the boy, Aemond. His daughters sported only a few cuts, if anything he wasn't concerned much knowing Daenys would take care of it.

"They attacked me!"

"He attacked Baela!"

"He broke Luke's nose!"

All the children started arguing with one another.

"Enough..." the King's commands were deaf in people's ears until he raised his voice, "Enough -"

Alicent started to yell, "It should be my son telling the tale!"

'He called us -" Jace was about to finish his sentence when the King yelled "SILENCE!"

'He called us bastards!" Jace whispered to his mother

That was all Rhaenyra needed to hear. Rhaenyra stood tall holding Luke and Jace's hands, she could she Daenys fuming with anger, who couldn't help but pull Luke's curls back in a comforting manner and protective manner.

"Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened." Viserys walked over to his son, his cane echoed at each word, "Now."

"What else is there to hear," Alicent speaks up, wanting to defend her son. "Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible,"' she tells the King and pointed toward Luke who was hiding between his mother and brother.

"It was a regrettable accident,"' Rhaenyra tells Alicent, who doesn't care because, in her point of view, it was punishment enough for calling her children bastards and giving a small injuries to Daemon's daughters as well.

"Accident?" Alicent scoffed, walking closer to Rhaenyra. "The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son."

"Do you even hear yourself, Alicent?," Daenys voiced, seeing how frightened Lucaerys looked, "He's a child"

"It was my sons who were attacked and were forced to defend themselves," Rhaenyra stated, "Vile insults were levied against them,"

The King turned to his daughter with narrowed eyes, "What insults?"

"The legitimacy of my children's birth was put to question." Rhaenyra said.

"What?" the King asked, not wanting to think that Aemond would say such a thing to Rhaenyra's children.

"He called us bastards." The boy's said out loud.

The smirk plastered on Aemond's face was enough for Daenys, she look at Alicent knowing exactly where he had learned those words.

"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace," Rhaenyra argued, "This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders,'

"Over an insult?" Alicent asked fumingly and the King slowly made his way over to Aemond, "My son has lost an eye!"

"You tell me, boy," Where did you hear this lie?" the King asked.

"The insults were training yard bluster. The yard of boys was nothing." Alicent tries to hide it. Daenys' eyes met Daemon, who was throughly enjoying this mess.

"Aemond, I asked you a question." the King said sternly. He wanted to know who would say such vile things about his grandsons.

"Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? the children's father? Perhaps he might have something to say in this matter," Alicent tries to move the King's attention away from Aemond to protect her precious boy.

'Yes, where is Ser Laenor?" the King questioned Rhaenyra.

"I do not know, Your Grace.. could not find sleep. I went out to walk." Rhaenyra lied, sharing a glance at Daenys.

"Entertaining his young squires, I would venture," Alicent said, trying to keep the attention off Aemond. Ser Criston Cole chuckled, which did not go unnoticed by Daenys.

"Aemond, Look at me," Viserys said to his son, "Your Kingdom earns an answer," Aemond looks at his mother, "Who spoke these lies to you?," he asked again.

"Everyone knows where those lies came from." Daenys spoke up once more this time making her side known, her eyes filled with sorrow and outrage.

Aemond looked at his Aunt Daenys, his father adored her a lot. Growing up he had heard tales of her beauty, fiercenes and strong will and determination.

Aemond bowed his head ashamed, 'It was Aegon.'" Aemond lied, not wanting the blame to fall on his mother.

"Me?" Aegon asked hurt that his brother threw him under the bus. He was terrified now that Aemond shifted the attention to him.

The King turned to his eldest son and walked as his cane allowed him to."And you boy? Where did you hear such calumnies?" Viserys questioned Aegon.

When Aegon did not answer he looked down at his feet, The last piece of patience left the frail man, "AEGON! tell me the truth about it!"

'We know, father. Everyone knows." Aegon answered looking at Rhaenyra and her children as she had held them close "Just look at them"

Indeed Rhaenyra's sons harbored no resemblance to their father Ser Laenor with their dark hair and brown eyes. Holding no resemblance to Targaryens either.

The people in the room went silent, Daenys heart was pounding. The majority knew the truth yet Viserys chooses to remain in denial.

"The interminable infighting must cease!" Viserys demands He was shouting at all those who were present, not only at his blood. To everyone else that had something to say. His face was exhausted like he was trying not to break down to tears, "All of you! We are a family! Now make your apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!"

"That is insufficient," Alicent argued, as Viserys made his way to leave, "Aemond has been damaged permanently, My King. Goodwill cannot make him whole," Alicent beseeched desperately.

"I know Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye," Viserys reasoned with his wife.

"No, because it has been taken," Alicent yells at the King wanting to draw blood in revenge.

"What would you have me do?" Viserys asked.

"There is a debt to be paid," Alicent tells him and looks straight at Rhaenyra, and then to her sons. "I shall have one of her children's eyes in return."

"The fuck you will" Daenys said this time, fuming with anger. She could feel Rhaenyra holding her robe for her to not go near Alicent.

"My dear wife,-" Viserys tried to get some sense into her head, but in vain, ""He is your son, Viserys. Your blood." Alicent tries to reason vulnerable.

"Do not..allow your temper to guide your judgment, Viserys said to alicent and tried to leave the room, closing the matter.

'If the King do not seek justice, then the Queen will, Alicent decides, and looks at Ser Criston. Their hatred for Princess Rhaenyra had grown over the years. "Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon" she demanded.

"Mother!" Luke cries out again, moving closer behind Rhaenyra. Daenys wasted no time, handing her daughters to Rhaenys's protection and shielding Rhaenyra and her sons from the chaos.

"They can choose which eye they can keep and who will give it, a privilege that my son was not granted," Alicent told Ser Criston.

"You will do no such thing!" Viserys commanded.

"Stay your hand!" Ser Harrold commanded Ser Criston.

"No, you are sworn to me!" Alicent shouted at Ser Criston, waiting for him to strike,

"Do not move, Ser Criston," Daenys said.

"As your protector My Queen," Ser Criston corrected while looking conflicted, Ser Criston always had a liking of the Realm's Beauty.

Viserys once again tells her that it is over. "Anyone that questions Rhaenyra's children would have their tongues cut out."

"Thank you, Father," Rhaenyra said graciously and turned her back to check on her children, Daenys wiped the blood running down Luke's nose with her handkerchief.

Seeing that Rhaenyra won once again, Alicent saw red. Alicent briskly made her way over to the King and grabbed the blade attached to his hip. She made her way over straight at the Targaryen women.

Ser Harrold runs down the steps and past the King, as Cole tries move past the people and straight to Rhaenyra and her children. The screams of the children could be heard in the commotion.

Before Alicent could strike at Rhaenyra, Daenys stepped in front, just in time to grab ahold of her arm and keep the dagger from inflicting harm on her niece, her lover.

"Daenys!" It was the sound of Daemon trying to make his way over. "Daenys!" Rhaenyra panicked, trying to steady her by holding her waist protectively.

'-Alicent stop this madness, before it goes too far,"Daenys said, struggling to hold her back. She could feel Rhaenyra's hands on her hips trying to steady her fall.

Daemon stopped Ser Criston from getting into the circle.

Alicent snarled seeing Rhaenyra's head over Daenys's shoulder, "You've gone too far!" Rhaenyra snapped at her.

