#( I hope no one you love gets sick and needs lifelong care )

[runningmunson]

Like The Movies

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Word count: 1.6K Summary: Requested- Eddie is your best friend and he reluctantly asks you to prom because you want to go. He is nervous getting ready and almost cancels. However, he takes you and fulfills your lifelong dream of going to prom. Friends to lovers once he finally admits his feelings while you share a dance.

Warning: swearing, fluff

A/N: I loved this request and hope I do it justice!

Masterlist

The sound of a girl squealing and an eruption of cheers brought you out of your thoughts. You draw your gaze from your lunch tray to the table a few down from yours. There was yet another prom proposal. The 5th one in two days to be precise. 

“Of course, everyone is getting asked to prom but me…” you mumbled, hoping that the guys couldn’t hear you. However, you weren’t so lucky. 

Gareth looked at you, cocking his eyebrows, “You seriously wanna go to prom?” 

This drew the attention of everyone at the table to you. You shifted in your seat, avoiding eye contact, “Um, I mean kinda? This is my last year, and I’ve never been. I think you all forget I'm a girl. I do like that stuff sometimes.” You let out an awkward laugh, waving it off and trying to change the subject, “But it’s not a big deal. Anyways how are you all feeling about the new campaign coming up?”

Thankfully they took the bait and shifted the topic to the next Hellfire meeting. Everyone except Eddie, that was. He found it hard not to notice your longing gaze or how your shoulders slumped when someone was asked to prom. He tried to push it aside and forget it, but you’re his best friend, and he hated to see you look like a kicked puppy. Damn it, Eddie thought, I’m gonna have to ask her.

Eddie cleared his throat and took a deep breath before reluctantly opening his mouth, “I guess I’ll take you to prom if you really want.” The table fell silent. 

“Would you really?” You asked, your voice suddenly an octave higher than usual. Eddie couldn’t ignore the sparkle in your eyes and how your mouth drew back despite your attempt to stifle a smile. 

“Can’t really have you going alone and embarrassing yourself, now can I? Besides, how bad can it be?” Eddie knew exactly how bad it could be. Prom meant dressing up and dancing. Eddie doesn’t like dressing up, and he certainly doesn’t dance. But you want to go, and you always got what you wanted when it came to Eddie. 

“Thank you so much, I owe you big time!” You blurt out, not believing he would do that for you. “Oh shit, I need to find a dress and figure out what to do with my hair. I’ll see you later, guys!” You ran out of the cafeteria in a rush.

Dustin looked at Eddie in shock, “Dude, what did you just do?” All Eddie could do was shake his head. 

The dreaded day finally arrived, and Eddie was a nervous wreck. He’d already been in the bathroom for hours trying to make sure he looked good. Wayne had to knock several times to make sure he was okay. Why the hell do I care how I look. I never have before, Eddie thought.

He tried to tame his hair, but nothing was working. It was still the same frizzy mess despite his many efforts to make it look good. Wayne’s old tux felt foreign on his body. The red tie that matched your dress wouldn’t stay straight . Eddie felt sick to his stomach. He threw the bathroom door open.

“That’s it, I’m not going! I look ridiculous, and I’m just going to embarrass her. Letting her go to prom with the town freak. What was I thinking?” Eddie said, throwing his hands up.

“Come on now, son. You look fine. And you’re not gonna cancel on her now. You wouldn’t, would you? No, because you’d do anything to see that girl smile.” Wayne rolled his eyes. He walked over to his nephew and helped him fix his tie. 

Eddie let out a huff, “You really think I look okay?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you. Now go and get your girl, or else you'll be late.” Wayne said, handing him his keys and your corsage that he picked up for Eddie after work. 

“She's not my girl, Wayne. Just friends, remember?” Eddie said over his shoulder, making his way to his van.

Wayne chuckled, “Sure she isn’t. If only you saw how the two of you look at each other. Just friends, my ass.” Eddie ignored his uncle. With shaking hands, he put his van into reverse and made his way to your house.

You were on the other side of town, just as nervous as Eddie. The time it took Eddie to get ready? Yeah, double that for you. It was always your dream to go to prom with Eddie. It might not be under the circumstances you wanted, but you took what you could get. You wanted to look perfect for him. Maybe then he might see you as more than one of the guys. 

Your hair was styled perfectly, not a single strand out of place. Your dress hugged you in all the right places. Your mom was helping you with the finishing touches on your makeup. 

“You look absolutely gorgeous. Eddie is one lucky guy,” your mom had a smile on her face. She knew how much you wanted to go, especially with Eddie. She was so excited to finally send her daughter off to prom.

“Mom, stop!” You said, dragging it out. The doorbell sounded, making your mom stop fussing with you and leaving to open the door. You took one last look in the mirror, finally happy with what you saw, before making your way downstairs to greet Eddie.

You saw Eddie before he noticed you. He was talking with your mom, and boy, did he look perfect as ever. When Eddie turned his head to look at you, it was like one of those cheesy movies you always made him watch. The ones where time slows down, and it felt like it was just the two of you in the room. Just a girl and a guy madly in love, even though you didn’t admit it to each other. 

“You- uh. You look beautiful,” Eddie stuttered. His hands suddenly got sweaty. Your lips curved into a smile going all the way up to your crinkled eyes. Shit, shit, shit. How dare she wear that red dress in your favorite color and that smile. Looking so damn beautiful. You’re in some real trouble now, Eddie. “Um, this is for you,” he continued, thrusting the corsage towards you. You held your hand out and let him put it on your wrist. You shuttered when his fingertips touched your skin. 

“Thank you, Eddie. You look pretty good yourself, never thought I’d see you in a tux,” you teased him. You grabbed the boutonniere from your mom, pinning it on the lapel of his tux. Your mom took several photos before you were dragging Eddie out the door, telling your mom that she took plenty and that you couldn’t be late for your first and last prom.

Eddie ran to the passenger side door, holding the door open for you, “Your chariot awaits my fair maiden.”

Your cheeks flush, and you cover your mouth as you softly laugh, “Well, aren’t you ever the gentleman.”

Your drive was short. You and Eddie made small talk until you reached the school, both incredibly nervous. The music blasting inside the decorated gym could be heard from the outside as you made your way in. You had never seen it so decorated, taking all the new sites in. It was amazing, that's for sure. 

You grabbed Eddie’s hand, lacing your fingers with his, and pulled him inside toward the bleachers. You sat together, knees touching for half of the prom while you people watched, making fun of outfits and laughing at their dancing. When a slow song came on, you started bouncing your leg. It was one of your favorites, and you really wanted to dance with Eddie but were too chicken to ask him. Eddie wasn’t stupid; he could tell you wanted to dance, so he put aside his pride and stood up.

“C’mon, let’s go dance.” Eddie held his hand out. You grabbed it, and he led you both to the outskirts of the dance floor. “I’m gonna warn you, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You laughed. “That's okay. You’re gonna place your hands on my hips, and I’ll place them around your neck. Then we just kinda sway, I guess?” 

Eddie did just that. You swayed to the beat, with it ending way too soon. You tried to pull away from Eddie’s grasp, but he pulled you in tighter. Your cheeks turn red, turning your face to the side to hide in your hair. “Not so fast, princess. I’m not done with you yet.”

“B-but the song is over,” you struggle to get out. 

“So? I like being this close to you, and something tells me you do too,” Eddie smirked, thinking no other night was more perfect than this to let you know how he really felt about you. He gained a boost in confidence, watching you squirm in his arms. “If I were to hypothetically ask if it was okay to kiss you right now, what would you say?” 

“I- I would, hypothetically, of course, say it’s more than okay,” you were sure he could hear your heart racing. Your lips desired nothing more than to meet his.

“Well if you say so, I’m going to hypothetically place my lips on yours right now,” and with that, he leaned down and kissed you with such desperation, needing to know the way you felt and tasted.

And just like those movies, you stayed together with your lips locked. Dancing under the twinkling lights and ignoring the world around you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things

[chronicbeans]

If you are in the mood to write. I’d like an update on the illustrator one or anything your heart wants to write . I just love your writing and you inspired me to write.

Okay! I'll write something original down, simply because all of the fanfiction that I write is meant to work as a practice for a possible career in making original stories! OwO my main goal is to try to bring awareness to chronic illness, so I'll make this one based on one of those ideas.

Meeting Aluminum

TW: Chronic Illness, Hospital Settings, Mentions of Medical Procedures

It was so odd when I first woke up here. This large, looming hospital covered in off pinks, purples, and whites. The grass beneath me was red, instead of green, and the leaves on the trees were green. The hospital itself looked much more like a mansion. In fact, I wouldn't have known it was a hospital if it weren't for the sign on the front.

"The Iolite Hospital for the Mentally and Physically Unwell - We will keep you Here for as Long as You" the rest was scribbled out, before someone wrote "ARE SICK" to replace whatever was originally said.

I was then found by two odd men in white coats. One had no eyes, but seemed to see through an eye on his necktie. The other had four eyes on his face. The two of them tried speaking to me, which didn't work. I can't talk, unfortunately. I can only write down my words. The one with no eyes turned to the other, whispering to him. I could make out only a little. "Mute... Probable long-term... Yes, long stay."

I was then brought into the cafeteria, which is where I am now. They had given me a notebook before I got here. I look around, too nervous to sit with others, but there are no empty seats. I hear some talk about one of the many patients, as well as people turning to look at him for a few seconds, before quickly turning back to their groups.

"Did you hear about Aluminum? They say he's going to be a long-term patient. Possibly lifetime patient!" "I heard the doctor backed out of his endoscopy when they saw how narrow it was. Can't believe it got back to being that bad within just a year." "I heard his family is glad they won't have to deal with him anymore." "Well, I heard they never took care of him in the first place."

I look to the man everyone is looking at. He is sitting all alone, picking at his food. He seems to be like one of the men outside, as in, he has no eyes. Unlike that man, he seems to see through the various eyes he's scribbled onto his hospital gown with black marker. He can probably see everyone who is talking about him from the literal eyes on his back. That doesn't even account for how loud they are. His skin is a pale peach, with his cheeks dotted with blue freckles. The most notable part is his full head of orange, curly hair, and the two white wings floating above it. They seem to bop and bob as he moves his head from side to side, fluttering whenever he swallows the food he is eating.

I decide to walk over and sit with him. In part due to his table having the least people, as well as to just keep him company. I sit next to him, taking a few bites of my food, before picking up my notebook. He turns his face up to me, as if he only just noticed that I sat next to him. I turn the page to face him. He softly mutters to himself, reading aloud. "'Hello, my name is Derek. I'm sorry, I can't talk. I hope the others aren't getting to you'... Hey, Derek. It's alright. No need to apologize. The others are rather loud, but I'm used to it. They marvel at the other... Ahem... "Long-term patients", too. They can't seem to understand the meaning of a lifelong illness."

I write again, before turning it to him. "'Sorry to hear that. I heard I might be a long-term patient, too. Can we be friends?' Umm... sure? Just know that I tend to vent, alot. Most of the others do, too. I guess it is a mutual understanding that venting about our frustration at the doctors here is a good thing for our mental health. They don't have psychologists or psychiatrists here. Not even a therapist. Well, they have physical therapists, respiratory therapists... just not MENTAL HEALTH therapists. So, there isn't anyone else to talk to, besides each other. You get me?" I nod. "Good. I guess, since we are friends, I might as well show you the ropes of this place..."

#original story #my ocs #Tales from the Iolite Hospital

[autobot2001]

They'll Never Know

@juneofdoom Day 8 Infection Part 1 here

Three days passed, and Whumpee wasn't showing signs of waking up. Caretaker stays the in the hospital room for sixteen hours a day, causing the nurses to worry they're neglecting themselves. Today, the medical team has discovered Whumpee has several infections developing. They don't tell Caretaker where the infections are happening or that the risk of sepsis is high. They do inform Whumpee's family.

Within an hour, Whumpee is on several additional medications to stop the infections. Their vitals show the body is not doing well against the infections.

Caretaker hates that their boss will not let them take another day off, terrified they'll be told Whumpee is dead at the end of their shift. The family hates they are happy Caretaker has to go to work. They know Caretaker is worried enough and think Caretaker is neglecting themselves. They worry about how Caretaker will be if they know of all the infections Whumpee has, even though Caretaker can't do anything to help whumpee.

Whumpee continues to decline, no matter what the medical team tries. Three days pass, and they must bring up the dreaded concussion of letting Whumpee go to the family. Whumpee's family isn't sure if Caretaker should be involved. It's difficult to decide whether to turn off life support. Whumpee's sibling argues they should let Caretaker be involved with the decision.

Like Whumpee's family, Caretaker hates the conversation that is happening. Hearing it's time to prepare for the likely outcome of losing Whumpee. Everyone tries to tell themselves and each other it's better for Whumpee as they will likely suffer lifelong consequences.

After the meeting, everyone sits by whumpee's bed. Even though the decision is if there are no signs of improvement in a week, Caretaker breaks down as if it's their final five minutes with Whumpee "I can't lose you, whumpee. I love you," Caretaker sobs as they hold whumpee's hand. Whumpee's family worries about Caretaker. They decide Caretaker needs to stay with them. Worried Caretaker might become suicidal.

Caretaker isn't sure what to think about Whumpee's family wanting them to stay with them. No matter where they are, they'll think about Whumpee but agree to stay with the family, knowing they worry about them.

The family and Caretaker struggle to balance visiting whumpee and taking care of themselves, knowing it's important not to neglect themselves. Caretaker struggles the most, not being by whumpee every second. They don't want to watch Whumpee die, but they also don't want to know Whumpee passed via phone.

The family caretaker gets more hard news after three days of not going to the hospital, trying to take care of themselves. Whumpee has sepsis. They all know how fast sepsis can kill and rush to the hospital.

The medical team regrets informing the worried family and Caretaker that this case of sepsis is rapidly becoming critical. At this point, whumpee's EEG is not important. Whumpee's parents are given privacy in one of the doctor's offices to inform the family. Caretaker is left alone in the hospital room. "You can't die. I love you," Caretaker sobs while holding whumpee's hand. They let themselves cry, not caring if anyone sees them crying. At this point, Caretaker refuses to leave the hospital room.

While everyone is hoping for a miracle, they say goodbye to Whumpee. Caretaker feels sick that this is happening. Whumpee's mom is already an emotional wreck. No one wants to leave the room.

No one is paying attention to the time. The room is quiet except for the ventilator and monitor until the silence is interrupted by that horrible beeping sound. "We need help in here!" Whumpee's mom yells. They know the chance of Whumpee being revived is slim, but they refused to sign a DNR. The family is shoved out of the room, and the door closed on them the second doctors and nurses rush into the room. Whumpee's mom cries as her husband hugs her. Caretaker sits on the floor, feeling dizzy.

Caretaker feels like they're in a dream as everyone is told the dreaded news. They don't hear anything for a minute until they hear a nurse suggesting they go into a room with the others for privacy.

Days pass, and Caretaker still feels like they're dreaming. Even as they stare at Whumpee's casket. They couldn't talk about Whumpee in front of everyone who knew Whumpee. Whumpee's family is concerned about Caretaker and wants Caretaker to continue living with them. As they worried, Caretaker doesn't want to talk to anyone. They want to be left alone. The family is informed how to help Caretaker, the warning signs of suicide, and how to deal with Whumpee's passing. They know it'll take time to get over Whumpee's death. Hoping they won't be planning another funeral soon.

#june of doom 2023 #Juen of Doom #juneofdoom #whumpee #caretaker #critical #infection #end of life #sadness #heartbreak

[performing-personhood]

Today in PostSecret someone's secret is the one I held since I can remember. (Which, granted, isn't very far since ADHD affects memory formation. But i distinctly do remember having the thought at age, like, thirteen.)

It turns out now that this is because my parents were both 3rd-generation emotionally-unavailable, and as if that wasn't bad enough, they were extremely distracted by the all-consuming dynamic of my helicopter-parent-stunted father's undiagnosed autism and my mom's lifelong parentification-driven people pleasing (thanks a lot, midcentury irish catholicism).

I was a 12yo with undiagnosed AuDHD who had not a single friend due of the isolation of nonreligious homeschooling in an extremely religious city, and as such, I was the loneliest kid I hope I ever encounter. I literally hoped all the time to be diagnosed with some kind of serious illness requiring hospitalization, just so that I would receive some affection.

I'm 38 now. I've been with my partner for [a pause for elder-millenial year-counting] twelve years, cohabitating for almost all of them. Just last week after work, he informed me that he had left the grocery store, received my text, and then gone to a completely different second grocery store to get the items I'd asked for - and as I was hand-flapping with embarrassed beflusterment about how I could have gone myself instead of inconveniencing him, that sweet man looked me dead in the eyes and said with the most sincerity I have ever beheld "I was happy to do it. Because I love you, and I want to do things for you. If [my name] needs burritos, then by god, [my name] is gonna get burritos."

And tumblr, I was speechless. All I could do was melt and hug him with gratitude.

Twelve years with this man and still I need the reminder that no actually this is what love is. And with every reminder I get, that lonely child's "dream" of getting sick in order to be doted on dissolves away a little more. Because I no longer need a "good excuse" to receive love and affection. I simply have to request it, and it is happily and freely given.

I can't put into words what that means to me, nor what it feels like. But I hope this secretholder knows: I had no hope at all, no reason whatsoever to believe that I would be so loved and cared about, and yet it happened for me regardless. It can and does happen, for real. And I hope it happens for them, too.

#postsecret #postsecret responses #childhood trauma #healing work #things i learned in therapy #thank goodness for therapy #inner child work #healing the inner child #just neurodivergent things #actually audhd #actually neurodivergent #diary post

[lizziesquire]

post-law school diary no. 19384

I turn twenty-six in 38 minutes.

it's wild, how every year of your twenties feels novel, somehow. your early, mid, and late-twenties begin and end so quickly, passing you by with such swiftness that you can scarcely blink as they sweep you up into their fleeting nature before setting you back down again, and before you know it, everyone around you starts getting engaged, married, having babies, and here you are, now: a lifelong dream achieved, juris doctor in hand.

it's not quite how i'd imagined it for myself, but it's precisely what i had needed—to go to school in maine for a year an make lifelong friends with whom i still speak to and love, then transfer to 'nell, grind and grind and grind and feel such intense loneliness but turn into a diamond amidst all of that pressure and pain and heartbreak, then find love and end my years in ithaca in the most hopeful, exhilarating way possible, feeling cherished all the while, then step into adulthood with the very same boy, stepping into our adulthood lives with wobbly legs, getting our bearings together

then eventually making my way to the law school across the street from where my parents had planted me, all those years ago, in the city that taught me how to walk with a purpose and to hold my head up high, demanding exactly what i deserve. i had lost my voice for a very long time but somehow found it along the way after having lost track of it even more than i had before, trying to survive in the classrooms, the doctrines that had specifically been architected for white men, making me doubt myself even despite the lifelong love and knowledge that i have of jurisprudence.

in the midst of dealing with countless mediocre men who believed their intellect superior to that of mine while their words, actions revealed otherwise and in the horror of this Court gutting our civil liberties in the most unprincipled, baseless ways possible, i find myself again, in some sick sort of way. i feel more myself than ever, more confident, more self-assured, back to when i had been six, seven years old and i felt invincible in this world, devouring books with a voracious appetite and feeding my classmates the food of my culture on all of our field trips without a single shred of embarrassment and every bit of pride.

i've noticed recently that whenever my friends talk about what type of person they envision me ending up with, they always say that it has to be someone "smart." "intellectual." and i shook my head to myself in dismay, as i cannot believe that all of my loved ones—except for my law school best friend, who'd said that he believed that i needed to end up with someone thoughtful, who anticipates my needs—would choose "smart" out of all the possible worthwhile qualities of a life partner. like dependability. kindness. an empathetic nature. and i wonder what that says about me, if i am not as empathetic or kind or loving as i am "smart" to others. and i hate that so much.

in this twenty-sixth year, i want to be kind. i want to be loving. i want to be empathetic. i don't want "smart" to be my overall descriptor—as much as my childhood self would rejoice, i have long since let go of wanting to be The Intellectual. i want to be known for being the dependable friend. the ride-or-die. the loving, caring, empathetic one, above all.

and with that, i am no longer grasping for what to do with this degree of mine. what happens will happen—all i can do is to do my best at my next place of employment, do as much as i can to give back to the community, and to just keeping moving forward, step by step, and everything else will fall into place, just as it always has.

i step into twenty-six feeling more me than i have in a long, long time. i hope to continue in my journey of rediscovering her—and i am finally at a place in my life where i will have the time and resources to be able to be the show-up-at-2-am friend, let's-go-somewhere-now, impromptu friend that i had been before life, goals, law school got in the way.

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

my humble and for legal reasons sarcastic opinion of the characterization i’ve seen:

the prevailing sangihun dynamic is FALSE. uwu-ified choccy milk babygirl gihun with a moral line he’ll never cross ✨ DOES NOT EXIST. cold-blooded olympic athlete at black friday sales sangwoo with 2 alternating expressions (1.fuck, 2.off) DOES NOT EXIST.

mind that i project needlessly onto my favorite characters, and therefore may understand a fraction of the thoughts running through sangwoo’s head as my mans was slowly rotting alive in his own bathroom. which is to SAY the gifted kid’s fall from grace and the crushing pressure to meet expectations or greet your lifelong friend: Guilt hits a little bit close to home. in this Very critical essay, i’ll share what that’s like. please be warned that it’s heavy stuff (wait, this was supposed to be sarcasm-)

firstly, some screw-ups like us DO end up resorting to extremes to keep up with expectations. the logic is simple: even if it’s a lie, it’s just our weight to bear, isn’t it? often it’s these honor roll kids that are good at cheating, fibbing, and workarounds that carefully maintain the high standard imposed on them since childhood. do we feel AWFUL about it? does it wreak havoc on our mental health and in the long term pose some dangerous self esteem and integrity issues that cause us to spiral even more and damage our relationships…? WELL LEMME TELL YA, I SURE AS HECJK HOPE NOT but sangwoo’s clearly jumped from point A to point Z in that alphabet. he’s VERY much at a stage of misery that would take years to undo by the time of the show.

point is… you’ll notice (especially if you’re One Of Us) that we don’t do this because we stopped caring. often it’s the opposite, that we care a whole stupid lot. a divide starts between the you that deserves love and good things and the you that’s fallen so behind that any harm to them at the expense of loved ones’ pride and the community’s respect is an inconsequential and near masochist price to pay. (self-care also tends to decline, but south korean society is big on the importance of the physical face, so a businessman like sangwoo is understandably well kempt for other reasons.)

to me, pathological liar cho sangwoo hides agony and self-hatred. after every instance in which he’s chosen self-preservation, he ends up choosing his mother’s health and happiness over his own life. his mindset of wiping his worthless self from the equation so something better will replace him is DAMN FOLLY, I SAY!!!! sangwoo doesn’t redeem himself in the finale, he shatters. he thought it was the right choice to rob a mother of her son. what does life have to do to someone to think that? why does it scare me a lot that i’m starting to get an idea…?

what i’m SAYING is that the extremes sangwoo takes in the games are easily a continuity of lying about his residence in america, of siphoning the wealth of others to toss up and lose six billion and somehow never think to try something else. he’s a sick fuck with an attitude, but the Prodigy Turned Asswipe At Rock Bottom trajectory follows REALLY REALLY WELL here. therefore it’s my idea of how he ended up as the guy we see in S1. and you know what that asswipe needs??

