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gretavangroupie · 8 months

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Vigilance (Chapter 22 Part 1)

Word count: 18.0k

Pairings: Jake x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, Cursing, Dramatic Themes. Angst Including: Talks of Infidelity, Toxic Themes, Stalking, Arguing, Yelling, Extreme Portrayal of Sadness, Crying, Abandonment, Heartbreak, Talks of Illness, Extreme Illness, Fainting, Hospitalization, Hospital Procedures and Protocols, Talks of Death and Dying. Smut Including: Kissing, Touching, Fingering, Oral F!Recieving Fluff.

This story is a collaboration with my best pal @gretavanmoon.

JAKE POV

“How was your breakfast date…”

She shrinks back at your words, a look of confusion crossing her face.

“My what?” she asks.

“Your date. Your breakfast date with Logan.” you say firmly.

She turns her head in shock, before turning to look back at you, “It wasn’t a date Jake. He is my friend. We just went and got breakfast and walked over to the farmer’s market across the street…”

“Sure looked like a date.” you quip.

“What? What do you mean?” she asks, shaking her head.

You pull your phone from your pocket, and pull up your texts from Danny, holding your phone towards her to take from your hand.

Her eyes scan over the glass flipping through the photos. “This is so weird. Who is taking photos of me? Why?” she asks.

“Fans. People who know we’re together. Or were.” you paused. “Went to the store. I waited all damn day for you to come back.”

“Oh god. Jake… I am so sorry, I–”

“Got caught up? Forgot we had plans when a better offer came along?” you ask, an edge to your voice.

"Jake..." she said, a flash of pain in her eyes.

She walked over to you and grabbed your hand, “Help me carry these bags into the study.” she smiles sweetly.

“What? No. We aren’t finished talking.” you respond.

“Just! Help me, please.” she says, grabbing a few bags in her hands.

You huff and pick up the remaining bags, setting them on the floor before positioning yourself on the couch.

“Was it…a date?” you ask.

“No. Not at all.” she says. “Logan and I met for breakfast, had a few mimosas, and as I was leaving I saw a farmer’s market across the street. We missed the last one because we were in Veg– well, we just missed the last one, and I wanted to go. Logan said he didn’t want me to walk alone, so he came with me.” she said, reaching for a brown paper bag on the floor.

She opened the bag and started pulling out all kinds of fresh vegetables and fruit, way better stuff than you saw at the store today.

“I saw these tomatoes and I remembered that spaghetti sauce you made that one time and I just… I don’t know, I thought maybe we could make it together. So I got a couple, and a few zucchini and some squash, and I thought these beets looked good too. I know you don’t cook with them a lot, so I thought maybe you could find a new recipe or something while you’re locked away in the house. We could test it and see if we like it.” she said, looking at you with eyes full of hope.

Shit. You read this completely wrong.

You let a guilty smile cross your face, and as you went to respond she smiled and started talking again, “So I kept walking down the path looking at the little booths and there was this sweet little man, and he had all these homemade pastas, and I was like, ‘okay spaghetti sauce needs pasta’ so I ended up with way too many bags, because he was so sweet and he told me about his wife and… Well we are set on pasta I think.” she smiled.

You rested your right arm across the back of the couch and let your fingers graze her neck, as she tilted her head back at your touch. She swallowed, and put the items back into the paper bag and set it on the floor.

“So, after that Logan walked me back to my car and as I was driving home I thought, ‘wait, we can't have spaghetti with no wine’, so I stopped at that big liquor store and I found that one red you liked a few weeks ago from that restaurant.

“You remember that?” you ask, just staring at her.

She looked at you and hesitated as she answered, “...well, yeah…”

“So dinner was all set right? As I was driving home, I passed that old music shop and decided to just peek and see if they had anything new for you. I ended up with these…” she said, pulling 3 albums from the white plastic bag, and placing them in your hands.

“Wow, some old, old motown. These are good finds. Perfect cooking music.” you smile, staring into the face of a woman who no doubt knows you better than you know yourself.

“Really? I just thought maybe something new would be fun. New memories, I guess.” she says bashfully.

“Yeah, but I like the old ones too.” you smiled, letting your thumb trail over her skin again.

“You know right next to the music store is that Page’s place, and I know hanging out at home all day can be so so boring, so I looked around for a while, and tried to see if anything really stuck out and said ‘Jake’.” she said, with a curious look on her face.

“And did anything say ‘Jake’?” you laughed.

“Yes, just these two. They kind of reminded me of that one I just finished. All in the same vein I think. I hope you don’t already have them. But if you do I can tak–”

“They are perfect. I don’t have them, and I can’t wait to read them.” you encouraged.

She grabbed them back from you and put them back into the paper bag, grabbing one final bag from the floor.

“Okay and I made one last stop on my tour of Nashville today. But there are two things in the bag, neither of them related at all.” she giggles.

You nodded your head for her to continue.

“Going back to the home all day thing, I thought maybe you might want to try painting a little bit? There are just the basic colors and brushes in here, but I know you are really getting into drawing again, and thought maybe painting would be a fun new outlet.”

“I have actually been thinking about that, it’s like you read my mind.” you grinned.

“Okay the last thing. Don’t laugh. I just–I just thought it would be fun. I know you’re going to absolutely kill me at it but…” she said, pulling out a large square box.

You took it in your hands with a huge smile, “Trivia?! Rolling Stones Trivia!?” you asked.

“Yeah! I saw it by the register and I was like, ‘I think…Jake needs this in his house?’” she laughed.

You nodded your head and set it in your lap, looking into her eyes, “Our house.”

Her eyes search yours, flicking back and forth as she nods. She hands you the bouquet of flowers and smiles down at it.

“I also picked these up for you. I know it's not typical for a man to receive flowers but, I saw them and…I thought of you.”

God. You were wrong. You were so so wrong. You didn’t even give her a chance to say anything before you started grilling her.

“I hope you believe me when I tell you that it was just breakfast and nothing even remotely close to a date. I know what you were thinking after seeing those photos and that’s not it at all. I know what I did to you probably has you feeling like you can’t trust me and I get that. I deserve that. But I spent the whole day going around town finding things for you. For us to do together. If you want to. Things to make you happy because really, all I want is for you to be happy. But I specifically got these flowers for you because they reminded me of the ones we used to pick by the lake. And I want to keep doing that with you. I want to sit here and pick every single petal until the very last one is ‘she loves you’.”

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. She told you, time and time again, that she would never do anything to make you doubt her feelings for you ever again. And still you did. Told you flat out that she loves you and wants to spend the rest of her life with you, but as she came home tonight you were so quick to jump on her about Logan. She was right, you did have a new issue with trust, but you knew you could fix it. Mend it. Together.

“And I am so sorry I forgot about going to the store with you. That was my fault. I should have come straight back after breakfast, but I was just thinking about waking up next to you this morning, and how a few days ago that wasn’t promised, and how scared I was for you and what if I never got to do this again…”

She started getting teary eyed talking about it, and you felt your heartstrings being pulled at the sight. She really loves you.

“I just know things are weird with us right now, so I thought maybe I could just show you that I was thinking of you and how much I want to fix this, and hope you felt the same.”

You grab her hands and pull her across the couch into your chest. You aren’t sure but you thought you felt a tear slip out onto your shirt as you held her face to you.

“I do. I do feel the same. Thank you, so much. For all of it. Everything.” you say rubbing circles into her back.

“So you want to then? We can make the spaghetti sauce and play the trivia game?” she asks, voice slightly shaky.

“I don’t want anything more than to do that as soon as possible.” you smile, pressing your face into the top of her head, and breathing in deeply the smell of your girl.

You release her from your grip and she pulls back from you, looking at you with pure adoration.

“How about we get this all put away, and I will start us some dinner?” you ask, rubbing your fingers over her hand.

She smiles and nods, collecting a few of the bags, before standing from the couch.

You carry the bags to the kitchen and pull one of the bottles of wine you bought today from the pantry, pulling the cork, and pouring it into a glass. You reach the glass towards her and as she takes her first sip, her eyes widen and she looks at you.

“This is that one I like?” she says, shocked.

You spin around and smirk at her, “Maybe I was thinking about you today, too.”

—

As you stand at the sink, loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher you look over at her, finishing wiping off the counters.

“I’ve got the rest.” you smiled, placing the plate on the rack.

“You sure? I can–”

“Yeah, I know you’ve had a long day.” you reply.

“I think I’m gonna go take a shower then, if you’re sure.” she says, walking over towards you.

“I’m positive. There’s hardly anything left to do.” You respond standing back up to look at her.

“Thanks for making dinner. That chicken was so good…I would love to have that recipe.” she says.

“What do you mean, I’ve got it right here?” you say pointing to your temple.

“Well, yeah but…What if–”

“Nope. Nope. Nope. Go take a shower.” you say, whipping the dish towel towards her.

She scurries off into the guestroom, and you toss the towel back over your shoulder as you smirk. What if… Like you’re ever letting that woman go again.

You close up the dishwasher and set the coffee maker before heading to the front door to shut off the lights and set the alarm. You glance down the hallway and see the guest room door shut, knowing she's probably in for the night, as you make your way to your bedroom.

You step inside and turn on your lamp, as you gravitate into the bathroom for a shower of your own. You let the soapy water rinse of the guilt of earlier as your mind flutters with thoughts of her. Minutes later you are stepping out, and wrapping yourself in a towel as you brush your teeth.

The house is still quiet as you put on your boxers and turn off the closet light. As you climb into bed you grab your glasses and one of the books she got you from your nightstand, and relax into your pillow.

She was right, this book did have your name all over it, and you wondered how you’d never seen it before. Within minutes you are flying through the pages, hanging on the words of every sentence, pulling you into a world you could only read about.

You heard a creak at the door, causing your eyes to dart over the top of the page. Peeking her head into the room you saw Y/N, damp hair hanging over her bare shoulders as she looked at you.

“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to bother you. I didn’t know you were reading.” she says, rooted to her spot at the door.

You put your book down on your chest and push your glasses up, “It’s okay, what’s up?”

She takes one step closer to the door, now half of her body visible, “Well nothing. I didn’t know you were reading, so it’s okay, nevermind.” she says bashfully, stepping backwards.

“Hey, no, wait! Come here…” you say, motioning for her to come over to you.

She rocks back on her heels before stepping into the room in a barely there black silk pajama set, causing your heart rate to skyrocket. She has her pillow in her arms as she walks over to your side of the bed, and sits on the edge right in front of you.

“I was just wondering if we were gonna watch tonight…” she admits. “But I see you are reading that book, so I want to let you do that. We probably shouldn’t be watching in your bed anyways.”

You let your hand settle on her silky smooth thigh, “Baby, I was only reading because your door was shut. I thought you were going to bed. Of course I want to watch.”

“Really?” she asks.

You dog-ear your page, and fold up your glasses, setting both on your nightstand before grabbing the TV remote.

You turn off the lamp as she stands up and walks around to the other side of the bed. You pull the fluffy duvet back as she slides in, putting her pillow behind her head. Sometimes you wish it wasn’t a king. Sometimes you wish it was a queen, just so you could be closer to her. Times like right now.

You press play on the remote, happy to have her here with you after wanting her to be here all day. You kick yourself again for doubting her.

“Whatcha thinkin’ bout?” she asks, rolling on to her side, to face you.

“You. All the cool stuff you found today.” you answer, listening to the theme song play.

“Hope you like it.” she grins.

“I love it.” you say, reaching out and squeezing her hand.

You pull your hand back but only let it drop a few inches from hers, not touching but still close.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a while, the climax of the episode just passing as she finally turns to you again.

“Do you think they’re in love?” she asks, her voice sleepy.

“Who, Scully and Mulder?” you ask.

“Yeah. I think Scully is in denial that she loves him.” she says.

“I think they both love each other but their job makes it difficult for them to have a relationship. If they pursued it, and something happened, not only would they lose each other but they would lose their investigative partner too. They are both so committed to their jobs they aren't willing to risk doing anything that might take it away from them.” you said, turning to look at her.

“But how do you know he loves her?” she asks.

“See how he looks at her when she talks? And how is always just kind of there, ready to act if something were to happen to her? I don’t know, I guess I can just tell. Same things I do, I think.” you answer.

“You think you would save me if the aliens tried to take me?” she giggles.

“Yeah, of course I would save you. Or I would make them take me, too.” you said, letting your fingers trail over her arm.

She twitched, “Ooh, don’t do that! It tickles!” she squeals.

“What, this?” you said, repeating the movement with a little more force causing her to squirm closer to you.

“Jake! Stooooopppp…” she pleads.

You do it once more, hearing her laughter fill the room as she playfully fights you off.

The credits start to roll in the background, and you both look up at the screen.

“One more?” she asks.

“Okay, one more…” you agree, knowing you’d watch ten more if she asked like that.

Throughout the entirety of the next episode, the two of you have inched your way closer and closer to each other, until she is practically laying on top of you. You run your fingers through the ends of her hair, as her hand rests on your stomach. Her finger tips are making small circles on your bare skin, and it is taking every single ounce of willpower to not jump her bones right here.

She thinks you don’t notice her hand moving lower and lower on your stomach, grazing the top of your boxers with her pinky finger. Sliding the soft tip of her finger through your happy trail. You wanted her. No, needed her. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t break the rules.

As the credits rolled once again, she didn’t move. She laid perfectly still on your chest, as you reached over to grab the remote, turning the TV off. The room was left in darkness, as you resettled yourself on the pillows.

“Are you staying? You can stay if you want to…” you whisper into her hair.

“I know I shouldn’t, I’m just so comfy…” she groans, sliding her legs together.

“Your call baby.” you reply.

“Just tonight. Tomorrow we start over. Following the rules.” she says.

“Okay. Start over tomorrow. Fresh start. All good.” you repeat back to her.

The room goes silent for a few minutes, just the sound of your heart beating in your chest, as her fingers continue to graze the elastic of your boxers.

“I can hear your heart beating fast you know…” she giggles, sliding a finger into the hem.

“Well you have your fucking hand halfway down my boxers, and my dick is throbbing so hard they can hear it in Knoxville.” you quip.

You feel her laugh against your chest, “I should probably stop. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” she says, pulling her hand away.

Fuck.

“It’s okay baby. Just miss you is all.” you reply, wondering how you’re going to fall asleep with this situation going on.

You turn towards her, letting your hand cup her face as you press your lips to hers, “Goodnight.”

You know the second it happens that you fucked up, “Shit Y/N. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just habi–”

You’re cut off by the feeling of her lips on yours, begging and pleading for you. You put your hands back on her face, pulling her closer to you as her tongue licks into your mouth. You can taste her and her mint toothpaste, as your tongues tangle together the way they have always just known how.

You pull back from her, all panting and heavy breathing, “Baby, the rules… we aren’t suppos–”

“Do you want to stop?” she breathes.

“No.” you answer, reattaching your mouth to hers, continuing to devour her completely, in all the ways you dreamt of over the past three weeks.

You pull your lips down the curve of her jaw, moving to hover over top of her as you press soft kisses into her neck and shoulder. You grab her arms in your hands as she writhes beneath you, her breathing telling you everything you need to know.

You bring your head back down to her chest, placing a wet kiss on her sternum, dragging your tongue up to the hollow of her throat.

“Jake…” she breathes.

“Mhmm…” you hum.

You let your hand run up underneath the thin black silk of her tank top, ghosting your hand over her hardened nipple, before letting your thumb and forefinger pinch the sensitive skin.

“Tell me to stop, and I will…” you offer.

“We can’t…” she whines.

“But we are…” you reply, taking her nipple into your mouth. Her back arches up off the bed and a whine leaves her lips.

“Baby… god. I miss you so bad…” you say before reattaching your lips to her.

Her hands come up from the sheets, fisting into your hair as you continue to trail kisses down her stomach.

“Keep going Jake…” she breathes.

You run your finger under the band of her silky shorts, as her hips arch into your touch.

“What’s wrong baby? You miss me too?” you tease, pulling yourself lower on the bed, pushing the blankets out of the way.

“Yes… Yes, I miss you too…” she pants.

“Been so long…Did you forget me?” you ask, hooking your fingers into her shorts, and pulling them down her legs.

“Need me to refresh your memory?” you ask.

“Please…” she begs.

You press a kiss to her thigh, causing her hips to jerk forward again.

“Maybe just… a little reminder of what it was like…” you taunt.

Her hand reaches for yours, holding her hip bones, twisting her finger with yours. You use your free hand to slide your middle and ring fingers through her center, collecting the wetness.

“Mmmm… that’s my fuckin’ girl right there. Gorgeous little thing so ready for me.” you say, letting your thumb connect with her clit.

“Jacob…” she groans.

“It’s been too long hasn’t it?” you ask, letting your middle finger slide into her.

Oh shit. You feel your dick twitch in your boxers and you know that this is doing just as much for you as it is for her.

You let your finger slide against her walls, pressing into her sweet spot as her body begs for more.

You pull your finger out of her and push her legs apart as you attach your mouth to her center. You let your tongue swipe through her folds, before positioning it at her opening and pressing forward. The sounds leaving her mouth are pure ecstasy, and you wish you could bottle it for a rainy day.

You let your tongue begin to flick back and forth over her clit as you push two fingers inside of her again.

Her hand returns to your head, pulling you down onto her harder as you feel her insides fluttering.

“Taste so fucking good baby. So fucking perfect. Never get enough of you.” you groan against her.

You let your other hand come up and roll her left nipple between your fingers as her hips begin to buck into your mouth.

“Jake, I’m close, I don’t want it to be over…” she whines.

“I know baby, me either. You feel so fucking good on my tongue, wanna stay here forever. But I want you to cum for me. Want to make you feel good. Miss hearing my girl say my name.” you coax.

As you continue to flick your tongue across her clit you feel her legs snap up around you, and her walls tighten against your fingers. With a blow of cold air against her clit and reattaching your lips to suck it into your mouth, your name is echoing through the house as she releases onto your tongue. She rides the high for a minute or two, before letting her legs fall back to the side. You place a kiss on her groin and slide off the bottom of the bed to the bathroom to grab a washcloth.

When you return you see her sitting up in the bed, waiting for you to come back.

“Here, I tried to wait for the water to warm up, I just didn’t want to be too long.” you say, handing her the cloth.

A few minutes later she is pulling her shorts back on, and fixing the strap of her top.

She stands up from the bed and grabs her pillow, before attempting to fix the sheets. You grab her hand as she starts to walk away, “No, nononono….please stay baby.” you plead.

She lets out a sigh, clearly conflicted about what to do.

“The rules are already broken babe. Come back to bed. Let me hold you. Sleep so good with you here…” you beg.

She climbs back in and cuddles up next to you, letting another deep breath leave her lips.

“What’s wrong love, was it not good?” you ask.

“No, it was amazing, Jake…So good… I just…” she says, fighting off tears.

“What, tell me…” you breathe.

“I just love you so much and miss you so bad, and I feel like you’ll regret doing that in the morning. We have so much to work on and…” she says, a tear slipping out of her eye.

“No. I will never, ever regret making you feel good. Not ever. I know we both decided we weren’t going to do that, and that we were going to take things slowly and give ourselves time. But we live together, and we are bound to slip up. It’s human nature. I’m attracted to you and you’re attracted to me. I want to make you feel good and you want to make me feel good. As long as we don’t make it a habit, I think it’s okay. At least, I’m okay with it.” you giggle.

“No, you’re right. I just…feel like I am the one who should be…making amends.” she sniffles.

“Baby you’ve already made more amends than you know. Everyday we are getting better, even if it doesn’t feel like it. A small step forward is still a step. And I need to make amends to you too.” you say.

“Okay. I’m sorry I didn’t…you know.” she said.

“Don’t be sorry, that was as satisfying for me as it was for you. You know that is one of my favorite things. I miss you too, you know. All of you. All the time.” you say, kissing her forehead.

She twists around in your arms, fitting her body perfectly with yours. You pull the duvet up over the two of you, before sliding your hand under her top, and letting your thumb gently glide over the set of stars marked in her skin. It’s not long before she is passed out in your arms. And as you held her close, you closed your eyes feeling perfectly content to stay right here with her, like this, for the rest of your life.

—

You startled awake, sitting up in the bed to find her gone once again. You rested back down into the pillows, a familiar smell filling your nose causing your mouth to water. Surely not…

You grab your phone and look at the texts waiting for you, deciding none of them were more important than what was going on in your kitchen at the current moment.

You threw the duvet off of you and stood from the bed, hearing your joints pop and crack. You stretched your arms over your head with a yawn, before opening the bedroom door and peeking into the hallway. Soft music was playing from the kitchen speaker as you quietly made your way down the hallway. You stopped just short of the kitchen, standing back and watching as Y/N ladled pancake batter into the skillet as she hummed along quietly to the music.

You snuck up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist as she jumped with surprise.

“Jake! Holy shit…” she pants.

“I thought part of this deal was that we were going to listen to Sam Cooke…” you growled into her neck as she flipped the pancakes.

“It’s a Sam Cooke playlist… Does that count?” she laughs.

You nodded and released her, walking over to the coffee pot, grabbing the mug she left for you and filling it to the top. You took a seat at the island, resting your elbows on the counter as you watched her continue to cook. She peered over her shoulder at you a few times just smiling, probably feeling the same way you were feeling.

“I’ve decided you can’t wear that anymore.” you say, gesturing to her pajamas.

“What?” she asks, turning to face you.

“That little thing…If we are following the rules you cannot wear that…” you plead.

“Why, you like it?” she smirks.

“Something like that.” you say, raising your eyebrows.

“What happens when you find out I have like 5 more in different colors?” she asks.

“I become a tortured man.” you laugh.

“Okay tortured man, come get your pancakes.” she quips.

You stack them high on your plate, ready to completely devour the meal you'd been craving for weeks. As you sit across from her at the table you look up at her, smiling as she watches you eat.

“What?” you laugh.

“Nothing, you’re just…” she trails off.

“I’m what!” you prod.

“Sweet.” she smiles.

“Sweet, huh?” you say, dipping your finger in the syrup and swiping it over her lips playfully.

“Hey!” she says, swiping her syrup finger over your lips.

You tap her cheek, leaving a sugary sweet drop on her dimple as she laughs.

Next thing you know her finger is brushing your cheek, mirroring your actions.

You both pause, looking at each other for just a second too long before she's launching into your lap and connecting your lips to hers. You wrap your sticky hands around her waist, pulling her down onto you as your tongue tastes the sweet maple sugar on her lips.

Your hips press up into her causing a whimper to leave her mouth. She pulls away, staring at you so closely you can see your own reflection in her eyes, “Starting fresh.”

“Yes. Starting fresh.” you say, pulling her in for one more kiss. She lets her tongue swipe across your lips before peeking in ever so slightly. Suddenly she's pulling away, and standing from your lap, leaving your noticeable erection in open view.

Her eyes flick down to it, and her breath catches before swallowing back her emotions.

“Thank you for the pancakes... Same time next week?”

---

HER POV

“Baaaaabe!” You hear Jake call from his study.

“Yeaaaaah?” You call back smiling, hearing his voice call you by your favorite name in the world again, making your insides do flips.

“Josh is coming over in a little bit! Don’t be naked or anything!” He says.

Jesus, Jacob. You laughed as you folded the laundry on the couch. You scoffed again, picking up a giant unfolded pile of his clothes and rushing through the house. You found him relaxed back in his giant leather chair, strumming away in nothing but his boxers. You snuck behind him, dumping all the clothing in your arms overtop of him before running away.

“You don’t be naked!” You giggled as you ran back to the guest room and locked yourself away before he could jump up and catch you.

“Hey! What the hell!” You heard him yell and chuckle as you heard his heavy footsteps hitting the wood floor toward you. You held your ear against the door to listen to him try and get in. He jiggled the old door handle, knocking quietly right against your ear on the other side.

“Open up, love…you can’t get away that easily…” he muttered quietly, rapping his fingernails against the door. You giggled, staying quiet to see what his next move would be. “Y/N, you can’t stay in there all day…”

“Yeah I can, I’ve been doing it for the past few weeks…don’t underestimate me, babe.” You said through the door.

You spoke on deaf ears, hearing his footsteps trail away. Ah. Guess he doesn’t want to play anymore. You walked backwards to the bed, sitting on it gently still waiting for something to happen.

A few seconds later you heard the handle rustle again, as you watched it turn in completion, and the door slowly push open. He stood in the threshold, left arm full of wrinkled laundry, and his right hand lighted high, holding something small that hung from an old long piece of leather string.

“You forget I’ve got a skeleton key, love?” He said through a sly smile.

Oh shit.

The pile of laundry was suddenly thrown back on you, making a mess of your perfectly made bed. He ran back out of the room as you gathered the clothes and ran off toward him for your revenge. You found him seated on the couch where you just were, silently folding the laundry left behind. He raised his eyebrows to you, knowing that he was in a place that you couldn’t get him.

“Touché, Jake. Touché.”

Just then you heard knocks on the front door as you saw the poof of Josh’s hair poke inside. “Hello! Anybody home? I come bearing gifts!”

You walked toward the door, meeting him there and taking a few things from his hands. “Hey! What’s going on?” You greeted him with a smile.

“Nothing just stopped by the store and thought Jake might want these.” He said, pulling a pack of something out of a brown bag. Jake trodded into the kitchen, still in just his boxers, and started digging around in the bags.

“Here, look what I found!” Josh said, throwing the pack through the air to Jake. He caught them and read the packaging.

“Pedialyte popsicles?! I didn’t even know they made these!” Jake said, rushing to the freezer to throw them in.

“Me neither. We used to tear a whole pack of those things up in one day as kids. Mom would keep extras in the freezer all summer long, remember?” Josh said, pulling more things from the bags. “And you’re probably still dehydrated, so. It’s a win win!”

“Thanks brother, I’m actually very excited to eat those. How are you feeling?” Jake asked.

“Much better…my throat, though.” He said, grabbing across his neck. “Still scratchy as hell. I’m actually glad that we decided to take some time. I would’ve sounded like shit.”

“You always sound like shit.” Jake quipped, popping some cashews into his mouth.

“Fuck you, you sing then.” Josh said.

“No, I don’t want to. I can’t anyway.” Jake said, pulling some gatorades from the plastic holder.

“Yes you can, Jake are you joking?” You added. “You should hear yourself in the shower.”

He blushed a little. “Ahh, nah. Not my forte, unfortunately. Maybe one day.”

“One day like the next album, one day?” Josh said, silencing the room and raising one eyebrow to Jake.

Jake stood puzzled. “Uhh, probably not, why? What is that brain of yours cooking up now?”

Josh stole the can of cashews from Jake’s hand. “Oh nothing, just had some cool thoughts about the next round.”

“Uh huh, and?” Jake pressed.

“I dunno. I’ve been wanting you guys to all sing with me for a long, long time. I know you know you can sing. Danny absolutely doesn’t care to, Sam only agreed to backup, which is good too. I dunno, the fans always go nuts when you even speak, thought it might be cool to do something a little more intimate maybe.” You watched Jake’s face as he listened to Josh talk, his own wheels spinning.

“Like something acoustic?” He added.

“Exactly.”

“Hm. That might be a really neat switch up. Very interesting.” He said, leaning his elbows on the countertop. “Could bring back some oldies, even…”

“Yes, I was thinking that too. We already know the basic premise of this next one, and how we wanna do it. It’d be really cool to touch back to the past a little bit. Really reconnect with the roots of things, you know?” Josh said, licking his teeth. “Anyway, that’s for a later discussion. Just thought I’d put it in your head.”

“I’ll definitely think about it. I hate to be a bad host, but I’m gonna go take a nap. These meds are still kicking my ass.” Jake said, running his hand through his hair.

“Goodnight brother.” Josh said, continuing to pull some random items out and put them into the fridge.

“You can hang out, Josh. If you wanna. I’m just bustling around the house today.” You said, wanting some company from him. You still felt like you needed to continue to connect with Josh, letting him see that you were serious this time.

The two of you went to sit on the porch, taking a couple of wine spritzers with you. Josh insisted that they were good, so you pulled out the red that Jake had gotten you last night and threw a little ice and sprite overtop. To your surprise, he was right.

“It’s warm today, huh?” He said, making his way to the porch swing.

“Yeah, it is. Kinda weird for March…” you let the conversation rest while you swang, watching the barren tree limbs sway in the wind. “Josh, I have a question. And be honest, okay?” You said, turning to face him.

“Okay, shoot.” He said.

“Do you think I should really come on tour with you guys? I mean, after everything, and Jake and I wanting to give each other space…I don’t know. I didn’t tell him I was thinking about it, but. I just wanted your opinion.” You relented.

He sighed, tilting back the last of his spritzer. “You kind of don’t have a choice, babe. Remember that little piece of paper you signed?” He winced, not wanting to remind you of your contract.

Shit. “Yeah, I remember that. I just…want to give him what he needs. And if I’m there all the time, ya know.”

“I know. I get it. Maybe this can be like, your all’s first challenge together. If you’re both wanting to grow and start fresh, this can be what tests you the most. Maybe look at it like that.” He said, offering an alternative thought process. “Maybe look at it as a blessing in disguise, that you each still get to be with your favorite person, watching over each other while growing together. Growing into the person each of you needs. Think of it like that.” He smiled.

Hmm. You really hadn’t looked at it that way.

“That’s actually a good way to put it, Josh. Everything with us has always been cut and dry, we’ve given each other more heartache than I care to admit. Me more on the giving side of it than him. And I don’t know, I’m just. Ready to be away from that version of myself.” You said, being completely honest. “I’m tired of her. I’m too young to be wasting my good years on being a bad person.”

He looked to the sky again, before he took a short breath. “Do you love yourself, Y/N?”

Your face fell. Your stomach fell, your entire body felt shifted by that question. Wow, you’d never asked yourself?

Your expression scrunched up. You looked away into the trees again as the breeze picked up, pushing some forgotten leaves across the yard.

“No, Josh. I don’t think I do…” you whispered, admitting it to yourself and him at the same time. You felt a spring of tears well up in your eyes, drowning your eyesight.

You felt his hand rest on the back of your neck, his touch feeling similar to Jake’s, but in a more comforting way. “Well then, how do you expect to give all your love to him when you don’t even have enough to give yourself?”

The tears fell harder now as you nodded, looking to him while catching them as they tumbled. “You’re right, I’ve never…I’ve never thought of that. Like that, before…I guess.”

