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mint-yooxgi · 2 years

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{2} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Slight focus on Yeosang & Jongho this chapter)

Words: 9,536

Warnings: Mental Illness: talks of depression, suicide and suicidal thoughts. OC gets angry a lot. A mug gets thrown at someone’s head. Slut shaming, but not done by any of the guys. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Surprise bitches!!! Guess who’s back, back again!!! Early update for you all since I wanted to post it and I like where I ended it. Definitely expect more parts coming out, I have a lot planned for this, especially with little interactions between each of the guys and the OC in the future. Hehehe, I hope you enjoy!! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! I hope you look forward to the rest of whatever this series has to offer~

Main Story - Part Three

The first few days after that one fateful evening, you were a mess. Your mind was all over the place, yet at other times, completely silent. Any attempt to wrap your head around the situation you currently found yourself in resulted in either tears of hopelessness, of frustration, or you screaming your lungs out for them to let you go.

Then, came the silence. The deadly calm as the weight of the situation finally sunk in.

It happened only once, and the thought had only crossed your mind for a brief second, but it was enough to have all eight of them appearing in your room immediately. Worry was clear on all of their faces, but not only that, panic was as well. The thought of losing you, after finally having you with them after all this time, after all of their meticulous planning, had a fear unlike any other washing over them.

You had yelled at them then, screamed at them with a burning fire in your eyes as they crowded you. They needed to let you breathe. The constant checking up on you, asking if you were going to be okay was really grating on your nerves.

At least you knew they cared. At least what they told you, about only wanting what’s best for you, about wanting to love and cherish you all seemed to be true.

There was no doubt about it, not when San would bring you your favourite meals almost every day just to make sure you had eaten something. The first few times were a bit annoying, seeing as how he wouldn’t leave you alone until you had at least a few bites of food, but at least he knew you were eating.

Similarly, Mingi would always make sure you had a fresh jug of water in your room. Every day, he would make sure you drank at least two full glasses to keep yourself hydrated, making you whatever other drinks you wanted when you wanted them. Unless you were planning to get yourself drunk. Then he wouldn’t exactly comply with your wishes.

Jongho would offer to read to you to take your mind off of things, but you’ve still yet to accept his offer. He would pout, but place whatever book he brought with him on your nightstand, at least giving you something to do to take your mind off of things for a while. An escape, if only briefly, that would give you some semblance of normalcy after being thrown into a world unlike any other.

Yunho and Wooyoung would always attempt to cheer you up in any and every way they knew how. Their antics, unfortunately for you, would sometimes work, unable to stop yourself from cracking a small smile at their banter back and forth, or some stupid joke they would tell you in attempts to make you laugh.

Yeosang was probably the most respectful out of giving you the privacy you so desperately craved, except when you would start thinking about when you needed or wanted something. Then he would be the first one to appear with said item held in his hands, bringing you ice cream more often than not in the middle of the night when you were truly feeling sorry for yourself and the situation you found yourself in. He always lingered for a bit, silently hoping you would ask him to stay and comfort you, but you never did. Honestly, it was probably for the best, anyways. They all were probably the last people you really wanted to see at this point in time.

Still, you refused to so much as even look at Seonghwa or Hongjoong. Each time they passed by your room to check up on you, you would pointedly ignore them, curling in on yourself until they would sigh deeply and finally leave you alone.

Two weeks later, and you decide that you’ve had enough. Finally, it’s time to stop feeling sorry for yourself, and take whatever control you can back of your own life. No more wasting your days alone, in the dark, with only self-pity to keep yourself company. If they truly intend to put their money where their mouths are, then you’re going to test that every chance you get. After all, if they are ready and willing to do anything and everything for you to prove to you how much they truly love and care for you, how much they want - need - you in their lives, then you’re going to make them prove themselves to you.

Perhaps you hold more power in this situation than you originally thought.

Letting out a sigh, you allow your mind to go blank, humming a small tune to yourself as you toss the covers off of your legs. First things first, you really need a bath. Perhaps some self-love and personal care will end up going a long way.

Sinking into the warmth of the frothing bubbles, you hum. Again, the calming scent of lilac and honey drifts through your nostrils, the water serving to relax your tense muscles and soothe your mind. You figure you’re going to need all the rest you can get in the next twenty or so minutes as you prepare yourself for what you’re about to do.

Sure enough, twenty minutes later and you’ve finished washing up, dried yourself off, and changed into a fresh pair of clothes. Briefly, you shoot a tense smile at yourself in the mirror, mentally preparing yourself for what you’re sure is going to be a shitstorm as soon as you step outside of your room.

Turning towards the door, you take a few cautious steps forward. Taking a deep breath, you turn the handle, exiting these four walls that you have familiarized yourself with over the past two weeks. Finally, after hiding yourself away for so long, wallowing in your own thoughts, you step outside the room, crossing the threshold into the hallway and feeling as if you’re stepping into a new life. Which, in reality, you are.

As soon as your foot enters the hallway, both Yeosang and Jongho are in front of you, Wooyoung following close behind. The three of them watch you carefully, worried that you might try to do something rash, like attempting to sprint past them and run for the exit again.

You tried it. Once. The first night when everything happened. They watched you sprint right past them, still wearing that gorgeous gown, and practically fling yourself out of the front doors. Only, as soon as you left through one door, it’s like you were entering back through the other.

A looping entrance. A simple spell, or rather, curse in your mind. Every time you attempted to run out of the front door, you found yourself sprinting back through the entrance, a frustrated look on your face as a feeling of hopelessness washed over you.

That was the final snap to your sanity which landed you in such a state of limbo for the past two weeks. You’re just glad you managed to pull yourself out of it.

When you meet their gaze, you make no sign of acknowledgement. They cannot hear any thoughts of you wanting to escape running through your head for the moment. The only thought they can hear, is a constant repeating of you wanting some coffee.

“Where-“ Jongho takes a step forwards before halting right in his tracks as you raise a hand to stop him.

“No.” Your pointer finger is raised as if to say ‘hold on a moment’, making sure to keep a safe distance away from all of them as you look into each of their eyes. “Just follow.”

As soon as you turn to start walking down the hallway, Mingi appears before you, a steaming cup of coffee held in his hands. Wordlessly, he hands it to you, and you meet his gaze for only a moment.

A curt nod is all he receives as you take the mug from his hands, sipping on the warm liquid. He swallows. At least it’s better than nothing.

What’s going on? Hongjoong’s voice echoes through all of their heads, a tinge of worry to his words.

We don’t know, but at least she’s out of her room. Yeosang replies, following silently behind you as you begin to lead them down the hallway.

She’s out of her room? San’s voice is full of excited disbelief, and they can hear the clanging of a pan falling onto the ground coming from the direction of the kitchen before he’s appearing right next to Wooyoung just as they breach the lobby.

Yunho is the next to appear, having been walking down the opposite hallway at the time, monitoring your thoughts as soon as this commotion started. Her mind is blank.

Should we be worried? Jongho’s fingers twitch, itching to pull you into his arms and ask you what’s wrong. A thought he knows is echoing through all of their minds this very second.

The last time her mind was blank, she stabbed Hongjoong with a knife. Seonghwa reminds them, appearing in the lobby in the next second, a swatch of fabric still clutched in his hands.

She also tried jumping off of her balcony. So, let’s not forget that, either. Wooyoung says, worry lacing his tone.

I don’t think I could forget that even if I tried. Mingi shivers, recalling the panic he felt seizing his entire body when he walked in for your daily glass of water consumption to see you with one leg already hitched up on the ledge of your balcony. He’s just lucky he caught you in time before you could hurt yourself. Not that you would have gotten very far, anyways.

Reaching the main desk, you turn back around to face them, leaning back on the counter with the mug held in your hands. As soon as you raise your head, Hongjoong appears before you. Though, this time, instead of averting your gaze like he’s become so used to these past two weeks, you meet his eyes, and the intensity that he sees shining in your own has a pleasant shiver running down his spine.

The eight men all stand around you in a semi-circle, giving you enough space so that you do not feel crowded by them. Starting from your left, Jongho stands, followed by Yeosang, San, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Wooyoung, and then Mingi.

A moment of silence settles over all of them as they stare at you, waiting patiently for you to speak. Some - San, Wooyoung, Jongho, and Mingi - even find themselves holding their breaths in anticipation. Not that any of them particularly need to breathe…

“We need to talk.” Your first words to all eight of them in weeks, and they can only blink at you in shock. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Your words seem to snap them out of whatever daze that they’re in.

“You know we can’t let you go.” It’s Yunho who says it, and they watch as you turn your gaze to him.

Your eyes flash, a fire igniting behind your irises as you take a deep breath in.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I know.” You watch as they all visibly flinch at your words, but you continue anyways. “For five minutes, I would like to not be reminded of my own helplessness right now. Thank you very much.”

This time, they grimace, having the audacity to look somewhat ashamed of themselves. At least, San, Jongho, and Mingi do.

“Look,” you sigh, bringing your one hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling sorry for myself. I’m tired of feeling like I’m trapped here, and that I have nothing to do. More than all of that, I’m fucking tired of letting myself fall back into old habits. Bad habits. I do not need to go back to feeling exactly as I did during the darkest part of my life.”

They can all hear the way your breath hitches, voice straining with the emotion of your words.

“We didn’t know-“

“Of course you didn’t! You don’t know anything about me!” You cut Mingi off, your anger rolling off of you in waves as you glare at them. The mug of coffee is clutched so tightly in your hand that you’re surprised it doesn’t break. “Do you even know how I felt at the lowest point of my life?”

Even though the question is rhetorical, you can sense that they want to respond. You can just tell that, no, they do not know how you felt because they weren’t there. However, you bet the very air you breathe that they’re dying to figure it out. Probably about to probe your mind for those memories. Memories that are painted with the darkest parts of your soul; moments in which you felt the most empty, the least in control of your life.

“I know you all want to know, but it doesn’t work like that.” You say, shaking your head in disbelief. “You don’t get to shift through my memories whenever you damn well please. None of you deserve that privilege. None of you deserve to know me, especially not like that.”

“We just want to understand,” San reasons, a pleading look in his eyes.

“You want to understand?” You throw his words back at him with a voice of disbelief. “Fine.” You huff out a breath. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but here’s a little glimpse into the second worst night of my life.”

It happens so suddenly, that all of them are inhaling sharply as images fill their heads. In an instant, each are overcome by the exact same emotions you felt - grief, anger, disappointment, loneliness - that their senses get overwhelmed. So much so, that Jongho, Wooyoung, and Yunho have to steady themselves on their feet as your memory washes over them.

And that wasn’t even your worst night.

Just as quickly as it started, the memory gets cuts off, all eight of their gazes fixating on you in a moment. You can just feel the way they’re looking at you right now, and you hate it. Especially when Yeosang, San, and Hongjoong all take a cautious step towards you, each wanting to comfort you in their own way.

“I didn’t do this for pity, and don’t any of you dare feel any gratitude for what I just showed you. You know nothing.” You resist the urge to slam the mug down on the front desk, opting to take a few deep breaths and gently place it on top of the counter instead. You turn back to face them with another deep sigh. “Look, if this is going to work, there are some things I need from you all. Do you understand?”

A light begins to shine behind their eyes, heartbeats increasing as hope floods through their veins. Even though you basically just told them not to, they all cannot help but to feel that you sharing that memory with them meant something. No matter how insignificant, you trusted them for a brief moment, and they sure as hell will not let it go to waste, nor will they ever forget this.

Is she saying what I think she’s saying right now? Wooyoung’s eager voice echoes through their minds.

“This doesn’t mean I’ve accepted this,” you motion around the general vicinity with your hand, narrowing your eyes slightly at the eight men before you, “or any of you. I simply have some conditions of my own so I don’t end up like that again.”

Mingi’s, San’s, Yunho’s, and Wooyoung’s shoulders all drop, while the other four do their best to look unaffected by your words. Still, it doesn’t mean they won’t try. It doesn’t mean that you haven’t just given them all hope.

“Anything,” Seonghwa breathes, clinging onto that piece of fabric in his hands for dear life.

Your one eyebrow twitches upwards, meeting gazes with him briefly, as you cross your arms in front of your chest. Leaning further back onto the counter, you nod to yourself.

“I want my phone back.”

You can practically see the protests building on their lips, so you cut them off before they get a chance to speak.

“Listen,” you begin, “you’ve said it yourselves: I’m in your domain. I don’t even know if there’s service here, and who the fuck would believe me if I told them about the situation I’m in. I’m pretty sure I’ve already lost my job for up and disappearing out of the blue, and I’m sure my family is probably worried sick about me. Let me contact them to tell them I’m okay, so they at least get closure for however long I’m going to be stuck here for. I don’t want my parents thinking I’m dead.”

“That’s all you want your phone for?” Yeosang asks, slight disbelief coating his words.

“Of course not.” You huff out a laugh. “I need some source of serotonin. I want my phone so I can do all the things I usually do on it. Minus a few things, of course. I need some sense of normalcy back in my life.”

“How do we know we can trust you?” Yunho speaks once more, crossing his own arms in front of his chest.

“That’s rich, considering I should be asking you that.” You match his tone. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you all can hear whatever I’m about to do through my thoughts, anyways. There is a severe lack of privacy there, but put it this way. How do you expect me to trust you if you can’t trust me? It’ll have to be an effort on all of our parts to make this work.”

There’s a hint of worry in your tone, the slightest bit of fear hinted at in the way your shoulders tense ever so slightly as you look at them. Even without your thoughts, they can see the uncertainty radiating off of you towards them. Truly, it pains them to no end.

“You know we would never hurt you,” Mingi says, his voice soft as it cuts through the tension suddenly filling the lobby.

“We promised that we would protect you,” Hongjoong adds, just as tenderly as he watches you with a gentle gaze.

Your eyes flash, “can you protect me from yourselves?”

Immediately, they all straighten, save for Seonghwa who takes a small step backwards as they all stare at you with wide eyes.

“We just told you that we would never hurt you.” Yeosang frowns.

“That’s not what I meant,” you shake your head. “There are many ways one can be hurt rather than just physical pain.” A thought flashes through your mind that has them all recoiling as if you’ve just mentally burned them. “Do you understand why I’ve been so terrified these past few weeks? I know nothing about who you are, or what you’re capable of. I bet you’ve only shown me the bare minimum of what each of you can do with these powers of yours. How do I know you’re all not just waiting for the prime opportunity to take advantage of me? How do I know I can trust you?”

“You think we would force ourselves on you?” Jongho’s voice comes out small, echoing the hurt and worry each of his brothers are feeling right this very moment.

Even though you say nothing, your gaze says it all. The uncertainty, the fear they can all see hiding within your eyes has their hearts feeling as if they are being suffocated. Never do they want you to think that they would do such a thing to you. Never do they want to have you look at them with such terror in your gaze again.

“Is this part of the reason why you’ve been hiding in your room this whole time?” Seonghwa voices, a hint of sadness tinging his words.

“We would never do such a thing.” Hongjoong states, eyes pleading for you to look at him, to see the sincerity shining in his gaze - in all of their gazes - but you refuse, averting your gaze to your feet. “Especially not to you.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.” Your lips tighten into a thin line as you give him a terse smile. “But if you ever break that promise, if any of you go back on your word,” you take the time to meet each of their eyes, squaring your shoulders as you do so to let them know how serious you are in this very moment, “I will never forgive you.”

None of them have to look into your mind to know the deadly truth that lingers in your words. The statement of fact that you have just uttered settles into their very core, echoing through their minds as they continue to stare at you, watching your every movement carefully as you take another shaky breath in.

Then, it’s as if a switch has flipped inside of you as you mentally tell yourself to calm down once more. You need to at least attempt to start trusting them, and they’ve given you no reason to think otherwise. Yet.

“So,” you raise a brow, “my phone.”

Immediately, Hongjoong makes your phone appear, holding it in his hand. Just as he goes to hand it back to you, he pulls it away and out of your reach. You frown.

“You can have your phone back on one condition.” He says.

“What?” You ask him expectantly.

“Change your lockscreen.”

You simply look at him, incredulously. Your mouth parts slightly in shock as a mental image of what you remember to be your lockscreen flashes in your mind. Like hell are you going to change your favourite photo of your favourite male idol who managed to help you through the darkest part of your life in his own way, even if he doesn’t know it. Of course, you do not fail to miss the way that all eight men tense around you, the jealousy clear on all of their faces.

You huff out a breath. “Do you really think you’re in any position to be telling me what I can and can’t do with my own belongings?”

“Then I guess you don’t want your phone back that badly, do you?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice as he quirks a brow, his eyes shining with that tint of jealousy as he holds your phone just out of your reach.

“I could go back to completely ignoring your existence, if that’s what you want.” You deadpan, eyes narrowing as you watch him visibly stiffen at your words.

Only Seonghwa truly knows exactly what that feels like right alongside Hongjoong, so he offers the younger a comforting hand placed on his shoulder. Neither of them want to experience that again. They would rather spend twenty years in the arctic, buried beneath the snow than have you go back to pretending that they do not exist.

Though, Hongjoong cannot deny the sense of pleasure he experiences at knowing you can essentially go toe to toe with his remarks. Your wit truly is like no other. He loves that about you, he always has.

Wordlessly, he hands you your phone, and the relieved smile that paints your face makes it feel as if the whole room has just brightened. Truly, there is nothing like seeing you happy, and they will do anything and everything they can to please you, starting with this.

Tucking your dead phone into your back pocket for safe keeping, you lean back onto the counter, resting your palms against it for support.

“I also want my laptop back.” You say. “Same terms and conditions apply. Just let me have access to wifi again.”

This time, it’s Wooyoung who makes your laptop appear, holding it delicately in his hands as he passes it to you. Your lips quirk ever so slightly as you hug the piece of technology to your chest, mind already reeling with everything you need to catch up on.

“Okay,” you nod, unable to keep the relieved smile from tugging at your lips. “Okay. This is good.”

A small silence settles over all of you as they allow you to collect your thoughts. A tenseness that they didn’t realize they had all been holding in their bodies leaves them as they see you relax, even if only just the slightest. Faintly, grins tug at their lips.

Progress. They’re making progress.

“If I’m going to be living with you from now on,” you begin, “then I need to get some things from my apartment.”

“Whatever you need, we can grab for you.” Jongho says almost immediately after you finish talking.

“No,” you retort, shifting your laptop to your left arm and cradling it like you would a baby. “I need to grab some things from my own apartment. I don’t care if you come with me, but I need to get my clothes.”

“Again, just tell us what you need and we’ll get it for you,” Mingi repeats the youngest’s words from only a moment ago.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head. “There is no way I am letting eight men pick and choose my own clothing for me, let alone my underwear.”

You fail to see the way Wooyoung’s lips twitch upwards in nervousness as the sound of tearing fabric reaches your ears. Immediately, your attention is on the man standing just to Hongjoong’s left, now holding two torn strips of cloth in his hands.

“See what I mean,” you gesture to Seonghwa who stands there, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he clutches onto the fabric held in his hands for dear life. “Keep it in your pants, Handsy.”

Seonghwa’s scowl only deepens when he hears Wooyoung laugh, his eyes flashing as he looks towards his younger brother. “That’s rich, coming from the one who already stole a pair.”

A silence so deadly settles around the lobby as you stiffen, your breath hitching in your throat as Seonghwa’s words register in your ears. Slowly, almost robotically, you turn your head to the right, staring directly at Wooyoung with a tense smile on your face as you blink. “What?”

“So, clearly, neither of you are going with her to get her clothes,” Yunho sighs, shaking his head.

“Hang on,” you practically slam your laptop onto the desk behind you before circling your hands around each other in front of your body in a rewind motion, “can we just backtrack here for a second.” You turn once more to look at Wooyoung. “What did you do to my panties?”

Wooyoung sucks on the inside of his cheek, his eyes looking everywhere but at you for the time being, “I don’t think you want to know.”

An image of your ruined panties flits through all of their minds as Wooyoung recalls the very last activity he remembers doing with them. Almost immediately, the seven of them groan, Yunho smacking the younger upside the head as Wooyoung chuckles.

Again, you smile tensely, your eyes blank as you watch Wooyoung rub at the back of his head right where Yunho has just smacked him. Honestly, it’s freaking them out how you appear so calm, tilting your head slightly as your eyes close and your mind goes blank, that forced smile still tugging at your lips.

Before any of them can react, you grab your empty coffee mug from the desk and fling it at Wooyoung’s head. Luckily, he manages to dodge in time, the sound of ceramic shattering against the floor behind him breaking the tense silence.

“For fuck’s sake, don’t take things that don’t belong to you!” You shout. “Especially if they’re mine!”

“Do you want them back?” He offers, holding his hands upwards as a sign of defence against your rage.

“No! I most certainly do not want them back after whatever the hell you did to them!” You fume, an image of burning whatever pair of underwear he stole flitting through your mind. “This is what I mean when I say I want privacy. I don’t want to have to worry about any of my other things going missing because of you guys.”

“And they won’t.” Hongjoong promises, shooting a pointed look at Wooyoung who just narrows his eyes in response at his leader. He knows they all would have done the exact same thing as he did if given the chance. Hell, Seonghwa even told him to ‘save some for the rest of us’, if he recalls correctly.

“I sure as hell hope not.” You retort, another sigh falling from your lips.

“Some of us will take you to get your things, soon,” Mingi voices, cutting the tension in the air.

“Good,” you nod. “I’d appreciate it.”

Turning slightly, you grab your laptop from the desk and tuck it under your arm once more. You turn back to face them.

“I can take you after you put your laptop back in your room and plug your phone in to charge,” Yunho offers, yet again reading your mind.

You shoot him a look. “I am not going anywhere with you until you learn to stop doing that.”

“Then who-“

“I’ll go with them,” you cut San off with a motion of your hand, pointing at both Jongho and Yeosang using two of your fingers. “They can take me.”

Jongho stands there, momentarily stunned as all six of his remaining brothers turn to look at both him and Yeosang. The elder of the two is just as shocked as the youngest is, though he’s simply better at hiding it. Though, Yeosang cannot help the smug grin that tugs on his lips as he sees you turn away, his brothers glaring at him with jealousy clear in their eyes.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” you say without so much as sparing a glance over your shoulder. “Then we can go.”

True to your word, it only takes you two minutes to make your way back to the lobby. Though, now that you take a closer look, it appears more as a grandiose foyer than a hotel lobby. In the back of your mind, you begin to wonder just how extravagant they made this place. Perhaps you’ll have to go exploring when you get back.

“Ready when you are,” Yeosang smiles at you, waiting off to the side with Jongho standing right beside him.

A simple nod of your head is all he receives in response, noticing how the other six stand off to the side. You nearly let out a huff at the way both Yunho and San stand with their arms crossed in front of their chests. Wooyoung, Mingi, and Seonghwa all wear slight pouts on their faces, though at least the eldest is better at hiding it that the others. Still, there is no mistaking the classic downturn of his lips. The only one who remains an anomaly to you is Hongjoong.

There he stands, eyes transfixed on you as his hands are shoved into his pockets. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he almost looks unbothered. Only, you know that that isn’t the case. It’s moments like this where you wish you could read people’s minds just so that you could know what he’s thinking. Hongjoong smirks.

“Okay,” you say, turning back to the two men beside you. “Let’s go.”

You manage to take a few steps towards the front doors before you notice that they aren’t following you. You quirk a brow, seeing Jongho’s shoulders shaking in laughter.

“What are you doing?” Yeosang asks, having not moved a single inch.

“Heading to my car. What does it look like I’m doing?” You shoot him an incredulous look.

“Oh, no, we’re not taking a car.” Jongho says, closing the distance between the two of you in a few strides. “Hold on tight.”

“Wha-“ before you can even protest, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and transporting the two of you to your apartment.

As soon as your living room comes into view, you’re stumbling out of his arms. Your head spins as you see Yeosang appear from thin air right before your very eyes. Blinking a few times, your one hand comes up to cradle the side of your head, nausea building in your chest.

“Fucking hell, Jongho, you can’t just do that to her for the first time,” Yeosang is immediately in front of you, helping to guide you into sitting down on your sofa. “She’s never jumped before.”

Concern is written all over Jongho’s face as he comes to kneel before you. Though, only Yeosang can hear how smug the youngest is right now. Of course he just had to be the first one to wrap you in his arms and transport you here. It’s not like Yeosang wanted to have that privilege, or anything.

“Are you okay?” Jongho asks softly as you notice Yeosang dart off into your kitchen, appearing not even thirty seconds later with a glass of water held in his hand.

“Yeah,” you brush him off, accepting the glass with a small nod in thanks before taking a sip. “Just a warning would be nice, next time.”

“I did tell you to hold on tight,” Jongho chuckles, receiving a smack upside the head from Yeosang. “Ow.”

“Do you want to freak her out again?” Yeosang reprimands, clicking his tongue as he shakes his head.

“Relax,” you shoot Yeosang a look. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”

Both males simply quirk their brows at you in response, Jongho getting back to his feet in the next moment.

“How did you even know where my apartment was, anyways?” You stare at them expectantly, the worst already flitting through your mind as you take another sip of water.

“I don’t think you’ll believe us when we say this is our first time stepping foot in your apartment.” Yeosang replies, casually making himself at home and sitting in the recliner closest to you on the couch.

Your eyebrows raise, placing your glass onto the side table. “Stepping foot in my apartment? What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Jongho begins with a giddy smile, sitting down on the sofa beside you and casually throwing an arm to rest behind you on the back of the couch, “we’ve never actually physically been here before.”

“How exactly does that work?” You stand, turning to face both men as you cross your arms in front of your chest. You do not fail to notice the way Jongho pouts as you do so, missing the fact that he just technically had his arm wrapped around your back, even if only for a brief moment.

“When you first summoned us, we could only appear near you through glass objects.” Yeosang explains.

“Summoned you?” Your head tilts, disbelief clear on your features. “When, and how the hell did I summon you?”

“October twenty-fourth.” Jongho recalls, smiling fondly as if the memory is the most pleasant one he has ever experienced in his life.

At your confused look, Yeosang speaks once more.

“You and that one friend of yours, Reina, decided to ‘read from a book of spells’ if I recall correctly.” Yeosang adds air quotes around that specific phrase, an amused quirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“No, it was Reina who read from the book,” you frown. “Why the fuck did you decide to haunt me?”

“You’re the one who caught out attention first,” Jongho admits with a shrug. “You weren’t panicking, and you were skeptical about the whole thing. Well, until Hongjoong and Seonghwa started moving shit around in the room you guys were in.”

You think this is the first time you’ve ever heard Jongho swear, and to say it catches you off guard would be an understatement.

“Yeah, don’t let his little innocent act fool you,” Yeosang chuckles. “He may be the youngest, but he swears worse than a sailor.”

“Hey!” Jongho protests, throwing one of your couch pillows at Yeosang who easily catches it with one hand while making a face at the younger.