A HUG!!!! REAL THERAPY!! and for GIHUN, seemingly the only person he trusts to accept him when he’s completely lost face, to PROVIDE love and support. to let him be weak and tender and NOT. NOT. NOT the callous bastard that came this 🤏 close to total desensitization to violence. imo THIS is the true sangihun dynamic!! one that doesn’t have any coping mechanism attached to it whatsoever!! this version sparks JOY!!! the possessive, domineering, and enigmatic stone face act that fandom interpretations give to a long-term depressed and isolated man doesn’t appeal to me tbh. he shows signs and hints of the altruistic and almost gentle person he can really be (with proper guidance…!)

his name means “helping each other” and while it was chosen to emphasize his contradictions.. maybe it could be a sign? i’ll take more of that sweet sangwoo please <3 my shriveled grinch heart needs it <3 <3 but that’s all i’ll say about that!! to each their own!!!

NOW. GIHUN.

YA’LL. THIS MAN……………..

A LITERAL WALKING RED FLAG??? how did so many shippers miss it COMPLETELY??

ignoring my additional lengthy history with deadbeat dads with an addiction (well, except for the extent to which it colors my opinions here, if you will 🥸) … gihun’s an alright dude at first glance. but the rift between his personality and the violence he encounters is just…. astounding? and deeply troubling, seeing as he’s joking about military ranks like this is a discord RP server after the first round. ahem. the exceedingly ruthless and gruesome first round?? the only other characters we see enjoying themselves to this extent are deok su and his pack - but there’s gang violence history there, so it tracks. but GI HUN??? (funny that his name means “high ranking”)

and not to mention the raging hot topic that was the very last scene. turns his back on the airplane terminal a few STEPS from boarding and JUST AFTER calling his daughter…. for the sake of revenge? for some righteous cause that borders on delusions of grandeur??

well. actually… i think my sangihun agenda can explain that one. which is where my idea of their dynamic from gihun’s POV takes form. (still keeping in mind that these are all opinions! thank you kindly)

gihun’s had experience with the almost primal violence in the lights-out section of the games. he tells ilnam about the protest that happened when he and his coworkers were laid off, where he watched a friend die. when this repeats with allies like saebyeok and most critically with sangwoo, he pretty visibly shuts down. a whole year passes before ilnam’s fucky wucky doctrine and the sight of salesmen recruiting new players shakes him out of it. so there’s already two reasons to be roused to Battinson levels of vengeance, but…? enough to leave gayeong?

enter: the darker implications of gihun coming to a stop just before winning the games. turning back and reaching for sangwoo’s hand. what choices is he making here, and how are they layered? he’s choosing survival, you’d say - he values life over monetary gain, and that’s noble. but… what about his mother’s life? her treatment?

in his last moments, sangwoo’s ultimate motivation is reparations. his purpose for competing was to right his wrongs, namely the years he’s spent deceiving his mother. he feels I’m Human Garbage tier remorse, and this was discussed earlier - in no way does jamming a knife into his neck help the woman he cares about the most! … but it doesn’t negate that his last act was, in his mind, selfless. gihun’s appears to be, too. UNTIL you read it as effectively putting sangwoo’s life above his own mother’s, his own daughter’s love for him, and even his ex-wife’s lack of financial independence.

in the last moments of the game, he chooses sangwoo. his safety is his only motivation - there’s a broken man laying at his feet, wishing they were kids again, and you can see the sorrow and pity in gihun taking over. when that choice gets turned on its head in a few fatal seconds, you can also see his radicalization finish as early as That Scene.

here’s what i mean.

he’s constantly putting sangwoo on a pedestal. i don’t even have to explain - we’ve seen the memes. i’ve become the meme just to annoy my friends. Did you hear? HUH? You don’t know about the SNU genius??!! … it was adorable and all too sobering to watch. but the answer. Is. Right. There!!! he’s a gambling addict doing irregular small jobs, debt-ridden and divorced, on the brink of losing everything else - of course cho sangwoo, the best of the best, the shining example of discipline and achievement, would give him hope? of course it isn’t possible for life to screw over someone so deserving of the most it has to offer? of course sangwoo’s going to be okay, and at least he’ll have him to lean on?

WROMG, SIR. he watches in real time as the system they’ve both become trapped in grinds up the last of sangwoo’s will to go on. he sees the fate of someone who really, truly had it all going for him, and when you’re witness to a death like that - the “long line of Buddhists” in your family may as well end right there. and i saw exactly that in gihun.

which is to say….. S2 gihun, at least to me, sounds like a scary mf. god knows about that hair but, thinking of where he’s coming from, i see a flipped sangihun dynamic (in life or in death, take your pick) as the True Gospel. intensely protective gihun who won’t let sangwoo go off the deep end again, who does everything in his power to get him help and bring his walls down, or in worse cases, avenge the heck out of him. sangwoo smoothing the furious edge in gihun so he doesn’t go off doing a Stupid when his family is perfectly intact and needs him. sangwoo being quicker to embrace normalcy and showing him what to be grateful for. this is just the park i’m in!

i see gihun as the rowdy, bloody-nosed fight-picking kid in their youth. i see sangwoo as the occasional extra pair of fists, but mostly the quiet, nose-in-books boy who was terrible at making friends and content with just the one. and they’re currently my everything :))))))

pls ❤️ ask me for sangihun thoughts if you want to, i will dust off my bible. xoxox

#sangihun #cho sangwoo #seong gihun #squid game spoilers #rarepair hell #an essay #tw sui #tw depressing stuff #tw blood #…..yea they’re fun :7

[moon-goddess-rising]

Freewriting Day 18:

Create whatever narrative you need to

Make me the villain

Tell everybody I hurt you

Made you feel less than

Wanted you to be someone different

The truth is

I just want you to feel better

To be happy

But just know

I would still pick up the phone if you called at 2 AM needing comfort

I would still make you doctor appointments and bring you burritos when you’re sick

I would still be your she-hulk and move every last one of your earthly belongings

I would still care for your dogs if you had to leave town on some emergency

I would still come pick you up if you had too much to drink, hold your hair and rub your back while you threw up

I would still help you call a locksmith and make you breakfast if you got locked out of your apartment until six in the morning

I would still drive you to the airport every goddamn time, no matter the inconvenience

I would still continue to cry and pray to the universe you get better every day of my life

I would still wait for you a lifetime

That is the measure of my love

And just because we couldn’t be what each other needed right now

That doesn’t mean my feelings ever changed

Or that I won’t continue being good to you

That doesn’t mean I don’t live with the hope we can someday be right with ourselves

And find that bright moment again in another time and place where we come together whole

See, this is a lifelong thing for me

And this is a real love

I tried to show you every day

With every action, I have been there for you

I have seen you

I have loved you

Now you’re indifferent you say

You resent me, regret the time we shared

You’re willing to walk away

Well, I have too much love to give

And I will not stay where I am not wanted

But you should know the depth of the love you’re throwing away

Im sorry I’m not perfect

Im sorry I walked into this damaged

But goddamn, I tried my hardest

And if we have to end

Our ending is worth more than this

[privateanxieties]

shampoo & heartbreak

Summary: Peter’s superhuman senses make things crystal clear: she got a boyfriend and didn’t tell him. Why else can he smell men’s shampoo in her hair when she’s used the same cherry blossom one for years?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N); fluff, best friend trope, happy ending

Words: 2K

---------------------------------------

Spring is Peter Parker's favorite season, for a number of reasons: first and most importantly, it has the perfect temperatures to wear the suit in.  Not too hot, not too cold, and there's no chafing from patches of sweat. Second, it was his girl's favorite season as well, and the time when she brought out and experimented with her cutest outfits.

Well, his girl - she isn't really, but it's hard to think of her as anything else. A lifelong best friend and the ultimate 'what if' was more appropriate.

Late afternoon spring walks through Central Park are his favorite because they're her favorite, and he obliges every time she asks, even if he's otherwise occupied. His mind rolls a giant wheel of fortune, wondering what top she might wear, or which scarf will bring out her eyes, and he's trapped. Fashion is his last concern, but with her, he pays attention; he always does.

Like now, for example. He's paying so much attention to the scent of men's shampoo coming from her hair that it constricts his heart and etches a frown into his features.

No.

His entire body is protesting by turning inside out. His throat is closing up and his chest feels hot. Whatever concentration he had before this has packed its bags and left.

A creature of habit, she is - and has been her entire life. When it comes to things that don't matter much, she always sticks with one choice she likes for years. It's why he can pick her out of a crowd just by her perfume, or why he knows that she's having a bad day and needs comfort when he sees her wearing that lavender sweater.

So why is it that her hair, which has smelled like cherry blossom for as long as he's known her, now reeks of ocean storm or volcanic eruption or whatever the hell he always sees written on those confusing bottles? And why is it so familiar to him?

What, pray tell, does this mean?

Because the only answer his brain finds is extremely unpleasant and serves to plunge his mood into the subterranean.

How could she not tell him? She's seeing some guy, to the point that she's using his shampoo, and she doesn't tell him?

Why is she - why is she showering at his place?

Peter thinks he's going to be sick.

And what's worse is… she doesn't notice.

She's strolling alongside him, recounting the frustration of the afternoon and disappointment at having failed her driving exam, and he's damn near about to lean over the sidewalk and empty out his stomach.

Well, maybe he's being dramatic. But it's like the branch has been clipped from under his feet, and there's nothing but a hundred-foot fall beneath. He thinks he's had this dream before, where his web shooters squeak a laugh every time he presses them, and he falls to his death.

Kind of like right now.

Every human emotion has passed him by: he isn't hungry anymore, there's no discontent with his position in life, and no care given to societal problems.

He's simply on the verge of heartbreak.

"Am I boring you with my failure, Parker?", she asks out of nowhere, an amused huff punctuating her question.

He says nothing, and looks anywhere but at her, prompting an immediate reaction.

"Peter, are you ok?"

When she grabs his wrist, his jaw locks tightly, yet his eyes keep avoiding hers. In the back of his mind, he understands the reaction is somewhat overblown. She isn't his girlfriend and never has been, but he's been hoping for ages for the courage to finally ask. It's the one thing Spider-Man hasn't been able to do for him: get the girl.

If she didn't throw herself at him when he told her, she was never going to. If she didn't like him for being a superhero, then she definitely wouldn't fall in love with Peter Parker. He's happy being her best friend - he'd never be able to imagine himself apart from her, with their paths diverged, even if romance wasn't destined to be in the picture.

He doesn't know why he thought, or hoped, or desperately prayed that even if he never got to devote himself to her that way, at least she'd be… what?

Forever available?

He knows that's laughable. He's lucky to not have experienced this horrible feeling as of yet - all his 23 years seemed bright and carefree compared to what he knows the future now holds.

Would he have to meet him? Because he doesn't think he has the strength to -

"Peter! What's happening?", and then, more hushed, "Is it your spidey sense? Is there danger? Do you need to -"

"Who is he?"

Her eyebrows furrow, but she hasn't quite caught it.

"What?"

Peter is not happy to repeat himself when every word burns his tongue.

"Who is he?", he asks in an impressive mix of dejected and desperate.

"My driving instructor? Why, does Spider-Man wanna pay him a visit? Oh, you're turning to the dark side, mister. Should I be concerned?", she jests quietly.

If Peter had any presence of mind, he would have appreciated how careful she always was with his secret. Always understanding, always supportive. Always worried, with tears at the ready for each of his cuts and bruises.

Alas, his brain was completely out to lunch. Completely focused on one thing.

"Your boyfriend.", he states, trying at least to keep a level tone. They are in public after all, but it's more for her than for him.

A quiet few moments pass, and she's doing that thing, the one thing he never really liked about her: pouting when he can't kiss her.

"My - oh, right, him!", she begins, as if she's just remembering the hugely important news she never shared with him. Is this how little he meant to her? He's trying to breathe normally, noticing their surroundings for the first time in a while.

Peter can't believe he's about to get his heart put on a spit and roasted twenty feet away from a porta potty.

"I mean, he's wonderful, all things considered."

There it goes.

"He's a really good person, even if he gets all angsty and brooding sometimes. He doesn't have any say in what he does. And I try to understand, you know? His life could be easier. It's hard existing exclusively in someone's imagination."

Fuck, this guy sounded - wait.

The expression on her face is that of every mother tired of her toddler's antics. He bristles.

"Why are you hiding from me? Do you not - do you feel like you can't trust me?", he asks just like May taught him. Don't accuse - inquire.

It doesn't work.

"Why am I hiding from you? I think your brain is hiding from you."

"Hey!"

"Hey yourself! What's gotten into you? What boyfriend are you talking about?"

"The one whose shampoo you smell like!", Peter explodes.

He fucked up. He can see it in her face and he can hear it in her pulse. He needs to -

Suddenly, she's looking at the ground and fiddling with her pink satin scarf, a gesture he recognizes; not as one of nervousness or insecurity, but of sadness. And it's his fault.

"I… I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry.", he murmurs, yet doesn't dare reach for her when he hears the hitch in her breath.

Eyes still glued to the ground and bottom lip between her teeth, she lets out a puff of air that doesn't reassure him.

"I don't know why it matters so much, but if you have to know… it's you.", she says with a small shake of her head, eyes finally meeting his.

He searches, but can't decipher what he sees in them.

"It's… it's me?", Peter asks. He's not even sure what he's asking - he was simply testing out the words on his tongue.

A smile follows that doesn't light up her face like he's used to, and he's lost again.

"It's your shampoo. The same one you've been using since sophomore year, and the one that I smelled when you held me for three hours after Mr. Snuffles died. I… I wash with it sometimes because it… because it feels like I have you with me when I do. I'm sorry if you think that's creepy or weird. I just needed… I was nervous today."

His first thought is fuck. His second one is also fuck.

Peter Parker is one huge fuck up.

If she doesn't cry, he's certainly going to do the honors. The moisture isn't far away, and neither is she, so this time he goes directly for it. Though they've shared hundreds of hugs, the feeling of her against his chest never fails to make him worry that she can hear his heart trying to escape his ribcage.

She hesitates, but ultimately encases his abdomen in a loose hold, hands clasped together at his lower back. And he can think again.

"I'm sorry I yelled. And I'm sorry I was…"

He can't say it, because it would make it true, and she would pity him.

"Sorry you were what?", she mumbles against his shirt.

"…"

"Pete. I'm gonna ask you something, and you have to promise you'll be honest with me. I really want you to be.", she says quietly, stepping into him just a little bit more.

He's glad her head is tucked under his chin, because his face probably gives it all away.

"Were you mad… because you thought I was lying to you about a boyfriend, or because…"

"The second one.", he interrupts, shocking her and himself a little bit too. But if she was going to read him down to the last atom, then he'd meet her halfway and give them both the opportunity to just be honest. Either they happen, or they don't, but he can't dance around it anymore.

"You… you mean - does that mean what I want it to mean?"

They're soft and uncertain, her words. They fall off her lips like baby birds fleeing the nest. Not quite ready, not quite unready.

"What do you want it to mean, bud?"

His are similar, but tinged with more hope than he's ever dared having. Maybe they're a little shaky, too.

"I want it to mean that you feel that way about… me. Like I've wanted you to for… I don't even know anymore."

He sucks in a quiet breath.

"Since we still had really bad acne?"

Her eyes close and a sigh leaves her chest, but she wouldn't expect any less from her best friend - always reacting with humor in emotional situations.

"Well, yours disappeared when you got bit, and mine took three more years, so our timelines don't really match up here -"

If Peter Parker couldn't bear the sappiness of romantic confessions, at least he was fully in favor of romantic gestures, and silencing his partner with a kiss would be the first of many.

He can't believe this is how they get together: a silly argument that his nose started and his mouth ended.

So really, in a roundabout way, it was Spider-Man that got him the girl.

Now, he just needs to make it up to her as Peter Parker.

"You don't know what your own shampoo smells like?", she mumbles against his lips once they part.

"Shut up, it smells different on you.", he returns, pecking her nose.

"Good different?"

"Now that I know it's mine, yeah."

"Mmhm… y'know what else is yours?

He stutters without words.

"That fat ass!"

He ends up chasing her all the way out of the park, infectious laughter turning curious gazes, but love needs only a glance to be spotted wherever it is.

-fin-

A/N: Any feedback is welcome, whatever form it’s in! Thank you for reading. You’ll find more Peter fluff on my blog. I write mostly for tasm!Peter.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm fanfiction #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #fanfiction #fluff #peter parker fluff

[andieperrie18]

Your Endgame

So this is requested by@raginghellfire. I haven’t written in a while due Uni and busy classes but I hope I did a good job on this. UwU Dami might be a bit OOC but I really think he is a passionate lover when he falls in love.

Bruce Wayne was one tough cookie. Unlike Tony, he held shackled himself with the responsibility of protecting Gotham city from its baddies that he barely let himself enjoy his life. He too cares for children very much but he wasn't as hands-on being there for them. He wasn't always there in those best events in their life to congratulate them that greatly hurt them. It would seem that he just adopted these children as soldiers for his endless war with crime, that they were nothing but expendable assets. But he does love them and had just recently been trying to reconnect with all of them.

Tony Stark had always let his child have free reign over their life but he never leaves the passenger seat. He will always be by their side no matter what choice they make. He was never strict as he was a free soul but he grows and understands responsibility everyday after returning from Afghanistan after being held captive. He wasn't a perfect father but he did try for Y/n, good thing for him is that she understands responsibility earlier made it easy for him to be there for him.

Bruce Wayne was notorious for being a play boy, same goes to Tony Stark. Both men has had another of flings that the paparazzi didn't miss to see. It took quite a while before two of them finally found out the true meaning of true love. The one decided to settle down while the other chose his job over attaining a lifelong happiness and peace.

Some of the Wayne kids also had their own flings through out their lives. Some had more the two and some, just one. Just one cause when the second came, they were their endgame.

---

The bright city lights of Paris slightly seeped in the glass panes of the balcony doors of the room. Across it was a king sized bed with undone sheets and two people underneath the high quality comforter. Damian and Y/n sat with backs against the head board, the latter former resting his against the latter's figure. His head slightly buried on her neck as her fingers combed through his bed hair her other hand around his bare chest.

"I'm pretty sure that photo reached them already," her voice echoed around the slightly dim room.

Damian hummed, "It did, which earned me quite a number of miss calls from my family,"

Y/n giggled that he found contagious making him do the same.

"I'm going back to Gotham in two days but I don't think I'm ready to leave your side yet," he snuggled his face on her neck, placing butterflies kisses on them. Her eyes close, a flutter vibrates within her chest as she pulled his head closer. Placing her lips on his head. Damian pulled her seated figure closer to his own, his face snuggling closer to her skin.

"Can I just postpone the flight for another month?" he mumbled, sending tickles on her skin making her giggle.

"Dami, you said that 2 months ago and you already bought a ticket home,"

Damian never whines but after almost two years of being in a relationship, there are certain childishness he had suddenly unlock being with her. Y/n laughed at his childish wiles as it send tingles in his stomach, he loves it when she laughs because of him.

"Besides, I already scheduled mine and my seat is next to yours, you can't expect me to have an empty seat beside me?"

Damian's head shot up from her neck, his eyes staring at her. Y/n bit her lip containing a fit of giggles after seeing his eyes sparkle like a child getting a new toy. He slumped his faced between breast.

"I really love you."

"And I really love you too, Dami,"

---

And probably the biggest public figures is youngest Wayne child and the eldest Stark Child. The most controversial couple that reached ears all over the world. No one knew of their relationship as until the paparazzi caught a picture of them kissing at Champ de Mars near the Eiffel tower. The news made use of the quote, "Pictures speaks a thousand words" rather well. Some are heartbroken by the news but the biggest people taken surprise by the news were the Wayne's.

Clicks and flashes surrounded the long trail of red carpet that lead to entrance of the Wayne manor that held another gala. This time it was a celebratory occasion for the youngest Wayne's return from a long vacation that he took a almost 2 years ago. A break he took after a rather peaceful yet melancholic break up with titan's member. Damian suddenly decided to toss the towel and told his Father that he doesn't want to be like Bruce, alone and brooding. He needs to breath for a while to which his father did not hesitate to agree. Bruce loves his children, he may not show it but he does.

A Grey matte Porsche 911 parked its way at the end of the carpet making some of the photographers to  it, awaiting the celebrities that will emerge.

"Do you think they'll like me? I mean Dad isn't really in good terms with Bruce Wayne you know," Y/n  eyed the silhouette of the Wayne manor and the crowding paps at the cat walk. This wasn't the first time she came to a Wayne gala, its just that this time she was going to be introduced as Damian Wayne's girlfriend.

The emerald eyed Wayne gently took her chin to meet his eyes. A gentle smiles grew from his lips.

