#i actually no longer want him to commit murder | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

borathae · 1 year ago

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The Consequences of Fucking Up

“Your break up was messy and painful. All you want to do is to forget about him. His friends, who ever since you ended it with Yoongi see you as their bullying target, make sure that the memory of him stays fresh in your mind however, haunting you day by fucking day. While Yoongi makes it seem as if he gives no fuck about your situation. Until one night he is in front of your door. Drunk and fucking regretful.”

♥️ Requested by anonie ♥️

Pairing: Gangster!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: Exes!AU, Messy Break-Up!AU, Crime!AU, Cop!AU, Hurt and Comfort, Angst, Smut, a lil bit of Fluff

Wordcount: 15.9k

Warnings: lowkey they're bad for each other, but also somehow so right?, OC is such a people hater, I feel like she has mental health issues which are never addressed tbfh, she is quite the pessimist, unhealthy consumption of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes & weed (listen. i hate smoking and stand by that but it sadly fits their characters), Yoongi is kinda apathetic and cold, or is he??, IS HE???, implied violence and murder, corrupt cops & lawyers, policeman!Jungkook makes an appearance and he stole my heart tbfh :(, he is so cute that i almost sobbed, drugdealer!Hoseok makes an appearance too, there is also detective!Namjoon and smuggler!Taehyung because I love this vibe :); abuse of power, fuck Yoongi just fuck he is so ngngn, slightly protective & possessive!Yoongi, intoxicated sex, desperate!Yoongi, no foreplay, but she is not uncomfortable, choking (m.receiving), rough desperate sex, position change from sex against a sofa to missionary on said sofa, a lil bit of strength kink hihi, he cums too soon, dirty talk, tears :'), he is actually so emotional during the sex, the ending is so cheesy and cute <3, Spoiler: he is willing to change!! and he is a cutie actually, jsjsjsj sorry but i love yoongi a lot :(

Disclaimer: This is purely fiction and isn't like my usual stories. It does not portray how the boys actually are and it is not how I see them. This is a work of fiction with no correlation to real life. The type of relationships depicted in this story are far from how I normally portray my relationships and I do not advertise for such relationhips or staying in such relationships. This story is supposed to be twisted and dark & so are the relationships in it, as well as the characters. You have been warned. If you decide to continue reading, then it is out of your own free will.

a/n: now that the disclaimer is out of the way i can officially bark because woof woof fuckkcc anonie thank you so much for this idea. i had the worst and best time writing this story like nfnfnf her mental state was definitely very difficult to write, but their tension just got to me. i made the ending as cute and fluffy as possible just as you wanted hihi <3 also i love villian characters who would set the whole world on fire just to prove their dedication :) i hope this is what you imagined, because i kinda made it longer and with more plot than i planned to at first sjjsjs i couldn't be stopped jsjsj ALSO this is giving me the perfect opportunity to finally write a Kook request I got years ago ohoho

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes.

Three months prior

“So you’re breaking up with me?” he asks, gawking at you with widened eyes. He looks more surprised than he does hurt. Probably because it hasn’t actually sunk in yet.

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.” He laughs because he never takes anything seriously.

“Yes. I am.”

“Too bad, I won’t act like it.”

“Yeah, you will.”

He laughs, “you’ve had better jokes, but I still admire the commitment.”

“You see. That’s the problem with you. Everything’s a fucking joke to you.”

He is smiling. It reaches his eyes.

“Your job, your men. Me. Everything’s a fucking joke to you. If you would have taken Sukuna’s thread seriously, Soojin would still be alive. If you didn’t fucking insult Miss Mei, you wouldn’t have lost twenty thousand in drugs and you wouldn’t have to fucking kiss asses like a beggar.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.

“If you would have put any kind of effort into me, I wouldn’t be leaving now. You take everything as a joke, while in reality you are the biggest joke here.”

His smile falls. You stood up and that actually scared him.

“Wait baby, wait. Princess, we can talk about this”, he argues, closing the distance with his arms stretched open. “I’ll fix the issue with Miss Mei, I promise.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m done talking. Soojin died because of your recklessness.”

Yoongi touches your hands. He holds them, clutches them. You have never felt such a touch from him before. As if he actually loved you.

“What can I do? Tell me and I’ll do it”, he offers, caressing your knuckles.

This is what you craved for months. Affection. Attention. You were always a passing thought to him. Something to fuck and possess. Something low maintenance like all his other shit. His current touch almost makes you want to stay because for the briefest moment, your breaking heart wants to believe that he finally changed.

But you know better. He doesn’t take you seriously and if you stay, you will one day end up like Soojin. Metaphorically or not, you will end up dead because of him.

“There is nothing you can do. Sorry.”

You slip out of his touch.

“Baby”, Yoongi follows you with panicked eyes, trying to touch you again.

“Goodbye, Min Yoongi.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

You close the door and run, finally letting the tears escape.

You love him.

You always have and perhaps always will.

You don’t want to leave, but know that staying will kill you.

One week passes. You spent it holed up in your small, shitty apartment, crying your heart out. Yoongi was the best and worst thing that ever happened to you and you miss him. You hate that you miss him. Because he was way worse than he was good.

He was never abusive. He was a violent man to anyone but you. You, he always touched with utmost care. At you, he never screamed. But he was still not good. He was cold and apathetic at times, then terribly affectionate at others, only to become cold again. And you couldn’t take it anymore.

You wouldn’t have left your apartment today if your fridge hadn’t been empty. It wasn’t always empty, but sadly enough, groceries don’t magically appear. Not even for an outlaw such as yourself.

The city is busy. The smell of street food, smog and body odor poisons the air. The weather is hot these days and people started sweating more. You can’t stand people. You pull the mask tighter around your nose, hoping to shield the stench this way.

You greet the clerk when you enter the shop, lowering your mask. It smells of grocery store in here. Fresh bread, produce and clean floors. It’s a welcome change to the rancid outside.

You spent fourty minutes in the shop and pay with cash. You never pay with card because it can be traced. Someone like you can’t risk being found.

“See you”, you say your goodbyes and leave the store. You plan on coming back in three weeks. You can’t stand being outside often.

The door just about closed behind you and then someone jumps you. Three people to be more exact. Two hold your arms while one rips the bags out of your hands.

“Let go! Hey, you fuckers!” you fight them off instantly, surprised at how easily it is to do. Way too easy. They let go of you as quickly as they grabbed you. At first you think that nothing happened, until you notice your grocery bags in one of the guys’ hands. They stole your stuff!

“You motherfuckers! Get back here! They’re mine!”

They run away, flipping you off over their shoulders.

You sprint after them, but before you reach them, they jump onto a tuk tuk and drive off, finally showing you their faces. Those were some of Yoongi’s underlings.

“What the fuck?” You stumble back in disbelief. “Did they fucking steal my food? What the fuck’s happening?”

It takes you a while before you finally come to the conclusion that you have to buy everything they stole a second time. And you do. And nobody jumps you. And you go home, make yourself shitty dinner and drink a bottle of soju all by yourself. It isn’t a good night. It’s a shit night. But then. All your nights have been shit for years.

You met Yoongi four years ago. It correlates with when your shit nights began. Okay, you are being unfair. The first two years with him were paradise and your nights were wonderful. You were an aspiring lawyer, while he was in the midst of getting a promotion to superintendent. You supported each other’s dreams, motivated each other and celebrated when your goals were achieved. Then the truth spilled out. The man you knew to love turned out to be a lie. Why you never left, you do not know. He gave you the chance to leave, but you didn’t. You made yourself low maintenance to him and your nights became shit. He pretended to be a proper policeman by day while you pretended to be a proper lawyer and at night he became what he hunted by day while you tried to hide whatever evidence about him flooded into the offices. You hated it at first, then loved it, then lost your job because of it and became dependent on him and started to hate it again. Well, at least working for him. You liked everything else. Having to work in the system and seeing how corrupt even the most eligible politicians or CEOs truly are, made you realise that perhaps stealing from them isn’t as bad as it first sounded. You liked being on the dark side of the law because the bright side was just as twisted. You just simply started to hate that it means being close to Yoongi.

It took Soojin’s death to finally make you realise that staying with him will end in your death as well. And so you finally left.

You will start a new life, make up a new identity, move to a different country and forget about him. Maybe. Who knows. You haven’t decided yet.

A letter comes five days after the grocery store incident. It is stuffed into an unsealed envelope and clearly delivered by the person who wrote it. You open it, feeling shit instantly. Whoever wrote this letter is calling you the most hurtful of names, telling you personal stuff which truly hurts. You throw it away and go back inside, opening a bottle of soju. It wasn’t Yoongi’s handwriting, but somehow you still think that it is connected to him. You try not to let it get to you, but you still end up rotting away in your bed for the rest of the week only leaving it to piss, shit and eat.

The next week your packages are missing. You never get them back. The culprit is never found. You curse the sky, knowing that it was fruitless. Yet again, you think that it was connected to him. To Yoongi, the man you wanted to forget, but who keeps haunting you day by day.

The city at night is a dangerous place. If you don’t know where to walk, you could find yourself in a rather messy situation. Especially as a woman. You are glad that most women are clever enough to stay at home once darkness greets the streets. Most women don’t know how to defend themselves though. Properly and without the law in mind. You killed before. Once. It was self defence. Yoongi took care of the body, you never found out what happened to it. He stayed with you the night it happened, even let you cry in his arms. He was gone the next day and never spoke of it again.

You clutch the big knife tightly in your bag, scanning the streets constantly. It isn’t far anymore until you are home. Hopefully the heavy rain clouds stay dry until you get there. You aren’t in the mood to get wet. Not tonight. You would have never left if you hadn’t ran out of fucking cigarettes. The kiosk was closed, so the journey was useless. Thunder announces that the clouds aren’t your friends. Mere seconds later, it starts pouring.

“Fucking shit, I hate this city.”

Rain in this city is always dirty and never really cold. You take it as a bad sign. Rain shouldn’t be warm. Not always, not constantly. Something’s wrong with this city. Something is rotting slowly until one day it will consume everything in its wake. You hope to have left before it can wake up.

The way home is too long for the amount of dirty rain it pours. You find refuge under a shop sign. There are no rooftops or canopies in sight and the only thing close to a safe place was the stupid restaurant sign. Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in bright red letters. The place is stuffed with people and the smell of beef broth mixes with the dirty scent of rain. You grind your teeth. What a shitty situation you find yourself in. You prefer being outside though. You know that once inside, the restaurant would be hot and stink of digested booze and body odor. You take getting wet over breathing in people’s air.

Except that you don’t really stay wet for long. The distinct sound of rain hitting an umbrella meets your ears. You look up. Black. You look to the side at the person holding it. Yoongi. Your stomach twists, your heart skips a beat. He is wearing a suit tonight. Black with a black tie. His hair is slicked back. He used makeup to conceal the scar running all the way from his forehead over his eye and down half his cheek. This is his work outfit. His police chief outfit. Yes. He is a chief these days.

Your instincts tell you to leave without saying anything, but it’s been six weeks since the breakup and you still love him. You hate that you do, but can’t stop staring at his face. He has his brows raised in a nonchalant way as he inspects the heavy rain. He doesn’t grant you eye contact, but holds the umbrella in a way which lets you know that he came out here after seeing you. His left shoulder is getting wet, while you stay dry completely.

“What are you doing here?” you hear yourself ask him.

“Work dinner. I have to pay ‘cause I’m the boss and all that shit. They’re eating like greedy pigs”, he scoffs, “fucking assholes.”

“I see.”

“You?”

“Buying smokes.”

He finally looks at you, studying from head to toe.

“The kiosk was closed”, you answer his question about your cigarettes’ whereabouts before he can ask it.

“I thought you quit.”

“Some things happened which made me start again.”

“Mhm”, he hums and takes out a packet of cigarettes from the inside of his suit jacket. He lights himself one and puts the packet away again, leaving you to stare at the smoke he blows out through his nose.

He isn’t actually serious, is he? It is like he is mocking you. It is already bad enough that he sends his stupid goons to terrorise you, now he is mocking you as well? You hate that you still love him.

You stay like this for a while. You staring at him while he holds the umbrella for you and smokes. You don’t know why you stay. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much.

Yoongi takes a long drag of the cigarette and exhales the smoke in an almost sigh-like breath. He lifts the cigarette, holding it closer to you.

“What?” you sound disbelieved, scandalised even.

He doesn’t say anything. He just shows you the cigarette as his eyes follow the endless rain. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much. But you still take the cigarette and put your lips right where he had his’ moments before. But you still smoke it as if it was the most normal thing to do. Because it once was. You and he shared many smokes in the past. It was once the most sensual, erotic thing to do between you and him. Barely clothed, intoxicated minds and high on the other, you often shared a joint as you got each other off. Fuck, it was always so fucking orgasmic to be with him that way.

“Wanna grab a bite?” he offers, pointing at the restaurant behind him, “one more mouth to feed isn’t gonna ruin me.”

You are hungry. You haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. Instant ramen, frozen food and snacks is all your body has to run on. You have no energy to cook and with how shitty you eat, it is a vicious cycle. Shitty food gives little energy, you already have low energy. The motivation to properly cook grows lower and lower each day. You dread the day you have only enough energy left to open a package of chips and eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“I’m not hungry.”

He glances at you. He knows that you are lying. Your eyes have greyed in starvation. He almost rips the cigarette out of your fingers and smokes it angrily, huffing out the smoke.

“I’m offering”, he hisses.

“And I’m declining. I can take care of myself”, you throw back and rip the cigarette from his grasp to smoke it angrily.

You may be starving, but you will be damned if you make yourself dependent on him again. You left him to finally prove to yourself that you can take care of yourself. You don’t need his help. Not anymore.

You take another deep drag, then hand the cigarette to him. He smokes it, glaring at you. You know that your stubbornness angers him.

“Tell your men to stop pestering me”, you say into the tense silence.

He looks over his shoulder at his police team. They are too drunk and caught in conversation to pay their boss any mind.

“They’re inside”, he says.

“You know I don’t mean them. Tell your other men to stop annoying me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. You do.” It is your turn to smoke. “It all started when they stole my groceries, but it’s been getting childish. My packages keep getting stolen, my internet cuts off, I find letters in my mail. Letters saying awful things about me. It’s getting ridiculous. Tell your men to stop terrorising me.”

“Stolen packages?” He takes the cigarette from you, brushing his fingers against yours as he does. The touch feels like the sweetest poison on your skin. “This doesn’t sound like my problem to solve. Go to the police.”

“Are you serious?”

He inhales, exhales the smoke into your face. You should be disgusted by it, but almost huff it in like an addict. Yoongi watches your lids lower and your chest raise in a greedy breath, finding it hard not to stare at your lips as he hands you the cigarette. You smoke it. His eyes are still on your lips, glued to the shape of them as his throat runs dry.

“Very serious”, he rasps.

“You are the police”, you throw back in disbelief, exhaling the smoke into his face that way.

“Mhm yeah, I guess I am.” He takes the cigarette, smoking it with half lidded eyes. He exhales, handing you the cigarette. “When are you going to come home again?” he asks, looking back at the rain.

You almost choke on the smoke, exhaling it in a cough. Yoongi glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Your farce is getting ridiculous”, he says coldly.

“My farce?”

This break up wasn’t the first break up you and he went through. You left many times before, always thinking that you were finally strong enough to forget him only to come crawling back again. You don’t blame him for doubting that this time will be different, but you still can’t stop yourself from getting angry.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“I did. Go to the police. I have nothing to do with it.”

You drop the half-finished cigarette. It dies in the puddle on the ground.

“I was smoking this”, he says dryly, “besides, don’t litter.”

“Pick it up yourself if you care so much about these dirty ass streets”, you spit and turn to leave. You take getting wet over being with him any longer.

Yoongi watches you leave, shakes his head in disbelief and bends down to pick up the cigarette. He won’t run after you because you will come crawling back eventually. You always do.

“Sir?”

He turns his head. One of his officers. He is young and with sparkles of big dreams in his eyes. Yoongi pities him. This city is going to chew him up until there is nothing left of him. He had the same dreams once and knows what the viper nest, which is the justice system, is going to do to him.

“What do you want?” he asks him dryly, rolling the wet cigarette between his fingers.

“Who did you talk to right now?”

“Just someone important to me.”

“Shouldn’t we escort her home? It’s raining and there could be criminals on the streets. It’s too dangerous for a woman to be alone.”

“She’ll get home safely.”

“Are you sure, Sir? I stayed sober for cases like these. I could get the car right away.”

“You’re sober?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“But it’s a work dinner. You’ve been off work for hours.”

The young officer salutes, “I know, Sir but a policeman shouldn’t slack, Sir.”

Yoongi feels deep pity for the young man. He is so motivated, so proper and full of good spirit. Waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him.

He pats him on the shoulder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon”, he says and swerves past him to get back inside.

The young officer follows him with pride glimmering in his innocent eyes. Yes, waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him.

Yoongi wasn’t always living two lives. He was like his young officer once. Full of dreams and motivation. He dreamed of using his powers to do good, to help those who needed it most and then he woke up. He watched politicians and men in power ruin, rape and kill the powerless without ever getting punished for it. He felt helpless. If even someone in his position can’t change the world, then who will? His criminal work was honourable once. He slipped evidence money under the table to hand out to the powerless, he let proof disappear for people doing crimes out of desperation. One time he was supposed to put a starving mother behind bars because she stole diapers for her babies. Yoongi couldn’t do it and so he disobeyed the law for these kinds of people.

But then his criminal work became less about the powerless and more about him. Making money the illegal way was easy and it is fucking addicting. Especially when he could make sure that evidence about him never reached the higher ups. Yoongi fucking loved the sudden power he possessed and he was too blinded by it to see that he became exactly what drove him to criminality in the first place.

Yoongi tells his officer to check up on your place that night. The young officer rings the doorbell like he was told to do.

You open it, swaying from intoxication as you do. The stench of digested booze wafts off you. But you somehow seem to sober up when you see the police badges on his shirt.

“You’ve got the wrong person”, you tell him, trying to morph your face into an expression of sobriety.

“Don’t worry, Miss. I came here to check on you.”

“Check on me?”

“Yes, Miss.” He salutes you. “I have orders from my captain to make sure that you arrived home safely and that you received this”, he says with an innocent smile on his lips, presenting a plastic bag to you.

Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in red letters and inside, three big takeout containers of food are waiting to be eaten.

Everything clicks into place. This is one of Yoongi’s employees. Another young, hopeful spirit which will be crushed in the system. You pity the young officer. You had the same innocent sparkle in your eyes once.

Hesitantly, you accept the takeout food.

“Thanks”, you mumble.

“Any time, Miss.” He studies you for a moment. “Are you…are you okay, Miss?”

You bite back tears. His empathy is going to kill him one day. But it feels so good to receive. You haven’t been asked this question in so long.

You shake your head. He straightens up in worry.

“Should I call help for you, Miss?”

You know what he indicates.

“Thank you, no. I’m just going through some shit. Sorry, I’m being sappy tonight.”

“You don’t have to go through it alone, Miss.”

“I know. I’m just… I’m seriously alright, I won’t do anything stupid. You don’t have to worry, officer.”

“Yes, well I still see it as my duty to stay because you seem sad to me”, he says and tries to go inside your apartment. He still has a lot to learn. You know from his eyes that he has no bad intentions and that he truly wants to help, but you know how the city will treat such deeds. One day he will try to help the wrong person and end up with attempted sexual assault charges. And it will fucking destroy him because people like him only see the good in the world and can’t imagine that others would want to hurt people.

You stop him with a guiding hand on his chest.

“That isn’t necessary, really. My packages keep getting stolen and I guess it’s been annoying me.”

He pulls out a pen paper instantly, stepping closer to you without noticing, “your packages? Have you seen anyone suspicious? How many packages have gone missing? When did it start?”

“No, I… Thank you for your concern and the food, but I will get through the night safely.”

He steps back, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

“Forgive me, I don’t know why I did that. My captain said that you were important to him and that I should make sure that you are well, so I wanted to do a good job at it.” He bows at you deeply. “Please forgive me, Miss.”

“He said that?” you whisper.

He nods his head, “yes, Miss.”

“Oh. Uhm. ” You clear your throat. “Thank you, I, uhm, tell him that I’m good.”

“I will, Miss. Here, my card. You can always call me when you need something” he hesitates, “or when you just need someone to talk to.”

“Thank you. This is so kind.”

“You are never alone, Miss.”

“Thank you”, you say, bowing at him. He is so kind. God, you want to grab him and tell him to run before it’s too late.

He bows as well, “good night, Miss.”

“Good night.”

You watch him leave. He gives you one last look out of the police car and a kind wave, then drives off.

You close the door with a curse. This just sobered you up. The young policeman’s kindness just sobered you up. You check his name on the card he handed you. Jeon Jungkook. Why someone like him? He never should have found his way into this field of work.

You look at the takeout food next, feeling your stomach twist. You are important to Yoongi. Holy fuck.

It’s been eight weeks since you left him. You don’t feel better. The cigarette you shared was two weeks ago and yet you still feel as if it was sticking to your lungs. Each time you breathe out, you swear you can taste him. It almost suffocates you and keeps you from relaxing. So you leave your depressing place for a walk to the kiosk. You read somewhere that walks are good for one’s mental health. You can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are loud and fucking stink.

The vendor must be fucking with you. The day is bright, but the kiosk is closed again. You bang your fist against the closed door, cursing loudly. You want your fucking smokes is that too much to ask? This city is fucking shit.

You’ll just call someone who will always help. You saved him as Jay. His real name is Hoseok. You don’t say his real name in public. He doesn’t say yours. Yoongi sometimes called him his best friend, but what is such a title out of the mouth of the most apathetic man you know? You were his girlfriend too and look at where this has gotten you, living as an outlaw in the shit and dirt of this city.

Like always, Hoseok lets the phone ring four times then he picks up.

“Flames are hot”, he says.

“And the arsonist works hard”, you answer him.

“Hyacinth, it’s good to hear your voice”, there is finally a smile in his voice now that you answered the code correctly.

“The same goes for you, Jay.”

“What’s up? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“Nothing much. I’m out of smokes.”

“The corner in twenty?”

“Yeah.”

You and he end the call at the same time. Twenty minutes later you meet. He wears black overalls and smudged eyeliner. He says it keeps the char easier to hide. Like always, he greets you with a quick hug.

“What do you got?” you ask him.

“Whatever you want.” He opens his bag. “I’ve got cigarettes, but something stronger too”, he says, scurrying around the contents of the bag with his fingers. He always has burn marks on them, but somehow they are never dirty.

“What do fifty bucks buy?”

“For you? Two packs of cigarettes and two joints. That’s a steal.”

“Fuck dude, you’re getting expensive.”

“Yeah well, a man’s gotta eat.”

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

You and he exchange goods. He makes small talk.

“But why are you here with me? Did Suga run out of goods?”

Suga is Yoongi’s codename in public. The sound of it almost brings bile into your throat. You did such a good job in forgetting him and now the memory of him is as fresh as a new day. At least you like to pretend that you are doing a good job at forgetting him. Your heart knows better though.

“We, uhm…”

Hoseok exhales sharply, “again?”

You nod your head.

“When?”

“More than two months ago.”

“Damn, that’s long.”

“Yeah, I’m serious about it.”

He cocks his brow up.

“I am”, you insist just a little snappishly.

“Alright”, he closes his bag, “I gotta go now.”

“Already?”

He looks around nervously. Almost as if he didn’t want to be seen with you.

“Yup. Use the stuff wisely, I won’t have new stuff for a while.”

“Seriously?”

He nods his head and salutes you nonchalantly.

“See you around.”

“See…you?”

He turns his back to you and walks off quickly, soon disappearing into the busy crowd. Is this your fate? Even the people closest to you avoid you now that you aren’t Yoongi’s anymore? Were you truly only worth something as his little thing? You ball your hands into fists, bending the joints this way. You have to leave this fucking place. There is actually nothing holding you here anymore.

That night the phone terror starts. Numbers keep calling you over and over and over again. You pick up the first time, only to have to listen to the most hurtful things another human has ever said to you. The voice wasn’t Yoongi’s, but you still blame him. Now that you aren’t his thing anymore, you became free food to whoever had been waiting to make your life a living hell. You turn off your phone after an hour and go to sleep with the help of Hoseok’s joints.

The doorbell wakes you the next morning. You consider not answering because it’s probably just one of his goons wanting to terrorise you. But whoever is ringing the doorbell is stubborn, forcing you out of your bedroom. You look through the door cam first.

That young officer. He is in full uniform.

You open the door hesitantly.

“Good morning”, he greets you with a wave and a smile.

“Good morning”, you murmur. Your mouth is as dry as a fucking desert. You are also so hungry that you could throw up in his face right now.

“How are you feeling, Miss?”

“Good.”

“That’s good to hear.” He says and shows you a package which he kept hidden behind his back all this time. He smiles brightly and proudly. “Tada!”

“What’s that?”

“I caught the package thief, Miss.”

“Are you serious?” you gasp and your eyes instinctively drift to the car you have noticed parked outside your unit for days. The door is opened and someone is sitting in the backseat. He looked cuffed to the seat. You glance at the young officer and the shiteating, proud grin he is sporting. He has been watching you? Did Yoongi tell him to?

“Wait. You’re actually serious.”

“Very serious. For you, Miss”, he says and shoves the package into your face.

“Uhm, uh. Thanks”, you accept it, putting it under your arm. “Have you been watching me?”

“Did you notice the car? Sorry, I thought that I was better hidden. I’m still new to all of this. But I caught the thief, heh.” He points at himself with his thumbs. “That’s my first real arrest.”

He manages to drag an honest smile to your lips. He is kind of adorable in a way.

“That’s cool. Thank you for taking care of it. Now I’ve got nothing to worry about anymore.”

He grins and nods his head, studying your features afterwards. He opens his mouth.

“Jeon are you there? Over”, his walkie talkie interrupts whatever he wanted to ask you. He takes it off his chest harness.

“I’m here, Kim Sir. Over.”

“Come to the precinct. We need reinforcements. Over.”

“Coming right away, Sir. I caught a thief right now, Sir. Over.”

A pause where the higher officer is definitely baffled by his confession.

“Good job, Jeon. Over.”

The young officer giggles before he speaks again, doing so as seriously as possible.

“Thank you, Kim Sir. I am taking the criminal to the precinct. Over.”

“Understood. Over.”

He puts the walkie talkie back on its harness and gives you a sorry smile.

“That was my boss. My other boss, not your friend who is the boss of this boss. Anyways. I have to go now, duty calls. Are you going to be okay, Miss?”

“I am. Thank you for your kindness.”

“Anytime, Miss. Uhm, have a good day”, he says and leaves with a wave of his hand. He waves again as he drives off. You retort it, staring at his car until it disappears behind a corner. You sigh deeply. He is so nice. Why someone like him? Why does this life always find people like him?

It’s been ten weeks since you left him. You read somewhere that walks are good for your mental health. You still can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are still loud and still fucking stink. But it’s better than staying in your apartment. You’ve got new neighbours since Monday. They keep fucking like actual animals. They fucked when you left your place tonight. You were this close to kicking their door in and slaughtering them like pigs. You opted for a walk in the end.

You walk for a while then sit down by an empty bench next to the river. It is quiet. Nobody is really here. At least nobody important. A couple, how disgusting. A late night jogger, clearly a man. A homeless person, who uses another bench as their bed. You hate looking at homeless people because you feel helpless seeing them. You stopped being on the bright side of the law because of people like them. You thought that maybe if you stole from the corrupt men in power often enough, you would be able to help the ones who truly needed it. But you never managed to actually achieve anything. The homelessness in the city grows, while the pockets of the politicians become fatter and fatter in wealth. You fucking hate this city. It is rotten to the core.

“Look who we have here. If that isn’t our pretty little Hyacinth.”

You aren’t quick enough to get up to leave and then you already have two men throwing their arms over your shoulders while a third is grabbing the back of your head from behind. You try to reach for your knife but can’t. Their grip on you is too good.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

Their voices are familiar and one look at them confirms your suspicions. It’s them. The same three underlings who stole your groceries months ago.

“Leave me alone”, you tell them.

“Why should we? You are all alone. If the boss knew we’re leaving you alone, he’d grow angry.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Now, now don’t be like that. You’re just a girl and there are many dangerous men out there.”

You look to your side. One of them is licking their lips like a hungry animal.

“Yeah? And you’re being fucking inappropriate. Leave me alone”, you spit, shaking off their arms.

They let you. Just as they let you stand up and take your bag.

“Goodnight”, you tell them and leave. Quickly. You walk a good hundred feet until you finally dare to look over your shoulder only to realise in horror that they are following you. Quickly.

You can defend yourself. You know how to kill, but you also know when you are outnumbered. And three bigger men against a woman is sadly never going to end well for the woman. You hate this city and you hate this life. You know that their words were nothing but provocation. They know you aren’t with Yoongi anymore, that you aren’t under his protection anymore and that in some weird way, you sullied his honour. You also know how people who bring dishonour to the gangs of this city are punished. The men are murdered and the women, well, they are murdered too but not before being sullied themselves. You hate this city and you hate this life. This life which is going to fucking end for you soon.

You dare to look over your shoulder one more time. They are so close that you can see the hunger in their eyes. No. Nononononono. It can’t end like this. You were supposed to leave this city, start a new life, forget about Yoongi. You are not going to die here in this dirty, shitty park far away from your dream.

Thump.

You bounce back from the impact, letting out a blood curling scream. It was instinct. Just as it is instinct of the person you ran into to grasp you by your arms and pull you closer again.

“Let me go! Help! Help me!”

“Quiet”, the person hisses and shakes you. This voice sounded different. Familiar in an almost intimate way.

You dare to shift your eyes to them.

Yoongi.

“I, I, I”, you stutter, feeling delirious in both fear and shock. You grab his shirt, twisting it to get closer to him. The act is intimate and out-of-place but you are too frightened to think clearly.

Yoongi brushes over the state of your glassy eyes to look over your shoulder. There are three men suddenly scurrying away, using the darkness to hide. He managed to get their faces.

He looks back at you. Your eyes meet. A little bit of clarity returns to you. What are you doing? Your fingers soften around his shirt.

“I don’t…”

“Come on, we’re going home”, he say sternly and puts an arm around your waist, dragging you with him like this.

You follow him all the way to his car. You even let him sit you down on the passenger seat and you even stay seated when he rounds the car to get to the driver side. You think that you are in shock because you don’t protest when he starts the car, nor when he drives off. You simply stare outside with your knees turned to him because your body acts against your consciousness. The city passes you by in flashes of neon colours. His car smells like his cologne and leather. He has no music playing.

Yoongi glances at your face. You have your head against the window, squeezing your hands between your thighs. The neon lights illuminate your features each time he passes by another light source. He can see that you are trying not to shake.

He takes a deep breath, shifting his eyes to the road. He has to grip the steering wheel, otherwise his hands would shake in anger.

“Should we get dinner?”

His voice rips you from whatever trance you were in. You sit up straight, looking at him. He is gripping the steering wheel to the point his knuckles pale. His long hair is hanging into his face tonight. A turquoise varsity jacket adorns him. His scar wasn’t hidden behind concealer. He wasn’t working his day job today. What was he doing at the park? Why was he there?

“Take me home”, you order him.

“I am.”

“No. Home. Not your place.”

“My place is your home”, he gets out through gritted teeth.

“No, it isn’t. Not anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Did you see what they were doing to me?”

“No.”

You are lost for words for a moment. The tears come afterwards.

“Stop the car.”

Yoongi looks at you because your voice was shaking. He holds his breath at the sight of your tears.

“What?” he makes sure.

“Stop. The. Car. Now.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

You pull the knife out on him. He swerves to the side on instinct, fixing the mistake so vigorously, you and he shake in the small space. You don’t let it affect you, holding the knife against his skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses.

“Stop the fucking car or I’ll kill us both”, you spit, holding the knife against his throat.

“Fuck”, he growls and hits the steering wheel. The car rolls to a stop.

“Get out”, you threaten.

“I am. Fuck.”

He follows your orders because you have his life at blade’s end. He still slams the door closed. You leave the car instantly.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You could have killed us both” he tries to scold you, but you silence him.

“I’m talking now”, you roar.

Yoongi closes his mouth because he has never heard you like this before.

“You are such an asshole! Each day I regret the moment I met you! You are the worst thing that ever happened to me!”

Yoongi gulps.

“I had a life before you. I had dreams and ambitions and, and goals and…a chance. I could have had a good life. I was supposed to use my degree to help people but you ruined everything for me.”

He rounds the car in big steps, coming so close to you that you smell his breath. It smells like chewing gum.

“You could have achieved something? What exactly did you achieve as a lawyer? Mhm, what did you achieve? This city is fucked.”

“Yes, because you fucked it!” you hit his chest. He doesn’t budge, but also doesn’t stop you. “You fucked it and you fucked me and I hate you for it!”

“Don’t blame me for your decisions. I gave you a chance to leave me back then. You were the one who stayed.”

You inch closer until your lips are almost touching. Yoongi exhales shakily, placing his hand on your hip.

“And I will regret this decision till the day I die”, you whisper, breaking the closeness.

You slip out of his hold. He follows you in a small stumble and a trembling gasp.

“I never want to see you again. Are we clear?” you hiss at him.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous, you don’t want this”, he hisses back at you.

“You’re wrong, I don’t want you. I thought I still did, but I don’t. You don’t care about me, it’s finally so fucking obvious to me. You don’t fucking care.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“They are terrorising me, Yoongi!” You finally scream. “I wake up to people ringing my doorbell in the middle of the night, I have to keep my phone turned off because the phone calls don’t stop. I keep getting my stuff stolen and, and I thought I was going to be raped tonight! They are terrorising me and you called it not your problem!”

“No, you-”

“I’ve been living in constant fear, our friends don’t even look at me anymore, I haven’t eaten in days and I can’t-”, you stop yourself. He doesn’t even deserve your anger anymore. “-you know what? Fuck this and fuck you. I’m leaving.”

You turn your back to him and leave.

He says your name and takes your hand. He pulls, tries to turn you to him. But you rip yourself free again.

“Don’t go”, he says.

You don’t listen.

“I’m ordering you to stay”, he sounds desperate, yelling your name, “I am ordering you!”

He can yell as much as he wants to. You don’t listen to him anymore. The subway station isn’t far. You will make an exception and take it tonight. Even if you hate it. It stinks. Just like the rest of this shitty city.

You are going to leave. Once you are home, you are going to start packing and then you are going to leave. You will call V. You don’t know his real name, but he can change your identity as quickly as others change their socks. You will call V and tell him to have your passport ready the day after tomorrow. You will pay him with the money you have under your pillow and then leave for somewhere clean. Maybe somewhere with lots of mountains. You always heard that the air at these places is breathable.

You call V the same night. He tells you that two days is too short and to wait another week. So you wait. Your bags have been packed. You live out of them in your own place. You don’t leave it. You are scared. With how little Yoongi cared about your situation, you doubt that he told his men to stop. You are scared that if you left again, they would finally go through with what they couldn’t finish back then.

The doorbell rings during a rainy, dark night. You flinch awake to the point where you feel sick to the stomach. The lights are turned on instantly eventhough you know not to do that in such a situation. You can’t think clearly. You just want this to be over. All of it.

You run to the front door because you suddenly feared that it was unlocked. It isn’t, but you can watch someone push an envelope under your door. The shadow blocking the light outside leaves the moment the letter is inside your apartment.