“Y/N, when was the last time you felt truly happy with yourself, by yourself, alone? Like everything was gonna be okay, everything was going to positively work out?” He asked, his fingers grazing your neck.

You thought long and hard over the past few years, all the ups and downs, all the heartache. All the terror from Andy, the uncertainty with Sam, and with Jake, and the world you more recently chose to put yourself in. The one that brought you nothing but heartache. The bad decisions and the good ones, the true happiness and the times you put only yourself first instead of everyone else.

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” You shook your head, truly unable to answer him. “I don’t think I can remember, Josh.”

He brought his lips between his teeth and bit them hard. “Well then, let’s start there.”

You looked to him, feeling confused. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s figure out ways to make you love yourself again. I know it’s in there, we’ve just gotta find it.” He said again through a smile, shaking his glass of watery ice.

“We?” You asked.

“Yeah, we. Us. We don’t have to tell anybody. Just our secret.” He said, training his eyes on the clouds moving quickly over the sun.

You felt overcome. You didn’t deserve this…didn’t deserve him and his kindness.

“Josh, I can’t let you do that, help me like this. I- this is my shit, not yours.” You complained.

“Shh. You love my brother, right?” He asked.

“Yes, more than anything in the world.” Honestly.

“And so we’re family, right?” He asked again.

“Right, yes. But, Josh, you still should hate me right now, be so disappointed in me that you could hardly stand to be around me, the way I hurt him.” You said.

“Hate is a big word, Y/N. And I don’t have enough room in my heart for it. I’d rather fill it up with good things, with love and acceptance. So that’s what I’m going to do for you. Fill my heart back up with love for you, even though it’s going to take me a while. I’m human. I’m still disappointed in you.” He sipped from his glass. “But I’ll take that journey. As long as you can promise me you’ll fill your heart back up with love for you. Does that make sense?”

You nodded. “I think so, yeah, it does…”

“Love’s a two way street. And you owe it to him to give yourself enough grace to find it yourself. So you can repay him. He’s not at all innocent, either but. That’s another conversation.”

The two of you continued to swing, falling silent again as you watched birds walk through the grass, the cold ground giving them little sustenance.

“You know Josh, they really don’t make them like you anymore, seriously. You’re a one in a million person. And I’m truly thankful for you.” You said, already feeling more at peace than you had in a while.

He started laughing. “What? What’s so funny?” You asked, your remnant tears turning into giggles.

“The universe didn’t make me one in a million, babe. It made me two in a million.” He joked.

“Shut up!” You said, pushing his shoulder, laughing as hard as him now.

“We’d be too much for one earthly body to handle anyway, yeah?” He said, throwing the rest of his now watered drink into the grass.

“Yeah. I’m glad you guys split up in the womb. Now I can love you both double time.” You gave him a cheesy smile.

He grinned hard. “Just make sure you give him a little bit more, okay? Promise?”

“I promise, Josh.” You put your hand over your heart. He clinked his empty glass with yours.

“Do you ever feel like you’re only half of a person?” You asked him, catching him off guard.

“Um, yeah actually. Sometimes.”

“When?” You pressed.

“When I haven’t been around Jake in a while…I start to feel kinda. Strangely incomplete…? I guess is the best way of putting it. And like my compass starts to go haywire…”

“Like you never know which direction to take? Because none of them make sense until you’re back with him?” You answered blankly, eyes fixed on a knot in the wood of the porch.

“Yeah, exactly like that, actually…Why?” he trailed off.

You perked up, moving your eyes to meet with his. “No reason, just. Wondering.”

“Shall we have another?” He asked.

“Absolutely, if you’re offering!” You said, getting up to follow him back into the house.

After mixing another round, you both retreated back to the porch swing again, talking about life and music and traveling, all the places you were excited to visit.

“Have you ever kept a journal, Y/N?” He asked.

You crunched a large piece of ice. “No, I don’t think I have. Not since I was a kid.”

“Maybe you should. Might help you out a little. Also would be cool for my nieces and nephews to have a day-by-day account of their parents’ journey on the Dreams in Gold circus, huh?” He said, raising his eyebrows and drink into the air.

You felt your body warm, and your cheeks grow pink, the lump in your throat growing too large to ignore.

“I’ll go get one tomorrow. Promise.”

——

After a couple more spritzers and really good conversation with Josh, you found yourselves relaxed still on the porch swing, letting the warm air take you away. You’d thrown your legs over his lap now as you swung, talking more and more about nothing at all. The sun was beginning to set, and the warm glow of the early spring sunlight was illuminating everything it touched.

“Your eyes turn caramel in the sun just like Jake’s do.” You told him as he swung.

“Ah, thank you dahling. Aren’t they pretty?” He joked as he flicked his long eyelashes at you over and over. “Speaking of, that jackass has been asleep for hours. He sleep like this a lot?”

“Yeah, his medicine makes him exhausted. I’m just glad he’s resting.” You said.

“Yeah, me too. Hey, yoga tomorrow at 9am. Wanna go?” Josh asked.

You sighed. “Yeah, sounds good to me. Gotta start somewhere, huh?”

“Yep. You’ll love it, I promise. Also, what do you think about maybe doing a family dinner tomorrow? Like old times, everybody really misses each other.” He suggested.

“Oh, yes please! I think that would be great. I miss family dinners. Everyone can come here?” you said.

“Perfect! You think Jake will be up for cooking?” He asks.

“He will be if we tell him he is…” you laughed, sipping the last of your spritzer.

——

JAKE POV

You can hear her voice, it's muffled and jumbled and you can’t quite make out any words, but you know it’s hers. You can almost picture her, floating above you reaching her hand out to have you follow her into an unknown place where the two of you can just exist together, and nothing bad ever happens.

Your eyes crack open, the room bathed in the light coming in between the curtains. You yawn as you realize how long you had slept. You heard her voice again, and figured out her voice was drifting into your dream, as she sat on the porch talking to Josh. He must not have left after you went to sleep.

You got up and walked over to the front door, but just as you were about to open it you stopped yourself. Whatever they were talking about seemed almost…private. You peeked out the window and saw him talking to her, using his hands as he explained whatever it was they were talking about, and you smiled. You loved seeing him talk to her. Bond with her. You hoped he loved her too.

As you walked up the stairs you let your mind drift off, wondering what would have happened if you never left that hospital. Would he have helped her? Would she have helped him? Would they have made it through something like that? You couldn’t imagine the roles reversed. You’d never be the same without him.

You walked into the spare room, sitting down at your desk, so carefully crafted with art supplies, seeing the new paint and brushes sitting at the top. You smiled, thinking back to last night, and how excited she was to show you all of the things she bought you. It felt good to know that you were on her mind just as much as she was on yours.

You knew your fans were on pins and needles waiting to hear any kind of update after the cancelation of the shows. You were going to write to them, and tell them everything. Give them hope that you would be back, and stronger than before. Because truthfully, you would.

You grabbed a pen and your sketchbook, opening it up and flipping through to find the first blank page. You spent the next thirty minutes meticulously crafting a letter of hope and resilience in the face of uncertainty, and you hoped your message came through. You signed your name with all the love you had, and capped your pen, carefully tearing the page from the book.

As you went to close the book, you flipped through, seeing a few old drawings you started and abandoned, telling yourself you'd come back to them one day, but always having a reason not to. But one, your favorite one, was finished. You stared at it, taking in the curves of her body as you drew them that night from memory, wishing now, that you could go back.

Something caught your eye in the very bottom left hand corner, something that looked like pencil markings from the other side of the paper. Puzzled, you flipped it over to find something that tore your heart to shreds with the first words.

To my Jake…

I never knew you’d drawn this…drawn me, in such a perfect way that I really don’t resemble in the least.

If I could re-pose, and have you draw me from memory again, I’d be filled with holes, and tears and scratches…because that’s how I feel right now. Like I don’t deserve to be looked at in the light that you always saw me in.

I’m so sorry I did what I did.

I’m so sorry I can’t take it back.

And I’m so sorry I never got to be the picture of perfection that you always said I was.

Thank you for being the best thing in my life.

I’ll never love another thing as much as I love you..

You’ll never leave my mind.

She loves you, always.

Then perfectly at the bottom, a lyric from the song you danced to in the kitchen, not long before both of your worlds were changed forever.

‘Honey, nothin’…nothin’ can ever change this love I have for you…’

It felt like your heart had been ripped from your chest. How could she ever think she was anything less than perfect? Sure she had made her share of mistakes but you didn’t realize how deep those wounds were for her. She had to have written this before you left for Michigan. When you left her here sad and alone without a second thought. Before you said all of those terrible things. You had only made it worse for her.

You knew she wrote this with hopes that one day you would find it. That one day when she was long gone and a distant memory, maybe you’d forgive her for what she did. She never thought it would be this soon, or that she’d still be here, or that you’d already forgiven her. Though you hadn’t told her that, it was true. It was true the second you saw her in that hospital.

You gently ripped the page from the leatherbound book and read it over and over, her heartfelt ode to you made in some of her darkest days. You pushed your chair back standing and grabbing your letter and hers, making your way downstairs. You found your way into your study, examining the walls, looking for a frame to repurpose. You grabbed the thick gold frame near the door, and popped the back off of it, pulling the magazine cover out and tossing it on the couch. You grabbed her letter, and placed it inside before securing the back again and hanging it on the wall.

You took a step back and swallowed your emotions, seeing her love for you, physically hanging on the wall in front of you. Something you could look at every single day and know was real.

You grabbed the old magazine and placed it on your bookshelf, before grabbing your letter and clearing your throat. You walked to the front door twisting the knob and stepping out into the slightly warmer than normal air.

“Well there he is…” Josh crooned.

“Yeah, yeah, I told you, that shit makes me tired.” you said, stepping up to the two of them on the swing.

“So I wrote this, I was going to post it on my instagram later if you think it’s okay.” you said, nervously handing the note to Josh.

He raises his eyebrows at you and begins to read it. You nervously flick your eyes over to Y/N, seeing her pink cheeks and a buzzed smile on her lips.

“Sleep okay?” she grins.

“Yeah, was a little cold though.” you say sending her a wink.

“I think this sounds great Jake. But I have to ask which version of Thesaurus you’re using, because I don't think mine has some of these words in it.” he says handing the paper back to you.

“Kiss my ass.” you quip, snatching the paper from him.

“Can I read it?” she asks looking up at you.

You hand it to her watching her eyes read over each line.

“It’s perfect Jake.” she smiles.

“You think I should post it?” you ask.

“Yeah, people are going to absolutely flood your socials though, but you already know that.” Josh laughs.

“That I do.” you smile. “Okay, I’m gonna go post it and then…I’ll start on something for dinner. Josh you staying?” you ask.

“Nah, I’m about to head out, but hey, I’ll swing by tomorrow and pick you up okay?” he says, tapping Y/N’s knee.

“Yep! I’ll be ready!” she smiles, both of them standing up from the swing.

“Later!” he says, skipping down the steps to his car.

You open the front door, letting her walk in as you wave him off and shut the door behind you.

—

You watched the comments filled with love and encouragement roll in as you sat at the table eating. You flipped your phone over, and continued to eat, as she looked over to you.

“Does it ever get annoying?” she asks.

“What, my phone?” you ask.

“Yeah, just the constant notifications and stuff.” she says.

“No, not annoying. You just have to know how to manage it and you’re golden. There were once days where we wished people would just leave one comment on our post. Just like one of our videos. Share our music with their friends. Now look. I wish I could respond to every single comment or message but, I would be buried in seconds. I just mute my notifications, and when I get bored I will look through them. Usually on the bus after a show when my adrenaline is still high. I see people's posts from the shows and all that. Kind of exciting. Feels like we made it, ya know?”

“Jake, you guys are playing with Metallica in a few weeks. You’ve most definitely made it!” she laughs.

“Yeah, that’s true. Sometimes I can’t believe it myself. I always wonder what life would be like if we never made it out of the garage. If I never dragged Josh and Sam in there in the first place.” you ponder.

“Guess we’ll never know.” she says, smiling.

“Oh, Josh and I were talking about maybe reinstating family dinner night?” she says.

“Were you… I was wondering what you two were talking about out there.” you reply.

“What do you think about everyone coming over here tomorrow night. Danny and Sammy miss you.” she says, knowing exactly how to pull on your heartstrings.

“Mmmm…Okay, yeah I can probably do that.” you agree.

“Maybe we can make that spaghetti sauce tomorrow and have that for dinner?” she asks.

“You wanna help me make it?” you ask.

“Yes!” she says.

“Are you sure…It takes all day…” you taunt.

“Yes, Jacob…” she grins.

“Okay. Sounds like a plan. I can text the guys.” you say grabbing your phone.

“I’m going to yoga with Josh in the morning, then I am your sous-chef all day…” she says as she grabs your empty plate. “I’ll clean up tonight. You go relax.”

“You sure, love?” you ask.

“Yep, take a popsicle!” she giggles.

“You know what I think I will.” you say, opening the freezer and tearing one from the package. You stare at her for a second, dying to kiss her, but taking a deep breath instead and turning on your heels to head down the hallway.

—

A little while later as you are flipping through the pages of your book, you hear the guest room door open and smile. You sit up in your bed and push your glasses onto your head, folding the page to keep your place.

A few seconds later you hear a gentle knock at your door and see her head peek in.

“Jake?” she calls out.

“Hello stranger…” you reply.

She steps into the room, in a big t-shirt and a pair of shorts, her hair hanging damp around her shoulders.

“Just coming to see if my nightly attire is more suitable for your liking.” she says.

“Come here, let me get a better look.” you tease.

She walks over to the side of your bed, sitting on the edge as you look her up and down.

“Well, this is one of my favorite things to see you in, though I prefer the no shorts version.” you say tugging on her shirt. “This definitely leaves more to my imagination, though to be completely honest I am still picturing you in the other thing, so it doesn’t really matter.” you laugh. “I’m wholeheartedly convinced you could wear a potato sack and I would still want you.”

She laughs and pushes your shoulder back, seeing the book on your chest.

“Do you like it? Is it good so far?” she asks.

“It’s so good. So so good, can hardly put it down.” you admit.

“You want to just read your book tonight? Those drinks earlier have me feeling a little sleepy anyways…” she says.

“Whatever you wanna do baby, up to you.” you answer.

“I mean, I really do want to watch our show but I don’t know if I will even make it five minutes if I lay down in this bed…” she says.

“So?” you question.

“So, we can’t keep sleeping together…” she says.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Because…I don’t know… we aren’t together. We shouldn’t be sleeping together. I don’t know, it makes sense in my head. It’s been like every night since we got back…” she tries to reason.

“Hmmm. I see your point. But the first night was an accident, and last night was… well, whatever that was. If you want to sleep separately that's fine, I just…know we both sleep better together.”

“Well I don’t want to, but I feel like we have to.” she says.

“I’m playing by your rules here, so again, your call, I'm fine either way.” you respond.

“Okay, how about we watch one, but if I fall asleep you wake me up, and I will go to the guest room?” she asks.

“Okay.” you nod.

“Okay.” she says.

You close your book and glasses and set them on the nightstand, turning on the TV and turning off your lamp. She walks around to the other side of the bed, claiming her place as the episode starts.

By the 10 minute mark you look over and see her completely passed out. She wasn’t kidding. You pause the episode and turn off the TV, pulling the blankets up over her arms as a gentle snore leaves her chest.

You reach over and grab your book and glasses, turning the lamp back on, careful to see if it wakes her up, and when it doesn't you find your place in your book and listen to her quiet breathing as you drift back into the pages.

An hour or so later, you find your eyelids growing heavy, and she has barely moved. You put your things back on the nightstand, and turn off the lamp. You roll over towards her, and smooth your hand over her peaceful face, causing her eyelids to crack open.

“Hey baby…you fell asleep…” you whisper.

She groans as she shuts her eyes closed tight.

“Do you want to go back to your room?” you ask.

“Noooo….” she whines.

“You told me to wake you up. You don’t want to sleep in here with me, remember?” you say, trying to gently remind her.

She doesn’t respond, instead grabbing your hand to try and quell you.

“Y/N…” you whisper.

“Shhhhh…..” she breathes pulling herself closer to you. You feel guilty that you’re letting her go back on what she said she wanted but you weren’t going to pass this up.

Giving it one last attempt you run your hand up her arm, “You want me to carry you in there?” you ask.

“No, gonna stay here…” she mumbles.

You give in, wrapping your arms around her, pulling her tightly into you as you feel her body relax.

“Don’t want you to be mad at me in the morning, love.” you breathe.

“Not mad. Start fresh tomorrow. Start over tomorrow…” she says, right before falling back asleep.

You pull her close to rest on your shoulder, kissing her forehead as you release a relaxed breath, “Yeah baby, we can start fresh tomorrow…”

—

The sound of rummaging in your closet woke you from your dreamless sleep, and the blurriness that covered your eyes only half revealed her silhouette fingering through your hangers.

“Whatcha doin sunshine?” You growled, chest still heavy from the lingering cough.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m just…heading to yoga with Josh and I was gonna borrow a flannel. It’s not cold enough for a jacket, and not warm enough for nothing…ah, here it is.”

You grinned as you sat up, finally seeing her full figure in plain view. “And who says you can steal my clothes anytime you want?” You joked.

She slipped the oversized shirt on her arms as she walked toward your side of the bed, clad in tight black leggings and a beige sports bra. You felt your eyes grow huge as she came into better view.

“The person that does all your laundry, I’d suppose.” She winked as she tapped your nose with her pointer finger.

“Uhh, are you wearing that? To yoga? Can I come? I don’t want to participate I just wanna…y’know, watch…” you had no shame in letting your eyes travel up and down her body, taking in the sight of her.

“There’s not much to watch, Jake. What do you mean?” She asked as she sat on the bed to slip on her tennis shoes.

“I dunno, you just look…really good…today.” You felt your mouth salivating as you watched her bend to tie her shoelaces, an act so mundane but had you absolutely enraptured. Yeah, you’ve still got it bad. So, so bad.

She stood up from the bed, turning to face you again. Her barely-covered midriff was right in front of your face, and it took everything in you not to wrap your arms around her, grab her ass and pull her forward…

“Well thank you, babe. That’s nice. And yes, you can come to yoga, but you have to participate. And I don’t think you want to do that, do you?” She said softly, trailing her fingertip lightly down your cheek and under your chin, lifting it to look her in the eyes. You felt yourself physically gulp.

“No, but can you show me what you learned when you get home tonight? Maybe like, don’t change clothes…and maybe, here, on the bed?” You rubbed your hand along the sheets, smiling as you talked your talk.

She giggled hard. “No Jake, that’d be breaking the rules. But maybe once I’m an expert, I can show you what I’ve learned without my workout clothes on. You know… how flexible I’ve gotten?”

Jesus Christ…

“Yeah. Yes, please. Go on, you’re gonna be late. Go become an expert, like... Tomorrow. Go…” you pushed her out of the way, urging her to go in before you let your urge get the best of you.

“I’ll see you later, don’t forget your pills! Last ones and you’re a free man!” She laughed as she bounded out your bedroom door, her braid swinging down her back as she left.

HER POV

You climbed into the passenger side of Josh’s car at promptly 8:35am, throwing your backpack into the backseat.

“Morning! I got you a juice from that new place downtown, they’re so fuckin' good, I had to share.” He said, pointing to the cup holder.

“Oh my god, Josh! That’s so nice of you, you didn’t have to do that!” You said, picking up the small cup full of bright green liquid. “What’s in it?”

“I dunno, kale and greens and carrots and shit. But it’s really good. I’m keeping it a secret from Sam so he doesn’t claim he found out about it first.” He said, pulling his sun visor down to block the morning rays. “So, you can buy your mat there, they sell nice ones for pretty cheap. And you’ll get to meet our instructor, Ms. Opal. She’s been doing this for like 25 years. She owns the place, too.”

“Perfect. I’m really excited!” But you were also nervous, and anxious to be starting something so new, and so out of your comfort zone. But you had Josh by your side, so you knew it was going to be great no matter what.

He drove you down some backstreets that twisted and turned, until you finally pulled through a cluster of old Oak trees, revealing a tiny cottage-like structure that looked too old to be in the middle of the now bustling town. It had an old wooden front porch, an orange door, and wind chimes hanging from the roof of the porch, catching the sun and sending tiny rainbows all over the parking area.

There were a few other cars there, but not many. As you walked inside, you could smell the faint smell of patchouli and Nag Champa, and the sound of peaceful flute music playing from a room in the distance. All of the doors and windows were open, despite the chilly morning air. Immediately upon entering the cottage, you felt an overwhelming peace that you could hardly even describe.

“Joshua, my love! How are you this morning? I thought you wouldn’t be joining us for a few months?” A middle-aged woman came floating into the room, two long gray braids falling in front of her shoulders, her dark-complected face worn with years of smiling too much. She brought Josh into a big and friendly hug, her presence and energy matching Josh’s so perfectly you could cry.

“Morning Ms. Opal…little change in plans, we’ll be here for a little bit longer. Ah, this is my friend, well, sister, really. Y/N.” He introduced you. “We’re going to do the beginner’s class today.”

“Hello, child. A beginner, hmm? It’s so great to meet you!” She brought you in for a warm hug, too, moving her hand up and down your back like she’d known you for years. “I hope you’re excited to be here, it’s a beautiful morning. And, the moon is a waxing crescent tonight, perfect timing to bring her to me, Joshua.” She winked to him.

“I am excited, ma’am. It’s so nice to meet you, too.” You offered her your kindest smile. Josh walked you over to pick out the perfect new mat, and to enroll you in the beginners classes. You entered the room, along with just a few other people who seemingly didn’t know, or didn’t care, that they were in the presence of a famous rock star. You flattened your mat out in the corner. Josh placed his mat and himself next to you taking a seat at the base of his mat.

He looked your way, giving you a soft smile. “You ready?”

——

JAKE POV

The security system chimed as the front door opened, your eyes shooting to the clock on the wall.

Shit.

You jumped up from the couch and turned off the TV knowing she was going to be stepping in any second. You looked around the room looking for anything you could pick up to make it seem like you were productive while she was gone, and hadn’t sat on the couch flipping through Premier League games all morning.

“Hi!” she says, tossing your flannel on the couch.

“Hey, how was your yoga class…” you said, resting against the door jam.

“Actually, it was so great. I wasn’t sure about it but, the instructor was so nice and so helpful, and Josh really knows his stuff too. I will definitely be going back.” she smiled.

“You were gone for a while, how long are those things?” you joked.

“Oh, it was only an hour but I stopped at the store to get this…” she said, pulling a small blue journal from a plastic bag. “Josh said he thought it might be helpful for me to keep a journal, so… we went and got one after class before he dropped me off.”

“Cool baby…He has always had one, not surprised he suggested that.” you laugh.

“Yeah, might be cool to look back on one day and see what was going on in our lives.” she said, walking over to you.

“We gonna start that sauce soon?” she asks, stepping in front of you.

You let your hands grip into her bare waist and pull her closer, “Mmmhm…but you…are gonna have to change or stay far, far away from me.” you growl.

“You have seen me wear this stuff a million times Jake, what is your deal?” she laughs.

“Well, seeing you in it and knowing I can’t have you makes it about a million times worse.” you admit, sliding your hands down to her hips.

She sighs and steps back, heading towards the guest room, “Hopefully soon…I’m gonna take a shower, then we can start okay?”

You nod your head and release a deep breath as you watch her disappear into her room, wishing you were the one taking her clothes off.

—

Sadly, she did change, but still she was tempting you, in a little green dress you’d seen before, years ago. It tied at her shoulders and hit just at the middle of her thigh. So simple but still had your brain begging you to take it off of her.

You stood at the island finishing chopping the vegetables to dump into the simmering sauce, as she prepared the salad and put it in the fridge.

“It smells so good, I am starving…” she whined.

“It is always hard to wait, but it’s always worth it.” you winked.

“Should we do something with those beets tomorrow?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah, I will google some recipes tonight and we can pick. Sound good?” you ask.

“Before or after our show?” she smiles.

“I don’t know, someone couldn’t keep their eyes open last night. Didn’t even make it ten minutes…” you quip.

“Ugh, I know…but I told you I didn't think I would…” she says, placing the cutting board into the sink.

“Mmhmm… then you didn’t want to leave…” you said, flicking your eyes up to her as you slid the vegetables into the pot.

She turned around quickly pretending to ignore you.

“You know you don’t have to stay in the guest room…” you lilt.

“No. No. I do.” she says, trying to convince herself. You smirk as you shake your head, wondering how much longer it will be before she caves.

“Okay baby, whatever you want.” you say, stirring the aromatic sauce.

She makes her way over to the pantry, grabbing a bottle of red wine from the shelf and spins to face you with a smile.

“Is it time?” she asks, cheerfully.

“Yeah lover, go ahead I’m not stopping you.” you encourage.

“Well, you finished your pills…You can have some with me?” she asks.

“Oh yeah, I guess you’re right aren’t you?” you say rubbing your chin, “Pour me up, we can toast to good health.”

She grabs two glasses from the cabinet and hands you the bottle to remove the cork. She takes it back from you pouring the crimson wine into the glasses.

You each take one and tap them together, as she smiles and says, “So glad you didn’t leave us Jake…”

You sip the sweet red and look at her, “Could never leave my girl…”

—

As the sun started to set, a knock at the door had both of you turning to look.

“I’ll grab it.” you said, mind already fuzzy from just two glasses of wine. Damn had you really been out of the game this long?

You twisted the knob seeing Sam and Elle bounding inside with smiles on their faces. Elle wrapped her arms around your neck and hugged you tight. “Oh my gosh! You look so much better Jakey, so glad you are feeling better!”

She let go and scampered off to the kitchen to find Y/N. Sam stepped in and shut the door behind him with a nervous smile.

“Hey Sammy boy…” you said, voice a little gravely.

“Jake.” he nods.

You saw his lips turn upward with hope, his eyes still flicking around, nervous to make eye contact with you. He thinks you hate him. Time to fix this.

“Hey come in here with me real quick.” you said, nodding towards the study.

He swallows nervously and follows you inside, sitting down on the couch. You walk over to the bar car and hold up a bottle of scotch towards him, “Care to partake?” you ask.

He shrugs his shoulders and nods, as you grab two glasses and pour a finger of the alcohol. You walk over to the couch taking a seat next to him as you hand him his glass.

You let out a deep breath as you relax into the cushion, “Listen Sammy, I know things seem fucked up. They are. I know I was harsh the other night, I was still really mad. At you, at her, at myself for how I reacted. At the situation I was in. I have had a little bit of time to think about it and I just need you to know that I forgive you. I’m not saying that it’s okay, it’s definitely not, but I am saying I want to move forward. Y/N are working through this. I want you and I to work through this. You're my little brother. My band mate. I don’t want you to feel like you need to walk on eggshells around me. Everything's out in the open now. Part of me feels just as guilty for planning to sleep with your girl. None of us are innocent. I love Y/N, and I love you, and I want all of us to be happy again, okay? I found out that life is short, and I’m not gonna spend it hating two of my favorite people.”

He nods his head and sips the scotch, “I really am sorry Jake. Neither of us were in our right minds. We both knew it was a mistake. I know that both of us wish we could take it back. I know that we can’t, but I can tell you I’m sorry, really truly sorry. In the hospital… shit Jake, you scared me so bad. I kept thinking about losing you and what I did, and how it left you and Y/N, and you couldn’t even see her and… I never hated myself more than in that moment. I begged God or whoever was listening to let you pull through. To not let you lose that lung. Just wanted to hear you tell me to fuck off one more time.” he laughed.

“Anyways, I’m planning to talk to Elle about it soon. Want to clear the air with everyone, make things right. Whatever that is going to cost me. Want to do right by you, too. Need to keep you around. Not gonna do this life without ya.” he smiles nervously.

“Well, consider it cleared between us. I love you. Promise I’m not gonna leave ya, okay?” you say, putting your hand on his shoulder.

“Okay. Love you too.” he says shyly. “Wow, can’t believe we have said we love each other, again. Someone call Guinness!”

You shake your head and stand from the couch, raising your eye brows and smiling as you head towards the kitchen, “Fuck off…”

—

As you all stand around the kitchen island you hear the front door open and see Josh walking in with a bag of wine bottles.

“Hellooooo….” his nasally new accent rings through the house.

“Oh god, he is doing his Elle voice!” Y/N laughed, putting her hand on Elle’s arm.

“His what?!” she scoffs.

“He started doing this new voice and I’m so sorry but it sounds just like you when you get tipsy.” Y/N says, laughing. “Me and Danny were talking about it the other day.”

You poke your head around the door frame to signify your location as he joins you all in the kitchen.

“I brought some bev-era-jiss for the gai-ls…” he continues, placing the bag on the counter.

You raise an eyebrow to him and smirk, “What a lovely mustache you have, ma’am.”

“Oooh, yiss, tank you, I must cawl my waxa with the sticky pay-pas…” he smiles.

“We are not twins. There is just no fucking way.” you laugh, hearing the door chime again and Danny’s booming voice fill the hall.

“Hope you don’t mind I brought a friend…” he says, stepping into the kitchen with Logan behind him.

No fucking way.

“Hey dude, nice place!” he says looking around the house.

“Yeah, no problem at all, sup man.” you say shaking his hand.

“Oh my gosh! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming!” Y/N says, making her way over to give him a hug.

It’s fine. It’s totally cool.

Sam shoots you a side smirk, clearly knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“I think everything is ready if we want to eat!” Y/N says.

“Yeah, everybody grab a plate, help yourselves.” you say, motioning towards the stove.

Y/N makes her way over to you, leaning her head onto your shoulder as you both watch everyone happily fill their plates with the food the two of you prepared together, in the house you shared, and you smiled. She loves you, always.

—

“So Logan, I heard you’ve worked some pretty cool gigs…” Sam said, striking up conversation as he twirled his spaghetti.

Great, here we go…

“Well, yeah, right out of college I apprenticed with this guy Chuck, who was managing crew for Foreigner. Went all over with them. Those guys have still got it, let me tell you. Busted my ass on that tour.” he laughs. “But it was great experience. Chuck got me in touch with someone else when the tour ended and I ended up going out with Joan Jett and her crew for a while. Just a short tour but that somehow ended up getting me on tour with Paul McCartney this last year. Man is a wealth of knowledge in the industry.”

