#’happy ending’ LIES!!!!!!! IT WAS A LIE IT WAS A TRAP

[madaqueue]

sorry chat i can’t be horny tonight i just had to take a sit-down shower

[gojoest]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

━━━ synopsis: fate has a strange way of birthing love. you married gojo satoru to stay close to his father — an arranged union built to conceal a scandalous affair. but somewhere between the lies and the silence, another secret began to stir quietly in your chest. one that did not belong to his father at all. 

━━━ content warning: MDNI, fem! reader (she/her), arranged marriage, affair, infidelity, love triangle, age gap (late 50s vs late 20s/early 30s), reader’s age isn’t necessarily specified but she’s written with late 20s/early30s in mind, unreliable narrator, original characters (satoru’s parents: gojo akihito & gojo saori), falling in love, sexual themes but no explicit content, alcohol consumption in a few scenes, reader is drunk in one scene, flashbacks, character death, murder, twists, there’s a specific fire scene that is heavily inspired by the manhwa “betrayal of dignity”, pregnancy, angst with a happy ending, ask to tag if something triggering is missing 

━━━ pairing: gojo satoru x fem! reader ; gojo akihito (oc) x fem! reader 

━━━ word count: 20k+ (…idk what happened there tbh) 

━━━ author’s note: hello guys! this is the idea i first mentioned back in october and it’s finally coming to life! it’s the longest thing i’ve ever written so please be gentle and kind — to me, to the story, and to reader. i did my best to proofread while editing but apologies in advance for any typos, inconsistencies or mistakes that might’ve slipped through! i hope you enjoy the read ♡

Love can make you do crazy things.  

Sometimes it’s a silly behavior that you exhibit, one that isn’t akin to your usual self, one that makes you a bit of a fool. 

You find yourself taking detours to “accidentally” bump into someone. Your heart races at the sight of them, and you disguise your longing behind an awkward ‘What a coincidence!’, but what you really mean is ‘I really wanted to see you! I couldn’t stay away.’ It’s harmless — charming, even. 

But what happens when love blooms where it shouldn’t? When it takes root in poisoned soil, nurtured by secrecy and betrayal — can it still be called innocent? When the heart wants what it shouldn’t, when desire threatens to unravel lives and twist fates — is it still harmless? Still endearing? 

No. The fool knows better — but doesn’t care. 

Blinded by love, reason is cast aside. Judgment dulls. Morality slips through desperate fingers. The choices no longer belong to conscience; they belong to longing. 

Science says that falling in love mimics a drug high — dopamine rushes, rational thought hijacked, impulse overrides consequence. You become addicted. You crave. And in that craving, you’d do anything to have it. No matter the cost. 

-- 

The air in the room is thick. With the windows shut, the scent of sex lingers — trapped between the four walls of the hotel room, clinging to your skin and his. Your bodies lie tangled, worn out and still close. 

“Nobody saw you come in, right?” the whitehaired man beside you breaks the silence, voice low but tender. His breathing has steadied, back to its usual calm rhythm. 

You tilt your head, cheek still pressed against his damp chest. His hand, which had been trailing lazily along your bare back, moves up to cradle your neck — gentle, almost instinctive. Like he’s trying to spare you any discomfort, even now. It makes you smile, the way he always trembles for you. 

“No, no one saw me”, you murmur. “It’s not like this is the first time.” 

“It’s the first time since you got married”, he replies, his tone quieter, more guarded. 

“Is this why you’re so tense?” you let out a feeble laugh. “Nothing’s changed, really — except now we’re both married...” the smile on your lips slowly fades. Your lips part, more words caught behind them. 

...not to each other though — you want to say, but you don’t. You don’t want to break the moment. It’s been too long since you last had this. 

“Actually”, he trails off, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. 

At times like this, you’re reminded, again, how large he is. He barely shifts beneath you, just stretches one arm to grab the pack, the other still wrapped around your waist. He lights a cigarette with practiced ease, tucks it between his lips, and inhales deeply.  

“There’s one thing that has changed”, he says, smoke curling from his mouth. 

“Oh?” 

“I see you every day now.” 

A faint smile touches his lips, softening his blue eyes. He kisses the top of your head, gaze lingering on you. 

That’s right. You do see each other every day now. It’s the consequence of living under the same roof. 

“But even so, moments like this... they’ve become rare. That bothers me.” 

The warmth leaves his voice. His eyes grow distant, pale and cold. “Seems like he is keeping you too busy. Maybe he’s starting to like you.” he speaks in a dull voice. 

“You think so?” 

“He’s around the house more, with you. He used to be gone all the time. That wasn’t supposed to happen.” His tone hardens. “He wasn’t supposed to act like this.” 

You let out a dry, uneasy chuckle. “Maybe he’s taking after you. Maybe I bewitched him... just like I bewitched you.” 

You don’t mean it. It’s just a tease, but the words land wrong.  

“Don’t joke about it”, he mutters, exhaling sharply. His brows furrow, tension creeping back into his features. “That’d be... problematic.” 

The man beside you is Gojo Akihito — your lover. The former head of the Gojo Clan. He is also the father of your husband. The current head of the clan — Gojo Satoru. 

...you only meant to lighten the mood. But just like his plan —  

It’s not working. 

-- 

Rumor has it: The clan head, Gojo Satoru, is completely enamored with his wife. 

It has become the talk of the mansion.  

“Did you see”, one maid whispers, nudging her colleague as they set the long dining table. “He brought her flowers, again.” 

“That’s nothing”, another chimes in, lowering her voice. “The other day he asked me how to make omurice. Said he wanted to learn it properly.” 

The first two maids lean in, wide-eyed. “And? What happened?” 

“I went into the kitchen early next morning”, she continues with a conspiratorial grin, “And there he was. Apron and everything. Cooking omurice from scratch. Said it was for his wife. Even served it on a fancy plate — with flowers from the garden. I think he picked them himself.” 

The maids collectively gasp, hands covering mouths, eyes sparkling. 

“He’s completely smitten”, one sighs, nearly swooning. “I heard he turned down every arranged match before her — didn’t even consider them. Then out of nowhere, he agrees to this one without a second thought.” 

“At first, I figured he just caved from the pressure”, another adds. “You know how the elders kept pushing. I thought he married her to shut them up.” 

“But now? Look at him. That’s not obligation. That’s a man in love.” 

A round of dreamy sighs circles the table. 

“Remember how he used to show up maybe once every couple of months? Only if something serious needed his attention?” 

“Now we see him every day”, one nods. “And if he’s not home, it feels... weird.” 

“He always comes back”, says another. “No matter how late. And the first thing he does is go see her.” 

“That’s not all”, the first maid says, lowering her voice even more. “The other day, he came home with a wound.” 

“No way. Him?” one of the others gasps. “He’s untouchable — who even got close enough to land a hit?” 

“Exactly. And do you know what he did? He let her clean him up. She asked for the first aid kit, and he just... smiled. The whole time. Like it didn’t hurt at all.” 

A chorus of quiet squeals follows, full of awe and disbelief. 

“He let himself be struck just so she’d fuss over him?” one whispers, covering her mouth. “God, he’s hopeless.” 

But before the fantasy could grow any richer, a sharp voice cuts through the air. 

“If you’re done gossiping”, Akihito says coolly from the doorway, “Perhaps you could focus on the work you’re actually being paid to do. Call everyone when dinner is ready.” 

The maids freeze, spines straightening, heads bowing in rapid succession. “Y-yes, sir. Our apologies.” 

Akihito didn’t linger. He didn’t need to. 

It wasn’t their chatter that irritated him. It was what they were whispering about. What they were seeing — what he couldn’t ignore. That’s what got under his skin. 

--  

“Good evening, wife.” 

You blink at the mirror just as a bouquet of forget-me-nots is gently laid in front of you on the vanity. Satoru leans in behind you, his reflection appearing over your shoulder, smiling. “You look beautiful, as always.” he murmurs against your ear. 

You shift slightly in your chair, but his hands land softly on your shoulders, holding you in place — not forcefully, but firmly enough to suggest he’s not letting you leave just yet.  

“Want me to brush your hair?” 

You sigh and meet his eyes in the mirror. “I can do it myself.” 

“I know”, he says smoothly. “But I want to.” 

Persistent. That’s one thing you’ve learned about him in the month you’ve been married — Satoru always gets what he wants. If you said no now, you wouldn’t put it past him to slip gum into your hair just so you’d have to ask for help. 

Just like he did with your slippers. 

He wanted to put them on for you one morning — for no reason other than his own mischief, you’re sure — but you refused. Later, fresh out of the shower, they were gone. All of them. Every pair. Oh no, we’re out of slippers! Guess I’ll just carry you — he said with that shameless grin of his. And he did. Said the floor was too cold. Couldn’t let his wife get sick, after all. He carried you around the house all morning. Then, right before leaving to run some errands together, he knelt, slipped your shoes on like some smug prince, and you let him — half amused, half annoyed. 

The bastard always wins. 

“Fine”, you relent now, sitting back. 

“Don’t worry”, he says, picking up the brush. “I’ll be gentle.” 

So far, nothing about this marriage has matched what Akihito told you. It was supposed to be nothing more than a formality. He reassured you countless times that his son would not even glance at you — let alone lay a hand on you; that you would probably just see him just once, on your wedding day, and that would be the end of it. But so far, Akihito was wrong about everything. 

He’s never home, huh? — You see him every day. 

He won’t touch you, huh? — Then why does he look for every excuse to be close? Going as far as to get himself injured on purpose and come back without healing himself so you’ll tend to him... Why does he always find a reason to touch your arm, your hand, your back? Why... Maybe, he wants to get in your pants? That must be it... right? Why else would he try so hard to make things work? It’s not like you two married out of love. You could’ve just quietly existed as his wife on paper; he certainly doesn’t have to bother making you an actual part of his life. 

Sure, he is a huge tease. But it’s not the annoying kind. It’s... disarming. You hate to admit it, but there’s something about him. A pull. A quiet magnetism that makes you want to lean in instead of pull away. And sometimes, you forget — forget why you came to be his wife in the first place, that this was never meant to be more than convenience serving the purposes of a scandalous affair. 

Until you remember. Until you look at him and see shadows of Akihito — the resemblance too striking to ignore. A younger version of the man who changed everything for you. 

You sigh, unable to keep your thoughts from wandering. 

“Did I hurt you?”, Satoru asks, suddenly pausing mid-stroke. 

You glance at his reflection. For just a second, there’s something soft in his expression. Worry. “No”, you say. “Just thinking.” 

“About?” 

He continues brushing, careful not to let the bristles graze your skin. Instead, his hand absorbs the pressure — the motion surprisingly tender. Then his hand drops. Light fingertips brush your neck. Two fingers lift your chin, tilting your head back until your eyes meet. “Thinking about someone else while I’m this close to you?” he asks, brows furrowed. His tone is calm, but the edge in it isn’t playful. It’s sharp. Serious. 

“Jealous?” you smirk, trying to deflect. 

He places the brush down and leans in. His head hovering over yours. There’s barely any distance left. When you both breathe out a veil of warm air falls and fills the tiny gap left between your faces. “Very”, he says quietly, his face deprived of the usual grin. “Makes me want to do terrible things to the man in your thoughts.” He’s not joking. Not even a little. 

“I was thinking about you, actually”, you reply. It’s not technically a lie.  

Not accustomed to such intimate closeness with him, heat starts to spread across your cheeks, your heartbeat acting peculiarly too. The nearness is too much. You share a bed, yes — but neither of you has ever dared cross the middle. Not yet. Why beat so fast suddenly, heart? Must be the fact he’s looming over you like this that is making you uncomfortable. Trying to break the tension, you joke. “If you’re planning on doing terrible things to yourself, make sure you don’t die. I’d hate to be widowed so young.” 

His expression falters. For a second, you see it — genuine surprise. It’s satisfying. He blinks, once, twice, head pulling back slightly, fingers at your jaw trembling with something unspoken. But it doesn’t last. He recovers quickly. 

A breathy laugh escapes him as he leans in again. “You were thinking about me? What, something dirty?” 

You scoff. “You wish.” 

“I do”, he replies instantly. “And don’t worry — you’ll get there soon enough.” 

The audacity. 

“What makes you so sure I’ll get there”, you shoot back. He grins, guiding your face back toward the mirror. “If you can’t see it up close...” He taps the glass. “Just look there. I’m kind of a masterpiece.” 

“The only piece you are is a piece of work”, you mutter, turning your head with a huff, your hair brushing against his face. You expect a quip in return. But he goes still. Sniffs. 

“Hmm... What’s that smell?” He leans closer, nose buried briefly in your hair. “I didn’t know you smoked.” 

You freeze. Akihito’s cigarettes. You didn’t wash your hair after the hotel. Damn it. 

“I don’t”, you reply, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you. 

“You smell like cigarettes.” 

“I was with a friend earlier. She smokes. Maybe that’s why.” you lie. 

Satoru watches you carefully through the mirror. “Good. You shouldn’t smoke”, he says at last, straightening up. “My wife has to live a long life. With me.” A smile tugs at his lips. A playful smirk, back to normal. 

You try to summon a sharp retort. Something clever. But all you manage is a tight, fake smile as your heart thunders in your chest. You were almost caught. 

Then— 

Knock-knock. 

“Dinner is ready, sir. Madam.” one of the maids calls from outside. 

“Hai-hai~”, Satoru casually yells out. “We’ll be down in a minute.” 

-- 

The dining room is too quiet. The kind of quiet that isn’t peace, but tension — stretched thin between the four people who sit on the table. It makes the softest sounds feel sharp. Or maybe it’s just in your head, considering the situation. 

It’s tradition, apparently — whenever everyone is home, meals are eaten together. Your least favorite part of the day. Understandably so, given the circumstances: you willingly put yourself here, fully aware you’d be sitting across from the woman whose husband you’re secretly sleeping with, and beside the son you’re technically cheating on — with his father. 

You sit beside your husband, Satoru. Across from you, Akihito — your lover, your secret. Next to him is Saori, your lover’s wife and husband’s mother — regal and silent, her expression unreadable as always, like she’s wearing a careful mask. 

No one speaks when the food is served. Just the mechanical act of eating, a silence that presses against your ribs like guilt. Your appetite has all but vanished since becoming the bride of the Gojo Clan, your stomach perpetually knotted with remorse. Sometimes even water feels repulsive. You often catch yourself wondering why you’re even doing this. Is it really love? You begin to question the choice you made, weighing it with a heaviness that never seems to lift. 

Then, as always, the silence shatters. Satoru reaches over, casual as anything, and plucks a bite of greens from your plate with his chopsticks. “Yours always taste better”, he grins, dropping them in his mouth. “Must be the way you chew”, he says with a mouthful.  

A small, soft laugh escapes you before you can catch it. There he goes with his silly antics again, you think. He somehow always knows how to tug you out of your head, whether you want him to or not. 

Akihito’s chopsticks pause mid-motion. His eyes narrow, barely, but you feel the weight of it. “Interesting”, he says, voice low and smooth, but with a faint edge. “I thought you never touched your greens.” 

Satoru doesn’t look away from you as he chews, slow and deliberate. “Tastes change.” 

The air thins. You take a sip of wine to steady your hands and avoid meeting Akihito’s eyes. You can feel them — heavy, disapproving, and not very kind. 

“They do”, Akihito replies after a moment, setting his chopsticks down with a soft click. “Although not always for the better.”  

You want to look at him, to read what he’s really thinking — but you don’t dare. Sometimes it feels like even a glance might betray you. Especially now, as Satoru shifts slightly in his seat, angling himself subtly closer to you, as if rising to meet some unspoken challenge. 

“I suppose it depends”, Satoru says lightly, the smile still playing on his lips. “Sometimes, watching someone savor something — it can spark a craving in you too.” He smiles at you then — softly — and something flutters in your chest that has no business being there. Then, he adds, with just enough weight to sharpen the air again. “But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, old man? How tastes change over time.” 

You freeze, just for a moment. Akihito doesn’t blink. His tone stays dry, his face unreadable. “Was there a point to that?” 

Satoru leans back slightly. “Just that, at your age, I’d expect you to be less surprised when people... shift.” 

Across from you, Saori finally lifts her wine glass. She doesn’t drink — not yet — but she swirls the red liquid slowly, her gaze shifting from father to son like she’s watching something she’s already seen before. They clash often, you’ve noticed. Not loudly, not outright — but it’s always there. A push and pull beneath the surface, a cold war of words and glances. 

Sometimes, you wonder if Satoru knows about the affair. He says things — subtle, but cutting — that make you pause, that make you think he might be more aware than he lets on. Maybe that’s why he’s pursuing you so intently — just to prove a point to his father. But then, there are moments when his gaze softens when he looks at you, when his touch lingers just a second too long. He goes out of his way every day just to be near you. And in those moments, it feels too sincere to be a game. You start to think he might actually mean it. That he’s not just chasing you out of spite — but because he truly wants you. 

You reach for your own glass again, taking another sip of wine, as if it might wash away the tension thickening by the second. But it doesn’t. Setting the glass back down, your hand lingers at its base. Your fingers brush against Satoru’s hand that rests on the table between you two. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, his pinky curls beneath yours — just enough to be felt, not seen. You don’t pull away. You know Akihito sees it. You feel it. The tick in his jaw is barely visible, but you notice it. 

“I’ve been seeing you around way more frequently, Satoru. I hope marriage hasn’t dulled your focus”, he says, his voice smooth and pointed. “There are more important things than... comfort.” 

The irony, you think. The words sound like a joke to you, coming from the same man who orchestrated your marriage just to keep you closer and see you more freely. You barely manage to swallow a scoff. 

Satoru leans back in his chair, unfazed. “You’d be surprised”, he says lightly. “Sometimes comfort is the only thing keeping people from falling apart.”  

“It’s rare”, Saori speaks at last, “to see affection in this house. Perhaps we shouldn’t discourage it.” Her words are gentle, kind — at least, on the surface. But they carry the weight of something unspoken, a quiet complaint from a woman who has never been loved by her husband — not in the way a lover is. 

The silence that follows is anything but gentle. Her words hang in the air, delicate yet heavy, like the last note of a song no one knows how to follow. No one speaks. Not right away. You watch Akihito, wondering if he’ll respond — if he even knows how. But his expression remains unreadable, carved from habit more than emotion. Then, without looking at anyone in particular, he speaks, as if the comment never touched him at all. “I meant to tell you”, Akihito says, cutting through the quiet like a blade, “The elders requested a meeting with you tomorrow morning.” 

Satoru’s glass of water stills halfway to his lips. “Can’t”, he says casually. “I’m taking my wife out.” 

You blink. That’s the first you’ve heard of it. 

Akihito’s expression doesn’t change, but the muscle in his jaw tightens — just once, sharply — as he exhales through his nose. “You can reschedule”, he says. “The clan elders don’t appreciate being made to wait.” 

Satoru shrugs. “Neither does she.” He doesn’t even look at you when he says it, but the weight of it presses into your ribs like heat. 

The silence that follows is tight, full of things no one says. Saori watches Akihito this time, her gaze sharp as cut glass. Her husband is acting odd. And she notices everything. 

--  

Gojo Akihito was a man carved from discipline. Now in his late fifties, he was a figure both respected and quietly feared. When he entered a room, silence followed. Backs straightened. Conversations halted. People instinctively adjusted their posture — as if simply being in his presence demanded their best. His presence was weighty, not in a menacing way, but with a gravity that commanded reverence. His name alone held power — spoken softly, carefully, like it belonged to someone who mattered more than most. And he did. Shaped by the will of the elders, Akihito had been molded into the ideal head of the Gojo Clan: composed, unwavering, and dutiful. Obedience had been stitched into his bones from childhood. He was taught not to dream, but to serve. To lead with strength and never stray from what was expected. 

His path had been set before he could walk it — become strong, inherit the clan, marry a chosen wife, produce an heir. And he did. His talents bloomed early. Power came easily to him, and with it, authority. He married Saori, a woman selected by the elders, and fulfilled his role without resistance. Love was never part of the arrangement — but respect was. Even in the absence of affection, he treated her with dignity. They never became lovers — much to Saori’s quiet sorrow, for she had loved him from the very beginning. After they conceived Satoru, he never touched her again. As if it had been part of a duty — fulfilled, then forgotten. 

When he stepped down and passed the title of clan head to his son, Akihito did not fade quietly into the background. His voice still carried weight, often more so than of the current leader. To many, he remained the pillar of the clan. The rock. Unmoving. Unshakeable. Dependable. But even stone erodes, given time. Even the strongest man can change. Even a rock, under enough heat — can melt. 

