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loveindefinitely · 3 months

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༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

07 — DISTANT MEMORY I USED TO KNOW

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

Quickly switching to the main channel once more, you go to report the status of your target, when black consumes your vision.

Pain sparks in the back of your head, your head unnaturally twisting to the side as you fall to your knees, forehead colliding with the harsh concrete as all of the oxygen within your lungs leaves you in one thick swoop.

“Sweetheart?! Sweetheart, what’s your status?!” You can hear Price barking out through the comms, but all you can see, hear, feel, is the sparks in the darkness behind your eyes, the cool, rocky surface of the ground on which you lay. That, and the all-consuming ache your body’s become.

Your hand claws at the floor, an attempt to right yourself, but the very new feeling of a boot’s sole presses against your skull, crushing your cheek between it and the rocks.

“Now it’s clear why you got Colonel,” a nasty, nasally voice spits out from above you. Above? Beneath? You can’t tell, not with the world spinning, not with everything within you falling apart at the seams. “Thanks for confirming what we all knew.”

Even with your centre of gravity out of whack, your words never seem to fail you. “That your,” you suppress the urge to vomit everywhere from the onslaught of nausea, “Commander’s a bad lay?”

The man’s – a Shadow’s – boot presses further against your skull, and you can’t stop the pained groan that falls from your bloodied lips. When you cough, you can hear the red liquid splatter across the floor. He laughs, coldly, unamused.

“No. That you’re a filthy whore who slept her way to the top,” he seethes, and your chest heaves with every intake of breath.

“Real. Fucking. Original,” you manage to grit out, through every flash of pain in your head. Your stubbornness was going to get you killed. Right now, even, maybe.

…Hopefully not.

Struggling to open one eye, you manage to allow yourself a small sliver of vision. You know where your small, hand-held pistol sits, hidden beneath your vest. If you can distract him well enough, all you’d need is one shot.

He grinds the heel of his boot into the nape of your neck, and you find yourself hacking up even more blood. Not a good sign.

“How does a combat medic even make it to Colonel?” He continues, sneering, ignoring your grunts of pain and frequent squirming. “Was your pussy that good?”

“Jealous, Corporal? Wanted his small prick up your ass instead?” You goad, every word a struggle to get out, but worth it nonetheless. He doubles down, looking up to the roof to calm himself down with shaky breaths.

The short, two second window allows for you to slip a trembling hand into your vest, grab a hold of the small pistol, raise it, and pull the trigger.

Your eyes flutter shut once more as the revolting feeling of a corpse on top of you has you freezing up. You can’t even check for more threats, not with every nerve ending in your body feeling as though they’ve been frayed, the truest form of torture you’ve ever experienced.

It’s then that you fall into a state of limbo. A grey area, an unknown, a state of something that can only be described as a loss of self. The crash you’d been anticipating. A pain-induced one, maybe?

“Love! Love, shit, fuck, hey, hold on!”

In the floaty, intangible abyss you find yourself floating in, you’re unsure if the words are even spoken in reality. If they’re just a figment of your imagination, a taunt, a way for the gods to mock you before you fall into their clutches.

Graves escaped, the thought comes to you through your haze, as what feels like phantom hands clutch the nape of your neck and your hip, an alarm bell ringing through the blankness of it all. He’s free. He survived.

You will never belong again.

“Ghost Team, I have Sweetheart, she’s in pretty bad shape,” the words are more certain, this time, your consciousness slowly coming to. You think someone’s carrying you against their chest, a potent smell of cinnamon and gunpowder surrounding you that has you instinctively curling in closer to the source. “We need exfil, now!”

You think you let out a small whimper from the confusion, the agony of it all, because the person holding you shushes you with a soft sound and tightens their grip around the back of your head, squeezing your outer thigh. A princess carry, then.

Attempting to open your eyes, the instant light that floods them has you burying your head into a chest, the fabric blocking your vision. It, too, has that distinct, comforting smell.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart, I got ya.”

…Gaz.

Gaz is the one holding you, the one carrying you to exfil, the one who, embarrassingly, saved you. Out of the four of them, you suppose you were grateful it was him that had seen you passed out. A body on top of you.

Oh. God.

“What,” you croak, your voice broken and throat sore, “What. I – are we safe?”

“You’re safe with me, love. Won’t let anything bad happen to ya. You probably have a concussion so imma need you to stay awake for me, yeah?”

But sleep. It sounded so nice. You haven't slept since. Since you met them all. Since everything, since your life got ruined.

Whatever he says next goes unheard. Whatever pleas are made.

You let slumber take you in its icy grip.

“It’s a myth, ya knob. Only gotta wake ‘em up every few hours.”

“Brushed up on ya first aid knowledge to impress her? Real smooth, Soap.”

“The two of you – quit it. She’s wakin’ up.”

“Great.”

“You shut your mouth too, Simon.”

With a small groan, you try your best to gauge your surroundings. You’re moving, that much you’re sure of – by the thrum of the engine in your core and the distant whirring, you’re in a helicopter.

You think your head’s resting in someone’s lap – a hand in your hair, stroking against your scalp, soft and sweet.

Eyes fluttering open, you quickly adjust to the neon lights of the roof, finding yourself face to face with Gaz. So, you figure, you’re in his lap, his hand in your hair. He’s good, you think distantly, a proper damn masseuse.

His brows are furrowed, bottom lip forming a small pout as he glares at who you gather is Soap to your left.

When he looks down, however, a grin quickly replaces the expression and the hand in your hair starts rubbing smooth circles into the base of your skull. If this is what Heaven is, you suddenly understand man’s desire to reach it.

“There we are,” he smiles, voice lower and smoother. “Sleepy head.”

You shoot him the world’s weakest glare. He, dutifully, doesn’t comment on its lacklustre effect. “I promise. I don’t usually have to get saved,” you petulantly point out, but the edge is dulled as Gaz continues to play with your hair. And that intoxicating cinnamon seems to have you on a leash.

“Didn’t think you did,” he reassures, and you accept the confirmation with a steady breath.

You try and pull yourself up, using your hands to do so, when a soaring pain through your left shoulder has your breath hitching and your head falling back into Gaz’s lap. It’s only then that you realise that someone’s got your bent legs in theirs, too, and when you try and get a look, you see it’s Price.

“Try not to use that arm,” Price jerks his chin to your aching arm. “You got grazed.”

It hits you, all at once, what has just transpired. What you failed to do.

“He escaped,” you croak, looking up to the ceiling even when it starts spinning. “I tried to take him down. I did. But. He escaped, I’m…” you swallow, a heavy thing, “Sorry.”

“Hey, no, lass,” Soap chimes in, and with a secure hand at your non-wounded shoulder, Gaz helps you sit up, head resting against his shoulder, “Dinnae ken why yer sorry. It was one against ten.”

Your head pounds, a relentless rhythm, and when you look down, it’s to find Price’s hand fall onto your thigh and give a comforting pat. When you turn to him, he gives you a small smile. “You did good. We have to finish up another loose end, but we’ll take you to the nurse on base –”

“I want to go,” you interrupt, sitting up straighter with a small wince. It’s a small helicopter, obviously meant just for the 141, with bolted metal as far as the eye can see. “I can’t. I have to be useful.”

“No.”

The final member, the worst one, the man seemingly out to get you.

Ghost.

“What do you mean, no?” You quip, shooting daggers at the man who sits beside Soap on the other side of the chopper.

“Did the concussion give you hearing loss?” He asks, cold, and you feel as though you’re buzzing with energy, “Or do you just hate hearing the word no? We don’t need you on this mission.”

“Didn’t realise you were taking over the duties as Captain,” you grit, your headache increasing tenfold, even with Gaz’s hand at the base of your nape a soothing presence, “How does Price feel about his Lieutenant’s new role?”

Both you, and Ghost, shoot a look to Price. He unknowingly tightens his grip around your thigh.

“We can discuss this on base,” he commands, allowing no room for argument. “We head for Chicago in two hours.”

Your brows furrow. “Chicago? Why?”

Soap’s smirk is dirty, excited as he simply says, “We talked to a… friend. She gave us the information we needed.”

“Information for what?” You ask, narrowing your eyes, leaning further against Gaz as more pain shoots through your body. He doesn’t say a word about it.

“Graves didn’t tell you…?” Gaz asks, looking down to you with barely concealed shock.

You look around at the four men. “What? What’s going on?”

“The last missile,” Price folds his hands together, leaning forward to meet your eyes with serious blue. “We’re heading to Chicago to dismantle the last missile.”

“There we go, doll. Right as rain.”

The woman gives you a kind smile, securing the bandage around your arm, the disinfectant and tape underneath it along with the shot of morphine she’d given you easing the pain. She pulls off her latex gloves, a ring adorning her wedding finger.

“Thank you…” You trail off, not seeing a name badge on the nurse.

She places her hand on your good shoulder and gives you a soft squeeze, her smile warming. “Sarah. My name’s Sarah. I’d say that I’ll see you around, but… I hope not.”

You let out a laugh, and she lets out her own chuckle.

Sarah’s gorgeous, with dark features, black hair cut short to her head, graceful in her movements. A gold necklace rests on her collarbone, the pendant in the shape of a K.

The 141’s base is, well, almost exactly how you’d imagined it. Busy, well-stocked, off the grid.

Gaz and Soap had been lenient to leave you in the Med Bay by yourself, but Price and Ghost had made them haul ass to the conference room. You were all running on a very tight ship, time seeming to fall through your grasps with every breath you took.

“Thank you, again, Sar–”

“Colonel?” Turning where you sit on the white, hospital-issued bed, your confusion doubles when you see a woman you don’t recall having met before. She seems kind, motherly, almost, but steely in a way that only came with being in Special Ops.

“Hello to you too,” Sarah rolls her eyes, and you watch as the stranger looks to the nurse, her expression immediately easing into something loving.

“Hey, love,” the blonde woman says, pressing her lips to Sarah’s cheek, before pulling back and watching you.

“Who are you…?” You ask, feeling bad for ruining what seems to be the couple’s greeting. But also. You just got here, and couldn’t be expected to understand everyone and everything on base.

Inclining her head in a small apology, the woman extends her hand to you, which you take with a firm grip.

“Kate Laswell, Station Chief,” she greets, and recognition sparks in the back of your mind. This was the woman that had found out about Shepherd and Graves’ off the books treason. It feels as though a rock has gotten stuck in your throat as you pull away, not breaking eye contact. “You want to come on this mission? You’ll be with me.”

You immediately look to Sarah, expecting her to object, as a normal nurse probably would.

Instead, she just gives you a cryptic, knowing look. “I know how you soldiers work. If I tell you to rest, it’ll just give you more of an incentive to get yourself shot again.”

Your smile is the brightest it’s been in years.

“What’s our role?” You ask, standing up from the bed with the smallest of winces. Morphine has its limits, you suppose. Sarah starts cleaning up the supplies, and when Laswell encourages you to walk beside her with a hand at the dip of your back, you do just as much.

“We’ll be locating the missile,” she explains, low as the two of you walk through the crowded hallway. Her hand doesn’t leave its position on your back, and you’re grateful. “And you’ll be telling me everything you can about Graves and the Shadows.”

You fall into pace beside her, embarrassed by the difficulty of the task. Sarah had said you’d suffered a minor concussion, and a pretty hefty cut on your temple which she’d patched up as best she could. Being a combat medic, you knew most of your diagnoses anyway, but it was nice having it cemented by the kind woman. The bullet graze was at risk of infection, and a general pain in the ass, but it was durable with the tending in Med Bay.

“I’m surprised the boys aren’t the ones interrogating me,” you jest, more of a seeking for reason than anything. Why would they have Laswell do the talking, when they seemed so… interested?

She shoots you a look – a mystery for you to uncover. “Price told me that you mentioned a… questionable difference in authority and age. Gaz said just as much, and while they may be brutes,” she smiles to herself, telling of her history with the team, “They’re good men. Think they’re looking out for you.”

The only person, in hindsight, who had ever looked out for you was your mother.

You blink away the burning in your eyes, swallowing, before adjusting your smile once more. “I think they’re… wary of me, more like it.”

Her brows shoot to her hairline. “You don’t think that Gaz finding you unconscious with a dead Shadow atop of you cemented your allegiance? The two Sergeants haven’t shut up about you since they arrived. Only stopped talking when Price threatened them.”

“He threatened them?” you choke on a shocked laugh, getting lost in how… nice it is, talking to another woman. How safe, how it feels like you have someone to trust. The 141, you think you can trust them, but there’s something so different in the camaraderie of women. The inherent safety you feel with one in a position such as herself, that niggling in the back of your mind gone.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she looks to you with a smug grin, pushing open the back exit of the compound with a nudge of her shoulder. The wind slashes against your face, a strand blowing into your mouth, making you wince and spit it out.

“Fucking hate that,” you mutter, Laswell immediately quipping, “The worst.”

You think you and Laswell are going to get along quite well.

“Fuck, Sweetheart, there ye are!” A now all too familiar Scottish lilt calls, stood with the rest of the 141 by two helicopters. You stand across the field, but you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face when both him and Gaz come bounding over, Gaz adorning what appears to be a wetsuit underneath his standard uniform.

Bulky arms wrap around your waist, and you find yourself being lifted off of the ground, Soap pressing you against him with a strong hug. A surprised giggle leaves your lips, and you see Gaz stop just in front of you both, hands on his hips.

“She’s still injured, you dolt,” Gaz goads, and Soap responds by squeezing you harder.

“Aye, that she is,” Soap grunts, letting you down a touch gentler as you find your footing once more. He smirks. “But… She still owes me one for that dirty move back in Las Almas.”

You playfully punch at his shoulder. “Wasn’t patching you up enough? Not leaving you for dead?”

“I don’t seem to recall…” He trails off, his dimples deepening when you punch him again, harder this time.

“Good to see you up and ready to go.” The wind whistles through your ears, the near-dusk light brushing you all in sensual blues as you meet the Captain’s affirming grin.

Even when you try and flatten your mouth into an authoritative line, the smile seems unable to leave your face. You fold your arms. “I seem to remember you all wanting me dead or nowhere near you, just a day ago.”

Gaz raises his hands in defence, teeth on display as he swings his arm around your neck, pulling you in. “Don’t group me with ‘em. Trusted you the moment I saw you.”

“And who’s to say we still don’t want those things?”

Right. Ghost.

Laswell, standing behind you all, seeming to cast her calculative gaze over the five of you, narrows her eyes at the Lieutenant at the exact same time you do. “If you can’t play nice with the Colonel, Ghost, we can and will swap you out.”

That has you instantly ready to protect the woman’s six.

“Someone seems to recognise my rank,” You look to Laswell as Gaz unravels his arm from around your shoulders, and the woman simply shrugs, hands in her vest’s pockets.

“I just recognise another woman deserving of her power when I see one,” she says, and you might’ve proposed at that very moment if it weren’t for her wife just a few doors away.

“Sergeants, Lieutenant, go ahead and check over the supplies. I’ll catch up in a moment,” Price orders, and when both Gaz and Soap go to answer back, he raises a hand, raises his brow, too. “That wasn’t a request, boys. Go.”

