#instead of you know. heartbreak and murder

[ottoline-otter]

you know you're too british when the music from the latest hunger games movie just sounds to you like if madeline the doll from bagpuss sang songs about murder

[hellgram]

ginger joke

[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: V | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 9,619

—  warnings: sex dream, strong language, mention of sex, a lot of nervousness, mention of death, mention of murder, crying, mention of grief, heartbreak, mention of abortion, swearing, nipple play, nipple sucking, kind of fingering (not sure if it’s the correct word), and some very big tension

—  author’s note: soo this was supposed to be posted tomorrow, but in the end, I have to post it today ���� This chapter is honestly quite intense in a lot of levels, but it unveils a lot about oc’s past, and we will finally understand a lot more about what happened to her parents 🫠 hope you’ll enjoy this chapter 💞

Chapter V: unveiling the past

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

You and Jungkook are abruptly pulled out of your sleep, both affected by the very intense and heated dream you inexplicably shared. The dream involved a lot of kissing, his mouth on your nipples, his tongue lapping at your juices, your tongue swirling along his hard shaft, and his manhood inside your wetted core. It was an intense dream that you both enjoyed way too much.

After the full moon, three days ago, you haven’t really seen or talked to each other. There have been some messages here and there, mostly messages where he checks up on you. Things aren’t awkward between you, you’d actually say the opposite. However, you’re actually convinced that next time you’ll see him you won’t be able to resist him.

“Soooo,” Lexi says once you’re in the kitchen.

This night, you’ve slept at Felix’s house with Lexi to spend a little bit of time together. This whole pregnancy and werewolf journey has pushed you a bit far from them, and you don’t want that. They are a big part of you, they’ve been by your side since the beginning. So Lexi literally decided the other day that instead of having dinner all together, it’d be better if you and she slept here. Like old good times.

“You have to tell me how the little monster’s father is,” she almost demands.

“I don’t have any picture,” you instantly answer while putting coffee in a mug.

“I’m not asking for a picture,” she says. “I want you to describe the man for me.”

You roll your eyes, she’s unbelievable. She’s always so nosy, and since she has learned about the ‘I keep the baby and the father comes along’ story, she’s been dead serious to know everything about Jungkook. However, you don’t really know how to explain to her that 1) you’re a werewolf, and 2) he’s a werewolf king.

“He’s just a man,” you answer.

“You’re boring, yn,” she says before taking a sip of coffee.

“Hi girls,” Felix enters the room with the brightest smile on his face.

He leaves a kiss on top of Lexi’s head before pressing one on your cheek. When his lips meet your cheek, you close your eyes to savor this sweet moment with your father. Being on your own is all good and funny, but you always miss his sweet good morning kisses.

“Hi dad,” Lexi says. “Can you tell yn to provide us with more description than ‘man’ for her baby daddy?”

“Well, at least we know he’s a man,” he teasingly says to his daughter.

“Dad,” she moans. “You’re not helping.”

As she’s complaining to her father, you grab a plate that you place on the table with your coffee before sitting down in front of her. You take a toast, put butter on, and eat it. This is delicious. Simple but delicious.

“Okay,” you surrender. “I’ll tell you.”

“Finally!” she exclaims. “It was about damn time!”

You roll your eyes once more. This lady has an incredible personality, but you adore her. She’s literally your sunshine, you couldn’t live without her.

“It’s a tall Korean man with black short hair,” you start saying. “He has dark brown eyes and has a very athletic body.”

“So you’ve gotten to see his body closely,” she plays with her eyebrows while insinuating something sexy.

“No, I didn’t,” you instantly lie.

She furrows her brows, she knows you’re lying. It’s written all over your face.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she snaps back. “Did you already have sex with him?”

Felix chokes on his coffee, Lexi and yourself now looking at him.

“Don’t talk about that around me,” he defends himself.

“Come one, Dad,” she says. “We’re not ten anymore, we’re thirty, and your daughter is pregnant. We know babies don’t fall from the sky.”

Lexi is the type of girl to be straightforward, especially with you and Felix. In this case, she’s not wrong, but it still feels weird to be talking about sex around him. He’s like a father to you, and it’s just awkward. 

“Yeah, but still, I don’t want to know about what you do with guys,” he says.

“In this case,” you say. “We didn’t do anything like that,” you try to find an excuse without mentioning the wolf transformation. “He just spilled wine on his shirt and removed it in front of me.”

Lexi doesn’t buy it, but she pretends she does. She’s very much convinced you had sex with him, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Mmm,” she says. “Is he hot at least?” she asks. “We need to know if yn junior is going to have good genetics from both parents.”

There’s a sudden heat growing under your cheeks. You don’t want to say that he’s obviously so fucking hot and that you’ve been desiring to do wild things with him. But you’re not going to say that.

“He’s not bad,” you answer. “But my kid doesn’t need him to be good-looking, they just need me.”

Now, she’s the one rolling her eyes. It’s hard to not live with her anymore because you love your little bickerings. She’ll forever be the sister the universe gave you, and despite the tragedy of losing your parents, having her and Felix is the biggest blessing of your life.

“With you as their mother, I’m mostly concerned about their ego, not their beauty.”

“You’re just jealous,” you say before taking another bite of your toast.

Before any of you can add something, your phone rings, your eyes looking down at the screen. It’s a message from Jungkook. A smile appears on your face.      

 “It’s your baby daddy, I guess,” her words make you look up at her.

“Maybe,” you say.

You take your phone to see what he wants.

From Jungkook: Hi yn, how are you today? 😊

His message warms your heart. He’s been asking you every morning how you feel, and you can’t help but find this sweet. You know it’s because you’re carrying his child, but it’s still nice of him to do it.

To Jungkook: Hey Jungkook, all good here, and you? 😊  

His answer comes quite rapidly, Lexi looking at you very intrigued.

From Jungkook: I’m good too 😊 are you still up to meet the shadow’s alpha?

Now your heart starts hammering fast in your chest, and you take a deep breath. Meeting people who can help you unveil your parents’ past is exciting yet stressful. You wish nothing more than to meet this alpha, but you’re also scared of what you’ll find out.

“Are you okay?” Felix asks.

Your eyes look up to meet his. Although you absolutely adore him, you don’t want to tell him about this yet. You don’t even know how to tell him that you’re a werewolf. One thing you’re sure of, you want to know a bit more about your parents’ story before telling him anything. You’ll tell him one day, but not just yet.

“Yeah,” you say.   

To Jungkook: yep still good

Then, you agree with him to meet tomorrow at 4 pm. As you don’t want to stress too much over it, you join Lexi and Felix’s conversation.  

Your heart is beating extremely fast, your foot taping nervously on the floor, and your eyes gazing at the city passing before you. People are walking on the busy streets, many cars are moving around you while Jungkook is driving to the house of Mister Song Sungmin.

None of you speaks, his eyes glancing at you from time to time. He’s not sure if he should say something; he’s scared to say something he shouldn’t or that will hurt you. This is such an important moment for you. You’re about to meet someone that might have known your parents, and their true past.

“You okay?” he simply asks after a while.

“Yes,” your eyes leave the city to look at the man driving.

He’s back to wearing a suit which makes him look powerful, as always. You guess that he’s wearing a suit to reinforce his stature as king, projecting authority for the meeting you’re about to have with an Alpha.

This time around, it’s a grey suit with a black shirt underneath it. He’s extremely hot. But your mind doesn’t really dwell on it for long. All you truly think about is this meeting. It’s what truly matters right now.

A couple of minutes later, you arrive in front of a very pretty house. It seems to be the cozy type.

“Before going inside, there are a few things to know,” Jungkook explains. “Song Sungmin is one of the most powerful Alphas of your pack. He’s moved here after meeting his wife, Song Eunji who happens to be the daughter of a Blood. He’s also the uncle of my best friend, Taehyung.”

You nod before taking Jungkook’s hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

He offers you a small smile, a cute little dimple appearing on his face. Every time he smiles at you, you want to touch it.  

“I’d do anything to help you.”

And you’re grateful for everything he has done so far. No matter how things evolve between you, you’ll carry him closely in your heart. For sure, your baby is lucky to have him as their father.

“Let me know when you feel ready,” his thumb soothes your hand.

“We can go,” you tell him. “No need to make this last longer.”

In no time, you’re standing on Mister Song’s porch, waiting for him to open the door. Your heart is strongly hammering in your chest. This is more than scary, but you feel like you’re slowly getting closer to unveiling the truth about your parents. Strangely, it also makes you feel closer to them.

When he opens the door, your entire world freezes. Even your heart stops beating. You know this man. You met him twenty years ago, on the night your parents were killed. He’s the man that protected you from the butchery.

Twenty years ago, you were watching TV with your parents, but around 8 pm, somebody knocked at the door. It was your mother that opened it, and she was discussing with a man before she came to take you.

“Mommy and Daddy need to do something,” she told you in her honey-like voice. “This man is a good friend of mine, and he will take care of you while we’re gone.”

You were only ten so you didn’t question it. You didn’t think much about the fact they had something to do at 8 pm, something definitely unusual. You didn’t question the fact that you had never seen this man before. You didn’t even notice how scared she looked. You didn’t question anything, something you’ve deeply regretted your entire life.

This man took you to an ice cream store, offered you all the ice cream you wanted, and talked to you. Back then, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. It wasn’t every day that an old friend of your parents would come and give you all the ice cream you wanted. Over time, you forgot about the man’s name because, on that tragic night, you lost your parents. This man didn’t matter anymore.  

Jungkook’s glance goes from you to Sungmin, and he doesn’t need to be a genius to understand you both know each other. It’s definitely surprising, but not completely. You’re living in the same city, and you’re part of the same pack.

“You’ve already met, I suppose,” Jungkook breaks the long silence between you.

You and Sungmin nod, your eyes never leaving his.

“Please come inside,” he invites you in.

Before closing the door, he looks around to make sure nobody else is there.

“Would you like something to drink or eat?” he proposes with a smile on his face.

As you look at him, you notice that he hasn’t changed at all, except for the grey hair. He still has a warm and comforting smile on his face. A smile you never forgot.

“No, thank you,” you answer.

Jungkook answers the same, and the older man guides you toward the terrace. His house is pretty modest and filled with pictures everywhere. It might be his children and grandchildren. There are also pictures of him younger and he definitely hasn’t changed in a while. It seems like he always had this compelling posture as if he has always meant to be an Alpha.   

“Please take a seat,” he shows the chairs arranged around the table.

The three of you sit down, your eyes wandering around. This terrace is very beautiful, you hope that one day you’ll have a similar one. But you’ll need to earn a lot more money.

“So this is yn,” Jungkook introduces you. “The woman I talked to you about on the phone.”

“I know who she is,” the older man says, his eyes moving to you. “You’ve grown a lot in twenty years,” he smiles at you. “And you’ve become a wonderful woman.”

“Thanks,” you smile back at him. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Sungmin looks away for a minute as he wants to hide the tears forming in his eyes. You are his biggest secret. Nobody ever knew that, twenty years ago, he offered you as much ice cream as you desired. When he looks back at you and Jungkook, you only feel compassion for this man.

“I knew one day we’d meet again and I’ve been waiting every day, for the past twenty years,” he begins. “I was expecting you to come earlier, but I’m glad you finally came.”

“What happened?” Jungkook asks with curiosity.

Sungmin takes a deep breath, a lump forming in his throat as he remembers the events.

“Twenty years ago, your father the king found her parents. The ones that were running away from the pack for ten years.”

He doesn’t need to say much more. Jungkook knows. On your side, you frown, not sure to understand what he means, but you carefully listen to him.

“When I was informed of it, I ran to their house. I needed to see for myself if their child was still alive. If they really had a child ten years prior. Before I even knocked at the door, I heard that little giggle only a kid can do. It broke my heart,” a tear runs down his face. “And I took the terrible decision to take that child away from the house. I took that child as far away as possible because I was scared they could hear the screams of their parents. I didn’t want that child to grow up with that trauma.”

Then, you start to understand what is going on. You’re not a werewolf, or at least not completely. You’re a hybrid, and your parents were killed because of that. That explains why they never talked about it to you. They didn’t know if one day you’ll manifest any wolf signs. That’s why they also ran away from their hometown, and why your grandparents never approved their love. One of them was a human.

“I lied to everybody, I made them believe I had killed the child. Since nobody saw her face, it was easy to lie,” he looks down at the table. “I knew what I did was wrong, but killing a ten-year-old for a sin she never committed was inhuman. Putting an end to a pregnancy is one thing, but cutting short a child’s life is totally another,” his eyes look back up at you. “I don’t regret what I did, and I will never regret it.”

Shivers run down your spine. So your wolf abilities weren’t really dormant, they were there all along, but they were mixed with human blood. The pregnancy simply awoke that side of you, especially since you’re carrying a wolf’s child. Your baby is the reason why you’re now able to turn, and why your powers have increased. Your baby is the reason why you’re finally digging into your past.

“Since you’re a hybrid, I never knew what to expect. All I expected was for you to find me one day, and you did.”

“So Jung… Mister Jeon’s father is the reason why my parents were killed?” you ask.

Jungkook finds it weird that you call him Mister Jeon, but he can understand it. You’ve always been very respectful and even though you’re pretty close now, you still respect his king stature.

“No,” he shakes his head. “We are.”

Tears start appearing in your eyes, and both men only feel sorry for you.

“Your mother was a werewolf and had fallen in love with a human. She was the rebellious type, she never really followed the rules. Her parents and the pack were repeating that this love story would only end badly, but she didn’t care. Then, she got pregnant and ran away with your father,” Sungmin explains. “Hybrids are forbidden as you might know so we tracked her. For nine years we looked for them, but it was in vain. We then asked for the king’s help because he had better resources than us. In a year, he found you and we did what we had to.”

Now, the tears run down your face as you realize the extent of the situation. Your entire existence is forbidden. You shouldn’t exist, but here you are. And on top of that, you’re pregnant with the king’s child. Another forbidden life.

“How did my mother react when she saw you?” you ask.

“She wasn’t surprised at all, she even thought I was going to kill her, but I told them I wanted to protect the three of you,” he answers. “She told me that the only person she wanted me to protect was you. She was ready to face the consequences of her actions, but she didn’t want you to die for her sins.”

Thinking about her selfless move breaks your heart. You’re trying as hard as possible to not burst into tears in front of this man. Your mother always put you first, she was always making sure you were happy.

“She knew that the pack would kill you first, right in front of her eyes. She didn’t want her last souvenir to be that so I respected her last will—to protect you.”

Jungkook’s hand finds yours to hold it as tight as possible. This mustn’t be easy to hear. It mustn’t be easy to learn that you’re a hybrid. The only living hybrid.

“Who murdered them?” you ask. “My grandparents?”

The older man shakes his head. “They weren’t even present; how could they be? No matter what, she was their daughter. A daughter they deeply loved. It was another Alpha who did it,” he seems obviously very shaken up by this event. “Our pack has never been the same since then. Your grandparents retreated completely, grieving forever a daughter and granddaughter they lost. Each year, we gather together at your grandparents’ place to pay tribute to your mother and you.”

It devastates beyond comprehension to picture it. People have been grieving someone alive all along. People have been thinking about you when they hadn’t even met you.

“Even if you’re a hybrid, you’re part of our pack, and your grandparents always made sure to include you in those heartbreaking moments.”

“So you never revealed to them I was alive?” you ask.

Sungmin shakes his head. “I tried many times, but the words never left my lips.”

Right now, you only want to disappear. You don’t want anybody to see you while this devastating pain eats you alive. Mister Song and your parents protected you from death. They allowed you to live when you shouldn’t have.

Your wish to disappear is granted when you do so due to all the intense emotions you’re feeling right now. Jungkook is then unable to see you, but he can still feel you as his hand remains on yours. His fingers never stop caressing you in an attempt to calm the storm growing inside you.

Sungmin follows you and disappears as well but you’re still able to see him. You still see him like he didn’t blur into his surroundings. It’s so weird.

“I’m so sorry, yn,” his hand reaches out to yours, a hand that you hold.

“It’s not your fault,” you try to reassure him. “You did what my mother wanted; you protected me from a certain death.”

“But I could have insisted, I could have protected them,” he answers.

“You know better than I do that the pack would have never stopped looking for them. The issue would have been the same no matter what.”   

Your parents' end was destined to be tragic, but they chose to love each other. They chose each other despite the bans. They chose to have a child together and protect you as long as they could.

They knew from the beginning that you’d end up growing up without them. And right now, you hate them as much as you love them. They did all this for you, but you still hate them for knowing you’d be alone and without them.

Then Sungmin reappears, his gaze serious and looking at Jungkook, his king. He knows now what will happen to him. He’s a traitor. He helped a forbidden couple, protected a child that shouldn’t exist, and lied to the entire werewolf community.  

“Mister Jeon,” his voice tone is deep. “I’m ready to face the consequences of my acts.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, your eyes now looking at Jungkook. Slowly, you reappear as well. Jungkook has never faced such a situation, and he can’t make a decision in the heat of the moment. He needs to think, and most probably, he’ll have to report this incident to the council. Not only did Sungmin break the rules, but there’s a hybrid walking amongst them. The council will show no mercy to you and Sungmin.

But he can’t lose you, not after all of this.

He has a very strong and deep connection with you, and you’re carrying his child. This isn’t simple anymore.    

“Mister Song,” he says with a very strong tone. “I appreciate your honesty; it has enlightened us about Miss y/l/n’s past. But I can’t decide right now what to do.”

The older man nods, understanding that Jungkook is now deeply involved. He can hear that faint heartbeat in your belly, and above anything else, he can smell that baby’s scent. It’s a unique one. They’re carrying the strong scent that only the child of a king has. He can also see how deeply the king cares about you.

His decision doesn’t just implicate the Alpha. It implicates you, the baby, and him. Whatever he decides, the three of you will be impacted. It isn’t a light decision to make.

“I will be thinking about it and come back to you once I’ve decided.”

The Alpha bows to his king as a sign of respect. It’s really impressive the power Jungkook holds, and how even such an old Alpha submits to his king. This is incredible.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” he says while bowing.

The drive back to your place is done in complete silence. In some way, the car feels heavier, as if the weight of the truth you’ve just learned is pressing down on you. This time, your eyes are red and swollen, and your face is ravaged by the tear you couldn’t hold back anymore. Learning about your past terribly scared you, but knowing it breaks your heart. Now, you know what happened on that tragic night in July. You now understand why your parents were so cruelly murdered—or should you say executed—, and why you were spared.

Jungkook keeps his eyes focused on the road, but you can sense the tension in him. His grip on the wheel is tight, his knuckles turning white, and he constantly glances in your direction. He wants to say something, to comfort you, but nothing seems to come out of his mouth. He isn’t even sure his words will ever be able to comfort you.

Once in front of the apartment complex, he slows the car to a stop. His eyes shift to you fully for the first time. There’s something in his expression that stops your heart. There isn’t only worry, there’s pain as well, as if he’s carrying this burden with you. You’ve never seen that in his gaze; he’s never looked at you this way before, so unguarded, so raw.

The moment your eyes lock with his, the world around you seems to disappear. There’s no sound, no city around you, no heartbeats echoing in your ears. There’s just the two of you. His presence is comforting, it’s like he’s healing your sorrows in a way you can’t explain. How can someone make you feel this way, so understood, so seen?

“Can you stay with me, please?” you finally ask as you try to control your voice. “I don’t want to stay alone today.”

His response is immediate, and his voice is reassuring, “Sure,” he nods. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

The gratitude in your chest is overwhelming, and you manage to offer him a small smile.

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

Jungkook pulls into the nearest parking space before cutting the engine. You sit there for a moment, neither of you speaking. The air is heavy with unspoken emotions. Finally, he steps out of the car and moves around to your side, opening the door and offering you his hand. His touch is warm, and grounding, and you take it without hesitation.

Without removing your hand from his, you both walk to your apartment. Jungkook is very much tempted to intertwine his fingers with yours; to offer you some unspoken reassurance but he doesn’t do anything, too scared of crossing an invisible line. Even inside the elevator, your hands remain locked. Neither of you speaks, but the warmth of his palm against yours feels reassuring. You only separate your hands to open the door.  

When you get inside, you both strip off your coats and shoes. You look at him, and he is lingering near the door, unsure whether he should move further.

“Do you want to drink or eat something?” you ask out of politeness.

“No, thanks,” he shakes his head. His voice is calm, but there’s something in his eyes. There’s concern, guilt, and ache that he doesn’t try to hide.

You nod and move to the living room to sit on the couch. Jungkook hesitates for a moment before joining you, sitting close but not too close. However, you close the distance as you throw yourself in his arms. You don’t hold back any tears, now crying in his arms. You’ve only known him for two months, but nobody has ever made you feel like this. You can undoubtedly trust him.

You rest your head against his chest, tears spilling over. He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping an arm around you, his hand gently rubbing your back. The warmth of his embrace melts some tension inside you, and for the first time today, you feel like you can breathe again.

None of you speaks, Jungkook just rubs your back while you cry in his arms. You deeply miss your parents and discovering what truly happened to them devastates you beyond comprehension. Will you ever be able to overcome this? Will you now be able to finally accept your parents’ death?

You’re not sure, but only time will tell.

However, now the biggest question is what will happen to you? You’re a hybrid. You’re not supposed to exist, let alone the life growing inside you. Will you have to terminate the pregnancy? Will you be executed like your parents were twenty years ago? Jungkook is the only one who can answer you. He’s the one who’ll have to make that decision.

And, then there are your grandparents. They believe that you’re dead, and you’d like to meet them. You’d like to tell them that you’re very much alive, that Mister Song protected you all this time, that he saved your life. You’d like to tell them that they don’t have to honor your memory anymore.  

But you aren’t even sure you can do that. You aren’t even sure that they’ll accept to meet you.

And there’s also your paternal grandparents. You’d also like to meet them. They are human, and their opinion of you might be pretty much different. Unless they know their son married a werewolf. Now that you know the truth, you desperately desire to meet your grandparents. The four of them.

You’d also like to know if you have uncles, aunts, and cousins. There is so much you want to know about your family, but let’s not rush anything. First, you need to digest what Sungmin revealed. There was a lot of information.

Slowly, but surely, your tears stop falling down, and the pain inside your heart seems to be a bit more bearable. But you still hold onto his embrace for a little more. You don’t want to let go of him just yet.

“Thanks a lot for your support,” you say while you put an end to the embrace and clean your face. “You’ve helped me so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he smiles. “You were embarked in this by my fault. The least I can do is help you.”

“This was never your fault in the first place,” you shake your head.

Maybe the clinic’s mistake wouldn’t have changed anything. Maybe, no matter who the father was, the pregnancy would have awakened your wolf blood. But, no matter what you have wolf blood in you, and sooner or later, something would have triggered it. The good part is that with the clinic’s mistake, you have Jungkook by your side.   

“But now we’ve discovered I’m a hybrid,” you continue.

Jungkook nods, his hand running through his hair. It’s the first time that he doesn’t know what to do. He’s completely lost because he’s starting to have feelings for you, and because it involves his child too. The rules are clear: hybrids can’t exist. But he never pictured himself falling for one, and having a child with one too. Your baby carries human blood; they aren’t of pure blood. How can such an heir exist? Nobody will ever accept to be ruled by the child of a hybrid.  

On top of that, this child is also the first one who isn’t fully a Blood. They have the blood of the Shadows running down their veins. Jungkook strongly believes that his blood will predominate, but there’s still a chance that they choose to be a Shadow. It will destabilize everything.

The thing with mixed-blood kids is that nature will choose to which pack they’ll belong. Nobody can belong to two packs. For sure, they’ll carry the heritage of both since their parents will be from two different packs. But we can’t know beforehand which pack they’ll be part of. It’ll only be found out at birth because once out of the womb, they’ll have the pack’s eye color for a couple of days.

There are so many unknowns now with this child.  

And he still has to reveal to his family he’s about to become a father. He was waiting to discover a bit more about your past before telling them about this wonderful news. But now, things are again complicated. His mother will tell him to put an end to both yours and the baby’s life. He’s not sure how his siblings might react to this, but he’s not expecting something positive.  

“What will happen to me?” you ask with a shaky voice.

His eyes meet yours, and they are glowing with something that gives you some hope.

“I’ll protect you,” he responds without hesitation. “Nobody is ever going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone touch you,” his tone is firm and assertive.  

Your heart now beats rapidly in your chest. It reassures you that he’ll protect you, and it means a lot since he’s a king. He’s supposed to be the one who leads by example, yet, he’ll be the first one breaking the rules. He’s going to protect a hybrid, a person that shouldn’t exist.

Jungkook gets closer, his hand delicately placing a strand of hair behind your ear. This simple gesture sends shivers down your spine. Your eyes get lost in his, and the world seems to disappear around you as his thumb lightly brushes against your cheek, leaving a warmth that spreads through your entire body.   

Time seems to pause, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. His face moves dangerously closer to yours until you feel his hot breath on your skin. Your heart hammers faster and faster in your chest, and for a brief moment, nothing else matters. There is no doubt that he’s about to kiss you, and truthfully, there’s nothing else you want more right now.

You know you wanted your first kiss to be deliberate, free from the chaos of emotions you’ve been swept into. But none of that matters now. The yearning you’ve buried rises to the surface, consuming you. All you care about is to taste his lips against yours. You want to know how they feel on yours. Those wild sex dreams have ignited something inside you, and you terribly desire to bring those dreams to life.  

His nose brushes against yours, the bare touch making you shiver. His proximity is intoxicating, and your lips are a breath away from meeting. When his eyes search yours, you know he’s silently asking for permission. And this time, you don’t pull away. Instead, your lips part slightly, and he sees the answer in your expression.

Then, he finally closes the distance. His lips press against yours with hesitation at first. The kiss is soft, and it feels like you’re discovering a part of yourself you never knew existed. His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, holding you while he deepens the kiss.

The world entirely disappears as his lips move against yours, guiding you, consuming you. Your body leans into his instinctively, your hands finding his chest, the fabric of his shirt bunching beneath your fingers. When his tongue brushes your lower lip, your stomach flips, and you let him in.

The sensation is overwhelming and beautiful, a perfect blend of desire and intimacy as your tongues meet in a slow, sensual dance. He tastes like everything you’ve ever craved but never let yourself hope for. The kiss is tender as if he’s pouring all his emotions into this single moment.