You cannot help yourself. A chuckle escapes you. One which you immediately regret when both males are whipping their heads over to look at you, their gazes locking on your figure as soft smiles adorn their features. You clear your throat.

“That still doesn’t explain much,” you mutter, averting your gaze almost shyly. A fact which has both of their chests swelling with warmth.

It’s been so long since they’ve had a decent interaction with you, that they’re both going to savour this for as long as they can.

“You were the one that stepped up to protect your friend,” Yeosang continues. “You were the one who took charge and disposed of the mirror you guys used for the summoning.”

“Yeah, and?” You cross your arms.

“And we liked that about you.” Jongho replies, leaning further back into your couch with a smile still visible on his lips. “We’ve all been hooked ever since.”

“Getting rid of the mirror didn’t actually get rid of any of you, did it?” You sigh, shaking your head slightly.

“Nope,” both men reply at the same time.

“Great,” you exhale a long breath. “Well, I suppose this is my life now.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Yeosang jokes, immediately regretting his decision to attempt to tease you when your eyes flash, a frown painting your features.

“I’ll go pack now,” your voice is bitter, a tenseness to your shoulders that wasn’t there a moment ago when you turn your back to them and begin to retreat to your bedroom.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, Jongho is throwing the other couch pillow at Yeosang’s head.

“Way to go, asshole.” Jongho hisses. “And we were finally making progress again, too.”

“Oh, don’t you dare blame all of this on me.” Yeosang rolls his eyes. “You’re the one that got all handsy first.”

“No, our eldest did that,” Jongho retorts, his words rumbling with the hints of a growl.

A scowl pulls onto Yeosang’s face as he leans back in his seat, both men now reeling in the bitterness that they felt - that they continue to feel - at the fact that Seonghwa of all people got to touch you first.

What they each wouldn’t give to have been in that position. To have you beneath their touch, to hold you in their arms, has always been one of their biggest fantasies. If only they could make them all into a reality. They would do anything to please you, and they hope that one day you’ll let them prove it.

Thirty minutes later and you’re appearing from down the hall, lugging two full suitcases with you. Immediately, both males are on their feet, each taking a bag from your hands.

“I have more, hang on,” you say, moving to turn around. However, before you can so much as face your hallway again, you see your suitcases disappear from their hands, vanishing in thin air. “What the fuck.”

“Our teleporting works on all things, both organic and inorganic.” Yeosang explains, casually, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” you reply, a hint of wonder in your tone which makes them both smile faintly. Then, you blink, as if realizing something. “Wait, if you guys can do that, then can-“

“Wait!”

“Again, what the fuck!” Your eyes go wide as you open the door to your spare bedroom where you keep all of your bookshelves to find them completely bare. Your stomach drops as panic washes through you. Have you been robbed? No, you don’t think so. It wouldn’t make sense with all of your valuables still here. “Where are all of my things?”

Of course, you had more than just books on your shelves. Photos, little trinkets, and even some extra folded blankets were held in this room, not to mention all the volumes of manga and albums you have been collecting over the years. All of them, vanished without a trace.

“One of you start explaining.” You turn to look at the two of them who stand wide-eyed in the doorway, and you just know they had something to do with this. “Now!”

“Remember that library Hongjoong told you about?” Jongho answers, a nervous lilt to his voice.

“You’re telling me, that he came to my apartment, alone, and brought all my belongings from within this room with him back to your domain?” You ask, a deadly look shining in your eyes.

“He wasn’t alone,” Yeosang replies. “Seonghwa went with him.”

Yeosang shouldn’t have said that. Yeosang really should not have said that.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Angry doesn’t even begin to describe you as you run a hand over your face, feeling your body begin to heat as white hot fury courses through your veins. “When?”

“The day after you finally came to us.” Jongho decides that there’s no use in lying to you anymore. You were bound to find out soon, anyways.

“So, that thing about only being able to appear near me in glass objects was complete bullshit, wasn’t it?” You narrow your eyes at them.

If either one of them so much as damaged anything, or so much as got a spec of dirt, or hell, even a fingerprint on your collection, there will be hell to pay.

“No!” Jongho immediately raises his hands in front of himself in defence. “That was all true, we swear!”

“There needed to be a physical connection between us before we could transport ourselves anywhere that you’ve been that we haven’t,” Yeosang tells you, attempting to be a voice of reason for you during this time. “Your friend may have summoned us, but you didn’t. So, even if we wanted to appear around you in the physical world, we couldn’t. Only metaphysically until we established that connection.”

“Well, this is just making me feel loads better,” you huff, sitting on the edge of the guest bed while rubbing your hands over your face. “I-“

A knock sounds from your door, interrupting your train of thought.

Immediately, both males are turning around with a scowl on their faces as they practically glare holes into your front door. Neither particularly enjoy the loud thoughts radiating from your much too friendly neighbour who has just decided to pay you an unexpected visit.

“We’ll talk about this later,” you say, going to move past them as you hear another knock - this one a little more eager than the first - sound at your door. However, before you so much as undo the lock, you turn to face them once more, quirking a brow in the process.

Do you mind grabbing my other bags? They’re in my room.

Both males can only stand there and blink, momentarily stunned by the fact that you’ve just willingly spoken to them using your thoughts. Ecstatic doesn’t even begin to describe how they’re feeling, forgetting for a brief moment about the male behind your front door as pleased growls build in their throats, threatening to escape them at any second.

Without another thought, they hastily head to your room, practically shoving each other out of the way in order to be the first one to cross the threshold into your own private space. A space in which you’ve just practically invited them into for the first time, completely unaware of the meaning behind your request.

As soon as you see them disappear down the hallway, you’re breathing a sigh of relief. Turning back around to face the front, you flick the locks, swinging the door open in the next second. The sight that greets you brings a smile to your lips.

“Calum, hey!” You don’t think you’ve experienced this sense of happiness, this sense of normalcy in weeks. “How’ve you been?”

“Hey!” He greets back with a smile, pulling you in for a hug which you gladly accept. “I’m doing great! How have you been? I haven’t seen you around lately, is everything okay?”

You pull away from him, holding him at arms length as your smile shifts from genuine to semi-strained. “Yeah, I’ve been okay. Just busy lately. Life has really been kicking my ass.”

You share a small laugh, worry tugging at the back of your mind. You feel as if there’s a storm brewing behind you, hidden just around the corner of your hallway. One that you cannot control.

“If something’s the matter, you can tell me,” he says, genuine concern reflected on his features as his hands move to hold your own in his. Gently, he strokes his thumb over your skin, squeezing your fingers reassuringly. “I’m here for you.” Then, as if he’s finally decided to speak his mind, “I’ve missed you.”

A soft call of your name draws your attention to the side as you feel an arm snake around your waist from behind. Sparing a glance to the side, you see Jongho standing beside you, glaring directly at the man standing across from you. “Who’s this?”

“This,” you not-so-subtly elbow Jongho in the ribs, getting him to drop his hold on you in the process as you shoot him a pointed look, “is my neighbour, Calum.”

“What’s taking you two so long?” Yeosang appears beside you, his hand finding purchase on your lower back and causing you to stiffen immediately at his touch. He meets Calum’s gaze, a look of disinterest painting his features as he scrutinizes every inch of the mortal before him.

At least Jongho and Yeosang can agree on this. This human has nothing on them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Calum blinks, a bit taken aback. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit-“

“Watch your mouth.” It’s Jongho who cuts you off, successfully making you jump at the harshness of his tone, words directed at the man before you.

You can feel Yeosang’s fingers tense on your back, and you just know something bad is about to happen.

“Anyways,” you say quickly, already reaching to close your front door. “Great seeing you again!”

Without another word, you slam the door in his face, turning to look at the two demons practically fuming now as you rest your back on the now closed door. One look into their eyes and you see nothing but darkness swirling within.

“What the fuck was that about?” You frown, a hint of fear trailing down your spine.

“We’re leaving.” Yeosang reaches for you, but you recoil back, eyes wide as you press yourself against the door.

“Please, don’t be scared of us.” Jongho says, his tone suddenly soft as he finally reverts his eyes back to their normal colour.

“You would not believe the thoughts projecting themselves out of that thing’s head.” Yeosang adds with a huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“That person has a name,” you mirror his stance, frown still tugging at your features.

“Not for long,” Yeosang mumbles, and you swear your eyes nearly bug out of your head.

“Excuse me?” You look at him, incredulously.

“He doesn’t deserve to live with the things he was thinking about you.” Jongho breathes, eyes seeing past you and appearing as if his gaze is following Calum’s figure as it retreats back down the hallway and into his own apartment.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Well, they did tell you that they would do anything for you. Honestly, you shouldn’t be surprised that killing isn’t beneath them.

Yeosang and Jongho share a brief look. Of course they would kill for you. What type of demonic lovers would they be if they didn’t?

“Go on, then,” you motion for them to continue with your head. “What was he thinking?”

It’s Yeosang who meets your gaze first. “He didn’t actually care about how you were doing. The only thing on his mind was how he could get into your pants. Apparently, in his mind, you’ve been nothing but a ‘teasing bitch always leading him on’.”

“Huh, you think you know a guy.” You scoff, shrugging in the next moment. “Not any different than the majority of men I know. Honestly, I’ve been called worse.”

“He called you a-“ Jongho pauses, his entire body shaking with white hot fury as his eyes flash black once more, “a ‘slut’. A ‘fucking whore’ as soon as he saw us appear beside you.”

“Again, not the first time a man has called me those things after I’ve rejected them,” you say, nonchalantly.

You want to question whether or not they’re lying to you, but their reactions are far too genuine to simply be an act. You’re starting to understand what it means for them to lose control, especially when you are concerned.

“Who?” Yeosang immediately takes a step forward, causing you to push yourself further back into the door until he’s correcting his mistake, making the both of them take a few steps backwards to give you some space.

“You think I keep a list of all the people who have wronged me?” You laugh dryly, a roll to your eyes. “Yeah, Samantha pushed me off of the swing set when we were five and I scraped my knee. Jaehyun broke my heart last year and he didn’t even care about it.”

They both scowl, thoughts overcome with the need to protect you in any and every way they know how. These people have wronged you, and they no longer deserve to live for defiling you in such ways.

You sigh, not believing the words that are about to come out of your mouth. “Take me back.”

They blink at you, attempting to put a leash on their rage for the time being.

“Take me back,” you repeat, pushing yourself off of the door to stand in an upright position as your eyes close. “I’ve gotten everything that I came for.”

Just as Yeosang goes to reach for you, your eyes are flinging opened.

“Wait!” You’ve just remembered something.

Immediately, you brush past them and reenter your bedroom. A moment later and you reappear, three large stuffed animals clutched in your arms.

“I can’t believe I almost forgot these guys,” you shake your head, noticing the way the two of them wear looks of amusement on their faces. You narrow your eyes. “Not a word.”

Jongho raises his hands in a motion of surrender, while Yeosang simply quirks a brow.

“I sleep better when I’m holding onto something,” you admit, a heat rising to your cheeks. “The pillow isn’t quite cutting it anymore.”

Little do you know of the way your words effect them. Both would gladly let you cling to them whenever and wherever you wanted, especially if it meant you slept better through the night. Hell, they know they would rest better holding you in their arms for as long as you’d let them. Really, you need only ask.

“Alright,” your voice manages to pull them out of their thoughts. “Let’s go.”

It’s a bittersweet feeling. One that settles into your bones and fills your lungs as you take what are probably your final breaths in this apartment for the rest of your life. The harshness of reality slaps you in the face as your emotions begin to overwhelm you, resisting the urge to cry as you realize that you don’t want to go back. You don’t want to leave the home you so delicately created for yourself the past few years. You don’t want to abandon who you were, or what you did.

Only, before you can so much as utter a final goodbye, Yeosang is placing his hand onto the small of your back once more. In an instant, your room at the hotel greets you, and you find yourself blinking away tears as you throw your stuffed animals on the newly made bed. It looks as if someone cleaned your room while you were gone, your freshly packed bags sitting off to the side.

“Are you okay?” Jongho asks, voice soft as he takes a step towards you.

��No, I am not okay.” You hiss, turning around and sitting on the edge of the bed.

However, before either of them can say anything else, San, who had been walking past your room at hearing your thoughts returning within the vicinity, storms inside at seeing you in tears. Cautiously, he kneels in front of you, worry clear on his features as he spares a glance at his brothers out of the corner of his eyes. Cupping your face in his hands, he manages to wipe one of your tears away before you’re shrugging him off.

San stands, turning to face the others in the room. “What the fuck did you two do?”

“We didn’t do anything,” Yeosang narrows his eyes at the aforementioned male who is currently glaring at both him and Jongho.

“If this is about that bastard-“ Jongho begins, before you cut him off.

“I couldn’t give less than two fucks about him right now,” you snap, and you swear both Jongho’s and Yeosang’s chests rumble with pleased growls, whereas San just looks confused, his brow furrowing in response. “I really didn’t think I had to spell this one out for you.”

No, you really don’t. Your emotions lingering throughout your thoughts tell them enough, and all they can do is frown. If they could, they would take all of your pain away, replacing that longing, that sadness within you in a heartbeat. However, they cannot. The best they can do is offer you any sort of comfort that they can. Whether you choose to accept it or not is another story.

San turns his attention back to the other two males, his voice low. “What happened?”

Both Jongho and Yeosang share a look between themselves before they’re sharing their memories with their brothers. All of them.

And you let him live? Seonghwa snarls through their minds, and none of them have to see him to know the pure and utter fury that is shining in his eyes right now.

Anyone care to take a trip? Yunho hums, and they all know a maniacal grin is stretching over his lips in this moment. I think we owe the little worm a visit.

Already ahead of you, Wooyoung replies, a malicious glint in his eyes as he catches his own gaze in the mirror.

Skin him alive for me, would you? Mingi voices, already deciding that he’ll stay behind to make sure you don’t do anything rash. Besides, you thought about wanting to explore your new home earlier, and he’ll be damned if he isn’t at least one of the ones to show you around.

I’d prefer if you burnt him to a crisp, honestly. San adds, watching you carefully as you stand from your seated position on the bed and walk past the three of them into the bathroom. He’s also determined to stay back and watch over you, even if he so badly wants to unleash the seventh layer of hell upon the pathetic excuse of a human that so much as thought he could have any type of chance with you.

If anyone gets first dibs on how we torture the mortal, it’s us. Yeosang states, a cold fury held within his eyes.

Yeah, Jongho huffs, you guys had no idea how hard it was not to tear him apart limb from limb right then and there.

Then why didn’t you? Wooyoung snaps, anger clouding his mind.

Believe me, we wanted to. Yeosang sighs, both him and Jongho vanishing from the room as they meet the others at the front.

We just rather preferred not to have our beloved terrified of us for the moment. We’re pretty sure we’ve already freaked her out enough for one lifetime. Jongho purses his lips, crossing his arms in front of his chest as the five of them converge.

Looking around, their brows furrow. Someone is missing. Someone who has been very silent throughout this whole ordeal. Someone who is usually the first one to act when something like this happens.

Immediately, the five of them are transporting to your apartment. Opening the front door, they make the short trek down the hallway to Calum’s apartment, already feeling the wrath radiating outwards in waves. Carefully, they push the door open, eyes bleeding black as smirks tug at their features.

There, in the middle of the living room, stands Hongjoong. A blade rests in his hand, dripping with fresh blood as he glares at the man pinned to the wall before him. A man who lets out a muffled scream, struggling against the daggers piercing his skin and holding him in place off of the ground as he sees the five men enter the room, their eyes as dark as night and screaming for vengeance.

Hongjoong turns to look at them with his eyes already pitch black and screaming for blood. “Took you long enough.”

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viesantewrites · 1 month

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝

(𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Robert Fischer (Inception) x Reader

note: Hey guys, I‘ve rewritten this story a bit and decided to post it on my sideblog. I've changed some of the themes and also that the main character is no longer an OC, but the reader. I think this story is kinda difficult to write, which is why I've rewritten it several times. I love plots like Shutter Island and tried to do something similar here & it‘s also a story about parasocial relationships and unrequited love.

summary: The reader is hopelessly in love with her boss Robert Fischer, but he doesn't seem to be interested in her. By an unexpected coincidence, they meet in the city and his sudden intense affection for her confuses her. The reader begins to suspect that something is wrong, and when she finally uncovers the truth about her encounters with Fischer the heartbreaking reality is revealed to her.

you don‘t have to watch the movie to understand the story.

word count: 5000+

warnings: topics like mental illness, depression

It was just half past seven when she heard the familiar footsteps in the corridor approaching the office next door. A key was inserted into the lock and a moment later the door opened.

Glancing around to make sure her workspace wasn't too messy, she threw an old paper cup into the bin before her boss poked his head through the door.

"Good morning, Miss YN, so busy already?" he asked with a tired smile. "It doesn't reflect well on me as a boss to have my assistant here before me. I'm sorry, Monday mornings are always a bit stressful for me."

"No problem, Mr Fischer. I've already sorted the mail for you, it's on your desk," she said kindly, watching him as he took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack, a little damp from the rain.

"Thank you, I can count on you."

He was a very elegant, handsome man, about ten years her senior, with dark hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones and an elegant black suit. She must have stared at him a little too long, because he turned to her with a questioning smile.

Immediately her cheeks flushed and she turned back to her computer screen, but by then Mr Fischer had already approached her and placed some documents on her desk. "Please scan them all and email them to Mr Parker, he's been waiting for them for days," he said to her. It would be best if we sat down together later and quickly discuss my tasks for today, there is a lot to do. If I'm not mistaken, I have a client meeting at three today.

"At two, sir," she corrected him, handing him a planner with today's date thickly underlined.

He started to grin. "You see, this is exactly why I have an assistant."

Fischer disappeared into his office.

She sighed slightly and went to work scanning the documents. She had been working for Fischer Morrow, one of the world's largest energy companies, for barely a month. Their headquarters had moved from Sydney to London after the death of their CEO, Maurice Fischer. Her current boss, Robert Fischer, was a direct descendant.

She liked Fischer Jr a lot. He was friendly, supportive and didn't get angry when things didn't go to plan. But in some ways he always seemed so unapproachable. For example, he never talked about his private life and YN had no idea who he was outside of work. Then again, he was her boss and his private life was none of her business. But deep down she admitted that she was very interested in him.

The days flew by and she finally felt as if she had been employed by Fischer Morrow for an eternity. But who Robert Fischer really was remained a mystery.

One evening, as she was about to leave, she quietly opened the door to Fischer's office. He was sitting in front of his computer, his chin resting on his hands. "Have a nice evening, Mr Fischer." He jumped slightly, obviously not having heard her come in, but then he smiled. "Thank you, you too."

YN looked at her watch. "It's almost half past seven, don't you want to finish your work soon? Don't you have a wife waiting for you?"

Mr Fischer shrugged. "I've been divorced for a few years now, and I only see my daughter at weekends. The only thing waiting for me is an empty, dark apartment."

YN held her breath. It was the first time he had told her anything about his private life. But in the same second, he seemed to regret his words.

"No one waits for me either," she said. "Except for my cat."

Fischer raised an eyebrow with a smile. "At least that's something."

Finally she said goodbye and left the office. But all the way home, she kept thinking about her conversation with Fischer.

Was he perhaps as lonely as she was?

Tired, YN lay in bed. She didn't even have the strength to change her clothes and remove her make up. Although she wanted nothing more than to get out of that itchy, uncomfortable dress and tights. A soft meow sounded beside her and she felt something soft brush against her arm. Smiling, she pulled the cat closer and buried her face in its white fur.

Since leaving her small home village for London, she had no one to talk to. Her old friends had all left her and moved on with their own lives. Robert Fischer was the only one she spoke to regularly, though it was far from a friendship. With the cat in her arms, she turned to the other side. But what if she had feelings for him?

Maybe she should tell him. But wasn't that too much? He was still her boss, after all, and there were probably plenty of women who were interested in him.

She quickly pushed the thought aside and closed her eyes.

Robert Fischer turned curiously when he heard the quick clicking of heels in the corridor. Panting, his assistant opened the door and dropped her bag on the desk.

"Miss YN, are you okay?"

Her hair was messy, her coat hung loosely over her shoulders as if she hadn't had time to put it on properly, and her lipstick was a little smudged.

"I… overslept," she said, panting. "I'm sorry."

Fischer looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "It's okay. But it shouldn't happen again."

"Of course not, sir," she replied immediately.

He quickly disappeared into his office and returned with a thick stack of papers and a folder.

"Would you be so kind as to sort these documents alphabetically for me? They've been on my desk for days and I haven't had a chance to get to them. I know it's not an exciting task."

She nodded and took the heavy pile from his hand. Fischer thanked her and hurried back to his office.

Sighing, she set to work. But with each page, she found her concentration fading and her mind wandering. Her head ached, her eyes burned and she felt incredibly tired. But she tried not to show it, kept working as hard as she could and finally put the sorted file back on Mr Fischer's desk.

Exhausted, she walked back to her office, sat down in her chair and buried her face in her hands. She was shivering and her ears were ringing. Was it because she had forgotten to take her medicine today?

"Miss YN?" she heard her boss' voice.

She turned immediately and forced a smile. "Yes, Mr Fischer?"

"I have an job interview scheduled for ten, would you be so kind as to prepare the conference room for it?"

"Of course, sir."

He stopped halfway and looked at Victoria questioningly. "Are you okay? You look so pale." She nodded quickly, forcing a smile. "Everything's fine, Mr Fischer." Fischer looked at her, raised his eyebrows, then handed her the key to the meeting room and disappeared back into his office.

A strange feeling of dizziness spread through her head as she walked down the long corridor leading to the conference rooms.

What was wrong with her today?

When it started to get dark outside, YN finally turned off her computer and reached for her bag. The strange dizziness had improved during the day, leading her to conclude that she simply needed a break from work. Fortunately, it was Friday. She knocked gently on Fischer's door, as she always did before leaving, to wish him a pleasant evening. He was sitting there as usual, his chin resting on his hand, deep in thought. He glanced up briefly and nodded politely, noticing her in the doorway. He looked stunningly handsome today, even after this long and exhausting day.

"I didn't ask you how the job interviews went this morning," she asked curiously. Fischer shook his head. "Terribly," he said. "None of these people I'd want in my company." His voice was cold and dismissive, and for a moment she thought he was referring to her, even though she knew he meant someone else. She smiled awkwardly and shrugged slightly. "Well, maybe the next one will be better."

Fischer remained silent.

"Have a good weekend, Mr Fischer."

"You too, Miss YN." He gave her a friendly smile.

"Do you have any plans for the weekend? I know a good restaurant, would you like to join me?" The moment she realised what she had just said, she bit her lip, her face turning red. Had she completely lost her mind? She desperately hoped he hadn't heard what she'd asked, but it was too late. She could see Fischer raise his eyebrows in confusion and stare at her.

"No, Miss YN. I'm not interested. I keep my work and personal life strictly separate." She immediately looked down, embarrassed. Thoughts raced through her mind like a rollercoaster and her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. "I'm sorry, Mr Fischer, I shouldn't have asked you that." She finally grabbed her bag and left the office without another word, feeling Fischer's gaze on her back.

It was drizzling lightly as she walked through the busy streets of London. The cold air did her good and she felt her head clear a little.

Why had she done this? It had been clear from the start that a man like him would reject her. But the words had come out of her mouth as if she had completely lost control. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and quickly wiped it away. She didn't want to have a mental breakdown in public, even though it felt like Fischer had torn her heart into a thousand pieces. Suddenly the strange dizziness returned and her vision blurred slightly. The sounds of London became muffled, as if she were incredibly far away.

"Miss YN, wait!" she suddenly heard a voice behind her that seemed to be getting closer.

She turned around. The dizziness had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Startled, her eyes widened as she saw the person in front of her - it was Mr Fischer. What was he doing here? Had he followed her? She tried to speak, but all she could manage was a hoarse stutter.

"I wanted to apologize, Miss YN. It wasn't very nice of me to brush you off like that," he said with a gentle laugh. His voice sounded strangely different, softer than usual. Wordless and spellbound, she stared into the pair of light blue eyes before her, apologetic and gentle in their expression. She knew Mr Fischer had blue eyes, but she'd never noticed how incredibly bright they looked in his face.

"It's okay, don't worry," she managed to say, her knees shaking with excitement.

"No, no, Miss YN. I'll think about the dinner offer, okay? Just because we work together doesn't mean we can't have dinner together, does it?" Fischer suggested, and she nodded slowly, then smiled.

Why this sudden change of heart?

"Well, see you soon." He waved goodbye and YN, still completely confused, raised her hand in response. But before she could form another thought, he had disappeared into the crowd.

Carefully, YN pressed the shutter on her old camera, focusing the lens on the small lake in front of her. Satisfied, she lowered it. She was confident that this snapshot would turn out well. This park was a place she often visited to clear her head and pursue her passion, photography, as it offered many beautiful subjects. Especially now, in autumn, when the trees were covered with colourful leaves and the silence was slowly descending, with only the occasional pedestrian passing by.

Her dizziness had eased a little, but not completely. Fortunately, it was Saturday and she had the whole day to herself. YN sat down on a bench under a tree that looked to be at least a hundred years old.

She sat there for a while, lost in thought. Eventually she got up and made her way to the West End. The streets of London were noisy and busy as she walked, looking for a warm place in a café and something to eat. Crowds of people rushed past her, music played from somewhere and loud voices filled the air. Exhausted, she rubbed her temples. Maybe she should have stayed home and rested.

Suddenly she held her breath as she spotted a familiar face in the crowd. Dark hair, high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. Fischer. But before she could think, he had already noticed her and started to smile at her.

"Miss YN, how nice to see you! What a coincidence!"

It was the first time she had seen him in his casual clothes rather than one of his business suits. But this was no less elegant and stylish. He was wearing a well-fitting black coat, a grey knitted jumper underneath and black trousers. It was so strange to see him outside his office at Fischer Morrow Company. Suddenly he didn't seem so unapproachable and distant anymore.

"What are you doing here?" she asked curiously.

He paused for a moment. He seemed to be considering whether or not to tell her.

"I brought my little girl to her friend's house for a sleepover. She's been asking me for weeks because her mum won't let her."

"So you're a cool dad," YN replied.

Fischer rolled his eyes. "I'm the one who lets her get away with everything. We had to turn back twice because she realised she had forgotten her favourite stuffed animal and then her toothbrush."

She laughed softly. In a strange way, she enjoyed him talking so openly about his life.

"Oh wow, that looks amazing. It's quite old, isn't it?" Mr Fischer pointed to the camera around her neck. "From the 1960s. But it takes incredibly good pictures for that time," she explained. Fischer seemed genuinely impressed. "Do you have more like it?"