"I-" Alicent answered in distress, "Alicent do not do this," Daenys said trying to keep her away from Rhaenyra.

Ignoring Daenys, Alicent spoke to Rhaenyra, "What have I done, of what was expected of me. Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law, while you ......." Daenys vision was getting blurry and sounds become muffled.

"But now they see you as you are", Daenys heard Rhaenyra clear, Alicent squeezed Daenys's shoulder causing her to yell out in pain, "How could you defend her?"

Daenys lets out a breath and stared deep into her forest eyes. "I scarcely even recognize you now, Alicent" she bit back. "You're turning into your father.'" Her eyes wandered to Otto. The words stab her deeply and Alicent let out a frustrated scream.

"Release the blade Alicent!" Otto ordered his daughter.

"Get the fuck away!" Daemon fought through, slightly panicked. Alicent pushed all her body weight and brought the blade down, slashing down at her collar bone area, close to her throat.

"No!" Rhaenyra screamed, trying to take the dagger away from Alicent but in the process, slicing her own wrist.

Drops of warm blood hit the stone floors. The Valyrian blade lodged deep into their porcelain skin. Shock settled into the room.

"I..' Alicent tried to speak but Daenys stepped back into Daemon's arms.

Rhaenyra thought Alicent wasn't capable of murder. She remembered the conversations on the beach she had with Daemon, when Daenys was asleep.Perhaps the Queen was capable of it. All these years was enough to change a person.

Viserys stood beside Alicent, who stood frozen and stared at the blade that has fallen from her grip.

Lord Corlys had caught Rhaenyra's shoulder who panicked more on seeing Daenys vulnerable.

"Stay with me- It's okay Look at me-" Daemon said calmly with a hint of anxiousness, when he saw her eyes closing slowly.

"Nyra, Daem-" she tried but darkness consumedand she falls in Daemon's arms.

It was as if the whole room was divided.Aemond had made his way over from his chair, " Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye..but I gained a dragon."

Criston went to Alicent's side and picked up the knife. He seemed to have also been staring at both the wounded Princess speechless. Hoping Princess Daenys was alright.

Daemon lifted her off the floor and carried her out of the room. Rhaenys, Baela, and Rhaena followed after.

Alicent impulsively attempted to go after Daenys. She did not meant for her to get hurt in this, but she was stopped by Daemon,"You and your children caused enough trouble tonight," Daemon sneered at her and Alicent's children, "Nearly stealing away her life. Hope you satisfied with your debt" He said as he walked away with Daenys in his arms.

One by one Viserys watched his family leave and felt his heart break over again seeing his family in shambles all because of Alicent.

"Your son has disrespected the House Velaryon -my daughter who has been put to rest! Your wife who chose to inflict harm on your own daughter and sister. Pack up your things and once the sun is up you will leave Driftmark. You will not be welcome with your family anymore." Corlys roared infuriated and fed up with the amount of insolence his family had faced.

🥀

Daenys was resting in her bed chambers with Daemon holding her hand. Viserys, Rhaenys, Baela and Rhaena were right there when she woke up.

Viserys almost cried again seeing his beloved younger sister awake and was relieved. He pressed a kiss on her forehead and apologized for Alicent's behavior. He wanted to stay longer but the frail man still needed to deal with the actions of his wife and try to make amends with Lord Corlys.

"Thank the Gods, that the dagger did not puncture deeply into the flesh, otherwise... things would have gone differently," The Maester said as he examined the wound. "A small few stitches and proper rest will do,"

Daemon kissed her temple, "Anything else?" He asked the Maester. The Maester smiled and said, "Just take care of her, my Prince," and left.

Rhaenys who was pacing back and forth in the room sighed in relief. Baela and Rhaena were patched up by another Maester for the small cuts and bruises.

Daenys groaned in pain as the milk of the poppy was starting to wear off.

Baela peered up "Are you in pain, Muña?"

Daemon was slightly taken back hearing his daughters refer Daenys as their mother for the first time.

'I'Il be all well, it doesn't hurt much." Daenys sat up slowly with the help of Daemon. "You forget that I've had far worst injures than this before,"

Rhaena shook her head in guilt, "It's our fault that you got hurt."

"Oh my sweet girls, do not blame yourselves for this," Daenys said with compassion and opened her arms for them. The girls carefully climbed up the bed and enveloped her into a hug. The sight made Daemon's heart melt.

The doors of her bed chambers opened, as Rhaenyra peaked inside,"Come in, Rhaenyra" Daenys said with a smile. Rhaneys left and the girls bid their goodbye by giving both Daemon and Daenys kisses on their cheeks.

Once the doors shut Rhaenyra focused her attention on the most beautiful Targaryen woman sitting underneath the duvet covers. She looked more pale and it was most likely due to the blood loss. Guilt ran through Rhaenyra's body. It was all her fault, she thought.

She immediately rushed to her side and let out a soft gasp as tears fell from her porcelain cheeks, "I'm so sorry, my love-this shouldn't have happened to you. This is my fault,"

"Rhaenyra, I'm well. Just a little light headed due to the milk and poppy." Daenys clasped her hand gently to calm her down.

Daemon cupped her face in his hands to stare at her before sighing in relief, then pulled her into his embrace, "I'm happy that you stood up for Rhaenyra but your carelessness could have gotten you killed, my love"

"I did not expect her to be like this. Alicent has never been like this. She was such a sweet girl," Daenys said, her voice muffled as she was still in Daemon's embrace. She remembered the days when the three girls would sit and gossip about anything and everything, the fun they had and the bond they shared back when they all were younger.

"Ten years can change everything," Daemon said.

Suddenly Daenys groaned in pain.

"Did I hurt you? Are you in pain?," Daemon asked this time, sitting on the side of her bed.

"No, it's just that the milk of the poppy is wearing off," she said. She looked at Rhaenyra's bandaged wrist and asked, "How is your wrist, my love?"

"Had a few stitches. The Maester said it will be heal sooner than yours," Rhaenyra said. Daenys smiled at her niece. How she had grown and now a mother of three.

"Come sit," she gestures Rhaenyra to sit on the other side of the bed. Rhaenyra smiled and happily compiled.

"Enough about me, I want to know about yor life, these past years," Rhaenyra smiled when Daenys cuddled to her side, "How is little Joffrey?" Daenys asked her.

For the first time, Rhaenyra wore a genuine smile, as Daenys cuddled at her side and Daemon retells them the stories of his travels. A family she always wanted, she thought.

As they continue to tell stories about their children and more, Daenys eyes began to slowly get heavy due to exhaustion. Within a few minutes, light snores escaped her mouth.

Both Daemon and Daenys smiled at the sight of their beloved. Daemon gently helped her into a more comfortable position. As Daenys was asleep, Rhaenyra spoke to Daemon, "We need to talk,"

Daemon and Rhaenyra carefully closed the doors of Daenys's bed chambers and walked out towards the terrace. They stood there admiring the vast sea. The sea winds running through their silver hair, the smell of salt and sea familiar to both.

"I need you, Uncle," Rhaenyra broke the silence, Daemon didn't say anything but just stared at the horizon. "I need you both," this time he looks at her face.

"I cannot face the Greens alone," she spoke in High Valyrian, "Let us bind our blood, Just as Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters"

"With you as my husband, my King Consort and Daenys as our wife, Queen Consort, my claim would not be so easily challenged,"

Daemon stares at her, "The Velaryons are the sea. But you, Daenys and I are are made of fire," Daemon turns and takes a seat on the wall of the terrace.