"They will, beloved. I know they will because I love you," his voice said laced a such a tender tone that no one ever thought he could have.

A love sick grin emerged from her once doubting expression before she pressed leaned for a quick peck to which he returned in an instant. They pulled away with both of them sharing the same cheek tinted grins.

Damian emerged from the driver's seat followed by the loud camera clicks and calling reporters. He simply gave his signature Wayne smile before turning to the other side of the car to where Y/n emerges with the same celebrity like smile that she inherited from her father. From the moment they set foot on the carpet, the paparazzi just got louder and rather pushy that made the guards push them out a little harder.

"Mr. Wayne how'd you meet Ms. Stark?!"

"Miss Stark, how long have you two been together?!"

"Miss Stark look here!!"

"Mister Wayne! Look here!!"

To say that the paparazzi were going crazy would be an understatement, as they were going mad-crazy as the couple walking the catwalk is the biggest confirmation to the news that a union between the Wayne and the Stark has occurred. If they could only get to the couple to ask some, more like a bunch of questions would be the cherry on top of the new news for next day.

Upon entry within the Manor, their arrival turn heads and silenced chatters.

Y/n M/n Stark, the matriarch of the Stark Industries inheriting the nickname, 'Merchant of Death' in Manhattan. She was a much smarter tinker as she assured no such case like her father's long captivity ever happened again and all Stark weapons are heavily protected and can only be handled by the military hands.

Damian Wayne was no CEO but is a COO of the Wayne Enterprises. Helping his brother Tim in managing the affairs in the company. It's bad enough that the male is overdosing himself with caffeine while handling their nightly hero affairs, he was still his brother no matter how much they quarrel. Damian was willing to shoulder long painstaking meetings for him just to let him have a day off.

To see the two of them together would expresses a union.

Their matching outfit theme elevated the curiosity of all the attendants of the gala. Damian's slick three piece burgundy check suit made Damian look sophisticated but neat. Every young lady around the room were welcome to gawk at his figure as he glides with his partner. Y/n's own green gown greatly complimented his with its shade of green, its shape hugging her figure naturally that she loved. Every young man had their eyes on an emerald.

It didn't take long before the couple reached the group of people they are meant to meet. They didn't miss their wide eyes and dropped jaws. Y/n may be a stranger but they could agree that she is a beautiful stranger.It was only when Damian spoke that they have gained awareness of their surroundings.

"Good evening father, everyone. It's nice to see you all again," Damian began with Y/n holding on to his shoulder.

"I gotta say demon spawn you grew quite a lot for just two years," Jason earned a slightly hard nudge from Dick. Damian may have grown but he still has a tick with Jason's nicknames for him.

"Don't mind him Damian, why don't you introduce your company," the eldest said as he slightly push the white streaked hair male behind him that earned a look from his father.

Damian didn't say anything on the nickname thing and proceeded to introduce her which earned quite an awkward atmosphere on his family's side while the couple remained at ease in their presence.

"Stark its nice to finally see you again," Tim entered as he brought his hand out to which the woman took generously.

"Good to see you too Drake, and good evening to you too Mister Wayne,"

Bruce went forward to shake her hand, "How is your father by the way?" he asked.

"He is doing well, he's living by the countryside with my sister and mom," she replied with a smile.

"So he's settling down?" Bruce asked, quite surprised.

"Yes, he said life is short and he intends to spend it living it with us," She continued to which earned a bit of awkwardness with Damian's siblings. It was a rather sensitive topic but they didn't speak of it any further.

---

Damian had to separate himself from Y/n to help Tim a bit on the company. Seated by the bar, with his two brothers and his father, it was quite a company.

"How long have you two been going out?" Dick opened as you turned to him.

"We've been together for almost 1 year and half years, but we didn't started dating until six months later after we met,"

"We're you aware he just got out of a break up?" Jason raised.

Y/n took a sip of her drink, "I did, that's why I didn't let him to be with me until I totally confirmed that I was not a rebound,"

"And how do you know you aren't just a rebound for Rachel Roth?" Dick asked this time.

Bruce didn't say anything as he wasn't very much in touch with his son's relationship, but he did know that he loved her, Damian wouldn't risk his life for anyone if he did. As much as he wanted to stop Dick from pulling a rather sensitive topic on a person he just met especially when that person is someone close to his brother, he wants to know if the girl was just a fling. Y/n was known to have a number of flings before Damian came in to the picture.

"Damian is not mine to claim, whether I am a rebound or not, I still love him, you can try to make me say what we are having is just a fling but I know one thing," her tone was authoritative but calm.

They were doubting Damian's judgement with her relationship with her. Its not like she wasn't aware that he dated a co-worker of his. He was his first love and Y/n knew she might not be his last but she sure prays to whatever ethereal being that they last.

"I love him. Whether you believe me or not, I will always do even if he chooses her over me,"

Damian was her everything.

---

By midnight, Damian said his good byes with his family. He didn’t miss the slight look of sadness in her eyes so he took her away from his brothers' company. Damian was sure that they said something but she chose to protect them by not telling him anything.

When they got to the parking lot as they got to their car, Damian stopped and had Y/n face him. Before she could ask, he had already latched his lips on her. Giving her an ever so passionate kiss they always share. One that he always felt like he was having his first kiss the first time.

Y/n circled her arms around his neck before they broke off, forehead resting against each other.

"I may not know what went on between you and my family by the bar, but I want you to know that I love you. You may not be my first but I am deathly sure that you are my last…" he whispered to her.

#damian wayne x reader #Damian Wayne #song prompt #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #bruce wayne #batfamily x reader

[forehead-enthusiast]

Checkmate

Pairing: Haechan x Reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, fluff but it gets slightly steamy at one point (still totally sfw)

Word Count: 6k

Summary: You and Haechan get engaged, because anything is better than the process of trying to get engaged. That being said, having a fiancé you hate isn’t that much better.

Author’s notes: remember me???????? I’m alive, yeah. I’m super proud of this fic, I think it’s my best ever, so please give it a read!!

.

Haechan inhaled the overwhelming scent of floral perfume, and barely managed to stifle a gag. His father arranged for him to meet more and more foreign princesses every week, and he wondered where the man even kept finding them. Were there even this many countries? The prince’s surroundings were beginning to blend into a blur of painted smiles and emotionless eyes. He cursed that stubborn old man in his mind, and questioned furiously why it was even so important that he find a bride any time soon. Still, no matter how much he despised it, he knew his father wouldn’t accept anything less. 

He looked into the sea of lace gowns and resigned himself.

Maybe he’d just choose someone. Anyone. He smiled morosely, knowing all the women there were only after their shot at the throne anyway. They were here to use him, why shouldn’t he use them too? The apathetic thought left a bad taste on his tongue. Still, in his exhaustion at his circumstances, it seemed more and more reasonable the longer he considered it.

He searched throughout the crowd of giggling princesses, unable to distinguish between their faces. 

One after another, they approached him, with candied smiles and words that were far too practiced. One after another, they convinced him a loveless marriage with someone half-decent was far preferable to enduring this a moment longer. One after another, they revealed themselves to be absolutely unbearable, and Haechan grew more and more desperate to find someone that didn’t make him want to throw himself off a balcony after three sentences.

You stood at the back of the crowd, prodded by impatient elbows and sneered at by women hiding their smirks behind fans. You rolled your eyes, unable to understand this need, this hunger to marry someone they’d never met. That was your problem, according to your parents. And your advisors. And your tutors. According to everyone, really. You’d been to so many different kingdoms, trying to seduce unfamiliar princes, but could never bring yourself to actually put any effort into it. The carriage that shipped you to each one was beginning to feel more like home than the castle you’d left.

You watched girl after girl leave the ballroom, looking thoroughly dejected. It was hard not to relish in their failure just a bit, but you dreaded whatever high standards this prince was going to judge you with. You had little to offer. Your background, your kingdom, your land- none could remotely compare to his. Your parents were completely insane to even think you had anything that would make you lucrative as a bride to him.

Maybe they’re hoping he’ll behead me. You chuckled.

Still, the crowd continued to thin, and you couldn’t put off meeting him forever. A few of the weaker-hearted girls nudged you forward, suddenly less eager to meet the sharp-tongued prince. 

You sighed, and decided to get it over with.

.

Haechan rubbed at his temples, barely even looking at the girl who approached him now. He’d made up his mind to find a bride today, but his prospects weren’t looking so good. His eyes caught the hem of this princess’s dress. It was unadorned. He’d go so far as to call it plain. Many princesses were after his riches, but he’d never seen one that was so blatantly poor. Most at least tried to disguise their lack of wealth, so as to make them more desirable in terms of growing power. He half-chuckled, half-sighed. His gaze traced upward lazily, until it came across the first unsmiling face he’d seen all day. It shocked him so much that his hand dropped from his face, and he stood up instinctively.

“Your highness, thank you for allowing me to meet with you today-”

It was the most monotonous, disinterested introduction he’d ever heard, and his heart soared. You hadn’t even noticed he’d stood up. Incredible.

“Let’s get married.”

“I hope- excuse me?”

“Let’s get married. Can we go right now?” The question was directed to the attendant beside him, who sputtered at the prince’s sudden enthusiasm. No one, however, was more surprised at him than you. Your skirts were still clutched in your fists, your knees still bent in a curtsy. You couldn’t even manage to feel happy that he’d chosen you.

If anything, you felt angry.

He was rattling off instructions to his attendant about the wedding he’d already begun to plan, completely ignoring you. You hadn’t even responded to his proposal, if you could call his demand that. You tried to get in a polite word in time and time again, only for him to not even acknowledge you, until you got so sick of him talking you couldn’t stand it anymore.

“No!”

Finally, he turned to you.

“No?”

“I don’t want to marry you.” You ignored the consequences of your words, and avoided thinking about the awaiting rage of your parents.

The prince blinked. 

Then he scoffed.

“Of course you do.”

You cocked an eyebrow, your expression not betraying how absolutely pissed those four words had made you. Instead, the first smile you’d shown him spread on your face. It was chillingly false, your eyes boring deep holes into his face as you sweetly replied:

“I’d burn down this castle before I married you, your highness. Good day.”

And with that, you turned and left the ballroom.

Haechan didn’t move for a few moments as he watched you stalk away, a picture of grace even in your anger. The women who remained and witnessed began to whisper, snapping him out of his shock. His head flicked around the room, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Then, just as you vanished around a corner, he took off after you.

He’d been turned down. How? Why? He was rich. He was influential. You were neither. He felt a nagging pang of guilt, but suppressed it. You were poor. His proposal was a generous offer, for you and your kingdom. You were the one losing out by rejecting him. So why? Why was he the one chasing after you? He cursed under his breath as he caught sight of your back.

“You! Wait up!”

You heard him calling, but only sped up. 

“I will call the guards if you don’t stop this instant! I-I command you to stop!”

You did. Then you turned on your heel, with a glare that would send armies fleeing, and stomped towards him much faster than he knew a princess could. He flinched as you were suddenly toe to toe with him, taller than he expected. You seemed smaller when he was sitting on his throne. You sneered at his reaction.

“Do you need your guards just to take care of one woman, little prince?”

He flushed, but you didn’t let him respond.

“You don’t even know my name. I’m not, ‘you.’ I don’t know why you want to marry me, but if you want me to agree, maybe learn that first.”

“You-” Haechan fumbled, unused to someone being blunt with him. He flared up, unable to think straight.

“You’re lucky to get an offer like this, you know.”

He saw the way your eyes widened in indignation, but kept digging his own grave as if he’d find treasure eventually.

“You won’t get an opportunity like this again. And, for your information, I only want to get married so I can finally be done with all,” he gestured towards the direction of the ballroom you’d both just left, “this.”

Despite your anger, his reason struck a chord within you. Not that that made your tone any less cutting.

“So I’m supposed to be grateful that you’re using me?”

“We’re royalty. We’re all getting used by someone, aren’t we?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, and he could tell you didn’t find the idea all so repulsive. He pressed forward.

“You’re tired of it all too, aren’t you? Or do you want to keep getting shoved at princes? We’d both get our parents off our backs. It’s a good deal.”

It was frustrating, but your desire to stop meeting spoiled princes was beginning to outweigh your immense dislike of this one. And as much as you hated it, he was right when he said you wouldn’t get an offer as good as this one ever again. Maybe that’s why he chose you, you supposed. He knew you couldn’t afford to say no. (Not that that had stopped you.) It just angered you that he saw you as someone so desperate, so needy, so pitiful. 

“...Fine.” You stuck out your hand in impersonal assent. “But. I don’t want to marry you.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“I’m not done, little prince.” He restrained his scowl and motioned for you to continue. “Let’s just get engaged. That’s enough reason to end all the marriage meetings, and then if it turns out I really just cannot stand you, we’ll call it off. Fine?”

“Fine.”

He shook your hand firmly.

Despite the way you both glared at each other, neither of you could deny how pleased you were with this arrangement. 

While you sent word to your family, he went directly to his, who were thoroughly, almost obnoxiously happy that he’d found someone. He forced a grin and made up some lies about how he’d fallen for you at first sight. They weren’t exactly excited about your less than impressive background, but weren’t about to reject the only girl who’d managed to catch their discerning son’s eye.

Within a day, it was announced throughout all your fiancé’s kingdom that he’d found a woman to wed. You managed to laugh about how all the other princesses must be incredibly jealous of you at this moment, but couldn’t quite get over the fact that you were one foot into a lifelong commitment with the rudest man you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. It was a troubling internal conflict. On one hand, he was the worst. On the other, the same could be said for just about every other prince you’d ever met. So really, it was an overall win that this one didn’t expect you to love or fawn over him.

At least, that’s what you repeated to yourself as you received the list of engagement events you were expected to attend alongside him.

.

“Do we really have to do this?” You groaned.

“Just shut up and smile, they’re about to see us.”

You reluctantly did as he said, forcing an exuberant grin onto an unwilling face. Your carriage turned into the courtyard, and crowds cheered wildly, as if they actually cared about your wellbeing in some way. You waved gently, relieved your upbringing was so ingrained within you that you could play your role without ceasing your fantasies of punching your fiancé in the face. As you reached your places of honor, Haechan offered a gallant hand to help you down, and you almost admired how well he played the part of a loving gentleman.

It was such a truly lovely banquet being thrown for you, it almost made you feel bad for lying. Haechan seemed to be thinking similarly, and, forgetting to be vindictive, leaned over to whisper jokingly in your ear.

“Poor fools actually think we’re in love.”

You laughed brightly without thinking. Both of you then remembered you hated each other, and stared at each other in shock before looking away sharply. You waved again, happy to be doing something that made sense to you. The hordes of celebrating nobles clapped and called out their congratulations again as soon as they saw you move, not wanting to get on the bad side of what they assumed was their future queen. That was a pretty nice feeling, and you accidentally smiled sincerely.

Haechan, still stunned by the sound of your real laugh, wasn’t prepared to see your real smile. His eyes widened. It was more beautiful than he expected, and didn’t threaten him with cavities the way every woman in his life’s did. If they were processed white sugar, you were honey with all the real sweetness in the world on your face. He hazily tried to remember when he last smiled genuinely. You turned to him with a gleam in your eye, and he took your hand before rationality could persuade him otherwise.

The smile dropped off your face, and your gaze flicked to your intertwined fingers, then to his expression, which seemed even more confused than yours somehow. He looked boyish and bashful, and you wondered if your haughty fiancé had a far more charming twin.

Lucky for Haechan, the crowd cheered yet louder at the sight of your supposed affection, and he tilted his head towards them as if to say, See, that's why. Normally, you wouldn't have believed it was part of his plan, but it was easier that way. You let him lift your entwined hands in some playfully bragging way, and rolled your eyes.

.

“Alright, so I get the bed.”

“That’s funny. No, I get the bed. It’s my kingdom!”

“You are not being very gentlemanly right now.”

“And you didn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d enforce those kinds of antiquities.”

You scowled, and Haechan looked smug, which only intensified your frustration.

“Fine. Then let’s decide fairly, little prince.” You loved to call him that, just to see him pretend it didn’t irk him. “If I beat you in chess, I get the bed. And vice versa.”

“...Fine, small princ- annoying- um- pret- dum-”

You couldn’t help but grin at his attempts. “Nice try, but I’m not immature enough to be annoyed by a silly nickname.”

Your fiancé grimaced and got out the chess board.

.

Hours later, you were still playing the first game of chess.

“Y/n… Can we… Can we…” Haechan yawned enormously, which of course prompted you to as well. “Can we maybe… call a truce for tonight? It’s a big bed. We have to be up early for a garden party.”

You wanted to rejoice in his surrender, but your eyes were teary with exhaustion. Instead of the easy win you expected, you’d been in the longest game of your life. It seemed like you two were well matched for one another.

As opponents, of course.

“Fine… But just- just for tonight. We’ll play again tomorrow.”

And with that, you both crawled into the truly extravagant bed, falling asleep before your heads hit the pillows. 

Many nights passed, with an unfinished chess game at the end of each. It grew into something of a habit, a nightly chess game, always accompanied by bickering, of course. Neither of you ever managed to truly best the other, with every game ending the way the first did. As they continued, the bickering smoothed into mocking conversations, and sometimes you weren’t even mocking each other, but a common enemy. You would never admit it, but the pair of you started laughing together more often than you did at each other these days.

On some fateful Tuesday, for the first time ever, you saw a clear move to checkmate. The king was unguarded. For the first time, he was vulnerable. It was glaringly obvious, and you snuck a glance at your opponent’s face to see if it was a trap, but were taken aback when you found him already staring at you. He didn’t look triumphant or concerned, but he somehow looked… nervous. Or maybe expectant? And then you realized. He was far too good a player to make an error like this one. He was offering you a choice, from one royal with too much pride to admit they enjoyed the other’s company to another. It would be easy to end this game right now, and banish him to the floor.

You chose another move, and the game continued.

.

“So what’s on the agenda tomorrow?” You asked, with a tone more befitting of a business partner than a fiancé. The two of you had gotten pretty used to the whole routine of feigning adoration, and typically planned cute moments to perform in advance. 

Haechan looked over at you and sighed in a way that might have been more amused than exasperated. 

“Would it kill you to sit like a lady?”

You looked down at yourself, eating a biscuit you’d pocketed from today’s lavish banquet, with your legs criss-crossed as you lounged on the bed in your nightgown. The white fabric was hiked up above your knees to accommodate the posture, and catching all the crumbs that fell.

“Aren’t I?”

Haechan couldn’t mask his amiable laugh at that. You felt strangely proud when you made him truly laugh. It was one of the few times his shoulders really relaxed, and he looked like the cheerful boy he might’ve been without the pressure of royalty on his back.

“So… what’s on the agenda?”

Haechan didn’t answer right away. He was still looking your direction but seemed zoned out. 

“Haechan?”

He flinched, always shocked when you used his real name instead of a mocking nickname.

“W-what? Oh, we’ve got a ball.”

“Ugh… Boring. You better not leave me alone with all the gossiping hags.” 

“Yeah, sure. Uh, for real, could you sit properly?”

“Whaaat, I’m comfy.”

“Seriously.”

That irked you. You were just sitting, and while you hadn’t fully realized it, Haechan was someone you'd grown comfortable being yourself around. You didn’t need another person in your life telling you the way you behaved was wrong, and against your will, you had begun to expect more from him. You felt something too close to heartbreak as you wondered if he was just another person who disapproved of you.

“No, I don’t want to.”

“It’s not a big deal, why can’t you?”

“Because you’re right. It’s not a big deal, so why do you seem to care so much?”

“Can you just do it?!”

“No! Didn’t you get on me for- for ‘enforcing those antiquities’ or whatever? Now you’ve got a problem with the way I sit or how I dress-”

“It’s not- it’s not like that!”

“Then what?!” You flared up at him further, as did he, but he seemed less angry and more... agitated. You laughed mockingly. “Whaaaat are you shy seeing my legs or something-”

“YES! They’re- they’re. Um. Well…” He looked at the floor, and you could’ve sworn you heard him whisper, “pretty,” before he flicked his head back up and stammered the marginally less embarrassing, “distracting.”

Your anger instantly dissolved when he confessed that, and you flushed in a way you didn’t know you could. You stared at the ground, tugging your nightgown gently down. You’d always hated being treated like a lady, but you’d never been treated like a woman, and you found you didn’t hate it quite as much. This might’ve been the first time in either of your lives that the two of you were ever actually lost for words. Neither could formulate some witty remark or snide comment, and you just boiled in the unfamiliar atmosphere neither of you sought to create.

“Uh,” Haechan broke the silence masterfully. “I-I think I’m going to turn in early.”

“Yes. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

.

You might have climbed in bed early- no chess game for the first time in ages- but you both woke up exhausted. Four feet apart, two fiancés had stayed up late replaying the night in their minds and subsequently panicking.

“G-good morning.”

“Good morning.”

The day whirled by, with most of it being spent simply getting dressed for the evening ball. You spent most of the day slapping your face and reminding yourself of how you used to act around him, and when you heard a knock at your door, you were ready.

He told himself he was, but he wasn’t. 

Haechan took a deep breath and let his gaze trail up from your skirt to your face, and he stiffened. He’d grown used to his fiancé looking beautiful in the luxurious dresses she wore daily- even though it stunned him more than he’d admit the first time. This dress was no different, no more extravagant, no, but the pink tinge on your cheeks was a beauty he couldn’t have imagined.

“You look… decent.”

He celebrated internally for managing to say something an unflustered him might have said, although some tiny part of himself wished he could pay you a compliment normally.

Your sigh slid into a laugh, and you found your rhythm in your rapport again.

“And you look just adorable, little prince.”

He glared, but was relieved to hear the dig. He offered you the crook of his elbow, and you clapped your hands to your cheeks once more before taking it. He flinched at the sharp sound, and observed your cheeks grow red again from the impact.

“Youch.”

“It’s not that bad, honestly. I’ve been doing it all day to wake myself up.”

Haechan hummed a response. He couldn’t form words; all his brainpower was focused on figuring out why that statement had just disappointed him so. As he rounded the corner towards the ballroom, though, he shook it from his mind.