"I have quite a few. From the 50s to the 80s, actually, and of course some modern digital cameras. Photography has been my passion since I was a child," she explained. Fischer looked at her with an interested smile. "So there's actually film in there that needs to be developed?" she nodded in confirmation. "Some photo shops still offer that service, yes."

Mr Fischer seemed genuinely interested in her hobby, asking her questions about it as they walked side by side through the streets of London. She felt incredibly comfortable in his presence and hoped he wouldn't leave so soon. Finally he pointed to the camera again. "Would you take a picture of me, please? I'd like a 60's style photo of myself." YN's heart began to race in her chest. What had he just said?

"Of course, Mr Fischer," she replied nervously. "Robert. My name is Robert," he replied. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, completely surprised. No one at Fischer Morrow Ltd called him by his first name, and outside the company she had only heard his uncle, Peter Browning, call him Robert.

"Let's find a nice spot for the photo," he said, letting his gaze wander until it settled on a beautiful fountain.

Carefully, she picked up the camera, took a few steps back and held it directly in front of Robert's face. "Smile, please," she instructed him, finally pressing the shutter.

A pedestrian who had just passed them looked at YN with a confused expression and shook his head. Frowning, she looked after him before carefully tucking the camera into her handbag.

Are you hungry?" asked Robert. "We could go to a restaurant."

Surprised, she looked at him. "I don't know…" she said hesitantly, chewing her lower lip. In fact, she had never expected to be asked such a question.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows and she could see the disappointment in his eyes. Finally, she worked up the courage to say what was on her mind.

"It's just… To be honest, you told me yesterday that you were someone who kept your work and personal life strictly separate. Maybe it would be better if we did. After all, I'm your employee."

As much as she wanted to spend time with him, she was afraid of developing any more feelings for him. Robert nodded slowly and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

"I really like you. I just never wanted to show it, that's why I was so reserved with you and told you I wasn't interested in you".

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh as a ton of thoughts went through her head. Robert finally nodded at her with a slightly disappointed look on his face and turned on his heel.

"Wait!" she called after him.

He stopped immediately and looked at her hopefully.

"Let's give it a try, shall we?"

YN… is that a French name?"

Robert's voice sounded slightly tipsy as he grinned curiously at her, twirling his wine glass casually in his hands. The plate in front of him was empty and he had now carefully placed the cutlery on it, waiting for a waitress to take it away.

He had taken her to a rather fancy and expensive place, the walls were dark wood panelling, the chairs were covered in red velvet and soft jazz music was playing on one of the radios. Robert looked hauntingly beautiful that night. His skin seemed incredibly soft and flawless, his jawline even more prominent, and his blue eyes shone almost ghostly in the dim light, almost like he wasn’t real…

She smiled, nodded and took a sip from her glass. "My father is French. I grew up in France but moved to England when I was 15."

He nodded with interest, rubbing his chin with his forefinger.

"And you? I heard you're Australian," she asked curiously.

Robert laughed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Well, my accent makes it obvious."

YN blushed and looked down at her plate. What a stupid question.

But Robert didn't seem to mind too much, because he started talking about his life in Sydney, how he had finally moved to London after his father's death, and she listened with interest.

But suddenly he stopped and looked at her thoughtfully. "But I'm probably just boring you."

YN immediately shook her head. "No, you're not," she told him. "I find it really interesting to find out all this about you."

At that moment a waitress came to their table with a smile and asked YN in a friendly tone if she had enjoyed her meal. But the waitress paid no attention to Robert, YN noticed with surprise. Perhaps she was just being extra polite to the lady.

YN's date pulled out a black leather purse and rummaged through it. Quickly, she pulled a few notes out of the bag and handed them to the waitress. "Keep the change," she said.

The waitress looked at her with wide eyes, "Thank you, ma'am," she said gratefully, "have a nice evening.

Then she turned and left the table.

"You didn't have to do that," Robert said. "As a gentleman, it's actually my job to pay."

She shook her head in amusement. "I bet that's never happened to you before, has it?"

Robert shook his head and took the last drink from his glass. There was a moment of silence between them.

"All right. So what's the plan for the rest of the evening?"

She looked at him in surprise. As soon as he said the words, she felt a tingle in her stomach.

The church clock struck twelve as she crossed the street hand in hand with Robert. It was freezing, and she had pulled her scarf so far up her face that only her eyes and nose were visible. Her date looked at her with amusement. "Are you going to rob a bank?" he asked, laughing out loud.

"Shh!" she snapped at him, putting her fingers to his lips. "You'll wake up the whole neighbourhood."

Although it was quite dark and she could only make out Robert, she knew that his typical mischievous grin was back on his face. She pulled him firmly behind her until they reached the small white building.

"Is this where you live?" Robert asked.

She put her finger to his lips for a second time until Robert stopped talking and looked silently into her eyes. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she finally stood on her toes, put her arms around his neck and placed her lips on his. Robert returned the kiss without hesitation and gently pulled her into his arms. YN could hardly believe what was happening. It was everything she had secretly wanted for months. They remained like this for a moment before she finally let go of him and reached for her key.

She felt for Robert's upper arm and finally pulled him into her apartment, closing the door behind him. She immediately wrapped her arms around him and began to kiss him again. His lips were a little cold and tasted of wine. Together they stumbled backwards into her bedroom, taking off his coat, which she tossed carelessly to the floor.

Robert's fingers stroked carefully along her hip and fumbled a little with her belt while she was busy planting little kisses on his neck. With slightly trembling hands she pulled his jumper over his head and Robert took her hand.

"Are you nervous?" he wanted to know. She remained silent.

"Don't be," he whispered softly into her ear, taking her in his arms again and pulling her onto the bed. Breathing softly, she clung to his chest, leaned back and finally closed her eyes as she felt his warm skin against hers.

The sun shone through the half-open curtains, creating a narrow, bright streak across the floor. Blinking, she opened her eyes and stretched. But immediately a sharp pain shot through her head again and she held her forehead tiredly. Confused, she sat up and tried to remember what had happened yesterday.

But when she heard soft breathing next to her, she turned quickly and all the events of last night came back to her. Smiling, she looked over at Robert, snuggled up next to her in her beige blanket, sleeping peacefully. Tenderly stroking his messy hair, she lay down beside him again and then began to caress his chest. Perhaps what they had done was wrong. After all, they were two people who should never have fallen in love. But it had happened, and it felt so right. They remained in this position for some time, Robert asleep and YN lost in thought.

Her eyes swept through the bedroom until they settled on a small white box on her dresser. Quickly sitting up, she reached for it and put a small pill into her mouth. Eventually, Robert began to move a little beside her, opening his eyes tiredly. Smiling broadly, she gave him a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning," Robert murmured in a raspy morning voice.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked.

"Yes, wonderfully." He yawned loudly and took her into his arms as she laid her head lovingly on his shoulder.

"Wait, what time is it?" he suddenly wanted to know.

"Quarter past ten, why do you ask?" she replied.

"Shit," Robert muttered as he let go of the hug, jumped out of the bed and started to pick up his clothes, which were strewn all over the floor.

"Wait, wait, where are you going?" she asked, looking at him in confusion.

"I should've picked up my daughter by now," he replied, hurrying to get dressed.

Sighing, she pulled the blanket around her a little tighter. "Can't it wait? Can't you stay for breakfast?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure she's already waiting for me.“ Robert dodged her questions, grabbing his coat on the floor and sighing when he saw her disappointed look.

He walked slowly towards her, stroking her chin with his finger, and finally whispered: "We can catch up later." Then he put a soft kiss on her lips before turning around and disappearing through the door. She sank back into the pillows and pulled the blanket over her head.

The rest of Sunday flew by. Mostly because her mind was on Robert and she could hardly wait to see him again tomorrow at work. She had probably never looked forward to a Monday in her life as much as she did that day.

The next morning, YN carefully applied her lipstick and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She noticed that the collar of her white blouse was a little crooked and quickly adjusted it. She wanted to look her best for Robert today, so he wouldn't change his mind and lose interest in her.

Humming softly, she put on her black high heels and grabbed her handbag. She quickly put another pill into her mouth and put the box in her bag. Her headache was completely gone and her head finally felt clear and light again. In a good mood, she breathed in the fresh morning air and made her way to work.

Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked down the familiar corridor of Fischer Morrow. The lights were on in Robert's office. She ran a final hand through her hair, smoothed her blouse and opened the door to her own office.

The air was stuffy and hot. Coughing, she ran to the window and opened it.

"Good morning, Miss YN, I hope you had a nice weekend," a familiar voice sounded from behind her.

Startled, she turned to see Robert's face as he stuck his head through the door, as he always did.

Why didn't he call her by her first name? Confused, she stared at him, trying to form a clear sentence. "But… But… we spent it together…" her voice finally broke. Her head suddenly hurt again.

He seemed so different again. Not the Robert she had spent the weekend with, not the one who had apologised for being too rude to her, not the one who had made her laugh and told her about his life. He seemed more like the one she had worked with for months, the one who never revealed anything about himself.

"Miss YN? I haven't seen you since Friday, when you left my office after… asking me that question."

Her heart almost stopped. Suddenly her knees gave way and she sank to the floor.

"Are you okay? Are you feeling unwell?" Concerned, he bent down to her. "Do you want to go home and rest?"

She nodded slightly and wiped a tear from her eye, which had turned her fingers black from the carefully applied mascara. Then she got up and left the office.

At home, she lay motionless on her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't think straight and her throat felt incredibly dry. The door to her room, which was only ajar, opened gently and something small and white slipped through. Sniffling, she stretched out her arms and lifted her cat onto the bed.

Everything that had happened that weekend had been fake. She had made it all up. And all of this happened because she had forgotten to take the pills she was taking for her delusions. Robert hadn't really followed her on Friday evening; it was all a figment of her imagination. While his real self was still sitting in the office, probably not thinking about her at all. Everything suddenly made sense: why Robert looked a bit different, why his voice sounded different, the waitress who ignored him on Saturday because she couldn’t actually see him, the pedestrian who gave her a confused look because she was talking to herself while taking the photo.

The photo.

She immediately got up, put on her shoes and walked to the photo shop where she had left the film to be developed. Her heart raced as the staff handed her the envelope with the photos. Trembling, she finally grabbed the Saturday night photo, without looking at it herself, and held it up to the staff's face. "What do you see?" she asked.

The young man looked at her in confusion, but remained polite. "The fountain at Piccadilly Circus. Great picture, it turned out really nice."

"Anything else?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," he replied, and it felt like a slap in her face. Fischer had never been there with her. Only her lonely and sad mind had led her to believe that he was interested in her and loved her. Tears welled in her eyes and she left the shop without another word. When she got home, she immediately took the white box of pills from her handbag, rushed into the kitchen, opened the box and poured the pills into the bin.

Crying and with burning eyes, she finally lay down on her bed and buried her head in the pillow as her cat purred softly beside her. She must have stayed like that for hours, as the sun began to set again outside her window. When she finally lifted her head and wiped the tears from her face, she saw a dark-haired man sitting beside her bed, looking at her lovingly with his pale blue eyes. A smile suddenly appeared on her face and she began to laugh, pulling the man into a tight embrace.

some explanations because i know that story is kinda mind-fucking:

• Is Robert Fischer all a creation of the readers mind?

- No he actually exists, he’s her boss and she‘s in love with him, so she imagines dating him.

• When is he real, when is he fake?

- - The Robert Fischer in the office is real, he turns her down when she asks him out, leaving YN heartbroken. The moment she leaves the office, she starts to imagine what it would be like if he apologised to her, so the man who follows her is just her imagination. The real Robert Fischer is still in his office at Fischer-Morrow.

When she visits the city on Saturday and meets "Robert" and goes on a date with him, it's also just her imagination. That's why other people react to her with confusion, because she's basically talking to herself all the time. On Sunday morning, when she wakes up next to him, he's still fake. When she takes her pills, he quickly "disappears" (he says he has to pick up his daughter...) because they stop her delusions.

On Monday morning, when she gets back to her office, the real Robert Fischer is there again, who hadn't seen her since he had rejected her on Friday evening.

When she gets home, she throws away her pills and her delusions begin again. The man who sat next to her on the bed and comforted her is again the imaginary version of Robert.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian #robert fischer x reader #robert fisch x yn #cillian x y/n #cillian masterlist #cillian x fem!reader #inception #inception fanfiction #Oppenheimer #tommy shelby

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 3 months

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Yandere! Male! Archpriest x gn! Penpal! Ill! Reader

OOOH I've been waiting for this guy. He's been planned ever since the start, and I finally got to write him! Enjoy the convoluted world building between him and the other yandere men of Saphiri!

BTW: Liviticus has always been one of my beloved OCs with quite the lore, so forgive me if it did get a bit too confusing hshadad he is a priest, but I am not confining him to our existing religions of modern society. So it's up to you which religion, may it be made up or not, he is serving. I think this is also the first time i'm explicitly telling the physical appearance of the yandere? I don't remember. But yeah!

Yandere! God name: Liviticus

TW: Reader has cancer, death

BE WARNED, THIS IS LONG... LIKE MY LONGEST FIC.

Liviticus Obelia has always been a pious man.

He had everything in his life. Money, a loving family, anything he wanted, needed, and more.

With his extravagant life with his rich family, he had always thought that he should return the blessings he got to the people. But he doesn't know how though. First of all, he's an awkward man. He doesn't know how to interact that much due to being an introvert, and people avoid him quite a lot due to his Family's financial status being at the 1 percentile. Second, he had always thought that social aspects of society is not needed for people like him who is independently content with themselves.

Those words coming from the 10 year old Liviticus while sniffling from being rejected by a group of friends made his eldest sister, Koh, roll her eyes and pat him on the head, and his little sister, Kaoeia, giggle.

So, he found himself burying himself in books in the library his father owns.

Sure, there are more child friendly books there, but what got his attention was theology books about different religions.

He would religiously read all of them, immersing himself in the mythos of the gods he's reading on it. Even those of the olden and forgotten. His eyes would sparkle whenever he reads a book about them, maybe a holy scripture, and now, 15 years later, he graduated from his theology course.

Seeing as this was a good opportunity to now return the blessings he got from god, he enters the holy church of the religion of his choosing.

He takes the oath, and was quickly becoming a beloved member of the church.

With how genuine he is with helping people and "repenting" about having too much in his life, it's no wonder people and his fellow church personnel love him.

That, and his angelic looks was something that added to the his popularity.

With his long, ash golden hair that softly drapes on his shoulders like waterfalls, his eyelashes that almost looks white on his smooth skin, and his amber eyes that looks gold in the sunlight, he looks like an entity not of this world at all.

Everyone felt so compelled to rely on Liviticus. With his tall stature and strong build, added with his soft and understanding personality that will make even the most of the martyrs jealous, he exudes an almost godly energy in him.

He's genuine with helping too. He's that much of a good man.

That means, a lot of people wanted to be his romantic partner.

But when asked, he would just smile that partially blinded those who asked.

"I am not ready for that yet. I have devoted myself in serving the people right now."

Oh, how pious he is.

If they only knew.

Liviticus, is seen as a man who is extremely devoted to the religion he's serving.

With how he is and his high rank in the church, it is no doubt that he's a man of virtue and holiness.

It was true. He is a pious man. Someone who's serving his god/s with the full extent of his efforts, heart, and soul. He's also genuine with helping people and repenting on having too much.

But Liviticus was nothing short of just putting up a facade of devotion to god/s.

In reality, he's interested in religion, sure, but not in the devoted vision. He's someone who looks at every religion as entertainment. Just like how people treat Greek Mythology as stories, he looks at all of religions like that. No matter how widespread and popular it is.

Even the religion and church he's serving is nothing more than work to him and an obligation to serve.

He treats them as mere stories that fascinated a lot of people to the point of mass fascination. Was all of these true? Did all of these stories written in the holy scriptures of the religions he studied actually happen?

If they're fictional, how did it capture the heart of a lot of people? Did the author intend for it to be so big and so... Religious? How did they feel? Was the sensational occurrence changed something in them?

And, if they're actually real...

Then,

How can he be a god himself?

In a weird twist, Liviticus was so enamored with the godly figures in the religions he read that he wants to become one.

As unreasonable as it is, he doesn't care.

He's too in his head to think rationally.

So, him serving the people went from a genuine guilt to feeling like it's an obligation, a task to become a god. After all, he wants to be the helpful type of god.

In his mind, it was a practice in order to serve his future devotees.

The reason why he wants to be one?

Well, other than being an archpriest, he was an author beforehand.

He had created a world inside his high end laptop just like how normal fantasy authors have.

But in his case, he as an author, is a character in it. Nay, an active role inside of it as if the world is real.

He had created Saphiri. A world in which there's new currencies, new languages, new magic infused technology, entities, and of such.

Every single detail is well thought out. He even had different folders for different aspects. Like the languages folder has more folders containing new words, letters, and numbers. Magic? New runes and inspired elemental systems. Currencies? He has made a vector art of the coins and cash, and how it circulates between different countries.

He's too meticulous that it was almost unbelievable.

And his proofreader and the only other person who reads his works?

It's you.

Liviticus was rarely seen outside of the church grounds.

And if he was outside, it's usually to visit his family, or...

Liviticus sighed in content, reading the newest addition to his world. It was a person (not character. He hates that term) named Eros. He's still a child, but once he got your approval, he will work on Eros' upbringing.

The elevator dings, signaling that he reached his floor.

Once the doors opened, the smell of the sterile environment of the hospital lingers on his nose. He hears the nurses, doctors, patients and visitors alike walking and talking amongst themselves.

Thanks to his friend, who is the hospital chairperson here, Xavier allowed Liviticus to move you to one of the private suites.

You and Liviticus met when his family got a penpal for him. They saw how he's struggling with connecting to other people, and suggested penpals.

You were not that far, at least two cities away. And you're the same age as him too. That made it easier to connect with you.

Because apparently, he's shy when it comes to in person connection. He felt awkward staring into other people since he always felt a wall between them, let alone connecting with them. So, a penpal was more or less a cry of help.

And it worked amazingly. He liked you a lot since you love writing, albeit not in the theological sense like he was. You're an amazing writer, and has a keen eye when it comes to looking at plotholes. So, he regularly sends small drafts and manuscripts along with the letter with you.

You are patient with him, always treating him with kindness that he never felt from other people. Even when he's being rude and aloof, you patiently broke his walls down and now he's attached to you.

Being his only friend, he shared a lot of things to you. His desire to be god, the questions about religions, etc. He felt safe with you. You weren't judging him, and always answered his questions with a critical, neutral eye. Yet these replies still held the softness and friendliness he took comfort in.

Liviticus longed to see you in real life, but you weren't exactly as blessed financially as him. Sure, he's only two cities away, but your family didn't really want you going out and buying tickets or buying gas just to meet a penpal. He yearned to see your face finally, to see your face in real life and hold you close.

He wants you so bad that it's almost painful to breath. You were the only one who understood him. Even his family didn't understand him that much.

So, he took this yearning to another level.

Seeing that you were so nice to him, he decided to adapt your personality in real life. Gentle, kind, friendly... Someone who's easy to talk to and is incredibly patient and heartfelt. Helpful and genuine, Liviticus felt closer to you as he took your characteristics as his own. It felt like you were there with him.

And, years passed by...

Finishing his degree and finally having the time and permission of his family, he drove his newly bought car to your city just to find you.

His heart pounding, he found your address that you told him years ago, and saw you on the stairs of your home, sitting and writing something on your lap.

A letter. His letter.

He smiles and runs outside of his car to meet you, hugging you without any warning that freaked you out.

But, when you saw who he was, you grinned widely and hugged him back.

The rest is history...

But why is he in the hospital in present day, looking despondent while slapping his face to gather courage?

Two years within meeting you in real life, Liviticus regularly visited you. Spending time with you and getting to know you more in a personal level.

But, heated glances and affectionate gazes weren't lost. Both of you were two hearts beating in sync, as if the world intended the both of you to be together. It was a natural pull, and if the concept of soulmates were real, you were his, and he was yours.

A kiss on the lips on your birthday, Liviticus' mind slipped from trying to become god momentarily.

He's so happy just being by your side.

But then...

When he had to train to serve the church he chose, he had minimal contact with you. But, despite not having a label yet, he knew you would wait.

You would wait, right?

Then, one day, his phone rang. It felt weird, since it was already 3am, but he answered it.

He found himself feeling like heaven fell on him as the phone dropped to the floor, cracking the protector on it. He grabbed his coat and ran to his car to your house, almost violating road laws on the way.

You suddenly collapsed that night while trying to drink water. Your stomach felt so painful, like it was eating you inside out. You were so pale and white, and with a trembling body, you collapsed on your kitchen, being found by your mother who got startled awake.

When you were rushed to the hospital, you were found to have colon cancer.

It was almost too much for you, making you wonder what you did wrong to deserve such an ailment on your body.

And Liviticus felt like it was cruel. Too cruel.

You were so good and sweet, so why did you get such a dangerous and life threatening condition? And at such a late stage too?

Then and there, Liviticus truly questioned everything.

If god/the gods is/are real, then why were you being tested like this? You didn't do anything bad at all. You can't hurt a fly, so why hurt you?

Is this punishment due to him questioning their existence? Is this a cruel revenge due to him being preposterous and daring to be god? Is this an unfair judgement on a person that has nothing to do with him being unholy?

He might as well be swallowed by hell than seeing you cry your eyes out with such painful wails of agony.

He forced insisted on footing the bill. You and your family were adamant, but he insisted. His family was willing too, seeing as they had the money to spend and that you were also loved by them. And, you were transferred to his city to monitor you closely and closer to the best doctors out there.

He regularly visited you, always making sure to treat you like usual. Reading manuscripts and making you judge them. He tried to be cheerful. He really did.

But, seeing you getting weaker and weaker everyday was painful. You looked tired, but still carried a smile to comfort him as he kisses your hand.

And everyday, he got more and more desperate praying to gods to forgive him for being preposterous. He wants you to be healed, or even just transfer the sickness to him.

Anything at all.

He did all of these good things, and forgot his want to be god, just to appease those up above.

Suddenly, he became religious.

But it was not enough.

He numbly stands outside your door. The doctors and nurses were desperately trying to wake you up. But your limp body didn't respond at all.

You were dead.

Everything became a blur to him.

One thing, he's calling your family, then him consoling them, his family consoling him, then picking your coffin, and then now he's leading the funeral, blessing your coffin as you got buried in a mausoleum.

He only snapped out of his trance when he's kneeling in front of your grave, in the dead of the night, with only the moon and candles illuminating him. The wind was still, so was the night. It's as if letting him snap out of his mind.

His lips trembled, and in his priest garments, he shuffled close to your grave and hugged it, tears silently streamed down his face as he cried without a noise.

Everything felt so... Dull.

He did everything for the gods to forgive him, but they didn't. If they were real, then they would see his repentance, right?

But now, all he could do is weep. His heart torn apart as it got buried alongside you.

If you wish, he wants to be buried along you too.

Then, anger came.

Why can't they see it? Why can't they see that he's doing his best for them to forgive him? Why were you dead? You were innocent in all of this! You were only indulging his sins and was not directly mocking them! Is this his punishment? To break his heart this greatly?!

Is it not enough to shatter him, but you too?!

You had so much to live for! You were an excellent writer, and had plans to publish your book!

And...

"I.. I didn't even get to court you properly..." He wept, shakily taking a breath.

He pressed his sweaty forehead on your picture, tears still silently falling as he placed a chaste kiss on your face.

He got home that night, and left an email to the church that he's quitting.

He can't kept pretending to be okay.

Rotting in his bed on the days passed, he wished and longed to be in your arms again. To touch you, feel you once more.

Maybe, it will be a good idea to do something to distract him. You won't like it seeing him so miserable, and he needed to make you proud even if you were in the afterlife.

Trudging to his desk, his once Luscious ash blonde hair was dull, and his white eyelashes were permanently wet. His amber eyes dark and lost of sheen, he looked at the Saphiri folder in front of him before opening another document.

With shaky hands, he finally wrote his document. His role as god in that world.

He wrote in which he's someone who desired to be god to entertain his lover, y/n. He created this world solely for you, and just you. He wrote that he came from a world called Earth, and that is ascension to godhood was to see if he can meet you again. He wrote that he got transmigrated to this world, and had the godly powers like a worldbuilding author. And that he had more than enough power to pull your soul back to life in that world.

He finished writing by 4am, and he got to his bed with a small smile on his face.

Not knowing that what he wrote birthed to a world where he's ascended to godhood.

When he woke up, he's in an endless void of an opal sheen, and he was floating in the middle of it.

His heart pounded, looking down at his outfit.

A white cloth draped over him to look like a robe, and a gold anklet.

"Where am I?"

The void in front of him rippled, and he flinched before gasping.

A tear in front of him appeared, and it was overlooking a planet so green and blue, like earth but different...

Somehow, this felt natural.

He raised his hand and tried to "zoom in". And just as expected, the "screen" zoomed in, making him look over what seems like an old England inspired Empire, but he can see differences.

Magic.

In awe, he looked and watched as people and different types of creatures, familiar and new interacted with one another. He's beginning to be entertained until he heard the newspaper boy yell.

"Saphiri news! Saphiri news! The Crown Prince Yuno had a scandal! A mistress? What happens to his fiancee?!"

Saphiri?

His heart pounded as he tried to do something more.

"F-find Duke Eros."

And, in command, the screen flew up high and went to a majestic chateau.

There was a man, also in early 20's, talking with his soldiers with a frown on his face.

It is Saphiri. His creation.

He stumbled back, but only got to sit in a chair that materialized behind him.

"Oh god..." He muttered, eyes wide with disbelief.

He did it. Godhood.

He became a god.

Not just any god, but the god of his own world.

He scoffs in disbelief, still in shock as he slowly internalized what's happening.

"No way..." He smirks, a bit excited, before remembering where the hell he was.

"Shit... Um, home?"

And indeed, another rip in the void happened. There's his room, just outside of the rip.

This was surreal.

He closed the void by running his hand down on the void.

He tried to remember what happened, but all he could remember now was...

"Y/n."

He gulped. He remembered writing down that he should have enough power to make you alive here.

So, he closed his eyes and puts his hand forward.

"Y/n, come back to my arms, please."

And slowly, light sprites danced around him, making his eyes shot up and look in wonder as it, your feet, materialized in front of him.

In an agonizing speed that drained his energy, he focused on bringing your soul to him. Sweat trickled his forehead as you appeared slowly, bit by bit.

And once you fully materialized, you fell down, making Liviticus catch you.

He caught the familiar whiff of the cologne you use, before you got admitted to the hospital. Your being overwhelmed his senses, as he found himself crying again.

"Y/-y/n?" He whispered, making you stir.

Oh god...

"Liviticus?" You whispered, eyes slowly blinking open.

He desperately hugged you tighter, sobbing loudly on your neck.

He missed you so bad.