"We have always meant to be burned together," She continued. Finally Daemon spoke," We could not marry unless Laenor was dead,"

Rhaenyra stood silent for a moment," I know," she said. Their eyes exchanged a knowing look.

A/N- Filler chapter. Family drama. Wedding bells ringing soon.

Quick question- Would you like a daughter or son for Daenys?

[nighttimeclassics]

so im just thinking about the Orpheus and Eurydice metaphor in Dead Boy Detectives again...

so i really cant get over the symbolism in the show's comparison between Edwin and Charles and Orpheus and Eurydice. I'm sure someone else more succinct than me has already talked about it but man i just have to because as a classicist it has been consuming my brain since it happened... this is going to be a shitty ramble, but we vibe

so in the show, it is Edwin who first realises his feelings for Charles, and is the first to to truthful about them. Given that, in most translations of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, Orpheus' devotion to his wife is seen as the "stronger love" between the pair. highlighted in later adaptations such as Hadestown, as Eurydice makes the active choice to go to the underworld and leave her husband rather than their wedding being overshadowed by issues "worse than any omens". therefore, Edwin could initially be seen as the Orpheus parallel. particularly when you consider that Edwin 'guided Charles from the darkness' when he was dying of hypothermia with the lantern

however, unsurprisingly, given that is it Edwin who escaped from Hell, and is returned to it, Charles appears as the Orpheus parallel, with Edwin being his Eurydice. this is obviously then made super explicit in the show with it being Charles rescuing/ leading Edwin out of Hell. but even then it is not that simple

In Ovid's Metamorphoses, when pleading with Hades and Persephone, Orpheus states "my wife is the cause of my journey. A viper [...] robbed her of her best years. I longed to be able to accept it, and I do not say I have not tried: Love won." and obviously at the core of both of these relationships, is a deep deep love between them, regardless of how that manifests. Something i think is a massive parallel that i haven't seen anyone talk about yet is the willingness to remain in the Underworld/Hell for their respective partners.

going back to Metamorphoses, when Orpheus is requesting Eurydice's return to the mortal world, he gives Hades and Persephone an alternative solution of sorts. he says "if the fates refuse my wife this kindness [of returning to life], I am determined not to return {to the mortal realm]: you can delight in both our deaths." now is this not effectively the same thing Charles says to the Night Nurse when bargaining with her to open a door to Hell??? Charles says "then open up a door and I'll go get him, then we're stuck in Hell and you know where we are, or, I bring him back and we're all yours. It's a win-win." tell me that these aren't the same. you cant.

But i do think the most interesting parallel is when Charles and Edwin are running up the spiral staircase. i am not mentioning the times when escaping Hell, Edwin overtook Charles running, because let's be honest, we all know he is the faster sprinter of the two given the 70 years he spent practising. so I am disregarding that. but what I do find fascinating is this - and why I said it was more complicated earlier; in the metamorphoses Orpheus is obviously given the stipulation that he must not look at Eurydice when guiding her out of the underworld, or the agreement "would be null and void". and its here that we see another reversal. during the majority of the run up the staircase, Charles is behind Edwin, because like we have established, he's speedy. but in this key moment, Charles takes the lead in their escape, walking in front of Edwin whilst making it clear that they need to keep moving. just like in the tale, Charles, fulfilling Orpheus' role, "Afraid [they] was no longer there, and eager to see [them], the lover turned his eyes", turns to look back at Edwin, delivering the ridiculously romantic, 'sorry, no version of this where I didn't come get you is there?'. however, after this he refocuses on continuing up the staircase, which is where Edwin steps in:

as you can see in the gif, currently, Edwin is in, what I'm going to call the 'Eurydice position', following the lover out of the afterlife. and it is Edwin, as Eurydice, who basically chooses to condemn himself to the underworld/ hell, allowing the demon to catch up with them just to 'see [his] lover' and ensure Charles knows that '[he] had been loved'. t

im just going to put the section where Orpheus looks back at Eurydice in here because I think its all relevant:

"Afraid she was no longer there, and eager to see her, the lover turned his eyes. In an instant she dropped back, and he, unhappy man, stretching out his arms to hold her and be held, clutched at nothing but the receding air. Dying a second time, now, there was no complaint to her husband (what, then, could she complain of, except that she had been loved?). She spoke a last ‘farewell’ that, now, scarcely reached his ears, and turned again towards that same place"

by forcing Charles to turn around and face him, Edwin is fulfilling the roles of both Eurydice and Orpheus. in this instance, he is the one 'stretching out his arms' to hold Charles, but he is also the one that could be sent/ dragged back to the afterlife for this, but he just had to make sure Charles was aware of his feelings for him, to know that he was 'loved'. and I think Edwin was potentially prepared to return to the Doll House, or at least believed he would be able to find it more bearable knowing that he had been able to bear his soul to Charles, eve if that meant Charles couldn't come back again and try to rescue him for a second time, which Orpheus tried to do in the Metamorphoses, "Orpheus wished and prayed, in vain, to cross the Styx again, but the ferryman fended him off" and I feel like we all know Charles would have also kept trying if he lost Edwin again.

i guess, what im trying to say, in the most long-winded way, is that Charles and Edwin don't fill binary roles of one of them being Orpheus and the other being Eurydice, they are both of those things to one another throughout the show and I think that's really beautiful and I have to give massive credit to whoever did episode seven because I really feel like they did their homework. even after all the ramble I have written I still feel like I haven't fully made the point I was trying to make, but I definitely got some of the way there I think

[see-arcane]

Be for real, Jonathan/Mina are not 5% as fucked up as Mina with any other characters they put her up with like Dracula, Quatermain, Hyde, etc. Jonathan is human and perfectly good and nice guy, it pretty much ends all possibilities for twisted gothic relationships exploration. Cause people who pair Mina up with all those different male characters do it to explore forbidden or dark or twisted relationships. You can’t do it with Jonathan-there’s nothing twisted or forbidden there.

Hey friend, not sure if this is in earnest or diet trolling, but I'm going to try and lean towards assuming the former.

The three guys you mentioned are just Alan Moore in very thin masks.

Dracula is basically every director and writer's body pillow who they think should Get All the Ladies~ for voluptuous empowerment reasons (ignore the castle harem), but with Quatermain and Hyde specifically in your roster, I've got to assume you're referring to TLoEG Moore-Dracula and company. I won't waste our time going into all the reasons I hate this comic series for what it did to every single classic lit character unlucky enough to show up in it, let alone the especially disgusting treatment Mina gets. There is no version of this where I give that thing a fair chance.

So let's get straight to your point:

Jonathan is human and perfectly good and nice guy, it pretty much ends all possibilities for twisted gothic relationships exploration.

people who pair Mina up with all those different male characters do it to explore forbidden or dark or twisted relationships. You can’t do it with Jonathan-there’s nothing twisted or forbidden there.

I don't know if you've read the book or not. Maybe this is your first year Dracula Dailying, maybe you've already gone through the novel and just didn't hit the brakes like most of us did over certain ominous tell-tale points to examine the implications under some very concerning text. Either way, the novel is objective proof that you're wrong.