-- 

Akihito wasn’t supposed to be here. The streets were too narrow, too loud, brimming with color and life in a way that felt foreign to him. He was meant to be elsewhere, at a meeting across town — another empty ritual of clan maintenance. But his driver took a wrong turn, and instead of rerouting, Akihito had stepped out, needing a walk. Needing air. Needing space from the weight that always clung to his shoulders. That’s when he saw you. 

At first, it was nothing. You were just a figure in the crowd — young, distracted, smiling faintly at your phone, coffee in hand. But something about you… stopped him. You passed by without noticing him, and the moment stretched too long. Something about you felt familiar, though he couldn’t place why. A detail misplaced in time. A memory from a life he never lived. He turned — just slightly. Just enough to watch you go. You entered a nearby café tucked between cramped buildings. Small. A little worn. Too cozy, too youthful for someone like him. He should have kept walking. But he followed you inside. He told himself it was curiosity. That he needed a moment to sit, make a call, kill time. But deep down, even then, he knew. He picked a seat in the corner. Three tables away from you. 

He returned the next day. And the next. It was irrational. Dangerous. He wasn’t the kind of man who indulged temptations. His life had been a masterclass in restraint — each step measured, each emotion disciplined out of existence. But you… You sat in the same spot each day, sipping a drink, sometimes reading, sometimes just staring out the window with that faraway look that seemed to see something no one else could. He wondered what you saw. He wondered what you wanted. He wondered what it would feel like to be the thing you looked at that way.  And he hated himself for it. 

You didn’t know who he was. You didn’t know that the man sitting a few tables away had once been the most powerful figure in one of Japan’s oldest sorcerer clans. That he had blood on his hands and responsibilities that still echoed through every inch of his life. You didn’t know that his marriage was nothing more than a political alignment. That he had followed every rule. Sacrificed every selfish urge. That he had never, in over fifty years, been in love. Not until now. 

On the third day, he stopped resisting and made a decision. He stood up, walked to your table, and asked — “May I sit?” 

-- 

Three tables. He was sitting three tables away from you — again. Just like yesterday. And the day before that. Today made the third. 

You’d noticed him immediately. How could you not? Tall, impeccably dressed, white hair, broad shoulders, and unmistakably refined. You guessed he was in his fifties, but he wore it well — almost too well. Dressed in a designer suit, he looked out of place in this cozy, slightly run-down café filled with students and twenty-somethings. Yet, there he was. 

Each time you stole a glance, he was gazing out the window, never once meeting your eyes. But something about him — his presence, the stillness in the way he sat, the ghost of a smile on his lips — kept drawing your attention. Maybe you were imagining things. But, perhaps, was he there… for you? Just as you started telling yourself it was all in your head, he moved. Ah, he’s leaving— 

No — he wasn’t. He was walking toward you. 

Your breath caught. Your eyes widened as he came to a stop at your table. 

“May I sit?” he asked, voice smooth but low, as if careful not to disturb the air between you. You blinked, pulse rising. “Why here?” you asked, managing a dry smile. “There are plenty of other tables, including the one you’ve been using for the past few days.” You motioned toward his old table. “I like the view better from here,” he replied calmly, and took the seat without waiting for permission. 

The view, of course, was you. He had resisted the pull for two days. But today, Gojo Akihito gave in. In his fifties, for the first time in his life — he fell in love. And for the first time… he broke a rule. 

-- 

He didn’t touch you. Not for weeks. Not inappropriately, not even in passing. His interest was always wrapped in respect, laced with a restraint that was somehow more intoxicating than overt desire. He spoke little, but with purpose. He listened like it was sacred. Asked questions no one else had ever bothered to. You told yourself it was harmless. That you liked the attention he was giving you. That you weren’t doing anything wrong… with a married man. It’s just a connection — nothing more. But the way he looked at you… like you were something precious, something rare, he had no right to touch but desperately wanted to — it stirred something in you. 

When he kissed you for the first time, it wasn’t impulse. It was quiet. Measured. Like a man saying a prayer before stepping into hell. And you let him. After that, the pretense faded. You started meeting behind closed doors…  

You were in love, yes. Or maybe, looking back now, you only thought you were. Not the way he was. You were free, while Akihito was chained to a life he could never escape. The deeper Akihito sank into you, the more you floated above him. Untethered. Capable of leaving. And that was what terrified him the most. He needed something stronger — something permanent — to bind you to him. 

One year into your affair, Akihito proposed something unthinkable. 

“An arranged marriage?” you gasped, your voice cracking in disbelief. “To your son?” You tried to push away from him, stepping out of the bathtub, but he caught your wrist and pulled you back in. 

“I miss you too much when you’re away”, he murmured against your shoulder. His breath was hot. His arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you close, anchoring you to him in the steaming water. “Not knowing when I’ll see you again — it’s unbearable. And knowing it won’t be tomorrow? I hate that.” 

You sat between his legs, your bare back pressed to his chest, steam rising around you like a veil. His head dipped to the curve of your neck. You said nothing. Your lips trembled with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, with a sob that didn’t quite leave your throat. 

You spoke every day. But meetings were rare. Always discreet. Always in motion. Hotels changed with every rendezvous. Different rooms, different names, different times of arrival. You booked separate rooms but only ever used one. Because what you shared was a scandal. And the walls, anywhere, could talk. He was the former head of the Gojo Clan. A public man. A married man. And in the Gojo Clan, divorce was taboo. Unspoken but absolute. Marriage ended only with death. 

“It’s madness”, you whispered. “You’d just… hand me over to another man like that?” 

“I’m not handing you over”, he said, voice low and tired. “It’ll be just on paper. You know what Satoru’s like — he’s obsessed with his work. Sorcery is the only thing he’s ever cared about. He won’t touch you.” He paused. He knew how it sounded. But to him, it made sense. He was convinced this was the best way to keep you close. Satoru, as far as Akihito knew, had no interest in romance, no time for love. If you married his son, your place in the clan would be secured — and so would your bond to him. Even if you tried to leave him one day, you’d still be part of his world. Divorce, after all, was never an option. “Think about it”, he continued. “We’d be able to see each other more freely. People wouldn’t question it if we were spotted together — we’d be family. It would raise fewer suspicions than what we’re doing now.” 

You stared into the steam, into nothing. “...fine.” You caved. 

Neither of you knew then just how flawed the plan truly was. The flaw had a name: Gojo Satoru. 

-- 

Back in your shared bedroom, you close the door behind you and turn to face Satoru. He’s already tugging off his jacket, tossing it carelessly over the back of a chair. You squint at him, arms crossed. “What was that earlier?” He pauses, one sock halfway off. “Hm?” He looks up at you, eyebrow arched in that maddeningly innocent way. 

“‘I’m taking my wife out’”, you echo flatly. “We made no such plans.” 

He chuckles — a low, amused sound. “Ah. That.” Straightening up, he begins rolling his sleeves to the elbows, wandering toward the bed. “I was too distracted by your beauty when I got home, I must’ve forgotten to tell you.” 

You narrow your eyes. “Tell me what exactly?” 

“That everyone wants to meet you”, he says, as if it’s obvious. 

“Everyone?” you eye him. 

“My students. My colleagues. Most of them think I made up this whole marriage thing just for attention.” He grins like it’s the most absurd idea in the world. “So tomorrow, you’re coming with me. I need to show them that my wife is, in fact, a very real, very stunning person~” 

You blink. “So you didn’t just blurt it out to get out of meeting the elders?” 

He scoffs and flops onto the bed, arms behind his head. “Please. I don’t need an excuse to avoid them. I’ll meet them when I feel like it — not when they demand it.” Of course he would say that. “Besides”, he adds lazily, “I figured we could hang out a little after. Grab a bite or go somewhere. A proper date.” 

You stare at him. “A date?” — “Yeah”, he shoots. “You know, two people spending time together on purpose because they want to?” 

“Satoru”, you sigh, “you don’t have to bother with this kind of thing. This is an arranged marriage, let me remind you. We’re not... required to play house.” He tilts his head, eyes glinting with mock curiosity. “Who said couples in arranged marriages can’t go on dates? That’s a rule now? If it is, I must’ve missed the fine print.” 

He’s relentless — in a strangely charming way. Always pushing, always poking. And the worst part is... he knows you don’t exactly hate it. You glance away, shaking your head. “Alright”, you say finally, “fine” — and he immediately beams like he’s just won something. And maybe he has — in his own strange way. Satoru doesn’t need much to feel victorious. But there’s something you have noticed — how a yes from you is usually worth a trophy in his world, even if you offer it begrudgingly. 

You watch him for a moment, unsure what to make of the warmth blooming quietly in your chest. It’s not love. It can’t be. Right? But it’s something. A softening, maybe. A flicker of possibility. Your fingers absently toy with the edge of your sleeve. That strange flutter you’ve been ignoring — the one he keeps coaxing out of you — is getting harder to deny. What exactly are you doing? — you ask yourself. 

And then your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out quickly and glance down at the screen. 

Akihito: Come to the guest house. 

Just like that, reality presses its weight back onto your shoulders. It doesn’t look like Satoru noticed anything, but your hands are already closing the message, hiding the screen like a child caught with stolen sweets. “I’m going to the kitchen”, you say, too quickly. “I want something sweet.” 

Satoru sits up a little. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll get—” 

“No.” You cut him off, maybe too fast. “I’m not sure what I want yet, so I’ll just look around.” His gaze lingers on you for a moment. Something unreadable flickers there — brief, sharp, gone too fast. Then he leans back on his hands, still smiling. “Alright, my picky little bride. Don’t be long.” 

You force a light laugh and slip out the door. 

-- 

Akihito hears your knock — light, familiar — before the door opens. You’re still in your dinner clothes, but your hair is looser now, lipstick faded. You look comfortable, relaxed — and he does not exactly like that. You step quietly, and he lets you come to him without saying a word. For a moment, neither of you speak. 

He looks somewhat tense, but the air between you is still warm with memory — earlier today, your skin beneath his hands, your lips murmuring his name into a hotel pillow. And yet. “I’m sorry for calling you over like this”, he says finally, his voice low. “I just needed to see you.” 

You smile faintly. “You saw me at dinner.” 

“Not like this.” His eyes search yours. “Not alone. Not without... him.” 

You stiffen slightly — not defensively. Just aware. Akihito gestures to the seat beside him. You sit.

“He’s not the same”, he murmurs after a pause. “Satoru. He’s changing.” 

You don’t respond at first. You fold your hands in your lap. 

“You know what he used to be like? Detached. Cold. Always disappearing on missions. He never gave a damn about what anyone thought of him — never entertained sentiment. And now?” He scoffs softly. “Flowers. Cooking. Holding your hand under the table like some infatuated schoolboy...” 

Your mouth opens — then closes. You can’t find the right words. 

“You saw it too, didn’t you?” he asks quietly. “At dinner. The way he looks at you.” 

Your gaze falters. Not guilty — not quite — but cautious. “He’s just playing the part, Aki”, you say eventually. “He’s always been theatrical.” 

Akihito shakes his head. “No. That wasn’t an act.” There’s no bitterness in his voice. No anger. Just... disbelief. Like he’s watching something slip through his fingers that he didn’t expect to lose. “Before you came into his life, he never stayed home. Never cared about meals or traditions or people. He never had time for anything... personal.” 

You look down. 

Akihito studies your profile, as if memorizing it. The curve of your brow, the slope of your cheek. “I know I’m the one who suggested this arrangement”, he says, and his voice is more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. “I told myself it was the best way to keep you close. Safe. But now...” He trails off. 

You reach out, take his hand in yours. “I’m still yours, Aki”, you say gently. “You know that.” 

“I want to believe that”, he murmurs. You squeeze his hand. “You can.” 

But your voice falters, just slightly. Just enough for him to notice. His eyes flick up to your face. There’s no accusation in them. Only fear. The quiet, creeping kind that lives under the surface of a man who’s spent a lifetime being in control. 

“I know he’s not you”, you add softly. “I know why I said yes to this. You don’t have to worry.” 

Akihito nods slowly. But his silence stretches too long. You lean your head against his shoulder, and he kisses the top of your hair. Grateful. Reassured — or trying to be. But the weight in his chest doesn’t lift. Because for the first time, he isn’t sure if the threat is outside of what you have... or is growing inside it. 

-- 

“Don’t worry, they don’t bite”, Satoru chuckles, watching you fidget with your sleeves like you’re about to walk into a job interview. You shoot him a dry look. “You say that like you’re not the worst of them.” 

“Me? I’m the warm-up act. They are the terrifying ones”, he teases, nodding toward the lounge room door. You roll your eyes but don’t stop playing with your cuffs. 

“You’ll be fine”, he adds, nudging your elbow gently. “Just flash that charming smile and pretend I’m not hovering behind you like a lovesick fool.” 

“You are hovering.” 

“I’m setting the scene”, he grins. “For dramatic effect.” 

You scoff. “I’m not scared, you know.” 

“Of course not”, he nods solemnly. “You’re just fidgeting because you’re excited to meet my fan club.” You shoot him a sideways glare. He leans over, voice lowering just a touch. “They’re going to love you”, he says, softer now. “They’ve never seen me with someone like you.” 

“Someone like me?” 

“Someone who makes me behave.” 

You don’t get the chance to press him on that. He throws the door open before you can respond — and the room instantly freezes. Chairs creak to a halt. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. All heads turn. A spoon hovers midair. A can of soda stops halfway to someone’s lips. Even the air feels like it’s holding its breath. And all of it — every flicker of curiosity, disbelief, and blatant awe — is aimed squarely at you. 

“Guys”, Satoru announces, all flair and no shame, “This is my wife. Try not to scare her off.” You manage a composed smile, offering a polite nod. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

The reactions come in like dominos. 

Yuuji blinks so fast he looks like a malfunctioning cartoon. “She’s real. She’s actually real.”

Nobara lets out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god, she’s gorgeous. How is he married to her?” 

“There’s definitely something wrong with her”, Megumi mutters, arms crossed.

“Blink twice if you’re being held hostage”, Maki deadpans without missing a beat.

Even stoic Shoko lifts her eyebrows, taking a slow drag of her cigarette. “I genuinely thought he made you up.”

Ijichi bows at the waist, glasses fogged slightly from the tea steam. “Gojo-san speaks of you often. I assumed it was... metaphorical.” Nanami says absolutely nothing. Just closes his eyes and exhales, a slow, pained breath that says this is beneath me, but also of course this is happening. 

Meanwhile, Geto is the picture of calm. Reclined on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, he simply smirks and raises his hand in greeting. “About time you dragged her here, Satoru.” 

“Don’t encourage him”, Nanami mutters without opening his eyes. 

You can’t help it — you laugh. A light, genuine thing that breaks the awkward spell in the room like shattering glass. The tension in your chest uncoils slightly, and Satoru beams beside you. 

“Oh god”, Nobara groans. “Even her laugh is gorgeous. This is unbelievable.” 

“Do you need help?” Megumi asks again, completely serious.

“She’s under some kind of spell, huh?” Yuuji whispers. “Do we do something? Help her?” 

“No need to rescue her”, Satoru says smugly. “She married me willingly” 

“That’s even worse”, Nanami mutters. 

“You guys are insufferable”, you finally say, smiling despite yourself. 

“You’re perfect for him then”, Shoko hums. 

“Alright, alright, don’t scare her off on her first visit”, Geto says, rising from the couch. He strolls over, offering his hand. “I’m Suguru. Satoru’s better half.” 

“Hey!” Satoru protests. 

You shake Geto’s hand. “Pleasure.” 

“It really is”, he replies smoothly. “Though we may have to talk about your taste in men.” 

“I’ve made peace with it”, you reply with a smirk. The room erupts into scattered chuckles. Even Megumi snorts. Satoru clutches his chest. “I feel so betrayed.” 

“Get in line”, Nanami mutters again. 

“Come on”, Geto waves you over. “Sit. Eat something. Let us dissect your personality in peace.” As you move to join them, Satoru’s hand brushes your lower back — a barely-there touch. Protective. Familiar. You glance at him. He’s still smiling like the sun — blinding and hard to read beneath the surface.  

You ease yourself into a spot between Suguru and Satoru on the long couch. Plates and cups shift around. The lounge settles into casual chaos again, but it’s warmer now — less like scrutiny, more like curious acceptance. As conversations spark up around you, you feel it — a brush at your side. Subtle, deliberate. Satoru’s hand slides across the space between you on the couch. He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even look your way. But under the table, his fingers quietly reach for yours. At first, you don’t respond. The chatter of the room covers the rapid thrum of your heartbeat. It feels like everyone might notice, even though no one’s looking. And still — slowly — your fingers curl around his. 

You glance sideways at him. He’s still grinning and bickering with Geto about who’s ageing better — but there’s a flicker in his eyes when they meet yours. Something warm. Something that longs. And Satoru doesn’t look like he’s letting go of your hand anytime soon. 

-- 

Even after leaving the school and walking toward the car, Satoru hasn’t let go of your hand. Not once. And, truthfully, you haven’t tried to pull away either. His hand is warm and steady, fingers loosely laced with yours like it’s always been this natural. “They’re very chaotic”, you say as you walk side by side, the late afternoon sun painting golden highlights into his white hair. “But adorably so.” 

Satoru gasps. “How come you never say that about me?” 

“I do say you’re chaotic.” 

“Not that part”, he pouts, dragging your hand slightly as he walks. “Say I’m adorable too.”

You glance up at him with a smirk. “Why make me lie now?” 

He clutches his chest like you just wounded him. “Unbelievable. And here I was, thinking we were having a romantic moment.” 

“You pouted like a toddler five seconds ago. That was the opposite of romantic.” 

“That was endearing, thank you very much.” He sighs dramatically, unlocking the car with a flick of his keys. “One day you’ll realize just how lucky you are to have married me.”

You chuckle. “I’m still trying to figure that out.” 

As the engine hums to life and the radio kicks in with something mellow, he steals a glance at you. “You liked them, though?”

You nod. “They’re all... a lot. But in a good way. I liked them. They like you, too — though it’s hilarious how some of them thought I was a figment of your imagination at first.” 

“That’s fair”, he shrugs. “Even I sometimes think you’re too good to be real.” You don’t reply to that — partly because it’s sweet, partly because it makes your stomach twist in ways you’re not ready to admit. 

-- 

Instead of taking you to a fancy restaurant, Satoru pulls the car up near a quiet park tucked into a tree-lined stretch of the city. It’s not crowded, the evening air is crisp, and the swings creak gently in the breeze. 

“A date doesn’t have to be complicated”, he says, hands behind his head, strolling beside you. “This used to be my favorite spot when I ditched meetings.”

You laugh. “What a responsible clan head.” 

“Oh, terribly irresponsible”, he agrees proudly. “Now — race you to the swings!”

You both make a break for it, laughing as your shoes hit gravel. You get there first, narrowly beating him (because he let you), and triumphantly claim the left swing. Satoru sits on the other — except, the chains creak loudly as he settles in, clearly too tall and too big for the tiny seat. 

“God, you look ridiculous”, you say between laughs.

“Hey”, he grins. “Let me have my moment.” He tries to swing but his feet keep dragging on the ground. You get off and try to push him but fail spectacularly. “You’re too heavy!” you exclaim. He snorts. “I’m muscle and grace, I’ll have you know.” 

“Lift your legs then! That’s the only way this will work.” 

“If I lift my legs, the swing will snap and we’ll both die.”  

You dissolve into laughter, arms over your chest as you watch him try — and fail — to get any lift. “Hop off now”, you say. “It’s your turn to push me.”

He gets off, and you take over. He starts pushing you gently, and you find yourself relaxing, head tilted back toward the sky as you glide back and forth. You don’t notice how quiet he’s gone until the swing slows and you look back to find him watching you — softly, openly, with none of his usual teasing in sight. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask. He shrugs. “You look happy. I like seeing you like this.” 

Your heart stumbles. And just like that, the real world catches up — Akihito, the marriage, the plan... Guilt prickles under your skin. You’re not supposed to feel this warm around Satoru. Not this content. He notices the shift in your eyes, tension in your smile. “Hey.” He walks in front of the swing, kneeling slightly to meet your gaze. “Where did you go just now?” 

You open your mouth — but you don’t know what to say. There’s too much. You’re not even sure what you’re feeling anymore. Satoru doesn’t push. He simply lifts a hand to brush your cheek with his knuckles, gentler than anyone would expect from a man like him. “If you’re scared”, he says, “I’ll wait. But I’m not stopping.” 

You should say something — anything — but you don’t. Instead, you lean forward without thinking. Just a little. Just enough. And he meets you halfway. You kiss. It’s soft. Uncomplicated. Barely a breath long — but enough to make your stomach flip and your thoughts scramble. You pull back just as fast, cheeks feeling hot, and suddenly shoot up to your feet. 