"You're alive! Oh god you're alive..." He painfully said out, the hiccups making him seem like a lost child.

You were also in disbelief. You swore you died, but here you are, hugging Liviticus in a weird white robe. You wanted to question everything, but seeing Liviticus cry in your arms was enough to make you shut up and just sooth him, smiling and grateful to be alive. You weren't in pain anymore, and that's enough.

Liviticus explained the situation to you, and you were amazed. He became a god? And he revived you?

You felt so flustered and grateful once more. If it weren't for him, you're still dead. And, even if you were dead, you didn't get to thank him when he took care of you back in earth.

Speaking of, you tried to go back to Earth, but it's as if a barrier was placed when you tried to enter the rip. But you were satisfied here already, in this void with him.

Slowly, the void got filled with a small pocket dimension only the both of you knew. A light blue sky with a night and day cycle, cute creatures that both of you wrote about now came to life, a valley filled with familiar and new flora, and a small, cozy house on top of a hill.

It's as if you were watching a movie as you watch him affect Saphiri. He pulled a person from Earth and made him appear on the throne of the Emperor. He became Aeron.

You were shocked at the twists when Aeron became a Demon King, and be obsessed with his darling.

You also got invested in the love story of Duke Eros and his darling. The way both him and her curbstomped the shitty crown prince Yuno was amazing, and it made you hoot and holler like you're watching a soap opera.

And Callisto.

The fact that Liviticus made Callisto self aware was a twist you didn't expect, and after sending Callisto back, you tackled Liviticus and gushed about how insane it was.

Liviticus grinned, hugging you back and kissing your forehead.

He loves seeing you so happy and entertained.

But that's the thing.

Now, he's the one treating the world he created as if it was still a document on his computer. Forgetting they're real people that had lives of their own. And not just mere characters on paper.

He became the thing he detested back then.

Foolish gods who're just blindly putting unjust punishments for their own good, entertainment, or want.

Thousands of lives under this god who only has one goal, and it's to entertain naive you, who also shared his outlook that these people, this world is just something that they can mess with.

But who cares?

Liviticus is god.

And you were his deity, his soulmate.

You want to ruin Saphiri? Sure. Why not. Want it prosper? He'll do it.

The world is putty in his hands, and he's putty in yours.

So who is really in charge here?

But all you should know is that this omnipresent being is at your beck and call, so pull him closely. You don't know what he won't do for you.

Yandere! Male! Omnipresent! God x Reincarnated! Deity! gn! Reader

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #yandere imagines #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #tw yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic

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eldritch-spouse · 5 days

Note

This is my first ask, but I absolutely love your writing and ocs! They bring me so much joy and inspiration in my own writing! And I hope you're doing well and taking care of yourself! But I am curious since Mother Nature has wrecked me this month. How would Breg and Belo react to their love becoming sexually feral during their period? xx

[Hellow and welcome! :7]

Breg is the kind of guy that forgets humans don't have heats sometimes. So the fact that you become sexually charged during a specific time of the month actually makes a lot of sense to him! He kind of expected it to be in a different window of time, since you don't smell all that conception-ready, but he's not complaining. Maybe you're kind of like him, in the sense that your reproductive cycle was altered by outside sources too. Regardless, Breg is confused as to why there is near zero information about how to deal with humans in heat, so he just takes to asking you what kind of nests you like, what kinds of foods should he get and if there's anything he should be really careful about (the same way he tells you to not be overly loud and domineering around him during his ruts). Even if you tell him there is no such thing as a human heat, he continues to forget when this time of month rolls around, and is basically on standby, expecting you to seek him out for sex and other matters. He doesn't like seeing you leave the house in this state and may throw tantrums trying to keep you indoors. Don't you know the state you're in?! What are you doing going outside!!

Belo fortunately knows more about humans than dear old Egghead, but not enough to know their sexual nature. He believes you know more about it than him, and you don't seem ill, so surely, this is a normal human reaction to this particular stage of your reproductive cycle! Belo knows this is a fragile state for your kind of human to be in, so he makes sure to meet every need of yours, though he didn't expect sex to become one of them. "Mercifully", he recognizes you "are not truly yourself" in those moments and offers his help. Although Belo is a bit paranoid about hygiene, not because he's squeamish over blood -He's a warrior- But rather because he doesn't want you to grow sick.

#Bregory #Belo oc

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softspeirs · 10 days

Text

The Major and The Nurse (5): Rosie Rosenthal x OC

A/N: I was in an angsty mood when I wrote this. I don't know why -- but have no fear. This is the Happy Ending Factory, after all.

Five. Hearts on Sleeves.

The conversation at the officer’s mess over breakfast is all about word that’s finally come back from somewhere in Germany via the girls in the Red Cross hut about many of the guys from The 100th.

It had well and truly broken Grace's heart to hear that so many of their best pilots and crew members were imprisoned, but at least they were alive.

For the crews, it reinvigorates their will to keep fighting.

Major Rosenthal has never needed more reasons to keep up the fight, but even he feels an extra sense of responsibility knowing that winning the war is what it'll take for their friends to come home.

He hasn't seen Grace in almost a week. First, she was ill, and while he wanted to come visit her, he had two missions around the same time, and since she's recovered, she's been so busy at the hospital that neither of them have had a chance to see the other.

He stopped pretending a long time ago that he didn't have feelings for her that went beyond friendship, beyond the bond between comrades. He feels it especially in her absence, a weight that's settled in between his ribs; an ache that he can't soothe on his own.

It's terrifying -- for one, while he thinks and hopes that she feels even a fraction of the way he does, he doesn't know for sure, and he sure as hell isn't going to jeopardize what they do have.

One of the newer crews took heavy fire on their last mission, and while no one was killed, three of the crew were seriously wounded. Rosie makes a point to check on the newest guys and try to keep their spirits up. He hopes he'll have a chance to check on Grace too, but he suspects she's had her hands full.

The hospital is quiet when he arrives. Late afternoon light streams through the windows, the golden beams casting everything in an ethereal glow. Most men are asleep, aside from one or two reading, writing letters home, or having quiet conversation.

Grace stops short when she sees him enter - she wonders if he realizes how much space he takes up. Not just because of his height, but the way he carries himself. He dominates every room he comes into, even though Grace is sure he'd be mortified if she ever pointed it out to him.

His face softens in a smile when his gaze lands on her, and Grace has to fight herself not to break out into a grin right back. She has been told by a few people that she and Rosie are not subtle, but she doesn't really care anymore. After everything they've lost, as long as it doesn't cost her her job, she's going to take what little happiness she can hang on to for as long as she can.

"Afternoon, Major." She says, her body swaying toward him almost without her control. He still has that soft, soft look on his face. It makes something in her gut tighten.

"I heard congratulations are in order, Captain."

She waves a hand dismissively. "You know I don't care about any of that."

"Still worth celebrating. If you're free...?" He looks incredibly boyish in the moment. She feels so fond of him she almost can't stand it.

"My shift is done in an hour."

He digs into his inside pocket and pulls out a battered paperback. "I can wait. If that's okay."

She nods, and when he gets settled in a chair near the nurse's station, she busies herself finishing up her tasks as quickly as possible. She knows she's not imagining it when she feels his eyes on her more often than not.

Rosie reads the same paragraph four times until he gives up entirely. He just feels so relaxed when he's with Grace - he wants to bask in it a little while before real life comes crashing back down at the first sign of a red light flicking on or a siren starts wailing.

He can tell she's noticed by the way she fidgets like she does when there's attention on her. It makes him smile, but he tries to bite it back. He's content to just observe her, and if she notices, well, then she notices.

It's not long before she gathers her jacket and small handbag and comes to collect him. "Ready?" She asks, and he nods, following her out at a respectable, yet still close distance. "Where to?" She asks, though she mostly already knows.

"Thought we could swing by the mess and get something wrapped up if that's alright."

She nods, and they walk the next few minutes in comfortable silence, the late afternoon sun warm on their backs. He holds the door for her when they arrive, and they're not surprised to find the place mostly empty.

He nods at Jack Kidd when they pass the table, a steaming cup of coffee in front of the Air Exec who looks like he hasn't slept in days. Grace frowns, and stops for a moment.

"Major," she says, and her tone is a warning and an accusation all wrapped up in one word.

"I'm eating early today so I can get some shut-eye, Grace." He says, and she nods in satisfaction. "The last time you yelled at me was enough."

"I didn't yell-"

"No, but you wanted to." He says, eyebrow raised in challenge.

"Eat your supper, Major Kidd. Then off to bed."

"Yes ma'am." He smiles around his fork, shaking his head. Rosie watches on in amusement.

"Duty never ends," Grace says, sighing with a chuckle.

"I think you like being a mother hen." Rosie counters, both of them picking up a tray from the long table at the end of the hall.

"Not all the time. I wish some of these grown men would learn how to take care of themselves."

Rosie puts his hands up as if to say I'm innocent, and Grace laughs. Together, they gather up their meals, and sweet-talk the kitchen staff into providing a couple paper bags to haul their loot in. Once packed up, Rosie leads her towards the hardstand where they often find themselves this time of day.

His plane is a beauty during golden hour. Looking over at Grace, he thinks the same thing of her.

"Are you feeling better?" He asks around a mouthful of a sandwich.

She makes a face at him talking with food in his mouth, but nods. "Much. I needed the sleep, even if it came with a cough and a three-day headache."

Rosie hums in sympathy. "And then you were right back in it."

She nods. "The three new crews - had a rough go of it. But you already know about that." She swallows heavily. "The fighting is getting worse. They know something big is coming." She pauses, meeting Rosie's eyes. "How are you holding up?"

He shrugs, shaking his head with a nonchalant look. "I'm fine."

Grace narrows her eyes. "You're fine." She repeats, flat.

"I mean-- yeah. Yes. The invasion will be soon, that's no secret. We're all just waiting to find out when it is."

"And you don't have any kind of..."

"What, doubts?" He interrupts. His tone is sharp in a way she has rarely heard it, maybe only for when he first got back from Coombe House. "I don't... no. I don't have doubts."

"That's not how I meant it, I know you don't doubt yourself or your crew. I just meant... you're not nervous at all? This could be-- this could be massive."

"It will be massive. The biggest mission any of us have flown." He set down his food a long time ago - the wrapper fluttering gently in the breeze between them. An awkward silence settles between them and Rosie hates it. Hates that he can't tell what she's thinking, what she's really trying to ask him.

"And you're not..." Grace gestures vaguely. "I just-- I know you're the best, Rosie." He has to stop himself from reacting at her easily-given praise, her words meaning more to him than she realizes. "I just worry that you keep everything so close to the vest. I worry it's going to come out when you're not expecting it."

"You think I'm going to crack?" His voice is incredulous. He knows this isn't personal. This is Grace, who cares about him, who, at this point in his life and in these circumstances, knows him better than just about anyone else. But it feels like an accusation.

And the way he's felt this last week without her company, without her steady presence... it starts to feel like the distance between them has been intentional, and that hurts.

"No!" She's quick to rebut. "You're getting me all wrong." Her eyes are pleading, but they're frustrated too. "I just-- you reupped without a thought--" he tries to interrupt, but she stops him. "No, I know you thought about it, obviously, I just mean that you did it so quickly, and I just want you to be honest about how you're feeling about it all. You've been here over a year now, Rosie. I can't be imagining the toll that can take."

"I'm doing my job. I just-- I have to lead them, Grace. There's no time for-- for processing any of it." He knows his tone is bordering on irritated, and he tries to tamp it down.

He thinks of the Doctor at the flak house. The one who couldn't understand why Rosie was so annoyed at the prospect of playing croquet for five days when he should have been back in the seat. He never thought that he'd be having an extremely similar conversation with Grace of all people.

"But you won't even be honest with me!" She protests, scooting closer until their knees touch. "And if you won't talk to me, I know you're not talking to anyone else who can help. Which makes me think you're just keeping everything you feel inside. It's not sustainable."

Their proximity makes his head feel fuzzy, like it always does, but he shakes his head, still frustrated at the turn their conversation has taken. "I'm fine, Grace. I'll say it a hundred times if that's what it's going to take to get you to believe me. There's no point in reliving my missions or-- or trying to think back on stuff from months ago. I already do that in interrogation, and that's enough." He can hear his accent thickening with irritation, and he hates himself for directing it at her, even if he's not looking her in the eyes as he speaks.

Her hand on the side of his face startles him. His ice blue gaze meets her dark eyes, and he could lose himself here, he knows he could. He feels soothed in an instant. He has a wild urge to tell her with actions what he can't quite get out of his mouth.

"You know why I was sick for a week?" She asks. "I hadn't slept for two nights before I came down with a fever so bad I was dizzy with it. I hadn't been feeling well for days, but had pushed myself because I thought of everyone else besides myself. Finally my body made me listen." She shrugs. "That's why I was worried about Jack, and that's why I worry about you. Because one day you might not be able to keep it in, and you may make a mistake."

His larger hand covers the one still pressed gently to his face. He leans into her touch, incapable of letting the moment pass without appreciating her warmth. "I need you to trust me." He says, words tinged with hurt and irritation. "Please."

"It has nothing to do with trust." She says. Tone mild, but he can read the flicker of annoyance in her features that they're not seeing eye-to-eye on this. Her hand falls away from his face. Right away he feels bereft.

"Grace--" He tries, but he can see the moment has passed.

She stands, brushing off her jumpsuit. "I'm not angry with you and I hope you're not angry with me." Her smile is sad, and it makes him want to reach for her, to pull her back down and go back to two hours ago when she had been so close he could smell the clean, sharp scent of her shampoo and see the flecks of color in her eyes. "A long time ago I told you if one day you didn't come back, it would well and truly break my heart, Major Rosenthal." She shrugs. "I meant it then, and I can't even begin to tell you now how I would--" She stops, inhaling a shaky breath. "I just want you to look after yourself. I know how smart, how capable, how talented you are. But so were Majors Egan and Cleven, and look where they ended up. I can't bear the thought of you in a place like that, or worse."

"I'm not going to go down."

"You don't know that for sure. I just want you to be safe. And that means up here too." He looks up at her, head at knee level, as she reaches down and taps his forehead gently, alluding to trying to keep his mind healthy. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He's speechless as he watches her leave him. He doesn't think, aside from his parents and sister, that he's ever had someone care about him the way Grace does. It scares him, and it makes him defensive, because he knows deep down she's right.

He won't ever agree with her that he needs to bare his soul to her or another doctor or anyone else about what he's seen and what he's survived, but he does know that when he's up the air, she's down here, waiting and powerless to do anything to help him.

On the ground, all she can do is make sure he's in fighting shape, and - he thinks of her touch to his forehead - he wants to go after her. He wants to catch up to her, pull her into his arms, and tell her that he's confident he'll come back every time because there's just no universe in which he leaves her behind. It's been true for a long time, but she should know it.

He wants her to know it.

Instead, he lets her go. Resolves to let them both cool off, find her tomorrow, and make sure she knows he understands. They've been dancing around each other for so long that he knows he owes her that bit of honesty at least.

It's time he makes her some promises, if she'll still hear them.

#softspeirs mota fanfiction #rosie rosenthal x oc #rosie x grace #oc: grace fleming #masters of the air fanfiction #mota fanfiction #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfic

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persphonesorchid · 1 year

Text

Cupid’s On Holiday - KSJ

Summary: You don't get it, you're a damn catch. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You're smart, you're tidy, hell you'd give up your own kidney to a homeless guy if he needed it that bad. So what the issue? Failed relationships, blind date after blind date, and now your friend's competitive archery teammate is telling you he's Cupid here to help you find your one true love. You're not that desperate. He could take those golden arrows and shove 'em.

Genres: Angel!Au | Fluff, angst, smut, slight enemies to lovers, humor.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, smut (fingering, protected sex), Oc's a bit of a downer but hey! Aren't we all sometimes! If I missed anything, let me know!

Rating: Mature (Minors, please, go away.)

Word count: 17k

Masterlist

Notes: A little late, but I made it before Saturday! I really really hope you guys enjoy this!! My contribution to @raplinesmoon , @kithtaehyung and @joheunsaram 's Catch Of The Century Collab! It's been a bit of a struggle to write, so show it some love! Also, you won't understand what I mean yet, but emotions are valid and you should feel them. Thank you to THE LOMFL @xpeachesncream for beta'ing for me, Nikki I love you so so much! Thank you for being there when I screamed about this fic when lightening struck and hyping me up always. Ly babie ❤️❤️❤️

Don't forget to leave feedback guys!! I'll love to hear your thoughts ( or crazy emotional rambles) Enjoy!!

Serendipity was in full swing; music blasting so loud you can feel it in your chest. Fellow club goers crowding the dance floor in a wild flurry of limbs and ill-timed dancing. You can barely keep up with the conversation Yoongi and Jungkook are having, you’re not even sure how they’re hearing each other over the music.

Clubs typically aren’t your thing, not one for the deafening music or the people who never knew when they had too much to drink. Tonight, though, you made an exception, meeting a friend of a friend for a date you were excited to be on. You thank your lucky stars you had the foresight to grovel at Yoongi’s feet to come with you, lord knows you’d be making your grand escape through the club’s back door by now.

“I mean, it’s not that hard, right?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Dude. Grow up.”

You chuckle into your whiskey as Yoongi rolls his eyes, waving his hand to direct your attention back to him and not on the way Jungkook was snickering. The flashy strobe lights waving mindlessly in the club catch on the silver of Yoongi’s bracelet and he rights his leaning frame, propping an arm on the table between you both.

“All I’m saying is...” He thinks hard for a moment, tilting his head to squint at the ceiling. You could tell he’s gone above his limit tonight; the rosiness of his cheeks visible in the odd flashes of light. “Man up. When he gets back, tell him he’s an ass and we can go home.”

“You know she’d rather die.” Jungkook mutters, draining the end of his beer, adding the empty bottle to the rest that was steadily growing the longer you all sat there. “Too nice.”

“Shit, you’re right.” Yoongi says, brows furrowed as though he’s just heard the most distressing news in his life, “I’ll do it for you. I swear if I have to sit here and listen to that guy ramble on about himself any more I’ll actually walk out into the street and stand there.”

“I don’t find you funny.” You deadpan, kicking your foot against his shin. He only whines, reaching for your bottle of water instead of brandishing his silver tongue at you.

Yoongi takes a long drink, eyes scanning the crowd, “He’s taking a long time to get back from the bathroom.”

Jungkook lifts himself partly out of his seat – having more vantage with his height – and looks around too. “Fou-oh...”

“What?” You perk up, following Jungkook’s gaze, but you’re suddenly blocked by Yoongi, who you didn’t even see get up. He shifts every time you’d move to look around him. You open your mouth to protest, but Yoongi’s hands land firmly on your shoulders.

“How about we just go? It’s late.” The furrow of his brow and the clench of his jaw tells a lot; he’s seen something you’d be better off not seeing at all and you simply agree. You take the hand that he offers, sliding out of the booth and Jungkook follows with a frown.

When you all get outside, Yoongi throws an arm over your shoulder, and you’re grateful for his warmth as the late night air nipped at your skin. You sigh, watching mist dance on your exhale, ducking your head a little to look at your feet. It’s quiet between you three, and you realize belatedly that you should’ve asked Hoseok to come too. He’s always good at distracting you.

Of course, you should have expected it to go this way. Another failed date that’s left you feeling worse than before, you think you’d might as well give up now, resign yourself to growing old and having fifty cats to keep you company. It’s been this way for a while, your last actual relationship being exactly three years and six months ago -- not that you’re counting or anything.

You stayed out of the dating scene for a while, focusing on yourself and being happy and content with who you are first before anything. Because that’s important, you can’t love someone else without loving yourself first. It was a good run anyway, until you became lonely and Yoongi’s dry humor and good cooking no longer sustained you.

You loved him, truly, but you missed the level of intimacy he couldn’t provide you with. Even though you loved when he made a big deal about cuddling and holding your hand – and frankly would rather shoot himself in the foot than say he liked that shit. You’re honestly considering making a pact with him to get married in the next ten years or something. You feel like that’s the only way to get out of whatever curse you’re under.

You don’t know if it’s you, or what. You’ve tried meeting new people, friends of friend’s, strangers from dating apps. Your dating life is quickly going down the drain.

“Hey, get out of there.” Yoongi taps his fingers against your temple, looking a little more sober now, even though his cheeks remain pink from the cold. He frowns at you, pulling you a little bit closer to his side, “Don’t think about it, okay?”

You can’t help it though, it’ll do no good in the long run, you know that. You’ve been feeling all sorts of low, and really you shouldn’t. You don’t need someone next to you to feel complete, to make you feel like the world’s finally spinning on the right axis. You just hate that you feel like you do; everyone around you seems to be happy and with someone and you’re here feeling like the hottest dumpster fire. You want to have rose tinted glasses to wear, too.

You wanted someone to hold hands with that wasn’t Yoongi or Jungkook...or Hoseok whenever he wasn’t working at the bar and using you as his wing-woman. You wanted someone to tell you you’re pretty and not mean it in a totally-best-friend way.

You sigh, long and drawn out, shoulders sagging as you watch the pavement pass by under your feet. The cracks in the gray stone representing the cracks in your love life that’s slowly drifting away like the ashes of the universe post Infinity Snap. Oh, you wished Thanos was actually here to snap you out of existence. You can deal with floating away into nothingness than dealing with the loneliness that’s beginning to cling to the edges of your form.

“How about we stop at the convenience store?” Jungkook suggests, linking his arm with yours, he looks down at you with a soft smile you couldn’t see. “Ramen on me?”

You can’t say no when you look up and catch his smile, dimples and all, and the three of you walk a little faster.

“Damn, everything’s just going up these days.” Yoongi grumbles, reading the label of a vitamin gummy bottle with a frown. You hum, reading your own set of labels listlessly a few feet away.

You’d long lost Jungkook somewhere in the depths of the large convenience store. He’d run off to find something and it’s been five minutes of you and Yoongi walking around and complaining about prices.

Yoongi puts the vitamins back on the shelf, twisting the container until the brand label faces him. You see him glance at you in your peripheral, see him walk a little closer until he stops at your side, “Doing okay?”

You think about it for a fraction of a second and shrug, throwing Yoongi a careless ‘Ok' sign, “Yeah, A-OK.”

You really just want to go home, watch a movie and forget tonight. Maybe you can convince Yoongi to watch that movie with you, and you both can share laughs over more beers and the pistachio flavored ice-cream that Yoongi hates.

The man himself doesn’t look convinced, and it shows in the raise of his eyebrow and the way he studies you. He’s always said you’re like an open book to him and he knows how to read the lines well – as much as you hate that – you appreciate that he says nothing of it.

You know it will come up later, not now while it’s still fresh, but when you least expect it. Yoongi purses his lips at you, shaking his head before tugging you along behind him as he walks on.

“Guys!” Jungkook's call comes from behind you both, and you and Yoongi turn to his approach, and the company he had with him.

The guy trailing behind Jungkook, for the sake of your mind that grinded to a halt at the sight of him, is beautiful. You don’t think you’ve called a man beautiful before, but there’s no other word that you can use. This man with his dark hair, eyes of the deepest brown, perfect plush pink lips and the widest set of shoulders you’ve ever seen.

You stand a little stunned, just staring at him until Yoongi nudges your arm and you realize that Jungkook is speaking. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you, briefly, but you know he’s itching to grill you and you’ll never live it down.

“Guys, this is Seokjin.” Jungkook smiles, waving a hand at his friend, “He’s on the archery team.”

Seokjin bows his head in greeting, “Hello.”

“Jungkook talks about you a lot. It’s nice to put a face to the name.” Yoongi says as you struggle to come up with anything that won’t give away how nervous you suddenly felt.

“This is Yoongi, and Y/n.”

Yoongi nudges your side again and you smile, “Nice to meet you.”

There’s a twitch in his eyebrow as his eyes focus on yours, and for a moment it feels as though he’s looking right through you. He’s looking at you, but his eyes are so intense you feel like you’re under a microscope, or having one of those weird naked dreams and nothing to cover your shame.

It seemed like the moment stretched on for ages, and you’re stuck in a void being watched by someone you can’t see.

Seokjin's lips pull into a smile and when he blinks, you do too. There’s something strange about the air in between the space you occupied, something unfamiliar but at the same time not completely unknown. You’re not quite sure how to feel about it and you’re not sure if the shiver going down your spine was from the AC.

When he looks away from you to look at Jungkook, you lean over to take the basket from Jungkook’s lax fingers – it was filled with way more things than you’d all come in for - announcing that you’re going to check out.

You and Yoongi leave them both talking, walking back to the front of the convenience store where the cashiers were. You’re wondering about what that could’ve been, teeth picking at the skin of your bottom lip, brows furrowed in thought.

“You sure you’re good, right? You seemed a bit gone back there.” Yoongi asks, unloading the contents of Jungkook’s basket onto the counter, shaking his head as he picks up a packet of mint gum and places it with the things.. “Well, actually, you looked stupid – and I don’t mean that in the way it sounds. You just kinda...blanked. Like the second you saw him you went outta your head.”

“Huh...” You look back to where Jungkook and Seokjin are still talking, still feeling watched even though he wasn’t looking. “Kinda felt like it.”

When you finally left the convenience store, a light drizzle had started. Your apartment complex isn’t far, less than five minutes from where you are.

Seokjin had parted from your small group, getting into a fancy black car parked at the curb after bidding you all goodnight.

The walk was quiet until you’d all gotten home, with Jungkook waving a little frantically at his door a good way down the hall. Yoongi made no move to get into his apartment next to yours, watching you fumble with your keys.

“Not going in?” you mumble, looking over your shoulder to catch him waving his phone at you.

“Nah, I’m gonna meet Hobi.” He says, “Need me to stay with you?”

You shake your head. Sometimes you felt as though you treated Yoongi like your therapist, he’s always there to listen when you need to vent, always being the shoulder to cry on. Always a listening ear without complaint.

“I’m okay Yoongi. Promise.” You smile, lifting the plastic bag that Jungkook had so graciously provided you with. “I’m gonna eat my woes away.”

Yoongi sighs, “You know you can’t say you’re okay and then follow with that.”

He steps over to you and hugs you a little awkwardly, patting your back. You appreciate his effort to sacrifice his comfort, even as you laugh a bit. “Text me if you need anything and I’ll come back.”

Relaxing in his hold, you sigh, “D’You think it’s just me? I mea-”

“-No.” Yoongi cuts in, rubbing small, comforting circles against your back, “Men are dicks. It ain’t you, trust me.”

He leans away, hooking his pinkie into the handle of the bag and shakes it a bit, “Eat and get some sleep, okay? Don’t go thinking too much.”

You wait until he’s down the hall and out of your sight to head inside. Kicking your shoes off, you flick on the lights and drag your feet to your small kitchen. You dig through the bag in search of your ramen, finding the chocolate popsicles Jungkook bought you.