You entered the ballroom to the usual thunderous applause. Haechan led you down the immaculate gold staircase, and you clung to his arm, the perfect image of a lovestruck princess. No one noticed you holding on a little tighter than usual tonight. The band struck up a song, and you took the hands of possibly the only person you'd ever considered a friend. He led you to the center of the floor and began to waltz. It was always a satisfying feeling to watch the crowds make way for you. You looked everywhere but at your partner, and aimlessly wondered if you’d even been in this ballroom before. Just when you thought you’d seen every room in the massive castle, you’d be led to a wing you didn’t even know existed. The idle thoughts occupied you, which was probably for the best, since it meant you didn’t notice the way Haechan was looking at you.

The dance ended, and you went separate ways to entertain people who made you feel like your brains were melting. Seriously, one day your mind was just going to leak out your ears and spill onto the polished floors. It was amazing how you could spend hours talking to one person night after night, but half an evening with these sycophants made you contemplate faking your own death.

Finally, your reprieve came in the form of an attendant, whispering in your ear that the crown prince was requesting your presence.

“So sorry ladies, my future husband and I are just inseparable.”

They gave you condescendingly knowing looks, their eyes practically screaming, Just wait a few more years, child, you’ll tire of each other. You had to turn away quickly so they didn’t catch you sneering at them. Whatever. You wouldn’t be with him in a few years anyway, you would have gone your separate ways by then.

Right?

Something about that thought didn’t feel right. Not even sad, just… not right. You thought rapidly as you let your attendant guide you. What was your original agreement? If I realize I… Wait… If I end up still hating him, then the engagement’s off? Those were the terms. Which meant, if you didn’t hate him, then inevitably you’d end up mar-

“Y/n!”

You looked up sharply, not realizing you’d crossed the ballroom already. However, even when looking forward, you didn’t see the person who’d just called your name. Your eyes flitted about, searching for the familiar face. You took a few steps in no particular direction, massively confused, and then suddenly terrified when a hand reached out from behind a curtain and pulled you to join its owner. Not the type to lose composure and scream, you clenched your jaw so tight it almost broke until you saw your fiancé's face shrouded in the shadows of the velvet drapes. 

“What took you so long?”

His question wasn’t at all rude, as it once might’ve been. It was one of genuine relief to see you, as if you were his solace amongst all the fools at the ball. You met his eyes for maybe the first time this evening, and they were bright and warm and looked at you the way no one ever did. Like you mattered. Like he wanted you there. Not the facade you put on for everyone, he wanted the real you. 

Oh God, I don’t hate him at all.

“Earth to y/n?” He chuckled as you snapped to attention. “Finally, you’re here. Is this the worst ball yet or what?”

“Yes! It’s seriously unbearable.”

“I knew you’d agree. By the way, have you still been slapping your face? You shouldn’t in front of guests, they’ll think you’re crazy.” He teased you over your red flush without giving it a second thought. You hadn’t touched your cheeks in hours. The realization only made you blush even more. He leaned in close, and you stood stock-still with surprise.

“Do you want to vanish for a while?”

“What?” The absurdity of the idea finally overwhelmed all other distractions from your mind. “How can we leave, we’re the guests of honor?”

“Please, nobody cares. They’re all busy trying to climb the social ladder anyway. Besides, we’ve got this great hiding spot.”

You stifled a laugh. “Yeah, squeezing between a window and some drapes is what I call ideal.”

“Hey, it’s got, like, enough room for us!”

That was a bit of hyperbole on Haechan’s part. You both barely fit in the narrow space, and you thanked the stars you hadn’t worn a larger hoop skirt tonight. Suddenly you were back to evading making eye contact again. A hush fell over you as you thought about how incorrect his statement just was, and you both grew acutely aware of how you couldn’t position yourselves in any way that would allow you to put some distance between your bodies. You cursed yourself for not postponing your life-shattering revelation about the man before you until after this little endeavor. Haechan’s mind raced as he saw the red on your skin remain even in the dim light.

You could only avoid each other’s gazes for so long. 

He locked eyes with you, and you envisioned pieces moving across a board, your king running out of ways to escape its fate. There was only one end, and you were starting to love the idea of surrendering. You whispered harshly in the sarcastic way that felt comfortable to you, still too prideful to admit your defeat.

“So are you going to kiss me, or am I going to kiss you?”

Haechan answered by pressing a palm to the back of your neck and pulling you towards him perhaps too eagerly. A second later, you’d both pulled away, frantically looking around to see if anyone was peering in on you both. You relaxed when you confirmed no one has discovered you.

“This isn’t... a good time, Haechan.”

“I could not agree more. Way too risky.”

Neither of you waited a moment more to lunge towards each other again. His lips found yours roughly, his breath already ragged with overworked patience. You grabbed his lapels, no less desperate for this moment, your lipstick smearing onto him. Your fists crushed his boutonniere, and his fingers wove into your hair and ruined the curls. There was no party beyond the curtain. You and him were alone, both desperate to memorize the taste of each other, and nothing else mattered but that. His lips parted, and yours followed suit. His tongue just brushed your lower lip, and you felt a thrill run down your spine. Your arms wrapped around his neck unconsciously, trying to get closer to him than was possible, but nothing could stop you from trying. You caught his lip between your teeth, your instincts running wild, and you wondered how either of you had endured up until this point. Now that you’d gotten a taste of each other, it seemed almost impossible not to get addicted. He gripped your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist and not letting go. It slid down to grab your thigh and wrap it around him, your dress’s layers barely inhibiting him. Every inch of you was so aware of where it made contact with him, and you hungered for more. All facades were shed. You were both just heat and teeth and desire, without a shred of nobility between the two of you. You’d never experienced anything so perfect.

The two of you finally parted, your lips wet and the rest of you looking disastrous. He pressed his lips to your cheek, getting your own lipstick on your face, and you pulled his palm up to kiss it over and over again. Too breathless to continue and too worked up to just stop, you let the clock tick by as you left soft kisses all over each other.

“What are we going to do?” You whispered, half concerned but half amused. Between sentences, you still found places on his face yet unkissed, and remedied them. “We can’t go back out looking like this.”

“What are you talking about? I look great.” You were both too elated to remember you should be worried about your predicament, but he did seem genuinely proud of the pink smears adorning his face and neck, the teeth marks framing his lips, the fierce creases in his lapels. He brushed his fingers on your cheekbones, and looked even prouder of the mess he’d made of you. It felt like a dream to be touching you like this. Even more unreal to know that he was the cause of your disheveled hair and your chapped lips. He may or may not have imagined a moment like this before, late at night when he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but it was buried in the back of his mind and nowhere near as euphoric as this reality.

“No, but seriously, we can’t go out like this.”

“No yeah, for sure, you’re absolutely right.”

.

You managed to escape thanks to the tight-lipped attendant who’d led you to a curtain concealing a prince in the first place, but found yourselves rather tight-lipped too. Once you’d both washed off the lipstick and the teeth marks faded, you didn’t know how to face each other. You just crawled into bed and discreetly squirmed as you thought about all that had happened. What was more embarrassing, that you realized you might, maybe, possibly, have feelings for each other, or that the other person might know about them? It was already late when you turned out the lights, but you both stayed up longer, plagued by worries.

They must be so smug since I was all over them, I’m such an idiot.

God, I can’t believe how intense that was. What if they hated it? What if I was bad at it?

Did they only kiss me ‘cause of how much I was kissing them?

Are we like… friends? They probably don’t hate me, so…

That was really unbelievable.

I think I might really… feel something for them.

I hope they feel the way I do.

The hurricanes of concerns led to a restless night, and a mortifyingly awkward day afterward. You couldn’t even look at each other, let alone speak. Even the servants seemed to notice the tension, and you could hear them giggling when they’d disappear into the corridors. You tried to tell yourself that that was great, that it really sold your act as a couple of lovebirds, but that just embarrassed you all the more. Your fiancé was just as tormented, the blush that was sparking gossip reaching all the way to the tips of his ears.

Eventually, someone had to break the silence. If not with words, then with the slamming of a chess board down on the usual table. And that’s exactly what you did, not that who slept in the bed was something that still concerned either of you. No, now it was just routine, something you enjoyed and shared with each other, and something you were going to use to discuss your current feelings.

“C-come play, little prince.”

Even the nickname didn’t manage to get him to flare up. He walked over, still with the air of importance that was second nature to him, but his pounding heart almost echoed against his ribs. You set up your black pieces and he took the white. He moved a pawn towards you.

“So…”

“Yeah.” You slid a piece across the board. He nodded, his cheeks burning. You both knew what you had to say and what the other person was going to say, but that only made it all the more difficult to verbalize.

“I guess I don’t hate you. As much as I used to.” You said hurriedly, your voice forcibly steadied.

“Oh, what an honor.” Haechan’s snarky response was accompanied by a trembling hand moving a rook. He yelled at himself internally, and attempted to be as honest as he could. “I… suppose you’re not unbearable.” The biting words didn’t sting, nor did they flow the way they once did. It saddened both players, even though it had only been a day since you both had been without the banter of your best friend. Slowly, you started to regret the night before, the ecstatic memories being clouded with the fear that you might lose the most important person to you because of it. 

“I-”

“I-”

“Oh, sorry, you start-”

“No, you-”

“No-”

“Okay, fine!” You huffed, accepting the initiative. You pushed your rook straight forward. “I… have always hated the idea of getting married. Everything about it- the formalities, the responsibilities, the princes, ugh. Awful.”

“Gee, thanks.” 

“I’m not done, okay!” Pieces shuffled around the board as you tried to organize your thoughts. “If I… had to marry someone…” Your sentence trailed off, and Haechan leaned forward, ears itching to hear the conclusion. You stared at the board, and he steeled himself. It would’ve been a blow to his persistent pride if he just waited for you to say everything.

“I’m…” What did he need to say first? His mind blanked, and he just let the words fall from his lips. “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widened, but remained fixed on the game. “For what?”

“For not listening to you. The first day we met. I didn’t… treat you the way I should’ve. I’m sorry for that. But I’m… also glad it happened. If I’d acted differently then maybe you wouldn’t be in front of me. That would be, uh, not ideal. But I’m sorry.”

“Um. Thanks. I’m glad it happened too. Otherwise we might still be pretending to be well-mannered in front of each other.” Haechan snickered, and you did too. You could feel your shoulders relaxing, and he could feel himself growing bolder. He moved his queen across the board, closing in on his target.

“Man, where would I be without my unladylike, insufferable fiancé?”

“Probably whining like a child to some other pitiful creature who deserves better.”

The clouds in your minds began to clear as you exchanged snarky remarks. It felt right- pretty words didn’t like to be forced from your lips. He smiled. You looked up, your line of sight lingering on the lips you knew well before finding his eyes. You left your king unguarded, ready for it to be captured.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind marrying you, little prince.”

“Do it then.”

You swept the unfinished game off the board, feeling like you’d won, and he met you in the middle. He kissed you, barely more composed than the night before, but you had no problem with that. The two of you smiled against each other’s lips, incredulous that somehow you had found someone to love, something you used to believe was impossible. Little bursts of laughter interrupted the kiss as giddiness took over.

“Didn’t I say something like I’d burn down this castle before I wed you?”

“Just let the wedding planner know,” Haechan sighed with joy as he gave in to the temptation of your lips again.

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[sweetbunnykook]

Only You (9)

Word Count: 13,197 // [SPOILER IN WARNINGS] angst (mention of double homicide, gore/blood, miscarriage, mistreatment of a corpse, panic attack), smut (period sex, cunnilungus, blowjob, throatpie, body worship, mommy kink), brief fluff, toxic relationship, manipulation

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.  

A/N: If you are still reading this series, I wish you the best of luck. Please leave a review if you can and let me know your thoughts. - 🐰

You were every mother’s blessing – kind, caring, intelligent, obedient. She watched you stumble and fall many times but you manage to catch your footing with a smile. Despite your yearning for independence, your mother kept you in her embrace as all mothers do. In some ways, it would be loving; things like helping you choose the venue for your wedding and holding your hand while you inquire about using chiffon instead of silk for your veil. You were such a wonderful daughter that she didn’t wish for a son even when you decided to carve your own path rather than follow your father’s footsteps into medicine and entrepreneurship.

It’s why your mother sits in the parking lot of your apartment complex, dumbfounded beyond belief, teeth gritted. She looks up at your window to see Jungkook staring back down at her, unable to read him. She holds his steel hard gaze, daring him to look away or pull the curtains close.

He doesn’t take the bait.  

Pulling the shifting gear and rolling out of the parking lot, she peels her eyes away and takes several deep breaths.

There is no way on God’s green Earth that you fell in love with a middle-class photographer. Of all people, of all the men in your circle, affluent men coming from money both new and old, you couldn’t have fallen for a lowly photographer who doesn’t care about you enough to know his place and leave you be. How could Jungkook not know that you aren’t meant to live like this? How could he be so selfish as to hope for marriage when he could barely afford the ring he wants to slip onto your finger?

Your mother throws back her head and cackles. The only reason you were able to study abroad during college, the only reason why you could walk into an upscale neighborhood and look like you belong there, is because she followed the natural way. She never loved your father, not even once, but he was a good husband and an even better financial asset. Not only did she not have to lift a finger after tying the knot, but she also became part of the untouchables.

There’s a sense of power and invincibility that comes with wealth. It comes softly, like a whisper of wind that keeps a dandelion intact; it’s invisible to the eyes but she can feel it when she shakes hands with politicians, celebrities, businessmen and women, important people doing important things.

It took nearly twenty years of work. Getting close to the Kims, making sure you attend the same school as their children, running into Namjoon when you visit their vacation home, and letting his parents witness what a great wife you would be for him – it was all going so well. Puberty treated you well enough too that she didn’t need to consider getting you minor cosmetic procedures when you graduated high school. Sure, you could lose a few more pounds, but you were healthy and fit to give the Kims, and her, the grandchildren who will guarantee a new generation of wealth and prosperity. Gone are the days when she could only dream about creating the perfect family, respected by the social circle and the general public. You, her lifelong project, made it all come true.

Yet, life proves to be cruel once again.

As soon as she set her eyes on Yori she knew she was trouble. She didn’t object when you stayed out later and wore a bit more makeup than what was deemed graceful for a woman of your age. She knew that if she’d raised her voice, you would be compelled to rebel (it didn’t help that you were as stubborn and thick-skinned as your father). However, she wanted to warn you, just a tiny bit, that Yori is the kind of girl whose eyes strayed to find a new target and you were a hair away from standing right in the middle of that mark. She knew, because Yori had the kind of eyes she had as a twenty-year-old woman who climbed that very same social ladder.  

You were such a good daughter, so intelligent and transparent, that she believed you would have the backbone to come into your mother’s arms at the first sign of danger. It looks like you were just as clueless as the rest of the sheep you called your bridesmaids.

A Jeep honks from the next lane as she swerves into the street and bangs on the steering wheel with the heel of her hand, her Cartier bracelets clanking together in unity. The light turns yellow and she stomps on the accelerator, lurching the vehicle forward.

At the end of the day, she knew it was her fault. She could have warned you earlier, planted seeds of doubt in your mind, even pull Namjoon back into your arms if you realized soon enough; but alas, your day was chosen to be one of desolation and misfortune. Her poor daughter, the apple of her eye, the one precious gem of a person who would propel the family into royalty, whisked right away from under her nose.

She shakes her head, tires screaming as she veers into the next semi-busy lane, watching the sun disappear into the horizon as the familiar roads darken.

Letting you mourn on your own terms was the biggest mistake of her life, second to not following her gut feeling and keeping Yori away from you. She knew about this photographer lover of yours who has the face of an angel and seem to follow you like a puppy wherever you go. From a distance, she’d watched you wrap your arms around him and kiss him with such fervor in a public space she felt bile rise for the first time looking at you – her most precious creation acting like a hussy for all to see.

The boy seemed to be in love with you as much as you depended on him. She waited until you would be sick of him like the ones you took to bed after the wedding night (yes, she knew about your shameful conquests). She waited countless nights, praying that you would come to your senses, that you won’t refuse her advances, until months later she sees you living with him and sharing meals and completely forgetting about her. Yes, she had been mainly focused on making sure the investors haven’t pulled out and that you still had a name for yourself after the wedding. It wasn’t an ideal response as a mother because you needed help and she knew you’d throw a hissy fit but you must understand that while you had been taking men to bed, she had been busting her ass saving what’s left of the family pride.

The Kims also attempted to salvage your reputation, but they won’t do so at the cost of Namjoon’s name. The true reality is that parents will only care for their own blood in the end.

It’s why she finds herself confused and drenched with sweat when the car halts in front of the white villa lined with jasmine bushes. There’s a new gate installed, probably to keep away reporters during the first few weeks after the wedding incident hit the papers, and it momentarily angered her that she must now ask an intercom to enter a space that should have been a gift to you from the Kims.

Her hands tighten around the steering wheel with the intent to squeeze something warm and pulsing. She still remembered the day Yori knelt on the floor of your dressing room and she still remembered the strands of hair that squeezed her fingertips as she tore the whore’s flower hair clip off her head. The yelling, the panic, the uproar, the whispers that came from the guests – it was humiliation to the tenth degree.

Wiping the bead of sweat off her temples with the back of her hand, your mother hushes the engine and places the key in her coat. She steps out of the vehicle and marches up to the gate and buzzes in, huffing when her heels wobble on the cobblestone steps.

A few heartbeats later, Yori’s voice pours through her ears and reached into the crevices of her scalp like a dull headache.

“Hello?”

She leans forward. “It’s me.”

There’s a long pause before the gates click open and the stone stairway up to the front door reveals itself with a moist gleam. The garden sprinklers die down just as she steps onto the platform and makes her way up to the front door where Yori is leaning against, one hand on her stomach, the other hand tucking her fringe away from her face. She notes that the knitted silk dress, tied above the swell of her belly, is from the latest Prada collection.

“What a pleasant surprise,” she smiles. “Come in. Welcome to my home. I apologize for the mess…I had a baby shower earlier today and help is gone for the rest of the week.”

Your mother wanted to rip that smug grin off her face but she kept her eyebrows still and her lips soft.

“Excuse my intrusion.”

She walks into the spacious living room, eyes quickly glancing at the stacks of presents on the couch and the empty bottles of sparkling water and champagne sitting on the coffee table. She can recognize, just from the color of the boxes, that the gifts were not cheap. Had you married Namjoon, this would have been your palace.

“I’m in the middle of decorating the nursery. If you don’t mind…” Yori says, not bothering to look back as she makes her way up the stairs. She didn’t have to turn around to see that steam is coming out of your mother’s ears. “Can you help me with unrolling the mat in the hallway? I can’t bend over very well.”

Your mother trails behind in place of answering, watching Yori’s hip swing side to side as she makes her way up the stairs and then turn to leer down at the older woman. It’s a bit laughable, Yori thinks, as your mother pretends not to ogle at the stacks of Tiffany blue boxes tucked beside the living room couch like shoeboxes. Her face flushes when she meets Yori’s eyes once more but she doesn’t comment as she follows the young woman into the hallway just a few feet away from the stairs. Her head turns at the smell of fresh paint to see the nursery on her left, the door left open as if the room expected her arrival.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Yori fixes her fringe once more. “He needed to attend a conference in Ginza. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“There’s no need.” She leers at the stacks of presents next to the crib. More aquamarine boxes, all neatly stacked according to size with the smallest at the top.

The younger woman leans against the tall, heavy vase next to the wall leading into the hallway to the East wing. “If you say so.”

There’s no reason for your mother to be here. It should be you instead, coming back to tie loose ends and perhaps inquire about Namjoon’s injuries if you cared enough. Compared to your mother, you didn’t have much of a backbone when it comes to relationships and it makes it so easy for men to take what they want and go. It’s what made you a bore, what gave Yori the power to pull Namjoon right into her bed and have him calling her name like a prayer.  

“Did you forget basic manners?” Your mother finally snaps, beady eyes darting from side to side to admire the nursery that could have been a snapshot from a furniture magazine. “Not even offering a glass of water?”

Yori only smiles, motioning to the unrolled mat slumped against the wall, adjacent from the staircase.

“I assumed whatever you wanted say would be quick as you came uninvited. You’d probably think the water is poisoned even if I offered any way.”

The older woman glances at the rug – no doubt imported from Dubai with its elegant coloring and silk touch – then walks over to it before tracing her fingers around the rolled edges. She shouldn’t have accepted to do such demeaning housework but given how she pulled into the driveway unannounced and that the woman is heavily pregnant with no help around, it was only fair. She may have left behind her patience with Jungkook but not her manners.  

“Why did you have to pick that day to tell her?”

Yori’s eyebrows raised just slightly before falling back down to its former position. She puts a hand over her stomach and walks towards the giant vase again, rubbing her fingers over the cool lacquered surface. Namjoon’s parents had a thing for porcelain she just couldn’t wrap her head around.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you wait until the marriage ceremony to tell her you were screwing her husband?”

“Husband?” She cocks her head to the side with an incredulous widening of her pupils. “Last time I checked he only had a fiancée he rarely saw who ran away with some pretty photographer the first chance she got. I’d say that’s far from married.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Answer the question,” she looks down, chin trembling. The world is falling apart, her dreams are nothing but a pebble in quicksand, and you no longer cared. “Please.”

Yori watches, in a way one watches a fly buzzing around a piece of fruit, the older woman bring her hands together in front of her like it has taken all her energy to ask such a question. Maybe for a moment she considers telling the woman the truth. She considers telling her that you broke her heart first, that you had the world succumbing to your every need, that your mother’s greed doesn’t only belong to her but you too because you made Seokjin your lap dog while Namjoon promised you a future. She considers telling her about the night she saw you laying like a swooning damsel in distress as Seokjin – the only man she had to beg for attention – suckle your tits like you were getting paid for it. She considers telling your mother that her daughter is the two-faced whore here, not her. She considers telling her that you touched what belonged to someone else first.

But what difference would it make? What would it change? The baby is still due in a handful of weeks, Namjoon is set to take over the company once he gets his shit together and his nose heals, and you’re perfectly happy with a new and exciting boyfriend of yours. The truth doesn’t set anyone free, it just makes sure the shackles aren’t too tight.

