#and i realised there was a story there that i wanted to tell. thus: a sequel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tkaulitzlvr · 8 months

Note

hiya! i live for your stories, i’m kind of addicted lol

could you please write 2010 tom meeting reader’s family for the first time over dinner, charming the shit out of them while teasing reader throughout the whole dinner, then sneaking off to the bathroom and… 🤭

TIME AND PLACE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom meets your parents for the first time, and he is a lot more relaxed than you are - perhaps too relaxed, teasing you beyond belief whilst your family are completely oblivious, the two of you ending up in the downstairs bathroom, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

content: smut

a/n: LOVEEEE this idea thank u so much for requesting anon! also can we please talk ab how hot he looks in this clip like i’m going insane, coincidentally it fits w this request so i had to use it. i also wanted to say thank you for 400 followers, i only had like two when i started LMAO so thank u to everyone that has followed thus far!! 💞

“baby, calm down, everything is going to be fine. what’s the worst that can happen?” tom says as we climb out of the car.

“you clearly don’t know my parents tom.” i laugh, taking a deep breath and praying for some sort of miracle. my parents are classy, reserved people, with respectable jobs, and pretty traditional viewpoints - in other words exactly what my boyfriend isn’t. “just please, don’t mess this up. i really want them to like you.”

he smiles softly, closing the car door behind him, walking around to the other side where i am standing, placing his hands on my lower waist and kissing my lips softly.

“i’ll try, i promise. you’re getting worked up over nothing.” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead, pulling me into a short hug. i pull away, my hands resting on his chest as i inspect his appearance, straightening his jacket and brushing off any imperfections from the material.

he chuckles at my panicked state, softly grabbing my hands and shaking his head. “it’s going to be fine.” he repeats, rubbing my shoulder comfortingly before taking my hand and beginning the short walk up my parents’ driveway. “besides, what’s not to like about me? i’m funny, charming, sexy, kind, famous - i tick every box.”

i shake my head, pushing his chest lightly as i stifle a laugh. “seriously, my parents are hard to please. you wont be able to win them over as easy as you did me.”

“hm, we’ll see. i think i’ll surprise you.” he states, stopping once we reach the front door, my hand hesitantly reaching to place a few firm taps on it, my other squeezing tom’s in an attempt to calm my nerves. he notices this, running his thumb up and down the skin soothingly, whispering a small ‘don’t worry’ from beside me, the door opening as my mom stand there, wide smile on her face once she sees me.

“honey!” my mom grins, opening her arms out and pulling me into a tight hug. after moving to the city with tom and touring with the band, i hadn’t seen as much of my parents as i usually would, missing them more than i had realised. she pulls away, eyes turning to tom.

“you must be the famous tom. i’ve heard a lot about you.” she says, forcing a small smile on her face, though i can tell that she is silently judging him, not yet bold enough to say her thoughts out loud. her eyes turn to mine whilst she gives tom a quick hug, my face tensing as i shoot her a knowing look, immediately seeing the way that she has made her assumptions about tom.

“all good things i hope ma’am.” he smiles, pulling away from the hug and taking my hand, my mom moving aside to let us both inside the house. it is clean, my mom always insistent on keeping it spotless - a slight smudge of dirt on the floor, or photo frame out of place and she would lose it. the faint smell of lasagna wafts around the place, the aroma bringing me some sense of comfort through its familiarity - the dish had always been my father’s specialty for as long as i could remember.

“where’s dad?” i ask, tom’s hand still touching mine as my eyes wander around the large living room. it is his turn to be nervous now - i can tell from the way his hand doesn’t leave my own, feet anxiously tapping against the floor.

“in the kitchen, preparing dinner. it won’t be much longer now, you can sit down, and tom, make yourself at home honey.” she says, shooting him a warm smile before she disappears out of the living room, leaving tom and i alone. i sit down on the couch, shrugging my jacket off, leaving me in my purple summer dress - sophisticated yet casual. tom, as usual, is adorned in all black: bandana tied around his forehead, oversized t-shirt and an even bigger pair of jeans, complete with a plain jacket. he had wanted to dress up a little, yet i had convinced him otherwise, not wanting him to pretend to be something that he isn’t, deciding that my parents can like him for who he truly is, or not at all.

he sits beside me, placing a gentle hand over my thigh, rubbing the bare skin softly.

“you okay?” he asks, planting a quick kiss to my cheek, intertwining his fingers with mine, his leg still bobbing up and down.

“mhm.” i say, taking my free hand and placing it over his leg, stopping its fast movements. “are you? you’ve gotten all skittish.”

he chuckles lowly, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “just…not sure if your mom likes me.” he shrugs his shoulders, looking downwards.

“she’s the most blunt woman i know. trust me, if she didn’t like you, you’d know about it.” i answer truthfully, knowing that my mother has never been one to hide her opinions - she makes it painfully obvious how she feels and, besides from her slightly off introduction, it seemed that at least to me, she liked tom. “besides, since when do you get nervous, mr cool?”

a small laugh leaves my lips, a teasing smile playing on them, not used to seeing tom anxious. he is usually the most confident person i know, yet now he seems panicked, and the sight is strange to me, but, he shrugs it off.

“i’m not nervous.” he insists, about to continue, though he is soon cut off by the voice of my mom sounding from the kitchen.

“dinner!”

tom sighs, standing up as i follow. he wraps his arms around my lower back, leaning in to give my lips a few soft pecks, smiling into the short kisses that he places on them, giving my ass a teasing squeeze. his eyes are playful, a hint of indisputable mischief illuminating the sea of brown, one eyebrow slightly raised - i know that look far too well to see that it isn’t one of innocence. he has something on his mind, this not the time or place.

“get that look off of your face. not here, absolutely not.” i state, looking upwards at him and shaking my head, straightening my dress and taking his hand, leading him out of the room.

“what look?” he asks, attempting to act oblivious, a slight smirk tugging on his lips. i tut from in front of him, sending him a quick glance as we approach the dining room, my dad laying out the food and my mom taking a seat at the table.

we both take our seats, sat opposite my mom and dad. having never met my father before, i expect tom to be hesitant to speak - my dad doesn’t exactly look to be an approachable person. yet, he makes the first move, much to my surprise.

“i’m tom. nice to meet you sir.” tom smiles politely, nodding his head and holding his hand out for my dad to shake.

clearly shocked by tom’s politeness, my father’s eyes widen, hand reaching outwards and briefly shaking tom’s, before sitting back in his seat.

“ted.” my dad states simply, taking a sip of his wine before continuing. “great to see my daughter has brought home a man with manners, good on you, tom.”

i send my father a glare from across the table, tom smiling weakly in response, his eyes falling to the food in front of him.

“this looks amazing, thank you so much.” tom says, looking upwards as my parents mutter a small thanks, a brief silence looming over us. i turn to tom, seeing that same playful look on his face, much more prominent this time. i quickly shake my head, putting whatever thoughts that are in his mind at bay, shutting them down before he can even consider acting on them. one hand grasping his fork, he digs it into the food on his plate, the other trailing downwards ever so slowly, reaching the hem of my summer dress.

my eyes widen, unsure of how to act, my hand instinctively reacting to move tom’s away, yet i am soon stopped by the voice of my father. tom doesn’t slow his movements, instead they become more calculated, his hand snaking further and further up my dress. somehow, he acts nonchalant, facing away from me, eyes attentively looking at my father as he speaks.

“so tom, what is it that you do exactly?” my father asks, placing a mouthful of food in his mouth after speaking.

tom clears his throat, his fingers dipping teasingly into my panties under the tablecloth, my eyes widening as i attempt to act natural, tom able to do so with ease. “i’m in a band, i’m the guitarist.” he states, fingers continuing to toy with the lace material, dipping further inwards ever so slightly, causing me to fidget in my seat, attempting to hide what is going on.

“goodness can you sit still? i’ve never seen you shuffle in your seat so much!” my mother laughs, shaking her head and focusing her eyes on me. tom seems to find this particularly funny, his lips curving into a satisfied grin, knowing exactly why i am so squeamish, him being the reason, my parents totally unaware of the position his fingers are in. he lets out a small chuckle beside me, shaking my head as my mother did, faking a look of concern.

“are you okay?” he asks, his voice seeming a little worried, though the second i turn to face him, i can see the glint of mischief in his eyes as he knows exactly what he is doing, roping my parents in as they buy his concern.

just as i begin to reply, he slips one finger into my folds, a small gasp leaving my lips. my mother furrows her eyebrows, looking directly at me, clearly confused at my weird behaviour. my hand flies to cover my mouth, also in an attempt to disguise the light shade of crimson that my cheeks are turning, completely humiliated. though i manage to play the suspicious sound off as a hiccup, quietly excusing myself afterwards. “i’m fine, just a little warm.”

the entire thing is hilarious to tom, his lips curved into a smile so small it is almost unnoticeable, never fading as he engages in conversation with my father, his fingers continuing their restrained movements inside my panties, positioning themselves to toy with my clit.

“this band, is it really a sustainable career for you? how much do you earn? surely, it can’t be much.” my father states, unimpressed by tom’s job, failing to realise how successful he actually is.

tom laughs quietly, taking a breath inwards, discreetly slipping a finger inside of me, my teeth sinking into my tongue, clamping down onto it in an attempt to hide the moans dangerously close to spilling from my lips, his finger moving in and out of me at a teasingly slow pace. besides from this, he remains calm, too calm, considering that he is pleasuring me under the table - my parents totally unaware as tom somehow manages to win them over, this only pissing me off even more.

“no sir, i actually do pretty well for myself. we are quite well known, not just in germany, but we often do shows in america and other places. i make a great living out of it, actually.” tom is confident in his tone without being cocky, my father nodding slowly, seemingly satisfied with his response. he opens his mouth once again, about to ask tom another question, though when tom’s finger hits a certain spot inside me, a small whine from the back of my throat quickly stops him.

“are you okay? what is going on with you tonight honey?” my mom frowns, somehow not catching onto what is happening. tom remains unfazed, still pumping his digit in and out of me slowly.

“sorry, i’m just feeling a little under the weather. i must be coming down with something.” i apologise, forcing a brief smile as my mother nods her head, digging her fork back into the food whilst my father continues to interrogate tom.

“and how long is it the two of you have been dating?” he asks, his finger flicking between tom and i, though his question is directed mainly at tom.

“what is it now? two months, am i wrong schatz?” tom asks, knowing how long we have been dating without any doubt in his mind, though he deliberately places this attention on me, looking at me with that same smirk as my father’s eyes soon follow.

tom’s fingers pump in and out of me, his pace speeding up a little, my thighs clenching together at the feeling. sending him a quick glare, i clear my throat, trying to act as unsuspecting as possible. “yeah, two months, that’s right.” i say, nodding my head quickly, desperate to turn the attention away from myself, though it doesn’t take long for me to fail miserably.

“you look awfully warm, you’re sweating honey. do you need to step outside, maybe get some fresh air?” my mom says, tom’s fingers slipping out of me as she utters those words, my lips pursing slightly at the lack of contact. i turn to him momentarily as he sends a brief wink in my direction before taking a bite of his food, looking away from me as if nothing had happened.

“yeah, that’s a good idea. i’ll be right back. sorry.”

i quickly stand up, shaking my head and rushing out of the room, sighing in relief when i open the bathroom door, quickly closing it behind me.

i take a look in the mirror - my cheeks flushed, hair slightly frizzy, faint line of sweat glistening on my forehead, all thanks to the smug bastard back there. my hands turn the tap, cold water rushing out of it as i use it to begin splashing my face, attempting to regulate my body temperature, tom managing to get it so high with his actions.

the door swiftly moves open, my head shooting upward as i am met with tom’s eyes, his expression somewhat calm despite what he had just done.

“are you fucking serious? the fuck was that?” i hiss, hitting his chest in anger, my face falling in disbelief when all he does is chuckle at my temper, clearly failing to understand how mad i am at him in this moment.

instead, he hushes me, muttering out a small ‘be quiet’ before pushing my body harshly against the wall, his lips roughly colliding with mine moments after. his hands find my waist, running up and down soothingly, kissing my lips deeply, his desperation communicated through the hunger of his kisses. despite my anger, i quickly kiss back, my hands reaching upward to his face, pulling him closer to me, my fingers raking through his braids, momentarily running over the soft fabric of his black bandana.

“i don’t know why you’re acting so pissed off.” he whispers against my lips between kisses, becoming more rough with his movements. “you act like you’re angry, but you didn’t tell me to stop, did you? why?”

i stay silent, attempting to ignore his question, instead pushing his face even closer to mine, deepening the kiss and slipping my tongue into his mouth.

“i can tell you why.” he states matter of factly, pressing his body against mine, his hard on prominent through his jeans. “you didn’t want me to. you liked me touching you, even though your parents were right there, didn’t you, hm?”

i whine lowly in response, palming him through his jeans, watching the way his mouth falls open slightly, an almost inaudible groan escaping from it. i can sense his desperation, hell, it was clear the second he gave me that look in the living room, and it had failed to go away for the entirety of the evening. if i weren’t equally as needy, i would be scolding him, calling him out for his stupidity, though i am just as reckless as him, bringing him closer into me as i kiss his lips, moaning into it.

“we gotta be quick baby, okay?” he mumbles against me, his hands moving downwards to hoist me upwards, placing me roughly on the bathroom counter, clearly paying little attention as a few things fall onto the floor with a quiet thud. i hit his chest, pulling away momentarily, though he doesn’t seem to care, shrugging his shoulders and moving his hands underneath my dress to tug my panties off.

he lets them pool at my feet, hurriedly undoing the buckle on his belt, letting his own jeans fall to the floor, not even bothering to fully remove them. his boxers follow as he lifts up my dress, separating my legs apart and moving in between them, eyes lustfully staring into my own.

“you gonna be quiet, yeah?” he whispers, forehead against mine as i quickly nod my head, feet hooking around his hips in an attempt to bring him inside me faster. he strokes himself a few times, positioning himself at my entrance.

his lips collide with mine as he slowly slides inwards, muffling the low noises that spill from them, instead silencing my small whines with his tongue, slipping it into my mouth whilst his cock slides further into me. about halfway in, he stops, sensing the way my eyebrows furrow in discomfort, unable to accustom to his size so quickly, the lack of time we have leaving me a little unprepared.

“c’mon baby, take it. you can take it. just like that, doing so good.” he praises, grabbing my hips, angling them slightly differently, the change in position allowing him to push into me inch by inch, my walls clenching around him.

“fuck- you’re so tight, always so good for me.” he mutters, face burying itself into the crook of my neck, planting slow and soft kisses there, his hips beginning to rock back and forth once he senses that i am comfortable, the pain finally subsiding. his kisses become firmer, teeth occasionally nibbling downwards on the skin, leaving purple-ish marks in place of his lips, though i am too dazed to care, focusing on the way he dick slips in and out of me, tip prodding against my g-spot.

he pulls his head out of my shoulder, his hands removing their firm grip on my hips as he rests his forehead against mine, hands coming to either side of my face. his eyes burn into mine, though he sees a lot more clearly - my own rolling to the back of my head every few seconds, clenching around him when the pleasure becomes a little too much. though from the brief moments my eyes stay open and i am able to study his face, the sight is almost enough to make me cum on the spot.

his eyes are half-lidded, consumed by the hazy need for pleasure, eyebrows furrowed as a few wrinkles form on his forehead when they knit together. his lips are slightly parted, falling open further when his dick would hit a certain spot inside of me, small yet almost audible grunts sounding from the back of his throat.

a loud moan emits from my lips unexpectedly, tom hurrying to press his lips to mine, slightly covering up the sound. he pulls back soon after, his hands returning to my hips, using them to maintain the steady thrusts that i can tell are becoming harder for him to continue, the way his dick twitches inside of me letting me know that he is almost there.

“shhhh.” he coos, admiring the way my face twists in pleasure, knowing that he is completely responsible, nobody else able to have this effect on me. “almost there baby, so close.”

i nod weakly in response, attempting to meet his thrusts, grinding myself against him half-heartedly, this clearly having some effect on him as he throws his head back, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to prevent any sounds from spilling out.

“shit, yeah. like that baby, keep going.” his voice is shaky, on the verge of letting out a moan, i can tell from the way he swallows harshly, hips faltering momentarily. i comply with his words, continuing to move my own hips at the same speed of his, pushing us both to our climax, though tom continues to do most of the work, his pointer finger reaching downwards to rub my clit in soft, slow circles.

“c’mon schatz, can’t hold it anymore. cum with me, mhm?” he groans, lips inches away from the crook of my neck, his teeth sinking into it harshly to prevent the loud groan that begins to sound throughout the bathroom as i feel him shoot his cum into me.

his thrusts remain slow and deep, fucking his cum into me as i reach my climax, eyes rolling to the back of my head, lips squeezing shut. he places one hand firmly over my mouth, hushing the restricted moan that sounds from it, his hips eventually slowing to a smooth stop.

he pulls out of me as i hiss at the loss of contact, a small ‘sorry’ spilling from his lips. my body falls forward, totally exhausted, chest heaving up and down as he pulls his jeans back up, wrapping his belt through the loops, bringing his lips to mine quickly.

“you okay?” he checks, running a gentle hand across my cheek, smiling gently once i nod my head. he bends down, sliding my panties back up and over my hips, pulling my dress downwards so that it covers my thighs.

sensing that i am still slightly weak, he picks me up, helping me down from the countertop, my legs buckling a little. it doesn’t take long for me to come to my senses, wondering how tom and i were going to return to the table. we couldn’t go back together without looking totally suspicious, my mind racing to find ways to avoid the utter humiliation that would come if my parents found out what had just happened.

“how the fuck are we gonna go back?” i sigh, running my hands through my hair, visibly stressed out. “how did you manage to leave, what did you say to them?”

he shrugs, hands loosely resting on my hips, evidently nowhere near as concerned as i am “just said i needed to use the bathroom.”

“okay…” i trail off, playing with the material of his jacket as i think, certain that if we are absent for much longer, my parents will begin to grow suspicious regardless of if we return together or not. “i’ll go first. wait a couple minutes then come back, okay?”

he smiles at my serious tone, stifling a laugh as i tilt my head, looking at him in annoyance.

“okay, okay. i got it, a couple minutes.” he laughs, placing a soft kiss on my lips, letting go of my hips once i nod my head, turning away from him to quickly check my appearance, surprised that i only have to smooth my hair, fingers threading through a few small knots.

“act casual. and get that stupid smirk off your face, i can’t believe you convinced me to do this.” i sigh, wiping the lipstick that had smudged onto my face, eyeing tom’s expression as all he can do is keep that same smug smile upon it, clearly not regretting any of it. my hand reaches for the door handle, about to tug it open, not before tom pulls me back, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“don’t be mad at me. i love you.” he pouts, pecking my lips a few times, his eyes soft as they look into mine, attempting to win me over, with some success much to his surprise. i shake my head, smiling warmly at him, mumbling a small ‘love you too’, before heading out of the door, making sure not to close it behind me, reminding myself that my parents think i have been outside.

i enter the dining room, my mom’s face lighting up once she sees me. “you feeling any better?” she asks, beckoning me back over to the table as i take my seat.

“much better. where’s tom?” i ask innocently, furrowing my eyebrows in forged confusion, determined to keep our acts a secret, acting as if he wasn’t inside me literally two minutes ago.

“he said he needed to use the bathroom. he should be back soon.” my mom replies, sipping from her glass afterwards, a wave of relief spreading over me as i realise that she is completely oblivious, as is my father, who finishes the food on his place absent-mindedly.

“a nice boy you’ve got yourself honey.” my mother says out of the blue, a genuine smile on her face. my eyebrows raise in surprise, her sudden approval unexpected, but the way my father nods his head in agreement throws me off completely; slightly suspicious of how fast they have warmed up to him, knowing my parents to be extremely standoffish.

“really?” my voice is uncertain, a small laugh leaving my mom’s lips at this.

“why so shocked?” she says, my eyes drifting towards the entrance to the dining room, seeing tom walk through it. he shoots me a quick wink, moving past me as my mother spots him, her face lighting up.

“tom! we were just talking about you!” she smiles, watching as he takes his seat, an intrigued look on his face as he ushers her to continue, giving my thigh a quick squeeze from under the table.

“i was just saying how much you suit her.” my mom begins, shooting me a quick grin, turning her attention back to tom. “i’m so happy she’s found someone like you tom. so polite and put together, i admire it, really. very unusual for boys your age. i’ve never met anyone as mature.”

i stifle a laugh at her words, looking downwards into my lap, finding her obliviousness amusing, wondering how she would react if she ever found out what had just happened, using such positive words to describe him, completely unaware of the fact that minutes ago, he had been the complete opposite of all of them. my eyes shoot upwards in his direction, seeing his lips curved into a smile, soaking in all of the positive attention, using it to fuel his ego, clearly proud of how he has managed to pull this whole thing off, winning over my parents in the process an added bonus.

༻❦༺

“thank you so much for having me. it was great to meet you.” tom repeats, smiling widely as we say our final goodbyes, my parents waving us off as they close the door, tom and i walking down the driveway, hand in hand.

“i can’t believe you won them over so easily. that’s literally never happened before. every time my sisters have brought a boyfriend over, they literally hated him. one time my dad made my sister break up with a guy, in front of everyone.” i laugh, never witnessing my parents be so fond of a guy before, not expecting them to welcome someone like tom with open arms, usually approving of boys who were nothing like him.

“told you i’d surprise you.” he grins, that infamous smug smirk tugging on his lips once again, his hand squeezing mine as he looks downwards at me. i can tell that he will be smug about this for a while, this night being something he will bring up for the rest of our relationship, soaking up his own pride. he pauses, tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he opens the car door, climbing into it as i follow. “and, i love your parents house…

especially the bathroom.”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz smut #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff

458 notes · View notes

pennyellee · 6 months

Text

CHAPTER VI - súton

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of God, mentions of alcohol, manhandling, mentions of murder, gun use, abduction, attempted non-con, gaslighting, vomiting, anxiety, choking, decapitation, strong language, smut, loss of virginity

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 11,1K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VII

súton (n.) twilight; the approach of death or the end of something

Images flashed through her mind like fragments of a dream, mixing reality with a disorienting haze. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she braced herself for what was to come. She was still in her temporary private quarters. Was it all just a dream? Confusion ran through Y/N like the hot blood inside her veins.

The engine of the roaring car pierced her ears and her vision was still blurry. “Where am I?” she whispered, her voice slowly progressing to realise the situation. She grabbed the letter seat, trying to pull herself up.

“Chan-yeol?” she asked, pressured.

“Little bird, are you ready to fly away?” he laughed. Y/N looked at him with terror in her pupils.

“Are you out of your mind? You just signed your own death certificate Chan-yeol!” This is bad. Her thoughts spoke to her in distress, each and one of them telling her to do something.

“What, a sudden change of heart? Did you not want me to ship you off to the new land?” said the man, accelerating the car.

“He’s going to slaughter everyone!” she screamed.

“You did not think of that when you ran the last time or the time before, why now Y/N?” He spitted his words out, looking at her through the mirror. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to collect herself before she would lose her mind for good.

“He has the whole family on a silver platter there Chan-yeol! Turn the car right now!”

“We’re almost there.” He declared.

“Yoongi?!” was the first name that came to her mind. Voice full of fear. The sound of urgent footsteps echoed around her, crescendoing with the abrupt swing of the door. However, the one she sought, the man whose name she called, was not in her sight.

“Namjoon?” she called out, the surprise evident in her voice, interwoven with a thread of relief.

“How do you feel?” He asked, slowly approaching her petite form.

“What— I don’t understand,” she struggled to articulate her bewildered thoughts.

“You’ll thank me later.”

Chan-yeol’s words cut through the frosty air. He steered the car to the side of the road. Snow was everywhere she could see, each surface draped in ethereal white. Without waiting for the vehicle to come to a complete halt, Y/N flung the car door open, her steps bold as she ventured out into the wilderness.

The direction from which they arrived became a backdrop as she briskly distanced herself from Chan-yeol’s presence.

“This might be your last chance to flee this wicked world, girl.” His voice, heightened in intensity, reached her ears. Y/N stopped in tracks — the ultimatum clear.

Her family on one side, her newfound reality on the other – a choice lay before her.

“You have no idea what you just did!” she screamed defiantly, she refused to spare him a glance. “You’ve ruined everything!”

“Y/N?” a different voice echoed and her eyes widened at the unexpected interruption.