You don’t want to open it at first, staring at it as if someone had planted a bomb in your apartment. Fuck it, if that is how you die then so be it, you think in the end and bend down to pick it up. It feels different in your fingers. Sophisticated. Intimate. The envelope is glued closed as if someone licked the glue stripe and the faint smell of well-known cologne lingers on the paper. You open it with shaky fingers.

A letter. It is heavy and folded once. You open it, gasping when three photographs fall out of it and onto the ground. You don’t know what is on them because they landed on their face side. So you read the letter first.

“It has always been mine as well.”

Written in black ink and a familiar handwriting. This is Yoongi’s writing.

With even shakier hands, you pick up the pictures. You feel sick for a moment, gawking at the cruel pictures with your hand thrown over your mouth. The three men who terrorised you. Their mutilated corpses look back at you. He tortured them to death.

You rip the door open, stumbling onto the balcony. You look down at what tripped you. Two bags of your favourite takeout food and a six pack of water. Both clearly fresh. So it was him. Yoongi must be here somewhere. You look into the distance. The night is loud and blurry in a thunderstorm. The streets are empty. The ghost of your past is gone again. You squint your eyes. A person.

“Yoongi!” you call out, unable to realise that you are smiling and waving your hand.

The person moves. Oh. It was just the shadow of a tree. For just a moment you had hoped that the dark shape was him waiting for you. It was just a tree…and you were happy that if could have been Yoongi. The realisation hurts.

“Fuck”, you press out, going back inside. The lump in your throat makes it hard to breathe. You stumble back to bed, halting for a moment when you pass your suitcases.

It has always been mine as well. His words repeat themselves in your head. All this time, you thought that he didn’t care. All this time, you thought that your terror left him cold. Your eyes drift over the empty takeout boxes from the noodle place. You still haven’t cleaned them up. He made sure that you were properly fed for days back then. A glance at the new stuff he got tonight. He is still making sure that you are. Your eyes drift over the package next. He made sure that they stopped getting stolen. You look at the pictures in your hands. He made sure that they would never hurt you again. All this time, you were so blinded by your own anger that you missed how he had always looked out for you. You missed his way of showing you that you were important to him.

It has always been his problem as well.

Something inside you breaks and you scream. You don’t know what you scream for, but you scream. It hurts so much. It hurts so much because you will still leave. He will hurt you again if you stay. All his efforts healed your heart and it hurts so much because you will still leave. You were meant to stay broken hearted. Leaving would have been so easy this way. Now it hurts like a bitch. But you can’t sway. You have to leave this place. It will chew up what little is left of you until you truly cease to exist.

V comes to your place the next day. He rings your doorbell. It wakes you from the uncomfortable sofa you fell asleep on last night. You groan as you sit up and you barely want to open your eyes as you stumble to the door.

You open it without checking the camera first.

“Took you long en- you?”

Jungkook, the young officer, greets you with a smile.

“I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You have a headache today, so it is difficult not to snap at him. He is also not the person you wanted in front of your door today.

“I’m starting to doubt that.”

He laughs, “it’s not that. I talked to my boss. Your friend, the boss of the other boss. Sorry, anyways. I need you to come to the precinct with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Okay so, this is actually so cool and I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but you’re my boss’ friend so I guess it’s okay”, he begins with sparkling eyes, “turns out that the package thief is actually a serial thief and you aren’t the first one he stole from. Isn’t that cool? It’s like in those movies. Those cool cop movies.”

“Really? He stole from more people?” You highly doubt that.

“Yeah”, he laughs as he answers you, nodding his head excitedly, “now we’re calling in everyone who he stole from so we can take their statements. My boss says that we can’t keep the thief locked up for long otherwise.”

You know that this wasn’t really how the law works. After all, you were once a lawyer who was fucking good at her job. Is Yoongi trying to drag you back to him? First he tries to change your mind by killing your bullies and now he is trying to do the final blow by abusing his power as police chief? You check the time. Couldn’t the young officer have come later? You could have had your passport already and be far, far away from this place.

“Can I just give it to you here?” you ask him.

“Mhm”, he tilts his head to the side, “no, I don’t think that it works like this. I’m sorry, Miss. The captain said that it’s important that all the victims come into the precinct.”

You have to give Yoongi that. He is real clever about it. That means however that you can’t escape this situation. Any more resistance from you would make you suspicious.

You give up with a sigh. “Can I just change into something different?”

“Of course, Miss.”

The young officer lets you sit in the passenger seat. He is so new at all of this. With such naivety he tells you his entire life story. That he was from the countryside and that his dream has always been to be a policeman in the city. That he studied hard for years and that he completed his enlistment with honour just so he could be a proper officer. He sounds so proud of himself that each second with him makes you hate his presence more and more. He is so fucking stupid and it angers you. Why would he throw away his life like that? Why someone like him?

You are led to one of the precinct’s interrogation rooms and are told to wait there. The table is decked with different foods.

“What’s all that?” you ask Jungkook.

“Breakfast, Miss.”

“Did your captain tell you to do that?”

“He said that wanted to make sure you get your breakfast because we called you in so early. The captain really cares for the citizens.”

You stifle a scoff. Sure he does.

“Mhm, I see.”

“Either way, it won’t take long”, the young officer bids his goodbyes and leaves you in the interrogation room.

His words were a lie. You wait and wait and wait, but nothing happens. There are no clocks in this godforsaken room, but you still know that it has to be hours. You didn’t want to eat the breakfast at first, glaring at the two-way mirror because in your mind, Yoongi was behind it, watching you and making sure that you ate. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction at first, but had to in the end. The body begins working against one’s will when it is starving and the breakfast looked way too good. You eat all of it, then glare at the mirror again. You are still left alone and more time passes. It is as if they are trying to wear you down, as if you were the criminal in this situation. Granted, you are a criminal, but only Yoongi knows that and right now you are a poor civilian having done nothing wrong. You know that it’s Yoongi’s doing. That he somehow wants to terrorise you.

So when the door finally opens and he walks into the room, you almost throw the empty bowl at his head.

“Forgive the wait, Miss but something came up”, he says nonchalantly, flicking through some papers.

His second in command Kim Namjoon and the young officer Jeon Jungkook are behind him, which is why he is putting up this act. You grind your teeth.

“I already started to wonder if I’m in danger here”, you say way too sweetly.

“That depends on how you are going to answer our questions”, he says and sits down on the chair in front of you.

Jungkook stays by the door while Kim Namjoon stands a little to your side.

You look around yourself. He is trying to intimidate you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I thought that I’m here to give my statement because of my stolen packages.”

Yoongi glances up from the papers. This is the first time your eyes meet after your fight and he killed your bullies. If only the others in this room would know how much blood he has on his hands and to which length he is willing to go to protect you. There were times where you would have dragged him over the table and kissed him senseless, but not anymore. You are stronger than your urges, even if it hurts your heart. You can’t give in again. If you do, he will take you for granted again. You won’t be happy with him. You finally have to fucking understand that.

“You’re right. You are here because of that”, he says dryly.

“Good. It started on May sixteen. I came home at around seven ten and noticed that my packages were missing. Two were stolen back then, but in total he stole eight packages”, you say and proceed to tell him the exact dates with the time as well as what was stolen.

“You seem to know how such hearings work”, he says after he wrote down what you said.

“I had a few hours to practice what I was going to say”, you say with a poisonous smile.

One Yoongi retorts with just as much poison and a deep hum.

“Apologies again.”

“Don’t worry, I know how hard the police works at keeping this honourable city safe.”

He tongues his cheek. You give him a victorious smirk. This cut. Good. He takes a deep breath and releases it through his nose, reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a cigarette. He gets as far as to put it to his lips and then Kim Namjoon already speaks up.

“Captain. Smoking is prohibited in this building.”

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out and takes the cigarette between two fingers to tap it against the table instead.

“Smoking is bad for you either way”, you say.

He tongues his cheek again. You know that he wants to curse at you right now, but can’t. He has to put up a friendly act.

“I know, can’t shake the habit”, he says and studies your face, “so what now?”

“Sir?” Kim Namjoon is rightfully confused. Yoongi slipped up.

“I don’t know, I was never in such a place before. Do you still need to take my information?” you act oblivious.

“We already have everything.”

“Great. Then I can go?” you ask, fluttering your lashes innocently.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Sir?” “What? Why?”

Yoongi shifts in his chair until he manspreads like an idiot. He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“What are you going to do now?” he asks you.

“Uhm…is this still part of my hearing?” you ask, glancing at Kim Namjoon.

“No of course not, Miss. Please, follow me.”

“Sit. Down.”

The room is silent for a moment. You glare at Yoongi while Namjoon and Jungkook gawk in complete confusion. Their captain acts out of character. There is no reason to keep the innocent lady here any longer. This isn’t like him at all. He has been fidgeting all day, barely drank his coffee, went for far too many smoke breaks and now this. The officers have no explanation for their captain’s sudden behaviour.

“What is the reason for this?” you ask him.

“Just safety precautions. We wouldn’t want our honest citizen to get into danger”, he says coldly, “now answer my question. What are your plans now, Miss?”

“I will go home.”

“Where is that home?”

“Sir, I don’t know if that is necessary.”

“Shut up, Kim.”

Namjoon gulps, exchanging a confused look with Jeon Jungkook. This is really not like their captain.

Yoongi straightens up and leans forward so he is closer to you.

“Where is that home, Miss?”

You lower your eyes in anger.

“I don’t know yet, I’m planning to leave this city.”

“What?” his voice shook as he spoke. His fingers close and break the cigarette that way. His eyes almost bore holes into yours from how deeply he stares into them.

“This city’s become too depressing for me. I plan on leaving it for good.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. There is nothing holding me here anymore.”

“Yes, there is.”

“No, there really isn’t. I will leave.”

Bang!

You flinched back. Namjoon and Jungkook tense up as well.

Yoongi slammed his hand on the table, jumping to his feet.

“No the fuck you won’t!” he yells.

“Sir? What are you doing?!”

“Excuse me? It’s my right as an honest citizen to move”, you act oblivious as well.

“Keep her here”, he talks to Jungkook, pointing at him, “lock her up and keep her here.”

“Under what pretence, Sir?” the young officer asks with widened eyes.

“I, I, I don’t know. Refusal to, to, to cooperate or some shit like that”, Yoongi never stutters and he never paces, but he is currently doing both of those things.

“Sir…is…this legal?” Jungkook asks shyly.

Yoongi is by Jungkook’s side within a few steps, grabbing him by the collar.

“Do as you are told, Jeon! Unless you want to lose this job!” Yoongi growls, making Jungkook whimper with fear.

“Captain Min, you are stepping out of place”, Kim Namjoon speaks up, dragging him away from Jungkook, “and get off this poor officer’s neck. He is just doing his job.”

Yoongi whips around, now targeting his anger at Namjoon.

“If he was doing his fucking job, he would lock her up”, he hisses, pointing at you.

“I need you to step out for a moment, Captain”, Namjoon says and gestures Jungkook to open the door. The young officer obeys, holding it open as Namjoon shoves a protesting Yoongi out of the room. He closes the door again, muting the vivid fighting Yoongi was doing with Namjoon outside.

He meets your eyes, smiling awkwardly.

“Please forgive the Captain, Miss. He is very concerned about his citizens’ safety.” He is a terrible liar, but you don’t blame him. If you were in his situation, you would have no idea how to explain such a situation to a supposed innocent citizen either.

“Don’t worry. I, I’m just wondering if maybe I can finally leave? I’m sorry, this just really scared me and I just want to lie down at home now”, you act shaken up, looking at the young officer with pleading eyes.

“Of course, Miss. Our honest apologies again, Miss. Please follow me”, he says and leads you out of the room.

Yoongi and Namjoon are still arguing, but stop when they see you come out. You lock eyes with Yoongi for the briefest of moments.

He closes the distance and grabs your wrist, dragging you with him with such vigour that nobody truly gets time to act. Not even you know what was happening to you until you find yourself in his office with the door slammed shut.

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not the one asking this question right now!”

“Yoongi, lower your voice. This isn’t the place for screams.”

He steps closer to you, pointing at your face in warning.

“I have every fucking right to scream right now and you know that”, he presses out through gritted teeth.

“Why? Because I finally don’t need you anymore?”

“You can’t move. What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m-”

‘I'm not done”, he interrupts you, “I killed them for you. I did it. Just for you. Because your safety matters to me. I care.” He hits his own chest. “I showed you that I care and you’re gonna leave?”

You hate that you love him, but not for the usual reasons. You hate it because it hurts. You are going to leave despite not wanting to. You love him, perhaps you always will but you are also going to leave.

You nod your head.

Yoongi exhales shakily, taking a stumbling step back. He stares at you as if you were the ghost whose haunting hurts him the most. He huffs out air, rubs his hand over his mouth, then runs it through his hair and down the side of his neck.

“I’ll kill the thief”, he says in the end.

“What?”

“I'll make it seem like suicide. He’ll look like a pisser who couldn’t take prison and killed himself.”

“Are you out of your mind? He’s just a thief.”

“Well, what more do you need?!” he screams

“Nothing! I don’t need anything from you!”

“Why not? I can give you whatever you want!”

“Look at you. Now that you finally realised, I’m actually serious about the breakup, you wanna act like you care.”

“I care”, his voice broke, but you are both too angry to acknowledge it, “i-i-if I knew that you- I just-” He breathes in, breathes out, rubs his mouth, then his neck. “It can’t end like this. It can’t.”

“It can. I’m done begging you for everything.”

Yoongi steps closer.

“I can-”

“Sir? What is the meaning of this?”

Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook are in the office. The rest of the precinct gawks at you and Yoongi through the doorway. The latter lifts his hands and steps back. His fingers are shaking.

“The captain just voiced his worries for my move. Don’t worry about it, Kim Sir”, you lie and turn to leave, “may I finally leave?”

Namjoon tells Jungkook to handle it with a nod of his head. The young officer points at the open door.

“Please after you, Miss.”

Yoongi says your name.

You look at him over your shoulder, despite knowing you shouldn’t. He takes a step closer, lifting his brows in pleading. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. You ball your hands to fists and turn your back to him.

Yoongi tries your name again, hoping for another look. One which doesn’t come.

“Come back”, he tries, but gets stopped by Namjoon.

You can hear them talk as you leave.

“What the fuck’s your issue, man? You’ve been weird all day and now you’re screaming at citizens?”

“Watch your tone.”

“Hyung, I’m not here as your colleague right now. I’m here as your friend.”

“She’s gonna leave, she can’t…”

Jungkook leads you away from the office before you can hear Yoongi’s full answer.

“Are you crying, Miss??”

“Hm? Oh that, don’t mind them. It’s just…” Your heart is broken and you want to run back to Yoongi. “...forgive me, I’m just a little shaken from everything.”

“I’m sorry, Miss. The captain isn’t normally like this.”

“It’s alright. I know how Yoongi can be sometimes.”

“Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, glancing at the captain’s office. He wonders what kind of friends you and he are. Maybe Those kind of friends? Is that why you are important to the captain?

“I mean…sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I just wish to go home now.”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Oh god, I don’t even have money for a bus ticket with me”, you murmur to yourself, looking for your wallet. This is all a scheme to get Jungkook to drive you home again. You are worried that if he didn’t, Yoongi would somehow get to you before you could reach the station.

“Don’t worry about it, Miss. As a policeman, it is my duty to make sure that you get home safely.”

“Really? I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

“Of course, Miss.”

And so he takes you home and you hate yourself because of it. So it began. You were the first person who used his kindness to her advantage. You were the drop beginning the inevitable filling of the tank until one day it will swap over. And once that happens, it is almost impossible to stop the leak. Fuck, you are just as terrible as everyone else in this city.

But the young officer is oblivious to what you just did, driving you home with a kind smile on his face. He even walks you to your door and stays as you unlock it. Your neighbours are fucking again. He glances at their door, then awkwardly at you.

“Yeah, I’ve got new neighbours. You can’t go over there and flash your badge and tell them to shut up, can you?”

“Of course I can, Miss. Just one mom-”

“No stop, I was joking”, you stop him, studying him with exhausted eyes. You are so sorry. You are so fucking sorry.

“Ah, okay. Please forgive me, I always take everything way too seriously”, he says, scratching his own neck shyly. He furrows his brows. “What’s the matter, Miss?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Run.”

“What?”

“Run back to your hometown. Run and never look back.”

“Excuse me?” he laughs in confusion, furrowing his brows harder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon Jungkook. This city will fucking ruin you.”

“I…uh…” He laughs nervously. “I don’t seem to follow, Miss. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to get it, just listen to me. Please.”

“O…kay? I uhm…”

“Thank you for driving me home. I’ll think of you sometimes in my new home.”

“Miss, are you okay?”

“I am. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. Just promise me to run.”

“I promise?”

“Good. Be happy, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Miss, I-”

You close the door on him and lock it. You don’t expect him to knock or ring the bell. He is too proper to annoy you this way. You check the camera. He stares at the closed door for a few moments longer, looking confused. He lifts his hand to knock, hesitates and turns his back to the door instead, leaving down the steps to drive off. You know that you confused him, but you had to. Please let it be enough to save him.

V arrives later that day. He is stressed and clearly in a hurry.

“What’s wrong? You look like you need to be somewhere or like you need to shit. Do you need to shit?”

“What? No”, he sounds out of breath as well as annoyed, “I’m risking my ass being here. I’ve got your stuff. It’s the only thing except mine that I managed to save. Give me the money, quick.”

“Save?” you probe, giving him the money.

He stuffs it into his boxers hastily, looking over his shoulder again.

“My place got raided by cops. I was at the market getting food, then came back to five cop cars in front of my place. I barely escaped. If I didn’t always carry my stuff with me, I’d have been fucked.”

“What?!”

“Sorry, Hyacinth. Gotta leave the city for a while. I wish you all the best.”

“V, what the fuck?”

“Here’s to never seeing each other again, aye?” he jokes, laughing nervously. It’s a good thing he said. Never seeing each other again meant that you and he managed to escape safely.

“Wait. Where will you go?”

“I can’t tell you. You know I can’t.”

“Yeah, just…be careful.”

“You too.”

He leaves and you know that he will be successful. If there is one person who won’t ever be found it is V.

You are in a trance for the rest of the day. Yoongi raided V’s place. He went as far as to betray his own people just to make sure that you wouldn’t leave. Carrying your new passport feels like a trophy, as much as it feels like a curse. Leaving this city won’t be as easy anymore now that he knows. You are so fucking stupid for telling him, but you didn’t want to miss out on his reaction when he found out. The small moment of satisfaction seems skippable now that you know how far he is willing to go to keep you close. And because V came as late as he did, your means of escape don’t drive anymore either. You have to wait for the earliest bus if you wanted to or not. Fuck, you did this to yourself. You stupid fucking woman. Look at you. You have this big, honourable degree and still manage to get yourself into shitty situations over and over again.

You go to sleep with a gun under your pillow. You won’t risk anything.

You don’t get a lot of sleep and then a noise wakes you. You heard it as clear as day. Someone unlocked your front door. He sent men to get you. Now he’s gone too far. You jump out of bed and grab your loaded gun, tiptoeing to a spot from where you could observe the apartment. You have to be strategic about it. First count the men, then calculate the fastest way to shoot them, then act. The door closes and locks again. Clever bastards, they want to make sure that you don’t flee. Oh, you are going to have a blast killing them. One last little thing to leave Yoongi before you abandon him.

The automatic lights turn on. Got you, assholes.

The first enters your vision.

“Hm?”

Yoongi. Clearly drunk, he is dragging his feet over the floor, using the wall as support. No one else follows him. So he came here alone.

Overtaken by anger, you jump out of hiding and at him.

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re still hiding your keys under the flower pot. Don’t make me so worried, anyone could enter.”

“I’m gonna count to three and if you haven’t disappeared by then, I’ll shoot.”

“Can we talk?”

“One.”

“I know I fucked up. I can’t stop thinking about you. Please, can we try again?”

“Two.”

“I promise I changed. You were right, I was a joke. But I wanna do better now.”

“Three.” “I’m sorry!”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut. His death never comes. He peels his eyes open again.

You are staring, panting heavily. Tears are in your eyes.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

This is the first time he is the one to say these words first. It feels so good, but you can’t give in again. You made up your mind to leave…didn’t you? You study the state of him. He is heavily intoxicated. He looks the way and reeks of it.

“You’re drunk.”

He nods his head, furrowing his brows. He touches your elbows, caressing them softly. Such touch you only get when he is drunk.

“I drank because of you. What you said today. I just…don’t move away, please”, he begs, eyes filling with tears.

“So now you care? I wasn’t important to you when I was with you and now that I’m leaving, I’m suddenly important?”

“You’ve always been important.”

“No, I haven’t. You took me for granted.”

“I did and I’m sorry. I never should have taken you for granted. I’ll do better now, please just give me a chance to prove it to you.”

“If I give you a chance again, you’ll just abuse it and hurt me.”

“No, I won’t. Please, I just.” He cups your face, running his thumbs under your eyes as gently as possible. “We were right once. We were so good together. We were a team and, and we had dreams and we made each other happy. I want this back, I wanna try to get this back again please.”

“I just want to be happy, Yoongi”, you press out.

“I’ll make you happy, baby. Please, I-I’ll make you happy again.”

“No, you’re drunk and talking fucking shit.”

“I’ll leave this city if you want me to.”

You falter. He would give up what he built just for you?

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“I would. For you I would. I’d set this whole city on fire and leave with you as it burns to fucking ashes behind us, please.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Please”, he whispers and drops his forehead against yours, “please, I want to make you happy again.”

You hate that you love him. You hate that he made you addicted to him. This is so awfully him. He gives you enough affection that you get addicted to it then takes it away again. And once he feeds it to you again, you drink it up like an alcoholic. It is always the same.

“No, you won’t. You’re drunk.”

“Please.”

“Leave my place.”

He presses himself off the wall and grabs the nuzzle of the gun, guiding it right between his brows.

“You have to kill me if you want me gone.”

You gulp. He forces your finger to the trigger. Your airways close up.

“Kill me. Fucking kill me. I can’t live without you anyways.”

You could end it. You’ve got everything. Your suitcases, your papers, the keys of his car he drunkenly drove like an asshole. You’ve got everything you need to escape this place. You could end it, finally make sure that you have no temptation to return. You could end him and your addiction with it. He’s got your finger on the trigger, it needs just one flex and it would be over. But you never wanted him dead. No matter how much you wished for him to be gone, you never wanted him dead. Because in some fucked up way, all you really wanted was for him to put more effort into you.

“No”, you whimper, shaking your head.

He rips the gun from your fingers and drops it on your dresser.

“I don’t want to kill you”, you press out, sobbing softly.

He cradles your face, wiping your tears.

“I know”, he gets out, nodding his head, “I know you don’t, princess. I know.”

“Yoongi”, you squeak out, twisting his shirt.

“I’m here, princess. I’m here.”

He pulls you closer until his kiss is just one breath away, feeding on the shaky breath you let ghost against his lips. His drunken eyes gaze at your mouth, his heart is racing in his chest.

“Push me away”, he tells you.

“I hate you.”

“And I love you.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, finally touching his chest instead of his shirt.

He moans and pulls you into a kiss. A deep, hungry kiss.

You pull at his hair to get him off of you as much as you pull him closer, fighting for air. You hate that you love…do you really? Do you really fucking hate it? Do you really hate it when his kiss makes you feel alive again? You spent months feeling out of breath and now it’s gone. You can breathe again. At least metaphorically, physically he’s got you very close to passing out. You push at him to get distance. Air. He lets you breathe, but not escape. He pushes you to your sofa until your legs collide with the back of it. Your shaky breaths intermingle, your shared moans follow. His right hand slides to your ass, his knee lifts to your middle.

You gasp, grinding down on him. You can’t protest because he kisses you so deeply it feels as if he wanted to consume your soul. He kisses and gropes, kisses and gropes until air is sparse. He gasps.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m fucked”, he gets out and pulls your head back so he could drag his tongue up your throat.

It should disgust you, but it doesn’t. You moan, running your nails down his chest and arching your back. He lifts his head, looking at you with drunken, crazed obsession. His fingers just can’t stay still on your body. It is as if he wanted to touch everywhere at all times. The attention makes you short of breath.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You touch his cheek. He leans into your palm, closing his eyes when you trace his scar. You were with him when he got it. It was during a fight. He fought with his fists, his opponent chose the cowardly way and pulled a knife on him. He was lucky that he didn’t lose his eyesight. He hated it at first, but you made him feel handsome. You always looked out for him that way.

“Do you…do you think I’m handsome?” he asks. Such questions you only get when he’s drunk.

“I do.”

His breath trembles as it leaves him. He drops his hand from your hips to take out his cock. He touches himself, gazing at you as if he needed the view of you to stay hard. And he does. He needs you. You are the only person who can turn him on.

You look at what his hand is doing, gulping heavily. He sighs, gazing at your face. You are as mesmerised by him as you were when everything was still good between you and him. His cock still has the same effect on you.

“Princess?” he tilts your head back up to meet your eyes, using only two fingers under your chin for it.

You meet his eyes, heart racing unbearably.

“Yes?” One little lift of his brows and you give him the answer he craved.

You part your legs, tilting your hips closer to him. You nod your head vigorously, gazing at his cock again.

He doesn’t bother to pull his pants down all the way, neither does he care about taking off your panties. He pushes them to the side and stuffs you full of him, gripping the edge of the couch and your right thigh as deep moans leave him. Your right leg is lifted like this, supported by him.

You gasp, tensing up. Your toes curl instantly, your fingers clutch his lower arms. His cock stretches you out and stuffs your walls. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is definitely intense. You gasp again, looking at him with widened eyes.

“I know baby, I know”, he breathes and bottoms out. “It’s been too long. Fuck.”

He moves, chasing your warmth in drunk, sloppy thrusts. You writhe and gasp repeatedly, scratching the back of his neck. You want to hate that you love him. He should feel like an intruder. You should want to kick and scream for help. But you don’t want to. You feel whole again. No preparation, but he doesn’t hurt. His kiss and touch was enough. Your addiction to him runs so deep that his cock is pure heroin to you.

“Yoongi”, you get out, grabbing his throat. Your thumbs are on his Adam’s apple, threatening to press down.

He smiles, “I love you”, he gasps out and drops his head against yours. His long hair tickles your face, his drunken breath swirls over your skin. He gulps and moans under your fingers, pumping into you with no signs of slowing down. You start losing strength in your calf, standing like this is exhausting, but if you were being honest, you don’t want it to stop.

“I hate you.”

“Fucking kill me then”, he rasps.

You close your fingers slightly.

“Harder. This isn’t gonna do it.”

“You first.”

“Fuck, baby”, he gets out and lifts you so he could round the sofa with you. He pins you down into the pillows, ripping the panties off of you and kicking his pants off. He pushes into you before you can truly realise what was happening, feeding you all of him until he can’t give any more. He twists the pillow next to your head as he takes on a punishing rhythm. His dark hair hangs into his face, his teeth are bared as he huffs like an angry animal.

“Yoon-”

“I know, baby I know. You already told me, baby. I know”, he whispers, wiping your cheek, “take me, I know you can. You’re my baby, you’re made for me.”

His praise is like medicine to you. This is all you needed. To know that he is still obsessed with you and that you still affect him.

You close your legs around his hips, keeping him with you this way. You need him to always stay like this. He moans your name, slipping his fingers from your cheek to hold the pillow instead. You told him that you hated him, but your body betrays you. Your eyes betray you. You keep him close, gaze at him as if he was your everything. Yoongi’s head is turning. Not only from the alcohol, but also from being with you again. And from knowing that you still loved him.

Because he loves you so much. He hates himself for taking you for granted. He never should have. You are his everything. The fucking reason why he does all of this. The last three months were torture for him. He started smoking again, drank too much, slept too little, worked too many hours. And if he didn't distract himself with work, he tried thinking up ways of showing you that he was still there for you. He ordered his officers to look out for you, sent food deliveries to your place, parked in front of your place somewhere hidden to watch you smoke on the staircase. He also followed you sometimes after you confessed to him that some of his goons were terrorising you. And each time he followed you, he wished for you to notice him just so he could get a chance at talking to you again. But you never did and Yoongi thought that you will come back again soon. Then you told him that you would move and Yoongi finally broke. He was truly losing you. Three months of hell, of lonely nights and heartbreak and he was truly losing you.

“I missed you”, he gets out, painting his name against your favourite spots. The eagerness with which you clasp him results in your hips to lift off the pillow, allowing your clit to grind against him each time he bottoms out. The necklaces he is wearing are tangling over your face. They were too long once, but Yoongi cut them to the perfect length so they wouldn't hit your face when you are underneath him. That was six months ago. During a time you thought he didn’t care anymore. You feel so stupid now. His way of showing you that he cared was always there. He was always looking out for you. You were just too blind to see.

You gasp and whimper, mewl and keen, looking up at him with teary eyes and your fingers closing around nothing. You can’t tell him that you missed him too because you are too overwhelmed.

“Did you miss me too?” but Yoongi is drunk tonight and when he is drunk he is needy for your affection.

You nod your head.

“Say it.”

“I missed you”, you get out, following it up with a sob.

“Baby, I love you”, he croaks, wiping your tears before dropping his forehead against yours, “I love you, baby, I love you. Don’t leave me again, please.”

“You’re so drunk.”

“Yeah, drunk ‘cause of you. Thought I’ll lose you. Baby, I can’t lose you”, he croaks and shows you his honesty with passionate rolls of his hips. Somehow he goes even deeper than before, he hits your favourite spots even better.

You arch your back and scream his name, throwing your head back as best as possible. This is electric. Holy shit, he makes you feel good. Your face scrunches up against your will, your feet shake on his back.

Yoongi admires you with a pounding head and racing heart, repeating what he did before over and over and over again. You react in mewls and moans and screams and he can’t get enough of it. He wants for you to lose your fucking voice because you couldn’t stop screaming for him. Because if you sound like this for him, he makes you happy. It has been too long since you actually screamed this way, so Yoongi is especially affected by tonight.

He laces his fingers with yours – again, he is drunk – and squeezes them needily. He thinks that he is crying too. He watches pearls of something drip onto your face sometimes. His eyes also burn. He doesn’t want it to stop. He is willing to carry his emotions on his sleeve if it meant you were happy again.

“Is this what you needed? Does this finally make you fucking happy?” he gets out, chasing the ecstasy as much as he helps you with your own pleasure trip.

You squeeze his hands back, making him moan your name.

“Ye-yes.”

“Argh”, he growls, trying so much harder to fuck you right. It feels so good. He has to tell you. He stayed silent way too often in the past. You want his efforts and he wants to give them to you. “You feel so good.”

The first confession was hard because he isn’t used to sharing his feelings. It was hard, but it was also ecstatic because your sounds of pleasure became louder and you tightened around him, squeezing his hands happily.

“You feel so good. You feel so fucking good. You feel so good, princess. You feel…so good”, he can’t stop now that he started, telling you over and over and over again how you make him feel. Good. So good. He feels so good when he is with you. “You are so good. Princess, fuck. I have to..I, I have to- ah!”

You open your eyes in time with Yoongi collapsing on top of you. He whimpers into the crook of your neck, shaking almost pathetically.

There are two things you always believed to be true about Yoongi. First: When he fucks, his moans are always deep, raspy and growly. Second: He has perfect control over his orgasms.

Both of these things are getting proven wrong to you right here and now as he whimpers and shakes and paints your walls with his unexpected orgasm. You want to blame the alcohol on it and maybe the months of abstinence, perhaps even the fear of losing you paired with the relief of having you again. Holy fuck, he actually loves you doesn’t he?

“I love you”, he sobs, hugging you close.

“Yoongi ah”, he breaks you with his confession and the tenderness with which he holds you. You swear that you can taste colours for a moment. You haven’t felt honestly good in your own skin in months. This right here is what feeling good is. This is it.

You don’t know who comes down first. You think it is Yoongi, but even if he does, he doesn’t pull out. He lets you shake and throb and clench around him until your moment of peak pleasure is over as well. He holds you silently afterwards, catching his breath in the crook of your neck. He missed your scent like nothing else. Truly, it leaves him so drugged out that he actually finds himself drooling as he smiles like a giddy boy.

You calm down with his weight atop your chest, his length still inside you and his hair between your fingers. It is still a little stiff and crusty from the variety of hair products he keeps in it during his day job. To think that mere hours ago, you were screaming at each other in his office. It feels so far away to you now. Like a memory of an unbelievable life.

You don’t hate that you love him. You really don’t.

“How.” He clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

“Are you sore? Does anything hurt?”

“No, but I’m leaking.”

“Fuck”, he laughs into your shoulder, nibbling on it gently, “sorry, I just…am drunk and missed you.”

“You were pathetic doing that.”

He laughs harder. You and he have a peculiar sense of humour. He knows that you meant it fondly. You laugh as well. He lifts his head at the sound of it, cupping your cheek.

“If it means you’re laughing, I can live with being pathetic.”

Your heart flutters.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Booze. Way too much booze.”

You laugh again. His eyes soften, he caresses your face.

“Definitely too much booze, yeah”, you agree.

“Mhm, fuck.” He cuddles into your shoulder again. “I’m sleeping here.”

“And you think I’d let you?”

He nods his head.

“Fuck, you’re the worst.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not.”

You wake up alone the next morning. It hurts. So nothing changed. He got what he wanted, made you addicted again only to leave. Like he always did. And you are left feeling dirty and used and fucking awful.

You probably would have stayed in bed to cry the entire day if a very worrying noise hadn’t come from outside your door. Someone’s in your kitchen. You roll out of bed and leave the room. You don’t need weapons today. You are angry enough that you will probably be able to beat whoever is dumb enough to break in.

You cross the corner and stop, lowering your fists.

Yoongi.

He took a shower and tied all of his wet hair into a messy bun. He is shirtless, wearing a towel around his hips. Music is playing from his phone while on the stove, breakfast is sizzling.

“You?”

He turns at the sound of your voice, face lighting up instantly.

“Good morning, beautiful”, he says, closing the distance to take you into a hug. “Did you sleep well?”

You don’t answer him, you push at his chest so you could look at him. You can’t believe that he is still here and that he is making you breakfast.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

He furrows his brows, “why not?”

“I, I don’t know. I just, just. I thought that…huh? You didn’t leave?”

He frowns in regret for a moment, before leaning in to kiss your cheek. He gives your left buttock an almost playful squeeze afterwards, stepping back to return to the cooking.

“I’m making your favourite. I also cleaned. Your place was a shithole, honestly.”

Still flabbergasted beyond relief, you look around your small apartment. He didn’t just clean up the garbage and tidy, he fully wiped the place down. You check the clock next. It’s way past one at noon. You slept for more than twelve hours. Damn. You never even realised how much sleep these last three months took from you until you finally fell asleep in his arms again and actually stayed asleep. You feel refreshed and not uncomfortable in your own skin.

Last, you look at Yoongi. He is humming to the music, switching between stirring the eggs in the pan and chopping up some pork belly.

At first you don’t want to accept that this is actually happening to you, but then the desire to be close to him gets too grande to bear. You almost run to him, colliding with his back in a passionate hug.

He stumbles and grunts, following it up with a fond chuckle and his big hands rubbing your lower arms.

“Please don’t make me regret this again. Please.”