They do just as much, both Gaz and Soap waving back at you as they jog back over to the helicopters.

Just you, Price and Laswell then.

“Kate, a minute.”

…Or, well, just you and Price.

Leading you with a hand on your elbow, Price pauses by a quiet section of the base’s wall, looking around you for any stragglers. Not seeing any, he moves both his hands to rest on your shoulders.

“The deal we made,” he begins, and it’s like a blow to your side. You lift your chin, straighten your posture, clench your jaw. “We – I would like it to extend until Graves is officially KIA. If we can plan a takedown properly, not rush it as much, we can do it. But it’s only right if you do it right alongside us.”

He subconsciously squeezes your flesh, but it’s a grounding motion, one you find necessary.

This feels like more than just that. This feels like an offering – a sense of stability for your foreseeable future. A way for you to find your feet, with a community, a support system to help you restart this path your life has diverted to.

“Yes,” you say, earnest, eyes not straying from Price’s for a single moment. “Yes – thank you.”

“I’d argue that we get the better end of the bargain,” Price mutters, and it’s so quiet and human that you think you might’ve imagined the words. You go to push, ask what exactly he means by that –

“Captain! Hassan has entered the building!”

He breaks eye contact, finally, and your eyes catch on his profile in the night of dusk – the slope of his nose, the angles of his jaw.

He is, all things considered, a beautiful man.

Your heart thunders, and you pull away, his hands falling from your frame like weights. With a small, delicate smile, you raise your hand to your head in a faux-salute.

“Good luck, Cap.”

His responding smile is softened by the dreaminess of it all, the light, the nervous buzz in the air. He raises his own hand, then, a mocking of your movement.

“See you on the other side, Sweetheart.”

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author's note. i have TWO very specific. but huge. plot twists thatll happen WAY later in the fic. im very curious if anyone can guess em before hand! both of which HAVE been hinted at. a part of me hopes that you guys miss it!! :p

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khaosrealms · 6 months

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YUE LAO’S BLESSINGS / saying i love you— as if urged by the gods themselves.

KUNG LAO:

“I love you” for Kung Lao comes out as a laugh, a chuckle, deep in his chest, his arms wrapped around your shoulders. Kung Lao speaks “I love you” with every ounce of young, dumb love and affection he can muster— into your ear as he spins you around. Wrapped in his strong arms, laughing alongside him. “I love you!” Kung Lao howls out before a crowd and bellows when you explode with color, speaking it as truly as he feels it.

RAIDEN:

“I love you” is ritual for Raiden. Sacred, private. He speaks it between quiet, slow kisses, hand in your lower back, fingers through your hair. “I love you” is every bit as warm as it is electrifying from Raiden; only for your ears to hear, only for your heart to relish. His heart in his sleeve, for you to clutch onto when crossing a puddle, for you to hold. “I love you, forever and always.” Raiden whispers as a prayer; and you feel it in every kiss he gives you after.

BI-HAN:

“I love you” is the greatest sin Bi-Han has ever committed, the deepest regret, the most forbidden weakness. As if rage, the worst and truest emotion, is the only thing that can surround it. “I love you” exists so far in the back of his throat that he forces it down your’s with every kiss, with every groan. Keeps it between your mouths so no one besides you and himself can hear it; not the world, not the skies, you and him alone. “I shouldn’t love you.” Bi-Han strangles out of himself, holding it to you, and chokes it out to never be heard again.

MILEENA:

“I love you” is the most free thing Mileena has ever spoken. It is a bird, untethered from a leash or chain, uncaged, unconquerable. “I love you” feels every bit as right as your touch, as your kiss, as your embrace and pace. Mileena speaks it with strength, with passion; powerful as a pillar, as deep as the ocean. “I love you so much.” Mileena presses against your lips and presses again and again, so nothing in the world could part you two again.

#mortal kombat x reader #mk1 imagines #mk1 headcanons #kung lao x reader #bi-han x reader #mileena x reader #raiden x reader #khaosrealms #i had to do this or else i would die #which MEANS….#u can request #some more folks if u want 👀🫣#yue lao imagine

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anincompletelist · 3 months

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[ vol i | vol ii | vol iii | vol iv ]

happy january friends! :D

there have been a crazy number of wonderful fics that I have had time to catch up on this month, and I've saved a few for next month's rec as well!

as always, please remember to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed the fic or show support in other ways, and be kind! mind the tags and if you come across something you dislike, please kindly (and quietly) move on.

this turned out to be a bit of a long one! I hope everyone has had a wonderful start to the new year so far, and happy reading y'all! <3

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kitchen confidential | @dumbpeachjuice | T+ | 4k

The NDA is approximately a mile long. “Jesus fuck,” Alex splutters. “What, is their favourite film The Menu or something? Am I gonna come out of this one alive?” [Or, the one where Alex is hired to cater a private dinner party for Prince Henry and his friends, and it does not go as he expects.]

Newton's Fourth Law | dilfpickles | E | 26k

In which Alex meets his new very attractive roommate through Reddit, downloads Grindr, and discovers some things about himself and his roommate in the process.

Knowing me, knowing you | phlebotinxm | E | 8k

It wasn’t like the thought crept up on him by surprise. It had come in waves, like white salty water spread upon the shore and leaving little bits of foam and dust for people to see, like an idea Henry couldn’t quite shake that seemed to bleed into every era of their lives. It stayed at the back of his mind as he got up in the morning, and pulsed against his temple when he fell asleep. [In which, upon discovering something he’d never imagined about his father, Henry realizes that he is ready to take the next big step in his and Alex’s relationship.]

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers | @kiwiana-writes | E | 5k

“That floor doesn’t look like it’s very comfortable on your knees, is all.” Henry leans forward, scooping out a piece of brownie that got under the counter, somehow. “I wouldn’t worry about that—my knees are quite used to it, I assure you.” A ringing silence follows this pronouncement, during which Henry focuses very hard on opening a trap door directly into hell with the power of his mind. [Or, five times Henry puts his foot in his mouth in front of his customer crush, and one time he puts his dick in his customer crush's mouth instead doesn't.]

The Consequences (Of Our Actions) series | @anchoredarchangel | E | 78k+

"I sort of came out as bisexual to both Nora and myself when we were watching that fucking snoozefest of a Royal Wedding years ago, and I told her with no hesitation that you were on my list.” Suddenly, Henry looks very present in this previously one-sided conversation, eyes boring into him even if he sounds a little choked as he clarifies, “I was on-” “My No Consequences sex list,” Alex confirms brazenly, “Yeah." [Or: During an inadvisable spot of dating years back, Alex and Nora made a game out of making extensive lists of celebrities they could hook up with without it being cheating. One breakup and several years later, Alex meets someone on his list for the very first time at a charity gala and decides it's appropriate to tell him all about it.]

Burnt Offering | justice fortheJ14magazine | G | 9k

He just needs to get through washing his hair. Simple. Except washing his hair has never been simple. It’s the polar opposite, actually. The more he thinks about the task set out in front of him, the more daunting and impossible it feels. His limbs feel like lead and the weight of the hot water pouring over him makes his head buzz. But Alex can do this. He’s done it before. A shower after a long lacrosse game or that one time he had the flu and had to stop three times to sit under the water and collect himself. He can handle a little finals week exhaustion. He has to. [Or, Alex’s hair care routine is elaborate, he struggles to let Henry help him, and he learns some important things about receiving love through service.]

Ho for the Holidays | @whimsymanaged | E | 6k

“Listen, don’t worry about this,” Henry says quickly, already mentally crafting the passive-aggressive text he’s going to send Pez. “Better luck next year. I’ll just be off—“ “Hold your damn horses.” Alex stops Henry with a fast, surprisingly gentle hand to his wrist. His eyebrows furrow. “What did you put on your questionnaire?” Henry’s ears go hot. “That’s none of your business.” Alex scoffs and leans in closer. “Baby, we matched. It’s safe to say we have at least some interests in common. Be honest—was it because you confessed to having a secret desire to slap me?” [Or, Pez organizes an event called Ho for the Holidays, and these two idiots get paired up.]

see you all soon! :D

sarah / anincompletelist xx

#my fic recs #fic recs #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue fanfic #firstprince #Alex x Henry #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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cinnamostar · 5 months

Text

love's final act

pairing : hyunjin x gn!reader

summary : love’s final, yet cruelest, act was grief. grief is, and will always be, the truest testament of love.

wc : 4.1k

cw : sadness, angst, break up, mentions of anxiety and symptoms, negative self talk. plz let me know if i missed anything.

a/n : this is the first fic i have written in literal years! i would love to hear any feedback and thoughts you have about this. pls let me know if i need to add additional content warnings, as well as if as if any gendered language is used :) im excited to be writing again and i hope you enjoy!

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

The morning light peeped through your curtains, inviting itself into your dreary room much to your dismay, taunting you once more that another painfully sleepless night had passed by. Normally, you’d welcome the sun’s warmth as part of your routine, opening the curtains to soak in the rays as you prepared for the new day, but the past seven days had been far from normal.

Today, the crushing weight of grief tied you down your bed once more as hot tears burned down your cheeks for what felt like the millionth time this week. Grief and guilt had kept you imprisoned to the confines of your room, allowing you to escape from the world outside where life continued to move forward, while you desperately clung onto memories of the past, unwilling to accept the new reality you knew was long coming.

You didn’t want to leave your room, you didn’t want to confront the world again. Maybe if you stayed in here a little longer, time would turn back and this new universe would fade away into the ether as nothing more than a bad dream. Maybe you’d finally wake up and find yourself in the arms of your lover. Maybe he would march right through your bedroom door, begging for you both to keep trying, urging you to believe your love would triumph any obstacle life had in store.

That would be nice, wouldn’t it?

The truth is, after two short and sweet years together, your love story was coming to a screeching halt. The reality of your deteriorating romance had finally caught up to you both and you could no longer deny the impossibility of this relationship.

Hyunjin was everything you had ever wanted and more. He was the love of your life, your soulmate, the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You both loved each other dearly, and if it wasn’t for the challenges life had presented, you’d be inseparable. If it were up to you, you’d spend every waking moment in his presence, listening to the hum of his heart that you became so in tuned with. It was a melody only you and him could hear and understand, one that was so extravagant and beautiful that it would bring goosebumps to anyone who witnessed it.

A song so powerful, passionate, forceful, but yet so gentle and delicate, almost as if the beating of your own hearts could shatter it if one ever lost its rhythm. There was a musical score to follow that only you and Hyunjin knew how to perform, yet the symphony of your love started to fade away in the background as the loud chatter of life roared over it.

One by one, the violin’s strings started to snap, the piano fell out of tune, the percussionists arms grew heavy, the flautis’s breath could no longer keep up, and all was left was you and Hyunjin trying to conduct an orchestra to play a line of music that didn’t exist. This was how it was supposed to end. They didn’t practice any of this, there was no more music, this was it. Your thoughts, overwhelming sorrow, and the cacophony of life.

This was your final performance together.

It felt as if life had been sucked out of you, the ruckus of the world overstimulating your ears with a piercing screech in the background. You desperately strained yourself to find the tune you missed, hoping maybe you could pick up where you both left off, but there was nothing. It felt as if a hand was clenching around your heart, constricting you as you gasped for air, except you weren’t looking for air. Every detail of him had become so ingrained into your being that you no longer knew how to function without the heavenly tune of his, you had no idea how you ever dealt with the unpleasant song the world around you played. He was your everything, your oxygen, and you breathed him each time as if it was your last breath, but this time it actually was.

Sure, you had lived your entire life before him just fine, but the last few days without him had left you in a dizzying haze as your lungs burned from all your cries, begging for you to run back into his arms after being so deprived of him. The pit in your stomach grew heavier, sinking you further into your bed as you free falled into your own despair.

It was the inevitable end of the love story between two people who desperately wanted to claw onto one another, but neither was willing to change themselves for the other and that was okay. You each had different goals, dreams, and aspirations that never seemed to come together, lifestyles that never aligned. It was as if divine intervention stepped in at every waking moment of your relationship to remind you both that your love was just a brief chapter of your lives, not the happily ever after you so desperately tried to force.

All that was left to face was the stark and brutal reminder that no amount of love, effort, or communication would have ever made those dreams a reality. The nights you and Hyunjin spent laying in each other’s arms as he gently played with loose strands of your hair, where you each giggled about where you would move once you both reached old age, what kind of home you both would share, and whether you both should adopt a cat, a dog, or both, was all now just a gut-wrenching memory that mocked you.

It was mutual. It was for the best. Neither of you wanted this, but the truth was that no one was willing to compromise and completely abandon the diverging paths you both were on. You were both too stubborn to drop everything you had worked so hard on, both so close to achieving, just for the other. It wasn’t a lack of love, rather it was the suffocating love that caused you both to drag on your relationship for so long, but you both knew to your core that you would have resented the other if any compromise was made. Neither of you wanted that too. That was that, a tearful goodbye accompanied with gentle, hushed apologies with one last, excruciating bitter-sweet kiss.

A gentle knock stirred you awake from your stupor, temporarily freeing yourself from your painstaking recollections of your relationship. Blonde locks and dark eyes peered from the door, a soft voice calling your name, unsure if you were awake, “Y/N…?”

Your hands scrambled to wipe your tears away as you sat up, but your sniffles and broken voice betrayed you, “H-hi Lixie, sorry. I’m up now.”

Felix sighed in relief, worried he may have woken you from your few moments of peace. He let himself in, gently closing the door behind him as he made his way to your window, opening the curtains to let the sun in, complimenting the warmth his presence brought into your cold world. He basked in the morning sun for a moment, before turning to you with a sweet smile that melted away any sadness you had in you.

“It’s Saturday, Y/N.”

Oh. It’s already Saturday. Right.

The realization must’ve been evident on your face, as Felix hastily found himself sitting on the edge of your bed with your hands clasped between his. “It’s okay, there’s no rush. You can give yourself more ti-,”

“No. It’s okay. I’ll get up now.”

Felix’s eyebrows raised, concerned etched onto his features, “You don’t have to force yourself, Y/N. There’s nothing wrong with needing more time.”

You shook your head adamantly, a tightlipped smile on your face as you looked Felix in the eyes, “I know, Felix, but…” You let out a shaky sigh, forcing a happier and more convincing smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, “I told myself I can’t let myself rot in bed for more than a week. I gave myself a week to cry it out, that should be more than enough, right?”

The boy returned the smile, giving your hands a reassuring squeeze, “Okay. If that is what you want, then okay.” He knew you were lying to yourself right now, he knew you were trying to convince yourself that you were okay and ready to go back to normalcy, but he also knew there was no use in trying to stop you. “Do you know what you want to do today? We can go grab coffee together if you’d like.”

“I think… I think I am okay on my own for today. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ll be okay. I promise I’ll text you if I need anything.”

Felix nodded, setting your hand back down on the mattress as he got up to exit the room, “Okay, but if you break your promise, I’m kicking your ass. Being heartbroken isn’t an excuse to break a promise with your best friend!” A lighthearted giggle escaped him as he shut the door behind him.

A small smile graced your features, an airy laugh escaping you as you watched your best friend close the door. Somehow, you could always count on him to brighten your day, no matter how caught up in your grief you are.