“I—uh—I’m going to head to the car”, you stammer, already backing away. “Give me fifteen minutes. Just... wait, okay? Don’t come right now.” Satoru blinks after you as you run off, flustered. A slow smile spreads across his lips. He lifts a hand, touching his fingers to where your lips met his. “Why shy away like this now?” he murmurs to himself, chuckling. “It’s not like this is our first kiss...” 

His smile lingers, a little softer now. Almost nostalgic. He watches the direction you went, lost in thought. Because only he remembers. You’ve kissed before. But back then, you didn’t know who he was. And you still don’t remember. 

-- 

Satoru remembers it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. The memory came rushing back the moment he saw your picture — the proposed match for the arranged marriage. The others in the room kept talking, formalities piling up like a tide of obligations, but he barely heard a word.  

It was you — the girl who stole his first kiss. The girl he never managed to find again. 

It happened years ago, sometime past midnight. He had just wrapped up a mission — a dull one, barely worth remembering — and was wandering the streets of Tokyo, eating red bean mochi with one hand and scrolling his phone with the other. Still in uniform, still buzzing from leftover cursed energy, still too wired to sleep. As he strolled past a row of late-night bars and clubs, the music leaked into the street like fog. Somewhere between neon signs and cigarette smoke, he spotted you — a girl slumped on the curb outside a nightclub, arms wrapped around your knees, head lolling sleepily to one side. You looked like you were dozing off. Alone. Vulnerable.  

He kept walking. At first. But something didn’t sit right. There were a few guys loitering nearby — drunk, leering, the kind of men that don’t need a reason to ruin someone’s night. One of them peeled away from the group and started approaching you, calling out something Satoru didn’t care to hear. He stopped at a vending machine, fingers patting his pockets as if he were looking for coins — but really, he was watching. Calculating. When the guy crouched beside you and reached out to brush your hair behind your ear, Satoru moved. Fast. “Sorry I took so long”, he said loudly, slinging his jacket over your shoulders in one smooth motion as he stepped between you and the stranger. 

The man froze. 

Satoru didn’t raise his voice, didn’t flare cursed energy — just looked at him. Cold. Unblinking. Dangerous. The guy got the message. “I was just making sure she was okay”, the creep stammered. 

“Yeah”, Satoru said flatly. “She is. Now leave.” He didn’t have to say it twice. Once the guys scurried off, Satoru crouched beside you, tilting his head. “Hey. Not a great place for a nap, you know?” You stirred, muttering something incoherent. “I’m serious”, he said, nudging your shoulder lightly. “It’s not safe out here.” 

“Can’t walk”, you mumbled. “Not sure if I’m spinning, or everything else is.” 

He blinked. “That bad, huh?”

You squinted at him through half-lidded eyes. “Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“A kidnapper?”

“Definitely not.”

“Hmm”, you leaned your cheek against your knee. “Guess you’ll do.” 

Satoru stared. “What does that mean?” You reached and tugged his sleeve, and with surprising strength, pulled him to sit beside you. Then, without warning, you laid your head in his lap. “What are you—?” 

“You’re warm”, you sighed, nestling closer. “And you smell nice. But I kind of feel like throwing up.” 

“Please don’t”, he said instantly, trying not to panic. “This is my favorite outfit.” 

You giggled. “You’re funny.”

He looked down at you, at the way your hair fanned across his thighs, at the curve of your sleepy smile. “What are you even doing out here alone?” he asked. 

“I lost my friends”, you mumbled. “Or maybe they lost me. Who’s to say...” 

“You got a phone?” 

You held it up proudly. It was dead. “Perfect”, he sighed. 

Eventually, when it became clear you weren’t going to get up willingly, he gathered you into his arms and stood. “Alright, mystery girl. I’m getting you somewhere safe — where’s your place?” 

“Wait, wait”, you slurred, squinting suspiciously at him. “I don’t know you. I can’t just tell you where I live!” 

“You’re literally unconscious on the sidewalk and I’m carrying you like a bridal bouquet. I think we’re past that point.” 

You didn’t answer. Your head lolled onto his shoulder. He sighed, glanced around. He didn’t know your name, didn’t know where you lived — but you looked about college-aged, and the university campus wasn’t far. It was the best guess he had. So he started walking.  

Halfway there, a group of girls came jogging down the sidewalk, calling some name (yours). They looked frantic — until they saw you in his arms.  “Oh god”, one of them exhaled. “We’ve been looking for her everywhere!” 

They reached out to take you, but you lifted your head groggily, blinking at him like you’d just remembered he existed. You took off his sunglasses and placed them on his head, then cupped his face in both hands, surprisingly gentle. 

“You’re pretty”, you said. 

He blinked. 

Then you leaned in and kissed him. It was soft and quick. “Thank you”, you whispered. “For keeping me warm.” 

And just like that, your friends pulled you away — you still wearing his jacket, him still too stunned to speak. He stood there long after you were gone, fingers pressed to his lips, dazed. “What a weird girl”, he muttered. 

But he’d already fallen for you. 

He tried to find you after that, of course — visited the area again, lingered by the campus, even asked around in his own way. But your name, your face... all of it had vanished like a dream after waking. Until years later — when he saw your photo again. And this time? He said yes without hesitation. 

-- 

The days begin to blend. Soft, warm mornings. Laughter over late breakfast. The rustle of flower petals against your cheek as you wake — a new habit Satoru’s picked up. You open your eyes to a fresh bouquet on your pillow, tied together with a silk ribbon and a folded note tucked inside. 

Roses are red, violets are blue, don’t open the curtains, I’m watching you ;)  S. 

You roll your eyes but smile. By now, your phone is full of messages from him — some voice notes, some texts. Some completely random, like: 

Voice message — 9:07 AM 

Hey, I found this stray cat that reminds me of you. They ignored me when I tried to pet them and just walked off. Thought that was kinda romantic~  

Text — 10:12 AM 

Do you miss me or are you pretending I don’t exist again? Be honest. I can take it. (Don’t be honest) 

Sometimes he’s halfway through a mission and still finds the time to send you a photo of some stupid little charm at a shrine that “looks cursed like you” — and by the time he returns home, you’ve forgotten how silence used to fill the rooms before he came. 

You start leaving notes back. Hiding snacks in his coat. One time, you sent him flowers — as a joke. A massive, bright pink bouquet delivered right to the faculty lounge at Jujutsu Tech. 

Yuuji nearly dropped his drink when he saw it. “Sensei, I thought you were the man in this relationship... but I guess you really shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.” 

Satoru beamed as he held the bouquet. “Listen, Yuuji, I think she’s got me on a leash. And honestly? I don’t mind it.” 

Geto didn’t even blink. “You’ve always liked being domesticated.” 

Nanami groaned in the distance. “Please take your romance outside school grounds.” 

Your life with him feels like a sitcom at times. Like you’ve somehow fallen into a slice-of-life version of your own story. And strangely, you don’t hate it.

But not all lives move at the same pace. 

Akihito watches it unfold from the shadows of his own silence. This was not part of the plan. You’re playing your role way too well to his liking. Are you humoring Satoru’s peculiar behavior for the sake of keeping the peace... or is there something more to it?

He feels the distance stretching. You reply to his messages slower now. When he calls, you sound distracted — not cold, just... somewhere else. Sometimes when he walks by your and Satoru’s room, he hears his son’s voice talking to you and it cuts deeper than he expects. Laughing. Teasing. Talking to you in a tone Akihito used to think was only his to use. 

He remembers your last few moments together, how they’ve been growing shorter. More careful. Your touches — once confident, rooted in secret familiarity — now come with hesitation. Like you’re aware of something new. Something blooming in the cracks you didn’t plan for. You were slipping. And for the first time in a very long time, Akihito doesn’t know what to do. 

He doesn’t confront you. He won’t. Because even now, he trusts you. Even now, he tells himself you would never betray him like that... But still — he’s left staring at the space beside him that used to be filled by you, fingers curled into fists he won’t raise, breathing through a storm he never thought he’d have to weather. 

--  

Evening settles softly across the room like a warm blanket. The lights are dim, casting a gentle golden hue over the shared bedroom you’ve both slowly grown used to — not just as a space, but as a kind of quiet haven. You sit on the bed with your knees tucked close to your chest, absently flipping through some old magazine you already checked out twice. Satoru is nearby, sprawled across the foot of the bed, fiddling with his phone but mostly stealing glances at you. The silence between you is easy now. Not empty, not awkward — just comfortable. 

Still, something hangs between you, unspoken but undeniably there. It’s been lingering ever since that kiss in the park. You haven’t kissed again since, but your touches linger longer now — a brush of fingers as you pass something to him, the slow curl of his hand around yours when you walk beside each other. Close, but careful. 

Tonight feels different. 

“Do you ever miss the chaos?” you ask, not looking up from the page. “Before we... whatever this is.” 

“Before we became a domestic power couple?” Satoru teases, stretching out with a dramatic sigh. “Tragic. I used to be wild. Now I fold your laundry.” You laugh. “You don’t fold my laundry.” 

“I would. For the record. If it meant you’d smile like that.”  

You glance at him now, and his expression softens when your eyes meet. The air changes. It’s in the way he shifts, propping himself up slightly on one elbow. There’s something different in his gaze — not just affection, but hunger veiled by hesitance. You feel it too. That same flutter deep in your belly. The nervous kind. The kind that tastes like anticipation. He moves closer, slowly, watching you for any flicker of hesitation. When he reaches out, his fingers brush lightly along your jaw, his thumb barely skimming your cheek. You don’t move away.

“You’ve been looking at me like that for a while now”, you whisper.

He smiles, a little crooked, a little shy — rare, for him. “Yeah. I’ve been... trying to behave.” 

Your lips part, but you don’t speak. Satoru leans in, and this time, when he kisses you, it’s slower than last time. Less impulsive. More reverent. His hand cups the back of your head gently as he pulls you closer, tasting your breath as if he’s been craving it every day since the last time. And then he pulls back. Breath shaky. Eyes shut. You blink, still dazed from the kiss. “Satoru? What are you doing?” 

He exhales a slow, uneven breath. “Waiting for you to slap me.”

You stare at him. That rare vulnerability in his voice knocks the breath right out of your lungs. “Why would I slap you?” 

“I didn’t ask. I didn’t warn you. I just... kissed you. Again. I told myself I’d wait until you wanted me.” 

You hesitate only for a heartbeat. Then, you lean forward and take his face in your hands, gently pulling him back into you. Your lips find his, and this time there’s no pause. No retreat. He kisses you like he’s trying to memorize you. Every angle. Every sound you make. Your hands find their way under the hem of is shirt, fingertips grazing bare skin, and he shivers beneath your touch. You break the kiss long enough to whisper, “Come closer.”

His forehead rests against yours. “Only if you want me to.” 

“I do”, you breathe, voice trembling but sure. “I want this. I want you.” His arms tighten around you, and it’s slow, almost reverent, the way he lays you down — like you’re something sacred. Clothes are shed without urgency, and his hands trace the lines of your body like he’s reading scripture. The rest unfolds in quiet gasps and whispered names. It’s not just desire — it’s need. Familiar, frightening, warm... 

...when it’s over, the silence that follows is different from all the ones that came before. You lie beside him, heart still racing, his fingers lazily tracing circles along your arm. He doesn’t speak. He just watches you, memorizing the curve of your lips, the way your chest raises and falls. And for a moment, you forget every plan. Every lie. Every secret. For a moment, it feels like love. The kind that sneaks up on you — quiet, uninvited, and impossible to ignore. You lie tangled together, your head tucked against his shoulder, his hand tenderly caressing your bare skin. Hearts still thudding. 

Satoru is the one to break the silence, his voice light, teasing (as usual). “So... You really don’t remember me, huh?” 

You blink, lifting your head just enough to glance at him. “What?” 

“Brutal...”, he laughs. “And here I was, thinking I made a lasting impression that night.” 

You narrow your eyes, unsure if he’s joking. “What are you talking about?” 

“Nahh, I get it — you were pretty drunk”, he says, dragging the words out like a cat playing with mouse. 

“Oh god—” You sit up suddenly, sheet gathering around your chest. “Don’t tell me we’ve hooked up in the past and I don’t remember it?” Satoru bursts out laughing. “No, not like that.”

You squint at him. “Then stop being so cryptic and tell me!” 

He stretches, hands behind his head, smug and insufferable. “Let’s just say… you were outside a bar. Alone. Slumped on the curb. And I saved your life.”

You blink again. He continues, barely hiding his amusement. “Some creep tried to hit on you. I intervened, obviously. You asked if I was a kidnapper, told me I smelled nice, then fell asleep in my lap.”

Your jaw drops. “No way.” 

“Oh, there’s more,” he says with a mock-serious nod. “You called me pretty. And you kissed me.”

You gape. “You’re lying.” 

“I’m not,” he says, lips twitching. “And you stole my jacket, by the way.”

Your eyes widen. Something flickers at the edge of your memory. “Wait— that was your jacket?”

Satoru raises his brows, clearly enjoying himself. “Yep.” 

“I always wondered where it came from”, you mumble, stunned. “I kept it for years. I thought maybe someone just… gave it to me out of pity.” 

“Well, I did give it to you”, he says, softer now. “But it wasn’t pity.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, absorbing it all. “I can’t believe it. That was you.” 

He shrugs one shoulder, like it’s no big deal — but his voice betrays him when he says, “Yeah. I looked for you, you know? Went back to that street, hung around your supposed campus. Thought about that stupid night more times than I’d ever admit.” 

You gasp. 

“When your photo showed up in the marriage proposal packet?” He looks over at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “I said yes before they even finished reading your name.” 

You stare at him, stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

He smiles, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Because you didn’t look at me like this before.” You lean in, heart heavy with something warm and aching. “How do I look at you now?” 

“Like you might not disappear this time.” 

-- 

You slip into your nightgown, your skin still tingling with traces of warmth and tenderness. The sound of water runs in the background — Satoru in the shower, humming something off-key. A lazy smile plays on your lips as you step out of the bedroom, quietly padding down the hallway. You tell yourself it’s just to grab snacks. Maybe a drink. Something to soothe the afterglow that’s left your heart both full and aching. 

But as you reach the kitchen and flick on the soft underlight, your body seizes.

Akihito is there. Standing in the low light like a phantom, glass in one hand, his other curled into a loose fist at his side. The bottle of whiskey beside him is nearly half-empty. He doesn’t speak right away — just stares at you, and it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Not like this. There’s pain, yes. But buried under that is something sharper. Something raw. 

“Akihito...” you breathe, barely more than a whisper. He doesn’t answer. Just brings the glass to his lips again, slowly, as if buying time — or trying to keep himself from saying what’s already clawing its way up his throat. Akihito, huh? You used to call him Aki... 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes narrowing slightly as he steps forward. You don’t move — not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t quite dare. He stops in front of you, closer than comfort allows. The scent of whiskey and something tired hangs on him — disappointment. His eyes flicker over your face, and you know he sees it. The softness in your cheeks. The haze still lingering in your gaze. The warmth that isn’t his. He knows. Of course he does. But he wants to confirm, one last time. 

His hand reaches toward you, swiftly lifting your nightgown to brush his fingers against your cunt, bare, still wet and sore. You flinch, instinctively stepping back — but his free hand snaps around your wrist. He withdraws his fingers, bringing them close to your face, then slowly rubs them together. Smearing the slick, laced with remnants that don’t belong to him. “You slept with him”, he says, low, flat. No question. Just a quiet accusation. 

Your breath catches. 

He leans in, close enough for his words to brush against your skin. “Do you love him?”

Before your lips can part, before your heart even finds a beat, a new voice breaks the silence. 

“Hey, I was looking for y—” Satoru enters the room, still damp from the shower, water clinging to his chest, a towel slung low around his waist, another in his hands as he rubs it through his hair. The moment he sees his father, he stops mid-step. His eyes lock at his hand around your wrist. His tone drops, his jaw clenches. He immediately yanks his hand away from you, then his eyes dart to the whiskey on the counter. “Old man, did you get drunk enough to mistake my wife for yours?” 

Akihito doesn’t answer right away, but he tenses. For a moment, he seems to fold in on himself — trying, perhaps, to remember who he is, and who he’s supposed to be. “I lost my balance for a second”, he mutters. Then without another glance at either of you, he brushes past and disappears down the hall. 

The silence he leaves behind is deafening. You’re frozen. Like glass on the verge of shattering. Guilt crawls under your skin like a fever. You want to scream. You want to run. You feel like you’ve betrayed them both. 

Satoru looks at you. His expression softens the moment he sees your face. “Hey...” voice gentle now. “You okay? You look a bit... pale.” He tries to joke, but there’s a note of worry breeding into his words. “Did I... maybe go a little too hard on you back there?” A faint smirk, halfhearted. His eyes, though, are searching.  

You force yourself to nod, to smile like you’re fine. “No. I’m okay. I just—” you glance toward the hallway, “I got startled. I didn’t expect to see anyone else awake.”

Satoru doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push either. He just reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch almost reverent. “Next time, tell me”, he says softly. “I’ll walk you around the house like a proper husband.” 

You laugh — weakly, but you manage it. Neither of you says what you’re thinking. Neither of you asks the questions hanging thick in the air. But both of you feel it. Something has shifted. And in the stillness that follows, all you can do is hold your breath and pretend it’s not already slipping out of your control. 

-- 

The soft creak of Akihito’s footsteps disappears into the silence of the hallway as if he is retreating from more than just a room. By the time he reaches the bedroom he shares with Saori, the burn in his chest has settled into something heavier, duller. She is already asleep, curled into herself beneath the silk sheets. He doesn’t even look at her. Akihito pours himself another drink from the decanter near the dresser, the sound of the liquid filling the glass louder than it should. His hand shakes as he brings it to his lips. He has lost count of how many glasses he had tonight. 

He believed he was in control, never imagining, even for a moment, that you might be the one to falter. He sits on the edge of the bed for a while, nursing the bitterness on his tongue, trying to down what feels like the unraveling of everything. His grip tightens around the glass until his knuckles turn white. And eventually, the weight of it — the whiskey, the pain, the loss — pulls him down. He settles in bed, fully clothed, eyes open to the dark. Only when the alcohol dulls the sharpest edges of his thoughts does sleep finally claim him. 

Saori wakes sometime later — hours, maybe. She doesn’t know what stirred her at first. The clock ticks quietly. The room is still. But then she hears it. A soft sound. A broken voice. Akihito. At first, she thinks he is awake, whispering. But when she turns to face him, she sees the tight lines on his brow, his face twisted in restless dreaming. 

...a name falls from his lips like a prayer. Your name.

“Don’t leave me...” He shifts, face turned toward her, eyes shut tight. His voice cracks in a way she has never heard before. “I love you... please... don’t go...” 

Saori doesn’t move. She doesn’t breathe. For a long moment, all she can do is stare at the man she spent more than half her life beside. The man who kept so much from her. Until now.

Everything made sense to her now. All of it. The proposal of a random girl — a nobody, by traditional standards — as a bride for the clan head. His obsessive oversight of your marriage. His silence. His sudden, inexplicable shifts in mood. All the times he came home reeking of another woman. And now this. 

She sits up slowly, placing her hand on her lap as the cold realization settles deep into her bones. Her husband has never said her name like that, even in dreams. A sharp, unfamiliar ache blooms in her chest. It isn’t jealousy — though that is part of it. It is grief. For a marriage that never really belonged to her. For a love that was never hers to begin with. She turns to look at Akihito once more. His lips move soundlessly now, breath uneven. Vulnerable in a way he has never let himself be when conscious. Saori whispers, her voice nearly a breath, “You poor, stupid man...” 

And she doesn’t know whether to feel pity, rage, or heartbreak. So she sits there — in the dim quiet, beside the man who is dreaming of someone else — and tries to remember what it feels like to be chosen. 

-- 

The morning sun spills through sheer drapes. Saori sits before her vanity, back perfectly straight, hands folded in her lap as the house attendant brushes through her hair. She stares at her reflection — still, expressionless. But her eyes, always sharp, betray thought in motion. There’s no puffiness in them, no redness, no sign of the long night she endured beside her sleeping husband and the dreams he whispered into the dark. Not a trace of it reached the surface. Because Gojo Saori does not falter. 

She was raised for this life. Trained from the moment she could walk and speak — in manners, in posture, in etiquette. In silence. In sacrifice. She was chosen for the Gojo Clan as if born for it, bred for it. A perfect match to elevate status and maintain lineage. An ideal bride, by design. Not merely beautiful, but refined. Not merely obedient, but poised. Regal in her restraint. And still, he never loved her. Gojo Akihito, the man she married at twenty-one, gave her everything a wife could ask for — wealth, status, a name that carried power. But not his heart. Never his heart. She spent years trying to earn it anyway. With devotion. With loyalty so fierce it could have moved mountains if he had only looked her way and seen her properly. 