When you break the kiss, you’re both breathless, foreheads resting against each other as your eyes meet once again. Jungkook’s fingers softly caress your face, his touch is so soft it almost makes you shiver. You close your eyes to savor this moment. 

It’s a victory—not his, not yours, but yours together. You’ve been fighting this connection, but there’s no denying it anymore. This kiss has unraveled something inside you, and now there’s no going back. Now that you’ve had a taste of him, you know one thing for sure: he’s become impossible to resist.

His lips meet yours once more, but this time, he’s kissing you with a fervent passion. While kissing you, his strong body pushes you, allowing you to lay on the couch, his body hovering over yours. Then, his lips slowly descend to your jaw, your neck, cleavage, and they stop right above your shirt.

His eyes look up to meet yours as if he’s asking permission to keep going down. You nod, giving him free will to do whatever he wants. Without wasting any more time, his hand pushes down your shirt with your bra, exposing your breasts to his hungry eyes. The coldness of the air sends shivers through your body, your nipples hardening instantly. His breathing gets heavier as his eyes are glued to your chest.  

“Fuck,” he mumbles.

Then, without any warning, his warm mouth meets your right nipple to torture it with his tongue and teeth. Instant moans fall out your lips, and your hands find their way to his hair, playing with some strands while he vigorously sucks on your nipple. It feels blissful. You never imagined a simple kiss could lead to this.  

His left hand assaults your other breast, louder moans escape your lips, loving the way he’s giving you pleasure with his mouth and fingers. Your hands slightly pull at his hair while your mind is completely lost in lust. You’re completely unable to think correctly. The man on top of you shows no mercy, torturing you in the most exquisite way possible.

Jungkook definitely knows how to use his fingers and mouth, and damn, it’s even better than any wild dreams you had involving him. You don’t even want to start thinking about how it must feel to have his dick inside you.

“Jungkook…” you whisper as you picture him naked again.

That sweet sound makes his shaft grow harder, the space slowly growing smaller inside his pants. The way you turn him on is unique, nobody holds such a powerful grip on him. His mouth moves then to your left nipple to treat it exactly like your other nipple. The wetness inside your underwear only grows bigger, you can feel it. The amount of pleasure he’s giving you right now is out of mind, and you know you’ll come quickly.   

His right hand snails down on your body, stopping when it reaches the hem of your trousers. Very carefully, he unbuttons and unzips them. The second his fingers brush your core through your panties, a deep guttural sound leaves your lips, and your hand pulls harder into his hair. That action causes him to moan against your nipple.

This is such a blissful torture, but if he keeps touching you like that and moaning against your body, you’ll come undone rapidly.

His fingers slowly rub your pussy through your underwear, making you slowly turn into a moaning mess. Your body is contorting with pleasure under his, and you can feel his half-hard dick brushing against your thighs. The feeling is marvelous as you get to sense how’s feeling about this too.

Then, without further notice, he slips his fingers under your panties. His hand cups your pussy whole, and you both moan at the sensation. Jungkook is instantly welcomed with your wetness on his hot palm. Another moan slips through his mouth which makes you whimper. There’s no way you’ll survive this.  

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs.

Jungkook drags his fingers down your slit, purposely avoiding your clit. You close your eyes in order to feel this all even more profoundly, a deep breath escaping your lips. The coldness of his fingers against your core is electrifying. You’re getting addicted to this man as he gives you more and more pleasure. How have you been living this whole time without his touch?

You lick your lips as he slowly rubs you up and down, spreading your own wetness over your sensitive skin. This feels so good, and it pushes away all the terrible emotions you went through today. His eyes look up at you as he desires to picture your face while being consumed by pleasure.

Your hips twitch against the couch when the tip of his finger brushes on your clit. As he does so, you feel a pleasurable electricity rushing through your body. Jungkook’s mouth stops abusing your nipple, his eyes completely hypnotized on your sweet face. His hand runs up and down your core and he makes sure that his fingertip touches your clit.

“How does it feel?” he finally breaks the silence.

“So…” you try to speak while he never stops his ministrations. “So good,” you whimper.

His fingertip now draws circles into your hardened clit, your back arching off of the couch, and your hips meeting his hand. The friction of his hand against your pussy is beyond delightful, his fingers bringing you straight to heaven.

“Jungkook,” you moan his name on repeat.

Your orgasm is slowly growing inside you, you know you won’t last any longer. It’s just a matter of seconds now. The man above you senses it the second your legs start shaking more and more. His fingers work harder, helping you chase your own pleasure.  

Then, you let go and the wave of pleasure violently washes over you. Jungkook stops his movements when he feels your juices leaking all over his hand. A smirk grows on his face, proud of himself for giving you an orgasm.

Jungkook removes his hand from your panties and buckles back your pants. Your heavy breathing slowly gets back to normal and after a while, you open back your eyes. The man who just gave you an orgasm offers you the brightest smile on earth.

“Hope you like it,” he says.

“It was wooow,” you tell him as you sit back on the couch.

The man presses a soft kiss on your cheek before arranging your messy hair. He can’t help but find you extremely adorable.

“Next time,” he whispers in your ear. “My fingers won’t be the only thing giving you an orgasm,” his deep voice sends shivers down your spine. His tongue licks your ear, a deep moan leaving your mouth.

The two of you know that this is just the beginning of what is going on between you. This connection is only growing stronger, and sooner or later, he’ll be standing between your legs, thrusting deeply inside of you.

And honestly, you can’t wait for that day to happen.

Tonight, Jungkook has arranged a family dinner.

It’s about time he reveals yours and the child’s existence to his family members. He’s pretty much nervous about this, but he has to tell them. A new life will join this family very soon. The next heir is on the way, and he can’t hide this from them any longer.

His mother is the first one to arrive, and she takes him in her arms. Then, a couple of minutes later, his younger brothers Hyunjin and Mingi make their appearances. And finally, Dohee appears with her husband, Namjoon.

It’s been a while since the entire family has been reunited under this roof. Dohee left the house eight years ago when she married Namjoon. His mother, Hyunjin, and Mingi left after the passing of his father. Back then, Yuna was slowly moving in and they wanted to give them the space they needed. After the breakup, they didn’t come back; they felt like it wasn’t their home anymore.

Hyunjin is six years younger than Jungkook, and he’s been in a very serious relationship with Nari for five years. Jungkook is surprised he hasn’t proposed to her yet; she’s his soulmate after all. Then, there’s Mingi, the youngest Jeon. He’s ten years younger and he was the surprise baby; their parents weren’t trying to have a baby at that time. Out of the four of them, Mingi was the most spoiled.

Even though Jungkook is closer to Dohee, the four Jeon’s siblings have a strong bond. The oldest always made sure they’d get along because family is so damn important. Their father’s death brought them even closer, and they’ve always been by their mother’s side to ensure she doesn’t grieve alone.

“So,” Jungkook begins, his eyes looking at the five people around the table. “Thanks for coming,” he smiles at them.

Dohee smiles back at her brother, her hand rubbing her belly. She should soon give birth to her fourth and, most probably, last child.

“There is a new Jeon on the way,” Jungkook’s smile grows bigger as he breaks the news.  

Jisoo, Jungkook’s mother stands up to hold her oldest child in her arms. Jungkook embraces her with the same strength, a tear forming in his eyes as her reaction deeply moves him.

“I’m so happy, Kook,” she says, her cheek pressed against his chest.

While he hugs his mother, he sees his sister’s face. Although she’s smiling and seems happy, something in her expression unsettles him. He knows she’s thinking about the fact that the baby is a hybrid; she was the only one aware of it back then. But, so much has happened since he talked to her, events that she will know now.

His mother sits back in her chair while her hands clean the tears on her face. Another one of her children is about to make her a grandmother again. Dohee is the only one who has been giving her grandchildren, and she’s happy Jungkook is also going to give her another one. She can’t wait to have her house filled with grandchildren.

His siblings and Namjoon congratulate him on the fantastic news. Although their reactions make him happy, he knows this light mood will not last long. They most probably will hate him when he’ll tell them what you truly are.

“Have you already met the surrogate?” his mother asks out of curiosity.

“A surrogate?” Hyunjin asks.

“I sought the help of a fertility clinic to have a child,” Jungkook explains to his brother. “It was getting harder to be waiting to become a father.”

His eyes move back to his mother to answer her question.

“But there’s no surrogate, mom,” he tells her.

Everybody’s reaction is the same. They all widen their eyes, except his sister. She’s known this for a month already, but she’s now worried about why he’s revealing this to the family. He should know nobody will be happy about him being a father to a hybrid, especially their mother.

“Are you with somebody?” she asks. “Or is it Yuna?”

“It’s absolutely not Yuna,” he instantly answers. “And I’m not with anyone, at least, not yet,” he rants.

Jisoo seems to be happy about all of this, but she still wants to understand how on earth he’s about to be a father if there’s no girlfriend and no surrogate. She starts wondering if he slept with someone only to have a child.

“The fertility clinic made a big mistake,” he explains. “A woman was mistakenly impregnated with my material, and at first, I thought she was a human. Obviously, this wasn’t possible since the baby would then be a hybrid,” they all shake their heads.

Jungkook purposely omits that he didn’t convince you to abort; his mother would kill him if she ever found out. Dohee takes a deep breath and shifts on her chair to try to find a comfortable position.

“But then, I found out that she wasn’t human,” he proceeds. “And it changed everything, she could keep the baby.”

Dohee’s expression now fully changes. She wasn’t expecting that, so she’s now very happy for her brother to have a pure-blood kid. Jungkook notices her sincere smile, and it already hurts him to even think about what he’s about to say next.

“However, she didn’t know that she was a werewolf.”

Now, they all frown, confused by this sentence. It clearly doesn’t make any sense.  

“How’s that possible?” Mingi asks.

Jungkook’s heart stammers in his chest. How does he explain now who you truly are? He’s not even sure he wants to do it, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. His family needs to learn from him that you’re a hybrid. Not from someone else.

“Her parents left their hometown, cut ties with their families, never told her about her wolf side, and died when she was still a kid,” he summarizes. “She was then raised by a human and never found out the truth until she got pregnant.”

He hardly swallows before he continues to reveal what has been going on for the past nine weeks. Honestly, those past weeks have been an emotional rollercoaster.

“I’ve been trying to help her discover what happened because as you can imagine, it’s a lot to take in.”

His heart is going crazy in his chest, and he’s barely able to look at his family as he proceeds with the story.

“She’s part of the Shadows, and I reached out to Mister Song to help us unveil her past.”   

They remain in silence, letting Jungkook speak. The man takes then an unreadable expression on his face to protect himself from what is about to come. He hates that he has to do it with his family, but he has to.

“Mister Song told us that thirty years ago, a Shadow woman ran away with a human,” his heart beats faster. His eyes move to his mother, hoping that she recalls that incident.

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” she says. “The Shadows couldn’t find them so they reached out to your father. After ten years, they managed to find them and their child.”

Jungkook bites his lower lip and he’s not sure how to continue with the story. Does he say now that you’re a hybrid? Does he maintain the mystery any longer?

“Well, we found out that the child was never killed,” he explains while avoiding saying that Sungmin spared your life. “And that child is the mother of mine.”

For a moment, the room is filled with a sharping silence. Jungkook doesn’t look away, trying to understand their expressions. They are all speechless, but he can see anger forming in his mother’s eyes. He was expecting it; she has never messed with the rules. He admires her for following the rules, not everybody does it, but this time around, it will be hard for her. He’s not going to abandon you because of your true nature. 

Mingi and Hyunjin are surprised but seem intrigued by all of this. Jungkook can see that curious flicker in their eyes. Dohee seems utterly shocked, but her expression softens when her eyes meet her brother’s. Namjoon seems mind-blown. And Jisoo, the matriarch, looks angry.  

“What?” Namjoon is the first one to break the silence. “A hybrid has been living for thirty years and nobody ever found out.”

Jungkook nods. “Yep.”

“A hybrid?” Mingi says. “That’s cool,” he continues.

“Mingi,” the mother’s harsh voice echoes in the room. “Hybrids are forbidden, there’s absolutely nothing cool about them,” her eyes now move to Jungkook. “And you, my son,” she’s very angry. “You know what you have to do.”

As he hears her words, a strong feeling of protection grows in him. Even if she’s his mother, she can’t tell him what to do, especially when it includes you.  

“No,” his tone is firm. “There won’t be any killing.”

“Neither the baby nor her can exist, son,” she responds.

“Like I said, there won’t be any killing,” his voice is calm, but still very firm.

Dohee, Mingi, Hyunjin, and Namjoon watch in disbelief the scene displaying in front of their eyes. It’s the first time Jungkook is using that tone on their mother, and it’s also the very first time he’s not agreeing with her. It seems like an unrealistic moment.

“She’s a hybrid, for fuck’s sake,” she swears, catching everybody off guard. “She can’t exist! It’s already a miracle she managed to live up until now, but you have to end her life right now before anybody else ever finds out about her.”

“Do you hear yourself, mom?” he says. “You’re talking about killing someone like it’s the same as making a cake. We’re talking about a life. In this case, even about two lives.”

The king runs his fingers through his hair, a sign that he’s extremely nervous. He knew his mother wouldn’t accept any of this, but it’s harder than he imagined. He hates to be standing against her. She has always been by his side, supporting him whenever he needed it.   

“I’m not saying it like that, but the rules are the rules,” she says.

“Then, fuck the rules!” he swears.

Now, everybody is surprised by his words. This isn’t the Jungkook they used to know; he’s been always composed and now, it seems to be losing it.

“Jungkook,” Dohee tries to intervene.

“Don’t Jungkook me,” he says to his sister.

He’s trying to stay calm, but it’s getting harder. Nobody seems to understand what he’s feeling.

“It’s easy for everybody to follow the rules when it doesn’t involve your child,” his voice tone gets higher. “I got attached to that baby even if they’re not born yet. I constantly hear their heartbeat every time I’m around her, and I can’t put an end to their life. It’s a big no,” he’s very firm. “It’s my child we’re talking about.”  

Tears start forming in his eyes, and his mother’s heart breaks as she hears his words. It makes her realize the complexity of the situation. For a moment, she puts herself in his shoes, trying to understand him.

When she found out that she was pregnant with Jungkook, it was the most beautiful day of her life. She desired her entire life to become a mother, and after her marriage, that desire only grew bigger. Hearing her son’s faint heartbeat was such an appeasing sound, and it was the prettiest sound she ever heard.

So, imagining that she needed to terminate the pregnancy because that child is a hybrid breaks her heart. It’s a decision she’s not sure she’ll be able to make. But the rules are the rules. Even if her grandchild will have more wolf blood than human blood, that doesn’t change the fact that the mother is a hybrid. She shouldn’t even exist in the first place.

“And she’s my soulmate,” his voice breaks.

Jungkook has been pushing aside the nature of his feelings for you, but after yesterday’s events, he finally realized it. You’re his soulmate. You’re the person that destiny chose for him. You’re the person with whom he’s supposed to mate. It’s a powerful bond that nobody will ever be able to break.

“I will protect her at all costs,” he adds.

His mother closes her eyes in disbelief.

“There’s nothing we can say, then,” Dohee concludes. “Except for Mingi, we all know how it feels to be around your soulmate, how powerful the love is, how deep the connection is, and what we’ll do to save our soulmates. For sure, she’s not supposed to exist, but destiny bonded her to you, our king. You have all powers, and we all know you’ll put her safety first,” she quickly looks at her husband. “I can’t blame you, Kookie. In your shoes, I would do the same. I’d save and protect Namjoon even if he was a hybrid.”

Jungkook looks at his mother, expecting now a reaction from her. Like Dohee said, she should know how he feels. For sure, his situation is messy as hell, but there’s not much he can do. If he kills you, he’ll forever be dead on the inside. A soulmate is a one-time thing; he doesn’t get to have two soulmates. 

“This is like a movie, but better,” Mingi says with a playful smile on his face. “Our brother, known as the werewolf king, falls in love with a hybrid, a forbidden species in our world, and he got her pregnant.”

“Stop being silly, Ming,” Hyunjin strikes his elbow against Mongi’s. “This is serious.”

“Rooh,” Mingi says. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. I know it’s serious, but as Dohee said, there’s nothing we can do. The hybrid is Jk’s soulmate so we better accept the situation and help him. That’s it.”

Mingi makes everything sound so easy, as he always does. His chill, laid-back, and easygoing nature makes him the most relaxed of all the siblings, and in moments like this, it’s exactly what’s needed.

“The hybrid’s name is yn,” Jungkook says once he realizes he didn’t even say your name.

“Son,” Jisoo says as she opens her eyes. “In between us, we can accept it because we know what she represents for you. But how will the others react when they realize that yn, their possible future queen, is a hybrid, and that the next heir is not of pure blood?”

Hearing his mother say that you’ll probably be the next queen makes him feel weird, but in a good way. The words catch him off guard at first, a mix of surprise and uncertainty flickering through him. But the thought of having you by his side, not just as a partner but as his equal, makes his chest swell with a warmth he didn’t expect. Maybe, just maybe, the idea of you as queen is a future he wouldn’t mind embracing. 

“We all know how they will react,” she pauses for a moment. “They will try to kill her. Soulmate or not.”

“I don’t care,” he honestly replies. “I will protect her from everything and anything.”

No matter what people say, he’ll do whatever he can to keep you safe. He’s a king so he has the resources to protect you, and he also hopes that his authority as king might protect you as well.

“Okay,” the matriarch answers. “Then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to meet her.”

A smile appears on her face. It’s not easy, but she’s ready to make an effort for her son. She’ll try to accept this all because you’re his soulmate. However, she needs to meet you first so she can see what kind of person you are.

“Okay,” he smiles. “I’ll arrange that.”

The tension slowly fades away and the family continues the dinner while talking of other things. Jungkook is aware of the fight waiting for him, and he knows it won’t be easy, but you’re worth it.

[writesvani]

dear me | 08

lawyer! jeonjungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: death of a loved one, grief, childhood trauma, emotional vulnerability, mentions of smoking, mentions of hospitals, funeral themes, themes of loss, nostalgia, emotional dependency, performance anxiety, fear of failure, complicated parent-child relationship

comment here for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter

wc: 6,3k // date: 28th of April

CHAPTER EIGHT — Fifteen Years and a Pinky; happy reading my gummies...

AN: hi gummies, how are you? here’s the ch 08. now, i know i told you this chapter is supposed to be 9k long and you may be surprised that it’s only 6.3k, but—listen. this chapter was originally supposed to include the night at the house too, but when i reread it i realized that three (3!!!) separate scenes would be like throwing your feelings into a blender and then stepping on it. and because the scene before the house night is raw (like steak tartare levels of raw) i didn’t want to ruin the flow. so here we are. soft. emotional. holding pinkies and sobbing.

this chapter is a bit heavy and personal for me, so if you’re thinking about sending hate asks or comments... respectfully, go touch grass. and maybe hug your grandma too while you're at it.

anyways, note goal for this chapter is 420 notes. if we hit it, you get chapter 9 which is lowkey spicey but not really but like... i sprinkled some ✨specs��� of something in there okay. patience is a virtue, babes. see you soon.

The music at The House is doing exactly what it’s supposed to — vibing in the background like a low, steady heartbeat, not blasting your eardrums into oblivion like most places would. It's early, but a few brave locals are already perched at the bar, clutching their coffees like lifelines and pretending to be scandalized by Alex’s latest story. Honestly, half the chaos is in the fact that it’s barely 9 a.m. and he’s already causing a scene.

You can’t help but love mornings like this. Especially when the playlist is this good — Jezebel by Sade melts through the speakers, smooth and rich, and you bob your head to the beat as you sip your espresso like you’re in some cheap movie.

You and Jungkook had smartly claimed a booth instead of the bar. The bar is for nights when you need bad decisions and worse tequila. The booth? That’s strictly reserved for existential crises over coffee. Classy.

It’s almost funny how most people don’t even realize The House runs in the mornings too — it’s like an unspoken VIP pass to a secret world. Mornings here feel untouched, sacred, like you’re living inside a memory.

The place hasn’t changed.

The boy next to you — sprawled out, looking entirely too comfortable for someone with a cappuccino in hand — hasn’t either.

But you? Him? You’re not the same kids who used to think the world owed you something.

And maybe that’s the magic of it.

Or maybe it’s just the espresso talking.

“Vicky literally wanted to murder me yesterday,” Jungkook sighs, taking a small sip of his coffee.

“I think she did,” you agree, leaning back in your seat like the weight of the whole performance exhausted you. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you made it out alive.”

“She gave me a death glare that could’ve set the entire room on fire,” he says, laughing under his breath. “I think my soul left my body for a second.”

“She’s just... passionate,” you say, trying not to snicker.

“Passionate about hating me?”

You shrug, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Well, maybe don’t exist so loudly next time.”

Jungkook presses a hand to his heart, pretending to be wounded. “Brutal. Betrayed by my own favorite.”

You smile into your coffee cup, trying to hide the way your heart trips over itself at his words.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, and you hear a loud crack echo from his neck. He winces, rubbing the spot.

"Jesus," he mutters, "I don’t know if I’m just getting old or what, but my neck’s been killing me lately. Like, constantly."

You snort into your coffee. "Join the club. For me, it’s the shoulders. Doesn’t even matter how I sleep—on my side, my back, curled up like a shrimp—bam, wake up feeling like someone beat me up in my dreams."

He chuckles under his breath, nudging your foot under the table. "We’re literally falling apart and it’s not even noon."

"Speak for yourself. I’m thriving. Pain is my lifestyle choice now," you say, dramatically stretching your arms and instantly regretting it when a sharp pinch runs through your shoulder.

"Yeah," Jungkook smirks, raising an eyebrow. "Looks like you're thriving real hard over there.”

"So, Mr. Neck Pain," you tease, swirling your coffee, "what’s next now that you’re all settled back in town?"

Jungkook groans, slouching deeper into the booth. "Ugh, don’t even ask. Nina’s on this mission to redecorate my mom’s house. I can barely keep up with everything anymore."

"Redecorate?" you blink.

"Yeah, why?" he asks, eyeing you curiously.

You shrug, playing it off. "Nothing. I just always thought you loved that house the way it was."

"I do," he says, running a hand through his hair, "but we want it to be, you know, a good place if we ever start a family."

Your brows knit together, something tugging at your chest. "But we—I mean, you—grew up there. It's already a good place."

He smiles a little sadly. "True. But you know how Nina is—she loves the latest trends, new aesthetics, all that HGTV bullshit."

You force a chuckle, but your heart isn't in it. "Yeah... I know." You pause, tracing the rim of your cup. "I just thought… there were too many good memories there for you to change it."

Jungkook’s expression softens, and he leans forward, elbows resting on the table. "We're not tearing it down, just giving it a facelift. Besides..." he trails off for a second, choosing his words carefully, "there were a lot of bad memories there too, you know."

You gulp, regret washing over you in waves.

As much as you loved that house, the memories, the time you spent there with Jungkook, you know better now. When you left, he stayed. They all stayed behind. In there.

"Shit, Kook, I’m sorry," you mumble, your voice quieter than you intend. "I wasn’t thinking."

Jungkook glances at you, his expression neutral, but you can see the tiredness in his eyes. "It’s okay," he says, but it doesn’t sound as reassuring as it should. "Really. You didn’t say anything wrong."

You shake your head, frustration bubbling up. "Still... I always run my mouth before thinking."

"It’s fine," he repeats, more firmly this time, though it doesn't quite ease the tension between you. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply like he’s been holding his breath for too long. He seems like he wants to move on, but you can tell the weight of the conversation hasn’t shifted for him.

There’s a pause as he stares down at his coffee cup, swirling the contents absentmindedly. "Speaking of the devil… He called me last night."

Your stomach sinks, a tight knot forming in your chest. "How does he even know you’re back in town?"

Jungkook shrugs, looking like he’s trying to make light of it, but the slight crease in his brow gives him away. "Maybe a neighbor mentioned something. You know how it is. Small town, everyone talks."

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "He said he misses me. Wants to see me."

You take a breath, your heart pounding a little faster than usual. "Kook..." Your voice softens, and you try to hold his gaze, willing him to understand. "You don’t have to go see him. You don’t owe him anything."

His eyes dart to yours, but they don’t hold the same certainty you’re used to. There’s a flicker of something there—maybe guilt, maybe doubt. "I know," he says, the words thick with hesitation. "But he’s still my dad."

You lean forward, putting your hands on the table as if grounding yourself, trying to find the right words. "Jungkook, I get that. I do. But look at what he did to you. To your family. You don’t owe him a damn thing. Not after everything he’s done."

A flash of pain crosses his face, but he quickly masks it with a forced shrug. "Maybe he’s changed." His voice is small now, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You feel a pang in your chest as you watch him. His words sound like a plea, a hope that hasn’t faded, despite everything. "Maybe," you say, your voice quieter than before. "But... Kook, you’ve given him so many chances. How many more does he need to mess up before you stop waiting for him to change?"

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he stares at the table, his jaw clenched. His hands are folded together, knuckles white from the pressure. The silence stretches between you like a tension-filled rope, and you hate how long it lingers.

Finally, he lets out a long, slow breath, his voice almost inaudible. "I just... I don’t know. Part of me keeps thinking that maybe one day, he’ll realize what he lost. That he’ll finally see everything I’ve done for myself. But I’m still his son, you know? I still want him to be proud of me."

Your heart aches for him, and you find yourself reaching across the table without thinking, your hand brushing against his. "Kook..." You pause, unsure how to say what you want. "You don’t need his approval. You never have. You’ve made your own path, your own life. You don’t need him to recognize that."

He meets your eyes then, and for a moment, the world outside fades into the background. He’s so tired, and it’s not just the physical exhaustion. It’s the emotional weight he carries, the years of longing for something from his father that he may never get. "I don’t know if I can just let it go," he admits quietly.

You squeeze his hand, offering him a small but sincere smile. "I know it is. But you’ve been carrying this for so long. You deserve peace, Kook. You deserve to stop wondering if he’s going to come around."

He nods slowly, but the doubt still lingers in his eyes. "I’m just... not ready to give up on him yet. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to let go. But not now."

You nod in understanding, even though you wish he didn’t feel this way. You’re not sure if he’ll ever let go of the hope that his father might change, but you’ll be here for him—whether he wants to see his dad or not.

Because even if he can’t yet walk away from that, you’ll be the one to catch him if he falls.