But that was enough mourning, that was enough grieving, that was more than enough. It was time to go back to your old routine, as the world wasn’t going to wait for you to mend your broken heart. Life moved forward and you were hellbent on not being left behind.

Except you couldn’t quite go on with your old routine.

You couldn’t text Hyunjin good morning, you couldn’t call him letting him know you were going to the bakery to see if he wanted something, you couldn’t take a picture of a pretty flower you saw on your walk and share it with him.

You couldn’t surprise him at work with lunch. You couldn’t send him a new song you found that reminded you of him. You couldn’t use the cheeky pick up line you saw online a few days ago. You couldn’t send him a picture of two puppies playing with each other saying it was both of you. You couldn’t stop by at the end of the night for a brief kiss. You couldn’t look forward to his cuddles.

You couldn’t call him just because you wanted to hear his voice.

For a moment, as you made your way out the front door, you felt your breath hitch and all too familiar lump formed in your throat, tears threatening to spill out your eyes as your fingers mindlessly, out of habit, found themselves hovering over Hyunjin’s contact name, a few millimeters away from hitting call.

‘Baby 𐐪♡𐑂’

You closed your eyes for a brief moment in a feeble attempt to collect yourself. You found yourself taking a deep breath, not realizing how long you had held your breath. With much hesitation, your shaky fingers tapped the ‘edit contact’ button and deleted the nickname you had lovingly given him. You paused once again, another deep breath before replacing the previous text with ‘Hwang Hyunjin,’ erasing any evidence of the love you two once shared.

The pit in your stomach grew once again, threatening to drag you back into bed as tears silently slid down your cheeks, but you shook the thought out of your mind, locking your phone and putting it in your pocket.

It’s okay. This is part of the healing process, right? It was better to confront this sooner rather than later. That’s what you told yourself at least. That’s what you wanted to believe.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

And just like that, another few weeks had whizzed past you before you even realized. You spent the whole time trying to return to your daily routine, along with the help of Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin, who each made it their personal mission to keep you company during every moment of the day. They somehow coordinated their schedules in a way to make sure at least one of them was available to be with you, but they still respected your boundaries whenever you asked them for some time alone.

You were eternally grateful for them, as their presence made the month a lot more bearable to manage, even though you found yourself in plenty of embarrassing moments with each of them.

Each time anything reminded you of Hyunjin, you’d find your eyes immediately welling up with tears, but the boys did a good job of comforting your broken heart and dealing with your inconsolable sobs.

Even if you were in public. Even if you were in the middle of a McDonalds.

Unfortunately, a pack of sauce from McDonalds made you cry because it was Hyunjin’s favorite and you always made sure to grab him extra. If you weren’t so upset, the look of shock on Seungmin’s face would’ve made you laugh, but the dark haired boy quickly snatched the sauce away from your hands, jokingly scolding it for making you so sad as he returned it to the worker to exchange it for a different one. If he had known something so simple would’ve had such an effect on you, he wouldn’t have asked for it, but he chalks up to love making people stupid or whatever.

With time, the painful memories and embarrassing moments lessened on each of your outings. Whenever a memory did threaten your peace, instead of fighting it with tears in your eyes, you decided to embrace it with grace and try to smile at each one that greeted your mind. Just because it was painful now didn’t mean it was bad, they were still sweet moments that once made you happy, and for that, you should be thankful.

You were far from being healed, but you were slowly adjusting to this new reality and feeling just a bit better each day at your own pace. It still hurt a lot and you missed him terribly, but you were okay and it got easier to manage your pain. You were slowly remembering how to live with the inundating sounds of life, slowly learning how to dance to this familiar song and appreciating the beauty within it once more.

Before you knew it, you were thinking of him, the tune of your romance was nothing more than a distant memory. Your body no longer craved his presence, no longer needing his hand to guide you through the musical that life is. You missed him, but not as much as you did the first week. Your heart still sank a little when you saw a couple walking hand in hand on the sidewalk, but instead of bringing you to tears, it made you smile to know you once experienced love like that, and you will again one day, just not with him.

Today, you decided you were going to venture out on your own, something you felt more comfortable doing as time passed. The anxiety you once carried was vanishing as you grew more confident in yourself and your ability to hold it together, no longer worried that something so trivial would trigger an emotional outburst. The intimidating idea of solitude became something you welcomed as you slowly fell in love with the song of your heart and the background chatter life offered.

You stepped out the double doors of your local coffee shop, a warm vanilla latte in hand as the cool autumn breeze kissed your face. You didn’t really have a plan for today, opting to aimlessly wander around the busy streets of your city, enjoying the comfortable zephyr that brushed through your hair. The weather was great today, it would be a shame to let it go to waste and not enjoy it before the harsh winter season set in. With that in mind, you settled on heading to the park, hoping you’d find a bench to make your temporary home as you read the latest novel you bought last week.

A moment of serenity and tranquility after walking through the bustling streets of the city was what you needed, a chance to breathe and escape the rush of pedestrians trying to make it to their next destination. You started picking up the pace, bouncing with each step in excitement as the buzzing jabbers of passerbyers filled your ears, the sounds of creaky car brakes and car horns accompanying you on your journey.

You took a sip of your coffee as you approached the crosswalk to join the others waiting for the light to turn, but as you drew closer, a familiar hum caught your attention. It was low, extremely quiet, but it grew louder as you moved forward.

Your heart stuttered, confused on what melody to follow as a pit of anxiety formed in your abdomen, your voice suddenly caught in your throat as you felt your body grow heavier. Your eyes panickedly looked around as you slowed your pace, trying to identify where this melody was coming from.

A few feet ahead of you stood a tall, lean figure you had become all too familiar with. Although you couldn’t see his face, you swore the man that stood there was none other than Hyunjin. You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk as you stared ahead, your mouth drying up as your lips parted slightly. You didn’t know what you were feeling exactly, every emotion possible attacking your mind and body all at once. It felt as if everything around you was slowing, as if time paused as your eyes focused on him. The chatter of life faded into the background as the song of your lost love became deafeningly loud, taking over any coherent thought you could’ve had.

Your heart leaped for joy, desperately urging you to run towards him and pull him into a tight embrace, wishing to once again dance to the song of your love story. The burdensome weight of grief held you in place, tears pricking your eyes as a cold sweat rushed over your panicked body that demanded you turn away, pleading you were not ready to see him again, but the overwhelming shock didn’t let your feet move. It was as if the world beneath your feet disappeared, nowhere for you to go and all you could do was stare ahead as the lump in your throat turned into an uncomfortable, acidic taste your anxiety forced into your mouth.

Fear grew within you as you watched the man slowly turn his head to the side, holding your breath as you prepared to see the face you dreaded, yet yearned at the same time. As his side profile came into view, a blaring car horn snapped you out of your daze, the crowd of pedestrians came back into motion as someone scoffed when they bumped into your stilled body, and the music that once took over your senses suddenly dulled into the background. A wave of relief and mild disappointment washed over you as you realized the man before you wasn’t Hyunjin at all. Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you along with your hopelessness, but it was just someone who happened to resemble his frame.

You let out an exasperated exhale, feeling exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster you just experienced. Although, for some reason, your body remained a bit tense as you could still hear the melody you recognized as yours and Hyunjin’s. It wasn’t as blaring as before, but the soft tune rang through your ears, impossible for you to ignore.

Perhaps the near encounter earlier had startled you, you thought, it should go away soon enough. With that, you decided that was enough for today and maybe it would be better to spend the rest of the day at home, maybe you could convince Felix to watch a movie with you.

As you turned on your heels to make the way back home, the music started to pick up again. The beat of the drums grew more powerful, the string instruments hummed earnestly, the pianist clanged the keys more feverishly as a strong gust of wind greeted you.

And that’s when you saw him.

There he was, standing right in front of you wearing a shocked, yet pained, expression. His eyebrows furrowed upwards, his lips slightly parted as his eyes brimmed with tears. Hyunjin looked awful. Dark circles and puffy eye bags decorated his pale face, his nose and cheeks flushed as if he spent the morning crying.

He wanted to call for your name, tell you how much he missed you and how miserable he has been without you. He wanted to pull you into a bone crushing embrace, one where he swore he’d never let you out of. He wanted to sink his face into the crook of your neck and breathe in the scent of your shampoo he had missed so much. He selfishly wanted to remind himself of every detail of you possible, but his body remained unmoving, unable to act on any of his desires. His tongue thickened in mouth, caught in his throat, as if his body was turning into stone in a panic.

He was angry with himself, trying to will himself to do something, say something, anything, but all he could do was stand there like a fool as he stared into the eyes he adored so much, hoping he would find the same look of love you always use to wear around him. The music grew louder, almost as if it was begging for him to speak his mind, spill his heart out to you.

You blinked away the tears that were starting to form, cursing yourself for crumbling so quickly at the mere sight of Hyunjin. Your heart swelled with love and joy, yet the familiar melancholy took residence in your stomach. As much as your heart ached for Hyunjin’s presence, you knew there was no point in giving into a dying romance, one that had no future ahead of it. It was best to bite the bullet and abandon it right then and there, for both of your sakes.

It took everything in you, but all you could do was muster a heartbroken smile as you bowed your head down, acknowledging Hyunjin’s presence as your feet briskly walked you out the scene, not even giving a second glance as you passed him because you knew you would fall apart if you caught his eyes once more.

Once again, the music died out, the piano fell out of tune as the strings snapped, an unpleasant screech leaving the clarinets as you walked past Hyunjin.

Hyunjin spun around, watching your body disappear into the crowd of people as tears began to escape down his cheeks while his body began to tremble, unwilling to accept what just happened. His mind scrutinized him for being so pathetic, for not being able to call out your name to stop you from leaving, for not being able to grab your wrist and speak to you once more, for not being able to profess how he couldn’t live without you.

Have you forgotten about him already? Have you already moved on? Were you no longer in love with him? Was he just an idiot crying over someone who gave him no second thought? How could you walk by him so easily? Like he was another stranger on the street? Did you not care for him? Did you not want to know how he was doing this whole time? Did your relationship with him mean nothing to you?

Millions of questions and doubts plagued Hyunjin’s thoughts as he wordlessly stood in place, still unable to move from the sheer sadness and humiliation that filled him. God’s cruelty never relented and became so apparent to Hyunjin at this very moment. Was love supposed to be so painful?

Ah, no, Hyunjin. Love was never meant to be painful, but the unfortunate truth was that love became undeniable in someone’s absence. It is in that moment of time where you cannot ignore the empty void love has abandoned you with no escape. All this love you have left over with nowhere to go will one day become something you get sick of. It is then where you must decide whether you’ll allow love to consume you in its overwhelming misery or use it to thrive and move forward. Love’s final, yet cruelest, act was grief. Grief is, and will always be, the truest testament of love.

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz angst #stray kids angst #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #fanfic #cinnamostar writes #hyunjin fic #hwang hyunjin fanfic

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eclecticpatrolroadlawyer · 7 months

Text

Illicit affairs (chapter 1)

Summary: Bucky and Y/n are in arranged marriage. Bucky is having an affair. This is all it is about... Let's see where Y/n's fate lies... Should we?

Pairings: Bucky x reader, Bucky x Dot ...

Genre: angst, affair, unrequited love

'Love' The word floats between all of us on a soft gust of air. 'Deep, abiding, unconditional love. You want it so much you're willing to live for it' Most people think the greatest sacrifice they can make is to die for something. They are wrong.

The truest act of love someone can make is to live for something- to allow it to consume you and turn you into a version of yourself you never recognize.

It is a tale of 4 souls twisted and helpless in their love lives. It is a narrative that contains some heartbreaks, the bitter taste of unreciprocated affection, and one that dared not to unveil itself- which takes courage to love for so long from a distance.

This is a story where one soul offered everything at love's altar, a vulnerable sacrifice, while another callously exploited that very vulnerability, sowing discord where passion once blossomed...

Y/n's pov

The room feels colder than usual as I stare out the window, my heart sinking with every passing minute. The anticipation is suffocating, and my patience wears thin. "Again," I whisper, the word heavy with disappointment.

I watch the street below, searching for a familiar figure that is yet to appear. The seconds drag on, and my anxiety intensifies. The lump in my throat grows, making it harder to swallow. A sigh escapes me, a mixture of frustration and hurt.

"He is late again."

I can't help but clench my fists on the curtains, the fabric bunching in my grip. The emptiness in the room echoes the ache in my chest. Tears threaten to spill, and I fight to hold them back. I bite my tongue, tasting the metallic tang of frustration as I try to steady my trembling emotions.

I force myself to look away from the window, taking in shaky breaths to regain composure. Each breath feels like a struggle, a battle against the rising tide of disappointment. I look up, my eyes blurred with unshed tears, and will myself to find strength.

Deep breaths. In and out.

I wrestle with my emotions, fighting the urge to crumble. It's a lonely battle, and the weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in the air. The silence is deafening, broken only by the echoes of my own heartbeat.

half an hour later

The sound of the door knob rattling pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn to see him entering, supposedly from his so-called 'jogging' session. His disheveled hair and the hickey marks on his neck don't escape my notice, but I keep my gaze down, focusing on chopping the ingredients for breakfast. The rhythmic slicing helps channel my frustration into the task.

Silence hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of disappointment. I clench my jaw, determined not to let the emotions bubbling within me overflow. Why me, I wonder.

I put on a fake smile, a mask to conceal the turmoil beneath the surface. Breaking the tense quiet, I decide to confront the reality before me, choosing words carefully as I break the uneasy silence.

"How was it?"

The question hangs in the air as I continue chopping, my hands steady despite the storm raging inside me. The tension is heavy as I await his response.

He seems startled, caught off guard by the unexpected interruption to your silence. Nervously, he stammers a response.

"Huh? W-What?"

"Jogging... You went jogging, right?" I press, my eyes focused on the task at hand, but my peripheral vision catches his every move. I put down the knife, turning to face him with a fake smile plastered on my face.

"Oh, jogging... Yes, jogging... Yeah, it was good... good," he replies, the words rushed and accompanied by a forced smile. The tension lingers, hanging in the air like an unspoken truth, and I maintain my fake smile, masking the hurt that hides beneath the surface.

The question hangs in the air, a carefully veiled inquiry concealing the knowledge I already possess. "Bucky," I murmur, the weight of the question palpable in the room. "how many years has it been since our arranged union? One or two?" I lock eyes with him, searching for a flicker of guilt, a hint that he might confess to the secrets he thinks are well hidden.

The room feels heavy with the unspoken truth as I press on, my voice carrying a subtle undercurrent of accusation. "You would never hurt me, right?" I ask, knowing the answer even before the words leave my lips. His eyes betray a hint of unease, a fleeting glimpse of a man caught in his own web of betrayal.

I turn my attention to the task at hand, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter as I continue, "It's just, sometimes I wonder about our arranged marriage. Do you?" My words linger in the air, a calculated challenge, as I maintain a facade of innocence, masking the storm of emotions that swirl within me.