Maybe you should talk to Yoongi about that marriage plan of yours. Just so that you’d have something to fall back on, so that later down the road when you’re sixty you’d have grandkids running around and not a few cats instead.

There’s a loud banging on your door that jolts you out of your sleep the next morning. The blackout curtains you’d bought a couple weeks ago were working, you have no idea what time it is. You also have no idea when you’d gotten to bed either, you remember eating the ramen and one of the popsicles.

You remember hearing Yoongi come home, the opening and closing of his door and the clink of his keys against the little bowl with the cat on it that you gave him.

You don’t remember much else, you certainly don’t remember crawling into bed or changing your clothes for that matter.

You groan as the pounding continues, rattling into the empty hallways of your sleepy mind and knocking on every door. Rolling over you pull your pillow with you, covering your head and willing the noise to end. Squinting at the little blue clock on your nightstand and the numbers that squint back, you lay there wondering who’d be knocking on your door this early on a Saturday.

“Police! Open up! I’ve got a warrant.” Jungkook’s muffled, disembodied voice filters through your apartment and you sigh, kicking at your covers because you know if you don’t get up he’ll stand there and ring your phone until you pick up.

Grumbling to yourself, you drag your feet to your front door and open it. Jungkook’s standing there with one hand raised, looking ready to knock again and too bright eyed for the hour. His other hand balances a coffee holder with four cups and a large brown bag.

“Don’t you have practice to get to? It’s seven am.” you step aside to let him in, covering your yawn with a hand.

“Good morning to you, too.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, wiggling the brown bag at you – the brown bag that’s doing a great job of concealing its contents. “I brought breakfast.”

You’re moving to close the door when a hand stops the motion and Hoseok’s poking his head into your entrance hallway.

His eyes are bright, even though he’s not a morning person, and his smile is brighter when he sees you, as it always is. He pushes the door open as you step back to allow it, coming in to wrap his lanky arms around you. “Heard your night sucked ass.”

His fingers tangle in the mess that is your bed head, but he doesn’t let go of you even as he tries to free them. He rubs circles into your back, and sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” You laugh into his sweatshirt, the old one he kept from college even though it’s fraying at the edges and the blue isn’t as blue anymore. The one you threw up on the night Yoongi lost you in a crowd of college freshmen and you didn’t know your ass from your elbow.

“Someone has to, you know?”

Yoongi’s the last to come through your open doorway, shutting the door behind him, looking like he’d barely slept, dark hair sticking up at odd angles.

He frowns at you both, “Guys, c’mon. You’re blocking the way.” He pushes lightly at Hoseok’s back, making him walk forward still clinging to you.

“You’re gonna make me trip!” You laugh, trying to wiggle your way out of his hold. When you’re free of Hoseok’s cuddling, you trail after Yoongi and into the kitchen where Jungkook’s pulling carefully wrapped bagels out of the bag.

“What’s the catch, Jeon?” You ask, knowing that he should be on his way to practice right now. Not that you don’t trust the guy, it’s just that normally if Jungkook has practice, you won’t see him until it’s over and he’s back in the building.

“Can’t I just be nice and bring my best friend breakfast from her favorite cafe?”

“There’s always a catch.” Yoongi says as he plops down into a chair at your small kitchen table and Jungkook makes an offended sound at the back of his throat. Yoongi shrugs, pulling a coffee free from the holder and passes it to you.

“What do you need this time?” Taking the coffee from Yoongi, you take the seat next to him and Jungkook gives you one of the bagels.

“Can you drive me to practice today?”

Hoseok ruffles your hair as he passes, leaning around Jungkook to grab a coffee and a bagel for himself while Jungkook neatly folds the brown bag. “I’d take him but I gotta be at the studio in an hour...”

You hum waving a hand, “No worries.”

It’s ten am by the time you return back to your apartment. You’d stopped at the grocery store to pick up things you needed and had no choice but to lug all the bags up at once.

You would’ve liked to make trips, which you would usually do going up and down the elevator and getting weird looks from old Mrs Bailey two floors down. The elevator was once again getting serviced and you curse the stupid machine to the high heavens.

You take one step at a time, the weight of the bags digging uncomfortably into your fingers. You’re sure they’re red by now and you groan thinking about the way they’ll cramp up when you put the bags down.

“Need help?”

You almost drop your bags, body jerking in place as you stop to look behind you.

Seokjin is standing a few steps down on the platform between the flights, and you find it just a bit strange that you hadn’t heard him; footsteps echo in the stairwell. You don’t think much of it though; Yoongi walks like a cat and you can never tell when he’s behind you either.

You look down at the bags in your hands, giving Seokjin a light smile. “Yes please.”

He jogs up the remaining stairs to meet you, and you envy the bounce of his dark hair that falls perfectly back into place. He’s dressed more casually today, with a loose white tee-shirt tucked into black jeans. He gently takes the bags from one hand and reaches for the other.

“Oh, I’ve got these.” You chuckle the sound awkward to your own ears and you want the floor to open up and swallow you. Seokjin thankfully says nothing of it, though.

“Which floor are you on?”

“The one above us.”

“Oh really?” Seokjin smiles at you and waves his free hand, “Howdy neighbor.”

You blink at him, a little confused, “Huh?”

“I moved in this morning!” He’s already walking up and you step quickly to follow. “you know the apartment just before the staircase?”

“That’s great! It’s been empty for years. Hobi thinks it’s haunted because he says he keeps hearing noises.”

Seokjin laughs at that, the sound bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. His laugh’s kind of squeaky and it makes you laugh, too.

You both share a light conversation going up the last staircase, and it isn’t as awkward as you thought it’d be. It’s certainly better than last night when you tripped over your tongue just to say hi back.

Seokjin’s presence is oddly calming. Despite being a stranger, it feels as though you’ve been friends for a while. He’s telling you about how he’s planning on decorating his apartment while walking to yours, and asking your opinion on paint colors.

“White always makes a room look bigger. Could be too plain though, if you’re not into that.” You say, fishing your keys from the pocket of your jeans. He places the bags at your feet when you asked him to, “Thank you,”

“No problem,” He gives a smile, a small one that puffs up his cheeks. “Well...I better get going...lots to do.”

“Of course! Bye then.”

“If I don’t see you around, I’ll see you square.” With a very serious expression, Seokjin shoots you some finger-guns before walking away, laughing at his own joke.

You shake your head, chuckling to yourself as you unlock your door.

You throw yourself on Yoongi’s couch, which by the way, was way bigger than yours and way more comfortable.

You groan into the throw pillow, smacking your hand against the cushions. “Yoongi. You traitor. Who’s hand am I supposed to hold now?”

“Hobi’s always available for hand holding.” Yoongi mumbles, barely paying you mind as he gets ready to go out on a date. A Date! How dare he.

“His hand doesn’t get sweaty like yours does!” You turn your head, pressing your cheek against the pillow, “This is absolute betrayal. I’ll never ever forgive you.”

“Quit being dramatic.” Yoongi sighs, fastening the clip of a silver chain around his neck. You pout at him from your spot. “It’s only the first date. If it falls through you’re welcome to hold my hand for the rest of our lives.”

Yoongi doesn’t date often, you honestly can’t remember the last time he even mentioned having one to begin with. You kinda feel bad about your whining, only because you feel bad that everyone’s suddenly finding significant others while you suffer.

“I’m joking.” You say, sitting up, “You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi smiles, all cute and gummy. “Now get out, I’m leaving.” He helps you up off the couch, grabbing his keys from the coffee table.

“You’re so rude!” You trail after him anyway, following him out his apartment. As he locks his door you poke his side, “What’s her name anyway?”

“Justine.” He glances at you, “Jungkook didn’t tell you? She’s on his archery team.”

“You met her through that rascal?” You scoff, crossing your arms, “You guys never tell me anything. When did you even have time to meet them?”

“Hey, I do other things when I’m not hanging out with you.” He walks you to your door, patting his pockets to make sure he has everything. “I’ll call you if I need to make a run for it.”

“Just go!” You push at his arm, waving goodbye, “Let me know how it goes!”

Yoongi’s in the elevator when he finally waves back, and you stay standing there long after the metal doors shut. Staring at your door, you sigh, you’re happy for him, really. Everyone else shouldn’t suffer with you.

“Hello.”

You startle, a frightened screech leaving you as you turn. The person behind you yells, too, backing away from you with wide eyes.

You press a hand to your chest and take a deep breath, “Dude. My heart almost fell out of my ass. Why are you sneaking up on me?”

“Why’d you scream like that? You scared me!” Seokjin presses his back against the wall behind him, a hand against his chest also.

He relaxes, hands dropping at his sides, and you do the same, laughing a bit at the situation.

“Did you need something?” You ask, watching as he steps closer.

“Actually.” He puts a finger up, “I came to make you an offer you can’t possibly refuse.”

“Huh?”

Seokjin straightens his form, smiling again, “I can help you.”

You blink, looking off to the side before your eyes settle on him again, “....help me with?”

Seokjin looks a little confused now, brows furrowing and he puts his hands behind his back and chuckles. “Your problem.”

When you stare at him blankly he sighs, “I can help you find the one you’re destined for.”

“Are you drunk?”

“What? No. I’m not drunk. I’m being serious!” He says, shaking his head, “Why do I always have to do this? I hate this part.”

He’s talking to himself now, and you’re trying to slot your key into your lock without him noticing. Maybe he is drunk, or maybe he’s one of those salespeople who try to talk you into buying shady things.

He suddenly looks at you and you freeze, giving a slow, awkward smile. “Um. Whatever it is... I’m okay. You should go lie down or something.”

“I’m not drunk.” Seokjin repeats, “Your friend went out on a date right? I saw him on the way up.”

That’s weird. Yoongi only left a few minutes ago, if Seokjin took the stairs there’s no way he would’ve seen him.

“I can help you with that. Getting a date, I mean.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Not me, no.” He seems to think for a moment, “I’m actually the only person that can help you. I’m a Cupid. And it’s my job to steer you in the right direction so you can find that person.”

You laugh and he frowns, but what else are you supposed to do? He looks completely serious, and you wave a hand at him.

“Okay.” You say even though you don’t believe him, giving him a thumbs up, “That’s nice. I’m gonna go...and you can go lay down, okay?”

You turn quickly, opening your door and slipping inside. You leave him standing there, shutting the door behind you.

“...oh-kay...”

“I’m so tired.” You press your forehead against the cool wooden table. This isn’t really the way you’d like to spend your Monday afternoon, sitting in a café trying to finish up an article due next week.

The café you frequented is a bit crowded today, some either coming in to get their fix of hot drinks to battle the autumn chill outside, or either just taking in the scenery. There really isn’t much to take in, the cafe is a small hole in the wall on a street corner, with wet roads and people passing by outside.

There’s a park across the street that looks better in the spring, empty now that it’s getting colder and winter’s on the cusp.

You raise your head to stare at your half completed article. Cursor blinking mockingly against the white backdrop of the open word document. At least it’s due by next Friday, you have time to wallow in the writer’s block that’s been plaguing you for days now.

You stare out the window and sigh, watching the people and the cars pass by, watching the light rain that’s been doing nothing but falling all morning. You thought that getting out of your apartment would’ve been better, a change of scenery to help you finish your work. Now that you’re sitting in this crowded café, it’s difficult to concentrate, you don’t know how the college kids do it.

You’re quite bored by yourself, usually, your friend from work, Brinny would be with you. If you’re not working, you could at least pass the time with some gossip or some sort of stimulating conversation. Brinny had to be at the office today, and honestly didn’t have time to meet with you, so you’re stuck struggling alone.

“Y/n?”

You turn your head at the call of your name, the barista behind the counter is waving you over. “Your coffee’s ready.”

Getting up, you hobble over, reaching the counter to take your coffee. The barista smiles at you, closed lipped with dimples you want to sink your fingers into.

Namjoon was new, and you’re glad to see he’s getting the hang of things. You’ve seen the guy spill more coffee beans than he grinds and he’s burned himself so many times that you’ve been permanently worried.

You’ve also seen him staring, always when he thinks you’re not looking. You’ve had a few conversations with him on days when the cafe isn’t so busy, he’d always have some quote from a writer you’ve never heard of or he’d talk to you about art. He’s nice.

He’s cute. Even as he fumbles now to let you know that he put an extra shot of espresso in your coffee because you look tired.

You thank him with a sweet smile before going back to your seat, hoping to remember to leave him a tip.

You sit, squinting at the time displayed on the clock widget of your laptop screen, glancing over at Namjoon again who’s busy behind the counter. Maybe you should take matters into your own hands and just ask him out. Might lead somewhere, hell, you might even have a great time.

“I mean...”

Your head whips around to the person who’s suddenly sitting opposite you. Seokjin looks fashionable in a black coat over a white turtleneck sweater as he pulls a burgundy scarf from around his neck. He’s looking at Namjoon too, squinting at the man. “He’s nice and all but it won’t work out, trust me.”

“Are you stalking me?” You ask, still a little shocked because you didn’t see him approach, you didn’t even hear the chair move. He’s just there.

Seokjin chuckles deeply, the sound a far cry from his high laugh. He turns to look at you, “Me? No. I was just passing by and saw you. Thought I should say hi.”

“Hi. You can go now.”

“Wow.” Seokjin presses a hand to his chest, faux hurt morphing his features, “You wound me.”

“Seriously. Why are you here? Because it kinda looks like you’re stalking me.” You lean back into your chair, crossing your arms.

Seokjin tilts his head at you, expression serious as he simply stares. His eyes are intense, like the night you met him and you know that the shiver that runs through you isn’t from the cold; the café is warm.

“I’m honestly trying to help you.” He says after a while, expression unchanging.

“Right. ‘Cause you’re Cupid?”

“A Cupid. We are many.” He corrects you, putting a finger up. “Trust me, asking Namjoon out is gonna do more harm than it’s worth. Some things are just meant to happen in passing.”

You sigh harshly through your nose, closing down your laptop to stare at him without it in the way. “Listen.”

“You had a really great opportunity to say “Lend me your ear!”. I find that wording more effective in catching my attention, but I digress; speak away.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath as his laugh fills the silence between you. Funny, just Saturday morning you were thinking he was kind of cute with his stupid jokes and his finger-guns and his stupid laugh. Now he’s getting on your nerves and he’s beginning to give you the creeps with how persistent he is about this Cupid thing.

It's always the pretty ones.

“Okay, look.” You raise a hand because you can see he’s about to open his stupid mouth to say something even more stupid. He gives you his full attention, leaning in a bit like he’s waiting to hear the secret to DaVinci’s code. “Do you...perhaps have a psychiatrist I can call for you? Or a guardian?”

His expectant expression drops, he looks agitated now and you’ll take that as a small victory. “I’m not craz....” Trailing off, he slumps back into his seat, “I give up. Why do I always get stuck with the stubborn ones? I’m just trying to do my job.”

He’s talking to himself again, loud enough for you to hear him. He waves a hand at you, looking out the window petulantly, “Do as you wish. Ask him out. I’ll be swinging by to say ‘I told you so’ when it crashes and burns.”

“You know. You definitely can’t be Cupid with that attitude.”

“A Cupid. It’s not just me.” He huffs, sucking his teeth, “Why am I even still here talking to you?”

“I could ask you the same thing, really.”

Seokjin side eyes you, slowly turning his head in a way that you decided at that moment was quite unnatural. There’s something weird about the motion, he’s weird, and that’s all there is to it. He’s no Cupid, and honestly kind of curious about what made him think he was.

“Go for it then.” He waves a hand in Namjoon’s direction, “Don’t let me stop you.”

You feel petty, but you also feel the indescribable need to prove him wrong, so you get up, chair scraping against the floor. “Fine. Watch me.”

Seokjin gives you an unimpressed look, sighing as though you’re the one making his life difficult.

You march your way over to the counter, now that the rush died down, Namjoon’s just sitting idly in a corner, phone in hand. He looks up at your approach, smiling sweetly.

“Hey, need something?” He asks, getting up from the chair he occupied to meet you at the counter.

“Um..” Abort. Abort! Namjoon is looking at you patiently, waiting as you wipe your suddenly sweaty hands on your jeans. You take a breath, “Are you free on Friday?”

“Huh? Y-yeah. I could be?” He looks just as nervous as you do, another small victory; you’re not alone! “Why?”

“I was thinking that maybe we can get a drink? If you’re okay with it?”

“Oh! Yeah. I’d like that, yeah. Let me just... I’ll write my number down for you.” Smiling, he goes around to the other end of the counter, looking for a paper to write on before giving up and grabbing a napkin.

You turn, ready to rub your pettiness into Seokjin’s face but he’s gone. And so is your coffee.

“Dude I mean...are you sure?” Yoongi looks skeptical, raising a dark brow at you as he wipes down a table. He settles chairs into their rightful spots, stuffing napkins into the fancy napkin holders. “Last week you were literally ready to cry over a failed date and you asked a guy out?”

“I was not.” You say, “Water on a duck’s back my friend. This guy’s actually nice, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t go off with some other chick halfway through our date.”

“Well, I thought that you’d just give it a bit of time before going again.” He pauses to look at you, halfway across the empty bar, folding the cloth he was using. “I know you want what everyone else seems to be getting – I’ve noticed it too, lots of couples running around like it’s valentines or something. But I think you should just wait it out.”

“Yoongi.” You whine his name, laying your head against your arm. “I’m not getting any younger.”

“I know.” Yoongi smiles at the offended sound you make, “Everything happens on its own time, sweetheart. Just gotta be patient. Wait a little.”

“But what if I just wait forever?” You mumble, picking at the skin around your fingernails.

“I didn’t say it for you to get sad, you know.” Yoongi walks over to you, he smiles gently, “If you wait forever then I’ll meet you at the end. You can hold my hand while we wait together..” He offers his hand to you, wiggling his fingers.

You give a watery laugh, taking his hand with a sniffle, “That was so corny.”

“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”

When seven pm rolls around you’re sitting at the bar, sipping on a rum coke that Yoongi gave you to calm your nerves.

The bar’s a little quiet, but you know that it’ll get rowdier as the hours go on. Yoongi’s sitting opposite you, picking at his nails in his boredom.

“I hope tonight doesn’t get busy. Hobi couldn’t come out cause he has some dance things to finalize...”

“It’s Friday, though...” You point to the door with a tilt of your head as a group walks in. Looking fresh out of the office in their business suits and briefcases. Yoongi sighs, hopping off his stool to go greet them.

You spot Namjoon coming through the door next, pulling headphones out his ears and smiling when he sees you. He reaches you in a few long strides, sitting next to you with a soft greeting.

You catch Yoongi’s double take, and the raise of his eyebrows but think nothing of it.

In the hour that goes by, the bar picks up and Yoongi has company behind the counter. Namjoon has you giggling and blushing every time he looks at you, you’d like to think this is going well.

You do the normal routine, getting to know each other, trading jokes. He’s easy to talk to and you like that.

He and Yoongi go way back – Or so he’s told you. You didn’t know this, but when does Yoongi actually tell you anything? – and they make easy conversation while he works. You’re not getting the looks Yoongi keeps trying to send you, though. You’re usually in tune with each other’s signals, but Yoongi’s been sending up smoke all night, because what does he even mean?

“You guys need anything?” Yoongi comes over for the third time, nodding at your empty glass.

“I’m good, thanks.” You wave him away, why’d he keep interrupting?

Yoongi sighs, moving away to help Jimin bring out more glasses from the back room.

“This was nice. I don’t get out much...” Namjoon says, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. “I uh...wanted to ask you something...”

“Sure, what’s up?”

Namjoon looks a little nervous, playing with his fingers. “You know, last week when you came to the cafe? It was Wednesday, I think... You came with someone... Brunette about yay high?”

You know who he’s talking about before he actually asks. You sip on your rum coke just so you’d have something to do, watching as Namjoon gives a height estimate with a hand.

“You mean Brinny? Yeah...she works with me.”

You don’t blame him, Brinny’s a darling, an absolute angel. You feel like a complete clown, though. Maybe you’re cursed, or maybe you’ve pissed off some wrathful god in your past life.

You didn’t mean to visibly deflate, really you didn’t , but honestly, you’re tired. You feel like you’re stuck in an endless loop of ‘yeah, this isn’t gonna work out.’.

Namjoon pauses, eyes widening, “Oh God. This wasn’t a date was it?”

Ah, ignorance is bliss indeed. He looks genuinely worried, a crinkle between his brows as they furrow. Eyes round and a hand reaching out hesitantly, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to touch you even if he seeks to comfort you.

“What?” You snort, smacking his arm playfully. It’s the only way you can ease out of it so you don’t burst into tears in front of him. “No way! You’re a cool guy. I can totally put in a good word for you. Brinny’s nice.”

If Namjoon isn’t convinced - and you’re pretty damn sure he isn’t – he doesn’t show it. He nods slowly, smiling a little – a lot – awkwardly at you before throwing back the whiskey in his glass.

“Hey, slow down a bit, yeah?” Yoongi covers the top of your glass with a hand, frowning at you. You stare at his hand, at the rings that glint in the soft lighting of the bar with a pout. He quickly pulls it to him when you reach for it and instead passes you a bottle of water. “Drink this, sober up.”

“D’wanna.” You slur, leaning forward to press your forehead against the cool bar top. Yoongi taps your arm, and you make a disgruntled sound at the back of your throat raising your head with some effort. You prop your chin in your palm and blink slowly at him. “I wanna not exist right now. I’m so embarrassed!”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Yoongi scoffs, twisting the cap off the bottled water, he presses it firmly to your hand. The bar eventually died down, unusual for a Friday but you’re thankful. A whole lot less people to witness your downward spiral into self pity with the help of Yoongi’s fancy drinks. “I swear I thought you knew. I was trying to tell you.”

“What am I supposed to do with your blank ass stare, Min Yoongi?”

“Just drink the water.”

Yoongi leaves you be, walking away to greet someone that waved him over. You stare at the bottle with a frown before picking it up and downing nearly half. “Cupid must be on a holiday or something.”

“I wish.” Seokjin plops himself onto the barstool next to you, and you groan, because he’s the last person you want to see. You hadn’t seen him all week since you asked Namjoon out for drinks, you were just starting to get comfortable. “I could be somewhere nice and sunny right now. Instead I’m stuck looking after you.”

“How are you literally appearing out of nowhere?” You ask, a little sober now, enough to question the way he just randomly popped in.

“I’ve been trying to tell you, but all you do is call me names and hurt my feelings.” Seokjin rolls his eyes, “Enough about me though, I want to hear about your date.” He gives a cocky smile and you really want to punch it right off his pretty face.

“There’s nothing to tell.” You grumble, and Seokjin chuckles.

“I told you so.” He says, shrugging, “You wouldn’t listen.”

“That was a coincidence.” Your throat burns.

“Or was it?” Seokjin nudges your shoulder with his, “Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why are you so annoying?” You fire back and he purses his lips, raising a perfect brow at you. “I really think you’re stalking me. How’d you know I’d be here?”

“I was just passing by.”

“Right.” You huff, rolling your eyes before leaning forward, “I’m gonna be alone forever.”

“Well, if you’d let me actually do my job you won’t have to worry about that.”

Something hot is burning behind your eyes, throat tightening. You’re once again asking if you’re doing something wrong. You don’t get it, you’re a damn catch! Anyone would be lucky to have you.

You sniffle, swirling the water around in the bottle as tears blurs your vision.

“Please don’t cry.” Seokjin says, but it’s not at all comforting. It comes out in a ‘Are you serious?’ kind of way that only makes you want to cry even more, so you hop off the stool, shooting Yoongi a text on your way out of the bar.

You’re quite aware of Seokjin trailing behind you like he’s got nowhere else to be. Your phone vibrates somewhere in the depths of your bag but you ignore it, promising that you’ll just let Yoongi know when you get home.

“Can you stop following me?” You stop, turning around to face Seokjin.

“We live in the same apartment building!” He points in the direction you’re walking, rolling his eyes, “Is it a crime to go home now?”

“Well can you at least not walk so damn close to me? You’re giving me the creeps.” Turning on your heel you continue walking, and thankfully, Seokjin doesn’t follow until you’re at least five steps ahead.

“My offer still stands, you know!” There’s no reason for him to shout, but he’s doing it anyway. “This’ll keep happening if you don’t accept it!”

You stop walking again, bowing your head to stare at the concrete below your feet. His footsteps slow and stop too, waiting.

“If...If I say yes. Would you leave me the hell alone?” You sigh, looking over your shoulder at him. He’s standing a few steps behind, hands in the pockets of his coat.

“No, but I can leave you alone for the rest of the night if you want.”

You tilt your head back, looking up at the overcast sky. Hoping for it to open up and give you the answer to all your problems. Honestly, what do you have to lose? Best that could happen is that he actually leaves you alone after this and you can go back to figuring it out on your own. Even though you’d already tried that and well...yeah.

“Fine.” You mutter softly, and Seokjin jogs over to you quicker than you can make sense of his movements. “I accept your stupid offer.”

“Finally.” Seokjin smiles, prettily, the glow of the street lamp looks like a halo above his head and for a second, you really believe that he’s an angel. He sticks out a hand, “You have to shake on it.”

“Are you serious?” You deadpan, staring at his hand as though it offended you.

“Yes.” There’s mirth in his eyes and you think he’s pulling your leg, but you shake his hand anyway. “Great! I’ll see you in the morning then.”

You look down at your hand as he walks away, grimacing, “You’re so weird.”

When you look up, Seokjin is gone and you’re standing on the sidewalk completely alone.

True to his word, you didn’t see Seokjin for the rest of the night. You’d gotten home, stared at his closed door for a while, having half a mind to knock and ask exactly what you’d gotten yourself into.

You thought that, yes, finally, he’ll leave you alone for good. That today when you had woken up bright and early, you’d be able to get some work done, maybe even clean up the apartment a bit.

You couldn’t be happier to work from home, even though it offers more distractions than you're able to deal with, it’s better to write from the comfort of your own home.

Though, Monday you had to be in the office to discuss some things with your team manager. You know that he’s going to ask about how your article is coming along, so you want enough of it finished by then.

You’re sipping on your coffee, content to watch the world wake up from behind your window, and there’s someone knocking at your door.

Sighing you place your cup on the coffee table, taking your sweet time to walk even as the knocks get insistent. You’re expecting Jungkook at the other side, or Yoongi coming over to give you a piece of his mind for bailing on him last night.

It’s just Seokjin, though. Standing there in black track pants and a white sweater, dark blue recurve bow in hand.

“Isn’t that dangerous to walk around with?”

“Not unless you’re my target.” Seokjin smiles, “Get ready, you’re coming with me.”

“I don’t think so, I have a lot of things to do today.”

“You really don’t.” He taps your forehead with a finger, but you’re not quite sure what he means by that. “Please hurry. I don’t want to be late.”

He races back down the hall, stopping to knock on Jungkook’s door before heading to his own apartment.