As is every adaptation and spinoff to ever come after its publication that 1) Turns Dracula or whoever else into Mina's only possible gothic romantic option and inevitably includes 2) Somehow removing Jonathan Harker from the board due to being played with all the feeling of a broom, getting killed, divorced, or afflicted with sudden-onset-shitty-bastard syndrome.

The thing is, your take on Jonathan--the very human heartwarming do-no-wrong sweetheart--is absolutely right...up until October 3rd. And then allll the way up to the climax in November. Because within that span of time, Jonathan Harker:

(DRACULA SPOILERS EN ROUTE)

Has a literal physical transformation in front of the entire group as Mina describes Dracula's assault. No metaphors here. His hair goes white. His eyes burn. He looks like a corpse. His hands turn cold. By the time of the climax, we find out that he now has a Glare on par with Dracula's basilisk gaze which sends enemies running upon eye contact. This is followed by a surprise dose of super strength ala his hoisting a box that took multiple men to carry even while empty, but now is full of soil and Dracula himself. He hefts it over his head and chucks it. Like nothing. Stoker never says exactly what Jonathan's deal is, but whatever it is by the book's end, It Is Not All Human.

2. Almost guts Dracula in his own house. He lizard fashioned himself out a window specifically to chase after Dracula in order to slaughter him in the middle of a crowded street and was only stopped from doing so because the Count escaped out of range.

3. Has the same determination at the prospect of needing to attack ordinary strangers if they obstruct their pursuit of Dracula. He says he's prepared to hang if need be. Meaning he's prepared to be caught and convicted of murder if it comes down to it.

4. Makes a secret oath. One that neither Mina or the heroes get to know. Namely, that if Mina winds up a vampire, he will not destroy or abandon her, but join her in her new state rather than forsake her. Mina as a human? Mina as a vampire? Mina in any form however saintly or monstrous? Still Mina to him. All other considerations are secondary to keeping with Mina and keeping Mina safe. He is prepared to prey on humanity for and with her if that's what it takes.

5. Keeps that oath secret and refuses to join the others in swearing to slay Mina if she rises as a vampire. Full stop. "It's the right thing to do! They did it for Lucy!" Jonathan Harker could not give less of a fuck. He's sitting there sharpening his kukri, now quietly reconciling with the notion that if Dracula is not put down, he may wind up turning the knife on his allies. Something we don't see in text, but the reader gets to connect the dots on. His silence itself is dangerous.

6. When he is finally forced to part ways with Mina for the sake of the hunt, he leaves her with her own gun. To use as she needs. Keeping in mind that, even if it were loaded with blessed bullets, we never once see a gun be successful in putting down a vampire. Throughout the book, the undead are only ended by beheading and staking. The gun is therefore not meant to save her from a vampire. She is heading off with Van Helsing for company, the guy who led the 'Behead and Impale the Bloofer Lady' party. As an ally, of course. Just as he was Lucy's ally. Once. (This weapon is yours, my love. Use it when you need it. On whoever it must be used on.)

But the most telling thing comes well before all of this. Even before he first swings his kukri at Dracula. One single line:

“I care for nothing now,” he answered hotly, “except to wipe out this brute from the face of creation. I would sell my soul to do it!”

This? This shit that Francis Ford Coppola flat-out stole from Mr. Harker and duct-taped to Oldman Sexyman Dracula for his erotic fanfiction? This is important. Because out of all the characters in the cast, Jonathan Harker knows the danger of the vampires very, very, very up close and personally after two months of psychological torture and exposure to unavoidable proof that demons are real, that they walk the Earth, and that the Powers that make them possible must also be real and gloating in actual factual Hell.

Meaning that Jonathan knew exactly how potent such a promise was. He was not joking. He was not making a hyperbolic gesture. He fucking meant it. Van Helsing, fresh from his library book binge on the subject and therefore rightly panicked, lays out the danger himself:

“Oh, hush, hush, my child!” said Van Helsing. “God does not purchase souls in this wise; and the Devil, though he may purchase, does not keep faith. But God is merciful and just, and knows your pain and your devotion to that dear Madam Mina. Think you, how her pain would be doubled, did she but hear your wild words..."

Jonathan spent his summer in a territory covered in crosses and vampire wards and dutiful prayer, buddy. He knows God is good enough to sting, but not enough to stop the undead fucker from preying on a full pious mountain range's worth of people like his personal feeding trough for 400+ years unhindered. If Jonathan needs the Devil on his side to end him, so be it. If he has to sign on with the undead fucker because Mina went full vampire and the only alternative is letting her be slain, so be that too.

Van Helsing, the suitors, the whole of the human population, his own humanity, even Mina's own martyr-plea for destruction rather than inflicting herself on the world, being kept under Dracula's thrall and luring Jonathan back into the same torment--None of That Matters to Him.

Jonathan Harker's only priority is Mina. Period. Over God, over humankind, over friends and foes and sanity. Mina's existence trumps them all in his mind. And if she were to stop existing, he would fall on his kukri as readily as he once risked death on the cliff or to the waiting wolves.

The end of Dracula allows him and Mina a happy ending. Stoker is a softie in the end and these characters who represent so much of a queer author's hopes--(My partner loves me unto blasphemy. Even if I am wrong, unclean, unfit in the world's eyes, this person loves me so dearly and madly that they will go to unthinkable extremes to protect me, no matter what.)--were due for a well-earned bliss. But he also makes it very clear all the way up to that point that the story could have gone wrong. Horrendously.

And in the hundred unwritten versions of the tale where Dracula got away, where Mina turned, where the good guys were too late? Jonathan Harker would be the sudden shadow at their backs, raising the kukri to strike.

Jonathan Harker cannot be allowed to exist as himself in any of the ~twisted gothic horror romances~ where authors and directors graft Mina into relationships with [INSERT BASTARD], because whether those creators know it or not, they have already fallen short of everything Jonathan Harker is and what he was prepared to do on Mina's behalf in the canon. The young man's immensely Unwell about his wife if you scratch even the thinnest layer of paint off him.

And if Stoker had given him half a reason to prove it, he'd have left a pile of valorous corpses behind in the Transylvanian snow.

tl; dr: Jonathan Harker is both a sweet little guy and a bit fucked up actually. He is not just allowed in the twisted gothic romance potential club, he is the club president. And he's married to the founder.

[kiame-sama]

More of druid Tav with Yan companions+ Raphael

Warnings; gender neutral Tav/reader, druid Tav/reader, yandere, yandere behavior, yandere relationship, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, injury, threat to life/limb, yandere companions, spoilers for act 1 companions, slight spoilers for a bit of the act 2 side quests,

~~~~~~~~

"This deal is with your vampire spawn friend, not you. I don't want you getting involved in this matter."

"I am the unofficial leader of this group and I refuse to let a cambion tell me I can't protect my companions."

~~~~

Raphael frowned deeply as he thought back on the light spat he had with the defacto leader of the illithid anomaly group. He had plans for the druid far beyond the defeat of the Absolute and their cultists. One could even say that he had formed an attachment to them far beyond what he should when it comes to the pawns of his game. To think, the powerful cambion- master of the chess board of life- has formed an affection for one of the pawns on his side of the board. Or perhaps, it would be better to assign them to the king piece. If his precious druid falls, so too does all of Baldur's Gate and the rest of the Sword Coast. He cannot afford to be put in check, least of all check-mate.

The Orthon he had set the group after had already appeared in his House of Hope as agreed upon. Now, he stood waiting for the group to return to their camp to hold up his end of the bargain.