Bucky shifts uncomfortably under the weight of my penetrating gaze, his eyes momentarily faltering before regaining composure. "Uh, yeah, it's been two years," he answers, attempting to sound nonchalant. His attempt at a casual demeanor betrays a hint of unease, a subtle acknowledgment that he senses the underlying tension.

I maintain my facade, the corners of my lips twitching into a semblance of a smile. "And you'd never hurt me, right?" I press further, watching for any subtle changes in his expression. Bucky hesitates, a fleeting moment where the truth seems to hang in the air. "Of course not," he replies, the words lacking the conviction they once held.

As I turn back to my task, the air between us crackles with unspoken truths and concealed betrayals, creating a rift that neither of us dares to bridge.

Bucky's POV

Bucky's response hangs in the air, a weight on his conscience that he can't shake off. As I turn away, the guilt tightens in his stomach. He can't escape the unease, knowing he's betraying not just the arrangement but the person at the center of it.

He sighs, heavy with remorse, as he heads for the bathroom. The sound of running water becomes a feeble attempt to drown out the turmoil in his mind. Bucky leans against the cool tiles, steam clouding the mirror, mirroring the fog in his thoughts.

"What have I done?" he whispers, the weight settling in his stomach. The jog's facade crumbles, revealing the truth of his choices. The affair, the lies—it's a web tightening around him, and he's not sure how to break free without causing irreparable damage.

Under the shower's cold stream, Bucky stands, his hand braced against the tiles. The water pounds against him, a feeble attempt to wash away the guilt. As each droplet falls, he confronts the consequences of his actions. The arranged marriage, once a distant pact, now feels shattered. Bucky closes his eyes, trying to block out the guilt threatening to consume him. In the cascade of water, he faces the mess he's made, uncertain if there's any way to salvage the delicate threads holding their union together.

The cold shower beats against Bucky, a stark contrast to the heat of his thoughts. His hand tightens on the tiles as he battles the storm inside. The water's steady drumming echoes his emotions, a chaotic mix of regret and confusion.

"What am I doing?" he mutters, the words lost in the shower's noise. The images of his mistakes play on a loop in his mind—the marks on the neck, the messed-up sheets. It's a vivid reminder of betrayal.

The truth is undeniable. The affair breaks trust, a breach of the commitment he made, even if reluctantly, in this arranged marriage. As the water rushes over him, Bucky tries to wash away not just the physical traces but the guilt staining his conscience.

The fogged-up mirror reflects a man in conflict. His guilty eyes meet their own gaze, and for a moment, he doesn't recognize himself.

"What have I become?" The question lingers, unanswered, as he stands beneath the unrelenting water. The bathroom isn't a refuge; it amplifies the loneliness. Bucky is stuck in a silent struggle, torn between duty and desire, unsure if he can find a way out without leaving everything shattered behind.

Dot's POV

(girl with whom Bucky is cheating with)

"He is gone again," I murmur to myself, my gaze fixed on the fan dangling from the ceiling. The bed beside me feels emptier than usual, a constant reminder of his absence. The weight of silence settles in the room, and once again, I find myself engulfed in loneliness...

Every day, it's the same struggle. A battle between the promise I make to myself and the undeniable pull he has on me. "Every time... every day. I let him in," I admit in the quiet of my thoughts. The bed, cold and untouched, bears witness to my internal conflict. It's a routine of surrendering to a love that should never have blossomed.

"I can always stop," I tell myself daily, a mantra of resistance that crumbles with each passing moment. The realization hits hard — I'm ruining myself for him. The weight of guilt presses down as I acknowledge the gravity of my actions.

"I am so bad," I confess silently, my heart heavy with self-loathing. I'm entangled in an affair with a married man who has a loving wife. The reality of my choices echoes in the hollow spaces of the room. "I'm so sorry," I whisper to no one but myself, a futile apology to the shadows that witness my moral descent.

"I hate myself... I hate it," the thought echoes, a painful admission of the self-destructive path I tread. Love, tangled with regret, becomes a poison that seeps into every corner of my being. Yet, despite the self-flagellation, the ache for him lingers, a bittersweet melody that refuses to be silenced.

The room, my safe place, now shows the mess inside me. I turn from the fan's spin, lost in the shadows. The secret love has left marks, stains that no apology can wipe away. As I try to understand this mess of feelings, I wonder if I can ever fix the pieces of my self-respect that have shattered.

The words slip out in a hushed murmur, barely audible in the quiet room. "I am sorry." The weight of the apology hangs in the air, a fragile attempt to mend the fractures that linger between us. It's a simple phrase, but it carries the echoes of regret and a longing for forgiveness. The weight of regret settles in, and I can't help but wonder if these simple words will ever be enough to mend the fractures I've created.

The illicit affair has left its mark, a stain that no amount of whispered apologies can erase. As I search through the wreckage of my emotions, I'm left to wonder if the fragments of my self-respect can ever be pieced back together.

Not everyone gets the same version of me.

One person might tell you I'm an amazing beautiful soul.

Another person will say I'm a coldhearted bitch.

Believe them both, I act accordingly.

-love

Chapter 2

Note: Hey guys! Hope you like it. English is actually my second language so if there's any mistake you can inform me by messaging me privately. And PLEASE REBLOG AND DON'T STEAL MY WORK. Please like and comment too so, that I can know your views. Thank you for reading guys! Have a nice day and please comment if you wanna be tagged in.

Taglist: @angstysebfan @cjand10 @learisa @themorningsunshine @binkszamsstuff @dreamerglassesgirl @winterslove1917 @perfectpieslimeprune @nikkivillar @bethexo07

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accio-victuuri · 28 days

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excerpts from this article/interview with WoF director related to Wang Yibo ( “"War of Faith" director Yao Xiaofeng: I took the energy from Wang Yibo and transferred it to Wei Ruolai”) :

From 2018 to 2024, "War of Faith" took a full 6 years from preparation to release. During the period, it went through shelving, postponement, and repeated adjustments after the filming started. It was not until the joining of Wang Yibo, Li Qin, and Wang Yang that this project, a project years in the making came to life.

The turning point of things happened in November 2022. At that time, a friend recommended Wang Yibo to Yao Xiaofeng, and the two teams made an appointment to meet together.

Previously, Yao Xiaofeng only knew that Wang Yibo was a very popular artist. He had also doubted whether such a young actor without professional training could sustain his performance? Will you be unable to calm down? Can there be a common language?

But when I saw Wang Yibo for the first time, all these worries were shattered.

He found that although the young man opposite had gained huge popularity, he did not feel any elation. He just sat quietly in the corner of the sofa in the office, rarely speaking actively and spending most of his time listening. When asked about his preferences, Wang Yibo simply said: "I like speed." In his eyes and words, in addition to being humble and sincere, there is also an urge to become better.

So Yao Xiaofeng asked Wang Yibo: "I have a young man here who is performing a Republican drama in Shanghai. Are you interested?" Wang Yibo also expressed interest on the spot.

This originally planned simple meeting lasted from noon to dark. After the meeting, Yao Xiaofeng said firmly to producer Zhang Shuwei: "This is him. This is the actor I want."

The original version of the small house that Wei Ruolai rented was relatively spacious and cozy, but Yao Xiaofeng insisted on making the space even more cramped. Only in this way can we present the living beings at the bottom of the class who had difficulty transcending classes at that time, and form a sharp contrast with the ten-mile foreign market of Shanghai.

Wang Yibo and Wei Ruolai

In Yao Xiaofeng's view, Wei Ruolai is a clean, young and passionate young man with great "tenacity". Wang Yibo's innate temperament made Yao Xiaofeng see the perfect fit between him and Wei Ruolai, and made Yao Xiaofeng interested in the role of Wei Ruolai. The inspiration for the second creation.

He had previously learned that Wang Yibo relied on his talent and energy to make his way from Henan to the world step by step. In order to allow the audience to be more involved, he wrote Wang Yibo's enthusiasm on Wei Ruolai, strengthening the contrast between the two worlds of Qibao Street and Shili Foreign Market, as well as the workplace environment of the Central Bank.

In the story of "War of Faith", there is not only the feelings of family and country, but also the story of how an ordinary young man hesitates and chooses between two forces and finally finds his self-worth after working hard.

"I like children who have goals, struggles, ideals, and pursuits. These are the qualities that young people should possess. So I admire Wang Yibo very much. He has been working hard to transform. I hope that young people can also see from Wei Ruolai — When you see your own shadow, you can gain some enlightenment." Yao Xiaofeng said.

Yao Xiaofeng once said that the drama "War of Faith" incorporates modern people's way of thinking, making the characters in the drama more three-dimensional and giving the audience a greater sense of involvement. Therefore, during filming, Yao Xiaofeng never "teaches" actors how to act. Instead, he talks to Wang Yibo about the background and context of each scene. What kind of environment is Wei Ruolai in? This inspires Wang Yibo's truest feelings and makes the character closer to the actor himself.

"For example, when he saw himself wearing a pair of torn socks, how can children today have such an experience? But I let the props cut the socks, and after he put them on himself, he immediately caught the most realistic reaction."

After giving his true reaction, Yao Xiaofeng will discuss with Wang Yibo again. What different emotional levels does Wei Ruolai have at this time? This is also his rigid requirement for all young actors, that is, the feelings and reactions given in each scene must be different.

"When we work with actors, we don't have an unchanging performance template, because I think that is a guilty conscience and a lack of confidence. I don't know when to express myself, so I will act in a comfort zone way. Secondly, All accomplished actors must conquer the audience with their charm. Only when the audience believes in the character and likes the character can they be infected by his charm. In this play, as the chief producer Dai Ying said, Wang Yibo — is young but not raw, I hope Wang Yibo can express it truly and let everyone see a simple, simple and immature boy." Yao Xiaofeng said.

During the filming, Wang Yibo's role was very important. Not only did he have a lot of professional lines, but he also had to shoot from the first scene to the last scene every day. But Yao Xiaofeng discovered that Wang Yibo had never read a script on set, said he missed lines, and could reproduce his true feelings in different situations with sufficient preparation.

The scene where Wei Ruolai gets up to prepare for the interview in a rental house on Qibao Street was filmed less than a week after filming started. After the filming, Yao Xiaofeng cut out some clips. After the two of them watched it together, they both felt very satisfied and built up their confidence. Less than a month into filming, Wang Yibo had his first major scene. Yao Xiaofeng still remembers that after filming this scene, all the staff present applauded Wang Yibo.

Yao Xiaofeng always believes that as long as the candidate is right, more than half of the work will be completed.

"Confidence is built on each other. I gave him confidence and he gave me confidence, so it did not affect the shooting. In Yibo, I saw his most sincere pursuit of performance, just like he became a stage actor from a child — the king of movies, so I also believe that he can become a very good actor in terms of acting. If there is a suitable subject in the future, I hope to cooperate with Wang Yibo, Wang Yang and Li Qin again."

Detail control and self-expression

In addition to "realistic control", Yao Xiaofeng is also an extremely detail-oriented person.

In the Qibao Street interview scene, there were only a few lines in the script that read: "Wei Ruolai hurriedly put on clothes to take the exam in the morning." But Yao Xiaofeng was stunned and shot more than 20 scenes, tearing up the calendar, brushing teeth, and talking to Aunt Zhou The dialogues are all added temporarily.

The coat that Aunt Zhou gave to Wei Ruolai, Yao Xiaofeng insisted on replacing it with one that obviously didn't fit. This is because Aunt Zhou runs a laundry and handles clothes for various people, so she found a coat for Wei Ruolai to wear to give him some face. It is this ill-fitting coat that has been accompanying Wei Ruolai to explore the world.

Wei Ruolai's leather shoes must be worn until they are unbearably worn; the brush under the bed must not be used all year round; the tooth powder must be squeezed into a box; after Wei Ruolai washed up, Yao Xiaofeng even messed up Wang Yibo's hair, and the cotton-padded jacket also Wear it wrapped up. It is these details that can highlight the sadness of a lower-class people.

In the end, this scene, which lasted less than two minutes, took three full days to shoot. According to the original announcement, the shooting time for the opening of Qibao Street was one week, but it actually took two weeks. "Everyone was crushed, but everyone was very excited after watching the film. The actors were also excited. Wang Yibo performed very well. I think it was worth it." Yao Xiaofeng said.

#wang yibo #wei ruolai #war of faith #OMG THAT SCENE TOOK THREE DAYS TO SHOOT WHAT???#i love how he describes yibo ahhhhhh!!!!!

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curls101 · 11 months

Photo

Well, @quiddie you really made house for this lil chilli pepper in my brain, huh? A poem for Karna. Rotting teenager. True believer. Truest manifestation of the Hungry One.

Been a looooooooooong time since I’ve posted a poem on Tumblr, but the ravening war fandom is POPPING on here so yall also get this one

[ALT TEXT]

[Note: The spacing of this poem reveals that the first letters of each line spell out DEVOUR (ME) ]

lessons harvested from the corpse of Jacques Crudite

Didn’t we all agree, at birth, we are those things that acid is made from?

Our little world is rounded with hunger and cannibal urges. After all, a knife is just the conductor of a meal.

Easy to wish for kinder things. Easier to take.

You will grow into your apologies. Beg forgiveness from the thing that answers, rather than the light it rattles in.

Violence has byproducts,

they have named those things: ardour, genus and naiveté. All of these are prone to spoil. Putresce in the sunlight. We dispose of them quickly in the greenhouse. We have no need of those things that cannot thrive in heat.

Our inheritance is not light,

but husk. Ear. Shell. Peel. Skin. Learn hunger, or die. The world is very simple. Become what they shuck from the rind. Hold it between your teeth. Taste it. Let it simmer in you. Bleed it back out.

Use what you have.

More parts of a plant are edible than you may think. What will they do otherwise?

Rot.

What curdles in your body is not a question of belief. It is here. It is already here. We call it common good. We call it provenance. We call it nature. It is ours. Our scorpion blood. Ours. Do not spit out a gift even gods cannot have.

(My love is sustenance.

I alone carry the gift of enduring. I learned it with my hands. Pried it out. Cleaned all the blood off. I can fit my fist around it. I can give you the world. I can hold it. When your body can no longer burn, I will find parts to burn in its stead.

Early,

before anyone else is awake, I stare at the world from the rooftops and kill it with the sunlight. I watch the sun hit your body and I want to peel it from you. I have never felt anything sit at the pit of my stomach and stay. I want that to be you. I want you to be the decaying thing that keeps me eternal. I will find a way. I will make a way. There has to be more to me than the parts I carved off and left in the back alley to watch a man bleed out. )

#the ravening war #ravening war #ravening war spoilers #the ravening war spoilers #Karna Solara #Karna

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katyahina · 4 months

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Gascoigne's beast form stuff (ask reply)

@ anon I decided to respond in this blog instead of my personal/rambles one, hope this is ok!