“Paul McCartney?! Dude, you didn’t tell me that!” Danny says, dropping his fork.

“Yeah man, really nice guy. Super funny, plays jokes on his crew all the time.” he said.

Okay so he worked with Paul McCartney, big deal. Probably doesn’t even know his music.

“Damn I am so jealous, and now you’re with us, what a downgrade.” Sam laughed.

“No, actually, the few shows I have done with you guys have been phenomenal. Of course we’ve had a few hiccups to work out, but when we hit the road again, it’s gonna be golden. No pun intended.” he laughed, granting him a chuckle from Josh.

You shot a look at Josh silently telling him not to laugh at his well timed jokes, to which Josh rolled his eyes.

“So Logan, you listen to any McCartney after working with him?” you asked, ready to put him on the spot.

“You know what, after hearing the songs he played on tour I have to say, I was a bit disappointed he didn’t play some of his deep cut stuff. I was hoping for some good shit to pop up every once in a while, but of course he had to stick to the classics. The man keeps a stacked setlist though, plays like 40 something songs a night.”

“Jesus Christ, I can barely make it through twelve.” Josh laughs.

“But, to answer your question, yeah I listen to the good stuff.” he says.

You smirk, “What’s your favorite album?” you ask, knowing he is going to pick something generic. There’s no way he actually likes good McCartney. Wings McCartney.

He sets down his fork and looks at you with a smirk, “Ahhh, most definitely Ram, but Wild Life is a close fucking second.”

Fuck me, maybe he does.

“And you know what, this may be somewhat of a controversial opinion, but his work with Linda and Wings was some of his most brilliant stuff. Venus and Mars? Iconic…”

You took a breath, trying to seem unphased, “Yeah I’m going to have to agree.”

“And Jakey finally has a challenger…” Danny taunts.

“Challenger?” Logan questions.

“Yeah, like, no one can go head to head with Jake when it comes to music trivia.” he explains.

“Oh…” he laughs, “Try me…” he says.

“I will. I will. Everyone has their weakness.” you smirk.

“Wait, speaking of Ram, has Y/N ever made you her famous monkberry moon delight drink?” he asks.

“No….” you answer, confused.

“Oh shit she used to make it all the time in college...it was her specialty drink. Everybody loved it. Y/N! Can we make monkberries soon?!” he asked, turning to her.

“Y/N you have to!” Danny said.

“Yeah, I want to try this famous drink, babe.” you said, making sure he heard you.

“Oh my god yeah! I forgot about that. I can definitely make it! But, actually Jake, I don’t think you’d like it…not really your style.” she said, turning to you.

“You think so, huh? Haven't met a liquor drink I didn’t like…” you say.

“Well maybe I will make it for us soon. Next off day when we are on the road.” she smiles.

“Y/N, remember when you made it for that party and we carried that cooler in through the rain…I swear that thing weighed 100 pounds…” he laughed.

“Oh my god yes, and I slipped and you tried to catch me and you fell too and we almost spilled all of it?!” she laughed.

You felt yourself grow hot under the collar hearing about all the little memories they shared together.

He laughed and smiled, “Yeah, yeah, and then we got so fucked up on it we made Chris Horath drive us out to Frain Lake to go to that orchard because we were convinced we were going to steal apples and put them in the drink and it would taste even better!”

“Holy shit I totally forgot about that! We ended up lost as fuck in that cornfield in Ypsi! Made it back into civilization and stopped in a Meijer parking lot while I puked my guts out.” she laughed, damn near in tears.

You swallowed down the words begging to leave your lips and sat back in your chair.

“God, that was so fun. Gotta love college right?” he said looking over at you.

“Wouldn’t know. Was busy touring the world with my band.” you spit.

“Annnyways, speaking of hitting the road, Sammy and I are leaving tomorrow to drive up to Cape Cod for his birthday!” Elle says sweetly.

“Oh my gosh! That is going to be so nice, I have always wanted to go there! Take lots of pictures okay?!” Y/N says.

“I’m excited, I’ve never been there either.” Sam says.

“It was kind of last minute. We were supposed to be in New Jersey on his birthday, so I figured I could try to throw something together, and this is what I came up with.” Elle replies.

“It’s perfect baby, I can’t wait.” Sam says, kissing her sweetly.

“Also, happy birthday Sammy!” Y/N smiles at him.

“Thanks m’lady…” he laughs.

“Yeah Sam, we can hit up that game place you like when you get back, okay? All the tokens you want, my treat.” Danny said.

“You got yourself a deal.” he said.

You began collecting up the empty plates and carrying them to the kitchen, Josh hot on your heels with another handful.

You started rinsing them in the sink as he stood next to you, leaning against the counter.

“Dude…You can’t be serious.” he whispered.

“What?” you ask, pretending to be oblivious to what he was insinuating.

He huffs out a breath, “Have another drink and relax. We’re gonna talk later.” he says, slapping your back and rejoining the crew.

—

After a few more drinks, everyone found themselves huddled around the TV in the study arguing over Mario Kart. Y/N was in the middle of a deep and heated drunken debate with Danny about why they are called the Mario Brothers, when Luigi is just as important as Mario. You laughed as you watched her from the doorway, her cheeks pink from the bottle of red, as she drove her point home.

Josh appeared behind you, grabbing your arm and nodding towards the front porch. You grabbed your wine glass and followed him, taking a seat in the wooden chairs. The air had cooled just slightly, the hot summer weather looming as the days passed. He sat across from you in the matching chair, kicking his feet up onto the table.

“What’s up Jake.” he asked, sipping his drink.

“What do you mean?” you ask dismissively.

“It’s very clear to me that you are having some sort of internal pissing match with Logan. It’s written all over your face.” he says, challenging you to disagree.

“Nope. I’m fine.” you lied.

“Lie to me again, Jake.” he said.

“I just don’t like him just popping up out of nowhere, having all these inside jokes and shit with Y/N.” you admit.

“How come?” he asks, rubbing his mustache.

“I don’t know.” you mutter.

“I think you do…” he says.

You sigh, “I don’t know. I guess I just hate that he has something with her that I don’t. Which sounds stupid to say. She went back to college and left me and picked him up like I never existed. I thought about her everyday and she was busy partying with…him. Now he’s back in her life and I just feel…I don’t know, protective.”

“And that's a valid way to feel. He was with her when you couldn’t be. Look at it that way. He watched out for her and was a friend to her… she came back to you, Jake. And as far as feeling protective over her…” he smirked, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Why’s that?” you ask.

“He’s just doesn’t strike me as a threat. They are just friends.” he says.

“Whatever. I guess he is kind of cool. Likes good music.” you admit.

“I think the two of you have a lot more in common than you are willing to admit.” he raises an eyebrow.

“Okay whatever… are you done lecturing me?” you scoff.

“No, there is something else I want to talk to you about.” he says.

“And that would be?” you ask, tossing back the rest of your glass of wine.

“I was talking to Y/N yesterday, and I spent the morning with her today…She’s changing Jake. She is really, really trying. She is looking for any and every way to try and better herself. She has been incredibly open to everything I am throwing at her, and she is taking responsibility for her shit. I am really hopeful for you two and I don’t know if she has talked to you about it, but… she was thinking about stepping back from the tour.”

“What?!” you ask, sitting forward.

“She wants to make sure she is giving you both space to heal and grow, and she said she felt like her being around wasn’t going to give you the space you need.” he says.

“No, no. She can’t drop out. Shit, I can’t leave her here. I don’t even want space. I’m just going along with whatever she wants to do because…fuck, because I don’t want to spend a single second without her.” you started to panic.

“Relax Jake. She isn’t going to. I talked her out of it. I wasn’t telling you that to freak you out. I was telling you that because I want you to understand how serious she is about trying to fix things with you. I don’t know exactly where you two stand, but I hope that you are willing to be receptive to her wanting to mend things with you.” he says.

“I am, I know how she feels, and I finally believe her. I thought I knew how much she loved me before but…the past couple of weeks have really shown me. As much as I hate to say it, part of me feels like something like this had to happen for both of us to wake up and realize that we’re it for each other.” you say, rubbing your mouth.

“She wrote me this note…This horrible fucking note. A goodbye basically, telling me how sorry she was, that she could never see herself the way I saw her. That she didn’t deserve to. Fucking killed me. Bared her soul to me, left it on the back of a drawing, not knowing if I would ever see it. I know how much she loves me. I know how sorry she is. Her and Sam made a horrible mistake, but I will be goddamned if I don’t spend every second of forever reminding her that even though she has made mistakes, even though she is flawed, she has been and will always be perfect to me.”

“I know, brother. We all know…” he says.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a while, just staring out into the night watching the cars pass.

“You know, dad gave me great-grandma Amelia's ring…” you say, breaking the silence.

He turns to look at you, “Is that so…”

“Yeah, when I went home…after everything. Made me feel sick. She was asleep on the fucking couch in the other room after we played pretend all day in front of mom and dad.” you said.

“Ouch.” he quipped.

“I didn’t want to take it. Wanted to tell him to give it to Sam. There was no thought in my head of ever wanting it.” you said.

“So what’d you do?” he asks, finishing his drink.

“I took it. Mom made me. Told me ‘ya never know when you might want it’. So I took it and now it’s burning a hole in my pocket. I think mom was right. I can’t stop thinking about it on her finger. But look at us… I don’t know man, it’s just…I love her. She loves me. Why can’t it just be simple?”

“I know it’s tough right now. But I know things are going to work out. Just give her time to figure herself out. Let her deal with her demons. You can’t expect her to love you how you need, if she doesn’t love herself.” he says.

“She doesn’t love herself?” you ask.

“No. But she’s trying. That’s what I’m saying. She wants to be what you need Jake.” he says.

“Don’t…tell anyone that…about the ring. I hid it where no one would find it. But…” you ask.

“I won’t tell Jake. I promise. But I will admit, I can’t wait for the day that girl becomes my sister for real.” he smiles, standing up from his chair.

“You think she would say yes?” you ask.

He smiles and shakes his head, “Jake… she’s not meant to be anyone else’s. She’s been waiting her whole life for you to simply, ask.”

—

After everyone left the two of you found yourselves in the kitchen, drying wine glasses and wiping the counters down after a successful family dinner. Y/N put on one of the new albums she bought you, letting the music spin through the house and into your ears, a sweet relaxing jazz ballad. As it came to a close she turned to you, “Should I flip it, or are we done?”

“Flip it, and come back to me...” you say.

You put away the last of the wine glasses, tossing the dish towel over your shoulder as she walks back into the kitchen. The music is floating through the air and the wine is still swirling through your system. You grab her hand and pull her towards you, wrapping your right arm around her waist, and holding your clasped hands in the air. She smiles as she realizes what you’re doing, relaxing her body and letting her head rest on your chest as you dance with her to the moody music.

“I forgot how sweet you are when you drink wine…” she utters.

You rest your head on top of hers and sigh, letting your fingers lace with hers.

“Just missin' you baby.” you breathe into her hair.

“I’m right here.” she says.

You slide your hand from her waist up to the back of her neck, holding her close to you, “You know what I mean…”

Her hand slides under the back of your shirt, resting on your lower back as her fingers lightly scratch into your skin, “Yeah, I know.”

You press a kiss to the top of her head, and let her go, letting her step away.

“Gonna take a shower…” she says.

“I’ll be in the study.” you smile back, watching her walk down the hallway.

You turn off the lights in the kitchen and make your way to the study, grabbing your guitar and sitting down in your leather chair. A content sigh leaves your chest, as you finally feel like you are getting some of your normal energy back.

You start to strum against the worn in strings, the feeling of your favorite guitar back in your hands, like nothing you could imagine. You toss your head back onto the cushion and close your eyes, trying to pick out the notes to the song that's been stuck in your head all day.

You think back on your talk with Josh, and really consider what he told you. Maybe it's because you’ve ended every night with her in your arms, but you are hopeful that he’s right about the two of you. You hope that she can learn to love herself. You hope that she feels like she is learning and growing and becoming the person that she wants to be. All you really want is for her to be happy.

Your mind drifts again wondering what it would be like if she did leave the tour. You wonder what she would do. Where she would go. Would she stay here? What would happen between the two of you? Would she call you? Text you?

You snap out of your thoughts when you hear the guest room door open and the soft padding of her feet on the hardwood floors. She looks into your bedroom, before turning around and seeing you sitting in the chair behind her.

“Looking for me?” you ask.

“Yes.” she answers.

“You wanna start the next season?” you ask.

“Jake?” she asks.

You sit up and set your guitar on the stand, “Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you?” she asks.

“Of course you can, c’mere…” you say waving her towards you.

“Can we…talk in there…” she says pointing to the bedroom.

“Oh, sure. Let me just lock up.” you say, standing and turning off the lamp, and locking the front door. You set the alarm, and turn off the hallway light, guiding her into the bedroom with a hand on her back.

You shut the door behind the two of you, as she makes her way over to her side of the bed. You quickly strip down to your boxers and pull back the blankets, before sliding into bed. You plug your phone in and set it on the nightstand, turning on your side to face her.

You notice the look on her face and feel worried, “What’s wrong babe…” you ask.

You can tell she is nervous about what she wants to talk about, and suddenly you’re feeling a little bit nervous too.

“Jake, when I came home the other day, you were mad. You thought I was on a date with Logan…how come?” she asks.

“How come I was mad?” you ask.

She nods, and bites her lip.

“Well, to be honest…I wasn’t mad, I was more jealous.” you answer.

“But if we aren’t together anymore, why?” she asks.

“I think because I still have hope that we will be.” you say.

“Do you want that?” she asks.

“Of course I do.” you answer.

“Do you hate Logan?” she asks.

“No.” you say.

“It felt like you did during dinner tonight.” she says.

“I know, I know. I just… remember when you left the first time and went back to school?” you ask, watching her nod her head.

“I was so…lost. For a while, really. Took me a long time to get my life straightened out after that. I always thought it was the same for you. Hoped you missed me as much as I missed you. Wondered if you were thinking about me at all.” you paused. “So hearing Logan talk about all the fun you had together, and having all these inside jokes and stuff… hurt a little. Made me feel like…you had forgotten me. I know it’s stupid because here we are now, but… I just felt like you replaced me.”

“Jake, no…” she said, reaching out grabbing your hand.

“I’m sorry I was being a dick. I will talk to him. He seems like a really cool guy.” you admit.

“He is Jake. You two are so similar. I think… I think that’s why he and I got so close. He was just like you, but different. Sometimes talking to him felt like talking to you. And I missed you so bad. You don’t even know how many times I almost called you. Or almost texted you… College wasn’t all fun and parties. I had some of the worst days of my life while I was there, and I had no one. All I wanted was you. I wished I did. Biggest regret of my life is missing out on those years with you. Anyways, I swear it was never like that between me and Logan. We were and still are, just friends.”

“I know. I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to accuse you of… going on a date or whatever, I guess I just thought if anyone was going to take you on a date… it should be me. That you would want it to be me.” you say, meeting her eyes.

“I do, Jake.” she replies.

“Me too.” you smile.

You feel her foot brush yours and a rush runs through your body. You let out a deep breath and roll over to grab the remote, turning on the TV. “Just one? That wine is hitting me pretty hard.”

“Just one.” she smiles, scooting in closer to you.

You open your arms to her, letting her make the decision, and you watch as she pauses to think, “Do you think…do you think us doing this breaks the no touching rule?” she asks.

“I think that you like to lay with me, and I like to hold you and that’s the end of it.” you answer. “I don’t think we are breaking the rules, I think we are just letting them evolve to meet us where we are.” you reply.

She settles down into your arms, and nuzzles her face into your neck. You feel a tingle rush through your body again, feeling her leg tangle with yours under the blankets.

You close your eyes and just lay there for a second, knowing you could fall asleep right now thanks to the wine, but instead you press play on the remote and turn off the lamp.

You rub your fingertips over her bare shoulder as the episode plays, feeling her hand rest on your stomach in your very favorite place. Suddenly a thought pops into your mind, overwhelming your brain and causing you to reach for the remote and pause the show.

“Can I ask you something?” you question.

“Yeah?” she turns her face to look at you.

“Why did you tell Josh you wanted to leave the tour?” you ask.

“Oh…” she pauses. “Well, I don’t want to, I guess. I just…I was feeling like, how could either of us grow up and move forward if we are always with each other? But then, Josh kind of reminded me I signed a contract and then explained to me how this would be the biggest growth challenge we would face together, and that if we could make it through that, we could make it through anything.”

“I can’t imagine you not being there, you know.” you say.

“I just… wanted to give you space if that’s what you needed.” she says.

“Does it seem like I want space?” you asked, holding her tightly to you.

“I guess not.” she laughs.

“Do you…want space?” you ask.

She rubs her fingertips over your collarbone, “Not really. I think we owe it to ourselves to be ‘not together’ but still, kind of, ‘together’, I guess. I like how things are now. I think we are just…in a rebuilding period. I think we will both know when we are ready.”

“Yeah. Rebuilding. I like that. But, I guess all that being said…god it feels weird to even say this…you know that I’m not going to…see other people or anything…” you say nervously.

“I don’t want to either. I want to spend every night just like this.” she says.

“You know that’s what I want too, right?” you ask.

“I do now…” she whispers.

“I want to kiss you so bad Y/N…I have all day…” you say.

You see her eyes flick from your eyes to your lips, biting her own as she tries to battle within herself. “Fuck, just one…” she says, pressing her lips to yours.

You grab her face with your right hand, pulling her harder into you as you feel her pillowy soft lips on yours. You bite her bottom lip as she pulls away, releasing it as she settles back on your chest.

“Shit, Y/N…” you pant, “You're gonna kill me…I swear.”

“I’m gonna go get in bed Jake…” she says.

“What? You’re leaving?” you ask.

“I’m afraid if I don’t…” she trails off.

“I’ll behave. Don’t leave me, love…” you plead. “We still have fifteen minutes left in this episode…”

“Okay and then I will go to my bed.” she says, nodding.

“If that’s what you want. Now come back, I want my last fifteen minutes.” you say, pulling her back down to your chest. She snakes her arm around your waist letting her fingers slide in to rest just under the waistband of your boxers. A comforting feeling you didn’t even know you missed until now.

You press play and let those minutes pass, but as her breathing starts to even out and she tangles her leg between yours, you know she’s not leaving, and you smile because you know she never really intended to.

—

As the sun peeked into the room you squinted as your eyes opened, feeling her back pressed against your arm. You rolled over towards her, wrapping your arm around her, as she stirred awake. She turned to face you, stretching beneath your arm and letting out a yawn.

“Sleep well?” you asked.

A shy smile crossed her lips, “Yes…Did you?”

“Always do when you’re here.” you admit. You release her as she rolls over to grab her phone, just watching her as she continues to wake up. She shoots up in the bed completely stricken with panic.

“What baby?” you ask, concerned.

“Jake…” she says, her hands shaking.

“What? What!” you urge.

“Just look…” she says, handing you her phone. You take it from her and see a message from an unknown number sent at three in the morning, with a link to an Instagram page. Fuck.

You click on the link and are brought to a profile filled with photos, but they aren’t just any photos. They are photos of Y/N. Photos of her taken by someone watching her. You scroll to the very bottom, and see that the very first one is from 2017, while she was still in school. As you continue to scroll you see the years pass, 2018, 2019, 2020… all photos taken of her without her knowing. Out in public, going home, at your shows…Photos of her with friends, photos of her with you, with Josh, with Sam and Elle. You all thought his stalking started in Austin but you couldn’t have been more wrong. He was truly hunting her.

“Jake what the fuck is this?” she asks, nervously.

“Well, it looks like he just sent you his photo diary. Showing you every time he has been around you without you knowing. Showing you he’s here and he’s still watching. Fucking creep.” you answer.

“Jake those are recent!” she says clicking on the newer photos. Pictures of her walking into the hospital in Saginaw. A picture of her at the farmers market just a few days ago. A picture of her and Josh walking into the yoga studio. He was back and he was getting more bold.

“Y/N, you cannot leave here by yourself…not without someone with you. Preferably me.” you urge. “God what the fuck does he want! What is his end game here?” you yell.

She grabs her phone and throws it down onto the bed, running her hands over her face, still very shaken as she realizes how unsafe she’s been this whole time.

You roll over to grab your phone to text the guys and let them know, but your own message was waiting for you. You looked at her, before looking back at it, swiping your finger across the looming notification.

Unknown

3:10am: An eye for an eye…

@gretavansara@jordie-gvf-admin@starshine-wagner @eyelinerjake@gretavanfvckface@gretavanmoon@misshunnybeebee@fretaganvleet@gvfpal@joshkiszkas@ascendingtostardust@raviolilegs@sammysprincess@gvfpal@objectsinspvce@lallisonl@gvfpal@raviolilegs@jaketlover@ascendingtostardust @violet-hayes@indigostreakmorgan@jakemarrymeibeg@fakeplastiqtree@radmads-gvf @fwzco @katelynn-gvf @writingcold @jakesgrapejuice @jakekiszkasbabymama @emsfallingsky @gretavanbear @ejoygvf @beebloopbleep @mackalah @weneedsomehealing123 @reesetrippingthelight @lightmylove-gvf @wetkleenex-gvf@fulltimecynical@ageofbajabule@ageofsinners@indigostreakslut @katelynn-gvf @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @joshskittytickler21 @mp0801@starcatcherry @samsbirks @darianh07 @cassiesgreta @becinabubblegvf @hanntisocial @demonrat444 @mrbrownstne @gretabyss @bizzielisteningtogreta @samsbirks @jakes-archer @laneygvf @jaketsword @hangvf @indigostreakmorgan @sadiextricia @thunderstomp-and-tequila @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @lyndz2names @brujamagik @overtheehillsandfaraway @gretavanfan @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @slightly-russian

@gracev0609 @sammiboo162 @jakekiszkasmommy @jaketkiszkalover @everyglowinthetwilightknows @literal-dead-leaf @ghostly—photography @aintthatapity

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purpleyoonn · 1 year

Text

Dance of Time 3

D A N C E O F T I M E

“A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.” -Bukowski

Summary: You were finally back in the hometown you left right after graduation, researching the mysterious manor that laid outside of the town limits. Your family was acting weird, and the owner of the manor seemed to know more about you than he should. Everything changed when you entered the manor, and you weren’t sure your dance with time was going to last very long.

Pairing: Vampire BTS x Human Reincarnated Reader

Status: Coming Soon

Genre: soulmate au, reincarnation, yandere themes, possessive boys, angst, fluff,

Warnings: smut, violence, tempers, mentions of death, murder, some explicit descriptions of violence, blood,

Chapter Warnings: more flashback scenes, yandere boys, major discoveries, not much

Taglist: @psychosupernatural @carolinexkpop @strxwbloody @strawberry-moonpies @dustyinkpages @iamkookiesforyou @anaspectoflife @btsw1fe @yoongisgirl69 @toughbook @yoongibabs @mageprincess7 @dahliasbouqet @wittyreader @peachandmomo @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @m1sss1mp @yourleftsock @skyys-universe @cryingpages @drissteele @dustyinkpages @crushedblackroses @fluffy-canada-pancakes @blaaiissee @iiitsmaria @azazel-nyx @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i @knjkitten @kleirielk @foreverweareyoung7 @lachimolala22019 @namuficxs @94z-93 @kimgmzmc @thenaverse

Masterlist // Chapter 2 // Chapter 4

————————————————–

Previously on Dance of Time:

You were a little confused, why would he choose to pick you up when he lives at the manor? Isn’t that out of his way to come and get you? It didn’t make sense. Plus, how did he know where you lived? Yeah, you lived in a small town, but even you didn’t know where most people lived in the town. You tried to question Mr. Kim about it, but you never received another email before you fell asleep to the sound of the wind blowing outside your window.

It was the next morning, and you were waiting to hear a car pull up the road. It was getting close to nine o’clock, and you were waiting on the front porch. You were excited about getting to tour the manor and had been ready since seven this morning.

You sat against the old porch swing, your camera bag and backpack sat next to you as you wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself. Your grandmother and uncle had yet to wake up, leaving you to relax into the silence of the morning.

You were nervous.

You had a weird feeling about today, probably stemming from the weird dream you had. It was almost incoherent, a series of flashing images you couldn’t make sense of. When you did try to make sense of them, your head started hurting, a pounding headache taking over until you had to try and take some Tylenol, hoping to have some relief before the day.

But that didn’t happen, as your headache became pounding and then your vision blurred.

The market was beautiful today as you walked slowly throughout the grass. You had tripped one too many times on it already and you knew your mother would surely punish you greatly if you were to rip the fabric of the gown she made you.

You couldn’t help but to move closer to the necklaces, a simple locket catching your eye as you stood in front of the vendor, a couple who seemed to be with child.

“That would look lovely on your neck, Miss.” You smile over to the woman, Mary, as she stood closer to you. She held it up to your neck and while her husband, Nicholas, held a mirror up for you to see.

“Indeed, it would, darling. If only our dear nurse had someone to capture her heart so, making the locket well within her heart.” Nicholas gestured back, noticing the ever-growing smile come across your lips.

“if only.” You turn around to see a man, his features blurred as he held his hand out for you to grasp as he bows a little in your presence. Your hurry to curtsey back, Lord… was surely not bowing to you.

“Please, Lord… do not worry yourself over a simple nurse.” You gesture softly for him to stand up, but he only continued to hold his hand out for you. His dimples bright against his cheeks as you finally placed your hand within his grasp.

“You are anything but a simple nurse, milady.”

“Y/n, are you alright?”

Your vision returned to see Namjoon; his hand held out to you in the same way the man in your vision was holding his. It shocked you a bit, your body frozen as it tries to determine if you were still hallucinating.

“Y/n?” Only when he asked again did you snap out of it. You quickly took his hand as he helped you off your front doorstep.

“I am so sorry about that. I haven’t been sleeping very well, you know? Sleeping in your childhood bed after so long can do wonders on you.” You chuckle, hoping he took your words as the joke you intended, letting out a breath when he laughs.

“I bet. Well,” He looks at his watch, a simple silver band that seemed to be engraved. “We should be going. I told my brother we would be there by nine.” You lean over to glance at his watch to see it was only a couple of minutes from nine o’clock, meaning you were running behind.

“I am so sorry.” You apologize as you lean down to pick up your camera bag and backpack, which Namjoon proceeded to take from you and move over to his car, placing them in the trunk.

“Please, Miss Jacquess, do not worry about it. I bet that once my brother sees you, all will be well.” You tilt your head a little at his words, not quite understanding why the sight of you would appease his brother but decided not to think about it.

Namjoon comes back around when you get close to the car and opens the passenger door for you, his hand resting on the small of your back, sending tingles and other feelings down your spine as he helps you into the car.

When you are buckled, you look up to see him looking towards your home, a small smirk barely visible on his lips. You turn to see what he was looking at only to see your grandmothers small frame peeking through the curtain behind the window facing the garden. Her eyes were hard, but you could see the worry shining through, the fear tugging at her lips as the car was pulling out of your driveway.

“Now, Y/n, my brother can be a bit…boisterous. So, I do apologize in advance.” Namjoon looks away from the road for a quicks second to see a thoughtful look cross your eyes, your fingers tapping against your jean covered thighs.

His own fingers squeeze the material of the steering wheel, the smell of you so intoxicating that he had a hard time controlling himself. It had been years since he had been in such close quarters with you, and he could help but be relieved that this would be the first of many that he would spend in close proximity with you again.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry, Mr. Kim. My uncle can be the same way.” Was your only response. You couldn’t seem to get yourself to focus on anything, like the wind was blowing its song through your ears.

You were having major déjà vu, and it was making your heart race and flutter as you listened to the man driving speak about his property.

When you did finally arrive at the manor, you were quick to notice the tall man leaning against one of the pillars in front of the manor, holding up the beautifully crafted balcony. Your mouth almost dropped in shock as you looked at the man.

He was almost as beautiful as the house itself, the pout on his lips speaking for itself as he begins to walk down the stairs and to the car. As you move to open your door a hand stops you, fingers on top of yours, sparks shooting up your spine as you look into the dark eyes of the man from before.

“A woman should never open her own door.” His voice was soft, as if talking about the breeze blowing through the large pine trees in the front of the property. His gaze was even softer, and reminded you of something with which your brain couldn’t grasp.

“Y/n, this is my brother, Seokjin.” Your mind counted the way he called the man his brother, your soul not buying the relationship said by the man. It didn’t make sense to you. Your hand that was still in his grasp was now held, his hand bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your hand as he looked at you through his lashes.

“Please, dear, call me Jin.”

There it is. Another name that sends shivers down your spine causing you to pull you hand back into your chest, a nervous smile on your lips as the two men glance at each other.

“Alright, Jin. Thank you both so much for allowing me to join you on a tour of your family’s manor.” You push yourself out of the car, not wanting to be enclosed in the space longer than you had to. The day was starting to feel darker than you had hoped, and your mind kept telling you that something deeper was at play here; telling you that you needed to leave while you still could.

Jin could see the difference in you once you heard his voice. He wanted to smirk, the shivers down your spine the only indication he needed that you were back with them. He knew that you were ready, and that you were remembering them slowly.

Only when you stood a couple feet away from them, your camera bag in hand and your backpack on your back, taking photos of the manor did Jin turn to Namjoon.

“You are late.” His tone was clipped as he stared at you, your focus on the manor you didn’t even know was yours.

“I know. I showed up to her having a vision. Her eyes were white and I didn’t want anyone to see it.” Jin’s eyes flashed red for a second before turning to their normal black. He hummed in response, knowing that if the visions were returning this fast and this numerous that the gods truly meant this was their time.

“Eden realized too late that I was there. She peered through the window to see our darling already buckled into my car. I couldn’t help but smirk at her dejection.” They both let out a low laugh at the woman’s own fate being dealt to her.

“She should have known that we would intervene at some point. After pushing you to pursue school elsewhere, finding that stupid witch to place a cloaking spell. Well, it was time.” Jin growled out before shifting his demeaner and moving towards you, Namjoon following suit of his elder mate.

“Alright darling. Are you ready for the tour?”

-*-*-

The manor was beautiful, you couldn’t believe the amount of history you were standing in, contending with the likes of Stonehenge and Athens. There were hundreds of paintings lining the walls, gorgeous landscapes and portraits of probably past family members looking back at you as you walk with Namjoon and Jin, their voices echoing off the same walls.