"So..." Jungkook leans back, stretching like he’s trying to shake off the whole conversation. "You want another coffee or what?"

You huff out a laugh, sensing the way he’s desperate to change the subject. You’ll let him. For now.

"Sure. Let’s drown our trauma in caffeine," you say, clapping your hands once.

"Aki!" you yell across the room like a drunk girl at a party.

Alex's head snaps up from behind the bar, his expression pure chaos. "I KNOW you are not hollering at me from across the damn room at 9 AM!"

You press your palms together in mock prayer, batting your lashes at him.

He points a threatening finger your way, but he's already stomping toward the coffee machine. "You better be glad you're cute. And that you called me Aki. Otherwise? I'd be filing a noise complaint on your ass."

Jungkook cackles next to you, throwing his arm over the back of the booth lazily. "Don’t blame her. She’s been a menace since birth."

"And YOU!" Alex spins dramatically toward Jungkook. "Mr. Ex-Drummer-Wannabe over there—you even THINK about ordering like that and I’m dragging you out by your sad little hair bun."

"I cut my hair," Jungkook defends, laughing so hard he almost spills his cappuccino.

"Good. One less handle for me to grab when I throw hands," Alex fires back without missing a beat.

You’re crying with laughter now, doubled over in the booth as Alex aggressively slams the espresso shots into the machine like he’s personally offended by your existence.

"Two coffees! Extra espresso! And a prayer for your broken souls!" he yells over the sound of the steamer.

You wipe a tear from your eye. Jungkook’s cheeks are flushed pink from laughing.

The tension between you? Gone. Completely obliterated by the unholy spirit of Alex at 9 in the morning.

When Alex brings over your coffees, he doesn’t just drop them off and head back to the bar like a normal person. No, of course not. Alex being Alex means he slams the mugs down with a dramatic flourish, making a few drops slosh over the rims—and then, without so much as a warning, slides right into the booth beside you like he owns the damn place.

You blink at him. "Aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know, working?" you deadpan, scooting over an inch, not that it does anything to deter him.

"Babe, I am working," Alex says, fake-fanning himself like he’s starring in some bad soap opera. "Quality customer service. Mingling with the clientele. Boosting morale." He flashes you a smile so wide it’s practically criminal.

"You call this customer service?" you snort, narrowing your eyes.

"I call this excellence," he corrects, snapping his fingers in the air.

Jungkook leans back, grinning. "Remind me again why George hasn't kicked your ass to the curb yet?"

"Because," Alex says, stretching out his arms along the back of the booth like a king surveying his kingdom, "nobody else is stupid enough to work as a barista, bartender, waiter, and unofficial therapist at the same time."

"Unofficial therapist," you cough, laughing into your cup.

"I’ve seen things, alright?" Alex says gravely, glancing around the café like someone might overhear. "The shit people cry about at two in the morning over whiskey shots would make your hair fall out."

"You mean like that one girl who thought her cat was psychic and warning her about her cheating boyfriend?" Jungkook grins.

Alex gasps. "That girl was a treasure. And honestly, her cat probably was psychic. Men ain’t shit."

You and Jungkook crack up, nearly spilling your coffees.

"But seriously, why are you still here, Alex? You could probably have an actual desk job by now."

Alex sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Because I love this place. And because I love the poor lost souls who stumble through that door looking like they need either a double shot of espresso or an exorcism."

"You saying you love us?" Jungkook teases, winking.

Alex points straight at you without missing a beat. "Yeah. But I love her more."

He leans his full weight against you, feigning a swoon.

You shove him half-heartedly, laughing. "Jesus Christ, get off me."

"Can’t," Alex hums. "We’re bonded for life now. Future spouses. Bar booth besties. Trauma buddies."

You shake your head, hiding your smile behind your coffee cup. No matter how loud or outrageous Alex could be, moments like this reminded you why you kept coming back to The House. Why it still felt like home, even when everything else around you had changed.

Jungkook watches the two of you with amusement flickering in his eyes. For a second, the weight on his shoulders seems lighter. His smile less forced. You catch the way he lingers, looking around at the chipped wood tables, the battered jukebox, the dusty light pouring through the windows—and you realize it’s not just you clinging to the past.

“So,” you start, drumming your nails against the scratched surface of the table, “anyone interesting playing tonight?”

Alex perks up immediately, a sly smile curling his lips. “Why, you guys thinking about stopping by?”

“Don’t answer my question with a question,” you groan, tossing your head back dramatically against the seat, earning a low chuckle from both Alex and Jungkook.

“Still so easy to rile you up,” Alex teases, nudging your arm with his elbow. "But fine. Yes, there’s someone playing tonight. Some high school senior band. New kids. Pretty decent."

He glances toward Jungkook, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his blue eyes. “You’d love them if you came to watch. Especially the drummer.”

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, his mug pausing halfway to his mouth. “Yeah? They any good?” He phrases it like a question but there's a lightness there—something almost hopeful.

Alex leans back against the booth, arms crossed, grinning. “Real good. Their drummer reminds me a lot of you, actually. It’s crazy."

For a moment, something shifts in the air between them—some old memory or unspoken thing passing by. You catch it, the way Alex's voice softens at the edges, the way his posture straightens just slightly when he says it.

Jungkook doesn’t respond right away. He just hums, a quiet sound, before taking a slow sip of his cappuccino. When he sets the cup down again, there’s a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You were amazing, you know," Alex says suddenly, voice lower, more serious now as he turns his head, eyes drifting toward the small stage at the front of the café. "Everyone loved seeing you up there."

"I was nothing special," Jungkook mutters, shrugging like he's trying to make himself smaller. He rolls his shoulders, like the memory sits a little too heavy on them.

"You were," Alex insists, almost stubbornly.

You stay quiet, just watching Jungkook carefully, feeling your chest tighten a little.

He was special. He is special. But you know he struggles to see it sometimes.

“Well," Jungkook says after a beat, laughing under his breath, "thank God we have new generations now. I’m way too rusty these days anyway."

"Rusty?" Alex scoffs like it's the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. "You could still kill it. I bet you could pick up a pair of sticks right now and blow everyone’s mind."

Jungkook laughs again, but this time it’s softer, almost bashful, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his coffee cup. "Nah, man. Really. I can’t even remember the last time I touched a drum kit."

"Doesn’t matter," Alex shrugs. "Some things you don’t forget. It’s in you, y’know? Like breathing."

You smile a little into your coffee, feeling something warm bloom in your chest as you watch them.

Because you see it—that flicker of pride, of something almost childlike—lighting up behind Jungkook’s eyes.

No matter how much he tries to brush it off, no matter how much he plays it down…

There’s a part of him that still holds onto that love.

That part hasn’t rusted at all.

“Wanna bet?” Alex leans forward, elbows on the table, a wild grin spreading across his face. “If you come by tonight, get on that stage, and play like you used to, you owe me the fattest tip The House has ever seen. I’m talking, like, a thousand bucks.”

“A thousand?” you splutter, nearly choking on your coffee. Your eyes whip between Jungkook and Alex like you’re watching a live tennis match. “Are you insane?”

Alex just shrugs, looking completely unbothered, like he didn’t just casually ask for a month’s rent.

Jungkook’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, the way it always does when he's considering something reckless.

You can practically see it happening—the slow spark, the glint of mischief flickering to life behind his eyes.

“Yeah?” Jungkook says, voice low, teasing, almost daring. “And what if I suck? What if I’m absolutely terrible?”

Alex grins wider, if that’s even possible. “Then I’ll cover all your drinks. You, anyone you drag in here with you, free tabs for the next three months. No questions asked.”

Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “What if I’m bad on purpose?”

“You can’t be bad on purpose, Jungkook,” Alex says, voice almost affectionate, like he’s stating a universal truth. “You don’t know how. It’s not in your DNA.”

You laugh under your breath because, honestly, Alex isn’t wrong. Jungkook could try his absolute hardest to mess up and somehow still end up being stupidly good at it.

And now you see it happening, right there in front of you—the battle playing out in Jungkook’s head.

Because no matter how calm or grown-up he pretends to be these days, underneath it all, Jeon Jungkook has never met a challenge he didn’t want to destroy.

His fingers tap restlessly against the mug, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. He’s thinking about it. Seriously thinking about it.

For a second, you think he might laugh it off.

For a second, you think he might shake his head and say, “Nah, not tonight.”

But there’s a part of you—quiet, selfish—that hopes he doesn’t.

Because seeing Jungkook now, here, with the stage in the background and the hum of The House around you, feels so strange it almost aches.

Like a part of your life that belonged to someone else entirely.

And yet, it did happen.

Right here, between these old walls and scratched tables and buzzing neon lights—Jungkook was alive once.

So alive, it made your chest hurt just watching him.

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat, forcing a smile onto your lips.

You want to see that Jungkook again.

Just for one night.

Just for a song.

Maybe, just maybe… you’re not the only one who wants that too.

“Okay,” Jungkook says, crossing his arms lazily behind his head, his body slumping back into the booth like he couldn't care less.

You and Alex whip your heads toward him at the same time.

“Okay?” you both blurt out, voices overlapping in pure disbelief.

Alex’s jaw actually drops a little. His whole face lights up like someone just handed him front row tickets to his favorite band.

You swear you see sparkles in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a casual shrug, sipping his coffee like he didn’t just agree to revisit an entire part of himself he’s been quietly avoiding for years. “Game’s on. Don’t get too excited about it.”

You can’t help it.

You squeal.

Loud.

Like a literal teenager seeing her One Direction live.

“Oh my god, you’re really playing tonight?” you practically shout, bouncing in your seat.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you over the rim of his mug, hiding a small grin.

“Yeah. Only for the free drinks though. Because I know I’ll be terrible.”

Alex shoots you a look across the table—the look that screams I'm so winning this bet and you better remember this moment forever.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, pretty boy,” Alex sing-songs, leaning back with a smirk. “I’m getting that one grand tip tonight. You’re gonna play like an angel and you know it.”

Jungkook snorts, setting his coffee down with a loud clink. “Dream about it, Alex. I’m washed up. I’m bad.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Alex says, waving him off. “We’ll see who’s laughing when I’m bathing in bills later.”

You shake your head, heart thudding against your ribs, still trying to wrap your mind around it.

Jungkook is playing tonight.

In this place.

On that stage.

The same one where he used to tear the house down with nothing but drumsticks and a grin.

You steal a glance at him—at the way he tries to act unfazed, too cool to care.

But you see it.

The way his fingers twitch slightly on the table.

The way his knee starts bouncing under it.

He’s excited.

Terrified maybe.

But excited.

And somehow, you feel like you're about to see a version of Jungkook tonight that’s been hiding for a long, long time.

You smile into your coffee cup, letting the warmth seep into your chest.

Tonight’s gonna be special.

You can feel it.

"Alright," Jungkook says, pulling out his wallet and flipping it open with a lazy flick of his wrist.

"You don’t have to pay me yet, you know," Alex grins, lounging back in his seat like he’s the king of the damn world. "Everyone knows I’m winning this anyway, but still—appreciate the enthusiasm."

"Bold of you to assume that," Jungkook mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes with a small smirk. He peels a few bills from his wallet and hands them over. "This is for the coffees. Nothing more. Don’t get your hopes up."

Alex whistles low under his breath, dramatically tucking the money into the pocket of his apron like it’s sacred treasure. "Coffees are on me, but I'm keeping this. Just so you know, when you lose tonight, this is going straight into my ‘Victory Drinks’ fund."

"Dream on," Jungkook says, already pushing his chair back.

You laugh, grabbing your jacket and slinging it over your shoulders. "We’re heading out before you two start slapping each other with money."

"Already?!" Alex pouts dramatically, sticking out his bottom lip like a child about to throw a tantrum. "But this was just starting to get fun!"

"We’ll see you tonight, babe," you tease, leaning in slightly as you adjust your jacket. "Try not to miss us too much."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," Alex calls after you, tossing a mock salute your way as he saunters back behind the bar, already chatting up a new group of customers like the social butterfly he is.

You glance over your shoulder once before stepping outside, the cold air nipping at your cheeks.

The door swings shut behind you, cutting off the warm hum of The House.

And as you and Jungkook walk down the sidewalk, shoulders brushing every few steps, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

"I can’t believe I’ll see you on the stage tonight," you say, your voice soft, almost quiet.

The city moves around you — the low chatter of couples at outdoor tables, the distant barking of a dog, the steady thrum of cars in the background — but right now, it feels like it's just you and Jungkook, walking side by side.

He kicks a small pebble along the sidewalk with the toe of his boot, the rhythm of his steps syncing perfectly with yours.

"Me either," he says, chuckling under his breath. "I’m gonna suck."

He tries to brush it off with a joke, but you catch it — that slight dip in his voice, the way his shoulders curl inward, the way his teeth sink into his lower lip like he’s trying to keep the doubt from slipping out louder.

"Kook," you whisper, reaching out without thinking, your fingers wrapping gently around his elbow, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. "There’s no way in hell you’re gonna suck."

He looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s searching for something — maybe faith, maybe reassurance, maybe just a familiar face who remembers who he used to be.

"I literally bet against myself," he mutters, half-laughing, half-defeated. "I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming."

You shake your head, smiling so much it almost hurts. "I’m with Alex on this one. You’ll be great. You’ll be better than great."

Jungkook scoffs, looking away as a faint blush creeps onto his cheeks. "I’ll embarrass myself," he says, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.

"You could trip and fall flat on your face and people would still cheer for you," you say, bumping your shoulder against his lightly. "You have that thing, you know? That... energy. People just wanna root for you."

He laughs — a real one this time, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep, somewhere maybe he thought he buried a long time ago.

"You’re dangerous," he says, shaking his head, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips now, one he can’t quite hide. "You’re making me think I can actually do this."

"You can actually do this," you say simply.

For a moment, he just stares ahead, the sunlight catching in his hair, painting gold into the brown strands.

And you realize — he’s not scared of being bad.

He’s scared of remembering how much he loved it.

And maybe, deep down, he's scared of wanting it again.

"C'mon, let's go eat something," you say, grabbing a fistful of Jungkook’s jacket like a child dragging their favorite toy behind them.

Your steps turn rushed, half-skipping across the street, and you hear him laugh behind you — that soft, warm laugh that makes your chest bloom.

"Okay, okay, you don’t have to pull me," he chuckles, letting himself be tugged along, the heels of his boots scraping the sidewalk.

"You’re too slow and I’m too hungry," you shoot back, ignoring the string of playful complaints he tosses about you destroying his ‘new, very expensive, limited edition jacket.’

He doesn't actually try to break free though. He just follows, like he always does when it’s you.

You pull him into a small, tucked-away restaurant, the kind where the air smells like fresh bread and melted cheese, where the noise is low and comfortable.

Without even asking, Jungkook lets you choose the table — a cozy little booth by the window.

And somehow, as you both sit down, flipping open the greasy menus, it feels like nothing ever changed.

Not the years that passed. Not the hard things you both carried inside your chests.

Sitting across from him now feels exactly like it did when you were both younger, less guarded, less afraid.

The food comes quickly — baskets of fries and sandwiches stacked high — and you both agree without saying it that tonight's performance is off-limits, at least for now.

It’s a silent pact sealed with the clink of your water glasses.

"So you’re working tomorrow, and what after that?" Jungkook asks, stuffing a fistful of fries into his mouth, looking so casual you almost forget how his nerves had been rattling earlier.

"I think I’m gonna go to the cemetery after," you say lightly, twirling a fry between your fingers.

You don’t say it like it’s heavy.

Because it isn’t anymore.

It’s a routine. Like brushing your teeth. Like calling your mom.

It’s just something you do.

His chewing slows a little. "Nana?" he asks gently, voice dipping lower like he’s trying not to make the air around you heavier.

"Yeah," you smile a little, taking a sip of your drink. "Tomorrow’s the 15-year anniversary. Gotta go and visit her."

You joke about it, the same way you always do when you talk about it out loud. Not because it’s funny.

But because if you don’t laugh about it, it might feel too real. Too much.

Jungkook doesn’t prod.

Doesn’t tilt his head and give you the pity look.

Doesn’t say I’m sorry like everyone else does.

He just nods, tearing off a piece of his sandwich.

Because he knows.

He knows you visit her grave every month like clockwork. Knows you sit by the little marble headstone and tell her everything you can’t tell anyone else.

Knows that, as weird as it sounds, it’s almost comforting now.

Like a monthly check-in with someone who’s still somehow listening.

"It’s weird," you say suddenly, voice quieter, like you’re not sure why you’re even saying it. "Fifteen years sounds like forever. But it still feels like she’s... close. Sometimes."

Jungkook’s eyes lift to meet yours, soft and full of understanding.

"That’s because she is," he says simply.

You just smile, a real one this time. One that makes your nose crinkle.

And Jungkook smiles back, pushing the basket of fries toward you like he’s offering something bigger than food — like he’s offering comfort without making a big deal out of it.

And in that small, simple moment, you’re grateful.

Grateful that some people in your life — no matter how much time passes, no matter how much hurt sneaks in around the edges — always just get it.

"You know," you say, a small smirk playing on your lips, "I think I’m gonna bring her a pack of ciggies tomorrow. She’d be happy."

Jungkook laughs under his breath. "She’d be thrilled. I can already picture her up there in the sky, chanting, 'Smoke one for me!'"

"Literally," you snort, "that’s so her."

"Bring her some coffee too," he adds, nudging your foot gently under the table. "She only ever smoked when she had coffee."

"Maybe you can bring her the coffee," you tease.

His face softens, the teasing moment slipping into something gentler.

"You’d want me to come with you?"

You glance down, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

"Yeah... Only if you want to. No pressure."

"Of course I would," he says instantly. Then his smile fades just a little. "I just didn’t think you’d be comfortable with that. We haven’t gone there together in... ages."

"Yeah..." you trail off, the memory of old visits brushing against your mind like a ghost. Then you pause, the realization creeping up your spine. You lift your head slowly.

"Wait," you say, squinting at him, "are you saying you’ve gone to visit my Nana’s grave... alone?"

The air between you shifts — heavier, thicker.

He gulps. His shoulders tense slightly, but he doesn't back down.

"Yeah," Jungkook admits, voice smaller than before. "Whenever I came back here to visit... I’d stop by and see her too."

You blink at him, stunned.

Your heartbeat violently pulses in your ribcage — not from anger, not even from sadness, but from a fierce, overwhelming surprise.

"You..." you start, then falter. "Why?"

He fiddles with a paper napkin, his fingers slow, deliberate.

His voice is rough when he answers.

"Because you loved her so much. And because she’s the only one I ever trusted to keep an eye on you when..."

There’s a crack in his voice that he doesn’t bother hiding.

It splinters something deep inside you.

"And because..." he clears his throat, like the words are caught there, too heavy to say. "Because I miss her too, you know."

You don’t realize you’re crying until your vision blurs and a tear slides down your cheek.

You wipe it away quickly, embarrassed, but Jungkook just gives you the softest look — patient and understanding — like he knew you would.

"I think," you say, voice shaking despite yourself, "I think she'd be really happy you still visit her."

Jungkook lifts his eyes to meet yours — and for a moment, the busy restaurant, the cold food between you, the people outside — all of it disappears.

"I think she'd be happy about a lot of things," he says quietly.

You don't ask what he means.

You don’t have to.

Instead, you reach across the table and brush your pinky against his — tentative, testing.

He smiles and hooks his pinky around yours without hesitation.

It’s small.

It’s quiet.

But it feels like something sacred.

"Then let’s make her happy tomorrow," you whisper.

"Deal," Jungkook smiles, and you feel a rush of emotions flooding you all at once — a tidal wave you don't even try to fight.

"You know..." you start, gently smiling at him, "I never got to thank you."

His smile falters just a little, confusion slipping onto his face. His eyes lock onto yours — steady, unwavering — and you feel yourself shrink a little under the weight of his gaze.

"For what?" he asks, voice low.

"For being there for me," you say, heart pounding, "when she died."

He shakes his head immediately, brows knitting together.

"Nonsense. You don't thank me for that. Ever."

"I have to, Kook," you whisper, feeling the lump build in your throat.

"No," he insists, voice firm but gentle. "You don't."

But you remember that day like it was yesterday.

You were still in middle school. Barely thirteen.

It was lunchtime, and you sat with your friends, Jungkook included — laughing, pretending everything was normal.

You'd told them how your Nana was sick. How you’d overheard your parents whispering late at night that the doctor said she didn’t have much time left. That it was only a matter of days.

You remembered the way everyone had reassured you.

How they promised she’d pull through.

How they smiled too big and said she was strong. That she would be fine.

You remembered coming home from school that day.

The house had felt... too quiet.

Only Leah and Vicky were there, small and scared, faces pale with something they didn’t fully understand.

Your youngest brother was at the neighbor’s house.

You remembered asking them — what's going on?

You remembered how tiny Vicky’s voice was when she said it.

"Mom said... Nana died."

You remembered standing there, rooted to the floor, unable to breathe.

You remembered the way the world cracked open under your feet.

And you remembered calling Jungkook.

Hands shaking. Voice breaking.

The only person you could think of to call.

He had answered before the first ring even finished.

And he had come over immediately, sneakers barely tied, hair a mess, face open with worry.

No questions. No hesitations.

Just him.

Just Jungkook.

Sitting with you on the cold kitchen floor.

Letting you cry into his chest until your sobs turned into hiccups.

Until your whole body hurt from it.

Until it hurt a little less.

You remember Jungkook holding you, Leah, and Vicky — small arms trying to wrap around all three of you at once.

He was just a kid too.

He loved Nana just as much.

You remember him hiding his own tears, trying so hard to be strong for you.

You remember him picking up your little brother from the neighbor’s house, walking all of you to the corner store, and buying you ice cream — like it could somehow patch up the hole inside your chest.

You remember falling asleep that night with your face buried in his shirt, your sobs wrecking your body until you were too exhausted to cry anymore — and him just holding you through it.

You remember the funeral, too.

How your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

How the world felt too big and too loud and too empty without her.

And how, without saying a single word, Jungkook hooked his pinky around yours — small and trembling — and didn’t let go the entire time.

Back then, it felt like a promise.

Like even when everything else disappeared, he wouldn't.

Now, sitting here with him years later, pinkies still finding each other without thinking, it feels like the same thing.

Maybe it was always the same thing.

"As I said," Jungkook’s voice cuts through your memories, pulling you gently back to him, "nonsense."

His tone is soft but steady, his eyes kind.

"We’re family. I’d always do that."

And without thinking, without meaning to, you tighten your pinky just a little around his.

Just to make sure he’s still there.

"I remember everything, Kook," you whisper, voice shaking.

"And you don’t even realize how much that meant to me."

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches you, the softness in his eyes enough to pull the air from your lungs.

"I’m glad I was there," he finally says, voice thick. "I’m glad you called me."

You smile, watery but real.

"Me too.”

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[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 7 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: If he's so bad, then why do you crave him so much? You crave him enough to let him be your first.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, scars, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, smut, oral sex, (rough) sex, penetration, unprotected sex, degradation kink, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

You didn't know what real desire feels like, until you felt it.

Until you felt him.

And you wanted him, as much as you hated him.

The moment his lips crashed against yours, it felt like nothing you had ever felt before.

Sure, you had been kissed before. Once.

The loser has to seduce the shy girl.

But that didn't count. Or even if it did, it didn't matter to you. Because nothing that happened before that kiss seemed to matter.

A part of you expected his kiss to be gentle - he had made a promise to you after all - but there was hardly any gentleness in his touch.

The first second after your lips met had been a soft, tentative caress. Gentle and careful, as if to test the waters. You lay stiffly underneath him, unsure what to really do. You almost felt awkward, but that didn't mean you wanted it to stop. Quite the opposite.

The gentleness felt...almost forced on his part. You already knew he wasn't the soft type, but for you, he tried.

Until he didn't. And eventually his mouth took control of yours.

You didn't mind.

His lips moved against yours more urgently, the tip of his tongue caressing your lower lip and trying to part your lips, demanding entry.

When you finally gave in to his silent demand, slowly and carefully, he took full advantage of that and slid his tongue in your mouth, participating in a sinful dance with your own.

You were still stiff, still shy, still...unsure. And he felt it.

He pulled back, just enough to murmur against your lips. "Open your mouth wider for me, princess."

Princess. That was new. At least you weren't Hana anymore. Or at least not in that moment.

You reluctantly obeyed and with a low groan you felt his tongue push deeper against yours, harder, more demanding.

You almost gasped in surprise, but again, you didn't mind.

It felt so...

So...

And you were still stiff. A part of you almost felt like burying yourself under a pile of non-existence for being so complicated.

But again, he didn't seem to get angry or even frustrated. Instead he slowly pulled his hand back and tipped your chin up with his fingertips.

"Stop thinking so much. Just do whatever feels right. I promise you, I'm not going to laugh or hurt you. I promised you something and I meant it." His voice was softer than you had ever heard it before and it made something inside of you break.

You wanted him. You wanted him so terribly and the thought scared you like nothing else.

God, when he was being gentle like this, you wanted him even more. It made you go near insane with desire and heartbreak, because you could never have him. Could never have this version of him.

He was the man who kidnapped you, not your lover.

The man who slapped you, not the man who kissed you.

But, shit, he kissed you. And you wanted nothing more than exactly that. Maybe even for the rest of your life.

You were always a romantic at heart.

Hopeful and yet hopeless.

"Okay." You whispered softly and nervously nibbled on your lower lip. "I...I just..."

"I know." He whispered and gently ran his thumb over your cheek. "But that's what I'm here for. I'll guide you."

The next thing you realized was how he pressed you against his wardrobe. You had no idea how you even made it across the hallway and to his bedroom, but somehow you did.

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, leaving you helpless and at his mercy. But you didn't care.

In fact it made you want him all the more.

The sounds he made while his tongue delved deeper into your mouth made the dampness between your legs increase tenfold.

His hands slowly slid down your arms and over your shoulders, until he reached your waist and then he stopped. His touch was so gentle, almost careful, like he was touching a delicate bird and was afraid it might fly away.

"Turn around." He whispered against your lips. You hesitated for a second, but eventually obeyed, with a slowness that almost made him growl in frustration.

His fingers found the zipper of your dress, impatiently tugging at it, when-

He exhaled in even more frustration when he felt your hand reach for his wrist, stopping him in his attempt to skillfully and swiftly undress you.