(Model ripped by tokami-fuko on dA ( x ))

I think this is a fair suggestion that his transformation might go even further, especially considering the fact that he not only barely has any fur, but also his skin keeps its color! Beasthood has a consistent trend of making skin that unnatural grey color:

(LOVE that they bothered to give bestial hunter's normal form unnatural skin color too despite the fact that we can't see it in game! Sometimes their attention to detail is just.. something)

Amelia is probably the biggest pointer as we are clearly shown her human skin color on her hands in a cutscene.. In fact, arguably, Gascoigne is doing a bit better than average Huntsmen, or even better than the fellow Old Hunters (look at hostile Old Hunter mob and 'true' form of Bestial Hunter). He has been losing himself to the hunt and paranoia for a while now and finally lost it, but he doesn't have that much fur, his skin color didn't alter. (He also doesn't have horns unlike Cleric Beasts, Abhorrent Beasts and even Large Huntsmen, but these are not for all beasts so we don't have to count them!)

I think that Huntsmen are transforming gradually over time, consumed by blood and aggression, and their 'final' form is Scourge Beast type, when they become completely animalistic:

I think it is valid to believe that Gascoigne could transform even further, there are enough reasons to think so! He is still too humanoid, all things considered! I will just move onto my personal interpretation now!

The thing about Cleric Beast-leaning Gascoigne is a really great topic of discussion! He already was a 'Father' (as in, religious figure) in his homeland, so, a cleric! As for Yharnam life, not only he was with the Healing Church once and quit it, but also his transformation happens extremely abruptly, that we only saw with Amelia!

(Interviews: ( x ))

The thing about Cleric Beasts is that they're so horrible because they've been holding back for so long. I can imagine Gascoigne being the same, as someone struggling to hold back so much for his family. We just happen to meet him when he finally breaks, but the guy must have had a huge will power to last as much as he did. +Also, please correct me if this was debunked, but as someone who always uses hunter summons to examine their patterns I've noticed that Gascoigne is the only one who never even once uses Blood Vials? If this is intentional, it could be a further evidence of his self-restraint: avoiding consuming the blood being aware of its addicting properties!

But here is why personally I do not headcanon that Gascoigne could transform even further! Unlike average people that are turning gradually, with strongly self-restraining people whatever form they take when they finally break IS their inner beast, it its truest form! This IS already his "cleric beast" form.... And it is not all that big and scary or impressive, because HE didn't have as much evil to hold back as average clerics in Healing Church. One person's very worst won't be the same as another person's very worst, but I also think it psychologically "helped" him to waste some aggression in the hunt - something Laurence and Amelia didn't have!

He murdered and part of the dark urges would escape through it, but he did not hunt in the same unhinged way as Ludwig either, so he is not transforming into someone as big and scary as him. He is just helping people! Not to mention Viola helping him to calm down with the music box when he was forgetting himself in the hunt. Just the right balance between what impulses to restrain and what to unleash!

My personal headcanon is that he cut the ties with the Healing Church over its corruption and wish to self-isolate and abandon the hunt (with the exception of its own walls), leaving the citizens to fend for themselves and defaming Oedon Chapel to bury the "proper" hunt as a concept. He was a honest man with a sense of justice and could not stand resorting to safety and not doing anything to help... But he still had religious principles of self-restrain and patience internalized; if not Healing Church ones, then those of the Church in whatever country he came from! It is also why whereas I believe that Cheric Beast of the Bridge was a Healing Church hunter too, since he drops Sword Hunter badge, he certainly avoided the hunt except for maybe defending Amelia, and mostly participated indirectly as the commander. (Honorable mention: Henriett that did the same, because her clothes imitate Old Hunters' set and she is a summon against Healing Church bosses, but she has Church weapons).

_____________________

Thank you very much for an ask, it was interesting to think about and it helped me to shape my interpretation of the character better! He definitely has something in common with Cleric Beasts, but I just personally like to think that as a 'hold back and snap' kind of beast rather than 'gradually transforming' kind of beast, this IS his "worst"- Still very strong and fearsome, but far from how much evil the corrupt clerics held back! He is just a good boy!

#bloodborne #bloodborne theory #father gascoigne #not art #text post #ask reply #basically clerics suck but not gascoigne tho he is a good dog fdhsfhsdsd

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animentality · 6 months

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Can you imagine Dark Urge being genuinely concerned that their father is angry enough to punish them, so they beg Gortash to tie them up at night, just like your love interest does in the actual game, to make sure they don't kill him.

And Gortash is ecstatic because uh come on now, of course the chosen of Bane would love having the chosen of Bhaal chained to his bed every night, but in all seriousness, he considers it the truest sign of love that the Durge could ever voice aloud.

#durgetash #dark urge #durge #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #goretash

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borathae · 1 year

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↳ Index [Chapter 18 - Chasma]

• Chasma (Latin, chasm)

Warnings: violence, like a lot of violence, graphic cursing, big sad, fear of abandonment, suicidal thoughts & self-hatred, lots of hurt & comfort moments sprinkled in between, there is more hurt than comfort though

Wordcount: 11.5k

a/n: :(

You wake before Yoongi. He has his back turned to you. His legs are pulled to his chest and his hands are between his knees. He looks small like that and on other days you would have called him cute. But this morning it feels wrong to call him cute. You feel like you don’t deserve to call him like that.

You don’t think you have ever seen him in so much distress before.

Last night ripped you apart.

How he touched you with shaking hands, how his voice almost broke with every word he spoke, how he cried so miserably.

It is burned into your memories and haunts you.

You feel awful. You feel so fucking awful that your stomach aches and you feel close to throwing up.

You never thought about how he feels about you offering your blood willingly. Not because you wanted to be selfish, but because you always considered that act to be something between you and Taehyung. And after all, there are many things you and Yoongi share which you don’t share with Taehyung either. Not because you want to keep secrets from him, but because you want to keep some things between you and Yoongi to keep them feeling as precious as they are. And that was also how you felt about giving Taehyung your blood in intimate situations. It was a precious moment between you and him and you wanted to keep it that way. But now Yoongi knows and having seen just how easily you broke him with that confession, makes you realise that maybe just maybe this carried far more importance to it than you initially thought.

The things you keep from Taehyung are moments where Yoongi naps in your lap, moments when you and him cuddle for hours, moments when Yoongi is a complete cutie or acts silly just for you. Those are the moments you want to cherish and keep a sweet secret between you and Yoongi. But those moments don’t go against the greatest morals of Taehyung. They are innocent moments.

You kept the secret of blood drinking from Yoongi. You kept the fact that you willingly seek out to be weakened by someone. And you know how Yoongi sees it. He feels betrayed. He swears to keep you safe, to fight the world for you and he works tirelessly to keep his promise. And now you revealed to him that you willingly put yourself in danger.

You are aware that Taehyung would have never gone too far and that he sees those moments as romantic, but you also know how you felt last night. You felt cold and weak and really fucking confused. And that makes you realise that you have gone too far.

But what hurts most is knowing that Yoongi feels hurt. You hurt him. You may have hurt him by putting yourself into danger, but what truly sealed the state of his heart was that you did so by letting someone drink your blood. Yoongi said it himself. He may despise most of what vampires do, but what truly makes him hate himself is having to drink blood.

And last night you told him that you don’t see all the effort he puts into not giving in to his urges. You may not have said it that way – hell, you didn’t even mean it that way – but you know Yoongi so well by now. He doesn’t say his truest truth, he can’t say it, but behind his stuttering and shocked looks and shaky breaths lies how truly hurt he is by a situation.

You didn’t always know. That is why the situation in the prison cell all those long months ago escalated the way it did. But you know by now, because Yoongi has opened his entire heart to you. You know by now, because you are the only person Yoongi sleeps next to. You know by now, because you are the only person to know how his body feels naked. You know by now, because you are the only person who knows how truly silly Yoongi can be. You know by now, because you are the only person who knows that he loves to be the little spoon and that he sulks when you get up for pee breaks and that he also loves hiding his face in your chest when he gets flustered. You know, because Yoongi decided that you are worthy to carry his heart and see him for who he truly is.

And that is also how you know that last night you cracked his heart.

And it rips you apart.

Perhaps it would have ripped you apart even more if you knew that Yoongi had never fallen asleep. And that he used those painful hours to stare at the floor with lifeless eyes and his heart aching so unbearably that he considered turning it all off. It feels as if there was a splinter of cursed wood stuck in his chest and it was killing him slowly. His eyes are so heavy, burning so much. His lungs ache too, struggling to breathe. He also can’t stop feeling cold. It managed to turn his hands icy by now.

He feels hands then. Not his own, because they don’t want to find the energy to move, but yours. Warm and soft. They find their way under his shirt and, as you draw closer to press yourself against his back, find their home on his chest. You wiggled your arm under his head as well, holding him with such strength Yoongi feels how your muscles are tensing.

The touch carries great soothing in it.

He hears a soft sob then. Not his own, because his voice doesn’t want to work, but yours. Sad and guilty. His hair muffles most of it and as you inhale he feels you tense in the ache of heartbreak.

His hands find energy again. He rests his hand on top of yours.

His voice finds strength again.

“Don’t cry”, he whispers. He feels so broken and yet the thought that you cry breaks him even more. Yoongi knows that he is fucked up for putting himself so low, but he can’t help it. Your tears hurt so much that he wants to fight the spots on which they fell.

“Yoongi, I’m so sorry. I’m so incredibly sorry.”

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say.

“I made you feel as if everything you do for me isn’t appreciated by me, but it is”, you spill tears on his neck as you find refuge in him, “it is, but I made you feel as if it wasn’t and it rips me apart because it was never my intention.”

Your hand leaves his shirt just so you can intertwine your fingers with him.

“I love you so much, holy fuck I sometimes can’t breathe because I love you so much and I broke your heart”, you whimper, “I never wanted to break your heart.”

“I know.”

“Yoongi I just want to be home. I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to be home and hug in the sitting room and then talk silly stuff. I just want to be home with you.”

Yoongi closes his eyes, but the hot tear still escapes him. He rests his cheek on your hand.

“Me too.”

“Let’s run away. Let’s stop looking for Namjoon. Let’s not tell the others and run away. Let’s go back home. Just you and I.”

Yoongi turns in your arms, looking into your incredibly sad eyes.

“What are you talking about? Don’t say that.”

“All of this went to shit b-because of our stupid journey. I ruined everything.”

“Princess no”, he whispers, “what are you saying?”

“I want to be home. I don’t want to ruin even more.”

“No ___, no”, he speaks softly, “why are talking like this? Don’t say that you ruined everything.”

“But I did. If we never went on this journey, I would have never met Jimin and, and he would have never p-poisoned Taehyung again a-and I would have never hurt you by being so reckless and offering my blood.”

Yoongi furrows his brows at the mention.

“I don’t want to do this anymore”, you shake your head violently, “I don’t want to have someone drink my blood anymore. It, it upsets me so much because I, I realised that, that it hurts you w-when I, I do. And I, I don’t want to do that anymore. I, I don’t, don’t want to hurt you. P-please believe, believe me. Please Yoongi please.”

“Princess hey”, he whispers, pushing you on the mattress softly. He touches your temple. He uses no magic on you for he knows that his touch is enough, “calm down, you’re losing yourself in the emotion.”

He watches you fight your way through the painful thorns of panic. Your eyes are racing from left to right without a destination. So he caresses your temple.

“Come back to me, princess. It’s save to, just come back”, he whispers.

Your eyes lock with his’. Now they have their destination. With him. He has you with him again.

“There we go. You did so well”, he praises you, wiping your tears away.

“Yoongi can you please forgive me?” you ask weakly.

“Yes”, he says without hesitation, “yes I can.”

“Can, can I fix this again?”

“Yes, princess you can.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“What do you need right now?”

He falters, breaking eye contact.

“Don’t ask me that. I don’t know”, he says.

“I’ll do anything.”

He looks into your eyes, meeting determination.

“I don’t know”, he whispers, “I feel hurt and betrayed.”

“I’m sorry”, you croak, feeling your eyes burn in tears.

“I know”, he assures you, “I just need time to get over this.”

“I won’t do it again”, you say, shaking your head, “I don’t want, want to make you feel as, as if I, I don’t know a-about your issues with blood drinking. I, I n-never did it out of spite for you. Please believe me.”

“I know…I guess”, he says, looking away, “I just…fuck princess, let’s just not talk about it anymore.”

He lies down, pressing his hands to his face.

“But then I’ll feel like I fucked it all up.”

“You didn’t.”

“Yoongi...”

“You didn’t, ___”, he says with his voice slightly raised. He lifts his hands from his face, looking at your face with widened eyes, “I told you that you didn’t.”

“Oh, okay”, you whisper, pulling back in insecurity. You sit up, “I’m sorry. I’ll just uhm, sorry yeah.”

You want to leave the bed to take a shower, but Yoongi pulls you back, holding your hand impossibly tightly.

“Hey, I’m sorry”, he says softly, “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you”, he whispers, pulling your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“No, it’s okay”, you say quietly.

He sits up, shimmying closer until your legs are touching and he can place his hand behind your butt to gain closeness that way.

“Let’s go downstairs and see if Kook’s awake already, yeah?” he suggests, “maybe you two could hang out today and sing karaoke again. Maybe Hobi and Seokjin and Emma could join too, I’m sure you would have lots of fun with them.”

“Are you not going to join us?”

“Karaoke is not my type of entertainment. It’s way too noisy.”

“What are you going to do then?”

“I’ll meet up with an old friend. Harriett. She has connections to the Koronen coven.”

“What’s the Koronen coven?”

“A very powerful coven of witches. They hate Namjoon.”

“Can’t I come with you?”

“No, she’s rather wary of strangers. Besides, we’re going to a few very dangerous places today. I don’t want you going there.”

“Okay”, you whisper, “but it’s not because you’re mad at me is it?”

Yoongi kisses your cheek and gets out of bed.

“I should be home tonight, but if I’m not you should stay with the others”, he says, avoiding your question that way.

He disappears in the bathroom then and seconds later you can hear the water run. The door he closed and locked.

Yoongi comes out of the bathroom to you lying on the bed. “the bathroom’s empty now, you can take a shower if you want to”, he tells you, walking past you to get some clothes out of his suitcase. He picks out random black pants and a black shirt.

“You should go now, the water’s still warm”, he says, having his back turned to you as he puts on his briefs and later jeans. He closes the zipper and button, finding it quite peculiar that you are so quiet.

He turns, looking at you for longer. Your right hand is covering your eyes and your lower lip is trembling.

“Princess”, he says, hurrying to the bed. He sits down on the edge of it, tugging your hand away. Just as he thought. You are crying.

“Don’t cry, princess.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your fingers are clutching his hand so tightly. They are drenched in anxious sweat.

“Love, hey. Don’t cry.”

“I, I can’t”, you stutter, spilling new tears, “I don’t want to lose you, please don’t leave me Yoongi please.”

“I won’t leave you. Please stop”, he whispers, caressing your cheeks.

You whimper and spill new tears.

“Please ___, stop crying.”

You sob and Yoongi feels so helpless that all he can do is force you to sit up and pull you into a deep kiss. You squeak in surprise, try to breathe, clasp his shoulders. He knows that you are surprised, that maybe he should have asked before, but he just had to kiss you. He didn’t know what else to do.

There were times where he would have left you if you acted that way. Because you overwhelm him in such situations. He doesn’t know what to do to stop your tears and because of it, he becomes nervous and quite frankly just a little bit frustrated with his own inability to console you. Many months ago he probably would have yelled something about you being childish and then ran away, but not these days. He doesn’t want to yell or run away, he wants to know that you actually stopped crying. Because he loves you and knowing that you are upset in any kind of way makes him ache oh so incredibly much.