But last night... Last night, in the hush of the sleeping room they shared for so many years, he spoke someone else’s name. Not once. Not carelessly. Lovingly. 

Saori meets her own gaze in the mirror — unwavering, unflinching. She should’ve wept, perhaps. Cried the way lesser women might. Collapsed into trembling disbelief or broken rage. But she had no time for that. No space, in the skin she wears, for such indulgence. Her family name was teetered on scandal, and she bled too much grace into this place to see it torn down now — not by a girl’s foolishness, not by a man’s longing. Gojo Saori was, above else, a guardian of the image. But the image was beginning to crack. And she was ready to protect what needed protecting.  

--  

You sit at the table, eyes tracing the rim of your teacup, steam curling softly into the morning air. You haven’t taken a sip. You haven’t touched your plate. Your stomach is tight, twisted with guilt... especially after last night. 

Satoru is full of light and ease, as he always is — grinning, teasing, tossing playful remarks into the stillness like stones skipping across a glassy lake. His hand brushes yours casually, fingertips lingering just long enough to warm your skin. It’s comforting in a way, how unchanged he is. But his energy doesn’t reach you this morning. You smile when you’re supposed to. You answer when he prompts you. But your mind is far away — caught between the memory of last night’s warmth and the echo of Akihito’s voice, flat and cracked with disappointment. 

Akihito sits quietly, as he always does, but today his silence feels heavier. His fingers press against the bridge of his nose, slow and methodical, as if trying to will away a migraine. He hasn’t touched his food. His presence across the table burns into you like a brand. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, but you can feel his restraint like a tremor in the room — barely contained, always building. 

Saori is a vision of composure. She lifts her teacup with perfect posture, takes delicate sips, and sets it down with the precision of someone who has performed this same ritual every morning of her life. Her face is unreadable — not blank, but too measured. There’s something behind her stillness, something coiled. But you can’t tell what. She gives nothing away. 

Satoru leans in toward you with a lopsided grin, voice dipped in mischief. His hand brushes your arm again, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he senses how fragile you feel. “You’re awfully quiet today”, he points out. You blink, startled — his voice snapping you out of your spiral — and you force a breath, a small smile. He’s trying to bring you back. The way he always does. “I didn’t get much sleep last night”, you manage, voice low and tight. 

“Tired, huh?” he echoes with a soft laugh, leaning in closer. His voice drops to a whisper, just for you. “Guess that’s what happens after a long, productive night... right?” 

Your heart stumbles. The words land like a thunderclap, disguised as a joke, but sharp enough to cut through your skin. His wink is lighthearted — harmless in his mind — but you freeze. You don’t laugh. You can’t. The knot in your stomach coils tighter, shame rising in your chest. You drop your gaze and press your lips together, every nerve on fire. 

Then comes the sound. A sharp, sudden crack. 

Akihito’s hand clenches around his teacup — or what’s left of it. Porcelain shards glint, splintered across the table and floor. His palm is cut, a slow trickle of blood winding through the lines of his hand, but he doesn’t seem to feel it. He stares at the broken cup like it’s something far away. His shoulders tense, jaw clenched. A man unraveling slowly — but silently. 

Satoru turns toward him, his gaze casual, almost detached. He says nothing. 

Saori moves immediately, her composure untouched as she rises and then immediately kneels beside him without ceremony, inspecting the wound with clinical care. Her voice is even, steady. “Are you alright?” Akihito doesn’t respond. His eyes are still fixed on the broken shards. His breath is shallow. Hollow. You wonder if he even knows where he is. Saori retrieves the first aid kit from the cabinet, her movements smooth, practiced. She tends to the cut with quiet precision, wrapping the bandage around his hand in silence. She doesn’t look at you, not directly — but her awareness is piercing. You can feel her watching, even when her eyes aren’t on you. 

You try not to flinch under the weight of it. 

Satoru watches you now. Truly watches you, and only you. There’s concern in his eyes, but beneath it, something darker — a flicker of something unreadable, as if he’s seeing straight through you. 

--  

You walk Satoru to the front of the estate, the morning sun slowly warming the stone path. He lingers, reluctant to go. “Are you sure you want me to leave?” he asks, searching your face. “You’ve been... kind of out of it all morning.”

You manage a smile, reaching up to smooth a hand through his hair. “I told you, I’m just tired.”  

He’s clearly unconvinced. “Then let me stay. I’ll take the day off, we’ll snuggle in bed, watch trashy movies, eat junk food — whatever you want.” 

“No”, you cut him off gently. “They’ll chew you out for skipping another day because of me. I’m fine, I promise. I just... need a little time to myself.” 

He watches you for a moment longer, visibly debating. Then he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You better call me if you change your mind. Or even if you don’t. I just want to hear your voice.” 

“I will”, you say, trying to mean it. 

“You won’t”, he mutters. “But I’ll pretend to believe you.” 

You watch him walk away until he’s out of sight. And then the weight returns, heavy and unforgiving. You turn and head back toward your room, your steps slow. You were planning to reach out to Akihito — to talk, to finally be honest. At least with him. You need to say the words out loud. 

Halfway to your door, one of the maids appears at the end of the corridor, bowing her head respectfully as she approaches. “Lady Saori has asked if you would join her for tea in the garden”, she says. 

You blink. “Tea?” 

“She’s waiting for you now”, the maid adds.  

Your stomach twists. This is a first. Saori has never invited you anywhere, never initiated anything outside of polite formality. And now — tea? You murmur your thanks and change direction, heading toward the garden with careful steps. When you arrive, Saori is already seated beneath the wide shade of the cherry blossom tree. Everything is picturesque — the porcelain tea set arranged perfectly, delicate sweets on a lacquer tray. Not a single detail out of place. She looks up as you approach, her posture composed, her expression mild. 

“Hello again”, she says, gesturing to the seat across from her. “Please, sit.”

You lower yourself slowly. “Thank you.” 

She pours the tea herself. No attendants. No distractions. Just you and her. “We’ve never had the chance to talk”, she says, tone pleasant. “Just the two of us.” 

You nod faintly. “I guess not.” 

She picks up her cup, takes a small sip, and sets it down again. “Satoru seems happy.”

You glance at her, cautious. “He is.” 

“I can tell. He’s always been bright, but lately there’s something different. Something new. He’s softer. His laugh is more genuine.” She offers a smile. “He clearly cares for you — deeply.” 

Your mouth goes dry. “Thank you.” 

She hums softly, and then — without a change in tone — asks, “And how are things between you and my husband?”

The question hits you like a stone dropped into still water. No warning. No shift in expression.  

You stiffen, staring at her.

She doesn’t look away, “Not well, I imagine?” voice still calm. 

“I—” 

“I don’t want to hear it”, she cuts in, quiet but firm. 

Silence settles like a weight. Her voice remains calm, but the steel beneath it is undeniable. “I am not blind.” 

You lower your gaze. 

“I see the way Akihito looks at you. I see what it’s done to him.” Her fingers rest gently on the rim of her teacup. “And I know the kind of woman it takes to twist a man like him into something unrecognizable.” 

You flinch. 

“I won’t let this continue. I won’t let you unravel this family from the inside out. If you stay on this path, you won’t just break Akihito — you’ll destroy Satoru too. He’s already too attached. Too invested. And when this blows apart — because it will, like all secrets do — do you really think he won’t be the one to bleed for it?” 

You look up at her, heart pounding. Her words feel like nails driven into your spine. There’s no venom in her voce. No raised pitch. Just control. Cold and deliberate. “I’m giving you a choice”, she says. “You leave. On your own terms. Or I will make sure you have no terms at all.” 

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. What can you even say? What are you supposed to do? Argue? 

“Think it over”, she says, lifting her teacup again. “Before it becomes something you can’t come back from.” Then her eyes meet yours one last time — still poised, but with a new edge. “And don’t even think about telling Akihito we had this conversation.” she adds softly. “Unless you want Satoru to know about it too.” 

-- 

You barely make it back to your room before your legs give out. The door shuts behind you and you crash onto the bed, your breath caught somewhere between a sob and a scream. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to hold back the tears, but it’s useless now. The dam is breaking. Your shoulders shake, and the sob that leaves you is hoarse, pulled from a place so deep it feels like you’re splitting open. 

Everything was falling apart — like a chain of dominoes tipping one after another. One thing went wrong, and the rest followed, collapsing in swift, inevitable sequence. The worst part? The love blooming quietly in your chest. There’s no use pretending anymore. You can try to lie to everyone else — maybe even try to lie to yourself. But the truth is carved into your every glance, every touch, every breath, every unspoken word between you and Satoru. You love him. But you’re not allowed to have him. Not after this. Not when the damage has already begun to spill over the edges.  

You sit in the stillness for a while, until your tears run dry and resolve begins to settle in their place. There’s one thing left to do — the thing you intended before everything spiraled. You need to speak with Akihito. You pick up your phone and type out the message. 

Meet me in an hour. I’ll send you the location of the hotel. 

Then you get up, dress in silence, and leave. 

-- 

The room is quiet when he arrives. Akihito steps inside and finds you standing by the window, framed in soft, diffused light. There’s something different in your posture — something heavier. He doesn’t speak right away. He just looks at you, then takes a step forward. 

He dropped everything and came to you. Still hoping. That small, foolish hope still flickers in him — that maybe, despite everything, you’ve called him here because you’ve come back. He reaches for you, arms out as if to hold you again. But you step back. 

“No”, you say, voice tight. “We can’t do this anymore.” 

His hands drop to his sides. “What?” his voice barely comes out. You swallow the lump rising in your throat. “Aki... we can’t.” He stares at you. Then — a bitter, hollow laugh escapes him. “So that’s it?” His voice cracks. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you? And all this was for nothing?” 

You close your eyes. The silence answers for you. He paces away, running a hand through his hair, then back again. “God”, he mutters. “I thought this was the perfect plan. I thought — if I couldn’t have you publicly, I could at least have you close. Through him. Knowing he wouldn’t want you, wouldn’t touch you. Knowing that you loved me...” He looks at you now, eyes sharp with grief. “But I was wrong about both.” 

You wrap your arms around yourself. “This was a terrible idea from the start, and you know it”, you whisper. “I should’ve never agreed. I should’ve never let it get this far. I wish I’d never—” 

“Don’t”, he snaps, suddenly raw. “Don’t say you wish you never met me. Don’t.” 

Your breath hitches, but you don’t take it back. His voice lowers, thick with disbelief. “You don’t really mean it... right?”

Your silence cuts deeper than any answer.

He lets out a sharp breath, like it hurts, and moves to step toward you again, in utter denial of what’s unfolding before his eyes. 

“No”, you say, firmer this time. “Please. Just let this be the end.” 

You reach for the door. He follows. For the first time, you leave the hotel room together — not like all the other times, not hidden, not careful. You’re walking away, and he’s chasing you, hand reaching desperately for yours. 

“Wait—!” 

Akihito’s hand closes around your wrist just as you step onto the sidewalk, his grip tight, desperate — like holding on could somehow undo everything unraveling between you.

And then you hear it — a familiar voice calls your name. 

“...is that you?” 

You freeze. Shoko stands a few feet away, dressed in her uniform. Her gaze flicks from your face to where Akihito’s hand still clings to yours, and her expression changes in an instant. 

And just like that — in the space of a single day — everything you’ve tried to keep buried begins to rise. Crashing, all at once, to the surface. 

-- 

The sun is long gone by the time Satoru returns, the estate cloaked in stillness. He steps inside, calling your name softly. When you appear at the end of the hall, barefoot in the dim light, something in him settles — and then, just as quickly, something else begins to stir. You look like yourself, and yet... not. Your smile is soft but distant, your eyes shimmering in a way he can’t place. “I’m home”, he says, shrugging off his jacket. “Missed me?” 

You nod, walking up to him. You press a hand to his chest. “Little bit.” He smiles and leans down to kiss you, and when your lips meet, he feels it — the way you cling just a little tighter, hold just a little longer. It’s like you’re trying to memorize the way he tastes.  

Later, in your shared room, the lights are low and the silence is velvet. You’re already in bed when he returns from the shower, his white hair damp and tousled, towel slung loosely around his neck. He slips in beside you, cold fingers brushing your arm. You shiver, not from the chill — from the weight of what’s to come.

“You said you needed some time for yourself this morning, but you’re still like this”, he murmurs, pulling you close. “I don’t like it.”

You nestle against his chest, pressing your cheek to his skin. “I’m okay now.” 

There’s something in your voice that makes him pause. But he doesn’t push. Instead, he wraps his arms around you tighter, grounding himself in the curve of your spine, the warmth of your breath against him. 

“You smell like cotton candy”, you whisper.

He chuckles, nose brushing the crown of your head. “It’s that new shampoo. Smells fancy, huh?”

You don’t answer. You just reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers with his like it’s the last time... “Will you stay with me?” you ask softly.

“I’m not going anywhere.” he breathes.

“Good”, you murmur, voice barely above a breath. “Then, come closer.”

Satoru tilts his head down to look at you, a flicker of unease moving behind his gaze. “Of course”, he says. “Where else would I go?” 

You pull him down to kiss you again. Deep. Slow. There’s no teasing. No games. Just something desperate threaded through every movement. Like a goodbye wrapped in silk. When you make love, there’s no rush. No fire. Just the quiet rhythm of two people trying to suspend time — to stretch a moment into forever. You whisper his name like a prayer. He kisses your temple like he’s stealing a promise he doesn’t know he’s about to break. 

Afterward, you lie tangled together, your head on his chest, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles on your bare shoulder. Your breathing evens. Sleep comes to you quickly — a peace you haven’t known in a while.  

But Satoru doesn’t sleep. He watches you in the darkness, his blue eyes searching your face, as if trying to decode something written there. Something unsaid. You’ve never look so peaceful. And, honestly, that’s what scares him. His chest tightens. Something in his gut whispers that he’s missing something. That he’s not seeing the full picture. That maybe... you’re slipping through his fingers.

“Why do I feel like I’m losing you?” he murmurs, barely audible, brushing a thumb along your cheek. You stir, but don’t wake. He leans down and kisses your forehead — gentle, reverent. “I love you”, he whispers into your hair. And for a moment, he lets himself believe it’s enough to keep you. 

-- 

A week passes. The Gojo estate buzzes with preparations for the annual celebration — Saori and Akihito’s wedding anniversary. As always, Saori is at the heart of it all, composed and efficient, orchestrating every detail with practiced grace. Akihito, on the other hand, remains distant. Detached. You barely see him around the mansion. Not a word has passed between you since that day at the hotel. It feels like he’s quietly disappearing — withdrawing, piece by piece — and yet, an uneasy weight sits in your chest. Something feels off. Unfinished. 

One afternoon, as you help Saori sort through invitations, she brings it up — casually. “Have you made up your mind?” she asks, her eyes never lifting from the stack of envelopes. You pause, fingers brushing the edge of an envelope, and answer softly — almost absently. “Who knows.” 

-- 

Morning light filters through the sheer curtains. You’re already awake, lying still in Satoru’s arms. His breath is warm against the nape of your neck, one arm draped lazily around your waist, holding you in place like an anchor. Carefully, you ease out from under his arm. He shifts but doesn’t wake. Bare feet touch the cold floor as you rise and stand in the light, allowing yourself one last look. He’s lying on his back now, hair a tousled against the pillow. Peaceful. Vulnerable in a way only sleep allows. Your chest aches. 

In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face and lift your gaze to the mirror. Your eyes are red. Hollow. The skin beneath them bruised with fatigue. But beneath the weariness, there’s something else — resolve. When you return to the room, Satoru is stirring. He squints at you with a sleepy grin. “Come back”, he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “I sleep better when you’re here.”  

You smile softly. “Can’t. You know today’s the big day.” 

He stretches like a cat, arms reaching above his head, the sheet slipping down to his hips. “Ugh. Right. Completely forgot about that”, he groans and then rolls onto his side. You manage a quiet laugh. As he nestles back into the pillow, you linger in the doorway. “I love you.” you whisper — quietly, so quietly he won’t hear. Then you close the door behind you. And with that, the countdown begins. 

--  

The Gojo estate is nothing short of magnificent tonight. The garden glows beneath a canopy of paper lanterns, warm amber light spilling across the sea of guests. Tables are dressed in fresh flowers. Soft music hums in the background, blending into murmured conversations and the gentle clinking of glasses. Tonight is a celebration of image — Akihito and Saori’s wedding anniversary. Saori is elegance incarnate, her smile as polished as the pearls at her neck. Akihito stands beside her, composed, offering polite nods and minimal words. Together, they are the picture of grace. But the image is just that — a facade. There’s nothing worth celebrating. Nothing real about the harmony they pretend to share. 

Across the garden, Satoru floats through the evening like a disruption in the symmetry. Dressed in a loose gray suit, tie nowhere in sight, he laughs too loud, drowns juice from a champagne glass, and teases the elders with casual disrespect. No one bats an eye — it’s just Satoru being Satoru. But those who know him — really know him — can see it. He’s restless. His eyes keep scanning the crowd. At first subtly. Then, with growing urgency. You’re not out here. You slipped away earlier, saying something about fixing your dress. But that was over thirty minutes ago. Long enough for the knot in his stomach to tighten. Long enough for his laugh to start sounding forced. 

He leans toward Shoko, who’s sipping wine with a bored expression. “Have you seen her?” 

“Nope”, Shoko replies, unbothered. “Didn’t she say she was heading to the bathroom?” 

“Yeah”, Satoru’s fingers drum against the table. “But how long does fixing a dress take?” 

Across the garden, Akihito and Saori stand side by side as guests gather for the toast. She leans in, whispers something. He nods — but his gaze flickers, briefly, toward the house. 

An elder raises a glass. “To love. To strength. To bonds that stand the test of time.” 

Glasses rise.

Clink.

Applause follows. The illusion holds.

Until— 

BOOM. 

A thunderous crack splits the air. The ground shakes. Heat pulses across the garden like a wave. Screams erupt. From the left wing of the estate, fire bursts through the windows — a wall of flame swallowing the air. Smoke billows thick and choking. Music cuts out. Plates crash. Glass shatters. 

Satoru’s glass falls from his hand and explodes against the ground. Something sharp drives into his chest. He knows — you’re still inside. But before the thought is fully formed, he’s already running.

“WHERE IS SHE?!” His voice cuts through the chaos as he barrels through the guests. 

Akihito starts to follow, face pale, but Saori grabs his arm. Her gaze then snaps to her son. “Satoru, STOP!” she cries — but he doesn’t hear.

To Satoru, the world is silent now. There is only the roar of the fire and the pounding of his heart. He bursts through the estate doors, sprinting toward the source of the flames. He forgets his technique. Forgets his own safety. Forgets everything — except you.

“Please, baby— please, my love— I’m coming, please— Don’t do this to me, please—”, he keeps chanting.

The deeper he goes, the more warped the hall becomes — blackened, unrecognizable. He reaches the kitchen — but it’s empty. Panic claws up his throat. He turns, runs to the nearby bathroom. Kicks the door open. Heat smacks him like a wall. Smoke clogs his lungs. He pulls his sleeve over his mouth and steps inside.  

Then he sees it — someone collapsed near the sink, limbs sprawled. Still. His heart stops. He nearly slips as he rushes forward, dropping to his knees beside the figure. Burnt and unrecognizable. But the dress — what’s left of it — is familiar. The color. The delicate trim. There’s a necklace around the neck, half-melted, but unmistakably yours. “No”, he whispers. “No, no, no—” 

His hand hovers over your body. His throat tightens. Everything around him is heat, noise, pressure, but in his ears, there’s only silence. Like the world just folded in on itself. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tears hit his lips — salt and ash. “I was just with you...” he whispers, almost childlike, broken. “You were laughing with me a moment ago...” He leans in, presses his forehead to your shoulder, and breathes raggedly. Body shaking.  

Behind him, voices start to echo. Footsteps. Shouting. Geto is coming to pull him out. But Satoru doesn’t hear any of it. He doesn’t move. He can’t. For the first time in his life, it feels like he’s lost. 

-- 

The fire was quickly contained. The Gojo mansion still stands, its structure untouched. Only the left wing of the first floor bears the marks of the fire. The investigation concluded that the fire was caused by an overheating motor in the bathroom’s ventilation system, a tragic accident. Only one life was lost: yours. 

Your funeral was two days ago. A private ceremony. Satoru didn’t speak during it. He barely moved. Just stood there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his eyes hidden behind the blindfold. Quiet. In a way he’s never been. 