He expected them to return quickly and they did exactly that, what he didn't expect was the group to return in a frazzled and rushed state. None of the odd group even glanced in Raphael's direction as the Githyanki and the Tiefling grabbed several bedrolls, laying them out on top of the other. The rest of the group was not far behind as they hurried into the camp, the human waving forward the rest with a frantic gesture.

"Come on, Astarion, hurry!"

"I'm fucking hurrying, Wyll! You try running with your arms full like this!"

The spat between the two made Raphael raise a brow, wondering just what all of the fuss was about. It wasn't until the vampire spawn lay what was in his arms on the bedrolls that Raphael even realized the weight of the situation. Laying limply with blood-marred skin was the beloved druid, clearly having suffered some kind of serious wound. Raphael knew the tell-tale jagged edges of the open injury on their soft body, one that could only be caused by an Orthon.

The half-elf cleric and the burly elf druid kneeled on either side of their unconscious leader, trying to use their various magics to staunch the blood flow. None of what they did seemed to be working and Raphael knew he would have to act or risk losing his precious druid permanently to the cruel hands of death. He was quick to shove the half-elf aside so he could access his favorite mortal and try to prevent the rapidly approaching end.

"Hey," Shadowheart snapped at the demon, "what the hells are you doing!?"

Raphael didn't even give a response to the upset woman, setting to reversing the damage done by his soon to be reformed minion. He had half a mind to just flay the minion that dare put such a wound on his precious druid, but he also knew others may take it as a sign of weakness. All he could do for the time being was try to help his little druid survive what- to most- is a mortal wound. Luckily for sweet (y/n) they had a powerful cambion lord on their side who could actually heal an Orthon caused wound.

For most, a direct attack from an Orthon causes death. Usually only a powerful cambion could reverse such a wound, lucky for them that Raphael was certainly a powerful cambion.

Where the healing efforts of the cleric and other druid had done little for the large wound, Raphael's touch managed to close the injury within moments. It had certainly been something that would have killed his favorite misadventurer and they had near infernal luck to survive up until reaching Raphael at their camp. Their sallow skin made his chest tighten as he searched for any sign of true recovery before he noticed their deep breaths, relaxing almost instantly.

"How did this happen?"

Raphael spoke in an even tone, but the hard edge to his words was not lost on those present. He wanted an answer and he expected nothing but the truth from them.

"It's our fault, really."

Gale spoke up, his tone bitter with resentment towards himself and the other companions responsible for allowing such an injury to befall the beloved druid. Where they had not inflicted such a wound, they were still the ones their leader was injured protecting. They all felt there was blame to share as they had not heeded the wise words of their leader and their leader paid the price for it.

"(Y/n) instructed us to not group up on the edge of the platform, but... we did anyway. That Orthon intended to shove us all off to the floor below and kill us, but (Y/n) blocked the attack with their own body, using themselves to absorb the attack."

Raphael felt a spark of annoyance flash in his mind, but decided to let it go in favor of focusing on his darling druid. They were slowly waking from their brief brush with death and seemed rather disoriented with the world around them. Their slowly trailing eyes fixed first on Raphael, a dazed and kind smile pulling at their lips as they reached out to him. He didn't pull away but watched in slight confusion as they rest their hand on his cheek.

"Raphael... thought angels were supposed to greet me when I died?"

Raphael couldn't stop the affectionate chuckle that escaped his lips, laying his hand over the druid's.

"Well, angels don't tend to save or greet the living."

"Save..? The Orthon magic... I figured it would take a devil to heal devil magic."

"If you figured as much, why didn't you call for me?"

"I doubt you would have shown."

The smallest wince from Raphael drew the attention of the onlookers, it only now dawning on them that Raphael may feel attached to (y/n) too. Some were in furious disbelief at the simple idea of this cambion bastard going after their dear leader. Some were impressed that their leader had ensnared the heart of a cambion. Even the cambion didn't want to believe how much he had begun to adore the druid that entranced all others to trust and adore them.

"For you, my favorite misadventurer, I will always show. Rest now, your body has healed but your mind will be fighting the Orthon influence for a days time. I will do what I can to ease your rest."

He was quick to wave a hand over the druid's head, quickly sending them into sleep before they could reply to his confession. Now he had to face their loyal pack and get them to concede to allowing the devil a fair chance at winning the druid's heart.

[cybsoo2]

my obsessive fan

╰┈➤ synopsis — Each story is a glimpse into what your life would entail if these seven were your obsessive fans.

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!bts x idol!reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.6k

╰┈➤ content warning — murder, yandere behavior, stalker behavior, kidnapping, just the usual

ੈ♡₊˚｡ over to ⇢ pt.2

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ; GUYS HOBI DOESN’T ACTUALLY KILL HIMSELF!! i realize it kinda seems like he did but don’t worry he’s alright just a lil traumatized :)

—Kim Seokjin

Jin considers himself unexplainably lucky

The universe has given him a chance that he’ll never be able to deserve

One day during his first semester of college he met someone special that little did he know would change the trajectory of his life forever

Seokjin made a friend and they grew fairly close as the years went on, until one day this friend came to him with a bittersweet conversation

She was switching to online school as her dreams of becoming an idol were finally answered

Jin supported her decision and waited patiently for her debut

An Autumn song caught his ear on the day of her debut and his eyes no longer followed her form

Instead, Jin became starstruck by the lively girl who made the stage her own

Since that day, Jin only sees his relationship with your member as insignificant

He only cares to engage with them when it involves you

Seokjin is a snake with his words and uses his charms to his advantage

He’ll manipulate and lie his way into getting new information about you

Although, sometimes it’s slightly suspicious when almost every time they hangout is when you’re tagging along

He really has just turned your co-worker into a tool at his disposal

At the most lowly point of his life, he even resorted to flirting with the foolish girl in order to sneak into your dorms

Granted, this repulsive act brought up serpents in his stomach and he had to restrain himself from the gags that tore up his throat

He wound up drowning himself in mouthwash to try and get rid of the rancid taste that never seemed to leave his lips (He was tempted to almost bury himself in bleach but resisted)

This traumatic event did have an upside though, as he was able to creep into the dark corners of your bedroom when his other companion was asleep

Unfortunately, you were not safely sleeping under his watch but just being able to stand in the place he frequently hallucinates about is enough for him

His consciousness moves into a dream-like state as he takes in everything that your fingers have touched

His heart flutters while silently sweeping his gigantic hands over your stuffies and sheets

He takes a seat on your bed and breathes in the reflection of your spirit

Shaking hands reach for the sweater tossed to the left of him

His lips quiver and he can’t hold back the sobs that force their way of him

His misty moon-eyes shine in the light that passes through your curtains

Blue bleeds from his curled up body and coats every surface of your previously vivid room

He despises the way his rotten emotions have blended into your walls

Nibble fingers then quickly gather any item that has sucked up his sorrow (At least that’s what he tells himself)

He’ll take these souvenirs of your sunshine and cherish them until that delightful day arrives when you eventually take their place

—Min Yoongi

He’s your producer and songwriter

Articles and fan sites have become fascinated and praise the poetic nature of your songs

Each line is drowning in lovesick emotion that carries the weight of the human soul

Each song is unique with a variety of tales telling love and sorrow combined with hateful rage and tortuous terror