And so he kissed you. He kissed you because he didn’t know what else to do.

Yoongi pulls back, drying your tears away with his thumbs.

“Stop crying. I’m not leaving you”, he says, staring into your eyes so deeply that he fears he might get lost in them.

“I’m sorry”, you whisper and hiccup quietly, “I’m s-so dramatic.”

“You’re not, just don’t cry anymore please.”

You nod your head weakly, lowering your eyes.

“Come here”, he says and pulls you into his embrace.

You rest against him weakly. Eyes closed and cheek against his naked chest. Your hands are on your own lap, but yearn for a feel of him. Your heart aches just a little bit less because his scent engulfs you and his hug is safe.

“Let’s get you cleaned up now”, he says, standing up with you in his arms.

Yoongi sits you down in the bathtub, turning on the water. He sits down at the edge of it. You clasp him instantly, resting your head on his thigh as he runs his fingers along your temple. You close your eyes. The water is warm, filling up the tub slowly. The sound of it is loud in the small room.

Yoongi caresses your temple until the water reaches you above your breasts. Then he moves – forcing you to lift your head that way – and turns off the water. He sits back down, cupping your face to tilt your head up. Like this you have to look into his eyes if you wanted to or not. You really wanted to. Even if it makes you tear up instantly, even if the sight of his dark brown, beautiful eyes breaks your heart. They are still so incredibly soft for you. Even if so much pain clouds them.

Yoongi begins soaking your hair and skin in water, using his hand for it while the other still cups your cheek. It is a tedious process, slow, but neither of you mind. Silence surrounds you. Except for the sound of water as he scoops it up, the trickling of it whenever it runs down your head again and the repetition of the two sounds as he soaks you more and more. You both try to ignore how the water becomes redder and redder as time passes. Remnants of last night. Remnants of your biggest mistake and his greatest heartbreak. Now gone from your skin and yet remaining in the water as a cruel reminder.

When Yoongi finally finished wetting you, you are crying again. Quietly and with too many sniffles escaping you. Yoongi leans down and kisses your forehead, cradling your cheeks as he does. You squeeze your eyes shut, sobbing softly.

Yoongi straightens up, turning away to prepare shampoo. He foams it up in his palms and turns back to you, spreading it in your hair slowly and gently.

You can’t bear to look at him. You close your eyes. It hurts so much to know that you hurt him. And it hurts even more because right now, he gives you so much comfort. To be treated so tenderly after everything that happened, it feels like coming home. And this feeling makes you sick in guilt today.

Yoongi finishes off by running his soapy fingers along your ears, cleaning them carefully. The bubbles crackle quietly in your ears.

Yoongi lifts his hands and seconds later you can feel warm water trickle over your scalp as he uses the showerhead to wash away the shampoo. He goes slow and precise, making sure to cover your face as he reaches your hairline. The water still manages to run along your paths at some parts, but the feeling is relaxing. A sensation which once again leaves you sick in guilt.

Yoongi turns the water off and opens the drain. It gurgles loudly as the water becomes less and less. He begins running his fingers over your face, brushing away the water.

You open your eyes once he reaches your hairline, shivering when he run his fingers over your forehead.

Your gazes meet again. The view breaks your heart. His eyes are glassy, his cheeks wet from tears.

“Yoongi”, you press out, reaching for his thigh even if that soaks his pants in water.

“You’re clean now”, Yoongi gets out, voice frail in sadness and hands cupping your face again. Tears roll down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry”, you croak, sobbing painfully as you reach up and cup his cheeks.

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, leaning into your touch.

Your foreheads connect, he wraps his fingers around your wrists.

“I’m so sorry”, you whisper shakily.

“I know”, his voice is pitched as he fights a sob.

The bathtub is empty. The air is cold around you. You shake because of it, but you know that there is so much more which makes you shiver. You are so upset, so angry at yourself, so fucking disappointed.

Yoongi wraps his arms around you and lifts you out of the bathtub. It soaks his clothes but he doesn’t mind.

He sets you down on the edge and wraps a towel around you, rubbing you dry while your head is resting against his tummy. He lifts you again once your body is dry, carrying you outside so he could dry your hair on bed. Just with a towel to get rid of all the access water. He drapes it over your shoulders once done, looking down at you.

You claw at the hem of his soaked pants, face contorted in a sob.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t say that anymore. I know.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“Me neither.”

“Yoongi”, you croak.

He places his hands over yours.

“I want you to have a nice day today. So please hang out with the others, I’d feel so much more at ease if I knew you had fun.”

“I can’t”, you shake your head.

“Please try”, he whispers and kisses the crown of your head, “now let’s get you something to eat. Come on, stand up. You can have some of clothes.”

“The really comfy ones”, you say quietly, holding his waist so tightly Yoongi wonders if you would ever let him go again.

“Of course, the really comfy one”, he promises you.

Yoongi was right, Jungkook is already awake when you come downstairs. He is chatting with Hoseok and Seokjin. The breakfast era was empty otherwise, which gave the small room an almost homely feeling to it. As if you owned the place.

It was also probably best that there weren’t other people around. Your conversations shouldn’t meet the ears of unsuspecting humans.

“Good morning”, Seokjin greets you first, scanning you from head to toe, “are you feeling okay?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You look kind of sad today.”

Hoseok and Jungkook turn, now inspecting you as well.

Yoongi enters the room behind you. They end up inspecting him as well.

“I’m okay, just slept really badly”, you say.

“Oooh ___”, Hoseok teases, wiggling his brows at you.

“No, it actually wasn’t that.”

“Oh, uhm”, Hoseok’s eyes drift to Yoongi, “are you guys okay?”

“It shouldn’t concern you”, Yoongi hisses, “stop sticking your nose into things that shouldn’t interest you, you nosy fuck.”

Hoseok blinks in confusion. This is the first time Yoongi snapped at him that way. So whatever happened between you and him must be serious.

“Sorry, I was just worried. That’s all.”

“I know”, Yoongi says dryly, “sorry, that was uncalled for, I just…” he looks at Hoseok with tired eyes, “…I’m tired.”

“Yeah, yeah I get it. It’s fine”, Hoseok says with the worry growing in his voice.

“Come on guys, sit with us”, Jungkook offers, “I’m sure some breakfast will do you well.”

“Thank you Kook, that’s sweet of you”, you say.

“I won’t stay. I have people to meet”, Yoongi says.

“Come on hyung, one bowl of cereal won’t hurt”, Jungkook insists.

“No. I don’t like cereal.”

“What? Everybody likes cereal. Hello?”

“I don’t.”

Jungkook huffs out air in frustration. Yoongi’s stubbornness impresses him just as much as it annoys him.

“Well then at least stay for some coffee”, Hoseok offers him.

Yoongi eyes the two vampires with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He looks at you then and how you look oh so tiny on your chair. He knows it is because you are sad.

“Fine”, he gives in, choosing the chair next to Seokjin to sit on. It is the one facing you.

Jungkook prepares Yoongi a cup and then pushes it over the table. He goes to fill your cup as well, but you deny him with a shake of your head.

“I’ll get tea later, thank you”, you murmur.

Hoseok puts his hand on your upper back, making you turn your head.

“Should I get it for you?” he offers.

“No, it’s okay. Sorry, I’m so weird today”, you say and get up, “I’m going to go myself, it’s okay.”

You turn and leave only to end up colliding with Jimin as he enters the breakfast room confidently. He ends up pushing you to the side, twirling around to study you from head to toe.

“Sorry sweetheart, didn’t see you there”, he says and twirls again to continue his strut to his chair.

You lift your head, meeting Taehyung’s eyes. He studies you from head to toe, looking unsure about how to approach you. You gulp, staring at him with widened eyes. Your heart feels both as if it is standing still and racing.

Holy fuck, why are they here? You could have sworn that they would be clever enough to stay far away from Yoongi at Charles’ place. Do they have a death wish?

“Are you alright?” Taehyung asks, inspecting your neck in case you still carry his bite marks. You obviously don’t, which confuses him. You should be covered in marks and yet you aren’t. Taehyung wonders if Yoongi fed you his blood. He can’t imagine that he did. Yoongi would never feed you his blood, he is too careful for that.

“Yes”, you say, avoiding eye contact.

“That’s a relief to hear. I was really worried for you. I looked for you all night. I only found you because Hoseok answered my texts.”

You don’t know what to say and so you look to the side instead. Hoseok gulps under the intense and angry look Yoongi sends his way. Somehow he gets the feeling that he fucked up, but he has no idea how and why.

“Were you leaving?” Taehyung asks you.

“I was just getting some tea from the vending machine.”

“I see. Shall I accompany you?”

“No”, Yoongi throws in, “sit. Now.”

Taehyung sneaks a nervous glance at Yoongi.

Yoongi rolls his wrist and points at a chair, snapping his fingers just once. His face is stone cold.

“I rather not.”

“Sit”, Yoongi hisses.

Taehyung gulps then drags himself to the chair with a lowered head.

Yoongi stands up and begins rounding the table. He picks up a knife along the way. Hoseok used it to cut his breakfast beforehand. The metal sings on the wooden surface. It glistens dangerously as he twirls it between his fingers.

“Uhm what is happening?” Hoseok asks in a whisper.

“I have no idea”, Seokjin answers him.

Taehyung’s face collides with the surface. Once. Roughly and loudly. It shakes the entire table, making the porcelain sing loudly.

“Yoongi, what the hell?” you gasp, hurrying to him only to stop when you watch him slam the knife straight through Taehyung’s hand and pin it to the table this way, forcing the younger vampire to scream up in pain.

“Yo bro, the fuck?!” Hoseok screams and jumps off his chair.

“Hyung, what are you doing??” Jungkook squeaks out while Emma and Seokjin are too shocked to find words and you scream for Taehyung’s sake.

“Are you fucking insane?” Jimin spits, “what’s legitimately wrong with you, you bastard?”

“Shut the fuck up, Park Jimin. It’s not your turn yet”, Yoongi barks, twisting the knife in Taehyung’s hand which makes him whimper and then cry out in pain.

Jimin closes his mouth, eyeing Taehyung with fear in his eyes.

Yoongi turns back to Taehyung, staring at the side of his face with ruby eyes. He twists the knife again. Taehyung sobs, trying to wiggle away, but failing miserably.

Yoongi leans closer until his lips almost touch Taehyung’s ear.

“Can you feel it?” he asks with poison in his voice, “can you feel how it’s cutting into your little bitch hand over and over again? It’s fucking torture to heal with a knife in your hand, isn’t it?”

He demonstrates his words by twisting the knife and renewing the wound. Taehyung cries out, clawing at the table with his free hand.

“Please stop, please”, he begs in snotty sobs.

Yoongi ignores them, dragging Taehyung’s head up with a strong grip around his hair.

Taehyung is bleeding out of his already healed nose. It was broken once. Yoongi doesn’t let go of the knife, keeping it deep inside Taehyung’s hand. The latter tries to reach for it but gives up when Yoongi twists the blade in warning.

“I was thinking of ways to hurt you all night”, Yoongi whispers darkly, “oh the fucking things I thought of, you have no fucking idea. I thought of peeling the skin off your bastard face, breaking ever single bone in your body and of ripping out your bitch fangs”, he spits, forcing his fingers into Taehyung’s mouth. He claws his jaw apart, making Taehyung gag from how harshly he digs inside his mouth.

His head falls against Yoongi’s stomach, his jaw breaks open as Yoongi uses his strength on him.

“Mngng”, Taehyung lets out, reaching behind himself to hit Yoongi, but the latter barely feels it. His eyes are pitch black, staring down at Taehyung.

“I thought about doing it over and fucking over again until your body couldn’t keep up with healing anymore”, he spits, forcing Taehyung’s fangs to the light with one expert press to his gums.

Taehyung hits Yoongi harder, fearing for his fangs as the latter wraps his fingers around them.

“Yoongi, please stop”, you beg in a trembling voice.

“Leave him alone!” Jimin screams, but Yoongi ignores him. He gives Taehyung’s fangs a soft tug.

“-ease”, Taehyung chokes out and sobs, “-ease ‘on’t.”

“I said leave him alone!” Jimin yells and attacks Yoongi with a pair of chopsticks. He rams them right through the side of his neck, using so much strength they come out the other side of it. Yoongi’s head tilts to the side, but otherwise his body stay unaffected.

“Holy fuck!” you screech, collapsing into Jungkook’s arms as your knees give up in shock.

Yoongi releases Taehyung’s face, stepping back from him for now. He turns to Jimin and rolls his shoulders. Then he growls, tugging the chopsticks out slowly.

Jimin stumbles back, lifting his hands in defense as he clearly didn’t expect Yoongi to survive such an attack.

“Wait, wait, listen”, he stutters.

Yoongi twirls the soiled chopsticks in his fingers and rolls his neck. Then he steps closer.

“Wait!”

Yoongi jumps at Jimin and slams the chopsticks right into his eyes. He takes Jimin by a bundle of his shirt to lift him and throw him against the wall. Jimin stays down once he fell, wheezing for air as his trembling fingers claw at his ruined eyes.

“It’s not your fucking turn yet, you impatient fucking bitch”, Yoongi spits and turns back to Taehyung.

He grabs him by his hair, tugging his head back.

“Where were we? Oh yeah, your punishment. This right now is the mildest punishment I could think of”, he growls, “hear me, Kim Taehyung? If ___ didn’t care so much for you, I'd have done things to you, which would have made the shit Namjoon did to you feel like a fucking holiday in comparison.”

Yoongi leans closer.

“You think you’re oh so funny, don’t you?” he growls, “___ trusts you. She goddamn fucking trusts you not to end her life and what do you do? Play with it just to get off.”

“You’re insane. You know nothing. I don’t get off on it.”

“Fuck, you fucking fuck”, Yoongi grips Taehyung’s back of his head and slams his face down again. He keeps it pressed down afterwards, despite Taehyung wiggling desperately, “you didn’t even fucking deny it. So you are playing with it. Holy fuck, you bastard”, he growls, squeezing Taehyung’s skull oh so tightly that it threatens to crack.

“Ah Y-Yoongi. Ouch, ah it, it hurts”, Taehyung whimpers, “p-please stop it, it hurts.”

“Yeah? It hurts? It fucking hurts? Good”, Yoongi squeezes harder, “I hope it does. You bastard fuck, do you really have no respect for her?”

“Hyung please it hurts. Ah my head, please stop.”

Yoongi carries madness in his eyes, squeezing down harder until it actually cracks.

“Ah, ah please. Ah.”

“Stop it you asshole! You’re hurting him!” Jimin barks, showing off his true face even if his eyes still cry black blood. They’re horrid to look at.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Or I’ll crush his skull right here and now and make you spoon his brains for breakfast”, Yoongi warns, pressing down on Taehyung’s head.

Jimin hisses, but stops when he hears the painful whimper Taehyung lets out. His face morphs back to human instantly.

Yoongi scoffs, looking back at Taehyung. He puts pressure on him again, forcing a loud wail out of Taehyung.