“I did not, Namjoon. I did not try to run away. You have to believe me!” Her words tumbled out in a frantic attempt to convey her innocence. Namjoon, his touch gentle, enveloped her small hands in his.

“Shhh… I know, it’s alright.” Namjoon cooed at the bride. And that’s when every single picture came back to her mind.

“How—how did you get here, for the love of God?” Y/N pivoted towards the speaking man, memories of their shared past flooding back as if the study hall of Shenyang’s University was just yesterday.

“I came for you,” he declared.

“For me?” She asked, disbelief in her voice.

“For me?!” she repeated, a frustrated laugh bubbling up. “Now you’re coming for me.” Y/N recalled the day he declared that she was in this battle alone, a stark contrast to their current proximity. They were never that close, he was too afraid to even hold her hand or maintain prolonged eye contact. But she considered him to be a friend, nonetheless.

“I love you,” he confessed, staring directly into her eyes.

“You love me?” She asked, mocking him, a bitter edge to her tone.

“Where was this love when I needed to run the hell out of the continent, huh?” She closed the distance between them, pushing him with aggressive force.

“You're a coward, Han Chen,” she spat, the venom in her voice cutting through the tension.

“I have a plan, Y/N,” he replied, brushing off her words even as they stung.

“Hmm… you have a plan. And what is this plan exactly?”

“He won’t want you if you’re ruined, Y/N.”

His words hit her like a cold gust of wind, and she gasped at the implications.

The haunting melody of that familiar song resonated in her mind once again.

“He—he attempted to rape me.” Y/N looked through her teary eyes directly at Namjoon's, whose mimics told her, she is right.

“He paid for that with his life.”

“You’re going to kill us all!” Her words became the truth once the first bullet was fired, finding its mark in Chen’s head. Y/N witnessed his eyes blackening, a vacancy replacing the spark of life.

He was gone. Blood dripped down his neck, staining her chest, her breath hitching as her vision blurred. Chan-yeol swore and fumbled with his gun, leaving Y/N to crumple to the ground, as he was tightly holding her down for the devil’s messenger to do the unforgivable.

Her eyes narrowed at the white sky. Chen’s lifeless body collapsing onto her smaller frame. Y/N’s hands trembled as she mustered the strength to slowly push his corpse away.

“Are you alright?” she heard him before she saw him above her.

“What about the wedding?” she asked, curiosity mingling with the shock that gripped her.

“We’ll proceed—” he answered, addressing yet another of her fears.

Speech and vision eluded her. “Y/N?” he asked again, gently throwing Chen’s lifeless body off her. “Darling, please say something.” His concern was palpable.

“Let me go, you fuckers!” Chan-yeol’s enraged screams echoed nearby. He hadn’t made a clean escape after all.

Hoseok helped her sit. Y/N’s eyes mirrored the emptiness that had claimed Chen’s.

“Darling?” Hoseok urged, attempting to coax her back to the present.

“—and hold a trial tomorrow.”

“Trail?” she asked, her voice fragile.

“Chan-yeol was a part of our clan. He is a traitor, and we’ll treat him as such.”

“And what about—”

She cast one more glance at Chen’s lifeless form before shifting her attention to Chan-yeol, struggling on the ground, surrounded by Min soldiers from whom she only recognised Jungkook.

“I want to go back, Hoseok-ssi. Please take me back.” Her voice wavered. Hoseok breathed out, relieved, helping her stand. As she turned to look at Chan-yeol, his screams pierced the air.

“Don’t look that way, sweetie,” Hoseok intervened, guiding her away from the chaotic scene. Only when they reached the parked cars, a good half a mile away from the unfolding drama, did she exhale and allow herself to close her eyes.

“Yoongi is beyond pissed. We could have avoided this if you would tell him about that foolish boy.”

“I swear, Namjoon, we were not... we did not—” she stammered.

“—I did not know he would come look for me nor do that….”

“Do not tell that to me, princess,” he sighed.

“I need you to get dressed. We have already postponed it, and we cannot do it any longer.”

“Sure,” were her only words to him.

“She called for you, brother,” the right-hand man spoke as he entered the boss’s office, where Yoongi was finally getting ready for the wedding.

“Explain,” the young groom responded while fixing his tux in front of the mirror.

“She called your name when she woke up.”

“Did she?” Yoongi felt a spark of hope that he would indeed become her person, her lover, her everything, just as she was to him.

The right-hand man chuckled at his questioning response, knowing it warmed Yoongi’s heart.

“Damn this one tradition; you should go and see her.”

“I would, but that would ruin the thrill, wouldn’t it, hmm,” he hummed.

“You’re getting married, brother.”

“Yes, today I’m getting married, and tomorrow I have to deal with a man who kidnapped my woman and let the other fucker almost rape her,” Yoongi spat, hitting the wall next to the mirror. He never felt greater anxiety than when Xiaoli said she was taken away from him. How ironic that he is to be the one who feels anxious.

Her mother crying, father screaming at everyone, younger sister praying. Yoongi had a feeling that she would not be that stupid to run away when he had her family inside the hotel.

“Nothing else will go wrong.”

“Did you greet the Yamamotos?” The Yakuza clan was invited to the wedding, a bold move, and what was even bolder—they accepted and arrived.

“I surely did, brother,” said Namjoon.

“Good,” Yoongi smirked, not expecting what is yet to come.

“Everything is as it should be.”

“I don’t want Y/N’s father near her until the wedding, Jungkook-ah,” requested Yoongi from the passive listener, seated just a few meters away on the sofa, sipping on his glass of white liquor.

“As you wish, Hyung,” he put the glass down and stood up, fixing his tux and putting on his white hat.

“And for fuck’s sake, patch those knuckles, aight?” Yoongi screamed playfully after him.

The temple, a sanctuary of weary souls, stood solemnly bearing witness to the union unfolding within its hallowed walls.

The bride, adorned in a crimson hanfu dress, with beautiful shining golden details on her long sleeves, walked the creaking wooden path towards the temple’s entrance, her steps heavy with the knowledge of what is awaiting her. The rich fabric of her dress billowed like a blood-red sea, a stark contrast to the pallor of her face that concealed emotions that dared not surface.

The courtyard was adorned with bright red and white paper lanterns when she passed it. She did not dare to look around at all the noble underground hats who had gathered to witness the union of two syndicates.

The flickering candles cast eerie, dancing shadows upon the ancient murals depicting forgotten legends. The distant sounds of the city, with its bustling streets and restless souls, provided a haunting contrast to the stillness of this timeless ceremony. The soft strains of the gayageum and the rhythmic beats of the janggu filled the air.

At the temple’s altar, the groom, equally somber in attire, awaited the bride. His eyes, like deep pools, hinted at the secrets he carried, secrets buried beneath, he wished to share with her.

The chants of the officiating monk resonated through the temple; a haunting reminder of the spiritual solace sought amidst the chaos of the outside world. Their union was a flicker of defiance against the oppressive forces that sought to extinguish the spirit of a nation. She was not initially meant to be his, fate seemed to have favoured him, and Yoongi thanked the almighty for bringing her to him.

Y/N dared not look at him, her breath unsteady, visible puffs in the cold air. The gal held her head high nonetheless, she was desperately trying not to give in to her intrusive thoughts and turn around, flee for her life, try one last time.

The gun pressed to Daiyu’s back served as a grim reminder, preventing her from succumbing to intrusive thoughts. She could see the tears that were in her eyes as she held tightly her little son. Chan-yeol, held captive and beaten for sins he performed.

The eyes of the guests felt heavy, especially her father’s, still unamused by the young leader’s audacity, keeping his hand tightly on his neck. Forbidden from seeing his own daughter before the ceremony, he seethed with anger, his frustration directed at the young Kkangpae.

Y/N’s heartbeat echoed loudly as she climbed the stairs to stand face-to-face with Yoongi, trying to find the courage to look at him. His eyes were full of expectations, he was waiting for this moment.

The exchange of bows signified respect and commitment. If this would be a traditional wedding, not minding their social status in the syndicates, they would continue with drinking rice wine sikhye, symbolizing the blending of their lives.

But this was not a common wedding. This ceremony was different. Altered by the traditions of the Min Clan. The moment arrived when Y/N extended her palm to take the knife from Yoongi’s hands. A cup of rice wine awaited underneath, capturing every drop of her blood. Their union, a pledge of loyalty through soul, blood, and mind.

Y/N met Yoongi’s eyes as she applied pressure to the hand holding the knife, slicing through his skin. A sadistic flicker seemed to pass through his eyes, as if he was enjoying the pain she was inflicting on him.

The rice wine now mixed with their blood and the heavy silence was driving Y/N mad.

The young Kkangpae lifted the cup to her lips, her eyes locked with Yoongi’s. Observing his actions closely, she followed suit, and he took a far bigger sip than her, almost devouring it all.

Setting the cup down they both extended their wounded hands. The golden wedding band that Yoongi slipped onto her finger, seemed to match her engagement ring that sat before it, closer to her knuckle. Y/N couldn’t stop looking at her hand. This was an explicit symbol of her being a taken woman now. No one else to touch, to have, and in their world — to own.

“Darling,” Yoongi whispered quietly, but still managed to keep the demand in his tone visible. Y/N shook her head to get herself to think straight again, realising she had lingered too long on the rings, delaying the public ceremony’s final step.

Huffing out collected air, she slipped the wedding band onto Yoongi’s finger, uniting them.

The monk placed a thick crimson ribbon over their hands, proclaiming them man and wife. No vows echoed like in the far west, no intimate encounters within the public ceremony, despite Yoongi’s yearning to press his lips against hers.

Y/N knew very well that her father scoffed and cursed at the young leader yet again for choosing to follow his wedding traditions and not theirs. And ultimately, there was no paying respect to the elders.

Kkangpae does not bow down to anyone. Nor will his new bride.

Y/N was especially glad she does not have to do that nor the tea ceremony she always found dull. Not that she particularly enjoyed being controlled and swept by the demands of Yoongi’s clan.

The monk’s chants grew louder again, filling the temple with an eerie resonance. Y/N and Yoongi turned to face the gathered members of their syndicates, their families, and the underworld elite who had come to witness this union.

The banquet that followed was a lavish affair as is fit for the Min clan. The tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous dishes, and the air filled with the tantalizing aroma of delicacies prepared by the finest chefs. Nonetheless, Y/N could sense the atmosphere that was charged with tension. As if everyone was prepared to cast guns and kill each other.

Y/N felt the weight of her father’s glare before she could see him eye to eye. Her mimicry has shown nothing more but pure disgust when Wang Zemo shook the scarred leader’s hand congratulating them on their marriage. Y/N did not trust her father. His judgment was always clouded by power.

“You do not seem pleased, father,” Y/N remarked, exposing him. Her mother nervously laughed, hoping to prevent a disturbance between the two clans. She eyed him, expecting an answer from him.

“I’m not pleased that your husband allowed you to be kidnapped,” he retorted, making Yoongi squeeze Y/N’s hip, a possessive gesture.

“But he aided a rescue team in no time, daddy. Meanwhile, you could not even keep me at home,” Y/N fired back, laughing in her father’s face, not believing her own words defended the young Kkangpae that was now amusingly smirking next to her. She could see how her father’s brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, fuming at his daughter. Y/N can do that now, she does not owe her father loyalty anymore.

Her mother stopped him before he could raise his hand causing commotion within the two clans, instead he lifted his free arm pointing a warning finger at her. Y/N smiled sweetly and watched her mother pull his arm until he walked with her. Only when he was far away did she ask her new husband.

“Did he give you trouble when you asked for Xiaoli’s hand in marriage on behalf of Taehyung?” The young leader only hummed in response, his eyes were focused on something different from her now, and Y/N could not help but turn her head in the same direction as he was looking.

What unsettled her the most was the presence of Yamamotos. Yoongi nor anyone did not mention single tweet about these poisonous guests. Therefore, she felt her stomach rotate when they were approaching and for the first time in forever, Y/N pressed herself closer to Yoongi, intertwining their fingers together.

Of course, she feared them. She always viewed her father’s tactics and measures quite cruel. But if Wang Zemo was cruel than Yamamoto was brutal. And it was only natural to fear such a brutal syndicate as Yakuza.

“Congratulations, Min,” said the older male in Japanese. He did not bother to speak the tongue of his enemy’s territory, but he knew they would understand perfectly. The man had such a strong and intense aura around him. He ruled with fear, that thing was obvious.

He held his hand to Yoongi who accepted it for both your and his behalf, shaking it with firm grip, piercing his eyes alongside.

“You got yourself a fine woman, Min, —” he leered at Y/N, his gaze filled with hunger. A wave of disgust washed over her.

“She has caused you quite a bit of trouble, has she not?” he continued, finishing his remark. Y/N understood that their marriage was a calculated move that would redefine the power dynamics within the criminal underworld. Whether Yamamoto perceived the Mins as a threat remained an assumption on her part.

“Not as much trouble as you sending that foolish boy to his death,” Yoongi added, causing Y/N’s breath to hitch. Slowly, her eyes lifted to Yoongi, whose gaze now held an intensity that made the scar glow with anger. Y/N did not understand any bit of it. Had he not come willingly? No, that simply cannot be, there had to be an ulterior motive to commit such a sin.

“Certainly, we knew you would handle him and your bride just as you saw fit.”

“Surely, —” Yoongi replied with a dark undertone and a sinister smile. A wave of nausea rolled through Y/N. If they lingered in the presence of the Japanese Yakuza any longer, she might empty her stomach right there. Thankfully, they bid a seemingly cordial farewell, leaving to take their seats behind the tables and Y/N could at least breathe out.

“Yoongi—” she began once they were out of earshot. He cast her a brief glance before pivoting to examine her, noting her even paler face.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she stumbled the words out of her system fast. Y/N released Yoongi’s hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh God,” her sister’s whisper reached her ears, a reminder of their public setting, alerting her that she is still in public, and the eyes will pry.

Y/N swiftly walked — not ran, to avoid drawing attention — towards the nearest door leading outside to the cold. Once in the cold air again, she emptied her stomach.

“It’s okay,” Y/N heard her sister’s voice yet again, just before her hands were soothingly rubbing her back. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe the cold air in. She was grateful it was her sister offering comfort, not the groom. At least Xiaoli realized that Y/N wouldn’t want Yoongi to see her now. Nor any other prying eyes.

“It’s not okay, Xiaoli,” said Y/N through tears, feeling a profound, heart-wrenching anxiety and fear settling in her core.

“They fucking sent him to rape me, and God knows what else.”

“And he did not manage to do that. Hoseok took care of that. Jungkook took care of that, —”

Y/N recalled, her mind flashing to Jungkook storming into her room, his concern evident as he bombarded her with questions about her well-being. Guilt weighed on him for getting entangled with Chan-yeol instead of going straight to her. As her new brother, he felt an obligation to protect her, just like Hoseok, who would go to any lengths for her.

And that leaves Y/N to wonder. She pondered the sincerity behind their sympathy. Was it because of her supposed relationship with their brother, or was there a genuine connection forming? For a fleeting moment, she wondered if her aunt sensed the potential for them to become family, to be her home.

“—Leader Min will see to it that he is brought to justice,” Xiaoli continued, always sure to express her love for Yoongi.

Y/N looked down at her stained dress with a sense of pity, both for herself and the situation. A deep sense of sadness remained.

“I just wish it did not have to be this way,” she confessed, her voice filled with sorrow. “I wish I could have chosen this path for myself, rather than having it forced upon me.”

“But this is not the world or lifetime where you could do that,” her sister replied, and for a brief moment, Y/N felt a glimmer of understanding.

“I know,” she whispered quietly. “He used to be my friend; you know. Despite what he did, I never thought he would die in front of my eyes, —” her words held honesty, tinged with something else.

“And I never thought that I would be relieved they came in time and shot him dead, Xiaoli,” Y/N admitted, finally getting it off her chest.

“Taehyung-oppa said they paid him to do it.” Xiaoli disclosed. Y/N dreaded this scenario; she suspected that Chen did not act out of love for her. No one who loved someone would commit such a horrendous act.

Y/N scoffed, a desperate laugh escaping her. “Do you know what will happen to Chan-yeol?” She hadn’t had the chance to discuss this with Yoongi, leaving her in the dark and feeling consumed by it.

“He is held captive. That is all I know,” Xiaoli replied while helping Y/N stand. She needed to change her dress; there was no way she could return in this state.

“Y/N?” Xiaoli asked. Her older sister only hummed in response.

“If you attempt to run ever again, Daiyu is going to die—” Y/N paused for a moment.

“—He won’t hurt me, I’ll be betrothed to Taehyung-oppa. But Daiyu is still in the open.”

“Did you talk to her?” She asked.

“No,” Xiaoli replied, “but I talked to Kkangpae Min. He confirmed his intentions.”

“And it did not move you one bit?” Said Y/N surprised with what degree of calmness her sister is speaking of this.

Yoongi wanted to make it abundantly clear that he would take drastic measures if she attempted to escape again. He wanted her to fear the consequences, to be consumed by the dread of what might happen if she defied him; deliberately informing Xiaoli, knowing the bond between the sisters was a weak point for Y/N.

“I would not dare to go against his word.” Y/N only smiled sadly at her sister’s words. She does not understand. How could she?

The way to her chamber felt endless. Y/N was acutely aware of her disheveled state and the need for privacy. Another set of footsteps behind her and Xiaoli quickened her heart with anxiety.

“Y/N?” The soothing voice of the doctor, Seokjin, reached her ears, and she could not have been more relieved. Without turning around, she responded.

“I just need to change. I’m fine, Seokjin.”

Y/N wasted no time in stepping inside her room once they finally reached it. Seokjin followed, his demeanour calm and professional, yet she sensed a hint of concern in his eyes.

As she began changing out of the crimson robe from the wedding ceremony, Y/N couldn’t deny the unease that lingered within her.

“You can tell him I will be back in a little while, Seokjin.” Y/N turned to Seokjin, offering a weak smile.

“Are you sure you are feeling well?” Seokjin nodded; his expression was gentle.

“It’s just the anxiety.” Said Y/N. Her face still bore the traces of tears and turmoil, but she resolved to face the celebration with as much grace as she could muster. She knew that in the world she inhabited, appearances were everything.

Seokjin stood by the door, waiting patiently. “I’ll change and come right away,” she promised to the older male.

“Very well,” he answered simply and closed the door behind him leaving her and Xiaoli alone.

The intricate layers of fabric and silk were carefully removed, revealing a simpler, yet equally elegant, hanfu beneath — this one was a shade of soft lavender.

“Do you want to wear the hanbok instead?” Xiaoli asked. Does she? Just this morning, she insisted that her wedding dress will be a representation of the culture she is coming from. Looking over at the beautiful crimson and royal blue hanbok that she was supposed to wear as her wedding dress, Y/N hesitated.

“I don’t feel like wearing a wedding dress anymore, Xiaoli.” Her sister nodded in understanding, but beneath her supportive gaze, there lingered a hint of disappointment. Xiaoli had hoped that Y/N would fully embrace the culture of the Min clan, a desire likely shared by the clan’s leader. However, Y/N’s desire was to stay true to her Chinese roots for a little bit longer. If this is the only way she can remain herself, she is willing to rebel against him as long as she can.

She heard her sister sigh as she handed her the crimson flowery qipao. “You could at least meet him in the middle.” Xiaoli muttered, her disappointment evident.

“Xiaoli, if you did not notice I’m having a really bad day today.” Y/N’s patience was wearing thin. She had endured enough turmoil for one day, and the idea of appeasing Yoongi’s wishes no longer held much appeal.

“I understand—” Xiaoli wanted to say before Y/N interrupted her with the welling tears in her eyes and raised voice.

“No, you do not understand, Xiaoli!” Said Y/N, sliding down to a lower cushion chair, hugging her head with her small hands.

“But you are not even trying, Y/N,” Xiaoli retorted.

“Because I’m gasping for air every single time! I’m drowning, and yet I cannot learn to swim—” she cried out, clutching the fabric of her hanfu to the point she feared it would tear.

“All of you are blindly trying to convince me that this is the best that could ever happen to me—” she continued.

“—like you’re some kind of Gods that shall decide one’s fate.”

Xiaoli sighed, her frustration and discomfort evident. “All we do is care for you, truly, madly, deeply.”

Y/N looked up, her eyes filled with a mixture of despair and defiance.

“Are you listening to yourself, sister?!” Y/N did not even give her a chance to answer.

“—We are family, by blood, Xiaoli, I thought you cared about me to be more than just a pawn—” this time Xiaoli interrupted her older sister.

“And because we are family, I am trying to protect what matters to all of us.” Xiaoli knelt beside her, trying to console Y/N.

“What about what matters to me?” Y/N retorted; her voice shaky. “What about my dreams, my choices? He took that from me.”

Xiaoli hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “We all have to make sacrifices. And I know that you will make the best out of this.”

Y/N looked at her sister, a mix of disbelief and sadness in her eyes. “Is this the price of my freedom?”

“If this was another life, you could have what you truly desire.” Said Xiaoli. Y/N wiped away her tears before she spoke.

“I won’t let—” Y/N inquired.

“The consequences will be severe.” Said Xiaoli before Y/N could utter her thought as if she knew what she wanted to say.

“Remember that before you will do anything.”

The distant strains of music and laughter reached their ears when Xiaoli opened the door, walking through it in the direction of the celebration. Y/N put on a mask of composure, her posture regal, and her expression neutral. She couldn’t let anyone see the turmoil within her. Tonight, she would play the role expected of her, all while strategizing her next moves in this complex and dangerous game.

“Min Buin?!” a voice called out, unfamiliar and tinged with a strange mixture of reverence and unease — it sent a shiver down her spine.

A man stood right in the middle of the hall behind her. He was dressed in a dark, tailored suit that exuded authority, a stark departure from the opulence of the occasion.

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder who this enigmatic figure was and why he had singled her out with that title,

“Min Buin?!” He repeated again. Y/N turned her head slightly to Xiaoli, now a few steps closer to the banquet, her expression wary.

“Who’s asking?” she demanded, a hint of protectiveness in her voice. The man did not seem to be perturbed by Y/N’s defensive stance. Instead, he offered a faint, cryptic smile.

“Do you not know?” His tone took a different direction. He stepped closer to them.

“Y/N,” Xiaoli gulped down, her voice trembling. “That is Yamamoto Itsuki.” By how her sister spoke Y/N understood that this is the very man she was supposed to marry.

“Go.” She whispered to her sister who did not hesitate to run down the corridor and alert anyone. Only once Y/N was sure that her sister was far away did she speak.

“What is your business with me?” Y/N asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. The man’s smile widened slightly, revealing teeth that seemed unnaturally sharp in the dim light.

“Business?” He laughed. Y/N’s mind raced as she absorbed his words. She had been thrust into this world, initially a pawn in a dangerous game, but now it seemed that her role was evolving.

“I have unfinished business with you, yes.” He said after a few silent moments. Only her heavy breathing could be heard.

“I’m very much sure that a business between us never started in the first place; therefore, it seems to me we have nothing to talk about,” said Y/N, swiftly turning her body back to its original position, ready to flee to the banquet and seek help.

As she predicted, this day could only get worse as she found herself pinned to the nearest wall. Y/N could feel his breath on her face, a strong large hand enveloped her throat, pressing her to the wall harder and making it hard to breathe. Y/N’s breathing skipped intervals.

“You are one greedy ungrateful little bitch, are you not?” He spat the words into her face, squeezing her neck even tighter. Her hands automatically rose to his arm, trying to push him away. Her head started to spin, and she could feel the redness that rushed to her cheeks as she gasped for air that would fill her lungs.

“You were supposed to be mine!” His scream echoed in the empty corridor. Out of all the endings of her life, she truly did not foresee this one. There was a strike of a quick moment where she thought that death would be her redemption and eternal freedom she wished for. However, Y/N still had the will to fight for her life. She dug her nails into his arm, trying to push his hand away one more time, but he was too strong.

A click of a reloading gun seemed too muffled for her ears to notice, but when the sudden absence of pressure on her throat disappeared, and she could finally welcome the air in, she thanked God for being still in his favour.

Her knees have denounced their service, and she found herself on the ground. She went to touch her sore throat when a familiar hand did it before her. Y/N’s breath was still rocky, and she heard an annoying ringing in her ears. She barely could hear what Yoongi was screaming at the man who was recently near killing her.

“Y/N?” She heard Jimin’s voice, but she could not figure out where it was coming from. Her head was spinning like a carousel, and her vision was still a bit blurry. She wanted to speak up but she found it hard to do so.