Every lyrics he writes is a vow to love you

It’s not a surprise how romantic and illusionary his songs end up being, his heart always sings for you after all

Every time your songs win an award he feels as if his love is validated

And every time a songs fails to reach an achievement, he sobs for days on end, promising to do better

He will not let his words fall flat and be mistaken for empty oaths

His apartment is an archive, full of stacked books overflowing with the words of adoration that never stop their cascade

A graveyard of blue pens (your favourite colour of course) lies in the corner of his living room, each scripted soldier aiding to the thousands of verses written in your honour

Above the TV playing visions of you, are the hundreds of awards placed delicately upon his shelves

You’ll have to excuse his selfish desires but he couldn’t stop himself from taking them

Each award is a golden reassurance that his love for you is reality and the world is aware of it too

It’s even better that these trophies were once held lovingly in your hands

He used to trace the ghost of your fingertips along the lines of the figurine 

Although, once he realized his tainted touch smudged away your memory, he cut his fingertips off in a panic and laid them up on his wall where they've stayed still ever since

Drifting away from painful memory and onto thoughtful perceptions, in a competition between your siren singing and your sweet spoken call, your regular voice comes as a close second

Each sonnet you speak is that much more meaningful due to the fact that what you say are the words he wrote

An angelic tone constantly fills the silence of his apartment from dusk to dawn

It’s even more euphonious watching you perform in the studio

He can’t help his glossy eyes from floating to stare at your open lips

Whilst your silver voice is the constant background noise that fills his head, Yoongi finds time to record you speaking light-hearted chit chat during your recording sessions

When the time comes and Yoongi must make his way home, he walks slow in the studio but sprints on the sidewalk

His rush can be contributed to the fact that Yoongi is always inspired to work on some arrangements when provided with new material

He’ll cut and paste the pieces of his collection and create new paragraphs that he pretends you said to him

Yoongi sees your life as a duet

Neither complete without the other

He used to sing in silence but his voice is so insincere compared to yours

And he takes pride in the way your career and prosperity relies on him so much

You two are so trusting in one another yet a step to far away

It’s a pity Yoongi’s too accepting of his life with you to risk taking it a step further

—Jung Hoseok

In Hoseok’s realm of reality, you are both undoubtedly in love with one another

Yet your relationship is a secret, kept hidden away from prying eyes and stuffed into the back of his closet where cardboard cutouts and posters sleep

Hobi’s too shy and nervous for his undying love to be publicized, so he’ll just stick to supporting you from the sidelines

He has a YouTube channel where everything and anything is all about you

His favourite segment is unboxing the hundreds of albums he purchases for everyone of your comebacks

Before cutting open the wrapping he’ll wish and beg to see your face so much it’s almost satanic

When he pulls your photocard he almost faints in excitement but when his hands are dirtied by pulling the face of another one of your members he ends up trashing the card

Speaking of your photocards, his collection includes every single card that can be found

Binders upon binders are filled with your face and when he ends up doing a tour for his channel, the video ends up being over 30 hours long

Hoseok’s favourite hobby involves curling up in his bed and cradling your limited edition twin plushie in his crushing embrace

He nestles up to the faux sense of security, stroking the soft fabric and pretending it’s you

Soft yet erratic gasps tumble from his warm mouth

His head controls the ghosts of you that creates strawberry cheeks

A sensitive smile paints it’s way onto a caramel canvas

His body grows hot as his hopeless fantasies drive him into delusion

Swollen lips begging out to brush up against yours

His eyes hang heavy lidded with overblown pupils 

His previous crying mellows down as trembling whines grow needier

He daydreams about how you’d feel held up against him

A raw, rose-bud blooming between the both of your bodies

His heart trembles, overwhelmed by your hands tugging at his hair and dragging your peachy, plush mouth across his neck

Honey hot hands grip harder to the sheets beneath him

You make him so weak

Heat pools below his stomach, all strung up in pretty pleasure

Pressure building and body temp rising, Hoseok’s lost in a fool’s paradise

After every climax in utopia, Hobi is hit with the reality of his predicament

The rainy nights that follow look something like this…

Hoseok gets his head bashed in by a reality check

His brain is blown to bits, bleeding south along his bathroom tiles

Venom pulses through his veins as he wishes the world would lose it’s mania

Veracity is Hoseok’s enemy but it’s a good thing he’s hopeful

—Kim Namjoon

You make Namjoon so curious

His thirst grows stronger in need of consuming any knowledge slightly related to your existence

Namjoon knows you better than the gods who created you

He’s your worshipper who knows your wants and needs of the past, present and future

Namjoon always keeps updated about your schedules, personal plans, and tiny details which other fans have shared

He keeps a binder stocked full of information

The binding is bursting and pages threaten to flutter out of their place

He’s set aside every Wednesday and Friday to study your life and it’s interesting habits

Saturdays are for quizzes which he forces his roommates to participate in

He’s even started to live his life exactly like yours in order to feel closer to you

This includes him eating the same meals you do and visiting places you’ve been photographed at just minutes after its been posted

He’ll never miss out on purchasing all products you endorse or are seen using

He’s even tailored his style to match your own (He’s always been a fan of couples clothing)

And Namjoon, ever the worrier, is anxious that all your lives, messages, and posts are in danger of being corrupted and lost forever, so he downloads all your content into an archive for safe keeping

Namjoon is a worshipper, dedicating his devotion to your entirety

In a walnut wardrobe with a false backing is where your shrine meets his eyes in the early morning and late night

Of course it’s adorned with the finest and most expensive amenities

Jewelry, love notes scribbled onto loose-leaf paper, totems of the gods luck, and a single golden lock of your hair (Don’t ask him how he got it)

The centrepiece held in this sacred sanctuary is a painted portrait of yours truly

Namjoon’s never been much of an artist but it would be such a travesty not to document your desirable beauty

Every fine features flows into the next, blurred together with emotion and sentiment

He spend almost all the hours of his wake languishing away in an attempt to perfect every detail

He persisted in his laborious ways until every curve, divot, and colour matched that of your own

When a year has faded away and his mastery is finished, pearl droplets of ecstasy and varnish are used to seal it

His half of the shared flat he lives in resembles more of an art gallery and archive then an actually home

No part of Namjoons personality, hobbies, or are emotions are his own

All this mania and madness is for you

The generous god who was gracious enough to let him love you

—Park Jimin

Jimin is your #1 fan

He was there as you built your career from the bottom and has supported you in every way possible

Every album you produce winds up in his grasp and every song is played on repeat the minute of release

He’s watched every video you’ve ever featured in 100 times over

Posters of you are plastered over every inch of his room, some photos even spilling out into the hallway

Jimin’s favourite lullaby is the sound of your siren song that flows from his CD player every night

Your sugary, sweet voice slithers deep into his thoughts every moment of every day

You are the best things that has ever happened to him… but also the worse

Park Jimin is so fucking jealous

He’s always had trouble containing the fiery beast that lies unsettled in his stomach, yet lately it’s been getting bad

He sees the way you interact with your members and he doesn’t think they’re good for you

They hide your true potential under fake smiles that smear their scarlet lip gloss

He hates only being able to watch as ‘fans’ cover you in filth

His hatred has almost boiled over so many times that he had to stop going to fan-meets

Jimin would never lie to you but he can’t let you see him like this

Death would be a better fate than seeing the disgust that would splatter across your face at the sight of him in such a state