Yori turns her moist eyes away towards the living room downstairs. She walks over to the railing, resting her wrist on the copper before she stares down at the half-eaten cake on the coffee table with utmost disgust, as if she can still smell the overly sweet frosting with too much blue and pink dye. Catching her voice, she brings the smile back onto her face.

“I picked that day,” she turns her head, just slightly to catch your mother’s expression. “Just because I wanted to watch her look as pathetic as you do now.”

Your mother’s lips part, hands falling to her sides.

“It just happened. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s…all?”

Yori chuckles, her empty gaze falling back down to the cake. “That’s all.”

Years of planning, years of giving you the best education the country has to offer, years of making sure you never have to suffer as she had, years of shaking hands and kissing the ground the Kims walk on, only for this girl without new or old money to come and…

Before your mother can think, she lunges forward and grabs Yori by the ends of her hair, twisting the locks around her wrist as the younger woman gasps and shrieks. Her swollen stomach hits your mother’s side as she screeches and uses both hands to grab at her taught hair, pulling away to place as much distance she can. The heel of her ankle catches the edge of the first step and she watches the older woman’s eyes widen as she slams, back first, into the steps and then bounce off the next step as her jaw and skull slams into the copper pipe railing. Yori’s stomach hits the corners of the last several steps before the swell of her belly squeezes inwards, the final gurgling scream ripping out of her throat as her vision turns black and the house falls in silence.

It all happened so fast. Your mother watches with her hands over her ears, chest pounding and bracelets clattering as her limbs turn cold and her knees buckle.  

Her eyes widen, more and more, as the pool of blood around Yori’s head expands until there lays maroon halo around her crown. She’s lying flat on her stomach and it takes another moment for the trembling woman to realize that, in the silence save for her own labored breathing, the bump is no longer there.

“Oh my god…”

Curling over to the side, your mother’s jaw falls open and the remnants of her early lunch spills over one of Yori’s shoes ledged between the railing and the first step. She empties her stomach until there is nothing left, her knuckles white as she grips the railing for support. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she descends down the staircase, back pressed against the wall and eyes darting from the body to the tinted windows with burgundy curtains tied to the side. When she reaches the body, she trips over Yori’s limp feet as she quickly dashes to the living room to draw the curtains close, her neck craning from side to side as she finds any opening where an imaginary eye might witness the ultimate sin. It was only when she finds herself in the kitchen, washing her hands that she realized she had, in fact, stolen two lives.

Yori, and the baby who never had the chance to see daylight.

…

You’re sitting in a bathroom stall, turning over the small flash drive between your fingers when you hear the clattering of heels against polished tile and the sound of handbags slumping on the counter. One of the women walks into the stall next to yours, undoing the tampon wrapper as if she were scouring for the winning lottery number written on the string.

“Did you see Jin with her again?” The woman outside of the stall says and you recognize her by voice. She works for the accounting department and regularly walks into your office for weekly reports.

“I was keeping an eye of him. It’s annoying that they work together now so he’s always all over her.”

No doubt this conversation is about you.

“Tell me about it. I bet they’re fucking, you saw how he looked at her.”

“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” The toilet flushes and you can hear her shrugging her skirt back up to her thighs.

You hear a gasp. “Oh my god, you’re right. It’s that young guy who keep bringing her lunch, right? She didn’t break up with him?”

The stall opens and both women are in front of the counter. You’re stuck in your seat, not knowing whether to kick open the door or to interrupt the conversation but with Seokjin’s flash drive in your clammy hands, you struggle to even breathe.

“They’re still together. Looks like that photographer dick is too good to give up for the office hunk.”

They laugh like hyenas – that high, shrieking kind of laugh that makes their red lipstick bleed onto the corners of their mouths.

“They’re so out of her league. What do they even see in her? She’s painfully average. The only thing she’s got going on is a good wardrobe.”

You keep your head lowered when they walk past your stall as if they could see you. They pull on the paper towel lever until they can rip a generous piece and wipe their hands.

“She’s rich. She’s probably only working here because it keeps her humble or some bullshit like that. You know how girls with daddy’s money are, thinking they’re doing charity for working like the rest of us-”

You don’t hear the rest of their conversation, glad that your face no longer feels hot but you’re angered all the same. Jungkook’s visits, for this reason, had made you nervous in the beginning because you know they’ll talk and come up with their own little villain fantasy about you. It doesn’t bother you as you keep work separate from life (something Jungkook had been interrupting much to your discomfort) but hearing it in person ignited the kind of angry tears that has you cursing at yourself for letting yourself be disturbed by it.

You grab your handbag off the hook, place the flash drive back in your pocket, and unlock the stall before pushing the door open. You wash your hands in haste as the air had become suffocating in the aftermath of the two women. Wiping your wet hands down your black slacks, you let your wavy hair down and let it frame your face to hide your flushed cheeks, making sure that your eyes are no longer moist and your nose isn’t pink. What a way to end a workday.

When you arrive back at the office, most of your coworkers are gone except for the new interns organizing papers for tomorrow and the occasional workaholics making coffee in the makeshift cafeteria. You just hope you won’t run into the two women if they choose to swing by for whatever reason but, thankfully, it was never a common occurrence. They never did above the bare minimum any way.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips when you slump back down your office chair, squeezing your nose bridge as a wave of exhaustion wracks havoc in your pulsing head.

“There are some more sandwiches in the fridge, please help yourself if you’d like.” A student intern says as she carries a crumpled file under one arm, peering from above your divider.

“Oh!” You exclaim, your head darting towards the room Sora left in a mess before turning back to the girl. “Thank you, I’ll help myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She gives a short nod before leaving, the glass door squeaking as the office once again is filled with the sound of coffee machines whirring and papers shredding.

The USB flash drive sits heavy in your pocket as you wave goodbye to the last person leaving your department with a cup of coffee. She nods, smiling, and pushes out the heavy glass door and you silently hope she won’t forget to return the mug before leaving the building. You listen to the clacking of her heels fading before turning back to the work computer still logged into your account. The saturated blue screen is harsh on your vision and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut, turning to look at the clock on the wall momentarily to keep yourself grounded.

Jungkook can call at any minute as your shift is coming to an end.

Maybe it would be easier to do this with your phone turned off but knowing him, he would worry enough to drive over to make sure you’re safe.

Within the gray walls that surround your cubicle, you should feel secure. Yet, some part of you wonders if he would suddenly appear behind you and wrap you in his arms before asking you what you’re up to. In this nightmare of a scenario, you can also feel the antagonizing gaze of the two women.

Looking back down at the USB, you’ve come to realize that you have bigger things to worry about. Some part of you feels just as disgusting as a cheater taking off her ring in the presence of another man.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

You’ve rehearsed the same mantra in your head at least a hundred times within the same hour (before you had the unfortunate chance to overhear that unpleasant conversation) and it sickens you that this is a phrase that Namjoon would have used to justify his time with Yori. It’s a cheater’s mentality – a cowardly way of shifting responsibility away from themselves without considering the consequences when the truth comes to light.  

With a sigh, you pull the flash drive out of your pocket and flip the black casing open until the lid hangs off its hinges to reveal the silver end. You look around once more, taking a deep breath, and push the end into the appropriate slot of the system unit. The USB flashes a neon green light, pulsing as it loads, before it dims and a small ping pulls your attention back to the screen.

The file explorer window expands, showing a ZIP file among an array of photos that had you squinting to observe. You jolt straight from the seat as your phone rings. Cursing under your breath as you note an incoming call. You’re just about to turn back to the screen when you recognize that the number flashing across your screen isn’t Jungkook’s but your mother’s. She never called at this time and if she did, she would have texted you first to make sure you weren’t in a meeting.

Just as you reach for the phone, it stops ringing and you contemplate turning it off. But something tells you you should have taken the call. When the phone rings again, causing you to flinch, you let it vibrate twice before swiping across the screen.

In exactly five minutes, you will regret ever picking up the call. In ten minutes, you’re running for your life.

…

Jungkook paces back and forth with his thumb between his teeth. If he bit his nails any shorter, he would pierce through skin. Your voice still rings in his ear as you cry into the phone, your tires screaming through the speaker as you speed through the streets back to the apartment. He’s sick with worry, wondering if you crashed into a tree of if you decided – on a whim – to handle this situation yourself. Because you called him immediately after you left work, he has a feeling you wouldn’t do anything stupid but today has been especially unpredictable.

First, your mother coming to meet him. Second, the same woman pushing Yori down the stairs and threatening you to take care of it. If he’d heard you correctly, the old wench even mentioned she would make his life a living hell if you don’t head over immediately. Some mother you are. It pisses him off to no end that you had to live with her for half of your life but it makes him even more upset that you’ve been hiding your mother’s behavior, throwing excuses about how much she worries when she’d call in the mornings and leave voicemails that you delete without listening.

He changes into a pair of jeans and an old university sweatshirt that is a bit too tight on the cuffs. When he hears the sound of your heels clack on the other side of the door, he barely had the time to wrap his head around such a God-given opportunity.

As soon as the door swings open you’re falling into his arms, wracked with sobs as he engulfs your entire torso in his arms. He presses your head further below his neck, reaching behind you to grab his coat off the hanger and wrap it around you before kicking the door close in case a neighbor passes by. You can’t bear to lift your head, trembling as your teeth chatter and your pupils are wide with fear. He’s never seen you like this – not even during the wedding night – and it makes his insides squeeze as if someone had reached in him and pressed a hand against his organs.

“I-I don’t know w-” you sob, “I don’t know w-what to do. I can’t breathe. Jungkook-”

He hushes you softly, threading his fingers through your hair with his thumbs curling around your ear. He tilts your head up towards his gaze, watching your tears trail down your face and onto the coat. Between gasps, you’re wailing, your throat tightened to the point that even his name sounds like nails on chalkboard on your lips.

“Noona, you have to breathe for me. Inhale,” he brings air into his nostrils as demonstration, “and exhale. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, swallowing first before you mimic and close your eyes. Jungkook brings a hand up to your chest, digging underneath the coat to feel it pounding against your ribcage.

“Keep breathing, noona. It’s going to be okay, keep breathing.” He rubs his warm palm over the chiffon and you find yourself leaning your forehead against his chest in exhaustion.

You wish you could stay in his embrace forever. Locked inside this warm and unassuming apartment, away from your mother, away from the past that has now resurfaced in the worst way imaginable – you wish you can curl into his arms and never leave. That…or you just want the world to swallow you in a deep well and leave you to starve.

“We have to tell the police.” You tremble. You can’t imagine the repercussions, not to mention the heartache of seeing your mother behind bars. She’d rather hang herself than end up in prison, you know that much. You’d sworn to your father before his passing that you’d keep her safe and you’re already thinking of running away.

“Noona…”

“We do. We…I have to. I-I mean it was an accident,” you’re suddenly peeling yourself away from him, bringing your hands up to rub your face. “They’ll give her m-maybe three or four years at most, right? If it was an accident it won’t be…”

Jungkook comes up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing up and down. You’re shaking again, tears streaming even quicker than before and the nausea is causing you to falter from side to side.

“Kookie, I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do, I’m going crazy. I don’t know what to do.”

He places his forehead against the crown of your head, staring into the distance. You feel his fingers tighten around your arm before he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his weight upon your collarbones.

“Do you trust me, noona?” He whispers.

The fridge hums in the distance. You nod.

“Yes…I trust you. With my life.”

When he doesn’t reply, you turn your body, slowly, as if you were anticipating a monster and not a man, until you can look up at his face. He’s rubs his thumbs over your tears and moves down to your chapped lips, swollen and pink from your incessant gnawing. Your lips part just slightly as you exhale, keeping your eyes locked onto his loving eyes. He looks so angelic under the kitchen lights, the yellow bulbs blurred by the moisture in your eyes to form a halo around his long fringe. His hair is parted in the middle to form a curtain around his structured face, casting a shadow over his eyes in the semi-darkness. You can’t see him clearly with the lights behind him but you can sense his confidence, his reassuring grip on your cheeks; he’s no longer the boy from the night before but a man who is willing to keep the promise he made to you.

“I can help you.” He whispers softly once more, his voice lowered. “If you take me to the body…I can help you, noona.”

He holds your gaze, his thumbs still rubbing softly over your cheeks as if to coax the words into your skin. The implication isn’t lost on you but your body reacts first, fingers shaking as a fresh wave of sweat prickles down your back.

“W-What do you…” you trail off as your breathing grows heavy. Jungkook puts a hand on your chest once more as he did before, rubbing softly over your chest to calm your pounding heart.

He holds you close, breathing in your skin once more as his own eyes sting with unshed tears. Fate is a terrible thing and for every moment of bliss with you, he must pay the price; except, this price is a new opportunity to secure you by his side and earn your mother’s silent approval. It’s okay, Jungkook thinks, he can do this for you. He has the resources, the will, the strength, the plans – the only thing he can’t predict is your mental well-being in the aftermath.

Will you lose respect for him? Will you still love him? One thing he was sure of was that this was the only chance to keep your mother from arranging a marriage partner for you. He must go through it to not only save your sanity, your mother, but your answer when he puts one knee on the ground and opens the velvet box he keeps on top of the fridge for the perfect time. Oh how the universe responded so quickly to the day’s worries.

“Back then…when you said you would…”

Kill

“…You would do that for me. You really meant it, baby?”

Jungkook brings your head back under his chin and keeps you there, rocking from side to side as if to lull you to sleep.

“I meant every word. I’m not afraid, noona, not if it means I can protect you and your family.” His eyes darken as he tangles his fingers into your hair, twirling the ends of your waves between his fingers. “You love me, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then I need you to listen to me.”

With great reluctance, he pulls you away and holds your palm in both of his larger hands. Your eyes are closed, whether from fatigue or concentration he doesn’t know until your brows scrunch when he speaks.  

“Call your mother when I tell you to and tell her you’re on your way over. If she asks why you didn’t answer her previous calls, tell her you had an emergency at work. Reassure her and make sure she doesn’t touch anything more than she’s probably already touched by now. Don’t mention that I’m coming with you, understand? She might panic and bring attention to herself if there’s any witnesses.”

You nod continuously, creating a mental checklist. Call, inform, excuse, reassure, move.

“And noona?”

You look back up into his eyes.

“You…you won’t hate me after tonight…would you?”

How could you fathom it? With his warm, sincere stare and willingness to walk to the ends of earth for someone as plain and unlovable as you, you should be on your knees worshipping him. You don’t understand how he can think of you hating him when he had so willingly put his entire life at risk without reluctance. You aren’t asking him to fetch a forgotten carton of milk at the corner store. You’re asking him to clean up the mess your mother made, a mess that can tear your entire world apart, a mess that has nothing to do with your boyfriend who has no boundaries to prove his devotion.

You shake your head. “I could never,” you breathe.

You hold him this time, letting his body bow towards your trembling figure as he breathes in the scent of sweat and perfume on your neck. You give him a moment of peace. You wanted him to remember this touch as after this night is over, you don’t know if you’ll be the same person. You don’t know if he’ll be either.

He goes over the plan once more and leads you to his car. When Jungkook straps you into the passenger seat and turns the ignition key, you curl your fingers around your shaking knees. He notices your anxiety and takes the closest hand in his before letting your palm rest over the gear shift. He places his own hand on top of yours, gripping tightly when he shifts and maneuvers the car out of the parking lot and onto the road before unclenching.

The sky is pitch black and the moon stalks from behind. You count every tree, read every sign, tense at every sign of a police car passing by, and sniffle when your burning eyes refuse to calm. You don’t register where you are until Jungkook lets go of your hand on the shifting gear and undo his seatbelt. You’re inside the garage of his studio, surrounded by wires, cardboard boxes, plastic bins, and office supplies. When you grasp his arm, letting out a small cry, he hushes you instantly, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a tender kiss on your knuckles.

“I’ll be quick, noona. I just need to get some things, okay? I’ll be right there-” he points to the very back of the car – “in view.”

You swallow, nodding before uncurling your grip from his arm.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint for Jungkook not to coo at your desperation. He missed this dependency of yours (he had only seen it during the wedding night and the necklace argument) and for once he wonders if he went a bit too far with his role as the sweet and needy boyfriend. He’s not acting in a way that he doesn’t want to but he is guilty of dramatizing some of his pleas and affectionate touches. He knows, in his head, that he is a man. He’s stronger, taller, capable of committing a crime and not just cleaning its aftermath, and will eventually be the father of your children. He’ll tug his collar open to expose his vulnerabilities, but he will show you his strength too. Tonight is a blessing from the universe that will, finally, keep you where you belong: at his side, looking at him, and needing only him.

You watch as Jungkook swings open the trunk of his car and load three large plastic bins and pile photography equipment – tripods, developer fluids, camera bags, lighting equipment, and even a small monitor. And then you see the last box of supplies: rope, black plastic bags, gloves, masks, bleach, towels, and tape. When his eyes meet yours, he flashes you a small smile between his labored breaths, the kind you’re used to seeing after you make love to him and he’s spent, sprawled on the sheets with an arm over his perspired forehead. The car jolts slightly as pushes the back door shut and hop back into the driver seat, adjusting the temperature in the car, muttering something under his breath, and latching his seat belt back on.

He keeps both hands on the wheel. “Noona…make the call now.”

You’re frozen, hands clasped together on your lap.

“Kookie…”

You’re having doubts. He can see it in the way you can’t even bear to look at him. He digs through your pocket and presses your cell phone on your lap. When the lockscreen awakens to the photo of you two, you feel your heart anchor to the bottom of your stomach.

“I-I can’t do it.” You shake your head. “We have to go to the police. I can’t live without you, I can’t live without mom, we’ll get caught and I-” You press your hands to your face, your hoarse sobs lodged deep in your throat before it rips from your chest in the kind of wailing that makes Jungkook’s own heart squeeze. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Yori either e-even if it means my family…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

He sees himself in you. He sees himself as the teen boy who let Taehyung drag his scalpel across his father, then his mother, before encouraging him to give it a try. You’re a virgin. Even if tonight worked out perfectly according to his plans, you’d still be a crime virgin. It was your mother who pushed Yori, not you. Knowing how empathetic you are, how tender you are, it might as well be you who pushed the woman down the stairs. He knows your fear all too well and he knows just how quick your hummingbird heartbeat is underneath his coat that you’re wearing. You’re just like him.

“You’re beautiful, noona.” He places a palm over your clasped hands and brings his other hand up to your face, tucking your hair behind your ears and strumming your cheeks with the back of his fingers.

“No one deserves your kindness. It fucking upsets me,” he swallows, allowing his eyes to water, “that even a mother will take advantage of that kindness.”

You sob into his hand, leaning your temple against the head rest. He’s right. How many times have your mother, before Jungkook came into your life, morphed you into something you’re not? The days you spent trying to please her, comparing yourself to other children she would complement to get a reaction out of you, letting yourself be a pawn for when she wanted something from your father that either required money or the right handshake. You still love her above all because she’s your mother but there’s no denying how much it still touches every part of your life from your relationships to your career. Moving away from her and letting her fade into the background was a true feat and it pains you that all that effort crumbled away and you’re left in a bigger mess to clean than before. If only you hadn’t taken the fucking call.

Maybe this was your fault. Maybe, if you hadn’t been such a hard-headed person, she would never had driven over to Yori’s place and none of this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have to get Jungkook involved either, as willing as he is.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Jungkook slouches back into his seat, putting his hands back onto the steering wheel. “Don’t you, noona?”

You nod, keeping your head lowered.

���Then be good for me and call. I’ll take care of you and I’ll take care of everything else. I’ve never broken that promise, not now, not ever.”

Jungkook hopes that’ll work. He’s rather annoyed but not at you, never at you. Why couldn’t she tumble down those stairs too instead of giving you such unnecessary stress? This kind of stain would be terrible for the baby had you been pregnant. It’s tearing him apart watching how different you are now compared to this morning, leaving the apartment in comfort only to come falling into his arms in tears. He came to the conclusion that you’re simply too pure for the world.

Oh how romantic tonight would be if you were honest with yourself all along. Claiming to loathe your mother with the strength of a thousand suns only to act like this when she shows up with baggage. Jungkook can’t blame you for you shared a majority of your life with the wench, but he finds it exasperating that you can’t see how little of your pity people like her deserve. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t be the love of his life if you weren’t so sensitive and caring.

It was with great relief that you mustered the courage to swipe across the phone screen and type your mother’s number.

He clicks open the garage door and the vehicle begins to descend down the elevated lot.

“M-mom? I’m on my way now…c-can you tell me where you are? It’ll be okay…I know mom, I-I’ll be there soon…”

…

You feel eerily calm as Jungkook drives past your mother’s car parked in the front of the gate to circle around the perimeter of the fence. He doesn’t recognize the new gate but he’d climbed over the old ones many times to watch you on the balcony. The metal may have changed but the level of security should be the same given that the villas are built a good distance apart between trees and the residents – people with mostly new money – keep to themselves. Lodged between a large tree and a partial opening in the back gate that is no doubt left ajar by your mother, Jungkook step out of the vehicle and press the door close before coming over to your side.

He’s relieved that you’re no longer in tears but your hands are still freezing cold despite the heat turned to the max inside. Your eyes are wandering and your breaths are labored as you press your body close to Jungkook’s.

Your mother is waiting near the door, her head poking out just slightly in the darkness and you can see the familiar row of bracelets on her wrist. She seems to have aged several years in just the last few months and the reason for her demise is standing next to you.

“Are you insane?” She seethes as she pulls you by the arm into the dark house and keep her eyes on Jungkook whose gaze bore into her skull. “How could you bring another-”

Jungkook barely had the time to secure your grip on his arm when you gasp, flinching back to hit the chess table next to where he’s standing when you see Yori’s pale arm stretched out from beneath a mat. The deep crimson shade of blood had congealed on the marble, partially smudged by the mat above her weighing her corpse down. Deep inside you had hoped that at least the baby could be saved, by some miracle, but the damage is far too great. Accident or not, a police officer finding this scene would not consider a light sentence if you mother decided to confess.