He turns in your arms, caressing your waist. He shakes his head, looking at you in ways he hasn’t looked at you in ages. As if he honestly loved you.

“Can you promise me?”

“I promise you, baby”, he says in a soft voice and locks pinkies with you.

The gesture is so cute and honest, that you have to stifle a giggle. Your heart hasn’t fluttered like this in ages.

“I have an idea. How about I’ll take next week off and we’re leaving this city for a while? Maybe the mountains? You’d like the air there”, he suggests.

“Are you serious? Do you actually mean that?”

He nods his head. You and he began swaying to the music, looking at nothing else but the other.

“But first I gotta sort out the mess I made when I busted V’s place”, he says.

“Yeah true.” You slap his chest. “Fuck you for that. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, I know. I acted irrationally, I admit. But I’m gonna fix this. You know how easily I can make stuff disappear. He’ll be able to return again in a week or so.”

“I hope you’ll fix this, you idiot you.”

“Mhm, I will and then I’m taking you on a long vacation”, he says, kissing your forehead before hugging you against his chest.

You close your eyes, melting into his chest.

“And when we’re there, I’m gonna make you breakfast and make you cum and make you smile. Yeah?” he whispers.

“Yeah”, you snicker.

He smells like your shower gel today, but you don’t mind. He hasn’t shown such an actual desire to change in months and it feels so good to receive. You love that you love him. You really do.

“I love you, Yoongi”, you whisper, feeling him squeeze you for just a moment as your confession overwhelms him.

“I love you too, princess”, he tells you and he is sober for it because he swore to himself that he won’t need alcohol anymore to be able to show you his affection.

He is willing to better himself, he truly is and a week later, you and he are in his car on your way to a long vacation in the mountains.

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goatgoesmbe · 4 months ago

Note

So about that post of Simons gf that's super kind. what if she's petty with her kindness. one time me and my mom got in fight and that same day she complained about how many house plants she had. so i bought her a miniature rose bush (roses being a hard plant to take care of) as make up gift. I've also made other people their coffee wrong, bought unbalanced pens, gave there cats cat nip, given their children obnoxiously loud toys, etc.

Tw : reader is morally questionable, mention of assault

OOOH ANON, I LOVE THISS-

Like- just because reader is sweet, that doesn't mean being a pushover. You have class, and your own way of handling assholes properly.

I imagine Simon would think he needed to be the one who protects you, seeing you're all sunshine and rainbow, always so nice and kind- and he just didn't want anyone to take advantage of you, you know?

But then he realized that you're actually not a damsel in distress.

The first time he saw it, was at a neighbor's baby shower..

"You've been with him for what? 3 years now- and still no ring?"

Simon glanced at you,simply smiling in response. He recognized that voice, Stella was her name. Or something along those lines. She was one of those people who always wanted attention, bragging about every little thing while also dragging people down just so she could feel better about herself.

Simon had to hold back from rolling his eyes when she previously arrived. Wearing matching designer clothes with her five-year-old son, Aiden. Which was a waste of money in his opinion, the little fella will grow out of them in a short time after all.

"I mean.. come on, you're not getting any younger.. better make it official soon before you expire - he might no longer be attracted to you by then" Before you could respond to the previous jab, Stella continued talking. You could see why she would ask something like that, it was just how she was like after all.

You and Simon have reasons, but it was really none of her business. And you couldn't exactly explain to her that your boyfriend is legally dead so you couldn't marry him properly.

Simon wasn't even listening to the other lads around him anymore- not that he did in the first place. Looking at you directly from his spot, he observed the others who interacted with you. You were surrounded by the other moms from the neighborhood, yet none of them said anything against Stella.

He saw you giggle, brushing off Stella's words way too casually like it didn't affect you, or maybe you didn't get that she was mocking you- Simon wasn't sure.

"It's time to go, luv" His gruff voice stopped their conversation as he approached you. He could feel their eyes on him, some of them not hiding the fact that they found him attractive from how they looked up at him with a slight flush on their cheeks. He wondered how you were comfortable being around them at all, he could never exchange more than a few words with them without feeling like he needed to commit murder.

Well.. whatever, you won't be meeting them again anytine soon, since the both of you were planning to move away.

You looked up at him with those big innocent eyes and pouted "But-".

"It's late" he added, putting his hand on your hip and pulling you close to make a statement at the others who still shamelessly gawked at him.

Seeing that look in his eyes- the one that means he accepted no rejection, you sighed. "Alright, let me say my goodbye" You said before turning back to them.

Simon simply grunted and waited. And when he thought you were ready to go, he raised an eyebrow when you instead walked over to the kids who were busy playing. You told them about you moving out of the neighborhood and the kids didn't seem to like that, you were their favorite after all.

"I have something for you guys to remember me by.." You chirped. Immediately, the kids looked at you with eagerness as you rummaged through your tote bag.

The side of his lips lifted under his mask when he saw you pulling out mini harmonicas. Before you could say anything more, a brat snatched one out of your hands. That was Aiden, Stella's spoiled boy. Which means it would be hard for the mom to get the noisy thing from him.

A cute little giggle escaped your lips as you watched the boy immediately blow on the harmonica messily, spraying spit everywhere.

After you made sure every kid got one, you stood up and held his hand before skipping away with him in tow. Cacophony of moms' frustrated yelling, children's laughs, and loud harmonicas left behind.

So you had planned your revenge all along, huh? Seems like you're not a total angel like he’d thought you were.

...

The second time was when he visited you at work. While he provided enough for you to stay home and do nothing, you still insisted on running your own cafe. Saying that it had been your dream since you were little. And how can he say no when you look at him with those puppy eyes?

And while you do have people working for you, you still help around from time to time. "It's the best part about having a cafe," you said to him that one time.

He was sitting at a table close enough to observe you working in that cute little uniform you had designed yourself for the cafe, when a guy walked in. His appearance screamed 'douche', the kind of guy who would talk about how many body counts is too many for a woman in a podcast.

Despite that, you greeted him cheerfully like you do with every other costumer. Even when he told you to write 'daddy' on the cup after you asked for a name, a disgusting smirk on his lips.

Meaning you would need to yell out that word to call for him when the order was ready.

And while Simon was fuming inside, you were calm. Humming along with the music playing from the speaker as you prepared the coffee.

But, instead of calling for the guy yourself, you turn to one of your employees. His name was Shane, written on the name tag clipped to his uniform. He was a big guy, not any taller than your boyfriend but still. A simple man who will be pleased spending the night scarfing down pizzas and beers. Now, Shane was known for many things, one of them being very gay, and being totally not shy about it.

You smiled before turning away to take the next order, all while secretly paying attention to what was going to happen next.

"Daddy..!" Shane shamelessly sing-sung the word loudly and even when Simon expected it already, he still choked on his tea. He also saw you biting down your lip to prevent yourself from laughing.

Shane went on for a while until the whole cafe fell silent except for the music playing that didn't fit the situation at all, which made it evenmore hilarious.

'Daddy' finally walked over to get his order. Red in the face and looking very pissed. He was not stupid enough to cause a scene, however, and simply accepted his cup without so much as a thank you. And of course, Shane added the cherry on top by throwing a flirty wink.

And when you noticed the way he glanced at you after taking a sip of his coffee, tasting regular milk instead of almond- knowing full well he told you earlier about his lactose intolerance. You simply gave him that sweet smile of yours, a cheerful "Thank you, please come back again..!" Thrown his way like how it always is whenever a customer is leaving.

Simon chuckled under his breath and shook his head. Feeling proud (and scared, that was borderline crime) of his pretty bird being cruel in her own ways.

So when he saw you sighing after an argument on the phone with your mom, he didn't question it when you went ahead and bought a make up gift for her.

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #mbe write #call of duty x reader #simon's cruel lil angel #mbe's ghost

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dckweed · 3 months ago

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tiktok made me do it!gf vs tf141 boys

You were just trying to be helpful.

It’s not your fault the cuter gas nozzle was apparently the wrong one.

…Right?

i just realized i didnt post yesterday, i was planning to but then i went out to dinner w my girlies and got tipsyyy

Captain Price – "a grenade.."

Price jingles his keys in his hand as you both walk toward his truck, his free hand resting on the small of your back like he always does. "Ready for dinner?"

"Always!" You give him a bright smile, one that he didnt realize had evil intentions behind it. "Oh! I filled the tank for you earlier!"

Price halts. "You what?"

"I filled it up! Before we left!" You huff dramatically; pouting. " You were taking forever in the shower. God, it was so expensive, though. I don’t know why."

His eyes narrow slightly, suspicion creeping into his expression. "How much did it cost?" He continues walking you to the passenger aside, prepared to help you in as he always did.

"Like… over a hundred?" You shrug. "I don’t know, the green nozzle was so cute, but I guess it makes gas cost more?" You wanted to cackle, but it felt a little mean.

Silence.

Complete.

And utter.

Fucking.

Silence.

Price stares at you, his jaw locking. "…The green nozzle."

You blink. "Yeah!"

He closes his eyes. Inhales deeply. "Sweetheart." Was that..a tear in the corner of his eye?

"What?"

His voice is painfully calm. "Did you just put diesel in my petrol engine?"

Your smile falters. "…No?" You give him a confused look, pouting up at him.

Price rubs both hands down his face, groaning. "Oh. My. Fucking. God."

"John, why are you acting like I just committed a war crime—"

"BECAUSE YOU DID, WOMAN!" You jump at the loudness of his voice, not expecting the boom of it.

"It’s just gas!"

"IT’S NOT JUST GAS!" Price whirls on you, gesturing wildly toward the truck like it’s already on fire. "SWEETHEART, YOU JUST TURNED MY ENGINE INTO A FUCKING GRENADE!"

Your eyes widen, playing into the dumb mistake you made. "Wait—what?!"

He groans, bracing his hands on his knees like he’s physically in pain. "I need a drink before I deal with this."

You bite your lip, holding in your laughter for just a second longer, then—

"Babe, babe, wait!" You place a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. "I was kidding. It’s a prank, John!"

He stops mid-breath, looking at you slowly. "What?"

You beam at him. "I didn’t actually put diesel in your truck."

The sheer amount of relief that washes over his face is priceless. His entire body sags, hands braced on his knees. "Jesus Christ, woman," he mutters, exhaling heavily. "You’re gonna put me in an early grave."

"But wouldn’t I look cute at your funeral?" You grin.

Price stares at you for a long moment before straightening and pulling you flush against him. "Sweetheart," he murmurs against your ear, "I swear to God, if you ever do this again, you’re not sittin’ right for a week."

You gulp. Oh.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick – "menace—"

"Oh, babe, I filled your tank up earlier when you were working out in the garage!" you chirp as you both slide into his truck, he was driving you to your nail appointment, and then taking you to the mall after.

Gaz blinks. "Oh? Thanks, love." He pulls his seatbelt on, smiling. "How much was it?"

You shrug. "Like, a lot, honestly. Didn’t think gas was that expensive. Maybe ‘cause I used the green one?" You looked at him, an unaware smile on your face despite being fully aware of what you're doing.

Gaz's hands freeze mid-buckle.

"…The what."

"The green nozzle."

Silence.

"Babe."

"Yes?" You tilt your head at him, acting confused.

"Babe, please tell me you’re fucking joking."

You frown. "…No?" It was hard to resist the urge to laugh.

"Oh my fucking God." He SLAMS the door open and jumps out of the truck so fast you flinch.

"Kyle, why are you being so dramatic?"

"DRAMATIC? BABY, YOU JUST MURDERED MY ENGINE!"

You gape at him. "No, I didn’t! It’s just gas!"

Gaz is now pacing. "IT IS NOT JUST GAS! OH MY GOD, OH MY FUCKING GOD, I HAVE TO CALL SOMEONE!"

You finally break, bursting into laughter. "Babe, wait—wait, I’m kidding! It’s a prank!"

Gaz stops mid-pace, blinking at you. "…What."

"It’s a joke! I didn’t actually put diesel in your truck."

For a second, he doesn’t move. Then, in one fluid motion, he stomps over, yanks you against him, and buries his face in your neck with a deep groan. "You fucking menace, woman."

"You should’ve seen your face—"

"Shut up."

Simon "Ghost" Riley – "re-evaluate my life with you."

You swing the keys around your finger as Ghost walks toward his truck, casually tossing them to him. "Oh, I filled your tank up earlier, by the way." You had come to pick him up from base, having borrowed his truck for the day.

He catches the keys effortlessly. "Did you, now?" His duffle bag is tossed into the bed of the truck as he passes it, headed for the passenger side to help you into his lifted truck.

"Mhm." You stretch, a yawn escaping your lips as you toyed with the man. "Shit was expensive though. I think the green nozzle made it cost more or something." You're not far behind him. "Can we stop for dinner? I havent eaten ye-whats wrong?"

Ghost’s entire body goes rigid.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

Just… stares.

"…What nozzle?"

"The green one?"

The slowest inhale of his life.

"Sweetheart."

"Yeah?"

His grip on the keys tightens. "You fuckin' with me?"

You bite your lip, holding back laughter. "Maybe?"

Ghost’s eye twitches. He knows you’re prone to fucking with him. But this? This is dangerous territory.

"Baby." His voice is so, so low. "If you actually put diesel in my petrol engine, I am going to have to sit here and reevaluate my entire life with you."

You gasp, bursting into full-blown laughter. "SIMON! I’M KIDDING!"

Ghost stares. "…You’re joking."

"Yes!"

He goes silent.

Then—without a word—he grabs your waist and tosses you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing.

"SIMON—"

"You’re gettin’ punished for that, sweetheart." With a rough smack to your ass you're being tossed into the back seat, his massive frame clambering after you, tossing the keys into the front seat.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish – "eco friendly..."

Soap grins at you as you slide into the truck. "Ye ready, bonnie?"

You beam, kissing his cheek, he had been so sweet waiting n you to get ready. "Mhm! Oh, also—I filled your tank up earlier!"

Soap blinks. "Aww, ye did? That’s so sweet, lass—"

"Yeah! It was so expensive, though. Probably ‘cause of the green nozzle—" You dont even finish your sentence-

Soap’s hand slams on the dashboard.

"THE FUCKIN’ WHAT?!"

You flinch at his tone. "…The green nozzle?"

"BABE."

"Yes?"

"BABE, NO—"

"Babe, YES—"

"BABE I’M GONNA FUCKING CRY."

"Johnny, why are you overreacting?!" You finally yell, and yeah sure as shit there's tears welling up in his eyes.

"OVERREACTIN’?!" Soap turns to fully face you, looking betrayed. "MY ENGINE IS GONNA DIE, BABY. IT’S GONNA GO OUT IN A BLAZE OF FUCKIN’ GLORY."

"I thought green meant eco-friendly—"

"IT MEANS FUCKIN’ DIESEL, LASS—" He STARES at you, his face a mixture of pain and rage. "Oh, sweet Jesus, I need to sit down."

"You are sitting—"

"I NEED TO LIE DOWN."

You wheeze, finally breaking character. "BABE! IT’S A PRANK!"

Soap blinks. "…A prank?"

"YES!"

He doesn’t move. Just stares.

Then, with a deep exhale, he collapses against the steering wheel. "I need a fuckin’ drink," he mutters.

"Aw, babe, you love me, though."

He groans. "Aye, and that’s the worst part."

#kara writes #cod x reader #cod #ghost cod #call of duty #captain john price #john price blurb #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish blurb #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick

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writtenwhalien · 1 year ago

Text

jump then fall (into you) | part 2

banner by the talented @jimilter 💖

pairing ↠ jungkook x reader

genre ↠ cruise AU, fake dating AU, best friends to lovers AU | fluff, angst, smut

word count ↠ 52k (pt 2. 14k)

18+ | warnings ↠ swearing, drinking, sexual content: foreplay, oral m. and f., protected sex etc.

summary ↠ bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

note. i hope you're enjoying! ☺️ don't forget to interact please + here's a few songs that inspired me and this story (more at the end too!): photograph — ed sheeran i think i fell in love today — kelsea bellerini where are you now — lost frequencies & calum scott 3:15 (breathe) — russ words — alesso & zara larsson jump then fall — taylor swift

part 2

🍉 note. while I have your attention, I would like to divert it to those in palestine as israel commits war crimes against them. Innocent men, women and children are being tortured, degraded, displaced and murdered endlessly — it is a genocide and we are all complicit if we do nothing.

as a minimum, please donate to legitimate organisations + boycott the big 3 — starbucks, disney and mcdonald’s — as well as others. feel free to message me for more information and/or donation links, thank you <3 🇵🇸

You know what he wants you to say, but as you feel his fingers around yo, all you can think of is how wrong they feel — they’re not as long as the ones you’re most familiar with, not as calloused on the palms or soft from the back. Every moment with Jungkook from the past few weeks buzzes through your mind and it all starts to make sense – you’ve always known Jungkook makes you happy but you never thought about why…

Looking up at Lawrence, you nod slowly. “Yes,” you say, softening the words in the hopes it softens the blow.

It’s a quiet confession, not only because you’re pretending to date Jungkook, but because now you’re no longer sure if your heart is open to anyone else besides him.

Lawrence smiles, releasing a small breath he’d been holding. “I had to ask,” he chuckles.

You’re sure his cheeks are turning pink but with the dim lighting, you can’t be sure.

Lips pursing, you nod.

There’s another moment of hesitation from him, then he kisses your cheek once before stepping back.

“I’m glad I asked though, I’d probably regret it forever if I didn’t,” he adds, eyes gleaming as they look over your face.

You manage to smile despite feeling bad and a little awkward now — it’s not every day someone confesses to your face like this. “It’s okay, I get it.”

Just while your mind races to find an excuse to leave now, Lawrence’s gaze shifts to behind your shoulder and his eyes suddenly widen, face going somewhat pale. You turn around, eyes following his line of sight and when you see who’s standing there, you’re sure your expression mirrors Lawrence’s.

Jungkook and Alias stand more than a few feet away by the staircase towards the upper decks, but it’s not hard to see their expressions from here.

Alias purses his lips and looks at Jungkook before he shifts his weight awkwardly. But it’s Jungkook you’re focused on. His expression is blank and he just stares at Lawrence and you.

How long has he been standing there? Why isn’t he doing anything? And why do you only now realise how close you and Lawrence are still standing while holding hands too?

You let go, stepping back abruptly too but you know it doesn’t make a difference.

Jungkook's lips curl into a curt yet polite smile before he turns and disappears around the corner.

What the hell is happening?

Jungkook and you aren’t even dating for real for this to be a problem so why on earth does it feel like you’ve actually done something so wrong?

The guilty feeling in your chest grows as you stand still, still looking upon where he was.

“I’m so sorry,” Lawrence apologises immediately. “I can go talk to him, it was all my fault.”

“No it’s fine,” you shake your head, managing a smile. “I should talk to him, don’t worry.”

He nods and you walk away before he can say anything else.

“Walk with me?” you say as you approach Alias.

He nods, falling into stride beside you. “What was that about?” he asks, nodding back in the direction of Lawrence.

“Um, he told me he likes me, or at least did,” you wince.

“Ah, that explains it.”

You shoot him a look. “That explains what?”

Alias hesitates. “Well, he looked like he was about to kiss you.”

Oh gosh. “But he wasn’t!” you exclaim in a hushed whisper. “I wouldn’t do that!”

“I know!” Alias exclaims too, “But it still didn’t look good. I’m assuming that’s why Jungkook just left.”

“You think he’s upset by it?”

“Well what else could it be?”

Sighing, you slow down.

Alias looks at you confused. “What’s wrong?”

“What am I doing?” you ask rhetorically, thinking out loud.

Raising his brows, Alias points down the corridor. “Finding your boyfriend to explain what’s happening?” he says almost sarcastically.

“But that’s just it, he’s not actually my boyfriend so why did he walk off? And why do I feel bad about it?” You feel like you sound a bit helpless but at this moment you don’t actually care, at least not with Alias.

It’s confusing — first you find yourself having all these weird moments with Jungkook, then Lawrence tells you he likes you only for you to realise that maybe you actually do like Jungkook, and now Jungkook walking off like this…

Could he actually be upset by this?

Alias’s expression softens and he places his hands on your shoulders, squeezing gently. “I think you know why.”

You frown, lips pouting. “What are you trying to say?”

He chuckles, pulling you in for a hug. “I’m not saying anything. You’re figuring this out on your own.” He pulls back and takes your arm in his as he walks slowly down the corridor again. “Now, what are you going to say to Jungkook?”

His question is met with silence, but he doesn’t push any further as you take the time to think.

You’re well aware of what Alias is trying to say to you but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to acknowledge it — more like you don’t know how to acknowledge it.

Maybe you do like him? Or maybe you’re just confused? It could definitely just be lust, or even just loneliness as it has been a long time since you’ve last been with anyone. Or maybe all the pretending has gotten to your head? — that’s definitely a plausible reason for the way you’re feeling.

Although, it really doesn’t feel like it. There’s a reason pretending to date Jungkook comes so easily to you. Being with him is natural to you because you’ve always felt like you belong together; now you realise you’ve been feeling that romantically not just platonically. Having been so close to him for so many years has created a safety blanket around you, one that you can’t imagine living without and most definitely can’t ever replace. Even the thought of coming on this trip without him felt so wrong. There must be a reason why it doesn’t feel surprising to you that at some point, your feelings crossed the line from friends to something more.

“I don’t know,” you groan quietly. “This is so weird, what does someone say in this situation?”

Alias actually takes a moment to consider this. “Actually,” he starts, pulling on your arm to stop walking. “You need to be sure of how you feel before you say anything.”

He’s right.

“Take some time,” Alias says. “Maybe just address what happened with Lawrence for now?”

You nod. “Okay, I’ll just tell him what happened.”

“Yeah, do that,” Alias nods too. He looks down the corridor but makes no move to walk any further with you.

Your cabin is only a few doors away so you hug him goodbye, and after he wishes you good luck, you make your way towards it.

Clearing your mind, you focus on the simple goal for now. Just let Jungkook know that there’s nothing between Lawrence and you — what he saw isn’t what it looked like.

Tapping into your room, you feel your heart race a little faster as your nerves rise. Jungkook isn’t anywhere in the cabin but you can hear water running in the bathroom.

Taking a deep breath, you mentally scold yourself to get it together. Some of your clothes from earlier in the day are still scattered on the bed so you decide to at least clear these away while you wait.

It isn’t long until you hear the lock clicking and Jungkook walks out of the bathroom.

You look up to see him patting his face dry with a towel. He’s already dressed for bed and you note that he’s wearing a top this time.

When he sees you, his face shows no surprise or even much emotion at all. He simply nods and averts his gaze almost immediately. “Hey,” he says, tossing the towel into the laundry basket.

“Hey,” you respond quietly while keeping your eyes on him.

He walks over to the bed and starts picking up some of his own mess. If the situation were any different, you wouldn’t really think anything was wrong by the way Jungkook is acting. But you know Jungkook.

For starters, he never folds his clothes neatly before putting them away. He usually just roughly puts them together and hides them away somewhere, yet here he is, laying out a shirt and folding the sleeves with much focus.

“Um, Jungkook…?”

He looks up immediately. “Yeah?” There’s no irritation or anger or anything else in his expression. Just the usual concern you’re used to seeing on his face whenever you call him.

“Are you okay?” you ask, feeling stupid as soon as you ask it.

“Yeah, of course,” he answers, shrugging as he resumes folding his clothes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Turning away to put your clothes in the drawer, you frown to yourself. You know he knows why you’re asking — him walking off like that wasn’t normal and now him acting like nothing’s happened…

“So,” he says, clearing his throat. “You and Lawrence…”

There it is. You turn to face him again. He’s still looking down as he folds his clothes but you don’t need to see his face to know he’s not looking forward to the answer.

“You like each other?” His voice is steady but you can hear the quiet reservations that come with it.

“No,” you answer immediately.

He pauses for a second and you expect him to say something, but he doesn’t. He only nods and carries on putting his clothes away.

You tell him everything. “We bumped into each other during the game because I was kind of confused about where to go after me and you split up. We just started talking and it came up that I used to have a crush on him way back in high school, and as we spoke…” you watch Jungkook carefully, still unable to see his face as he stays looking down, “… he just ended up telling me how he used to have a crush on me when we were growing up and it apparently never really went away.”

It’s now that Jungkook finally looks up. He has a small smile on his face — not a smirk, not anything to show you it’s anything other than a genuine smile despite it not being his usual smile that meets his eyes.

“So Lawrence likes you then.” He says it more surely, as though he’s just reaffirming a fact rather than asking a question.

You hesitate. “Well, yes, he does but he knows I don’t like him.”

As his smile fades a little, Jungkook raises a brow. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you say, feeling something heavy begin to weigh down your chest.

Jungkook considers this. His gaze is steady as he looks at you from across the room, looking for any clue that might suggest otherwise to him.

The longer he stares, the more you feel the weight on your chest. You don’t like this — you don’t like that Jungkook could even think for a minute that you like anyone else. Since high school, you haven’t had any real feelings for anyone and as Lawrence made you realise, it’s all because of Jungkook.

“Jungkook?” your voice comes out coarse and quiet.

He looks away, jaw shifting as he now chooses to roughly fold his clothes together. Then —

“I think we should stop the whole dating thing, it was my fault so I’ll tell whoever I need to tomorrow.” He says it clearly and decisively. “I don’t wanna hold you back, you should give Lawrence a chance.”

With a scoff, your brows knit together and you frown at him. “I just told you, I don’t like him.”

“He was your high school crush for years, you’ve always wanted this.”

He says it so nonchalantly now and it makes you angry because you know just moments ago he was upset because of this. Sure, he didn’t say anything, but Jungkook is your best friend and you know him more than anyone else.

“Well not anymore!” you blurt. “Why don’t you believe me?”

Jungkook looks at you and immediately you can recognise the small signs of him feeling hurt but he does well to disguise it as best as he can. “I saw how you looked at him that night, Y/N. It was pretty clear how smitten you were, anyone could see it.”

Immediately, you’re confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Cartagena,” he responds, almost despondent. “You came out of the venue together and it was clear from your face that you were over the moon to have him there.”

Now you remember… and devastatingly enough, you realise Jungkook isn’t wrong. You remember how you felt when you initially bumped into him — it was a childish kind of excitement when seeing your crush but that’s all it was. Seeing him just brought back memories and that small part of you came out because it had been so long but since then you know there’s been nothing.

Jungkook, however, wouldn’t know that. You realise that you must’ve looked how he’s describing and gosh, you can’t even imagine how you’d feel if the roles were reversed.

Before you can ever try to find the words to explain how you feel, a knock sounds at the door.

Jungkook is the one who answers it since you’re still too caught up in your thoughts.

You even remember how you’d stupidly been flirting with him right in front of Jungkook, you pretty much called him ‘tall, handsome and mysterious’ when you were supposed to be “dating” Jungkook–

“Lawrence.”

You turn immediately at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. Sure enough, Lawrence is standing there in the doorway looking exactly as he was when you left him.

“Uh, hey,” he says, nodding awkwardly as he glances between Jungkook and you.

You just stare at him blankly. This really doesn’t help you right now.

“Hey,” Jungkook says with a smile, resorting to his usual politeness. “What’s up?”

Lawrence hesitates, still glancing between you both. “Sorry, I was thinking about whether or not I should come but I figured the sooner the better… uh…” he looks down, clearly feeling bad. “I just had to apologise, I told Y/N about how I felt and that was inappropriate and stupid of me when she’s with y—“

“We’re not together.”

Lawrence looks up and at the same time, your eyes snap to Jungkook.

If you thought him saying that was harsh, the blank way in which he says it hurts even more.

“We never were,” Jungkook says. “Y/N just agreed to help me out by pretending to be my girlfriend because my ex is on this trip.”

Lawrence’s face changes from confusion to surprise to realisation within a few seconds. But you’re not looking at him.

Your focus is solely on Jungkook. You can’t clearly describe what emotions you’re feeling. There’s a bit of everything — it hurts, that’s for sure, but you’re also angry at him for so rashly telling Lawrence and you can’t help but feel betrayed.

Pretending to date Jungkook has been nothing but easy for you and these past few days have taught you it’s because there’s probably a huge part of you that wants this. For Jungkook to just end it so suddenly makes you feel like he doesn’t want you the same way you want him.

You wonder if it’s naive to think he wants you back, but you do. Alex has told you countless times, heck all the Cirillo siblings have made a remark or something about Jungkook and you at least once every time you’ve met. Even Lawrence has seen it apparently. Though, none of this necessarily means it’s true.

With the silence in the room, Jungkook looks at you. He holds little emotion in his face but the way his lips are pursed tightly tells you he’s holding back something.

“Uh,” Lawrence glances between you both, “I’m gonna go. Sorry again for everything,” he adds in a mutter. He closes the door as he leaves and you’re left alone with Jungkook.

“Why would you do that?” you ask as soon as the door clicks.

“Because he likes you. I’m not gonna stand in the way of that.”

Your expression falters. Fuck, it’s been a long time since you last wanted to cry but you’ll be damned if you let him see you. Steeling yourself, your jaw clenches.

Despite your best efforts, of course, Jungkook still notices. His own steely expression softens and he almost says something but then stops. For a second, you think he might apologise and even tell you something you want to hear. But he doesn’t.

“What am I supposed to do?” Jungkook asks softly.

There’s a hundred other things he could do but he chose this — even after you’ve told him how you feel about Lawrence.

“Fine,” you flare. “Tell everyone.” Without another glance at him, you walk past him to the bathroom and slam the door shut.

It’s only after a quick shower and some much needed TLC, that you come out of the bathroom.

Truthfully, you didn’t expect Jungkook to still be in the cabin, but it doesn’t make the feeling in your chest go away when you see he’s not there.

There’s so many questions going round and round in your head that it hurts. You trudge across the room, slipping into the bed and finding solace with the comfort of your silk sheets that still smell of Jungkook.

Everything Alex said to you at the start of this trip keeps replaying in your mind — you want it to be true, and sure most of the time it feels true too. But with the way this past hour has gone, you can’t help but doubt it.

If Jungkook really liked you, he wouldn’t have told Lawrence the truth, would he? It doesn’t make sense, why would he? He should’ve wanted to have kept it up the same way you do. Pretending to date Jungkook is as close as you’re getting to the real thing and that’s something that you’re sure that you want.

Now though, you don’t even have that.

It’s not exactly something you can blame Jungkook for. There was no reason for him to keep it up, especially if you haven’t told him why you want to.

Maybe you should tell him now though?

No. That’s too scary. Sure, you want him to know, but the idea of him not feeling the same way is way worse than anything else. Plus, what if he starts to feel uncomfortable around you, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if he felt that way.

Releasing a heavy sigh, you sink further into the bed and close your eyes.

You shouldn’t say or do anything else until things go back to normal. That’s the best thing to do.

With your mind made up, you try to fall asleep but it proves to be more difficult than normal. With every minute that passes, you wonder where Jungkook is and what he’s doing. It’s only been 15 minutes but you’re already deciding whether or not you should message him.

It’s always been like this with Jungkook — your arguments never usually last longer than a day and most times you settle them straight away.

This feels different.

The sound of the door clicking open simultaneously relaxes you and raises your heart rate.

As Jungkook makes his way across the room, your heart decides to do all kinds of acrobatics. Inwardly, you curse at yourself for not realising your feelings sooner.

You can hear the sound of his shirt being pulled off as he changes into his pyjamas. A moment later, he’s carefully moving the covers back on his side of the bed as he gets in slowly so as not to wake you.

Moments pass in silence and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but then…

“Y/N?” His voice is barely above a whisper and just like that, your heart jumps again.

Instead of responding, you turn around to lie on your back. As you lower your hands to your side, you accidentally brush his hand. Reflexively, you move your hand to rest on your stomach instead.

Noticing this, Jungkook turns to look at you. You’re sure he can’t see you very well in the dark but with the white of the ship’s exterior safety lights coming in from the gaps in the shutters, it’s still easy to see fairly well.

For a brief moment, he doesn’t say anything and you don’t turn to look at him. Then, he looks back up at the ceiling too.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding deflated.

It hurts you to know he’s feeling bad about something that isn’t even his fault. If it wasn’t for the way you’re feeling, you wouldn’t care about him telling Lawrence and you wouldn’t have argued with him for him to be apologising now.

“It’s okay,” you respond quietly, finding it too hard to find the words to say anything else.

“No, it’s not,” Jungkook sighs. “I shouldn’t have done that without asking you, especially since I made you do it in the first place. This whole thing was stupid, I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” you mumble as his last words play over in your head – this whole thing was stupid. “It was Alex.” Does he really think it was stupid? It never felt stupid to you, it just felt right.

“Yeah, but it’s because of me it happened and I could've stopped it.”

“I didn’t mind…”

You feel lame saying it because the real reason you didn’t mind is because it was the closest you’d get to dating Jungkook, but you say it because you don’t want him to feel bad about any of it.

“I know,” he says softly in understanding. “I think it’s just best to tell everyone it wasn’t real.”

You haven’t experienced anything like this before – there’s a heavy feeling in your chest trying to fight its way out. It’s causing the lump in your throat and you can’t tell if you want to cry or just tell him the truth right here, right now.

But you don’t. “Okay,” is all you say.

He must hear something in your voice – he’s attuned to every frequency of yours and the emotion that comes with it, just as you are with him. You know how sad you sounded just then and undoubtedly he’s picked up on it.

He looks at you, trying to analyse your features in the dark. Then, his hand moves and you feel his palm closing around yours, pulling your hand between your bodies to rest on the bed with your fingers intertwined. “Again, I’m sorry.”

You’re looking at him too now. Have his hands always felt this warm? Have they always fit into your own so perfectly?

“I know, it’s okay,” you answer, still fighting that feeling in your chest.

His brows knit together. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Gently, he squeezes your hand and his features relax.

That feeling in your throat pushes harder and you realise you want to tell him. Maybe it’s because it’s dark right now it seems easier to let the truth out, almost as though it’ll stay a secret in the dark.

“Also,” he says, voice suddenly softer, “for what it’s worth, I think Lawrence is an amazing guy.”

All other thoughts come to a halt in your mind and you swallow hard. “Why are you saying that?”

Jungkook looks back up at the ceiling and when he talks, it’s a little quieter than before. “Just, I know how you used to feel about him and if he feels this way about you now, well, it could be good for you,” he adds with a shrug.

You’re unable to mask the frustration in your voice. “I already told you,” you say, “I’m not interested in him.”

Jungkook looks at you again with his brows furrowed in concern. “I know…” he hesitates with a sigh, “I just…”

“Forget it,” you mutter, pulling your hand free from his. “I’m going to sleep.”

Jungkook says nothing as you roll over with your back to him, and you say nothing else either.

The feeling in your chest has subsided but it’s been replaced with another feeling, more like an ache which you’re determined to sleep away.

It feels almost impossible as your thoughts stream endlessly through your mind, each and every one about Jungkook and the words that you’ve left unsaid. But somehow, at some point, the thoughts slip away as the weariness of the day takes over and you finally fall asleep.

It’s hot.

Jungkook pushes you hard against the wall, his thigh parting your legs as he grabs your waist tight. His breaths are heavy as his nose skims your neck, teasing you before he settles in the sweet spot behind your ear.

You’re just about managing to hold yourself up though if it weren’t for his grip on you, you’re sure your knees would give way.

There’s barely any material separating you from his thigh and you’re desperate for some friction down there. With your arms around his neck, you rock yourself against him to find some much needed relief.