"What?" He bit out.

You opened your mouth and closed it several times. How would you tell him? Should you? Or should you just show him?

You were almost sure he was going to be so repulsed that he'd go and find himself a second girl in no time.

The thought made something inside of you die.

"Can I just...lie on my back?" You whispered.

He frowned, but he was a clever man and he immediately caught on the fact that something wasn't like it was supposed to be. But since he was something akin a gentleman who'd only beat you, not force your clothes off you or rape you, he had never seen you naked before. And suddenly you felt incredibly insecure.

"What is this about?" He asked in a softer tone. "Are you nervous?"

"Yes." You said quietly. "But that's not the reason."

Instead of answering, he tilted his chin down and his lips met the back of your neck. The shiver that punched through your body and the sound that left your lips were both feral.

"I know." He whispered. "But I'll make you forget about it soon."

"You...You don't understand." You finally gasped out. "It's...You won't want me any longer."

That made him pause and he slowly pulled his head back. His frown got deeper and there was something else in his expression now, something like confusion and a hint of anger.

"What are you talking about?"

You fought with yourself, trying to come up with something to say, something to do, something to explain, but no.

Instead you simply released his wrist.

His frown stayed in place, but eventually he began to move again and you felt his fingertips tickle the skin of your back when he moved to pull the zipper down. Another hard shiver ran through your body and you closed your eyes. Your forehead tightly pressed against the wardrobe, you waited. Waited for him to recoil in disgust. To push you away and call out God, it was all for nothing.

But the call never came.

Instead he was silent for a long moment and you felt his gaze burn holes through your body.

"Who did this?"

He sounded calm - no, like he was desperately trying to stay calm, maybe for your sake. You couldn't yet tell if he was repulsed or if maybe he was trying to act like he wasn't.

The faint trace of the scar was subtle, but still evident, even after all these years. A cruel reminder that you would never be free of your past. Of the pain. Sometimes you felt like you were made of pain far more than of flesh and blood.

"My mother." You said very quietly, unable to open your eyes yet.

His fingertips followed the contour of the scar in a touch so soft that you barely even felt it. But you did feel it. It immediately made you shiver and gasp.

That was nothing.

The moment you felt his lips brush over the skin of your back, slowly following the same line, you inhaled sharply. Breathlessly.

There was not enough air to breathe.

Your hands were pressed against the wardrobe tightly and you felt your legs shake.

This was enough to make your mind go hazy and your head dizzy. If this already drove you insane like that, you couldn't tell if you'd even be able to have sex with him. Or if you'd slowly float off into non-existence.

This was better than life.

A soft whimper came over your lips the second his tongue flicked out to taste your skin.

"Oh God." You moaned breathlessly.

Good, you thought with the little mind you had left to think. Good. He isn't repulsed.

"Your mother." He whispered, without ever stopping his ministrations. It made you tense, but you listened in silence. "Your mother. Is she still alive?"

You kept your eyes closed and nodded.

A low hum came over his lips.

"Good."

A slow frown formed on your face, but you didn't dare to speak now. You wouldn't have done anything if it risked to stop him from what he was doing.

"And that man? Your neighbor? Is he still alive?"

You slowly shook your head.

"Too bad." He whispered against your skin. "I would have loved to take care of him.”

That made your head perk up and you looked over your shoulder, looking at him with something that was equally horrified as it was…admiring.

“What are you talking about?” You whispered softly.

He nodded. “What do you think? You’re my girl. I take care of my girl. And no one gets to hurt you. No one besides me.”

His words sent a warm shiver down your spine. You knew it wasn’t exactly healthy or…good. But it felt good. And you couldn’t help but feel that certain warmth in your body increase.

The way he spoke of you, with such possessiveness, it awakened something in you of which you never before knew you had that in you.

“But they hurt me in the past.” You whispered, as though this was a normal conversation.

“Doesn’t matter”, he whispered back, “they still hurt you. And anyone who did, will pay.”

You wanted to respond, wanted to express anything, but you didn’t have the time. He spun you around so swiftly and effortlessly that you immediately forgot what you had even been talking about. You stumbled backwards until your legs hit the bed and then he slowly pushed you back. Gently, like everything he did that night.

Gently.

Your heart skipped several beats as you stared up at him like that. Your hair was messy and your face flushed, your lips still swollen from the greedy, demanding kiss and your dress hung loosely around your shoulders. But your eyes, your eyes, they held a special kind of expression that night.

Hunger.

It was hunger.

A hunger you hadn’t ever felt before. So powerful, it was all-consuming. Your mind was occupied with him, unable to focus on anything else than his delicious smirk. The one you had grown to…

Oh God, don’t even think that.

“You look so beautiful.” He whispered in a husky voice. His hands wandered up to slowly undo his tie. The sight was enough to stir even more desire in you, forcing you to shift on the bed, your impatience growing. Your heart was aching with how handsome he was.

If only you could have him like that every night.

He slowly pulled the tie off and it fell to the ground, before he slowly moved to undo the buttons of his shirt. That was when you realized that you would either sleep with him that night or die.

Because that was how it felt.

Like you would die without him. Crumble and suffocate.

Your eyes followed the movement of his hands as he slowly shrugged his shirt off, revealing his chiseled, marble chest. The sight made your brows furrow and you did something oh-so cheeky. You bit your lip. You had to, otherwise you would have probably moaned.

“What is it, sweet girl?” He purred as he slowly moved onto the bed, hovering right above you. “Do you like what you see?”

You closed your eyes when his hot breath kissed your ear. Then you nodded and bit your lip again.

“Good.” He breathed. “Then show me something I’ll like as well.”

He hooked his fingertips under the material of your dress and attempted to pull it down, when…

He hesitated. For a moment you were almost sure you had done something terribly wrong again and you were about to get punished. You held your breath and expected him to swing his fist at you.

“Can I?”

Your eyes widened almost comically in surprise. Your mouth fell open and you nodded.

The sight of you so surprised and speechless made him laugh.

God, what a beautiful sound.

If only you could hear it every day.

If only, if only, if only.

Your heart ached again. But you quickly pushed these thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time. You could mourn your non-existent, fantasy relationship by the time the next morning came.

That moment was for you and him.

And right then, he was there. And he was real.

And he was gentle.

He pulled the dress down torturously slow, his gaze eagerly following every inch of skin that was revealed.

You felt so naked, so exposed, so…so warm under his gaze.

You swallowed thickly and kept your focus on his eyes the whole time. It was like he suddenly was a different person.

A husband type of guy.

You closed your eyes, forcefully trying to suppress these kind of dangerous thoughts. But it was impossible. You were immediately certain.

You were in love with him.

And it didn’t matter how many water bowls he’d make you lick on the floor, how many degrading names he called you and how many marks he gave you.

You were in love with him.

Your eyes shot open and you looked at him with something akin to pain, but your confusion grew when, for probably the first time, he didn’t immediately met your gaze. His gaze was fixed on your body, firm and yet soft, like glue. He didn’t move it away, just kept it roaming up and down your body. It was enough to make you shiver.

“God.” He whispered huskily. “God, you’re perfect.”

He slowly looked up to meet your eyes again and when he did, the tiniest frown grew on his face.

“What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Am I going too fast?”

You just stared at him, unable to say anything. The way his eyes were soft, the way his voice was, the way he seemed so concerned.

And there we go again.

You felt tears well up in your eyes and you tried desperately to swallow the lump in your throat.

His expression immediately darkened, mixed with surprise and something else. He immediately sat up, moving his hips away from yours.

“You’re not ready.” He said stiffly. “You don’t want to. Fuck, I should have known.”

He attempted to get up and, judging by his reaction, probably flee, but he stopped when he felt your hand on his wrist, holding him back.

“No”, you gasped out quickly. “No, don’t leave. Please.”

He stared at you, his expression troubled. “But you…”

“I want it.” You whispered. “I really do.”

He shook his head. “No.” He said firmly. “Listen, I won’t punish you when you say no now. I don’t want it to be like this. The thought of doing this, when you don’t really want me, it…”

“I do!” You propped yourself up onto your elbows and nodded quickly. “I do.” You whispered. “That’s not why I’m crying. I was just…”

You briefly closed your eyes, before you continued.

“I’m just complicated.”

He didn’t seem all too convinced, but the frown on his face signaled that he wouldn’t try to run off again.

“Yes.” You whispered softly. “I was just overwhelmed. But I want it. Please, don’t…Don’t go now.”

His frown deepened, but he slowly leaned back down.

“You don’t have to do this.” He said quietly. “You don’t have to endure this, to please me. Not this.”

You slowly shook your head. You couldn’t tell him the real reason.

That you were grieving the relationship you could have had with him, in another time, another universe. That you felt like you were falling in love with him…or that you already were.

You opened your mouth to come up with another excuse, but when words failed you yet again, you did something else. You tilted your head up and your lips met his. Soft and tentative, careful and gentle, but it was you who kissed him.

Bold girl.

He hesitated for a moment as if to make sure you really meant it.

It truly surprised you how much he seemed to care about your consent. So far, a small part of you had always believed he’d snap once he got impatient enough and he’d just take what he wanted, not caring if you cried or begged or pleaded.

But that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

And still you couldn’t help but ask yourself if this was solely about the promise that he made you. Because somehow, under all his insanity, there was something like an honorable man. A man who kept his promises.

But you tried your hardest to lock these thoughts out.

To lock any thoughts out.

Tonight was about you and him.

The moment you felt his tongue part your lips again, that was exactly what you thought about.

You and him.

Him.

And suddenly the whole world seemed to fade into nothingness, because all that mattered was the way his tongue felt against yours and the sound that left his lips when you wrapped your arms around him. Your hands slowly wandered up the skin of his back, up to his shoulders. You tried to touch every inch of him and memorize it in your mind, just in case you never got to feel him like that again.

You were pretty sure you were doing something wrong, because you had no idea what you were doing, but you tried to listen to his words and just do what felt right.

He finally pulled your dress off of you, leaving you almost bare, in nothing but a pair of panties. The cold air hit your skin and you felt another shiver run down your spine.

And another one when his hand ran up your stomach.

And another, even harder, one when he gently cupped your breast in his hand.

You were a shivering, stuttering mess underneath him and all you could focus on was the way his hands felt against your skin – warm and gentle, soft and yet demanding.

He moaned against your lips as he gently squeezed your breast in his hand, before he slowly moved it further up to your shoulder, then down your arm. And eventually, oh God, eventually he took your hand in his. He intertwined your fingers and pressed your hand down against the mattress with a gentleness that equaled a breath of air.

He ground his hips down against yours, a movement that made a flash of electricity shoot through your veins. He was so hard. Hard and ready to ruin you.

And God, you wanted him to.

“Are you nervous?” He breathed without even stopping to kiss you. You tried to pull your head back to speak, but he didn’t let you and that was enough to make you moan as well.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Just relax.” He murmured softly. “Let me take care of you, my sweet, darling girl.”

He slowly withdrew from the kiss, which immediately left you craving more, but you had no time to think about it, because the next moment you felt him press gentle kisses all over your neck. Your head lolled to the side and you exhaled a soft sigh. You didn’t even stop shivering any more.

You wanted to pull him closer, you wanted to beg Please don’t stop, but your lips didn’t obey. Your nervousness was far more powerful than you initially thought.

As if on cue, he pulled his head back, looked down at you and whispered: “If I do something you don’t want, tell me, alright?”

You managed a weak nod, silently begging him to continue.

He put on a cocky smirk and went back to kissing your neck, ever so slowly making his way further down. Just when you thought he couldn’t do anything to make you feel better than that, you felt his lips brush along your bare breast and his tongue darted out and left a slow, lazy path over your hard nipple.

You had no idea you could make such sinful sounds.

“P-please.” You whimpered.

He grinned victoriously. “Please what, sweet girl? Please stop?”

“No!”

He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t worry, sweetness. Just lean back and let me do the rest. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

He resumed his actions and you fell back against the pillow, your eyes shut. Only then you realized how tightly you had your arms wrapped around him. One of your hands slowly wandered up and down his back again, while the other one tangled in his soft hair. You let out a soft sigh when he moved over to your other breast, doing the most wicked things with his mouth.

You were so breathless and constantly gasping for air, it left your mouth dry.

And then it got even harder to breathe.

He slowly kissed his path down your stomach, making you shiver and writhe in anticipation and agony.

“Oh God, what are you doing?” You whispered breathlessly. You wanted to call out his godforsaken name, but he didn’t have one. So instead you ran your hand through his hair again.

He hummed against your skin as he teasingly licked a slow path down your stomach.

“You’ll see, princess.” He whispered softly.

By the time he reached the edge of your panties, you were no more than a puddle. A helpless mess, desperate over everything he did.

Over him.

He took the material of your panties between his teeth and slowly tugged them down.

“Oh, God!”

You had a feeling like something inside of you was throbbing.

You had been wet before. Felt that nervous twitch, whenever the bad, wicked thoughts entered your mind.

But nothing ever came close to this.

When he slowly freed you of your underwear, you were sure you were about to faint, until-

Fucking hell.

He used his teeth the entire way and when he finally managed to pull them off, he bit down on them and you were sure you saw his tongue dart out. You lay there like a statue, your eyes wide and your cheeks flushed as you witnessed how he tasted the piece of lace that had just covered your soaking wet, most private part.

All you could do was stare, your mouth wide open, as you felt the dampness slowly turn into a pool of arousal.

He slowly pulled them out of his mouth and tossed them aside, his eyes fixed on your own eyes.

He hummed out a soft: “I knew you were delicious.”

You opened and closed your mouth several times, but all that came out was nothing.

He smirked again, but it wasn’t even close to mocking. It was more something like…

Satisfaction.

“Are you ready for me, princess?”

Another weak nod later, you felt him lean closer. The second his hot breath hit your core, you let out a needy, breathless whimper.

You had no idea what that felt like, but judging from the way simply his breath on you felt…

“Keep looking at me.” He whispered. “I want to see your eyes, when I taste you.”

And then you finally felt it. His mouth enveloped you in a way you had only ever seen in videos and you reaction came the same instant.

You tried to keep your eyes open, but they fell shut as if on cue.

And the moment you felt his tongue against you, you were done for.

He began to slowly move it, circle your clit and gently suck on the sensitive skin.

Any semblance of composure left your body and you moaned. And moaned. And moaned.

“Oh…Oh God.” You breathed out, instinctively tightening your hand in his hair.

He let out a soft moan when you did and the sound made you moan in response. The soft vibrations of his humming against your skin nearly made your eyes roll back. You wanted to look at him. But God, it was hard to even breathe.

You didn’t know how he did it. But he did things to you, things that made you feel a tightness in you, like it was all too much and also not even close to enough.

He kept running his tongue over your wet folds, again and again, going from gentle and slow to hard and quick. But the way he sucked on your skin was what made you tremble and ache from the inside.

You were close, you could tell. And you didn’t even need to imagine the most heinous things for it.

“Oh God, please, please, oh God, please!”

He didn’t make any attempts to tease you or stop. He grasped your thighs tightly and propped your legs over his shoulders, pulling you even closer. He hummed again and moved and moved and moved and-

“Oh God!”

You inhaled sharply, tensing up so painfully hard. And then you became still. The pleasure rolled over you in hot waves, as a warm, white light overshadowed everything else in your mind.

You never before came so hard in your entire life.

When you finally, slowly came back down from your high, you carefully lifted your head from the pillow, only to find him already staring up at you. He ever so slowly pulled his head back and looked up at you in awe.

And you stared down at him in fascination.

The devil took over your body, because you suddenly felt unable to wait any longer. You needed to feel him. You impatiently reached for him and pulled him back up, until you felt him pressed against you again.

His hardness achingly straining against his pants, pressed against your warm wetness.

“That was so…God, that was so…”

His lips curved up into a slow smile, but he seemed just as breathless.

Did he get even harder?

You let out a shuddery breath and crashed your lips against his again. He felt so warm on top of you, so safe, that you momentarily forgot that you were so scared of him at times.

You forgot that he kidnapped you and you forgot that he slowly broke your soul.

He also made you Hotteok and he made you cum, didn’t he?

Effortlessly.

You needed him. And you were going to die if you didn’t feel him soon.

“Are you still sure?” He breathed and leaned down to nip at your earlobe.

You nodded breathlessly and bit back another moan.

“I am.” You whispered softly.

And the next moment, you felt his hand slowly reach down. Heard his belt unbuckle and fall to the ground. The sound made something inside of you ache with even more impatience.

You used the small moment to look up at his face. His hair was a mess and his eyes were focused on your body, while he reached down and slowly pushed his pants down. When he felt you staring at him, he met your gaze and raised his brows.

“What?” He murmured.

You suddenly realized you had never seen him so…vulnerable before.

He was still confident, still in control. But something about the way he looked and spoke had softened to an extreme degree. It was like sex was something important to him.

Maybe he wouldn’t just fuck you once and then instantly get rid of your body.

Maybe he would actually keep you around.

And you couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

You stared at him for a long moment, then you shook your head.

“Nothing.” You whispered. “I’m just…”

“Nervous?”

You nodded.

He hummed softly. Before you could look down to catch a glimpse of him in his bare form, he gently tipped up your chin and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“We can still stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.” Your voice sounded more confident now. More like someone you didn’t know, but slowly grew to like.

He looked at you for a long moment, before he eventually released your chin. You slowly tilted your face down, your gaze following the sharp contour of his hard body.

He didn’t seem bothered at all by your staring. If anything, he seemed curious. Like he hadn’t been admired like that in long.

Your gaze stopped on his hardened length, thick and long enough to ravage you and throbbing. He was obviously more than eager, but he held himself back without flinching. You were almost disbelieving of such calmness.

You licked your lips as your gaze slowly glided back up to meet his eyes. The look in them hadn’t changed. Determined and ready. But still soft.

You knew at some point he would snap back into that other persona, into the cruel and scary man that he so often was.

But all you saw now was this softness.

And that was all you cared about.

It looked like he was about to ask again, to make sure again, but the look in your eyes stopped him.

You were nervous. And trembling. And even a tad bit scared.

But you were no less determined than he was.

He slowly pressed himself closer, slowly rubbing himself against you. A soft whimper came over your lips and he seemed to have to hold himself back from making any sounds.

He reached up his free hand and gently cupped your cheek. And then he slowly pressed forward.

Carefully. Gently. Inch by inch.

His eyes stayed focused on yours the entire time, checking your reaction.

The moment you felt him press against you, press inside you, you exhaled a small breath.

It was…

Painful. Mostly painful.

You bit your lip to suppress the hiss of pain which still found its way past your mouth. He hesitated to move forward, but eventually continued.

“Does it hurt a lot?” He whispered.

It was more of a pressure, feeling as tight as a coiled spring, ready to snap.

“Yes.” You whispered. “But I don’t want you to stop.”

He clenched his jaw and slowly pushed forward. It was like he was two people at once. One wanted to be careful and gentle and not hurt you, while the other one seemed all too eager to thrust forward and ravage you like a beast in heat.

But he held himself back.

You were sure it was just for tonight.

But he did it. For you.

And you needed him even more, because of that.

A sharp pain shot through your body and you released a soft sound, a mixture of a moan and a sob. But a few seconds later the pain finally dissolved. And then you felt something else.

“God, you’re so tight.”

He slowly began to move again, going slow and careful at first. You felt more and more of him, until you finally felt all of him.

Your nails dug into the skin of his back and you inhaled sharply when he thrust into you harder than before.

Something was off, you could tell. He clenched his jaw tightly and stared down at you with furrowed brows.

And suddenly it hit you.

He was holding himself back for your sake, you knew that.

But you had no idea how hard it was for him to hold himself back.

He had promised you a sweet, gentle, loving first time and that was what he wanted to give you. But what you saw behind his eyes was something akin to pain. He wanted to go harder. He was desperate to.

He was obviously desperate to do many things.

“You can go harder.” You whispered, almost reassuringly.

He shook his head.

“It’s alright.” You whispered again. “The pain passed.”

“That’s not the problem.” He whispered as he rolled his hips against you deliciously, forcing a moan over your lips.

“Then what is?” You breathed out.

“If I go harder now, then I can’t stop. I won’t.” He whispered and gently cupped your cheek in his hand again.

Almost involuntarily, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, before you met his gaze again. Now you were filled with even more determination.

“Yes, you can.” You whispered, sounding almost firm. “Go harder. Just a little.”

He seemed unsure, but eventually he did. He moved harder against you, more urgently, but not quite rough yet. Still, his eyes fell shut and a moan fell from his lips.

A particular hard thrust as well as his reaction caused you to moan in return and close your eyes as well.

His head fell forward and he buried his face in his your neck. His harsh breaths made you shiver and sigh.

“I made a promise to you. And I’ll keep it.”

That made you gently tangle your hand in his hair again and pull back, just enough to look at him.

There was something in your eyes that made him pause.

“What?” He murmured breathlessly.

You looked up at him with wide eyes and whispered: “I want you to fuck me.”

His brows furrowed. “I am-“

“No.” You breathed out. “I want you to fuck me the way you want.”

He stared down at you for a long moment.

“But I might hurt you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head, gently cupping his face in your palms.

“I said, fuck me.”

And immediately something in his expression changed. A part of the lunatic who had murdered a man came back. It was scary, really.

But you weren’t scared.

You were fascinated.

And oh, you were aroused.

He started moving harder against you, thrusting deeper into you and then he released a low growl.

“Are you giving me orders”, he breathed, “or are you begging me?”

You gasped for air when he thrust into you even harder. The ache between your legs got worse, the need deeper. And his pace more and more punishing.

“Begging.” You gasped out. “I’m begging you.”

“Then beg me.” He hissed. As if to emphasize his point, he began to move even faster against you.

“Please.” You moaned out.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.” You whispered breathlessly. You felt your face flush so hard, it was almost painful, but for the first time in your life you didn’t care. You said the word, because you wanted to say it. And you let him fuck you, because you damn well wanted to.

And suddenly the spell was broken.

“Fuck. Oh God. Please. Fuck me.”

The harder he moved, the more intense that feeling inside of you became.

You never came before from the feeling inside of you, only ever by stimulating your clit.

This was new, it was intense, it was insane, it was-

“Who are you?” He hissed out in a voice that was near furious.

“Your girl.” You gasped out without hesitation. “I’m your girl.”

“Good girl.” He leaned his head down and gave you a long kiss, his tongue pressing into your mouth aggressively while he began to pound even harder into you.

Before you could protest (as if you would have) he pinned your wrists down against the mattress. You were completely at his mercy, you belonged to him and you were in love with him.

You were fucked.

“Who are you?” He bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood.

You let out a pained moan and pressed your hips up against his.

He moaned into your mouth. “Good girl.”

Then he grabbed your thigh and yanked your leg over his waist, pressing himself even deeper into you. His movements were bordering on aggressive and your moans became louder and more and more breathless. Just like his own.

That was what had been missing back when he pressed into you so gently and carefully.

And you realized you never wanted to miss it again.

“Who are you?” He breathed out again.

“Your girl.” You gasped out.

He hummed and leaned down to bite down on your neck, only to soothe the bite with his tongue a moment later. “That’s right. My cumslut. My good girl. My whore. My princess.”

Each and every word that left his lips made you feel more and more wicked, more desperate to feel him deeper and harder, which you did.

He moved against you with a fervor that bordered on painful and you loved every second of it.

It was painful. But you suddenly realized what you never knew before.

There was a good kind of pain. It existed.

“Are you close, princess?” He breathed before he bit down on your earlobe, causing you to release a soft whine.

You tried to speak, but all that came out was moan, after moan, after moan. So you simply nodded.

He growled in response and pressed your wrists down even harder.

“I’m going to make a mess of you, princess.” He hissed. With a few quick, rough thrusts more, you felt your eyes roll back and your back arch off of the bed and against him.

If what you felt earlier had been an orgasm, you needed a new word for this.

The feeling was so hard and intense, it was almost unpleasant by how fucking good it was.

You wanted to cry and scream out his name, but all you could do instead was dig your nails into his skin, hard enough to scratch down to his blood.

He growled again and started moving so furiously that you felt like you were being torn apart, until you finally felt him twitch and throb inside you. The sounds he made were good enough to almost make you cum again and you watched with half-lidded eyes as he rode out his release, giving a few deep thrusts into you and releasing deep inside you.

Your body was still twitching and writhing underneath him. He kept his eyes closed and rested his forehead against yours. When he tried to pull back, you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Wait.” You whispered breathlessly. “Not yet. Just…Can we just stay like that? Just for a moment?”

He slowly opened his eyes and met your gaze and to your great surprise…They were still soft. Even more so than before.

“Of course.” He whispered and buried his face in your neck. He slowly lowered himself back down on you, just enough so he wouldn’t crush you.

You were both breathing heavily and your hands were warm and damp with sweat.

“Was that alright for a first time?” He suddenly whispered.

And you did something that you hadn’t done in a while and you had been sure you wouldn’t ever again.

You smiled.

“Yes.” You whispered. “It was perfect.”

He pulled his head back and raised a brow. “Not too rough?”

You shook your head.

He hummed as he observed your smile for a moment.

“I held myself back.” He murmured. “I can’t be gentle next time.”

You looked at him with a soft expression and nodded.

“I know. I remember your words.”

He reached out a hand and gently touched your cheek.

“You should know one thing, darling.” He suddenly whispered.

Your eyes widened and you listened intently. Still, a part of you expected a low, painful blow.

But you couldn’t tell if it ever came.

His words left you torn.

“I’ll never let you go."

___________________________________________

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If I forgot anyone, please let me know and I'll fix it!

[bring-forth-his-sac]

ok so I saw this mouth watering gif and wrote a small drabble for it but with Negan instead of Jason Crouse

(warning: kinda nsfw)

“What are you reading?!”.

You stand in the doorway of the bedroom, mouth agape at the confusing sight you’re met with. In front of you is Negan, still in bed after your morning romp, but with an old newspaper in his hands from when the world still worked.

Negan gives a slight shrug. There’s a mischievous smirk on his lips that tells you he’s pleased with your reaction. 

“What?" he replies innocently, pretending to not understand your surprise. "I'm just keeping up with what’s happening in the world, Sweetcheeks" Negan casually flips to the next page, acting as if the newspaper isn’t at least a couple years old.

“But where did you even get that?” you question, coming closer to the bed “Do you have a stack of old newspapers just laying around?”.