“Can you breathe for me, darling?” She tried to stabilize her breathing but couldn’t stop panting for air.

“You have to try and calm down.” Seokjin was speaking to her, and by her blurry vision she saw another four figures around her. Two holding the younger Yamamoto for Yoongi, the other two attending to her.

Y/N went to try to speak again, even though she was fully aware that only high-pitched tones would come out that would make her words unrecognisable.

“I—” she tried, “I want—” she finally gulped down the little amount of saliva she had in her mouth.

“Bring her water right now.” Seokjin understood quickly. Her hearing was coming back to life and same for her vision. She could now see Jungkook and Hoseok dragging the man away from them, and Yoongi swiftly turning to examine the damage the man had done to his beloved.

By the time he fell down to his knees, cupping her cheeks, trying to read from her eyes, Jimin had returned with the water she needed. Yoongi helped her to hold the glass in both of her hands and drink it whole in one go.

“I do not want to stay here tonight,” she said with a raspy voice, feeling every muscle in her throat. Yoongi looked at her with worry in his eyes. He promised she would be safe with him, and within less than twelve hours, she was abducted, almost raped, and nearly choked to death.

“I am so sorry, baby,” said the young leader with remorse. “I am going to make it better, I promise.” Y/N’s ‘better’ however, contained something else than his ‘better’.

“We cannot leave right away—” tears escaped her eyes, falling heavy and hot on her dress. Yoongi was the Kkangpae and the enemy’s clan member just assaulted his wife. This cannot slip out without consequences.

“How dare you disrespect me and my wife this way,” said Yoongi to the older male from Yamamoto’s clan who had barely sat down in Yoongi’s office.

The younger offender, who had laid his hand on Y/N, was still firmly held by Hoseok and Jungkook. She sat in Yoongi’s office chair, a blanket draped over her shoulders, the purple bruises on her neck stark against her skin, certainly not flattering jewelry.

“How dare you disrespect our clan, Kkangpae Min.” The older male retorted, testing the younger leader’s patience. Yoongi clenched his hand into a fist, struggling to maintain control.

“This is far too unforgivable against what you assume I did,” he spat out quickly. Y/N wished she could just hide away and never come back, but as the Kkangpae’s wife, a Buin, she had to be present.

Yamamoto scoffed. “You are playing the game dirty, so are we—”

“Take this as a payback for meddling in our affairs, Kkangpae Min—” the older male started.

“And as far as traditions goes, she is yet to be your woman by our law and God’s will,” alluding to the inevitable — they had to consummate the marriage. Y/N knew this and had been making peace with the fact throughout the day.

“You won’t have to worry about that, Mr. Yamamoto,” Yoongi was always known for his cockiness whilst dealing with enemies, but he was also the most cautious man alive, however today was a misstep he did not wish to ever make. All this only proved he could not leave her alone — not because she might flee, but because someone could take her away from him. And he would never let her go.

“Watch me fucking continue meddling—” Yoongi retorted. “I see that you know the goddamn rules; I shall have his hand.” Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. She did not expect him to go unpunished for what he did to her, which would make Yoongi look unfit to rule. Itsuki started to squirm in their hold, attempting to break free.

“You want a war?” Yamamoto asked with venom in his voice.

“You apparently desire to have it when you assaulted my wife twice in one day.” Yoongi spat and signaled to Hoseok to bring Itsuki forward. Jungkook grabbed the hand that had been on Y/N’s neck less than an hour ago.

“Father!” Itsuki screamed with madness in his voice.

“Here you have it, you impatient imbecile!” his father screamed back at him, frustrated with both himself and his son. The plan had been to warn the Mins, not infuriate them.

Y/N watched Yoongi wordlessly as he took a short katana from Namjoon who appeared out of nowhere. The blade was sharp as a viper’s fang, and it gleamed in the dim light sourcing from the fireplace. The hilt, wrapped in silk, the colour of dried blood, felt cool and ominous in Yoongi’s hand.

She knew he’d have to swing it more than once to actually cut off Itsuki’s hand. Y/N gulped down her fear, pressing both hands to her mouth to stifle the scream that escaped when he first wielded the blade, piercing through Itsuki’s skin and colliding with bone, breaking it open. Burgundy blood streamed down to the wooden floor. Y/N clenched her eyes shut at the painful scream that followed and bounced slightly on the chair at the loud thump of the hand hitting the ground.

“You have one hour to leave our land,” Yoongi declared, aiming the katana at the leading Yamamoto. The son dropped to the ground, cradling his arm, staring at the severed hand and screaming in pain, muttering threats to the Min clan.

“You chose.” The older male looked over to Y/N who was still very much speechless and in utter shock from what occurred before her eyes. Yoongi’s gaze, momentarily lingering on his wife with furrowed brows, but quickly returned to Yamamoto. Their eyes locked, and the older man extended his hand to retrieve his injured son from the floor, leading him out of the room.

Yoongi dropped the katana onto the ground, tilting his head backwards in a brief prayer to the Lord. The room remained cloaked in heavy silence — not a peaceful silence, but one pregnant with the weight of a grim decision. A choice had been made, and its consequences were bound to unfold in darkness. This was a proclamation of war.

Y/N’s eyes remained fixed on the spot where Yamamoto’s hand was laying limp in a pool of fresh blood. As Yoongi straightened and turned his gaze toward her, his eyes were a tempest of conflicting emotions.

“You chose.”

Yoongi echoed Yamamoto’s words more as a question, his voice carrying a low, sombre resignation. He did not demand an answer; he knew what Yamamoto was talking about. Glancing down at his black shoes, now soaked with the blood of his enemy, Yoongi let out a soft laugh at the irony of her choosing him.

He understood the possibility that her choice might stem from self-preservation, realizing he could annihilate her entire family the moment she disappeared. Yet, his own selfishness shielded him from that harsh reality. Yoongi desperately wanted to believe that she returned to him and him alone.

Her eyes grew too heavy to stay open during the car ride back to the sanctuary. She allowed them a brief respite, letting the weight of exhaustion pull her into a momentary rest. The events of this day had been like a tempest, tearing through the delicate fabric of her reality and leaving chaos in its wake.

Y/N’s strength was something Yoongi admired, yet even he recognized the toll this day had taken on her. The hypocrite in him thinking that kind of evil will lead her to seek solace in him, perhaps finding that this was where she truly belonged — by his side.

She could have turned and run when the chance presented itself, disappearing into the wild. But she did not, and that is what mattered to Yoongi. For the first time, Y/N found herself yearning to return to the sanctuary, back to her golden cage.

Y/N knew that this night would be a reflection of the complexities of their relationship, a dance between desire and the darkness that surrounded them. Y/N understood that despite the arduous day, this had to be done. Bracing herself, she stepped out of the car and into the dark.

She walked slightly behind her now husband, letting him lead the way to the house she did not quite recognise. Before she mustered the courage to ask questions, he spoke first.

“I grew up in this house—” he whispered into the cold air, “a hot spring is right behind it.”

Y/N observed the house built into the massive stone walls of the valley, surrounded by tall pine trees. It was too dark for her to see just how tall they actually are, but the little flickering lights visible through the windows granted her a little peak.

“I want to spend tonight with you here,” he turned to face her. Yoongi could not tear his gaze away from her, adoring every detail—her eyes, cheeks, nose, hair, mouth. But if you would ask him, how did he come to be so obsessed with her, he would not give a cohesive answer. The inexplicable obsession he felt seemed right, like two puzzle pieces fitting together. He believed that even if she did not feel it now, she would eventually.

“Just the two of us.”

He took a little step to be closer to her. If Y/N understood correctly, this is the only place where they can be truly alone without prying eyes and ears. Yoongi wanted to talk and what’s more, he intended to do more than just talk tonight.

“Aight,” she replied slowly with her still sore throat. He had never seen her this calm, and he wanted to enjoy every minute she is not fighting against him — despite the disturbing circumstances that led to her current state of mind.

“Can we have some tea first?” she asked with little hope that he would agree to slow down a little bit. He chuckled at her sudden innocence and extended his arm to caress her cheek.

“Course we can, my love,” he smiled softly.

And so, they found themselves once again by the comforting embrace of a fireplace, patiently waiting for the tea to brew in the teapot’s gentle whistle.

There was something about this scenery that Yoongi could not help but love. Y/N, seated on the fur rug next to the warmth of the crackling flames, found solace in these quiet moments. After the tumultuous events of the day, it was a sanctuary they both needed. At least, she felt at peace in moments like these.

“I am sorry.” he suddenly confessed, his eyes revealing the genuine sorrow within. Today had left Yoongi conflicted, riding the highs of marrying the woman he desired while being weighed down by guilt for the day’s events.

Y/N met his gaze, her voice devoid of emotion as she calmly asked, “About what exact part?”

“All of it,” he shook his head. Y/N chuckled, and confusion flickered in Yoongi’s eyes.

“Are you not going to punish me, Kkangpae?” Here she goes.

“I do desire to know your relation to the boy, I won’t lie, but no.”

“There is no relation.”

“Are you sure? We talked about this already — no lies.”

“I’m not lying, he did fancy me, yes—” Yoongi’s grip on his hands tightened.

“—I thought we were friends, but he was not keen to flee away with me when I needed to,” she admitted.

“Do you mourn him?” Yoongi’s voice held a serious tone.

“I mourn the boy he was, not what he apparently became after we parted—” she began, carefully, collecting her thoughts.

“—they paid him to go and attempt rape me, Yoongi. I pray for his soul to find its peace after what sins he committed,” a tear escaped her eye, a sob followed. Yoongi leaned in, holding her small hands in an attempt to provide comfort.

“It was horrible,” she cried out and finally, she opened up to him.

“Amidst all the bad today, I’m so proud of you—” Y/N raised her blurry eyesight to meet him, awaiting an explanation.

“—You could have run, and you did not. You chose to come back to me.”

“I promise, I swear to you — I will never ever let that happen again—” he assured, moving closer to her.

She took a deep breath, summoning the courage to address the yet unspoken. “Can I get the letter, please?” Y/N whispered.

“In the morning.” He answered, intending to prolong it to ensure her continued good behaviour and obedience.

“Do we?-” She interrupted, praying for a change of his mind, though fully aware of the inevitability. He needed to ensure no loopholes in their marriage for others to exploit or for her to negotiate over. She knows this is mandatory.

“Yes, we do,” he acknowledged after some thought. Knowing what she had been through that day, he recognised the potential impact, but he also saw it as a way to fully claim her. It was a selfish desire, perhaps, but one he had long awaited.

Yoongi longed to feel her skin to skin. It was indeed selfish, he knew that much. Some would say it is careless of him to demand such an intimate act to happen after all she has been through. But he wanted to show her that this is a part of their marriage she can truly enjoy. Yoongi wanted to give a final full stop to their relationship by solidifying the union rightfully, as the tradition goes.

The flickering flames of the fireplace danced in the dimly lit room, casting a warm glow upon Y/N and Yoongi. Consummating the marriage was a private but necessary measure.

His selfishness had not gone unnoticed by the syndicate elders, who questioned his insistence on not just any hotel room but the house where generations of memories had been created. He deliberately wanted to spend the night in the house he grew up in, where his father started a family, and his grandfather, and his grandfather and so on down the history line.

Yoongi, having lost his parents at a young age, yearned to start his own family. He wanted to witness the growth of his children, their marriages, and their own families.

Y/N knew this day would come, sooner or later, and as a young woman, she had learnt to protect herself from unplanned consequences. She understood his desire for a child, though he never explicitly discussed it with her. But she was far from being ready to surrender to the life fate had planned for her, not just yet.

Heaven had given her a sign, a slight hope when she found a particular herb in the garden before the first snow fell. Y/N had kept it discreet, asking the maid to dry the flowers and serve them as tea in the morning. Tonight, she was calm, knowing it could not happen, even if he wished otherwise.

Yoongi observed her hesitance, her eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and resilience. The room, with its walls that held generations of memories, seemed to echo with the weight of tradition and expectation. But as he reached out to touch her cheek gently, his eyes softened.

The sharp sound of a loud whistle from the tea kettle startled them both, tearing them out of the cocoon of their thoughts. The iron kettle hung gracefully over the open flame, steam rising in wisps as if trying to escape the weight of the night. Yoongi carefully prepared the tea, his movements deliberate and unhurried. The aroma of freshly brewed leaves filled the air. The porcelain teapot, an heirloom passed down through generations, sat patiently on the wooden small table that was next to them. As he poured the tea into delicate cups, he eyed her small physique yet again, searching for any signs.

She accepted the cup he offered her, the warmth seeping through the delicate porcelain. Her mind briefly paused when she recognised the familiar scent. She chuckled and Yoongi raised his eyebrows in surprise, awaiting her words. Y/N took a few careful sips from the cup, accepting what it offered.

“Are you afraid, Kkangpae?” She asked, taking another sip. Yoongi put his cup on the wooden table and looked directly in her eyes.

“Me? No,” he pointed at himself, hiding a smile.

“So why did you choose to make tea from Valerian root?” Her studies that surely included herbalism had escaped Yoongi’s mind.

“I knew this night would be difficult for you, and I — I wanted to ensure it went as smoothly as possible,” he confessed.

“Considerate,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. Yoongi’s gaze faltered, and he looked away momentarily.

“I want you to enjoy it—”

“Then make me enjoy it,” she interrupted him yet again, gulping down the contents of her cup, setting it down with a gentle clink next to his almost full one.

“I intend to,” he said. The complexities of tradition, the weight of the syndicate expectations, seemed to press down on them like the heavy beams of the hanok. Yet, he was thrilled at the prospect of laying her down and making love to her, while she tried to make peace with the path ahead.

A mixture of emotions played across Y/N’s face, the tension in the air made her anxious. The tea flowed in her system, calming her. The steps were set, and she cannot back down now.

His hands cradled her face, a gesture that held both tenderness and an unspoken understanding. But Y/N knows he will never understand. And thus, the night unfolded.

The hanok, with its wooden beams and paper windows, seemed to breathe with the rhythm of their footsteps. The aroma of tea still lingered within the walls, all the way back in the house.

“Pray with me?” a soft plea that resonated with the hallowed surroundings. They settled on top of the low cushion bed; he held both her hands in his. The subtle sounds of the valley outside, muffled by the hanji-covered windows, crackling fire nearby — the low hum of their shared prayer filled the room, blending with the whispers of the winter wind outside.

As they concluded their prayers, the world outside the hanok continued its silent ballet with nature. Yoongi slowly let her hands fall into her lap. Y/N kept looking at her hands, biting her lower lip.

He extended his hands pulling out the golden pins from her hair, releasing them.

“You are magnificent,” he whispered into her lips that were anticipating his. She looked into his eyes one last time before she slowly closed them, awaiting him to take the first step. Y/N could feel both his hands on the swell of her bottom, slightly squeezing it and thus making her pant into his mouth. He pulled her into his lap, not distancing their close proximity. Not now. Not ever.

A deep groan released from his throat when she fully sat down in his lap. Y/N was straddling him, feeling his stiff manhood tightly pressed against her core making her breath hitch. He moved his hand from its place on her butt cheek to the swell of her clothed breast.

“Let me make love to you.” He kissed her lips very gently, waiting for her response. She knew he would do so even if she would not give him her consent. And once she shyly nodded her head, he dove right in and kissed her very deeply, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He was hungry and only she could sate him.

He continued to press himself against her core, creating at least some friction in between, aiming to hit the right spot and make her sing for him.

Yoongi was trying to trace down the opening of her qipao, feeling the delicately made buttons on her chest. Not for a moment he stopped kissing her, unbuttoning her dress and hiking it up from its hem on her thighs, showing her undergarments and pulling it all the way up her head —throwing the peace of clothing that provided her warmth, perhaps even a security blanket, away.

Her neck was his next target. He bent his head making hers to lean back to allow him access. Yoongi layered down butterfly kisses all over her, now, naked, bruised neckline. “You are such a good girl.” He muttered into her skin, caressing her bottom while he placed his hand back to her right breast.

Y/N could feel her nipples stiffen under the change of temperature, or perhaps the excitement her body was going through, which she did not want to admit. He took one of her hands who were inactive till now and placed it on his chest near the small buttons of his shirt. Trying to send a mental message for her to touch him too — undress him too.

Y/N took a shaky breath, trying to come to her senses. Out of this ectasis. But she could not. His work on her neck was becoming troublesome, not mentioning his roaming hands. She was never touched by man lovingly, but she could not deny that he is making her heart skip just by teasing her.

Her small shaky fingers finally reached to the buttons whilst he was abusing her chest with hot kisses. She unbuttoned the first one, then the second until she reached the last. “That’s it baby.” He encouraged her to continue slipping his shirt down from his body.

He straightened himself and looked deeply into her eyes, his voice filled with desire and longing. “I love you.” Said Yoongi when he slowly slid his hand in between them cupping her clothed heat. Millions of little butterflies erupted in her lower belly, her breath hitched, silent moan coming out of her swollen lips when he started to rub circles, moving her clitoris through the fabric. She could feel herself leaning into him, her body responding to his touch.

The room was filled with an intoxicating blend of desire and anticipation. He caressed her back until he reached the opening of her western style cone bra that she wore under the dress. Popping it open her eyes snapped open too. But the pleasure was overshadowing her sound judgment, and he knew she would at some point try to resent him a little, that’s why he did not hesitate to throw it the same direction as her qipao, not wasting time and taking her already hard nipple into his mouth. Her eyes widened; pupils dilated.

He was taking his sweet time loving her every inch before he laid her down on the bed, hovering above her. Dominating her. Yoongi’s hands moved with a gentle urgency, his kisses becoming more fervent as their passion ignited. He hooked his fingers into her undergarments, not giving her a chance to protest when he quickly pulled them down her legs, tepid air hitting her centre.

It’s when he went to spread her legs touching her knees she took his wrist into her small hand, looking deep down into his eyes, tears swelling in, realisation hitting her. Yoongi did not seem to be angry or displeased. He understood why this action triggered her and therefore he led her hands to his belt, giving her a chance to yet again give him her consent to proceed. He wanted her to fall in love with him, not to fear him. He dreaded the day when he will have to use different measures to convince, she is his woman and no one else can touch her.

The little rat was a big mistake. Yoongi did not expect him to go as far as to attempt to rape her. But he knew that the boy was coming. He knew it’s Yakuza’s move, and he knew when they would strike,and he was ready. What he wasn’t ready for was Chan-yeol’s betrayal. Nobody is betraying Kkangpae Min, nor no one will dare to touch his wife after what he will do to the traitor.

“You’re alright, baby.” He attempted to assure her, putting her small hands on his belt. Y/N’s fingers were yet again shaking when she was undoing his belt. She was now fully aware of her laying naked body. She could feel the goosebumps forming on her skin.

As Yoongi’s belt came undone, he couldn’t help but marvel at the strength and resilience that radiated from her. She had endured so much in such a short span of time, yet here she was, willingly surrendering herself to him.

He pulled down the pants, together with his undergarments. A loud thud followed once they fell down to the floor. He bent down to her belly and placed a small kiss just below her belly button and one slightly lower to her yet uninhabited womb.

“I need to help you relax your muscles a little.” Said he. She felt his hot breath on her inner thighs, shaking in his hold. He slid his hand down to her core yet again, touching her without any barrier for the first time. Y/N took a deep breath and another one when he slid his finger down her folds and up, making her pussy produce wet juices. His lips were on her collarbone when he unexpectedly slid his index finger inside her making her moan loudly, yelp even.

“Shhh…” He cooked at her, kissing her lips passionately, while thrusting his finger slowly in and out of her heat. She could feel a prick of pain in the area Yoongi’s finger occupied. Y/N’s moans became a mix of moderate pain and pleasure altogether.

She could feel his other hand move away from caressing her hip to his member which he started to slowly stroke. Y/N could see that he was more than ready — his cock big, stiff and red, pre-cum leaking from its tip. He wanted to dive into her heat badly. But he needed to stretch her out a little more, so she won’t suffer that much pain. Yoongi smiled when he spotted her eyeing his body through half-lidded eyes, panting, yet being focused specifically on his manhood.

He towered above her, pulling his finger out of her heat. Sudden emptiness surrounded her walls that were finally adjusting to the intruder. She gasped when she felt his hands pulling her closer to him. Her legs were on each side of his hips. Y/N observed his body, his toned skin, slight muscles, his well-built torso — all the way down his V line, adorned with soft hair.

She snapped out of her thought train once he climbed on top of her and pressed his manhood in between her folds, sliding it up and down, covering it in her juices. Moan escaped her mouth once he put a little bit of pressure, stimulating her clitoris. He moved his hips slowly, trying to hold himself to not to thrust it in just yet.

He raised his left hand and intertwined his fingers with hers pinning it above her head while attacking her lips again. Y/N’s hand instinctively slapped his chest trying to push him away just a little, but his little smirk into her lips assured her that he wanted that kind of reaction from her.

And when she awaited it the least, he thrust himself into her, making her bite down his lower lip. He groaned at the sensation. His lip was bleeding, but he could not care less. “No—” She let go of his lip and an incoherent sound came out of her throat, eyes welling up with tears.

“Yoongi, it hurts too much.” She stated the obvious, crying whilst trying to breath. Enormous heat wave just hit her, and she was desperately wanting to make her head stop spinning.

“I know, baby. I know.” He whispered into her lips, trying to take his own breathing under control. She feels like heaven to him. His everlasting home. His love. This is where he was supposed to be all his life.

He tried to move very slowly, making her cry even more, but he couldn't stop. “It will stop I promise.” He kissed her tears away, stretching her walls to the fullest with his manhood. Silently moaning into her lips.

It took quite a while for her to adjust to the stretch and tension, fullness inside of her. Yoongi explored every inch of her naked body, his hands caressing her with a gentleness that belied his previous actions. In this moment, she was not defined by the traumas of her past or the expectations of their marriage. Their bodies moved in perfect sync once the pain yielded a little.

The room was filled with the sounds of their mingled loud moans and the crackling of the fire. The warmth of the fireplace mirrored the growing heat between them, intensifying the pleasure that coursed through their veins.

Yoongi’s movements became a little faster, more deliberate to draw as much pleasure from her as he could. He wanted to show her that their union was not solely physical but a one of love. With each whisper of reassurance and each gentle caress, he aimed to erase any lingering fears and insecurities that she held.

His thrusts were becoming sloppy after a while, he could feel her shaking against him. But not from fear but from pleasure. He mustered what he could to take her over the edge for the very first time in her life. Y/N could feel the butterflies in her stomach tying somewhat knot that she wanted them to release badly. Her hand slipped into his hair, tucking it tightly whilst he was thrusting into her heat, making her moan loudly into his mouth. He was very close, but he wanted her to come with her. And as they were reaching the peak of passion, their bodies trembling with pleasure, Yoongi held Y/N close, their hearts beating in sync.

Their moans became louder and louder every second they were nearing the summit. “Yoongi—!” she screamed his name out when she was sure the knot was about to burst. “Baby—” he could not even finish a sentence he meant to say once she came undone under him, trembling from the pleasure, her mouth agape, eyes tightly closed — her walls still vibrating around him. Not even a second later his loud cry followed as he spilled thick ropes of cum inside of her. His eyes closed, and he was breathing heavily. When he opened his eyes, she was already looking at him, her mouth still slightly open as she was panting. Her eyes seemed glossy but so were his. He caressed the side of her thigh whilst gently kissing her swollen lips, whispering how much he loves her.

Slowly pulling out of her heat, substituting with his fingers plunging his cum mixed with hints for crimson blood, back into her heat he lowered his body yet again to her belly. Kissing where he assumed her womb was, he whispered a prayer.

“May the Lord bless us with a miracle.”

I N T E R L O G U E

The father’s rage reverberated in the confined space of the car. “You could not have just fucking waited, you little prick!” his frustration boiling over.

Still grappling with the pain of his missing arm, the one-handed son shot back defiantly, blood seeping through the bandages “You said everything would work out in our favour!”

The car they were sitting in was slowing down until it stopped altogether. The older male looked around in confusion. They were nowhere near the docks for their escape to Fukuoka.

“It would if you’d just shut your damn cock instincts, you stupid boy!” the Yakuza leader hissed, attempting to keep his anger in check.

Blinded by fury, he failed to notice the car taking a series of wrong turns, leading them into a desolate no man’s land. When the driver turned to face them, blood reached his ears.