“Now, Miss Jaquess, the history within these walls is as important to us as the blood within our veins.” Jin spoke softly as he stopped in front of the entryway. You could see a grand piano peeking past one of the walls and grew intrigued. You also noticed a couple of different things.

“This is our legacy.” Jin continued his probably prepared speech as you walked around, feeling Namjoon behind you as you saw the small, full garbage bin that remained next to the couches, their cushions rumpled as if someone was rolling on them. But what caught your eye the most was the fingerprints littering the keys of the piano as you neared closer.

For a vacant historical manor is sure did look lived in. You thought, writing your thoughts down in your notebook as you walked, following Jin as he spoke about the original floorboards that had yet to be restored.

You were at the foot of the grand staircase when you noticed a dark coloring on the floorboards. You stood to take a closer look when your vision blurred again, a quick image of blood spilling and soft moans filling your head before you were standing back up. Namjoon and Jin acted as if they didn’t notice anything, walking up the staircase as you followed suit.

Red eyes peered at you from behind the staircase, longing filling their body as the noticed your vision turn white at the spot where he first tasted your blood, where he first brought you to woes, your fingers curling into his hair. He couldn’t wait until you remembered him, remembered the way you felt about him.

You were welcomed by an opening that held several fainting couches and a nice Victorian rug as the centerpiece.

“This is where our ancestors would rest after their long days, their wife even having these ‘fainting couches’ made so she could loosen her corset.” Namjoon pointed to the layout of the opening before moving down one of the hallways.

The home was large, three separate floors not including the basement or the attic. It was one of the biggest buildings north of Sacramento when built, and it’s legacy continues today. You couldn’t help but be amazed by the history of the manor, hoping that your recorder was capturing each and every detail that both Namjoon and Jin were telling you.

Through the windows on the north corridor you could see the large garden, reds, blues, and purples shining brightly within the sunlight falling onto the property.

“Okay, so I do have some questions that I would like to ask, if that’s okay?” You speak for the first time since the tour began. The boys share another quick glance before Namjoon nods.

“Of course. What tour would this be if there were no questions to be asked.” His words had you calming down a bit.

“Okay. First question. Can you tell me why this manor was nicknamed the ‘Weeping Manor’?” You were still walking as you had your pen pressed to your paper, ready to write down whatever their answer was.

“I think you will actually find the answer within the last room.” Namjoon gestured to Jin who opened the door at the end of the north corridor.

The door opened into a large room, shelves filling the space as you looked towards the right, books with pages spilling out just calling your name as your mouth opened in awe. Right in front of you was a large oak desk, the top of it covered in your books and articles, you could even see some pieces highlighted or underlined as you slowly walked closer.

You felt nervous, the entire atmosphere shifting from joyful and playful to dark and eerie. You turned behind you to question Namjoon or Jin but they were gone. The door now closed and the room’s only light coming from the slightly open shades on the window behind the desk.

Your eyes flittered across the space, looking for the two men who seemingly disappeared into thin air, wanting to leave and be done with the tour. You didn’t like the feelings you were having, the cold air brushing across your skin coming from nowhere.

“Mr. Kim?” You called out, turning back around to the door only to have your eyes catch sight of a large family portrait.

It was a painting of the property, dating back to 1838 when the manor was originally built, even before the town had an official name and place on the map. Seven men resided in the front of the portrait, sitting and standing in a line just in front of the large pine tree that resided to the right of the men.

You moved forward to get a closer look at the portrait when the tiny description just below caught your eye.

“The Kim Coven. Ca. 1838.”

Coven? What did that even mean? Your confusion didn’t end there but grew into shock and something like horror when you finally looked up to the faces within the portrait.

The man standing within the middle of the painting was a spitting image of the man who gave you the tour. The same man who met you at the local diner and exchanged emails back and forth with you.

To his right, and to your even deeper horror, stood Seokjin, eyes almost staring at your shaking from beneath the paint.

You took a step back, your hand covering your mouth in fear as you tried to back away from the painting when you bumped into someone. A whimper leaving your lips as you tried to quiet your sobs.

“Please…please.” You began to beg, knowing you were done for.

“Oh, darling. Please don’t cry.” The man behind you coos, a hand moving up to move your hair away from your neck as a small kiss is pressed to your skin.

“You’re finally home.”

“Taehyung, love, I know you’re excited but you’re scaring our baby.” A voice from your left sounds out, the echo of his voice ringing in your ear as the man’s embrace on your abdomen slowly tightens.

“She seems more scared of Namjoon and Jin right now.” The man holding you hums, his nose pressed to the skin of your neck as you try to stop shaking. You couldn’t stop your tears now, even as you tried to force yourself to breath evenly.

“Please, I promise. I won’t say anything. I’ll never come back. I-I won’t write this article. Please.” You plead with the men, seven in all as they begin to move from behind the same shelves you were in awe of earlier.

You felt lied to, like a lion hoping for a meal only to be met with an audience wanting you to jump. Your brain began to connect the dots, pieces coming together that led to this moment.

“The sudden agreement to a meeting.” You begin to voice your thoughts aloud, receiving a humming in approval from Namjoon, who knew what you were doing.

“The table in the corner of the diner, where you didn’t eat anything.” Another hum, this time from the man who spoke to the man behind you.

“Moving the meeting to today instead of after the weekend. Almost like an urgency.” Jin couldn’t help but to roll his eyes at this one, knowing it was your grandmother’s fault for this point, not theirs.

“You knew my name before I even introduced myself. Recognized me despite not knowing what I looked like.” You looked up from the floor to see Namjoon standing in front of you, his portrait figure looking at you from over his shoulder.

“I—I don’t understand.” You let out, your brain missing some pieces still, unable to fully connect the dots. Your brain couldn’t comprehend the outcome without knowing who they were.

“You always were so smart, Y/n. Even then.” Before you could attempt anything else, your vision blurred again, for the third time that day.

“My love, I don’t understand how you can understand all of this.” His hair flew past his shoulders as he playfully threw your anatomy book from your lap. He instead took its place, his head flopping onto the material of your underdress, a smirk aimed at your affronted gaze.

“My love, why don’t you study my body instead?” A pillow hit his face before he could continue. Laughter bubbling from your lips at his scrunched up features. His hair now all over the place as he turned his gaze back to you.

“Oh, Yoongi. If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask.” You leaned down to place your lips on the man’s lips, moving to pull away only for his arms to trap you against him, smiling into your lips.

“Ellie, you are too smart for your own good.”

Your vision returned, this time the men were all stood in front of you, watching your vision return to normal. Your quickly caught sight of the man in your vision, Yoongi, you assumed. You touched your lips as if you could feel his lips, plush against yours.

“Who is Ellie?” Were the only words to leave your lips as sobs started to sound out instead. Their eyes seemed indifferent to your words, despite the sparkle of happiness glittering within.

“You.”

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iheartaleena · 3 months

Text

one piece au where literally nothing went wrong everyone is alive and happy hc's

nami

belle mere is still alive obvi

the attack on her island was less of an attack and more of like a alliance? like the fishman pirates pulled up and were like hey we need a hideout can we pls use ur island. and they were like yeah offer us protection and in turn u can use our island! no violence no blood nothing!!

in this au fisher tiger is still alive and the fishman pirates are still what he envisioned before his death, so he’s the captain, not arlong

speaking of arlong he’s like hella toned down. he got the jinbei affect in the sense that koala changed him and showed him humans aren’t all bad. yeah sure he’s more radical and unhinged than the other pirates but he’s just like the weird conservative uncle you tolerate at thanksgiving not a real threat

hachi and nami bonding!!!

nami never develops an obsession with money, she gets to put her full effort into map making and exploring that talent

she makes maps for the fishman pirates completely out of her own free will

she joins the movement for fishman human equality woohoo!!!

yeah in this au that movement actually gets taken seriously instead of played off and the fishmen actually make progress in equality

koala visits sometimes! koala and nami bonding time!!!

law

doflamingo is toned down like 1000% in this au he’s not a family killer in this one he’s just odd

like seriously idk how the logistics would work but maybe somehow after the whole “doffys family becomes human” thing the humans don’t persecute him? so in turn he just kinda is pretentious and misses being rich instead of holding a particular grudge against humanity?

either way he’s also just the weird conservative uncle you see at thanksgiving

corazon is number one dad ever did he offer law henny for his 8th birthday yes does he know how to do laundry or cook not at all but he is trying his best!

LAW BABY FIVE AND BUFFALO AS COUSINS. PLEASE!!!! dellinger too maybe idk if he’s a kid or not tho

the executives like trebol diamante whatever the fuck also aren’t as evil either they just tryna do their own thing yk just black market deal in peace but no unnecessary killing

donquixote family stays pirates instead of going and trying to take a whole kingdom (took a shit ton of convincing for doffy to accept that)

the whole pirate warlord thing gives doffy enough prestige he don’t need to be a king necessarily

law eats the op op fruit, doffy tries to get him to make him immortal, corazon slaps him, doffy changes his mind

(i am taking so many liberties in this au omg)

zoro

kuina didn’t fucking fall down a flight of stairs!! yippee!!!

their whole competition abt who will be the greatest swordsman is still on

they venture outside the dojo and become pirates

both bounty hunters maybe

kuina is so so gay

hear me out…. kuina x tashigi? LET ME COOK

yeah zoros just there

they find their way to mihawks island without the whole kuma blasting zoro to a random island thing

they beg mihawk to train them but he’s like wtf get out of my house but they show potential and he’s like ok fine ill train y’all

persona is also there bc i said so FUCK MORIA ALL MY HOMIES HATE MORIA she left him and somehow ended up with mihawk he also let her stay for some reason (he needs to stop adopting kids)

hear me out…. perona x kuina? or at the very least they become besties

once again zoro is just there

robin

olvia and saul are still alive

all of her island is still alive, don’t ask why the world government is ok with that they just are shhhh shhhhh

robin grows up an archeologist but decides she needs to find the poneglyphs and discover the truth of the world

so she becomes a pirate and joins baroque works, led by crocodile

he respects her (WHAT) doesn’t try to kill her (WHAT) and they actually have a fun friendship a friendly lil boss secretary relationship its adorable

she helps crocodile get with doffy because god knows he couldn’t do it himself

ok if this is how this au is going robins gotta be besties with bon clay come on. mr three hello??

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atzfilm · 1 year

Text

love you to death (m);

pairing; death!mingi/f.reader

rating/genre; mature, fantasy/mythical, angst

summary; everyone who has ever loved you died horrifically. you’ve given up on love, until you find a man who keeps on saying he’s Death, willing to help you. for a price, of course.

word count; 25.5k

warnings; death (lots of it), illnesses, impending death, major character death, lots of angst, a lot of religious references (please do not read if you’re sensitive to this), suicide mentions (nothing happens), greek mythos mentioned (not accurate, just based around it)

You were loved in your dream last night. It was an indescribable feeling. The way their arms wrapped around you. The lack of fear expressed in your body. You felt their love through each fiber of your being. It was wondrous and calming. It was unlike anything you've ever experienced. For the first time in your short life, you felt safe. When you woke, the feeling still lingered. Like a soft kiss to your skin, telling you that it will be alright.

It was gone as quickly as it began.

Your fingers dig into your sheets. You squint from the rays streaming through the gap in your curtains. Soon, that ethereal feeling disappears with another breath. You rub your arms, throwing your legs over the bed's edge. The sinking despair seeps back into you as you stumble through your home. Making it through another long day.

It was your curse. To remain unloved until your last breath. You aren't sure when it started. Your childhood wasn't the greatest; your parents died before you were born. You were taken out of your mother's womb at a mere five months. And after that, it was history. People thought that both of your parents dying was just a coincidence. But then, unexplained occurrences often happen around you. Bodies dropping at the blink of an eye when they've gotten close to you. In the beginning, you cried. You couldn't understand why it happened. Why were you cursed to live this way? Did you do something horrendous in your past life? Those questions often drifted through your mind until it became a numb hum in the back of it. A reluctant acceptance.

You've had friends for only a moment. You're sure that back when you were in elementary school is when it became apparent that death followed you. Your friends died one by one. You were interviewed by the police the third time it happened, but nothing came of it. There was nothing they could prove that made you the culprit for these sudden deaths. Parents cursed at you anyway, calling you a child killer. You were moved from foster home to foster home when they learned of your background. You kept to yourself in the classroom, never had a friend of your own past your preteen years. You grew used to it. Being called weird wasn't anything new to you. And up to now, it's all you've ever known.

You stare into the mirror, lids heavy as you drag your brush over your teeth. You've settled for an online job; less people to deal with means less of a chance for someone to love you. The only other interaction you have with people aside from a webcam is in the markets to buy groceries. Unfortunately you couldn't quite afford ordering groceries online anymore, so the tense, quick trips to the store were what you had to do. You grew wiser each time you went. Made a list right before the trip and memorized where items were. Made paths that got you in and out quickly. And since today is your day off, it’s another run to the market for the week.

You wrap a scarf around your damp hair, balancing your toothbrush between your teeth as you tie it back. Once you’ve assured that it’s stuck in place, you spit out the foam, rinsing with the almost empty mouthwash and make it out the bathroom. Your eyes flick to your plants, still lively after years and years of taking care of them. The only living thing that you could keep in your house that can’t possibly love you back. You touch the leaves as you walk past, whispering good mornings. The tug of your sandals on your feet and you’re out the door. You grab your bike, adjusting your helmet on your head, then you’re off.

You live in a small, college neighborhood. Your neighbors are student roommates usually; each year another group thriving off the newfound freedom. And more often than not, they grow to despise you. Not for your lack of trying, though there is plenty of that. For the hellos that are ignored and the knocks on the door not answered. Someone being antisocial isn't new nor unexpected to them, but the blatant lack of acknowledgment of their existence seems to piss them off. But many want to be friends with you, inviting you to their parties or asking for directions to a particular place within the area. You did so, at first. And that only led to another death.

Another soul perishing at your hands.

The market is only a few blocks from your home, thankfully. You park your bike and lock it in the rack, grabbing your tote bag and entering the store. It's quiet enough, only elders shopping around this time. You've picked this time specifically for that. It's a morbid assumption, but older people are more often riddled with diseases and conditions that cause them to forget easily. It's enough for you to remain unknown in the neighborhood. They often assume you're a student shopping early.

You glance at the list, following the path you've already drawn out in your head. Produce, Aisle 2, Dairy, Aisle 7, Bakery. It's simple enough, your routine every time you enter. You stop outside Aisle 2, a blockage preventing you from entering. You grip your list in your hand. There's not enough food left on your shelves to last until tomorrow. But speaking to someone–

You close your eyes for a brief moment. It's fine. You can go to a different store for noodles. You turn on your heel, entering the other sections before checking out. Luckily this one has a self-checkout. It's not sensitive like the others, beeping each time you place a finger on the weighted scale.

How long did it take to get to the other market? You haven’t been in so long, though you should have in case something happened to this one. You tuck your groceries neatly in your bag, turning around. Your head immediately hits another, your body stumbling back and hitting the floor. Your apples scatter, panic immediately rising in your chest as you ignore the man you just bumped into. You scour the floor, throwing them in your tote despite how careful you were before. Your timing is messing up by the second, grabbing the last one you see on the floor. You look in your bag. One.. Three…

“You forgot one.”

You tense up. His voice is low, barely audible. You don’t turn up your gaze to meet his eyes, instead bowing slightly and grabbing the fruit from his hands. You’re careful not to touch, though your pinky slides across his thumb. Your thoughts don’t linger on it much, stepping around him and exiting the store.

The ride home feels prolonged despite how fast you’re pedaling. Cars beep around you as you make your way to your apartment, locking your bike on the rack and running up the steps to your home. You shut the door quickly, chest rising and falling. There’s no reason to be this afraid, that you know. Not one instance of people dying from you was because of ‘love at first sight’, but you’ve never wanted to take the chance. Because when you lower your guard for a brief moment, life just loves to hit you with the reality of your situation. No one can ever love you. And that means you will have to be lonely for the rest of your life.

You dump the tote bag on your counter, glancing over the items. It’s not enough to last you the whole week, so now you have to make time to take another trip. Preferably to a different market. You hold your head in your hands, eyes flicking to your plants. The lily seems a bit droopier today. Very much echoing your own mood. You clear your throat, rough from not speaking all day.

“You’re quieter than me today, Lily,” you move closer, touching the petal. It falls off and you widen your eyes, glancing at the soil. You slowly take her into the kitchen, touching her soil. She isn’t that moist, not enough to be overwatered, but you check anyway. Separating the soil from the roots, you see clear signs of root-rot. You sigh, leaning your elbows against the sink. “You can’t leave me too,” you murmur, slowly placing her back into her pot. A loud boom makes you jump, turning around and looking out your kitchen window.

Younger people, not far from your age, knock on your neighbor’s door. They hold bags in their hands, speaking to one another loudly. You’ve never seen them before (yes, you keep tabs on your neighbors), so you shut the blinds just as one of their gazes moves to your window. You tense up, walking over to your door and latching the top lock. Soon enough, you hear knocks.

“Yoo-hoo!” One of the men knocks again, ringing your doorbell over and over. “I know you’re in there.”

“Wooyoung can you stop being annoying for one day?” Another voice hisses, a low oof coming from said man. “Yeah, now stop ringing the bell.” He clears his throat. “Hi, sorry to bother you. Our friends next door aren’t home and we were wondering if we could drop this off to you so you can give it to them?”

You stare at the closed door. The options in your head only seem dire, though the chance of you knowing them outside of this brief interaction is minimal. They won’t ever see you again, and if they do you’re likely to ignore them. But opening the door to strangers even without your “condition” isn’t something smart to do. So you remain silent, staring at the door.

“Oh. I know this is a strange thing to ask, but we won’t be back in town for a few days and I know they need it right now—” he hesitates. “I can just leave it outside the door? And you can pick it up?”

“Why are we trusting a random woman to hold their shit? She could just steal it,” Wooyoung whispers, another painful sound falling from his lips. “What the hell, San!”

“First off, you don’t know how to whisper. And two, we’d know we gave it to her to hold, asshole. She isn’t just going to steal it and run. She lives here.”

“She could be a squatter.”

“You’re completely stupid, aren’t you?”

You open the door, a squeak falling from what you can only assume is Wooyoung. He holds his arm, rubbing it slowly as he grins at you. He looks like he just rolled out of bed, brown hair sticking up every which way, pajamas hanging from his frame. San looks a bit more put together, though he just wears sweats instead. He holds a package in his hand, smiling at you slightly.

“I really don’t mean to bother you and I know you must be busy. We just didn’t have many options left, and they really needed it. I know they’ll be home in the evening. If you don’t mind,” he looks at you, desperation in his eyes. Your eyes flick to the package in his hand. Bearing the responsibility of it is not what you want, but if it’d get them out of your hair…

You nod, pointing to a spot next to your shoe rack. He thanks you, placing it there and bowing quickly.

“Thanks,” Wooyoung adds, still holding his arm. “Are you a student? I mean, I really never see you around campus, so—”

“Really, Woo?” San frowns, looking at you. “Sorry about him, he really doesn’t know when to stop talking. I, uh, wrote our names on it so they know who it’s from. I actually put our phone numbers there too, in case they don’t show up by night. Though I’m sure they will.”

He stands there, hands tucked in his pockets. You glance in between them before nodding again. Recognition crosses his face, a quick glance to Wooyoung. They communicate with that brief look, Wooyoung walking back down the path before him. San thanks you again, bowing deeply before rushing after his friend. You watch as they both leave, walking back to the university. Their change in behavior is a bit strange, until you realize why. More than likely they think you can’t speak. It’s happened before. Just another thing you’ve gotten used to not doing. Having a conversation leads to dead ends, literally. They seemed nice enough. You take a glance at the package, seeing their names marked across the box.

“Oops,” you mumble, shutting the door behind you.

Aligning with the amazing luck you have, your neighbors haven't come home all night to get their package. You're a bit shocked– there hasn't been a time when they've stayed away. Were they on a vacation you didn't know about? Did they catch traffic on the way home? Either way, that package is still sitting by your door in the exact spot. You hadn't dared touch it. In fear of what’s inside or the repercussions of being curious you’re not too sure. Life has taught you that things don’t exactly happen for no reason, so the box will be sitting there. Forever, if it must.

You let out a sigh.

“Two idiots,” you murmur, slowly standing up from the couch. You enter the foyer, crouching down as you examine the box. It’s innocent enough, the outer appearance revealing nothing about what’s stored inside. Your eyes flick to the numbers on the box, a frown slowly etching itself on to your face. You have a phone, sure. And it’s one of the only things you’ve splurged on. But the only contacts you have in it are the landlord and police. You glance at the numbers, deciding to put them both in a group chat so you can send a quick message. And that’s it. No more communication.

You: Your friends haven’t showed up. Should I leave it on their steps or beneath their mailbox?

You pause, staring at the message. Is that enough information to not extend the conversation further? You slowly delete your message, retyping.

You: The package is still in my foyer. They haven’t come home yet, and this neighborhood isn’t busy enough for someone to steal it. I’ll leave it to the side of the door in case someone passes by or they may want to steal. Or you can come pick it up, I’ll leave it outside my door.

You reread it over and over. Maybe a little bit of information is better than a whole paragraph. You rub your face, eyes flicking over your screen. Perhaps the reason you don’t have friends is because you can’t draft a simple text. You delete the whole paragraph, sending a few words and hitting send.

You: They aren’t home and it’s almost 1am. What do you want me to do with the package?

You place your phone on the counter, grabbing an apple. You stare at it, waiting. College students are always up at strange hours of the night so you don’t doubt they’ve probably gotten it. You wait patiently.

Two hours.

You rub your eyes, the message still unread. Ah, they did say they were traveling out of town, why would they interrupt their trip to message a stranger back? You grab your phone, placing it on the charge and throwing yourself on the couch. You tuck your blanket over your head and beneath your chin so that only your face peeks out, and shut your eyes.

The loud horn of a truck wakes you up, your body rising to a sit as you rub your eyes.

You reach for your phone, blink again and again as you open your messages. There’s more than you expected; in fact, you’re sure there’s at least ten in your inbox. You rub your face, scrolling through the messages.

Unknown, sent at 3:41am: oh shit -san

San, sent at 3:41am: I really thought they were coming home, I’m sorry

San, sent at 3:52am: if you could keep it for a few days

San, sent at 3:52am: that’d be great

San, sent at 3:59am: I’m not too sure when woo and I will be back, thx!

Unknown, sent at 4:42am: hey!

Unknown, sent at 5:01am: oops, forgot to send the rest >:P

Unknown, sent at 5:19am: this is Wooyoung btw! Leaving it in your doorway is best kkk, idk when san is going to stop by? Might be a while, ill let you know :P

Wooyoung, sent at 6:00am: and um, sorry about this. and sorry for calling you a squatter, you seem like a good person! Also, sorry for messaging you so early, I never sleep hhh

San, sent at 8:03am: I took his phone away lol;-; let us know when you see these messages!

You snort, scrolling through the messages sent over and over. They seem to be bickering with one another, Wooyoung jesting and San scolding him often. It’s humorous, small giggles escaping your lips as you look through the chat. You’re about to send a message back when you see three little dots appear at the bottom. You stop typing, waiting for one of them to respond. After about thirty seconds of this, a message finally appears.

Wooyoung, sent at 9:13am: saw u typing >:)

You roll your eyes, sending your message.

You: I’ll keep it near my door. You can pick it up when you’re back just give me a few hours’ notice. Thanks.

The response is almost immediate.

Wooyoung: PERFECT. ttyl stranger

His chat bubbles disappear, your eyes flicking over it again and again. There’s nothing else, so you place your phone back on the table.

You hold the package out, the quick steps of San a bit alarming. It’s not only that he’s walking fast, no. He balances a cup between his teeth, hands tucked in his pockets to hide from the cold breeze of dawn. You were barely awake when they messaged you, two blinks away from falling back to sleep. He stumbles up your steps. Wooyoung is farther behind, taking his time as he eyes his friend. He’s tucked in a large overcoat, ears hidden underneath furry earmuffs, body trembling as he rubs his hands together. It’s barely into the middle of November, but you’re sure snow may come even before the start of next month.

San finally makes it up your steps and takes the cup from his mouth, dimples shining at you. Unlike Wooyoung, he wears only a light sweater. A shiver rolls down your spine just looking at him. He must be freezing, right? The blush coating his cheeks and red tips of his ears match the apples on your counter. You feel a bit bad, knowing you're only a few steps away from the heat of your home. But the last thing on your mind is inviting them in.

“They told me they were going away for a few days,” San shutters, taking the box from your hands. “I really didn’t know, I’m sorry about that.”

You wave him off, tucking your hands back in your pockets. “No big deal.”

“Holy shit, she can speak!” Wooyoung yells from the bottom of the steps, eyes wide. A grin plasters itself on his lips, eyes giddy. “I really thought you couldn’t.”

“Fucking Woo,” San rubs his face, sheepishly meeting your gaze. “He doesn’t really hold back, I’m sorry about him.”

You shrug your shoulders, taking a step back into your home. San glances at Wooyoung, before meeting your gaze. “We were thinking if you’d like, we can grab a coffee? Or whatever from the coffee shop down the street. I saw one of their disposables on your counter last week, so I thought that you’d enjoy it? Unless you don’t, and it was a first time thing. It’s, uh, your choice.” He tucks the package under his arm, rocking on his heels.

San definitely talks exactly like he texts. Wooyoung moves up the steps, lingering behind his friend. “We’re not taking no for an answer, stranger.”

You narrow your eyes. He means no harm in inviting you, that you know. But the looming thought of being friendly with them only makes your anxiety bubble in your chest. A coffee couldn’t do any harm, could it? They seem to read the look on your face, San scratching the edge of his hairline.

“Last time we bother you?” He murmurs, giving you a closed-lip smile. “No more packages?”

Your sigh is low enough not to be audible, reaching for your keys next to your door. Wooyoung pumps his fist in the air, stomping down your steps and running back to their car. San waits for you patiently, walking down first as you lock your door. Despite them being kind you don’t exactly trust them, eyes flicking to their car.

“I’ll meet you there,” You say, eyeing the car door. It’s freezing outside, your breaths fogging up your glasses resting on the tip of your nose. “It’s only a five minute walk.”

“I don’t want you to freeze to death,” San notes, standing just outside the driver’s door. “I know it’s weird to say, but I promise I won’t kidnap you.”

“That’s not convincing,” you take a step away from his car, nudging your head in the direction of the café. “I’ll be fine. I might get there before you with all of this traffic.” Before he could protest any longer, you turn on your heels, walking off to the café. You hear a sigh behind you and a door shut. You glance to the side, waving at them as they drive past you. There’s no doubt in your mind that you’d rather turn back around and head home. That’ll probably dissuade them from ever meeting with you again. Though, Wooyoung doesn’t seem like the type to just accept it. From his endless messages you could tell that he’d very likely show up at the foot of your doorstep, ready to break it down if necessary.

A slow breath escapes your lips, hands tucked in your coat pockets. “What have you gotten yourself into, y/n?” You mumble.

It’s quieter this morning. The café has fewer patrons than you expected, the warm sinking into your frame as you glance around. San and Wooyoung sit in a booth next to each other, leaving the opposite side free. You can only thank them, slow steps to the table. You rest your coat on the hook, sliding into the booth.

Wooyoung looks at you, almost jumping in his seat as you take your place. San rolls his eyes slowly, passing a menu to you. “I hope you don’t catch a cold,” he says. “It has to be below zero out there right now. At least let us give you a ride back?”

“Thank you, but no thanks,” you give him a slight grin, taking the menu from him and looking down. Sitting in the booth is already a step for you. Now spending time with other people? You would huff at the thought mere weeks ago. You stare down at the menu you’ve already memorized, eyeing your usual dish you often take-out.

“There’s way too many vegetables on this menu,” Wooyoung stares, frowning. “I mean, cucumbers shouldn’t be in anything, let alone almost every dish!”

“You’re looking at the vegetarian section, stupid,” San’s frown deepens. With the way he insults him you’d think he hated the man, but you can see the adoration in his eyes. All of it is just teasing. Wooyoung seems to know that as well, sticking his tongue out and flipping the menu over.

“What do you suggest then, y/n?” Wooyoung’s focus is now on you, your gaze panicked when you meet his eyes. You look back down at the menu, eyes flicking over. “It’s right down the street from your apartment so I’m sure you come here all the time.”

“I usually just get a coffee and pancakes,” you say. “Nothing special.”

“Pancakes sound like a good idea to me~” He hums, closing his menu. His positive energy is palpable, even soothing your own anxiety for this moment. You’re still nervous, reserved. But it feels different now, your body more relaxed. Still your eyes flick to the exit, hoping that this would be over soon.

“You said there’d be one box,” you sigh, watching him enter with another one. “There was no reason to lie.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, stacking the next one on top of the makeshift pile he made in the middle of the living room. A quick count makes that the tenth one, his body slumped over the pile as he groans about how unfair life is. You snort, glancing down the steps. San stands there, hands resting against his hips as he frowns.

“Stupid over there made me get out of bed for this.”

Wooyoung makes a disgruntled noise from on top of the pile. A mix between a lion and a dying bird. San rolls his eyes dramatically, stepping into your apartment.

You broke the promise to yourself. After that quick café run, they saw you often while visiting your neighbors. Soon, you started small conversations with them. Nothing crazy, just mentions of the weather or traffic getting there. You tried to ignore them, shutting your blinds whenever you saw the car. Locking your door and turning off the lights when they appeared out of nowhere. It’s not like you haven’t tried to get rid of them. But moving out of your home isn’t an option for you right now, so you had to settle with the fact that the duo wouldn’t be out of your hair for a while. You thought Wooyoung was persistent, but San matched it ten-fold. Knocking on your door whenever he liked, leaving trinkets or food in your mailbox for you to take. You grew accustomed to their presence in your life now, enough so that you’d consider them acquaintances. Friends, not exactly, and hopefully never. But you could handle them just as the relationship you have now.

Enough to dismiss your fears briefly.