“You’re killing me!” Taehyung sobs and tries to reach behind himself to slap off Yoongi, “please stop, this is killing me!”

“Good. Die”, Yoongi spits with his voice scarily vast of empathy.

“No!” you call out with tears in your eyes, “stop that! Yoongi stop”, you beg, tugging at his wrist, “he’s had enough. Please you’re hurting him! Stop please!”

Yoongi lets go of Taehyung instantly. He huffs out air, staring at your face with angry eyes.

“Please calm down”, you beg, trying to calm him down by caressing his wrist, “please don’t kill him. Please.”

He inhales, grinds his teeth.

“Fuck”, he presses out and rips his arm from your grasp. He doesn’t attack Taehyung again, which means that at least somehow he listened to your wishes.

“You are going to stay away from her from now on”, he spits, “hear me? You crazy bastard don’t deserve her.”

“What?” Taehyung whips around. His eyes are glassy but filled with more anger than sadness, “why should I?”

“Because you drank her blood!” Yoongi screams, flashing his fangs, “how could you do something so fucking disgusting to her!? She’s supposed to be safe with us! We are supposed to keep her out of harm, to treat her with respect, to make sure that she never hurts! And you treat her like your living blood bag! You fucking disgust me!”

“You don’t know what you are talking about. She is not my blood bag! I would never hurt her!”

“You hurt her last night! You hurt her each time you took her blood! Each and every fucking time your disgusting best friend and you took her blood, you caused her harm. How dare you try to defend your deeds right now. Do you want me to actually scrape your fucking face off?”

Taehyung blinks, feeling lost for words for a good moment.

“You say you love her but willingly cause her harm. How dare you call this love. How dare you call her darling when, when you…” he trembles in emotions, “…when you use her in such disgusting ways!”

“You know nothing”, Taehyung spits and rips the knife from his hand. He is so angry that he doesn’t feel it, healing within seconds. He jumps up, making himself bigger.

“I know everything!” Yoongi roars, holding back from jumping at Taehyung only because you are clasping his arm oh so tightly, “she has been sick for days. Dizzy, weak, without focus. You were with us when she complained about dizziness, you were with us when she shivered no matter how warm we tried to keep her. Last night I had to fucking feed her my blood because her wounds didn’t stop bleeding! My blood! You made me give her my curse, you ugly bastard. And all you can say now is that I know nothing? I know far more about how love should be than you!”

“Hah!” Taehyung exclaims and laughs angrily, “you are truly such a…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, not when he sees how hurt you look by the entire situation. The tears don’t seem to stop streaming down your face and you are shaking all over as your fingers clasp Yoongi’s arm desperately.

“Why are you so pressed?” Jimin however doesn’t seem to care about your state, “when she was bleeding too much we just fed her our blood. Relax. We had everything under control.”

“You did what?” Yoongi spits.

You are frozen on the spot. Jimin just exposed his secret.

“You drank his blood?” Yoongi is addressing you with so much painful anger in his voice that you barely dare to look at him.

Your eyes meet. He is gawking at you. Gawking at you with big eyes and disbelief on his features.

“It was...it was, was once.”

Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, touching his chest. You know that gesture. This hurt him.

“Yoongi”, you press out, trying to reach him, but he takes a step back.

“He’s a Glutton, you stupid, fucking girl.”

The sound gets sucked out of the room. The floor feels uneven. The air hurts as it fills your lungs. Yoongi cursed at you. For months he didn’t. And now he did. You feel taken back to a time you never wanted to be taken back to. A time where Yoongi couldn’t stand you and you reciprocated his feelings. You hate thinking about those times, but now you have to. Yoongi cursed at you and you feel so fucking guilty.

“Yoongi”, you whisper shakily, feeling your eyes fill with new tears, “I’m sorry.”

“Tch”, he turns away from you with iciness in his eyes.

“Yoongi it wasn’t like this, please”, you try, touching his arm.

“Don’t touch me”, he hisses, ripping his arm free from you.

“My love”, you whimper and sob, “please, oh god, I’m so sorry. Yoongi, please.”

He ignores you, staring at Taehyung with dark anger, “you are gonna stay away from her, Kim Taehyung.”

“Me? Why me?”

“You-”, Yoongi steps closer, reaching for Taehyung’s face as if he wanted to punch it in right here and now. He stops when he watches Taehyung flinch in fear and seconds later squeeze his eyes shut.

“What’s your problem?” Jimin again, fuelling the fire, “stop pretending as if you’re the only person with a right to ___”, he spits, “so what Taehyung drinks her blood? She’s got enough of it. As long as she’s still running around happily he can do whatever he wants with her.”

Yoongi whips around, staring at Jimin with utter madness in his eyes.

“I told you to stay the fuck out of this”, Yoongi growls.

“Yeah? You’re such a prude fuck. What’s so wrong about a little bit of blood sharing? It’s not like the girl is dead. Calm down Min Yoongi, you can still play little bodyguard for her. Your little hero role isn’t over yet”, he challenges, “weak, little ___ still needs you, don’t you worry, you won’t lose your leverage on her.”

“Seriously shut the fuck up, Park Jimin”, Yoongi warns, boiling in anger.

Jimin wipes the blood from his healed eyes, mocking Yoongi by leaning on the table and flashing him a dirty smirk.

“You have no right to her, Min Yoongi. You are nothing but a parasite. If I remember correctly she was Taehyung’s first before you locked him up and forced her to like you, because let’s be real if you hadn’t, ___ wouldn’t look at you for even a second”, he says.

This was a mistake. So Jimin finds out seconds later when Yoongi picks him up, throws him against the next best wall and makes sure he stays there with a ripped off chair piece right through the stomach.

Jimin cries out silently, contorting his face in utter pain.

“Jesus fucking christ!” Hoseok exclaims, saying what you all think out loud.

“Don’t fucking test me today”, Yoongi growls, carrying two voices in his throat. One so familiar and the other demonic, truly and utterly demonic. Darkness seems to surround him and slowly but surely swallow the light in the room. Black fogs creeps out of the shadows, sucking up every ounce of warmth from the air, “I’ll let Taehyung live for the sake of ___. But you? You are just a washed up piece of shit nobody needs here. So one more word from you, one more fucking word and I’ll pull out your intestines and use them to hang you from the ceiling like the ugly fucking piglet you are.”

Jimin stares at him, whimpering in both pain and fear.

“You hear me, Park Jimin? If you think that I’ve gone soft because of my emotions, you are mistaken. I will give you the most painful death imaginable and I will laugh doing it”, he whispers darkly, twisting the stake in Jimin’s stomach and making him yelp up in pain.

“Let him go!” Taehyung yells, running to Yoongi only to get forced to his knees as Yoongi grips him by his throat and pushes him down.

He turns, giving view to his truest features. Hoseok and Seokjin, who have never seen them before, seem to make themselves smaller, knowing very well the meaning of this face. Like pack animals, whose instinct is to behave once their leader shows true anger. Maybe it truly is an instinct. A Creator putting his creations into place. It would be fitting.

“You two will start to behave around here. If I find out that you or your piece of shit friend willingly put ___ in any kind of danger again, I will rip you guys to pieces without any kind of hesitation. This right here is the last chance you are getting and if I were you, I would take it to run as fast as you fucking can. Are we clear?”

“Yes”, Taehyung croaks, fighting for air.

“Good”, Yoongi releases his neck, turning back to Jimin to pull out the wooden stake. He drops it, wiping Jimin’s blood in the latter’s shirt even if that makes him flinch in fear.

“Clean that shit up, I don’t need other people seeing it”, he hisses.

Then he turns, looking at the others, but ignoring you. His face was human again. The light has returned to the room.

“You guys make sure you have a nice day. It’s sunny outside, I’m sure the light will do you well”, he says calmly and closes the distance between you and him.

He stops, looks at you with an all too familiar frown. It hurts so much to have him wear that face for you again.

“Yoongi it, it wasn’t like you, you thought it was”, you whisper, reaching for him with trembling fingers.

He catches your hands before you can touch his chest however. His grip is cold. Not in temperature because his skin carries warmth, but in tenderness. Cold and distant. It’s not meant to comfort but to push you away. And that is exactly what he does. He pushes your hands away.

“It’ll get late today”, he says coldly, watching the tears fill your eyes without the desire to do anything against them.

Yoongi steps back and looks at Jungkook.

“Make sure she’s safe. I trust you.”

“I will, she’ll be safe with me. I won’t leave her side”, Jungkook promises him, nodding his head.

“Good.”

And with that Yoongi turns to finally leave, abandoning a room of confused faces and aching bodies.

The air is thick, suffocating even.

You have Jimin and Taehyung at one end of the room, holding the other whilst trying to check for wounds. And then Seokjin, Emma, Hoseok and Jungkook at the other end of the room, surrounding you while their eyes were locked on them.

“What the hell was that about?” Seokjin asks.

“Yeah seriously. I thought I knew what Yoongi looks like angry, but this right now was legitimately terrifying. Even the room got darker, I was so scared”, Hoseok agrees.

“What did you guys do?” Jungkook asks as he hugs your shaking form against his chest. You can’t stop sobbing, clutching Jungkook for dear life.

Taehyung turns his head, scoffs and turns away again. He continues talking to Jimin, holding his stomach eventhough his wound has long healed, “it’s okay Mimi, we’re safe now. Please don’t be scared anymore, I’m here. Oh Mimi, why did you challenge him?”

“Because he hurt you and I’m a fucking idiot”, Jimin presses out, cradling Taehyung’s face as he checks on his once broken nose.

“What did you guys do?” Seokjin stresses.

“Shut up”, Taehyung spits, “you wouldn’t try to understand us either way. Admit it, we’re the villains no matter what we do”, he says with a shaking voice.

“He said that you put ___ in danger. That you drank her blood. What was that about? Is it true?” Seokjin doesn’t want to give up however.

“That was Yoongi overreacting”, Jimin says, “he was nothing but an emotional, little baby acting up. What’s his problem? Just because he thinks he’s in love with ___ he can be a total asshole to us? Maybe he should go back to turning off his emotions if he can’t handle them.”

“Don’t talk about Yoongi like that”, Jungkook warns, flashing his fangs.

“Or what Youngling?”

“Oh you want to go? You lost your strength remember? I’m stronger now, so shut it.”

“Yes? And I have Taehyung. So try to go through him first. Right, Tae?”

Taehyung flinches when Jimin nudges him with his hand. He blinks rapidly, trying his hardest to stop his lower lip from trembling.

“I asked you a question, Tae”, Jimin insists.

“I, I want to go”, Taehyung presses out, making himself smaller.

“Hey”, Jimin nudges him harshly, “don’t chicken out now, they’re treating us like shit right now. Stand up for yourself.”

Taehyung lifts his shoulders to his ears, lowering his glassy eyes.

“Taehyung”, Jimin says loudly, “you-”

“Stop manipulating him!” Jungkook spits.

“What’s your fucking issue?” Jimin throws back, “don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Do you?” Jungkook growls, “I’m fed up with you ruining everything good for Tae just ‘cause you can’t get any friends besides him.”

“Aww, is your little ego hurt because he chose me over you?” Jimin coos.

Jungkook lets out a laugh of disbelief. The only reason why he hasn’t punched Jimin yet is because you are still sobbing in his arms and he doesn’t want to let go of you.

“Please stop”, Taehyung begs in a whisper, tugging at Jimin’s jacket, “please, let’s just leave, please.”

“Why? Jungkook really thinks that he has any right to you. I was with Tae for centuries. Do you really think that someone like you could have ever replaced me? You’re a sensitive, little baby, he’d have grown tired of you sooner or later.”

Jungkook lets out a sound of surprise while Taehyung whimpers and shakes his head.

“Careful”, Hoseok steps in between, lifting his hand in a warning manner, “you should think about what you wanna say next very carefully.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll punch you?” Hoseok furrows his brows, “I can take a lot, but hurting my friends is where the fun ends. Understood?”

“Should I be scared of you?” Jimin says and laughs.

Hoseok purses his lips and runs his eyes up and down Jimin’s face. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and clicks his tongue.

“You know”, he speaks dangerously calm, “you remind me of someone.”

Jimin chuckles mockingly.

“You remind me of Namjoon”, Hoseok says.

Jimin’s smile falls, his eyes fill with painful shock.

“It’s kinda sad.”

Jimin turns away and for just one second, he is flustered by the situation. He catches himself quickly however, taking Taehyung’s hand to tug him to his feet.

“Let’s go”, he says and runs, dragging Taehyung with him.

“Good. Run”, Hoseok says coldly with his dark eyes lingering on the doorframe for one more second then he breaks away and turns to you, “hey ___ we’re here”, he says with softness in his voice and hurries to you.

“I want to fucking die”, you sob into Jungkook’s chest, “it hurts so much! I can’t do this anymore!”

“Hey, don’t say that”, Jungkook soothes you , rubbing your back, “please don’t talk like this. You’ve got us.”

“You got it all wrong, please listen to me! You’ve got it all wrong!”

“What? Talk to us, baby”, Jungkook says while the others comfort you with soft touches on various spots of your body. Hoseok rubs your arm, Seokjin pats your head and Emma caresses your hand.

“I didn’t want to drink Jimin’s blood! I, I didn’t want to do that! Please believe me.”

“What do you mean?” Jungkook gasps.

“I didn’t want to, please believe me”, you didn’t hear him. It is like you can’t control what is coming out of your mouth. You are begging for your life, begging for your right to be understood.

“Okay, okay hey”, Jungkook says and hugs you tighter, “tell us what happened. Slowly. Yeah?”

“I didn’t want to, please believe me! Please!”

Jungkook looks at the others for help as he can’t get you to calm down no matter what he does. They seem just as lost. Everyone except Emma. She is staring at you with furrowed brows.

“___ told me that Jimin forced her”, she says.

“What?!” the others exclaim.

“When?!” Hoseok almost yells the word from how shocked he is.

“It was that night they went out together”, Emma speaks for you as you can’t talk.

“And you came home drunk?” Seokjin gasps, gripping your arm gently, “___, was it that night?”

You nod your head, sobbing louder.

“What the hell ___, why didn’t you tell us?” Seokjin gasps.

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Seokjin says.

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s not your fault. You didn’t want to drink his blood, but was forced to.”

“How? I still let him do it to me”, you choke out and sob.

“Don’t ever say this again”, Seokjin says and tugs you away from Jungkook just to cup your face with a certain strength. The kind of strength that demands your attention. His eyes are keeping you pinned to him, his stare is intense and urgent, “hey, ___”, he speaks softly yet with enough emotion to know that this is serious, “I need you to understand that this wasn’t your fault. Please ___ tell me that you know that what he did to you was not your fault.”

“But-”

“___. You have to understand this”, he says, widening his eyes in seriousness.

Hearing this from Seokjin feels different. You know that Hoseok wouldn’t judge you for whatever you do. You are aware that Jungkook is too understanding to find judgment in his heart. And you also know that sometimes Seokjin disagrees with a few of your choices and that he stands by this disagreement. So having him repeat to you over and over again that what Jimin did was not your fault, feels like finally being allowed to accept a truth you were too afraid to believe in fear of being a bad person.