You’re moaning and Jungkook chuckles, a sweet deep sound that makes you want more, and he gives it to you as his hand slips between your legs.

Gosh it’s hot.

It is hot.

That’s the first thing that your barely conscious mind picks up on.

It’s the middle of summer–you don’t know why you can feel the weight of the blanket on you. You dimly remember getting under it when you got into bed but normally you always stick a leg out or something before going to sleep.

You try to move your leg now to push it past the covers and out into the cool air, but it doesn’t budge.

Something is in the way.

Still half asleep, you try again as you think it’s just the covers tucked under your leg — only now you realise that’s not the cover, it’s another leg and it’s not yours…

You didn’t realise something was missing when you were falling asleep a few hours ago. Why would you? You were completely preoccupied with other things to have remembered it.

It’s now that you come to your senses and realise what’s happened — you forgot the pillow.

You forgot the pillow as a physical boundary between Jungkook and you, and now the exact thing you wanted to avoid is happening.

Jungkook’s warmth surrounds you from everywhere. His breath is gentle and quiet by your neck, his chest close to your back and his legs are somehow tangled with yours. His arm is draped over your frame, hand resting comfortably by your stomach.

What’s most obvious to you though, is your ass tucked comfortably against him, no doubt right against his crotch.

Fuck. This is simultaneously a dream and a nightmare. It feels so good to be this close but you know it’s so wrong, especially after the actual dream you just had which given your situation now, explains why you’re still feeling so needy down south.

You try to shift slightly again but it doesn’t work — Jungkook sighs softly in his sleep, leg moving to rest on top of yours.

Great. Now you’re actually stuck like this.

Eyes closing, you try to think of what to do but as you run it through your mind, you come to the conclusion to stay exactly as you are.

How bad can it be? With the sun shining through the cracks in the blind, you can tell it’s probably 10 am so all you have to do is pretend to fall asleep again, Jungkook will wake up very soon, he’ll realise and then he’ll just move away. Then it’ll be as though nothing ever happened.

Besides, it really does feel so good to have him holding you like this. Sure, Jungkook hugs you a lot and in general is pretty affectionate with you but this. Having him softly breathing down your neck as he sleeps comfortably with you in his arms — it’s a feeling that satisfies something you never knew you needed.

The only problem is it’s more than a little difficult to fall asleep when you can feel the hard outline of his little friend down there. Fuck, life is really testing you right now and it really doesn’t help that your pyjama bottoms are silk so you can feel a lot more of him than expected.

Groaning internally, you try to scoot away once more but it doesn’t work. Not only that, you actually didn’t just groan internally but out loud. You almost clap your hand over your mouth when you feel Jungkook shift behind you once before going still again.

Except this time, you can’t feel his warm breath on you for a second… then it comes back, but this time it’s different. You’ve spent enough of your lifetime with Jungkook to know that he breathes heavily when he sleeps and right now, he’s no longer asleep.

You’re not quite sure what comes over you, maybe it’s the heat getting to your head, or maybe you’re emboldened by the fact that Jungkook is awake and he hasn’t moved away from you… ever so slightly, you push your hips back against Jungkook’s crotch.

A sharp intake of breath from behind you confirms exactly what you wanted to know.

You do it again and this time, Jungkook reciprocates in kind. You can feel him even better now and the hard outline of his dick pushing against you makes you let out the softest whine, barely audible but with Jungkook so close to you, there’s no doubt he heard you.

Fuck. You feel almost dizzy and you’re certain that you’re not thinking clearly right now – this is Jungkook, your best friend… you try to remind yourself of that as you wait for him to do something more, but the only thing that repeats in your head is this is Jungkook. Jungkook, the man you love and adore so much and right now you can only think enough to know that whatever is happening right now, you want it.

With bated breath, you wait for what feels like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds, then Jungkook’s hand slides from across your stomach to hold your hip.

“Y/N?”

His sleepy voice so close sends a swirl of excitement through you.

“Yes?” you answer in a breathy murmur.

“I…,” he whispers, barely audible. His hand slides up your side, stopping below your breast.

You can tell he’s hesitating to move further so without hesitation, you roll your hips against him which elicits small moans of pleasure from both of you and in response, Jungkook’s hand begins to move again and you’re anticipating the feeling of his strong hands grabbing on to you where you want them so bad–

Knock knock knock knock knock. “Sleepy heads, what time do you call this?!”

– Only to be interrupted by the one and only Alias.

Immediately, Jungkook withdraws and moves faster than you can even process. He’s out of bed and throwing on the closest hoodie just as you turn around, still catching on from whatever the hell just happened. Despite the dark lighting in the room, you can tell he’s flustered from the look on his face but goddamn he looks so cute with his messed hair and you could not be more annoyed about being interrupted right now.

He pauses, turning towards you and just as your eyes meet, there’s the loud knocking again followed by Alias yelling whatever it is he’s saying.

You’re more focused on how Jungkook is looking at you to comprehend anything else. In this split second, he looks like he has a thousand things to say but not a single thing comes out of his mouth except…

“I’m sorry.” He says it so fast that in the seconds it takes you to realise what he just said, he’s already at the door letting Alias in.

“You’re not even dressed,” Alias says the second the door opens and he sees Jungkook. “And you’re not even up,” he says as he sees you. Shaking his head, he walks over to the blinds, completely unaware of the tension that is still heavy in the room between Jungkook and you.

You glance at Jungkook again to see him looking at the floor but it’s as though he can sense your eyes on him because he looks up and your eyes meet for the second time. You’re sure your expression must mirror his – flustered, somewhat guilty, but mostly just confused.

You know why you’re confused – in the last few days you’ve come to the realisation that your feelings for your best friend are more than just platonic and this happening makes you wonder what the hell Jungkook is thinking… is he feeling the same way as you? God, you can only hope… Or is he repulsed by what he’s just done and is completely regretting it now?

“Honestly, Y/N, I’m actually surprised that I’m up before you,” Alias continues as he rolls up the blinds. “You’re usually the responsible one. And Jungkook, you know we were supposed to meet at nine, it’s almost 11 now and we’ll be arriving tomorrow morning and we were supposed to meet with Alex this morning to go through the plans for the weekend, did you forget—?“ Alias pauses mid sentence, turning to look at you with a frown.

For a second, you think he’s caught on to everything, but thankfully, it’s not that.

“Why do I sound like my parents?” He shudders, looking at Jungkook too. “I must be getting old.”

Both Jungkook and you laugh, albeit awkwardly. This, however, doesn’t go unnoticed by Alias. His frown changes to something more curious as he looks between you.

You expect him to say something about it but he doesn’t.

“Well, Jungkook, he’s still waiting to speak with you, he’s already briefed the other guys.”

“Right,” Jungkook nods, now avoiding your gaze as he grabs his clothes. “I’ll just get ready, I won’t be long.”

“Cool,” Alias says, taking a seat in the armchair by the window. “I’ll wait for you then.”

As soon as Jungkook has disappeared into the bathroom, Alias turns to you. “Did you tell him?” he asks immediately.

Still slightly befuddled, you frown. “Huh?”

“Last night, you said you weren’t gonna say anything about how you feel but why are you both acting so different?”

“Oh.” All of last night comes back to you in an instant. Lawrence confessing, your conversation with Alias and everything else that happened with Jungkook after. “No, I didn’t,” you pause, brows knitting even further together before you look at Alias. “But I think he might know anyway.”

Alias’s brows shoot upwards. “What makes you think that?”

Because he was just feeling me up in bed and if you hadn’t walked in it seemed like it would have gone further. Well, you absolutely can’t say that.

“I don’t know.”

Frowning, Alias moves to sit at the end of the bed. “Are you okay?” He reaches forward and puts a hand on your knee.

“Yeah,” you nood, smiling as you take his hand to reassure him. You’re sure you must look like a bit of a mess, not only have you just gotten up but your mind and pulse is racing from what just happened with Jungkook – whatever it was. “Could you just give us a minute though?”

“Sure,” Alias answers, getting up right away. “Just text me if you need anything,” he says. “I’ll be waiting on the deck for you guys.” He stops by the door, turning around. “But Alex is still waiting for Jungkook too.”

“We won’t be long,” you reassure him with a smile.

He nods once more before leaving the room.

You’re left with only the noise of your thoughts and the shower running in the bathroom. You can feel your pulse racing as you push the covers back and get out of bed. It still feels so hot in here so you find the AC controller and blast the cool air to help calm yourself down as you try to process what just happened.

What did just happen? Were you and Jungkook really about to do something? Just thinking of it sends butterflies swirling down south but they’re quickly sent off track when you ask yourself what on earth it means?

You know why you were okay with it all happening… if you didn’t have feelings for him, you would never have let it happen, but you do, so you didn’t stop it. Is it the same for Jungkook? The idea of Jungkook liking you is far from foreign – Alex has always been trying to tell you but you just never believed it… this, however, has you in two minds.

Or, there’s also the other more plausible reason. Jungkook woke up and realised his hard dick was enjoying the fact that there was another warm female body in such close vicinity to him so naturally, he made his move and you didn’t object so he went along with it. You’ve had your own small share of experiences with friends who you ended up doing more with without any feelings involved and so has Jungkook, maybe he just thought that’s what this was… God, even just the thought of that hurts.

The bathroom door clicks open and your head snaps up.

Jungkook walks out still scruffing his hair dry with a towel. He’s dressed casually for the day but he still looks as good as ever to you. He pauses after a few steps when he sees Alias has gone and slowly, he lowers the towel and looks at you.

You feel small because you’re so unsure of where you stand with him right now. Pressing your palms with your fingers, you try to relax and think clearly but it’s hard when your heart is pounding in your chest and wants nothing more than for him to confess he has the same feelings as you do.

Still, as you look at Jungkook, it seems like he feels small too. His fingers are squeezing the towel as he switches it between his hands and he hesitates, starting to say something before he stops.

You so badly want to say something, anything, but you have no idea what. How do you start? Can we talk about what just happened? Did you like it? Do you like me? Because I like you, a lot. Gosh, if only it was that damn easy.

“Um,” Jungkook starts but looks away from you. “I’m sorry about what happened…” He loosely points to the bed.

Startled, you just stand there for a moment. He’s sorry?… “You’re sorry?” you repeat.

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“So, you weren’t thinking about what you were doing…?” you echo, starting to feel like a stupid parrot. He regrets it, of course he does.

Jungkook blinks, somewhat confused but you don’t blame him. You’re asking for clarification for selfish reasons – you need to know if he thinks what just happened was a mistake because it was far from a mistake for you.

“No…” Jungkook hesitates, his face rounding as he looks at you. You’re sure he can tell you’re upset by what he’s saying. “Were you?” he asks.

“No.” It’s not a lie – you really weren’t thinking about what was happening, just that you enjoyed it.

As soon as you say it, you’re sure you see Jungkook deflate. Did he want me to say yes? No, that doesn’t make sense, he said no first.

“Right, yeah.” He clears his throat as he fiddles with the towel again. “I’m sorry it happened, I wouldn’t ever want to make you feel uncomfortable.” He says it with such sincerity that your chest tightens.

“I didn’t feel uncomfortable.” The words come out before you can even stop them but you want him to know that, you’d hate for him to feel bad about something like this when it’s far from his fault that you let it happen just because you like him and wanted it to be something more.

Jungkook’s expression is the same as before, eyes rounding and there’s that barely-there pout to his lips as he asks, “You didn’t?”

“No, I didn’t.” Shit, what are you saying, Y/N? You can hear the blood rushing through your ears and you start to feel sick. “But… it wasn’t supposed to happen?” You mean for it to come out as a question but you have no clue if it did.

“I, no,” Jungkook clears his throat again and he nods. “It was just a mistake then, it won’t happen again.” Now he looks away from you completely as he goes and puts the towel into the laundry basket.

Suddenly, you feel yourself on the verge of breaking. How can he be so composed right now when you feel like you simultaneously want to shout at him to tell him how much he means to you, and cry endlessly because–does he really not feel anything for you?

“Alias is waiting for you upstairs,” you say, walking past him to go into the bathroom. “I’ll meet you later.”

You leave no time for him to respond but just before you close the door, you catch a glimpse of his confused doe eyes and just like that, your heart sinks again.

“Could it really be?” your dad pretends to rub his eyes, blinking a few times as his face morphs into a grin. “Our daughter is here to grace us with her presence, I don’t believe it.”

Your mom laughs, gently patting your hand as you sit down between them.

“Ha-ha, very funny dad,” you deadpan, throwing him a grumpy look.

“I’m only kidding, honey. I’m just glad you’ve decided to join us for lunch.”

“Of course,” you shrug. “I’ll even make your plates, what do you want?”

Your dad throws your mom a look. “Our princess is spoiling us today.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you head over to the buffet table to prepare two plates for your parents with everything you know they like. Just as you turn back to return to your table, you catch Jungkook watching you from across the balcony.

He’s on a table with Alex, Sophia and a few others. Meeting your gaze, he gives a small smile before looking away. Gosh you never knew a smile could hurt so much.

Ignoring the pang in your chest, you return to your parents and slump into the seat.

“Where’s yours?” your dad asks, already reaching for a sandwich.

“I’m not that hungry,” you mumble, taking a strawberry and biting into it.

Not so slyly, your parents exchange glances. They choose to say nothing for the moment, making small talk as they enjoy their lunch.

Once your dad is on his second cup of coffee, your mum takes your hand and squeezes gently. Looking up, you take comfort in the smile you see on her face. You know that both your parents are aware that there’s something on your mind – it’s why you’ve chosen to sit silently in their company while they have their own light hearted conversation. You also know that their advice is usually unparalleled to anyone else’s and right now, you could really do with some of their wise words.

“Is there anything you want to eat, honey?” your mom asks.

“The fruit is fine,” you answer quietly.

In response, your dad piles all the fruit into the plate in front of you while your mother gently continues probing.

“You’ve lost your appetite then… that usually happens for a reason, hm?”

You don’t say anything and she continues.

“Would it have anything to do with Jungkook?”

The rounded eyes you give your mom must give it away immediately as she lets out a small sigh.

“How could you tell?” you ask.

“He came down ten minutes before you,” your dad answers, “he normally always waits for you. Not to mention the funny look you gave each other just a little while ago.”

Sighing, you slump further into your seat. “We got into an argument last night,” you admit, feeling like a five year old again.

It seems so stupid to say out loud, especially because you don’t think you can bring yourself to reveal the real reason the argument feels as bad as it does – the reason being your feelings for him – but you don’t really care about feeling like a kid when it’s your parents. They’re the only people you can be this vulnerable with and at times like this, you want their comfort and company the most. You would love to tell them the whole story but there’s no way you’re telling them what just happened this morning so you go with everything else.

“It wouldn’t be the first,” your mom says, still holding your hand as she takes it into her lap.

“No, but this felt different…”

Your mom hums, gently playing with the bracelet on your wrist. Neither she nor your dad say anything, waiting for you to continue on your own.

Closing your eyes, you let out part of the truth. “Lawrence told me he likes me.”

Your mom’s fingers pause briefly before she continues twisting the charms between her fingers. Looking up, you catch your parents exchanging glances, most definitely surprised but they’re subtle about it.

“He told me last night and I made it clear it wouldn’t work… but I think it looked different to Jungkook and he just kept telling me I should give Lawrence a chance even though I told him I don’t want to.”

“That’s what you argued about?” your dad asks.

“Mhm.”

“Lawrence telling you that…” your dad pauses momentarily before continuing, “how did it make you feel?”

“It was weird,” you admit. “I used to have a big crush on him.”

“Oh, we know,” your mom says with a smile.

Despite it being in the past, it still feels so embarrassing — you were such a wide eyed 16 year old with a fat school crush that even your parents noticed.

“But I don’t now,” you mumble, cheeks warming as you keep your head lowered. “I told him that and I guess I felt kinda bad too. It’s been a while since we left school.”

Your father hums in agreement. “That’s a long time to like someone,” he says, head cocking as he looks at you knowingly.

“I know.”

Squeezing your hand, your mom takes over. “And what about Jungkook?”

“Well, when I told him, he was insisting I should give it a try.”

“That doesn’t seem like such a bad thing to suggest,” your dad shrugs. “I’d say the same thing, after all, you said it yourself that you liked him before and Lawrence is a good guy.”

“Yeah but I don’t now,” you reiterate. “I thought Jungkook would know that.”

“You’ve been single since you left college, Y/N, there’s absolutely no reason for him to think your heart is elsewhere…” he pauses, patting your leg, “unless you tell him.”

“Huh?” You look at your dad but he��s already looked away, a smirk on his face as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“I, what would I…?” you sputter, looking at your mom and seeing the smile on her face, you fall quiet.

So much for trying to keep this a secret — if your parents know then you wonder if anyone else knows. Although, of course no one else knows you as much as your parents and here they are telling you to tell Jungkook how you really feel but it’s still so nerve wracking to you.

There’s so many times you can think of that would make you think he likes you as much as you like him, but then there‘s also that voice of reason in your head that tells you you’re reading into it too much. Jungkook doesn’t like you romantically as much as you wish he would.

Chin lifting, you get up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, “but thanks for the chat,” you smile, giving a quick kiss on the cheek to both of them.

“Darling, you’ll regret it if you don’t,” your dad says as you’re walking off.

“No idea what you mean,” you call out with an airy wave of your hand.

Walking across the length of the deck, you steal a glance in the direction of Jungkook only to see he’s no longer there. Looking around, you can’t see him anywhere. Resigned, you find an empty table that’s out of sight from everyone you know and slump into the chair to be alone with your thoughts.

No one knows you better than your parents, not even Jungkook and if they’re telling you to tell him then you can’t argue that there’s a big part of you that agrees and even wants to tell him. How would it feel to have Jungkook as yours? Sure, you have him more than anyone else right now — you share everything together, the good stuff, the bad stuff, and all the days in between…

It’s something you’ll forever be grateful for because if you can’t have all of Jungkook then you’ll take the little things whenever you can. Still though, you know it’s not the same when all you are to him is a best friend; his response to what happened this morning completely confirmed that to you. In some ways, it hurts more than anything else knowing that as his best friend, you’ll be there when he eventually does find someone to call his own and fuck, even just the thought of that hurts like a bitch.

Who knows if you’d even still be friends when that happens? It’s only natural that he and whoever he chooses would become closer than ever and you’ll just be that childhood friend considered to be like a sister…

“You’re moping.”

Turning around, you see Alex standing with his hands on his hips.

“And you’re interrupting,” you grumble, slumping back into the seat.

“Nope, come on, I’m not having this,” he says, coming right behind you and holding your head to look up at him. “The wedding is in three days and you are not going to spend it like this.”

“I’ll be fine for the wedding, I promise.”

Narrowing his eyes, Alex lets go and sits down next to you. “What about tomorrow?”

Tomorrow night is Thalia’s hen night and Alex’s stag night. The cruise will arrive at Porto Cheli around dawn tomorrow and most guests will be escorted to various villas rented out by the Cirillo’s. Meanwhile, you and a few close others, including Jungkook, will be arriving at the Cirillo family home. A grand estate which given its enormous size, will accommodate the tradition of keeping the bride and groom parties separate until the wedding on Saturday afternoon.

Thalia has never been much of a party-goer so she’s choosing to keep things simple with a fine dining evening although you’re sure Sophia has planned for strippers and booze to appear at some point during the night.

“I’ll be fine,” you repeat, plastering on a smile.

“I know you can fake it for everyone else but I actually want you to have a good time, Y/N,” he says, putting his arm around you.

Your smile turns into a genuine one. “I will, of course I will, it’s your wedding weekend and I’m so happy for you.”

Alex grins. “Thanks, I know you are.” He lets go and turns his chair to face you. “But I also know that you’re not talking to Jungkook right now, which means both of you will be moping until you make up.”

Of course he knows, you think. Well, he doesn’t know about this morning and you don’t know if you can bring yourself to tell him, it feels rather embarrassing for you. “Alias told you?”

“He told Sophia, she told Thalia and Thalia told me,” Alex shrugs.

It’s not like you expected it to stay a secret between your friends. Whenever Jungkook and you aren’t talking, it’s usually pretty obvious to everyone around you, especially your friends.

“Wanna talk about it?” Alex offers.

“Not really.” Talking to your parents was enough and you already know what Alex is going to say. “You probably think I should just be completely honest about how I feel, right?”

Alex shrugs again. “Yeah, although he should’ve been upfront about it first.”

Surprised, you look up at him and he continues.

“I know I've been telling you for ages that he’s whipped for you, but this kind of proves it, don’t you think?” Alex glances at you, eyes creasing in the corners as he hides a smug smirk. “There’s only one reason he reacted to Lawrence the way he did.”

It makes sense, but it also doesn’t – Jungkook purely could’ve been pushing you to be with Lawrence as a friend who just wants to see you happy. You’d hate to think it’s for the former reason, only to realise you’ve terribly misinterpreted the situation and end up stupidly admitting your feelings to Jungkook when he cares for you only as a friend. “It doesn’t really,” you say, trying harder to convince yourself than Alex. “I mean, he probably just didn’t want me to waste the opportunity.”

“Ha!” Alex scoffs. “Waste the opportunity.” He gives you a look. “Come on, Y/N, why are you fighting every reason that you have to try?”

“It’s not a reason,” you counter. “We’ve gotten into one argument and I don’t think me saying I have feelings for him will change anything–”

“So you do.”

“What?”

You look back at Alex and see his eyes wide and he’s not even hiding his smile anymore.

“You do like him,” he repeats.

“I, what…?” Suddenly, you realise you just said it out loud. Opening your mouth, you’re about to try to cover it up somehow but it’s too late.

“I knew it,” Alex laughs, seeming way too ecstatic considering how shit you feel. “This is gold, Y/N, this is it, I’ve always known Jungkook liked you but you liking him too, it’s perfect!”

“Shh,” you hush him suddenly, grabbing his hands as you look around in a panic. “Alex shut up, someone’s gonna hear you.”

“The whole world should know, Y/N,” he laughs happily again. Looking at you, he cups your face in his hands. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long, you need to tell him, Y/N, please!”

The thought of telling Jungkook is terrifying to you, even more so now that Alex is saying it out loud and someone could possibly hear.

With your expression split between worry and confusion, Alex’s smile fades a little but not completely. “Y/N, this is good, what’s wrong?”

For the first time, you let yourself say the truth out loud. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Alex sighs, his smile softening. “There’s only one way you’ll find out.

Now it’s you who scoffs, pulling away from him. “Yeah, right.”

“I am right,” he insists.

Sighing, you look at him. It’s so hard to hear Alex tell you that Jungkook likes you when youc an only think otherwise after this morning… “Something happened,” you start, watching Alex carefully.

For a second he still smiles but when he sees the worry lining your face, his expression mirrors yours as his smile fades. “Okay… you wanna talk about it?”

You quickly glance around to make sure no one can hear. “You promise you won’t tell anyone,” you say, “not even Alias or Sophia or Tha–” you cut yourself off. Asking Alex not to tell his soon to be wife is like asking him to cut off his hand, you already know that since he couldn’t even keep Sophia’s birthday present to her secret. “Fine, only Thalia.”

“Appreciate it,” Alex nods.

“Mhm, well…” You tell him briefly what happened this morning, sparing him the details but telling him every word of what was spoken after and he listens carefully, not interrupting you once.

You chose to tell Alex because he’s the one who has always been so sure of Jungkook’s feelings for you, not Alias, nor Sophia, or even Thalia. Sure, the others have hinted at it but only Alex has ever paid attention to everything between Jungkook and you so if anyone knows the whole story and can give you the best advice, it’s him. So, it feels a little alarming to you when once you’re done, he still doesn’t say anything for a moment.

Then, he purses his lips, grimacing before he finally speaks. “Honestly, that’s a bit confusing. If there ever was a way to confess, this was the perfect window to do it.”

For what feels like the umpteenth time today, your heart sinks. “That’s what I thought.”

“But,” Alex says very surely, taking your hand, “it doesn’t change every single other thing he’s ever done to show he likes you, and let’s be real, he’s probably just worried that you won’t feel the same.”

It’s what you want to hear but it’s still so hard to accept it because what if it’s not true and you make a fool of yourself in front of Jungkook.

“I wish that were true,” you mumble. “But I don’t think I can keep holding onto hope when it hurts like this.”

Alex squeezes your hand. “Y/N, we know Jungkook, he doesn’t exactly play with anyone’s feelings and I absolutely don’t think he would start something physical with you unless he was feeling it emotionally too.”

“I know, but what if it’s just because he was horny.” You’re still mumbling, cheeks going warm as you say it.

“Look, I think there’s a lot of guys who would sleep with their best friends if they had the chance,” Alex says, “but Jungkook isn’t one of them, he never has been.”

Thinking about it, you realise he’s right. Jungkook wouldn’t. There’s been way more chances in the past for him to have done things with you and you’re pretty sure there’s even been times where you drunkenly made a few moves on him but he never did anything himself.

“Still, I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Alex says encouragingly, “how long have I been telling you he likes you? I haven’t been saying it for no reason.”

“But you have no concrete proof either.”

“Just take a chance, be brave and then you’ll see I was right,” Alex says, raising a brow.

Glancing at him, you chuckle. “This is coming from the guy who had to get drunk to say I love you to the love of his life for the first time.”

Alex smiles and leans back in his seat as he gestures around him. “It worked didn’t it? Look at me now.”

Well, he got you there. Plus, you can’t deny the big part of you that believes it. Jungkook and your friendship does feel more than friends sometimes and you know it’s not all in your head. This morning seemed to confirm that too.

Narrowing your eyes at Alex, you turn away to face the horizon. “Don’t say anything to anyone, but I’ll think about it.”

“Yes,” Alex laughs, hugging you. “I’ll keep my mouth shut,” he says, sounding so excited. “You won’t regret this.”

Laughing, you pull him into your side. “You could start now, half the deck can hear you.”

“Sorry,” he grins, squeezing you.

Maybe he’s right, maybe you won’t regret it.

Jungkook comes to a stop at the end of the balcony to watch the sun set behind the sea. It’s been a long day with Alex asking his groomsmen to assist him in all things wedding related and then Alias needed help sorting out the entertainment for tomorrow.

Jungkook hasn’t seen you since lunch. He went back to the cabin while you had lunch with your parents since he didn’t want to make it awkward for you when you eventually came up to finish packing and since then he hasn’t seen you as you’ve been with the girls all day.

Truthfully, after this morning, he doesn’t think he can bear to see you just yet. He feels like a coward. Not only has he probably ruined his friendship with you, but he also can’t help but feel like he’s hurt you. You looked so timid as you stood across the cabin from him and a part of him felt like you wanted him to say something other than what he said. If only he was 100% sure it’s what you wanted, Jungkoook would shout it for the whole world to hear, but what if it’s not and he really does ruin everything between you. Besides, you called it a mistake. That’s all Jungkook can remind himself of as it takes everything in him not to tell you he wishes that there was something more between you.

“Why the long face, Kookie?”

The voice comes from behind him but Jungkook doesn’t have to be looking to know who it is.

Valentina appears beside him and leans on the balcony too. She doesn’t even look at him but just watches the horizon ahead as Jungkook was. “Trouble in paradise, huh?”

Jungkook frowns. Of course that’s the first thing she would think of. “Not really,” he mutters.

As much as he wishes it was paradise between you and him, it wasn’t, none of it was real

and what he finds worse is that he couldn’t even keep up a fake relationship with you – he completely blew it.

“So what then? They didn’t have your favourite bagel for breakfast this morning?” She laughs lightly.

However, Jungkook internally scowls. It’s annoying that she actually knows him rather well despite the finer details of their ‘relationship’. “No offence, Val, but I really just wanna be alone right now.”

There’s harsher things he could’ve said, particularly naming her as the least desirable companion right now, but even without that, Valentina seems to get the message from his tone alone.

The humour in her expression disappears leaving only a small poignant smile.

Not expecting such a quick retreat from her, Jungkook immediately regrets his harsh tone but at the same time, he really is not in the mood for Valentina and her usual antics today.

She doesn’t move an inch though. With a small sigh she turns and faces the horizon just as Jungkook was.

Jungkook does the same; although he’d rather be left alone, he’s definitely not about to make it known again, especially since he now feels a bit bad.

“It’s always been her, hasn’t it?”

For a moment, Jungkook is completely thrown. Multiple thoughts run through his head – What? Valentina knows? How long has she known? Was it from when he was with her? Was he really always in love with you even while he was seeing other people? That must make him a complete dick, right? Has he always made it so painfully obvious that he’s in love with you?

His hesitation seems to give Valentina the answer she was looking for.

She glances at him and smiles before looking away again. “I’m not surprised really, I knew it from when I first met you, I guess it’s my fault for putting us both through everything we went through, it was damned from the start.”

“That’s not your fault,” Jungkook says, the guilt festering.

Valentina just shrugs. “It’s over now, no reason to care.” She says it meaninglessly but Jungkook can only hope she means it.

“So why the long face then?” she repeats, looking at him. “She’s yours, go be with her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Valentina laughs, bumping her shoulder into him. “Yeah, you’re right. Pretending to date someone you’re secretly in love with is never simple.”

For the second time, Jungkook looks at her stunned. “How did you…?”

She shrugs, still sporting an amused smile. “I know you think I’m stupid, Jungkook, just a head in the clouds rich bitch like everyone else does, but I’ve gotten this far, haven’t I?”

“That’s not true,” Jungkook corrects her immediately. Sure, Valentina has her unbearable moments and more often than not, she plays dumb and innocent, but Jungkook knows that she’s more than that. “I wouldn’t have dated you if I thought that.”

“Don’t worry, Kookie, you don’t have to try to make me feel better, I really couldn’t care less about it. Now, back to the main issue here, you need to grow a pair and tell Y/N how you feel about her,” she says bluntly.

She’s not wrong, Jungkook thinks. “It’s just not that simple,” he sighs, turning away from her. It feels odd to be having this conversation with Valentina and despite her honesty just now, he doesn’t really feel like opening up to her.

“What’s complicated about it? You like her and she likes you.”

“We don’t know that.”

“You honestly think she doesn’t like you?” she asks, sounding surprised.

Hesitating, Jungkook eventually shrugs. “Sometimes I think so…” It’s true, sometimes Jungkook really feels so sure that you feel the same way, but then something always happens that changes things. He thinks of Lawrence – you liked him for so long and although Jungkook doesn’t know the extent of it, you always had this schoolgirl crush on him, even whilst you were with Alex. “But I don’t think she does.”

Valentina looks at Jungkook like he’s stupid and he’s vaguely reminded of why they never worked out. “Well, you can keep thinking that but it’s kind of obvious she does.”

Saying nothing, Jungkook looks out at the horizon again, leaning his forearms into the balcony. The sun is almost fully set marking the last day of the cruise. They’ll soon be arriving at Porto Cheli and it’ll be even harder to spend time with you once the bride and groom parties are separated. He wants to talk to you and to make things okay between you again, but he knows that he’s upset you and although it’s confusing him, he wants to give you space.

Valentina sighs, nudging him. “Just talk to her, you don’t want to regret it later on,” she says, straightening up as her usual flamboyance returns. “You know if it doesn’t work out, I’ll always be here for you Kookie pie,” she almost coos, making Jungkook laugh and cringe at the same time. As ditzy as she may act sometimes, Valentina is more smart than Jungkook ever gave her credit for.

She grins, winking at him before she waltzes off like the conversation never happened.

The cabin is dark when you finally return to your room. It’s well past midnight and you expect Jungkook to be here but as your eyes quickly adjust, you can see the room is empty. As you walk in further, you see his suitcase standing packed and ready in the corner of the room.

Deflating, you trudge over to your own open suitcase on one side of the room. You’re only half packed and you’d hoped Jungkook would still have his to do too so you’d have a chance to maybe talk to him, but it seems he’s already done it while you were busy with the girls. You wonder if he avoided you on purpose.

Pushing this thought quickly out of your head, you press shuffle on your ‘summer ‘23’ playlist in an attempt to cheer yourself up while you finish packing. It doesn’t really work but you at least keep your mind free from running rampant, instead singing along to some of your favourite tunes with no regards for your cabin neighbours, one of whom is Valentina and you’re more than certain she’s not in her cabin because you last saw her walking out of the premium lounge with a tall, handsome stranger whose face you couldn’t see and they went into an elevator going to the cabins on the other side of the ship, barely waiting to let the door close before locking lips.

Must be nice, you think sourly before shaking your head. Not cute, Y/N, you scold yourself. Although you don’t blame yourself for having negative thoughts since you are on the short end of an unrequited love story with your best friend, you’d still rather not be bitter.

Almost three hours later, you’ve packed everything, showered and are already dressed ready for the arrival at Porto Cheli soon. You’ve chosen a simple outfit, a sky blue linen co-ord with jewellery to match. Slipping into the comfiest sandals you own, you move your suitcase next to the door and grab your phone before heading out of the room. It’s almost 5am so there’s around an hour left until the ship docks at the port, marking the end of the cruise and the start of the busy wedding weekend. Most of you took a nap during the day, so deciding you wouldn’t sleep tonight, they all agreed to meet one last time on the cruise.

Despite everything that’s happened with Jungkook and the dampener it’s put on your mood, you’re still excited to celebrate Alex’s wedding. Not only is he dear to you, but you’re celebrating his marriage with so many of the people you love the most, making this whole trip special. It would be perfect if you could end it by fixing what’s happened with Jungkook but you feel like you’ve already made yourself so vulnerable to him and nothing came out of it.

It’s quiet and dark in the hallways as you make your way out to the pool on the top deck. It reminds you of the nights you were sneaking out with Jungkook to meet the other guys for whatever stupid stuff you were getting up to. It makes you miss him now and you subconsciously walk a little faster in anticipation of seeing him now as you all gather for the last time.

You can hear your friends before you see them and you smile at the sound of Alias’ laughter as you climb the steps to the deck. You’re certain any patrolling staff would have heard and they’re either being nice enough to let you all off, or Alias tipped them enough to keep quiet.

There’s a bunch of familiar faces hanging around all together, all friends of either Alex, Thalia, Sophia or Alias. You smile at a few as you make your way over to Sophia, Thalia and a few others.

The girls greet you warmly as you approach and Sophia hands you a drink as soon as you arrive. You take it and immediately take a sip. You weren’t planning on having anything to drink but one won’t hurt. There’s an excited buzz in the air, the same you felt on the first day of cruise but this feels special. The sun is rising on the horizon and you’re here with almost all of your best friends. Almost all of your best friends. Jungkook still isn’t here but you try not to focus on it and just have a good time with your friends.

It works, so much so that you’re mid laughter when a familiar face joins the deck and makes their way over to you, but you don’t quite realise until he pats your shoulder as the conversation progresses.

Turning around, your smile falters but doesn’t disappear. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey.” Lawrence looks nervous, an emotion you’re not used to seeing on him.

You also weren’t actually expecting to see him but you’re glad he’s here. Throughout everything, he’s still a friend and you’d hate to lose that relationship with him.

“How are you?” You ask, smile widening. You haven’t seen him since that night and you’d hate to think he’s been avoiding you when it’s the last thing you’d want.

“Good, thanks,” he nods. He seems to suddenly relax at your warm response. He glances at the group behind you and you turn too. No one is paying either of you any attention but Lawrence still asks for privacy. “Do you think we could talk?” he asks tentatively. “I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

“Of course,” you nod, following him as he turns right away and walks to the furthest side of the deck where it’s quietest.