“You’re going to crush the food,” you note, nudging his foot with your slipper. He waves you off, sinking to the floor. You hold open the door to San and he thanks you, entering your home. The bare walls and empty tables aren’t like that anymore; some of their belongings scattered about. You’ve told them countless times to take it to their own home and stop leaving it at your place. But of course they never listened, your cabinets filled with their coffee mugs, hoodies of theirs slung on the backs of your chairs. Their presence is slowly marking your home, the dull atmosphere dwindling away. San mentioned it once, but you could only shrug and tell him that you liked it minimalistic, easy to move whenever you decided to. The expression that crossed his face worried you briefly, but neither of you discussed it again.

“I’ll just buy more, that’s all,” A cheeky grin makes you push him off the pile, a loud scream as he hits the rug. “You’re more dramatic than me!”

Wooyoung sticks his tongue out, dragging his body across the floor. You only snicker as he makes his way to San, using him to stand up. San pushes his hand off, Woo falling to the ground once more. You can’t help but laugh loudly, hand covering your mouth as you look between them. San smiles back at you, brow raised.

“Now why would you hide a laugh that pretty?”

Your laugh slowly fades, body tensing up at his comment. Wooyoung seems to notice the change, pushing San’s leg as he stands.

“No one could beat my laugh,” he frowns. “My mom told me it’s magical.”

“A stretch,” San murmurs, earning another shove. You don’t laugh this time, rubbing your arms, desperate to rid of the concern that dwells in you. The conversation passes as if nothing were wrong. You allow it to, a quick thank you look at Wooyoung before you look through the boxes.

The night passes quickly, most clothing arranged in the proper places. San leaves first, explaining that he'll be back in the morning to drop it off at the donation center. Wooyoung lingers around longer. You can tell he has something on his mind, voice quieter than usual, fingers picking at the loose skin next to his nails. You pretend not to notice, cleaning the dishes in silence. There's not many, only yours since you own one of everything. They often use paper plates when they come over. He slowly makes his way over to you, sitting at your island. The stool scratches against the floor and he quickly apologies.

"y/n,” he rubs his hands, gazing at the table. “Why do you act this way around us?”

You pause in your washing for a moment, already knowing where the conversation is heading. You could end it now, tell him to get out and never speak to you again. But you don’t. Despite everything, you want to know what he’s actually going to say. If what your gut is telling you is true.

“And don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about, because you do.”

“I don’t,” you murmur. You hear the chair scratch against the floor, Wooyoung standing by you. He reaches over you, turning off the running water. “Woo–”

“Do you hate us or something?” He looks at you this time, jaw clenched. “I mean, we’re trying to be your friends here, y/n. You’re not a bad person, and we like being around you. Is it something we did? Every time we say something nice to you or compliment you, you shut down. It’s like you despise us for even thinking of saying anything of the sort. I just…” he sighs, rubbing his face. “I care about you–”

“Leave.” You drop the plate in the sink. It cracks, but you ignore it, turning to him. “Leave, Wooyoung. Don’t come back here.”

This isn’t what you want. You don’t want to push him away, you don’t want to witness the way he’s staring at you right now. He’s one of the most important people in your lift whether you’d like it or not. Though he says he cares about you, he doesn’t yet. You’d know if he does. But if he’s thinking of the word, thinking of leading himself down that path, it’ll only lead to his death. And you can’t have that.

“y/n,” His eyes widen. “What the fuck is going on?”

“We aren’t friends, Woo. We’ll never be friends. I’m moving out soon. And tell that to San too. There’s billions of people in the world, let’s not make this difficult, alright? You can be friends with someone else.”

His brows furrowed in shock as you stare, but you don’t back down, lips in a straight line. “I don’t get it. We’ve been hanging out this whole time? Pushing us away just like that. Are you being serious with me right now? This isn’t a joke, right?”

Oh, how much you wish it were.

“Wooyoung, sometimes people aren’t meant to be friends. And you have plenty, not being mine shouldn’t bother you this much.”

“But it does, y/n. I feel like you just…” he sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’ll give you your space. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you, but I’m not going to listen until you can speak straight with me.”

“I’ll leave your things outside my door. Either you or San can pick it up whenever you want.” It’s harsh, you know it is. But you doubt it’d deter Wooyoung. He’s rather persistent when it comes to relationships. So despite your words he seems to ignore them, grabbing his coat off the back of the chair.

“See you tomorrow,” he says simply, leaving your apartment. The door shuts loud, the bang making you jump. You hold your head in your hands, body shaking. It was bound to happen soon, you were going to push them away. But not this soon, not when you were enjoying it. You look down at the broken glass, lip quivering.

The next few days test your will. The rattling of your door knob at various hours of the day, sometimes banging against the wood. You’d be afraid if you weren’t sure that they wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. It’s hard to pretend as if you don’t care about them, eyes burning into your monitor as you work. Most times it only lasts a few minutes, but there was a time that you can’t get out of your mind. Wooyoung sat outside the door for over an hour, light taps ever so often to remind you that he was there. It was the morning after he left you alone. He begged to be let in, apologizing for everything he did (he did nothing) and that he’s sorry (there was no need). It hurt, listening to his small voice through the wood, light sobs as he asked for forgiveness. You almost broke until San came, pulling him off your steps and driving away.

You wish you could tell them why you can’t be friends. Why, despite how much you desire it, they can’t be in your life anymore.

Today though, you take a break from your somber apartment and into a nearby park. A quick glance around and you find only elderly people taking morning walks. Just a moment to settle your mind, before you continue your apartment hunting. You’re the least bit thankful that you have a remote job that can be so easily adjusted to fit another schedule. This time, you hope to move far enough away that even if San and Wooyoung did somehow find out where you’ve gone, it’d be too much of a trek to attempt to follow after you.

“Are you shitting me?”

Your eyes flick open, head turning to the voice. San stands there, hands tucked in his pockets as he stares at you. You’ve just gotten a text from him this morning, about Wooyoung’s condition. He’s fallen ill and wants to see you. Knowing that you’ve sped up your house searching, desperate enough that you’re thinking of living in a motel until you find something. But seeing San standing in front of you, tired eyes and heavy bags underneath, it makes you want to cry.

He’s the last person you want to see.

You stand, eyes steady on him as he moves closer. He looks exhausted from looks alone, his hair unkempt from what looks like his fingers combing through over and over. “Why are you running away from us? I thought we were friends–”

“We were never friends, San. I can’t be friends with you.”

“So what then, huh?” He stops walking, hands loose on his sides. “You just kick us out of your life because we’re getting too close? You’ve been doing that your whole life, y/n. You’ve been pushing everyone away that cares about you in even the slightest way. Why can’t we just be your friends? Why is that so hard?”

“People who care about me don’t get happy endings, San. I can’t have you caring and then something happens to you, alright? I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to you. That’s why I’ve been pushing away. Just forget about me.”

“Is it because of your past?”

You stop backing up this time.

“The people dying? Is it because you’re scared of what could happen to us? y/n, we aren’t going to die just because we’re friends.”

“Did you do a background check on me?”

He swallows slowly. “You were being strange. I needed to know what was going on with you. You didn’t kill all those people, y/n.”

“But I did,” you shout, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I did, San. Not on purpose, but I did. And if that happens to you or Wooyoung, I don’t think I’d be able to handle that. You mean too much for me to just accept what’s going to happen. Wooyoung is sick. He’s sick because of me. So I need to put distance between all of us, so that he can get better. He doesn’t deserve what’s happening to him right now.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” San sighs loudly. “He’s ill on his own, you didn’t do this to him.”

“I did. I let him care about me, and that’s what happens to people who do. And I’m happy you’re not sick, but I don’t want you to even remotely come close to caring enough about me for it to happen, alright?”

“Let me in,” his voice is desperate, steps moving closer to you. “Tell me what’s going on with you. We could fix it together–”

“We can’t. You can’t,” you hold your palm up to him. “I’m sorry, San.”

He drops his hands, running his fingers through his hair. “So that’s it? We’re done?”

You nod slowly, not meeting his eyes. “I’ll drop off the rest of your things at the post office and ship them to you.”

He shakes his head, “No. Don’t need them. I’d say I’ll see you around, but I don’t think you’d let me,” he backs up slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “You know, if you were going to pull this, you could have at least told us you didn’t want any friends. Because this shit hurts, y/n. Just when we’re getting close, you cut ties. Like we mean nothing to you. Do we mean nothing to you?”

You keep your gaze to the ground. “We don’t even know each other.”

“Answer the question.”

“No, San. You don’t mean anything to me.”

He scoffs dryly. “Right. Whenever you’re over this that you’re going through, let me know. Unlike you, I still want to be friends, y/n. You mean enough to me that I don’t want to throw it away.” San slowly walks away, giving you his back as he turns around the corner. You crumble once he’s out of sight, falling to your knees. Your hands press against your face as you sob, heaving into your palms.

It’s selfish of you not to tell them why, tell them that you’d love to be friends with them. But you can’t. Not that now you’re on the edge of caring to the point where you’re afraid they will die when they love you. Wooyoung is close to it, and you can’t do anything about it. You rub your face, eyes still moist.

“Sadness is a difficult emotion to go through, is it not?”

You whip your head up, the sheer height in front of you making your head bend back. He looks down at you, eyes hidden behind dark shades resting against his nose. He keeps his hands tucked in his trench coat pocket, head tilted as he stares down at you. His hair rests against his head neatly, brow raised as he stares at you.

“Does she not speak?”

You back up from him, slowly getting to your feet. Odd, you think. It’s not the first thing someone would do when seeing a stranger cry. And yet here he is, emotions hidden away as he watches you think. You’re too riddled with your emotions to notice how strange this situation is, dusting off your pants.

“Not quite the conversation I’d want to have while crying,” you say. His lips curve into a small grin. “Do you need something?”

He shrugs, glancing just behind you. “You were interrupting me. Standing in the way of someone walking isn’t courteous, you know.”

You move to the side and he bows slightly, long steps forward. Something strange rests against his back, strapped into a holder on his coat. You glance around, wondering if anyone else sees this man walking around with a scythe on him. But no, everyone minds their own business, carrying on with their lives. You’re about to mind your own as well, until you notice him sitting next to an older woman. You pride yourself on your hearing, sitting on a bench as you watch him.

“It is a cold afternoon,” he starts, humming a tune. “A pity.”

“That it is, young man,” she holds a tissue up to her nose, blowing it loudly. “I forgot my gloves my grandson gave me. He always takes care of me, I feel bad that I forget so much.”

The man laughs, his smile slowly slipping from his face. You find it odd how quick he changes, lips resting into a straight line as he continues to hum. He stops, reaching into his jacket pocket. You hold your phone tight in your hand, until you see gloves appear as he hands it to her. She takes it, but he holds tight, narrowing his eyes.

“Are you as forgetful as you say?” he gives her the same look he gave you, though there’s no amusement as he utters it. “Has your memory forsaken you?”

She doesn’t notice the change in tone, body shaking as she chuckles. “That’s an understatement, son. Don’t remember the first thing I did today.”

You laugh to yourself at her words. The man doesn’t seem amused in the slightest, eyes narrowing for a moment before he sighs. “Oh Jihyeon, do you not know that lying is one of the greatest sins?”

“Excuse me? How do you know my name?”

He stands, throwing the gloves to the ground. “Ah, but then again, it wouldn’t shock me. If you can kill a man for starting a relationship with another, I doubt you’d let a little lie linger in your head. But it’d be peculiar to forget something that dreadful, would it not?” He looks down at her, waiting patiently. He takes in her silence, another loud sigh escaping him. “Will you continue to fib until your last breath? Have you not read that bible you keep tucked in your purse? You promised Him that you wouldn’t commit debauchery again, but here we stand. You, speechless, and I, giving you a chance to finally confess. Now little Jihyeon, listen carefully: lie to me again, and neither I nor He will give you leniency.”

She grips her back, glaring up at him. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, son, but – “

With ease, he grabs the handle of his scythe, the sharp curve of the blade only inches away from her next. You gasp loudly, hands pressed against your mouth to muffle your scream. It seems as if no one else in the park notices or says a word, passing by the two as if nothing is happening. The man clicks his tongue.

“You merit a fate worse than Death, but I’m sure you would enjoy afflicting souls too much for it to be a punishment. So instead, one of Them will help your transcendence to Hell.”

You push away the initial shock, gripping your phone and quickly dialing the police. But as you press your hands on the screen, they don’t seem to move the way they like, frozen in place. The one time you actually need them you can’t move? Furious, you look around to the others. As you begin to stand, a force holds you in your spot, preventing movement. What the heck is going on?

The man leans down, holding his hand against the cheek of the older woman. His scythe stays in its spot even as he lets it go. His other hand took off his sunglasses. The woman gasps, gripping his sleeve. But she can no longer speak, body crumbling into ash on the bench. She disappears into the air once you blink; remnants of herself left as dust on the wooden bench. He crouches down, finger running along the dust on the bench. He places his glasses back on, head turning to you, brow raised.

“Now how about we have a small chat, human?”

You couldn’t say a word as he walked around the small room. You’re not sure how you’ve gotten here, blinking and suddenly appearing in the area. Your phone is nowhere to be found, lost somewhere between the park and here. A light tap on the table pulls you out of your daze, the man placing a small drink in front of you. You don’t dare touch it, hands pressed between your thighs as you stare at the table.

“Apologies for not shielding you,” he starts, pushing back the tails of his overcoat to rest on the chair across from you. He still wears his sunglasses, though the room doesn’t shed an ounce of light besides candles scattered about. “Humans are not often able to see me roaming unless they are close to Death.”

“Are you going to kill me like you did to that woman?” You mumble, fear coursing through your limbs. It serves you right, after all. Though you involuntarily caused the start of a rope of murders, it was still your doing.

“I don’t mean to follow the clichés, but,” he takes a sip, thinking. “If I desired your demise, it would have been dealt with.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Why?” He furrows his brows. “You’ve called upon me.”

“I don’t even know you–”

He leans forward as you tense up, sliding a bit back. He hasn’t taken off his glasses since you’ve met him, and you can’t see his eyes through them so you haven’t the slightest idea if he’s even meeting your gaze.

“I am Death, human. I presume you’d recognize me since I have cleaned up your messes for a while. And I am to meet with one of your friends soon enough. Jung Wooyoung, correct?” His brow raises, watching as you take a deep breath. “Choi San seems to be moving into that spot much quicker, no?”

“Please,” your fingers grip the table in front of you, lips trembling. “Can you not spare them? They’ve done nothing, I’ve pushed them away.”

“Pushing them away doesn’t give you reprieve. It may delay the inevitable, but they will grow to love you. Something like that doesn’t stop because you’re away from them. From your past I can see that well.”

“Why? Why is this happening to me?” You hold your head in your hands. “I don’t want them gone, I want them to stay alive. They deserve a greater life than I. Would it be possible,” you look at him, watching as he takes a small sip. “Could I trade places with them? Will my death be enough to prevent theirs?”

“You are trying to bargain with me? Not unfamiliar,” he murmurs. “But strange coming from you. Do you not fear me?” He asks. Those five words reside in you for a brief moment, dwelling in your mind. Fear is not something you’d describe seeing him. At first, yes. But now your head is filled with questions. “Do you not fear Death?”

“No,” you say, and his brow raises.

“You dare stare into the face of death and not tremble in utter fear? Aren’t you a brave little human?”

You keep your gaze steady, knowing that looking away is what he’d like for you to do. “If it’s possible for you to lift my curse, I would like that. That is all.”

“I’m often cursed for what I represent,” he says, raising his hand. A glass slowly forms from the air, resting delicately between his fingers. “There is an inane fear of death. The end of many things. Loves, friendships, hardships, revelations and regrets. They all come to a halt once death is placed on the table. I’ve grown used to the dread etched in their eyes as I come to take them back to where they began. My mother warned me of what I would become when I was young, but I did not realize the utter disgust that people would feel toward me when I approached them. I am the embodiment of human trepidation. Many tremble in the face of cessation. It is something that I have grown accustomed to. But I can’t help but marvel at you.” He tilts his head. You can’t see his eyes behind the thick layer of shade. But you can feel his stare meeting yours.

“And why is that?” Tone hushed, breaths heavy. “Why do you marvel at me?”

“You wouldn’t know this, but all humans have a particular aroma. It is hard to describe exactly, but it’s a taste in the air. It makes it easier for me to figure out who I will be taking to their afterlife. But you… you are quite fascinating. Because in place of the sullied air of humans, you smell taintless. Purity in its truest form. Not even human offspring fresh from their mothers smell like you.” He leans forward, hands folded together.

“For the first time in a millenia, I do not taste sin.”

“You must be mistaken,” you shake your head. “I am filled with it. I am cursed.”

“Ah, that you are,” he nods in agreement. “That is all that I can taste that is remotely sinful. But it is not part of your being, so there is nothing I can do to solve your issue.”

“So I am stuck like this?” You say, and he nods, but pausing slightly.

“Not necessarily. If you were to die, your curse may dissipate. But your time is not near, and I cannot influence that decision if you so desire it. It is out of my hands,” he shrugs, taking a long breath. “That is the answer that I have.”

“There’s nothing I can do?” You swallow, a brief cold rolling over your skin. “Nothing at all?”

He purses his lips, “There is one. But it will come at a price.”

“I’ve dealt with seeing people that care about me die my whole life, another price wouldn’t change that.”

He leans forward now, standing on his feet. His palm presses against the table, glasses disappearing from view. Although yours still sits in front of you, full. He doesn’t move closer to you, strides meeting at the far wall. His hand brushes against the brick, the shine of sun somehow peeking through the cracks.

“Have you heard of the human woman, Medusa?” He asks. You nod, realizing that you should say something since his gaze isn’t upon yours, you open your mouth. He doesn’t let you say a word, though, continuing. “She is my mother. I am her damned offspring. Because she was cursed, I was born cursed as well. That is why I wear this eyewear,” his hand touches the edge of them. "Her ailment was passed down to her only son. It is why I never remove them, even when I'm at rest. But I'm not going on this diatribe for your sympathy. Because of it, I can never remove them. So," he turns to you. "In exchange for removing your curse, you give me your eyes."

You tense up. He notices immediately, laughing. "You will not have mine. You will just lose your sight. You'll never gaze upon anything again for your lifetime. It is a great loss, so I don't expect an answer immediately."

"Yes."

He laughs dryly, "You haven't thought it over–"

"There is no need. I have lived like this my whole life. I couldn't have friends, couldn't grow close to anyone. It all ended fatally. I've been alone my whole life. And now that I have San and Wooyoung… I don't want to let them go. I have suffered long enough. And if I have to sacrifice my sight, then so be it. A low price for what I've been dealt."

The man doesn't say anything. You wonder if he's backing out of the idea. If he changed it once he noticed how desperate you are to change yourself.

"Alright."

"Can I request something in exchange?" Your voice is low this time. He seems to sense the worry but he doesn't point it out, humming. "You can't fall in love with me," you say to him. Hushed voice, trembling fingers. "I want you to swear to me that you won't. Swear it."

"This is a silly promise."

"You have to swear it!" Your words are a bit desperate now. "Remain as you are with me. Tell me at this moment that you will not think of me in any other way than a mere stranger, and I will agree to this arrangement. This is all that I ask of you, sir."

He watches as you falter underneath his gaze, the last of your words coming out more pitiful than need be. In hindsight, he presumed that it was a warning only to protect your heart. He couldn't have realized how much you wanted to protect his. But there he is, hand reaching to clasp yours, eyes steady.

Speaking a promise that would grow to be quite difficult to keep.

"I swear to you with every breath that I take that I will not let my heart fall for yours. I pledge that I will treat you as I am now, and that I will never think of you more than a damned human. And in exchange, you will give me your sight, so that I may finally see the sun once more."

Your shoulders slump down, the speed of your heart taking a breather. Utter relief draws into your face as you nod.

"I accept."

–

He let you leave soon after that. A step through the exit put you back in the same spot you were before, though this time it’s darker out. Time seemed to pass quickly in his home, the street lights illuminating the park. You tuck yourself further into your sweater, fingers brushing against the phone in your pocket. Ah, so he did take it somehow. In all honesty the best choice would have been to call the police, but now you know that it wouldn’t be possible. What would you even say? Hello, you saw Death kill someone and now he wants your sight? You snort at the thought, shaking your head.

He didn’t explain much else to you once that was finished, just saying that he’d contact you when he was ready. And he seems to be able to read your thoughts, immediately mentioning that you’re still under the curse, and your friends' lives are still at risk. It makes sense, you haven’t completed your end of the bargain, but you hoped that you could. Whenever this is done, seeing San and Wooyoung again would make everything better. You hope they can accept your apology.

Well, not see. You can’t conjure a different word right now. “You never quite pay attention to your surroundings, do you?”

You flinch at his voice, eyes flicking to the side. Death stands there, hands tucked in his coat as he walks alongside you.

“I’ve been walking with you for quite a while now. Are your thoughts so interesting that you can’t bear to reflect on your life at this moment?” He points to the crosswalk sign, a red hand staring back at you. “You were going to cross on red, human. Death would be swift.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t my time?” You furrow your brows, taking a step back from the curb. He nods in agreement, glancing at a car that passes.

“It’s not. That car would have swerved out of the way, causing a massive collison. You would have six deaths on your hands from that alone,” his head turns to you. “And I’m sure that would displease you greatly.”

"Sarcasm?" You scoff, staring at the walking sign. Begging for it to turn red so you don't have to stand here next to him. Though you can't imagine him leaving just because of that.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs. “But that is up to you. And from your previous interactions with death, it’s unlikely that you wouldn’t be affected when it happens again.”

He’s irritating to say the least. Who knew that Death incarnate would be this infuriating? You glance at him from the corner of your eye, turning down your street. You stop just as your eyes move to your front door. San’s car sits there, condensation coating the windows. He’s probably sat there all night, waiting for you to arrive. Death shifts his head to where you’re looking, brow lifting.

“That is Choi San.”

“He’s supposed to be with Wooyoung,” You murmur. “Why the hell is he here?”

“Your friend is persistent. It’s admirable,” he nods. “Though it may be a hindrance to you. I have not started the process of removing your curse.”

“I know that.”

“Then what will you do?”

You look up at him. The thought is silly in itself, but it doesn’t hurt to ask. The worst thing he could say to you is no. “Could you help?”

A frown coats his lips. “I do not meddle in human affairs.”

“Then what do you consider our deal to be if not human affairs?”

“It does not include me solving your simpleton issues because you cannot face them yourself. Even the mere suggestion is laughable,” he scoffs. “Are all humans this desperate for redemption? If he cannot accept that you’re cursed, then you should not desire his presence.”

“I can’t tell him that.”

“And why is that?”

You stare at him, hard, until he nods slowly. “Ah, the risk of being attached. Your life seems difficult.”

“My life is not what I’m worried about.”

“That is selfless. It is a shame that not many think like you,” he leans against the sign, head turned to San’s car. “Watching humans for centuries has made me realize that most of you are too involved in your own lives to worry about others. And if you do, it is for selfish reasons. You are different, in that sense. Your soul being a slate of goodness makes you stand out. Though you still have your own reasoning, it is overshadowed by good.”

“You’re speaking about me as if I'm this pillar of pureness. I have lied before, I have made mistakes. Like right now, I’m trying to get your help so that I can avoid San.”

“But the root reasoning as to why is good. You don’t want him to die. That’s why you prefer I intervene,” He swallows. “But I’ve involved myself enough with you today. They won’t like it if this continues.” He bows his head slightly. “I will be on my way.��

With that, he’s gone.

You keep your windows closed, lights off. San was fast asleep when you walked by, head tilted to the side as he snored. He left the windows open a crack, thankfully. Your first thought was to scold him, tell him that he’s being silly. But you only glanced to make sure he was breathing before entering your home. He would have called if it were an emergency. And despite your hesitance, you sit in the living room. Directly across from the window that overlooks his car. Your neighborhood is safe enough, but you still worry even if you don’t want to see him yet. Your phone buzzes on the counter, and you grab it, glancing at the message.

Woo: I know you’re not responding to my messages, but if san is there could you let me know pls? <3

You swallow slowly, thumb hovering over the box to respond. You shouldn’t, you should ignore him for now. But your heart overrules your head’s desires, immediately messaging back.

You: He’s fine, I can see him from my window. Call him so he can go back home.

There isn’t a pause in his response.

Woo: thank you for taking care of him

Nothing else is said. He doesn’t try to pry into your life, beg for a reconciliation that you cannot give him just yet. It makes you feel a bit ill, his change of tone. It is not his fault, you wouldn’t dare put this on him. Perhaps you’ve succeeded in pushing him away. You grip your phone, glancing out the window. San is awake, speaking to who you can only presume is Wooyoung. You shouldn’t do what you’re about to do. You slowly step to the window, lifting up the blinds to watch as he starts up the car. He doesn’t look at your apartment right away, hands gripping the steering wheel as he loses himself in his thoughts. Finally, he looks right at your apartment, eyes meeting yours.

They widen for a moment, briefly perturbed at seeing you staring back at him. He unbuckles his seatbelt, the door swinging open. Before you can utter a word, he’s several steps up to your door, jiggling the knob. You open your door. He pushes himself inside, arms wrapping around your body as he grips you tightly. He hasn’t touched you since you’ve met, his embrace warm as he holds you. It’s an unfamiliar feeling though you don’t hate it. It just the first time someone has given you any physical affection.

“I’m sorry,” he says simply, hands shaking as he holds you. You’re still stiff, unwilling to overcome that last hump and give him an embrace back. Instead, you pat his shoulder. He holds you for a moment longer, before letting go, eyes scanning yours. “I knew I fucked up right when I left you there. But when I came back you were already gone, so I panicked and drove back to your house. You didn’t come all night and I was fucking terrified. I might have called the police if I didn’t see you just now-”

“You don’t have to do this, San,” you say softly, swallowing. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Not after what I’ve done to you and Woo.”

“I don’t, but I will. I’ve been so hurt that I didn’t listen to your words as they are. It’s your fault for abandoning us just like that, but it’s my fault for not seeing your reasoning. If you want to keep your distance, that's fine by me, but if you ever want to be friends again, I hope that you don’t hesitate to pick up that phone and call us.” He glances at the device in your hand. “Wooyoung is devastated but he still cares about you. I hope that you’d see it in your heart to care about us too.”

This was a bad idea from the start. Of course you care, you adore them. You want to be friends forever if you could. “Right now just isn’t a good time for me.”

“So you need time?” He asks, and you nod slowly. “Okay. I can give you that. Just, don’t move away for the sake of us. We’ll keep our distance, and you take your time. Do whatever you have to do.”

His kindness is so deep you wonder how you’re the one with the pure soul. But you just slowly nod, agreeing to his words. He embraces you once more before stepping out, running to his car and driving off. You rest your head against the closed door, hoping that Death can somehow speed up this agonizing process.

“What’s your end goal, Mingi?” Yunho rests on his stool, fingers brushing against the bottles on his shelf. Mingi arrived home not too long ago, coat resting on the rack next to his entrance. He barely held in his sigh when he noticed his friend in his home, Yunho’s hands tucked in his pockets as he examined his shelves. Yunho has been there plenty of times. Nothing has changed for years. “The human is cursed. The only way to lift it is through death,” he gestures to him, “Or transferring it to someone else. And I’m sure They won’t like that.”

Mingi holds a pen between his lips, reading over his book. “It’s nothing of your concern.”

“Is it not? Just because you are the deliverer of Death, does not mean you’re absolved from any repercussions with it. Like yesterday,” he balances the bottle on his index finger. “The woman was going to kill people but you stopped her. Preventing six deaths, just like that. They aren’t happy with you.”

“Why are you here? Your duty is elsewhere.” His words make Mingi’s blood run cold. They never pay much mind to things he does, just like his mother. Why would They watch now? Does it have to do with you, or something else?

“It’s merely a warning. You’ve been a close friend of mine for longer than I can remember. Dying for a reason such as this would be dreadful. And there’s talk,” Yunho places the bottle back in its place, turning to him. “y/n is an interesting human. They’ve been watching her journey, seeing how she reacts to her circumstances. With your appearance around her, it has brought quite a stir. You have to tread lightly. Everyone is watching you now. ”

“Even you?” Mingi quirks his brow. “You are the last person I’ve expected to see here. I’d thought at least Mother would come to warn me.”

“No one has seen her in a millenia,” Yunho says simply. “And I’m coming to you as a friend, Mingi. Centuries are only a blink in time. Having you dead before that wouldn’t sit well with me.”

“Is it that, or do you not want to take my place?” Yunho’s silent, and Mingi takes that as his answer. “I do not plan on involving myself anymore than I am right now. I will lift her curse, and I will lift mine. There’s nothing more than that. And I have involved myself with her countless times to transport the souls that loved her. This is nothing new.”

Yunho moves closer to him, taking the book from his fingers. He glances over the page once, before shutting it, leaning down to stare at Mingi. Even he cannot witness his eyes, but he just stares into the shades. “I heard the desperation in her voice, Mingi. You’ve already made mistakes before. One like this could have enough recoil to affect more than just yourself. Remember that. Do not fall in love with that woman.”

“I do not know love–”

“And that makes it all the more vital. You’ve seen humans love enough to know when it’s coming. Prevent it, Mingi. We do not need the bringer of Death to fall for the charm of a human.”

“I will not. Why do you doubt me?”

Yunho narrows his eyes before stepping back. “I’m glad that’s clear. I would hate to be the one to end Death. But if I am tasked with it, I cannot say no.”

“You would kill your lifelong friend?” Though Mingi’s voice drips with sarcasm, there’s a hint of truth in it. Have they followed the rules for so long that they’d accept an unjust one?

“It’s not my decision to make, Mingi. You know that.” He stretches his arms, sighing. “I’ve been away from my post far too long. I hope to see you a while from now. Don’t make me come any earlier than that,” his words are sincere, though harsh. Mingi doesn’t say any more, so Yunho exits his home. Mingi reaches for his closed novel, fingers flicking back to the page. His eyes flick through the text, settling on one particular line.

–

The looming idea of Death rests on your shoulders, but you don’t let it stop you. He will take your sight away, remove the glimpses of life from your eyes so that you don’t have to suffer anymore. It is a high price to pay, but you don’t hate it. Though you will miss your sight, you take the chances that you haven’t before. The list of market items in your notes is no longer there, replaced with things you’ve wanted to do but were too scared to. The small events are silly, things you probably could’ve done before. But fear drowned itself in your veins, preventing you from making the slightest step.