The older woman’s jaw is clenched, no doubt suppressing the panic she too feels hammering inside her as you hang off of Jungkook arm, trembling still. She looks up to your boyfriend and finds herself jolting awake when his eyes are peering down at her. He looks kind, sympathetic, soft, as if he is still sitting across her on your couch, eager to prove that he can be the son-in-law she’s been looking for all along.

“You should head home for the night. I’ll handle the rest.”

She scratches at her bracelets, her nails tugging the gold free from her skin. “B-But…where are you taking her? Anyone will find it if she’s buried in the yard.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer the question.

“Please go home and make sure there are no witnesses. I know you didn’t inform anyone before coming here,” he turns his head towards the body, “so go home as if you were never here. I promise I’ll take care of it.”

It’s evident the older woman is relieved by the way her shoulders slump but her gaze is still firm as she measures her trust into the young man who is in full control of your heart. Your eyes are still on the body when your mother takes your hands in hers and gives a squeeze.

“Sweetheart…” she croaks. She knew she gave birth to such a dependable, obedient daughter. You’re every mother’s dream and she makes a mental note to come back to your apartment with more boxes of food and perhaps make amends. There are far too many misunderstandings and miscommunication; it’s no way for a mother and child to live.

However, when you rip your hands away and take Jungkook’s hand in yours, her face crumbles.

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” You hiss, your voice straining. You’ve never spoken to her like this and didn’t think about doing so until you saw the body, the mess your boyfriend has to clean. “You did this to us.”

“Wh-”

“Leave me alone. Please, mom. Get out of here, okay?” Your eyes glisten and you wipe away the droplets before they have the chance to fall. “It’s…we’re putting our lives on the line for you. It’s the least you can do now…so please…”

Between your pleas and Jungkook’s silence, your mother bites the inside of her cheek from saying anything more and turns back the way you came in. You watch her figure recede into the darkness, her shoes clacking softly on the cobblestone path. She turns back to look at you before the door closes and for once, you earn the most genuine apology you’ve ever received and this time she didn’t even need to open her mouth.

When the door falls back into place, Jungkook gives your shoulders a comforting rub and leads you towards the staircase, reminding you to breathe. He feels a bit more relieved that your mother didn’t raise too much of a ruckus. How could she when he’s the one getting his hands dirty? It’s what the perfect son-in-law will do and after this night is over, he’ll no longer have doubts about her approval. She wouldn’t have a valid argument anyway – not when he had just proved that he’s willing to go to the ends of Earth for your family and stability.

You’re too cute, Jungkook thinks, as you breathe through your nose and exhale through your lips. You’re a mirror image of his virgin self coated in blood, panicked but euphoric, angered but more than relieved to be rid of the parasites that kept him in the sewers.

“H-how are we going to do this?” You breathe, looking up the stairs as if you were expecting Namjoon to be standing there.

“I’ll handle the body. You can help me wipe down the stairs, okay?”

And handle it he did. He first fetched the supplies from the car, making sure once more that there are no witnesses while also keeping you within sight. Even without a severe puncture wound, Yori made quite a mess.

The terror didn’t come from seeing your former friend of years lay in a puddle of her own secretions. Nor did it come from seeing how calm and collected your boyfriend is peering down at the body with something akin to annoyance. No, terror came from how easily your mind and body adapted to helping Jungkook. You had no more tears left to shed when he lifted the mat from the body and placed a plastic covering next to her before rolling her body onto it. The sheet rustles beneath her weight and the stench of iron and urine fills your nostrils, prompting you to place your gloved hand over your nose.

Jungkook seems to know just what to do. He orders for you to wipe the railings first, which you do so with the slowness of a snail climbing a brick wall. The smell of bleach kept the nausea at bay and prompted you to focus on the smaller tasks because you can feel your heart already beginning to race with the sound of your boyfriend dragging Yori by the feet to straighten her posture. When you risked a glance back, you catch yourself feeling irked by the way Jungkook places her fingers so tenderly on her flattened stomach. Even when he’s wearing gloves, you catch yourself glaring at his touch on her skin, at the way his fingers brush over the ring on her finger. It makes you clench your jaw harder, pour more bleach onto the staircase, and wipe down each step with vigor.

She’s dead, she can’t take him from you.

You spray the bleach onto the top step, scrubbing with the heel of your palm as your shoulder fights through aches and pressure. You can do this. If Jungkook kept his promise, you must too. You will never find another man who will devote his entire life to you and for that you must not be too forgiving to those who don’t deserve your kindness, not this time.

All your life it’s one person after another coming to take what they want and leave. This is your lesson to finally take yourself back from them all, to come to terms with how much you gave and how little you received, see that Jungkook was the catalyst you desperately needed. It was no coincidence that when the elevator doors opened that very night of your wedding, he was the person standing in front of you. He was meant to be there holding your shoes as he rescues you away from those who would eventually suck the life out of you. He’s not someone you should be afraid of – no – because he’s your savior.

When you turn back again, Jungkook is slipping Yori’s legs into a large, black plastic bag identical to the one she’s laying on. He uses the bag beneath her to fight friction as he slides her body forward, careful not to bend her body before the duct tape comes into play.

And suddenly, your shoulder doesn’t ache anymore. Your heartbeat slows as you take another deep breath, this time through your lips, and watch his shoulders hunch over and forearm veins protrude.

“Kookie?”

He looks up, hair damp with sweat as it falls over his eyes. The lights from the front lawn, as it filter through dark maroon curtains, casts a red glow on your lover’s skin. When he meets your eyes he’s filled with glee, seeing that you’re no longer panicking and your eyes are clouded with a kind of protective apathy that lets him know you’ve gotten stronger. You’re dipping a toe into his world.

“Yes, noona?” He huffs, straightening his spine and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist.

“Nothing will happen to us after tonight…right?”

He physically melts at your saccharine voice. You’re worried about him, about whether he’ll still want you after this and if he’ll want you forever. “Of course not, noona. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to rest?” He asks if he hadn’t been the one packing the corpse into a bag.

You shake your head with a sniffle. “…I’m fine.” You’re not sure what to say, so you rub the cleaning cloth between your fingers and shy away from his eyes. “J just wanted to hear you say that.”

A smile spreads across his face, slow but bright as if he had just heard the most amazing thing. You can’t smile back and instead focus back on the floors and the last few inches of the railing.

You make sure to wipe the decorations nearby, in case your mother left any fingerprints on the lacquered surfaces. She can be rather careless in dire situations. You’re lifting yourself off the floor when something catches your eye: a large crib with layers and layers of blankets and fuzzy cloud and star plushies.

“What kind of bedtime stories should we tell our kids?”

Namjoon puts his head on your lap, sighing in relief when his neck is elevated at just the right position to depressurize the knot.

“What about myths? About the constellations and such.”

You giggle, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Isn’t that a little too mature for babies?”

When he doesn’t answer, you wave you hand in front of his eyes. He squints, chuckling. So this is what marriage life is going to be like – he can get used to it. “You’re right, that is a bit too much. Then…hm…they’ll learn about the types of clouds in the sky and we can go from there.”

“Joonie, I love you, but don’t come crying when our kids prefer mama’s stories over papa’s boring myths and random science facts.”

“We’ll see when we get to that point. Either way, you’re stuck with me.”

Asshole.

A fucking good-for-nothing lying asshole.

Gifting the same toys he promised to give to your future children to the same bitch who ruined your life, your family, and your sanity; they deserved each other, you think, and they both deserve to disappear as if they had never existed. The unborn baby inside Yori is innocent but a part of you is elated that he’ll never experience the kind of fatherhood he wanted. You silently wished Namjoon would tumble down the very same staircase you cleaned and joined Yori in a happy couple’s embrace to…

“Kookie?” You call out to your boyfriend who had duct taped the body in a semi-mummified state and used a shibari knot with his jute rope for easy carrying. He’d dragged the body next to the railing and leaned it against one of the stair planks in an upright position so that after he inspects the house for any evidence, he can bring the corpse easily over his shoulder.

“Yes, noona?”

“Where are we going to bury her?”

Jungkook wets his lips. He can’t possibly tell you the process of disposing a body or else you’ll surely fall back into panic so he gives you the simplest answer he can. “I’ll have to keep her body in the freezer in my studio. I’ll look for a place to burn it soon.”

You nod, swallowing as your throat tightens uncomfortably once more. The waves of anxiety come and goes. Jungkook knows how you’re feeling all too well and he wishes he could just hold you in your arms until tomorrow comes. Much to his distain, he knows you’re partly living your fantasy of making Yori pay for her involvement with Namjoon. You no longer love the man but anyone in your shoes wouldn’t deny there is a sense of satisfaction in seeking vengeance after a lifetime of humiliation that dampened your reputation in both your personal and professional sphere. Jungkook prays that getting rid of Yori will eliminate your mind of their presence although he highly doubts it; you’re not always rainbows and flowers. It’s only natural for you to be curious about taking another life when anger consumes logic. Most of these thoughts are fleeting ,which is why you had surprised Jungkook by your composure. He expected screaming at the very least but all you could do was cry.

He understands.

After he watched the life drain out of his parents, Taehyung had watched him cry for the longest time and when the next day came, it was like the world had turned its back while he washed the blood off his hands. The anxiety was terrible – at least for the first month or two – and then it was as if nothing had happened.

Like he learned before and like you’re learning now, it didn’t take much to get rid of a person. Over time, it just became muscle memory, kind of like making your morning coffee half-asleep. Now that you’ve gotten your first taste of the power, he wonders how you’ll cope. Will you fall into despair and regret it all in the morning? Will you be hungry for more? How will you return his most tiresome display of affection? These are questions he can’t answer. But what he does know is that you finally understand what love is in his world.

Love isn’t just about a ring on the finger or a baby in the crib. Love has to hurt. It has to infest your dreams and turn them into nightmares, wreak havoc on your heart, rip off the magnet in your moral compass. It’s why the human heart is caged behind ribs – it can hardly be tamed.

…

As the car lurches behind trees and between unpaved roads, Jungkook notifies your mother about what to do next. It would not raise suspicion for her to leave the country for a few weeks, especially since she had been traveling to speak to investors abroad. It would take some of the burden off his shoulders too; your mother is a cunning woman who fears losing money more than losing you so he had no trouble alluding to her demise if she disobeys. While you look away, he quickly sends a notification to Jimin to make sure the older man will take care of the rest. When he receives an immediate response back, his shoulders slump in relief and he pockets the phone back into his jeans.

When he takes your hand in his again, the other gripping the wheel, you give him the smallest of smiles through the silence.

Three is a crowd. The body folded and hidden in the rear space between his photography equipment makes your head turn every now and then to make sure it doesn’t escape somehow. You’re exhausted beyond belief but Jungkook is here, his palm over your hand on the shifting gear once more, to keep you grounded. The night feels like it might go on forever.

The streets pass by in a blur – nightlife still alive and pulsing with neon signs – and there’s a kind of peace enclosed in the car that you can’t find anywhere else. It’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook has always been and will always be there for you. Whether to take you from somewhere or bring you to some place, he’s the only person in your life left that you could depend on. As he expertly drives through tight alleyways where gas station surveillance cameras can’t reach him, you’re dozing off with your head against the window.  

“We’re almost there.” He says while running his thumb over your knuckles. There’s blood on his shirt and your neck but you’re too tired to care.

You awaken with a gasp when Jungkook swings the door open; he had been careful not to wake you but you feel enough residual adrenaline to jolt awake at the smallest of sounds. It takes a moment for you to recognize the inside of his garage, the bright LED lightbulb hanging above causing you to squint as your eyes adjust.

Unaware that you’re awake, Jungkook quickly moves to the rear of the car and swing Yori’s body over his shoulders, tightening the ropes around where her neck and feet are to secure his grip. He carries the wrapped body towards the door next to the shelves and kicks it open to reveal several more stocked shelves before coming to a halt at the buzzing freezer. With a free hand, he lifts the lid open and removes several bags of seafood and miscellaneous food items you can’t quite make out before rolling the body inside the interior. He places the bags on top of the body and latches the freezer shut, securing it with a combination lock from one of his bins.

When he steps back and shut the storage door before turning, he’s surprised to see you standing in the doorway, your hair a mess, his coat hanging loose off one shoulder.  

“Do you remember the night after you took my engagement photos? The ones at that same house?”

His brows scrunch slightly in confusion as he nods. There’s a noticeable flush on your cheeks as you breath in and out from your lips, a puff forming in the chill of the garage. You’re half-asleep, the exhaustion resting well deep in your bones but you can’t bring yourself to find your way towards his bed.

“I left my bedroom door open for you. I-I watched you from the balcony and waited for you to come back.”

Jungkook’s lips part, something foreign stirring in his stomach as the coat weighs down your shoulders and you don’t stop it from sliding down your arms, letting it pool around your feet. You don’t know why you wanted to confess but it felt right. It felt right to confess to something that isn’t about being an accessory in a crime.  

“Why didn’t you say anything, noona?”

You close the distance, putting both of your hands on his chest, over the blood stains on the university sweatshirt. He exhales loudly when you bring him down to your level by a tug of his collar, your lips just a mere centimeter apart.

“Because I wanted you then just as much as I want you now.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between your lips, slamming your body onto the car behind you as he brings one of your legs over his waist to press himself against your heat. Your fingers curl around the nape of his neck and he listens to your squeal as he lifts you fully off the ground and lets you wrap both your legs around him this time. You break the kiss and pepper sweet kisses over the mole on his neck and the smears of dried blood that caked onto his sweatshirt.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, moving your head to the other side of his neck to suckle on his warm skin and feel his pulse through the jugular.

Jungkook quickly throws open the door to the studio and steps into the darkness, his memory allowing him to lead you towards the bathroom without his eyes adjusting. Your eyes burn once more when he reaches behind you to shut the bathroom door close and turn on the yellowed lights with the back of his elbow. When your face comes into view, he sits you on the counter next to the sink and pushes his tongue back in your mouth, your name leaving his lips with a whimper.

He’s terribly hard against your thighs, his length straining through his jeans. You tug him forward by the belt as you break the kiss once more and let him rip open your blood and bleach-stained blouse.

“God, you’re so beautiful, noona. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

He moans as you press the heel of your feet up his erection, his voice muffled by skin filling his mouth as he takes the top your left breast spilling from the brassiere on his tongue. You arch to chase the heat of his tongue, back of your head leaning on the mirror behind.

“My good boy…such a good boy…”

The effect your praise has on him is immediate. Jungkook reaches behind his neck and pulls the sweatshirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. You watch him unbuckle and tug his belt free from the hoops before unclasping the front of his jeans. Impatient, he circles his arms around you to undo the brassiere, leaning down to kiss the indents on your skin as you slip your blouse off your shoulders and pull the straps down your arms. The coolness of the counter causes a hiss to leave your lips and Jungkook drinks in your state of orgasmic delirium like an aphrodisiac.

It’s a blessing for you to have worn a less difficult pair of pants to shimmy out of. With a short tug, Jungkook slides the waistband of your wool slacks and cotton panties down your ankles. When he pauses, chest rising and falling steadily, you follow his gaze to see a streak of blood in the middle of the light pink fabric.

In the time between your mother’s call and your boyfriend dumping your former best friend’s body in a freezer, your period makes an early appearance. The streak of blood is bright and vibrant, unlike Yori’s blood that oxidized into a deep maroon shade on his tanned skin. Jungkook tugs your pants down your ankles but takes your panties into one hand, his doe eyes coming to rest on the blood before something snaps within him.

He throws the fabric on the floor and hooks his arms beneath your shin, prompting you to gasp as he spreads your thighs apart. He stares down at your dark pubic hair before tracing two fingers up your slit and into the curls. His fingers reappear with your blood, seeping underneath his short nails and the crevices of his nailbed.

“Can I taste you, noona?” He breathes, chest rising and falling even faster. His cheeks are flaming red, the flush reaching his earlobes as his lips part for more air. He feels like he can’t breathe, seeing how beautiful, fertile, and red you are for him.

You’re hesitant, the blood reminding you of what you just done – what he just done – yet the burning in your belly proves that you want this just as much as he does. You barely had the chance to nod before Jungkook pushes his face into your pussy, his tongue lapping the blood on your vulva and clit as his nose buries in your trimmed curls. You taste metallic, as if he’s sucking on a penny, but it’s light and the syrupy texture allows him to take all of your juices in his mouth. When his tongue draws circles around your clit and he presses his lips around the nub like a suction, your fingers immediately grasp his hair from the roots, begging his tongue to fuck your weeping pussy.

Jungkook laps your folds like a starving puppy until you’re arching for him once more, thighs trapping his head where it belongs as your cum gushes out of you with traces with red. Between your blood and your juices, he can’t decide which one tastes better. The metallic tang disappears, leaving a fragrant aftertaste that he can only indulge when he inhales through his nose after swallowing what remains on his teeth. When your knees twitch, Jungkook pulls back to come up for air, watching your expression as your eyes fall to his wet crimson lips, the mess reaching his chin and jaw.

It takes a minute for you to gather yourself together and in your exhaustion a slow but soft smile reaches your lips.

“Does it taste good, baby?”

“Heavenly,” he whispers as he traps your body between his arms and gives you a taste, twisting his tongue deep inside your warm mouth. Your hands stroke the contours of his biceps and triceps, core aching as he groans when you lick your remainings from his chin.

You can tell he’s tired, having to do most of the manual labor. He winces as you knead his shoulders and it makes your chest ache. Even when he’s hurting, he takes care of you first. Your precious boy.

“Turn on the shower for me.”

Jungkook is aching to be inside you but he obeys, turning away to step inside the shower and twist the silver handle lodged into the tile. You stand behind him, moving away just slightly when the water – steadily turning hot – sprays over his hair and onto your breasts. Just as he’s about to turn around you circle your arms around his waist and reach into his jeans, palming his throbbing cock before pulling his jeans and briefs down his ankles. He steps out of the tight fabric, watching the remnants of Yori’s blood spiral down the drain as you kick the fabric in front of his toes.

The shower hose is harsh on his head but he can’t seem to pull away, one arm holding onto the wall for purchase, when you cushion your knees with his wet, blood-stained jeans. He can’t get any harder watching water drip from the ends of his hair down to your erect nipples, sliding down between the valley of your breasts and onto your soft stomach.

You’re delighted to see his cock twitch, taking your bottom lip under your teeth as you look up at him.

“You want mommy to take care of you, Kookie?”

He nods, exhaling as his abdomen clenches.

“You want to cum all over mommy’s tits, yeah? Make me proud?”

“Unng…” He moans in response, hips bucking forward to slide his leaking tip across your lips. He whimpers when you pull away, your smile twisting when his stomach clenches again.

You massage his firm thighs, gliding over every ripple of his muscles and over to the patch of pubic hair above his cock. When you pass your hands over his belly button, you stretch a palm up towards his face.

“Spit.”

The mole beneath his lips appear as he gathers as much saliva as he can produce on his tongue and spits into your palm. There are some traces of blood in your palm but you pay no attention to it as you place your saliva-coated palm over his cock and make a fist around the length.

“Mo-mmy,” he throws his head back, the shower head coming down his flushed pecs. Your fist begins to move slow but tight around his hardness. “It feels so good. Fuck…unng, mommy…please…”

Jungkook can cum just from your warm breath hitting his leaking tip but he doesn’t. When you lean forward and take his entire length in your mouth, tongue stretched as far as you can as you press your nose against his pubes, his jaw drops. You’re warm, wet, and fuck, so tight.

His other hand combs through your hair, reaching underneath the nape to pull your head back until your half-lidded eyes can watch his skin glisten.

With your hands back on his thighs, Jungkook expects you to move. What he doesn’t expect was you to tighten your throat before swallowing with his entire length in your mouth.

“Fuck!”

You gag around him but repeats, breathing through your nose before letting your whimpers and cries vibrate his cock. He’s about to lose it, his tightening grip causing your scalp to burn.

“You’re so pretty, mommy,” he pulls his length back just slightly to let you suction him back inside. When his entire length is warm and pulsing in the back of your throat, you swallow once more and begin moving up and down, your eyes closing as Jungkook backs your head to the tile and fucks your mouth at a steady pace.

“Wanna cum in your throat, all over you, inside you. God, you’re so perfect.” He chants, abdomen clenching when your throat tightens just right over his pink tip.

You hum, hands trailing behind his thighs and up to his firm cheeks to push him forward. His grip tightens once more when he whimpers your name, over and over again, his cock driving into your mouth with a vigor that’s bound to leave your throat sore in the morning.

The first spurt of his warm cum hits your uvula and you cough just as he slides out of your mouth and pumps himself into his fist. Watching his creamy cum dripping down the corner of his mouth intensifies his high, prompting him to burst onto your shoulder blades and over your wet breasts. He doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath before he pushes you down onto the tile, moving away the wet jeans to a corner before finding safety between your legs. His arms, on either side of your head, allows him to prop himself up to lead his tip towards your entrance.

He’d forgotten all about cleaning the blood on your neck when you’re spread for him, your hands cupping his face in admiration. Your eyes and nose are still puffy and red, but he knows the blush on your cheeks come from your need to have him deep inside until you can feel him against your cervix.

“I love you, noona. So, so much.”

You hiss slightly when he pushes inside, your snug velvet walls engulfing his cock and keeping him where he belongs. His body bows in servitude to the goddess that is you.

“I love you too,” you huff, brushing your fingers over his sculped cheekbones and mandible. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You let him take you there despite how painful it was to bear him pounding into your walls with the intent to ruin. You’re not sure how long you lay on the tile, how many times he came inside, how sore and painful your insides will be when he’s done. It was never-ending – how Jungkook muffles your wails and whines, how he pumps his cocks while pressing your shoulders down to bury himself deep, how exhausted you are by the time he’s pushing his cum back into your swollen hole. The last orgasm triggers tears to seep from the corner of his eyes which Jungkook kisses away as he reaches up to the shower cloth and waits for you to fall limp before running the soapy cloth along your body.