Crystal rain already begins to fall down his face at the mere inclination

The sour words you would spit at his feet and your hardened glare that would piece his chest

However, this doesn’t mean all that he’s done to show his love already is a lie 

He not interested in deceiving you, and the truth is that Jimin is so very sensitive

He’s caring and emotional, selfless when it comes to showing his worth

But sometimes Jimin feels that there’s two sides to him

A twisted twin that he’s so very tired of pushing down

Jimin is growing weak and he isn’t sure how much longer he’ll be able to contain the monster that’s ripping apart his rib cage

—Kim Taehyung

Taehyung is your eternal shadow

He follows you in the light of day and stalks you in the dark of night

Having Taehyung as your obsessive fan would be like an undying disease

His entire life revolves around you

You are his universe

The first time he caught a glimpse of your face he rushed home to etch the memory onto paper

A fire ignited in his lungs where the smoke billowed out into short, wispy breathes

By the time the next day rolls around he still sits hunched over his desk drawing doodles of you in his notebook

This nights insomnia foreshadows many more sleepless nights spent studying pictures of you

After many weeks his drawings became too lifeless and he yearns for a stolen look at your features once again

The months that follow involve Taehyung spiralling into a new insanity

He quit his job and left his apartment, all in search for a closer spot to you

Taehyung and you share the same silhouette

This is proven in the way he pursues your every move

His new expensive camera captures every moment his eyes fail to catch

The walls of his room are covered in pictures of you taken by his artistic eye

He loses himself in the dreams these candids encourage and traces the outlines of your image as daylight falls

So lost in his own mania he catches himself mumbling your name in place of his friends and mistakes strangers scent in similarity to yours

As time grows old, Taehyung becomes bolder, more infatuated and impatient

This masochist like to tease himself with your touch, stealing the skin he meets when his stalking becomes more akin to silent assault

He takes the risks that put your whole relationship in stake

His crimes double in number as his obsession becomes insatiable

His delusions morph into a place of real-life euphoria as clarity escapes his mind

Last night, right when the clock aged 11 in the absence of light, he stepped foot into your domain

He hasn’t been thinking straight lately, too blinded by his fantasies to consider the consequences

He crawls over to your bed where heaven lies in a slumbering state

He’ll let his throat tear itself to sheds speaking his heart-felt confessions to you

“I’m crazy about you.” Two kisses laid to bed on the crest of your chest

“You’re the center of my world.” Bed sheets rustle as he pulls himself closer

“I’m completely, and utterly devoted to you.” He melts into your unconscious embrace

When the sun wakes, he takes his time dragging himself off of you and out the door

Let’s see how far Kim Taehyung is willing to test his temptations before he destroys it all

—Jeon Jungkook

“You’re the one I’m dreaming of, in endless love, you’re my forever.”

Jungkook’s love for you is infinite, yet despite his honest intentions, the execution of his attachment can be quite clumsy

It seems that your love is so shocking that it electrocuted his mind

Your breathe so toxic that it ties him up in a tongue-twister, tripping over his words for the days to follow

Body so heavenly that his brain has melted into mush upon your first encounter

Jungkook first spotted you on a billboard in the city and he swore he could see the stars in your eyes

Since then he dove head-first into everything there was to know about you

He schedule practically matches yours too a tee

Although this was not without great struggle, after losing his job, blowing his rent money, and setting fire to his friendships, Jungkook has endured everything in order to be close to you

He makes sure to attend all your events, concerts, fan-meets, and all things in between

He’s the one who shouts your name the loudest, he gives you the biggest gifts, and he sends you the most love letters

Practically every one of your fans knows who he is at this point

Jeon Jungkook is a psycho fan who stalks you, is blacklisted from almost every venue (But that never stops him from finding a way in), and has had rumours of assaulting other fans who get in his way

His obvious obsession is also what leads him to check all articles, management posts, and your social media every night

This is was leads him to a harrowing discovery

“Unfortunately, popular k-pop idol L/N Y/N has fa-” He never finished the sentence before he threw up

Checking back on the article his concern became reality as news of you being injured broke his barely beating heart

The ice water drifting through his veins pours out of him in the form of desperate teardrops

Ear-shattering wailing disrupts his neighbours sleep and Jungkook's crying continues on for the rest of the night

The only solution to his misery comes to him in a disfigured dream

Jungkook makes his way to your apartment on an evening that borders on sunset

Fresh flowers are placed in front of your door accompanied with a hundred page note and a stinging smile

He hopes that this will cheer you up in your times of great distress

…His plans end up backfiring completely

The next night you go live and Jungkook waits athirst for the words you’re about to speak

“Please, please stop coming to my home. I can’t trust or appreciate anyone who so blatantly ignores my privacy and safety. If I have to beg you to stop stalking me then how can I even call you my fans?”

You think he doesn’t love you?

No, no, no, no, he loves you, oh god he loves you so much

Why can’t you see it?

Can you not tell just how much his heart screams out for its other half?

Do you not notice all the agony he has endured, and will continue to endure, in the name of your happiness?

This revelation brings on a fit of hysteria 

Fears squeezes the air out of his lungs as he hyperventilates on the living room floor

Wet words are yelled out between sobs and pleads for your love

His tears don’t stop flooding his eyes as he lies helplessly on the wooden floorboards that soak up the sadness

Hours border on days as he lays limpless

He doesn’t eat nor sleep yet only mumbles a hopeless mantra that he prays will reach your ears

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you-” 

Poor, pathetic Jungkook

All those days sitting in sorrow allow a dire idea to fester within his mind

Termites of idiocy tore apart his brain and spat out of the lovelorn remains

Perhaps this distance is what’s limiting your sight of his loving languish

He wants to be closer to you, craves it, no, needs it to survive in this confusing world that pins you two against each other

So all this thinking leads him to kidnap you from your dorm

He shushes your scream with the hand held over your mouth (one that also holds a wet rag submersed in chloroform)

When you wake you’re disoriented and full of confusion

You’re faced with an unfamiliar ceiling and dark shadows that spiral into your sight

The only strong force that keeps you connected to this world are the arms wound tight around your torso

The muffled man comforts your crying before you can notice his own

“Now I can finally show you how much I love you.”

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved ‎

[thedansemacabres]

The Almost Lost Relationship of Adonis and Dionysus

[ID: An image of the seats at the Theater of Dionysus in Athens. The sun shines on the pale steps, illuminating them slightly. Beyond the stairs, there is nothing else in the theatre and it acts as an empty scene.]

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ADONIS IS KNOWN FOR BEING CAUGHT BETWEEN PERSEPHONE AND APHRODITE, and this eventually being the cause of his death—Artemis, Ares, Apollon, or perhaps all send a boar to gore Adonis and end the affair between him and Aphrodite. However, of course, there is always more to this story: that being the continuation, the romance of Adonis and Dionysus. This will serve as a small introduction to a relatively unknown aspect of Adonis’ mythology, especially in the perspective of Adonis representing infertile life compared to Dionysus’ fertility. 