So here you are, standing outside of an amusement park. No one is with you, but you don’t mind it. Your fingers grip your phone tightly as you step up to the ticket teller, holding out the qr code for them to scan.

“Are you alright, miss?” She asks, brows furrowed. The old you wouldn’t utter a word, but you’ve turned over a new leaf. Speaking to people shouldn’t be as terrifying as you make it.

“First time here,” you say simply. The three words come out awkward, some vowels lower than others. But she only nods, a wide grin on her lips.

“Then I hope you enjoy yourself, miss! We only have one life to live, and I think it’s brave of you to come here alone. Have fun!” She opens the gate, gesturing for you to enter. The two of you bow to one another, your steps quick as you cross the barrier. To say it’s overwhelming is an understatement.

Crowds of people laugh together as they run for rides. Children crying when their parents say no, students giggling as they point to another group. Your mind buzzes at the overstimulation, hand rubbing your phone case as you make your slow steps. It’s silly to think that people are watching you, but the thought crosses your mind. You find an empty seat next to the entrance of a rollercoaster, sitting down as you gaze at the people.

“Do you plan on resting here the whole time?”3

You jump, turning to Death sitting next to you. The warm temperature doesn’t seem to affect him, legs crossed as he sits in his long, black overcoat, the same glasses pressed against his face. From the side profile you still cannot see his eyes, the arm of his shades masking it. It bothers you a bit, not knowing where exactly he’s looking.

“I’m fine where I am,” you murmur.

“Oh?” He hums, tilting his head as he gazes into the crowd. “People often die in these places. I’m a bit surprised that you stumbled into one. Knowing that you don’t like leaving your home.”

“Have you decided when to take my sight?”

“Change of conversation?” His brow raises. “I have yet to discuss it with the others. They aren’t elated with my decision making. It might take a while for approval. The son of Medusa isn’t exactly praised and nurtured.” He stands, head turning down to you. “I have another life to end. It is not a miserable one, if you’d like to join.”

“And why would I want that?” You frown.

“Because you think of me as some monster who kills innocents. That woman from before was more of one than I’d ever be. I would like you to see who I am outside of the torturous acts.” He shrugs. “It might change your mind about me.”

“Why do you care about what I think?”

He chuckles low, rubbing his face, “I do not care what you think is true or not. This is for your peace of mind, not mine. Though I cannot read your thoughts, I can tell you do not care for my presence. Perhaps witnessing me bringing peace to a tired soul will lessen that.”

You don’t respond, following him through the park. No one acknowledges his presence, but they do step aside when he’s just in front of them. It’s odd, knowing that you’re the only person who could see him right now. Did everyone think you were talking to yourself? You frown, sitting where he tells you as he crosses the center, meeting a person on the opposite side.

From your spot, you can see how he rests next to the older man. Speak to him in a low voice, giving brief smiles. Laughing at the man’s jokes. The man begins to cry after a few minutes of speaking. It tugs at your heart, already fighting back your own tears. But Death doesn’t say anything else to him. He places his hand upon his, squeezing it lightly. A few words are whispered to the older man. His tears dry up slowly, using the back of his hand to wipe away the rest that linger on his cheeks. He pats Death’s hand with his other free one, standing. Death follows his lead, staying in his spot as the older man walks away. You follow him, until he disappears into the distance, a soft light left in his wake. He adjusts his suit jacket, slowly making his way to you.

“You look perturbed,” he says, standing a bit away from you. “Did that only grow your hesitancy towards me?”

“Quite the opposite. Everyone fears you, fears the thought of you… but you do not express fear to others. You are kind to them when they pass. It’s nothing like I thought.”

He laughs, shaking his head, “Death is often depicted as such. Fortunately for you, I do not live up to the tales. I am merciful. Though your kind is innately selfish, humans have suffered in their lives often, dealing with the twists and turns of being mortal. A reprieve is warranted,” he watches as a family passes by, eyes overcast. “I was not always this kind, you see. I was angry, being given this role. But after thousands of years, it grows on you. They are the last being that you see on this plane, why treat them as if they haven’t struggled? I do not want them to walk into the afterlife filled with woe. If they can laugh once more before they take that step, I will allow it.”

“You are odd,” you say. His head turns to you, eyes still unseen. But somehow, you can feel how they linger on your figure. “But I’m not a stranger to that. It is refreshing.”

“And you call me the odd one,” he teases. You let a smile slip from your lips. You don’t see how his brows furrow, eyes focused on the way your lips turn in glee. But as long as the moment felt, it’s gone within a blink. “Shall we bring you back to your home? Or are you going to continue to sulk on a bench?”

“I’m afraid,” you say, the thought of doing anything out of the ordinary a bit much. Before entering you believed that you could ride the rollercoasters, enjoy your time before you can’t see it anymore. But taking that first step is terrifying. Death leans down, eyes meeting yours.

“If it makes you feel any better, you will not die today, and you will not cause the death of another.”

It does lessen your heartache for a brief moment. Enough for you to take a slow breath, glancing around. The massive coasters loom in the distance, nervousness sinking back into your skin. “Will you ride the ferris wheel with me?”

His lips quivers, “What?”

“Will you?” you turn to him, gazing up into his shades. “Only for this one ride, nothing more. You can disappear if you’d like after that.”

Yunho’s words linger at the back of his mind as he stares down at you, warning him. He should deny the request immediately. In fact, he shouldn’t even be speaking with you more than necessary. His lips drop into a frown. Why is he even considering it? Death does not meander around humans, join them in their silly pastimes. He scoffs at himself at even the idea of riding on the machine with you. But he can also see how tense you are, how you grip your phone as if it’s the only lifeline you have. He would have suggested for you to spend this time with your friends, but you have none. What a pitiful life. He ignores the blaring warning signs, a sigh escaping his lips.

“One. We will go on the ferris wheel, then I will leave you to your own devices.”

A relieved look rests in your eyes, quickly nodding. “Of course.”

The line is short. The operator lets you on on your own, shutting the door right behind you. You move to the middle of the seat, Death taking his place on the opposite side of you. The carriage seems to register his added weight, balancing itself out with ease. Your nerves are less now, gaze to the outside of the carriage.

“Do you have a name?” You ask, eyes still cast outside. “It feels a bit puerile calling you Death each time I address you.”

“My name isn’t necessary for you to know,” he says. His head is straight forward, though you’re not too sure if he’s staring directly at you. “And what does that matter? I am the deliverer of ends, so addressing me as such is correct.”

“Is it a secret, then?” A teasing smile rests on your lips, flicking to his face before looking back out. “Do I have some sort of power over you if I say your name?”

“Things like that are tall tales. There is no such thing as power to a name. I just do not see it as a necessity for you. I am to lift your curse, and lift mine. Then we will never see each other again.”

Your smile slips, hands tucked in between your thighs. “I’ve said too much.”

“You shouldn’t apologize for curiosity. We all have it, creatures of many kinds. But there are boundaries that need to be set between us. My name is of no importance, and I hope you never ask again. Consequences happen in the blink of an eye. There are things scarier than death itself, human. I know you are well aware of that.”

“I think I have experience with a lot of things, yeah,” your voice is teasing, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. The conversation is cut right in the middle, your eyes widening as you lean over the side of the carriage. “It’s beautiful.”

He follows, the scenery of the city staring back at the two of you. He lingers on it for a brief moment, before turning back to you. A youthfulness rests in your eyes, the reflection of the city illuminating your face. It has a bit of a childish wonder to it, fingers gripping the ledge as you stare out. Though he feels sorry for humans, their lives so short that there’s a slim chance to experience everything you want, he stays away. Interfering with their lives is the opposite of what he can do. Only bring them to the place they belong, then repeat the process over and over until humanity is extinct. Sitting here watching you is exactly the opposite of what he should be doing. And if that’s the case, why can’t he look away?

“It’s cold up here, isn’t it?” You look to Death, brows furrowed once you see that he’s no longer there. Excitement slowly falls from your face, hands letting go of the side. There’s no reason for you to be upset about this. He told you he was to leave after this.

So why does it bother you so?

You are becoming a burden.

It is not your fault in the slightest, no. You’re doing your part, listening to his words and heeding his warnings. Following what he tells you to do. In a sense, you’re perfecting your role in this transaction. But his thoughts, formerly occupied by work alone, are slowly drifting away to you. What you’re doing, how you’re behaving, if you’ve caused another death; those are the simple ones. But it’s shifting to: if you’ve eaten, have you left your apartment this week, did you cry today? Frivolous things, thoughts not necessary for what he needs to do to save you.

He tucks his hands into his pocket, the wind chill from the open window making him shiver. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt this cold. He glances at the lights lining the streets, humans preparing for the holiday season. In the beginning it was a bit silly to him, but now he understands. It's a time for reprieve, for happiness lost throughout the year. Though it's only momentarily, he can see it now.

"You're oddly quiet," Yunho points out. Mingi’s frown only deepens when they meet each other's gaze. He knows that They are wary of the relationship he has with you. And he doesn’t mind seeing Yunho since they’re friends. But having him watch his every move doesn’t exactly feel ideal. Especially since they’ve approved Mingi’s bidding. Why have Yunho along for the ride?

“Do you not have better things to do?” Mingi points out, glancing at his door. He’s told you his address and you said you were on your way, but it’s been hours. “I’d rather not have her alarmed that there’s someone other than myself involved with this.”

“Why do you care so deeply for the human’s feelings?” Yunho quirks a brow, leaning against a pillar. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were falling for her.”

Mingi’s eyes narrow. “I’m glad you do know me well, then.”

“Mingi,” Yunho moves from his spot. “I know you want to get rid of your ailment, but this way isn’t the correct one.”

“Then what is? Suffering for another thousand years? You do not understand, Yunho,” Mingi touches his glasses, fingers dragging along the outline of the frames. “You have free reign to enjoy anything you’d like. To indulge in your pastimes. She is one of the only beings on this planet who can understand what suffering I must endure. Though our pains may be different, they align in ways you’ll never comprehend. So if I can take away her suffering and mine at once, then I will do it.”

“Do you not realize your words?” Yunho presses, jaw clenched. “Her suffering. You even mentioned it before yours. Mingi,” he rubs his face, thinking. “What do you expect me to do? To report back? Because if I utter the words you just told me, you will be punished severely.”

“It was a sentence, Yunho,” he says simply. “Don’t take it for more than what it was.”

“If you do not love her, then you care enough. That I can tell from a mere sentence, as you put it. But I will keep that information to myself. A sentence changes things, you know. Ah,” Yunho glances at the door. Just as he does so, the bell rings. “It is my time to depart. Though you do not see me, watch yourself Mingi. I am not the only one assigned to you.”

“All of these watchers for a mere immortal,” Mingi snorts, shaking his head. “As if there aren't more dire things to be attentive to.”

“Then you should be flattered,” Yunho teases, turning down his hallway. “You are quite important in comparison!” With that he disappears, leaving Mingi to answer the door.

You glance at your phone, looking back up at his home. You’re sure this is the place. At least it’s what your maps said. You were transported here and back before, so the outside isn’t familiar. For a bringer of Death, it’s odd to see plants lining the walkway. Trees looming over the cobblestone, succulents alive and well. Unlike yours, of course. Your lily is on her last leg, sitting against your window desperate for light. A bit funny in comparison if you linger on the thought. You hear the door click, eyes meeting the man just behind it. He wears the same thing he always does, though lacking the trenchcoat that embraces his figure. His collared shirt is a satin black, sleeves rolled up neatly to his elbows. Exposing tattoos decorating his skin. He opens the door wider, gesturing for you to enter.

You bow slightly, stepping around him to enter. He closes the door quietly, following you from a comfortable distance into his home. You aren’t as closed off as you were entering his home previously, so you take a glance around as he meanders into the kitchen, sitting on the edge of his couch. Everything is quite minimalistic, browns and forest greens covering the space. Nothing personal, not that you expected it. Your homes mirror each other in that sense. No attachments, nothing preventing you from staying longer than necessary.

“To keep you informed,” He starts, holding out a cup of tea. You thank him, taking it and holding it close. “I was given approval. But my curse cannot just be lifted with ease. I need to find someone deserving of a curse like mine. It will be arduous and tedious, but I will try my hardest to complete it on time,” he sits on the edge of his chair, arms crossed against his chest. His shades are different from the usual ones he wears, these smaller against his face. If you stared hard enough, you could see a bit of his eyelashes peeking up from the top. But you don’t, too wary of turning into stone.

“Will the curse will just continue then?” You ask, taking a sip of the tea.

He shrugs, “It’s too powerful to just disappear. My mother will carry her curse to the end of time, and after that.” He pauses in his words. You look up from your drink, noticing the strange look on his face. Though his eyes aren’t visible to you, the furrow of his brows and resting lips tell you enough. “It is a miracle that my request was accepted at all, human. Things don’t often pan out the way I’d like them to. Even if I have consent, we have to watch ourselves. They can decide against it anytime They like. I am not… exactly pleased at how easily They accepted my request.”

“Have They denied you before?”

His lips curve into a small grin. Nothing humorous or happy within the expression. “The number of times They’ve denied me could fill this entire room, human. It’s odd that They haven’t backed out on their word even now. I do not trust it.”

An immortal being like him being this on edge over their acceptance makes you worry. Could they reverse your curse when they take it away? Or even before, would they say no?

“They will not place the curse back upon you,” his head faces you. “If They take it away it will be gone from your soul for good. There’s no need for that kind of worry.”

“If you are unsure about everything else, how are you sure about this?”

He chuckles dryly, “If They felt as if you were a risk, or you were entitled to the curse, it would not be lifted at all. Which is why we will take every precaution necessary.” He turns around, lifting a small, green journal off the table. He passes it to you, and you take it, glancing down at the cover. It’s filled with intricate designs, sewn into the cover of it. Your fingers run along the lines as he continues. “That diary has a list of things you cannot do while undergoing this trial period. Though your soul is of purest form, I would like to assure that it remains so until I have found someone else to suffer for eternity," he pauses. "Why are you giving that strange look?”

You hold the journal close, brows furrowed. “It’s odd the way you speak of it. Cursing someone for eternity, that shouldn’t be spoken of lightly. Is there anyone even deserving of that much suffering? How can you continue on knowing someone else will be like you? Or like me?”

“That is the difference between you and I. My soul is drenched in filth and sin. Once I took my first breath I was confined to this life. So, do you believe that I would care in the slightest who would take it from me? I have experienced evil incarnate, human. Your understanding of wickedness compared to mine is completely unalike. I do not care about the future sufferer.”

Your eyes narrow at that. “You say these things to me. You say you don't care. But there has to be a part of you that does, Death. You cared for that person at the amusement park. You understand my suffering, as well as other humans. You say you don't care but it doesn't seem to be true."

His head faces you, cup placed on the small island. You keep your gaze down, a bit afraid that you've overstepped again. Just because he offered doesn't mean he cannot change his mind. And if he does, you doubt there's anything you can do to change it. He seems like the stubborn type. Your confidence falters when you're in his presence. Though it wasn't exactly high in the first place.

"My duty requires me to care somewhat, that much I agree with."

He ends it at that. No more poking, prolonging the conversation. He told you there's a line between you that you can't cross, and he's holding up his side of the bargain. You should follow along as well, pushing aside your curiosities. He cannot fall in love with you. Explicitly said so. Perhaps that is the root of your wandering thoughts? Knowing that there isn't a way for him to love you, platonically or romantically. Gives you a burst of energy. The solemn resting face he has doesn't exactly allow for that, though. So you only nod, taking another sip.

"Is San and Wooyoung, are they still… Are they dying?" The last word is hard to speak, knowing they were close to it the last time you spoke to Death.

"Yes," he says simply. "Your separation from them doesn't change much since they care. San has been unwell, human. Though I do not and will not pry in your affairs, he is resting at home often now. I would say check up on him, but that would be against your agenda."

"It would," you let out a breath, the cup shaking in your grip. "I'll read your journal, Death. I'll follow anything that I need to. Until you find whomever you're going to place this curse upon. I'll wait."

He nods slowly, "Very well. In the meantime, you should enjoy your life, human. A loss of sight would be quite difficult to adjust to, especially since you're so used to seeing. This is a mere suggestion, of course. But do the things that you were afraid of doing. It may help you through this time. Or make it pass quickly."

It's strange how he says he's nothing to you, but treats you as if you're friends, as if he truly cares. Sure, you didn't plan on leaving your apartment until he was ready to lift your curse. And his suggestion is a good idea. But coming from him, the stone-like man… Well, it is a bit humorous.

Your nose wrinkles.

"Yes sir."

He scoffs, "This isn't a command."

You place your cup on a coaster he laid out, nodding. "I know that. But it feels morbid to call you Death each time we speak. And you're much older than me, so sir it is." You grin. You're teasing now, hoping that he notices.

"Death is preferable."

"Amazing and noted, sir."

"Human," he says it as if it's your name. It's annoyed you to no end, how he doesn't utter your actual name. But he wants the boundary and so do you. His hands grip the edge of his island, head tilted. "I don't enjoy your silly games."

You shrug, standing, “Not a surprise to me, immortal.”

His brows furrow at that, head at a slight tilt. “Is that your way of pestering me?”

“You call me human, I call you immortal. Since we don’t like to use names,” Your lip can’t help but quirk on the side. Knowing the chance of him falling in love with you or caring for you at all is minimal, it’s easy to speak to him. The stress doesn't linger like it does with others. It's a bit… calming being around him. Even with the looming threat of consequences resting upon your shoulders. "But I don't have time to continue speaking about this. Work is in an hour," you say simply. "In eight hours I'll be available."

He doesn't say anything, even as you give him a quick bow, stepping out of his home. The click of the door makes his eyes shake, questions resting in his mind. You're a strange one. He doesn't quite understand how you work. Sure, most humans are predictable and you were in the beginning too, but now he isn't too sure. This feeling; there's no other way to call it but comforting. And he hasn't felt that in a millenia. He glances at your tea cup, half empty. He knows humans in and out. Except you. And he doesn't appreciate that in the slightest.

Especially when you rudely leave the home, not waiting for him to speak. Though that may partially be his fault. He was swarmed so deeply in his thoughts and emotions he couldn't utter a word. He places the cup in the sink lightly, leaning against the ceramic framing.

"Hell," he whistles, pushing his hair from his face. Yunho is right, though he’d never admit it to his face. Something odd is happening with him and he doesn’t particularly enjoy it. Nor does he hate it. But what he does dislike is being in this odd limbo with his emotions, unsure of what to make of them. And he hates to admit it even more that he enjoys being around you. Enjoys. He almost scoffs at the word.

His chest swims.

You balance Lily in your hands, placing her in her new pot with cycled dirt. It’s not much, but you’ve seen her grow over the past few weeks, shedding the dead leaves from the summertime. You hope the heat lamp is enough to have her last for a while. Your phone buzzes, a new message from the groupchat with San and Woo. You haven’t left it because you want them to know you’re working on it. They message it often, not expecting a response from you, but wanting you updated on the happenings in their lives. You’ve kept the read receipts on, just for them to note that you’re not ignoring them. Completely, at least.

You open the chat, a paragraph from San on Wooyoung’s condition. It’s worsened, that you know from visiting him in secret. You hate to see him lying on that bed, different wires and tubes tied up and around him. Though he isn’t critical, he’s been placed in a medically induced coma, his condition not looking great. Your hands shake as you skim over the paragraph, San explaining that the doctors are still unsure what’s happening. Wooyoung’s always been healthy, and a scare like this just doesn’t make sense. Your eyes flick to the last sentence, thumb hovering over it.

He’ll never blame you for this, y/n. And neither will I. We love you.

San hasn’t spoken up about his condition and there isn’t any way for you to see him without ruining everything. But if he loves you, or is close to it, he’d be in the hospital, just like Wooyoung. He seems to have noticed that you opened the message, his chat bubble appearing. San is taking a while to finish, so you continue cleaning around your home.

A knock on the door interrupts your session, your eyes peering into the peephole. Your brows furrow, swinging open the door.

Death stands there in oddly casual wear for someone like him; a granite turtleneck tucked into dress pants, black shoes. He holds an umbrella in his free hand, the other tucked into his pocket. It’s freezing outside, the shiver traveling through you as you stand there. He tilts his head, a different pair of glasses resting on his nose. It’s a darker gray. If you peer deep enough, you could see the outline of his eyes.

“I can tell you’re not accustomed to guests,” his lip quirks. “We’ve been standing here for over a minute and you still haven’t invited me into your home.”

You open your mouth to speak, but stop. You’ve read several books in your lifetime, and all of them mention how you’re not supposed to say enter your home to a stranger. He seems to notice the hesitance in your eyes, stepping around your frozen figure and entering. You hold in a snort, closing your door. He glances at you as he takes off his shoes, placing his umbrella on your holder.

“Make yourself right at home, I suppose,” you frown, staring at his back as he takes in your apartment. His eyes flick to your plants, landing on Lily. He doesn’t say a word nor does it touch it, turning back to you. “Why are you here?”

“You haven’t left your home in days.”

“I’m abiding by your own words from the journal. Why risk it?”

His brows furrow, “I did not say remain in your habit for an extended period of time. Being cautious does not mean you have to forgo everything you may enjoy, or desire to partake in. And I explicitly expressed that you spend your last days with your sight seeing or experiencing things before it’s removed forever.”

You roll your eyes, resting against the curve of your sofa. “There’s nothing I want to do.”

“Doubtful.”

“You don’t even know me.”

There’s an odd look on his face, lifting one brow. “You are quite a silly one. No matter. I’ve come to lead you out of your home.”

“I’m on lunch I can’t just leave–”

“Will you let frivolous human things hold you back from seeing what you’d like?"

“What you call frivolous is what I call survival. I can’t just drop everything and go. I need money to live.”

“Ah, that?” He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a wallet. Without another word, he steps closer, reaching for your crossed arm. His hand is warm, placing it between your fingers before stepping back. “It holds a credit card. I am wealthy by human standards, so you may use it wherever you like.” You don’t dare open his wallet. He only sighs deeper, taking it from your hands and opening it. He flashes a black card, holding it out to you. Your eyes widen, staring at the name on it; initials engraved on the back in bold. “You seem alarmed.”

“You’re giving me a black card. Do you have any idea what this means?” You look at him. His brows are still furrowed, so you continue. “An unlimited amount of credit? I can’t… only people who are wealthy can hold a card like this. I can’t take this from you. Especially with my name on it.” It feels heavy in your hand, the metal shining as you stare at it. You hold it out to him but he doesn’t reach for it, taking a step back.

“You needn’t worry about that,” he shakes his head. “I’ve lived longer than this currency has existed, human. The money means nothing to me. And you now have your own card underneath my finances.”

What the hell is going on?

You shake your head again, placing the card on the coffee table, “I’m not taking it.”

“Did you not say you were worried about your living situation? Will this not help you survive?”

“I…” It will, completely. All of your financial worries will dissipate into nothing, only leaving the lingering emptiness of not having anyone to be friendly with. Except for Death himself, and he isn’t exactly open to the idea. “I will not accept.”

“Humans and your dignity,” he murmurs, placing the wallet back on the table. You notice your name sewn into the leather, tailored to you. Why he cares so much is beyond your comprehension, but it still makes you unnerved. What changed in the time you’ve spent with him? All you’ve done is talk, maybe make a few jokes that aren't well received. And now he gives you access to his endless supply of funds? You rub your arms, goosebumps slowly forming on the skin. You are only a nuisance to him, nothing more. He can’t care. He doesn’t even know how to.

So you ignore the way your throat tightens, the way your hands tremble looking at him. He doesn’t know how to love, and you cannot love yourself. And that is as far as it can go.

–

“It is entirely a disaster in here,” you note, glancing at the piles of books in his personal library. You hold back a sneeze, pinching your nose. “When was the last time you’ve dusted? All of these books seem centuries old.” Your gaze moves to a novel sitting on the edge of a table, Shakespeare clearing written across the cover. “Perhaps even more.”

“Years of spending time on Earth has allowed me to indulge in the literature that your minds provide,” he says, picking up a novel from the floor. It’s so old that the words have faded, dust embedded into the spine. “It is a strange place in there, you know.”

You laugh, not noticing how his grin cracks at yours.

He failed.

Well, not entirely. He hasn't felt the chills or the sickness that you told him to others who have loved you prior. Nothing that has kept him bedridden for days until illness took his life. No, he hasn't made it that far yet. But he does like you. He likes the way your nose scrunches in disgust when you see the mess in his bookkeep. The way you gasp slightly each time you find out new information. The way that you smile, a bit hesitant, until it encases your expression, eyes crinkled. He finds it endearing. And he's delighted each time he gets to witness it.

It's the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

He cannot fall for you. There's the curse of course, but that is only the beginning. Desiring a human. It is a sin. It's happened once before and caused turmoil throughout the gods. He never thought that he'd be the one to do that. But there he was. Stirring his tea, watching you walk up the steps to his home. Elated to see you. He caught himself displaying a brief smile on his lips when he noticed your shiver from the cold. No wonder there's an influx of dead, cursed souls around you.

People often say that they think of the one they love at every given hour, every minute, every second. But Death, oh does he hate the spaces between those seconds. They feel much longer to him. The flickers of thought that do nothing but burden his mind of things that cannot be. The moments of time within seconds where he only thinks of you.

It is too easy to fall in love with you.

So he is determined to not be one of them.

He found someone to place the curse on, only days away from removing your sight and leaving your presence completely. He should be glad; less risk for himself. And he will finally be able to take off the glasses that have been stuck to his face for ages. It’s a win for the both of you. You can finally visit your friends, watch them recover. He should be happy. He really, truly should be.

And if that’s the case, why does this horrible feeling encase his soul?

“That deep in your thoughts you cannot hear me?” You tease, head tilted as you stare up at him. He hasn’t told you his given name, afraid that passing the barrier may lead to your demise. Yunho hasn’t even visited him recently. That alone terrifies him to no end. Why are They not saying anything? Is there something that he’s forgetting? You haven’t done anything remotely sinful, and neither has he. Is it a sign that They’ve given up? “Death?”

He looks down to you, your warm eyes meeting him with concern. He passes you the book in his hands, making sure to not touch you. The last time he did he couldn’t stop thinking of it, chest tight even now at the mere thought.

“It’s quite a mess in here, I’m not sure why you’d want to explore it.”

“I have my sight for only a few more days, it’s best to make use of it. And since you haven’t touched this room in centuries, it’ll take me a while to go through it all. It’ll occupy me for the next few days.”

“I’m a bit shocked you’d like to spend your last days with sight in an old library.”

“Believe it or not,” you pick up a book from the floor, a bit surprised it’s a manhwa. You flip through, before looking at him, “I do love to read.”

He left you alone soon after that. You sit in the middle of the floor, legs crossed as you clean off the books with a cloth, arranging them in their own separate piles. You noticed immediately how he liked to arrange them, his favorite books worn and torn in several places. You kept those to the side, standing and placing the newer-looking ones on the already dusted shelves. He was right, there had to be hundreds of books in the long room, piles and piles that seemed never ending.

You move to the next shelf, noticing that there’s just journals resting on these. A part of you wants to explore, see what goes on in his head. But some things are too personal to be revealed, so you move on to the next.

“Your soul is more pure than you give it credit for,” his voice appears behind you, and you jump, turning to look at him. He holds a plate in his hands, lunch resting just on top of it. “You’ve been in here for hours without nutrients. It’d be rather unfortunate if you died before reaching your goal.”

“Thank you,” you take it from his hands. He nods, stepping around you. His hand lingers on the bookshelf, plucking one of the older journals sitting on a top shelf. One you couldn’t reach, mind you, but nevertheless. He flips over the cover, humming softly.

“It’s an older one. When I was around five hundred years old,” he looks to you. “Not much to speak about back then.” He turns the journal to you. Shapes and odd symbols stare back at you, nothing you can comprehend. In all honesty it just looks like scribbles. “And not too sure what this says.”

“Do you not remember?” Your brows furrow.

His lips curve into a slight grin, “Would you recall anything from thousands of years ago? A long life doesn’t mean a long memory. The farthest I can think back is a little over a hundred. Some key events that go past that. But not everything.”

“I never thought about that.” It makes sense. You can barely remember what you did last week, let alone a year or so ago. Though your life is rather mundane, especially in comparison to the man in front of you.

“Though most immortals can remember thousands of years,” he says, placing it back on the top. “I’m rather unique in that sense. Since I was born a human, I have a lot of limitations. Thought processes are one of those weaknesses. It’s rather annoying,” his frown deepens. “You haven’t the slightest idea how small your brains are.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult the human race,” you snicker, taking a bite of your sandwich. It looks like he bought it from somewhere, probably the deli you saw on the way over. “So you don’t remember most of these books then?”

He nods, “Correct. A lot of the languages are no longer in my vernacular. It isn’t as interesting as the films you watch. It’s hard to remember things even as an immortal. If I don’t use the language often I’d have to learn it over again. Right now I only know around fifty or so.”

You cough, blinking at him. “Fifty?”

“I’m sure I’ve spoken hundreds in my time alive. And I’m not fluent in all of them. But knowing a few key phrases is enough for me. I don’t need to be excellent, I only bring souls to where they need to go.”

Right, the Death thing and all. You haven’t asked anything about that, knowing it isn’t your place. Even with the growing curiosity. He leaves at random intervals in the day to do his duty. Sometimes it’s as if it doesn’t affect him, and others… The darkened expression on his face says enough. He doesn’t let it linger much, disappearing after a few minutes or so. But you can tell it’s hard to do. It’s not a job you’d wish upon anyone.

“You have that strange expression on your face again,” he says, gaze glued to a journal in his hands. “Don’t allow those unnecessary thoughts to linger.”

“Easier said than done,” you mumble. Your eyes are on the table as he moves closer, his palm resting on the wood. Rings of various metals and designs rest on his outstretched fingers, some with languages you can’t point out. He rests his other hand next to it, forcing you to look up. He leans down, meeting your eyes with his darkened ones. “I don’t know how to force myself to not have emotions.”

“Do not pity me, human.”

“You’re stuck. In this cycle of Death. How could I not? No one chooses who they’re born to, that I know. But placing this curse on an innocent child is…”

“The same thing happened to you, and you do not pity yourself.”