Negan adjusts his glasses as he responds, "One of my men found it on the last supply run. Why, you interested in giving it a read when I'm finished?". 

You decide to play along, lounging across the end of the bed and propping your head up with your elbow. "Anything interesting in there?" your tone is one of mock curiosity.

Negan thinks for a moment, skimming the contents of the page in front of him. “The Yankees won again, a murder here, another war there,” he says uninterested before slowly trailing off “and… oh shit…”.

As much as you don’t want to give him the satisfaction, your head perks up as he hesitates. 

Negan's gaze slowly shifts from the newspaper to you, his expression growing sombre. In a quiet voice you ask, "Yeah... what else?". Your question hangs in the air, a few beats of silence passing before Negan answers you.

“... Stock market’s down”. 

You immediately scoff, realizing you've been duped. "Well, damn. I fell hook, line, and sinker for that one," you mumble, shaking your head. 

"I don’t know how I’ll go on," Negan declares dramatically, fully committed to maintaining his facade. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you, unable to hide the amusement in his eyes.

You stretch out before slowly crawling closer to him, a teasing smile on your lips. "I’m guessing you’ll need some time to properly process this heartbreaking news, huh?" you quip, moving towards him with a hint of playfulness.

"If only I had some kind of distraction..." Negan laments, pretending to be lost in thought as he continues “Some kinda hot distraction that has a nice ass…”

Acting quickly, you straddle him and swipe the newspaper from his hands, tossing it aside onto the bedroom floor. “Stock market might be down but I can definitely feel something else coming up” you grind your hips against him, feeling his stiffening arousal.

Negan grins widely as you continue to move against him. "You think this is gonna make the headlines?" he teases, his hands cupping your ass and slowly kneading the soft skin.

You roll your eyes, already anticipating the barrage of puns that are sure to come. "Don't even," you warn and before he can speak, you lean in and kiss him passionately, effectively silencing any further attempts to make a joke. 

Negan eagerly returns the kiss, savoring the sensation of your lips. Without hesitation, he cunningly slides his tongue into your mouth, the taste of him making your body ache for more.

As you bring your hand down to grip him, Negan resists the temptation to make another pun just yet. Instead, he decides to hold off on the inevitable one-liners until afterwards, unable to stop himself from giving you his full attention.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 2 ] || [ Chapter 4 ]

Pairing: Ghost x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: some sexual jokes/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 3: Simon

After doing the dishes, you moved yourself over to the living room and turned on the TV. Some rerun of an older season of Law and Order was playing.

You started watching but you found your eyes drifting back to your phone… 

Against your better judgement, you clicked on the Tinder app icon again. Maybe, maybe you should swipe just a little more.

And so you did. 

Today you said ‘Fuck you, Beyoncé’ and always went to the Right, to the Right. 

Just as you were pondering another profile, the screen darkened with a ‘It’s a Match!’ notification, making you jump a bit, as usual.

You clicked the profile and your brow scrunched. 

You didn’t remember liking this one… Though you obviously did, after all, you were liking everyone.

The only picture wasn’t even anything. It was dark and grainy and the man was wearing a black disposable face mask. If that even was him. Could just be a random picture off-Google, picked by someone who wanted to be anonymous. Not quite a catfish but close enough…

“Simon.” You said softly and dragged your finger through the screen to read his bio. For a moment you couldn’t help but smirk a little. He was sarcastic, a bit strange, but charismatic in his own way.

“Bad jokes, Bourbon, Discreet…” You mused while scanning his profile. “Tall enough.” You read aloud and couldn’t help but laugh at it. That made you feel like he was short.

Against your better judgement for the second time, you decided to send him a DM instead of waiting for him to. Something told you he wouldn’t.

you: tall enough - does that mean you’re below 6ft? Simon: No. Simon: Means that I have inches to spare. you: was that a dick joke? Simon: No. Simon: Unless you wanted it to be.

You snorted softly under your breath. Of course he was a smart ass too…

you: ambiguous, i like it. you: so how tall are you then? Simon: Does it matter? you: no. just curious. Simon: 6ft4. you: that feels like a lie. Simon: I avoided putting it for a reason. you: worried people would call you a liar? Simon: No use. Going to be called it regardless. you: that’s fair ig. you: what’s a traveling consultant? Simon: Similar to a contractor. Get brought in to help businesses all over the world. you: what kind of businesses? Simon: That’s need-to-know. you: you type so formally and professionally jeez. you: will i ever get to know? Simon: Force of habit. Don’t text a lot. Simon: Not if I can help it. you: somehow i can tell. you: what are you doing here then? Simon: Curiosity mostly. you: trying to see if you attract any fish? 👀 Simon: Something like that. A friend is on here. Wanted to see what all the fuss is about. you: i see. you: got anything yet? Simon: No. But only created this 12 minutes ago. you: am i your first then? Simon: Not my first in anything, love.

Your eyes widened a bit and for some reason you found yourself getting a bit flustered, your face warming up just a bit.

you: does that mean you’ve hooked up with people through a dating app before? Simon: Something of the sorts. you: aw, im really not going to be your first. Simon: That’s alright. You can come see me either way. Simon: I’m sure you’ll find some other thing to be the first at.

Your breath got caught in your throat and you started sputtering. That came out of left field! He had gone from professional and mild-mannered to… flirty so quickly! Gulping, you tried to answer him with something coherent and funny.

you: idk what if you murder me? Simon: I promise I won’t. you: is that meant to be enough to convince me? 🤨 Simon: I’ll leave all my guns at home. you: the fact you have more than one is not reassuring the way you think it is. Simon: If it makes it any better, I wouldn’t need a gun to kill you.

Even though you don’t know this man, you can imagine that he’s laughing to himself behind his phone screen, all smug, thinking he’s funny. And, the worst part, is that he is.

you: reassuring. thanks. Simon: Glad to be of service. you: i think what makes it worse is that uve not got a pic of ur face. Simon: Wouldn’t hook up with a bloke with his face covered? you: no? are u trying to get me axe murdered? bc thats how u get axe murdered simon Simon: LOL. Simon: No. you: u sure? a masked face with a mysterious job and a suspicious amount of guns… sounds like the upgraded version of ghostface… except online rather than over the phone. Simon: I’ll take that as a compliment. Simon: You’re funny.  Simon: I like that. you: thanks.  Simon: Wondering if you’re that funny in real life or if you’d get all shy on me. you: probably a mix of both. Simon: How about we confirm that then?  Simon: Meet up with me for drinks. No pressure on time or place. You can even postpone if it comes down to it. My job is unpredictable enough so I might have to postpone too.

Your eyes widened. The first attempt at flirting from him, of inviting you for a shag, had been clearly sarcastic… But this one is genuine.

you: ill get back to u on that, is that okay? Simon: No sweat. Simon: And if you’re just being polite and not actually going to text me again then: This was fun. Enjoyed myself. Take care.

You bit your lip to suppress a smile when you saw his polite goodbye. He was… sweet, weirdly enough.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

[clioerato]

“Step by Step, Film by Film: I’m Falling in Love with You”

Okay, so there was this post I once wrote, where I tried to understand why Steve might actually love working at Family Video.

And you know what? Steve might have weird taste in music, but he’s learned to pick good movies behind that counter.

Maybe at some point, he stumbles upon The Times of Harvey Milk. Maybe it makes something click—why Eddie sometimes acts the way he does. Who Eddie really is. He talks about it with Robin. A lot. Steve doesn’t want to push Eddie, but he wants to show that he’s there for him. Especially after everything they went through—Hell and back.

When Eddie is discharged from the hospital, he’s still weak. He spends most days in his new government-issued home—identical, grayish, low-cost housing. Mostly, he’s just… bored. Sure, he reads, does his rehab, strums his guitar.

One day, Steve offers to bring him a movie. Eddie, too tired to argue, just nods and mumbles, “Your pick, big boy.”

What follows is five and a half Saturdays of shared silence, laughter, and something like healing:

First Movie Night: My Bodyguard (1980) Early '80s. A story about protection and honor. A rich kid and a boy surrounded by nasty rumors of murder. One protects the other. And through that, they both change. There’s something unspoken in this one that ties Steve and Eddie together. For the first time, it feels like they’re becoming real friends.

A heartfelt coming-of-age story about a shy teenager who hires a misunderstood outcast as his bodyguard to protect him from bullies. The film explores themes of friendship, courage, and challenging social labels.

Second Movie Night: The Last American Virgin (1982) A raunchy comedy that should be funny—until it isn't. Beneath the surface is sharp, unexpected heartbreak. Steve talks that night. About Nancy. About being an asshole. About punching Jonathan and washing away the "Wheeler is a whore" graffiti around the city. He talks about that night in the bathroom at a party, and how he's terrified to love someone again. Eddie just listens. Then wordlessly hands Steve a cigarette.

A teen sex comedy that unexpectedly shifts into a poignant drama about unrequited love, betrayal, and emotional maturity. It reflects on adolescent relationships and the harsh realities behind youthful expectations.

Third Movie Night: The Times of Harvey Milk (1984) Steve says it's a new release—they’re supposed to preview it for the store. He doesn’t mention that he’s already watched it with Robin. That he cried.

When Steve leaves, they don't talk about it, just Steve gently squeezes Eddie's hand and leaves him the tape.

A powerful documentary chronicling the life and assassination of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay elected official in California. It explores LGBTQ+ rights, political activism, and social justice in 1970s America.

Fourth Movie Night: Making Love (1982) Steve brings this one in hoping for a light rom-com. Instead, they get a married man falling for another man—hard, irrevocably. For Steve, it’s the first moment of crisis. A bisexual panic, if you will. (Let’s be real, this tape—not Rocky Horror—would've done it for him.) Eddie sees a mirror—of a future he doesn’t want. A life spent pushing everyone away. A future without Steve.

At the end, Steve asks, "Do you think he ruined everything?" Eddie answers, "They chose themselves. That can’t be a mistake."

A groundbreaking romantic drama about a married man who begins to explore his attraction to other men, leading to the unraveling of his marriage. The film tackles themes of sexual identity, honesty, and self-discovery.

The Missing Movie Night: Querelle (1982) Steve skips this one. Calls in fake-sick. Asks Robin not to check in. Not tonight. He needs to see if it… works. And by the end of that film, he knows: Yeah. It does. He’s not ready to call it love. But something fits. Physically, emotionally—it fits.

An erotic, stylized adaptation of Jean Genet’s novel, following a sailor navigating desire, crime, and betrayal in a surreal port city. The film dives deep into themes of homoeroticism, power dynamics, and existential yearning.

Fifth Movie Night: Desert Hearts (1985) This one feels safe. A soft landing. Steve brings it hoping to understand Robin a little better. Maybe himself, too. They sit close on Eddie’s worn-out couch, a blanket tossed lazily between them. And just as Kay’s about to board that train in the final scene, Eddie pulls Steve in and kisses him. No warning. Just… finally.

A tender love story set in 1950s Nevada, where a reserved professor falls for a free-spirited woman while awaiting her divorce. The film is notable for its positive portrayal of a lesbian romance and themes of personal liberation.

Bonus Movie Night: Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989, Miyazaki) These were the best Saturdays. Steve would make popcorn, prep snacks. Eddie would close the record store early. It became a tradition they brought with them to their tiny apartment in Chicago. Sometimes they invited Robin and Nancy, now college seniors. Sometimes Jonathan, Argyle, and the kids if they were passing through. But tonight, it’s just the two of them.

After the credits roll, Steve exhales and says: "You know, I’ve always felt like I didn’t belong. Like I was always somewhere I wasn’t meant to be. Hawkins was hell, but… with you? With you, I feel right. You feel like home."

An animated fantasy about a young witch-in-training who starts a delivery service in a seaside town. The film explores themes of independence, self-confidence, and finding one’s place in the world, with a gentle undertone.

———

What movies would be your "5 and a half tapes" to introduce yourself to and fall in love with?

I tried so hard to stick to the timeline that I couldn't find anything good enough to be a movie that changes Steve's beliefs about his parents. Something about how choosing yourself is sometimes more important than choosing family, and that family can be chosen rather than blood. If you know something similar, I'd be glad.

[vandme12]

Wedded Bliss and Hit Lists - Killer Chat Wedding! Head canons! (Special for 100)

This is a small gift, 100 followers, I grew so soon. I'm so excited to do things for this fandom!

I love you all!

Ronin Beaufort!

The Proposal? Unhinged.

Traditional? Never heard of her. Ronin proposes in his way—dramatic, messy, and a little bit criminal. Expect a bloody heart scrawled on a wall with his crowbar, a ring slipped on your finger before you even notice, and a devilish smirk when you realize.

He doesn’t ask, he claims. “You’re mine, darlin’. ‘Til death do us part—if it even can.”

The Rings? Custom and Chaotic.

Of course, Angel helps him design them—gothic, blackened metal with a blood-red gemstone (or one that looks like it), and the inside is engraved with"R.B X (Your First Initial)” because he has no shame.

Yours is fancy, but his? He wears a thick band with a jagged design, and if you don’t put it on him yourself,

💀 Ronin as a Husband + The Day of the Wedding 💍

The Wedding Day: A Bloody Fairytale (His Way, Of Course)

Traditional? Nah. Ronin’s wedding isn’t some soft, white-veil affair—it’s a chaotic, adrenaline-pumping fever dream. Forget pastel flowers and quiet vows; he’s giving you black roses dipped in crimson and a blood-splattered ceremony in Purgatory (the alley where you shared your first kiss).

He insists on having the ceremony at midnight. Why? “C’mon, babe—if we’re doin’ this, we’re doin’ it right. No sun, all sin.” The whole place is lit by red neon lights and candles. Romantic in a rotting kind of way.

His outfit? Over-the-top. Black leather jacket, maroon ripped pants, and his usual chaos of accessories—but with a little touch of wedding flair: a silver chain around his neck engraved with your name, and a skull pin that says “’Til Death” on it.

Angel is the one who "officiates" the wedding—if you count her laughing through the ceremony and calling you both “unhinged lovebirds” as official. She’s wearing all white “to be ironic.” Ronin’s response? “If you ruin my moment, Angel, I'll bring my child."

Instead of a normal walk down the aisle, He carries you “Damn. If I wasn’t marryin’ ya, I’d be kidnappin’ ya.”

The Vows? Pure Chaos and Pure Him.

His vows are a mess—half confessions, half threats to anyone who’d dare touch you. “I promise to love ya, haunt ya, and maybe murder anyone who looks at ya funny. Or Kill ya/j”

He doesn’t get emotional easily, but when he says “No one else gets me, but you do—and I ain’t lettin’ that go, ever,” his voice dips just a little softer. It’s rough around the edges, like him, but so painfully sincere it’s almost too much to handle.

“Blood-red suits ya, babe.”

Reception? Think More Crime Scene Afterparty.

No boring banquet hall—he drags you to the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse, where he’s set up his version of a reception. Black leather couches, flickering red lights, and a playlist that’s just metal, punk, and songs that remind him of you.

The cake? Oh, it’s black, alright. A blood-red filling when you cut it open. He insists on smashing a piece in your face. If you try to get revenge, he just laughs and lets you.

When the first dance comes around, he pulls you close—no slow, sappy waltz. He dips you so low your back almost touches the floor, all while murmuring, “Can’t believe ya married me, sweetheart. You’re a little crazy.”

Ronin as a Husband: The Good, The Bad, and the Chaotic.

Clingy. Oh, he loves being married to you—and he’ll make sure everyone knows it. If you even try to go anywhere without a goodbye kiss, he’s pulling you back by your waist. “Where’s my kiss, Mrs. Devil?”

Pet Names? Relentless. "Darlin’," "Sweetheart," "My Little Heartbreaker," and—when he’s feeling extra possessive—“My Forever.”

Jealous not really! But! Anyone so much as flirts with you? They’re getting a look that could kill. If you tease him about being possessive, he just shrugs, “Course I am. What’s mine’s mine.”

Weirdly Domestic… In His Way.

Will absolutely make you breakfast—but it’s gonna be black coffee and pancakes shaped like skulls. Maybe Not, He's a okay-person in kitchen

He’s in charge of home defense, which means there are too many weapons hidden in your place. (Your couch? Knife. Your bookshelf? Crowbar.)

Anniversaries Are… Intense.

Every anniversary, he takes you back to Purgatory to “renew your vows” by carving a fresh bloody heart into the wall.

He gets you the most unhinged gifts: one year, he gives you a dagger with “Mine Forever” engraved on the blade. Romantic!

When You’re Sick?

Pretends he’s too tough to worry, but the moment you so much as sneeze, he’s fussing over you.

Brings you soup (even though he can’t cook) and sits at your bedside like a demon guard dog. “I ain’t leavin’ ‘til you’re better, babe.”

Fights? Loud. Dramatic. Always Ends in Kisses.

Arguments with Ronin are explosive. He’ll push your buttons on purpose, just to see if you’ll push back.

But if he thinks he’s really hurt you? He folds immediately. “Baby—hey, baby, c’mon. I didn’t mean it. You know I’m an idiot.”

Would He Die For You? Absolutely.

He wouldn’t hesitate. Your enemies are his enemies.

But really? He’s not afraid of dying—he’s afraid of losing you. “If you go first, babe, I’m followin’ right after ya. No question.”

Forever Means Forever.

Ronin doesn’t do temporary. When he said “forever,” he meant it. Whether you want to wreak havoc together or just spend quiet nights tangled up in each other—he’s there. Always.

And if anyone thinks they can take you from him? They’re in for a hell of a rude awakening.

“What’s mine stays yours, darlin’—and you’re stuck with me. Forever.”

When V finds out you and Ronin—the Ronin—are officially, legally (or maybe not-so-legally) married, his reaction is… complicated.

🖤 1. The Initial Reaction: Processing…

At first? Silence. Cold. Heavy. The kind that stretches on long enough to make anyone else squirm.

You tell him during a quiet night on the server—just a casual drop like, “Oh yeah, by the way, Ronin and I got married.”

For a full minute, he doesn’t respond. Not one word. Not even a blink emoji.

Then, finally:

V: "Married."

That’s it. One word. Flat. Clinical. Like he’s trying to figure out if this is some elaborate joke—or if the world’s truly gone off the rails.

🗡️ 2. The Overprotective Judgment™

Look, V isn’t stupid. He’s always known something was brewing between you two. He heard the flirting, the teasing—he’s seen Ronin’s obsession with you. He’d be blind not to.

But marriage? That’s another level of unhinged.

His next DM comes ten minutes later, and it’s direct:

V: “Is this a joke, or have you genuinely lost your mind?”

He doesn’t trust Ronin—not entirely. Not when the man’s idea of a romantic gesture involves blood splatter and sharp objects. And while V respects your choices… he’s concerned.

“You understand what you’re tying yourself to, don’t you?” he asks, voice colder than usual. It’s not disapproval—it’s caution.

👁️ 3. Watching Ronin… Closely.

From the second V learns about the marriage, Ronin becomes his #1 Surveillance Target.

He tracks his movements more. Listens to every conversation. If Ronin so much as breathes suspiciously around you, V knows.

If Ronin’s sweet? V thinks it’s manipulation.

If Ronin’s distant? V’s ready to interrogate.

And Ronin? Oh, he loves it. He knows V’s watching—and he plays it up. Texts you obnoxiously sweet things in the public chat just to piss him off:

Goreboy: “Missin’ my spouse already. Bet you’re sittin’ there lookin’ all cute, huh? 😘”

V? Seething.

Angel's reaction

1. The Initial Reaction: Stunned Silence (And an Immediate Drink)

When Angel first hears the news, she’s mid-photoshoot—some sleek, ethereal setup where everything is soft lighting and cold marble. Her phone buzzes with a notification from Luca (because, of course, he’s the one who spilled it to the whole server).

SURPRISE Y’ALL, DEVIL GOT WIFED UP 💍 @Goreboy @You

Her brain short-circuits. She actually calls a break. Angel, the perfectionist who never leaves a set, calls a break because her ex-turned-best-friend just got married without telling her.

And the first thing she does? Orders champagne.

If anyone’s getting drunk over this, it’s gonna be her.

2. Teases Ronin

She slides into Ronin’s DMs while waiting for her makeup touch-up, keeping it light, breezy—too breezy:

Angel: “Marriage? Really? Is this some new kink or are you serious?” Goreboy: “Relax, Mx goreboy will not be happy to see what you thought. I'm serious Angel."

Angel: “Ugh, That ring wasn't a joke..”

3. The Protective Big Sister Mode™

Angel sends you a DM next:

Angel: “Congratulations (I think). You sure you’re ready for that lunatic 24/7?”

You tell her you love him. That you’re happy.

And Angel feels happy for her friend...

4. The Girl Talk Interrogation

When you and Angel finally talk voice-to-voice, she’s sitting on her balcony, glass of wine in hand, night breeze tugging at her perfect curls. Her voice is too casual—the way it always is when she’s hiding how much she cares.

“So… tell me everything. Did he do some grand psycho thing? Blood hearts? A body? Knowing him, he probably thought a murder scene was romantic, huh?”

She laughs, but it’s not cruel. It’s just… Angel. Sharp edges wrapped in sugar.

But underneath, she’s asking the real question: Does he love you the way you deserve?

And when you answer—when you tell her how he looks at you, how he treats you like you’re the only thing in the world—Angel relaxes. Just a little.

Angel makes a public post in the server—for you—because that’s how she expresses love: loud, visible, undeniable.

"Congrats to the newlyweds. If @Goreboy screws this up, I’m personally throwing him into a woodchipper. 💋 #AngelApproved #WeddingOfTheYear"

Misaki's reactions!

💌 1. The Immediate Reaction: Absolute Chaos™

When Misaki finds out—because let’s be real, they didn’t get a formal announcement, Luca probably dropped it in the chat like a bomb—they lose it.

Luca: “Yo, @Goreboy got hitched. Someone check the apocalypse calendar.”

Misaki: “EXCUSE ME??? MARRIED?? LIKE LEGALLY?? WHO THE HELL ALLOWED THIS??”

Cue Misaki spamming the chat with caps lock, fifty cat memes, and alien abduction theories. Because if anyone was gonna get legally bound to Ronin, they figured it would be an interdimensional being, not a real person they actually know.

They’re not mad. They’re just deeply confused—and too entertained to stop.

💌 2. Instigating Maximum Drama™

Misaki immediately slides into your DMs with zero chill:

Misaki: “HOLD UP, YOU MARRIED THE DEVIL AND DIDN’T INVITE ME???” You: “It was… spontaneous.” Misaki: “Spontaneous is buying a weird energy drink at 3 AM, not legally binding yourself to the human equivalent of a horror movie jumpscare!!”

They are deeply offended they didn’t get to throw confetti or wear some ridiculous outfit to your wedding. In retaliation, they threaten to officiate a fake ceremony in the chatroom.

Misaki: “Second wedding. My rules. V’s the flower girl. Ronin wears a leash.”

And the scariest part? They’re dead serious about it.

💌 3. Confused… But Protective

Once the jokes die down (for about five seconds), Misaki takes a breath—and the worry kicks in. They may be playful, but underneath all that chaos is someone who actually cares.

Because they know Ronin.

And yeah, he’s fun, but he’s also… a lot. And they’ve seen how quickly things with him can go sideways if you aren’t careful.

So, they check in.

Misaki: “But seriously… you okay? He treating you right?”

When you tell them how happy you are, how Ronin’s been soft (well, as soft as he can be) and sincere, Misaki lets out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding.

💌 4. Becoming Your Self-Appointed "Marriage Consultant"

From that point on, Misaki takes it upon themselves to be your official marriage advisor, despite having no business doing so.

Misaki: “If he pisses you off, put glitter in his boots. No killer is scary when they sparkle.”

They send you relationship quizzes, offer weird gift ideas, and will absolutely text you things like:

Misaki: “If he ever forgets your anniversary, I’m legally required to assassinate him. Just saying.”

💌 5. Weird Wedding Gift Incoming

A week later, a mystery package shows up at your door. Inside?

A handmade knife (with both your initials engraved, because of course).

A mixtape labeled “Marriage Survival Guide” (track one is Olivia Rodrigo’s Bad Idea Right?).

A tiny alien plushie with a note: “If he acts up, beam his ass back to space. – Love, Misaki 👽”

💍 After-Wedding Ronin Headcanons 💀

🖤 1. "Husband" Privileges

Oh, you think Ronin is letting this slide quietly? No chance. The second those vows are said, it’s like he’s unlocked a new personality.

“‘Spouse’ sounds so boring—‘lover’ is better. But ‘husband’? Oh, babe, I’m gonna make that your favorite word.”

He abuses the title constantly—throwing around “husband” and “wife” or “spouse” in every context possible.

“Can’t argue with me, babe. Husband’s orders.”

“That’s ‘your devil husband’ to you.”

“You married me, sweetheart—this is legally your problem now.”

And he expects you to flex it, too. If you don’t show off the ring? He’ll make sure everyone sees it.

“Mx Y/n Beaufort.”

“This means you’re mine. No take-backs, sweetheart.”

He’ll tease, of course. Ask if you’re gonna run—if you regret it—but his grip when he holds you? That death-grip on your waist? Yeah, you’re not going anywhere.

💋 3. His Version of Domestic Bliss

Ronin’s not the white-picket-fence type—but he loves the idea of building chaos with you.

Late-night drives to nowhere, hands tangled on the gearshift.

he tells you the stories from his past.

Waking up with scissors on the nightstand and a love note tucked under your pillow.

“Rise and shine, lover—thought about murdering you in your sleep, but I’m sentimental now.”

He loves you, The next time he wakes up. He knows you're someone who won't discard his past. You will listen to it, He trusts you.

Angel

Angel as Your Wife – Wedding Day Perfection

Angel has always been the type to love love. She flirts like it’s second nature, teases with a wink and a smile, but underneath it all, she loves deeply, fiercely, without hesitation. And today—her wedding day—is the moment she’s been dreaming about since the day she realized forever with you was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

💍 The Proposal – The Moment She Knew

Angel is a romantic, but she also loves a bit of fun, so her proposal to you is an event. Whether she’s proposing to you or waiting for you to propose, it has to be memorable.

If she proposes, it’s spontaneous but perfect. Maybe it’s on a quiet rooftop under the city lights, her hands slipping into yours as she murmurs, “I never thought I’d find someone who could keep up with me, who’d see all of me and love me anyway.” Then she pulls out the ring, and for once, her teasing smirk softens into something more tender. “So, what do you say, sweetheart? Want to be mine forever?”