“Kkangpae Min sends you good wishes on your journey to hell.”

to be continued

©pennyellee. please do not repost

author's note: f finally yall!!!!! as I already said this chapter was a lot, ain't gonna lie about that, but everything is going according to the plan so don't worry. This was my first smut in english and I'm so scared of yall's reaction... Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, it was an emotional roller-coaster to write, especially the implied non-con and smut after all the reader had to endure, poor gal. I love to see your comments that basically express that you understand the story's essence and for that I love you all so much ♥ We'll see what will happen in next chapter :))

shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter! Love you bae!!!!

Love you all!! ♥

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @chaoticpuff17 - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts

380 notes · View notes

donquixotehomura · 3 months

Text

Roronoa Zoro x Reader, Hawkeye's Daughter?!

Master List

A/N so I got another one and it isn't Doffy thus time, unbelievable! 😂 Anyways hope you enjoy this has a (technically) part one but it's not well written I just thought I'd post this one, once I'm done with it I'll post it

As Zoro and Y/N stepped onto the deck of the Thousand Sunny, hand in hand, the Straw Hat crew’s reactions ranged from excitement to utter shock. Wide eyes and dropped jaws greeted the unexpected revelation — Zoro not only had a girlfriend but she was the daughter of the formidable Mihawk.

Cheers erupted from the crew as they gathered around, eager to meet the woman who had captured Zoro’s heart. Nami and Robin exchanged knowing glances, while Chopper couldn’t contain his excitement. Usopp was already envisioning epic lies/stories to tell. Luffy laughed stretching his arms to catapult himself in front of her, grabbing her by the arms “this is interesting, welcome to the crew Y/N” she smiled at him “thank you Captain it’s an honor” “Luffy is fine” “got it Luffy”.

However, Sanji, always ready to express his emotions, couldn’t hide the jealousy that loomed over him. “Marimo, you’ve been holding out on us!” he exclaimed, his tone a mix of disbelief and frustration.

“How are you dating?! And you’re dating Mihawk’s daughter?!” Sanji’s voice escalated with each word, a blend of shock and irritation.

Zoro, seemingly unfazed, smirked. “Didn’t realise I had to report to you Ero-Cook.”

Sanji’s eyes darted between Zoro and Y/N, a tumult of emotions crossing his face. “Is this some kind of joke? Are you playing around, Marimo?” he demanded.

Before Zoro could respond, Sanji turned to Y/N with a skeptical look. “Are you sure you want to be with this idiot? I mean, seriously?”

Y/N, maintaining her composure, met Sanji’s gaze and replied calmly, “I’m absolutely sure. I love him.”

Sanji’s world seemed to crumble as he grumbled in frustration. “How does the moss head get a hot, strong girlfriend before me?” he muttered, visibly pained by the unexpected turn of events.

Brook approached her laughing “that’s great Yohohoho, can I see your panties?” he asked her and she just looked at him and blinked “ that’s not possible, cause I’m not wearing any” she said nonchalantly making Brook crumble to the ground. Franky who had over heard fell to the floor “suuppperrr” and Sanji had another nosebleed crisis.

The crew, ignoring Brook and Sanji’s turmoil, and what Y/N just said, continued to welcome Y/N with open arms, excitedly discussing her skills with swords and her connection to Mihawk. Amidst the chaos, Zoro stood watching the events unfold, he was glad it all went well, he joined the group wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, causing Sanji to have a worse crisis as she leaned into him.

A/N I have no idea what I'm doing send help please

#roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #zoro #one piece zoro #one piece x reader #one piece #dracule mihawk #Dracule Mihawk daughter #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #Mihawk daughter #one piece fluff #roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #Roronoa Zoro x reader fluff #Roronoa Zoro fluff #Zoro fluff

202 notes · View notes

complete-clownery · 4 months

Text

Okay I wont get to work on this any longer tonight so imma just post this

So this morning I have realised some stuff about my Macaque home hc

So first of all you can see the human disguised Macaque with Bai He,

and so Bai He wasnt there or "planed into the house" three days ago, but I decided that, that just wont do, I want her with Macaque, so im going to have to go back and alter my original ideas so it would fit the concept of Bai He also living there with Macaque (I have quit a lot of ideas for that, but ill get to them when I have the time)

But its not the main reason I wanted to talk about this even with half finished ideas under constructuion in my head

The big thing you already saw the random old lady and the antic Store/shop, so its no suprise im going to talk about that a for a bit,,, not a lot tho cuz I dont really got the energy for this

Soo--- She does not have a name, but Ill work on that, shes not fully thougt out, but nothing really when it comes to my ideas and headcanons (its kinda like eating halfbaked dough)

so shes 73 years old divorced lady running a little antic shop in the outer cirkles of Megapolis. I was thinking maybe it was her who originally selled the whole building to Macaque and rented the free space under the dojo.

She has a daughter and a grandkid (didn't decide on gender yet)

Shes kinda inspired by @/ladygreenfrisbee's oc in the fanfiction sunbreak, a snarky but sweet old lady whos not taking any shit from the brooding, shadow the hedgehog wannabe.

When she was younger she worked in a Museum in Megapolis, working with antient historical artifacts and megical weapons, but she pretty much knew everything about anything in there, with history and old stories being one of her passions,

Thus after she retired she decided to open and antic store. Even tho its an antic store, she can be one of those people that you bring an old piece of furniture or object in and they can tell you if its legit or not. She is also willing to trade and buy stuff from you if its to her likings. She's fair and not a con artist, she has just enough money for herself and thats completely fine by her, shes a simple woman when it comes to living.

She has a ton of degrees, Dr. And Phd tytels and what nots, extreamly smart and knows a lot about history and mytology and different eras of the past, making it easier for her and Macaque to connect over old stuff.

Also I was thinking, even tho she couldnt tell that Macaque was the Six Eared Macaque himself, she knew that they were wearing glamours, She studied artifects and worked with demons who were experts on the field of magics and glamours, she knows her shit

And even tho She had a decent relationshipp with Macaque I dont think Macaque would willingly let her see his true form, maybe after he was very exhausted, and injured after a fight they couldnt hold it up and were like-- fuck it who cares (maybe it was after the final fight with LBD) and she obviously knew who they were imidietly seeing his Six ears (that even tho he let her see one time hé continued to glamour like he would usually, only letting go of their human disguise)

So after that she would start asking him a whole lot of questions about the past and what was it like, carefully avoiding the questions involving the great sage equal to heaven, cuz she knew what happend from jttw

But yeah Macaque found it funny how a child and an old lady are looking at him with similar shimmer to their eyes as they interrogate him on the past

She loves a good tea and has her own little blends that calm the nerves and ease muscle pain and stuff like that. After She and Macaque became more friendly with eachother she gifted them some tea that helps him fall asleep better and relax. Macaque checked them for poison twice and couldnt find anything, but still wasnt willing to drink from them until he had a very fucked up breakdown yippeee ✌️

After Macaque lived there for some years they somewhat warmed up to eachother, they would hold little tea paties and talk about stuff (annoying husbands and divorce) after Bai He started living with Macaque these tea parties increased in numbers, sometimes the ladys grandchild joining in when Grandma was watching over them, maybe they get along well with Bai He, maybe they had a rocky begining to their friendshipp, but they warmed up to eachother and now are pretty good friends (maybe, ill think about it more)

BUT!!! this was it for now its already 2:40 am and im waking up at 6:40 so even tho I have more to say ill be going now

Bye thank you for reading ✌️☺️

#clowning ∆#clown does art #lego monkey kid macaque #lego monkey kid #lego monkey kid oc #lmk headcanon #lmk bai he #lmk #lmk oc

166 notes · View notes

boyfhee · 1 year

Text

CLOSEST FRIEND AND MORE ⋆ pjs

prompt · “i don’t think i’ve ever felt the way i do with you with anyone else.” “what does that mean?” “what do you think it means?” · requested

g · fluff warnings · light profanities, mentions of injury wc · 0.8k

note · writer's block is real and it sucks

“and then, that bastard, that cheating lying bastard, blatantly lied in front of everyone and said that, i pushed him during the game. seriously— can you believe that?” a scoff falls off your lips and you recall the moments from your PE class this morning, which more or less morphed into a fight between you and one of your classmates who claims to have been pushed by you in a game of dodgeball and sprained his ankle when in reality, he practically launched himself towards you and all you did was step aside to save yourself.

and jay, he’s hearing this story for the fifth time today, in different narratives from different people, with more colourful words for the said boy being served by them on a silver platter.

“no, i really can’t believe that,” he responds sarcastically, eyes focused on the evening sky and then the road as a soft smile rested upon his lips, throughout the walk from school to your place.

“jay,” you slow down, the extra emphasis on his name to get a serious reply, making him turn to look at you. you stare at him for a second while he mirrors the same blank look at you, before a faint sigh slips off your lips. “you’ve been really quiet today, you know?”

and not just today but for the past four to five days. jay is a quiet person, actually, but not quiet quiet, not the quiet where you hear six words maximum from him in twenty-four hours. you wouldn’t say you and jay are super close or the bestest of friends and yet still, you can hear him whisper from behind you during classes, making you laugh occasionally, sneaking notes from under the desks, everything that makes maths more bearable for you and everything whose absence for days now has you concerned.

“is that so?”

“mhm, i almost forgot your voice,” which is an exaggeration on your part, but you’re pretty sure it would have come true had the silence game continued for a few more days. “are you okay, though? is there anything you’re worried about, anything you’d like to tell me?”

a brief pause follows, a moment of silence yet again, filled with the shuffling of your footsteps on the pavement as he swings your hand back and forth, holding it a little tighter. “well, there is something i’m worried about but i can figure it out myself,”

you step in front of him, getting a better look at his face and his eyes meet yours. “are you sure?”

“i am,”

you see your house now, the first one as soon as you'd take the next left. walks with jay are less frequent. he’s either busy with his other friends or after school stuff that your homeroom teacher assigns him, much to his disappointment. walks with him are less often but are always fun, hands intertwined as you both take all the time in the world to cover the ten minutes walking distance from school to your house, since he insists on walking you home everyday.

walks with him are less common, this might be your ninth or tenth time, but they’re already something you look forward to ever since you wake up. you realise that walks with jay might be the only chance to get to know him better, and thus, you take the opportunity.

“i know you don’t like stressing people out with your own problems and you rarely talk about them, but i want you to know that you can rely on me,” the two of you finally stop in front of your house and you stand in front of him, taking both of his hands into yours. “you’re one of my closest friends, i’m here if you never need someone to listen to you,”

he has known you for one month, barely, and you’re asking him to spill his worries to you as if they’re your own, but how does he tell you that you’re the reason he’s losing track of day, noon and night, wondering if there’s even a little chance that you feel the same way as he feels towards you?

“i don’t think i’ve ever felt the way i do with you, with anyone else,” but the words escape his mouth, leaving him surprised too, as if he has lost control over his thoughts, letting his heart take over his mind, allowing it to make all the decisions.

you feel your heart skipping beats and pacing relentlessly, quite sure going to pop out of your chest any second. “what does that mean?”

how does he tell you that you’re the one making him worried with all these feelings that he has for you?

“what do you think it means?” and the smile on your face morphs into hesitation, heat rising up your cheeks as he takes a step towards you. another string of silence follows as you try to come up with words, but before you could even sort out your thoughts, jay beats you to it. “see you tomorrow,”

and that’s all he says before walking away, because you consider him one of your closest friends, so how does he tell you that he’s inexplicably in love with you, and that he wants to be something more?

426 notes · View notes

actual-changeling · 7 months

Text

my brain's kinda dead after therapy today but has anyone ever thought about when aziraphale started writing diaries?

in 1827 he says he is on volume 603. now, we COULD simply assume that he uses one diary per year, which would put our starting date in 1224. however, there's two things that bother me about that line of thinking. it is a very late time to start writing diaries considering that paper and writing have been around almost as long as he has plus over six hundred volumes - that's some fucking dedication right there. he LOVES books and thus probably loves preserving stories in general, so the second he heard of diaries being thing he started keeping one. or maybe he even invented them.

on top of that, crowley and aziraphale do not perceive time like we do, and after almost six thousand years memorable events have probably become a bit rarer.

which leads us back to the question of when he started documenting those events.

we have to entirely guesstimate this but let's say the average diary he uses has 200 pages (notebooks have a big variety of page numbers and this one's easy to work with) and he writes a minimum of one entry a month across 4 single pages. we see him NOT use the backside of a page and his handwriting is quite large.

but he probably doesn't always have an entire story to tell and we do have one other entry that really isn't very long (which can be found in the bonus section of episode 3).

so if we go with 4 pages per entry on average we'd have 50 entries per diary. divided by 12 makes around 4 years contained within one volume.

4 x 603 = 2412

1827 - 2412 = - 585

585 AD is pretty damn early and doesn't really ring a bell and that's when we use some very generous numbers and assume he writes a lot.

but.

what happens when we loosen up a little?

let's say he doesn't write 12 entries per year and that the average is less than 4 pages of writing - let's give him some more time to fill 603 volumes which. again. is quite a fucking lot and there is the very real question of where he keeps them and if crowley has seen them.

anyway. more time. paper around 3000 BC but also heaven and hell don't stick to human developments and crowley had paper in heaven.

have you guessed where i'm going with this yet?

tell me beloved tumblr bestie, do you remember the first time we get to see writing on paper that isn't celestial sketches on celestial paper?

if your answer is "job in 2500" then congrats, you won!

the conclusion to this rambling is that there's a good chance aziraphale started keeping a diary after the entire job incident. when he was exposed to earthly pleasure. when he had to start keeping track of what happened and what crowley did vs. what he SAID he did. when having a record like the god/satan contract became important.

however i want you to consider the funniest possible answer to the question "why did aziraphale start writing diaries" - he and crowley fucked and had incredibly mind blowing sex in that cellar and when aziraphale realised he had no one to talk to about it he sat down and invented diaries.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens metak #bildad the shuhite #bildaddy #i hope this makes sense im this close to passing out

143 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 1 year

Text

Forbidden Desire (Part Five)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Smut

Words: 5,456

Summary:

This plays after Grace’s death but before Tommy becomes a politician. Lizzie is pregnant with Tommy’s child, so it is somewhere around season four.

In this fic, Tommy suffers from episodes of PTSD and so does the reader, resulting from trauma and abuse. They will help and save each other without realising that their connection is much stronger than they could have anticipated.

There will be love, fluff and smut as well as a highly taboo relationship.

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

QUESTION: WHO IS TOMMY TO THE READER? WHOOPS!

Two hours later, at Arrow House…

Luckily for you, Tommy had left you with his car when leaving the library abruptly last night. It was dark already and, according to Arthur, there was no time to drop you off at your house.

Along with his car, Tommy gave you his address and, after some nagging, you had Linda spell it out to you and give you directions.

His house was outside Birmingham and, when she referred to it as Arrow House, you knew straight away where it was. The house used to belong to a politician who was famous in Birmingham for all the wrong reasons.

He was a criminal just like Tommy himself but, in the end, was poisoned by a very jealous wife.

With that story in mind, you knew your way around and, at around midday, you pulled up in front of the large mansion.

Just as you parked the car and turned off the engine, you were greeted by a woman dressed in black. She was a maid and probably in her late forties.

“May I help you, ma’am” was what the woman said, recognising Tommy’s car. You clearly did not look like a threat to her so she approached you without concern.

“I am here to see Thomas Shelby” you told her while stepping towards the front door while she tried hard to hold you back.

“Mr Shelby does not wish to be disturbed today” she then told you while reaching for your shoulder, which was a manoeuvre that frightened you just a little.

“Please don’t touch me” you cautioned her gently as, suddenly, you heard a familiar voice.

“It’s fine Frances. Let her in, eh” you heard Tommy say from the hallway and, as you walked into the large foyer, you watched him walking down the stairs wearing nothing but black suit pants.

His otherwise naked chest was covered by a large white bandage, wrapping around his right shoulder as well and, just as he spoke to you, he was smoking a cigarette.

“What are you doing here Love? Shouldn’t you be at the gambling den?” he asked surprised to see you and whilst you were worried about him having been shot, you did not address it just yet. You were here to confront him and this was what you were determined to do.

‘Is it true?” you thus asked instead while your eyes were glued to his chest.

‘Is what true?” Tommy asked before reaching for your hand gently, but you pulled away from him with the request not to touch you.

“Alright. No touching” he determined before he asked you to follow him and you nodded in agreement, before doing so quietly, keeping your distance from him until, eventually, he led you to what appeared to be his reading room.

Without saying a word, you sat down on the large red lounge in the middle of the room while Tommy poured you and himself a glass of whiskey.

“Now tell me Love, is what true? Why are you here, eh?” he asked again while handing you the glass and you took a quick sip before placing it on to the small coffee table in front of you.

“Are you just using me to find my stepfather? Is that why you asked me all those questions about him the other day?” you asked almost reluctantly, wanting it to be nothing but a lie.

“What gave you that idea?” Tommy chuckled before taking a seat next to you. He placed his glass on to the coffee table as well and then pushed his cigarette into the ashtray in front of him.

“Linda told me everything” you told Tommy as a few silent tears escaped your eyes.

“I doubt that she told you everything” Tommy chuckled again.

“Why? What makes you say that?” you wondered while Tommy slowly wiped away your tears, using his thumbs.

“Linda does not know what I know” Tommy then told you while caressing your cheeks.

“What is it that you want from me Thomas?” you then blurted out, taken by the gentle nature of his touch. You were overcome with emotions and just needed to know what he truly felt for you.

“I want you” Tommy responded gently while attempting to kiss you but, again, you pushed him away. You did not believe him.

“Bullshit. You want to recover the money my stepfather owes you. Linda told me” you cried while trying to turn away from Tommy but he would not allow it.

“Look at me” Tommy said almost desperately and you did so reluctantly.

“Initially, yes, this is what I wanted to do. I wanted to use you to find your stepfather” Tommy admitted before making yet another admission to you. “I also wanted to fuck you from the moment I first laid eyes on you. I thought that you were a whore and I thought that, somehow, I could buy you. Because this is the kind of man I am. I use people and pay women to fuck. I don’t do romance” Tommy then said while, again, reaching for your face gently but you would not have any of it.

“Get your fucking hands off me” you spat after having heard his admissions but Tommy would not leave it alone.

“I am not finished yet Love and need you to listen to me, eh” Tommy requested. He was not done talking yet and, for some reason, you continued to listen.

“I wanted to use you, yes…but that was before I fell for you and before I wanted to be with you so fucking badly that I no longer care about the money” Tommy then said much more reluctantly before, eventually, telling you what happened last night.

“Arthur killed your stepfather last night. He did beat me to it and, yes, this is also the kind of man I am. I have done bad things Y/N, but you need to understand that this doesn’t change the fact that I am falling in love with you” Tommy finally admitted and your chin dropped. You weren’t sure whether you should be more surprised by the fact that your stepfather is dead or by the fact that a man like Thomas Shelby just admitted his feelings to you.

“You killed my stepfather?” you asked first, thinking that this is the issue that would need to be addressed first.

“No, Arthur did” Tommy said almost bluntly and without regret.

“But what about the money then? You will not be able to recover it now that he is dead. I do not understand Tommy. And why Arthur?” you asked and the truth was that you had so many questions.

“Like I said, I no longer care about the money. What he did to you is what matters to me. He hurt you and this is why I allowed Arthur to kill him. Vengeance can be a powerful thing and Arthur had his own motives for putting a bullet into his head” Tommy told you while making a third attempt to reach for your hands and, this time around, you let him.

“Oh my god” you then gasped and you weren’t sure whether it was hatred or relief that you felt.

“I am sorry Y/N. You probably should not have gotten involved with me. These are the things I do” Tommy said honestly and this time around you chuckled through your tears.

“My mother warned me about men like you” you admitted, seeing that she had warned you about the gangs in the region as well as the men who run the factories there. Of course, your mother had different motives for this, but you did not know this.

“Your mother is a wise woman then and, in case you did not know, my brother used to be in love with her but she chose your stepfather instead” Tommy said, explaining his brother’s motives. “Needless to say, you cannot tell Linda any of this. For all she knows, Arthur shot a man simply to protect me” Tommy then explained and you nodded.

“Does Arthur know about me and what my stepfather did to me?” you asked, wondering what Tommy had told him.

“Yes, he knows about you, but I did not tell him about the abuse. He was devastated when he found that, not only, did your mother marry your stepfather in the end, but also did she have a child with someone else whom he knew nothing about” Tommy then explained before telling you that Arthur was now determined to find out who your father was.

“My father is dead, Tommy. So why does it matter to your brother now? He is married to Linda” you pointed out.

“Closure I suppose” Tommy determined. “Your mother broke his heart which is also the reason I wanted to hide my feelings for you from him” Tommy explained, causing you to chuckle.

“Why?” you asked, thinking that this kind of behaviour was childish.

“Because it feels a little inappropriate, eh. My brother was in love with your mother and now I am in love with you. You are her fucking daughter…” Tommy explained and you were quick to interrupt him.

“You and your brother just shot a man and you are worried about being in a relationship that might be seen as a little inappropriate? Jesus Tommy, it is not that we are fucking related” you laughed, causing Tommy to nod reluctantly before, once again, caressing your face.

“I suppose” Tommy chuckled. “So, do you forgive me?” he wanted to know and you smirked.

“That depends…” you teased.

“On what?” Tommy wanted to know, causing you to bite your lower lip seductively.

“Well, do you remember how we spoke about taking pleasure in intimacy last night? That was before your brother interrupted us…” you said, causing Tommy to furrow his eyebrows.

“Yes, I remember” he responded and you smirked again.

“Good, because that is what I want you to do. I want you to show me pleasure and, if you do, I may forgive you” you told him nervously and with blushing cheeks.

“You want me to show you pleasure, eh?” Tommy chuckled while running his thumb over your lower lip.

“Yes, although perhaps we should wait until your wounds have healed. Linda said you were shot, so…” you began to say while Tommy stood and reached for your hand.

“Trust me Love, I am fine. Come on” he interrupted you mid-sentence before pulling up from where you were sitting.

“Where are we going?” you asked nervously.

“To my bedroom, unless you want one of the maids to watch?” Tommy teased and you nodded nervously.

“No, I do not” you told him.

“I did not think so” Tommy chuckled before showing the way.

***

You followed Tommy upstairs and he let the way into his bedroom which was specious and beautifully appointed.

There was a large cedar framed bed in front of a large window and the crisp air startled you for a moment before, eventually, you began to enjoy the breeze.

Tommy approached you after, for a moment, you glanced towards the large bed. He could tell that you were nervous, so he caressed your face gently again after approaching you and then you stood there, silently, just staring at each other.

Tommy’s hands then moved to yours and you could feel his fingers rubbing up and along yours as he was holding your hand. Your heart was pumping out of your chest and you were nervous, because even though you did not want to leave. you were not sure what was coming next.

“Tommy, I need you to go slow’” you whispered out just before Tommy slid his free hand along the side of your face and you looked deeply into each other's eyes as he stepped in a bit closer.

“Don’t worry Love, I am not a man who likes to rush things” he reassured you and you certainly appreciated his patience.

Tommy then tilted his head slightly and leaned in. He placed a soft closed lip kiss on your lips and your initial reaction was to back away, but the intensity of the moment kept you frozen in place. Your mind was racing at speeds you couldn't even comprehend and you were beyond scared and extremely nervous about what he might do to you.

Tommy then leaned in again and, before you could even make up your mind, he kissed you again. This time, when your lips touched your mouth opened. Your tongue met his and you kissed deeply, softly and slowly, just feeling each other out.

You got so enamoured by kissing him that you forgot all about your surroundings and started to slide your hands up and along the outsides of Tommy’s arms. Tommy pulled in tighter up against your body and you could feel his erection pressing against you.

“God, I love kissing you” you told Tommy as you felt a tingling inside of you that you never felt before. Your body was trembling and your pulse was rapid.

“Good, because I love kissing you too Love” Tommy said after he pulled away from your kiss and started to lightly kiss up and along your neckline instead.

“Is it alright if I keep kissing you here? And then, perhaps, here too?” Tommy whispered against your skin as his hand slowly travelled from your face, over your neck and then all the way to one oof your breasts.

“Oh god yes” you moaned as you were so turned on by hearing his words that you felt yourself getting wet.

You pulled him in closer and Tommy's hand slid up and down the sides of your ribs as our passion heightened. You had no idea what you were doing, or where this was going, but you were turned on and you was liking this.

Eventually, Tommy's hand came to rest on your left breast, over your blouse and you gasped as his palm caressed your chest until, eventually, Tommy pulled his hand away slightly.