You stop when he does, taking a seat on the bench beside him. It’s easy to see he’s nervous as he glances around quickly before looking down at the drink in his hand. You want to say something to make him feel better but you don’t want to interrupt whatever it is he wants to say.

“How have you, uh, how have you been?” He looks up, holding eye contact for barely a second before looking away again.

“Good,” you answer. It’s not the truth but he doesn’t need to know that.

He nods and takes a sip of his drink. You do the same and you’ve just swallowed when he speaks again.

“I‘m sorry for pulling you away from your friends, I just wanted to talk to you tonight before all the wedding stuff starts and I didn’t know if I’d get a chance.”

“That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You lean in a little so he looks at you and smile. “You’re my friend too though,” you say, feeling the need to remind him.

His smile mirrors yours and he nods. “I kinda messed it up though…”

You know this is of course what he wanted to talk to you about and although you don’t think it needs to change anything between you, you know yourself how easily feelings can change a friendship. Not only that, but he deserves an explanation from you too since you did have feelings for him for a good chunk of your teen years and later, plus your conversation ended before it was supposed to that night when Alias and Jungkook appeared.

“Not really,” you shrug. “I think it’s just how we deal with it now, no?”

“Yeah, if you’re okay with that,” he agrees. “I’d like to.”

“Of course I am. And I’m sorry too by the way.”

Lawrence looks confused and you don’t wait for him to say anything before continuing.

“I think it must have been confusing for you to be on the receiving end of my feelings for you while we were in college and maybe I even subconsciously made it seem like it after too.”

“Ah,” Lawrence purses his lips. “Well I didn’t really know.”

“I know, you said that before but I still feel like I need to say it. There may have been a few times I was coming off as more than friendly and that was wrong of me.”

Lawrence’s silence serves as an answer.

“So yeah, I’m sorry too. I hope we can go back to how things were,” you say hesitantly.

“It might be hard,” Lawrence responds honestly.

“I know…” your voice feels small. You know all too well how feelings can change a friendship. “But we’ll try?” You look at him and smile hopefully.

He nods. “Of course.”

You’re content with that. Of course you don’t know the extent of his feelings for you so you hope it won’t be hard for him to move on – after all, the two of you mostly ever met up at family functions and dinners of the same sort. It’s rare for Lawrence to have joined any of the outings with your friends. It was never his fault since his parents have always pushed for him to do more for their company, especially since he was an only child. It’s something that’s always made you more grateful for your own parents and their completely laid back and caring approach to your career, even all throughout school. The only thing they ever pushed for was your grades but they kept up that same effort in all areas of your life, even your extracurriculars. Sure, sometimes when you were growing up you felt the pressure but you always felt supported by them no matter what the final result was.

Lawrence has experienced the opposite of you to say it simply, and you’re sure that given time, he’ll find the right person for him as he prioritises himself.

“Thanks for talking to me though,” you say, “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” Lawrence says, taking another sip. “At least now I don’t have to avoid you all weekend long.”

You laugh, agreeing with him and soon enough, the conversation continues although it doesn’t last longer than ten minutes with Lawrence excusing himself.

You stay seated at the bench as he leaves. You didn’t realise you were concerned about your relationship with Lawrence but the relief and content you’re feeling now tells you as much. You’re glad you’ve cleared everything up with him, now if only you could get yourself to do the same with Jungkook.

Glancing around, you realise that he still hasn’t appeared. He definitely would have known about it so you wonder why he hasn’t turned up. Finishing your drink, you get up and head over to where Alias is sitting with his friends Kelce and Dillon.

“Hey, Y/N,” they all say in unison when you come and sit beside them at the pool. They’re definitely a little tipsy and you don’t need to see the cans beside them to know that. Their goofy smiles say it all.

“Hey guys,” you chuckle, patting Kelce’s shoulder. “Um, have you guys seen Jungkook anywhere?”

Alias immediately frowns but it’s Dillon who answers. “We were with him a while ago at the lounge.” He looks at the other guys. “When was that? A couple of hours ago?”

Kelce looks at his phone. “Yeah, it was around one.”

You went past the lounge at the same time, that’s when you saw Valentina leaving with that guy… for a split second, your mind goes there – could it have been him? – No. Absolutely no. The idea is absurd. You feel stupid for even thinking that.

“You haven’t seen him since then, Y/N?” Alias asks.

“No.” You ignore the seed of concern that settles in your stomach. You’re certain he’s not with Valentina, but where is he?

“We were gonna leave the lounge together but he stayed for another drink,” Alias tells you, seeming to share the same concern as you. “He seemed like he wanted to be alone so we left him.”

“Oh.” It’s not like Jungkook to drink alone – if he does, he’s usually upset about something. “Well, thanks for telling me,” you mutter, getting up and leaving the group.

Alias, however, gets up with you. “Hey,” he says, taking your arm. “You want me to find him?” He looks you over and you’re sure the concern in his expression isn’t solely for Jungkook.

“Um…” you hesitate. You don’t want to seem like a clingy best friend, especially not after what happened between you, but if Jungkook is drinking alone then he’s not feeling okay and you would normally be there for him. This time you feel like you can’t be, but Alias can. However, you don’t want to ask Alias to spend his night away from his friends and family.

Looking at him, you smile. “No, it’s okay. I’m sure he’s around somewhere.”

Alias doesn’t seem convinced. “But then he would be here.”

He’s right. “Or maybe he was tired and went back to the cabin?”

“You just said you haven’t seen him since we did.”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you shake your head. “I haven’t.”

Sighing, Alias pulls out his phone. “I’ll try calling him but if he doesn’t get back to me in ten minutes we’ll go look for him.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Let me know if he replies,” you say, thanking him too before going back to some of the girls.

You’re not listening much to their conversation although you try to get involved to take your mind off of Jungkook.

It isn’t until you receive a text from Alias with a screenshot that your nerves are put to rest.

[3:01] Me: hey man where r u?

[3:13] JK: hey sorry bro, I knocked out on the balcony.

[3:13] Me: oh okay, it’s all good just wanted to know where u were. Join us now? We’re at the top pool deck.

[3.15] JK: I’m just gonna check all my luggage is packed first. Will join later.

[3:15] Me: cool see u.

So he’s fine, he just fell asleep. You still want to see him but you know that’s not going to happen unless you go down to the cabin room and you don’t want to seem clingy so you don’t. Instead, you turn your attention back to the conversation the girls are having and feel the excitement for the weekend to come.

Jungkook doesn’t get drunk often and he had no plans of doing so the last night of the cruise either, and he most definitely did not expect to get drunk with your father of all people…

“You coming Jungkook?”

Looking up from his drink, Jungkook shook his head. “Nah, I’m just gonna hang here for a bit,” he said with a smile so as not to raise suspicions from the already watchful eye of Alias.

Still, Alias frowned. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I still got a headache.”

“Alright, well text me if you need anything,” Alias said as he, Kelce and Dillon got up.

“Get well soon,” Kelce said as they took their leave.

“Join us later, yeah?” Dillon added.

“Yeah,” Jungkook nodded. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

He watched as they walked out, trying to find the same excitement in him for the wedding as they’re feeling but his head was full of other thoughts.

Sighing, he looked down at this drink again. It’s true that he had a headache. He even chose not to have anything alcoholic, opting for a mocktail from the extensive drinks menu available at the lounge. He’s not sure where it came from but he thought it’s most likely just because he couldn’t stop his brain from thinking and the lack of sleep didn’t help either.

Truthfully, he knew he was just moping. He knew what he had to do and he knew it before his conversation with Valentina. Although, the fact that she said it too just made Jungkook more aware of the truth.

The line between friendship and something more had always been blurry for Jungkook and the past few days only made him more sure of it — he’s in love with you and he always has been for as long as he can remember.

Every time the thought crossed Jungkook’s mind, it triggered the questions that come with it. How do I tell her? Does she feel the same way? She’ll hate me. What if she hates me? I shouldn’t do that to her? What’s worse, is that now it had come to the point that being with you was almost painful – not knowing if he could have more with you when all he had to do was confront his feelings, swallow his pride and be honest with you. Even if you didn’t feel the same, it was the point at which he realised he would rather you hate him for admitting his feelings and ruining your friendship, than stay quiet and never know if he can have what he’s always wanted with you.

That said, it still felt so hard to do – he had a lot to lose.

Head lowered, Jungkook tried to figure out the best way to do this when he heard a familiar laugh somewhere behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Valentina walking with a tall, handsome man beside her. Jungkook had seen him around a few times but he wasn’t sure if he was a part of the wedding party. Whoever he was, he sure knew how to make Valentina laugh; she was laughing as he put his arm around her and she raised her hand to hold his fingers loosely when she looked towards the bar. Making eye contact with Jungkook, she stopped and tilted her head.

Jungkook just smiled awkwardly and turned back around. He didn’t want to seem like he was staring even though that was what he was doing but for no bad reason – he liked to see Valentina happy. Despite her shortcomings, deep down she always had good intentions for the most part and making her happy was something Jungkook couldn’t do. However, he would’ve been lying if he said seeing her like that didn’t hurt – not because he was jealous of her, but because everyone around him seemed to be having such good luck in their love lives (whether there’s feelings attached or not) and here he was, unable to find the words to tell his best friend he loves her. It sucked.

“And what are you doing here, may I ask?”

Hearing Valentina’s voice so close to him all of a sudden startled Jungkook. He looked up, eyes wide. She stood with one hand on the bar and the other on her hip.

“Uh, just getting a drink.”

Valentina rolled her eyes. “I spoke to you less than 12 hours ago, Jungkook, do you not remember anything?”

“I do,” he replied, glancing across at her date who seemed super unbothered as he waited for her a short distance away.

“Then why are you here?”

“I just needed to think some things over.”

“Like what?”

“Just things,” Jungkook said, feeling somewhat intimidated by how serious she was right now.

“You know you’re just wasting time,” she said matter-of-factly.

“She’s with everyone else right now, I don’t want to ruin her evening,” Jungkook says defensively.

“I really don’t think anything you say or do could ruin her evening.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Well, yeah but you’re not doing anything about it so how is that any better?”

She wasn’t wrong but Jungkook was convinced he needed to give you time. “I’m just not ready yet,” he sighed.

Valentina sighed too. “Fine,” she shrugged and turned back towards her date. “But you don’t need to think, Jungkook, you just need to do what needs to be done,” she added with a wave of her hand.

He knew she was right but why did it feel so hard?!

Getting the attention of the bartender, he ordered a much needed drink, downing it all almost as soon as it came before ordering a second. At least he wasn’t a light weight. He knew this wouldn’t help his headache but it wasn’t like he was helping himself at all by sitting here and thinking endlessly. Endless thoughts of what could go right and wrong trailed through his mind, leaving him conflicted as he accepted that he wouldn’t disturb your night with this.

Halfway through his drink, someone came and took a seat at the stool beside him despite there being space elsewhere. Looking across, he was more than surprised to see the last person he would’ve expected to see here.

Lawrence only acknowledged Jungkook with a nod before ordering his own drink.

A multitude of emotions went through Jungkook at this particular moment starting with wanting to punch Lawrence in his perfect face, to feeling sorry for himself for being forced into this situation, then feeling sorry for Lawrence because he knew that he got the short end of the stick – at least Jungkook still has a strong friendship with you — and oddly, gratefulness because Jungkook knows what he needs to do now and without Lawrence, he wouldn’t have been forced into it and who knows how long he would’ve gone without telling you the truth (though he had yet to do it).

Saying nothing himself, Jungkook took another sip of his drink.

Lawrence, however, started a conversation. “You not joining the others?”

“Nah,” Jungkook answered quietly. He gave no reason but he didn’t need to.

Lawrence nodded in understanding but said nothing else. His drink arrived and he stayed seated, sipping quietly beside Jungkook.

Jungkook really didn’t care for conversation. He came to the bar for some peace and quiet so initiating a conversation is the last thing he wanted to do.

With all that said, Jungkook’s curiosity got the better of him.

“What about you?” He asked without even turning his head. “You’re not gonna head up there?”

Lawrence shook his head. “I’ll head up a bit later”

Jungkook nodded, wondering if Lawrence would see you while he was there. He could ask him but that would open the doors to another conversation which he didn’t really want to have.

Lawrence didn’t owe him any apology since you’re not really his girlfriend. He did seem to cross a line considering he didn’t know that at the time, but there was no reason for him to say it now.

Just when Jungkook took another sip of his drink, Lawrence put his glass down and looked toward Jungkook, sincerely.

“Hey, man, I’m really sorry for what I did.”

Although he harboured some slight resentment towards Lawrence for what happened, it immediately seemed to melt away in that moment. Their friendship extended well beyond the past few days and Jungkook has never been the type to hold a grudge, especially not when the other person is genuine.

“It’s cool,” he responded. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did.”

Jungkook only had to glance at Lawrence to see he looked guilty and felt bad about it. “I was selfish and I wanted to tell Y/N how I felt. I guess there was a part of me that wished she wasn’t with you and that was completely fucked up.”

“She’s not with me though.”

It came out slightly harsher than intended, carrying the weight of Jungkook’s own feelings. Lawrence went quiet and Jungkook continued, resigned.

“Honestly I’d say you’ve got a pretty good shot with her, I’d go for it if I were you.”

“Why don’t you?” Lawnrence asked simply, without any curiosity or even peaked interest. His voice held more of a genuine want to help.

“What?”

“Why don’t you just go for it?”

Jungkook shook his head. “We’re just friends.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“No offence Lawrence, but how would you know?”… Now that did come out slightly harsher than intended. “The last time you even saw us was probably at Sophia’s graduation and even then you were gonna way before the night ended.”

Completely understanding, Lawrence backed up. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Jungkook cooled off. “I’m sorry too. That came out wrong.”

“It’s alright.” Lawrence sat back in his chair, swirled his drink before taking three long sips to empty the glass.

“It doesn’t change anything though,” he said, getting up from his stool. “There’s a point at which you can pass friendship and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with treading beyond that line.” He put a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Just do it carefully.”

Jungkook stared at Lawrence but Lawrence didn’t linger.

“Anyway, like I said, I’m sorry for everything.”

Jungkook watched as he walked away, the words swimming in his befuddled mind.

Lawrence was right. There was a line and Jungkook knew he was straddling that fine line and perhaps now it was too late to step back. Instead, he should be brave and put everything out on that line. It was easy enough to think with liquid courage flowing through him, that and the fact that you weren’t here right now. But maybe he should have taken advantage of the fact that he was feeling more confident now, he should find you, he found himself thinking. He should tell you he’s in love with you and then whatever happens next will happen. He can’t control that and right now there’s already a strain on the relationship that can only be fixed by the truth.

He should do it, he thought. The thought built up more and more, ushering Jungkook as he pushed himself off the bar stool—

“Where you going, son? I just got here.”

A firm band on Jungkook’s shoulder pushed him back down, contrasting the loving tone with which he was spoken to.

Your dad took the seat which was previously occupied by Lawrence and Jungkook could only stare for a moment as he called the bartender and ordered two drinks. If it was anyone else, Jungkook would’ve apologised and excused himself to carry out his plan of finding you, but with your dad it was simply not the case.

“You like a gin and tonic right?” He asked, after ordering.

Jungkook wasn’t particularly fond of it but he nodded. “Yeah, thanks. “

“How come you’re not with the others?”

Jungkook shrugged, hoping that your dad wouldn’t be able to tell he’d already had a couple to drink. “I just wasn’t feeling it.”

“And Y/N?”

Despite being the only thing on his mind for a while, the mention of you still threw him. “Huh?”

“Is she with the others?” Your dad asked coolly, reaching for some peanuts from the bowl in front of them.

“Yeah, I think so,” Jungkook answered as nonchalantly as he could.

The bartender arrived with their drinks and your dad took his and sipped slowly in silence.

Jungkoon was not uncomfortable around your dad, not in the slightest. In fact, he seemed to have grown rather close to him over the years and appreciated the almost father-son bond they shared. Having spent much time with your family, there wasn’t much he had yet to experience when it came to your dad, but this was something different. He’d never been sat at a bar, just the two of them making small talk over drinks.

Jungkook knew your dad well enough to know that that wasn’t the purpose of this. Your dad is just breaking the ice to another conversation… but what? Surely it had to be about you and that was the only reason Jungkook found his palms unusually sweaty.

After what must’ve been at least twenty more minutes of small talk about the weather and football, Jungkook had emptied his second glass.

Your dad laughed. “I forgot you can take your liquor, huh?”

Before Jungkook could even respond, another drink had been ordered for him and Jungkook willed himself to drink this one slower, wary that he was already more than a few drinks in now though he was grateful that your dad was good at keeping up

“So, what’s the real reason you’re not with the others?” Your dad asked, his own drink replaced with another as well.

Jungkook shrugged and answered honestly. “Just not in the mood to socialise. I think I’d be a bit of a Debby downer so I’d rather sit this one out.”

“That’s selfless of you.”

“Not really, kind of selfish actually.”

Your dad nodded. “A bit of both then.”

Much to Jungkook’s surprise, your dad emptied his glass faster than Jungkook had and didn’t hesitate to order another.

“Anything else for you?” he asked Jungkook.

“Uh, sure.” Jungkook wasn’t sure why he said yes but he did, ordering a whiskey instead.

Your dad pulled his phone out and sighed, muttering an apology about a work issue and Jungkook nodded, not minding in the slightest. But the issue must have been resolved quickly because he put the phone away only moments later.

“It almost feels wrong to be drinking with you,” your dad said.

“Why?” Jungkook asked, taking the smallest sip from his glass. “Because I’m younger than you?”

“Partly. I’ve known you since you were so young, it’s hard to believe how much you’ve grown up.” Your dad smiled. “Y/N too.”

Jungkook smiled. “It has been a long time.” He thought back to the first day he first met your dad and you. He was a shy kid, hiding behind his mom and at the time, you were pretty shy at the time too. It was your mom who encouraged you to ask Jungkook if he wanted to read a book with you. He looked at his own mom for reassurance before shyly agreeing and following you to the reading corner in your playroom. By the end of the night your affinity for him had grown and that was the simple start to your long friendship with more ups and downs than Jungkook could count.

“But at the same time it feels like nothing.”

Your dad raised his glass. “Exactly,” he said, with an agreeing nod of his head. “A lifetime and nothing, both at once. I sometimes wish I could go back.”

“To when we were young?”

“Further back if I could,” he smiled. “Maybe a few years before Y/N was born. Just before I got married.”

“Why then? Jungkook asked, curious. He’d known your dad for so many years and they’d had plenty of conversations about serious stuff and more light hearted stuff, but this was different. He’d not spoken much about his relationship witn your mother, especially not when partially intoxicated. And while Jungkook had seen plenty of the love they shared, he’d not heard much about it except from you.

“When I first met Y/N’s mother—gosh,” he sighed contentedly as though reliving the moment. “She was like no one else I’d ever met. She still is,” he added with a gentle chuckle. “There’s no one else I’d rather spend my days with. I’d give everything I have to be with her. Every minute of every hour, always.”

The smile on your dads face grew, as did Jungkook’s.

“We were young when we got married, you know?”

Jungkook nodded. “I know. 24 right?”

He nodded, the corners of his lips turning up further into a proud smile. “I didn’t want to waste another day without the promise of having her by my side. My friends said I was mad, too young.”

Jungkook shakes his head, knowing how it felt to not want to be apart from someone he loved so dearly. “I don’t think you were mad at all. You were in love.”

Your dad turned, now masking the smile that was on his face as he looked at Jungkook with a mischievous glint in his eye that Jungkook hadn’t seen before. “You know it when you feel it. There’s no mistaking it.”

Jungkook knew that now. He felt it more than ever with you now. But more pressingly, Jungkook realised – your dad knew.

If it weren’t for the drinks he’d had, Jungkook might have felt embarrassed.

In quiet admittance, Jungkook sighed. “I know.”

Your dad smiled. “You shouldn’t let this time get away from you, Jungkook. You’re young with a life to live. Do it with love and without regrets.

Jungkook nodded, feeling a tumultuous swirl of emotions inside. “I will,” he said, feeling more certain now than he had before, but he knew his head wasn’t in the right place to do this. First he ought to sober up…

There was a gentle pat on his back from your dad. “Good.” He flagged the bartender down for what felt like too many times to Jungkook. “But first another drink with me.”

“Sure.” Jungkook felt his words slur slightly. Then the cogs in his brain which were turning a little slower raised a question in his mind. his eyes narrowed and he turned to your dad. “Wait, is this a test?”

Your dad laughed. “I’ve always liked you Jungkook.”

“Me too.” Jungkook smiled though he still looked wary.

“Good.” Your dad returned the smile with even more fondness. “And no, it’s not a test. Let’s drink.”

So Jungkook stayed.

note. how are you finding it? :) let me know xoxoxo link for part 3 here

more song recs: lose control — meduza & becky hill & goodboys tenerife sea — ed sheeran i'm a mess — ed sheeran so good (stripped) — halsey crazy what love can do — david guetta & becky hill & ella henderson

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jjk fanfic #bts fanfic #jjk x you #bts x reader #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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salem-s · 1 month ago

Note

hellooo!!! i was js thinking of ptputss and thought about how intimate the last chapter was, and thought about the reader cockwarming rafe as an even more intimate thing they would do (in the least sexual way posible) like to feel close to eachother, connecting as one, almost like a soultie was created out of that yk?

HELLLLLOOOOO yes absolutely a thousand times yes.

To me, the two of them definitely have quality time listed as their top love language, and will do shit like this and not even speak but just to truly feel one another, perhaps after a stressful day or when it's a little too loud. I can see them doing it before the ptputss series as like a post-sex comfort/pillow talk bullshit, but only for like five-minutes max because once there's a silence in their conversation, they'd be left with the fact that he's still inside reader and that shit would make her spiral lol.

However, post ptputss, they would totally do it in the least sexual way possible. Obvi they'd still do it post-sex if they have the time, but I'm thinking sitting and watching a movie, right after waking up, after a rough day, casual moments like that.

I love this prompt so much actually that I wanted to write a blurb about it. So. Here goes below. This blurb takes place a few days after the series ended.

Playing The Part Under The Sicilian Sun SERIES MASTERLIST | WORD COUNT: 4.3k

WARNINGS language, cockwarming (p-in-v unprotected), misogynistic language. 18+ MDNI

From the moment Rafe opens his eyes, the day is already off to a bad start.

Instead of the sun peeking through his curtains or you gently running your hands through his hair, he's woken up by the shrilling of his phone, a loud ringtone that only makes him groan and throw the pillow back over his face.

The specific ringtone that's solely reserved for Ward.

The third time his father calls him, Rafe figures that he can't ignore him forever, lazily patting around the bed to find his phone so he can just get the conversation over with. Unfortunately, he knows that the longer he stalls the inevitable, the angrier his father will get — even though being irate is his default state — and it's something that he knows he can't push off unless he wants to hear the horrible shrilling of the ringtone all day.

Getting viscerally berated over the phone wasn't on his agenda, and it hinders absolutely everything else throughout the course of the what-should-have-been-average-Sunday.

Rafe blames the rude wake up call on all the things that go south: his coffee order was completely wrong and barely salvageable (and there was no way he was getting back in line to order another), the forecast app predicted the opposite kind of day, so his new suede shoes got absolutely drenched in the downpour, the dealership by campus that he sent his car to said the part he needs is on back-order until the end of the month (how he’s going to drive home? He doesn't know), and, on top of all of it, all that he can replay in his head are the harsh vocal bullets his father shot at him at the break of dawn.

"Photography? What the hell were you thinking? I'm paying for you to learn how to carry this company, my legacy, and you're off indulging in, what? A hobby?"

Replaying the words, Rafe jabs his chopsticks particularly harshly into his noodles.

"It's pathetic, especially to hear this from your academic advisor and not from my own damn kid. What are you, afraid? You're here to learn about how to lead, how to control the estate, and instead you take history? Art history, nonetheless. It serves no purpose, no function for company. You're learning about a woman's profession, son. Did I raise you to be a woman?"

He huffs, stabbing the piece of beef.

"Alright, you've been committing first degree murder on your lo mein for the past fifteen minutes. Are you gonna tell me what's up?"

Rafe blinks at the sound of your voice, ripped from the confinements of his mind and glancing up from his thousand-yard-stare at his food to you, sitting pretty and cozy across the blanket.

You, being the innovative person you are, suggested a picnic dinner date to celebrate the end of finals, an ode to all the hard work you've both done and a mini celebration on being together (sort of? He hasn't officially asked you yet but ever since the night you proclaimed you reciprocated his feelings, he's found it hard to leave your side since). However, since the torrential downpour of the day ruled out the possibility of doing it outside, you didn't scratch the idea entirely, and set up the blanket in your dorm room, instead.

But as excited as he was for the idea yesterday, today has taken a different turn of events on his mood. Especially when he woke up alone (you spent a girl's night with Marianne and Sydney) to a call from his absolute favorite person in the world.

Besides, you look too pretty right now and it's making his heart uncomfortably race, especially under your stare. Also the fact that you're sitting criss-cross and he's half laying down, propped up on his elbows, where he feels even smaller under your gaze.

Rafe averts his eyes, settling on his food.

"'M just tired," he says quietly, not wanting to burden you with the pleasantries of his familial issues.

Obviously, you're not letting the cheap excuse fly. "So you're taking your lack of sleep out on innocent noodles?"

"Sweet girl." A warning.

Again, you don't let up. "Don't sweet girl me." Then, softer. "Talk to me. You're clearly upset."

Rafe only shrugs dismissively.

You sigh as you gaze at his dejected expression, eyes sullen and tired from whatever happened today. With the way his focus keeps drifting, his silence, and the incessant stabbing of his food, you unfortunately figure it has something to do with his father, because it's the same heartbroken expression he wore when you read to him that one day. Although, this time his eyes aren't bloodshot with the aftermath of tears. But his nail beds are a mess.

Delicately putting your chopsticks and your take-out container down, you crawl over to him and repeat those same actions to him, tucking your legs under yourself as you peer down at his practically horizontal body.

His hand, instantly, finds your inner thigh as some sort of coping mechanism to ground himself. Your hand gingerly brushes some of the hair out of his eyes, and he can only stare at the silly graphic on your t-shirt, unable to handle the vulnerability of meeting your compassionate expression. Fuck's sake, he's still getting used to the fact that someone cares about him, and it's definitely overwhelming to the point where he simply wants to brush it off and deal with it internally, but he knows you're not going to let that slide.

But Rafe is detrimentally on edge, on the verge of a panic attack as his mind spirals and spirals and deep dives off a plank into a sea of insecurities. He knows he's minutes from cracking, fuck, seconds, and he isn't sure he wants you to see it, to see him unravel in such a way only his father knows how to make him do so, knowing he needs to calm down, to feel instead of think, to tether to something to refrain from a certified crash out.

"Can I..." He asks before thinking. "Can I feel you?"

You raise a brow at him, tilting your head in confusion. The expression on your face is incriminatingly cute that it makes him hum. With one of your hands coming to cradle his face, you press a palm into his cheekbone experimentally.

"Like this?"

He feels so fucking stupid asking — no — begging for it. For you.

"No, uh." He swallows thickly. "Can I be in you?"

"Oh?" You hum absentmindedly, brain racking on what he could mean. It takes one, two, three full seconds before your brows fully raise, peering down at him. "Oh. Okay. Will that make you feel better?"

All he can do is nod pathetically, blinking ferociously to refrain from frustrated tears pooling his waterline. The last thing he wants to do right now is cry, especially around you. He's frustrated he can't just say what he feels, or get over his grueling emotions, or simply be normal and not let his father dictate whether he has a good or bad day. It doesn't help that you're being exceptionally patient with him, so tender and careful to the point where he thought it impossible to love you more than he already does.

Whether you notice his expression, you don't comment on it. "Let's go on the bed, yeah?"

Nodding once more, he nearly whines when your hand leaves the caressing of his jaw as he watches you stand and shimmy your pajama pants down, leaving you with just a graphic t-shirt on.

Rafe is soon following suit once he finds the strength to move, removing his shirt and jeans that leave him in his boxers. Climbing into your soft bed, he settles his back against the wall and holds up an arm for you, to which you're in his lap in an instant. Perched obediently on his lower thighs, you lean forward to press a chaste kiss on his lips and he barely has time to reciprocate before you're pulling away.

Your fingers meet the waist band of his boxers, meeting his gaze before you do anything further. "Is this okay?"

"Yes, baby," he murmurs, lifting his hips a fraction so you can slide his boxers down, revealing his half-hard cock.

He hisses quietly when it meets the cool air, and bites his lip as he lets you take a rare sense of control. It's as if he's putting a proverbial gun in your hand and asking you not to shoot him, because he's never asked anyone to do this with him, never reeked this badly of desperation in his life, never trusted anyone on the same level to do something like this as a calming mechanism.

You're taking him delicately in your hands as his fly down to your hips, quietly watching you align his length with your cunt before gently sinking into him. You both sigh at the sensation, about how full you feel as you slowly bottom out and how he feels like he can actually take a breath now. The remnants of the conversation with his father feel like a distant echo instead of a thrumming one, and he figures that's better than it was before (even if he can still hear it).

Bracing your hands on his shoulders, your nails soothingly scratch his upper back and shoulder blades, eventually venturing to the nape of his neck to where Rafe lets out a quiet hum, one of contentment, because this is the best he's felt all day, as if the nagging voice in his head is getting smaller and smaller. It's crazy how you make him feel, how he instantly is detrimentally less anxious as soon as you're around. It scares the shit out of him.

"Better?" You ask hushed, searching his eyes for any betterment in his mood.

He manages a soft smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Mhm, thank you, sweet girl."

You reciprocate his smile, but it's laced with etches of concern, gazing upon him so carefully that it makes his heart stutter. Has anyone ever looked at him like this before? Has anyone ever cared for him like this? Tended to his needs? Gave a shit about his feelings?

Rafe knows you're not going to ask, because you're calculated and know that he'll eventually end up saying something so you can stop giving him that expectant look. Besides, you deserve to know a fragmented version of what happened. After all, you dropped everything mid-dinner to check in on him, indulge in his request, dote on him even when you really didn't have to.

"Dad called me this morning," Rafe murmurs after an allotted silence, eyes to your collarbone. "That's it."

"About Christmas?" He doesn't have to look up to know you're frowning.

All he can do is shake his head, jaw clenched.

"Why do I even set expectations for you when I know you're only going to disappoint me?"

"Then what?" You ask, voice impossibly sweet that it makes his teeth rot.

Rafe takes a long, shaky breath as his father's words replay like a mantra in his head, echoing through his ears like a gong and embedding themselves in his brain. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs circles on your smooth skin, attempting to ground himself. It seems as though only your touch can calm him down, these days.

Swallowing thickly, his jaw clenches and unclenches. "Just about classes."

If it's possible, he can feel you frowning even further. Your hand runs soothingly through his hair, lulling him into a sense of relaxation he hasn't felt all day. It's as if some of the tension is slowly starting to release itself from his stiff shoulders, all because of your touch, your compassion, your patience with him when he probably doesn't deserve it.

"But...But you did well in everything?"

Rafe manages a (very) faint smile at your concerned tone, remembering how proud you were of him yesterday when his art history exam score was posted (a B, but he ended the class with good marks), as if he was Einstein reincarinated.

But his smile vanishes as quickly as it appeared, remembering the conversation that came after his dad saw his transcript posted. More so saw the kind of classes the marks were attached to.

"Yeah," he whispers, "wasn't about the grades. Was about the classes."

"The classes?"

All he can do is hum distractedly, looking down to watch his thumbs skim over your hips as an excuse to not look up at you.

"What about them?"

Rafe blinks the bleariness from his eyes, wishing he can just lay you down and make you forget about asking all of this in the first place, but that isn't how he wants to do things with you. Of course, he'd rather be doing anything else right now than to be coddled for something he believes makes him look weak, emotional, insecure. Although, it's proving difficult to put a mask up when you genuinely want to know so you can make it better.

He finds himself speaking before he can stop. "Wasn't the kind of stuff he thinks I should be taking." Deep breath. "Like, career wise. Said half the subjects weren't..." He pauses to find the right word. "...worth my time."

Rafe figures that's a nicer way of putting it.

Your hand leaves his hair to cradle his jaw, gently tilting up so he's — finally — looking you in the eye. And he nearly wants to match your expression at the fact that you're even frowning in the first place. Although your eyes gloss with concern and a bit of confusion as your thumb brushes over his cheekbone, holding him with such delicacy that it makes him melt into your touch.

Frankly, he's a bit startled at the ounce of determination in your stare and — dare he say — anger.

"That's stupid," is what you end up saying. "This is the time in our lives where we're meant to figure out what we like, even if it doesn't end up being what we do for a living. Having a hobby doesn't mean you're giving up your major."

Rafe can only shrug, because he knows better than to let his dad rile him up like this, because he knows you're right and he hates feeling insecure over the shit that Ward says. But he can't help it, especially when he's been trying to gain paternal approval for his entire life and always coming up short, always disappointing, always doing or saying something to embarrass the family. He should be used to coping with it, with all this weight on his shoulders, but over the years the stress has only piled on.

"Tell me," you say after a few moments of prolonged silence, "did you enjoy the classes you took this semester that aren't related to your major?"

With a slow nod, he darts his gaze between your eyes, waiting for you to talk about something else to distract him, to dismiss the conversation that is taking everything out of him. It’s already bad enough his father thinks less of him as a man, and he doesn’t want you thinking the same. Rafe winces, waiting for the worst.

But it never comes.

Instead, your eyes soften. "So where's the harm? There's nothing wrong with taking extracurriculars and exploring your interests. You have your whole life for your career, it's okay to want a break from it," you assure gently, yet hold firmness to your tone.

Rafe frowns, eyes averting to your neck, words spilling from his tongue without warning. "My life is already mapped out. I'm the eldest, I'll inherit the company. It's been that way since I was born. I don't get...breaks."

"Yes, you do," you say immediately, tilting his chin up a fraction so he'll look you in the eye again. "Your interests are what make you happy. It's perfectly okay to indulge in them." Then, softer. "I'm sorry that you’ve been made to think that you can't."

Furrowing his brows, he can't help but look down again, gently tilting his chin down enough to where your hand leaves his face, instead settling modestly on his shoulder blade as you patiently wait for him to process your words, to believe them. His thumbs rub softly on your skin to say all the words he can't vocalize right now, to express his gratitude even if he never finds the ability to say them aloud.

Yet you understand, knowing his silence isn't him shutting down, it's him focusing his words on his actions. And his hands hold you so delicately in place as you feel comfortably full of him, trying not to make any sudden movements that might lull the direction of the cockwarning into something else. You want him to talk, you want him to express his feelings and learn how to process and deal with them. You're no therapist, but you care an awful lot and you want him to be okay, and one step towards connecting with him emotionally is trying to understand his brain.

"Have you ever seen Dead Poet's Society?"

The question is so out of left field (and a little ridiculous that you're bringing it up while he's literally inside you) that it makes Rafe lift his head, meeting your eyes with a furrowed brow.

All he does is shake his head.

You scoff. "We're watching it later, by the way." That earns a sliver of a smile from him. "But there's a quote that I like that the teacher says to his students. The boys are all bound to be lawyers, doctors, businessmen, all to follow in the masculine footsteps of their fathers and grandfathers and their fathers, etcetera."