If you propose, she’s stunned—like genuinely breathless for a second, blinking at you before breaking into the brightest, most heart-melting smile. She tackles you in a hug before she even gets the words out. “Yes! Of course, yes! How could I ever say no to you?”

Either way, the moment the ring is on her finger, she’s already planning the wedding with stars in her eyes.

☀️ The Morning of the Wedding – Butterflies & Love Notes

Angel wakes up bouncing with excitement. She’s always been a morning person, but today, she’s practically glowing before the sun is even up.

Her first thought? You. She grabs her phone immediately, sending you a text: “Good morning, future spouse. I hope you’re ready, because in just a few hours, I’ll officially be yours. Nervous? Excited? Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make sure you never regret saying ‘I do.’”

She sends you a little gift—maybe a handwritten letter filled with all the reasons she loves you, or a small locket with a picture of you both.

Despite being surrounded by bridesmaids and stylists, her mind keeps drifting to you. She keeps catching herself smiling in the mirror, twirling in her dress, wondering what your reaction will be when you see her.

👗 Her Look – A Vision in White

Angel has an eye for elegance, but she also knows how to make an impact.

Her dress is breathtaking—soft, flowing fabric that clings in all the right places, delicate lace details that shimmer under the light. She wants to look like a dream, and oh, she does.

Her makeup is just enough to enhance her natural beauty, with a soft glow and perfectly lined lips. She knows you love her smile, so she makes sure it stands out.

Her veil? Dramatic—because of course, Angel loves a touch of flair. But when she lifts it to kiss you, her eyes are locked onto yours, warm and full of love.

💌 The Ceremony – The Moment Everything Stops

When the doors open and Angel steps down the aisle, the entire world pauses.

Her eyes find yours instantly, and her teasing smile fades into something softer, more vulnerable. For once, she’s not flirting, not playing—she’s just looking at you, and the sheer love in her expression is enough to take your breath away.

She walks slowly, savoring every second, every step closer to you.

When she finally reaches you, she exhales a little laugh, whispering, “You look so good, my love. I almost want to skip the vows and kiss you now.”

And oh, the vows.

Angel speaks from the heart, her voice steady, but full of emotion. “I’ve spent my whole life chasing excitement, chasing passion. But then I met you, and suddenly, all I wanted was something steady—something real. You are my greatest adventure, my softest love, my forever. And I promise to be yours, every single day, for the rest of our lives.”

When the officiant finally says, “You may kiss the bride,” Angel does not wait. She throws her arms around you, pulling you in with a bright, breathless laugh before pressing her lips to yours in a kiss so deep, so full of love, that the entire crowd erupts into cheers.

🎉 The Reception – The Life of the Party

If the ceremony was emotional, the reception is pure fun. Angel is in her element—dancing, laughing, stealing kisses from you every chance she gets.

The First Dance: She pulls you close, resting her forehead against yours as you sway to the music. “Dancing with you feels like a dream,” she murmurs, “but you’re really mine, aren’t you?”

Feeding You Cake: She feeds you a bite with a teasing smile, but if you try to be playful and smear frosting on her nose? She gasps dramatically before grabbing you by the tie (or collar) and whispering, “You’ll pay for that later.”

The Bouquet Toss: Angel throws it over her shoulder without looking—and then winks when she sees who catches it.

🌙 The End of the Night – Just You & Her

As the guests start to leave, Angel finds you again, slipping her hand into yours.

She’s softer now, the excitement of the day settling into something deeper.

“Let’s go home,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “I’ve had you in front of hundreds of people all day. Now, I want you all to myself.”

The second the door closes behind you, she’s wrapping herself around you, sighing in relief. “I still can’t believe it,” she murmurs against your lips. “I get to be yours. Forever.”

And as she pulls you down into another slow, lingering kiss, it’s clear—this isn’t just the end of your wedding day. It’s the beginning of forever with Angel, your sweet, flirty, devoted wife. 💕

How V reacts!

V treats Angel’s wedding with his usual brand of stoic dignity—or at least, he tries to.

During the Ceremony: He watches silently from the back, arms crossed, dressed in an immaculate black suit. When Angel walks down the aisle, there’s the faintest hint of a smile—just a twitch at the corner of his lips. If anyone asks, he’ll claim he’s there to "ensure the institution of marriage isn’t a front for more criminal activity." But really? He respects Angel more than he lets on—and seeing her happy means something.

When Ronin Starts Teasing: V doesn’t engage—at first. But when Ronin drops his “consummate it” line, V glances over and mutters dryly, “It’s impressive how you can make anything sound depraved. A true talent.”

At the Reception: He lingers at the edge of the crowd, sipping sparkling water like it’s a stakeout. But when Angel pulls him onto the dance floor, he surprisingly doesn’t resist. He’s stiff at first—too controlled—but softens just enough to let Angel tease him into a spin. (He draws the line at twirling.)

When Angel Tosses the Bouquet: It practically flies in his direction. He catches it with one hand—then immediately hands it off to the nearest bystander with a curt, “No.”

When Saying Goodbye: His farewell is simple, but sincere. He clasps Angel’s hand briefly and says, “You deserve to be happy. Don’t let anyone take that from you.” And if his gaze lingers on her just a second too long… well, no one calls him out on it. Not even Ronin.

How Misaki Reacts!

Misaki treats Angel’s wedding like it’s the social event of the decade—equal parts chaos and genuine affection.

During the Ceremony: She’s sitting in the front row, legs crossed, wearing a pastel pink suit that’s somehow both adorable and deadly. She whistles low when Angel walks down the aisle and mutters, “Damn, girl—if your spouse backs out, I’m right here.” She’s definitely the one who claps too early when they’re pronounced married.

When Ronin Starts Teasing: Misaki cackles. Loudly. And, of course, she piles on: “Please, you know Angel’s gonna break them in, not the other way around.” She even fake-swoons and adds, “Wish someone would ruin me like that.”

At the Reception: She’s the first on the dance floor and the last to leave it. At one point, she grabs the mic and gives an impromptu, half-drunk toast: “Angel, babe—if your spouse ever breaks your heart, I’m legally obligated to commit murder. Just saying. Congrats, though!” She cries a little at the end but blames it on the champagne.

When Angel Tosses the Bouquet: Misaki dives for it like her life depends on it—elbowing anyone in her path. When she catches it, she holds it above her head like a trophy and yells, “I’M NEXT, BITCHES!”

When Saying Goodbye: She hugs Angel so tight it’s borderline suffocating. Her voice is soft, just for a moment, when she says, “I’m proud of you, y’know? You deserve all this happiness. Don’t mess it up"—but if you do, I’m still your ride-or-die.”"

How Ronin reacts!

Ronin treats Angel’s wedding like it’s both an opportunity and a game. He’s there to cause problems—but only the fun kind.

During the Ceremony: He shows up fashionably late, of course—wearing an all-black suit that’s too sharp to be legal. He slides into a seat next to Misaki, leans over, and whispers, “Think they’d let me object just for the drama?”

When Angel walks down the aisle, he whistles low under his breath and mutters, “Lucky bastard.” But when the vows start, for once, he’s quiet—watching with an unreadable expression. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes.

When It’s Official: The moment they’re pronounced married, he claps slowly and drawls, “Congratulations—enjoy the lifetime sentence.” But his smirk isn’t as sharp as usual. If anyone’s watching closely, they might catch the way he tilts his head—like he’s memorizing the sight of Angel happy.

At the Reception: He’s everywhere—stealing drinks, and stirring up chaos. When it’s time for speeches, he takes the mic without being invited.

"Angel, babe—I was gonna prepare a heartfelt speech, but let’s be honest, I’m here for the open bar. You’ve always had terrible taste—clearly, since you tolerate me—but somehow, you found someone crazy enough to love you. Don’t mess it up. Or do. I could use the entertainment.”

Of course, he flashes a wicked grin at Angel’s spouse and adds, “Good luck keeping up, sweetheart. You’re gonna need it.”

When Angel Tosses the Bouquet: He makes a show of dodging it, dramatically stepping out of the way while saying, “Marriage? Nah. I’d be someone’s worst nightmare.” But there’s a flicker of something else in his expression—an itch he won’t admit.

When Saying Goodbye: His voice drops lower, teasing but softer when he pulls Angel in for a private goodbye. “Don’t go getting all domestic and boring on me, yeah? But... if they ever break your heart—well, you know how much I love a good reason to kill.”

And Angel walks away, he lingers just a little too long—watching, smirk slipping into something harder to read. He's happy...That his Friend has someone...

💍 Angel as a Wife – Headcanons 💋

Flirty Forever: Marriage doesn’t tone her down—if anything, it dials her charm up. Angel flirts like it’s her full-time job, whether you’ve been married for a week or a decade. Random texts like “Thinking about you in nothing but that ring. Come home soon~” are her specialty.

Spoiling You Rotten: Angel firmly believes her spouse deserves the best of everything. She buys gifts “just because,” books surprise vacations, and insists on pampering you with everything from homemade breakfasts to spontaneous spa days. If you so much as mention wanting something, it’ll probably show up by the end of the week.

Ultimate Hype-Wife: Whatever you do, Angel is your loudest cheerleader. Big career move? She’s throwing a celebration. Minor achievement? She’s bragging about you to anyone who’ll listen. She’s the type to make “I’m married to the hottest, smartest, most amazing human alive” her whole personality—and she means it.

Touchy-Feely Queen: Angel thrives on physical affection. Expect endless kisses (especially when you’re distracted), back rubs after a rough day, and snuggling close whenever you sit down. If you try to leave bed without a goodbye kiss, she’ll whine until she gets her due.

Fights? Flirt Them Away: Arguments with Angel rarely last long—mostly because she’s too stubborn to stay mad and too charming to let you stay mad. She’ll tease her way back into your good graces with a smirk, a soft apology, and probably a well-timed kiss. “You’re not really mad, are you? C’mon, baby~”

Possessive but Playful: Angel doesn’t get jealous often—she knows she’s a catch—but she’s very clear about one thing: you’re hers. If anyone flirts with you, she’s right there, wrapping an arm around your waist and flashing a smile that dares them to try harder. “Aw, sweetie, you’ve got great taste—but they’re all mine.”

Wife + Best Friend Combo: She’s your partner-in-crime for everything—shopping sprees, Netflix marathons, late-night junk food runs. Life with Angel is never boring, and she’s always game for a new adventure, as long as you’re by her side.

Pet Names Galore: She cycles through affectionate nicknames constantly—baby, sweetheart, honeybun, love of my life. If you blush at a particular one, congratulations—it’s now your permanent title.

Over-the-Top Anniversary Queen: Every milestone is an event with Angel. First kiss anniversary? Fancy dinner. Wedding anniversary? Expect an elaborate romantic getaway. She lives for grand gestures and wants you to feel cherished every single day.

Soft, Secret Vulnerability: Beneath the playful exterior, Angel takes marriage seriously. She’s terrified of losing you or not being enough, though she rarely voices these fears outright. On quiet nights, when the world slows down, she’ll hold you a little tighter and whisper, “You’ll stay with me forever, right?”

🌙 Misaki’s Rooftop Wedding – Headcanons 🌙

Setting: A city rooftop at night—skyline glowing, a chaotic mix of neon signs and moonlight. It’s so them—a little messy, a little reckless, but undeniably full of heart. V handled all the preparations with his signature precision (and judgmental sighs), while Ronin and Angel add a sprinkle of chaos just for fun.

🎵 1. Wedding Vibes: Jazz, Chaos, and Cup Noodles

Misaki refuses a traditional ceremony—too stuffy—so the wedding is an informal, wild mix of their favorite things: jazz music blasting, neon lights glowing, and a makeshift altar made from stolen milk crates (Ronin’s touch, obviously).

Angel makes a playlist with Rina Sawayama and Olivia Rodrigo bops because “Misaki deserves a banger soundtrack.”

There’s a snack table… well, more like an entire section dedicated to cup noodles. V disapproves but lets it slide—this once.

🌟 2. Their Wedding Look: Streetwear Chic Chaos

Misaki does not dress traditionally. They rock a black-and-red themed wedding outfit—sleek but chaotic. Their usual worn striped shirt is swapped for a matching black-and-red blazer with the sleeves rolled up.

The lock on their red choker? Custom-engraved with your initials.

They stick to their star hair clips—because they’re a star, duh—but Angel gifted them a tiny wolf charm to wear on their boot. (“For your werewolf agenda.”)

V, with his perfectionism, tried to get them a “sensible” wedding ring—Misaki immediately swapped it for a cheap, heart-shaped plastic ring from a vending machine.

💌 3. The Vows: Silly, Sweet, and So Very Misaki

Misaki writes their vows on the back of a convenience store receipt (fitting, considering their broke assassin lifestyle). Despite the messy delivery, their words are raw and honest: “I never thought I’d make it to something as soft as this. You’re the one thing that makes all this chaos worth it. I’m yours—mess and all.”

They get flustered halfway through and throw in a joke: “If I die first, you get all my cup noodle stash. That’s real love, babe.”

🔪 4. How Everyone Reacts

V: Stoic but proud. He spent weeks planning everything and it’s…chaotic, but seeing Misaki happy softens his usual icy demeanor. At the end, he quietly pulls you aside and says, “Keep them safe. They deserve it.”

Ronin: Cannot stop teasing. Every time Misaki gets emotional, he’s whispering something like, “Aw, soft little killer’s gone domestic. Adorable.” But he means it—his chaos aside, he tells you in private, “Take care of our disaster, yeah?”

Angel: Is the emotional one, dabbing their eyes with a tissue and cheering the loudest when you kiss. They’re also the first to demand a dance party afterward.

🎁 5. The Gifts: Because It’s Misaki

Misaki’s love language is gift-giving—so, naturally, they hand you a handmade, weirdly adorable scrapbook of your relationship so far. Complete with doodles of them as a werewolf protecting you.

Your gift to them? A custom-made lock to replace the one on their choker—it opens with your fingerprint only. They’re OBSESSED.

💫 6. Post-Wedding Chaos

After the ceremony, Misaki pulls you into a rooftop dance—barefoot, giggling, spinning to a jazz remix of their favorite songs.

You both steal leftover cup noodles from the snack table and eat them sitting on the rooftop edge, feet dangling over the city. Misaki leans against you, sighing softly: “If aliens are real, they’d be jealous of this.”

Ronin insists on a “honeymoon prank spree,” while V pretends not to know any of you. Angel suggests a beach trip instead—Misaki loves the idea (mainly because they want to see you in a swimsuit).

Despite the chaos, the night ends with you tangled together under the city lights—Misaki’s head on your shoulder, murmuring: “I’m still a mess, but I’m your mess now.”

How Each would react!

🖤 V – The Reluctant Wedding Planner

Let’s be real—V did not want to organize this chaos, but Misaki (and you) asked, so he did it perfectly.

He handled the venue, the food (even if it was cup noodles), and made sure everything ran smoothly. Efficiency first.

While everyone’s goofing off, he’s quietly watching from the corner, arms crossed. If anyone dares to mess up the ceremony? They answer to him.

Emotional Reaction:

He won’t admit it, but he cares—a lot. Seeing Misaki genuinely happy softens his usual cold exterior. When you exchange vows, you catch the faintest twitch of a smile.

After the ceremony, he pulls you aside and says in his quiet, serious tone: “They’re fragile, even if they pretend otherwise. Don’t hurt them.”

Wedding Gift:

V gifts you both, What...He could. He makes sure, It's well-taken.

🔥 Ronin

Ronin shows up in the most absurd outfit—a sleek black suit, but the tie is covered in tiny cartoon wolves because "Misaki’s whole werewolf thing is iconic, babe."

He spends the whole night teasing both of you, leaning into Misaki’s ear during the vows to whisper: “Awww, soft assassin finally tied down. You’re practically domesticated now.”

Emotional Reaction:

Beneath the teasing, Ronin’s more sentimental than he lets on. He watches Misaki beam during the first dance and mutters to himself, “They deserve something good. Guess that’s you.”

He’s the first to make a dramatic toast, grinning like a devil: “If you break their heart, sweetheart, I’ll break your kneecaps. Fair trade, yeah?”

Wedding Gift:

A personalized lock-and-key set: the lock is heart-shaped and engraved with “Property of Y/N”—he hands it over with a wink.

Also sneaks an untraceable burner phone into Misaki’s gift bag because “You two will get up to crimes eventually. Might as well be prepared.”

💋 Angel

Angel is the emotional one—they’ve been waiting for this moment forever. When you both say “I do,” they’re openly crying while clutching a bedazzled tissue.

They personally decorate the rooftop with fairy lights and glowing stars (“Because Misaki’s a star, duh.”) and insist on a first dance under the neon lights.

Emotional Reaction:

Angel pulls you both into a tight hug right after the ceremony, voice thick with emotion: “You two are so freaking cute. If you mess this up, I’m divorcing both of you emotionally.”

They’re the first to drag you and Misaki to the dance floor, twirling you around while shouting, “Married life means more jazz, babe!”

Wedding Gift:

A scrapbook of all your chaotic group memories—half of it is glitter-covered, and there are way too many doodles of Misaki as a werewolf.

They also gift you a matching bracelet set, one that says “Killer Couple” because Angel is nothing if not dramatic.

💌 After Marriage Headcanons with Misaki 💌

Your life together is a mix of cozy chaos. Mornings are spent tangled in bed sheets because Misaki is not a morning person—good luck trying to pry them away from you.

Misaki insists on keeping your home aesthetic but comfy. Expect string lights, random trinkets from missions, and a million throw pillows because they like to “nest.”

They absolutely steal your clothes—hoodies, shirts, even socks. If it smells like you? It’s theirs now. Don’t fight it.

Home Setup:

Your place is a weird hybrid of a sleek assassin hideout and a cozy city apartment. Their bunker days are over, and you make sure they have a soft place to land after jobs.

Cup noodles still dominate the pantry, but they try to cook for you sometimes. It's… chaotic, but their enthusiasm is cute.

“I made dinner!” “This is three different flavors of instant ramen, babe.” “You love it.”

💖 Affection Overload

Misaki is clingy—but in a cute, touch-starved way. They’re always finding excuses to touch you, whether it’s holding hands, leaning on you, or cuddling in the middle of the day.

Surprise forehead kisses are their favorite weapon. They’ll catch you off guard, pressing a kiss to your temple while grinning, “Love ya, babe.”

When they’re anxious, they’ll find you and bury their face in your neck. Your touch calms them down faster than anything else.

Pet Names Galore:

You get a rotation of chaotic and sweet nicknames—"babe," "cutie," and their personal favorite, “My favorite human.”

If you call them a pet name? Instant blush. They act cool, but the minute you say something like “baby”—they melt.

🎁 Love Language: Gift-Giving

Misaki constantly brings you random gifts—they’re bad at expressing feelings with words, but their love shows in thoughtful gestures.

You get:

Tiny trinkets from their missions (“Look! I stole this cool keychain just for you!”).

Silly notes left around the house (“Don’t forget to eat, nerd.”).

Handmade playlists labeled things like “For when you miss me” or “Hot Assassin Vibes Only.”

🔫 Balancing Assassin Life & Marriage

They’re still taking contracts, but they work less after marrying you. You become their anchor—a reason to come home in one piece.

Whenever they’re out on a job, they text you constantly:

“Still alive. Miss ur face.”

“Bet you’re wearing my hoodie rn.”

“If I die, clear my search history. Love u 💀.”

You’re their emotional support after missions. When the weight of their work gets heavy, you’re the one they fall apart with—and you never judge them for it.

🎶 Random Marriage Shenanigans

Dance Breaks: Random jazz-fueled dance parties in your living room. Misaki will literally grab your hand mid-task and spin you around while singing off-key.

Aliens Exist, Fight Me: They are obsessed with alien documentaries and will drag you into deep conversations at 2 AM.

“Babe, what if we’re just, like, an alien reality show?”

“Misaki. Go to sleep.”

Pet Parenting: One day, they adopt a stray cat and name it “Murderbean.” Misaki spoils it rotten. Murderbean likes you best, and they’re jealous.

🌟 Soft Vulnerability

Marriage makes them softer—with you, at least. You’re the only person they feel safe enough to let their guard down around.

On bad days, they curl up beside you, murmuring, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” They mean it.

They still struggle with anxiety, but knowing they have you makes it easier. When they get overwhelmed, you hold them until their breathing steadies.

💍 Forever Vibes

They talk about the future like it’s inevitable—with you, it is. Misaki jokes about retiring and opening a record shop with you one day.

“As long as I’ve got you, babe, I’m good.”

If you’re ever away for too long, they’ll dramatically drape themselves across the bed and text you, “Come home. I’m dying. No one else makes cup noodles like you do.”

V

🖤 V’s Proposal

V’s proposal isn’t grand or flashy—it’s intimate, deliberate, and entirely him. For a man who sees himself as a protector of justice, promising forever to you is a vow he takes more seriously than anything else.

📖 The Moment It Happens:

It starts with small changes—V’s usual hyper-focus on his work begins to shift. You notice how often he lingers at home, how his fingers brush against yours more often, and how his rare humor comes easier when you’re near.

One night, after a long evening, he finds you sitting on the balcony watching the stars. He doesn’t speak immediately—he just stands there, as if memorizing how you look under the moonlight.

Without his usual tactical armor, he seems softer—like the edges of his sharp moral code dull when he’s with you.

He kneels, smooth and controlled, and extends a small, hand-carved wooden box. You can tell he made it himself—polished oak, edges crisp and precise. No waste. Nothing careless.

Inside is a delicate ring—a silver band shaped like intertwining vines, with a small gemstone nestled between two silver birds in flight.

His voice—steady, low—breaks the silence:

"A lifetime isn't enough to repay what you’ve given me. But if you'll have me, I'll spend every day trying."

💍 How He Handles Your Response:

The moment you say "yes," V’s composure wavers—just a little. His breath hitches; his fingers tremble as he slides the ring onto your hand.

He doesn’t waste words—but the look he gives you is fierce, unyielding. The kind of gaze that says you’re not just his partner—you’re his reason.

When he pulls you into his arms, there’s a gentleness in his touch that no one else ever gets to see. And he lingers—always lingers—because holding you feels more like home than any place he’s ever known.

🕊️ Your Wedding Day – A Sanctuary of Wings 🕊️

V isn’t a man who does things halfway—your wedding is no exception. Every detail reflects his principles: kindness, minimal harm, and a world where every life matters.

1. The Venue – A Bird Sanctuary Paradise

The ceremony is held at a sprawling wildlife reserve—a bird sanctuary he’s been quietly funding for years

The setting is breathtaking: a secluded meadow surrounded by towering trees, soft petals scattered underfoot, and the air filled with birdsong.

Aviaries open during the ceremony, allowing rescued birds—doves, swallows, and finches—to fly freely above the altar.

2. V’s Wedding Attire – Sleek, Minimalist Elegance

He’s all sharp angles in a custom black suit—tailored to perfection. No gaudy embellishments—just clean, elegant lines.

Around his lapel, a silver pin shaped like a raven’s wing—your private symbol.

But when you approach? His expression softens, his usual cold restraint cracking beneath the warmth he saves for you.

3. The Ceremony – V’s Vows

V’s vows are short—but every word is deliberate, and his voice holds no hesitation.

"I’ve walked through a world of violence, always alone. Until you."

"Your kindness—the way you see the world—changed something in me. You remind me why I fight. Why life matters."

"I vow to protect you. To stand beside you. And if you’ll let me—I’ll make every moment worth it."

When he slips the ring onto your finger—a matching silver band etched with the wings of a dove—you see the faintest tremor in his hand.

Because for all his composure, this moment matters to him more than any mission he’s ever taken on.

4. Animal-Friendly

No leather, no silk—every material is cruelty-free. =

Instead of traditional confetti, guests toss biodegradable wildflower seeds—so the meadow will bloom with color long after the wedding is over.

Rescue animals from the sanctuary are honored guests—V even arranges a surprise for you: an owl you once admired during a visit flies in during the ceremony with a silk ribbon carrying your rings.

5. How V Reacts Seeing You Walk Down the Aisle

The moment you step into view, V—who’s always so composed—freezes. For once, his calculating mind is quiet.

His lips part slightly, breath catching. And when your eyes meet? The rest of the world ceases to exist.

He doesn’t realize he’s clenched his fists until his knuckles turn white—like holding himself back from rushing to you.

And the closer you come, the softer his expression grows—by the time you reach him, his hands are already outstretched, steadying you as if you’re the most fragile, precious thing he’s ever known.

6. The Reception – A Quiet Celebration

V doesn’t like big crowds, so your reception is an intimate gathering. Close friends, the sanctuary staff, and (of course) the Killer Chat gang.

He ensures all donations from the guests go directly to the bird sanctuary—your wedding doesn’t just celebrate your love; it leaves a lasting legacy of kindness.

When you dance together for the first time, V is surprisingly graceful. But his focus isn’t on perfect steps—it’s on you. Every touch, every glance is full of quiet adoration.

7. After the Ceremony – A Private Moment Just for You

When the guests drift away, V leads you back to the aviary—where a newly rehabilitated falcon spreads its wings, ready to take flight.

You release the bird together, watching as it soars free. His fingers lace with yours, voice low:

"Freedom matters. But so does choosing where you want to be."

And as the bird disappears into the sky, he turns to you—lips brushing against your temple—and murmurs the words he never thought he’d have reason to say:

"I choose you."

Reaction!

Ronin

“Awww, our little edgelord grew a heart.” The moment Ronin hears about the wedding, he’s insufferable. Absolutely unbearable. He shows up just to stir the pot—grinning like the devil, all sharp teeth and bad intentions. From the second he lays eyes on V in his formal wear, he’s got jokes. “Didn’t think you’d live long enough to settle down, bro. What’s next? A white picket fence? Little masked brats?”

Flirting with You—Just to Poke the Bear: Ronin doesn’t miss a single opportunity to tease. The second he catches you alone, he’s all smooth lines and mock flirtation, just loud enough for V to hear. “You sure you wanna lock yourself down, sweetheart? I mean, icy’s fine and all—but I come with fireworks.” He always flashes a wink right before V steps in—because what’s life without a little danger?