Without breaking your kiss, he started to unbutton your blouse, flinging it open as he got done with the last button. He then dropped it to the floor and continued with your bra, slowly loosing the back before disposing of it as well.

"You are beautiful” Tommy then whispered to you after pulling away from you and whilst you felt the need to cover up your breasts, you restrained yourself from doing exactly that. Instead, you took up some courage and quickly wiggled yourself out of your skirt as well, leaving you standing there, in front of Tommy, wearing nothing but some heels and your panties.

“Fucking perfect” he then said and you giggled in response to his comment while kicking off your shoes.

“Oh, please…” you moaned as Tommy's head dipped down onto your lower neck again. You were not sure what you were pleading for but it must have been something.

“Lay down for me Love” Tommy then ordered gently as his warm lips and tongue whirled along your skin and you gave him a quick nod before stepping backwards and laying down his rather large and comfortable bed.

“Fuck” you exhaled as your head met the pillow.

“It’s aright Love, I will just touch and kiss you slowly until you get used to it, eh?” he said reassuringly from where he was still standing.

He was perfect in every way and you were mesmerised by how handsome he was even despite several scars which he clearly had inherited from being shot.

After not too long, Tommy then joined you on the bed. He kissed you again gently before, finally, telling you to close your eyes but you shook your head. You were not ready for that.

“Remember, I will stop whenever you say stop, eh. I will not force you to do anything Love” Tommy then told you again and, this time around, you nodded nervously.

“Promise?” you asked after he gave you another tender and loving kiss.

“I promise” he then responded and, with that, you closed your eyes and tried to concentrate on the feeling of Tommy’s gentle touch while trying to ignore the growing desire to feel his weight on top of you.

It was confusing to say the least but also god damn sensual.

Slowly, Tommy began to run his fingers over your arms, then your stomach and then all the way up to your now naked breasts. In between, he kissed you passionately on the mouth before nibbling on your ear and neck.

All these sensations were driving you insane and, after as little as ten minutes or so, you could not relax anymore. You were getting more and more comfortable now and you were also getting aroused by his caresses.

This man, who you had met less than two weeks ago, was slowly earning your trust all while fuelling your need and, with that, you could not keep your eyes closed any longer. You had to watch what he was doing to you. You had to see the movements of his muscles now that you could.

‘Tommy’ you thus whispered slowly and he responded immediately.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ he wanted to know but you shook your head.

‘No. I want to watch you’ you told him, earning you a quiet chuckle from Tommy.

‘Then by all means Love, open your eyes” he said and so you did before, abruptly, looking down on yourself.

You could not remember when your nipples had popped to attention but you saw them now, standing proud against the dark circles around them. They bobbed up and down with your panting breath. You could hardly bear the anticipation of what his hands would feel like as he touched them knowing that, clearly, he would have noticed your arousal by now.

Tommy was not looking you up though. He was much more timid than that. He took his time and smiled while gazing into your eyes.

Your eyes met his and your mouth wanted to speak but nothing came out. You swallowed and tried again.

"What is it Love?” Tommy asked as your skin caught underneath his powerful grip, but nothing came from your lips. You remained silent.

“Tell me what it is that you want me to do” Tommy then told you reassuringly and, after a heart-stopping moment of tension, you nodded and tried once more.

“Could you, uhm…” you began to say nervously as you felt a jolt of desire race through you.

“Could I what?” Tommy smirked just as you dropped your hands down to your breasts and squeezed them. It was a brief release but the contact was just fanning the flames of lust.

"Could you touch me here?" you asked shyly and with blushing cheeks causing Tommy to lean down and kiss you once more.

You could sense him smiling against your lips and, when he traced his mouth over your neck and towards your ear, goosebumps suddenly began to cover your naked skin.

“It would be my pleasure…” Tommy then whispered, adoring your shyness and, just he nibbled on your ear momentarily again, a loud moan escaped you.

Then, Tommy looked at you again and traced his way across you until his large hands were covering your breasts. Tearing your eyes away from his, you gasped at the image in front of you. Your supple flesh fit perfectly into his hands and you immediately got lost in pleasure.

“Like that?” Tommy teased as he began to knead them and rub his fingers over your nipples.

You let out a moan and now you really needed him, needed to feel those lips on yours again. You reached up for him but he was already stooping down to kiss you. You felt a tiny puff of indignance that you were so easy to read, but then your lips were meshing with his and you forgot all about that.

You ran your fingers into Tommy’s hair and kissed urgently up at him. You loved making out with him so much that you would be content to just lie there, together, kissing for hours. He was gentle with you and you were developing strong feelings for him.

“Keep going” you eventually demanded as Tommy flicked one of your nipples with one of his fingers and you hummed your pleasure into his lips.

Then, without warning his mouth was gone and you gasped in a deep lungful of air as he started to kiss a trail around your mouth and chin and into your neck.

“Keep going Tommy. Please” you said again as your core twitched in surprise as you felt a rough hand move across your stomach. His fingers trailed lines of fire down your body as he caressed your smooth skin, drifting down, and down, tantalisingly closer to the heat between your legs.

“Keep going” you shuddered once more in anticipation.

“Where do you want me to touch you Love? I need you to say it” Tommy then teased as the sensations of his kisses at your neck and the touch of his soft hair underneath your fingertips now drove you absolutely crazy.

“Down there…In between my legs…please” you gasped, even though you had never been touched there before.

“Be specific” Tommy grinned as he reached the area just below your navel and his hand slowed even more; tracing some swirling pattern across your skin there.

“Tommy…please” you begged. Your hips bucked up off the mattress involuntarily as the hand stopped completely just as it reached your thighs. You growled in frustration and lust and Tommy simply smiled.

“Tell me Love, where exactly do you want me to touch you?” Tommy teased as you squeezed his head in your hand. You then pushed him back and locked your eyes with his.

“Fuck Tommy” you said as you reached up again and grabbed his hair tightly. You saw his grin widen briefly before he spoke again.

“Tell me…” he mused, causing you to bite your lower lip.

“I want you to kiss my breasts and touch my pussy” you then blurted out, blushing as you did and this caused Tommy to smile.

“Then why didn’t you say so, eh?” he teased before dropped his head to your aching breasts and you gasped at the jolt of electricity that forked down your body as he nipped at a nipple before softening his mouth around it.

“Holy fucking Christ” you screamed as the warm suction, the friction of his nose on your chest, the feeling of his hair between your fingers; all of the sensations bleeding into one another. But all of them a distraction. His hand tickled and edged its way downwards still, hovering over your hot core.

“Please! Tommy!” you then gasped in desperation. Enough was enough and, as he kept teasing you still, you grabbed his hand and forced it down, beneath your panties, just as you bucked upwards again. His fingers parted your lips and now he could feel just how wet you were.

“You are soaking wet Love” Tommy observed and you moaned loudly at the contact and fell back flat against the bed. His fingers pressed on firmly into your sex as his other hand caressed your hair and cheek. Your mouth opened as your moan turned into a deep sigh. His left thumb dipped into your mouth and you bit down on it as his right hand moved through your wet folds, one thick finger pushing inside of you. Your eyes closed and you moaned around his thumb. Fuck, this was intense.

“And so fucking tight” Tommy then groaned as, eventually, he pulled his head back from your chest after sucking and nibbling on your breasts. He smiled at you, quietly this time, and your hips gyrated and thrust against his touch, but he never slowed his steady rhythm.

‘Tommy’ you moaned as you gripped his forearm as an intense wave of pleasure pulsed out from your clit all the way down to your toes. You could feel the strength locked away in the muscles of his arm and you knew you was utterly at his mercy. It was absolutely terrifying and enticing at the same time but you couldn't concentrate on that feeling, the lightning racing around your body was too distracting. You opened your eyes and felt another gush of heat from your pussy as you looked up into Tommy’s staring down at you.

You trusted him, more than any other man before as blue eyes filled with lust and a burning intensity looked down on you. God, you felt like you could cum just from looking at those beautiful things. It was insane.

"You never had sex, did you?” Tommy then said, almost gently. He assumed as much but you never quite told him how far you had gone with anyone before.

‘No and I swear that I have never been touched like this before either’ you then said and gasped as his finger slid up your wet crease again and then slowly circled your pulsing clit.

“Did you ever touch yourself?” Tommy then asked and you shook your head again.

“Only briefly, a few times, but it never quite felt like this” you panted and Tommy smirked and, every time you felt like you were getting used to his ministrations, he changed his rhythm or set a different part of you on fire. He was playing your like an instrument; learning your reactions to different movements and sensations, drawing out a sharp pulse of pleasure from your body before moving on and building another layer to it.

But then, his hand was gone from your pussy and the air was a mild shock against your exposed core. You strained your neck down and watched as he suddenly plunged his finger back into you. The sensation was shocking but the wet sound of your pussy greedily pulling him in was what drew another ragged moan from your lungs. One excruciating heartbeat of feeling filled and then he withdrew again.

“Oh god, I am…fuck…I don’t know what’s happening to me” you moaned as another obscene noise filled the room. You felt like you were losing your mind. With every thrust of pressure inside your there came an accompanying sound and you could not tell which one turned you on more. You could hear just how aroused you were; your pussy exposed, and probably dripping, with your legs spread as far as they could.

“You are feeling pleasure Love. Allow your body to relax into it” Tommy said as, once again, he began to build a steady rhythm, getting a little faster but still pausing momentarily before fingering you again, and again. His other hand caressed your breasts, your nipples, your neck, your shoulders; your skin, welcoming his swirling movements. His touch was gentle and caring, just as he had promised. But there was also arousal, a lot of it.

Eventually, after a while, you saw that hungry look on Tommy’s face. He knew that you were close to cumming and you felt drunk on the waves of pleasure sparking over you.

“Tommy” you screamed again as the slow torture of Tommy’s touch had been incredibly sensual but you didn't think that you would ever feel like this. You felt slutty and embarrassed but there was no time to care. Your core tightened and you were just aware of your back arching off the bed and your hips pushing upwards.

“Let it happen. Don’t hold back” Tommy said. He clearly knew what was happening because he snaked his free hand back down your body and began rubbing your clit. He pushed firmly, but not too hard, and made tight circles around it. He kept the same steady firm pace into your pussy but the pleasure and raw heat suddenly pulsing into your brain from your clit was just as strong now. You felt like your senses were being overloaded. You could feel you were past the point of no return, just waiting to fall until you gasped in a final, ragged breath and then you were gone.

“Holy Shit! Fuck! Tomm…” you screamed. Someone moaning and writhing around in ecstasy but it could not have been you, because you were somewhere else. Your mind slipped into a fog and the raw energy of your orgasm raced through where your body should have been. You shuddered and twisted and then, as if a switch had been flicked inside your nervous system, you began to feel things from the sensitive parts of your body.

Your pussy clenched around something filling you up. Your abs contracted almost painfully. Then the rest of your body slowly came back to you and you let out a long breath as everything relaxed and you collapsed against the bed. Everything was too bright and raw. You let out another gasp of breath as Tommy pulled his fingers out of you. You looked up at him and saw a wide smile across his handsome features. Your cheeks and chest felt incredibly hot, as if they were burning. As you basked in the aftermath of your orgasm you faintly wondered if you should say something. Or whether you could say something to him.

“What the fuck was this?” you eventually blurted out and Tommy smiled widely.

“You had an orgasm” he told you before leaning in and kissing you again.

“I never felt this before” you admitted before looking down on your body again, seeing that your panties were covered in your juices now and so was the bed. There was a huge puddle and you wondered whether you had wet yourself, but decided not to ask. This was embarrassing and, yet, Tommy appeared to be rather pleased with himself.

“You probably should get some rest now Love” he said but you watched him closely. Just like the men you had seen at the brothel, he was clearly aroused and you wondered whether you could make him orgasm as well.

“I am not tired Tommy” you thus told him before slowly tracing your fingers over his chest. “May I touch you as well?” you then asked and he told you gently that you did not have to do anything like this, if you did not want to.

“But I want to Tommy. Let me make you feel the way you just made me feel” you determined just as you heard a loud knock on the door to Tommy’s bedroom.

“Fuck” Tommy cursed before walking to the door while you covered yourself up.

“What is it, Frances?” Tommy then asked, causing the maid to blush.

“You have a visitor sir” Frances announced and you watched as Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Tell whoever it is that I am fucking busy” Tommy told her just as you both heard some footsteps and the click of high heel, approaching…

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

Tommy Shelby Tag List:

@fastfan

@elenavampire21

@dolllol2405

@allie131313

@cilliansangel

@coldbastille

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@cdej6

@kathrinemelissa

@landlockedmermaid77

@crazymar15

@damedomino

@lauren-raines-x

@miss-bunny19

@skinny-bitch-juice

@odorinana

@cloudofdisney

@weepingstudentfishhorse

@allexiiisss

@geminiwolves

@letsstarsfalling

@ysmmsy

@chlorrox

@tommyshelbypb

@chocolatehalo

@music-lover911

@desperate-and-broken

@mysticaldeanvoidhorse

@peaky-cillian

@lelestrangerandunusualdeetz

@december16-1991

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

@romanogersendgame

@randomfangirl2718

@missymurphy1985

@peakyscillian

@lilymurphy03

@deefigs

@theflamecrystal

@livinginfantaxy

@rosey1981

@hanster1998

@fairypitou

@zozeebo

@kasaikawa

@littleweirdoalien

@sad-huffle-nerd

@theflamecrystal

@0ghostwriter0

@stylescanbeatmyback

@1-800-peakyblinders

@datewithgianni

@momoneymolife

@mcntsee

@janelongxox

@basiclassy

@chaotic-bean-of-smolness

@margoo0

@vhscillian

@crazymar15

@im-constantly-fangirling

@namelesslosers

@littlewhiterose

@ttzamara

@cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon

@dolllol2405

@pkab

@babaohhhriley

@littleweirdoalien

@alreadybroken-ts

@masteroperator

@stevie75

@shabzy96

@rainbow12346

@obsessedwithfandomsx

@geeksareunique

@laysalespoir

@paigem00

@lkarls

@vamp-army

@luckystarme

@myjumper

@gxorg

@eline-1806

@goldenharrysworld

@cristinagronk16

@stylesofloki

@faatxma

@slut-for-matt-murdock

@tpwkstiles

@myjumper

@cloudofdisney

@look-at-the-soul

@smellyzcat

@kittycatcait219

@theliterarybeldam

@layazul

@lyn07

@kagilmore

@50svibes

@mainstreetlilly

@ourthatgirlabby

@bitchwhytho

@takethee

@registerednursejackie

@sofi128

@mrkdvidal1989

@minxsblog

@heidimoreton

@laylasbunbunny

@queenshelby

@camilleholland89

@forgottenpeakywriter

@vintagecherryt

@indierockgirrl

@mrkdvidal1989

@bluesongbird

@dudde-44

@gasolinesavages

@kissforvoid

@bluebird592

@1eugenia1isabella1

@esposadomdp

@lulunalua23

@lovelace42

@bookklover23

@iwantmyredvelvetcupcake

@moonmaiden1996

@marlenamallowan

@cyphah (cannot tag)

@majesticcmey

@cleverzonkwombatsludge

@throughgoeshamilton

@alessioayla

@elenavampire21

@justforfiction

@cilliansangel

@alannielaraye (cannot tag)

@satellitelh

@simplyreading96

@idledreams

@vic-top

729 notes · View notes

eksvaized · 4 months

Text

[ Previous ] [ All In One ] part 16, MDNI

this is a looong chapter, but since it’s the last one, I didn’t want to split it into two parts. enjoy!!!

Simon isn't scared of dying. He has always seen it as a natural part of the life cycle, as constant as the changing of the seasons and as certain as the setting sun. It's an inevitability that he, like every other person, will have to confront sooner or later. The idea of squandering precious time and energy worrying about something from which there is no escape has always seemed utterly pointless to him. But now that the Grim Reaper's cold, skeletal hand was rapping on the door, he found himself, much to his surprise, being swept up by relentless and towering waves of terror that ebbed and flowed but never fully receded. Yet, it's not the fear of his own demise that disturbs him—he doesn't give a damn about himself. His anxiety is rooted in a concern for you. The two of you have just met not so long ago, and the thought of losing you fills him with immense dread. He isn't ready to let you go yet.

For the past several days, Simon hasn't engaged in any of his usual activities. Mostly, he shadows you, his gaze tracing your every move with the piercing scrutiny of an eagle. You, on the other hand, strive to maintain a facade of normalcy, a mask of composure and contentment, as if to reassure him that everything is fine. But Simon has an uncanny knack for perceiving the truth. He is adept at picking up on the subtlest of cues, the faintest hints of lies, and interpreting them accurately. His ability to read between the lines is unparalleled, and it doesn't take him long to realise when you're attempting to fool him. Thus, you stop trying to put up a brave face, realising that it's nearly impossible to hide anything from Simon.

Every night ends with you collapsed in his arms, tears cascading down your face like a relentless waterfall. Simon stays with you, holding you tight until you drift off into a fitful sleep. He strokes your back gently, and twirls strands of your hair between his fingers, while his voice, soft as a lullaby, whispers sweet nothings into your ear in a futile attempt to erase the bitter taste of another dreadful day. His efforts to distract you, though temporary, have some effect. Moments of peace, however, are fleeting. As soon as your gaze falls on the bandaged wound on his arm, the harsh reality pulls you back in, swallowing you whole and making you feel as if you're drowning. Simon, realising the sight of his wound makes you sob each time you see it, starts wearing long-sleeved shirts all the time.

Each dawn is a mirror image of the one before, as indistinguishable as two drops of morning dew. You and Simon sleep in until the late afternoon, neither of you having the energy or will to face the day. Most of your time is spent tangled in the crumpled sheets, talking about anything and everything. You delve into discussions about your lives before the world broke apart, offering glimpses into your pasts. He shares stories about his life before the streets were overrun by the biters, about his friends and his time in the military. In return, you tell him about your carefree childhood and how you had meticulously planned your future.

At first, these conversations provide a welcome respite. They allow you both to escape momentarily from the grim reality waiting beyond the walls of your house. But as the day turns into night, and the conversations continue under the soft glow of the candles, you are both painfully reminded of all you have lost and everything you are about to lose.

"You can't just leave the bed, Y/N," Simon insists with a tone of genuine concern. His hands, warm and firm, rest on your shoulders, pushing you back down onto the soft mattress. His touch, though full of care, is also unyielding. He is fully aware that in your current state of weakness, you are too frail to fight him. "You're sick and you need to rest."

"I don't want to waste the last few days of my life lying in bed," you mumble in response; it's difficult to speak because your throat hurts. He nods, but remains adamant, refusing to let you sit up. His fingers carefully comb through your hair, untangling the knotted strands that frame your fever-flushed cheeks. When you gaze into his eyes, it's like peering into a stormy sea, where waves of pain, fear, and worry relentlessly batter against the rocky cliffs. Until this morning, there had been no signs that you were going to die.

After you and Simon got bitten, both of you had assumed that the disease would cause you to fade away quickly. But luck had given you a little more time than you'd expected, and this is the first time you are forcefully reminded that those terrible bites have serious, actual consequences.

"I'll stay with you," he says. You nod in gratitude, inching closer to the frigid wall as he lays down on the narrow mattress. He carefully draws you into his embrace, pulling the covers over both of you and tucking you in tightly.

A wildfire rages beneath your skin, an agonising inferno that burrows deep into your marrow. Every breath you draw is a struggle, akin to lifting a mountain with every rise and fall of your chest. Keeping your eyes open is a tremendous effort. The slightest shift in your position feels as if your bones are grinding together, an excruciating symphony playing out in your frame. Pain resonates in every corner of your body, screaming its presence into your consciousness. You yearn for a respite from this relentless torment, a sanctuary where you can leave this agony behind. There's only one way to escape this, but you know Simon would never let you choose the easy way out.

"Do you think this is the end for me?" Your voice is barely audible, and Simon must lean in closer, pressing his ear against your lips when you speak so he can catch the faintest hint of your words. Your throat is scratchy and parched, your mouth feels like it's full of bitter, coarse sand. Despite Simon's efforts, urging you to drink water or tepid tea as if they were soothing elixirs, nothing seems to douse the discomfort.

"No, of course not." He shakes his head, his gaze drifting upwards.

This is the first, but not the last, time he lies to you. A tremor runs through his exhale, betraying his internal turmoil. Deep down, buried beneath layers of hope and denial, he knows that the odds of your recovery are slim. The cruel hands of fate are slowly pulling you away from him, threatening to reduce you to a mere whisper, a shadow, a faint echo of your vibrant existence. The thought of a world without your laughter, your warmth, your presence is unbearable. Simon refuses to let the thoughts of you passing away cast their dark, monstrous shadows over his mind right now because he knows they will shatter his heart into a thousand shards; he needs to be strong for you.

"I had convinced myself that death wouldn't come knocking at my door, that I was somehow immune to the bite. Yet now, I'm confronted with the reality that my days are numbered, and the bill is due." Even though exhaustion gnaws at you, stripping away your strength, you keep talking.

Your arms coil his sturdy torso, your hands resting upon the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Beneath your fingertips, you sense the reassuring and steady beat of his heart. You rest your head on his shoulder. You are overheating. All you want is some space, to throw off the constricting covers and let the cool breeze wash over your fevered skin. But you can't risk pushing him away. What if that was the last time you got to see and be with Simon? The potential that this may be your final moment enveloped in the secure embrace of his arms terrifies you. You cling tighter to him, refusing to let go.

"You should close your eyes. Rest," he says, after noticing that you are struggling to stay alert.

You resist, your will compelling you to stay awake, to remain present in the moment. But your body betrays you, and the allure of sleep is too potent to ignore, too enticing to resist. His fingers trace a gentle path up and down your side. His touch is as soft as a whisper against your flesh. It's a calming rhythm, a silent promise that he's there, with you, a constant presence in the quiet stillness of the night. Every so often, he dips his head to place a gentle kiss on your forehead; his lips linger there. Before you even realise it, the comforting rhythm of his touch and the gentle cadence of his breathing lull you into a peaceful slumber. And there, in the tranquil silence of the night, you both surrender to the embrace of sleep.

As the first rays of dawn pierce through the thin veil of darkness, your eyes abruptly shoot open in response to an overwhelming sensation. It feels as though every fibre of your being is under siege, a relentless assault that leaves no corner of your flesh untouched. The pain is so intense, so all-consuming, that it feels like every bone in your body is breaking into a thousand fragments and then reforming, only to shatter again in a relentless cycle of torment. Your head is spinning, caught in a stormy whirlpool of confusion and disorientation. Your vision is fuzzy. The world around you fades in and out, like a badly tuned television set.

You turn your gaze to the side. Simon, unaware of your internal struggle, is still fast asleep. His calm, rhythmic breathing provides a stark contrast to your own laboured gasps, each one sounding like a desperate plea escaping your parched lips. Despite the turmoil churning within you, part of you is flooded with relief that he's finally getting some much-needed rest. He has been plagued with insomnia for the past few days. And now that he finally has the opportunity to rest his weary eyes, you refuse to be the one to disrupt his peaceful slumber. Your own discomfort, no matter how unbearable, will have to wait.

In a hazy state of drowsiness, you attempt to roll out of bed with all the grace of a newborn foal, taking extra care to not generate too much noise that might disturb Simon's sleep. You leave the bedroom. You don't know where you are going or what you want to do, but your feet guide you, leading you down the creaking staircase.

A nagging dryness persists in your throat. So, you look around for something to quench your thirst. As you enter the living room, your eyes catch sight of a water bottle perched precariously on the edge of the coffee table. You slowly lean down to grab it, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Suddenly, your legs give way beneath you, buckling under the strain of your own weight. With a gasp, you topple over, your surroundings tilting on its axis. The sharp edge of the table corner comes into contact with your head with a sickening thud, and your vision blurs. Before you can even register what has happened, everything goes black, and you lose consciousness.

Simon, after a few restless hours of sleep, wakes up. He is surprised, almost shocked, when he notices the conspicuous emptiness of the cold bed. He calls out your name into the quiet room, his voice rebounding off the walls like a lone echo in a cavern. But he only receives a faint pitter-patter of footsteps from downstairs in response. His heart constricts with the cold grip of fear, like a vice around his chest. A thought, as unsettling as a crow cawing in the dead of night, crosses his mind. What if you got hurt while he was sleeping? He berates himself for his momentary lapse, for allowing himself to close his eyes.