Now, days later, the world still spins — people still laugh, they breathe, they live. But he’s still here. In the room that was once your shared bedroom. Alone. He sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the chaos of your things scattered around the room. Your belongings — still as you left them — seem to scream your absence. He can’t bring himself to touch them. Not yet. Not ever. The book you were reading, the bottle of perfume on the nightstand, your lotion, your earrings, the brush on the vanity, and your nightgown — neatly folded on your side of the bed. It all kills him. The maids are prohibited from entering the room. He’s made sure of it. The silence of the space, with all its untouched remnants of you, is his alone to bear. 

He buries his face in your pillow, hoping to catch even the faintest trace of your scent. But it’s long gone. A strangled breath leaves him. Then another. And then... he breaks. His hands shake as he scrolls through his phone, endlessly flipping through old texts. Rereading them. The messages that still feel so alive — your voice echoing in his mind. One voicemail stands out. The one you left days before the accident. He presses play. 

“Satoru, stop leaving the toilet seat up! I’m too sleepy in the mornings to notice, but my butt definitely doesn’t appreciate an unexpected ice bath.” 

He laughs. Just once. And then, he breaks again. Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the world, curls into himself, his body crumpling into fetal position. He cries. Not quietly. No. He cries like he’s been holding it in his entire life, like the ground beneath him finally gave way and left him with nothing to stand on. No air. No reason. 

They say he’s doing fine. Around others, he smiles. He jokes. He walks with that same easy confidence, says the right things, acts like nothing’s changed. But Geto and Shoko know better. They see it in the way he visits your grave every day. The way his shoulders stiffen when someone dares mention your name. The way his hands tremble when they’re not stuffed in his pockets. He’s unraveling. Slowly. Quietly. And still, no one knows the truth. Not yet. Not even him. 

Only Shoko does. 

-- 

You follow Shoko into the morgue at Jujutsu Tech, each step slow and soundless. She doesn’t speak. Just moves steadily toward a counter, where she sets a folder down. Her back remains to you. The silence stretches long and taut. Then— 

“I wasn’t sure what to make of what I saw earlier”, she finally says. “But the fact that you followed me here... it confirms my suspicions.” 

You try to speak, but no words come out. Only a shaky breath escapes, heavy with guilt, regret, and everything you’ve been holding in for far too long. Shoko turns to face you. Her expression is unreadable, but her eyes are sharp.

“You look like you want to say something”, she says. “So say it.” 

The words stumble out at first, fractured and raw. But then they come faster, pouring from you. You tell her everything — the affair, the reason behind the arranged marriage, the lies... everything. And the worst of it — that somehow, in the wreckage of it all, you fell in love with Satoru. You nearly choke saying it aloud, the weight of the truth crushing in your chest.

Shoko listens in silence. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t interrupt. When you finally stop, she speaks with her usual stillness. “Why are you telling me this?” Then, sharper, “Why not tell Gojo?” 

“No”, you say quickly. “I can’t... I won’t do this to him.”

She tilts her head, gaze narrowing. “You already did”, she replies flatly. “Whether you tell him or not doesn’t change that.” 

Your throat tightens. “I know... and I need you to help me.” 

“Help you?” she repeats. “Why would I?” 

“Because I don’t want him to hurt, not like this.” 

There’s a long pause. Shoko just watches you — assessing, weighing. Then she steps closer, her voice low. “But he will hurt. In a way I’m not sure he’ll ever come back from.”

You meet her gaze, desperation burning in yours. “Please.”

She says nothing, but something seems to be shifting in her. 

“There’s something that will hurt him less than the truth”, you say. “I need you to find a body. Someone who resembles me. Imbue it with my residuals — only you can do that. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Her arms cross slowly. “You want me to find a corpse?” she asks. “You want me to help you fake your death? Is that it?” 

You nod, eyes dropping. “He’ll be better off thinking I’m dead than knowing what I’ve done.” 

“You’re underestimating him”, Shoko says, shaking her head. “You don’t know what you mean to him. This isn’t mercy — it’ll destroy him.”

Her words cut like glass, but you close your eyes. “Please”, you whisper. 

“When?”, Shoko asks, and you blink. “When do you need the body?” she repeats, rubbing the bridge of her nose. 

-- 

(One month later) 

You moved away. Far away. To a small village tucked in the mountains, hidden in a forgotten corner of the country. It’s quiet here — the kind of quiet that doesn’t demand anything from you. No one knows your name here. Not your real one, anyway. You rent a modest cottage, barely furnished, but clean. You wake with the sun, tend to your tiny garden, then walk to the local pub where you started working just enough to get by. It’s simple. Monotonous. A life carved from necessity, not desire. And yet, every night before bed, you check your phone. One conversation always sits at the top of your inbox: Shoko. 

Your last message was three days ago. 

You: How is he? 

Her reply came the next morning. 

Shoko: Still breathing. Don’t ask for more. 

You didn’t. You never do. 

-- 

(Back at Jujutsu Tech) 

Satoru has just returned from a mission, and it’s clear he’s not himself. He’s sharp, but off. The usual cocky confidence has slipped into irritation, and he drifts through the halls with his mind elsewhere. Distracted. A clipboard hangs loosely in his hand, and he’s on the hunt for Shoko — she’s supposed to fill out a report. 

These days, he only drops the act around her. Or Geto. Or, of course, when alone. When he’s not pretending, he’s quiet. Drained. Nothing like the Gojo Satoru everyone knows. 

As he nears the morgue, he slows. A muffled voice cuts through the silence behind the door. It’s Shoko, on the phone. He’s about to knock when he hears it. 

Your name. 

Satoru freezes. Is he finally losing his mind? But then, there’s more— 

“...you need to stop asking.” 

A pause. Then, softer— 

“He... He doesn’t talk about you still. He’s not okay. But you knew he wouldn’t be.” 

The world stills. He doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. It’s like his mind is short-circuiting. Did he hear that right? His grip tightens on the clipboard until it creaks beneath his fingers. But then, it comes again. 

Your name. 

He stands there, stunned for a moment, before his body moves of its own accord. The door opens with a slow creak.

Shoko looks up, and she sighs. “...I have work to do”, she says quietly, and ends the call.

Satoru steps inside and shuts the door behind him. He throws the clipboard aside. He is not smiling, and he’s no longer wearing his blindfold. And for the first time in a month, his eyes are fully visible — different, bottomless, rimmed in red — and they are fixed on her. “Care to explain?”, he says, voice low, flat. 

Shoko doesn’t play dumb. She doesn’t lie. She leans back against the wall, her posture shifting to something almost resigned. She exhales, a soft sound, like she’s been waiting for this moment. She knew it would come. And for the first time in weeks, Satoru’s eyes — his grief-clouded eyes — are lit by something else. Hope. 

“She’s alive.”, Shoko says. The words hang in the air between them, and Satoru’s world shifts. He doesn’t react at first. Just stands there, trying to process her words. 

Finally, his voice cracks — barely audible, barely more than a whisper, like something fragile. “You let me bury her.” 

Shoko’s gaze softens for a moment, but then she sighs, a sound that’s more exhausted than regretful. “She said it’d hurt you less.” 

“Less?” He laughs once, a shar, disbelieving sound. “Less than what?” 

“The truth.” The words come from Shoko with unflinching clarity. “She had an affair with your father.”

Shoko waits. For a reaction. For anger. For questions. For anything.  

But Satoru doesn’t blink. He only asks one question. “Where is she?” 

-- 

The Gojo estate still stands. The first floor — once scorched by fire — has long since been renovated. But beneath the surface, the scars of the past remain. For those who know, it’s impossible to forget what was lost. Akihito sits in the living room, staring down at the floor, his expression hollow. The once commanding patriarch is now a broken shell. His hands tremble as he takes a sip of his drink, his gaze unfocused, consumed by grief. He hasn’t spoken much in weeks. Every time he tries, his voice cracks. The loss of you has shattered him. Sometimes he tells himself it was better this way — better to lose you to death than to watch you belong to someone else. Even if that someone else was his son. For a moment, that thought would make it easier to breathe. But then again, what did it matter? You were gone. And something in him knew — the fire wasn’t an accident. He suspected Saori. Maybe she found out. Maybe she did this to you. Should he kill her? But that wouldn’t bring you back. And besides... the clan. He still had a duty to do. 

Saori sits nearby, her gaze fixed out the window, her lips curling into a faint, satisfied smile. Her eyes flicker to Akihito for a brief moment, but there’s no sympathy in them — only contentment. After everything, she believes fate has finally righted itself. She watches him fall apart with quiet detachment, a sense of calm in her stillness. At least now, he is more hers than he is yours. “Perhaps it was fate”, she murmurs softly, her words for no one but the walls. Akihito’s eyes remain distant, his thoughts far removed from her voice. He’s too lost to hear anything she says — too far gone to care. 

Then, the door opens. Satoru enters, no grand gesture, no announcement. His presence fills the room immediately, thick and heavy, like an impending storm. Akihito doesn’t look up. He doesn’t need to. He knows why his son is here — he can feel it in the air before he even steps further in. Saori glances at Satoru, her eyes narrowing slightly, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. She rises without a word, understanding that this conversation isn’t for her. She leaves quietly, walking past her son with only a brief, knowing look.

The door clicks shut behind her. 

Akihito slumps lower in his seat, but he doesn’t look at his son. He doesn’t need to. The way Satoru stands there, rigid, fists clenched, eyes dark and filled with fury. Akihito feels the weight of it, heavy in the room, before he even lifts his head to look at him.

“You know”, Akihito says quietly, his voice hoarse, a statement rather than a question. Satoru stands still, his jaw clenched tight, eyes burning. He doesn’t answer. The air between them crackles with the unsaid. Akihito presses on, his voice low, laced with a tremor. “How did you find out?” 

Still, Satoru remains silent. His fists tremble at his sides, his breathing shallow, ragged. The words catch in his throat, a clash of fury and hurt. When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse and strained, as though forcing each word past the tightness in his chest.

“You broke her.” he spits, finally. “You broke the one thing most precious to me.” 

Akihito flinches, the weight of the accusation landing heavily on him. His gaze hardens, but he can’t meet Satoru’s eyes. There’s nothing to say. His son is right — he did break her. And by doing so, he broke his son as well. 

Satoru steps forward suddenly, his movements swift and calculated. The space between them closes in an instant, and Satoru’s eyes, wide with intensity, burn through the silence as he towers over his own father. There’s something primal in the air now — a rawness, an energy that could consume the entire room, the entire estate, if left unchecked. Akihito doesn’t react, he just sits there, knowing what’s coming. He accepts it. The man he once was, gone. And this son — this powerful, broken son — is the reckoning he’s been waiting for. 

“Do you have anything to say?” Satoru’s voice is barely containing the storm inside him. His hands shake, still clenched tightly into fists, but there’s a note of something darker in his gaze — an edge that suggests the breaking point is near. Akihito looks at him, pained, defeated, but remains silent. The words don’t come. 

The sound that follows — sharp and violent — could be a fist crashing into flesh or a bone snapping under pressure. It’s unclear, too quick to pinpoint. The air itself seems to shatter with it.

Satoru turns without another word, leaving the mansion. His hands are covered in blood.

Behind him, a scream shatters the silence. Saori’s scream, high and frantic, echoes through the halls. Saori doesn’t know it yet, but her time is coming too. Soon enough. 

-- 

Satoru knew. He had known for a while. It wasn’t a dramatic discovery. It was quiet and accidental, in fact. It happened early into your marriage, when you were still distant with him — polite but clipped. Somehow always guarded. He thought it was the nerves at first. Shyness. The weight of tradition. But then a month passed, and you still wouldn’t meet his eyes unless it was absolutely necessary. Still flinched when he reached for you. He could handle awkward beginnings, of course — especially for you. He wasn’t expecting a fairytale, you didn’t even remember him. But what he couldn’t handle was not knowing you, the way that you never let him in. 

So he did what a curious man with too little patience like himself might do. He followed you. Not out of suspicion of course. He thought if he observed you from a distance, he might’ve learned things you weren’t ready to tell or show him. Your habits. Anything. And then, one afternoon, he watched you enter a hotel. Alone. Odd. 

Ten minutes later, his father arrived. Very odd. 

Satoru waited. Two hours later, you walked out. Head down, hair slightly mussed. You didn’t see him. Shortly after, Akihito exited the building, adjusting his coat, wearing an expression Satoru had rarely seen on him — satisfied, secretive. And that was it. He didn’t even use his Six Eyes at first. Part of him didn’t want confirmation. Part of him hoped it was just a coincidence. But shortly after, he let his technique drift over your form. And there it was. Residuals. His father’s cursed energy. All over you. 

...and everything began to click. Your stiffness. The arranged marriage. His father’s sudden interest in choosing his bride. How Akihito had spoken of you before the engagement with just a touch too much fondness.  It wasn’t an arranged marriage; it was a cover. You weren’t his. You were his father’s. 

Satoru never confronted you, never let on that he knew. He just watched. Watched the way you disappeared for hours and returned with a soft look in your eyes that was never for him. Watched the way Akihito seemed lighter after seeing you. Watched the lie of a marriage unfold, thread by thread, every day. He never blamed you, though. He thought, maybe this was fate’s twisted way of bringing you back together. Yes, he could’ve easily destroyed it, could’ve exposed the affair and made the clan turn against Akihito. But that would’ve meant the clan turning against you as well. And Satoru never wanted to ruin you, he wanted to keep you.  

So he waited. Watched. Loved you in silence. And when he caught glimpses — that maybe you were beginning to see him, not just the son of the man you loved, that you were starting to change — that was all it took. He clung to that.

Because the thing about Gojo Satoru is that, when he wants something — really, truly wants it — he doesn’t stop. Not rules. Not family. Nothing can stop him.

You had been stolen from him once — the night on the curb, when fate gave you to him and then ripped you away before he could even ask your name. Then it happened again. His father got to you first.

Now, he wasn’t going to let you be taken away from him for the third time. No matter what. Even if it meant choosing heart over blood.

If you had faked your death and disappeared because you believed you couldn’t exist in a world with both of them, then all he had to do was remove the one standing in the way. To keep you. 

-- 

You’re wiping down the tables at the pub, preparing for the new day. Half-focused. Letting the repetitive motion ground you, steady your nerves. Trying not to think about the ghost of him that’s never really left you.  

The door creaks open behind you.

“We’re not open yet”, you immediately call out. Politely, without turning around. “Please come back in an hour.” 

Silence. Neither a response, nor footsteps indicating that the person is leaving. You glance over your shoulder, ready to repeat yourself, but the words catch in your throat. 

Satoru is standing there, leaning against the doorframe. “Won’t you make an exception for me?” he says softly. It’s meant to sound like him — teasing, light — but his voice gives him away. It’s quiet, fragile. Like it might crack if he tries any harder to keep it steady. 

The rag slips from your hands. You freeze. Then slowly, you turn. But you don’t meet his eyes. You don’t dare. “Why would you come here?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. It’s not a question of how he found you. The answer was simple. Shoko. 

He steps forward, slowly. “For you.” 

“For me”, you echo under your breath, more to yourself than to him, a bitter laugh escaping you. “For me, huh?” you repeat.

“For you.” — he says again, with no hesitation. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shrink, as if you could fold into nothing. As if it might protect you from the weight of what he’s carrying in his voice. “Did you ever consider that maybe I didn’t want to be found?” 

“I did”, he says. “I considered a lot of things, actually.” He pauses before he takes another step, and then adds, “But the fact you did something so reckless... made me consider that you cared more than I imagined.”

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You don’t understand—” 

“I do.” He cuts in gently. “You thought if you stayed, you’d destroy us both.” 

You finally look up, meeting his eyes for the first time, and something inside you threatens to cave, the devastation in him nearly buckling your knees. “I did something unforgivable.” 

He exhales, like what he’s about to say is so obvious it needn’t be said out loud. But he does it anyway — “I was ready to do anything for you.” 

“Even if what I did was truly terrible?” 

“Even then.” 

He takes another step, and then another, until the distance between is gone. Until he’s close enough to touch. You want to move. To put space between you, but your feet don’t listen. And his presence — it roots you in place like gravity.

“You could’ve told me everything”, he murmurs. “You should’ve told me.” A pause. “I already knew.” 

“What?”, your breath stutters. 

His eyes darken, and a faint, bitter smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I’ve known for a while.” 

“But... Shoko... didn’t Shoko—” 

“It wasn’t her.” He shakes his head. “I found out myself.” He falls silent for a moment, like the memory stings to recall. 

“And you never said anything?” 

“I had my reasons”, he says softly. “Just like you had yours.” He lifts his hand — the lightest touch — and tilts your chin up. The gentleness nearly undoes you. You try to speak, but the words tangle with the sob building in your chest. It slips out instead — small, broken. His fingers brush beneath your eye, catching the tear before it falls. Even as his own hand trembles. “One word from you would’ve changed everything”, he whispers. “I would’ve burned everything down to keep you safe. Happy.” 

You slowly break under the weight of his words, forehead falling to his chest. You feel the tension in him — not anger, not judgment. Just ache. His arms wrap around you. 

“You were always my girl”, he breathes into your hair. “Even when you didn’t know it. Even when you were his. From the moment you fell asleep on my lap outside that club, you were mine.” 

You tilt your head up, lips trembling. “I’m... I’m really s—” 

“Shh.” 

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, the warmth of him seeping into your skin. “I know.”

And then, his lips charge closer — you meet him halfway into a soft, slow kiss. One that is both an ache and a release all at once.

It hurts to want him this much. It hurts to know what you did. It hurts to know that he still looks at you with so much love, even when he knows it all. It hurts, that despite everything, it’s still you.  

-- 

You never thought you’d find peace again. Not truly. But now, the mornings are calm. The nights are quiet. The days pass without dread — light, easy, almost gentle. You and Satoru settled into this small life together, tucked away from the rest of the world. 

He left it all behind — the clan, the title, the crushing weight of being the strongest. Here, he isn’t Gojo Satoru, head of the Gojo Clan or the face of sorcerer society. Here, he’s just Satoru. Your Satoru. The one who wakes up beside you each morning, arm draped around your waist, murmuring sleepy nonsense into your ear. The one who insists on cooking breakfast and makes an unspeakable mess in the kitchen. The one who still leaves the toilet seat up just to hear you scold him — and grins when you do. 

Your belly is growing now — small, round, and full of promise. Sometimes he speaks to it like he already knows who your child will be. Sometimes he rests his head there and falls asleep. Other times, he lies awake with his hand on your baby bump, eyes full of wonder and fear, whispering that he hopes he’ll be good enough — for both of you. 

There are things left unspoken between you. You’ve never asked what happened after he left the clan — or more accurately, what happened before he left. You suspect the truth, of course. There’s no way not to. But you don’t press. And he doesn’t offer. 

Still, you think of Akihito sometimes. It’s impossible not to — he was a turning point, a fire you walked through to become who you are now. And sometimes, in the right light, Satoru looks so much like him. The same build, the same jawline, the same eyes.

But you know better. He’s nothing like him. Akihito, for all his love, always chose the clan in the end. His desires may have been selfish, but they were always entwined with duty. He loved you, yes. But he never chose you. Not truly. 

But Satoru did. He always chose you — even when it broke him. Even when it meant walking away from everything he was. Even when it meant taking a life — his own blood — to protect yours.

When he said, “I was ready to do anything for you”,

...he really meant it. 

[emeraldserenade]

As a request, Reader finds out she’s expecting a baby with Joaquin but is scared to tell him. She hides the pregnancy from everyone but his sister until something happens that can’t keep it hidden anymore (angsty but ultimately happy)

Only if you’re comfortable with writing it 🩷

Baby Baby ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: You hide your pregnancy from Joaquín

tw: fem!reader, morning sickness, reader has longer hair, abortion is mentioned (not considered), bombing, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

This was a nice challenge to write, I've never been around someone pregnant before (or at least at a time I can remember) so I only know what I've learned from school, movies, and some articles I've read.

➽──────────────❥

You knew Joaquín had a breeding kink but as you stared at the word, pregnant, you were washed with a sudden fear. You weren't sure if Joaquín saying those things were true or his aroused brain speaking. You shoved the test back in it's box and the box into your bag, you would hide everything.

You called Joaquín to tell him you were headed out for some errands and probably wouldn't be home when he got home. You had to lie to lie to him, you could't bring yourself to tell him, not yet. You ended up at his sister's house, she moved to DC not long ago and you had become very close.

"Y/n, I wasn't expecting you," Cassandra let you in right away. You didn't say anything, you just made your way to her couch and sat down. "Is everything ok? Do I need to talk to Joaquín?"