"What is the subject?" Rafe asks quietly. "What does he teach?"

You smile at his engagement, how he's hanging on to every single one of your words. "English. So, they all think the class is pointless, right? Like, going on about how poetry is stupid and literature does nothing to contribute to the real world."

Rafe frowns. That conversation feels familiar.

You don't stop, though. "But the teacher says, 'Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.' I've always loved that. And, now, I'm passing it along to you."

His thumbs pause their movements as Rafe furrows his brows, really taking in the weight of what you said.

"Don't let him make you think that you aren't allowed to pursue something you love," you add quietly, darting your gaze between his eyes. "I know you said your future is mapped out, but...it's still your life."

All Rafe can do is stare at you.

No one's ever told him something like this before. Never told him that he can do whatever he wants with his life. Never reassured him that, no matter what career he wants to go in, that he'll be loved no matter what. It's unheard of, foreign in his head to think in such a way that goes against everything he's been hearing while growing up, strange to even think about considering a different path.

And now here you are: the person he loves telling him he can be whoever he wants to be.

"You know," Rafe says after a minute of processing your life-altering words. "I never wanted to go into business."

"No?" You hum, your interested piqued.

He shakes his head. "No. I wanted to be Jacsque Cousteau."

The anecdote makes you laugh sweetly, and it's the prettiest sound he's ever heard. His heart swells at the noise.

"The ocean guy?"

Scoffing in faux offense, Rafe's lips twitch. "Baby, give him some credit. He changed the underwater exploration game."

Your grin settles into something warm, content, soft, something beautiful just for him, and there's a plethora of emotions blooming in your chest: hope, warmth, guilt, sympathy, sadness. On one hand, you see a man who loves the sea, who'd swim all day and appreciate the nature of it all without hesitation. You see someone who appreciates the water so adoringly that he'd dedicate his life to it, to its research and explorations and survival.

But on the other hand you see Rafe as a young boy, being told he's never meant to pursue anything from what he's expected to, being told his indulges are meaningless and his dreams are nonexistent. It breaks your heart that, most likely, all his life he's been believing he's not allowed to do what he wants.

"That's what you wanna do? Oceanography?" You ask simply, as if it's the simplest thing known to man.

Rafe only shrugs at the loaded question. "When I was a kid, yeah."

"And now?" You add sheepishly.

He only shrugs again, sending you a soft smile that, again, doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Doesn't matter. It was stupid."

Frowning, you can't help but feel your heart pinch.

You know that's his father talking, probably saying that to his son so often that he couldn't help but begin to believe it, believe his dreams are stupid, believe he doesn't have the privilege to explore his interests since his life is planned to a T. You're hearing the years of his father instilling that he's meant for nothing more than what is expected of him for the company, that anything else is insignificant and unimportant, that he doesn't have a choice.

The confession sits uncomfortably in your stomach, feeling like you've been sucked punched in the gut as you gaze upon Rafe, whose smile is trying to affirm you that he's fine with it. But his eyes tell a different story, hold a certain sadness of which he has accepted.

You don't even want to think about how often he dreams about switching majors, uprooting his life to become something that he wants to be, not what his family expects him to be. You don't even want to know how long he's been longing for change, for the ability to choose, pushing the urge deep, deep down because it's unattainable.

Oh, god. You could cry.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you caress his jaw. "It's not stupid. Please don't say that."

The waver in your tone gives away your fucking broken heart as you peer at him through thick lashes, trying to blink away tears that haven't come yet. It's proving difficult though, because you unintentionally pout as you really, really focus on remaining headstrong, on being the voice he needs to hear to clear his mind. You're here to comfort him, reassure him, yet you're on the verge of being the one who needs comforting.

On the other side of the coin, Rafe is just absolutely amazed at your compassion, not understanding why you're so hung up about him not being able to be an ocean explorer, for fuck's sake. You look like a kicked puppy, frowning at him in a way that he can't help but grin at, because it seems like you're more upset about it than he ever was.

"Okay," he relents gently, grinning at your clear distress, "only because you said please."

You let out a ragged breath. "That's not funny. Stop it."

"Never. And it is a little funny," he muses. "You're more upset about it than I am, I think."

Your lips twitch. "This is serious. Stop making me smile."

"Aw, I make you smile?"

"Rafe."

"You look so pretty, baby. Give me another."

You end up rolling your eyes and shaking your head gently, peering at him longingly for a prolonged moment before leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. He reciprocates as quickly as it comes, but you lean back a fraction to study him, faces inches apart as your eyes soften into a look he doesn't recognize. Regardless of what the undertones are, you are beautiful.

“Say it,” you whisper against his lips.

His brows furrow. “Say what?”

“Say it’s not stupid.”

Rafe sighs your name.

You only raise your brows, expectantly and wide eyed.

He only tilts his head slightly. “Really?”

You nod as if you’ve never been certain of anything else in your life.

Huffing again, his gaze shifts momentarily behind you, gathering up the courage to do so, cheeks tinting pink at the vulnerability of it all, at how silly he feels indulging your request. However, it’s hard to say no when you’re looking that pretty.

“It’s not stupid,” he says quietly.

“What’s not stupid?”

Rafe says your name in warning. And you only tilt your head in faux confusion, egging him on.

The sigh that emits from his mouth is guttural. “My interests are not stupid.”

“And?”

He indulges quietly. “I’m allowed to pursue what I want. It’s my life.”

Fuck, he’d say it a thousand times over if you keep smiling the way you are right now, beaming at him like he'd just hit the lottery, proud of him for finding his words.

Wordlessly, you find yourself gently wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling yourself taut to his body as if you weren't before. You rest your chin on the muscle connecting his neck to his shoulder, letting out a deep hum at the feel of him, the feel of his hands under your t-shirt gingerly rubbing up and down your back, the feel of his cock inside you, the feel of his syncopated heartbeat thrumming through his chest.

Rafe lets out a deep breath, partially out of relief, because he hates to admit that speaking it aloud has eased some sort of tension not only in his shoulders, but in his brain. He was appalled at your immediate dismissal of his father's words, saying your opinion as if it was written in code, enacted in law, praised for the world to follow. At the certainty in your voice, as if it was obvious, he figures his father must be wrong.

"Thank you." You hear him murmur.

All you can do is shake your head as best you can in this position. "You deserve to be happy."

"I am happy. I have you."

The simplicity of it has your heart skip, a wide smile etching on your face even though he has no way of seeing it.

"That's not what I meant."

Rafe snorts. "It's what I meant."

You shake your head again, but the words die in your throat as you're overwhelmingly consumed by love, compassion, care. When he does use his words, they're always firm, certain, truthful, as if they're the easiest things he's ever said. He sometimes speaks such beautiful words with such nonchalance that it throws you for a loop, makes you double take and attempt to confirm that you heard him right.

And, the worst part is, is that he has no idea the effect that it has on you. (Or he does, and he simply says it anyway to fluster you).

"Can we stay like this?" You ask sheepishly. "Just a little longer?"

As if the universe loves to prank, Rafe's stomach growls loud and audacious to the point where it silences both of you. You let out a snort and Rafe only groans, embarrassed when he remembers he spent all of dinner stabbing his food rather than eating it.

"We'll stay here all night, baby," he says low and certain. "But first, can you grab my to-go box?"

You laugh dangerously loud, the sensation making him stiffen underneath you.

"And, what?" You scoff playfully, as if the whole thing is a ridiculous idea. "We'll both eat while you're inside me?"

Suddenly, Rafe's grabbing your waist to make you lean back to stare at him, serious with a twinkle in his eye that only screams trouble. It's as if he's offended that you think he's joking.

"Uh, yeah?"

You're not one to refuse that request.

notes apologies for the delay in response (this was sent in after pt.7), I wanted to wait until the series was completely uploaded to respond to asks about it. had to pull the dead poets society card like srrrrry.

THANK YOU FOR A THOUSAND FOLLOWERS???!!! LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!!!!! <3

#rafe cameron #salem-s works #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron outerbanks #outer banks #playing the part under the sicilian sun #ptputss #reader insert #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe x female reader #rafe cameron imagine

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manganiti · 2 months ago

Text

Amane's Mindset & Love

Amane's Mindset

Amane lived his life being fully human. So he stuck with human moral convictions and emotions. I think that Akane, Teru and Kou (to some extent), which are all humans, represent what deep down Amane thinks about himself. Amane doesn't justify his wrong actions morally. He does them for the sake of his loved ones, but he never has thought that it's morally right to do them. He acknowledges it when he's doing something wrong.

Akane and Teru always remind him of what he did, that the murder was something that marked his existence forever, that he's evil because of it and even if he's fulfilling his duty, there's no way he could ever atone for his sins. Also, from Teru's perspective, the fact that he's a supernatural proves he's evil. "There's no such thing as a good supernatural because they could attack anyone at any moment".

That's why despite what he did, he never justified his wrong actions and actually likes it when people reminds him of them. He likes people who have a strong sense of morality because deep down, he sees himself as evil, as a muderer. That's part of the reason why he decided to give up on his future and killed himself after he killed Tsukasa.

In contrast, there’s Nene and Kou. At first, when Kou fought with Hanako, his perspective was like Teru's. He believed that Hanako must be exorcised because "he's the evil spirit of a murderer".

During this fight, Hanako told Kou that god would erase his guilt if he fulfilled his duty so he couldn't let Kou exorcise him. However, at the end of their fight, Hanako agreed with what Kou thought of him and he told Kou that he was looking forward to the day he was going to be exorcised by him.

After this fight, Kou started to see other side of Hanako. His gentler side. Kou decided he wasn't going to exorcise Hanako and he tried to justify the murder committed by Hanako. But Hanako reminded him that there's no justifiable reason to ever kill someone.

Even though Hanako reacted violently at that moment, entering a state in which he reenacted his past actions and poured out all the guilt he couldn't longer contain, Kou still doesn't deep down believe that Hanako is "just some evil spirit".

Now, in Nene's case, she became attached to him and saw him as a friend, despite Kou revealing his secret—that he was a murderer. But again, Amane reminded her "I'm a murderer. How can you see me as a friend?" Amane didn't feel that he was worthy or deserving of forgiveness, bonds, love or anything good after what he did.

After Tsukasa appeared, the guilt he feels for what he did, was very evident. He can't forgive himself for what he did in the past.

Hanako has a white and black view of morals, even thought he's a morally gray character. To him, his thoughts, his actions are "black", bad. He feels bad because of the way he is because he's capable of the worst in his own POV.

Now, his black-and-white mindset is more evident when he talks about supernaturals and humans. Amane thinks that there should be limits between humans and supernaturals because supernaturals are very different from humans.

Humans are different from supernaturals, but Amane takes it to the point of him believing that when a human becomes a supernatural, they stop being themselves, completely. To him when someone is born as a human, it's the only real part of themselves.

He thinks that once humans dies, it's over. There's no continuation of life and dead have no future. Not even if they wander the near shore. In his perspective, there's no hope once a human is dead no matter what they do.

So, Amane views humans and supernaturals in a very black-and-white spectrum. For example, one of the reasons he may want Nene to keep on living is that he thinks that after dying, she must go to the far shore to still be herself, because if she wants to stay in the near shore she must become a supernatural and if she does so, she'll "get all jumbled up" to the point that her identity will change completely because she would become an entirely different being, that "she wouldn't be Yashiro Nene anymore".

Amane's Love

Amane always keeps his feelings locked up in his heart and he has always had a hard time expressing himself since he was a little kid. For example, when Tsukasa asked Amane if he loved him, Amane didn't straight up said that he loved him too, but rather "Of course I do!" more in the sense of "isn't that obvious?" He never expressed his love in a straightforward way, unlike Tsukasa.

However, I think he was more open to expressing himself when he was a little kid, because when Nene traveled to the past and she met 8 year old Amane, he straight up expressed his attraction towards her. He wasn't as shy as when he was in middle school and he was kinda cheerful.

But when he started middle school, he began to repress what he liked and how he was feeling. I think he started to be like this because of the bullying he was suffering by his classmates (Probably), or maybe because of his parents. I don't think Tsukasa was the one hurting him because when they were younger, Tsukasa didn't show any sign of violence towards Amane and these signs of violence began to appear in the first year of middle school. Also, they were close to each other.

Amane doesn't show his love through words, but through actions. Even though he has a hard time expressing himself and seems like he doesn't care, he really does. Most of the evidence of his love shown in the story so far is with Nene. He wants the wellbeing of his loved ones and to do what's best for them from his perspective, but here's the issue: he doesn't take their feelings into account. For example, Nene wanted to escape the Picture Perfect world, but Amane didn't let her at first because he wanted her to keep on living.

Also, he was going to sacrifice Aoi in order to keep Nene alive even thought she didn't want any of it. Nene even told him that he "always decides things by himself without telling anyone".

So, he never takes into account what his loved ones are feeling or what they want. He just does what he thinks it's best for them. He wants to take control over their fates, over their choices and that crosses into "possessiveness" territory. For example, when Nene and Hanako reunited after the severance, he said to her that he "needed to breathe life into her by his own hands". So he needed to have control over the way her lifespan would be extended. He didn't want Kou or others interfering in it. He felt the need to show Nene his love in some way or other. He couldn't bear the thought of others taking his place, so he needed to do something by his own hands. Even Nene interpreted this as he wanting "to have her to himself".

However, there's also other aspect of his love, and it's that, he doesn't care if he has to sacrifice his life, existence or his future. He's willing to throw it away for the sake of his loved ones. He even gave up on going to the moon because of his brother and also after the severance, he didn't care if he was going to be exorcised by Teru. He just wanted Nene to keep on living and he got angry at her because she didn't stay in the human world.

After Amane killed his brother and himself, it's later revealed that Amane loved his brother so much, that Tsukasa became his yorishiro. Perhaps the murder and suicide were acts of Amane's love for his brother because he wanted to protect him, but in a selfish way. Even when Sakura was talking about the yorishiros, it implies that Tsukasa was "The most important thing he wanted to protect".

Conclusion

Amane's set of morals and his point of view on supernaturals and humans are black-and-white, because he adhered to human's morals and emotions as he was fully human when he was alive. Despite this, he's a morally gray character. He also thinks that once a human becomes a supernatural, they cease to be themselves and become something entirely different. Due to his perspective of morals and supernaturals, he views himself as evil and irredeemable. Teru, Akane and Kou (in the beginning) remind him of this.

Regarding the nature of his love, the way he loves is selfish in the sense that it's possessive and he does what he thinks it's best for his loved ones without regarding what they actually want, yet it's selfless at the same time because he's willing to sacrifice his future or existence to protect them. His morally gray actions stem from his deep, possessive, overprotective love.

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yanderes-galore · 2 months ago

Note

Would it be possible for a romantic yandere concept of ace? I see how he was when dealing with rivals but how would he be???

Well, since I already covered how he deals with rivals... I won't really do it here. I will link it though.

Ace dealing with rivals

Yandere! Portgas D. Ace HCs

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Self-deprecation (Ace), Clingy behavior, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Violence, Mentioned murder, Kidnapping, Isolation, Dubious companionship.

Ace, probably the most mature of his brothers, yet also the one with the most baggage.

I like to think Ace, due to his looks and manners, is the most experienced with romantic feelings.

I know that's not canon... but in my mind he seems like he'd have a better understanding of having crushes.

He's never acted on them... yet he understands having desires.

I find Ace interesting as he seems like a confident character due to his power and attitude...

But he's actually very vulnerable when it comes to you.

An important part of Ace's backstory is the fact he questions his existence.

He doesn't understand why he matters or why he exists.

Which often means he makes himself exist for others... such as Luffy or Whitebeard.

So, if Ace fell for someone, I can see him doing everything he can to commit to them.

If he doesn't plan on living for himself... He'll live for another.

You probably don't even see such a side of Ace until later in his obsession.

When you first meet Ace, he's confident and flirty.

You had caught his eye and decided his time would best be spent with you.

At the start, Ace would ignore his feelings.

He doesn't want to admit he has feelings for you.

He views himself as a devil, he doesn't want you associating with a person such as him.

Although, despite such thoughts, it doesn't stop him from coming to see you often.

Ace starts by wanting to protect you... That's all.

He wants to be a friend, he wants to dedicate himself to you...

But it starts more as just him trying to be protective of a new comrade he made.

I can see Ace as either platonic or romantic, yet he takes longer to show romantic feelings.

Maybe months after meeting you... or even a year... his feelings wear him down.

He loves you, no matter how he tries to hide it, so he stops hiding it.

He either shows it through actions by hovering or being overly friendly.

Although, when his confession hits, he tries his best to make it meaningful.

You make him feel wanted... So he's going to make sure you want to stay.

He hates forcing you to love him... yet even though he hates it, I'm not saying it won't happen.

Now, let's properly talk about behavior.

Ace is a protective yandere first and foremost.

He's seen the dangers the sea brings and wants to shield you from them.

You give him something to live for... if he doesn't...

It will devastate him if he loses you.

He has possessive behavior at times, but most of his actions are to protect.

Ace is incredibly affectionate once he gives into his feelings... even expressing some worship yandere behavior.

After all, he feels he isn't worth living for.

You're one of the people who makes him feel like he matters.

The others are his father figure... his brother(s)...

But you're meant to be his love... so how could he not worship you if he's letting you so close to his heart...?

He cuddles you, kisses you gently like you'll break...

He knows he can easily harm or burn you, so he tries to keep calm for you.

A HC I have for Ace is his body is hotter than others.

He can keep you warm with his body heat, which makes him perfect for cuddles.

He may even heat up when he is frustrated.

That's another reason he tries to be calm when holding you... He'd hate to burn you.

While he sees himself as a devil like the rest of the world... He never wants to hurt you.

In fact, he wants the opposite....

He wants to be the one who keeps you from harm.

To the point he's willing to use the power he wields to decimate other people.

Ace does give others a chance to rethink crossing you though.

He starts with words... but we both know what he can do.

This is the same guy who has punched through Marine ships in a blazing inferno.

So... safe to say, Ace takes your safety seriously. (Take a look at his linked HCs)

He's overall smiles, wrapping himself around you as you speak to others.

He can kill, yet has the restraint to hold back enough to talk things down.

He gives others a chance... Nothing more.

In terms of how a relationship goes, Ace is actually great.

He's affectionate, worships you, gives you all the love you could ever ask for...

Until he starts being manipulative.

Like any protective yandere, he gets paranoid.

After all, if Ace dedicates himself to you to the point of obsession...

He isn't going to want to lose you to anyone or anything, right?

He'd probably refrain from kidnapping... at first.

He wants to be honest, he'll vent his worries eventually as he tries to convince you to follow through with his plan of living somewhere with you.

Or, if you're not part of the Whitebeard Pirates, he'll try to convince you to join.

If that doesn't work, if you argue and try to leave him...

Ace may... snap.

He doesn't burn you, although there may be some accidental heat....

He doesn't like to force you... Yet if he's driven by his fear and insecurity...?

He may just get a bit... unstable.

Ace would feel guilty if you hated him.

He tells himself he can smooth it over... but he may never get what he had with you again.

He probably just ruined it for himself.

Maybe you'll get Stockholm Syndrome... yet it makes him feel worse.

He may have you to himself and safe... but if you don't love him?

What's the point?

Overall, Ace is a protective worship yandere.

He's insecure, yet you make him feel complete.

He wants you to love him genuinely...

Yet if it's between losing you one way or the other...

He'll want to keep you in whatever way he can.

#yandere one piece #yandere one piece x reader #yandere portgas d. ace #yandere ace #yandere ace x reader

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10ava01 · 4 months ago

Text

Jealousy looks good on you.

Adrian Chase (Vigilante) x F reader

Troupe: miscommunication / jealousy / hurt & comfort

Summary: Adrian believes he has no chance with you and when the mission goes wrong he finally confess his feelings.

Authors note: I adore the jealousy troupe so much and here is one with my FAV baby boy Adrian😚

Masterlist

===========================================================

Adrian had never felt this way before.

Not when he’d been shot at.

Not when he’d been stabbed.

Not even when he almost died.

But watching you get into another man’s car—laughing, touching him so easily like it was nothing—was the worst pain he had ever felt in his entire life.

He didn’t even realize his fists were clenched so hard they had turned red until Peacemaker nudged him.

“Jesus, dude, what’s with the serial killer stare?”

Adrian snapped out of it, forcing himself to relax, but his jaw was still tight. “Nothing.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever, dude,” Chris snorted. “Because standing here looking like you wanna commit murder is totally normal.”

Adrian didn’t respond. How could he? Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Because if he stood there any longer, he might actually lose it.

Out in the parking lot, there you were, laughing at something your best friend had said before climbing into his car.

Your best friend.

The perfect guy for you.

Tall. Academic. Wore glasses like he actually needed them. The type of guy who probably knew how to do his taxes without Googling it.

And most importantly?

The type of man you were looking for.

Adrian noticed everything.

The way you messed with his hair. The way he’d tug at your sleeve when you walked. The way you leaned against him like it was nothing. The inside jokes, the sarcastic comments, the way you debated things with him so easily.

And the way he let you do all of that.

His conclusion?

You liked him.

You just had to.

And if that was the case, Adrian needed to do the only logical thing he could think of.

Distance himself.

Before he lost his goddamn mind.

================================================

Avoidance was supposed to help.

But it didn’t.

Every time he saw you, his chest ached.

Every time your confused, hurt eyes looked at him, he wanted to fix it.

But then, he’d remind himself that you had him.

Your best friend.

And Adrian? He was no one. Just your work partner.

So he stayed away. For your sake. At least, that’s what he told himself.

And for weeks, he convinced himself it was better this way.

Until everything crashed and burned.

===================================================

It started with a mission gone sideways.

A deal turned into an ambush, bullets flying, chaos everywhere.

And then there was you.

Pinned down, breathing hard, panic flickering in your eyes. Struggling to catch your breath. Small cuts on your face, blood smeared across your cheek.

Looking so lifeless in that moment.

Adrian saw red.

By the time the dust settled, he was shaking. Afraid to lose you forever. His knuckles throbbed from the way he beat the last guy unconscious. His breathing was too fast, heart pounding, adrenaline and something worse—something scary—coursing through his veins.

You were safe.

But it didn’t feel like enough.

So when you reached out, grabbed his arm, concern all over your face—

He snapped.

“Why do you care?” he bit out.

You flinched. “Ade, what?”

“You heard me.” His voice was sharp, barely controlled. “Why do you care, huh? You have him.”

Your brows furrowed. “Adrian, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” His fists clenched, his whole body tense. “I see how you look at him. Touching him. Laughing with him. And it’s—” He sucked in a shaky breath. “It’s fucking killing me, Y/N.”

Your stomach dropped.

Your heart started to pound.

“Ade… are you jealous?” you whispered.

His laugh was bitter. “I—I… well, yeah. Who am I kidding? Yes, I am jealous.”

You stared at him.

At his confession.

Your heart was hammering.

“Adrian—”

“No, don’t.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t try to make me feel better. I get it, okay? I’m not the guy you want.”

Something in his voice cracked.

And that—that was your final straw.

“Are you seriously this fucking dumb?” you snapped, stepping closer, eyes blazing.

Adrian blinked. “Uh, what?”

“You think I want him?” Your voice shook with frustration. “He’s my best friend. I had a crush on him years ago, but now? He’s like my annoying brother.”

Adrian just stood there, processing. “So… you don’t wanna be with him?”

“NO, YOU MORON!” You shoved his chest, hard. “If anything, I wanted to be with you! At least, I did before you started acting all fucking weird.”

His breath hitched.

“You let me think I did something wrong,” you continued, voice shaking. “Like I wasn’t enough. Like I wasn’t worth keeping around. And for what? Because you were jealous but too much of a coward to do anything about it?”

Adrian reeled.

“Baby, I—” He swallowed hard, panic flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t know how to—I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“The right thing for who? You or me?” Your throat tightened. “But you know what the worst part was?”

He braced himself. “What?”

“I still love you, idiot.”

Silence.

Then—

Adrian moved.

One second you were yelling at him, and the next—his lips crashed into yours.

It was desperate.

Burning.

Like all the frustration, the longing, the ache had boiled over into something uncontrollable.

His hands cupped your face, holding you like you might disappear. His body pressed against yours, heat rolling off him in waves.

You gasped, and he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss like he needed it to breathe.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, panting.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “I should’ve done that ages ago.”

You huffed a breathless laugh. “Yeah, you should’ve, dork.”

Your dork.

His arms tightened around you, voice dropping to a whisper. “I don’t ever wanna lose you.”

“You won’t,” you murmured, fingers tracing his jaw. “But you have to talk to me, Adrian. No more avoiding. No more running away.”

His expression softened, and for the first time in weeks, the tension melted from his body.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling like a lovesick puppy. “Okay, baby.”

“Btw jealousy looks good on you babe” you smirk teasingly.

And then—he kissed you again.

Because now that he had you?

He wasn’t ever letting go.

#dc universe #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #peacemaker tv #peacemaker #adrian chase x female reader #adrian chase

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hyperesthesias · 25 days ago

Text

Nikto x Female Character

summary: nikto is being framed for a murder he didn’t commit. he turns to the only person he can trust -- the woman he planned to marry while in university, who is now an investigative journalist. but not all of nikto's alters want his name cleared.

author's note: this piece combines nikto's call of duty: modern warfare reboot lore, with his call of duty: mobile lore. i have included elements from both, and i have omitted elements from both as well. another half baked idea from yours truly.

content: canon compliant; canon typical violence; dissociative identity disorder; light stalking; terrorism; cheating; mentions of torture; mentions of child abuse and domestic violence.

words: 10,597

music: andre – pieces by sum 41 // sascha – away from the sun by three doors down // olev – daybreak by robin carolan // samantha – dangerous by sleep token.

AO3 LINK.

October 2022 ----

Nikto has landed in Russia with the rest of his KorTac unit. He is familiar with the area, but he hasn't been to his homeland in many years. He did not leave under positive circumstances, and he doubts he will ever be able to resolve what he left behind there. He has bigger, more current, issues to worry about. His two alters have been mostly behaving themselves, He's been able to keep them at bay enough for him to blend into his role the way he needs to -- he's an excellent liar, but he doubts he fooled the field psychiatrist and his superiors well enough for them to think nothing is bothering him at all. Eventually they'll find out, eventually he'll be diagnosed, and the ruse will be over -- his life will be over. Everything he's known and known how to do will be taken from him. He'll be deemed too unstable for the field, and he'll be discarded without so much as a second thought, or good enough benefits for him to survive on long term. He starts to spiral at the thought, and he can feel one of the other men in his head scratching at the wall he's put between himself and them. They've been more active, they've made themselves known more frequently since he heard that his unit would be returning to Eastern Europe. They're in Russia to capture a man named Petrov, whose dossier is longer than a novel. He was a lieutenant under Zakhaev, and while Andre has never encountered him, there's a stirring discomfort within him at the thought. There's a whole other life he left behind in Russia, a whole other lifetime ago, and he doesn't have the time, patience, or desire to sift through it all to get the voices in his head to settle down. All he can hope is that his unit is in and out of there quicker than he can spit, and that all three parts of him get back to headquarters without incident.

But he should've known that was too much to ask.

The job goes bad -- his team made a plan, the plan went wrong, so he made a new plan, and then he threw that one out the window, as he was actually being thrown out a window. He hesitated at the sight of Petrov, despite having him in his scope, and his teammates are ready to tear him to pieces. Everything is FUBAR, and he is barely able to catch his breath as his unit regroups at base. The plan changes for a third time: he and the rest of the men will lay low, and restrike before their target is scheduled to make his next move.

The rest of the men stay at the base, unfamiliar with the territory, but Nikto knows this area well. Things stay the same, as equally as they change -- signs change names, and carts and kiosks appear and disappear, and yet he can follow the streets and alleys with ease. His history as an undercover operative allows him to blend in anywhere, even when he stands out. There's a marketplace not far from the safehouse, and in weakness, he searches for a soft candy he used to find at its stalls when he was a child.

He doesn't remember anything after that.

He comes back into awareness as he's standing on a high bridge. There's a body on the ground beneath him – it’s Petrov, dead. A crowd is starting to gather. Even if he wasn't guilty, he certainly looks menacing enough for the blame to fall on him -- the balaclava, his backpack, and the .45mm on his hip are enough for the court of the people to convict him, whether he did something or not. But he can't remember.

He runs, not knowing where to go. There's enough heat on his team already, if he bolts back to the safehouse, he might lead people right to it. He's not sure he didn't kill Petrov anyway, and he has no way to explain that lapse of memory to his superiors -- no way to explain it and still keep his position at KorTac. Then again, disappearing altogether would only cement his guilt. He has no one.

Except for one person, someone he left behind a lifetime ago.

It's been sixteen hours after the incident at the bridge, and Nikto has tracked down a woman he once knew before he joined the military. She was a writer, an exchange student at the university he attended. At first, she wrote stories, and small pieces for the university's newspaper, but as time went on, as the world began to deteriorate, she developed a desire to pursue investigative journalism. He discouraged her from it at the time, but now her skills might be the only thing that can clear -- or convict -- his name. He wants the truth, regardless of what it is. He needs to know if he's unstable and volatile enough to black out and kill a man without knowing.

He seeks her out, and finds where she lives. The fact that she's alive at all is surprising, but Nikto has kept tabs on her since his time with the FSB and special forces. Occasionally he heard her name pass through the dossiers compiled by his superiors, and every time he saw her name and photograph, he hoped he'd never have to see her through the scope of his rifle.

He's using a scope now, to look at her through her bedroom window. She's as beautiful as the day they met. He suddenly has the crushing weight of realization that she won't recognize him. Certainly not in the balaclava, but even without it. He's different now -- in appearance, and in mannerism. To her, he would be a stranger. A sinking feeling hits his stomach, and he debates whether he should leave altogether, and take his chances back at the safehouse. But with each ticking second, he looks guiltier and guiltier, and his alibi gets thinner and thinner.

She starts to undress, and he knows he should look away, but a part of him wants to relish the sight of her before he disappears -- before he faces her and she screams. He remembers the feeling of her pressed flush against him, of her legs wrapped around him. He's never forgotten her, never moved on from her. The day he left Russia, time froze, and to him, she's still the love within him -- kept secret, stowed deep down where no one, and nothing can touch her. Not even himself.

He doesn't have the courage to knock on her door that early morning, nor the next. But he sits and watches her, follows her, hoping to get the willpower to shatter the fragile idea of the past he has with her. He learns about her -- her Russian has improved; she still smiles at the market vendors, and they still hate it; she has a tattoo now, even though she said she'd never get one, it's on the lower side of her left hip; she has a cat, who she loves, and he still thinks she would make an excellent mother. Thoughts come to the surface of his mind that he hasn't acknowledged since his life with her, and he debates on whether he should just fall on his sword and leave her be.

But her instincts are better than he gives her credit for, and as he follows her that afternoon, she makes him. He lets her.

Suddenly he has the barrel of a Beretta in his back, and he's being led to a blind, quiet alley around the back of her apartment building.

"Who sent you?" she asks.

He has his hands raised, and that pit in his stomach gets deeper as the moment becomes more real. She presses the barrel harder into his spine as he delays, and he grunts at the pain; his back is still sore from being defenestrated.

"Samantha..." he says, still trying to fight through his own thoughts enough to speak. "I'm not -- I am not here to hurt you. I was sent by no one." He feels the pistol fall, and there's a distinct, weighted silence that falls with it. He turns around, his hands still raised, and when he finally faces her, her eyes are starting to water. He feels like a boy again, standing in front of a girl who's crying. He doesn't know what to do.

"Andre?" she breathes. Instantly, she recognizes his voice.

They're back inside her apartment, sitting in the living room with a cup of chaya. It smells incredible, but he won't take off the balaclava, he won't even dare to risk lifting the edge. He is afraid of the look in her eyes -- that she'll see the scars, the missing pieces of his face, and that the love in her eyes will turn to horror. He wouldn't be able to live anymore. He prefers if she remembers him as that handsome, younger man from university.

"I heard about that," she says about the incident on the bridge. "The police are looking for a masked man, but they don't have many leads at the moment. They're still waiting for the lab to identify a blood sample they found at the scene."

"My blood?"

"You tell me. You said you don't remember anything about what happened, but do you have any unexplained injuries?"

"Unexplained? No. All of them are explained."

She almost chuckles. He always had a way of making her laugh, even without trying. "Are you hurt?"

"Yes," he says. "But not from the bridge. It was before that."

"Do you need a doctor?"

"No -- no. I don't need...anything."

Another silence settles between them. Neither one of them knows what to say, what to ask, where to start.

He sees movement from the corner of his eye, and he goes stiff -- ready to pull his weapon.

"It's okay -- It's okay. It's just Mishka, my cat." Samantha clicks her tongue, and the black cat comes running to her; she picks her up and puts her in her lap. "She was a stray, I found her in the alley out back."

"The last time you took in a stray cat, you were almost expelled."

She weakly smiles, but she doesn't look at him. "You remember that?"

His eyes are fixed on her, he studies her, like a pane of stained glass in a chapel. "I remember everything."

Her eyes are starting to water again, and Mishka jumps from her lap. "Why did you leave?"

"I don't want to talk about that."

"I've gone over it, in my head, for years--"

"I only want to talk about now."

"You don't think I deserve at least half an answer?"

"I said no!" he yells at her, he's on his feet, his breath his harder through his mask, and he sees that fear in her eyes -- the kind he dreaded seeing. He turns away from her, with his head in his hand. The scratching at that wall inside his mind is getting more intense, and he can feel it starting to give way.

"I will help you, Andre," Samantha says, and he can hear her pushing down the tears that threatened her before.

He's trying to keep the wall in his mind upright, he's trying to hold whoever is behind it at bay. "Samantha -- I am different...now," his voice wavers at the confession of weakness. He doesn't have time to explain everything to her -- he doesn't want to explain what Zakhaev did to him. But he knows he should at least warn her before he switches, and someone else comes to the forefront. The only thing he can think to do is leave.

He always leaves.

He's starting for the door -- everything goes black.

Samantha watches her former lover wrestle with something inside of him, watches as he keeps his head in his hands, and watches as he puts his hand on the doorknob to leave, then suddenly stop. He looks up at the door, looks around the foyer, and the living room, he looks at his hands, and then turns around to look at her.

There's a blank confusion in his bright blue eyes. He's staring at her. Trying to put pieces together.

"...Andre?"

The name gets a response from him, but it isn't the one she expects.

"Andre brought us here?" His voice is lighter than before, unlike the voice she remembers.

A coldness runs through her, and his warning to her begins to make sense. She nods, cautiously. "Yes, Andre came to me, to ask for my help."

"Who are you?" he's pointing at her, that confusion still churning in his eyes as he starts to approach her.

"My name is Samantha," she stands, with her hands plainly visible on the kitchen table.

He snaps his gloved fingers. "Ah! Yes, Samantha! I knew you looked familiar."

"Do you...remember me? Do you remember how we met, at the university?"

"No, no," he says, and brings his backpack around to reach for something inside of it. He sees her put her hands up, and flinch. "No -- No, no. Samantha, no. You are from the photograph." He takes out a worn and feathered photograph and hands it to her. "See? He keeps it here, with us."

"'Us'..." She takes the photo -- it's her official portrait from when she received her first award for journalism. "You and Andre?"

"And Olev. I don't think there is anyone else."

Samantha takes a deep breath, and returns the photograph. "Okay. Well, who are you? Let's start there," she invites him to sit.