Messing with V’s Image: He makes it his mission to chip at V’s ever-serious persona. At the reception, he leans in to whisper (way too loud), “Can you believe it? V—Mr. Justice himself—married. I thought the only thing he’d ever commit to was brooding in alleys.” He’s fully prepared to dodge a punch if necessary.

To You—Half Serious, Half Joke: When things settle down, Ronin pulls you aside. For once, his voice softens—just a little. “Look, V’s a pain in the ass, but he’s not all bad. And trust me—he’ll go down swinging for you.” Then, with a wicked grin, he adds, “Still… if he gets too boring, you’ve got my number.”

Brotherly Concern—In His Own Way: Beneath the teasing, there’s a glimmer of something real. As you’re about to leave, he catches you both one last time. His usual smirk fades—just a bit—and he says quietly, “Take care of him, yeah? He acts like he doesn’t need it, but…” He trails off, then adds with a grin, “If he ever gets too serious, I’ll come mess him up for free.”

Post-Wedding Shenanigans: Ronin does not let V live it down. Anytime he’s in the chat, he’s dropping lines like:

“Hey, husband-of-the-year, how’s married life?”

“Y’know, I always knew you had a soft spot. But this? This is adorable.”

“If you two have a fight, just send them my way—I give killer marriage advice.”

But Deep Down… He won’t admit it, but seeing V happy? It kinda warms the shriveled thing he calls a heart. Not that he’d ever say it. But if anyone dared threaten your happiness, they’d have two monsters to deal with—because as much as he loves to mess with V, no one else gets to touch his “bro.”

✨ Misaki and Angel Reacting to V and You Getting Married ✨

🗡️ Misaki’s Reaction (The Agent of Chaos)

“Wait—you mean, V? That V? Mr. No-Fun?” When they first hear the news, Misaki is in utter disbelief. They dramatically gasp, clutching their chest like it’s the most shocking thing they’ve ever heard. “I thought V was married to his moral code! You’re telling me he found someone who willingly deals with that?”

Relentless Teasing—With Love: They spend the entire wedding day bouncing between genuine support and pure mischief. During the ceremony, they lean over to you and whisper, “Blink twice if you need rescuing. I know a guy.” Then, to V: “Wow, you actually smile. Who knew you had human emotions?”

The Chaos Gift: Misaki’s wedding gift? Pure trouble. It’s either:

A matching set of “Justice” and “Chaos” mugs.

A framed photo of V looking broody with a glittery heart drawn around it.

A lock-picking set labeled “For when V’s rules get too much.”

Low-Key Soft About It: Beneath all the teasing, they’re actually kind of touched. At the reception, when you’re not looking, they tell V, “You better treat them right, or I’ll break every bone in your body—lovingly, of course.” And to you? “If you need a break from the broody husband life, call me. I’m way more fun.”

💋 Angel’s Reaction (The Sweetheart Femme Fatale)

“Aww, my cold little knight found love? Be still my heart.” Angel is delighted. She always suspected there was a soft center under V’s icy exterior, but seeing him actually marry someone? She’s practically glowing with joy for both of you.

Supportive with a Side of Flirt: During the wedding prep, she offers to help with anything you need—while slipping in teasing comments. To you: “If he ever gets too broody, I’m just a call away. I’m excellent at… distracting.” And to V: “Be nice to them, darling. You may scare everyone else, but I’ve got claws too.”

Her Wedding Gift—Elegance Meets Mischief: Angel’s gift is both thoughtful and playful—something like:

A luxurious couple’s spa day voucher (because she knows V needs to unwind).

A sleek dagger set engraved with “For better or worse.”

An elegant framed photo of you two with a handwritten note: “True love is rare—don’t mess it up, darling.”

Protective Big Sister Vibes: She may flirt and tease, but her protective side comes out in quiet moments. She pulls you aside to say softly, “You make him happy. I see it. But if he forgets how lucky he is? You know where to find me.”

After the Wedding – Life with V as Your Husband

V doesn’t just see marriage as a title—it’s a vow, a binding promise he takes as seriously as his work. Being his spouse means you’ve broken through walls no one else ever has, and now? He’s yours—entirely, irrevocably.

1. The Home You Share – A Haven of Quiet Comfort

V custom-builds a home on the edge of a nature reserve—secluded, quiet, and surrounded by wildlife. Large windows let you watch birds and animals roam freely, while the interiors are sleek but warm.

The house is eco-friendly—everything sourced ethically, with minimal environmental impact. Solar panels, rainwater collection, the whole thing—V doesn’t do anything halfway.

Despite his cold image, your shared bedroom is a place of warmth. Soft lighting, heavy blankets for nesting together, and an ever-present sense that this is where he feels safest—by your side.

2. The Way V Loves – Fierce, Silent, and Unyielding

V isn’t traditionally affectionate, but when it’s just the two of you? He melts.

His touches are feather-light—fingertips brushing your hair back, a hand resting protectively on your lower back, or a thumb tracing over your wedding band when he thinks you aren’t watching.

You become his anchor. After every night patrol, no matter how tired, he always comes home to you—sometimes slipping into bed without a word, but his arms wrap around you tight, like he’s making sure you’re still there.

He notices everything. If you’re cold? He’s draping his coat over your shoulders. Tired? He’s already running you a hot bath. Sad? He doesn’t offer empty words—he offers presence, grounding you with quiet care.

3. V’s Domestic Quirks – Things You Discover After Marriage

Early Mornings Together: V’s a painfully early riser—he likes to meditate or train before dawn. But on rare days off? He stays in bed longer just to hold you.

His Tea Ritual: He has an entire shelf dedicated to obscure herbal teas. No matter what mood you’re in, he has a blend for it—especially if it soothes you.

Silent Acts of Love: Flowers aren’t his thing—but he fixes broken things without being asked. Keeps your favorite snacks stocked. Learns every little habit you have and quietly accommodates them.

4. Protective to a Fault – But He Trusts Your Strength

He never stops being your protector—but he never underestimates you. If you want to be involved in his work or his world, he doesn’t hold you back.

Still, if anyone dares to threaten you? He’s not forgiving. There are no warnings—only consequences.

He checks in, always. If you’re out late, you’ll find a simple message on your phone: “Are you safe?”

5. Intimacy – The Soft Side No One Else Sees

V isn’t loud about his affection, but behind closed doors? He’s endlessly gentle.

He craves your touch more than he admits. A hand tangled in his hair while he works? Instantly soothes him.

If you kiss him before he leaves on patrol, he lingers longer than he should—like he doesn’t want to pull away.

After difficult nights, he doesn’t ask for comfort outright—but the way he clings to you in his sleep says everything.

6. Jealous? Not Exactly—But…

V isn’t the type to get jealous easily—he knows your heart belongs to him.

That said, if someone flirts with you? He won’t say anything—but his presence shifts. Colder. Sharper. And the offender usually backs off without him needing to lift a finger.

Ronin loves teasing him about this—“Careful, Angel. If you break his heart, who’ll keep the streets clean?”—and V’s usual stoicism cracks just a little when you smile at him in response.

7. Building a Future – With You, There’s Always Hope

Despite his heavy worldview, being with you brings light into his life. He wants a future with you—and he allows himself to dream of one.

He secretly wonders if you’d want to foster rescue animals—or maybe even kids someday. He’d never push, but if you bring it up? He’s already imagining filling your home with life.

Whatever path you choose, V’s vow remains the same: “I’m yours. For as long as you’ll have me.”

[dragoneyelashart]

ᯓ★ the summer we lost • chapter 1

summary: it was supposed to be the perfect summer—just before college, you and your online friend "william" had planned out meeting this summer, but everything came to a screeching halt when your parents dropped the bomb that you had to get a job at a family friend’s dance studio. so instead of having fun, you’re stuck teaching kids who can barely stay on their feet, alongside a girl you can’t stand. now, while your friends are living their summer, you’re tangled up in a mess of pirouettes, bratty 7-year-olds, and a summer you’ll never get back. warnings: angst | mature language | sexual content |

authors note: first chapter yay! anyways hope you like it 🤓 wc: 2.4k the summer we lost masterlist

the faint sound of pink + white by frank ocean played in the background, barely audible over the hum of the fan in the corner. summer had finally started, and you'd never been more relieved. the thought of school was now a distant blur—replaced with warm air, late nights, beach days, laughter-soaked parties, sunburnt cheeks, and most importantly... finally meeting william.

you met william online when you were both thirteen. it started with a random comment thread on some the office fan page—though, ironically, you never liked the show. she loved it. you found that kind of funny. she made it clear early on that her name wasn’t actually william—apparently it was a name her parents had considered for her before she was born. you told her wilma sounded cooler, but eventually you gave up and just called her “w.”

you'd been talking for years—through awkward middle school phases, heartbreaks, friend drama, late-night vents, shared playlists, and too many inside jokes to count. you’d planned to meet so many times, but something always got in the way. deep down, you were scared. it felt too surreal, too risky—like what if she wasn’t who she said she was? what if she was a sixty-year-old man behind a screen? you'd asked once, out of anxiety more than suspicion, and her answer was always something ridiculous like, “i have titty pics” or “check my onlyfans.” it didn’t help, but it made you laugh—and eventually, you stopped questioning it.

you were lying across your bed, freshly manicured nails tapping fast against your screen as you texted her.

4:32pm

w: so, i was thinking we could stay at a beach house???

you: you know how many murders have happened in a beach house...

w: why do you know that off the top of your head? i'm not gonna murder you jeez... not yet at least

you giggled, shaking your head as the two of you slipped into your usual rhythm—half banter, half confession. the conversation floated effortlessly until a knock broke the moment. soft at first, then louder, followed by the faint sound of scratching against wood.

before you could say anything, the door creaked open. your mom stepped in, wearing that look—the one that meant she’d already made a decision and was now trying to sell it to you gently. eyebrows slightly drawn together, lips pressed in thought.

you sighed, already bracing yourself.

“your father and i were talking,” she began, “and we thought maybe this summer, you could get a job—”

you groaned out loud, flopping back dramatically.

“mom, please. i have the whole summer for that. it literally just started.”

“it’s better to start now,” she continued, her voice laced with too much enthusiasm. “plus, i talked to maggie—you remember her, her kids did that song at the talent show? well, she’s on the cake committee and she mentioned her daughter’s managing a dance studio and they just lost an instructor.”

you raised an eyebrow, only half-listening.

“she said they’re looking for someone to fill in for the summer. it’s perfect! you’d only be there for a couple of months, and they’re paying $50 an hour.”

you sat up straighter at that part, but it didn’t change the sinking feeling in your stomach.

“she wants you there tomorrow morning. 8:30 sharp. i’ll text you the details,” she said with finality, already halfway out the door.

you opened your mouth, ready to protest, but nothing came out. instead, you just stared at the door as it clicked shut, and all the plans you’d been dreaming about for years—the beach house, the sunrises, the first time you’d finally hear her laugh in real life—started to dissolve.

you picked up your phone.

4:45pm

you: hey slight issue...

w: is the beach house too small? i can find another?

you: no uh, my mom wants me to get a summer job

w: oh thank god i thought you were about to cancel

you: yeah um. about that. the job’s for the whole summer.

you stared at the blinking cursor, waiting for a reply. nothing.

you watched the time jump—4:46, then 4:47. still nothing.

you imagined her face. not that you really knew what she looked like outside of selfies and blurry facetime screenshots—but you pictured her anyway. she’d probably read the message, tossed her phone across the bed, then laid there with her hands over her face dramatically. it was kind of her thing.

finally, your screen lit up.

w: ...damn.

w: i don’t even know what to say lol i mean i get it but also w: this was supposed to be the summer

you exhaled slowly, thumb hovering over your screen. typing. deleting. typing again. you didn’t know what to say either. it was supposed to be the summer. everything had aligned—your schedules, her flight, the place you’d picked out by the water. it wasn’t anything crazy, just a two-bedroom spot with seafoam green walls and patio lights that looked like they’d been there since the 90s. you could already picture the way the air would smell—salt, sunscreen, maybe a hint of freshly cut flowers that lay idle amongst the beach.

and now? now it was morning alarms and bratty kids in ballet shoes.

you: i know. i’m sorry. i didn’t even know this was happening you: she just walked in and assigned me the whole damn summer you: i’m still trying to process it

a minute passed. then another. yet there was no reply.

the next morning you throw your bag into the backseat of your car, the slam echoing louder than expected in the quiet morning air. it’s 8:30 on a saturday. school ended yesterday. everyone else is probably still asleep, or maybe already texting the group chat about some spontaneous beach plan. meanwhile, you’re dragging yourself to a summer job you didn’t even ask for. you still didn't even have a response from william.

you’ve worked before. café, library, record store, even a brief stint at a radio station. every single time, your bosses sucked. like, truly. and now, here you are, hoping this one won’t suck as bad as the rest.

you park in front of the studio. it’s tucked into a line of quiet storefronts, with soft yellow letters on the glass spelling out luna dance collective. despite everything, a small flicker of curiosity sparks in you. the place doesn’t look terrible. maybe it won’t be.

plus, if you're being honest with yourself, there’s a part of you that's mildly excited. maybe teaching at a dance studio could be fun. and if you’re lucky... maybe someone cute will sign up for a class. or already works here.

you walk inside and spot a girl with soft curls hunched over a laptop at the front desk. she looks up immediately and gives you a bright, too-wide smile.

“hey! you must be... y/n?”

you nod. “yep. that’s me.”

“cute name,” she says, practically glowing. “i’m luna.”

luna types something quickly, then glances back at you. “okay so, we’ve got two spots that need filling. you can either take the little kids’ class... or, wait for it—senior citizens’ zumba.”

you blink. she tries to hold back a laugh.

“i’ll take the kids,” you say immediately. “please.”

she nods approvingly. “smart choice. you’ve got the 1 pm on saturdays for the 5–8 year olds, same group again on mondays at 3, and the older kids—like 10 to 11—on tuesday through thursday at 5. easy enough.”

she shows you around, explaining where you can keep your stuff, the wifi password, and how to use the bluetooth speaker in the studio rooms. you’re half-listening until she gestures toward a door near the back.

“and that’s the private studio. b’s in there right now. if you ever want to practice or just chill between classes, that’s the place.”

“b?” you ask.

“billie,” she says casually, already moving toward the hallway. “she owns the place, or well her parents do. maggie comes around here sometimes,” okay so billie is maggie's daughter, she sounds familiar.

you follow her, trying not to trip over your own feet as you peek into the room.

inside, there’s a girl dancing—small, athletic, with dark hair that moves like silk. she glides across the hardwood like she’s part of the music, her movements sharp but graceful, every beat hitting like instinct. you’re frozen. completely mesmerized. she’s stunning.

as if sensing you, she glances your way. her gaze lands on yours—steady, unreadable. then, just as quickly, she turns back to her routine like you were never there at all.

“who’s that?” you manage to whisper.

“i told you. that’s billie,” luna says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “she’s intense. but she’s good.”

intense is an understatement. you can’t stop watching her.

luna grabs your arm suddenly. “c’mon. let’s go say hi!”

“uh—no, it’s fine, she looks busy—” you start, but it’s too late. luna’s dragging you into the room like you don’t have functioning legs of your own.

“bil! this is y/n—the one teaching the kids’ classes,” luna calls out.

billie pauses mid-spin and walks over slowly, not quite acknowledging you yet. she grabs a water bottle from the bench and takes a sip, looking you over like she’s reading your entire life story just from your shoes.

she’s even prettier up close, and that realization is like a punch to the chest.

luna keeps talking like none of this is awkward. “y/n, this is billie. our dance boss. literally.”

billie raises an eyebrow. “does the girl talk or did you hire a mute?”

your face flushes. you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

“actually you hired her,” luna fires back, grinning.

billie narrows her eyes slightly and then, with the cockiest smirk you’ve ever seen, says, “pretty sure i wouldn’t hire someone who can’t talk. you can speak, right, baby?”

baby. your brain short-circuits.

you stutter, completely mortified. “i—uh, i—yeah, i...”

billie scoffs, clearly unimpressed. she grabs a towel off the wall. “seriously, lu? this is who you brought in?”

and just like that, she walks into the changing room, door swinging shut behind her.

you’re left there, stunned, replaying her voice—low, smooth, teasing. it messes with your heartbeat.

“she’s nicer once you get to know her,” luna says like it’s nothing. “don’t take it personally.”

you don’t reply. you’re too busy mentally spiraling.

then, as if on cue, luna shoves her phone in your face. “oh, by the way, give me your insta!”

you enter your username on autopilot.

@/lunaf wants to follow you! [accept] | decline ___________________ taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @jayjaywetforbils @billieeilishismywifey @iamnicoke @st0nerlesb0 | send me an ask if you want to be added!

[walpu]

walp

hear me out on this

Aventurine's bodyguard (reader), but they are used as leverage against Aven during the 2.1 Trailblaze Quest, if Aven tries to leave the Dreamscape or reveals anything of Sunday's scheme, Sunday murders Reader and makes it seem like a freak accident 😀😀

Sunday when I catch you Sunday

I liked this request the moment I saw it so I rushed to do it as soon as I got enough time to work on it 😭

you being used against Aventurine as his weak spot during the 2.1 trailblaze quest

notes - gn!reader, 2.1 spoilers, angst but nothing bad happens to you, hopeful at the end, sunday is most likely ooc since it's written before 2.2, no beta

Sunday doesn't make a direct threat. It's a very subtle hint, a small warning. Yet it's obvious enough for Aventurine to understand the meaning behind Sunday's words immediately. How can he not when it concerns you?

There's a visible anger on his face when he glares at Sunday.

"You wouldn't dare, you wing-headed bastard. Do you think the IPC is stupid enough to believe that the death of my personal bodyguard tgat accompany me everywhere is a coincidence? Do you think I'll let it slide?!"

Oh, he's seething. Such raw emotions, such obvious worry, such obvious fear. Sunday knew he would get him good but that? Truly intriguing.

But how can he not feel that way? How can he play it cool, cover his fear and shield himself with short on-line answers?

This time he can't hide how much his hands are shaking.

Sunday is quick to remind Aventurine that in his current pitiful state, 17 hours to live and all, he hardly can do anything.

He also graciously reminds Aven that nothing will happen to you as long as he does his part.

Aventurine is such a mess after that conversation. Ratio tries to calm him down a bit by rationalizing the situation. Surely Sunday is bluffing. The Family, no matter how questionable they seem, are not murderers. Plus, surely Aventurine knows his own bodyguard well enough to know that you're not easy to kill. Many has tried and yet here you are, still alive and well.

But how can Aventurine just brush it off when it's you who may be in danger?

That what he was afraid of the whole time. That he'll lose you like he has lost everyone else. That your blood will be on his hands.

He asks Ratio to look after you and to escort you to safety if something happens. The promise doesn't calm him down but Ratio is a reliable and smart person. So he chooses to trust him, no matter how hard it is. After all, Aven doesn't have much choice.

When the two of you reunite, you can immediately see that he's shaken. He tries to hide his pitiful state from you, not wanting you to know that his time is running out. He wants to warn you instead, to tell you that you may be in danger. But he knows you won't take it seriously and instead would insist on taking care of him and protecting him.

He comes up with some lies (aeons, he hates lying to you of all people) and asks you to start your own investigation. To go back to the real world and to team up with Topaz and Jade.

It takes some time to convince you but eventually you reluctantly agree. He sees how much you hate leaving him like this and it's both heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time.

Aven is an even bigger mess now than he was in the game. He tries to tell himself that you're okay, that Ratio will accompany you to the real world and Topaz will look after you once you're there.

But how can he be sure? How? His "future" self asks him this mockingly, pointing out that you're smart, that you'll immediately understand that he has deliberately sent you away to keep you from something.

No matter how msny times he tells this "future self" to shut up, he knows he's right. So he can only pray that he'll be able to deal with the Family before you get yourself in danger.

Image you showing up during the final act just to see him threatening to detonate the Stellaron. Him trying to continue the "show" despite the ache in his heart. You, knowing he's bluffing but being unable to stop this insanity.

After the events of 2.1, he seeks you out as soon as he returns to the real world. He needs to know that you're alive, that you're safe. Even if you're angry with him now, even if you may not forgive him (of course you will he's just insecure like that), he needs to know you're fine.

So imagine his relief when you (safe, unarmed, alive) embrace him and hold him tightly, so overwhelmingly happy he's back.

image his reaction to finding out that you're alive and well and sunday has presumably kicked the bucket 💀

[facefullofsadness]

now i need yandere!yunjin😞

OMLLLL 🫠 idk if u wanted me to write to this but I'm gonna! bayonetta yunjin as pics bc same-ish vibes!

also cw for non-con

AHAKDHKDJFKG YESSSSS!!! dyk how much I love a yandere concept... it's actually a little concerning but I digress! yandere!jen who's been your bestie for a while. she became friends with you solely to get closer to you, learn every little thing there is to know about you, know your exact routine, understand the relationship dynamics you have, and eliminate possible threats. simply put, she needs to know what to do to make sure you are hers.

you run into her room absolutely sobbing, collapsing into her arms as she asks what's wrong even though she already knew. your best friend had been brutally murdered last night and you were in total shock. she held you in her arms and comforted you as she felt you melt into the hug, seeking solace and warmth in her embrace. she comforts you with a sinister smile uncontrollably emerging on her lips, holding you tight as your face is buried in her chest, unbeknownst to you her creepy expression. she softly calls out comforting words to make sure you know you're not alone and that she'll always be there for you, that she'll do anything to make you feel better.

explaining that you might need time alone for a few months because of how heartbroken you were and her expression turning bitter, not appreciating or liking the idea of you being anywhere else other than with her. she tries talking you out of it, suggesting you stay with her instead, that there's a killer on the loose and you need protection, but you'd rather die to their hands than live with this pain of your friend dead. that sets her off, she's angry you don't wanna stay with her despite everything she's done for you, how nice of a friend she's being, it's so unfair of you to treat her this way after what she's done! you'd rather die than stay with her? then she'll be the one to do it... not until she's had her fill.

flipping you over and pinning you down, resisting because what the fuck is actually happening right now, panicking and fighting against her, thrashing around to get away from the aggressive yunjin with a fiery look in her eye, screaming horrifyingly as she has you completely overpowered, way stronger and more calculated as she manages to tie your limbs down and all apart from each other. you can't move and you're terrified as her eyes burn through your clothing and tears of sadness and grief turn to ones of fear and confusion, yunjin burning with desire as she watches your pretty face distraught and betrayed, blazing with emotion.

after everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me? if I can't have you, no one can... but this is just the start. her words send chills throughout your entire body as she absolutely ravishes you, a feral animal tearing open your clothes and consuming you whole. her possessive hands dragging all over your body, claiming each and every inch for herself, her mouth littering your frozen-in-place state, heating you up despite your mind screaming for her to stop. her hands are greedy, groping and digging her fingers into your skin, her mouth is desperate as her tongue leaves trails of wet desire across your heaving chest, your body covered in red marks, hickeys, and bites. you moan as her mouth trails lower, her fingers pushing forcefully into your wet virgin hole, screaming as she rips you open while wrapping her lips around your throbbing clit.

the pain and heartbreak makes you continue to sob, but the pleasurable heat emanating from your core is undeniable as your body ignites into seething lust, whole body ruined emotionally and physically as yunjin forces orgasm after orgasm from you, squirt and cum covering the insane maniac in between your legs. after everything she's done for you, the audacity for a stupid little girl like you not to fall in love with her gave her no other choice than to make you hers.

[teenidlegirl]

꣖　 BEAUTY OF THIS MESS 　꣓　 ᤢ♥︎　 CHAPTER　.　13 　!

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

ᤢ　.　summary　♥︎　੭　with miguel’s disappearance and negligence, you’re left alone to deal with this gut-wrenching mess and your perception of him is gradually forever changed.

ᤢ　.　content　♥︎　੭　angst, pregnancy symptoms, mentions of throwing up (emetophobia warning), emotional distress, swearing, mentions of abortions, ultrasounds, no miguel yet

꣖　　previous　　⋅ ꪆৎ ⋅　　masterlist　　⋅ ꪆৎ ⋅　　next　　꣓

he just left…

miguel just left and never came back.

he walked out that door with a word and you felt like your whole world collapsed. he just left you, the man that you love and you thought who loved you back, left you alone to deal with this mess.

your heart into a million pieces.

rose-colored glass shattered and left on the floor, impossible to glue them back together. the pain was so severe that you actually felt your heart broken. so painfully because you truly loved the man.

the small four walls of your home concealed all of your sobs that night. they witness the tears, wails, swearing, all sounds of pain and heartbreak. you broke your personal record of crying that night. the painful was unbearable that you couldn’t sleep.

you weren’t quiet, it’s clear that the entire floor heard you that night yet none cared. not that you wanted neighbors banging on your door, asking you if you’re okay or been murdered or telling you to shut up. eventually the crying died down but there were sniffles here and there, silent tears down your face.

you knew miguel heard and he didn’t bother to run back and comfort you like you hoped. his strong arms wrapped around your trembling figure and holding you protectively as you sob your heart out. one hand rubbing your back and whispering soft words of comfort in your ear.

no, instead you were all alone. the cold air of the apartment hitting your skin, causing goosebumps to form which left an uncomfortable feeling. your own arms hugging yourself sheepishly. no whispers of comfort, only the sobs and whines from your lips.

miguel wasn’t there for you.

instead he was next door, listening to your painful sobs while doing whatever the fuck he was doing. it pissed you off so much, you wanted to scream.

a pathetic part of you believed miguel would come back. he needed some time to think about this. an unexpected pregnancy isn’t easy to process. everyone reacts differently and miguel wasn’t in the wrong. he was shocked and needed a moment.

except it was more than just a moment.

his reaction was reasonable but you didn’t expect him to walk out like that and abandoned you. miguel never returned, didn’t call or text you afterwards. as if he disappeared without a trace.

ever since that night, you never saw him again.

no matter what you do, miguel never answers. the amount of text messages you sent are proof. now matter how many texts, no answer back. not even left on read, they were never checked.

bebé 🌷: miguel, please answer me

bebé 🌷: i need you

bebé 🌷: i know you’re upset and have every right to be mad but please come back or answer me, i can’t do this alone please

bebé 🌷: PLEASE COME BACK I NEED YOU I MISS YOU PLEASE MIGUEL

you even try calling him.