"No!" You rushed out and reached into your bag. "I'm," you couldn't bring yourself to say it, you just handed her the test.

"Oh my," she gasped but stopped when she saw your face. "You aren't happy?"

"I am, I am," you clarified. "It's just, Joaquín and I haven't actually talked about having kids. What if Joaquín doesn't want this baby or isn't ready?"

"Oh," she breathed out. "I want to help but I actually don't know what Joaquín's stance on kids is," she told you and you solemnly nodded.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You threw the box away at Cassandra's house but kept the test in your purse. You had the morning sickness since before you took the test, it's why you took it. You had been lucky enough that Joaquín has been at work or stayed asleep every time you threw up. Joaquín caught you this time though, he woke up at a particularly loud retch.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Joaquín held your hair back for you.

"I think I ate something that didn't agree with me," you lied smoothly, having this lie planned out for weeks.

"Do you think it was the food from the truck yesterday?"

"Could be," you retched at the end of your sentence but nothing more happened. You blindly reached for the bottle of perfume that you could smell, you felt that it was plastic and threw it out the bathroom. Joaquín said nothing and you were glad, you didn't have a lie for that one.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Joaquín started to suspect you being pregnant, you were wearing bagger clothes and turned down all his advancements. You kept throwing up in the morning and you were more sensitive to smells. Joaquín didn't want to say anything, he believed that you would tell him if you were.

You, on the other hand, cried almost everyday at the fact that you were going through it alone by your own doing. You were absolutely terrified about what Joaquín would say, especially since you were past the point of abortion. You took away Joaquín's choice to choose if he wanted the kid and you felt horrible. You didn't want to baby trap him, but you wanted your baby. Even if that meant you lost Joaquín fully.

Cassandra had been going to all your prenatal appointments with you, holding your hand and taking photos and videos for when Joaquín does know. It was another thing you felt horrible about, if he did want your child, he wouldn't be there for all of this.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Sam and Joaquín were at work when the phone rang and a security guard came rushing. "I'm sorry, but you should really look at the news," he rushed out before leaving. Sam and Joaquín turned on the TV and both rushed to grab their suits.

"The downtown plaza today was the target of the newest supervillain. The unnamed villain placed a bomb that went off at noon, there has been at least three confirmed casualties and twelve injured," the news anchor spoke. Joaquín's personal phone went off as he waited for Sam to finish.

"Joaquín, y/n and I were at the plaza. I'm ok but y/n, she's in the hospital," Cassandra told him and Joaquín's heart stopped.

"What? How bad is it?" Joaquín questioned and Sam looked over.

"I don't know, they won't tell me since I'm not family," Cassandra rushed out, the sounds of the hospital could be heard in the back.

"Joaquín, go, I'll go handle this myself," Sam put together what happened.

"Ok," Joaquín nodded at Sam. "I'll be right there," Joaquín told Cassandra.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You were in the room alone, Joaquín was out in the hallway with a doctor. Your heart rate picked up and alerted both of them, they came running in to sooth you.

"Y/n, you were in an accident," the doctor told you. "You luckily didn't get any to severe injuries," he looked down at the chart in his hand. "And your baby girl is perfectly ok, a healthy nineteen week baby," he told you and you sobbed.

"It's a girl?" You questioned, hands landing on your stomach. It was definitely bigger than it was before.

"Did I just ruin a gender reveal?"

"No, I haven't had my gender appointment yet," you assured him and he nodded before leaving. You refused to look at Joaquín yet, you were sure he was mad at you.

"Angel," Joaquín called for your attention. "Please look at me, I'm not mad," he assured you and you finally looked over at him.

"I'm sorry," you sobbed as you looked over at him. "I was worried you wouldn't want her and I didn't want to lose you. Then it became too late and Cassandra kept telling me to tell you but I'm just so scared. I am so sorry," you sobbed even harder as you spoke.

"Sweetheart, I'm not mad. I'm a little disappointed that I missed everything so far," Joaquín gently ran his thumbs over your cheeks as he spoke.

"Cassandra has lot of videos and photos," you informed him. "You're happy?"

"I am more than happy," he assured you, kissing your forehead.

"Then when we get out of here, will you stand behind me and hold my stomach up?" You tried to make a joke to stop crying.

"I'll do anything you want and more," he kissed your forehead again.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Hi, you must be the father, Joaquín. Y/n here talks about you every time," your prenatal doctor, Jenny, shook Joaquín's hand.

"Hi, I am," Joaquín affirmed and took the seat next to you.

"Well, let's find out what your baby's gender is," she smiled and you grimaced slightly.

"We already know," you broke the fact to her. "I was in the plaza bombing, the doctor at the hospital said that she was fine," you said.

"Well then, let's take a look at your baby girl," Jenny took her seat and you took Joaquín's hand. You smiled when he kissed your knuckles, you finally felt better about this whole thing.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

[atriza]

Bound by Lies

Yandere Park Sunghoon x Reader

Summary: a fake relationship between you and Park Sunghoon spirals into something much darker. What started as a harmless lie to fend off prying friends quickly turns into a suffocating trap as Sunghoon's feelings blur the lines between reality and obsession.

Word Count: 2,000 words

Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of obsession, emotional manipulation, possessiveness, and implied non-consensual behavior.

It all began with a harmless lie.

Your friends had been teasing you relentlessly about being single, so in a moment of panic, you blurted out that you were dating Park Sunghoon. It wasn’t entirely out of left field—he was the perfect candidate. With his angelic face, effortless charm, and aloof demeanor, no one would suspect a thing.

But what surprised you the most was how willingly Sunghoon played along.

“It’ll be fun,” he had said, his lips curling into a smile that made your heart skip a beat.

And it was fun at first. Sunghoon would wrap his arm around your shoulders when your friends were watching, flash you teasing winks, and even post carefully staged photos on social media. You never thought much of it—it was all pretend.

Or so you thought.

---

Now, sitting across from him in a quiet café, you could feel the weight of his gaze. Sunghoon stirred his coffee absentmindedly, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin crawl.

“You don’t seem happy,” he said, his tone calm but carrying an edge you couldn’t ignore.

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile. “It’s just… this has gone on longer than I expected.”

Sunghoon set his spoon down, the clink of metal against ceramic making you flinch.

“Why does it have to end?” he asked, leaning forward. His voice was soft, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

You blinked, startled. “Because it’s not real, Sunghoon. We were just pretending, remember?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He simply studied you, his gaze unwavering. Then, he smiled—a small, almost pitying smile.

“Pretending,” he echoed. “Is that what you think this is?”

Your heart sank. “That’s what we agreed on.”

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Y/N, do you really believe that? After everything we’ve done—everything I’ve done for you?”

You froze, unsure how to respond. “Sunghoon, I—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not loud. “Let me ask you something. Do you feel nothing when I hold your hand? When I look at you like this?”

He reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours. His touch was warm, but it sent a chill down your spine.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “This isn’t real.”

His eyes darkened, his hand tightening over yours. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. Panic bubbled in your chest as his calm facade began to crack, revealing something far more sinister underneath.

“I’ve been by your side this whole time,” he said, his voice low and trembling with suppressed emotion. “I’ve protected you. Made you happy. And now you’re telling me it meant nothing?”

“I never said that,” you stammered, desperate to diffuse the situation.

“Then what are you saying?” he pressed, his tone sharp.

You looked away, your heart pounding. “I’m saying this was supposed to be temporary. We can’t keep pretending.”

He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Pretending? Do you really think that’s all this is to me? A game?”

Your silence only seemed to fuel his frustration. He stood abruptly, pulling you to your feet with him.

“Sunghoon, let go,” you said, panic rising in your voice.

He didn’t listen. Instead, he leaned in, his face inches from yours. “Do you think anyone else will care about you the way I do? Do you think anyone else will protect you?”

“This isn’t protection,” you snapped, tears pooling in your eyes. “This is control.”

His jaw tightened, but his grip didn’t falter. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice soft but laced with danger. “I’m doing this for us, Y/N. You’re just scared. But that’s okay—I’ll help you see.”

“See what?” you asked, your voice breaking.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That we’re meant to be together.”

---

Sunghoon led you out of the café, his hand firmly gripping yours. You looked around frantically, hoping someone would notice, would intervene. But the streets were empty, the night swallowing your cries for help.

“Where are we going?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

“Somewhere safe,” he replied simply.

“Safe for who?” you snapped.

“For you,” he said, his tone final. “I can’t trust anyone else to look after you. Not your friends, not your family. They don’t understand you like I do.”

Your breath hitched. “Sunghoon, you’re not thinking clearly. Please, just let me go.”

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“I’m thinking perfectly clearly,” he said, his voice cold. “You’re the one who doesn’t see it yet. But you will. I’ll make sure of it.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. His embrace was suffocating, his presence overwhelming.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “And I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

You struggled against him, but it was no use. His grip was too strong, his determination unshakable.

As the night wore on, the realization sank in like a stone in your chest. This wasn’t a game to Sunghoon. It never had been.

To him, this was real.

And he was never going to let you go.

---

[venxomi]

Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun Chapter 120 - Yugi Amane, Minamoto Kou & the Red House

This is my first time making this type of thread, so I hope you will bear with me ^^ I'll talk about the important bits.

Yugi Amane

Chapter 120 explains Yugi Amane's situation in the new present. Even though Nene tried denying it, Yugi Amane was incapable of finding happiness, even if he got to live a little longer. It confirmed he died in his late 20s, and that his soul is but a prisoner to the Red House, forced to obey its orders.

That he's been killing multiple people without him even realizing, as he is unable to defy the House...

And ultimately revealing that, while possessed, Amane had killed both Kou and Sousuke in the aftermath of chapter 118. The Kou we saw in chapters 119 and 120 is nothing but his now trapped soul.

As Kou explains everything, we come to realize the following: It's not just Yugi Amane who is a prisoner of the House, but Tsukasa, their parents and the souls who warned Mitsuba as well. That they're all unfortunate victims that were eaten alive by the House and forced into servitude.

Minamoto Kou

Kou is not immune from the Red House's possession- He is now one of its servants, just like Amane and the other people killed. Just like Amane who forcefully dragged Kou and Nene to the well through the black door, so did Kou lure Nene through the same door.

Finally possessed by the House, he tries to drag Nene down the well, to make her a victim just like the others.

It is then when Teru comes to rescue Nene, but not realizing that the Kou he sees is nothing but his soul, he accidentally exorcises him while snapping him out of the possession.

It is important to note that Kou didn't feel any sort of bitterness towards Amane killing him or towards Teru exorcising him.

After Amane killed him, he just lamented his fate.

Not only did he lament his fate, but also asked Nene to change the world back to how it was. Not only because he and Mitsuba are long dead, but because he now knows how truly messed up the new present is. How no one is truly "happy" here. How it goes against his motivation, which is to bring everyone actual happiness.

That's why he brought Nene to Amane in chapter 119. To make her see how this world actually looks like, to make her want to go back. To make her see that even if Amane lived longer, he was way more miserable than he ever was in the original timeline.

When his big brother exorcised him, he only felt glad. Glad that he couldn't harm Nene, and glad that he doesn't have to suffer the same fate as Amane. Glad that he hasn't succeeded in killing anyone against his will.

Even while disappearing right before her eyes, Kou tries to comfort her. If she succeeds in rewinding the world, they will be able to meet again.

He even compares this new world to a "bad dream", contrasting himself from chapter 118, who considered the old world to be the "dream", then not knowing how truly wicked the new present is.

His last words confirm that Mitsuba has died together with him.

The Well

Teru, shocked by the events, immediately heads over to the well and looks inside.

He falls limp, only supported by the well, in total disbelief. Due to the implications throughout chapter 120, it is safe to assume that in the well lies the corpses of all the Red House's victims, including Kou and Sousuke.

This is further evidenced by Akane's reaction, who is repulsed by whatever is seen inside.

It is then when Akane concludes that this timeline is not stable, as he was tasked to check. The well is enough evidence to back up how twisted the world is.

Conclusions

I'm not sure whether we will see the contents of the well. We see the series through Nene's eyes, and Nene being stopped from seeing what's inside the well meant the readers are stopped from seeing aswell. The implications are evident enough to prove that within it lie numerous corpses, including Kou and Sousuke's.

Akane ended the chapter with a resolution to change the world back to how it was, but they still aren't aware of when to go and what to change. So they will stay within the Red House for the next few chapters for sure.

I'm not sure if the Red House will let them leave. All 4 living humans are all right next to the well where the Red House supposedly eats them alive. It's too good of an opportunity for it not to ambush them in the next chapter.

Teru and Nene, but especially Teru, will 100% go some under serious character development. Not only does Teru exorcising Kou somewhat parallel Amane killing Tsukasa in the original timeline, but Teru sacrificed his entire childhood to protect Kou, only for it to end like this in the New Present. Truly tragic.

Amane reacted to Yashiro calling Hanako for help. It may be that in the future chapters, Amane will get his memories from the original timeline and help Nene and the others find out what to change. Though I have a feeling, given that he's susceptible to being possessed by the House, that he will take himself down along with the House in order to let them leave. Although again, this is just a random prediction of mine...

This is the first time Nene's hairclip slips from her hair. The shape of her hairclips symbolize good luck, and it was truly good luck. If it weren't for her hairclip falling off, Aoi wouldn't have found her and Teru wouldn't have saved her in time. Albeit this can be also interpreted as limited good luck, as it slipping off would mean that Nene won't benefit from the same luck again.

This was truly the most heartwrenching chapter in the series, but also one of the best written in my opinion, being a huge pay-off for the other chapters of the Alteration arc. However, I have a feeling we're only going downhill from here.

Kou was likely already doomed from chapter 116, when he was first possessed by little Tsukasa. Because he was then sent to the Red House with an envelope that had nothing inside and with circumstances he himself doesn't remember, and as per Kou's words in chapter 120, the Red House uses the souls it captured to bring new victims from the Near Shore. He was fated to die the moment he came into contact with Tsukasa. Mitsuba could've escaped, but he wanted to save Kou and died together with him instead.

I hope you enjoyed my post!

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Hi, I am slipping into your Kinktober requests again, if that's okay with you! I'd love to request something for Hugh Jackman this time, as I keep seeing more and more of him, and I'm happy to drool over that fantastic man with your stories! 👀

Kissing down every inch of your body they possibly can, showing how much they love you. + "Don't be shy baby, I love the way you moan my name.

I'm preparing to melt into a permanent puddle of goo here as I'm happily waiting to see what you'll come up with here. Again, thank you for everything you share with us, and I'm looking forward to reading it all! 🤍

Kiss away your insecurities

A/N: Thank you for requesting this, my darling! Hope you like it :) Special thanks to @stark-ironman for helping me with this idea 💛

Pairing: Hugh Jackman x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut themes, angst, floof. Body image issues, self-doubt and negative talk.

Hugh Jackman, Logan Masterlist

.

You were still out of breath.

Heart pounding wildly against your ribcage thanks to the activities you and your boyfriend were up to ever since he got home. Even though the shared sounds of passion had died down, they were now replaced with your louder insecurities, forcing you to curl away from the man and head to the bathroom to clean up.

Hugh frowned as the door slammed shut with a little more force than usual. Concerned, he knocked on it asking if you were okay.

“Uh, yeah. Fine.” You responded, blinking back tears that began rapidly gathering. Your inner thoughts screamed you didn’t deserve all of this.

“Mind if I join you for a quick shower, darling?” Hugh called again after hearing the water running. Something you had a habit of doing every time you were overwhelmed with emotions.

“Actually I’m going to be right out. You know I have the—the thing early morning.”

Cursing yourself to have to lie, you scrubbed your body forcefully, glad the tears streamed down with the hot water and your shaky voice was somewhat covered.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, you were met with a concerned Hugh, arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No! Why would you think that?” You faked a laugh, going around him to get dressed for bed. Knowing fully well you weren’t fooling your boyfriend.

“Because you’re avoiding me.”

Giving him your most reassuring smile that you could muster, you shook your head as you slipped into one of his well worn t-shirts, getting onto your side of the bed.

“No it’s just, I have to wake up early tomorrow and I wanted to get a quick shower in. I’m fine. Really.”

He was silent for a while as he joined you in bed, watching you fluff the pillows before you turned away from the man to switch off the bedside lamp.

“You can tell that to someone who believes your lies, darling. Tell me what’s wrong. Please?” He tried again, switching the lamp back on and reaching out for your hand.

“Would you just drop it, Hugh?” You snapped, hating yourself for it as you turned the lights out again, pulling the blanket over and hiding yourself in its fluffy depths, hoping it would somehow cover your imperfections.

Your mind was still flooded with all sorts of thoughts about the way you looked, and how any day your little daydream would end and Hugh would realise what a mistake dating you was.

What was he even with you? You were far from perfect. You had curves that no matter what you did wouldn’t go away. You got trapped in your own head quite a bit, you were moody, and ten thousand other things that would push you away from the ‘ideal girlfriend’ title.

You lived in constant fear that he’d wake up one day and decide he was done with you. Then what would you ever do?

.

The next morning you woke up before Hugh did and went for a run, hoping it would clear your head.

It worked until you got a few heads turning in your direction, it wasn’t uncommon considering who you were dating; it was still overwhelming sometimes. You heard giggles and judgemental scoffs, possibly they were commenting on the way you looked.

It made you want to disappear. A sense of your deepest fears winning made you rush home, discard your jacket and ready to retreat into your room for the rest of the day. That was until your eyes fell on the breakfast spread that lay waiting on the table to your right.

“Morning sunshine! I thought I’d whip up your favourite breakfast today since you—hey, what’s wrong?”

You didn’t realise you had teared up again until Hugh rushed to your side with worry.

“Why are you with me?”

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“I mean why are you with me? I don’t deserve any of this. You could be with anyone you want, I don’t understand why—”

He stepped in your line of vision, silencing your little ramble before gently wiping your tears away and leading you to sit on an armchair.

Wordlessly holding your hand against his chest, he took a deep breath in, gently coaxing you to follow. When you did, you could feel your erratic breaths returning to a normal slowly but surely. Just his presence on difficult days like these was calming.

“Talk to me?” he nudged, hands still clasped reassuringly.

“I just feel like you could do so much better than this…than me. You’re so—I mean, I am—”

Struggling to complete the sentence, you couldn’t help the crack in your voice as you avoided his gaze, shifting nervously on the chair.

“Beautiful? Kind? The best thing to have happened to me?” Hugh tilted your face to meet your eyes again, his own shining with all the love and adoration reserved just for you.

You wanted to believe him, so badly, yet the voices in your head got loud enough to make you doubt every single thing.

“I won’t allow you to talk much less think such lies about my amazing girlfriend, you know. She’s lucky her boyfriend immensely enjoys demonstrating just how much she means to him.”

You smiled at that, much to Hugh's relief, shaking your head.

"If you'll allow me to show you, my love."

With that he picked you up, leaving no room for any further protests from your side. Kicking the bedroom door shut with his foot, his lips descending onto yours in a kiss that effectively quieted down your fears and filled you with a renewed sense of assurance.

As the kiss deepened, your anxieties melted away, giving way for all the love that you held for this man, who by a miracle from the universe, was all yours. When you eventually broke the kiss after what felt like hours, he continued demonstrating all that he'd promised, making sure to whisper words that held such honesty, you wholeheartedly believed them.

This was nothing like you'd ever experienced before. This was more than just sex, it was worshiping, cherishing and much more. He held you close, accepting every curve, every scar, every last freckle as his own, showering you with all his love. You hadn't felt so loved, so respected, so seen, ever before in your life.

When you were filled to the hilt with his manhood, a moan that you trying so hard to suppress, escaped. Quickly covered your mouth with a hand, you quieted down, embarrassed.

"Don't be shy baby, I love the way you moan my name."

"I'm afraid I'm too loud." you whispered.

Hugh tutted, interlacing your fingers and firmly locking your hands over your head, securing them in their rightful place as he began moving in your sopping heat.

"Not loud enough. Let 'em hear. Let 'em hear who's making you feel good, sweetheart."

Hot and breathy against your ear, his honeyed voice was enough to turn your insides to mush, encouraging you to not hold back anymore.

Soon, the walls of the house echoed with your shared sounds of passion, the intensity of them evident as you reached your highs together. Bodies trembling with wanton need as you drew the most sinful moans out of each other, fully alive in the moment.

As your climax crashed over you, it seemed to wash away any lingering negativity and uncertainty you had previously felt, making you sure of your dreams being actualized.

[lostwysteria]

(Part 9! Alright. I lied. One post today because I'll need the mood booster all the likes, reblogs, comments, and asks give me. The next two weeks are gonna be hell. Inspections are comin up at work. Save me.)