You’re freezing cold despite the hot water still coming down onto your boyfriend’s body and, from there, onto you. He’s quick to clean you up and wrap you in the same towel he had laid over you the first time you used his studio shower. You can barely move as he carries you to the bed and lays your damp body on the fresh linen. You can hear the sound of him ripping open a thin menstrual pad and placing it in a pair of fresh panties he fished from the shared armoire closet. He slips the panties up your legs, lifting your hips to pull the fabric over your buttocks, flashing his usual charming grin when you murmur a thank you.

He pulls the towel from your body and squeeze out as much water as he can from your long tresses, careful not to tug. It wasn’t ideal to him that you’ll be sleeping with wet hair but you’re beyond exhausted and, to be frank, he is as well. At least he’s heading to bed satiated.

Jungkook slides under the blankets and brings your body closer by your waist. He groans into your neck, his body immediately softening as the warmth of your skin and the blanket brings him the peace and comfort he craved.

“Kookie?”

“Hm?”

It takes a heartbeat for him to sense your sudden anxiety. “…I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” He manages to ask although sleep is weighing heavy on his eyelids.

“I don’t know.” You murmur.

Jungkook is too tired to remember if you said anything afterwards for he falls deep into slumber. As for you, your head won’t let you sleep despite your body pleading for rest. Every part of you can feel Yori’s heavy body in the freezer just several feet away. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel about tonight or if tonight should have happened in the first place but in Jungkook’s arms, you can’t find the smallest ounce of pity for the woman.

You close your eyes, snuggle closer into his firm chest, and try your best to pretend nothing will change. You try to forget the flash drive sitting in your bag, the possible evidence your mother may have left behind in the villa, the corpse in the garage. Most of all, you try to forget how Jungkook looked at the bottom of the staircase, slipping the corpse inside the black plastic trash bag with such ease that makes you wonder if he had done this before. He surely must have, that voice inside of your head says but you wave it away.

I don’t know.

You lied to him. For the first time in your relationship, you lied without guilt. You do know why you’re scared and it’s not because after tonight every knock on the door will cause your heart to pound.

No. It’s because you know your boyfriend – your sweet, loving boyfriend who cries watching romantic comedies on Sundays – is truly capable of murder.

#bunny:fic #yandere bts #yandere fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan angst #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #only you #chapter 9 #I did not follow the outline I made for this chapter LOL this was an unpredictable chapter even to me

[zv5x]

HHH i’m imagining spirit angst like “i love you so” “please let me go” cause s/o didn’t expect him to stay that long and spirit is WAYYY too attached.

Spirit angst!!! I went slightly yan with this, hope u don't mind anon! Remember to take care of yourself today and remember my inbox is always open!

(I feel like this came out so bad and I'm so sorry ughh)

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

"(Y-Y/N)..."

His voice pearced your ears, but still you didn't budge. In fact, you weren't even facing him. You couldn't. Not after how he's been acting towards you, towards everyone.

"It's okay to love me...." His voice quivered, bordering on weak whimpers fuled by quickly forming tears. Spirit tried reaching out to you, but you didn't do a single thing other than immediately tense your body. It hurt. It truly did. Seeing you in any way scared of him tore his heart to pieces. "Please love me."

You shook your head. You loved him, but not in the way that he wanted you to love him. He wanted you to belong to him, he wanted to belong to you. All you wanted to do was free a trapped soul and call it a day. You just wanted to help him, you didn't want the lifelong commitment that he was expecting to come with it.

"No, Spirit. You need to let me go."

You said flatly, taking a deep breath in as you heard him choke back a sob. You didn't want to be this direct and cold with him, but it seemed that with everything else he heard from you, he found some way to twist it to where it fit his own views about the situation. You couldn't handle it, not now and not ever.

"But why?!" He stomped in annoyance, grabbing your hand and looking into your eyes as you snapped your head in his direction. "We were supposed to be together forever! You promised you'd help me, (Y/N), and you're all the help I could ever need..." You looked at him with slight distain, and he sniffled pathetically. It's strange, a demon would be the last entity you'd expect to show this level of emotion, and yet here you are watching this trainwreck.

"I did my part. You're free. And now I'm telling you you're free to go. I've given you all I said I'd give you, you need to let us move on." You parted your lips. "Please, Spirit."

For a second, there was silence. You stared at the silent demon for a minute before looking back to the side. Maybe he finally got it. Maybe he'd finally leave you alone.

"But we-"

You stopped him immediately.

"There is no 'we', Spirit. There's me and you, but there isn't a we. There's nothing left for you here. I can't love you as much as you love me."

Spirit let go of your hand, letting it stop to the bedsheet you sat on before watching you place it nonchalantly in your lap. Slowly, he moved his arms up to his face to dry his tears. You wondered what was taking him so long to leave, you told him he was completely free from not only the Hating Simulator but also your house.

"(Y/N)...?"

Spirit asked your name, drawing out the last syllable ever so slightly. You did nothing but hum in response.

"Why are you humans so selfish?" He asked, a slight amount of disgustingly innocent undertones in his voice. You sat stunned for a minute, before laughing slightly. What else could you do? That was by far the stupidest thing he's ever said, on top of it being offensively untrue.

"Oh so humans are the selfish ones, now?" You got up from your seat, almost matching Spirit in height at this point. "Says the guy who won't leave my fucking house!" You almost yelled, silently agreeing with yourself that this was the moment you lose your cool. You were getting sick and tired of Spirit's drawn out mind games, and you'll be damned if you'll let his own delusions excuse insulting an entire species.

"This is what I'm talking about, (Y/N). Humans are selfish. You're not worried about our love, or what we've been through. You're just worried about your house." Spirit criticized, staying shockingly calm. Not nearly as calm as you however.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Spirit? I don't love you! I never asked you to grow this creepy obsession with me, you did that all on your own, man!"

Spirit sighed, before clicking his tongue in the roof of his mouth. "Why did you change, (Y/N)? You said you'd be there for me....is there someone in our wa-"

Refusing to let Spirit ramble on about this deluded bullshit for any longer, you raised your palm up and roughly struck it across his cheek as hard as you possibly could. He stumbled back slightly, holding his cheek and looking at you with a shocked but slightly angered expression.

Taking a deep breath, Spirit took a minute to regain his composure. When he did, he locked eyes with you, who was now realizing exactly what you've just done. Bitch slapping him, while most definitely satisfying, would only really work well if you were planning on sprinting to a church right afterwards. Since you decided to stand there, you were forced to watch helplessly as you tried to figure out what insane response Spirit would have to the assault upon his form.

"I'm sorry for whatever I let slip by me that turned you against me, (Y/N). I truly am. But I will not and cannot sit here and allow myself to be treated as less than I am."

"Then fucking leave, Spirit."

Spirit let out a soft laugh of pity, shaking his head once more.

"No, that would involve leaving you. Leaving us. And we've both already established that's not on the table. Now, about that little stunt..."

You looked down, and widened your eyes as you saw Spirit physically prepare for something. You didn't know what, but the possibilities terrified you.

He smiled at you lovingly, and with great empathy.

"This'll hurt me far more than it hurts you, darling. Please, hold still for me."

In a split second, you felt your entire body go numb, to the point where not a single muscle could be moved. However, your brain could still function perfectly, and panic ensued.

Spirit giggled sadistically as he watched the panic show up in your pretty bright eyes. What he was about to do was only fair for everything you've done to him within the past few minutes, so he couldn't feel too guilty. You had to learn a lesson. He had to help you unlearn that normalized human selfishness and greed.

Caressing your face, he spoke for the last time before he began:

"Remember to tell me you love me after I'm done, okay?~"

#yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere fnf #yandere friday night funkin #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere spirit #friday night funkin spirit #spirit friday night funkin #spirit x reader #fnf spirit #spirit fnf #fnf oneshot #fnf imagines #fnf x reader #fnf #friday night funkin x reader #friday night funkin imagines #friday night funkin

[jortsaaaaaaart]

Three Hearts- Tendou x Reader x Ushijima

Soulmate AU- updates will be posted to https://archiveofourown.org/works/32830702/chapters/81464533

You remembered Sendai as being cold, so, so cold. The summers were short but they were also filled with many days spent exploring. You were part of a binational family. Your mother was from the United States, your father from Japan. Most of your early childhood was spent bouncing between the two countries before, finally, it was decided that the schools in Japan were much (much) better. It wasn’t too much of a culture shock. But the freedom Sendai offered was intoxicating. In Japanese culture it was perfectly acceptable to send your child out on errands, or let them visit the local park, on their own.

It was on one of these after school excursions that you ran into your future best friend. 

A humid June evening had you trailing along the bank of the local river. Cicadas and the current drowned out almost all other noise. You were debating turning back or taking a wade in the water when you saw a shock of red. There was another kid sitting by the river. One with a pretty vibrant bowl cut. However, when you got closer you realised his hair wasn't the only thing that was red.

"Uh, hey." You murmured, feeling more than a little awkward. "Are you okay?" He almost jumped out of his skin. Wide red eyes snapped towards you before hiding away.

The redhead hastily wiped at his eyes. "Y-Yeah."

"That didn't sound all that convincing." With a sigh you plopped down next to him, watching as he curled in on himself. You'd never been one to mind your own business, not even as a child. Seeing someone crying by themselves was an instant invitation for you to barge in and try to help.

"I'm fine."

"You're crying."

"No I'm not!"

"Hmm. . ." You leaned back, looking over the river. "So what's your name then? If you don't tell me I'll just have to call you cry baby."

“. . . It’s Tendou Satori.” He muttered. Tendou was eyeing you warily, like a stray dog afraid to take a treat from a stranger.

"I'm (L/N) (F/N). If you want me to leave I can, but you just looked so sad sitting here alone." You gave him the warmest smile you could before returning your attention to the water. Satori's red eyes stayed locked on you but he didn't ask you to leave. A few moments passed in silent solidarity before he spoke up.

"I'm usually alone."

"I know how you feel." You sighed.

"You do?"

"Well, yeah. I moved around so much before grade school that I don't know anyone here." You paused. "But, hey, now I know you, right?" Your smile made Tendou forget all about the tears. His cheeks flushed pink under the setting sun.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Asked Satori, who desperately wanted to believe you were being genuine. But years of abuse had a hold on his heart.

You blinked. "Why wouldn't I be nice?"

". . . 'Cause I. . . Everyone says I'm a-"

"Ah! Look guys, it's the monster!" A group of children walked up behind the two of you. They were pointing at Satori with mocking grins. "You shouldn't get so close to him, he'll gobble you up!"

"Monster?" You glanced over at him but he was purposefully avoiding your eyes. If possible he would've liked to completely melt into the grass. Away from everything and everybody. But you weren't sinking into the ground, you were rising up. The bullies took a step back as you stomped up the embankment. "What gives you the right to call him that, huh?"

"W-What?" The ringleader stammered. "You've seen him, he's a freak! He shouldn't be allowed near us normal huma-"

He fell to the ground, clutching his cheek. Everyone's eyes were wide and glued to you. 

"Y- You just punched me!?"

"And I'll do it again!" You stared down the boy while his friends helped him to his feet. Before you could say anything else, or fight a 1 v 4, someone grabbed your hand. Tendou dragged you away while you stuck your tongue out at the still stunned bullies. 

Neither of you would ever forget that day. It was the start of a lifelong friendship, and eventually, something more.

On your first year of middle school you officially learned what soulmates were. It was assumed most parents would give you the talk before then, but the school board wanted youths to be prepared. 

"They taught us about soulmates today in class." You were both lounging around in his room reading the newest Shonen Jump. You sat next to him on the bed, trying to keep up with his reading speed.

"Yeah?" You hummed.

"When you turn 18 your soulmate's name appears on your wrist. . . But, if you're older than them you have to wait for their birthday so the marks can appear at the same time. . . And then some people don't even get a soulmate." He wasn't paying attention to the manga anymore. His eyes were fixed to the floor while his brain waged war against itself. Tendou had been sure you were his soulmate since that first night. The butterflies in his stomach still hadn't gone away and every time he looked at you he felt like a pile of mush. 

But, still, the 'I think you're my soulmate.' died on his tongue replaced with something much more depreciating. "I'm probably one of those people. Monsters don't get soulmates after all." His grin was shaky at best and you saw right through it.

"Don't call yourself that." You chided. "And of course you have a soulmate, Tori. Someone out there doesn't know how lucky they are. Soulmates with the best volleyball ball player ever. And the greatest friend ever, too." 

You flopped down, holding your wrist in front of you. "I don't know if I'm excited or nervous."

"Well, it's a good thing, isn't it? Having a soulmate? You'll have someone who belongs with you and will love you no matter what." You pouted at him and he smiled, continuing with his speech. "I can't wait till we turn eighteen. And I know you can't wait either. Even if you're being a baby now."

Tendou had your eighteenth birthday planned out for years. Step one, he'd take you to the river where you met. Step two, shower you with presents and affection. And step three, wait for your soulmate's name, his name, to appear. Step four (profit), live happily ever after. However, like many things in life, it didn't go quite as planned.

On March 21st, right after the end of your final year of junior high, your mother died. It wasn't a shock, she had been sick for months, but the pain was still unbearable. Your mother's side of the family wanted to bury her in the family plot. An old tradition from an old, rural, part of America. Your father gladly handed the responsibility off to them. 

Tendou remembered begging his parents to let him see you off at the airport. He remembered how red and puffy your eyes were, the sad smile on your face when you promised him you'd be back soon. 

But you weren't. 

Your father was in no shape to take care of you. Burying himself in his work to try and forget his loss. February came around and you had your 16th birthday in America. The first year of highschool had started without you. Tendou sent you pictures from Shiratorizawa every day, making you promise to try and get back as soon as possible.

Another February came and went. Your father was getting better and you were slowly but surely convincing him Japan was the right place for you to be. Tendou texted you every day, talking to you about his volleyball matches, his friend Ushijima, how much he missed you. 

It was your third year of highschool and finally, finally, you were heading home. You told Tendou the news as soon as you knew. He seemed even more excited than you. You knew why, even if you didn't say it. Tendou had always been the one you thought of when you imagined your soulmate. But. . . There was something else you couldn't quite put your finger on. The whole thing made you nervous, so you kept your feelings to yourself. 

Tendou stayed up all night on your birthday, hoping, praying. His eyes never left his wrist for a second and finally at 2:45 a.m. , something happened. Your name, in your sloppy, too quick, handwriting, appeared. The relief of ten years of wondering washed over him. He laughed, breathless and giddy. He immediately messaged you, sending you a picture of his wrist before a barrage of messages, most of them legible.

A minute passed by, then ten, then twenty. . .

You had to see it too, right? So why hadn't you said anything? You hadn't called, texted, or, hell, even emailed him. Tendou started to feel his heart sink with each passing moment. 

What if you were disappointed?

Tendou's breath caught in his throat and he could feel his face burn. His phone clattered to the ground as he sank down into his bed. He tried to calm himself down, he didn't know what time it was where you were. Maybe you were out celebrating your birthday or sleeping? He just needed to sleep it off and give you time to respond.

Chest tight, Tendou waited. He waited till hours turned to days and suddenly it was March and his heart was broken. He wasn't sure what was going on at this point. You two had almost never gone a day without talking. But you hadn't read any of his texts or snaps. Eventually he stopped messaging you all together.

But he hadn't given up. He knew you were flying back to Japan soon and he was determined to ask you what the hell was going on.

By mid March you had moved back into your old home. Your father had graciously gotten a moving company for you and your meager belongings. Somehow he failed to show up himself though. You didn't blame him though, he was busy and you haven't been the best company recently. Before leaving America your grandma had begun calling you the walking dead. You were barely sleeping, your eyes were puffy with designer bags hanging heavily underneath. She understood why you were feeling so down and she was empathetic, but the rest of your small town wasn't.

You thought about the timing of it all as you began to unpack. The first box, full of books and notes, was barely empty before the doorbell rang.

Tendou was standing on your doorstep. Your soulmate was standing before you, and your first thought was to shrink back and pretend you weren't home.

He rang the bell again. "(Y/N)! I know you're home! I just. . . I just want to talk okay? . . . Please?"

Tendou stepped back as the door swung open. You were holding your wrist close to your chest, looking anywhere but at him. He could see how red your eyes were, though, and thought they matched his completely.

"Why?" He muttered. One pitiful idiot to another. "Was it so fucking awful? Having my name on your wrist?"

"It wasn't. . ." You started. "Tendou, it wasn't just your name." 

#soulmate #soulmates #ushijima x reader #ushijima fluff #ushijima x you #ushijima wakatoshi #tendou fic #tendou x reader #tendou satori #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #haikyū!! #haikyuu!! #haikyuu

[honeycombstrawberry]

Hi it might triggering u, so I'm sorry to ask this. U can ignore it if u think I'm being much. Ummm I remember in one post u mentioned that u struggle with ED? I hope u get better now and able to beat it.

So I think I think my sister also struggles with ED, idk is it true or not and I'm too scared to ask her. But I see her always checking the back of food containers? Idk what she looks on there, but I feel like she's checking the calories. I ask her if she is in diet? But she just mad. And now she never let me go shopping with her again. I think i did the wrong thing by asked her that question.

I just want to know ur opinion about what should i do to help her without her know it? Like what subtle things i could do to make her feel better? Well I'm not sure if she's really struggling with ED. But better to be prepare right?

I am also trying to learn about it from google and youtube, but I think it's better to know and learn it from real people that been in that situation and have experience on it.

I really didn't mean anything bad and I'm really sorry if I hurt you. It's my first time dealing with something like this and I just i just scared and don't know what to do and have no one to talk to. Obviously not my parents, they just gonna make it worse. And when i ask my friends they just ignore it. Said I'm just being dramatic over small things. And maybe I'm? Idk

I'm sorry for troubling you with this shit. Really, you could just delete this or ignore it. I'm sorry to send u this. I'm really sorry

don't be sorry! i know you must be scared so i get wanting to reach out. this may be a problem and it may not be but it's good that they have somebody there for them if it is. if it wasn't for one of my friends actually telling me she was scared for me and sending me information on how to get help i never would have even realized i had an eating disorder in the first place, let alone gotten treatment for it. as it was i ended up in treatment and i recently relapsed so it is really a lifelong struggle in many ways.

also in that i did recently relapse i want to say i don't think i'm a very good resource on what to do. however i do want to give you resources and say one thing: as long as you care and offer support in any ways you can, sometimes that is all you can do. my friend (and eventually more of my loved ones, when i was able to recognize and process and open up and welcome them into this) was there for me when i needed them and i couldn't have gotten better without them. without them i probably wouldn't be here actually. so caring and trying to offer support is sometimes all you can do, but it's still vital to be done.

i really am not a counselor or anything but i can offer some resources for you. i'm sorry i'm not more help here, i don't want to make anything worse by saying/doing the wrong thing. i know you mentioned your parents may not be helpful resources but if you do have a trusted adult in your life i suggest you try and express to them that you need assistance as well.

here's some links that i hope will help a little bit:

National Eating Disorders Association (NEDA) website - this is the best resource i've got, it is a real catch-all for other resources. also had a screening tool my friend made me use that was the first thing that made me realize i was actually very sick.

Eating Recovery Center (ERC) website - similarly a resource for other resources, the specific site i linked here will bring you to a list of specific resources for different diagnoses/specific EDs

The Renfrew Center for Eating Disorders website - when i was placed in a treatment program i ended up with renfrew bc of my insurance at the time, and they did end up being really helpful for me (including providing the best therapist i've still ever had to date) and really not letting me slide on my bullshit. obvs this is for later in a process if there is one but good to have

i'm so so sorry i can't help more but i hope this is at least a good starting point and will help give you hope and a place to start and also reassure you that things will be okay.

#anonymous #answered #eating disorders #eating disorders tw #eating disorder #eating disorder tw #disordered eating #disordered eating tw #disordered eating cw #long post #not writing #trigger warning

[anime-life0]

@hajimekotaro05 you've got mail!! It took a long time but the boys from free! finally finished writing you their letters! They wanted to make sure that it got to you before your school started and they didn't rest til they were sure that it would! So, here they are! Hope I didn't disappoint. Enjoy! <3

PS while I was editing it, something went wrong with Tumblr and it kinda jumbled some of the words/paragraphs so sorry in advance if ever done of the stuff are confusing! 🙏

Hello my dearest ^^

How are you doing today? Eating well? Studying and giving your best still? I hope you are. I wouldn't want you to get sick or anything. You should promise me that you take care of yourself. Can you promise me that? Whenever I'm not there with you, whenever we aren't together, please take care of yourself. I know you can because I believe in you. I really love you and I know that you can do anything you put your mind into!

It's been a while since you've talked about it but I know that you're still struggling with a lot of problems that you can't seem to solve. I know the feeling, it's okay. I may not know exactly how you feel but, whatever you're feeling whether it's happiness, sadness, anger, confusion, or anything at all, you know that I'll always be here to let you know that you aren't alone. That's a promise!

Did you know that you remind me of a little kitten? Yeah. You're just like a little kitten. A kitten who's afraid of this world that you don't know if it'll accept you or not. I know you're vulnerable most times and I want to help you. Just like a kitten, I want to always snuggle and cuddle with you and just overall protect you. You're really cute and cuddly too so that's a plus for me.

I wish you could have more confidence in yourself though. If you could see what I can in you then you'd be surprised and amazed even! I really think you're amazing. So, trust me and be yourself so everyone can see how wonderful you are! You do trust me don't you?

It's okay to feel down sometimes and confused even but, you know that I'll always make sure that at the end of the day, you're happy and secure. I love you so much and I can't say that enough.. you're beautiful. Please don't forget that. And, never feel that you're a burden because, baby, you're my number one priority. You're more important to me than anything and anyone else. Now smile and be happy alright? I'm here for you. ( ◜‿◝ )♡

- Makoto

_____

Hey, what's up my lovely~!

How's it going? What're you up to these days? Say, I know I haven't exactly been the best boyfriend ever but, I'm still trying! Gotta stay positive for my one and only after all.