“Because I have accepted it.”

“And you believe that I haven’t accepted mine? I do not enjoy bringing souls to their death, human. It’s not fun for me, but it is what I must endure. Just like you, though yours will be lifted and I will be stuck with mine. At least I'll be able to meet their gazes now." He moves back, one hand still resting against the wood. “It is the least I can ask for.”

You pity him, no matter how much he insists on you not. It’s hard to just push those emotions away. He was born into this position, and all you are left with is a lack of sight. You adjust yourself in your seat, eyes cast down. “Do you enjoy this?”

“Enjoy?” His brows furrow. “Enjoy what?”

“This pretending not to care. Pretending that you will be fine with it when anyone with eyes can see that you’re not.”

His lips lift, “In a few days you won’t be able to see it at all.”

“Humor isn’t going to make me stop pitying you.”

“It’s not humor, human. It’s just the simple truth,” he sighs loudly, cracking his neck. He rubs it slowly. “And I don’t care. Not as much as I used to. What will that do but delay the inevitable? If you wanted to know, at some point I did care. I rebelled against it. That only led to me suffering more. You haven’t the slightest idea what it feels like to be stuck in a standing crypt for half a century.”

“That’s-”

“Don’t,” he notes, shaking his finger at you. “The gods are listening. Be mindful of your words. Thoughts are nothing we can control, but what we say willingly is. Keep that in mind." He takes another journal off the shelf, flipping through. "It was painful. The only reason I was let out was because of my mother. She felt that it was enough time and released me. And as you might have already guessed, it's a rare occurrence for me to ignore the gods' wishes."

"I understand." There's nothing you can say to make his pain less, especially since it spans over a thousand years. You're sure that even yourself would be complacent in your position. He wants change, that you can see from the removal of his stone curse, but not to the point where he leaves his role as Death. "Thank you for helping me."

"It is a positive for us both," he says simply.

"I know that. But still, thank you. You didn't have to say a word about it but you did. You helped me. You're giving me a chance to learn how to let people love me, and how to love them back. I know I haven't lived as long as you, but I can only thank you for understanding how I might feel," you move around him, grabbing your clothes and wiping off a shelf. He doesn't respond to you and you don't expect it, the tapping of his steps fading as he leaves you alone in the room. Once the door clicks shut, you drop the cloth. The trembling of your hands makes you suck in a breath, holding back the tears that threaten to fall. You haven't cried this much in years, not since you were a mere child realizing that no one could care for you. Being around Death, seeing your almost friends suffering, all of it just weighs on you. You'd rather his curse not continue to another, but there's little options left. And you believe that it's your right to be a little selfish.

The tear slides down your cheek, running your hands over your skin to catch it before it begins its long descent. You're caring for Death too much when you know he will no longer be in your life. You're breaking your own promise to him, and you're not sure what to do. He's right about most things. Except one. Emotions are uncontrollable. The tightness in your chest when you think of him is unfamiliar. It's a feeling you've rejected your whole life. Quite ironic how it happens with the one person that it cannot.

There's no way you can love him.

–

"It's frigid, my hands are shaking," you shiver, glancing to the side. Death stands there, hands tucked in his pockets as he looks up at the building. You've passed by it often, your fear overriding everything else. Museums are often occupied by wandering, lost souls. You wouldn't dare be the one to pull anyone down deeper. He ignores your complaints, taking two steps at a time. You grind your teeth, pausing for a moment before following behind him. The guard waves him in without the fee, bowing at you slightly. You bow, brows furrowed once you enter.

"You didn't have to pay?"

He shrugs, "I am one of their highest donors. I've already paid enough for several lifetimes. Ah, there it is,” he looks back at you, turning a corner. You struggle to catch up, hands wrapped around a brochure you took from an employee. You almost hit his body when you turn the corner, catching yourself. He faces the painting in silence. You follow his gaze, staring up at the painting. It’s massive; filling half of the wall. It depicts an angel, in its arms a demon-like creature. You can barely see the child’s face, covered mostly by shadows casted. He tilts his head as he stares up at it.

“This was a painting of me,” he says softly, pointing to the child. “That angel was a depiction of one of the gods holding me when I was just born. Believe it or not, I didn’t have any afflictions first pulled from my mother’s womb. But They decided that it must be so. An innocent child, could you imagine that?” He looks at you. “Well, perhaps you can.”

“My curse is nothing like yours,” you say softly, moving closer to the painting. The lines are harsh around the child, bold in their strokes. Angry, even. If it weren’t so high up, you’d like to touch the dried paint, feel how angry the painter was who made it. You turn to look at him. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“And neither did you,” his voice is low, hesitant.

“How long ago did you paint this?” You ask. A laugh escapes his lips.

“A wise human,” he notes. “Several centuries ago. I was angry for hundreds of years. Painting was one of the few outlets I had to myself. Paintings have happened since the very beginning of time, in one form or another. It helped a lot when I couldn’t handle my own thoughts. I’m sure this paint is mixed with my tears,” he runs his fingers through his hair. “Though I’m not as angry as I once was, I sometimes come in here to remind myself. I felt things strongly before. I hurt. It grounds me, helps dig through the muck and wretchedness of the world.”

The conversation slowly mellows out as you follow him around the museum. Anything you ask about the paintings he tells you with ease, almost too easily. You can tell he didn’t lie; he definitely came here often. It makes your stomach twist, knowing that you’ve missed out on so much because you were afraid of the outside world. Afraid of meeting people. You took it too far, and now you don’t have a chance to get some of that time back. Meeting Wooyoung and San changed your life, yes, but you wished that maybe, if you were strong enough back then, you could see the world. Before you’ll never see it again.

“What is one thing that you’ve always wanted to do?” He asks after a brief moment.

“Is this a trick question?” You ask, brow raised. He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I mean, I never really thought of it.”

“Don’t be silly, human. All of these years with your own thoughts, and you haven’t had one desire? Nothing at all?”

“Is it that unbelievable?”

“It is. Now, tell me.”

You pause. Though you enjoy listening to his words, whenever he pries into yours makes you nervous. There’s often something else between his words, other things he means. Him asking a question like this unsettles you. He leans down to your height, his height matching yours. Though you can’t see his eyes, you know he’s staring directly into yours.

“I can tell when you’re thinking too hard, human. This isn’t a trick.”

“No one has ever asked me what I wanted,” you say simply, swallowing slowly.

“Entirely your fault,” he notes, straightening himself. “It’s better for you to enjoy your last moments, than wallow in sorrow at a life lost. I know it may be difficult for you to think of something for yourself. Selfishness in that regard does not run through you. But I am giving you a chance. It would be wise of you to take it.”

“Seoul Tower,” you say softly, fingers digging into your sleeves. “I was always afraid of going there because of all the people lingering around. I don’t think I’m that afraid anymore.”

“Fear is often a hindrance in everyday acts. Though yours is more worrisome than most, a part of it is irrational. You know that no one would love you at mere sight, but on the off chance it does happen, you’d blame yourself for it. It is an endless cycle, leading you to where you are now.” Strangely, a smile decorates his lips. It is slight, yes, but it is still there. A bit hidden behind the shadow of a sculpture on his face. “Close your eyes for a moment, human.”

You look at him weary, brows furrowed. He waits, head slightly tilted. You overcome the bit of stubbornness within you, shutting your eyes. You feel his hand slowly encase yours, fingers curled into one another. His touch is soft, smooth. Warm. And if you were bold enough to say it, it felt a bit loving. A quick tug pulls you against his body, his other arm wrapping around your torso, pressing your back against his chest. He covers your eyes with his free hand. You feel as he leans down, lips close enough to your ear to touch. He doesn’t, though.

“Open your eyes, human,” he removes his hand, fingers still interlocked with yours. You open your eyes, heart almost dropping at the sight.

The two of you stand at the top of Seoul tower, the sky suddenly dark, starry city lights flickering around you. You move closer to the windows, the darkened interior only making it bright. “It’s…” you trail off, hand trembling against the glass. You’ve dreamed of being at the top since you were a child, desperately yearning to see the city below. As you grew, you settled with the fact that you wouldn’t ever stand at the top. And yet here you are, alone with a man who calls himself Death, watching lives move around you.

“I can understand why you’d want to see this,” he says, moving closer to you. You tense, realizing that his fingers are still embraced in yours. You almost let go, but he tightens his hold, shaking his head. “If you let go, we’ll be back at the museum. I should have warned you earlier.” The way his tone changed, it’s as if he feels pity for you. Having to settle with holding him when you feel the exact opposite. His touch is strangely calming. "I apologize for the misstep."

"I don't mind it," you say simply, grip tightening. His heart flutters at your words, face almost showing it. “I’m just amazed that there’s no one around at this time.”

His lips lift, “Oh there are plenty of stargazing humans. I have just hidden them from your view so that you may enjoy it on your own. Years worth of avoidance doesn’t diminish in just a few nights.” He rotates his finger, a brief gathering of a crowd around you, noises picking up. But just as he does it they disappear once more, leaving the two of you alone. “And I can see why you don’t enjoy it. They’re quite a nuisance.”

You laugh, looking back at the city. It’s one of the last things you’ll ever see, one of the last moments in time you’ll ever experience. The moment should be somber, spirits down. But instead, you’re all but gratefully, gaze moving back to him. Though you can’t tell if he’s looking at you, the way he cocks his head, as if asking you a question, is enough to know that he’s meeting your own eyes.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything back. No you’re welcome, not even an acknowledgement that you’ve uttered the words. And you don’t expect anything at all, continuing to stare out into the night. He doesn’t mention how warm your hands feel when they’re entwined in his, nor the way you subtly tighten it, as if to make sure he’s still there with you.

“Is death quiet?” You ask. “Should I be afraid?”

“Your loss of sight isn’t your death, human.” He knows that you’re not asking that, though for some odd reason he doesn’t want to answer why he’s worried about you bringing up the topic. You’re not dying, not anytime soon. He’s made sure of that. “Worry not.”

“I know that, you’ve told me explicitly. I just… I mean, will it hurt? Will I be alone in my thoughts as my life fades? Should I be scared of that day to come?”

He tilts his head, thinking. You keep yours resting against the glass. It’d be humorous if he weren’t so confused as to why you’re bringing up such a conversation at a time like this. “Death is scary,” he says simply. “You lose everything you’ve known just like that. At least, that’s what humans tell me when I bring them to their designated place in the afterlife. They are scared of what’s to come, scared that they will miss what it is to be human.”

“And what do you believe?” You turn to him. Your voice is still, steady. Though you show no fear on your features, he can feel it. “I… If something were to happen to Wooyoung, I don’t want it to hurt. I don’t want it to scare him. I’ve lost so many people over the years because I wasn’t careful with their feelings. I made the mistake of letting them in. I’d be afraid if I suddenly became ill, then died."

"If I may," he interrupts. "None of the humans died by your hands. It is more complicated than that. Trust when I say that the only humans you should be worried for right now are the pair you know. Letting yourself fall back down into that hole of despair will only make you feel worse."

"Then? How am I to pretend that I didn't see them pass? How can you ask me to forget the poor souls that perished in front of me?" You let go of his hand out of anger. The scene immediately pulls you back into the museum. You pay no mind to passers-by. "You expect me to pretend that it doesn't hurt me, knowing what I've done?"

"I'm saying that it's no fault of your own. Why can't you just trust my words–"

"You expect me to just blindly follow the words of a reaper of Death? Is that what you think? You've seen people die over and over so it may not affect you, but it hurts me. It hurts me so much."

"You think as if each death is filled with woe and trepidation. That is not the case, human. Not everything is negative. I have told you several times without fail that not all death is horrid. I have shown you that it could be beautiful."

You scoff, grabbing your back off the leather seat in front of the painting. "How could death performed due to my influence be beautiful? They've passed on because they've loved me. It's the most wretched thing I can think of."

Death holds his fists tight on his sides. You've seen him irritated, sure, but this void. Lack of emotion. It oddly reminds you of when you first met how. How easily he spoke of your curse, how he didn't care about anything you told him. You should be elated, jumping out your shoes seeing him not care for you. Instead, it only places fear in your heart.

You say no more, turning on your heel. Just as you push and exit through the doors, you're on top of a roof. Your heart drops as you almost fall over the edge. You hold back a scream, stumbling back. Your body hits a solid man, turning back and seeing Death stand there.

"Let me go." Your tone is stern. "I don't need this, whatever you're doing. We stay on our own until we must be together. And then we won't have to see each other anymore."

"You haven't let me express myself and instead interpreted my broken sentences for truths when I barely spoke half of it," His steps to you are slow, your fingers gripping the ledge. He leaves barely a few inches between the two of you. "Why must you defy me at every turn? All of this would have been much easier if you just listened to me. Once. If you just listened, nothing would be like this."

He moves back, fingerings dragging along his sculpted hair. It messes it up, strands sticking every which way.

"I've forgotten how stubborn humans are. In the end none of you are gods, none of you listen to reasoning beyond your own pitiful knowledge and only follow what you know. The limits that you hold yourself too, forcing yourself into these boxes you've created with your own desires and thoughts, unwilling to move past it unless you're on your last breath. Humanity is insufferable."

"You could let me go and not have to deal with it any longer," you feel small on this extensive roof. Sure, you could run, but it seems like he wouldn't let you go an inch without his ranting heard. And if you're honest, some of his words ring true.

"You do not understand what I'm telling you. I have forfeited so many things so that we could be free of our heavy burdens. So that you may walk this Earth free to love and be loved. Death takes, never gives. And yet here I am, sacrificing my own being for your benefit."

"I have no asked you to do this–"

"When you were in my home, figuratively on your knees in front of my eyes and begging to be free of this curse the gods gave you, I could have said no. I could have ushered you away and let you continue to live your life, eventually forgetting about the being named Death that didn't care at all for your feelings. I could have done that. I could have done it all."

He's saying so much and so little. If you were to see his eyes now you're sure they'd be desperate in their gaze, begging you to understand what he's telling you.

"What are you saying to me, Death?"

He moves quickly to you now, your body pressed against the ledge. He places a trembling hand against your back, the other holding himself up so that you're not unwillingly pushed against him. He leans down.

"I did not want to love you."

You can feel the strength of his words by how he holds you– gentle, but steady. Despite the way his lips trembled he didn't move.

"You promised you wouldn't. You don't love me," your voice is soft, nervous. Fingers digging into the fabric of your pants. Your gaze doesn't dare match his. Out of anger, no. But the fear of the truth. He couldn't possibly love you. Perhaps he cares. Maybe liking you a bit. But love, he cannot. He would be dying.

"Death cannot die," His voice breaks off your train of thought. The soft touch of his hand envelopes yours. You don't resist, even as his lips move to the side of your face, a breath away from your ear. "I could love you endlessly and it wouldn't hurt me in the slightest. I made that promise with you so that you'd stay true to your own. So that you wouldn't be afraid."

"You lied."

"You would have doubted the truth."

"I want to run."

"Then I will run with you."

Your breath hitches. "And if I didn't let you?"

"I'd very reluctantly release you from my binds, human. It is as simple as that."

A laugh behind you makes you tense. Without another word, Death presses you against his body tightly, staring at the intruder. You could barely turn around until he lets you, meeting the eyes of someone new. You haven't seen this man before. Locks of blond hair frame his face, disappearing beneath his coat collar. He holds a scythe in his hand, the other tucked in his pocket. He doesn't say much, sitting on the edge where you just were, lazy meeting your gaze.

"It's unfortunate that we've met this way, y/n."

"Who–"

"Leave," Death interrupts you. "We still have two days until the curse is lifted. She hasn't done anything wrong."

"Ah, but you have. Were you not in a pact with her? Do not fall in love. She said it simply, and you agreed because you thought you'd never do it. Now look at where we are," he gestures around the three of you. “On top of an old building, her last breaths were taken in the presence of two immortals. It is definitely a story to tell if she truly had any relatives or friends. Quite unfortunate that she does not. Not any fault of her own, of course.” His grin is strangely wide and gleeful despite the words. He lifts himself off the ledge, seemingly matching the height of the man who stands next to you.

“We’ve done nothing, Yunho.”

“We, what an interesting word choice. I have warned you countless times what was to come if you grew closer. You know this and yet you let it continue,” his smile slips as he moves to you. “You were not meant to die this way, but the gods proclaimed it so it must be done.”

“You’ve followed their words your whole life. When will you decide that their words aren’t set in stone?”

“We’ve talked about this-”

“And?” Death insists. “You will kill an innocent?”

“I don’t have a choice in the matter, that you know well. If I do not perform this I will perish myself,” Yunho looks to you, lips in a straight line, lightheartedness gone. “I want you to be happy with her, Mingi. I want you to enjoy every waking moment, every new experience of new love, new infatuation. I want you to experience it all, as your greatest friend. But as a reaper of death, I cannot allow it.” He stares at the weapon in his hand, his thumb dragging along the handle. The fear in your heart only grew as he stared at his weapon. There’s sympathy in his words, that you could tell. But between that was genuine and unrelenting truth. He didn’t want to do this, no. But he had no other choice. A part of you respected that, him living his truth. All of you were burdened with one thing or another. Yours was love, Death’s- no, Mingi’s, his was Death itself. And Yunho, loyalty. Though you barely know him, it’s an odd trio.

Mingi opens his mouth to speak, but he stumbles back, hands letting go of you as he tries to steady himself on the ground. Yunho walks toward you, head tilted as he stares.

“The gods have watched you for a while, y/n. It is a sight to see you in person. Wondrous, in fact,” he smiles at you lightly, head tilting down. Is he bowing to you? “Having the gods focused on your life is an honor, you see. Not many get the chance to be blessed by their influence.”

“Is this what you call blessed?” You could only scoff at his words, shaking your head. “A blessing should not feel like a curse.”

“A blessing and a curse, are they not one in the same?” His brow quirks, sliding to his friend behind you. You follow his gaze, perspiration coating Mingi’s forehead as he struggles to stand. His fingers dig into the concrete, cracks echoing around you. You try moving forward but he shakes his head, forcing you to stop in place.

“Death-”

“He can only help himself, pretty,” Yunho says, moving next to you. You tense up, his hand resting on your shoulder as he watches Mingi. “His sheer will is what’s keeping him cemented to the roof. If he gave up, he’d be able to save you. Unfortunate.” His grip tightens. You can feel his nails digging into your skin, a cry spilling from you as you fall to your knees. Yunho keeps his hold, ignoring how you claw at his hands. “Will you now defy the will of the gods? You’re no longer wanted on this Earth, human. Your time is complete.”

“No…” you feel the tears falling down your cheek as he pulls you up, pain shooting throughout your body. “Please,” you beg, looking into his eyes.

“Yunho.” Mingi struggles, lifting his head. “Let her go, she’s done nothing.”

“You are above me in rank, Mingi. So in continuing to respect you, I warned you beforehand. Falling in love with a forgotten creature is what you were warned of countless times. And yet you continued anyway. You continued to fall in love with her,” Yunho looks down at you with pity. “Both of your curses would have been lifted but you couldn’t resist her charm.”

“She is no immortal.”

This time Yunho laughs, “You think They would curse an innocent soul out of pure enjoyment? Or a strange test? My dear friend, y/n is not a normal human. Her soul has been cursed for eternity. Do you not recognize it?” Yunho pushes you to the ground beneath his feet, his hold gone. You cough, unable to move. His words make no sense in your own head. You’ve been a human your whole life, there’s nothing that is godly about you.

“She is a human.”

“Half-human. Her mother was an empusa. Fed on her father and sucked the life from him then ate him. In fear that she would be just like the abomination that was her mother, they’ve cursed her very being. She was born before the gods could stop it, and was thereafter cursed for eternity. Her soul is older than even yours, Mingi. Any one who encounters her dies just as they love her so their soul is still pure before being devoured by her true nature. We would have been rid of her if you just followed what you were supposed to. Not fall in love despite her allure. But you did anyway. You fell in love with the creature, and now you must watch her die.”

He presses his heel into your back, an inhuman scream coming from you. Mingi’s brows furrow as he looks at you in pain.

“She’s nothing like her mother, her soul is pure.”

“That you’re correct about. Her soul is not tainted yet,” Yunho murmurs, leaning down. “She hasn’t eaten anyone yet, so it is sin free.”

“Why would the gods torture a being that has done nothing wrong? They can rid her of the curse entirely and be free of the empusa. It would be that simple-”

“Some things even the gods cannot interfere with,” he says softly. “An empusa are beyond their own strengths. No god could get rid of her even if they’d like. Her soul is eternal. Her mother existed before Them. It would be impossible to just get rid of it, so a curse was needed to keep her in check. You just needed to not fall in love, Mingi. That would have removed it all. But you fell for the charm.”

“Is there nothing that can be done?” Mingi’s voice is desperate now as he looks at you. “You said she cannot die, what’s the use of restarting her life again? It will only lead down the same path.”

Yunho pauses, eyes narrowing. “We would have more time to come up with a solution for her presence. The underworld would have been a good place but her mother assured that she wouldn’t be able to enter it. Is it not a tragedy the way you love it,” Yunho’s tone is sorrowful now. “If it were anything else I’d weep at the sight of his everlasting love for a being he barely knows the true nature of. You can love a devil as much as you’d like, Mingi, and it can love you back. But this does not stop its very being. You are death incarnate, you know the consequences of loving evil.”

Yunho lifts his scythe, pity in his eyes as he looks down at you. “Beg for your life so that you may be able to repent.”

You say nothing, silenced by their back and forth. Your mother is a demon-like creature, and your father was innocent. But because of your heritage, because of the choices they’ve made, you’re stuck like this. A cursed soul, forced to live your short lives and reborn again and again, until the destruction of this world and thereafter. You don’t beg, there’s no use. The only thing you can think of is looking at the man you love just beside you, his eyes still covered by the thick shades.

You wonder how your friends are doing, how Wooyoung will be once your soul is gone if for a brief moment. How San would be healthy once more. Able to live their lives without the lingering chance of you appearing again. Why are you not afraid? You worried for death mere moments ago, why are you so settled in it? Is it because the ones you care for will no longer be threatened by your presence? Or is it because the first time in your short life, you’re finally settled in your own feelings? None of it is your fault, none. It is your mother’s. All of the lives gone is your mother’s fault. And you couldn’t be more grateful for that.

But you still have one request.

“If I may,” you whisper softly, lip lifting slightly. “If you would give me the honor of seeing your eyes just once.”

“y/n…” his voice wavers, lip trembling. “You-”

“You have such a pretty name, Mingi,” your lips are in a bloody grin now, tears falling to the concrete beneath you. “I’m sure your eyes match it.”

“You will be stone for eternity.”

“And if my last sight is you, I will be grateful for all of that eternity.”

“I will not,” he says, shaking his head. “I could not live knowing you were in a frozen state. I will not. I’m sorry,” he moves his head down. You imagine that he’s closing his eyes, his gaze forever lost on you.

“Then will you look at me as Yunho takes this life away?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “Could you grant that last wish of mine?”

“I-”

“You are one of the few beings on this planet that has made me feel like I could be loved,” your body shakes as you say the words, each one coming out between a sob. “I want you to remember me as the woman who hated looking at the dust in your library, who enjoyed listening to you tell me about your past, who nagged you when you added me on your financials. I want you to remember me as the woman who was too scared to step outside of her home to buy groceries. I want you to remember me as the human who loved you more than you’d ever know. I want you to remember me this way, Mingi, alright?” You turn your head to Yunho, nodding.

Without another word, he lifts his scythe. The last thing you hear is Mingi’s screams just as your eyes shut.

It was an indescribable feeling. The way his arms wrapped around you. The lack of fear expressed in your body. You feel their love through each fiber of your being. It was wondrous and calming. It was unlike anything you've ever experienced. For the first time in your short life, you feel safe. When you woke, the feeling still lingered. Like a soft kiss to your skin, telling you that it will be alright.

You gasp, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you. A hand holds you steady, the other resting on your back as you breathe. You look up, tensing once you see Mingi sitting on the edge of your bed. He keeps his glasses on, brows furrowed as he stares at you.

“You’ve been out for a while, y/n.”

You still. Your name. He says it simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. As if he never avoided it in the first place. It’s a change, a big one. Your thoughts are scattered, but one large, lingering one rests in your head. How are you alive?

“He didn’t kill you,” Mingi starts, letting you go. “He split your soul. The cursed one is in the underworld, trapped. He left the human you residing here on Earth. It was a risk, a large one. The gods believed that he wouldn’t be able to do it so They told him to remove your soul completely, but he wanted to try it out. His words were true, there was a chance you weren’t coming back into this body. But in the end, he saved you. You’re no longer cursed.”

You touch your neck, feeling the length of new scar lines across it, wincing slightly. Could it be scarred over this quickly? Has this not happened only moments ago?

“You’ve been in the hospital for a week,” Mingi continues. “Your friends visited you. They just left for home but are coming back soon with other things.”

“Do they know who you are?” You ask. His brows furrow.

“No. I told them I was someone you knew. The strange one, Wooyoung, thought I was your estranged husband, as he put it. But San was the more wary one. After a few hours of convincing them that we were close, they let me take care of you.”

What can you say to him? From what his words tell you, you’re okay now. Your friends are healthy enough to come visit you. The curse must be lifted partially, if not fully. But there’s so much that’s happened. And yet here he sits, glasses still perched on the tip of his nose. He reaches out to touch you again, but you lift your hand, stopping him in his place.

"You do not love me." Yunho’s words linger still.

Mingi’s brows come together. "How can you tell me what I love?"

"If your words are true, if you truly love me then it must be a horrible experience. Loving someone who cannot love you the way you're meant to be loved must feel wretched." It’s true. All of your life you’ve been afraid of the emotion alone.

"Is that so?" His hand rests on yours, lifting it so that it touches the expanse of his chest. He lets it reside on his left side, just above his heart. The beats felt on your palm, residing within your own body. "My mother often told me that one day I would know what love felt like. I would never get it from her because her soul was too damned to feel even a bit motherly toward me. The first time I’ve felt my heart beat was when you entered my home and walked along the dusty bookshelves, asking me something other than what my duty is. And it just continued on after that. My dear human, if loving you makes me feel this way, then I don't mind it in the slightest."

"Neither of us know what it means to love. You could just have indigestion," your words are teasing, though there is a monumental volume of apprehension lining the curves of each letter. "We barely know one another."

"I've known you for longer than you've known me," His head tilts. "I've paid no mind to your existence because it is what the gods demanded of me. But now that I have, I can see why they were insistent on other reapers taking care of your killings. I would have been too enamored to continue on with you like this," His fingers slip into yours, letting his head rest against your forehead. "You are a vixen."

“I want your first love to be someone that’ll be able to love you back, Mingi.”

“Oh how I do love the way you say my name,” his lips lift. “Promise that you’d say it again.”

“Mingi,” you move away, "Everything I want to say to you crumbles between my lips and disappears into the winding wind," you grip his hand, gaze looming on the buttons lining his sweater. "It is a battle between me questioning myself on if I should look at you with this much desire, or if I should push you deeper away into the crevices of my mind so that I would move on. But the deeper that I push, the more the cracks form. The more my longing for you drips to the ground, grows into seeds I cannot pull out."

Mingi cups your chin, lifting it so that you can look at his face. His teeth dig into his lips as he anxiously waits for you to continue, fingers trembling against your skin. Death shaken at the core by a mere human is a laughable offense. No one would believe it if you were to ever tell the tale.

"Does this mean that you yearn for me as much as I do for you?"

"It means," your hand travels along the outline of his body, before mirroring the same hold that he had on you. "That through this frenzied despair I have realized that I do love the reaper of Death more than I ever should, and it fucking terrifies me to no end that his want for me will never match the inane craving that I have for him. That this love for you scares me, truly. That you will one day grow tired of me and move on to someone who would love you less."

"My dear," His lip curves into a grin. "If you think of your love like this, then I must be lucky to have a woman like you who wants me in such a way."

A knock makes you pull away from him. Wooyoung stands there, balancing a basket between his fingers. His brow raises as he looks at Mingi, before meeting your gaze. “I thought you were dead.” His hair is a deeper red. You can see how much healthier he looks, cheeks full and gaze wide.

“Woo,” San hisses, appearing behind him. His shoulders release the tension once he meets your eyes. “You’re awake. I bought a set of utensils and bowls for your kitchen, since we’ll be over more often now.” He notes, glancing at Mingi, “I apologize for Wooyoung, he’s often unable to read the room. Like right now,” he grips his arm, pulling him from the doorway. You hear commotion in the kitchen, your front door slamming shut, leaving the two of you alone.

You can feel your face burning as you look back at Mingi. A sly smile captures his lips. Without another word, he takes his glasses off. Deep, brown eyes stare back at you, a beauty mark just underneath one of them. They hold so much as they meet your gaze, blinking slowly, flicking all over your face before meeting your gaze once more. You can see the panic lessen until there is none, hands lifting to cup your face. A laugh escapes his lips, then another. His eyes begin to moisten, thumb dragging across your skin.

His curse has been lifted.

“I can finally see you,” his breaths are hushed, hands trembling. “I can finally look at you.” Without another word, he pulls you close, gaze now on the curve of your lips. “May I kiss you, my dear y/n?”

“No,” you say, and his eyes widen. You laugh, pulling him against you as you fall back against the mattress. You ignore how your heart beats, hands trembling as you hold his face. “I just wanted to see what your eyes looked like panicked.”

A groan echoes in his chest, “A vixen was an accurate description of you.”

“I love you,” you say.

Relief rests in his eyes. Without any hesitation, “And I love you.”

___

tags: @atiny68 @yunhofingers @mingi-banana @berryfiavoured @mingki1117 @user1117sword @sankatchu @potaeto-writes-on-wp @a1sh1teruu @atinytease @mingkilovur @junglewoos @nolxverlikeme @dysftopia @jenniiee-tm @marievllr-abg @charreddonuts @rdiamond2727@mirror-juliet @rge-nini @fireheaurt

#fic: love you to death #mingi x reader #song mingi x reader #platonic:#wooyoung x reader #san x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez fluff

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anxi-writes · 1 year

Text

I’m glad u guys like Rodimus as much as I do. Also, lets say this planet is cybertronian-friendly and knows absolutely nothing of Megatron’s war crimes 💀

Rodimus

Rodimus quickly skips out of the ship, eager to get out of the cramped ship. You try your best to stretch your limbs out and take in the fresh air. But It’s kinda hard when your lover is over 15 feet tall and quickly leaving you behind.