He does as she instructs, and briefly lifts the balaclava to take a sip of chaya, it's still warm. "I am Sascha."

She can see the discoloration of scars as he lifts the mask, and she pretends she doesn't notice as he replaces it. "Do you know why Andre came to me, Sascha?"

He frowns and looks around again. "No -- I don't know anything about this place. I only know you from the photograph."

"Are you aware of the incident on the bridge?"

"The bridge!" he snaps again. "I remember the bridge. I was in the market, Andre brought us there. It took me some time to understand where I was, I got...confused, lost. But I saw our teammate, he found me. He said he would take me back to the safehouse, so I walked with him. But..." he pauses and shakes his head, "something did not feel right. I told him I wanted to go back to the market, and then he attacked me."

"Your teammate?"

Sascha grows quiet, mulling over what happened, still trying to put pieces together with half the puzzle.

"Does he know you have alternate identities?"

"No, I don't think so. We are careful. No one can know. If they find out, we are going to be discharged. Andre is careful, and so am I. The only one who might have compromised us is...Olev. But I don't -- I don't think so. He knows the consequences."

"May I speak with Olev?"

"No," he replies emphatically. "No, you do not want to speak to Olev. He is...not nice. He does not like to talk. Olev talks with his fists."

She takes another deep breath, and agrees. "Alright. The man at the bottom of the bridge, the man who died, was it your teammate?"

He points again, and a light of recognition flicks on in his eyes. "No -- he killed that man! He tried to kill me, but we took the gun from him. We fought. Petrov was there -- the target from our mission. I think, I think maybe I was following him. Or maybe Andre was. I don't remember. The mission was to capture him, but our teammate, he killed him. I tried to stop him, but he made it look like I was the one who pushed him. People started to come around. What people saw, was not what happened."

"This teammate of yours, have you had conflicts with him in the past?"

"I...don't know," he says, somewhat defeated. "I cannot remember what Andre sees. But from what I have witnessed, I thought we were on good terms. I don't know why...Why? Why did he betray me?"

Samantha keeps him at her apartment as she goes to the scene of the crime, as well as the lab to get an update on the sample results, hopefully before the police receive them. Sascha does not protest, a part of his mind feels safe with her -- as if he knows her from a dream he once had. He stays on the couch, and spends most of the day trying to coax Mishka out of the dark hallway.

She has a connection in the crime lab, a man she's been seeing for the past two and a half months. His name is Nikolai. He's sweet, a little naive. He's a scientist, not an officer, he's never been exposed to the field like she has. His innocence is refreshing. It's also the reason she can get him to tell her about the bridge case. The irony isn't lost on her that she's asking the man she's currently seeing to help her lover from a lifetime ago. But he doesn't have to know that.

Nikolai tells her that the blood sample returned a match earlier that day. It triggered a military file for a man named Andre Volkov, however the file itself was sealed. He asks her to dinner this weekend.

She tells him she'll check her schedule.

While she is gone, Andre returns to the forefront. The apartment is empty, and the cat is running away from him again. He finds a note on the side table: 'Samantha went out, she will be back. She is helping us.' It's written in Sascha's handwriting, and Andre once more considers leaving without a trace. Samantha didn't ask for this. But then again, neither did he.

Before he can make up his mind, Samantha comes through the front door. He stands, unsure what to do with himself, what to say.

She can immediately tell his body language is different. She stops.

"It's me," he says. "Andre." He awkwardly pauses again, with the paper still in his hand. "Sascha -- he left me a note. Did you find anything?"

She tells him Sascha's experience on the bridge, and that the lab results have confirmed his blood was at the scene.

"I don't even have a scratch from the fight Sascha had with him. I don't understand how my blood was found there."

"If Sascha was fronting at the time of the attack on the bridge, how do you know for sure that you were uninjured?"

He squirms nervously, already anticipating her next idea. "I checked."

"You need to check again," she tells him, softly persuading him.

He disrobes, piece by piece. He feels more vulnerable than he ever has in his life, naked in more ways than one in front of her. He's down to only his underwear and his balaclava, which he still hasn't removed. She helped him take off the jacket, and the shirt. He's sore, he says, his back hurts. It's covered in blue bruises, while older white scars lie beneath, they look like whippings. Feathered scars map the entirety of his body, from knife wounds, to healed bullet holes. Some scars she knows and remembers from when he was younger: burn marks made by cigarettes, left on his skin by his father. She touches him gently, running her hand along the newer impressions she doesn't recognize.

"Don't look at me like that," he says.

She doesn't say anything.

"Like with pity," he growls.

But she's as stubborn as he is, and she looks him right in the eye.

He backs down.

Slowly, she reaches up to remove the balaclava. He watches her do it, he waits for it. He grabs her hands before they touch the fabric, and he attempts to push her away. She pushes back, and keeps willing her way to his face. They both know he could overpower her easily, he could snap her wrists in half if he wanted. But he doesn't. He lets her struggle, makes her work for it, waiting for her to change her mind -- that he's not worth the effort, he's not worth the fight. Their eyes haven't left one another's, and she keeps her hands strong and steady, until eventually...

He lets go.

He braces for the impact of her scream of horror -- of her turning the color of nausea at the sight of him.

She lifts the balaclava, and it falls to the floor.

His face is bare in front of her, and he keeps his eyes on her -- present, but not.

She doesn't scream, she doesn't turn away from him. Her eyes take in the sight of his injuries -- pieces of his face are missing, as if they were shorn purposefully. Half of his nose is gone, a portion of his upper lip is gone, the entire left side of his cheek has been cut, as if peeled by a knife, leaving only the thin lower dermis to heal. A 'Z' is carved into his flesh from the top of his brow, to the bottom of his jaw.

The static feeling of shock resonates at the top of her skin, but she keeps her face still. She can't prevent the water at the edges of her eyes, but she keeps it from falling. Her breathing is heavier, and the shock gives way to the heat of rage.

It's a long, long time before either one of them speaks.

"Who did this to you?" she finally pushes the words out of her mouth.

"Zakhaev."

She knows exactly who he is. "I will kill him, myself."

The vengeful sentiment snaps him out of his dissociation, and he swallows, finally breaking eye contact. "You always surprise me, solnyshko."

She takes his face in her hands, and kisses him. He leans into her, he doesn't fight back; his hands cup her head, his fingers in her hair. Every moment he imagined in secret, every night he longed to be beside her, it suddenly becomes a reality. He pulls away only to take a breath, and to look her in the eye, to make sure she's really there, to make sure he isn't dreaming -- that he hasn't lost touch with reality completely.

His thumbs caress her cheeks, and when he convinces himself she's real -- when he convinces himself it wouldn't matter even if she wasn't -- he nudges her lips again. And again, and again. He wants to make love to her, right then, right there. He wants to make every fantasy that's put him to sleep for the last decade come true. But he doesn't. He stops. Again, he thinks about leaving.

She doesn't push him.

There's a knock at the door.

Andre grabs his clothes, and retreats to the hallway, away from the door's line of sight.

"Get rid of them," he tells her.

She shoos him, and regathers her composure. She looks through the peephole -- it's Nikolai.

"Nikolai --" she opens the door, blocking his path inside. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes -- I am alright, but I am...confused," he says. "That case you asked me about today, the one with the sealed military file, someone just came to my office and took all of the evidence. The blood, the fibers, all of it. Whatever you are investigating, I think someone does not want you to."

"Well, this certainly isn't the first time someone has wanted to stop an investigation of mine. It's part of my job, Nikolai," she smiles in an effort to put him at ease. "It will be alright."

"Be careful, milaya. I worry about you, you know.” He takes her hands and kisses them. “I was sent home early because of this mess. Why don't we have some tea together."

She touches his face, and pulls away. "I wish I could, but I am very busy right now. The harder they work to put me off the case, the harder I have to work to stay on it. You understand."

He sighs and nods. "Promise me you will be careful. You still owe me dinner."

She laughs and agrees.

Andre is in a million pieces in the hallway, half dressed. He hates himself, he hates himself for wanting her -- he hates himself for thinking it might have even been an option, if even for a brief moment. She has her own life. She has men falling at their feet for her, ready to provide for her, of course she would. She moved on. It was him who was the fool. She closes the door, and his head lands on the wall behind him with a dejected breath.

"KorTac is going to burn me," Andre tells Samantha later that night. "They will move the investigation in-house, and then bury me."

"Then we need to move fast."

He shakes his head and stops her, as he begins to collect his things. "It was a mistake to come here."

"I need to know more about this teammate of yours. What your encounters have been with him, Sascha said --"

"No."

"I won't let them accuse you of something you haven't done. I'm looking into this with or without you."

"Then it will be without," he says, and lifts the backpack onto his shoulders. "You will not get far." He once more starts for the door.

"Then you don't know me as well as I thought you did."

He stops, grinding his teeth -- he knows she's baiting him. Trying to get him to stay by way of conflict. She's done it once before, the night he left all those years ago. "I know you, Samantha," he says. "And I know that you have, in front of you, better than me. Whatever we had, when we were young..." he glances behind him and shakes his head, "it was only a dream."

He leaves, and disappears. He doesn't return to his unit, knowing that he will be caught and crucified by the very people he was supposed to trust. It was better to restart somewhere else entirely, to blend in, and create a new version of himself somewhere else. He plans on leaving the country within the week, but it will take time to find someone who can forge documents.

That weekend, Nikolai picks up Samantha for their dinner date. She is distracted, but he does what he can to alleviate her mental burden. He knows her job is difficult, she has told him briefly of the horrors she has seen, but she never shares much. He figures the past is haunting her, he can see it on her face. They finish their dinner with little conversation. He drives her home.

"I wanted to tell you something," he says while they are travelling. "I did not want to share it around all those people."

Samantha braces herself for an ill-timed confession of love.

"That case you were working on..."

She braces once more, this time for his improbable discovery of her past with Andre.

"...Before those agents came and took all of my work, I put in a requisition for any files relating to the sample from before the man, Andre, joined the military. I got a hit yesterday. It was not digitized, it was a paper file, that is why it took so long to find. I brought it for you, it's in the glove box."

Confusion, trepidation, and relief all at once smother her, and she cautiously opens the glove compartment without a word. A manilla folder sits right on top, with the name 'Volkov, Andre' on its tab. She opens it, and staring back at her is a photograph of the man she once knew: that beautiful boy, with bright blue eyes and soft skin, sharp features, unmarred by evil. A pain tightens in her throat, and she begins to read the file. The photo isn't a mugshot, it's an identification photograph from the foster care system, taken a few months before he became an adult — from two years before she met him.

The file details the brutal murder of Andre's father. Something she did not know about. He was killed right before Andre left her, before he joined the military. It was a particularly vicious crime, and investigators noted that there was a distinct presence of anger in the act. There were no suspects, but Andre was the person of interest. It was no secret his father had abused him and his mother for years, and investigators assumed Andre finally snapped and killed his father in an act of revenge. His mother had been missing for a week, and Andre filed a missing person report earlier that day. She was never found. However, Andre's blood was recovered from his father's knuckles. This did not immediately make him a suspect, as the investigators at the time found separate DNA beneath his fingernails, which was not a match to Andre. The leading theory was that his father's gambling habit caught up with him, and a warning from his bookie went wrong.

She spends the rest of the car ride reading in silence.

"Milaya, I need the file back," Nikolai tells her softly.

She finally looks up to see they've been parked in front of her apartment for some time. "I'm sorry, of course."

"Or, perhaps, you could take it inside, and you can read it while I make you tea. You need to relax, you need time to rest, too."

She smiles weakly, and hands him back the file. Guilt starts to gnaw at her that she wishes the man beside her was Andre instead. "Thank you. You are right. I think I will go to bed early."

"Another time then. I will make you tea, eventually."

"Sometime soon."

Samantha goes upstairs, and enters her apartment. There's a draught coming from the bedroom window, she hears a noise coming from the master bathroom. She reaches for a gun taped beneath the entryway table, and cautiously makes her way to her bedroom. She hears panting, shaking breaths, and quiet cursing coming from the bathroom.

She rounds the corner, and faces the open bathroom door with the barrel pointed directly at Andre.

He's covered in blood, there's panic in his eyes. He's shakily trying to patch a knife wound in his side.

She holsters the weapon, and immediately puts pressure on the wound. "What happened?"

"I don't know," he groans, trying to catch his breath. "I woke up like this. I don't know what happened." He stifles a yell as she starts packing the wound with gauze from his med kit.

"Tell me what you remember," she demands.

He's trying to focus on something other than the pain and the looming darkness that's starting to encroach on his vision.

She smacks his masked face a few times. "Tell me what you remember," she says again.

"I went -- I went to get papers. To leave the country. But the forger, he was dead. I found his body. My teammate was there, but that's it -- that's all I remember." He leans on her a little more heavily, balancing himself on the counter.

"What happened after you woke up?"

"I woke up -- my teammate -- he was dead. I...stabbed him. I think. The knife, it was in my hands."

"Where's the knife?"

"It's here," he points to the sheath on his belt.

She continues packing the wound tightly, and putting pressure once it's packed. She once more reaches for his medical kit, and places the high pressure bandage around his wound.

"I...I had nowhere else to go," he apologizes without saying it.

Over the course of the night, Andre stabilizes, and he's keeping himself awake on the couch. Samantha makes him a cup of chaya again, this time he drinks it. There's nothing left to hide from her. Somehow, she always seems to see him at his lowest.

"It wasn't just a dream, you know," she tells him. "It was real. To me."

He doesn't say anything for a while, staring at the nothingness in the hallway in front of him. Two little green eyes stare back. He has no excuses to give her, but he could lie to her -- he could lie to himself. But lies matter as little as the truth does at this point. "I dream of you every night. You are a dream to me. Something I cannot have."

"You left. I thought you and I were going to get married, have a family. Then you were gone." She doesn't mean to guilt him, she can see the pain in his face. "I would have helped you," she says.

He looks at her, uncertain of her meaning.

"I know about your father."

He looks away again.

"You never told me."

"I did not want you to think differently of me."

"I don't. I never have."

He sighs, struggling to believe it. He shakes his head. "But you will. You do not now. But...you will. There are things I did. There are things...I don't remember. Things that were done to me. It will change you, as it changed me." He sighs again, squirming uncomfortably, and then wincing in pain as the knife wound stretches with his body. "I don't remember...what happened to my father. But I knew that if I stayed, they would make me guilty, no matter the truth. All I remember of that night, is seeing my mother for the first time in a week -- she and my father were in the kitchen, he was beating her. She fought back. But then, I remember nothing. I thought she killed him, and that she left. I thought the truth was too terrible to remember." His eyes become distant again, and the void of shadows in front of him starts to whisper at the back of his mind, as if something wants to be let out. "But...after what happened -- with Zakhaev -- after I started to lose time, after I realized there was someone else, in my head..." he trails off, he doesn't say anything for a while, unsure of what it is he's trying to convey exactly. "They said it was acute, temporary, that it was the way my mind processed what he did to me. That my mind created someone else to take the pain: Olev. They said it would go away. It did -- it did go away, the voices, the losing time. I was myself again. They cleared me, for the field. But then...it came back. And when it came back, I told no one. And then, I started to think that maybe...if it came back, maybe it was always there. Maybe...it was me who killed my father, all those years ago. Maybe it was...Olev."

"Do you think Olev killed your teammate?"

"He is capable of anything," he looks at her again, that pain twisting his face again, of a torment not physical. "It can only be a dream, you and I. It is safer there, it is better there -- in dreams."

"If we cannot be together as we once were, then let me only help you now -- let me help you leave the country."

"No," he shakes his head again, and once more turns away.

"Let me help you this time."

"No," he insists more heavily.

"Why? Why do you come here for my help, and then push me away all the same?"

"Because I am a coward! Samantha," his voice breaks, and he stands, ignoring the pain in his side. His fingers dig into his chest. "I am a coward! -- and a killer. Who cannot provide for you. Who cannot give you a home, and children. Who can give you nothing! I am a coward who takes! Who takes and takes! Because I am a man who loves you, and a man who has nothing to offer." He turns around, not wanting her to see the weakness in his face -- in many more ways than one.

"You have always been many things, Andre. But a coward has never been one of them."

A whisper once more slithers its way through his mind, and he tries his best to push it back. But the stress of his vulnerability with the woman he loves, and the conflict he endured earlier in the night, the pain from the wound in his side, it’s broken down his ability to hold it off. His consciousness slips into the abyss of his mind, and something else emerges.

"Andre was always a coward," he speaks.

But it is not Andre's voice.

"Olev..." Samantha takes a breath and stands, the gun is still in her waistband. She doesn't know if she has the courage to use it against him, if it comes to that.

"Ever since he was a boy. Too weak to face his father, too powerless to save our mother. Too afraid to show his face, to close his eyes at night — to see what I saw." He turns to her, a darkness in his eyes, a weight upon his shoulders, he watches her carefully. "Too afraid of losing you. You are his weakness. And so you are mine."

"You know who I am."

"I know...everything," he growls. He approaches her, unfazed by the blood that's leaking down his side. "I watch everything -- from the corners of his mind, I watch as he tries to hide, tries to run from himself, his past. From you. It makes me sick."

"What happened on the bridge?"

"I took care of us. As I always have."

"Did you kill your teammate?"

Olev scoffs and takes another step towards her, revelling in her confusion. "He always finds a way to shift the blame. Even onto people who were never there."

The rush of fear and adrenaline begins to course through her, and she keeps her hands at her sides, ready to pull her weapon. "What do you mean?"

"Andre and Sascha remember what they need to. And I let them. Even if it means they imagine things. Even if it means...we struggle against each other," he writhes and the wound at his side gushes.

“There was never a teammate. You...You framed Andre. You killed Petrov. You planted your own blood at the scene. You killed the forger."

"I promised Petrov that he would pay for what he did to us. I always keep my promises," his voice is dark, and he fixates on her.

"Why frame Andre? You could have killed Petrov quietly. No blood, no witnesses. We both know you could have gotten away with it."

"I had to make sure he could never go back to KorTac."

Anger sets in, and Samantha stops, she plants her feet on the floor, waiting for Olev to meet her — face to wretched face. "KorTac is all he has."

"But it is not all he can be." He's standing in front of her now, they are mere inches apart. She can feel his breath wash over her face, it's calm and even, yet hot as his eyes run over her features. "I have waited...so long...to meet you, tsaritsa." He coils a lock of her hair around his finger, and pushes it behind her ear.

Her blood is racing through her veins, she can feel her heartbeat in her throat. She keeps her eyes on his, barring away the fear within her. "What are you going to do?"

"I...am going to do what I have always done," his voice is barely above a hoarse breath, his hand still caressing her hair, her neck. "I will level the scale of justice. I will take power from the powerful, and protect those who are weak." He holds another lock of her hair between his fingers, and places it to his lips. "And I will not be a coward -- like him. I will not abandon you. Like he did."

She doesn't flinch, but she can't keep her nerves from trembling. "How many people will die? To balance the scales?"

"You know as well as I do, tsaritsa, the price of slavery is its weight in blood. And so it is with liberty."

She encroaches on him, closing what little space there is between them. "Give him back to me."

His eyes narrow, and his jaw tenses as a breath seethes from him.

"I know that you can."

"I will not." He lets go of her hair, putting it behind her shoulder. "I am jealous of his years with you. And I will not release him until I have shared with you those same number of years."

"I will not go with you."

"You do not need to. You are of better use to me here. Here, your work will provide me with valuable intelligence about those who mean to oppress the People."

"What makes you think I won't go underground?"

"You forget, tsaritsa, I know you as well as he does. I know that you cannot keep injustice quiet. And you know — that I will always find you."

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

TWO YEARS LATER ----

Samantha has kept tabs on Olev's actions — a bombing in Lisbon, a Nova gas attack on a gang of mobsters, the rumor that a pilot by the callsign Nikto took down members of Task Force 141. She knows that as carefully as she's kept an eye on him, he's done the same to her. He was right about her -- she has continued to pursue investigations into the corrupt and powerful. She lives with the knowledge that her intel has helped him kill a group of crooked financiers in Germany, and along with them, other innocent lives who happened to be in the wrong place when Olev exacted his justice.

He sends her letters with no return address. He writes her poetry, he sends her sketches of buildings and animals he has seen in his time away from her, he recounts memories she has with Andre, but from his own perspective. He tells her that he loves her. In one letter, he assumes she has not given over his writings to the authorities, as no one has followed their trail back to him. She hates that he's right. She hates that she can't bring herself to do it. If she condemns Olev to prison, she dooms Andre with him. More than that, she confesses only to herself, on a quiet winter night, that she is enamored with Olev. There is a clear part of him that loves her. To be loved so thoroughly by a person -- that every facet of him desires her -- it enthralls her. But it is as Andre told her the last night she saw him -- their love could only ever be kept safe in dreams.

A year after he vanished, Olev appears to Samantha. She moved to a different place, a house in the suburbs, and yet he and his letters still find her. He gives her a USB drive filled with the information of brokers who are fixing the market, proof of their treachery. She almost refuses his gift, but she can't deny that his brutality has been making an impact -- the scales are slowly shifting as the greedy are becoming scared. She's conflicted on whether she should endorse his actions.

He is a looming shadow over her and her work, over her heart and mind. And yet, his presence fills her with relief -- relief that he is alive, and relief at the sight of adoration that still lingers in his eyes whenever he looks at her. He kisses her hands as he gives her the drive, gently putting her knuckles to his mask. She is alone at home, Nikolai is at work, she doesn't hurry Olev to leave.

She tells him she should turn him in.

He tells her he knows she won't.

"How do you know that?" She's standing in front of him again, once more inches from him; his face is veiled, but she can hear his breath heavy and quickened beneath it.

"You are our fortress. Our shelter. Always." His gloved hand caresses her hair, and this time that sense of relief replaces the apprehension she once felt at his touch.

She reaches for his face, and delicately removes the buttons and belts that hold his mask together; she slides the balaclava off. He does nothing to stop her. He trusts her implicitly.

"I am a bird within your palm, tsaritsa. Have care."

Her heart softens, seeing not a villain, but a man. "You would have me love you."

"You do."

"You would have me forsake Andre."

"You can no more forsake him, as you could forsake me. I am not his murderer."

"You are his warden."

"I...am his protector. And I protect that which he loves. I protect...what I love." The rough fabric of his gloves smooths against the frame of her face. "...What you love. That you love him, you must also love me."

"And is this love a betrayal, of the man we both want to keep safe?"

"Zhizn moya, I told you -- you could never forsake any part of me."

Samantha rests her hands on his chest plate, as he continues to wander against her: her arms, her back, the dips of her waist. She falls into his embrace, wrestling with herself and her desires. Olev’s body aches for her as she steadies herself upon him, as she is nearly flush against him. He cradles her head within one palm, and makes the decision for her -- he takes her lips in his, and thus seals their fate.

"Andre is going to kill me," she breathes.

He smirks. "I know the feeling."

He is ravenous. Every fiber of his strength and energy is spent ensuring she remembers who he is, even when he is gone from her. That she feels him, even when they are parted. He leaves gentle imprints and bruises along her soft skin. Yet, when he is beneath her, he is as pliable as a doll -- to be used by her, to be fettered by her want, he is tamed and awakened by his love for her. Every moment he lingered, locked behind the wall inside Andre's mind, watching her, loving her from behind a pane of glass -- every moment he longed for her, pours out of him, as her satisfaction comes in waves around him.

She sleeps beside him. His dreams are quiet that night. There is only the black, and silence.

He leaves before dawn, she watches him ready himself, layer by layer. His underclothing, his flight suit, his armor, and every weight that is strapped against his waist and shoulders. Olev is a weapon. He's never known how to be anything else.

"You will live your life however you please," he tells her as he departs, his voice is calm, and yet there is grief and anger within it. "But you will always be mine. You will always belong to us."

His letters become less frequent, he sends her blank postcards instead -- and yet the attacks on the wealthy are getting more coverage.

A year after Olev appeared to her, Samantha is engaged to Nikolai, and a week after their engagement party, she receives a blank card in the mail with no return address, congratulating her on her upcoming nuptials. She says nothing of it to Nikolai. As far as he knows, the case about Andre Volkov, the case about the man who was killed on the bridge, was a dead end. She never spoke about it again.

Her wedding is in a month, and Samantha is asked to report on the terrorist named Nikto. She can't give a coherent reason of refusal -- not without incriminating herself. She does what she can to fulfill her duty, and yet protect information that might be vital to his capture. She is informed by her editor that Nikto has agreed to a one-time interview. Many news outlets, both domestic and international, are being censored from showing his transmissions, and some outlets are censoring the videos without being instructed to do so. According to her editor, because of this, Nikto has chosen them to give the interview -- their outlet has circumvented censorship, and is broadcast in his mother tongue of Russian.

She knows more than well the reason he chose them is because of her. Samantha is tasked with the interview. It will be broadcast live on the internet.

Nikolai begs her not to do it. It's too dangerous, he tells her. They have their whole lives ahead of them, and she shouldn't tempt fate by putting herself in the lion's den. The man is a terrorist and a predator -- a perverse example of authority. She asks him to trust her -- even though, silently, she knows she does not deserve it.

Samantha is sitting across from Nikto, in a room that is empty, except for a camera and two chairs. It is an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere, a mutually agreed upon location, chosen by Nikto. Besides them, only her cameraman and two of his guards are present. The pair sit near a window for natural light. He makes no indication that he knows her -- and for a brief moment, she wonders if someone else is behind those eyes, if someone else is fronting. But then he speaks:

"Shall we begin, tsaritsa?"

Samantha introduces herself, as well as Nikto, to the camera and begins her questioning. Pretending she knows nothing of him is more difficult than she anticipated. She hides the desperation inside of her, the desire to reach out and touch him, to speak with him as she used to -- she draws on every ounce of professionalism within her, and keeps to her notecards.

"You and I want the same thing, Samantha. You with the pen, and I with the sword." They are at the halfway point of the interview. "And it is true, your work is more important than mine -- I could take down an empire, but if there is no one to witness the People's power, ignorance can only remain."

"Is that what you mean to do? To take down an empire?"

"I have said it."

"To take down Russia?"

"To take down the evil of the oppression -- the oppression that keeps the poor hungry, and the rich fat. Oligarchs rule my homeland, and yet my people have never suffered more. If they deny their greed, why are they afraid of me? If they are so righteous, why should they have anything to fear?"

"I think even the righteous fear death, wouldn't you agree?"

"I do not fear death," he says, his eyes piercing into her as he does. "I fear nothing."

"Not even capture? Or failure?"

"I cannot fail. Even if I am captured, I have already won. And if they kill me, still others will know that these men are not gods. They are cowards. Fat, hungry cowards. Who will take, and take, until nothing is left."

Samantha swallows, hearing Andre's voice buried beneath Olev’s. She briefly pauses, and takes a moment to regather her composure.

A flicker of light from beyond the window catches Olev's eye -- he can see the outline of a red laser sight, but when he follows its path, it's not trained on him, but on Samantha.

Without warning, he tackles her to the ground. An explosion of glass erupts from the window, and a bullet whizzes through the scene. The sound of its impact, along with a yell from Olev, resound in Samantha's ears. She's suddenly flat on the ground, and the weight of his body and his armor are crushing her. Something hot is leaking onto her chest, and pooling beneath her. More gunfire breaks out, as his guards return fire in the direction of the window.

With all of her strength, she pushes herself out from underneath him, and pulls him out of the line of fire. She shelters them with the cover of a partial wall, drawing her own weapon; her cameraman is filming the firefight from a corner on the opposite side of the room.

More sniper fire rains down on the building, until it briefly stops, and the room is hit with a smoke bomb. One man infiltrates from the broken window and takes out the cameraman, and one of the guards.

Olev is slumped against her, in her arm; he opens his eyes and takes in the blurry image of her returning fire as a cacophony grows on the other side of the wall. The bullet tore through the weak point of his armor as he dove onto Samantha, it went through his shoulder; he's losing blood fast, but his first instinct is to sit upright and reach for his pistol. He's about to fire off a shot into the smoke, when Samantha stops him. She slings his arm around her, and pulls him onto his feet. The attacker is following the blood trail from the initial point of contact to her hiding place, and she needs to find an exfil now.

They exit the rear of the building, where there's nothing but trees and plenty of places for cover. She drags him, his feet moving as fast as they can, until they reach the copse. There's quiet for only a moment before the gunfire starts again, and bullets fly by their heads. She pulls him behind a large pine out of the attacker’s eyeline.

"Fuck, I'm out of ammo," she checks her magazine.

He's leaning on the trunk, trying to put pressure on the wound, but the blood is draining too quickly. It seeps through his fingers like a waterfall. "Take it," he hands her his pistol. "Leave me. Go -- run."

"No," she says, and chances to peek round the tree to see where the gunman is. She can't see him.

"I'm too much weight. You'll...be faster -- on your own."

"Not an option."

He shoves her and growls. "Go."

She takes the push, and settles back beside him. The gunman is stalking them, he's starting in the wrong direction, but he crouches to see the droplets of blood left on the leaves. "I'm not letting you off the hook that easy." She looks at him and taps him on the face, bringing his eyes to hers. "Stay with me -- all of you. I have a plan that may get us out of this alive.”

Something deep inside of him breaks. He sinks to the bottom of the forest floor as she tells him what to do; his back leans against the pine tree as his body starts to give out. He’s placing the entirety of his trust in her.

Samantha emerges from behind her cover, and aims the barrel of her empty weapon at the gunman's head. "If you were aiming for Nikto, you got him. But you killed my cameraman, and you almost shot me."

"I was aiming for you," he says.

She takes several steps back, with her pistol still raised. "I've made a lot of enemies, forgive me if I don't remember how I've wronged you."

"You give that sick fuck a platform -- you listen to him as he spews his lies, and all the meanwhile, people suffer because of him. You're no better than him, to let him be seen in the daylight, instead of rotting in the ground where he belongs."

"And if I'm no better than him, then I deserve the same fate -- is that right?"

"We understand one another. I killed that terrorist, Nikto," he glances at the motionless body of Olev, slumped against the pine tree. "And now I will kill you."

Samantha lures him only two steps further --

Olev springs to life again, and fires three shots into the man's head. Blood and matter spray across the greenery, and his lifeless body falls to the ground with a quiet thud.

Samantha takes the man's weapon, and kneels at Olev's side, trying to put his arm around her, to get him to his feet again.

"Samantha..." he breathes, his voice filled with an uncertainty she's never heard within Olev before. His blue eyes look into hers again, searching them for something. His eyes are duller, dimmer -- greyer than they should be. "...I am not going to make it."

She starts to protest, but he stops her.

"Listen to me —” he pulls her close, his breath straining and wavering. “You must live your life, Samantha. Marry that idiot who loves you. Make children. Do all the things I cannot give you.” She starts to protest again, still trying to pull him to his feet, but he holds her still by the shoulder. “Do what you have always done: Listen, and speak. Others need you…to speak. Others need you…But do not forget me. Do not forget...any of us. All of us -- we have loved you." His hand moves from her arm and he touches her face, his glove leaving behind a thick trail of blood. "Zhizn moya...my life…I have given it for you." His hand falls from her, and his body falls entirely slack.

Her tears finally fall, staining and mixing with the blood on her face. She touches him, expecting him to brush away her hand, or to pull her close. But he does nothing. She is alone in the forest, the only sole survivor of the attack, and she knows the military will converge on her location soon. But in those brief moments of quiet before they come, she allows herself to break, to fall to pieces entirely.

Samantha leans on him, holding him and his shielded face to her body, placing a kiss on the metal of his helmet. It would be the last time she sees him, and she wants to keep the image of him, before the world mutilated him, intact within her mind.

She holds him as long as she can, until she notices a familiar feeling against her chest. He's breathing. His body is rising and falling against her. She digs two fingers past his gorget and past the fabric around his mask, until she can feel his pulse. It's thready, but it's there. Helicopters are approaching in the distance, and they'll search high and low through the brush to find him in the forest, once they see his body missing from the building. She packs his wound as quickly and tightly as she can to quell the bleeding, and then she pulls him through the copse.

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

He's in a medical facility, but it doesn't look like a hospital. He's lying in a hospital bed, and there are IVs through both his arms. There is clear tarp all around him, and through it, he can see that he's in some kind of warehouse.

Andre remembers flashes of what happened, of their life throughout the past two years. The last thing he remembers is Olev saying goodbye to Samantha -- on behalf of all of them. Suddenly, his body reminds him that he‘s been shot. Nurses and a doctor swarm his makeshift hospital room at the sight of him being awake.

Hours go by, and Andre is still trying to piece together what happened. Olev is unsettlingly quiet within his mind -- not in anger, but with what feels like sadness. Sascha is relieved to be alive. So is he.

A nurse brings him broth and other liquids, he drinks them with the one arm that isn't in a sling. A familiar face emerges as the nurse exits. His breath stops, and his body goes numb.

"Samantha..."

She fixes on him with that distinct look -- of trying to figure out who's talking, exactly. "Olev?"

"Andre."

She sits on the corner of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel like the morphine is working."

She lets an amused breath. "How much do you remember?"

"Pieces. Like...a painting out of focus."

"You'll have to go into hiding."

"That much I guessed."

She doesn't say anything for a while.

"Did he hurt you?" he asks. "Olev?"

She shakes her head, finding she misses that facet of him, despite seeing the same face in front of her now. "No. The opposite, really."

Andre remembers a moment of passion between her and Olev, but he can't quite put together the whole memory.

"I called in a few favors," she says. "This is one of them," she looks around at the haphazard triage. "The other will fly you out of the country in two days. I've got you papers."

"You didn't have to do this."

"I did." She looks at him, the life has returned to his eyes, and the lighter presence of Andre now shapes his features. "I love you. Every one of you. Olev was right..."

He scoffs. "I wouldn’t recommend letting him in your head."

"But he was right.” She remembers the morning he left, after the night they spent together. She thought she’d never see him again, at the time she thought he meant to threaten her. But she realizes now it was never a threat. It was simply the truth. “I will always love you. And a part of me will always belong to you.” She can see him searching his mind, as if he can nearly recall what she means, but not entirely. “This is what I needed to do."

Andre falls quiet. "I am not worth the trouble, solnyshko."

Her sights settle on him. He's not looking at her, but at the folds in the sheets -- he's thinking, she can see it. His eyes are darting back and forth, as if his thoughts are quick. She wonders if all three of them are talking in that head of his. She wonders if they had known about the complexity of his mind when they were younger, if things would have been any different. If things might have turned out better for him. "You always have been."

He looks up at her, his lips parted in both uncertainty and surprise.

She caresses his face. "You always were." She stands to leave.

"Samantha..." he calls after. He watches as she faces him, and water lines his eyes. "I owe you my life. All of us."

"I love you, Andre."

"I love you. Dusha moya."

She disappears through the maze of vinyl, and he watches her until he can no longer see her figure.

He owes her everything, and he knows it. And he will work for the rest of his life to give it to her. To earn her. Even if he never sees her again.

89 notes · View notes

maeedrg · 5 months ago

Text

What are we ?

part 3

fake dating Gojo X fem reader

ᯓ★

MASTERLIST of the series

part 2 part 3 part 4

Synopsis : After months, you and Satoru are still stuck in this dance of playing to pretend. But you both never mentioned back what happened to the jacuzzi. The tension became unbearable, but everything goes down the hill when the higher ups attempt to get rid of you as you were considered useless now. At the same time, they take matters in their hand to find a new suitor for him. Gojo can’t bear the thought of losing you, and he makes a decision for your safety. One that was apparently for the best.