Springing from the bed like a startled hare, he dashes downstairs, his feet skimming the steps. When he finally finds you, you are standing alone in the kitchen. Your back is turned towards him, your silhouette is etched against the pallid morning light as you gaze out of the window in a daze. Your body sways slightly, a clear sign that you are struggling to keep your balance, to resist the pull of gravity. It is evident that your fever has escalated.

"You should be in bed," he says, exhaling a sigh of relief. His worst fears, previously pounding in his chest like a wild drum, are assuaged as he looks at you. Given the circumstances, you look relatively fine.

You say nothing, though.

"Come on, let's go." He takes a step closer and tugs at your hand. To his astonishment, your temperature has gone down. Your skin, which was previously radiating with a burning heat, is now strikingly cold, almost icy to the touch.

As he stands there, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts, he grapples with the enigma of how you seemingly outwitted the fever without a trace of medication. It is perplexing, to say the least. As you slowly pivot, he drags his gaze away from your interlaced fingers and looks at your face. He stumbles back, gripping the edge of the counter when he realises... you are dead.

Your eyes, a haunting shade of pale grey, are devoid of any discernible emotion. Your face is eerily expressionless. The side of your head is smeared with crimson blood, contrasting sharply with your pale skin. The slow, deliberate movement of your jaw is the only sign of animation - opening and closing in a rhythmic pattern, your teeth clashing together with a harsh, metallic sound. Your movements, though delayed and sluggish, have a predatory quality about them. It is as if every single motion is calculated, deliberate, and incredibly menacing. Then, in a matter of mere seconds, you spring into action. With the agility of a panther, you pounce on him, a guttural growl escaping your lips that reverberates in the stillness.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, and your nails pierce his flesh. Simon's eyes widen as he watches your body thrashing violently, as you try to sink your teeth into him. He freezes for a split second. But then his instincts take over, and he drives his knee into your stomach, propelling you to the side and causing you to collide with the fridge. After regaining his composure, he dashes around the counter.

His gaze sweeps across the kitchen, desperately searching for something, anything, with a sharp edge. You are already limping towards him when he grabs the knife. His arm raises. The glint of the blade reflects in his wide, terrified eyes. His grip tightens around the wooden handle. But when it's time to strike, he hesitates, his resolve melting like a candle in the scorching sun, and he cannot follow through. Killing you, even if you are already dead, is something he refuses to do. Simon recoils with a sudden jerk, his eyes locked onto yours. The knife clatters to the ground. He turns on his heels, the noise of his boots on the tile floor ringing out like a hollow drumbeat as he flees the kitchen. In a move borne out of sheer desperation, he grabs the nearest piece of furniture - a heavy oak table - and heaves it against the door, turning it into an impromptu barricade to keep you at bay.

For the rest of the day, he sequesters himself away within the confines of your bedroom. The room acts as a sanctuary, a place that diligently preserves your memory. Each item, each piece of furniture, even the air itself, seems steeped in your essence. Methodically, almost ritualistically, he navigates through your stuff... Simon looks at your pictures and uncaps your perfume, letting the scent permeate the space. His thoughts, like leaves caught in a whirlpool, inevitably drift back to the previous night, replaying it in his mind like a film reel with vivid clarity. The sobering realisation dawns upon him that those fleeting hours yesterday were the final ones that you two have shared together.

You become the only thought that occupies his mind, a constant, unyielding presence that leaves no room for anything else. The world outside ceases to exist; all that remains is you, the memory of you, like a haunting melody echoing in an empty hall. When the weight of the world, heavy as a millstone, becomes too overwhelming for him to carry any longer, his emotions take control. Overwhelmed by grief and frustration, he starts wrecking the room. It's a physical manifestation of his internal turmoil. Simon berates himself, the self-loathing growing with each passing moment, spreading like wildfire in a dry field. He despises the fact that he could not save you from your fate. But of all the regrets, one stands out in stark contrast: he had never voiced his true feelings for you. You died without knowing that he loved you.

After an extended period of causing chaos and disorder, akin to a storm ravaging a once peaceful landscape, he finds himself entirely depleted, a hollow shell echoing with an emptiness inside. Every fibre in his body feels numb, devoid of any sensation. He curls on the bed. The sheets, though devoid of your warmth, still carry the familiar scent of you. As Simon shuts his eyes, he can hear the faint echo of footsteps downstairs. Even though he is aware you are no longer alive, knowing that you are still in this house, with him, makes him calm down and fall asleep.

When he awakes the following morning, he is greeted with the unwelcome sensation of a fever. His body feels hot, and every move is a struggle.

The following three days, he spends in bed, trapped in the prison of his own thoughts.

On the fifth day, as he closes his eyes one final time, the grim serenity of death descends upon him, wrapping him in its stiff embrace.

On the sixth day, you and Simon are dead, roaming in the empty house. And even though you both are just a few steps away from each other - since Simon barricaded the kitchen - he and you never cross paths ever again.

TAG LIST: @randointhecloset, @lurkinwbreexy, @breadpitt69 , @browtfyoudoing , @yelenassafeplace, @itsthealice, @naxxsstuff, @lotionlamp, @aquarianix well, this is finished, fi-na-lly, haha. I’d love to know what you think about it. :) aannd, I hope you had as much fun reading the story as I did writing it!

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #writing #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #cod #ghost x y/n #call of duty #ghost call of duty #ghost #cod ghost #cod fanfic #cod x reader #fem!reader #ap2 #zombie apocalypse #apocalypse

84 notes · View notes

local-nerd-boy · 5 months

Text

Who is Oliver lying to in the end?

As many people pointed out, the entirety of the Saltburn movie is about Oliver telling lies to everyone in order to appear as exactly the person they find interesting.

He is a nice, broke boy for Felix and Elspeth to fix, an art connoisseur for James to talk to and a lover for Venetia to seduce. Literally all he knows is be bisexual, eat hot chip and lie. And the story he tells in the end about always having planned to kill the Cattons was just as much a lie as everything else.

Now the question is: Who is he telling this story to? Who is he lying to? Who is he trying to get approval from by changing his story this time?

There are three possible answers I can think of: Elspeth, Himself and The Audience.

tl;dr: Oliver is telling a lie the entire movie, of course he didn't plan to kill the Cattons from the start but he wants you to believe that so badly, and most of all he wants to believe it himself.

1. Elspeth

While Elspeth might be the only other actual person in the room with Oliver, I think it's highly unlikely that she was the one Oliver was lying to, concidering that she is literally in a coma and about to be murdered by Oli. So why would it matter anymore what she thought of him?

That brings us to the next person he could be lying to:

2. Himself

The only person who is really hearing Oliver's story is Oliver himself. And that could be exactly who he is lying to.

He tells himself that his goal had always been to get the house instead of his goal being Felix's attention.

Because he failed so misrably at his first goal he now wants go make mostly himself believe that he never had that goal in first place. He tells himself that he always wanted the house, the money, Saltburn. Because recognising the rejection would mean recognising himself as the loser who doesn't fit in and that would just hurt too much.

But there is also a third "person" in the room with Elspeth and Oli that Oliver could be lying to:

3. The Audience

During the entire movie Oliver desperatly wants to fit in and belong, be a fixed part at Saltburn. But he never achieves that goal, he is always on the outside looking in.

What he can be a part of in the end though is the story itself.

In storytelling there are at least 4 major character types:

the protagonist

the antagonist

the confidant

the love interest

Next to Felix (or anyone in the Catton family, for that matter), Oli could never imagine or dare to imagine that he is the protagonist. How could he see himself as such, concidering that he never felt like he belonged or fit in?

Neither could he be the confidant as... literally no one really confides in him.

That leaves the love interest and the antagonist. The very first thing Oli states in the movie is that he loved Felix but he wasn't in love with Felix. He is purposefully removing himself from the role of the love interest. That is not what he wants to be seen as, even though it is so blatantly obvious that he is in love with Felix.

A reason why he denies being the love interest is because he simply failed at being such. Felix never saw him that way, they were never a thing, quite literally he was never Felix love interest.

That only leaves one character type: The antagonist. The moment Oliver realises that he is never going to be the love interest he decides that he is going to be the last remaining role he could possibly play: the antagonist. And thus he kills Felix.

And from that point of view, painting himself as the calculated antagonist, Oliver tells his lie. He pretends that punching a hole in Felix tire wasn't a try at a love-interest meet-cute but a first step in his evil-mastermind plan. He wants you to overlook that he failed as a love interest and instead wants you to pay attention to the role he has decided to fullfill for you, for the story you're watching: the antagonist. He is telling a lie to The Audience, making himself fit in as the evil, strategic mastermind because that is the role that was left for him to fit into the story.

#saltburn #saltburn theory #oliver quick #felix catton #elspeth catton #barry keoghan #jacob elordi #emerald fennell

90 notes · View notes

pennyellee · 8 months

Text

CHAPTER V - paraprosexia

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, , manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of God, mentions of feminism, spanking, kidnapping, drug use, alcohol, manhandling, mentions of murder, mentions of abuse, abduction

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 7K

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III GAME OF GO CHAPTER IV CHAPTER VI

paraprosexia (n.) constant distraction

The rhythmic hum of the Cadillac’s engine created a soothing backdrop as the vehicle glided along the quiet road. The silence between them was thick, pregnant with unspoken words and emotions. Yoongi has decided that he isn't done peeling away the layers shrouding his fiancée’s thoughts, and for the last time, before they become each other’s for this lifetime and many others, he wishes to have a peek into her soul.

“We never concluded our earlier conversation,” his voice laced with a gentle yet probing tone. He wished to hear the truth before he could tell her his own. Yoongi was trying to stay focused on the road, as he decided to drive them himself, selfishly wanting another private moment with her before they part to get ready for the wedding and see each other at the temple’s altar.

She took a deep breath, her voice soft yet resolute. “What do you want to hear?” She asked him the same question she did to Namjoon, but she knew he would pry even more than his younger brother.

“What haunts you, my dear?” Y/N’s eyes met his for a brief moment, a mix of vulnerability and determination shining within them. He thought that perhaps if he could get her to confide in him, he would solve whatever obstacle is keeping her from trying to take him inside her heart.

Y/N looked down at her fingers “Namjoon asked me the same question, you know.” He hummed in agreement encouraging her to continue. If she hadn’t confessed to Namjoon, she might have to him. “I wanted my life to take a different route.” She did not lie, this was very truthful, but not the whole truth.

“A rather enigmatic statement, my dear” Y/N knew that, and she wished it could stay vague. “You were born with the knowledge that one day you’ll become someone’s wife and I find it hard to believe that you would be able to live a life out of the syndicate—”

She didn’t shy away, fully realising his words were truthful to some degree. Her gaze directed down at her intertwined fingers. “You presume right,” she admitted.

“—It’s maybe where your dreams take you, but I promise that even if you would be able to run away from all this, you would not survive.” The dim lighting inside the car played upon the contours of his face, highlighting the sharp angles and furrowed brows that spoke of the weight he carried upon his shoulders.

“Why would you think so?” She asked, curious what he has to say.

“Everyone knows who you are. You wouldn’t even blink and I would know exactly where you are—” he begun “—in the best scenario, of course, the worst would be the Yakuza clan, or any other syndicate got to you first—”

“You mean all your enemies?” she stumbled out of her.

“Yes?” He questioned.

“Is this what you’re scared of? My enemies?” He didn’t hesitate to ask. She kept her silence for a moment. “You’re safer with me than alone, at least remember that.”

“—it’s not. If you would want me on the brink of death I would be already there.” Y/N cut him off. Part of her is relieved that she did not end up being married off to the Yakuza that is well known for their strict and beastly behaviour against women. The other part of her is in constant fear.

“What is it then?” He asked softly. Yoongi wanted her to know that she could talk to him freely, without judgment. He longs to be one with her, body, and soul, desperately trying to make her confined in him as his lover.

“It’s—” It was hard for Y/N to open up to him, she feels vulnerable, “—the uncertainty, the feeling that I’m being swept away by a current I have no control over.” Y/N’s gaze wandered outside the window, the passing scenery a blur of shadows and fleeting glimpses of moonlit snow-covered fields. Looking at him at this second would be too much to bear for her.

“During college, I just got used to being autonomous,” she continued. Yoongi carefully listened to her confession while he was gripping the wheel and focusing on the road.

“But you knew that you were still bound by duty and loyalty.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She knew very well what awaited her after her studies, yet still hoped that it would turn out differently.

“I did, but I didn’t want to lose that kind of life either,” she said softly. Autonomy has a huge role in one’s life. Y/N got a taste of what it is to live a normal life, away from bloodshed, clan wars, torture and the endless screams that echoed through the mansions; negotiations and forced marriages. All that she wished to not associate with.

As the car continued to roll through the night their conversation was not near its end. “I’m just not ready to be someone’s wife nor mother, and not on the head council of the clan,” she exclaimed. Yoongi sighed, pulling to stop at the side of the road, letting the engine still roar. He wanted to look into her beautiful eyes.

The scarred leader turned to her petite form sitting in the passenger seat. “You won’t believe me now, but I do understand where this comes from—” he reached out, his hand gently touching hers, providing a comforting reassurance “—you’re young, and this feeling will pass away, all the doubts too, just let me show you what a good life I can give you,” their eyes locked.

“The path we are destined to tread can lead to unexpected joys and fulfilment. I promise you’ll be alright. We’ll be alright.” He stressed out.

“It’s all so easy for you to say, you lived, and I had three years. I wanted to see more of what life could be. I wanted to see the world—”

“I can give you the world, princess,” he said.

“As long as I stay,” she said, her voice shaking. Yoongi slowly nodded in agreement, caressing her cheek. “Let me love you Y/N—”

“Everything alright, Kkangpae?” Said a subdued voice outside the vehicle. Yoongi opened the door slightly, replying with a simple ‘We needed a moment’. And with that, he gets back on the road, getting closer and closer to her biggest fear.

The clock’s hands had long passed the threshold of midnight when they arrived in front of the imposing hotel. Accepting his hand as she stepped out of the car, her gaze swept over the swarm of men and women moving feverishly around the temple’s grounds, getting everything ready for the grand wedding.

“By morning, everything will be in place, Kkangpae,” a voice broke through the haze of her thoughts. She turned her attention to her cousin, Kai, whom she hadn’t seen for some time, giving Y/N a light smile before continuing talking to Yoongi.

Walking by Yoongi’s side with a demeanour as composed as a statue, Y/N seemed to be a mere spectator in the bustling landscape of preparations. She could feel his burning touch on the small of her back.

“Unnie!!” She recognised the voice like it was yesterday she heard it. She opened her arms, a welcoming embrace for the younger sister she hadn’t seen in too long. Their bond was immediate, and Y/N clung to Xiaoli, a mix of protectiveness and adoration welling within her, caressing her hair, smiling while doing so. She missed her little sister dearly. It was just a few months, and Y/N could already sense how much she changed. Wang Xiaoli was the most beautiful girl Y/N had ever seen in her life. Freshly turning eighteen, she could see the newfound aura of femininity.

“Why are you still awake, pumpkin?” Y/N’s voice was infused with a comforting warmth. The endearment was as familiar to them as the air they breathed. Y/N could not help but always baby her little sister whenever she had the chance.

“I was having a conversation with Taehyung-oppa.” She smiled at her sweetly. Xiaoli’s response was tinged with a hint of excitement, a radiance in her eyes that had been absent before. Breaking into Korean instead of their native Chinese. Y/N’s own transition to speaking in Korean had been a necessary evolution, therefore Y/N did not realise that her sister is not speaking their native tongue right away. She did not expect Xiaoli to be comfortable conversing in Korean, not speaking of the hanbok that was hiding her figure. But with the name of one of the seven, she understood why her sister voluntarily spoke to her in the tongue of her captor.

“Did you?” She glanced at Yoongi who still stood next to her, talking to Kai.

“Oh my God, I apologise!” Xiaoli’s exclamation sliced through the air, her sudden realization causing her to pivot toward Yoongi.

“Good late night, Kkangpae Min,” the words flowed from her sister’s lips, accompanied by a respectful bow. Y/N’s attention remained on the scene unfolding before her. Watching Yoongi extend his hand, which she took into her small ones, bowing her head once more. Yoongi enjoyed being at the top of the world. And he knew he would go even higher tomorrow night.

“Miss Wang, how are you this late evening?” he asked politely.

“Very well, Kkangpae Min. I can be with my sister again. I’m very happy.” Xiaoli couldn’t stop smiling. There was a big difference between Xiaoli and Y/N — Xiaoli’s acceptance and Y/N’s defiance. Xiaoli never dreamt of leaving the syndicate. She was very eager to get married, have kids, and be a wife.

Y/N wanted to marry one day. But she longed to have the freedom to decide when, where and whom she would marry. And apart from Y/N, Xiaoli forgave more easily than Y/N. It was in her nature that Y/N wanted to protect.

She wanted her sister to be happy with whatever life she chose to live. If she wanted a life like her, she would do anything to help her do so. But Xiaoli never understood Y/N’s desire for freedom. Y/N understood that Xiaoli never got the taste of it in the first place. Her sister graciously accepted her faith as a mafia wife while Y/N felt oppressed to do so.

However, there was something off about her. Y/N had a third sense that something isn’t as it should be.

“Do you think I could speak to my sister privately, Kkangpae Min?” Xiaoli asked suddenly.

“Don’t be long. Y/N needs to sleep well tonight.” As if she would be able to fall asleep altogether.

“Thank you, Kkangpae Min.” She bowed down again, Xiaoli’s grasp on her hand was firm, tugging her toward the sunroom where memories lingered.

“Y/N?” They stopped for a moment, hearing Yoongi’s voice. She reluctantly turned herself back to him, awaiting his next words.

“Yes?” She said softly, scared that he would change his mind and wouldn’t let them have a sisterly talk after so long.

“Come to my office before you go to sleep, baby.” He replied with a low tone. It seemed to her that he still wanted to talk to her about something. Y/N nodded before her sister continued walking away.

“Yamamoto’s are apparently still furious,” her sister’s words hung in the air like a chilling wind, carrying with them a sense of impending doom. After the door to the sunroom that was now illuminated by moonlight instead, closed, Xiaoli spoke freely. Y/N had expected nothing less from the Yamamoto clan; Yoongi’s bold move had stirred a hornet’s nest, and he showed no remorse for his actions.

“Furious enough to ask for compensation.” Xiaoli continued. Y/N’s eyes widened, dread seeping into her veins like a slow poison.

“Compensation?” Her voice was a mere whisper.

“I believe you understand exactly what I mean,” Xiaoli’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. Being married off to a Yakuza is worse than death for women in this world. Out of all scenarios that ran through Y/N’s mind when she was deciding whether to run or not, she indeed did not foresee this one.

“I won’t let Father do that to you, Xiaoli.” Y/N could feel the anger bubbling in her. Y/N’s heart burned with anger and guilt; her rebellion against the clan’s traditions had not only endangered her own fate but cast a shadow over her sister’s future. They are desperately trying to plot their victory which became obscure after she got engaged to the Min clan’s leader. She had been defiant for her own sake, for her freedom, and in doing so, she had unwittingly put her sister’s happiness on the line.

Tears shimmered in Xiaoli’s eyes as she clung to her sister, seeking solace in her embrace. “I love him Y/N.”

She was clutching her older sister’s dress tightly. Y/N needed to think, she needed to find a solution. Little did she know, her sister knew very well how to back out of this ordeal, and she was ready to do it willingly.

“Love who, honey?” Y/N’s voice caught in her throat, her heart a mix of fear and understanding. She knew the path that her sister was treading, the dangerous game she was playing.

“Taehyung-oppa.” Y/N was afraid of that. She did not know Kim Taehyung that well, only from Yoongi’s talking about this very important man.

“Does he intend to marry you?” The words were heavy with implication. A timid nod was Xiaoli’s response, her eyes fixed on Y/N’s face, as if seeking approval or absolution.

“He plans to. But we need Father’s and Kkangpae Min’s blessing,” Xiaoli’s words were a tremulous confession, a secret laid bare in the moonlit room. ‘Make it happen’. Y/N kept her thoughts mingled in her head for some quiet moments.

“Sister, please,” Xiaoli begged Y/N. Xiaoli was head over heels for the older male. Taehyung was so charming, and she was too young to understand why he took interest in her in the first place.

“Kkangpae Min is in love with you.” Xiaoli’s words struck Y/N with an intensity that left her breathless “He won’t deny you.” Xiaoli’s voice held a conviction that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t realise the true nature of his affection.

She understands why she’s reaching to her before she would to her father, mother or Yoongi himself. Once she would be rejected there would be no making it better. There are no second negotiations in criminal syndicates. Her sister knew the intricate dynamics of the Min clan, and understood the power that Y/N held over their leader.

A maelstrom of emotions churned within Y/N – anger, longing, defiance, and a twinge of something else, something she dared not name.

“He was very angry with me only recently Xiaoli.” Y/N decided not to hurt her sister’s feelings by revealing that their love is probably only a little dot in a bigger scheme. Xiaoli furrowed her brows suddenly.

“Are you still going by your stubborn feminist ideals, Y/N?” She raised her voice, surprising her older sister as she needed to take a step back.

“Xiaoli.” Y/N warned her, trying to keep calm.

“No Y/N! You’re being reckless, and I even have to say that.” Y/N could not believe her words.

“Is this your opinion or Taehyung-oppa’s, hm?” She crossed her arms awaiting the younger female’s answer.

“Everyone’s Y/N. You don’t even realise how lucky you got when leader Min took you in—”

“Took me in?! He let Chan-yeol drug me and betray me to get his way.”

“Least you ain’t marrying that murderer anymore.” That argument was ultimate for Y/N. She could not disagree with that. One girl already died under his hands, and Y/N was almost second in a row if she would marry him.

“See? You cannot deny that. He saved you from him. You’re free, because of leader Min. The least you can do is to be a little grateful.” Her sister spat out.

“That man brainwashed you; this isn’t you.” Said Y/N.

“No Y/N. I just accepted his love and reciprocated it. You should finally receive what God has given to you before someone will die.”

“No one will die, Xiaoli.” Y/N’s voice was full of vulnerability.

“I love you, sister. I do. I just wish you would see this as a blessing. You’re marrying someone who loves you.” There was not a night Y/N would not think of this possibility. She could not decide whether this was a blessing or her worst nightmare. But it still pinched her heart that even her sister didn’t see why she kept trying to find her way out.

“But as I know you. Someone will have to die for you to know your place.” The contrast of her sister’s demeanour now and a minute ago was setting Y/N off.

And this was Y/N’s biggest fear. Her mind was a battleground of conflicting thoughts, torn between loyalty to protect those who could not protect themselves and the desire to be free from the chains of forced marriage.

Xiaoli’s plea to consider the proposal from Kim Taehyung, someone who supposedly loved her younger sister, left Y/N feeling both grateful and resentful. From one perspective her sister would live hopefully happily, safely and near Y/N. They would not have to part their ways yet again.

From the other perspective, Y/N would possibly give in to Yoongi’s manipulative tactics as she refused to believe he didn’t possess a piece of knowledge about this. Deliberately not telling her. Y/N paced back and forth, her heart pounding loudly in her chest.

“Y/N…I apologise, I—” Xiaoli spoke after she sensed her sister was in distress.

“I want to make decisions myself, Xiaoli,” Y/N’s admission was a whisper, a confession that she had shared with no one else “—I want to have a say in how my life will turn out—” Something she was afraid to tell Yoongi or Namjoon.

“I wanted to have a choice.” She cried out. Xiaoli slowly approached her again.

“All you have to do is give in Y/N. Everything will be fine,” she cooed at Y/N.

“Why didn’t you write to me Xiaoli,” a sudden thought came to Y/N’s mind.

“Taehyung-oppa and leader Min thought it would be better as you needed to adjust.” Y/N could not help but desperately laugh at her words.

“You adjusted rather quickly.” Y/N scoffed, eyeing her physique clothed in pink flowery hanbok.

“Because I knew that this way, I could stay near you.” Y/N breathed in and out, trying to think clearly.

A sigh escaped her lips, a heavy exhale “If your love is genuine, if this is truly what you desire,” her voice wavered, uncertainty lacing her words, “then I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.” Y/N was willing to push her desires and longing for freedom if it meant that her sister would be happy and safe. However, Y/N knows she won’t have to persuade Yoongi. It’s her father’s approval that will be hard to obtain.

Her sister’s embrace tightened, a silent gratitude passing between them as tears mingled in the moonlit room. “But I want to know everything I missed, pumpkin.”