“Slow down Roddy,” You yell out to him as your back pops satisfyingly. Rodimus halts to a stop before tilting his head back to you. Did he seriously forget that his partner was a human?? You swiftly run over to your loved one, almost out of breath by the time that you reach him.

Rodimus sheepishly utters an apology before speaking, “Right… right, do you want me to pick you up?”

You shake your head, chuckling at the mech, “I can walk, I just need you to slow down a bit.” The two of you stroll over to a small market filled with foreign books, native fruit and other nicknacks. Some of the stalls are small whilst others are bigger. Rodimus lifts you up every now and then so that you can see everything the market has to offer.

Soon enough the both of you get bored of the market and leave to explore the rest of the planet. The colourful plants brush against your legs as you trek through the alien forest. Trees stretch out in a weird angle, except the trees here look more like coral. Rodimus looks around in amazement as he takes everything in. You can’t help but wonder what everything looks like from Roddy’s height, you’re not really interested in being picked up at the moment though. Your eyes widen as you spot a fluffy creature in the distance, It looks crossed between an axolotl and a moth. You approach the lion-sized creature almost immediately but stop when you realise Rodimus isn’t following you, “Rodimus?”

Your lover’s gaze is focused on a sign pinned against one of the coral trees. He looks at the sign then at the wild animal and then back at the sign, “Uh Y/N? This sign says that you shouldn’t be approaching that creature.”

You frown at Rodimus words. This cute creature? Dangerous? Impossible. Sure the being was 3 times your size but it didn’t look like it opposed any threat! You roll your eyes at your partner’s words and raise a hand to pet the so-called predator. And ohmygodtheyresosoft. Rodimus’s Jaw drops as the creature nuzzles into your touch. It takes him a while to get over the shock of the planet’s predator cuddling up to his harmless human. The two, well three of you now, continue exploring the planet before heading back to the market.

As soon as you step foot near the closest stall, a native of the planet raises their scythe hand towards your animal friend. Other natives quickly gather around you and Rodimus (mainly you though). Some of the people stare at you in awe as the creature purrs and cuddles you even more. It’s kinda funny how surprised and scared the people are of the animal snuggling into you.

Megatron

You trail calmly behind Megatron as the two of you wander through the planet’s rocky mountain terrain. Your lover seemed pretty cautious of everything, whether he would admit it or not. Sometimes it saddened you how fragile he thought you were. You quickly shake your head. You promised yourself and Rung that you wouldn’t be thinking those thoughts. Well at least you wouldn’t be thinking those thoughts while you were out here. It was Rung that pushed the two of you out here, saying it would be good for your mental health or something. To be honest you weren’t really listening back then to what he was saying. You were just excited to finally be able to explore a planet where the inhabitants didn’t think ill of your partner.

You smiled up at Megatron as he manoeuvred his way around what would be a rocky hill compared to his size. The hill was far from a hill to you, it was a huge ass mountain actually. You didn’t even have to ask your lover to carry you over, he was already doing it. A gentle giant, you thought to yourself. Once you were sat down again, you quickly took the lead so that Megatron would now be following behind you. It only took you a few steps before he shot his arm out in front of you. What. You leaned forward over your lover’s arm to see what the fuss was about and spot a scaly cat-like creature.

“Stay very still, this is one of this planet’s most dangerous predators,” Megatron said slowly but his words barely registered in your brain before you were going around his hand towards the animal. Your lover growled at you as you walked towards the creature in a haze. He was just about to find a rock or something to throw at the creature when he noticed that the creature wasn’t hostile? The creature wasn’t hostile to you. That doesn’t make any sense. The predator cooed at you and quickly nuzzled up to your side earning an even more puzzled expression from Megs.

It took a lot of persuasion after that to let the creature come along with you. You looked happy enough so he supposed that the animal wasn’t much of a threat. It greatly surprised him that Ultra Magnus’s reports from the planet's animals were wrong but oh well. The law abiding mech was sure to slip up eventually.

Eventually, your hike was soon over as you approached the town where the Lost Light was parked near. You proudly walked into the little town as the natives widened their eyes at you. Your lover anxiously looked away from the natives, not wanting to attract too much attention. A few of the higher up natives poked and prodded at you after seeing the dangerous animal snuggling up to you. Megatron was quick to tear you away from them though.

#anxicast #lost light #maccadam #mtmte #transformers #anxi writes #rodimus #rodimus prime #rodimus x reader #rodimus x human!reader #Megatron #Megatron x reader #Megatron x human!reader #mtmte x reader #transformers x reader

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gurindeen · 5 months

Text

Rant time!

I have just finished watching Catching Fire after rereading the Catching Fire book and???? WHERE IS PEETA. Where is Peeta the whole time in this movie? He just kind of sits there with quizzical looks on his face. I get it, it’s a long story to condense into 2h26min, but. Peeta is such a central character in this book. I’m upset.

I may be overfangirling this but if I didn’t know the story I guess I’d be really confused as to why Katniss wanted Peeta to be the one who lives so badly. I just feel like he wasn’t given much depth in the CF movie. Which is weird considering I think the movies did a pretty good job with that in THG. Peeta is so brilliant, kind and present this entire book.

On top of that, Katniss and Peeta don’t really seem to share what is going on, or even support each other that much. Aside from the scene where Peeta’s heart stops, which is very good, they feel distant. When they talk on the beach, it feels off. Why do you even need him, movie!Katniss? You look like coworkers or something. Weird. Where is everlark understanding and leaning on each other so much that Katniss wouldn’t risk Peeta removing his goddamn makeup in his own room because they might lock him away from her for the night? You know what I mean?

And what’s with Katniss kissing Gale before the reaping, while he’s fully awake and well? That is substantially different from kissing him when he was passed out and wishing him to not remember it the day after. (not me whining because evethorne got this and we didn't get the picnic scene)

What irks me the most about all of this is: why? I’m pretty sure it was of knowledge when the movie was made that Peeta mattered quite a lot to the story and to Katniss - because if he didn’t, if he was just some cute teammate with a crush on her, who she gives only one and a half fuck about - none of it would have happened. No berries, no defiance, no Snow using Peeta to hurt the Mockingjay and deeply as he could. No reason to have hope, no dandelion. No revolution!

With Peeta, I feel like this movie stripped him down to ill assorted bit of the love triangle. Which is not only annoying, but downright Capitol level of treating love as marketing. And stupid, because, as I hinted above, the books where already fully out, right? Before rewatching CF, I was just talking to a friend who hasn't read the books and she said - oh, I didn't think Katniss actually liked Peeta, thought it was just the shared trauma. Yes. That's what it looked like in this movie. And not because they were trying to not focus on love, because they've amped the love triangle thing up. So I don't get it. Why do you always have to take a nice character and treat them like less just because they’re nice? (Ron Weasley I'm talking about you) Tell me, am I exaggerating? Do I just love Peeta too much?

#peeta mellark #catching fire #catching fire movie #everlark #rant

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pedgito · 1 year

Note

How abouttttt edging Tom until he's pouty and crying

author’s note: this is purely self indulgence. i tried to mimic some of tom’s dialect in my prose without going too cornish, so i hope it isn’t too terrible. i’m so horribly american that i didn’t want to butcher the shit out of it lol. anyways, love tom grant, he’s supreme boyfriend material.

cw: 18+ (minors dni) strangers to lovers, meet-cutes, cooking for each other, oral (m receiving), edging (to tom), grinding over clothes (sorta), talks about past relationships/cheating (on both of them), tom is a sweetie, if i missed anything lmk

word count: 4.7k

You meet him by chance, out at the market for your daily errands. He’s always dressed in his work uniform, seemingly jumping straight from work to grab a few things for the night or the rest of his week, arms always full of items because he refuses to grab a basket and he’ll pile them high until the food is toppling to the floor. He’s stubborn, you can see it in his face as he squats down to pick up the unlucky can of vegetables that crashes against the tile, denting the corner.

You don’t introduce yourself the first time, grabbing the can and handing it back to him with a smile—he looks a little dejected, pouting at the kind gesture but mumbling a quiet thanks, regardless.

But, you see him everyday for a few weeks and suddenly you’re wondering how someone you’ve never met can be so interesting. He’s kind to the people stocking the shelves, the woman at the counter, but he doesn’t speak a word to you.

That’s why, after a long, dreadful three weeks of tense eye contact and awkward encounters, you finally take that plunge.

He’s reaching for the same box of cereal as you, caught up in his own thoughts so much that he doesn’t even realize you are leaning down beside him—you try to stumble out an apology but it dies on your lips.

“Those are your favorite?” He asks curiously, grabbing the box with ease and handing it over. You stall for a moment, wondering if you’d imagined him talking to you—he could’ve been talking to someone behind you, anyone but you. His eyes are locked on you when you glance up.

“How’d you know?” You ask, clutching the box to your chest with a kind nod. It was the last one.

“You’ve grabbed the same box every Monday,” He notes, pointing at the box of cereal, “but—never any milk?”

You snort a soft laugh, being caught up in your own weird ways of eating. He didn’t seem like he was judging, but it was something he couldn’t help but notice.

“Soggy cereal makes me ill at the thought of it.” You confess, “plus, it’s so much better when you can just eat it by the handful.”

He smiles wide, tongue poking through his teeth slightly.

“I’m Tom,” He introduces himself, “consider that last box an apology for being an ass to you the past few weeks.”

“Thank you,” You reply sweetly, patting the box lightly, “though, I definitely touched it first. I would’ve pried it from your hands if it came down to that.”

Tom laughs, shifting the weight of his groceries in his arms. And like clockwork, a can falls to the floor. You can’t help but take a small jab at him as you reach for it.

“Are you allergic to the baskets?” You ask playfully, “It would squash this whole ‘feeling too awkward to apologize’ when I have to pick up the stuff that you drop.”

Tom shakes his head slightly, a weak and unintelligible answer.

“Unless you’re doing it on purpose.” You suspect.

It had taken Tom a while to get over Ruth, forgive her, allow himself to rid his trailer of her things and move on. The only thing he hadn’t managed was allowing himself to return back to normalcy, talk to his friends, meet a nice girl—when Tom isn’t working, he’s home, unless he’s here and sometimes, the trips were unnecessary, just an innocent hope that he might run into you. But, his nerves constantly got the better of him, the words choking up in his throat. He wasn’t sure why today was different, but it was.

And while he was on that high, he takes a chance before his mind tries to talk him out of it.

“You’ve caught me,” He admits humorously, “there’s probably better ways to ask someone on a date, but uh—“

“Loads,” You interrupt with a hoaky smile, “but lucky for you, I’m interested.”

“Really?” He perks up instantly, nearly dropping his groceries in one giant pile. “Oh, well um—I didn’t think I’d get this far—“

You laugh at his honesty, pointing at his jacket pocket wearily, noting the outline of his phone, “Mind if I—“ He nods, angling his hip toward you to grab it. He rambled off his lock code without question and you entered your information swiftly before returning it back to him.

“I’m a bit rushed but call me later?”

“Uh, yeah—yes, I will.”

He does, which isn’t much of a surprise. You’d been anxious about the call since you left the store, wondering when was the last thing you were this caught up over a boy you knew nothing about. He called you that night, your name falling from his mouth like velvet—he sounds more relaxed, less wound up. You weren’t sure how stressful his job was, or what his life was like, but it’s a difference from the man you had ran into earlier.

“Are you opposed to a home-cooked meal?” He asks, straight to the point. You huff slightly, debating on the question to torture him slightly, the silence lingering.

“Seems a little forward, yeah?” You tease, laughing floating through the receiver and making him smile on the other end. “It’s fine, Tom. I really don’t mind.”

“You sure?” He asks for reassurance.

After Ruth, he doubted almost everything he did—wondering if he was doing too much, or not enough. It was never good enough.

“If I’m being honest, a home-cooked meal sounds much better than dressing up and going out to a fancy place to eat.”

“As if I could afford fine dining on my salary.” Tom jokes, settling into a sense of comfort in the conversation, a lull that felt natural. “But yes—I’m an excellent cook, so you have nothing to worry over.”

“I’m putting my life in your hands, Tom.” You tell him carefully, though the affection is still there. “Don’t be the first boy to put me in the hospital with food poisoning. I’ll never be able to forgive you for that.”

“Fucks sake—I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

The curse sounds too dirty falling from his mouth, tarnishing his rather innocent, boyish looks.

“What time is good for you?”

You hum softly, pondering on how long you should make him wait. But, you were too impatient yourself.

“How about tomorrow? Say, six?” You suggest.

“Perfect.” He responds softly.

The date quickly evolves into something that you and Tom didn’t really plan on—and it’s a silent agreement that settles between you two as that date turns into several dinners over the course of a couple months, either at your place or his, venting about your day and getting to know each other better than anyone else you knew in town.

You weren’t familiar with the place, having only lived there a few months, but Tom had told you everything you needed to know—where to eat, where to shop, even if you always ended up at his place anyways.

And you realize rather quickly why you both latched onto each other without hesitation—there was a weird yearn for companionship, or friendship even, that neither of you acknowledged audibly, but sensed within each other.

Tom has empty pictures frames stacked on his bedside table that he doesn’t mention, even when you two end up on his bed one night after a particularly filling meal, listening to him complain about how much the weather had been bothering him.

“I live right off the beach, you know—it would be nice to go but the water is always freezing.” Tom complains, tracing the outline of your fingers with his own, hands held straight up in front of you as you both stared toward the ceiling.

“So I suppose streaking into the ocean is out of the question for you?” You ask, only slightly joking. Tom turns to look at you, eyes comically wide as his movements still. “Tom, I’m fucking with you.”

Tom looks away briefly, face contorted in a semblance of pain, like maybe you hit a sore subject. It fades quickly, replaced by a flat emotion of content.

“Okay, fess up.” You pester him, turning on your side and propping your head up into your hand. “What’s got you so bothered?”

“Nothin’,” He laughs awkwardly, releasing your hand to replace it with his own as he settles them against his stomach, soft cotton rubbing at his fingertips, “s’just bad memories.”

“Well, whoever it was, I’m sorry.” You tell him honestly. “They’re missing out.”

Tom smiles sadly, looking over at you briefly.

“Piss off,” He says softly, shoving at your thigh with no real strength, “s’not fair.”

“What isn’t?”

“You gettin’ to flirt with me, but you always tease me when I do the same.” He explains, cheeks blushing a faint shade of pink.

It’s the similar pink that happens when he’s out in the wind for too long, settling in the apples of his cheeks and staying for a while.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asks curiously, “M’not trying to pry or anything, but—“

“Think I held her back,” Tom admits, “She loved me in the beginning.”

“And it just faded out?” You try to perceive where the story is going, but Tom shakes his head.

“Nah, it was kinda sudden.” He explains, glaring up at the ceiling, “I don’t see her for a while and then she comes back and it’s like—she hates being here. It was good those couple days but I think whatever she’d been dealin’ with had been there the whole time.”

“That’s not your fault,” You tell him, “her problems aren’t your problems, whatever they were.”

“Took me a while to put it all together, but she thought I was cheating—I mean, who does that?” Tom asks with a strain to his voice, frustration lining his tone. It seemed like a sore subject, but Tom powered through. If he didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t.

“Cheat? Loads, Tom.” You emphasize, “And I’m speaking from experience, it’s not fun.”

“I’m not like that,” Tom insists, “I couldn’t—I didn’t even think about that stuff. I loved her.”

“Did she cheat on you?” You ask carefully, wondering if you're straying too far into territory that wasn’t yours to venture into.

“I dunno,” He shrugs, “She started hangin’ out with this girl and getting teasy for no reason—maybe she expected it to be different here.”

“I like it here,” You shrug, “it’s quiet—people are nice.”

Tom smiles at that, noticing how your eyes trailed toward him. You sit up slowly, crossing your legs in front of you.

“Felt like I was forcing her to love me,” Tom says, voice teetering of sadness that clogged his throat, “some days we’d be okay and then others she would throw herself at me—like she was tryin’ to make up for acting distant.”

“How so?” You ask.

People showed their love differently, so you couldn’t really judge. You were just trying to understand.

“It’s embarrassing,” Tom admits, shaking his head at the thought, “she came home late one night and tried to—“ Tom gestures to his groin vaguely, “I couldn’t get into it.”

“That’s not your fault,” You shrug, backpedaling for a moment, “well, technically—yeah. But, if you weren’t feeling it, that’s not something for you to get upset about.”

“And then sex was,” Tom starts, looking over at you, gauging your expression, “—is it weird if I talk about this? Don’t want you feelin’ uncomfortable.”

“Tom, we’ve talked about everything. You’re not gonna have me running away at the first mention of sex. You thinkin’ I’m some kinda prude?” It’s teasing and playfully in tone, but Tom is straight-faced, sincere. “It’s not weird.”

“We’d kiss for a while, she’d make some excuse to go to the bathroom—brushing’ her teeth or something else, but then she’d come back and she couldn’t look at me.” Tom says, eyes straining slightly as he roamed around the room briefly, blinking the dryness out of his eyes, “anyways, ‘nough that.”

You laugh slightly, rocking in place as you stare down at him.

It’s the most he’s opened up since you met him, part of it feels forced—like he’s trying to clear up for his standoffish behavior, why he comes off a little forward, but it’s never bothered you.

“Got a pretty lady right here and I’m boring her to death over my ex-girlfriend.” He says, taking a stab at himself, “That’s not kind of me.”

“Kind?” You tease, poking at his side, “You? Never.”

“What about you?” Tom asks innocently, turning on his side now, knees grazing his torso. His right hand rests against your leg as he settles in a similar position to how you were earlier, paying full attention to you. “Some bloke break your heart?”

“Break? Not really. He was an ass and slept around on me every week. Took me a few months to catch on. But, there was never anything there.” You explain, “I got a nice job out here, destroyed his ego when I dumped him in front of friends, and never looked back.”

Tom grins widely, “Damn, that’s cruel.”

“He was fuckin’ them in my apartment. That shit was justified.” You tell him, the endearment is a little patronizing on your tongue. “Don’t cross me, Tom. You’ll regret it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Tom replies flirtatiously, letting you drag your fingers through his short cropped curls, eyes falling shut at the touch. “Wouldn’t ever—you’re too sweet of a girl.”

“As far as you know.” You counter, his eyes peeking open briefly to look at you, teeth peeking through his smile. It makes your heart melt, his features soften every time he looks at you. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Tom asks, knowing full well.

“Giving me the eyes,” You chuckle softly, “If you want to fuck me just say so—I hate dancing around that shit.”

“You’re something.” Tom notes, squeezing at your thigh gently.

The touch had become normal, something you both seeked after long meals and tiring work days. But this, it had your stomach fluttering and ignited a deep, unfurling pit in your stomach.

“What, are you scared of me?” You ask teasingly, flicking at the collar of his shirt as you graze his chin. It had only ever been playful touches, some suggestive touching and the one time that he kissed you on the cheek when you left his place after a late night, delirious from sleep and not really thinking.

Still, you thought about it every time you looked at him. Tom was as honest as they came, open to anything, willing to do whatever to make you comfortable. It was everything you weren’t used to but also everything you wanted.

“I don’t bite,” You tell him quietly, “not unless you ask for it.”

Tom pulls his bottom lip between his teeth slightly, smothering the laugh that escapes, attempting to cover up for the obvious surprised noise that tried to come out.

“And if I do?”

Your eyebrows raise slightly, daring him.

“Because I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t.” He admits, his hand trailing dangerously higher up your thigh, your hands having moved behind you, watching his movements.

“Then I’d say you’re in for it,” You confess, “you may not survive me, you know.”

“Soundin’ like a good way to go.” Tom replies confidently, his fingers dipping past the hem of your sweatpants, grazing the thin fabric of your underwear. “Show me?”

He’s not asking for anything in particular. He wants everything,

You bite at the inside of you check, considering how deeply this could affect your friendship with Tom—and as much as you tried to think about the cons, it was outweighed by the pros. It was a long, endless list that you couldn’t even begin to speak on—the only thing that mattered was that Tom wanted this, just as badly as you did.

You hadn’t been with anyone in a few months, let alone touched in any type of way—the kiss on the cheek was the closest you got to anything in a while. So, even with Tom’s gentle, fleeting touches, you were already willing to do just about anything to prove to Tom how much he deserved to have someone who cared, somehow who wasn’t going to flee from him without an explanation.

You hand grazes over his jeans testingly, the fabric worn from constant use, frayed at the thighs and thinning. He’s already hard under the line of his zipper, jaw clenching at the slightest bit of friction.

“How long?” You ask curiously, undoing his jeans silently.

Tom watches on, turning to his back to give you more room.

“A couple months,” He admits, “got on with a girl out at the bar after I had too many beers, don’t remember much if’m being honest.”

You nod, Tom speaks softly, “And Ruth—Ruth, she never liked to—“

“Touch you?”

“Or I touch her, not really.”

You tilt your head, wondering who could resist someone like him. He was sweet to the core, staring up at you with his hopeless eyes, wide with adoration.

“Let’s fix that, yeah?” You ask, earning a jerky nod from Tom.

He lifts his head slightly, propping himself up on his arms as he watches you tug at his jeans until he can kick them the rest of the way, your hand coming up to cup over the strained tent in his underwear, squeezing gently.

“That’s, fuck—“ Tom sighs, “this isn’t going to last long, ‘m sorry.”

“It will.” You assure him, smiling with a devious intent that should scare him away, but it only entices him further.

You settle over his legs, spread wide on your knees as you pull his underwear down the rest of the way, cock springing free and upright toward his stomach, the tip matching the vibrant blush in his face. He stares up at you nervously, hands dragging up his thighs teasingly.

“You’ve got a pretty cock, Tom.” You comment, watching as he stumbles to find his words. “Anyone ever told you that?”

He shakes his head slowly, your delicate fingers wrapping around the base, the skin like soft velvet under your touch. He’s not nearly as good at keeping his composure as you thought, letting out a small groan as you touched him.

You squeeze gently, hand slipping up to squeeze at the the tip, thumb rubbing over the slit at the head of his cock, rubbing the small amount of precum there, making the slide down all the more torturous.

“Love, that’s so fuckin’—“

You nod knowingly, just as affected despite that lack of touch. Your thighs squeezed together desperately, mouth watering at the thought of him heavy against your tongue, what he tasted like—it was impossible not to think about.

“Can I—or do you not like that?”

Tom doesn’t hesitate, not even for a second as he watches you eye his cock in your hand, licking your lips as you parted them.

“Please, please—“ He all but rushes out, “that’s, yeah, of course.”

You snort at his eagerness, relaxing himself over your lap as you take him in your mouth slowly. First your tongue, dragging it up the line of his shaft, swirling over the head slowly, repeating the process a few more times until you finally decide to take him in your mouth, the moan that escapes him is desperate, noisy, need—his fingers dragging at your hair, pushing it away gently. His hands follow the slow bob of your head, never pushing or pulling, only feeling.

And he’s mouthy, mewling all sorts of noises alongside his words. It doesn’t surprise, given how much he can talk your ear off. Though, this is so much better.

“God, it’s been ages, fuck—“ Tom grunt softly, head falling back against the pillow, fingers rubbing tenderly through your hair, silence filled with the obscene noises of your mouth on his dick, “told ya I won’t last long.”

You lean down briefly, taking his balls into your mouth, tongue rolling over the tight skin and forces and strained moan from his chest, the grip on your hair tightening slightly. You can feel the muscles in his thighs flex, the quickening in his breath—so you pull back, a vivacious grin on your face.

“What?” Tom asks flippantly, his deep cornish accent peeking through, “S’goin on? I was there.”

“I know,” You nod slowly, “It’s the whole point.”

“M’sorry?” He asks, eyebrows falling together in confusion.

“Have you never edged yourself?” You ask curiously. “Got close and stopped? Nothing?”

“That sounds horrid,” Tom admits, “Isn’t cumming the whole point?”

“Well, yeah—“ You squeeze at the base of him gently, punching a huff out of his chest as his eyes roll toward the ceiling, hands clenched into fists at his side, “but this is more fun, don’t you think?”

“Sounds like you want to torture me.” Tom notes, losing the last bit of sanity he had left when your mouth closes over the head of his cock again, tongue swirling lightly. “—N’ here I was calling you sweet.”

You grin darkly, “I can make you cry, if that’s what you really want.” It wouldn’t be the first time, definitely not the last. Most of the time you did it to be petty, bring a man to a primal state of begging just to embarrass them. But for Tom, it was more than that.

He’d never really been touched, not like this. He’s had his fair share of encounters, and his relationship with Ruth spanned a long part of his teenage years, but there was always something missing. There was always a sort of shame behind wanting things for himself and not asking, feeling like an ass for voicing his needs, so he didn’t. You didn’t need to ask him because you saw it everyday, always putting himself second for anything and anyone. Besides, you wouldn’t mind forcing a few tears out of him, a few breathless pleas.

He was already halfway there, it seemed. Tom had his eyes squeezed shut, fists still clenched at his sides as you bobbed your head slowly, eyes flicking up to watch the muscles in his jaw tense, blush traveling down his neck.

“Gotta slow down,” He begs weakly, “s’too much.”

“You sound alright to me,” You tell him snarkily, licking a long slow stipe up his cock, “should I stop?”

“No, no, no—“ Tom quickly answers, hands reaching for your head as you move, “just—I,” He sighs, feeling like a sap for saying what’s on his mind, “I’d rather have you up here.”

Sex wasn’t totally off the table, but it hadn’t been on your mind.

“Do you have condoms?” You ask, earning a slow head shake from him. The last thing you needed was a baby by someone you’ve only known for less than six months.

“You can uh—you don’t have to take your clothes off or anything,” Tom starts, “we could, just like—“

“I haven’t done that since high school, Tom.” You answer with a faint laugh, bubbly and free of judgment. “But, it’s really our only option.”

Tom breathes a heavy sigh of relief as you sit up, slipping your sweatpants down your hips and off your legs, his calloused hand traveling up your thigh as you settled over his groin, hard cock pressed against the thin cotton of your underwear, sticky with the small wet patch that had grown there, much to your own embarrassment. You hadn’t even touched yourself, or he you, and you were already just as needy. You push his shirt higher up his chest, pale skin hot to the touch, fingers dragging through the small trail that led down to his dick, hips heavy against him as you dragged your hips once, twice.

“Oh, fuck,” Tom sighs loudly, fingers gripping your hips tightly, “tits—can I see your tits?”

And no one’s ever asked in such a polite way, you can’t help but chuckle, nodding eagerly. You slip the shirt over your head, breasts bouncing freely, having forgotten your bra at home in rush over to his place. They were all in the wash, thank god.

“Beautiful,” He notes, his voice low and rough, leaning up to mouth the flesh, plush pink lips pressing against your skin, “s’like the rest of you. Perfect.”

“Tom.” You warn lightly, feeling your own face heat at his compliments.

“It’s true, love.” He tells you, eyes connecting with your face briefly, eyes vulnerable as he stares up at you. It’s the most expressive part of his face, mesmerizing, to say the least. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You nod slightly, “I know, I know.” You respond, “M’not used to people saying stuff like that to me, never know how to respond.”

“Don’t.” He assures you, “As long as you know.”

And you’ve never felt love this strongly, this early—it could be because of the situation, given your heightened state of connection, but those three words rest on your tongue heavily.

It’s a slow gradual rise as you grind against him, pressing against you in just the right way, clit catching the head of his cock with every pull back of your hips. Tom’s a mess, murmuring words that don’t make sense, soft noises, not having the strength to hold himself up any longer as he rests back against the pillow, grip tightening on your hips as you ride it out, stopping briefly when he starts to squirm a little more than usual.

It goes on for forever, it feels like. In reality, it was only about a half hour, watching Tom fall apart every time you denied his release, nearly to the point where he’s gasping at every touch, wicked pleas turning into desperate whines.

“I can’t.” Tom concedes, eyes brimming with tears, face excessively flushed, “Need it—please?”

You nod, impatient yourself as his hands travel up to touch you, thumb finding your clit over the fabric—it amazes you how he has no trouble at all when feeling out your body, despite how new this was to both of you.

“Fuck, you’re just as bad,” Tom notes with a breathy laugh, it quickly dying out with a rough snap of your hips, chasing your own orgasm selfishly, “take it, come on.”

Take what you need. Take all of it. Tom would give you everything if you let him.

It hits you fast, hard, eyes squeezing shut as you whimpered a soft ‘Fuck.’, fingers finding his wrist for purchase as you rocked your hips one final time—Tom watches your face as you come, which does him in immediately. He blinks hard, watery eyes lending a few tears to escape as he finally breathes in relief, coming in long spurts over his stomach and ruining his shirt in the process, though it’s the last thing on his mind.

“Not how I thought this night would go,” Tom admits with a lazy smile, rubbing at your thighs gently, pointing out how ruined your underwear were now, covered in a mix of slick, yours and his, “come here.”

You slump forward weakly, hands sprawling out over his head as you rest on your arms, nose grazing his. “Me neither.”

“You’re really good at that.”

You snort a tired laugh, “I’ve made many men cry—gotta admit though, you’re the prettiest.”

“Fuck off,” He laughs, reaching up to press a soft, gentle kiss to your lips, “shit hurts after a while.”

Your eyebrows raise, as if trying to prove your point.

Tom grins, attempting to hide his face in your neck. He’s never been this shy until now and it melts your heart.

“You can take a shower here,” He tells you, “sleep too, if you don’t want to mess with the drive.”

“Clothes?” You ask curiously, knowing you didn’t bring any spares.

“No, no—that’s where I draw the line.” He jokes, failing to hide his obvious smile. “‘Course, take what you need.”

“This doesn’t change anything,” You tell him honestly, watching his expression blank for a moment, “I still want my dinners, too.”

Oh.

Tom nods fervently, “Got it. Not like you could do without my cooking now, anyways. You get pissy when it’s your turn.”

You gasp slightly in shock, taken back by the jab and slapping his chest lightly.

“Don’t get coarse with me,” You warn playfully, “or I can make it a lot worse for you.” Unfortunately for you, Tom was already diving in head first. He didn’t care.

“Sounds like a challenge.” Tom counters, “I’m sure I could take you on.”

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