Masterlist

Lin Ling watched Moon wander around in a daze, staring at her tablet like it held the secrets of the universe. He was dusting the whole apartment. Nice had been more than happy to fly him to the ceiling so he could get anything there.

The poor touch starved thing had been purring the whole time. That made Moon even more dazed. 

“I have no clue why I can purr. It started about a year ago, though.” Nice explained. Moon had choked before lunging towards her tablet. She had a maniacal look to her face. She ran over to the hidden closet and grabbed streetwear and changed quickly. She sprinted out of the apartment. 

She doubled back after Ling reminded her to grab her teleportation gun. 

…

Faejay @rockinrobin

I never knew I needed an unhinged Moon until I had it in my life.

*A video of Moon, in the corner of a cafe, a teleportation gun on the table nearly hidden by 5 empty cups of coffee. She was laughing maniacally as she did something on her tablet*

…

Moon returned several hours later, looking satisfied. The Ling and Nice looked at eachother and decided not to ask.

“Did Miss. J need me for anything whike I was out?” Moon asked.

“Nope. She’s been pretty quiet, honestly” Nice said.

Ling choked on his drink. “I think I know why. Look”

Ling showed the two Nice’s tablet screen. He’d been catching up on some news when a new headline popped up on the feed.

“Nice climbs to rank 13” Nice read aloud. “But I didn't do anything?” 

…

J looked at the news in satisfaction. She had seen the signs of Nice breaking for a couple of years now. There was very little she could do, though. At this point, he was thoroughly cracked, mentally. Broken. 

Homemaker was the perfect solution. Someone that could keep the shining Paragon together. Plus, people were starting to see that Nice could be hunan as well. Not some perfect doll. They loved him even more for it, too. 

Perhaps there was a way for her to give Nice his boyfriend, too. People loved a good redemption arc.

…

“Alright. Don't be nervous. Moon and I will be on set. You can wait right here with Miss. J.” Nice said to an awkward Homemaker. He had been dragged to the True Love Recipe Studio after losing the argument with the white haired hero. 

“Moon. I need to talk to you over there for a moment.” Nice told his fake girlfriend.

Miss J was talking to the producers and he led Moon to a corner. 

He had a perfect plan. This way she could get her freedom, he could get rid of her, he could have Ling all to himself, and hopefully soon include Wreck in the equation.

“Alright. Here's the deal. I'm going to need you to follow my lead, alright? I have a plan to end this farce.”

“You mean our “relationship”? Alright. This better work, you Ken doll.” She agreed with narrowed eyes.

…

Ling was biting his nails as Enlighter took over the show.

“Moon isn't my love. She hasn't been for a while. How can I love her when that love traps her?” Nice said emotionally. The polygraph thing read true.

“What!? That idiot. Follow the script!” Miss. J yelled.

“So your relationship is fake? All a Lie?” Enlighter asked, gleeful.

“I am saying that Moon isn't happy. She hasn't been for a long time. She was a travel blogger. She traveled the world, saw wondrous sights, and could go where the wind took her. Now she is trapped by my side. How could I truly let myself love her when that love is a cage? Our love has been more that of siblings for a couple of years now. I just want her to be free.” Nice said, impassioned.

Before Enlighter could say anything a loud screech rocked the studio and a wall was destroyed.

“Well, well, well. It seems as if the show’s over.” Wreck said as he strode onto set.

[madlori]

Facebook Official

whoops my hand slipped and I banged out 1800 words of fix-it fic in like an hour. btw i think the Abby connection is dumb but I'm making it work.

Three years after reconciling with Buck, newly engaged to him, Tommy gets a phone call from a certain former dispatcher...who's just seen some interesting news via a Facebook Relationship Status post.

*****

(also on AO3)

To say that the phone call blindsided him would have been the understatement of the century.

He was just sitting at home watching the game, having a beer, minding his own business. Evan was on shift — must be a busy one, he’d only gotten two text messages all evening, one bitching about not having had time to eat dinner and the other about idiots who texted while driving.

His phone rang. Unknown number. Normally he wouldn’t have picked up, but with all the wedding preparations, a lot of vendors were calling. It was a little late to be making business calls, just after 8 pm, but he’d quickly learned that business norms meant little in the wedding planning business. “Hello?”

“Tommy?”

“Yes?” A woman’s voice. Familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Pause “You’re marrying Buck??” A slightly hysterical note of disbelief entered the woman’s voice as she said the name.

And all at once, he knew who it was. Shit fuck motherfucker why didn’t we get ahead of this one.

“Abby. Um…”

“Evan Buckley? My ex-fiancé and my ex-boyfriend are marrying each other?”

“Small world, huh?” he said, going for levity.

“Buck’s not even gay!”

“No, he’s not. He’s bisexual.”

“I’m…okay. I’m sorry, it’s just…this is a lot of information to get all at once.”

“How did you even find out? Don’t you live in Phoenix?”

“Buck posted one of those relationship status things on Facebook.”

“Oh. I barely use Facebook.”

“Me either, but Buck does, and I hadn’t been on there in awhile, but I logged on and that was like the third post I saw!”

Tommy remembered the day Buck had made the post. They hadn’t really put their relationship on social media much - Buck posted photos of them on Instagram sometimes - and he hadn’t done one of those stupid relationship status things for them until they got engaged. They’d trawled their phones for the right pic, eventually settling on one taken at a 118 barbecue of them together, smiling, arms slung around waists. He hadn’t said so, but he’d gotten a little emotional over what Evan wrote on the post:

Evan Buckley is engaged to Tommy Kinard.

“It’s been a long road, but we made it. Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with this man. He’s the best person I’ve ever known. I love you!”

“Well…I’m sorry that was an unpleasant surprise for you,” Tommy said, carefully.

She sighed. “I don’t know that it was…unpleasant. But a surprise, for sure. How do you even know Buck? How did you meet?”

“We’re both firefighters, it’s not that surprising that we could have met, is it?”

“No, I guess not.”

“And he was at my old firehouse. The one you refused to ever come to. But I guess you went when you were with him, didn’t you?”

“You never wanted me to meet your friends. I guess I found out why when you broke off our engagement.”

“I’m sorry, Abby. I know I said it then, but I’ll say it again now. I lied to myself, I lied to a lot of people. It took me almost trapping you in my lie, when you did not deserve that, to break me out of it.”

“I forgave you ages ago. We don’t have to go over all that again.”

“I met Evan…I guess it’s four years ago? We started dating not long after. I, um…was the first man he dated. I guess I made him realize some things about himself.”

“Just transforming lives everywhere you go, huh?” she said, a teasing note entering her voice. Tommy was happy to hear it.

“Yeah, well, I almost screwed it up. I broke up with him six months later. He was diving in headfirst, too fast, just all in and wanting to move in with me.”

“That sounds just like Buck.”

“I panicked and ended it before I could get in any deeper with him.”

“It was too late, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. I was already in love with him.”

“He’s easy to love. Too easy,” she said, quietly. “But you got back together, obviously.”

“Took a little while. Almost a year. I dated a few guys, he dated a few people, but nothing stuck for either of us - I know now it’s because we were still hung up on each other. We have a friend in common and we’d hear about each other through him…but I didn’t really see him until we ended up on a major incident call together. I sustained a minor injury - just a scrape, really - and Hen from his house patched me up. I was sitting there on the ambulance deck, more or less left to myself, and he came waltzing up with that eyebrow raised like he knew all my secrets.” Abby chuckled, like she knew the exact expression he was describing. “He just said, are you done being fucking stupid yet?”

“And you were.”

“Yep. I was. He took me home that night and we’ve barely been apart since. Got engaged a year later.”

“You sound happy.”

“I am. I’m ecstatic. I can’t believe I got a second chance with him. I kicked myself for ending it like that, I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do. You thought you weren’t enough for him to want to keep you.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s dumb.”

“That’s what he says.”

They sat there not speaking for what felt like a long time.

“Well…” Abby said. “I feel like I just unloaded on you out of the blue.”

“You kinda did,” he said, smiling.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have called.”

“I’m glad you did. You know…Evan and I didn’t realize we had you in common until our six month anniversary dinner. In fact, it was that revelation that sort of started us on the way to breaking up for awhile. But that’s been so long now and it hasn’t come up in a few years. I almost forgot about it.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said, her grin audible. “I’m glad you’re both happy. I have a lot of regret over Buck, how I left things with him. I assume he’s told you.”

“He has. If it helps, he doesn’t have any bad feelings towards you.”

“It does help. Thank you for that.” She sighed. “I’ll let you go. I just saw that Facebook post and spiralled a little bit.”

“Understandable.”

“Please tell Buck I say hello. And I wish you both so much happiness, Tommy.”

“Thank you. And I will.”

She hung up. Tommy stared at the phone for a moment, then opened his text message thread with Evan.

You’re not gonna believe what just happened.

*****

When Evan got home at 7 am, they had their usual two hours to share breakfast and maybe a quick fuck before Tommy had to be on shift himself. They tried to sync their schedules so their off days coincided, but it didn’t always work.

“Holy shit, why didn’t we get ahead of that one?” Evan said as he burst in the door, not even bothering with “hello.” His shoes and duffel went flying and he bustled into the kitchen where Tommy was mixing the pancake batter.

“Yeah, I had the same thought,” he said, leaning over to kiss him hello.

Evan went to the coffee pot. “I didn’t even think about it, that she might see.”

“Neither did I.”

“How’d she sound?”

“Really surprised at first. Incredulous, even? Like in the what-are-the-odds way.”

“Kinda like when I found out we’d both dated her.”

“Yeah, but you’re my himbo now,” Tommy said, smirking. “No, she was just shocked. I gave her the quick rundown, and she ended up congratulating us.”

“Did you tell her it’s her fault we broke up for a year?” Evan said, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

“I think the proper person to bear the fault is me.”

“And also me. Who asks someone to move in after six months? Before even saying ‘I love you?’ And when you had a house!”

“I say we blame Josh. He got you all juiced up with that damn Glee speech.” After they’d reconciled, Evan had given him chapter and verse on his mind-boggling thought processes on that last fateful day.

“He got me feeling guilty, is what he did. That I judged you for lying to Abby. Overcorrecting is one of my special gifts.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, while I’m overcorrecting…why don’t we invite her?”

Tommy looked up. “To our wedding?”

“Sure, why not? She can flip a coin whose side she sits on,” Evan said, grinning like the mischievous imp that he was.

“Evan, darling, love of my life, we are not inviting our ex to our wedding.”

He scrunched up his face. “Ew. ‘Our’ ex? Makes it sound like we were in a throuple.”

“Ew, indeed.”

He cocked his head. “I dunno, though. The thought’s kinda sexy.”

“Not to me! No vaginas anywhere near my bedroom. Kinsey 6, remember?”

“Of course, my apologies.”

Tommy looked at his innocent wide-eyed face for a few beats. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Can I help it if the thought of two people I have found intensely attractive doing sexy things is appealing?”

“Can I help it if the thought of Chris Hemsworth going down on you has gotten me through some lonely nights?”

“Okay, I get the point. Shutting up now.” 

Tommy put a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Your shift okay?”

“Fine. Busy. I’m a bit wired. Do we have time for me to bounce on your dick for a bit before you have to head out?”

“For that, I’ll make time.” He sat down at the table at Evan’s side with his own pancakes. Evan slid a hand over and squeezed his thigh.

“Missed you, though,” he said, chewing.

“I always miss you when you’re on shift,” Tommy said.

Evan looked up at that, meeting his eyes. “Tommy, sometimes I miss you when you get up to get a beer.”

The simplicity, the sincerity of it made his chest tighten a little. He leaned forward, put his fingers under Evan’s chin and pulled him into a soft kiss, just like the first time. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too.”

“And we are not inviting my ex-fiancee who is also your ex-girlfriend to our wedding.”

Evan grinned. “Deal.”

[hazyange1s]

a house is not a home.

Summary: sebastian despises his uncle’s cottage and the unwelcome inhabitants that haunt it. weighed down by grief and self-hatred after his twin’s recent death, he begins to push away the one person he loves most.

the thing about a home, though: it’s not where you live, but wherever your heart lies.

Warnings: depictions of grief, post-traumatic stress, and depression, mentions (memories) of blood and death, and “fade to black” implied sexual content.

Rating: M

Tags: post-hogwarts, slight codependency, domesticity, established relationship, angst (lots of angst) with a happy ending (because I need to heal myself ok), hurt/comfort, unnamed mc (she/her pronouns), Sebastian’s pov, makeup sex, past character death — Anne haunts the narrative.

insp: ‘curses’ by the crane wives!!

*if you prefer to read on ao3

Red — it’s everywhere. Blinding him, pouring from his wounds, coating his hands.

Then green; a sickly, sinister, Slytherin shade like poison. It streaks across his vision, wraps around his wrists in shining bands, then pulls him down, down, down…

Way beneath the dirt, where they already lie. They’ve been waiting for him. Together, the skeletal hands drag him under with them until he chokes on his own bile and the musty soil, until he’s certain that Death has taken him, too.

Just when he takes his last breath to be wasted on a scream, he wakes.

Sweat coats every limb. He thinks that’s why his face is wet, too, but no — those are tears, he can taste the salt on his tongue as he draws in a haggard breath.

It’s such a relief to breathe again.

Swiping a damp sleeve across his brow, Sebastian lets the air out in a rush, glancing at the peaceful shape of her sprawled out beside him. In contrast, her breaths are slow, even, punctuated by soft little snores that bring a hint of a smile to his chapped lips.

You’re safe. You’re alive. It’s over, now.

(Is it, though?)

As if she can somehow sense his turmoil, she stirs, eyes cracking open before she blinks up at him with a bleary stare.

“Seb?” Her voice is hoarse with sleep. “Is everything alright?”

No. Things haven’t been alright for a long, long time.

He goes with, “Of course, love. I’m fine, just…go back to sleep,” instead.

Too tired to argue, she lets out a contented sigh and snuggles back under the covers. Sebastian almost shakes her awake again, almost crawls into her arms so she can hold him and comfort him; a familiar routine they’d started in fifth year when the nightmares had started for them both.

Except the very idea of her hands on his skin make his stomach twist into a Gordian knot. They’d remind him too much of the pairs in his dreams — which is probably why their bed has felt more like a graveyard than a sanctuary in the past weeks.

He’s careful not to disturb her as he slips out of the bed. It’s his; the same one he’d slept in since he was seven years old, just Transfigured to fit two people now, when before he and Anne had to pack themselves in like canned sardines to fit.

He got to rest beside someone every night now, while she lay alone in her coffin.

The thought propels him towards the kitchen sink. He folds himself over it, hands braced on the porcelain, and empties the remnants of his dinner into the basin until there’s nothing left. When it’s over, he rinses his mouth and splashes icy water on his clammy cheeks before sinking to the ground, back against the cabinets.

His hands are shaking. Sebastian looks down, counts his fingers.

One. Two. Three. I’m awake. I’m not dreaming.

For the briefest moment, he imagines them stained with red, and starts to feel a little green all over again.

——

The sky is a dingy gray on a late summer afternoon when he finally musters up the courage to enter the garden.

Back in the day, Anne had loved tending to the flora curling around the cottage’s stone façade and the tiny vegetable patch tucked behind it. It had provided a measure of solace when she’d been unable to return to school; trapped in the village with nobody but Solomon, the neighbors, and those blasted plants as company, but ever since it had suffered without her caring touch.

Sebastian doesn’t have the same green thumb, just a lot of determination to fix the eyesore it had become, a wide array of gardening tools (half of them he could hardly remember what they were for — he’d dropped Herbology in sixth year), and too much time on his hands until autumn arrived and he began his Cursebreaker training.

So, every day for the last month, he’s toiled beneath the sun and clouds to restore it to what it used to be…or at least, to some semblance of its former glory.

Perhaps once he removes the weeds, it’ll be a step towards removing all the other unwanted, invasive species that seem to be clinging to the stone.

Distant thunder rumbles as he trims the ivy along the tresses. It electrifies his skin, makes it itch and tingle — or perhaps it’s simply the nettles that have invaded every spare patch of real estate on the ground. By the time the first raindrop lands, cool and soothing on his nose, he’s moved on to pruning the heather.

Soft footsteps disturb the moist earth, barely audible amidst a crack of lightning from over the hill.

“Thirsty?” She stops at his side, handing Sebastian a cool glass of pumpkin juice that nearly slips from his fingers; dripping with condensation. Without so much as a glance her way, he takes a long, greedy swig.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “Shouldn’t you be leaving for London soon?”

“I think Natty can handle picking up a birthday cake without my help,” she says wryly.

Her skirts rustle, dragging in the mud as she crouches down to admire his handiwork. Currently, he’s making an attempt to clear the old vegetable patch out so they can plant new seeds, but some of those stubborn weeds refuse to budge. His efforts show in the streaks of soil painting his corded forearms and the beads of sweat adorning his brow.

“It seems the great Sebastian Sallow has finally met his match: weeds.” She snorts. “You know, using magic might make this go a bit faster.”

He shakes his head, grunting out a half-hearted reply, “No. No magic. This needs to be done right.”

“Alright, then. Knock yourself out.”

When he doesn’t respond, she sighs and stands back up. He can feel the trepidation radiating off of her, since she hadn’t been able to hide a single thing from him in years — he deciphers every tone, sound, and mood as easily as reading an open book.

He isn’t a fool. He knows he’s been distant, knows he’s pushing her away, and yet something in him is powerless to stop it; as if watching himself from outside of his own body.

She’s too… good. Too loyal. Too devoted. So much so that she hadn’t left his side since the day Anne had passed; always ready to lend an ear or hand or shoulder to cry on. And Sebastian can no longer bear to accept any of it when he also knows she could do far better than someone who can’t win a fight against a bunch of stubborn plants and waters them with his own tears.

The silence stretches on for so long that he jumps when she speaks again. “If you’re coming with me, you should get cleaned up soon. I’ll run you a bath, if you’d like, and —“

“Not going.”

“What?” Her brow furrows. He doesn’t see it, but he knows. “Why not?”

“As you can see, I’m a bit busy.”

A hiss slips between his teeth when he nicks his finger on the garden shears. Sucking the sore digit into his mouth, he abandons the vegetables in favor of a simpler task: clipping the ferns obscuring a fading, mossy headstone.

He doesn’t let himself look at the writing crudely carved into it.

Somehow, she’s still there, and the twinge of irritation in her voice is both grating and completely justified. “Come on, Sebastian; it’s Garreth’s birthday. Can’t you just…put on a smile for two hours and eat some cake with me?”

“Not hungry.”

Breakfast had gone untouched that morning, though she’d made his favorite (bacon, fried eggs, toast with far too much blackberry jam to be healthy, and coffee with extra sugar), and his stomach grumbles a reminder loud enough to rival the next clap of thunder.

Any semblance of an appetite disappears completely when he trims away a fan of ferns covering up the winged angel watching over his uncle’s grave. A raindrop lands on its stone cheek and trickles down.

It’s only the rain that wets his eyes, he tells himself.

“Seb…”

Her voice becomes gentler, placating, before she rests a hand on his shoulder that he shakes off.

Not an ounce of him has earned her comfort. Not when he’s now scrubbing the mold from a gravestone that he himself hadn’t been there to erect, and six feet beneath his dirty feet are the bones of Solomon Sallow, already being devoured by the earth.

Anne is buried beside their parents back home — a small mercy.

Still, she tries again: “Please, take a break and come with me. Everybody’s been wondering why you haven’t come around — Poppy asks about you in every letter, and Ominis misses you, even if he won’t admit it — ”

“They’ll all be better off without me,” he grunts.

Everyone is better off without him. Look what happens when he’s around.

Pain. Chaos.

Death.

“That’s not true,” she insists.

When he doesn’t turn around or acknowledge her, she makes an impatient huff, grabbing both of his shoulders and forcing him to meet her eyes for the first time in days.

“Don’t make me make you. I’m not above kidnapping when it’s for the greater good.”

Her attempt at humor doesn’t land with him.

Those wide eyes plead with him silently. They beg him to emerge from the hiding place he'd carefully crafted within himself, to laugh at her poor joke, to show her any sign that the Sebastian she knew is still in there, somewhere.

She’s one of the few people he truly never wanted to let down, and here he is. There’s a crease between her brows that wasn’t there before: more physical proof of his failings.

Sebastian snaps. “For Merlin’s sake, would you just let it go already? I said I’m not going, and that’s final, so quit being such a bloody nag and leave me the hell alone!”

Her hand falls from his shoulder. Lashes fluttering to keep her brimming tears at bay, she nods solemnly and turns back towards the cottage, her absence allowing a cold front to rush in and chill him to the bone.

“Fine. Waste away here for all I care — I’ll tell everyone you say, ‘hello’.”