“Tell me again why I needed to drive you two?” You grumble, car slowing to a stop in the parking lot of Straight Arrow Archery Center. Jungkook gets out with a quick thanks, jogging through the parking lot.

“So I can start today, the quicker I get this done, the quicker I’ll be out of your hair.” Seokjin takes his time getting his things from the backseat, “C’mon.”

He waits until you're out of the car, rocking back on his heels before he marches across the parking lot. You’re following with quicker steps, trying to keep up with his longer strides.

The local archery range was owned by their coach, and they practice indoors when they’re not in the back field during the colder months. A big looming building, with large windows and chipping paint. You’ve only been inside a couple of times, once when Jungkook’s team was going against a team from the city over.

The heat’s blasting in the building, and you rub your hands together to help them warm up faster. Seokjin leads you through the front entrance of the building, where they have different types of bows mounted on the walls. There’s a board behind the counter, pinned full of photos of past teams and flyers about the center and archery safety.

The back room where the range actually is, some of the archers are taking practice shots or sitting against the back wall getting ready. You see Jungkook securing his quiver to his waist, joking with some of his teammates.

“Are you any good?” You ask Seokjin just to taunt and he purses his lips at you, leading you over to one of the many benches scattered around the range.

You sit and watch him set his bow up, attaching the stabilizers, sight and clicker to the front of the bow. He slips the chest guard over his head, sliding his arm through the loop, when he’s securing the arm guard against his forearm he finally answers you.

“I can shoot an apple off your head blindfolded.” He winks, “If you get hungry or anything, there’s a vending machine outside.” With that he jogs off at the call of the coach, the rest of the team following behind.

“Alright you guys, we all know that winter’s coming up, so we have a couple of weeks left to train up for the last competition. After that, we have some time off before the regionals in February.” The coach says, clapping her hands, “So! During these last weeks, I’ll be picking six of you for the competition!”

You watch on, genuinely interested in what’s being said. Jungkook had mentioned regionals a few times, talking about his excitement and nerves. The coach goes on a moment more about what she expects from her team and a few changes for meeting dates.

“Alright, let’s do our best today!” She says, waving them off, “Teams of three please. Seokjin, you’re up first.”

You perk up more, eyes following Seokjin’s movements as he stands behind a marker taped to the ground. He pulls an arrow from the quiver at his hip, the fletching and nock a shimmering gold that catches the overhead lights. He nocks the arrow, pulling the string back to his cheek and aims.

When he releases, you barely see the arrow cut through the air, you only hear the sharp whistle and the dull thump of it hitting the target dead center. The team claps and you’re not far enough to miss their mutterings as Seokjin walks forward to retrieve his arrow.

“He’s so cool!”

Half an hour later, you’re scrolling through your phone, finally answering the million and one texts Yoongi sent you last night.

Seokjin’s skill with the bow honestly surprised you, the way he’d nock and fire off arrows with inhuman precision was actually terrifying. It almost had you believing his little tirade, just almost, you’d yet to be convinced by his claims of being Cupid.

Part of you does believe him, though, as much as you’d hate to even think it. There’s just something strange about him. The way he’d seemingly appear from nowhere, disappear without a sound and – you truly believe that it was a coincidence – the way he knew that pursuing Namjoon would not be in your favor. There’s honesty in his eyes when he speaks of it, either you’re easy to be swayed or he honest to God believes he’s Cupid.

A Cupid, your mind berates and you scowl, shaking your head.

“I didn’t think you’d stick around.” Jungkook sits on the bench next to you, digging around his duffle bag, “I can take the bus back you know?”

“I know, I’m actually waiting for Mr Sharpshooter over there.” You wave your hand in a vague direction, not too certain where Seokjin was standing.

Jungkook nudges your shoulder, “I see how it is.” He wiggles his eyebrows, “I’m definitely taking the bus home.”

“Now why would you say that?” You raise a brow, pocketing your phone, “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that.”

“Sure it isn’t.” He over exaggeratedly winks, quieting to unwrap a sandwich and take a bite. “He’s pretty cool, though. I approve. He’ll have a hard time with Yoongi though...” He says through his mouthful, brows creased - a little angrily - as he chews.

“There’s nothing to approve!” You push his shoulder while he laughs, almost choking on his sandwich. “Kook. Can I ask you something?”

“Hm, yeah. What’s it?”

“Have you actually ever spoken about Seokjin before?” You think about how strange it is, Yoongi mentioned that Jungkook’s spoken of Seokjin before. Now that you’ve asked the question, you realise that you’ve never once heard of him. Most of the time if you’re not by yourself, you’re with the guys, and they aren’t usually by themselves either. Though, it could be nothing, could have been a conversation you weren’t privy to, just something you missed.

Jungkook rarely talks about his practices, unless something big happens, like the regionals announcement or when he wouldn’t let you, Yoongi or Hoseok forget that he fired the winning arrow during the summer semi’s even though you were all there to witness it. Seokjin’s never once come up, you don’t think.

You don’t remember seeing Seokjin in the times you’ve visited the Range or at any of the competitions, though, he seems to be well acquainted with everyone, and no one thinks it’s strange.

Jungkook stops mid bite, brows furrowing out of confusion now – and not because he really likes his sandwich – he nods, slowly.

“Yeah? I think so...” He doesn’t sound as though he believes his own words, “Yup, yeah. Definitely did.” He nods more surely, “....I think?”

“Are you sure? Because...”

“Bad mouthing me? I’ve only been gone thirty minutes, that’s rude.”

You look up to find Seokjin watching you with a raised brow. He unclips the belt at his waist to remove the quiver before he sits down, squinting at you. “What?”

“Nothing...it’s nothing...” You quickly look back to your phone, replying to Yoongi’s recent text.

“I’m gonna get something to drink from the vending machine, want anything?” Jungkook asks, shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and dusting his hands, you shake your head and he shrugs, “I’ll bring you back whatever, then.”

With that he leaves, lengthy hair bouncing with his steps as he makes his way out. You could feel Seokjin’s eyes on you and you slowly turn your head to face him, he’s indeed staring at you, in a way that makes you want to squirm and be as far away from him as possible.

“You have questions.” It’s a statement, because he knows.

“A few.” You nod, studying his features. He looks absolutely normal, nothing awry about him in visage. Leaning closer to him you ask softly for the sake of not being overheard. “Are you really a Cupid?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow, watching you with thinly veiled suspicion, “What brought this on?”

“I’m just really curious.”

Seokjin hums, “I already told you, I am. I was extremely clear. Why? Change of heart? Or are you just trying to appease me by going along with it?”

There’s a hint of bite in his words, and you suddenly remember him saying that he gives up in the cafe, and realize, if he is indeed what he claims, you’re truly making his job harder. He’s like a venomous snake, poised and ready to strike if you misstep.

For a moment, you think it’s best to never get on his bad side if the slight irritation that darkens his eyes makes you feel cornered.

“I was just wondering.” You say, “It’s just strange how you just suddenly- I don’t think Jungkook knows you as well as he thinks. Yoongi definitely doesn’t know you either.”

“Ah.” He sighs, tilting his head curiously, “What I think is strange is that you noticed that.”

“You know... you’re kind of creepy. I think, sometimes it feels as though you’re normal but then it feels odd, like you’re an anomaly.”

“I’ll try not to be. But that’s just your senses telling you what you don’t want to believe.” Seokjin raises a hand to tap your forehead lightly with a finger.

You frown, “I’m not spiritual.”

“You don’t have to be.” He shrugs, “In terms for you to understand, I walk on a higher frequency than you do. Our energies are completely different, and it doesn’t matter if you are consciously aware of it or not, you’re going to realize that.”

“Okay.” You nod, trying to absorb the words that tumbled out of his mouth even though he basically dumbed it down for you. You’re still not certain if you believe what he says or if your mind is protecting you so that you just take it and run. “Why are you helping me?”

It feels silly to ask, but you’d like to think you’re not so deep and lost within the fog of your non-existent love life that a Cupid would take pity on you enough to step in.

“I hate seeing people struggle. It’s just so sad. You humans are like lambs without a shepherd; wandering aimlessly.” He sighs as though he’s in pain, before a smile breaks and his squeaky laugh follows, “I’m joking...partly.”

You roll your eyes, “No really, I want to know.”

“I don’t think you do.” Seokjin shakes his head, mirth lights his eyes still. Though you just stare at him, waiting, and he sighs, “I’m not supposed to tell you, but I suppose I already crossed a million lines telling you I’m a Cupid.”

He taps a finger against his chin, “I’m trying to get a promotion, it’s extremely important that we get this settled.”

“...what?” You frown, narrowing your eyes at him, “Are you joking?”

“I do find myself hilarious, but no.”

“I thought angels wouldn’t lie.”

Seokjin gasps as though you’d offended him, and judging by the look on his face you probably had. “When have I ever lied to you?”

“Just then. I’m supposed to believe that angels have what? A corporate system?”

“First of all, I do not lie. I just omit small things.” He pokes a finger at you and you swat at it. You want to tell him that telling a half lie is just lying while trying to seem truthful. “Secondly, yes. But I can’t tell you anything more on that, so don’t ask.”

You grumble to yourself, leaning back and away in time to spot Jungkook coming back with more than just drinks.

“He’s quite impulsive.” Seokjin chuckles, and you can only agree.

“Where are we going?” You trail behind Seokjin, down a busy street. Once again, struggling to keep up with his long legs.

“I’ve got a few potential candidates for you, all of which can work out though it mostly depends on your choices.” Seokjin slows down for your sake, “I’m not allowed to outright tell you who’s right for you, I can tell you who’s the wrong choice however.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier if you told me?”

“It would, but it’s against the rules and frankly takes the fun out of everything.”

“You want to see me suffer?” You cross your arms, and Seokjin chuckles, shaking his head as he turns to face you. He plants his hands on your shoulders, hands drifting down to unfold your arms.

“I think you’ve suffered enough. All work and no pl-“ Seokjin pauses, looking past you. The change in his easy going expression is startling, the humor dimming to be replaced by anger, jaw tensing.

You take a half step away from him, wondering what could bring about his change of mood so swiftly. Curious, you turn to look.

A couple stopped just a few steps from you both, they're both dressed warmly to combat the weather. The guy seems a little shocked, enough that the girl you assume is his girlfriend asks him if he’s okay.

He offers her a smile, one that seemed a little nervous to you. He eyes you for a moment, with the same intensity that Seokjin sometimes does, before his eyes settle on the man next to you.

“Hyunjin.” Seokjin says, eyes flaring with something indiscernible. His voice is clipped, stare harsh as he takes a single step forward.

“Seokjin.” The man replies curtly, pulling his girlfriend slightly behind him, “How about we talk about this elsewhere?”

He motions a hand to the people passing by who was paying no mind to either of you. Seokjin turns on his heel, walking briskly and you stumble to follow.

Seokjin is unusually quiet as he leads you through the streets, and you wonder just who Hyunjin is to him for him to react this way.

You pass by familiar places, the café where Namjoon works, and across the street to the park that was suspiciously empty.

You’re afraid to ask Seokjin what the matter was, mindful of the way you can feel the anger radiating off of him. So you keep quiet, stopping when he does, and sitting on the park bench when he tells you to.

He keeps walking, stopping a good distance away, waiting.

Hyunjin sighs, placing a gloved hand against his girlfriend’s cheek. “I won’t be long, okay?”

She nods and he leaves, walking towards Seokjin. As she sits next to you, you offer her a smile, “Sorry, I hope we aren’t interrupting you two.”

“It’s okay.” She says, pushing her glasses back up her nose with a hand. She glances over to where Seokjin and Hyunjin are talking briefly. “Is he your friend?”

You snort, friend is one hell of a reach, “Fortunately not.”

“I’m Nikki.” She offers a hand that you shake.

“Y/n.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Seokjin’s voice raises and both you and Nikki turn toward them, “You can fall for this. She’s human, Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin walks away, leaving Seokjin to gawk in disbelief. They both look angry enough to ignite the air around them, and Hyunjin ignores the call of his name, eyes softening when he lays them on Nikki. She stands at his approach, taking the hand that he offers. He gives you a long look, “I’d let him cool off first.”

You can only nod, voicing a soft goodbye as they leave.Turning your head you watch Seokjin who was too busy staring daggers into Hyunjin’s retreating form.

You give him a moment, waiting until Hyunjin and Nikki are across the street, until they merge into the crowd. You sit quietly, toeing the stone path beneath your shoe, kicking at a pebble and watching it roll its way away from you.

Eventually, Seokjin makes his way back, sitting next to you with a long drawn out sigh. “I have a headache.”

“You get those?” genuinely curious, you ask, but the withering glare Seokjin sends your way makes you snap your mouth shut. “Who is he?”

Seokjin sighs, running a hand through his hair in a way that’s deceptively human. You’re once again jealous of the way the strands fall back into place like they weren’t disturbed, making a note to ask him what shampoo he uses.

“Hyunjin is...” he shakes his head, jaw clenching, “We’ve been searching for him for a year. A guardian angel. That girl is his charge and up until now they’ve both been missing.

He said that he won’t leave her. That he would rather fall because he loves her. Ridiculous. It’s wrong, there’s only one way that could end and it’s not going to be nice. His duty isn't to love her that way.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it...” You mutter quietly.

“Of course you wouldn’t. You don’t understand, there’s no way that you can begin to. He’s putting her and himself in danger.”

He quiets and you do too, the air is still charged and Seokjin goes off muttering to himself. You glance at him and you can see that he’s thinking, fingers pressed against his lips as he stares at nothing in particular. It isn’t your business, but you ask anyway, “Are you gonna tell them that you found him?”

“I should.” Seokjin replies after a moment more of silence, “For now, though, I’ll turn a blind eye. I have more important things to do.”

“Right, yeah.” You nod, eyeing him carefully, “What were you saying earlier? Candidates?”

You’re not quite sure how people find watching sports exhilarating. Though, you’re here for Jungkook – and Seokjin - sitting on a bench between Yoongi and Hoseok, cheering as loudly as you can.

Its the last competition before the break, and if the Athens shoot the winning arrow, they’ll be at regionals next year.

You’d wished him and Seokjin luck before they’d left this morning, knowing well the latter didn’t need it at all. You know Jungkook was nervous, you can see him bouncing his leg even from where you are.

“Any bets?” Yoongi nudges your arm with his, passing you a soda, “I hope Jungkook doesn’t drop his bow or anything...”

“Nah, he’ll be fine. Seokjin’s on his team, there’s no way they’d lose.”

“You’ve been hanging out with him a lot.” Hoseok comments, and you spot him dipping his fingers into the pocket of his sweater only to come out with a gummy worm.

You wiggle your fingers at him, he side eyes you but gives you some anyway. “He’s cool.” You shrug, ignoring the soft snort that leaves Yoongi.

“Right.” There’s a knowing look that Yoongi sends you, one that you also ignore.

The teams take turns, women from opposite sides going first, and then the men, all scoring fairly well for their teams. It’s a moment again before the last shooters are ready, and they can either make or break the win.

Five minutes and a couple more gummy worms after, Seokjin is finally stepping up to his marker. If he scores a full ten, the Athens would take the win.

He nocks his arrow the way you’ve seen him done before, and the crowd quiets, waiting with baited breath. He takes aim and your squeezing Hoseok’s hand, he releases the arrow. There’s the sharp whistle, louder that the stands are still, and the sound of it hitting the target.

The folks that came all the way from your city to watch cheers the loudest as Seokjin and his team celebrates the win.

You’re all gathered in your apartment after the match. Though, Everyone had decided that celebrations would wait until the morning, desperate to get home and out of the cold of the winter air and into the warm houses. You just wished someone could convince the archers in your friend group.

Seokjin had insisted on doing something, claiming to be busy the next day. He’d drag you all off to the market, rushing you around to pick stuff from a crumpled list he pulled from the bottom of his duffle bag.

“Hey,” Seokjin says greets softly, passing you an opened beer with a soft smile.

“Thanks” You smile back, because he’ll just nag your ear off until he gets you to smile. Seokjin’s been in the kitchen since you all came back, shooing both you and Yoongi attempting to help, claiming culinary genius.

Your apartment does smell aromatic; filled with a blend of different spices. You know whatever Seokjin’s making is gonna knock your socks off. “You better wow me with your cooking. After you chased me out of my own kitchen.” You tease, and Seokjin chortles.

“Trust me, my cooking is unmatched.” He says confidently, chest puffing up.

You hum around the mouth of your beer, “Uh huh. You’ll have to prove that. No one’s better than Yoongi.”

Seokjin side eyes you playfully, poking at your stomach with a finger that you grab onto, “Yeah, Yeah.”

He quiets, wiggling his finger in your grip, “I wanted to do something nice.”

You make a confused sound in the back of your throat, because what more could he possibly want to do? He’s already helping you find the person you’re meant to be with, and on top of that, have the patience of Mother Theresa and you remain stubborn to a fault. Though, you suppose, he has his nature and you do too.

Hoseok and Jungkook are watching some age old holiday film, not paying mind to either you or Jin. Yoongi had long said he’d be back, though it’s been a half hour with no sign of your grumpy best friend.

“Wanna help me in there?” Seokjin points his thumb over his shoulder, and you raise a brow, “You can help me cut some stuff; I’ve only got two hands.”

“You sure you actually need my help?”

“She’s a disaster in the kitchen.” Yoongi suddenly appears behind Seokjin, a bottle of whisky in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. “I’ll help.”

You make an offended sound, “I’ll have you know that I am great at cutting stuff!”

Yoongi only hums, slinking off like a bored feline into the kitchen. Seokjin pats your head, “You know how to hold a knife, right?”

“Why are you cutting it like that?”

You look down at the cutting bored through the tears stinging your eyes, and you sniffle, “I could barely fucking see. I hate cutting onions.”

Yoongi shoos you away, taking the knife gently from your hold, “Go wash your eyes.”

You shuffle, partly blinded by the sting and tears in your eyes to the sink, arms stretched out before you as your only guide. A warm hand grasps your wrist, leading you forward, “I thought you said you were good at it.”

Seokjin’s voice holds amusement, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s getting a kick out of the situation. You want to tell him that your skill with cutting vegetables and the onion’s rhine burning your eyes has absolutely nothing to do with each other, but you’re too busy trying to find the tap with your hands.

He turns the tap on for you as you lean down towards the flow, and you feel his hands pulling your hair back and out of the way. Sweet relief comes with the cool stream of water rinsing the sting from your eyes, though they’re still irritated enough for you to dig the heels of your palms into them when you straighten. “Onions are evil.”

“Are they?” Seokjin gently pulls your hands away from your face, “Don’t rub them.”

“Tell that the itch driving me up a wall.” You’re a little surprised at how close he is, barely an inch away from you. The rhythmic sound of Yoongi cutting vegetables fades to background noise that you can barely focus on, distracted by Seokjin’s brown eyes peering into yours and the gentle way he swipes his thumbs under your lower lids.

“They’re all red now.” He says softly, and he seems distracted too, eyes filtering away from yours and somewhere lower.

“You guys want me to leave?” Yoongi drawls, effectively breaking the moment, “I can do that you know. Just walk right outta here.” He’s pointing the knife over his shoulder, eyebrow raised, though there’s humour in his eyes.

You pull away from Seokjin’s hands, clearing your throat, “Can I finish cutting the onions now?”

“No, but you can start on the bell peppers for me.” Seokjin hands you a small glass bowl with yellow and red peppers, and you do your best to ignore his fingers brushing yours.

When dinner was ready, the four of you gather at the table, trading laughs and stories and you feel content in this moment. Watching your boys be happy, and Jungkook laughing so hard he chokes only to be scolded by Yoongi. Seokjin next to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him.

You wonder how it’ll be once his job’s done and he leaves, would you miss him? He’s still as weird as you thought he was that time you met him in your hallway. You’ll miss his laugh, and the way he can comfort you without trying, you’ll miss him doing his best to make you happy even when he doesn’t have to.

The way he pulled you close when one of your first dates went wrong even with his meddling.

You’ll miss him.

Seokjin’s grown quite fond of you, he thinks, a dangerous thing, he believes. Over the weeks that passed, he’s successfully done his job; setting you on the right track to find your person.

The first couple of dates, Seokjin seeked out people you were familiar with, rather than strangers.

He’d stay close by at all times, observing from a distance. On the days when you’d rather not do anything, Seokjin would meet in your apartment. He’d never tell you that the thing’s you’d have him get up to weren’t what he’d consider fun. He’d go anyway, content to watch you instead of whatever movie you’d convinced him to watch with you.

That’s when he realized it.

Funny, really.

Seokjin has seen love before, as it is, his duty was to bring those who are fated together by a series of coincidences. A meet-cute here, a spilled coffee there, even going as far as to reunite friends who've grown up and apart from each other. He’s seen how love can make people bloom like flowers in the spring, and change like seasons together.

He’s seen love make people go distances they’d have never dared to otherwise. He’s seen it in simple words and touches, grand and minute gestures.

So, Seokjin knows what love is when he feels it. It’s that feeling he gets in his chest when you smile, poking fun at him because there’s always something that’s so distinctively human he would never understand. Strange now that it makes him happy, you’re at a point where you no longer deny him being your friend when other people ask, when you take his teasing in stride like friends do.

You’re happier now, despite the trial and error and the hoops you have to jump through to get where you want to be.

It’s the way your hand felt in his when you held it for the first time. It was after one of your many dates, a Saturday evening when the sun was already dragging the moon into the sky.

First snow, and you’d both sat on swings in an empty park far away from where you’d normally venture. Crystalline flakes fluttered into your hair and melted on your clothes. He’d given you his scarf before you could start to shiver.

He’d been content to watch you then, boots kicking at the snow that was piling up quickly.

Watching the way you found joy in a snowflake landing on your nose, and the way you’d try to catch them with your tongue. On the way out of the park, you held his hand because there was ice on the ground and you didn’t want to slip.

Even through the layer of your gloves Seokjin felt the warmth of your skin. He’s way beyond being flustered by such a thing, but heat climbed his neck and flushed his cheeks and he blamed it on the cold.

Seokjin felt something curl around his heart tightly, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He understands Hyunjin now, he thinks, his words play on his mind more frequently these days. Unlike Hyunjin, though, Seokjin is too rooted to his place.

The dangers that would come from you and him being anything more than what you are now are too great for Seokjin to risk it. He knows well what would come of it, and it’s nothing good. You would have to spend the rest of your life hiding from the seeing eyes of others, and the forces that will undoubtedly tear you apart.

Seokjin doesn’t want that for you. You will be more unhappy than you’ve ever been. Forced to remain in shadows even when Seokjin represents a light greater than man could ever create. It would be selfish of him to want it, to go through with it as though he’s not making you suffer.

There’s a lump in his throat as he swallows, as he looks at you now, sitting next to him, with not a care in the world.

You glow brightly, like a star, burning hot in the far distance. Far, far off. And just like a star, you’re something he could never reach, even with all his prowess; you aren’t his to hold.

Though he wants to, and it hurts that he can’t.

“Jin.” You call his name softly, and Seokjin realizes that he’s failed. It’s the first time he’s ever felt so defeated.

He’s seen you, too. The way you’d try to pretend that his feelings aren’t yours as well. He knows. He’s seen love enough to know.

The way you’d flush at your friends’ teasing, but would not deny it. The way you’d watch him as though you’ve found something that you’ve been searching for.

“Are you okay?” Your concerned tone made him realize that he’s turned to look at you, but he’s not said anything. He nods, a little unsurely and you have a right to not look convinced.

You’re different now than you were when Seokjin met you. When he’d planted himself into the memory of your friends for the sake of his task. Truly, he wasn’t supposed to, he was supposed to do his job from a distance, never to interfere. He’s watched you go on date after date and all his arrows would fall short of their target.

So, he did the most sensible thing and got directly involved. He was supposed to be finished already, it was supposed to be quick. He’s lingered too long, and now he's sunk so deeply into clear waters that it's turned to mud. He’s unwilling to lead you to the one you’re destined for – even though he knows who it is – and he’s unwilling to let himself be the one to love you instead.

His duty isn’t to love you, he knows this.

“I’m okay.” Angels aren’t supposed to lie, but he did, and he has been for a while. Trying to convince himself that he wasn’t falling in love with you.

“You’re lying.” You say, knowingly. How far have you come to be able to read him like this?

“I’ve never once lied to you.” Seokjin says, and it’s without his usual mirth. You give him a questioning look and not much else, nodding your head slowly.

“If you say so...”

Seokjin simmers in his thoughts for a while, glancing at you when you laugh at something silly.

“Y/n,” He calls softly, and you hum, turning to face him. Seokjin takes a breath, “I have to leave.”

“Right now? The movie isn’t even finished yet.”

“I know...” Seokjin sighs, running a hand through his hair. He stares at the TV screen, not really paying attention, watching a young girl ride a dragon to a far away place. He never understood your reason for having a TV in your bedroom, but it’s quite convenient for comfort.

He could just leave quietly, slip out of your apartment and out of your life without a word. It doesn’t feel right to do so without telling you, though.

“I won’t be back.” Seokjin waits for his words to settle, as the movie fades to background noise and he watches as realization dawns on you.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” You ask, voice pitching at the end, you stand and he does too, “But you haven’t – You can’t leave.”

“I have to.” He places his hands on your shoulders, trying to calm the storm before it blows in. It’s not helping, he knows, as you take a step back.

“Tell me why.” You demand, and Seokjin sees the tears in your eyes before they fall. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no. You didn’t do anything. It’s me.” Seokjin sighs, “This...this was a mistake. I never should have gotten involved.”

You call his name then, with so much pain that Seokjin feels his heart shatter in his chest. He hates it. He hates that even doing this, he still manages to make you unhappy, he’s the cause of your uneven breaths and the tears that race their way down your cheeks and he hates it.

“I’ll make sure you find them. I promise.”

“But I don’t want that! I love you. You can’t just leave.”

Seokjin lets his hands fall to his sides, staring at a spot somewhere above your head to avoid looking you in the eye. He knows what you want, of course he does, because he wants it to. You've gone and said it and that only makes things harder.

“Y/n.” He says your name firmly, and you snap your mouth shut, shoulders shaking still as you try to put an end to your tears. He takes a step closer, raising a hand to cup your cheek, “We can never be. It’s not meant to be this way.”

“Please don’t go.” You whisper, fingers curling around his wrist. “Please stay.”

His resolve is breaking. The longer he stays the harder it’ll be to walk away. Sighing he wraps his arms around you, holding you as you shatter.

Seokjin presses a kiss to your forehead and your eyes in turn, chasing away the remainder of your tears. There’s sadness still in your eyes when you open them, he tilts your head back to capture your lips softly with his.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He says, wiping away tears that still fall.

“Do you promise?”