The two sisters spent the next hour catching up on all the moments they had missed in each other’s lives until it was time to say good night.

Y/N’s heart was heavy with emotions as she replayed the conversations she had with Xiaoli in her mind. She also recalled her deal with Namjoon back in the sanctuary. She had only recently bid her sister goodnight, yet the prospect of facing the scarred leader again loomed before her like an impending storm. The older sister longed to collect her thoughts a bit more before she had to face him again. For the last time before Y/N will become his wife, in the name of God.

Y/N made her way through the dimly lit halls of the luxurious railway hotel, straight back to him. Her steps were measured, each footfall echoing in the hushed ambiance of the hallways. She could hear soft notes of a classical composition she for sure heard before but couldn’t name. The calming cracking of the wood in the fireplace got louder and louder while she was quietly approaching the man sitting with his glass of hard liquor in a low armchair, manspreading — some parts of his three-piece suit scattered on his desk chair. His gaze remained fixed upon the fire’s dance, the play of shadows flickering across his face.

She could see his exhaustion, yet he was waiting alongside another glass of liquor that was placed on top of the fireplace, where he left it for her. Her approach did not go unnoticed. His gaze, deep and intense, met hers as she drew closer. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a rush of emotions as she saw the tenderness in his gaze. There was a softness to his features, a vulnerability that he rarely showed to others.

As she accepted the glass of liquor he had prepared, Y/N lowered herself into a chair opposite him. The air between them seemed charged with unspoken emotions, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“You knew?” She asked finally, tears welling up in her eyes yet again. His presence only made her feel everything at once. His calm demeanour contrasted starkly with the tempest that brewed within her.

“I did,” his expression was calm and attentive.

“Why keep it a secret?” She said more as a statement than a question.

His gaze did not waver, his response forthcoming. “I wanted you to focus on us, sweetling,” his voice was both tender and unapologetic. Y/N’s lips parted, the words of reproach she had prepared faltering on her tongue.

“You want me to be a Buin, yet you won’t even ask for my blessing. It’s my little sister Yoongi.”

“And that my love, is why I’m letting you decide this. Will that union be beneficial to us, Buin?”

“I’m too biased to think of your clan matters, Kkangpae.” She clapped back at him, speaking honestly.

“And by only looking at you, it was decided way before I got to know.”

The young man was looking at his future spouse in amusement. “Actually, I planned to arrange a marriage between her and Namjoon, but Taehyung swept her away it seems.” Her eyes snapped back at him. The threat that her sister would be married off to Namjoon was loud and clear even before. Namjoon was a decent man for proposing a deal to her, but Y/N wouldn’t stop being careful around that man, nonetheless let Yoongi give him Xiaoli.

“Therefore, I think the cards tossed themselves without me touching them, but still, this will be your call.” Y/N was eyeing him with suspicion. He never put any deciding matter in her hands before, nor did he share that much from clan matters, even when he suggested she could be involved as much as she wished.

“I want your word that he is a good man.” She said finally. With her glass in hand, she sipped the fiery liquid, scrunching her face at the taste. “Promise me, Yoongi,” her voice trembled, the plea she had held within her finding its voice. “Promise me that he’s a good man, that she’ll be safe with him.”

“Of course, he is. She’ll be better off with him. I promise.” He answered. A softness lingered in his gaze, a tenderness that bore the weight of unspoken promises.

“Father will be pissed.” She said to him, expecting any reaction. Y/N’s grip on the glass tightened, the cold surface pressing into her palm.

A wry smile tugged at his lips, a fleeting acknowledgment of the complexities that had marred their familial relationships.

“We have weathered such storms before, my dear.”

“Something tells me, this isn’t why you wanted me to come.” Said she, with determination in her tone.

A sigh escaped him, the weight of his responsibilities etched into his features. His hands raked through his dark hair; a gesture borne of frustration. “Can’t I just simply long for spending time with you, my dear?” his voice is gentle and inviting.

“It’s more than that,” she pressed, a knowing glint in her eyes.

“You constantly keep disobeying me, love.” He said a bit more harshly than he wanted. Y/N frowned slightly. She knew he was right; she had been defying his orders and going against his wishes, seeking an escape route whenever she could.

“How did you manage to sway them all? My mother, my sister, even Kai.” She asked suddenly, her voice held a venomous edge. A chuckle escaped him, laden with both amusement and resignation. Frustration bubbled within her, an anger and sorrow that had remained carefully concealed.

“Maybe because they know this is God’s will, and it was meant to be.” He straightened himself in the chair, fighting his own fight with his frustrated mind. The young leader thanked and prayed to God every night for granting him her as a life companion. He, however, knew that she needed to be tamed.

Frustration bubbled within her, an anger and sorrow that had remained carefully concealed. The next words just happened to be forbidding the unforgivable.

“To hell with you and your God,” the words escaped her lips in a defiant hiss, a proclamation that cut through the air like a blade. And this was the last straw for Yoongi. The brave antique she illuminated just a second ago changed once she found herself being handled with a punishing grip on one of her arms. A swift, unrelenting grip it was. He seized her arm, his fingers biting into her flesh.

“Let me go!” She screamed and desperately tried to twirl out of his hold. Panic surged within her; her struggles met with a strength that left her powerless.

“Enough of this insolence,” he hissed, his grip unyielding. Y/N’s world tilted as he pressed her down upon his desk, her body held captive beneath the weight of his resolve.

“You want to be a brat? You want to disobey me and the lord? —” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ve indulged your defiance for far too long,” he muttered, his voice a mixture of anger and resignation. The room seemed to close in around her.

“I’m done with this behaviour, and you’re done too, my love.” He spat out right next to her ear. Only cries and whimpers come out of her. She was immobilized, her world reduced to the commanding force that held her captive. Y/N heard the rustle of his belt, and she awaited the worst. The air seemed to thicken with tension, each moment stretching into an eternity.

“Yoongi…please, I’ll be good. I’m sorry.” She pleaded, crying her heart out, her pleas an offering of surrender. The scarred leader tied her hands with the belt, and she felt a bit of relief he wouldn’t use the belt on her.

“You will learn your place, my love,” his words were a declaration, a promise that hung heavy in her soul.

“I was too good to you—” said he, caressing her delicate heart-shaped bottom.

“Let me hear some gratitude, darling, thank your Kkangpae for his hospitality.” Said he before he landed the first slap on her butt cheeks.

She was squirming on the wooden chair in the main dining hall, trying to find a more comfortable position to sit. A vain attempt to find solace for her aching body. The sting of Yoongi’s preaching present. Her once-delicate bottom now bore the imprint of his reprimand. Regret gnawed at her; a bitter pill she had been compelled to swallow. She was not sure what part of that sentence angered him more. That she cursed at him or his almighty. Perhaps, she mused, it was the amalgamation of both that had pushed him to the edge.

That won’t ease the pain she feels now. Thoughts circled her mind with Xiaoli and Taehyung’s chatter in the background. He joined her family at breakfast before she was to prepare for the afternoon ceremony.

There was an undeniable magnetism between Taehyung and her younger sister. Y/N spotted how soft and endearing Taehyung was with her sister and there was no doubt that he indeed took an interest in the younger female. It was their mother who looked more anxious now.

“Is everything fine, Ma?” Xiaoli asked, eating her soft-boiled egg that had been served just a minute ago. Very western. But nobody was surprised as this hotel attracted noble people from every corner of the world. The surroundings and necessities were adjusted to be more international.

“Oh yes my dear, I’m just worried your father will be in distress again.” The older female said, sipping on her tea instead of elaborating more. Y/N knew very well that by distress she meant anger. The Min clan was messing with all his plans and that made him a ticking bomb.

“And you Y/N?” Her sister turned his eyesight at her. Y/N offered a soft smile and a nod – a half-truth. She could not bring herself to tell her the truth when she knew her loyalty belonged more to her husband-to-be and not to her anymore.

“Did you sleep well, my child?” Her mother asked with a prying tone. It almost felt like she knew what happened.

“Like a baby.” Her response veiled in ironic sarcasm. Y/N slept, the few hours she was granted, most of the time on her belly. It was her last night sleeping alone as Yoongi graciously reminded her before he tucked her in the sheets, biding her sweet dreams before he finally left her.

She wondered whether he was in his office as she hadn’t seen him yet this morning. And she was grateful for that. She had yearned for more time – time to think, to grapple with the complexities of her new reality. But her desires were a luxury she could ill afford.

“Very well, ladies. I shall see you later today, I still have some work to do.” Taehyung announced, getting up from his chair. Y/N watched how her sister pouted that he had to leave and smiled once he kissed her forehead, giving her goodbye. A shadow of melancholy that crept into her heart.

She wished her life would turn out differently, somewhere overseas, with someone she would love dearly and the sight of her sister’s happiness, pinched a bit of sadness in her heart. Y/N was happy that her sister had the chance to fall in love and she still hoped that it was in the stars for her too.

“Everyone knows.” Said Xiaoli suddenly when Taehyung was too far away to hear. Xiaoli’s words bore a weight of knowledge, a revelation that pulled Y/N from her introspection.

“Know what?” Y/N’s query was tinged with confusion, her sister’s words veiled in mystery.

“Everyone knows that Kkangpae disciplined you last night.” Xiaoli’s revelation sliced through the air, a truth that echoed like a damning verdict, unwelcome yet acknowledged.

“What did you do, child?” said her mother, putting her cup down, expecting an answer.

“I cursed at him and God, Ma.” Y/N’s voice was hushed, almost sheepish in its admission. Rightfully, her mother gasped, placing her hands at her mouth, successfully attracting attention to their table.

“Did you at least apologise?” Xiaoli asked, not surprised why the leader decided to lecture her sister that way.

“I did.” Said Y/N a bit sturdier, gulping down the rest of her jasmine tea.

“You’re lucky,” Xiaoli’s voice was tinged with a mix of sympathy and pragmatism. “Taehyung-oppa said that Kkangpae Min doesn’t take kindly when someone challenges the divine.” Y/N stopped listening once she said ‘Kkangpae’. She wanted to forget about him, just for a single moment.

“Y/N—” her mother began, her voice a delicate entreaty “—I understand that this is hard to take in, but don’t disown your beliefs because you don’t agree with the lord’s plan for you. Accept it and move on.” She knew her mother meant well. After all, she wanted all her children to be happy. Y/N gazed over at yet again the silent little boy who was sitting next to her the whole time.

“I know, Ma.” She sighed. Y/N smiled softly at her younger brother who was playing with his breakfast. His small frame bore the mark of his premature birth. She remembers her mother’s cries that echoed in the house that night. Father was so happy to have a son to care about that the mother of all his children almost died.

Her thoughts meandered to the countless women she had seen succumb to childbirth; their lives stolen by the very act that should have brought forth life. Enough for her to push the ideology of having children unless she is completely ready. Therefore, she did not hesitate to supply her body with herbs that had contraceptive effects, nor she did not forget to mark down her ovulation every time after her monthly bleeding. Y/N knew very well that it wouldn’t fly with Yoongi if she managed to somehow use the diaphragm, nor she did not expect him to support the newfound usage of condoms.

Any contraceptive method was banned and taboo in every syndicate clan. Y/N knew she had to perform her duties as a leader’s wife, but if nature can help her to prevent certain aspects of their marriage, she will keep fighting this way.

She knew that her choices would not be met with approval, least of all by Yoongi. Y/N’s resolve to wield these methods was both an assertion of her agency and a form of silent rebellion.

The seconds refused to align with her favour. Seated before a vanity mirror, her porcelain features were delicately adorned with touches of makeup and her hair arranged with golden dragonfly pins with pearls hanging from them. Her mother’s careful hands combed through her hair just minutes ago, an act woven with generations of tradition.

“I think I need to breathe some air, ma.” Y/N’s voice was a soft exhale. The older woman paused in her actions, her reflection in the mirror meeting her daughter’s gaze. She saw the mixture of emotions in Y/N’s eyes, and her heart ached for the turmoil her child was going through. Wrapping her arms around Y/N, her mother embraced her, a comforting cocoon against the tempest outside. It wasn’t just a mother holding her daughter; it was a transfer of strength, a promise of unwavering support.

“You’re going to be alright, Y/N,” her mother’s whisper was a soothing lullaby to the young woman’s anxieties. “You’ll always pull through, no matter what.”

With her eyes closed, she leans into her mother’s embrace. The scent of her mother’s familiar perfume enveloped her, grounding her in the present while still connecting her to the past. She felt the love and understanding that flowed between them, the unspoken bond that only a mother and daughter could share.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N nodded. She turned and walked towards the door, sliding it open and walking down the corridor, aiming for the hotel’s backyard.

As the muffled sounds of the bustling wedding preparations reverberated around her, Y/N passed the office, an unspoken knowledge suggesting the presence of the mastermind behind the occasion – the man she was meant to stand beside. She couldn’t see him before the wedding ceremony, for which she was quite relieved. It gave her time to prepare herself to face him again.

The coat draped over her shoulders provided a semblance of warmth, though the chill in the air seemed to seep into her very bones.

“Y/N?” The voice was a jarring intrusion, a reminder of the entanglements she couldn’t escape.

“Kai?” Her response mirrored his tone, a mixture of guarded curiosity and exasperation.

“Where are you going?” His question hung in the air.

“To get some air,” she replied, her words etched with an undercurrent of defiance. “Why do you care?”

“You’re supposed to be getting ready for the wedding,” his words were a stark reminder of the expectations that bore down on her. Of course, he was brainwashed by his new leader too.

“We never got the chance to talk, Kai,” her voice carried an edge, an unresolved tension underscoring her words, looking over the snowy garden.

“About?” His inquiry followed her like a shadow.

“About you aiding my escape from China and then delivering me into the hands of the enemy,” her words, though uttered calmly, carried the weight of her resentment. She was feeling petty after all.

“That’s done and dusted, Y/N. Regardless, he would have come for you,” Kai’s response was clinical, devoid of remorse.

“What was auntie’s grand plan?” she deflected the subject, a sore point that neither of them could escape.

“Didn’t you read her letter? She explained,” Kai’s words alluded to a topic that was fraught with emotion.

“Yoongi hasn’t given it to me yet.”

“If you would be behaving yourself, you would already know everything you need, Y/N.”

“Ah yes. Everybody seems to have a sudden surge of loyalty to my husband-to-be,” her tone was laced with bitter irony.

“He’s the better leader,” Kai’s response was swift.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Y/N. If only you’d finally submit, you would see that too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when you were helping me escape?” She ignored his words, stepping outside, a rush of fresh air greeting her.

“Because I know your stubbornness is your biggest weakness, Y/N. You wouldn’t have listened nor go willingly.”

“No, I wouldn’t have. But at least I would’ve had the freedom to choose which all of you graciously took from me.”

“You’d rather be the wife of that imbecile?” His words held a venomous edge.

“No Kai—”

“Then be fucking grateful for once,” a sentiment she had heard all too often.

“Is everything alright down here?” A new presence interrupted their tense exchange.

“As it should be Chan-yeol-hyung.” Kai’s response dripped with a veiled hostility.

“Y/N?” Chan-yeol’s voice sought her, his demeanour slightly more composed.

“Why don’t you mind your business, Chan-yeol?” Kai’s frustration was palpable.

“I’m just checking on Buin, brother-in-law,” Chan-yeol’s attempt at levity did little to alleviate the tension. Y/N did not understand what happened between these two males. But she was not willing to listen to their bickering.

“You both need to calm down,” Y/N’s voice cut through the fray, an appeal for some semblance of peace.

“Whatever,” Kai’s final word hung in the air as he stormed away, leaving Y/N to face the biting cold on her own.

“He needs to reset his mind.” Chan-yeol’s words were a bridge to a conversation she wasn’t sure she wanted.

“That’s quite ironic coming from you,” her retort was quick, her scepticism evident.

“I’ve reset my mind, Y/N,” his voice held a hint of resignation, his lips falling into thin lines.

“Have you now?”

“Yes. I almost regret having to do it again.”

“What do you mean-” Y/N did not manage to ask him as he pressed a white cloth against her mouth, her head immobilized by his firm grip.

“You wanted to have a choice? Here it is.” She heard very few words before her eyes shut down.

I N T E R L O G U E

The smaller woman was running down the corridor. The sight she had beheld just moments ago had etched itself in her mind – her sister, her flesh and blood, being mercilessly torn away. She stumbled down the passage, her frantic steps echoing like the drumbeats of impending doom. Her heart was furiously beating, and her head started to spin when she realised the weight of this situation, breathing shallow.

“Taehyung-oppa!” Her voice, laced with desperation and fear, pierced the air like a knife. Tears blurred her vision, turning the world into a watery haze. Her trembling hands found the wooden door, and with an almost violent push, she thrust it open, her heartache and panic leaving no room for politeness or formality.

In the room, seven pairs of eyes, all shades of intensity and authority, snapped to attention at the intrusion, landing on her distressed form. Taehyung, positioned by the fireplace, lowered the crystal glass he had been nursing, his gaze zeroing in on her. His sharp eyes swept over her, taking in her dishevelled appearance, her tear-stained cheeks.

“Why are you crying, what happened, love?” Taehyung’s voice, soft yet commanding. Of course, she interrupted an important meeting, but none of the big seven could withstand their women crying without knowing the cause and therefore the urgency of the meeting was momentarily forgotten; when a woman wept, the world paused.

“Oppa—” Her voice quivered, a sob escaping her lips as her gaze flitted around the room, acutely aware of the attention fixed upon her.

“It’s okay, speak, girl.” The words, uncharacteristically gentle from the Kkangpae, coaxed her and pushed her to sing.

“He took her.” Her words, almost lost in her sobs, hung in the air, a chilling revelation that sent shockwaves through the room. The Kkangpae stiffened in his seat, starting to see red.

“Took who.” He worked out, even though he already knew. His voice, a rumbling undercurrent of controlled anger, demanded answers he already suspected.

“Y/N.” A loud bang echoed through the room, an ear-piercing sound of broken glass followed.

“Who took her, Xiaoli-beloved?” Taehyung approached her, grabbing her hands into his.

“I didn’t see, his back was facing me, oppa, but he looked like Chan-yeol.” She cast her gaze to the formidable figure at the head of the room, the Kkangpae, the leader, her sister’s lover.

“Namjoon, greet Yamamoto’s with Jimin-ah, —” the Kkangpae’s voice cut through the charged atmosphere, his orders delivered with a chilling finality.

“Hoseok, Jungkook,” his words were a decree, swift and unyielding “I want Chan-yeol alive, anyone else involved, dead.” The two men immediately rose from their seats, their purpose clear.

“Bring her back, even if it requires force,” the Kkangpae’s voice, a mixture of desperation and determination, reverberated in the room just like the song of the sorrow, the dead, echoed in their lives yet again.

to be continued

author’s note: so here we are at chapter V!! ♥ Thank you all so much for for sticking around chummers ♥ for some reason this chapter got longer than I wanted it to be, I actually planned that chapter VI will be longest so far; to bring good news, I'm almost finished, however, this next monday i'm returning to UNI and above that I'm going to work too, therefore I cannot say when will the next chapter be out, but I promise I'll try my best ♥ If not full chapters I'll try to deliver some drabbles/fillers to you chummers ♥

!IMPORTANT! I'm trying to always make sure that you're tagged right in the taglist, however, there are still accounts that for some reason cannot be tagged, I have no clue why is this happening but I'm trying to figure out a way where everyone who wanted to be notified about Lacrimosa updates will be notified. If you have any tips or advice in this matter, my dm's, asks, replies, reblogs are open for you all ♥

shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you!!!!

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

taglist: @beautifulcloudfestival - @chaoticpuff17- @honsoolgloss- @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27- @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822- @whofan88 - @haneyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss @secfir - @btspurplesky @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin @selenophileforlife

402 notes · View notes

snowdropluck204 · 11 months

Text

How They React to Their SO Getting Stalked - BNHA (pt 3) - LOV

This is part three of the stalking headcanons, the League of Villains version! Shigaraki won't be in this chapter as I have already done his headcanon in a previous part! This was requested by @supernatural-hunter1! If anyone has any requests or ideas, please send them to me and I will get to them as soon as I can! Xxx __________________________________

Kurogiri

I feel like Kurogiri would probably find out without you telling him, and rather than flying off the handle and using brute force, he would begin psychological warfare!

~ You had been quiet for weeks, Kurogiri began to get progressively more and more worried, you had never hidden anything from him, so something must be wrong. ~ You were meek and timid, not your usual bubbly self around him. As much as he hated the idea of violating your privacy, he needed to know what was happened. ~ He felt that if you were hiding something from him, he had the right to know. He was slightly paranoid that you were planning on breaking up with him, if you were, he didn't want to be surprised at the bombshell. ~ Searching your room while you were out did make him feel immensely guilty, but he knew something was wrong. ~ As he searched through your bedside dresser, he was shocked, you definitely weren't planning on breaking up with him, instead he found dozens of handwritten notes, if 'handwritten' was the right word. ~ The letters got increasingly scrawled, the words becoming more and more angry, the messages more perverted. ~ The letters started sweet, talking about your beauty and brains, compliment after compliment. But then, when the writer of the letters realised you weren't responding and throwing out their letters, they got vicious. ~ "I know you've read my letters, respond dammit! We were meant to be together! Don't make me force you!" ~ Kurogiri crumpled the letters in his hand, his anger rising quickly. ~ This was a chess match, and he was going to win. ~ Thus the match started, Kurogiri followed your stalker, changing things around and making them feel like they'd lost their mind. Eventually, Kurogiri decided to make an appearance. ~ Showing up behind the stalker, he grabbed him by the throat and pressed him against the wall, "I am only going to say this once, you stay away from my (y/n), unless you want your worthless, insignificant life to end in the most unfortunate way..." ~ Kurogiri growled, dropping the stalker and watching with a sly smirk as they ran, turning around, his smirk dropped seeing you standing there, a small smile on your lips as you giggled and walked off, Kurogiri hurrying to catch up with you.

Dabi

Everyone knows, Dabi is the 'punch now, ask questions later' sort of guy... He would burst in, quirk a-blazing (haha jokes) and demolish anyone he dares to hurt his sweetheart...

~ Dabi was there when you received the first note from the stalker, it wasn't all that bad, just a touch creepy. ~ Naturally, the first thing Dabi wanted was to hunt this guy (or girl) down and make them pay... But you insisted that it was probably a one time thing and they would back off. ~ Unfortunately, you were wrong, the notes only increased, eventually leading to you receiving pictures of yourself, not in any compromising scenarios, thankfully, but someone was still following you. ~ Following you to the store, to the library, to work and back to your home. ~ Dabi had had enough, and he was going to show this creep a thing or two! ~ It was no secret that the villain known as 'Dabi' had taken a shine to someone, the villain's sweetheart was a common news story, but nobody knew who it was... Until now. ~ Following the guy who was, in turn, following you from a safe distance, Dabi moved in for the kill. ~ Sneaking up behind the creep, Dabi covered his mouth with his hand, making sure to use a painfully strong grip, dragging him away from you and towards his car, letting his hands smoulder and burn the stalker's flesh if he tried to make any sounds or sudden movements. ~ Bundling him into his car, Dabi drove the stranger out into the middle of nowhere. ~ Letting him out of the car, Dabi had a twisted grin on his face as the man began to run, knowing he wouldn't get far. ~ Blue flames lit up his face as he followed in pursuit. ~ This was gonna be fun, all for his darling. ~ (And a bit for himself, let's be honest.)

Toga

Honestly, I feel like Toga wouldn't do much to help in the case of the stalker, if anything she would take notes! She loves you, don't get me wrong, and she intends on giving this creep the world of hurt, but she has her own agenda!

~ You sat in disbelief, watching as your girlfriend had a jaunty conversation with the person who had been stalking and harassing you for the last month or so. ~ You weren't too worried about this weirdo (the stalker, not your girlfriend), they seemed relatively harmless, you were surrounded by a group of notorious criminals after all... ~ What you were worried about, was the fact that your girlfriend seemed to be trying to make friends with your stalker... ~ "Look at how many pictures you've got of (y/n)! They're so cute aren't they!? How did you get such a good image from outside their work? I've been trying for ages! They come out all fuzzy!" ~ You sat shaking your head and pinching the bridge of your nose, Dabi was stood behind you, watching the scene in amusement, Shigaraki was just annoyed and Kurogiri was ignoring us all, as usual. ~ "Would you let me pick your brain? Obviously I don't want the most recent advice, I mean... You did get caught... But anything else would be great!" ~ Unfortunately for the creep. ~ Only Himiko was allowed to stalk you! ~ She would up draining the stalker of their blood, it wound up being quite useful, she was able to follow around the Class 1-A students without them being suspicious and even managed to frame the guy for a bunch of crimes before they found his body!