PANYASSIS, AND THEN PLATO

Apollodorus contains one of the earliest tellings of Adonis’ death from the 5th century poet Panyassis, who states that Adonis died twice—once when Persephone obtained him, and another when he was gored by a boar. However, continuing Panyassis’ fragment, Plato Comicus states that Adonis’ death was caused by Aphrodite and Dionysus, not Aphrodite and Persephone: 

O Kinyras, king of the hairy-assed Cypriots, Your child is by nature most beautiful and most marvelous Of all humans, but two divinities will destroy him, She being rowed by secret oars, and he rowing them. (fr. 3)

By desiring and loving Adonis, Aphrodite and Dionysus later cause his demise. This is one of the earliest mentions of Adonis and Dionysus, whilst grim, does lead us slightly into the romance of Adonis and Dionysus. Another myth—or perhaps a continuation of this one—presents another tale, as recorded by Plutarch. 

PLUTARCH’S FRAGMENT 

Plutarch presents a differing story: that Dionysus fought with Aphrodite for Adonis and won. In discussing the ethics of food, particularly eating swine, he invokes this in a lost text written by Phanocles: 

Εἰδὼς θεῖον Ἄδωνιν ὀρειφοίτης Διόνυσος ἥρπασεν, ἠγαθέην Κύπρον ἐποιχόμενος. Knowingly, mountain-roaming Dionysus carried away the divine Adonis, after approaching the Holy Cyprian with hostile purpose. Plutarch, Quaestiones Convivales

One of the many reasons he cites for pigs being less than ideal animals for consumption is that they gored Adonis—which, in hypothesis, could be a reason that some Aphrodisian cults avoided consuming pork, but this is merely my own thinking. 

This fragment gives little context to the motives of Dionysus in this myth, the reaction of Aphrodite or Adonis. Despite this, the wording is of intrigue to me of several parts:

What does knowingly mean? The translation phrases it as Dionysus knowing, but knowing what? Or does this refer to Adonis knowing that he would be carried off—as in the original ancient Greek, it is placed as “knowing, divine Adonis.” 

Adonis here is called a god, theos, which may refer to his apotheosis, which was of contention in ancient Greece.

“Hostile purpose”, ἐποιχόμενος, also refers to the passing of wine. So, instead of violence, he may have given Aphrodite wine in “exchange” for Adonis. 

There is also something to be said of the similarity between Adonis being carried off with Dionysus carrying Ariadne away from Noxus. There were also contentions about the divinity of Ariadne, with some myths declaring her dying and another conflating her with Aphrodite—similarly to Adonis, who Plutarch mentioned previously could be identified with Dionysus.

PERSONAL EXPERIENCE 

As remarked in the Adonia in Context, Adonis’ divinity was a contested question—with some remarking him as nothing sacred, while others entreating him as a deity. I personally have come to understand him as divine, returning from the underworld, especially as he journeyed there with Persephone. That within itself—returning to and from the underworld—is no task for mortals, even if it was divinely sanctioned by Zeus. If he did die when he was first received by Persephone, does this imply a cycle of resurrection that eventually led to a state in between, or an odd sense of immortality? 

There is also the notable comparison of Adonis and Dionysus mirroring Ariadne and Dionysus, in which they are taken by Dionysus and become his lovers. In my own practice, this does come into Adonis being in our modern terms in a polycule with the god. Fascinatingly, Ariadne’s own divinity was of debate, perhaps remarking her as a parallel to Adonis himself. There is certainly something to be said of Adonis being a sterile god with the fertility god Dionysus, continuing the paradox of Dionysus. Adonis represents the ancient Greek man that was infertile and as such did not mature into a proper member of the polis, and Dionysus is the great disrupter of the polis. 

As a personal practice though, there is always the option for others to honour them as I do—as divine lovers—and in my personal practice, Dionysus is the one who eventually “wins” Adonis. And as someone extremely unconventional and a “failed” man in the eyes of my biological family, Adonis is the perfect comfort as the failed adult who succeeds into immortality. 

References

Edmund P. Cueva, (1996). Plutarch’s Ariadne in Chariton’s Chaereas and Callirhoe. American Journal of Philology,

Jameson, M. H. (2019). 2. The asexuality of Dionysus. In Cornell University Press eBooks (pp. 44–64). https://doi.org/10.7591/9781501733680-007

Plutarch,  Quaestiones Convivales, stephpage 612c. (n.d.). http://data.perseus.org/citations/urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0007.tlg112.perseus-grc1:612c

Reitzammer, L. (2016). The Athenian Adonia in context: The Adonis Festival as cultural practice. https://muse.jhu.edu/book/45855

Seaford, R. (2006). Dionysos. Routledge.

[lestcat-de-lioncourt]

In response to the assumption that Lestat never loved Claudia

Whilst there were moments describing that he didn't really care about Claudia, it's not certain but he seemed to think she was in the way, though, this story is told by Louis who is known very well to be a totally unreliable narrator with now Armand who is butthurt about Lestat running off from him as well, whispering in his ear. Likewise, Claudia's diary has multiple pages stripped out, and it's mostly the parts favouring Louis left.

Lestat gifted what was assumed to be a family heirloom, at least in fan theory, (the gorgeous antique necklace) rather than given to him by a marquis as he mentions upon doing so, something you would often gift to your child you ultimately cared for and saw as your child. Though, whoever gave it to Lestat, it was still a special gift.

Lestat taught Claudia a multitude of talents, which Louis would not teach her nor encourage her to do. Piano, chess, hunting to survive (not particularly done by Louis due to his vegetarian vampirism), and Daniel calls out a lot of what Louis has to say was her relationship with Lestat and how he's painting it to be.

Looking toward the time when they conspire to kill Lestat, children can be easily manipulated, not to mention that she has the mind as a young person and there's trials and tribulations we have to go through during puberty, and it's a rather vulnerable time.

He looked regretful when he called her a mistake as well.

I know people so often accuse him of not loving her just because he's telling her off, normally in situations that would literally threaten her life and anonymity, and safety, this drastic opinion and assumption parents don't love their kids if they tell them off during moments that could end up killing them, is really telling of who has got kids and who hasn't ever needed to look after one.

Maybe he loves her, maybe he doesn't, he certainly struggles with her, and it's the age old tale of one parent being jealous of the other, or feeling lonely once having kids as the relationship may because less consistently intimate with less time to spend together, alone. There's things she's done that upsets him. He struggles with her playing them off against each other, but that's what kids often do. It's a survival technique.

It's very clear that he's too messy to be a good parent. He needs a whole lot of therapy, but that doesn't remove someone's capacity to love their kids. He has a lot of love for them.

This isn't related to his unchanging polyamory taking on various lovers, which he was very clear about with Louis, and he'd initially consented to and even done himself.

People look at Lestats behaviour and immediately assume he doesn't care nor has any real love for any of them, but that's so not true. The reality of love and family dynamics aren't as clear-cut as people try to paint them and disqualify more complex expressions of their feelings towards one another.

It is stated that he is forever haunted with the guilt and shame of Claudia's death.

You can see love and hurt and a series of emotions he felt when Louis asked Lestat to make them a baby (in the adaption, though yes, it is an adaption), for them to start a family, that he wanted a kid with Lestat. In that moment, he did, though he says he made her as the ultimate gift for Louis, a daughter, a child, and starting their own family. This is a very raw feeling that people who decide to have kids will often experience. I don't believe he "baby trapped" Louis though, as many keep saying, considering he was worried about the consequences that would happen to her and her future as a child immortal. Seeing how distraught Louis was and empathetic to the potential death of the child, he changed her. He tried to highlight to Louis that in the end, it could do her more harm than dying.

I don't think he never loved Claudia, I may well be wrong, though.