“the number you’re trying to reach is unavailable, please leave a message after the—”

you threw your phone across the bed in frustration as tears begin streaming down your face. burying your teary face in your palms as you cry once again because your boyfriend isn’t answering you.

why won’t he answer?

why won’t he pick up his damn phone?

why did he never come back?

is he truly mad at you to the point that he disappeared and never answered you back?

since you couldn’t try yourself, you had to ask someone else. the only other person you know who has contact with miguel is peter. unfortunately, he didn’t have any answers for you either.

“he isn’t answering at all?”

“no, peter!” you say frustratingly, almost on the verge of crying. “he never answered my texts or calls. my texts aren’t even left on read!”

“shit…” you hear him curse under his breath. “okay… you said he’s not home, right?” you tell him yes. “do you have any idea of where he might’ve gone? has he ever mentioned a place or spot he would go?”

you shake your head, even if he can’t see. “no, he never did.” miguel truly never did mentioned anything but he must’ve have a spot now.

peter sighs heavily through the phones. “that son of a bitch, i’m gonna kill him.”

tears prickle in your eyes, lips trembling. “i’m so scared, peter. i’m scared because i’m alone and i don’t know where miguel is.”

“i know, i know and i’m so sorry. i promise mj and i will come over as soon as we both get off work. i promise i’ll find miguel and kill him.”

a soft sob escapes your lips. “d-don’t, the traffic will be terrible, you know that.”

peter said your name in a pleading manner. “please, it’s okay. you’re our friend and family, we’re not leaving you alone. you know mj won’t like that.”

you let out a small chuckle, knowing he’s telling the truth because mj would never leave anyone behind. true friends always support each other.

unlike miguel, your supposed lover.

“thank you, peter…”

“of course, we’ll be there soon.”

eventually, peter and mj arrive at your place with remorseful looks. embracing your tightly, providing you the comfort that you lacked from your boyfriend. you and mj sit on the couch, her hand holding yours as comfort while peter makes tea. mj would hand you tissues from box and have a hand on your back rubbing as a method of comfort.

you tell them everything. you watch multiple emotions flash across their faces. remorse, sympathy, disbelief, anger. if looks could kill, someone would be six feet under. that someone would be miguel. oh they both had the look of murder on their faces. if they were hired assassins, they would definitely hunt down miguel.

“when’s your doctor’s appointment?” mj changed the subject, containing her anger.

“monday, next week.”

“do you want one of us to come with you, as support so you wouldn’t be by yourself?”

you shake your head. “no, i wanna do this myself. i appreciate it though, thank you.”

“are you sure? i can call out.” mj suggests.

“no really it’s okay, mj.” you offer her a small smile. “i promise to text you and the girls right after.”

the redhead nods. “alright but know that we’re here for you, all of us.” you know she referring to herself, peter, anne, eddie, lyla, and harry. besides her and peter, the rest don’t know yet you plan to eventually.

you have a support group.

but you just wish you had support from a specific person, the person you thought who would help you. just like when he said he would help or fix anything for you. but suppose that was a lie.

perhaps it was all a lie.

the next thing you know it, it’s your OB-GYN appointment and you’ve never been so anxious. on usual visits they’re fine but this was a different case. a case concerning your well-being and possibly another. the thought caused you to shiver. on the drive there, your heart rate skyrocketed. you had to bite back the emotions of driving to the clinic by yourself without miguel, who still hasn’t answered. before you left the apartment, you sent him one last text and call telling him you’d be at the clinic. even though you knew he wouldn’t respond, it still hurt. still holding on the last bits of hope he would respond. might be a little pathetic at this point.

you arrive at the clinic 15 minutes early. your nerves skyrocket once again as you enter the building, the sliding glass doors open with a soft whoosh! and close behind you. not even the friendly smile the receptionist, an elderly lady, gives you eases your nerves but you flash her a fake one to conceal it. once you give your name, she hands over a clipboard with paperwork and kindly tells you to take a seat. thanking her with a small smile, you take a seat in the far corner of the room. your eyes scan over the paper and begin silently filling it out. the usual information such as any medical conditions, any prescribed medications, any past medical procedures, previous pregnancies. after filling out the papers, you hand the clipboard back to the receptionist and sit back down.

you glance around at the other visitors in the room. some silently filling out paperwork, some scrolling through their phones, some staring off into space. but what kills you are the couples are the room. some conversing with each other. one couple who the woman appears to be 8-9 months and her partner delicately rubbing her large baby bump. they seem to be very happy, smiling at each other.

the sight is a big stab to your already fragile heart. pathetically envisioning miguel here with you. an arm wrapped around your shoulders and a hand holding yours as he whispers gentle words of comfort to you. telling you that it’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay, and he will always be by your side.

but he’s not here and you’re alone.

he is god knows where and you’re attending your OB-GYN appointment alone, dealing with this situation without his love and support.

never have you felt utterly alone, abandoned.

the very same man who declared his love to you abandoned you when you needed him the most. nowhere in sight and completely off the radar, left you alone to deal with this mess. the same man who makes you cry as your feel tears forming-

you snap out of those depressive thoughts when your name is called. your eyes land on a nurse standing by the door waiting patiently for you to follow. your anxiety increases as you rise up from your seat and proceed to follow the nurse, not even her friendly smile could help. after leading you to your supposedly OB’s office, the nurse kindly tells you she will be here with you very soon before flashing one last smile and closing the door.

glancing around the small room, your anxiety increases as reality kicks in. here you are, in the office of your OB-GYN about to discuss and examine your pregnancy. an unexpected pregnancy that was caused by your irresponsibility. due to the pregnancy and your irresponsibility, miguel left you to deal with this alone. no love and support, only loneliness.

the sound of the door opening startled you a little, causing you to snap out of those sad thoughts. turning around, you finally meet your OB-GYN. a relatively tall woman with blonde shirt hair. a pair of glasses settled over her crystal blue eyes. she appears to be maybe 10 years older than you.

“hello,” the woman says your name with a friendly smile and hand to shake. “i’m dr. chelsea, your OB.”

you smile in return, gently shaking her hand before dr. chelsea offers you to take a seat near her desk. you do so, placing your purse in your lap. she takes her own and reads over the paperwork about you.

“alright, i understand correctly this is your first appointment?” you nod, little anxious to answer which she ultimately understands. “do you have any idea how many weeks you could be?”

you shake your head, pondering. “maybe 4 weeks but i’m still not really sure.”

“that’s okay, we can use a pregnancy wheel to calculate an estimated due date.”

“w-wait!” you panic a little at the mention of a due date. “i’m not sure if i want to keep it or not.”

dr. chelsea gives you a reassuring look. “i understand but we still need to at least estimate how many weeks since the earliest for termination is 4 weeks. if you’re beyond that then you still have the option.”

you can only nod and exhale deeply, the nerves causing your voice to not work properly.

after much discussion, turns out you’re 5 weeks pregnant. the tears wanted to burst out but you hold them back, not wanting to break down in public.

“may i ask your symptoms?”

“the usual, i guess.” you shrug. “throwing up, achy boobs, feeling like shit in general.”

the woman nods before taking off her glasses with a heavy sigh, looking at you with seriousness. “now, i understand your uncertainty about whether to keep it or not. based on the given data, you still have the option for termination. i also understand this is a complicated decision and i don’t want to sugarcoat it. may i remind you that no matter which decision you make, you’re making it for yourself and what’s best for you. you are not pressured to give an answer now, like i said it’s complicated.”

her words bring somewhat a sense of comfort and reassurance. you’re well aware that an abortion is a complex process which requires lots of thinking and courage. an abortion means you can’t be sorry for yourself and live with that decision. it’s indeed a complicated process like dr. chelsea said.

the question you have to ask yourself is: can you put up with this kind of decision?

she takes your silence to continue. “like i mentioned before, this is about you and your well-being. my job isn’t only to ask many questions and conduct examinations, i’m here to help you.” you can hear the sincerity in her tone. “when you’re ready, i’m here.”

you avert from her gaze, processing her words. in full honesty, you deeply appreciate her reassuring words. it’s true you don’t have a definite answer right now and will certainly need time to think. you’re still deeply conflicted about this situation, aren’t sure if you’re ready for a baby, unsure if you have the means to have one, if you are able to provide for another life. abortion still lingers in a big portion in your mind, however, deep down a small percentage of curiosity is buried in the back of your fragile mind.

do you want to see it?

do you want to do an ultrasound?

your mind jumps back and forth on the subject, like playing ping pong. the ball bouncing back and forth on the table, landing on one side then the other in a never-ending manner. unsure when it will stop.

but the small percentage of curiosity was gradually growing and it can’t stop. with a very deep breath, you decide to make one decision. not the ultimate decision but just a very small one.

“i think… i would like to see it…”

dr. chelsea offers a small smile. “alright.”

rising from the chair, dr. chelsea kindly guides you to the examination chair. you prepare yourself on it as she takes a dear beside you and sets up the monitor. your anxiety increases once again as reality hits you like a baseball bat. here you are about to do an ultrasound on the entity slowly developing inside you. an entity you’re still unsure of.

“it’s okay to be scared.” dr. chelsea flashed a reassuring smile, motioning you to lift your shirt. “i do have to warn you this will be cold.”

lifting your shirt just displaying your stomach, a gasp pass through your lips as the cool gel touches your skin. damn, she wasn’t lying. the cool sensation causes goosebumps over your skin. closing your eyes, anxiety and anticipation flows through your veins. holy shit, this was actually happening.

you’re about to get the first glimpse of your baby.

a baby that will be a combination of you and miguel.

your heart aches immensely at the thought of him. a reminder of his absence. oh how you wish he was here to witness and experience this moment with you. wishing he was there sitting the chair next to you on the opposite side that’s meant for the fathers. his big, calloused hand holding your smaller one as you await the first glimpse of your child.

but miguel isn’t here, no body beside you and no hand holding yours. just pure emptiness.

you blink away the sad thoughts once again and look over at the monitor. your eyes widen and lips agape in surprise. on the screen, there’s a tiny blurry blob.

oh my god… there it is.

the entity developing inside you.

a baby, your baby.

that tiny blob is supposedly the very entity growing in your body. that very entity that will eventually be a replica of you and miguel combined. it’s so… weird to actually see it, there moving and growing. like it’s just so… oddly fascinating to observe. part of you feels weirded out that an actual thing is growing inside you and you actually see it now. the other part of you is undeniably fascinating to see it.

now this is even more conflicting.

dr. chelsea notices your internal conflict and hesitantly asks if you wish to have pictures. you ponder for a good minute, wondering if you really want to have an ultrasound picture of the baby you’re still unsure about having. but yet again, your curiosity got the best of you. you agree to just have one, fiddling with your hands as she prints it. after she offers you wipes to clean off the gel from your belly and pull down your shirt, she hands you the picture.

your breath hitches at the photo, a tiny blob. this is just keeping getting real and real each day. breathing deeply, you hug the photograph to your chest and close your eyes for a moment. the conflict grows stronger, even more with this photo.

hopping off the examination table and grabbing your purse, you shove the photograph inside. just as your preparing to leave, dr. chelsea asks one more thing.

“this last question will be personal and you have every right to reject.” your furrowed brows were a sign to continue. “is the father involved?“

you ponder for what feels like forever. no word from miguel since the last time you saw him, leaving your apartment that unfortunate night. all the missed calls and texts were telling you he was avoiding you. he abandoned you and you never felt the same since.

“he’s not in the picture.”

not a trace of adoration in your tone expect dullness. dr. chelsea gives you a sympathetic look with a nod. she tells you that your next appointment will be in two weeks as a check up. you bid each other farewell before exiting the room and the clinic.

you exit that building feeling different in contrast when you first arrived. hollowed, not because of the baby but because of miguel’s absence and negligence. you felt scared shitless entering the clinic, worrying for your well-being and heavily conflicted about this baby and how it affects your life. without his support, you feel hollowed. never had you felt so abandoned and lonely today.

while you were preparing to leave the office, you checked your messages and still never received an answer from miguel, not that you were expecting yet still thought on the possibility.

he doesn’t care at all.

the pipeline about him is bizarre. from loving him with all your heart to feeling abandoned and hollow. as if the love you had vanished. tossed away into the trash and left completely abandoned.

perhaps miguel wasn’t the caring man you perceived him to be. it was all just a show, a fantasy. you really believed he was different, this love was different.

but you were proven wrong again.

you promised mj and the girls to text them after your appointment. pregnancy cravings got the best of you and force you to stop by the grocery store. that damn pickles and peanut butter craving is kicking your ass. suppose the baby really digs it, oddly thinking about it. after finding your two weird cravings, you walk down the ice cream aisle. not only pickles and peanut butter but also ice cream slowly kicking in there.

as your eyes wander over each flavor, you feel someone bumping into you. a frown settles on your face, prepared to tell off the idiot who bumped into you, only to realize it’s a little boy. dressed in an oversized basketball jersey with a black hoodie underneath and basketball shorts.

“oops! sorry, ma’am.” the kid meekly said.

“miles!” a feminine voice calls out. looking forward, you see a woman with brown hair in a red shirt and jeans approaching with a concern look. “ay dios, i’m so sorry. he ran off and wasn’t looking where he was going.” she gives you an apologetic look.

you wave it off, kindly smiling. “it’s okay, now worries. he apologized so don’t worry.”

“still, i’m sorry. kids and ice cream, right?”

that makes you silent for a moment. the topic of kids is still uncomfortable considering your situation. but you play it off with a chuckle and nod.

“can’t blame them, it’s delicious.”

the woman’s eyes land on the items in your hands. her brows furrowed just the slightest as if she recognizes that specific combination of food.

“miles, go pick out your favorite ice cream but don’t run off. come straight back to me, ¿entiendes?” the woman crouches down to her son’s level.

the little boy nods, smiling. “yes, mamá.”

“okay go, mijo.” she stands back up straight as her son runs off down the aisle in search for his favorite ice cream. she looks back at you. “the last thing i want is to pry and forgive me for asking such a question. is that your favorite craving?”

you didn’t realize how obvious it is carrying pickles and peanut butter. you can’t blame her though, it’s a common pregnancy craving.

“yeah, the ironic thing is that i absolutely hate pickles.” you let out a soft chuckle.

the woman chuckled as well. “the things pregnancy does to you, crave things you hate.”

“was this one of your cravings?” you gesture at the pickles and peanut butter in your hands.

“oh yeah, it was the best thing ever. could never fight against, the craving always win.”

“ain’t that the truth.” you two share a laugh.

you briefly introduce yourselves. the woman is named rio, her son miles is 8 years old.

“if you don’t mind me asking, how far along are you?”

you go quiet for a moment, realizing this is the first time someone has asked about your pregnancy, aside your OB. damn, this is getting real too fast.

“i’m uh- 5 weeks.”

“you doing okay? besides the cravings. i know how hard the first trimester is.”

“oh uh- it’s definitely a pain, the morning sickness and all. but today isn’t that awful…” your voice trails off at the end, which rio notices.

her brows furrowed. “you sure you’re okay, honey?”

“yeah, yeah. just the hormones and stuff.”

call yourself crazy but you’re sure this woman can tell your lying by that slight disbelief look on her face. well, it seems more concerning than disbelief.

“i understand pregnancy or a baby in general isn’t easy. i also understand it’s weird to be discussing something personal with a stranger.” she chuckled softly. “but telling you from experience, you’re gonna be okay.” rio gives you a sympathetic look.

for some reason, her words bring you a sense of comfort. knowing she’s a mom herself and obviously experienced the process of pregnancy, her words affect you more than others.

“thank you.” you say softly, gently smiling.

she mirrors your smile. “of course.”

after your mini conversation and miles finally returning with his favorite ice cream, you bid the two goodbye. you can’t help but observe them as they walk away. holding hands, signifying the bond between a mother and her son. observing them makes you envision yourself with your child. holding hands as you shop around, bonding together.

the thought makes your heart swell. for the first time, you envision a moment with your potential future child. the very same one growing in your belly. the one you finally got a glimpse of early today.

you’re more conflicted about this baby.

but you couldn’t lie the thought was very… heartwarming, to say the least.

꣖　𝓣ags. ♡ྀིྀི　꣓⠀⠀@reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work

[chasing-caws]

The fact that the slow burn romance isn’t in your face is what makes it somehow even more intimate and beautiful to witness.

I don’t think we ever see them say “I love you” but their actions speak so loudly that they never needed to. Jack seemed to almost KNOW about the ambush ahead of time, delegating Furiosa to pursuit which quite literally SAVED HER LIFE as we watched the War Boy he allowed to drive the rig get killed almost instantly, which would’ve been her if he didn’t make her drive a pursuit vehicle. Then, he wants her to leave. He shoots the flare, and she almost goes but NO. She’s not abandoning him and she floors it back toward him. And when Jack catches sight of her, coming back to help him instead of leaving for the place she had trusted him enough to tell about, he gets this absolutely haunted, terrified look in his eyes, like he thinks she’s dooming herself by coming back to help him.

But Furiosa doesn’t give a fuck, because he’s the only semblance of peace she’s ever had in this hellscape since watching her mother be tortured and murdered. So she saves him and they begin their grand escape and, with the belief they’ve left the citadel behind them, Jack seems to allow himself to fully realize his emotions for Furiosa, now that they’re driving away from the citadel, now that they no longer need to hide any sort of attachment to try and protect themselves.

And then Dementus. Fucking Dementus has to come along and ruin EVERYTHING. And still, they fight for each other, to protect one another. I didn’t notice this on my two viewings but someone pointed out that after Dementus flipped their car, Jack can be seen reaching for Furiosa, to check on her, and just AHH these two stir up my emotions so much.

Then, as Dementus rants and raves and they’re both probably concussed to hell and in pain, they only have eyes for one another, drawn together, gently pressing their foreheads together, and Furiosa whispers “my Jack,” like an oath, like she knows this is their final moment together.

And Jack, as if sensing the same, allows himself to fully acknowledge and realize his feelings and emotions for Furiosa when he breathes out “my Fury,” barely audible before they appear to share their first gentle, tender kiss, also their last before Dementus rips them apart.

And, like I saw in a fic, someone said that even in his final moments Jack was desperately craning his head, trying to get a glimpse of Furiosa and, in his final moments, his own torture allows Furiosa the distraction she needs to get away to avenge all the things that Dementus has taken from her.

And it’s all just so fucking poetic and heartbreaking and BEAUTIFUL and I need to watch this movie a million times.

[otp-after-dark]

🔥 Absolute Blasphemy: They Butchered Nick and June — And They Butchered the Whole Damn Point of THT

Oh, I'm going scorched earth now.

A love story built on blood, sacrifice, and rebellion… reduced to nothing.

TL;DR: Nick gets on a plane that might be rigged to explode. June just lets him. The show runners expect us to call that “love” or “closure.” No. This is character assassination, a betrayal of everything Margaret Atwood built, and a complete erasure of the core themes that made The Handmaid’s Tale matter. And if I have to hold onto my own damn ending to make peace with it, I will. Because the one they gave us? It’s a disgrace.

❌ Nick Blaine Would NEVER Do This. And June Would NEVER Let Him.

Let’s rewind to who these two actually were.

Nick Blaine isn’t just some brooding side character. He’s been a co-lead since Season 1 — a man caught in a fascist regime who chose resistance every single time it meant protecting June.

In Season 1, he coordinates June's escape to the Boston Globe.

In Season 2, he makes sure June survives childbirth and helps coordinate her escape (again) to get her out.

In Season 4, he literally helps orchestrate Fred’s murder as a gift to June.

In Season 5, he makes it clear he’ll never let her go and love anyone but her.

So now you're telling me this man — this careful, bleeding, haunted man — just gets on a plane he has to at least suspect is rigged with no contingency plan, no warning, no desperate last-minute glance, no whispered plea? He might not know the plane is rigged — but he’s not stupid. And even if he didn’t know, it makes it worse that he left without a word, without a glance, without any instinct to reach for her. The Nick we knew would never walk away from June like this. Whether he knew or not, the show robbed him of his voice, his fire, and his final stand.

And June — the woman who launched a rebellion, helped smuggle dozens of children out of Gilead, murdered her rapist, survived ritual torture and psych ops, and stared down Serena Joy and Aunt Lydia with fire in her eyes — now just watches him go?

She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t run. She doesn’t fight. She accepts it.

This is not them. This is not the Nick and June we bled for. This is emotional fraud.

😤 And the Worst Part? FRED WAS RIGHT?

“Every love story is a tragedy if you live long enough.” – Fred f***ing Waterford

Let me tell you something: When FRED, the rapist, tyrant, manipulative narcissist who tried to justify every monstrous thing he did with flowery biblical metaphors, becomes the voice of thematic truth in your show? You’ve failed. Spectacularly.

Because when Fred said that line, it was supposed to be ironic. It was supposed to highlight how he romanticizes suffering while enacting horror. It was supposed to expose his hypocrisy.

But now? Now it’s just… true? Nick and June — the one relationship built on shared survival, silent sacrifice, unspoken longing, and acts of revolution— are left with nothing? And we’re supposed to nod solemnly like, “Yes, Fred was right. All love dies eventually”?

NO. NOPE. HELL NO.

The whole point of Nick and June was that their love transcended the regime. It was never allowed. It was never convenient. And it still endured. That was the story. That was the point.

If Fred was right, the entire narrative collapses in and of itself.

🤬 This Is Narrative Cowardice.

Let me be clear: I can handle tragedy. I can handle heartbreak. I’m not asking for sunshine and babies.

But this isn’t tragedy. This is narrative negligence.

A tragedy would have been:

June dragging Nick off the plane at gunpoint, only for them to be captured.

Nick sacrificing himself but leaving behind a message, a choice, a voice.

June choosing to go with him, knowing it’s doomed, and facing the consequences together.

What we got instead was:

Nick walking to a likely death like a resigned bureaucrat.

June barely reacting.

Zero resistance. Zero passion. Zero truth.

It’s not tragic. It’s lazy. It’s gutless. And it reeks of a writing room that either lost its nerve in the current political climate or no longer believes in the story they were telling.

🧨 This Is Not Atwood's THT. This Is Prestige TV Pretending to Be Smart and Politically Safe.

Let’s not sugarcoat it. This finale isn’t just disappointing — it’s cowardly. It’s prestige-washed, watered-down, and terrified of its own legacy.

Margaret Atwood didn’t write a metaphor. She wrote a warning. Every horror in The Handmaid’s Tale was pulled from history. The pain. The punishments. The systemic control of women’s bodies. All of it has happened before.

At its core, her book carried one thesis: Oppression thrives on silence. Resistance lives in memory, desire, and identity. Even in captivity, even when stripped of everything, a woman can still rebel — by remembering herself.

That’s who Offred was. That’s who June used to be. A narrator who named her pain. A woman who found rebellion in wanting, in loving, in refusing to disappear.

And early on, the show got that. It gave us fire. It gave us June spitting in Fred’s face. June orchestrating Fred’s murder and kissing Nick like a blood-soaked thank-you.

Her love with Nick wasn’t soft. It wasn’t quiet. It was survival. It was resistance. It was a threat to Gilead itself.

But now? Now June is muted, judgmental, and a hypocrite. Nick is neutered and pro Gilead. WHAT?! And their love — once radical — is treated like a tragic inconvenience.

The final insult? Fred f***ing Waterford gets the last word.

That line should’ve been mocked. A narcissist’s delusion. A warning of how tyrants romanticize the violence they cause.

Instead? The show treats it like the truth. Like the point.

That’s not a tragedy. That’s a betrayal.

This finale isn’t bold. It’s not emotionally mature. It’s not a reflection of trauma or nuance.

It’s storytelling that’s scared of passion. Scared of fire. Scared of the very themes it once claimed to stand for.

This isn’t Atwood. This isn’t feminist. This isn’t revolutionary.

It’s politically safe. Emotionally hollow. And I reject it completely.

✅ The Ending That Still Makes Sense (a summary of my ending)

Forget this muted finale.

In my ending — the only one that makes emotional sense — Nick finally snaps. He stops playing the good soldier. Stops pretending he doesn’t care. He shows up at June’s door like a man on fire.

And June? She’s already past the point of no return. Done with pretending Canada is salvation. She’s ready to do something reckless. Dangerous.

He opens the door. She gets in the car. There’s blood on her hands. Tears in her eyes. But clarity, too. And she says it:

“We’re in this together. Fucking drive.”

That’s it. That’s all it ever had to be.

Two people who loved each other too hard for the world they lived in. Who chose each other in the face of death. Who didn’t walk away.

Not passive ghosts. Not tragedy porn. Not whatever the hell this finale tried to sell us.

This Finale? UNFORGIVABLE.

You don’t get to build Nick and June as a story of love under fire, love as resistance, love as something holy and real in the middle of hell — and then tell us that none of it mattered.

You don’t get to give Fred Waterford the final word on love. You don’t get to strip June of her fight. You don’t get to neuter Nick and erase his heart.

We remember who they were. Atwood got it right. And we’re not buying this lame ass crap.

[the-loststone]

I'm very anxious that the show is going to exclude Maelor from the story. Just write him out like they did Daeron. You know what excluding Maelor does? It takes the choice of the eldest son versus the youngest son and makes it a choice between the heir/the son and the daughter.

Helaena's choice was about who would understand what decision was being made. She chose Maelor, a heartbreaking choice she was forced to make or to watch both her children be killed and her daughter r*ped, because she thought he wouldn't understand what was happening. He was three years old at the time. She thought it would be less painful for him compared to Jaehaerys.

Taking Maelor away means that the choice will be between Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Its the choice between the heir and the daughter. We already know that they will never let Jaehaerys live because he is a son, he is the heir, and the entire concept of the revenge was 'a son for a son.' Its not a choice. Jaehaera never counted. It means that the choice is the value of a daughter, which we already know they don't actually consider, versus the son. Of course they're killing the son over the daughter.

You know what else it does, it takes another character away from the greens, another tragic death. Meanwhile all the Blacks get to keep their characters (with the exception of Nettles, but of course we can't have a character that poorly reflex on Rhaenyra). Maelor was a toddler murdered by a mob incited by Rhaenyra's actions. His corpse was delivered to Rhaenyra essentially as a prize instead of returned to his family.

Maelor is an essential character to show the cost of the war on house Targaryen. I hope that the showrunners do the right thing by keeping him in, otherwise it's just a blatant attempt to rewrite the tragedy.

I will never get over how one-sided they made this conflict in the show.