Words count : 7.8k.

Warnings : many deaths and attempt murder, blood, angst, spoilers of the shibuya incident and what comes after, some satosugu implied, beginning of the smut, doomed love, but still some fluff.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : "I can’t wait to show this amazing chapter to other people !" I said with excitement. "Hey what do you think of this chapter ?" "It’s fucking shit !" Said the fuck you guy.

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Months. It’s been months, damn months now, that you and Satoru were fake dating. You didn’t know if you turned crazy, the tension being too thick, too palpable, too much. After what happened in the jacuzzi, Satoru and you never did such a thing again. Even in public, when having to prove a point, the touch of his lips against yours was short, quick, way too quick, actually. Like something burning you, but aching to play with fire longer. Yet, you were left wanting, needy. Months of dreaming of being able to feel again what you had at the hotel. Months of dying to have more. Months of turning mad, as waiting became now impossible.

You didn’t know what Satoru was thinking. Entering the head of The Strongest was something you couldn’t hope to succeed. Years of keeping everything to himself made him extremely good at hiding his feelings and real emotions. This dangerous game of lingering touches, sentences, playing the role of your boyfriend way too realistically, made you wonder what was happening. But unable to know was making you want to rip your hair off your head.

You weren’t the only one to turn crazy. Satoru was as well. Truly falling in madness at stopping himself from going farther. After what happened in the jacuzzi, he realized that if you didn’t stop him, you two would have crossed a line that he was dying to cross, but terrified as well. Because he knew damn well, that once he would, he would be doomed. Doomed because it would be impossible to run away from the responsibilities of his love for you. Satoru was used to loving you in secret. He couldn’t accept that all the time he spent hiding his feelings would go to waste. Because even if he was deeply in love with his best friend, he couldn’t have a happy life dating her. Dating you. He understood that well when playing pretend, even if he understood it already back in highschool, years ago, when his love just started blooming in the innocence of the youth.

Being The Strongest meant any happiness would be taken away from him. Because of his title, and also because of himself. He felt like what happened to Suguru was his own fault, and he would never forgive himself if something happened to you as well. He couldn’t bear to lose you, destroying everything because of his carelessness. After all, in his eyes, dating someone was a far greater commitment compared to friendship. What if he hurted you, and would be a horrible boyfriend ? What if overworking himself would make you hate his absence ? What if him being scared of vulnerability would make you resent him from not opening up ? What if you would break up with him and leave him forever ? He already struggled to be a good best friend, because he did fail once. So being a good boyfriend ? It was terrifying.

In the end he only danced on the line of real and false, enjoying flirting with you, acting like your boyfriend, without the real commitment of his feelings, of his fears, of his nightmares. Satoru wasn’t strong, he was weak, for you. It was better that way, he thought. He wasn’t yours, you weren’t his. But at least, you stayed by his side.

“Satoruuuu, you’re zoning out. It’s your turn !” you exclaim, waving your uno cards in front of the white haired male, that quickly snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Uh ?” he blinks, before looking down at his cards and remembering he had to play the combo he wanted to do. Quickly, he puts three cards on the top of the pile.

“I’m soon leaving for my mission, so let’s finish playing before I go,” you explain, your turn now.

“Hmmm, yep,” he hums, still trying to forget whatever he was deeply thinking about. He had to act like everything was okay, and avoid looking too much at your face, or else… he might lose it and kiss you senseless before he could even realize what he was doing. He clears his throat before asking, “where was your mission again ?”

“In an abandoned hospital. Apparently it’s only some grade 3 curses, it would be easy,” you explain, looking at your cards.

“If you need my help, call me. I’ll be very happy to ditch my meeting with the elders and instead come save your ass,”he says, flashing you his usual cheeky grin.

“I don’t need you to save my ass for some low grades, Satoru,” you chuckle, rolling your eyes at his bravado.

“I just want to be your knight in shining armor,” he pouts, answering that, before suddenly putting a +4 on the pile. You groan, glaring at him, before taking your due, annoyed. You only had two cards left, and now, six ! He could go to hell, you thought.

“Just say you don’t want to go to your meeting,” you end up replying a bit bitterly, and he just looks smugly at you, grinning widely like an idiot. He was proud of himself. This bastard.

“Exactly, I don’t want to go there and see their annoying old wrinkled face. They changed the location last minute too, it’s not where we usually go,” he huffs, shaking his head.

“Where ?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, intrigued. It wasn’t common, so it seemed weird to you.

“Somewhere in Tokyo, around 20 minutes away from the campus,” he explains, shrugging, putting his hand in his hair.

“Then once you finish your meeting, and once I finish my mission, let’s go to the arcade,” you propose, deciding to cheer him up, and mostly wanting to spend time with him.

“Is it a date ? You charm me, honey...” he coos, winking at you behind his sunglasses, and you can’t help but giggle at his antics.

“Yeah baby girl, I’m a good girlfriend, aren’t I ?” you joke back in a teasing way, hoping to make him cringe, but that only fuels his amusement and eagerness.

“The best,” he drawls, charming, before continuing in a calmer manner, laying back in his seat, “then let’s go to your place after. I wanna eat fast food and binge watch the last episodes of the show we were watching last time.”

“Why my place ? It’s always my place !” you exclaim, faking the feeling of being offended.

“I like… almost live there, so your place it is,” he shrugs nonchalantly. And damn, he was right.

“You should pay rent,” you add, huffing.

“Me spoiling you with food and shopping counts as rent,” he replies confidently, giving you a look with his eyes that means business, and you can’t help but fluster slightly.

“Yeah sure-”

“Uno !” he suddenly cuts you by screaming the word. You open wide your eyes, horrified that you lost and didn’t realize he only had one card now.

“No !”

Quickly after, he wins. You are left defeated, and end up leaving annoyed as he on purpose teased you non stop, saying you just were a sore loser. Satoru could be the loveliest when he wanted, but the most obnoxious and infuriating person in the world as well. Yet, you still loved him for that.

Walking towards your mission, you sigh, needing to snap back of your thoughts and get concentrated and focus your mind on your task. Even if it was supposed to be only some low grades, you could never let your guard down.

And you were right for that. Because Satoru and you weren’t the only one that were going crazy after months of ‘dating’ and nothing happening. The elders weren’t happy at all that you both didn’t fulfill your duties ; marry and then produce heirs. Their old fashioned way of thinking was the way they thought was right. After seeing there was no progress, they decided to seriously act and change plans. You were useless in their eyes. For their sexist mind, if you were unable to be a good woman, becoming a wife and giving children to The Strongest, then you could die. After all, they just wanted for their strongest sorcerer to quickly create new soldiers (his children).

Now, they had to get rid of you in a way or another, and on the other hand, to find someone more suited for the role of becoming Gojo’s wife. You were like a pawn, he was one too. The game didn’t play the way they wanted. Now, you were thrown in the trash.

Walking towards your mission was the steps towards your upcoming grave.

And Gojo walking towards his meeting with the higher ups, was actually his walk towards a closed destiny, and towards the new pawn that would be his supposed future wife.

Truly, fake dating Gojo Satoru brought you bigger problems than you ever expected.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Satoru was sitting in his car, parked some streets away from the place the meeting would normally be. He sighed, clearly not wanting to deal with any more bullshit the higher ups would give him. He groans as he tilts his head backwards, staring at the ceiling before pulling his phone off his left pocket. The home screen was a picture of you and him, one where his arm is around your shoulder, and his mouth biting your cheek as you laugh heartily. He chuckles slightly, staring at the screen like an idiot, as if it would give him some strength for what was about to come. He decides to send you a message, even though you still didn’t answer the last one he sent since you went to that mission thirty minutes ago. Obviously, you were busy. But Gojo was clingy, and had no real personal space with you.

Two minutes pass. You still didn’t answer. He decided it was surely and sadly time to get out of his car and meet the elders. He checks his watch : he was late. Who cares ? He shrugs and closes the door behind him before walking nonchalantly towards the building, hands in his pocket.

Once he stands in front of the location, he realizes it’s a restaurant. A fancy one that he already had to attend to once, for a gathering with some head clans. Alright, that wasn’t so weird, but still unusual to have the elders wanting to discuss with him in front of a meal. He enters, and is quickly greeted by a waitress that makes him follow her. He arrives in front of a door, as each room was separated to allow the clients to eat in privacy. He takes off his shoes and enters the private room, before stopping dead in his tracks.

“Oops, sorry miss. I got the wrong room. Enjoy your meal,” he says, flashing an awkward smile to the woman sitting in front of the table that had numerous plates full of food. But the woman elegantly raises her head and flashes him a smile. He ignores it and turns around, ready to leave.

“Gojo Satoru, it’s nice to meet you. This is not a mistake, we were meant to meet,” she simply answers in a calm voice while sipping on her tea. He raises his eyebrow, turning around to face her. She knew who he was, so that meant... He notices the type of cursed energy moving inside her body. She is a jujutsu sorcerer. But not a very strong one.

“I’m here to have a meeting with the higher ups, miss. Sorry, I can’t be your date,” he replies, tilting his head to the side to eye her down and analyze the woman sitting calmly, but something cunning emanating from her. He directly was on his guard, staying put on his feet.

“You are my date.”

“I have a girlfriend,” he corrects immediately.

“Not anymore,” she whispers, glancing at him. He frowns, not liking at all where this was going.

“What do you mean ?” he snarls, stepping closer to loom over here.

“You don’t have a meeting with the elders, but a date with me. Pleased to meet you,” she explains in a soft voice, but the smirk drawing itself on the corner of her lips betrayed her calm figure. He frowns, all cockiness leaving his face to look at her emotionless. The higher ups had the fucking nerve to trick him, and they will pay for that. Did they think he was stupid ? Did they think they could control his life as they wanted ? Him having you as his girlfriend should have stopped them from trying to force him to meet possible arranged wives. But forced to notice, he was wrong. They barely lasted some months before going back to their bullshit and trying to force him to marry someone. He understood the reason why : since you and him decided to only ‘date’, and nothing more, they got impatient that nothing was happening like they wanted. So, they decided that your couple was now useless, and they wanted to replace you. That was predictable, now that he thinks about it.

He sighs, and then she says her name. He directly recognizes her as the sister of someone he had to deal with for some business of the Gojo Clan. Least to say, this family was annoying to work with.

“Ok, what the fuck is going on ? Don’t tell me these old geezers lied to my face, and instead sent me on an arranged date ? Look, you are very lovely, but this won’t do. I already have a girlfriend,” he spats, annoyed now as his eyes portrayed the coldness of blue he only had when being mad. Which was rare.

“As I said, not anymore,” she corrects, a hint of arrogance in her voice.

“Aren’t you too confident ? Thinking you can take her place like that ?” he says threateningly, not wanting to joke around like he usually does. He had no time nor any patience for that right now. This really struck a nerve.

“No. It’s just how it is. The elders arranged this, as I will soon be your wife,” she shrugs answering that, sipping on her cup of tea before putting it down and looking back at him, clearly not intimidated.

“Excuse-me ?” he chuckles, offended. Wife ? Seriously ?

“An arranged marriage, if you prefer,” she adds unbothered.

“And you agree to that ?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes. It’s a dream to marry The Strongest and give him heirs,” she answers as if it was the most logical reply she could give him. Oh, this poor girl was brainwashed. For sure.

“Look : you and I will never marry, and nothing of that shitty plan they try to arrange. If I had to marry someone, it would be my girlfriend, and nobody else. Yeah, understood ? Good. So, goodbye,” he ends up exclaiming before turning on his hills, opening the door of the private restaurant room to leave. He puts on his shoes in a swift move, before getting interrupted by her voice.

“You can’t marry someone that is dead.” Satoru freezes. What did she mean by that ?!

“Dead ?” he asks, unsure.

“Dead.”

He slams the door behind him, his blood turning cold. It didn’t take more than a second for Satoru to understand what was happening. He was far from stupid, after all. And he was used to the doings of the corrupted elders. The mission you got sent to was your grave. One meant to kill you.

His stomach drops, and he doesn’t waste any more time, trying to call you while he rushes towards the location of your mission. An abandoned hospital that was close enough of the campus to go there by walking : there was only one place possible. His heart quickens, but then stops when you don’t answer.

Fuck. Dread is written all over his face, and Gojo Satoru is panicking. Panicking like he never panicked before. He teleports, entering his car and rushing towards the road, not caring about the red lights. You could be dead right now, cold body covered in blood, alone and forever. No, no, no. He couldn’t accept it.

He never regretted more in his life the decision to have you pretend to be his girlfriend. It just confirmed that Gojo Satoru could never have the chance to fully love someone before getting all hopes destroyed, and them getting hurt because of him.

He prayed to Gods and Heavens that you were alright, believing in the faith that you were a strong girl that could defend herself even against death itself. His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel, accelerating dangerously on the road, near causing many accidents.

Please, please, please. Be alright.

His heart was beating so loudly that he could only hear the heavy throbs of it. Once he arrives at the location, he teleports inside the veil that you casted. If it was still up, you surely were still alive. But at what cost ? He promised himself that once he will have you back in his arms, safe and sound, he will avenge you, and make them regret what they did to you. He promised himself that he would never cause any hurt to you. He failed. And he promised himself that if it was the only right solution for you and your safety ; he would never see you again. Being close to him only brings you misery, that’s what he thought. Actually, he brought misery to anyone that got too close. Suguru was the proof, the one and only that he had to kill by his own hands because of his own failing.

He searched for your presence, ears ringing loudly and only having one goal right now : finding you.

He was as quick as light speed itself, dread eating him all over, like a plague consuming his body. He stopped dead in his tracks when he entered the left building, and found the walls of the destroyed courtyard covered in blood. Not human blood, but curses blood. Every single one of them exploded and shattered to dust in what seemed like agony, all around… you.

He murmured your name, eyes wide open, sensing you standing in the middle of your domain expansion. He entered it without any difficulty ; it was prone to crumble any second, feeling how your cursed energy was getting weaker each second that passed.

Trembling, scared, here you were, barely holding to life, standing in a sea of red in the strange calmness of your domain. The moment you feel a presence entering it, you try to see what or who it was, but your weak body only allows you to see blur. In an ultimate attempt to protect yourself, you lift your hand, ready to unleash your one last bit of cursed energy to destroy your opponent, even if you would die doing this.

Satoru rushes towards you, and as you are about to strike in a last breath, you feel strong arms surrounding you and cradling you like a broken doll against a chest.

“Y/n ! It’s me, it’s me. Everything is over, everything,” he whispers in a wavering voice, hugging you firmly. You recognized that familiar scent.

“Satoru… ?” you mumbled, panting and having a hard time inhaling. Satoru was beyond relieved, thanking the universe and thanking your resilience to having managed to survive. He couldn’t bear the idea of having to go to your funeral. Gladly, you were alive. Alive became his favorite word as he looked at you with tears in his eyes. Was he crying ? He didn’t know, didn’t have time to focus on himself when you were in the crook of his chest.

“You did so well. You killed all the curses. You survived. I’m so proud of you. Let’s get you home. Ok ?” The moment his voice murmurs softly in your ear these reassuring words, your body shuts down. Immediately. Your domain expansion disappears, the veil as well, and you simply faint for good in the arms of the person you loved the most, and almost died for.

Satoru kisses the top of your head, checking your vitals. That was bad. Very bad. He scoops you up, and doesn't wait any more minute, bringing you to the campus. His new priority right now : keeping you alive.

Killing the higher ups would come later. Even if it takes months to plan.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

“Gojo, she’s alright. It’s been days now. Let her sleep. I promise she will be able to go home tonight,” sighs the brown haired woman, taking off her gloves as she finished to check your vitals, looking at the white haired sorcerer sitting next to your bed in the infirmary of the school.

“I can’t, I have to make sure that she truly is safe,” he answers firmly, his gaze not leaving your peaceful face. You weren’t in a coma or anything, just sleeping. After the mission, Gojo brought you to Shoko, her having to directly perform urgent rct over your body before it would be too late. Since then, you stayed at the infirmary for monitoring, making sure you would soon be back as healthy as before. The first time you woke up, Satoru didn’t say much, only telling you that everything was fine, and explaining to you what actually happened.

But, he strangely was silent. Just staying by your side, barely talking to you and doing nothing aside from holding your hand, keeping you company. He clearly was lost in thoughts, and too tired to ask why he was like that, you stayed silent as well the following days. On this friday afternoon, once you would wake up from your nap, you would finally be able to go back to the usual. But what would be the usual if your relationship with your best friend, supposed boyfriend, became like that out of nowhere ? You were confused.

“Who would have thought you could care so much for someone to the point of not letting them breathe ? She’s fine. Drop it, geez,” adds Shoko, shaking her head and looking at Gojo’s back facing her.

“I have a heart, Shoko. I’m not as insensitive as you think,” he ends up answering more coldly than he wanted. She stares at him, realizing that he really wasn’t acting like usual. Normally, he would laugh it off. Not now.

“You only are for a very few people,” she continues more softly, and she was right. Gojo knew she was damn right.

“Because I can’t become emotional for every person around me getting hurt and dying. In this line of work, it’s something way too common. If I got worried for everyone, it would never end. That’s how it is,” he explains sighing, squeezing your hand while talking. Gojo being Gojo, for the sake of his title and his duty, he couldn’t allow himself to get affected by his work. That was taking away a part of his humanity, but he couldn’t fight against it. After all, somewhere along the way there was a line he drew not as a human, but as a living creature.

“I know. Everybody becomes like that eventually. But it’s still shocking to see you acting this way. The last time I did see you like that, was with Geto. You... didn’t even want to let me autopsy his body,” she answers, recalling the very few moments in life she saw The Strongest crumbling, which was extremely rare. And what happened on the 24 of december, was something that Satoru himself didn’t want to talk about, because it would be too painful.

“...” he doesn’t answer, keeping his gaze steady on your sleeping face.

“We still don’t know what you did with his body, after you killed him. But, I’m not forcing you to talk about it. So, I’ll let you be for now,” Shoko ends up saying more softly, giving him what seemed like an apologetic smile before walking towards the door. As she puts her hand on the door handle, she stops, hearing his voice.

“Shoko.”

“Yes ?”

“Let me deal with y/n once she wakes up. I want to be alone with her. I’ll bring her home myself,” he asks, more like orders, not wanting it to be another way.

“As you wish…” she whispers, and steps out of the room, leaving the two of you alone in the lingering silence of the infirmary.

Not so long after, you woke up from your nap. Gojo helps you sit down, even if you don't need any help, and you stretch.

“I’ll bring you home,” he simply announces.

“Will you stay at my place ?” you ask, unsure, trying to see if he would react like usual. Meaning he would cheerfully say it shouldn’t even be a question, and that your home was basically his home. Hell, he would even correct you saying ‘our place’. But, he does none of that. You frown at his lack of answer as he silently takes your bag that was on the chair some meters away.

“I’ll bring you home,” he repeats instead, and makes you follow him. You look disappointed, not liking what was happening. Why was he suddenly so distant yet so close ? Not leaving your side for days, but emotionally far away ?

The walk is silent, occasionally trying to make conversation, but it just ended up in a fail. Was he mad at you ? But why would he ? Once you arrive at your apartment, Satoru doesn’t even take off his shoes, staying at the entry. You frown, turning to face him.

“You’re good ?” he asks, looking at you as if to memorize your face one last time.

“Yeah, I am. Shoko healed me perfectly. I’ll probably eat something, I’m starving. Want me to order food for you too ? Some pizza ? We could watch a mo-” you start to propose, desperately trying to make it seem like everything was normal, silently begging him to accept and act like your best friend. Like the usual, normal.

“Y/n,” he interrupts you. You lift your head, and the look on his face makes your stomach drop. Pain and coldness was written all over his face. Why was he looking at you like that ? What the hell was going on ?

“Yes ?” you reply in a smaller voice, scared of what was about to come.

“I think we should stop seeing each other,” he announces, dropping it like a bomb. You swear you just felt your heart crumble into pieces. Damn pieces.

“What ?” you stutter, voice cracking.

“It’s better like that, Y/n,” he says, unable to look anymore into your eyes, staring away. You frown, putting your hand over your chest, stepping closer.

“What the hell are you even talking about ? Are you serious right now… ?” You couldn’t believe it. That couldn’t be real. That was a living nightmare. No, no, no.

“I am,” he simply answers.

“You- you can’t just break our friendship like that, after more than ten years being at your side !” you yell, breathing heavily, anger rising and blood boiling. You couldn’t just accept that.

“I can, I’m sorry,” he whispers, jaw clenching and slowly looking back at you. He felt like dying when he saw the tears in your eyes ready to spill all over your pained face.

“No, you’re not sorry ! And what about this whole dating thing ?! That means we did this for nothing ? The higher ups will have the opportunity now to arrange a marriage and-”

“This will not happen,” he interrupts you firmly.

“But- and us ? Was my help faking being your girlfriend useless ?” you question, your voice breaking even more, feeling betrayed and as if your world was crumbling all around you.

“Look where it brought you, y/n. You nearly died because of me !” he snaps, raising his voice at you, which makes you flinch. Because Gojo Satoru never yelled at you before. Not since you first met him in highschool. And that was a long time ago, longer than a decade.

“It wasn’t your fault ! You did nothing wrong !” you scream back, not caring if your neighbors could hear you now. All that mattered was trying to arrange this situation, one that felt like you were doomed.

“Asking you to pretend to be my girlfriend was a mistake,” he ends up saying, looking dead into your eyes. Your mouth is agape, your brows frowning, and you feel like you can’t breathe anymore. Air knocked out of your lungs.

“I don’t understand your problem here. If you want to stop acting like boyfriend and girlfriend, then there is no problem. End of the plan. But breaking our friendship over that ?!”

“You and I know that it wasn’t friendship anymore, since a long time,” he corrects, stepping closer. And the look in his eyes showed his inner turmoil, the tragedy happening in his head.

“I- Satoru, you are my best friend, I can’t lose you,” you end up whispering, unable to argue against his saying because you knew he was right. You try to touch him, but his infinity is on. His infinity is damn on. You can’t touch him. Can’t touch your clingy best friend, who once said he would rather die than not feel your touch. Can’t touch the person that couldn’t spend a day without being all over you. Wow, your world just shattered. Completely.

“I can’t love you, y/n,” he whispers painfully.

“What are you saying… ?” you have a hard time pronouncing your words, tears rolling down your eyes pathetically, chest tightening and heart feeling like it stopped beating.

“We can’t continue like this. Because if we do, you’ll just get seriously hurt again. I can’t let it happen another time, not to you,” he shakes his head murmuring this.

“But Satoru, this was none of your fault !” you exclaim in an attempt to make him understand that whatever he was saying was just nonsense, a poor mistake.

“It was. If we continue what we have, you’ll hate me,” he steps back, and you can’t even stop him, as the invisible walls around him stop you from grabbing his hand.

“Don’t say that, you know I would never- Satoru. Please, listen to me,” you beg, tears falling on the floor.

“I don’t know how to properly love, y/n. I’ll just curse you. I already did with Suguru,” he whispers, putting his hand over his face, trying to hide how broken he is from doing this, from seeing you like this.‘This is my personal theory, but there’s no curse more twisted than love.’ That was the words he once said to Yuta, his student, around two years ago. He still firmly believed in them.

“No, don’t leave me,” you try to say in between choked sobs, your voice cracking in an attempt to sound less pathetic. It was a fail.

“I’m sorry, it’s better like that,” he says before turning his back to you.

“You’re not sorry…” you fall on your knees, gripping your pants, looking at him leaving and closing the door behind him without one last glance.

“You’re not fucking sorry !” you scream one last time, in a desperate attempt to make him react, to make him come back. But he doesn’t.

Gojo Satoru was your best friend, supposed boyfriend. Not anymore.

Almost fifteen years at his side thrown at the trash for a supposed “it’s better for you”.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Weeks passed, months even. You and Satoru didn’t talk to each other again. You at first desperately tried to, but he ignored your texts, your calls, and even went on long missions abroad. The only thing you had left of him was his belongings at your place, which he never came to take back. You thought about burning them down, but you just couldn’t.

You tried to forget about him, but forgetting such a long friendship was impossible. It was like breaking your soul and throwing it in the void. You couldn’t, even if it felt like it. And it was hard to forget as well, when all you could hear was endless rumors going about arranged marriages with Gojo Satoru. But no one of them ended up being true. Against your will, you felt relieved. It meant the higher ups kept failing their attempts of trying to force him to fulfill his supposed duties.

But everything went quickly once bad things started to happen. Curses attacked the campus, breaking Tengen's barrier. Apparently there was a traitor in the school, the Tokyo one. Gojo and you became incredibly busy, that you barely had even time to rest and think about what happened in between you and him.

Chaos came to life the day of halloween. Shibuya became hell on earth, and Gojo got sealed. He got damn sealed, for god’s know how long. Maybe forever, maybe until you die and everyone else dies.

Your world once more shattered, as well as the rest of Japan. Because Geto Suguru was back, even if apparently it wasn’t really him.

Nanami died. Nobara was in between life and death, and many other sorcerers and innocent life died as well. But, you had an ultimate new goal, no matter how shattered you were after this war in between sorcerers and curses started. No matter what happened in between you and him, no matter how your relationship ended, you had to unseal him. You still firmly believed that he was the love of your life. And even if he wasn’t, he needed to get out of this damn cursed box.

The plan was on. And you weren’t alone in wanting this. Many were ready to sacrifice their life for the sake of unselling Gojo Satoru.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

When Satoru got unsealed, the first thing he hoped to see when getting out of it was Suguru and you waiting for him. But none of that. Instead, he was surrounded by chaos all around him. Kenjaku, this impostor, greeted him, and then Sukuna, possessing his dear little boy Megumi appeared. It was hell on earth, and you weren’t there.

Were you dead ? What happened during his absence while he was sealed ? He couldn’t fathom that you were gone, killed. Did his decision of getting away from you for safety went to waste once he got sealed ?

Once things got calmer, preparing for the upcoming fight in December with Sukuna, Satoru heard about you. You were alive, and apparently you actively participated in the plan of unsealing him. He was relieved, you were alive, maybe not safe and sound, but alive.

Alive became again his favorite word.

Even if not everyone was alive anymore.

One thing was sure, he wanted to see you again. Because he knew that once his battle with Sukuna would arrive, he maybe would never be able to have you in his arms again, to hear your voice again, to laugh with you again. To damnation his decision of staying away from you. He just couldn’t anymore.

But first thing first, he needed to get rid of some pesky rats before going to find you, wherever you were.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

You were in an abandoned hotel, taking place here after what happened in Shibuya. After all, everything in Tokyo was abandoned with the war. Everyone got evacuated, or killed. Numerous places were left unsupervised, you took the chance to stay there, as the area around your original apartment was unsafe right now. Since Gojo got unsealed, which means three days ago, you barely went back to the campus, knowing he would be there training for his upcoming battle with Sukuna. You only went around it to help the remaining students, but nothing much. You were scared to see him again. Terrified. Even if the only thing you wanted was to take him in your arms, relieved that he was back, and not in this damned box. But before the Shibuya incident he stated that you and him should never see each other again. You didn’t dare to break that promise.

As you step out of the shower of the hotel room, changed into pajamas and sighing tiredly, someone knocks at your door. You freeze. Nobody knew where you were exactly, nor the building nor the number of the room. So who was that ? A curse ? Kenjaku ? Your blood runs cold and ready to strike, you open the door, preparing yourself to attack.

That maybe was worse than what you imagined.

“Satoru… ?” you whisper, not believing your eyes.

Here he was, breathing heavily, face and clothes covered in red blood, eyes boring into yours, trying to eat your soul.

“I killed the higher ups. All of them,” he simply says. His first words to you, after months of avoiding you, getting sealed and then getting unsealed, were that.

You open wider your eyes, shock written all over your face, mouth agape. He did it. He killed them. You actually were happy that the jujutsu world finally got rid of these corrupted people. But that meant he had to put more sins over his shoulders, more duties to carry as The Strongest. Something you knew he promised to not do. Something he promised Suguru back in highschool.

“Yuta told me to stop bearing the burden of being a monster alone anymore. But there’s nothing that can be done about that. Back then I was left in the dust. I had to catch up,” he starts to explain, looking at you, and wiping some blood from his pearly white skin. You knew he was talking about Suguru when he deflected years ago.

“I had to do it too, because they were the main reason why I couldn’t love you freely,” he finishes, staring at you. You shiver head to toe, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I missed you, y/n. More than anything. I’m sorry for everything,” he continues, stepping closer to you, but you can’t seem to talk. He was sorry, damned sorry. You try to hold back a nervous chuckle.

“I heard you helped the students to unseal me. Thank you,” he adds, trying to make you talk, and truthfully wanting to thank you for what you did. You stiffen.

“I did,” you finally pronounce. Silence, seconds pass, where the both of you stare at each other. The hands of Satoru twitched, like he was holding himself back. He takes a deep breath.

“I want to take you in my arms and hug you until I can’t breathe. But I don’t want to stain you with their filthy blood,” he whispers, stepping closer, yet still not getting too close. His heart was aching for this, and you bite the inside of your mouth looking at him.

Without uttering a word, you approach him. His infinity directly turns off, allowing you to touch him. You unzip his stained jacket, revealing underneath a clean shirt. Without waiting, you take him in your arms. Satoru feels like he can breathe again, wrapping his hands firmly around your body and finally having you close to his heart.

God, he missed this, so so so much. He can’t believe he managed to survive this long without your touch, without your voice, without your jokes, without you. The only thing that kept him sane was staring at his home screen, or the folder of photos and videos he had of you and him.

It’s suffocating, his hug. Crushing you in his embrace, never wanting to let you go. He stopped himself from burying his face in your neck. If he did, he would put the blood on his cheeks everywhere. He didn’t think about cleaning himself up once he finished exterminating the higher ups. He just wanted to go see you immediately.

“I don’t want to stop, but please, let me go wash my face. I truly don’t want to put anything on you,” he whispers, slowly stepping back against his will.

“What if after this I don’t want to take you back in my arms ?” Lies. You were aching for more. You just wanted to somewhat get back at him. It was mean, but you thought he deserved it.

“Y/n..” he says desperately. You look away.

“Go wash your face before I make you leave,” you turn your back to him. Lies, again.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, trying to lighten the mood. Typical behavior of his, even if it wasn’t the right moment for jokes.

You hear him going towards the bathroom, turning on the water of the sink and washing his face. You look at the window, staying in front of it, letting your gaze linger on the destroyed streets of Tokyo.

When will peace be back ? Surely only once Gojo would fight with Sukuna. But, will he come back alive from this ? Your heart throbs at this idea. Even if the past few months were chaotic, your relationship destroyed, Satoru was still the man you had loved for almost fifteen years. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

You then see him in the mirror reflection, standing behind you. You slowly turn around to face him, and the look in his eyes makes you weak. Longing, yearning, loving, desperate.

“I said I couldn’t love you, it was a lie. I love you, y/n. More than myself,” he admits, stepping closer, slowly, scared to make you back down and go away. Your eyes shine as he says the three words you longed to hear, dreamed about day and night, even after he left you.

“I said I didn’t know how to love. That was right. But I just understood that I didn’t need to know how to love for loving you. Because it just became natural, since it’s as easy as breathing. I love you, y/n,” he continues, carefully taking your hand in his, scared that you wouldn’t accept his touch. But you did. And he was glad, because here he was peeling all the layers around his soul, destroying the walls around him, and putting his heart on a silvered plate just for you. Something he never did before, to anyone.

“I love you, y/n,” he repeats for the third time, like a pleading, bringing you closer and kissing softly your hand. You look into his eyes, that had tears in them. Gojo Satoru was crying. In front of you. Vulnerable like an abandoned dog on the road.

“I don’t care if you don’t love me anymore, if you resent me, if you hate me. But please, just let me love you before it’s too late,” he begs, falling on his knees and hugging your waist, his head buried in your stomach. You look down at him, and your hand softly cradles his cheek. He raises his head, his eyes red from the tears, lashes wet, like pearls decorating his irises.

“Earning my forgiveness shouldn’t be an easy task. But I can’t deny how much I missed you, hoping for you to come back. And I can’t deny how scared I was when you got sealed. But now, you soon will have to go fight against Sukuna, and just the mere thought of you never coming back- I.. I can’t just not make the most of our possible last weeks together. I love you, Satoru. So much that it’s dangerous, because I could surely forgive anything you do, as long as you’ll come back to me,” you end up answering, voice shaking from the inner turmoil you had.

Life is brought back to his eyes, and before you can even react, he is on you, kissing you senseless. He is back on his feet, hands cradling your face, lips crashed against yours and molding together. Air enters your lungs like a salvation. Your soul just got healed back by the loving touch of his lips. You gasp, before wrapping your arms around his broader shoulder, and you realize that since the last time you saw him, he gained muscles. His body has changed. What else changed about him ?

As if he would die without your lips against his, he continues to kiss you like it was the last time. You fall on the bed behind you, and he gets on top of you, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss. His tongue swirls against yours, his left hand softly and gently caressing your stomach under your pajama shirt. You shiver at his touching, realizing how much you craved to feel his touch one more time.

You longed for this, and now you were having it. It was like a dream coming true inside this nightmare all around the two of you. But only this moment mattered right now, nothing else did. His burning fingers go higher, under your breast, and his knee slides in between your thighs to separate them, inching towards your core.

“I need you so bad, y/n,” he ends up saying, panting, his lips finding your neck and trailing burning wet kisses all over your sensitive skin.

“Me too- I can’t wait anymore,” you whisper in between a restrained moan as his knee presses against your clothed heat. You shudder, and his pupils blow when he hears you reacting to his touch like that.

“Don’t say that to me or I will not be able to contain myself,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against your breast, lightly, like a feather. You bite your lower lip, and feel him sucking your neck, leaving a mark, before going down your collarbones.

“Then don’t. Don’t hold back, please,” you practically plead, he lifts his head to look at you in the eyes.

“Are you sure ?”

“More than anything,” you whisper against his lips when he kisses you again, his hand cupping your breast underneath your shirt, before unbuttoning it with his other. You let out a moan of pleasure, and he drinks it up happily, feeling like his heart would burst at finally being able to touch you like this. He dreamed of it, almost every night. It was sinful.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he mutters, opening the shirt to reveal your naked torso, half lidded eyes staring at beauty itself. His breath is caught in his throat, and his growing desire becomes unstoppable.

“Don’t say that,” you answer, caressing his cheek tenderly.

“I mean it. If I had to die, I wish it would be in your arms, against your lips. For me, that is Heaven,” he ends up confessing, looking deep into your soul.

And he meant every word of that.

Now, Satoru couldn’t wait to finally become one with you. After more than a decade of yearning for this, he would make love to you like he always dreamed of. He didn’t care about the consequences of crossing that line anymore. If he had to be doomed for loving you, then so be it. He’ll gladly accept it as long as he’ll have you.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Part 4 (final part) is out !

I bet you guys didn't expect this fic to suddenly turn so angsty (oops, my bad), but hey, I actually love to write Gojo's angst. Nah, don't worry, next part includes the smut, and I know a lot of you are waiting for it. It’s like an apology. Anyways, See you !💋

Tag list : @just-another-idk

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x you #x reader #gojo fluff #jjk #gojo smut #gojo angst #jjk series #jjk angst #jjk x you

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