Hey boo? I just want you to know that no matter what anyone says about you or what you think about yourself, you're always gonna be number one in my book. You're always number one in my heart boo! My baby boo is awesome and really, I do believe that I'm the luckiest man in the world! Don't you think so too? I mean, what were the odds that the two of us would meet and that you would actually take a second of your time to actually get to know me? And the greatest miracle of all is that you actually liked me! I know I'm a bit lively sometimes and I might even come off as annoying but, who knew that you'd like me! It makes me so happy y'know. You make me so happy and I want to make you feel all the happiness that you give me too. It's only fair~

There are times that I know you feel like giving up and I know that it's hard. Some things get me down too and at times I just wanna run away from it all but, we can't even if we wanted to. We gotta work for our own selves. We gotta keep moving cuz if we stop, we'll have nothing left. Won't you keep moving for me?

The hard times won't just magically fade away in an instant no matter how much we want it to but even so, I'm here to be with you through all those times. If you're scared, I can be brave for you! If you're sad, I can infect you with joy! And if you're insecure and unsure of yourself, I'll be there to tell you how much you make my world shine. You always seem to make me smile so I want to make sure that you know that you're special and all. Believe me, you really are. I'd never say something I don't mean so, just trust me when I say that you're super special and that you have an awesome personality! You're also extremely pretty, did you know? Yeah, I think about it all the time, how pretty you are. You're smile, your laugh, the way you sneeze. It's funny and cute at the same time! You're pretty and amazing inside and out. If someone says otherwise then screw them, they don't know what they're talking about, hmp. It's too bad that they won't see how wonderful you are.

I love you, my precious baby boo. You're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me, I mean it and it's no exaggeration.

Oh, and along with this letter you will find lots of love and hugs and kisses too so that you will feel my love as you read this<3 I love you, my adorable baby!

- Natsuya

_____

Well if it isn't the most wonderful person in the world... How is my one and only lover doing this fine day?

Do you have anything special planned for today?? Anything I should know about? Y'know, as your boyfriend? Haha! Alright, alright, enough with the teasing~ how are you? I'd love to hear about your day and everything! Lay it all on me! Tell me everything that's on your mind! I don't care if it's something you're insecure about, cuz I know that you struggle with that a lot, or something good that happened, I'll listen to it all!

Speaking of insecurities though, has it gotten better or worse? Your insecurities, I mean. It sucks to have those problems y'know, that's why I'm on a lifelong mission! A mission to eradicate all insecurities and self doubt that my lovely darling has! Whether they're doubts about your appearance, abilities, skills, personality, or whatever! I'll make sure that you won't ever have to worry about it again! Y'know why? It's cuz you deserve a break. Yeah. You deserve a break from all these thoughts that cloud your mind and put you down. Let me handle it, cuz you deserve to rest. I'll handle it from now on okay? I'll make sure that you won't ever have to worry about anything again! That's what I'm here for! And I'll always be here as long as I live! Will that make you less anxious, my one and only? I hope I can make you feel at least a little better.

I know there are things that even a positive attitude won't change but there's no way I'm giving up. And you shouldn't too. You need to get up and start believing in yourself! You've got all that it takes to survive in this world so all you really have to do is overcome that fear of yours and take a leap of faith~! Take a leap of faith with me! Let's be brave together and fight side by side everything that comes our way! To be honest, that sounds pretty amazing. Facing this world alongside you would be absolutely awesome! Don't you think?

Hey, I'm always gonna be here okay? Trust me! Since when have I failed you? Never, right? So what makes you think that I'd fail you now? Promise me that you'll try your very hardest and always, always keep that pretty little head in an optimistic mindset, alright? That's what I do to keep going even though things don't go my way~ life's not gonna wait for you, neither is it gonna change the way you want it to when you want it to. So don't just wait for an opportunity or when you're ready. You gotta make your own opportunities and go at every turning moment you can! Gotta live life to the fullest, am I right?

I got your back so don't look back. I'll always be here so just focus on what's ahead! We can get through this together! And never mind all the haters and vibe killers, okay? Let them be. It's not like they have a cool boyfriend like me on their side anyway, so what are you worrying for? Nothing! So make sure you never give up and do your best all the time! I love you!!

- Asahi

_____

This letter is brought to you by the most loving and caring boyfriend in the whole entire universe.

Haha, hey my cutie! I miss you! I just wanna run to wherever you are right now and tackle you into a bear hug! I don't think I can help myself y'know? But anyways, how's it going~? Anything good happened lately? My siblings are nagging me to get you to come over and visit y'know. Would it be too much to ask if you could come over for us? Pretty please? Puppy dog eyes and pouty lips please??

Just kidding, I'd never force you to do something that you don't want to or can't do. And besides, I don't want my siblings to be all over you again. I love them but, boundaries are boundaries. You're mine and I don't wanna share! It's all because you're too cute darn it! I mean, I'm not complaining but, since you're too cute for this world then I always have to keep an eye out for anyone making you feel uncomfortable or frankly, being weirdo jerks to you who just to try to make you insecure about yourself and stuff.

Yeah, I know. People make you insecure about yourself right? You do know that they're only doing that cuz they see how cute and perfect you are that they're afraid that if you were too confident, you'd outshine them right? It's kinda obvious and sometimes I pity them for being so horrible. But then I remember that they were mean to you so I loathe them all anyway. I mean, how could they just mess with my cutesie! They're not allowed to!

Things like that happen though. I know they're unavoidable sometimes but darn. I just can't sit still when I know that you're feeling insecure about yourself. I just wanna comfort you and make sure that you're okay. I just get this urge to hold you, y'know?

I want you to feel safe. I want you to know that I'll always be there for you no matter what. And I want to make everything better. I don't wanna sound like a brat but I really want them all. I want you. I need you. And that isn't gonna change.

I love you and I want you to always be happy. I want you to enjoy being you and feeling comfortable in your own skin. Because you're amazing. You really are! Believe me, I know a cutie when I see one! But that's besides the point! I love you so much and I'll always be here to tell you that and make you feel all the love that I feel towards you. Count on it! And don't you worry your pretty little head cuz I've got you covered! I'm your personal motivation/optimism/happiness boy! I'll never get tired and I'll never ever stop giving you all the happiness and love that you need. I love you, forever and ever and ever!

- Seijuro

_____

Hello my sweet princess,

It's Kisumi here, how are you? I was wondering if you were doing good and I don't know to be honest why I suddenly decided to write you this letter. I mean, I'd love to write to you all the time but don't feel pressured to write back okay? You need to rest every once in a while you know?

Anyway, I hope that you're taking care of yourself. I really miss you and I wish that we can be together right now. Do you miss me too? I hope you aren't losing feelings for me while we're not together haha. You'd tell me if you didn't love me anymore right?

That's besides the point though, I wasn't writing this letter because I was having doubts about our relationship, I'm writing to ask if you were doing fine. I don't want to seem nosy and all but what have you been up to lately? Tell me everything that's on your mind, I wanna just listen to you ramble on and on about anything. It's relaxing and you're super adorable when you do.

Oh, by the way, have your insecurities been a problem lately? I know that you still struggle with them despite the many times I tell you that they're just thoughts. That's why I was asking to check up on you. Y'know? To make sure that you're okay and everything.

You've struggled and fought every single time the anxiety and insecurities hit you. Let me just say that I'm proud of you. Yup! I'm proud of you, my pretty princess! You are an absolute queen for handling all those problems like a total boss! But, as much as you're used to handling everything on your own, I don't want you to. I'm here for you still okay? Always by your side is what I always say right? I still mean that and it isn't gonna change.

I'll hold you forever in my arms if that's what it would take for you to smile. I'd even cuddle with you and get all your favorite comfort foods too. Wouldn't that make you happy? I'd give anything to see your smile, really.

You do your best and keep on going despite all the negatives that come your way. You may or may not want to but regardless, you still do. And I want to say that you're amazing. I really think that you're super cool considering you've come this far. You can go even farther right? I believe in you.

I love you so much, and I want you to see how precious and wonderful you are. You're extraordinary and I think you should be proud of that. Let's meet soon okay? I'll take you out on an expense free date so you can unwind and relax. Just the two of us. Doesn't that sound fun?

- Kisumi

_____

Hello darling,

Heard you've been having a rough time lately, is everything alright? Are you okay? Do you need anything? Can I do anything to help? I really worry about you a lot y'know. I always wonder if you're having a hard time or struggling with problems that you try to conceal. I wish you'd open up more and have more confidence in yourself. There's no reason why you shouldn't be. You're stunning and every little thing about you makes my heart race.

I love you. I don't tell you this enough but please always know that I do. I care about you deeply and I would do anything for you. I want you to be happy. You're an amazing person that even saw the best in me. And for that I am eternally grateful. Now let me return the favor and make you feel like the queen you are. You can do anything you want to. I know you can. Believe in yourself because I do, darling.

Your problems are real, they're difficult sometimes, I know. But don't ever think of giving up. Never stop trying to be better. You're beautiful. Don't let anyone or anything make you feel like you aren't. I know you more than anyone could ever. And that's enough for me to claim that you're someone that I'm proud to call mine. My one and only lover.

I never thought that I'd fall for someone but you changed it all. It's because you're adorable. And because your personality shines like the sun that brightens up even the darkest days. I am so lucky to have you.

No one in the world could ever compare to you. You're unique and I love that about you. Pleas don't let his world and your insecurities change you one bit. I love and accept you just the way you are. Especially when you smile. Your smile changes everything for me. It makes me happy. And no matter what you say, I still think that it's really cute how your lips curl up when you do. The sparkle in your eyes also makes my heart flutter every single time. You have such an effect on me and I'm glad that it's you that I've fallen for.

I wish you would see how I could see you. Every little thing that you're insecure of are things that I absolutely love about you. You overthink too much y'know. But I guess you can't really help it, can you? I know that being in you is hard and I get it. The thoughts just invade your mind and take over you. So I'm here to be your safe space. I'm here to comfort you and tell you everything is gonna be alright. I'm here to make sure that it'll be all okay in the end of every day. You're worth it and I will never get tired of telling you how important you are to me. I won't ever stop being here to make sure that you won't give up. I'll make sure that you're always loved and cared for. You need and deserve it after all.

I love you, darling. Please always know that you're enough. More than enough, even. And you will always be perfect to me.

- Sousuke

_____

Hi baby,

First off, I know you're struggling with a lot right now and I get that. I know a lot has been happening lately and it's all just gushing at you all at once, right? I know the feeling. It's okay to feel upset when things like these happen. You just gotta hold on and work your absolute hardest to get to where you wanna be! I can help you with anything y'know. I'm always gonna be here.

Times like these are difficult. I've been through a lot of difficult times myself, you know. Sometimes I look back on those times and remember all the pain and suffering I've went through. But even if I could go back in time and change it, I wouldn't. Because those times were what made me become who I am today. Those times, those struggles, made me stronger. And they'll make you stronger too. These experiences will only push you to become better. And it's not like you'll break, right? You're like, the strongest person I know!

You know, I think that you're amazing. Really. You're such an amazing person and honestly, no one could ever compare. You may think that you aren't so great and all but I see it. You've got all that it takes to be the best! And I'm not afraid to claim that you're gonna go places, meet lots of awesome people who accept and love you, and become who you want to be. I'm sure that some day you will. That's a fact.

Just these words won't make everything better, I know that, baby. But I'm still gonna try and make you feel just a little bit happier. I want to be your happiness just like you're mine. You're my everything and I'd hate to see you down or upset about something. That's why I always want to be with you. I want to be with you to make sure that you're always the best you can be and that you're always comfortable in your own skin! Why shouldn't you be? Being you is like, anyone's, if not everyone's, dream. They just don't know it.

Please, always know that you're loved and that you are important. If no one thinks you're important then they've got another thing coming cuz you're my number one and absolute priority! I'd cross oceans for you just to see your smile! I'd really do it if I had to! So, give me a smile and stay strong, baby! I love you.

- Rin

#free! x reader #free! anime #free! makoto #free! sousuke #free! scenarios #free! fanfiction #free! fic #free! imagines #free! fluff #incorrect anime #incorrect free! #rin x y/n #asahi #seijuro free! #kisumi #natsuya #sosuke #anime #love #fluff #comfort #free! love #free! letters #anime letters #makoto fluff #Rin fluff #sosuke fluff #natsuya x reader #natsuya fluff #natsuya comfort

[willwriteforhugs]

in vino veritas- song mingi (part two)

bestfriend! mingi x reader- part two of two !

~childhood friends to lovers au~

word count: 2.1k

genre: angst, fluff

synopsis: after your lifelong best-friend confesses his love for you, the two of you have to deal with the emotional (and very embarrassing) repercussions.

warnings: drunkenness, a minor hangover

if you haven’t read part one, please do so! find it here :)

a/n: HUGE apologies about how long this conclusion took! i took a *long* break from writing right after i said i’d write this... *face palm* but i still had a couple of people who really wanted to see this, and i’m hoping they still do! (or did they give up on me...?) anyways, thank you so much for the continued support, even while i was absent. happy reading, and i hope your heart doesn’t break in two<3

- allison

- - -

“please. please love me again.”

the words are like a smack to the face. they sting, the same way a slap does- and for a moment you can’t breathe. in that moment, you wish he had just hit you, because it would feel nearly the same. but you know mingi more than you know yourself, and he hasn’t hit you since you were children. he never would. 

mingi looks down at you, his face contorted in what you assume is a sort of drunken sadness. finally, you form a coherent thought.

no, no, no. you just can’t do this.

your hands are trembling, you notice. you slowly take your hand from him, backtracking a few steps until your back is against the wall. he doesn’t fight it, and he doesn’t break eye contact once.

“love me again...”

you never thought you’d hear those words come out of his mouth. no. how could he do this? reject you as a lovestruck high schooler without a second thought, but then pull this four years later? it’s sick. it’s sick because you were heartbroken. because you still are.

it’s sick because despite every ounce of your body wanting to reject him, to push him away- there is a small part of you that wants to say yes. to say yes, yes, yes, i will love you again, and it will be so easy, because i never stopped. 

“y/n-ah.” 

mingi’s voice sounds husky- the way it sounds right after he wakes up, or when he eats something particularly bitter.

it’s also how his voice sounds when he’s terribly, terribly sad, and you wish you didn’t know these things about him. 

“y/n, listen to me.” his eyes bore into yours, and he begins to stutter again. “i was an idiot, saying the things i did. i know- i know i felt that way at the time, but- but dear god, if i’d known what i was going to lose? i just..”

“mingi.” to your own surprise, your voice is a stark contrast to his- it’s clear and sharp. decisive. “i need you to stop.”

your counterpart cringes.

“listen,” you plow on. “you. are. drunk. you do not understand what you are saying, but understand this- you’ve upset me.”

finally, your voice breaks a little. “you broke my heart, mingi, and i haven’t forgotten. but i don’t want to remember. so here’s what we are going to do- i am going to go to bed, in my room, and i am going to be alone. somehow i still have an obligation to help you, so you will sleep right here, on this couch. tomorrow morning you will take an advil, call a car, and leave my home. understood?”

you see mingi’s eyes begin to water, and the crack in your chest seems to expand. 

“don’t.” you whisper. “don’t do this to me.”

mingi looks down at the floor for a moment, and finally, having decided to remain quiet, sinks onto the sofa. you turn to leave the room, but as you leave, he calls out again;

“i’m sorry, y/n.”

you just manage to get your bedroom door shut before the sobs start. 

- - - 

you wish you could stay in the dark forever.

the light streaming through your windows is just so invasive...

but maybe the real reason you don’t wish to get up is the man currently sprawled across your living room couch.

god, what even happened last night? will he even remember the things he said?

a part of you- well, most of you- hopes he doesn’t. that would surely simplify things. but even so, you also kind of hope he does remember.

you want to know if he meant it. 

- - -

finally, you sit up in bed, stretching your arms out. when you manage to stand up as well, you beeline for the bathroom.

a quick glance in the mirror confirms your previous suspicions- your face is puffy, from all of the crying. 

good god, the crying...

you know he could hear you, and you are humiliated. not that you think of crying as a bad thing, not inherently- but you have almost never cried in front of mingi, and to think you did last night. and that it was because of him...

you shove your insecurities aside and wash your face. you throw on a simple outfit, and finally you come to stare at your door.

sighing, you open it as quietly as you can. maybe he’ll still be asleep, and you can slip out unnoticed? 

but no such luck. mingi is sitting on the couch, his feet propped up. he doesn’t hold a phone, and the tv isn’t on. not a book in sight- he’s just staring up at the ceiling. 

you close your eyes as they begin to sting.

you can’t believe the effect he’s had on you all these years- and that you’d managed to ignore it for so long. but you can’t ignore it anymore, not with it being the main cause of your pain the past day.

biting your tongue, you step into view. mingi immediately notices you, and shoots into a more presentable position.

“y/n-ah.”

you pause to meet his eyes. “i thought i’d told you to leave.”

mingi frowns slightly. “and i thought i’d elect to ignore that part of our conversation.”

so he does remember.

shit.

“are you hungover?” you ask.

“only a bit.” he responds stiffly.

you heave a sigh, and the two of you look at each other for a moment, the air stuffy and thick with tension.

you break the silence with a strained whisper. “are we gonna do this?”

mingi doesn’t hesitate to respond, though his voice is no louder than yours was.  “i think we have to.”

you frown, knowing he’s right.

but it hurts, and you wish more than anything it was an ache you could ignore. but your heart has been slowly dying for years now- a fact that you are now painfully aware of.

is it too late to fix it?

before you can say anything more, mingi continues to talk.

“first of all, y/n- i just. i’m so sorry. for coming here last night. i was drunk and i was sad and i didn’t know where else to go.”

“why didn’t you just go home?” you can’t help but sound slightly bitter.

“do you believe me when i say i didn't even think to? all i knew is that i wanted to see you.”

you inhale sharply, and years of sadness burn the back of your eyes. “mingi, i don’t care that you came here in the first place. but i care about the havoc you wreaked when you did.” you stumble over your words. “you- you said you loved me.”

his face is filled with some sort of resignment, but he keeps his eyes on you. “i know i did.”

“why?”

“because i do.”

heat claws its way up your neck, and you feel the first of the tears begin to flow. “no. you can’t- please, mingi, you can’t just come in here and say that. not after- not after what you did to me.”

mingi bites his lip hard, now looking at the floor. his eyes are wet. “i know that.” his voice sounds pained. “i know that, y/n. that’s why i never intended on telling you... apparently the beer had other plans.”

“what do you mean, ‘never intended’?” you snap. “you mean to say you’ve been in love with me for- for what, a time- even after you told me it would never happen?”

“i was young, y/n! i still am young, but god- i was 16! i didn’t even know what love was! and if you had ever asked me in these recent years-” his voice cracks, and his face displays years of cleverly disguised pain. “if you’d asked me what my biggest regret was, i would have said you. i would have said turning down the love of my life because i was a pubescent idiot.”

even through the tears, you manage to snort at this. 

after a moment, mingi manages a half-hearted smile. “so, uh- are you still trying to kick me out?”

“not really.” you mumble. “but that doesn’t mean i’m happy with you.”

when he doesn’t say anything, you force yourself to continue, even through the tears. “i’m just surprised. you know- do you remember what you told me? you told me that it was just a crush, so you were letting me down easy. but- mingi-ah, it was never just a crush... i loved you, i really did.”

mingi lets a small sigh escape his mouth, and moves to stand in front of you. he gently brushes your hand with his- an invitation. and against your better will, you reach out and take it.

“do you think,” he whispers. “do you think you still could?”

another fat teardrop rolls down your cheek. “that sounds a lot like what you said last night, and you were really drunk.” you whisper back.

“i’m not drunk.” mingi murmurs. “drunk in love, maybe.”

“you’re an idiot.”

“obviously.”

“and i hate you.”

“mmhmm.”

“please kiss me.”

and he does.

his lips crash against yours, and you actually give a small yelp of surprise. but the surprise is overwhelmed by the instant rush of emotion you feel- mingi kisses you with an intensity you’ve never experienced. like at any moment he might lose you, like there really is no tomorrow.

he parts his lips along with yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. you actually feel your knees weaken a bit- but the moment passes, and he moves away from your mouth. he leans downwards and places slow, deliberate kisses along your neck. your hands are tangled in his hair, and his are on your hips. and then it hits you- you are kissing song mingi- the boy whom you vowed to never touch, the boy you always knew you wanted. 

the kiss is a kiss of passion- of regret, of betrayal, of bitterness and of love. it is unlike anything you’ve known. it’s fully fueled by the destroyed hearts of two people who love each other too much.

you never want it to end.

the kiss is everything and nothing, beautiful and painful. it’s all that mingi has ever been.

suddenly, mingi pulls away from you, ending the kiss abruptly. you jerk back in surprise, face burning. had you done something wrong? what the hell were you thinking? you two should be at each other’s throats-

mingi interrupts your thoughts as he grasps your hand in his, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. “are you alright?” he murmurs.

you glance up, having nearly forgotten that you were in literal tears only minutes before. “yeah, i’m- i’m okay. are you?” on the inside, you wonder. why did he stop? what are we doing? is this okay?

“honestly? i don’t know.”

your brief high falters.

“y/n.” his voice is serious again. “please, y/n. is this really what you want?”

he’s worried that i’m just doing this to fix things.

“mingi.” you force him to meet your eyes. the room is dead silent, and your voice is a little raspy, but it needs to be said. you need to say it, you just do.  “i love you.”

the moment washes over the room like a cool breeze. mingi’s eyes soften to a look of love and concern, and a small smile quirks at his lips. “what? you mean it?”

a moment ago, you were actually scared that you wouldn’t- but now that it was said...

“yes. stars, yes. i love you- i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, but i think i was so scared of that love- and of yours- that i shoved it away. but i do, and i’m sure i always will.”

“i love you too.” he manages. “and maybe i didn’t mean to get drunk and say all the things i did, but- but i don’t think i regret it. because i love you, and want to take back everything i said all those years ago. cause i loved you then, too, i just didn’t know it. i hurt you, and that almost ruined this for us. so will you help me make it up to you?”

“how?” you murmur, a feeling of nervous anticipation washing over you.

“let me kiss you a little longer.”

you smile, knowing that even though things aren’t totally fixed yet- and the two of you have a long way to go- you still have gotten him back. mingi. your best friend. your love. your life.

“gladly.”

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