Instead of answering, Seokjin kisses you again, hands slipping under the warmth of your sweater to meet your soft skin. He feels the shiver that runs through you, and he wonders if his hands are cold. You call his name softly and he gently quiets you, tugging lightly at the hem of your sweater, “Can I take this off?”

You nod and Seokjin helps you wiggle your way out of it. He doesn’t think of the consequences – he doesn’t want to, so he allows his mind to blank. He’ll give in only this once, he’ll give himself to you for the first and last time, no matter how selfish it seems.

He kisses you slowly, making a map of the marks he leaves against your skin. He wants to tell you everything, he wants to take every step with you, meet you somewhere along a coast where nothing matters. But here, he’ll steal this moment and keep it with him forever, until the pain of it fades and he could look back on it fondly.

He quiets the small sounds you make with his mouth, hands bringing your legs up to wrap around his waist. You fit perfectly below him, like a puzzle piece of a puzzle he’s been trying to find.

He props himself up on his hands, gazing at you, “You’re so beautiful.” He leans down, brushing his nose against you, lips finding yours again.

There’s a storm raging outside, wind sending snow pattering softly against your window. Seokjin tries not to let his mind wander, not when you're beneath him and so warm. Your skin is warm, your scent invades his senses and you’re the only thing he could see and Seokjin feels like crying. There’s something in the back of his mind that’s screaming at him, jarring and loud, that he should savor this moment because he’ll never have it again.

He pulls away from you, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, “I’m taking these off, okay?”

Your knee nudges his side, “You first. You’re still dressed.”

Seokjin chuckles, quickly pulling his sweater and the tee-shirt he wears over his head, “Now we’re even.”

He stands to step out of his sweatpants, allowing you a moment to strip the rest of your clothes on your own. He settles next to you, fingers tracing patterns against the soft skin of your inner thighs, touching lightly just to watch your eyes flutter shut and your nipples stiffen into peaks when he blows air over them. He marks you with his teeth and his tongue, taking a nipple into his mouth, hand stilling when you raise your hips to meet it.

“Impatient little thing.” He mutters, but cuts your pleading whine short, fingers finding where he knows you want him most, groaning at the wetness he finds. He rubs slow circles against your clit and catches your moans with his lips. When he’s teased you enough, when your desperate moans of his name is enough to make him rut his growing erection against your hip, he sinks his fingers into your heat, thumb never leaving your clit.

He curls his fingers against a spot that makes you cry out, your arousal drips into his palm, and he sucks bruises into the skin of your neck. Seokjin’s hips jerk forward when your fingers curl around his cock, squeezing around the base, “Fuck.”

Your other hand stills his and he pulls away to look at you, pupils blown and eyes heavily lidded, chest rising and falling with your breaths. “Can we just...”

“It’s been a while for you, right?” Seokjin asks softly, slowly resuming the thrust of his fingers, at your nod there’s a smirk on his exhale, “It’ll hurt if I don’t. Gotta stretch you out first.”

He can feel the way your walls tighten and flutter around his fingers, feel the way shudder, moans rising his pitch. “Jin- fuck, I’m so close.”

“Already?” Jin tilts his head, tone teasing. He kisses you, tongue sliding against your own, “Let go for me, baby.”

Your gasp is followed by a drawn out moan, curses and unintelligible words on the end of it. Seokjin watches you tip over the edge, unable to help the motion of his hips thrusting his cock into the loose grip your hand had around it. Removing his fingers from your heat, he lets you catch your breath, pressing a kiss to your temple, “You did so well baby, so good for me.”

Seokjin pulls away, placing a fleeting kiss on your shoulder, “Do you have condoms?” He asks, rubbing a hand on your trembling thigh. He would’ve thought you’d passed out if it wasn’t for the limp way you motion to the bedside table.

You peek an eye at him, “I’m clean if that’s what you’re worried about.” You murmur, and Seokjin smiles, shaking his head.

“That’s good to know sweet girl, but it’s not that. You don’t want what I can give you, trust me.” Seokjin turns to rummage through your things, finding the box tucked into a corner, “It’ll be hell if something unexpected happens. We’ll have a very big problem on our hands.”

“Oh, you mean...”

“Yes. It’s best if we avoid that.” He tears the glossy wrapper with his teeth, moving back to you, he kneels between your open legs. He slides the condom on and you prop up on your elbows to watch, when Seokjin’s eyes flicker up, he could see the hint of worry in yours. He raises a hand to brush your cheek with his fingers, “I’ll go slowly.”

He’s mindful of his size and how long it’s been for you as you settle again, one hand gently gripping your hip, he keeps his eyes on you, watching your every expression. He drags his cock against your sopping cunt, hand holding steady, he leans down to slot his lips to yours, “Ready?” He whispers, waiting until you nod.

A groan leaves him as he enters you, and your fingernails scratches red into his shoulders. He buries his face against your neck, teeth nipping at the skin he could reach, giving slow shallow thrusts until he bottoms out. You’re so warm and tight around him, he takes the calls of his name as prayer, you cling to him as though he’d disappear, and Seokjin thinks that some part of you knows.

Nothing you can say or do will make him change his mind, but he’ll allow you this moment. This moment where it’s just you and him and nothing else, where he can easily show you how he feels without promising anything more.

He thrusts slowly, wanting the moment to last for as long as it can, knowing that he will go on and remember this, and you, when the morning comes you would never know that you’ve loved and been loved.

This way, it’s better, it’ll be easier knowing that one day you’ll find what you need in someone else that isn’t him, without ever knowing what you mean to him at all. Things will return to the way it was meant to be, with him watching from a distance, guiding you in the way he was supposed to from the start.

Seokjin wills the tears behind his eyes to go away, and tells his mind to shut up.

Your name is a sigh on his lips, a prayer that when the time comes he could walk away. Your hips rise to meet his thrusts, and Seokjin loses his fingers in your hair, holding you closer because it’s all he could do as you grow ever tighter around him. He chases his end as you find yours, lips crashing against yours sloppily when he stills, release spilling into the condom.

“Are you okay?” Seokjin asks after a moment, when the room doesn’t feel like a sauna, and he’s finished cleaning you and himself up. Brushing back your hair that hides your eyes from his view, you kiss his palm and Seokjin tries not to let his sadness show in his smile.

“I’m okay. Can we take a shower? I feel gross.” You laugh, already getting up to walk to your closet, you throw a towel at him and he catches it.

“That’s rude, we don’t throw things.” Seokjin trails after you, taking your hand in his because he needs to be grounded right now and not think about what he has to do.

When you stir the next morning, the other side of the bed is cold, but Seokjin’s sitting at your side, brushing your hair away from your eyes.

“You’re still here?” You murmur, smiling sleepily. You open your eyes a bit to see him fully dressed in last night’s clothes.

“I’m here.” Seokjin smiles sadly, massaging your scalp with his fingers, “I have to go.”

You pull away from him to sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with a hand, “Are you coming back?”

He watches you quietly for a moment before he shakes his head, “I can’t.” He takes your hand and squeezes gently, “This...we can’t.” He sighs, frustrated, knowing what he has to say, what he needs to do.

Seokjin has spent thousands of years watching the rise and fall of mankind over and over, doing his duty as a Cupid to bring those who are fated together. He’s seen heartbreak, he’s seen how it shatters a person’s very being, now he knows what it feels like as he watches tears gather in your eyes because you know, too.

“Don’t go. Please. We can make this work, Jin. Please.” His throat feels tight, something is squeezing his chest and he hates it. He hates that you’re crying because of him, because he’s breaking your heart. “Please stay.”

“I can’t.” Seokjin whispers this, pulling you closer when you reach for him, the sound of your sobs etches into his core and they cut deep. He’s held you, a star, and you’ve burnt him now. Stars burn the brightest as they die, giving their all in the last moment of their lives, and like a star he watches as you implode.

Sometimes though, stars don’t always turn into black holes when they die, sometimes they scatter into matter and burn dimly forever. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why’d you let me fall for you?” You hiccup, pushing at his chest and Seokjin lets you, letting his hands drop at his side. “You knew that this was going to happen and you let it happen!”

Your tears are angry now, but still so sad, and you slap weakly at his arms. “Why?”

“I’m sorry.” He cups your cheeks with his hands, thumbs catching your tears. He wished it wasn’t this way, he wished that things were different, that maybe, you could’ve met him under different circumstances. That he wasn’t him, but you were still you. He wasn’t expecting it, like most things, it simply happened.

He kisses you while you cry, your fingers curl tightly into the material of his sweater, “I’m sorry. You have to forget me.”

You pull away from him completely, tears flowing faster now, “No.”

“Y/n.” He sighs.

“You can’t do that. What gives you the right?” You escape his reach, moving to the other side of the bed where you get off, turning to face him, “You can leave. You can go and pretend that this never happened. You can’t make me forget, I don’t want to forget you.”

Sighing Seokjin gets up too, walking around the bed to you. You step backwards until you have nowhere to go, back against the wall. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t.”

“So stubborn.” Seokjin clenches his jaw, his head hurts and he wants this to be over. The longer he stands here having this conversation, the harder it will be to follow through. He walks until he’s in your space, hand finding your cheek again. “Why are you always so stubborn?”

“Jin.” You whisper his name and his heart breaks, “Please.”

“Are you ready to spend the rest of your life knowing that we can never see each other again? Knowing me will put everyone you care about in danger. There’s no chance. It’ll break you and I’d rather not have that happen.” Seokjin says, “This was never supposed to happen. We weren’t meant to happen.”

“I don’t want to forget.” You repeat, stubbornly. “Please don’t make me forget.”

Seokjin leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his fingers already at your temple before you have the chance to stop him. He leans away, just watching you, memorizing your features as though he’d ever forget. “I love you.”

You finally quiet, staring at him with wide eyes, “Jin.”

“I’m sorry.” You fall limp and Seokjin catches you before you can hit the floor, holding you to him as the dam breaks and he cries. He cries for the moments he’s shared, the moments you would now live never to remember, he cries because he knows what heartbreak is and he feels it. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.”

After he places you back into bed, he makes sure that nothing belonging to him remains. Seokjin walks slowly out of your apartment, looking around at everything because it’s the last time. There’s no way he can come back here, he needs to go as far away as he possibly can.

Softly, he closes your door behind him, and every step he takes he feels as though his heart is being pulled out his chest. He makes it all the way down the hall, and into the elevator when Yoongi steps out of his apartment. He looks at Seokjin for a moment, no sign of recollection whatsoever. The last thing Seokjin before the doors slide close is Yoongi opening yours and going in.

“Y/n. Why the fuck are you sleeping with the window open? Are you trying to get sick?” Yoongi stomps his way into your bedroom, pulling your window shut. He turns to look at you as you sit up, “Hey. Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” You hum, confused, wiping your fingers under your eyes, “I...I don’t know? Must’ve been a dream?”

“Can you get ready in ten minutes?” Yoongi boldly rummages through your drawers, throwing clothes your way. “The café has deals on donuts and I wanna get some before they sell out.”

He walks to your door, while you sit, still sleepy, still confused. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah...I just...I feel like I’ve lost something.”

Broke your heart? Read the What If sequel drabble - Here

Tagging: @xpeachesncream @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @euphoricfilter @luaspersona @mssukeyna @matchstick6812 @jinsquishes @allhobbitstoisengard @eren-fall @dontstoptime @eoieopda

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raffe156 · 1 year

Text

Breakaway state Part 1

Pairing - Price X Female OC “Tank”

Summary - The 141 is formed, Price and Tank can't get their shit together, bad timing, things go pop and we all hate the Dr.

A/N - Shorter but wanted to get something out, this arch is gonna hit hard (at least I hope)

Warnings - Angst. Language, Age gap Price (39) reader (25) Violence, Weapons war/fighting stuff basically injury, pregnancy mentions, medical stuff

I really appreciate all the recent feedback and asks! Please keep em coming! It only spurs me on haha

Tags: @irnbru32 @shuttlelauncher81 @mildlyhopeless @mentallynot-here @deadbranch @soapyghost @fluffysmiko @bangirl134 @mortallyscrumptiousmilkshake @boomtowngirl

If I've missed anyone, please let me know

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters - Only Tank, Luke, Dredd and Mckinley

Masterlist link here

_______________________________________

Kyle had belled your phone out for 2 days straight, but you didn’t know what to say to him. What could you say to him? You eventually had to answer him when his last voicemail threatened a call to your mum. Low blow Kyle.

“Hello?”

“Care to explain yourself?”

“What?”

“What do you mean what? Why did you leave? What the hell happened Tank?”

“Nothing Kyle, I just needed to head home early”

“Bullshit! I wake up Price looks like shit and I know he didn’t drink that much and your gone?Never seen Price look like that….he looked done in…what happened Tank?”

Price looked done in? He caused this, he made the call to stop whatever this was! You could feel your skin prickling now, you were getting angry.

“Kyle honestly nothing happened”

“Why are you lying to me? Was it to do with that Luke guy? Seen Price talking to him the morning you left, he didn’t look happy, he seemed a bit off with him in the pub too”

Oh god what had he said to Luke? You felt sick.

“Do you know what they were talking about?”

“Nahh couldn’t hear them…so it was to do with Luke?”

“No…well yeh Price took the funnies, saying he doesn’t know how it will work with me and him..”

“You and who? PRICE!? What?”

Shit.

“Noooo me and Luke! He doesn’t know how it will work between me and him, Luke thinks PRice is a Truck driver and I work in Logistics at the depot”

“Ohh right…oh I get what you mean now, thought you meant you and Price…”

You could hear the insinuation in his voice, Kyle wasn’t daft, but he played along for your sake.

“Anyway Ill see you soon…”

“Oh ok, il see you at base yeh?”

“Yeh, Thanks Kyle by the way don’t threaten me with calls to my mum you forget I have your mum’s number too”

“I wouldn’t have to make threats if you answers your dam phone! But you should call my mum she likes you better than me.”

********

It had been 2 weeks since the weekend away an 1 week at base. You had to get it together as your little squad of three now had two new members and the base was flooded with rookies from other teams. You recognised Simon or Ghost as he went by from years back when you were still a rookie yourself that and the obvious skull mask he wore. Johnny or ‘Soap’, however was a new face to you, not a bad looking one at that but you had a feeling he knew he was good-looking. He had watched you walk in with Kyle as if weighing you up and down. You could feel his eyes on you.

You had seen little of Price mainly because you were avoiding him. But that morning you had a training exercise an easy smash and grab two teams. You and a hand full of rookies had been paired with Ghost. Soap and Kyle the same.

Price shuffled a few papers about giving a quick glance round the room avoiding your line of sight. Kyle gave you a quick look he knew something still wasn’t right.

“Today is just a simple training exercise, so we can get a feel for each other's skill set see where we are at etc. A smash an grab job I’m sure your all familiar, so let’s not waste any time and gear up any questions?” He made his way out the door, not waiting for anyone to ask any.

You all exchanged looks an followed to the gear room.

*******

Ghost helped you with your tact vest, checking you over.

“All sorted kid” He slapped you on the back, nearly throwing your forward. You half smiled at Kyle, who was holding in a laugh, but then you noticed his eyes flick to something behind you and his expression changed. He rolled his eyes, that wasn’t like Kyle? You turned around. You wish you hadn’t instantly. Why? Why was she here? Why had he let her come here? Price was stood with Dr O’Brian, Helen. Was he taking the piss?

He had his hand on her cheek, giving her that eye-crinkling smile that would make any woman weak.

“John…enough Ill see you later tonight for dinner”

“No worries love, I'll see you then”

He placed a kiss on her other cheek, making her blush.

“Stop it you!” She faked a slap to his chest. The Rookies all burst out into wolf whistles and cheering. You stood still, your mouth dry, heart racing, anger crawling over your body, your jaw set tight, blood rushing in your ears, were you going red? Fuck.

Ghost brought you back down to earth.

“Tank? Are you ready?”

“Ye….yes…Yes Lieutenant!” You barked, taking him by surprise. You couldn’t look at Kyle, but you knew he was looking at you. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

The Training session started, but your mind was a storm cloud. He really hadn’t waited long had he? Bet she was round the next day! He probably didn’t even mean what he had said “It didn’t mean anything,it was a one-time thing!” One time thing my arse! Dickhead! You were raging, Soaps rookies didn’t stand a chance against you. They were simply in your way, God knows where Kyle was. Ghost was egging you on in your ear he was impressed, he hadn’t expected anything less from you however, he knew what you were capable of. You ploughed through them taking each room by storm your rookies struggling to keep up. As you came to the target room you headed in taking out two more rookies instructing yours to grab the main target.

“Slow down Tank, your getting too cocksure of yourself” Price had tuned into your channel. His voice an even tone.

Fuck you, you thought.

“With all due respect Captain, I know what I’m doing done enough smash an grabs to last me a lifetime”, you almost spat down the line, you caught a rookie looking at you as if you had gone mad.

No reply back. Just silence. Good. you thought that shut him up.

As you made sure the rookies had done their part, you made for the open window of the training house it was a 2 story abseil down. Easy you had done it hundreds of times. You wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. You motioned to go first attaching yourself to the line, but as you got about 8ft from the ground the line came away causing you to plummet the rest of the drop. The white-hot pain flooded your system. The wind knocked out of you you tried to claw your way onto your front, but your right shoulder wouldn’t support you, in fact it wouldn’t even move, you glanced over only to see it hanging down level with your chest, it had been dislocated. The pain was blinding, Ghost voice was in an out of your ear.

“Tank? What the fuck happened? Did you check the line before going down it?”

The line? The Line? As if you hadn’t checked the line, Price was going to love this. Fuck.

Kyle came into view as you felt yourself being scooped up from the floor mats.

“Kyle, slowly put her arm across her waist…eyes on me love” Ghost manoeuvred you so Kyle could do as instructed, as he did you let out a gut-churning scream. You would of rather taken a bullet again than this.

“Fuck sake Kyle!!!” You could feel the slight sting of tears. How pathetic you must of looked, cradled up crying in your Leuitants arms. Through your blurry vision, you spotted Price looking almost worried, but it must of been for only a split second as when your tears fell, clearing your sight he went back to looking pissed off. It took everything in Price not to take over you were in pain, he should be the one carrying you, consoling you not Ghost, but he had to take a backseat.

“Take her to see Dr.O’Brian…” He motioned Ghost to follow him.

No anything but that, you would rather Ghost try to pop it back in, shit you would rather be shot than see her, but you were in too much pain to even speak and as Ghost carried you to the med bay you wished you had just checked the line.

*********

“Oh deary me…what’s the matter with you?” Dr. O’Brian was rolling her eyes at you like you had scrapped your knee not pulled your shoulder out of its socket completely. Ghost answered for you like it was an actual question.

“Fell out a window, well abseiled down without checking the rig line…shoulders gone POP!” He even made a hand gesture.

“What you like? Not the first time you haven’t checked the rig, is it? John told me he always has to check your strapped in right” She glanced over at Price who was standing at the foot of the cot arms folded face stern. She was still talking to you like a child, you hated her sing-song voice. John told her? You wondered what else John had told her? Or better yet what he hadn’t told her…

“Anywho going to have to ask you a few routine questions before I can administer any strong pain relief I'm afraid, Keep on the gas and air while I do then we can give you the strong stuff”

You glupped on the air, taking it deep into your lungs and nodded.

“Okie dokie…On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being low 10 being extreme how would you rate your pain?”

You flared your nostrils was she being serious? Ghost answered for you again.

“Im gonna says she at a 10 Doc”

“Very well, are you taking any other medications?”

You shook your head.

“Any antidepressants or other pain relief?”

You took another deep drag of the gas and air shaking you head again.

“Any allergies?”

“Surely this in on file, Helen?” Price sighed he knew this was being dragged out, but he didnt know for who’s benefit.

“Let me check…. oh yeh it is, ok last few questions Tank…Are you Sexually active?” The room went silent, had she really just asked that? The bitch. You quickly glanced over at Price, who was looking at the ground. She had clocked it.

“Yes” you mumbled teeth clenched around the mouthpiece.

“Ok when was the last time you had sex?” Her face was like stone now, she was fishing for something, and you knew exactly what. So fuck it you thought, you’ll bite. You pretended to count in your head. Prices ear pricked up.

“A few weeks ago, maybe 3….” you took another big gulp of air as her eyes flashed she was doing the math in her head. She knew you were at Prices 3 weeks ago. Plenty of opportunities for you and him to go at it.

Price looked at you he knew you didn't mean him, so amused you meant Luke. Which was also not true. He looked slightly affected. Good. Let him think about that. Helen was writing down some notes on your chart, probably SLAG in big red letters!

“Ok last question, any chance you could be pregnant? Need to know before we give decide on what to give you” She had scrunched her face up into a fake smile, it was hideous.

“Nope, not pregnant, so can we get my shoulder popped back in and get me some strong pain relief?” You were getting lightheaded on the gas and air now and it was becoming harder to control your temper.

“Ok If you're sure you're not pregnant, we can give you some morphine, but you're going to have to go to the adjoining base as we don't have the supplies to pop it back in.”

Your eyes widened. She really was playing you now. Even Price was looking at her in disbelief.

“Fuckin hell Doc! All that an she still has to wait for transfer? Fuck that ere I'll pop it back in myself! Price hold her legs down” Ghost moved round to your shoulder as Helen jumped up.

“DON'T YOU DARE! I won't allow that! Not in my med bay you can drag her out and pop it back in elsewhere, but not in here!”

She had stepped in front of Ghost but had her eyes on Price, he was dead if he touched you. You and Ghost exchanged looks nodding in agreement. He stepped around her, leaning forward for you to place your good arm over his shoulder.

“Easy does it love, I'll carry you over my shoulder so you can dangle your arm, might be more comfortable, I'll get this popped back in no time.”

You took one last big drag of the gas and air, it had taken full effect now, you were still in pain, but your mind was swimming as Ghost lifted you over his shoulder, the tight grip of his huge hand on your inner thigh sent a shiver up your spine. He would destroy you, the guy was a mountain, but the thought still did laps in your brain. You let out a little giggle.

“You good love?” Ghost patted your backside with his other hand. It sent a shock through your system causing another chuckle you felt tipsy.

“Ready when you are L.T.” you were still giggling to yourself. O’Brian was in utter shock. Price was pinching the bright of his nose.

“Ghost, put her down…your not popping anything back in, she's going to the main wing, I'll call for transport…” He hadn’t even looked up. He couldn’t, seeing Ghost handling you like that wound him up, but he would never admit that.

“Noooooo fuck that Ghost don't you dare put me down, I want you…no in fact I demand you to pop it back in, let's do this battlefield style!” You were getting giddy now the gas and air making you a bit loopy. Ghost chuckled, patting your backside again. He could see the anger in Price’s eyes, he was still his Captain.

“Easy Love, think we are going to have to listen to the Captain on this one, but if we are ever out on the job and it happens again I’ll gladly sort you out” His words caused a little flurry in your stomach. What the hell?

“You can wait outside, take the Gas and air with you…” Helen was fuming she slammed the canister into Price.

“Wont she be better off lay down Helen while we wait?” Price was looking at her confused. She whipped her head back round.

“John she can lay, hang, sit, god she can even dangle from anywhere else other than in here I don't care…get the transport called for her to go to the other base” she handed him your tact vest an walked off. You were still on Ghost's shoulder, but could see him looking after her his brow furrowed, his lips slightly downturned. You felt a pang of guilt, deep down you still cared for him and your being here was making things difficult for both of you. You would never be able to go back to normal as it wasn’t even normal to begin with.

*******

“I'll see you when your back love” Ghost gave your leg a quick squeeze as they loaded you into the truck.

You knew he wouldn’t, you weren't coming back. It was a shame, Kyle would be fine…eventually, but you needed a change, you couldn't keep this up. You looked to Price, your eyes only meeting for a second, but it was enough, enough to cement your decision. You had both been kidding yourselves thinking this would work you were only hurting each other so you had to be the one to cut the rope that had you both hanging.

Price watched as they hooked you up to an IV, he had so many things he had wanted to say to you, one of them being sorry.

He decided he was going to have a talk with you when you got back, he wanted you to be happy he really did, but his pride had been hurt that night he saw you with Luke and he had turned to Helen to try and get you out of his head, but it had only buried you deeper.

There had been some truth in your words ‘how would it work between you and him?’ He reminded himself he was 15 years older and maybe you were better of with Luke he was closer in age to you at 32 and Helen to him at 38, but he didn't want to accept that and you needed to talk properly. Speaking of Helen he had seen a different side to her today and it didn't sit right with him, but maybe that was because of her attitude towards you. He couldn't help it, no matter how much you appeared to hate him he still wanted you by his side…it was where you belonged. As the van pulled away, he made his plan and you made yours.

*******

“Well I look forward to you joining us Tank, Squad 8 needs someone with your skill set and Dredd has told me your one of the best”

“Thank you Sir, I look forward to meeting the rest of the squad, it will be nice to work with Dredd again me and her go way back”

“I must say it was a surprise your transfer request coming across my desk? Straight from the top didnt even need approving from Price? Im sure the 141 will be losing a valuable asset…which im more than happy to take” Captain Mckinley winked as he reached over his desk to shake your hand.

“You sure Price won't miss you?”

“No…I'm sure he’ll manage Sir”

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ereardon · 1 year

Text

Friends Don't || Chapter 2

Summary: Bob Floyd has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly agreed to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late?

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC [Reid]

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, mention of doctors/illness/crashes, illusion to death, blood

WC: 2.1K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

“Got everything you need, Sunny?”

You turned around. Bob was standing in the doorway to your room, wearing a pair of blue striped pajama pants and a white t-shirt that hung off his lean frame. You smiled and nodded. “Think I’m good for the night at least.”

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you crossed your bare legs and looked around the room. It was a mess. You were waiting on the rest of your stuff to get shipped from your Brooklyn apartment where you had been living for the last eight months, so all you had were the two suitcases that you’d taken on the plane, now spread out on the ground, their contents spilled across the hardwood floors.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you said quietly.

Bob tipped his head. “Don’t have to thank me, darlin’. It’s your house now, too.”

It was a sweet little two bedroom house, only a fifteen minute drive from the beach. But it was sparsely decorated. Your room had just a bed and a dresser, no art, no rugs, no lamps. “What are your thoughts on letting me redecorate, in that case?”

He laughed. “What, you don’t like my style?”

“Bachelor chic? You’re about one step above a 20-something guy in Bushwick who has his mattress on the floor so that he’s closer to the Earth but the reality is that he has fifty dollars in his bank account so when he asks you on a date he takes you to his sweaty roof in July and plays shitty guitar music and tries to mansplain to you the difference between IPA and other beers.”

Bob raised an eyebrow. “Tell me you haven’t actually met guys like that.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve met every single kind of guy you could ever imagine.”

“Well, if my options are Brooklyn douche or you redecorate, by all means Sunny, do whatever you’d like with the place. I’ll leave my credit card on the kitchen table.”