“Jinnie”, you press out, squeezing your eyes shut as a new wave of tears came crushing down on you.

“I know, it’s going to be okay. You’ve got us”, he whispers, “do you want to be hugged?”

“Yes please, I can’t take this anymore”, you sob and as if on command your friends spring into action, taking you into the tightest and most loving group hug ever.

Just like always when one of you is sad. You will lean on each other and hug it out until it hurts only half as much.

You end up hanging out in Jungkook’s room, ordering junk food and playing board games but all of you knew that no amount of fries or fun little games could cheer you up. It distracts you, but doesn’t really make you happy. How could you when half of your little family is fighting oh so terribly?

So you end up giving up on games after two hours, ordering more junk food which will grow cold on the floor.

You even ordered ice cream because Seokjin wanted some and for the next hour you all ate ice cream and tried to talk about everything except what was truly on your minds.

You decide to eat dinner in Hoseok’s room. Take out. Chinese for a change. It’s really good, but feels wrong to eat. You shouldn’t eat, not when half of your dinner partners are nowhere to be found. You all stared at the chopsticks in your hands, but nobody dared to mention what they reminded them of, what image will always be associated with them from now on.

So Hoseok suggested watching a movie. It made the worry less and even managed to make all of you laugh at a few parts.

The movie has been over for hours now. The others are all sleeping soundly upstairs. They think that you are sleeping as well, and you were trying to, but in the end you couldn’t. So you left your room again, seeking something other than the loneliness and your thoughts.

Not that you could truly escape either of them. Even now, sitting in the foyer and staring outside at the rain, you feel oh so lonely in your painful thoughts. The fluorescent light above your head purrs deafeningly, the coffee vending machine in the corner behind you hums in an unpleasant frequency. The smell of acidic floor cleaner and wet rug hangs in the air. You haven’t seen any staff ever since you checked into this motel.

It is raining and Yoongi and Taehyung aren’t here. They are out there somewhere, getting wet and cold, when they should be inside where it is warm and dry. It hurts you so much to think about it.

You turn upon feeling a shadow linger behind you.

Taehyung. He is alone.

“Darling”, you gasp, jumping up to hurry to him, “darling, you’re back. I’m so happy that you are back. I really thought that you would run away. Oh today was such a mess. Oh dear, you are all wet. Oh darling, I’m so glad that you’re okay”, you babble, reaching for him.

Taehyung catches your hands before you could touch him, holding you by your wrists. His eyes are cold.

“Tae?”

“I’ve got a question for you”, he speaks alarmingly coldly. It sends shivers of anxiety down your spine.

“What?” you ask him, feeling your heartbeat speed up. Why is he looking at you with so much distaste?

“Who is the enemy here?”

“What? Nobody. Tae, I don’t understand why you are asking me this.”

“I can’t tell yet”, Taehyung says coldly, “what do you think of blood drinking?”

Cold sweat runs down your back.

“Don’t ask me that”, you whisper.

“What do you think of it?”

“I, I don’t”, you stutter.

“Be honest with me. For once be goddamn honest with me.”

“What?” you don’t understand what he is trying to say with that.

“What do you think of blood drinking?” Taehyung insists.

“Fuck”, you press out and lower your eyes, “Tae, I don’t know what to say.”

“The truth. Now”, his harsh tone makes you flinch.

You study his face with scared eyes. He looks at you in a mixture of anger and disgust. You have no idea why.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask him quietly, feeling sick in anxiety.

“What do you think of blood drinking?” he ignores you to ask instead, “tell me.”

Your eyes race over his face.

“Why are you acting this way?”

Taehyung steps closer and for the first time since you met him, you are scared when he does, stumbling back until the back of your thighs collide with a dresses.

“Tell me”, he insists in a cold and demanding voice and flashes his eyes ruby.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“I just…” you can’t bear to look at him.

“Go on.”

“I think that maybe we should stop doing it from now on”, you whisper, lowering your eyes, “I’m sorry.”

Taehyung scoffs, “I knew it.”

“What?” you ask, looking at him in confusion.

“Jimin was right. I didn’t want to believe him and yet here we are.”

“What? I-I” you feel lost for words, “what? I don’t know what he has to do with any of this.”

“He told me that you would try to get out of this situation by forcing me to give this up. To give up our thing.”

“This situation?”

“Us.”

“Why the actual fuck would you think that this has anything to do with us?”

“Because Jimin said so. He told me that you will manipulate me into bending my own morals. Why would you want me to give up our thing?”

“What is our thing?” you insists, hating your voice for breaking at the end.

“The blood sharing”, Taehyung hisses.

“That’s what you consider our thing?”

He nods his head.

“Taehyung, last night wasn’t our thing. Our thing is soft and romantic and lovely. Last night was something fucked up. I barely had a pulse left and couldn’t stop bleeding. If Yoongi hadn’t fed me his blood, I’d be dead right now.”

“I had everything under control.”

“Did you really?”

“What are you insinuating?”

“You know what I mean. We were stupid and reckless and went too far. And…and you wanted it to stop being our thing.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You told Jimin to beg for my blood. I didn’t consent to this.”

“But…it’s Jimin.”

“And I don’t want Jimin to drink my blood. Not after what he did to me.”

Taehyung looks at you with widened eyes.

“But this is Jimin. He is with me for everything.”

“Well, I don’t want him there”, you say, furrowing your brows, “he hurt me a lot and he keeps hurting the others.”

“I, I don’t understand. It’s Jimin”, he says with the sort of tone in his voice that lets you know that right now he is shocked about how something so normal to him seems so peculiar to you.

“Taehyung, I know, but I just…don’t want to include him.”

Taehyung blinks in confusion, letting out a sharp breath.

“He was right. Holy fuck”, he mutters.

“I don’t get this.”

“I never thought that you could be this person and yet here we are. I’m so disappointed in you”, Taehyung says coldly.

“What? What do you mean?” you feel tears fill your eyes.

Taehyung lowers your hands and lets go.

“Jimin told me what really happened at the club. He said that you begged him for a bite and that you forced him to give you his blood because you didn’t want me to worry”, he says, “how could you lie to me like that? How could you pretend that you don’t want him now? You truly think me such a fool?”

“What?!”

You feel numb in shock. Jimin lied and Taehyung believed him?

“He said that?” you choke out.

“Oh cut the crap”, Taehyung hisses, “you are a terrible liar. You want him gone. Don’t pretend as if you aren’t.”

You shake your head.

“He, he is lying to you. I, I didn’t beg him. He bit me and then forced his blood onto me. Please believe me”, you stutter.

Taehyung scoffs, “it was a mistake coming here. Fuck, I was so stupid believing that you were different. You are all the same. Nobody wants what’s best for me and all they do is manipulate me. Don’t stay up for me.”

“Tae”, you reach for him, only grabbing air, “Taehyung please come back!”

The door closes.

“Tae, come back. Why are you saying that?” you whisper shakily, “Tae, please let’s talk about it. He is lying to you.”

But the door stays closed and the night is lonely.

You return to the armchair and cry. You cry because nothing else helps. Taehyung believed the lies. All because you had to open your stupid mouth and tell him how you felt about blood sharing. You are such a stupid fucking idiot. No matter what you do, you fuck it up in the end. No wonder you always end up alone. No wonder nobody really wants to be with you. The thoughts begin to hurt too much to stay in your brain. And so you keep crying and thinking without remembering and hating yourself way too much. And it hurts so much that you want to scream and yet you can’t.

“What are you still doing up?”

Time passed and it felt endless.

You turn, locking eyes with Yoongi. His clothes are wet, as is his hair. You force down your sniffles, wiping at your eyes quickly. He doesn’t have to see that. You know how worried he gets when you cry and he shouldn’t have to feel that way tonight. For once he deserves to not give a shit.

“I can’t fall asleep”, you press out as best as possible, hoping that your voice sounds normal enough.

“I see”, he says and then stays silent.

You keep seated, feeling too scared to experience the same treatment again. If yet another person dear to you pushes your hands away tonight, you will officially break. So you stay seated, minimising the damage to your heart.

“You uhm”, you clear your throat, “got wet.”

“Yeah, it’s storming like a bitch outside.”

“I know, I was…really worried for you.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s storming and I just…” you swallow down the lump in your throat, “…was.”

“Mhm, don’t. I’m back. Can’t catch a cold anyway.”

“I know.”

You look at his hands. He has something between his fingers. Something delicate and red.

“What’s that you’re holding?” you ask him.

“Just...a leaf, uhm”, he shows you a little leaf, “I picked it on my way back. It’s red. Do you want to have it?”

“Yes, maybe”, you whisper.

“Okay. I’ll put it in water upstairs.”

“Thank you.”

Yoongi shifts in his stance, letting his unsure eyes run over your features. For just a second you let him and then you turn back to the rain. He picked a leaf for you. You feel so guilty that you want to cry. He shouldn’t have had to do that tonight.

“Where are the others?” he asks.

“Upstairs. Sleeping.”

“Ah. All of them?”

“Jimin and Tae aren’t back if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Ah.”

The floorboards creak as he shimmies again.

“I did what needed to be done.”

“Probably.”

“You’re safe with me, don’t be scared.”

Your gazes meet. Yoongi lowers his eyes.

“I’d never hurt you”, he whispers.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Okay.”

He turns then, just slightly as if he was trying to leave.

“I shouldn’t have called you stupid today. I apologise”, he says.

“No. I deserved it. Don’t apologise.”

“Mhm.”

He shimmies, touching the side of his neck. A cautious step closer to you. Stop. A step back again. Hand on his neck. Fingers twisting the leaf gently. A deep breath. A sigh.

“I’m gonna put that plant into water now. It’ll only wither otherwise. The rain outside, am I right?”

He leaves for real afterwards, abandoning you with your overwhelming feelings. Today was too much. The tears begin anew the moment Yoongi is out of the doorway. They are silent at first, before quiet sniffles join them. You muffle them in the sleeve of your shirt, keeping your eyes open to stare at the rain through your blurriness of tears.

It feels as if everything is crumbling under your feet. Tae is gone because he thinks that you want to separate him and Jimin. What if you will never see him again? What if Jimin is able to convince him that he is better off without you? He already managed to make him believe that you were a liar. What if you truly lost him?

And to make matters even worse, Yoongi is still clearly upset with you as well. He is trying not to show it, but you know that he is. What if he will never find it in himself to forgive you? What if he realises that what you did was so utterly revolting that he never wants anything to do with you again? What if you have lost him too?

And what if Tae comes back? Will the fighting continue? Will they ever make up? How will you ever make them forgive each other?

It makes you so sad. All of it. You are so incredibly sad, drowning in guilt on top of it. This is all your fault. All of it. You made Taehyung leave and upset Yoongi and because of you they are fighting. If you never even stepped into their life, then all of this would have never happened. This is all your fault. Once again you burned down something so important just because of your own selfish childishness. This is just like with Cookies and your house. It’s your fault. You are the reason why everything is in ashes.

“Hey. Love.”

You lift your head, locking eyes with Yoongi. His clothes are dry, his hair isn’t. He seems worried, studying your features with a frown. A tiny whimper leaves you. You turn your head away. You can’t face him. You aren’t worthy of it.

“Hey”, he says again and squats down in front of you. His hands rest themselves over yours, thumbs caressing your skin. His touch is warm and loving. Even now he is so gentle with you. It pains you so much to think just how hard it must be for him to act that way right now.

You spill hot tears.

Yoongi wipes them away instantly, tilting your head up in the process. His left hand still holds your hands, squeezing them gently in order to connect you and him.

“Don’t cry, princess”, he whispers and draws closer, “it’s okay. Don’t cry.”

“I’m a bad person”, you choke out, “I’m so sorry for what I did. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hush, it’s too late to think about yourself. Let’s just get you to sleep.”

“I hate myself so much.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I ruin everything.”

“No you don’t, you’re just tired.”

“Please go away, please don’t care for me, please don’t do that to yourself”, you beg him, coughing out gags afterwards as you cry way too fucking hard.

“Yeah? And leave you like this? The fuck you think I am?” he almost hisses the words at you, squeezing your hands tightly.

“I want to die”, you sob, sinking into yourself. Yoongi catches you before you can however.

“Come here”, he cradles you in his strong arms, rubbing your back as you fight for air, “don’t think that way, please. Not you”, he speaks softly, waiting patiently until you finally understand that he won’t let go of you until you hug him back. He has all night and he will hold you until you get it into your loud mind that he won’t leave you even if you beg him for it. You tremble in defeat and wrap your arms around him.

“There we go, I’ve got you”, he says and gets to his feet without struggle, carrying you safely.

And you wrap your legs around him. You know that this is greedy and selfish, but Yoongi’s hug gives you so much comfort and it is all you wanted tonight.

“You shouldn’t think this way, please be gentle with yourself”, he says softly as he carries you upstairs.

“Why do you even like me? I just ruin everything”, you press out and sob into his shoulder, “it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry, Yoongi.”

“Quiet, you’re too unfair to yourself. Let’s just…” he sets you down on the bed and tugs you in, “...try to sleep.”

“I can’t”, you touch your own head, “it’s so loud.”

Yoongi lets out a breath, studying your features with knitted brows and a tense jaw.

“I’m so sorry, Yoongi.”

Yoongi sighs in defeat, running the back of his hand down your cheek.

“Scoot over”, he says.

You do. You scoot over in your little single person bed, watching him with tired eyes. Yoongi gestures for you to open the blanket for him.

You do.

He claims the emptiness beside you, making sure that the blanket covers you all the way to your neck.

“Lift your head.”

You follow and so he places his arm underneath it, closing it around you in a way so that he can play with your hair. You sob and sob and sob. You sob so much that you don’t even notice when Yoongi lifts your hand to check for your ring only to furrow his brows when he realises that you aren’t wearing it anymore. You sob so much that you also don’t feel the soft kiss he places on your empty finger, but you do feel how his fingers brush over your temple.

“Calm down now”, he whispers.

You can’t stop your eyes from fluttering in sudden exhaustion. It is as if he pushed a button and forced the most intense sleepiness to fill your veins. Like magic. You are too far gone to make the connection between this magical feeling and Yoongi’s fingers on your temple. All you know is that it finally stops your thoughts and helps your body calm down.

“Relax, nothing’s gonna hurt you”, he soothes you, “just relax”, he whispers as his fingers caress your temple.

You release a shuddering breath, growing incredibly small in his arms.

“Come here now”, he says and with a gentle push to the back of your head, he has you against his chest. Your nose and forehead are touching it, your lips are barely gracing it. He smells like him. It forces your eyes to close and for your breathing to calm down.

Yoongi presses one kiss to the crown of your head, resorting to caressing your temple afterwards. The touch is carrying immense comfort, soothing your racing thoughts until they are nothing but passing whispers.

“Try to sleep, princess”, he says softly, “I promise today is going to pass.”

You fall asleep like this, sharing this tiny single person bed with Yoongi while he caresses your temple and relaxes you with the sound of his calm breathing.

“For both us”, he whispers, “it’s going to pass for both of us”, he slips his fingers from your temple now that you are sleeping and throws his hand over his eyes as he squeezes them shut, finally allowing the tears to escape.

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