______________________________

Hopefully this was okay! This was all I could come up with honestly, but I hope you guys liked it! Xxx

#bnha #bnha headcanons #bnha x reader #fanfiction #love #cute #romance #stalker #comfort #request #open requests #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #toga himiko x reader #kurogiri x reader #league of villains

210 notes · View notes

gabessquishytum · 5 months

Note

tw suicide mentioned

I read the ask you got about Hob working for a suicide hotline and answering Morpheus's call and loved it a lot and it made me think...what about some kind of modern reverse Sheherazade AU?

In the original tale (well, how I remember it), Sheherazade marries a king who is known for killing his wives on the morning following their wedding. Sheherazade doesn't want to die and has come up with a plan: she is a great storyteller and, in the evening, she would start telling her husband a story but would stop before the end. Her husband, desperate to know how the story goes, would thus allow her to live one more day. Only the next evening, she would not only finish the first story but also start a new one she would again stop before the end and would therefore be granted a new day of living, where she would again start a new story and so on and on...(for 1001 nights and by then the king has fallen in love and doesn't want to kill her anymore).

In this AU, I can see Hob, suicide hotline worker, receiving a call from M who is one step away from commiting suicide and who's asking him for a reason to live.

Hob is alarmed and, like said in the other ask, first makes sure M is not in immediate danger before he starts to list little things of life, often overlooked but who are actual wonders making life so much better in his eyes (chimneys,..)

But M still doesn't seem convinced. His wife is gone, along with his son. His life is over. There is nothing left for him... So Hob decides to tell him a tale - not one he needs to look too far to find, as it is his very own story - the story of when Hob himself hit rock-bottom. So "once upon a time, there was a man who thought his life was over. His wife had died, leaving him alone with their young son. His salary alone was not enough to pay the rent for their apartment and he was this close to being evicted, while the social services were threatening to take his kid away..." This is a grim start for a story - and had been a grim time for Hob - but the important part is that the story doesn't end there. Because, even then, Hob had been fiercely holding on to life. For his son, first, (for he couldn't abandon him!), before he realised it was still ok to live for himself and enjoy all the good things life had to offer.

Hobb tells M all of this. The ups and the downs and how "that man" in the story was able to hold on, fight, rely on friends and finally get better, find stability and even happiness.

The thing is, Hob doesn't have the time to finish his story. It wasn't planned; he simply went into a bit too much details and didn't realise how much time has passed. But at this point, he's already stayed on the phone for longer than he was supposed to (even crisis hotline volunteers have schedules, and the next one has been waiting his turn near Hob's phone for a few minutes already).

M seems a bit better than before, but Hob isn't reassured. Since M doesn't want to talk to another volunteer, Hob suggests M calls back on the next day (or the next week maybe?), and asks for him, so he can hear the happy end of his story. And M accepts, promise he won't do anything stupid until then. This is a small victory.

And M does call, and asks for Hob, and Hob tells the end of his story. M seems better than the first time Hob heard him, but let's be honest, he isn't doing too good either. Since M had seemed interested in his first story, Hob decides to start telling a second one, this time loosely based on something that happened to a friend. But then again, he hasn't got the time to finish it! So, again, Hob and Morpheus "fix an appointment" for the next day (week?).

And things go on and on like this, M (Morpheus as he tells Hob at some point) calls and listen to Hob stories, Hob never finishing them (he does end up doing it on purpose) and forcing Morpheus to stay alive and call again to hear it! And maybe Hob is not the best of storytellers, but he isn't anything close to bad either, and Morpheus is always eager to hear the tales he comes up with.

At first, the stories mostly rely on Hob's experiences, those of his friends or things he's heard on the news, in a bar,... but with time, he slowly comes up with some of his own ideas, starts to include elements of sci fi, of fantasy sometimes...

And somehow, Morpheus starts to participate in the storytelling, adding his own ideas to that big tale they are creating together - one of pirates, of princes and knights and of star crossed lovers who reunites under the moonlight... (Maybe Morpheus used to be a writer and Hob is the spark that gets him into creating again). At this point, Hob has given Morpheus his personal phone number and Morpheus as stopped talking about killing himself.

(and yes they have fallen in love along the way and end up together 😊)

Another amazig Ficlet in my inbox!!!! Yayayayay!! I love the idea of a modern take on Scheherazard, it's such a great way for these two in particular to get together. I also like the idea of Hob being a kind of crappy storyteller, but Dream WANTS to live and he's clinging onto this one thing, even though the stories aren't particularly good, it's enough to just get him through day after day. It really is the little things. And the stories are sometimes (deliberately) so bad, Dream just HAS to contribute and help Hob with the telling. It awakens the part of himself that he thought way already dead. Finding out that his creativity has survived gives him hope that the rest of him might survive, too.

And if he can survive, then he can properly live, can't he? With Hob’s help of course. It doesn't have to be easy. It's not MEANT to be easy! But Hob isn't going to let him give up, ever <3

#okilokiwithpurpose #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw suicide

81 notes · View notes

xoxomoonlightxoxo · 3 months

Text

Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Ch. 4: Strangers With Memories

a/n: more angst but at least they aren't as awkward, however, after this chapter, I fear it's only going to go downhill for my babies :(

The dreadful No Contact Rule. Difficult not to break when the relationship is over and even more so when the relationship comes to a sudden halt but the feelings are still brewing inside. When the distance is forced and fueled by the guilt of losing that person again. However, I would be lying if I said that Jungkook is no longer part of my life. That I have somehow completely barricaded myself from his presence. How could I, when not even a conscious stream of thought can overcome the yearning of a broken heart? One that still longs for his touch, his sweet smile, his laugh. One that has been holding on to the memories of our past despite the lack of recollection in Koo’s eyes. To him, we are simply picking things up from where they were left off. Not a complicated task in nature until you realise that our story left off with his first and last “I love you, Mira”. So, no matter how hard I try to push him away, the heartstrings of my own soul seem to pull us back together. Even if he sees me as just a friend, I am willing to fight for everything we could have been, until one day he finally remembers it all. Remembers me, remembers us.

Unfortunately, with school starting, everyone has been getting back into their routines, leaving little time or opportunity to actually hang out. Despite this, Jungkook has made a special effort to “build back what he can’t remember”. So, seeing him has actually become part of my daily ritual. Whether that be going on a morning jog or grabbing a quick coffee after class. Like the good old days, we are connecting as close friends, since everything began that way. Before anything, Koo was my friend, one who somehow filled the void of my family when we were separated by an ocean. For that, I will forever be grateful to him.

Today was like any other. Tae and I met our new cohort leader, the head of the ER department in the local children’s hospital, who was this older gentleman who wasted no opportunity to crack one of his dad jokes. He absolutely adored Tae, said that he saw his younger self in him, and unless he was a sleep-deprived, broke college student, I’m not sure what the correlation was. To be honest, Tae hasn’t been having it easy either. His grandma was recently diagnosed with pneumonia, so he spent the entire summer working three jobs to send as much money as he could back home. Being the only man, and thus, the breadwinner in the family after the passing of his father, he constantly tells me about the guilt he endures being far away from his mom, younger sister and grandma. The three women in his life he would give up anything for. And, as I’ve watched him slowly run himself thin, I have grown to be protective of Tae myself. Although he is older, in my eyes he will always be like a little brother to me. One whose shoulders carry the weight of a whole lineage.

Packing up our staff after class, Tae recommended we try the new pastry shop that opened by our dormitory. One that he first mentioned when Jungkook was admitted into the hospital in hopes of cheering my numb self. However, during that period the aching pain in my heart wanted nothing more than to be by Koo’s side. So, seeing that this time Tae was the one in need of support, I made sure to take him up on the offer as we indulged in our daily debrief. At the end of the day, we might not know how to properly give an IV but you best believe that we know how to run our mouths. In the span of half an hour, we managed to cover every possible topic known to men, ranging from the rise in the cost of eggs to the hideous new haircut the grumpy librarian decided to debut today. Our conversation could have gone on for hours until it was abruptly interrupted by the buzzing of my phone.

Koo: Will 20 minutes be enough for you to get ready?

Mira: Depends … where are you taking me?

Koo: It’s a surprise, just wear something comfy ;)

“Who got you smiling like that?” Tae chuckles teasingly, seeing that his words have lost my attention.

“Oh nothing, I’m sorry, it’s just Jungkook,” I say, nibbling on my lips to suppress the urge to keep smiling.

“What did he say?” he leans forward taking a sip of his Americano.

“I think he wants to go somewhere?” my words drag on as he searches my scattering eyes.

“Now?”

“Well, no you’re right, I’m just gonna tell him that I’m busy,” I try to comfort Tae with a smile, sensing the guilt of leaving him alone.

“No, I mean, don’t you want to freshen up? How much time do you have?” he mumbles, gaze softening at my flustered state.

“Oh, are you sure? I hate to pause our little hangout,”

“There’s always tomorrow,” Tae assures with a boxy smile.

“Okay, I’ll see you at breakfast, alright?” I say, packing up my stuff before we wave each other goodbye.

Thank God, the pastry shop was a short walk away from the dormitory as I suddenly realised how valid Tae’s suggestion of a shower was. Let’s just say that today’s clinical was one for the books. Not only did I spill a whole IV bag on my scrubs but I’m pretty sure that there are still some pieces of dried cream in my hair as one of the older patients refused to cooperate. So, as I finally managed to open the front door, I headed straight into the shower, washing myself free of the chaotic aftermath.

Debating between a woven sweater and a cashmere pullover I settled on the one Koo loved the most. “Peaches, you’re so soft,” he used to say, pulling me into a tight hug as his hands caressed the delicate cashmere. I wore it on our last date before the incident, the one we spent on Oceana Beach talking about the future, our future. Miraculously, after all this time, it still had his scent, the sweet vanilla musk lingered like the memories of our past. I remember crying sleepless nights, holding the cashmere close to my heart as if it were the only thing left of Jungkook. With my eyes closed, I could almost feel his warm embrace.

Beep Beep

My reminiscing, however, was interrupted by Jungkook’s arrival. Quickly touching up my makeup, I grab my purse and phone before locking the door behind me. Maybe it’s from the actual physical rush or the fact that I get to see him again, but my heart sure is beating hard. I could practically feel it in my throat. And, the appearance of his bunny smile as our eyes finally met certainly did not help it either.

“Sorry to make you wait,” I say out of breath, tucking some stray pieces of hair behind my ear.

“No worries, I just came,” Koo assures softly, leaning back on his car.

“So, where is this mystery destination?” I grin teasingly, folding my arms in front of my chest.

“Surprise, remember? Ladies first,” he grins back, opening the passenger door, before helping me buckle up. And, just like that, my heartbeat went through the roof again.

Driving down the bridge, we were in awe of the beautiful sunset that covered the sky in warm tones. Blasting our favourite song, Jungkook rolled down all the windows before pausing his phone just in time for the high note. And, as silence filled the car I could feel the flush rise up my cheeks from the sheer embarrassment that was my singing. It wasn’t just a voice crack, it was the complete demolishment of my dignity.

“Yah, how could you betray me like that?” I scoff in disbelief, rolling the windows back up to shield myself from the passing cars.

“I couldn’t help it, you looked so concentrated,” Jungkook chuckles, mimicking my singing face.

“Okay, relax, eyes on the road bunny boy,” I smirk, turning the music back on.

“We’re here,” he says, turning into the parking lot. Looking around, chills run down my spine as I realise where we are. The Oceana Beach. This means that while I was fully immersed in our karaoke session, Jungkook unknowingly drove past the exact spot where he lost consciousness on that cold, winter night. All this time, I’ve been trying to avoid this place in hopes of erasing the image of Koo’s frail body lying on the side of the road. Now, I have to act like none of that happened, since he doesn’t remember any of it.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jungkook’s voice pulls me out of the spiral, as my chest heaves up. Feeling his hand on mine, my body almost jolts from his touch, unable to hide the fear rushing through my veins. It all felt so surreal, to be looking at him alive in flesh but knowing that the Jungkook I once knew was no longer there.

“Yeah, I … I just remembered something,” I lie with a nervous chuckle, unbuckling myself. Helping me out of the car, Jungkook looks concerned, eyes searching mine.

“You sure, you’re alright? I can drive back jus…”

“No, no don’t be ridiculous. I swear I’m all good,” I interrupt his sentence with a reassuring smile. Reaching for my hands again, only this time with slight hesitation, his worried eyes meet mine as his thumb caresses the back of my palms.

“Mira, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” his words are layered with a tone of fear, uneasiness, and genuine worry. But, there’s a short period of silence, as my mind filters through possible replies.

“Of course,” I manage a small chuckle, swallowing down the lie. With a nod of acceptance and a soft sigh, he intertwined his fingers with mine, taking the bags from his trunk before walking us toward a small spot by a campfire. Setting everything up, I was commanded to just relax, covered under a woven blanket.

“I used to love making smores when I was little,” Jungkook smiles, handing me a bag of marshmallows, before covering himself under the same blanket. Jimin was right, he could still remember the earlier years of his life, but nothing of the recent events.

“Can’t relate, I somehow always burned mine,” I frown as he can’t help but laugh, scrunching his nose and letting that bunny smile come on full display.

“Hey, don’t laugh,”

“I’m sorry, but how does one mess this up?” he leans closer, nudging my shoulder before looking back at the sparks. If only time could stop and we could stay this way forever. If only he could feel the way my heart ached at that moment.

“So, Mira, do you have a boyfriend?” his sudden question brought me back again, as my eyebrows visibly furrowed from the bluntness of his curiosity.

“Why? Are you trying to pitch an offer?” I chuckle, leaning closer to the fire to warm my hands, before looking back at his teasing grin.

“Just trying to figure you out,” he replies softly, eyes searching mine.

“I used to,”

“Oh, yeah? What happened?

“He moved away. Long distance didn’t work out,” I reply slowly, allowing the fake story to play out without succumbing to the tears.

“That sucks, you guys don’t keep in touch at all?” Jungkook’s curiosity is innocent in nature but naive to our past. I can’t even get mad at him for digging deeper, even if it hurts.

“I’m not sure he remembers me anymore,” I sigh, replying almost defeated.

“That’s a lie. Who could forget you?” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief, blind to the irony of it all.

“Yeah …” a little chuckle escapes me as well, as my eyes dissociate into the distance. “I'm pretty unforgettable, aren't I?”

“Pretty and unforgettable,” Jungkook replies with a quick wink, covering my shivering body with his share of the blanket before taking a bite of my half-burned marshmallow.

Replaying our last conversation in my head, I felt bad for snapping at Jiah at the mall. It was totally uncalled for and simply a projection of the thoughts that haunted my mind. Not a fibre of my being meant it as we rarely ever fought or even came to a slight disagreement with each other. To be quite frank, during that time it seemed like every interaction I had was like walking on a minefield. With one wrong move, I was destined to blow up and take everyone else down with me.

Not being able to talk to her freely pained me, as I grew to miss my best friend with each passing day. And if one thing was for sure, then it was that Jiah deserved an apology as she fell victim to my self-destruction. So, after a few hours of crafting a well-developed apology, I made my way to her apartment, which was literally a level below mine. Nonetheless, the walk there seemed never-ending, most likely due to the sheer panic I was experiencing. It wasn’t fueled by the fear of her reaction but the shame I felt from how I treated Jiah. However, none of it mattered anymore, as I stood in front of her door, hand ready to place a few knocks. That is until it suddenly swings open and our eyes finally meet again.

“Jiah,” I mumble before she pulls me into a tight hug as tears stream down both of our faces. No words needed to be said. Everything was understood through the emotions we were experiencing. Melting deeper into her embrace, my face dug deeper into her hair as the sweet smell of coconut filled my senses, reminding my body of her aura. I missed her so much that I could physically feel the void in my heartache as my teary eyes searched her sad gaze.

“Jiah, I’m so sorry,” I manage to let out as she gently wipes the tears off of my face. Holding onto her hand, I keep it close to my chest as my heart beats faster.

“It’s okay, love. I’ve missed you so much,” she says softly, tucking a few pieces of stray hair behind my ear. And, just like that, we were back in each other’s embrace, making up for the lost time we were apart. Catching up, we spent the whole afternoon discussing everything that happened since our falling out. She showed me the emerald jewellery set Jimin gifted her for their 1 year anniversary and the pictures they took following their celebration. They looked so happy that I couldn’t stop smiling. If they ever break up then I’ll know that love isn’t real, because in my eyes they were destined for each other. No one understands Jiah better than Jimin and no one cares so deeply for Jimin more than Jiah. Simply put, they’re soul mates.

Feeling lightheaded from all the tears we’ve cried, I suggested we go out to grab some late lunch, or early dinner before going on a walk around campus. Jiah was quick to agree as she changed into some jeans and a hoodie before grabbing her purse and keys. Stopping by my dorm, I quickly touched up my makeup in hopes of not scaring innocent civilians from the aftermath of my mental breakdown. And, as we rode the elevator down to the main lobby, Jiah and I were inseparable once again. That is until my eyes widened at the sight of Jungkook standing by his car, shuffling in place to keep himself warm.

“Oh? Jungkook? What’s wrong?” I stutter, worried eyes searching his.

“Sorry Jiah, but could I steal her from you?” he asks softly, as Jiah's face turns to mine. Hiding the way her chin was trembling, she didn't know how to reply before taking a deep breath.

“Call me when you get back?” she nods, separating her hand from mine as I pull her into a hug.

“I’ll bring you some pastry from the new shop Tae recommended,” I say with a reassuring smile before waving her goodbye. Making sure she got in safely, my eyes turned back to look at Jungkook’s bunny smile.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask with a skeptical tone, slowly making my way towards the car.

“You really don’t think I pay attention, huh?” he says teasingly before opening the passenger door.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve memorized my schedule?” I scoff, looking up at his softened gaze.

“Pretty much,” he replies with a grin, leaning onto the door frame before caressing my cheek with the back of his palm.

“Hey, were you crying?” Jungkook asks, concerned, as I cover my red cheeks with my hair. Way to not be obvious, Mira! I guess, my attempt to hide the fact that I’ve been sobbing for hours failed miserably since he managed to notice it after one glance.

“Oh, yeah, it’s nothing. I promise,” I shake my head with a soft smile before looking back up at his worried eyes.

“Mira, you know you can always talk to me, right?” his words are followed by a deep sigh as he crouched down before my still form.

“Of course, I know that, Koo,” I manage to let out a giggle, patting his head in hopes of making him feel at least somewhat at ease. In all honesty, however, I knew that he wasn’t fully convinced, but I also didn’t necessarily hate that. Because a small part of me hoped that maybe, his curiosity would somehow help him regain the memories he once lost.

“Anyways, where are you taking me this time?” I try to change the subject, as his eyes look back at mine.

“I need your help,” he replies, buckling my seat belt before heading to the driver’s side.

“May I know with what?”

“A song. A love song,” his voice is abrupt, but still layered with tease.

“I beg your pardon, a love song? Jungkook If you think I’m going to sedate you with some vocals then you are greatly mistaken,” I scoff with my arms folded in front of my burning chest. A love song? As if seeing him again isn’t hard enough. Now, he is giving me yet another reason to cry at night.

“Shhhh, I’ll explain everything when we get there, just sit back and relax,” he assures me with a sly wink.

“Mmhhm,” I nod, loosening up the seatbelt before crossing my arms over my chest. Navigating through all the turns, my mind is trying to piece together our destination, until we finally stop at a brick building near the campus gymnasium.

“Koo, where are we?” I ask cautiously, scanning the premises as he opens the passenger door.

“It’s a studio my buddy owns. Don’t worry the inside looks more welcoming than the outside,” Jungkook grins, locking the car as we make our way up the stairs.

“Be careful here, they’re still under construction,” he points to a hole in the wooden floor, grabbing my hand as I tip-toe behind him.

“Right, and this buddy of yours, you know how?”

“He used to produce for the band the guys and I were in. The Bulletproof Boys,” he replies proudly until I burst into a cackle, which promptly faded the smile on his face. I couldn’t help it, I was still not over the first time he mentioned the infamous band name. The Bulletproof Boys. Peak comedy if you ask me.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you,” I try to regain my composure looking at his pouty lips.

“I’m not laughing,”

“Okay, then I’m laughing at you,” I tease again, poking his side as he opens the door to what seemed like a small recording studio.

“Hey, guys! Come on in,” a man’s voice welcomes us into the dimly lit room.

“Hi hyung, thank you again,” Jungkook shakes his hand, before looking back at my flustered face. I’m usually not as awkward but something about being in a room with a stranger, Jungkook, and a hypothetical love song just did not sit well with me.

“This is Mira, she’s going to be our female lead,” Jungkook smiles, giving me a sly wink. A lead? I really do hope he is kidding. Is today April Fool's or something? Where are the cameras?

“Sounds good to me, who wants to go first?” the man asks the both of us, as I try my best to avoid his eye contact. Fiddling with my thumbs, Jungkook could sense that I was becoming more and more uncomfortable. So, he suggested that we go in together since it is my first time doing something like this after all.

“Just follow me okay?” he says softly, helping me put on the headphones before handing me the lyric sheet.

“Alright, let’s just see how the melody plays out, okay? Jungkook, if you want to jump in with your vocals now, by all means. But, Mira, you can just use this take as practice. I want you to get comfortable with the lyrics,” the producer explains, giving me a thumbs up as I nod okay.

Following Koo’s lead I tried to mumble the words under my breath, getting the feel of the song. And, to my and probably everyone’s surprise, everything was going somewhat okay? We were able to finish recording the intro in under an hour and have just gotten to the pre-chorus. After some practice, I was beginning to feel capable of managing this project, until my ears were pierced with a sudden “I love you,” projecting from Jungkook’s microphone.

“Oh?” I let out a loud gasp, covering my mouth as my eyes shot up at his form across the booth. Searching my flushed face, he grins, pointing to the lyric sheet on my stand. Furrowing my eyebrows I begin scanning the lines with my finger, realising that he was singing one of the adlibs. However, what came after almost made me sick. Suddenly, it all felt a bit too real. Shutting my eyes, I tried to regain my composure, and within a second, I was back in that hospital room, sitting across from Koo’s frail body as his thumb caressed my palms.

“I love you, Mira. I’ve been loving you this whole time,” his sweet words played in my head, as tears rolled down my face. Feeling the knot in my throat, I was practically screaming, but nothing came out. I couldn't do it, not then and not now. I couldn’t say the words he desperately deserved to hear. And just like that, I was back in the booth, only this time, my heaving body was plopped on the floor surrounded by both Jungkook and his producer. But, before they could ask me anything, I rushed out of the room, virtually sprinting towards the nearest washroom, where I hoped to lock myself from the outside world. Closing my eyes, all I could see were the replays of that scene before they were suddenly interrupted by the knocking on the stall door.

“Mira! Mira, open up, it’s me,” Jungkook’s voice is heavy, almost breathless.

“Are you in the women’s washroom?” I yelp in disbelief, wiping the tears off of my face.

“There’s no one here, come out, please,” he pleads softly, moving back as I slowly open the door. Lowering my gaze, I fold my arms over my chest before leaning back on the stall as if I didn’t just pass out in front of him. Taking a deep breath, I tried to explain myself before feeling his arms wrap around my shoulders as our bodies melted into a tight hug. Oh, Koo, if only you knew how much I missed your warm embrace.

“Mira, please tell me what’s wrong,” Jungkook whispers, burying his face in the curve of my neck, as I feel his breath on my skin.

“Koo, I told you, I’m fine,” I managed to lie, placing my hands on his shoulders to create at least some distance.

“Fine? You dropped to the floor and were unresponsive,” he shouts, furrowing his eyebrows from frustration as his hands grab mine.

“I … I think my period is coming soon. The days before are always killer,” I explain, trying to convince the both of us, before feeling his worried gaze search my scattering eyes.

“Your period?” he confirms.

“Mmhm,” I give him a few nods, feeling his grip on my hands slowly loosen. Tucking the stray hair behind my ear, Jungkook leans closer, tracing the trail of dried tears on my face before letting out a soft sigh.

“Okay, I believe you. I’ll always believe you, Mira,”

Please, don't.

Previous l Index l Next

39 notes · View notes