You stood up and crossed the room. “No way. It’s on me. I want to do this for you. Make a nice house so one day you can have some lucky girl over and she won’t get the immediate ick when she sees that you still have gray sheets and brown towels.”

“What’s wrong with gray sheets?”

You shook your head. “Trust me, Bobby.”

“Sure, honey,” he whispered. You took one step closer, wrapping your arms around him. Bob immediately folded you into an embrace, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered. “Thank God you’re home safe.”

“Were you worried about me, Sunny?” he asked quietly, his low voice rumbling.

“I worry about you every fucking day,” you murmured into his chest. “When you’re flying and I don’t know where you are. When you’re on the ground somewhere far from wherever I am. All I can think about is the next time we’re going to talk. The next time I'll know for a fact that you’re safe. And then that call comes and I’m elated. But it has to end sometime, right? So when it ends, the second you hang up, I’m back to being worried about you.”

Bob pulled away, his hands folded into yours. “You worry too much, Reid. I’m always gonna be here for you. Always have been.”

How could he forget? There was a reason you were scared all the time. You had almost lost him to the skies once.

You were living in San Francisco and Bob was stationed out of Lemoore. It was the closest the two of you had ever lived since you graduated, four years prior.

That’s when you got the call.

“Reid Coleman?”

You sat up straight at your desk chair, looking out the window over Market Street. If you really craned your neck, you could see the Ferry Building. “This is.”

“I regret to inform you that Lieutenant Robert Floyd has been in an accident. You were listed as his emergency contact.”

“Oh my God,” you whispered, heart plummeting in your abdomen. “Is he OK?”

“He’s sustained injuries, ma’am,” the person on the other end of the line said.

You didn’t even register that the phone had fallen from your grasp until you heard it drop to the floor at your feet. You were out the door in a second, practically barreling down to the lobby of the building, fingers shaking as you tried to search for rental cars nearby.

The three-and-a-half hour drive went by in an instant, and it was the longest car ride you had ever been on. Every single second all you could think of was the fact that Bob could have died out there.

And that the last thing you might have said to him was that you hated him.

By the time you arrived on base it was dark. You barreled through the hospital doors, panting as you made your way to the nurses station. “Robert Floyd?” you asked, panicked.

“And you are?”

“His emergency contact.”

The nurse nodded. “Follow me.”

You trailed after her down the hallway, the clacking of your high heels on the linoleum floor the only noise in the sterile hallway.

She stopped in front of the door. “He’s intubated,” she warned you. “So he can’t speak.”

You nodded and she opened the door. But you weren’t ready for what you saw. Bobby, lying there on the bed, with a thick clear tube sticking out of his throat and mouth, taped to his lips, the whirring sound of the machines as they kept him alive. The way he practically blended into the white linens of the bed he looked so pale and fragile.

You collapsed onto a chair next to his bed, taking his hand, the one that didn’t have an IV in it, into yours, letting your salty tears fall onto his cold skin.

“Bobby,” you whispered, voice thick with tears and pain. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please, Bobby, come back to me.”

He stayed in a coma for three days. You spent nearly every waking moment at his bedside, watching him with bated breath, waiting for some semblance of life to overtake him because the boy lying there in that hospital bed was not your best friend. He was a stranger. He didn't look or feel at all like the boy you had come to love over the last seven years.

And then, on the third day, you heard a familiar voice.

“Sunny?”

It was dry and scratchy. That morning the doctors had taken out the intubation and said he was awake, and you had rushed over from the hotel. There were tears in your eyes as you bolted through the doorway to where Bob was sitting up in bed, his glasses settled on his nose, a slow pinkness coming back to his rounded cheeks.

You bent in half over the edge of the bed, sobs wracking your body, silent tears streaming down your face. Bob reached out one hand, softly patting your hair. “Honey, don’t cry.”

You pulled away, looking up into his familiar blue eyes. He had looked so small before, and that had terrified you. He looked like himself again. Like the Bobby who had picked you up and carried you halfway across campus when you accidentally stepped on a rusted nail and had to go to the ER. He looked like the Bobby who had dared you to go into the caves in Vietnam even though you were terrified of small spaces. He looked like the Bobby that you loved with every cell in your body.

He looked like your Bobby again.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.

“Never going to lose me, darlin’,” he murmured back.

You sniffled, gripping his hand.

Bob’s eyes widened after a moment. Then, “Wait. Where’s Denver?”

You raised your eyes to him, unable to say it but knowing that they could convey what had happened without words, and watched as your best friend fell apart right in front of you.

***

“OK Floyd, spill.”

“Spill what?” Bob asked, tossing down a hand of cards. Payback laid his cards down. Two pair. He grabbed the pile of chips in the middle of the table and slid them closer, stacking them up with his own poker chips.

“About Reid, Floyd,” Phoenix said, exasperated. “These two boneheads,” she pointed at Hangman and Rooster, “want to know if she’s fair game.”

“Hey!” Coyote pouted. “So do I.”

Bob shook his head as Fanboy dealt a new round of cards. “She’s not my girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So we can ask her out,” Hangman was practically salivating. “Cause she’s hot as fuck.”

Bob raised his head and glared at the blond. Hangman put his hands up in a defensive maneuver.

“Woah, chill Floyd.”

“She already turned you down, Bagman,” Phoenix chimed in.

“She didn’t turn down Rooster,” Payback pointed out. “Or should I call him Chicken Man.”

All eyes turned to Bradley, who took a sip of his beer. Then, “Never said I was gonna ask her out.”

Bob sighed, trading in three cards from the five card draw. “Sunny is an adult,” he said. “She can do whatever she wants. So Rooster, if you want to ask her out, you’re free to. It’s up to her if she says yes or not.”

Bradley nodded, tossing out one card, waiting for Fanboy to deal him a replacement. “Maybe I will.”

Bob pursed his lips, grabbing for his beer glass, taking a chug and then slamming it down. He didn’t realize how forceful he was until the glass shattered on impact in his hand, sending beer rushing over the table and down the sides. Everyone jumped up in a panic.

“Shit, baby on board, what the fuck?” Hangman called as he rushed to grab a roll of paper towels.

“I’m sorry,” Bob shook his head. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Come here,” Phoenix said, grabbing his arm and tugging him into the kitchen. She held his hand over the sink, pulling out a small splinter of glass from his palm, running the bloody hand under water. She doused it in soap and he winced at the sting.

“Thanks,” Bob said as Phoenix wrapped his hand in a clean dish towel in Hangman’s kitchen.

She looked up at him, knowingly. “You can say no to them, you know.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Phoenix sighed. “Yes you do. Reid. You don’t want those idiots to touch her.”

Bob grimaced. “She’s a big girl. If she wants to go out with them, she can.”

“Just admit it,” Phoenix said. “She is more than just your best friend.”

Bob’s blue eyes bore into hers. “Sunny is, and always will be, the love of my life. I’m just not hers.”

***

You looked through the sliding glass door to where Bob was carefully peeling an orange at the kitchen table, his eyes glued on the TV hanging over the mantle.

“Ms. Coleman, have you found a new physician in the San Diego area? If not, I can recommend one to you. But it’s imperative that you go in for new scans immediately.”

You sighed. “I’m working on it.”

“Ms. Coleman.” The voice on the other end of the line was hard. “This is no joking matter.”

“Don’t you think I’m aware of that?” you hissed.

“I’m going to email you a list of five physicians in the area.”

“They’re going to say exactly what you said,” you whispered.

“You need to get a second opinion. And either way, you need a local physician now that you’ve relocated.”

“Fine,” you said. “Send me the names.”

“Ms. Coleman?”

“Yeah?”

“Please make an appointment.”

You clicked off the phone and slid open the door. Bob had moved to the couch, one arm slung over the low back.

“Everything OK?” he asked.

You nodded, walking around the edge of the couch and settling into the spot next to him. Without even thinking, you leaned into Bob’s side, letting his arm fall around your shoulders, tucking you into his side.

“Sunny?” he asked softly. He read you like an open book. He could practically see the anxiety and tension radiating off of your skin.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, looking up at him with a small smile before resting your head against his thigh, lifting your feet onto the other end of the couch, lying down so that Bob’s hand was now firmly pressed against the dip in your side where your ribcage ended.

You closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar smell, letting yourself relax, feeling your heart rate slow.

“Everything is going to be fine,” you murmured.

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mummybear · 8 months

Text

My Brother's Best Friend - Chapter One - Unexpected Night

Words: 4079

Warnings: Swearing, Dirty Talk, Attempted Assault (Implied Sexual), Possessive Stiles, Protective Stiles, Grinding, Talk Of Marking, Protective Scott. Think that's it.

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Reader/Sadie McCall, Lydia Martin, Liam Dunbar, Allison Argent, Travis(OC)

Summary: Stiles Stilinski has always been your weakness, but since he was your brother's best friend you'd stayed away. When Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills fresh from his time in the FBI Academy something is very different about the boy you once knew.

A/N So hey guys! I know it's been a while hopefully this is the start of me getting back into my writing! We shall see. I really hope you guys enjoy this, any feedback is encouraged as always, and please let me know if you would like a tag as I update.

Chapter 1 - Unexpected Night

I can’t believe this goddamn party is still going on. I am far too drunk right now, I just want to sleep. However, as usual, my dumbass brother is too busy making out with his girlfriend. Don’t get me wrong, Allison is amazing, and I’m so happy for them. They had realised that they belonged together not long ago, after years of dating something happened. Scott didn’t explain it further than saying it was a wolf thing, that apparently I wouldn’t understand.

Mom always tells me never to go home by myself, however, right now I’m seriously considering it. I don’t even know why I came here tonight. It was stupid, they’re all his friends anyway, the great Scott McCall, I’m pretty sure people forget that I even exist. Not that I have any ill feelings towards him, he’s my brother, yes he might be a giant pain in the ass but all he’s ever done is protect me and look out for me.

If I’m honest with myself, I do know why I came here tonight, Stiles is here. He’s finally back from his FBI training, I hadn’t asked Scott too much about the situation, or how long he was back for. In fact I hadn’t even seen him yet.

Yes it’s one giant cliche. I have the world's biggest crush on my big brother’s best and oldest friend. I think I have since I was ten and Stiles was fourteen, I’ve been following them around for the better part of ten years. Before that I’d avoided them as much as possible. Then one day everything changed, as soon as I started hanging out with Scott and his friends, I finally felt like I fit in. I’m not sure what changed exactly, but whatever it was made it easier for me to become part of their group. Scott’s probably everything a big brother should be, and I know if he knew what I felt for Stiles he’d try and talk to me about it. Probably try and make me see what I’m already afraid of, that Stiles and I wouldn’t work.

Not really sure why I’m having these thoughts, probably has something to do with the fact that I’m drunk off my ass, in this random ass house. And while it may not be the best time for it, when I’ve been drinking my mind tends to wander.

After finally traipsing my way upstairs I find a bedroom, one that doesn’t really appear to belong to anyone, at least not permanently. Maybe it’s a spare room? People still have those, right? I close the door softly behind me. I’m unable to find a lock for the door, so I opt to just lay down for a minute or two, just to rest my eyes. I quickly climb up onto the bed and as soon as my head hits the pillow I let out a sigh of relief, finally giving in. I close my eyes, hoping that both the room and my head will stop spinning at some point soon. I can hear some kind of arguing going on behind the door, but I can’t bring myself to open my eyes, it feels like they’re being weighed down, I hadn’t had a drink in such a long time, but I don’t remember it ever hitting me like this before.

Suddenly there’s the sound of the door crashing open, as it bounces hard against the wall, before it slams closed again. I wince, feeling a throbbing in my head suddenly and manage to wrench my eyes open. However, they snap all the way open in fear as soon as I register the big body standing in the corner of the room. I can feel eyes on me as a tense silence settles over the room. Clearly he knows I’m awake, but he’s yet to make a move.

A sudden sickness overtakes me, when I hear Stiles on the other side of the door, quieter, but still audible, shouting my name, or his nickname for me. Mini or Mini McCall was the go to name for me among most of Scott’s friends. He sounds worried as he calls for me, and my head is so foggy that I can’t concentrate on anything, I can’t even tell if I’m imagining Stiles calling for me, why would he want to find me? He hadn’t so much as texted me since he’d been home, much less tried to see me or speak to me in person. It was strange, almost like he was avoiding me, even Stiles’s dad hadn’t seen him yet.

I clear my throat, testing out if I can speak or not, but the nerves are clear in my every word. “W-Who are you?” I manage to stutter out, my throat a little sore and my voice a bit hoarse.

“Don’t you worry about it, Doll. Just close your eyes, don’t worry about anything, I'll take real good care of you. Go back to sleep,” there’s a clear threat in that deep voice, one that makes me shudder.

I quickly sit up, doing my best to ignore the way the entire room blurs and moves once again. As I try to back myself into a corner, trying to make myself as small as possible. I know it’s stupid, but I also know I don’t stand a chance in hell of standing up right now, I’m scared and drunk off my ass, feeling like a fucking idiot for isolating myself in a freaking bedroom of all places, I should’ve just found Scott, or even Lydia.

He smirks at me as starts to walk closer and I can finally see his face. I don’t recognise him, but that isn’t really a shock, he’s definitely older than me, not sure if he’s older than my brother though. A sickness coats my throat just seeing the look on his face, the sick twisted grin. The door hasn’t stopped rattling since he stepped inside, so I keep my gaze fastened to it.

I’m hoping for a miracle, however unlikely it might be. He closes in on me until I can no longer see the door behind him, because this guy's huge hulking frame is blocking my view of anything but him. On instinct I close my eyes and hold my legs tighter, and I finally let out a scream.

“Stiles!” The scream sounds helpless and terrified as it’s ripped from somewhere deep within me, which makes complete sense, given the current circumstances.

He reaches for me, I can feel his large moist palm as he grips my knee squeezing roughly, trying to pry my legs down or apart, with enough force to leave a bruise. But before he can get too far, the door smashes open against the wall once more, revealing a much more welcome intruder. My heart thuds even harder in my chest, because the guy releases me in surprise and whirls around on my saviour.

I see him then, Stiles Stilinski in the flesh. And what flesh it is, he’s put on muscle lately. Muscle that could rival even that of my big brother, the true Alpha. But this guy is huge and I can see Stiles gulp from across the room, but his eyes harden as the flick between me and the guy who still has his hand firmly gripping my knee.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off of her!” Stiles shouts, taking another step into the room.

“Nah. Not gonna happen.” The guy states with a slimy grin, as his eyes slide over me, making me wish I was anywhere else.

“I said get the fuck away from her. What the hell is wrong with you?!” Stiles growls, stepping closer to this giant of a man. But I can only watch from where I sit, still paralysed with fear.

“Get over yourself, Stilinski, we were just gonna have a little fun. Stop being so hard up, go find your own pussy. This one's mine tonight, maybe I’ll let you have a go tomorrow. After I’ve used her up, such a pretty little body, bet she’s gonna feel real fuckin’ good.”

The words almost make me throw up, but my tongue feels swollen and I can speak. My eyes lock with Stiles for the first time in years as a tear slides down my cheek.

“I’ll make you fucking eat those words, Travis. The only thing you’re about to feel is my fist,” Stiles snarls, “take your fucking hands off of her.”

“Whose makin’ me? Your pansy ass?” Travis laughs, removing his hands and taking a few steps closer to Travis.

Suddenly those deep brown eyes draw me in like never before and my heart stills in my chest. This is the first time I’ve seen him in a few months. The FBI program has kept him so busy lately that we haven’t seen much of him. But still, I could swear there’s something a little different about him, other than his size, but there’s definitely something different about his eyes, something that I can’t quite place.

I can’t tear my gaze away, instead they fall to his lips and I shift uncomfortably where I sit, suddenly a growl tears through the room. My eyes widen and I look to the doorway behind Stiles, expecting to see my brother, but he isn’t there. I swallow thickly as my eyes automatically snap back to Stiles, and I see it, the flaring of his nostrils, the way his eyes are focused entirely on me, then I realise the sound could only have come from him. But he doesn’t share the same wolf affliction that my brother has, at least, not that I know of. How much has changed since I last saw him!

Stiles steps closer, body tense and unflinching. All traces of fear have disappeared from his face. Now he just looks furious, more so than anyone I’ve ever seen before.

“Mate.” Stiles snarls, shoving the guy as soon as he’s close enough, and to my utter shock and surprise the guy slams back into the wall with a crash, leaving behind an imprint of his giant body as he slides down the wall with a groan. Everything happens so fast, I don’t have time to analyse what the hell Stiles meant when he’d growled that one word. But I can’t help but shudder with excitement at the way my body responded.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps hammering up the stairs, and before I know it Scott has Stiles pinned against him, as Liam all but wrestles the other guy from the room.

“Stiles, you need to calm down, breathe buddy. ” Scott instructs calmly, his deep red Alpha eyes flaring to life, like they would when he’s trying to calm the other members of his pack. Something flits across my brother’s face as he relaxes his grip a little. Whatever it is, seems to register with Stiles that other than my brother we’re alone in the room and safe once again.

His body goes completely lax and Scott releases the tight band he’d been holding around his best friend. I can’t help but stare as Stiles staggers towards me. Safe to say I’ve sobered up in the last five minutes.

“Can one of you tell me what the hell just happened here?” Scott asks carefully, but I can’t take my eyes off of Stiles.

“Just give us a minute, Scott. I, um, I think I should talk to Stiles.”

I hear my brother huff out a breath before he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

“I’ll be back in ten if you’re not downstairs before then, we’re going home.” He calls through the door. Then the door opens again and Scott smiles at us both, “oh and thanks for having my sister's back, buddy.”

Stiles turns towards the doorway with a slight smile as his eyes lock on his Alpha, “Always, Scotty, you know that. We won’t be long.”

I finally let myself relax a little when the door closes. Stiles crawls on the bed and sits in front of me. He rests his hand over the reddened skin on my knee, and lets out another quieter growl. “I’m gonna fucking kill him. He won’t ever touch anyone ever again.”

“Hey, I’m okay,” I whisper, resting my hand on top of his, “you saved me.”

He runs a shaking hand through his thick hair and his eyes lock with mine once more.

“I should’ve been here. I’m supposed to protect you, I’m so fucking sorry, Mini. If that sick fuck had touched you…” He sounds so defeated and my heart squeezes at his words.

“You got here in time, you’ve always had my back. This time wasn’t any different, except maybe that,” you giggle slightly, as you nod toward the dent in the wall.

He shifts closer to me and drops his forehead against mine, letting out a contented sigh. I let my eyes slip closed for a second. For once I give myself the freedom to enjoy the closeness, I open my eyes again and those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes are focused on mine. I lick my lips and feel the shuddered breath that escapes his lips.

Ever so gently he reaches out and his thumb brushes my bottom lip.

“You’re so fucking beatiful. Please tell me you feel this, Mini, because you smell so damn good, I don’t know If I’m strong enough to stay away.”

I swallow thickly as his nose nudges mine gently, my entire body practically vibrating with need.

“Y-Yeah, I feel it,” I reply quietly, scared that if I talk too loud this dream will end, I don’t dare to tell him just how long I’ve felt these things though.

“Then we should probably talk. Because I need to tell you some things before this goes any further,” he replies, voice hoarse and strained, like it’s painful for him to speak these words. But then he goes to pull away and all my instincts go into overdrive, and I finally give in to what I want, I clamp onto him and don’t let go.

Nor do I fight the need to keep him close to me. Right where he belongs. My fingers push into his thick hair and I gently tug him back towards me, just those last few millimetres. Until his lips brush mine ever so briefly. He doesn’t even try to fight me, and I can feel the shudder that runs through his entire body when I push him back and straddle his lap, wrapping my legs around his waist. I think there’s some kind of trick of the lights because I could swear there’s this purple glow in his eyes for a few seconds before they settle back on brown. But I push the thought away for now, and press myself a little closer. So that every part of our bodies is connected.

“Tell me later, please Stiles, I need this.” I hope I don’t sound as desperate as I feel, Stiles doesn’t move, but I hear how hard he swallows, almost like a gulp as he lets his eyes slip closed. Following his lead I let my own eyes close when his hand cups my cheek, the other hand slips somewhere much less innocent. When he cups my ass his long fingers curl and he squeezes slightly, letting out a groan of pleasure when I grind down against the obvious hardness pressing against me.

Suddenly his lips are on mine, insistent and urgent, and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Our lips are in perfect sync, and a shudder rolls through me when his tongue nudges my lips, seeking permission that I happily and easily grant. I’m rocking my hips in a steady rhythm now, and the kiss grows deeper, his fingers dig harder into my skin as he urges me to keep moving.

Holding me as close as he physically can against his body, Stiles sits up, turning us so that my back hits the mattress and he’s hovering above me. He breaks our kiss and I gasp for breath as he drags his lips across my cheek and down into the crease of my neck. He groans as he inhales deeply, “smell so good. My mate. Just wanna mark you up, make you mine the right way.” His voice vibrates against my skin and I shiver as he laps at the soft skin of my neck.

Confusion sweeps through my lust-addled brain at his wording.

“What do you mean?” I ask breathlessly, more confused about his words than I’d care to admit.

Pulling back to meet my eyes he smiles, and ducks his head looking a little more like the Stiles I remember. I cup his cheek gently, urging him to look at me again.

“This is why I said we should talk. I can’t do what I need to. Not without you knowing what you’re letting yourself in for. I’m not the same man I was the last time I saw you, something happened, I just…I don’t know how to begin to explain this.”

It hurts me that he sounds so defeated already, almost like he’s worried about what he has to tell me.

“Don’t you know by now, nothing you tell me will change how I see you,” I tell him honestly, pulling him closer so his body is pressed against mine, and he finally lets some of his weight rest on me.

“I wanna believe you, but I’m scared. This is huge, and I can’t let anyone down, but especially you, I can’t lose you. Especially not now I know what you are to me, not now I’m so close.”

Before I can ask what he means there’s a hesitant knock on the door, before it slowly creaks open. Liam stands there, watching us sheepishly for a few seconds before Stiles growls at him, I can’t help but frown as I look up at my protector. But then I see it again, the purple in his eyes.

The gasp falls from my lips unintentionally and as soon as it does Stiles snaps his gaze towards me. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, his fingers tightening their hold on me and I can only stare up at him.

“Liam, get the fuck out. Now!” Stiles snarls.

“But, Scott said…”

Stiles is off the bed before I can react, when I do finally open my eyes I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Stiles has Liam pinned to the wall by his throat. And Liam is trying to get free, but he’s stuck fast. I can’t help but wonder, how the hell is that possible!

Mouth agape I watch as my brother’s Beta looks over at me, “little help here, mini. Calm your man down, please.”

My man? I inwardly ask myself, we’ve fooled around for all of 5 minutes and suddenly he’s mine. While I can’t fight the pleasure at hearing those words, I also can’t help but fight the confusion, maybe he wants me to calm Stiles down so he doesn’t have to hurt him.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask nervously, looking between the two of them.

Stiles gives a final squeeze before dropping Liam and racing to me, covering me with his body.

“Don’t you dare fucking look at her!” Stiles snarls, his arms shaking as he holds himself above me. “Tell Scott we’re coming and leave now!” Stiles warns in a low commanding voice that sends shivers racing across my body as he carefully tugs my skirt back into place.

I can’t deny the pulse between my thighs, even as I clamp them shut, and the whimper that falls from my lips causes Stiles to stiffen. Before he’s off the bed, practically throwing Liam further down the hallway when he doesn’t move by himself, slamming the door behind him. Before he turns back to me.

“God, please tell me you know what you just said,” Stiles rasps as he pulls me up off the bed and hauls me against his hard body.

“I don’t… what do you mean?” I ask, frowning in confusion, as I try to search his eyes for an answer. I hadn’t said anything… had I?

Stiles whimpers like those words cause him some kind of pain. He shakes his head, running his fingers through the thick mass of hair before tugging at it harshly. I want to comfort him but I don’t know how. Hell I don’t have a clue what the fuck is happening right now.

“We can’t do this. Not right now.” His words sound harsh and bitter, no matter how softly he speaks them.

I stumble away from him, confusion and hurt lancing through me like an actual weapon. I know there’s a reason for this, but it doesn’t hurt any less, doesn’t feel any less like rejection either. Tears fill my eyes, it’s irrational and I don’t feel even remotely in control of my emotions right now, but I can’t stop it, maybe i’m still drunk. Though it doesn’t feel like that’s it. Stiles steps towards me again and I step back, “no, no. Please, Sadie, I want to. But not until you know everything! I swear to you, whatever you’re thinking, we can talk about it. Please, Mini, just trust me.”

Hearing my real name on his lips is so strange, but I can’t deny that I really like hearing him say it.

I feel myself giving in, because as much as it hurts to have him turn me down, he's still one of the best people in my life. And despite myself, I’ve been in love with this pain in the ass longer than I can even remember, he’s yet to let me down in a real way. Letting out a sigh, I know it’s best to give him the chance to explain.

“Fine. Then let’s talk.”

He swallows thickly, as I watch him carefully. Pretty sure I’m not going to like the next thing that comes out of his mouth. He looks nervous and twitchy.

He winces before he even speaks, “I’m sorry. But not here, let’s go home, there’s too many ears here. I swear I’ll tell you everything as soon as we’re safe,” he all but begs, holding out his hand for me.

Pushing away any and all doubts, I take his hand. Watching as he visibly relaxes and pulls me closer to him.

“Thank you, I promise, I’ll make this up to you,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to my inner wrist. Yet another shiver ripples through my body at the contact that I can’t control.

He keeps me tucked into his side as we leave the room, careful to touch as few people as possible while we walk. When we finally make it outside, Scott’s waiting with the rest of the pack. Stiles looks reluctant to get in the car, judging by the way Liam forces his body closer to the opposite door Stiles’ look had been less than friendly.

He slips inside and I can’t help but squeak in surprise as he hauls me inside with him, not into my own seat but so that my back is tightly pressed against his front, and his arms band protectively around my waist.

“Dude. Come on! Not in my car, she’s still my little sister. Damn,” Scott groans, locking eyes with Stiles in the rear view mirror.

Stiles seems to consider his words before he reluctantly relents, moving to the middle seat before he gently eases me into the seat as far away from Liam as humanly possible. Keeping a hand firmly planted on my thigh, huffing like a petulant child, I can’t help but giggle. It’s almost like he can’t stop himself from touching me. His long fingers tightly curl around my leg, almost like he’s afraid someone will take me from him if he lets go. Taking a deep breath I tentatively slip my fingers between the gaps in his, gently squeezing them, hoping to offer even a little comfort, those big brown eyes jump to mine and he visibly relaxes into the seat.

I look up and catch my brother’s eyes. I can’t work out the look on his face, for the first time since we were kids, I can’t tell what he’s thinking and for some reason that only makes me even more anxious.

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