Before he can swallow what remains of his pride and apologize, he hears the cottage door slamming shut behind her.

If only the earth could swallow him up, too.

——

That night, he sleeps alone for the first time in years.

The next is just as lonely.

As is the next.

At first, Sebastian tells himself that this is what he wanted all along. What he’s earned. How could he expect her to stick around forever when all he’d been doing lately was chasing her away? But eventually he realizes that it was she who had filled the house with light again where it had been dark for so long. Without her, the fire doesn’t burn as brightly, and the shadows elongate, reaching, grabbing, yanking him back under —

He can’t sleep in the bed alone, so he curls up by the ashy hearth and prays its enchanted flames can keep away ghosts.

No such luck.

They whisper to him as he sleeps, waking him at odd intervals until the neighbors’ crow signals the arrival of dawn. Each and every night, they return to follow him throughout the day as he works in the garden, dusts off the old knickknacks scattered about or tucked away in chests, replaces the creaky floorboard his uncle never bothered with.

There’s little explanation for her disappearance. She sends an owl the day after Garreth’s birthday, telling Sebastian that she’ll be staying with Natty in London for the time being, as it’s much closer to the Ministry, anyway.

But he’s wise enough to know the commute isn’t what’s keeping her there; away from him.

As the days blend together and the heat starts to wane, Sebastian has yet to finish his project in the garden. He can’t bring himself to — every time he so much as glances at that headstone, an urge to smash it to pieces makes his bones rattle. Anne’s clothes remain gathering dust in her old trunk, and the photo album on the shelf has long since begun to yellow.

When the trees outside begin to take on the same hue, she returns.

He looks up from the book balanced in his lap when the air around him seems to stir, shift, heralding a sharp crack coming from just beyond the front door. The tea he made out of habit sits untouched on the dining table, and its cup rattles in the saucer as that door creaks open.

She blusters in, the wind sneaking in from outside tinged with autumn’s warning bite. Pausing to wipe her boots on the mat, she meets his stare, though hers is measured. Guarded.

Sebastian licks his fingers and dog-ears the page before the book, too, is abandoned.

“You’re back,” he cannot even attempt to disguise his relief.

“I’m only picking up a few things,” is all she says. Then, eyes flicking away, she walks behind the curtain into their makeshift “bedroom” and snatches a cloak from the armoire without sparing him another glance.

Panic powers his heart. It thuds erratically against the cage of his ribs, pouring adrenaline into his blood.

This is it, then. She’s really leaving for good — surprised it took her this long.

He calls her name, his voice hoarse and crackling like the meager fire beside him, but it goes unanswered.

Standing up from his chair, Sebastian crosses the room to lean against the wall — a healthy distance away, just in case she’s still furious at him. Still, she ignores him, reaching into the potions cabinet before thinking better of it.

“You’re running low on Calming Draughts. I’ll tell Garreth to send you some more,” she mutters.

Even now, she’s taking care of him.

“Been spending a lot of time with him lately, have you?”

The accusation is flying out before he can school his tongue. He hates how it makes him sound; like some jealous, pathetic, whiny little boy, upset that his favorite toy was taken away from him. Because he knew better. He knows she belongs to nothing and no one but herself, never to be a possession. She’s so much more than that; always has been, but from that very first day of his fifth year, they’d belonged to each other.

She was his, and he was hers.

Nothing more to it.

Now that she’s virtually all that remains of Sebastian’s old life — the only one who hadn’t died or started to drift away or abandoned him — the thought of losing her cuts deeper than any physical wound ever could.

Though her reply leaves a decent sized one, too: “Yes, I have. Is there a problem?”

Part of him wants to get angry; accuse her of things he knows in his heart of hearts that she would never do, find somebody to blame besides the real culprit.

(Himself.)

“Is there a problem?” He scoffs. “Other than you hanging around your old flame after leaving for weeks without a real explanation? Why ever would that be a problem?”

“No. We’re not doing this, Sebastian,” she turns to face him, finally, and he notices the violet painted beneath her eyes — the same color smudged around his.

“Doing what? Having an adult conversation about this?” His cheeks start to heat.

“Oh, now you want to talk?”

She laughs, but it’s cold; nothing like the usual bell-like sound he once made great strides to coax from her. Sebastian realizes he’s been hearing it less and less the past few months, and starts to mourn that, too.

“Of course I want —“

“I’ve been trying to get an honest conversation out of you for months. And now, only when you finally realize how horrible things have gotten, you want to try and fix it? Because you’re jealous?” She shakes her head, never one to mince words.

“That’s not it. I’ve sent you owl after owl; asking when you’d be back, trying to apologize —“

“Only you never did apologize!” Finally, she explodes, her eyes flashing with a righteous anger he recognizes all too well. “Gods, I can’t take this anymore, Sebastian. I feel like I’m fucking suffocating here with you! Day in and day out you only get more miserable, and I can’t even breathe for fear of making it worse!”

The truth does really, truly, hurt. In his head it’s one thing, but from her mouth, it’s entirely another.

Predictably, he lashes out against it, though it scrapes up his throat to say, “I’m sorry, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear? My sincerest apologies for being such a pathetic excuse for a wizard!”

”You’re such a prick sometimes. Would it kill you not to be sarcastic for one minute while I’m trying to speak to you?”

”Don’t know. It might. But I’m sure you’d like to find out, wouldn’t you?”

”What does that mean?”

”You’re leaving me, right?” Sebastian’s voice wavers. Or it could just be the world beneath his feet, which is also making his knees unsteady. “You’re ending this.”

Avoiding the obvious no longer suits him. He needs to hear it out loud to make it feel real, because it doesn’t; it’s so similar to one of his frequent night terrors that it could very well be one.

She hesitates. That brief pause is a beautiful, terrible thing, as it grants Sebastian a kernel of hope — which sputters with her answer.

“Not…forever. Not yet. But I do need some time to figure out what I need right now.”

Every muscle freezes, every nerve shuts off. He goes completely numb. At least she isn’t abandoning him for good (yet), he thinks, though it’s a small consolation when he knows they are hanging on by the thinnest of threads.

His useless mouth gives no reply, and she turns away, resuming her packing.

Sebastian, somehow, forces his body to cooperate, the first sound he makes nothing but a broken iteration of her name. It slips out again when she pretends not to hear it — though he knows she does, because she flinches, and her shoulders jerk with the first silent sobs as she grips the armoire white-knuckled.

“Please,” he swallows, moistening his sandpaper tongue, and tries again. “Please, don’t leave. I am so, so fucking sorry — I never meant to cause you pain; I just…I’ve been through a lot these past few years, and I know I shouldn’t take it out on you —“

”So have I, Sebastian!” She whips around, eyes flashing red.

That glimmer of unearthly power, which has cost her so dearly, is a stark reminder of how right she was: she’d been to hell and back while managing to keep him earthbound.

Her lower lip quivers, rosy cheeks glistening with trails of tears.

“I know you’ve lost so much in so short a time. I understand that better than anyone. But I’m still trying to move forward, trying to be there for you — keeping it together so that one of us isn’t falling apart; while you treat me as if I’m nothing but a chore.”

“I…”

How could he never have known she felt this way? He was aware that his callousness affected her, but…she had always been the more solid of the two of them. Things that bothered him rolled right off of the armor on her shoulders, and most times you would never know you’d hurt her until the lid on her temperance popped.

For a while now, she’d held it all in for his sake. And he hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t even cared — not in the way she deserved.

“You’re right. I’ve been…awful. There’s no excuse. I’m sorry,” he hangs his head, defeated.

“Yes, you have!”

”You don’t deserve any of it.”

”No, I don’t.”

He braces himself for her next blow. Waits for her to finish gathering her things and walk out that door for the last time.

Instead, her boots scuff against the floor as she approaches him, a long, staccato sigh almost close enough to ruffle the hair on his forehead.

“Is the person I met gone?” She says, her voice softer now, weakening. “Is this who you are now? Do you even…do you even love me anymore?”

That she had to ask such a question was nearly laughable. Practically from the moment they’d met, she’d been his laughter, his drive, his rock; most of his damned reason for continuing to exist in such an unforgivable world. Yet there she stood, believing she meant nothing at all.

It would become one of his deepest regrets. After emassing so, so many of them, Sebastian could not let this one haunt him, too.

“Of course I do.” He erases the distance between them, hands framing her face as if she’s something precious (and she is). “I may be rubbish at showing it lately, but I have never stopped loving you. I’m not sure that’s even possible.”

She was motionless when he first touched her, but now she tilts her head just slightly into his palm, shimmering eyes staring unflinchingly into his.

“That boy you met in fifth year is still here. Changed, yes, but not gone. I’m still the man who loves you, who would do anything for you — including admit he’s been a terrible partner and vow to make it up to you,” he murmurs.

“Seb…”

The uncertainty in her voice is plain — she doesn’t quite trust him any longer. Still, a hand covers one of his own, her voice gentler as she says, “I’ve felt so alone these past months. Longer than that, really, but since we’ve left school…it’s been unbearably lonely. It doesn’t even feel like you’re here anymore.”

Sebastian’s thumbs caress her cheeks, smearing saltwater where more tears fall. “I am. I’m here. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

To prove it, he leans in, the tip of his nose nuzzling against hers to a shaky little inhale that makes his hair stand on end. Her face tilts up, allowing their lips the softest meeting that’s no more than a whisper while the anticipation — the craving to kiss her again after weeks without her touch — slowly drives him rabid.

So he takes the initiative. Rough fingers seek the hair at the nape of her neck to tangle in, and when they find a messy chignon, he pulls the ribbon until the locks tumble free down her back.

The shine in her eyes before he kisses her, how her lips part in anticipation of meeting his…how did he ever think he’d be able to survive without this?

“Darling,” he sighs into her mouth. “I’ve missed you…”

If the way she opens up to him, like a flower in bloom, is any indication, she’s missed him too. Her reply comes in the form of grabby hands fisting in the front of his linen shirt and teeth that catch his bottom lip, drawing him nearer, injecting pure heat into his bloodstream.

And suddenly, between her warmth and the hearth that seems to burn brighter once more in her presence, it’s far too hot in the small cottage. Seeking relief, he pries her hands free to tear the shirt off his back before it's carelessly tossed onto the dining table. Her cloak falls to the floor in a heap; then her blouse; her shoes kicked off – he trips on one in his haste to hoist her atop the cloth-strewn table – and he’s already unbuttoning her skirt when she stops him.

Sebastian nearly whines.

“I need you know you mean it this time,” she asserts, lips already swollen from his kisses. “That things are going to change.”

“You think I’m trying to placate you with sex?”

Her pointed look screams, As if you’ve never done that before.

He sighs. Tries to remind himself of the gravity of this night (even though his aching core probably couldn’t give less of a damn), that he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself. She needs his undivided, patient attention.

“I promise,” Sebastian kisses both cheeks, her nose, her chin, before ending up back at her lips. “This is only the first part of my apology…if you’re willing to accept it.”

A smile dimples her skin no matter how hard she tries to stifle it. To his great relief, her palms flatten over his chest, feeling the steady gallop of his heart, twisting up around his neck to draw him nearer until his thighs hit the wooden edge of the table. Her legs part to welcome him readily.

“It better be one hell of an apology.”

With a chuckle, he resumes his mission to remove her skirt with practiced efficiency. “Good thing I’ve had loads of practice.”

Despite seeing her in varying states of undress countless times, it never grew old. Having her stripped to her stockings, corset, and the lacy little style of chemise she preferred to wear now… well, it was a reminder of what he’d been taking for granted, and Sebastian intended to fully appreciate it again.

——

In the afterglow, he finds a peace he hasn’t experienced in weeks.

Sebastian’s breathing slows, heart relaxing into its regular rhythm while the sweat dries on their naked bodies. Hers is nestled into the curve of his like the missing piece of a puzzle he’d thought he’d lost.

As he lets himself melt into the mattress, boneless and satiated with his head cradled by the pillow they share, something cold and wet splashes on his nose. Sebastian’s head tips back, eyes squinting to zero in on an almost imperceptible gap in that thatched roof.

It’s easily repaired with a wave of his wand, the drop of rain wiped away, but he curses at the heavens regardless.

“You know,” he muses, drawing the witch beside him tight up against his side to brush his lips over her temple. “I think it’s high time we found a place of our own.”

“This is ours, now,” she nuzzles his cheek like a contended cat.

“But it’s not, really. It’s never been mine — this place was always Solomon’s house to me. It never felt like a…like a proper home.”

She watches him in contemplative silence, waiting for him to continue.

Sebastian takes in the cottage; the memories he lives in: the tea set in the china cabinet with a chipped cup, the nearly empty potion bottles he’d neglected to throw away after Anne no longer had need of them, the scorch mark seared into the wall from an experimental spell gone awry. His past is written here, as is his family’s, but now it feels more like ancient history.

One he’s now desperate to leave behind to make room for something new.

How can he move on and heal if he’s still clinging to scraps of a life he’ll never get back?

Before he can voice this, she snatches the words right from his lips with a kiss.

“Then…we’ll find a new one,” her whisper is full of promise. “We could get a flat in the city, or a cottage in one of the hamlets further South — you always did love Maurenweem.”

He turns this over in his head, tastes the idea, and finds it lacking. There’s something about moving into a place that had once been owned by someone else; likely inhabited by a different set of ghosts, stained by others’ memories, that doesn’t feel right. No, that won’t do at all.

“What if we build our own home instead?”

Her brows raise at the question. “Build one? I admire your ambition, Seb, but you’re a Cursebreaker — not a craftsman.”

“I’m sure with a bit of help and a little ancient magic, we would figure it out. It could be fun; we’d get to make our home exactly the way we want it, and then we would be beholden to any renters or nosy neighbors,” he reasons.

She studies him again, trying to figure out whether he was serious until a smile eventually blooms on her well-kissed mouth.

“Alright. Let’s do it. A place of our own.”

”Really? You mean it?”

“Mhmm. But we should start now; before winter comes. Oh, Merlin, there’s so much to do — we’ve got to pick a location, draw up the schematics, purchase supplies…”

Sebastian didn’t care so much for the logistics. All he hears is that she wanted this; still intends to build a life with him (a home), to stay by his side. The rest of her rambling fizzles out when he rolls on top of her, her soft giggles invigorating him like he’d just downed a glass of sparkling wine as his body settles into its rightful place between her thighs.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” he murmurs peppering kisses along her throat. “But for tonight, the only real estate I’m concerned about exploring is right here in this bed.”

——

Three months later:

As the grandfather clock (the one relic from the old house that had survived the move) tolls the midnight hour, Sebastian bids the last guests goodnight, waving to Imelda and Poppy before they Disapparate from the grassy knoll outside the cottage.

His witch is already cleaning up the remnants of the night’s festivities. The empty bottle of wine has been repurposed into a vase brimming with a spray of chrysanthemums, and glasses fly into the soap-filled sink, one narrowly missing his head when he crosses the foyer to wrap his arms around her waist.

“Happy, are we?” She grins at the gentle hum he lets out, setting down her wand on the dining table.

“I’d say we can call our first housewarming party a success,” he confirms.

After painstaking efforts that included several early renovations and more manual labor than even Sebastian had anticipated, the relief he felt at settling into their new home was staggering. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t dread crossing the threshold — at the end of each long day at work or running errands, Sebastian longed for nothing more than the comforts of their cozy abode nestled in the Scottish lowlands, and even the nightmares had begun to fade with each night in their brand-new bed.

The ghosts would always be there, of course, just in his memory instead.

“I’m proud of you,” she reaches up to tuck away an errant lock of hair, affection shining in her luminous eyes. “I wasn’t sure about all of this at first, but…now that we’ve settled in, it just feels…right. You know? Like this is where we’re supposed to end up.”

He chuckles. “Corny of you. But I know exactly what you mean.”

Once they’re curled up in bed, her nestled in his lap with the flickering glow of a candle spilling over the rumpled sheets and the worn pages of the book Sebastian reads to her in a lulling whisper, he’s struck by the sense that he is precisely where he’s meant to be.

Gods, he never thought he’d get that feeling back.

“We’ll finish tomorrow night,” he yawns. “I’m so tired, I can hardly read the words any more.”

“Aww, but I want to know what happens! Does Pip ever return from Egypt? What about Estella? Will he ever see her again?” His witch pouts even as she allows him to drag the covers over them both.

Sebastian sighs, snuffing out the candle and settling in beside her.

“All I’ll say is…they live happily ever after.”

”You’re no fun.”

“I love you, too.”

It’s not the change of scenery or the absence of a grave in his backyard that offers the sanctuary Sebastisn’s always longed for. For a while now, he’s known the truth in his bones: that his true home wasn’t four wooden walls and a hearth — it was her strength that kept his foundation standing, and love that kept him warm.

In their sacred little corner of the world, that fire never burns out.

[kykyonthemoon]

If it’s not too much, could I ask for the Love and Deepspace boys who accidentally hurt the (if you could gn) reader’s feelings? (They argued and they were wrong but lashed out either way sorta thing?) if not, completely understandable! Tysm!

The Hurts

Loving someone is giving that person the chance to hurt you and trusting that they will never do so.

🌻 Rafayel/Xavier/Zayne x Reader Tags: gn!reader, hurt/ comfort, angst A/N: I can't see our LIs to be the type to lash out at their loved ones, so I modify the request a bit. Thank you for requesting, anon-san. Hope you enjoy this story.

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𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

Loving someone is giving that person the chance to hurt you and trusting that they will never do so.

You had given him so many chances, and what you got in return was being hurt over and over again.

Like sitting on a never-ending roller coaster, that's the feeling when you were with him.

He made you happy, he made you sad. He gave you surprises and he also shattered many of your dreams.

Then, you had enough.

You trudged back home with heavy steps after a difficult mission. Blood drenched your uniform. The blood of Wanderers, and the blood of your comrades. The mission was a complete failure. There were a lot of people injured, and it was completely your fault.

Because you trusted someone who shouldn't have been trusted.

Rafayel was standing on an empty street corner, waiting for you. He knew you would always take the same route home. You were too predictable, that was why he played with you like a toy.

You grit your teeth. You and Rafayel each held one end of the rubber band. But he was always the first to let go.

It hurt, the feeling of being betrayed hurt so much. But you still kept walking. You did not want him to see you miserable like that. You would not give him the opportunity to trample on your feelings and trust anymore.

Rafayel's dark eyes gazed at you. You saw scales sprouting out from his face and neck. That was the day when Lemurians were at their weakest.

Nevertheless, he made the decision to stand here and wait for you to come home. As soon as he had heard the news from his spies, he immediately ran to find you even though he was in his weakest state. You stopped moving when you were just close enough away from him, to look straight into his eyes with full of indignation.

“I will explain everything.” Rafayel spoke up. And he should, but you were sick of it by now.

“That's enough, Rafayel.” You cut him off before he could say anything else. “You've said enough.”

You trusted his intelligence, only to lead your comrades into a trap. He always took advantage of your absolute trust to hurt you and the people you cared about. Especially when there was something related to the Lemurians, he suddenly became a different person. Someone you did not know.

“Your secrets…” You said, “Just keep them to yourself… I think I've had enough of your lies.”

"I did not lie." Rafayel reached out towards you but you backed away. “Everything I told you about that operation was true. I simply…”

“You simply didn't tell me the whole truth.” You said bitterly.

Rafayel withdrew his hand. He appeared so frail that he may pass out at any time at the side of the road. This time, you would not care as much. You would just leave him be.

“You showed concern for me, then you left me alone. You helped me, then pushed me into a trap... What is real, Rafayel? What is the truth that ever comes out of your mouth?”

Rafayel was silent, staring at you with pain. What an excellent performance. You almost believed him, one more time.

“What are you going to do, then? You could kill me with just one blow right now.”

“Don't challenge me.” You threatened with a glare. You hurried past Rafayel, wanting nothing more than to get home and clean off all the blood on your body and calm yourself down. Yet, despite his extreme weakness, he still has the ability to draw you in. Your eyes met his sadness. In an instant, it seemed as though you had descended to the ocean's lowest point.

“You asked me what was true.” He said, his voice shaking. “You may not believe anything else I say… But this, this alone is the truth… I will never, ever let anyone hurt you… I will never lose you again…”

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

You stood in front of Xavier's house waiting impatiently. As soon as the door opened, you immediately rushed inside without even saying hello.

“Is there anything wrong?” Xavier asked gently, but his innocent look made you even more angry.

“You crossed me out of that mission, didn’t you?” You replied in anger. There were several rolled-up reports in your palm, ready to be torn apart. You aimed it in his direction. “This was originally the mission assigned to me! Why did you request to do it on your own?”

Xavier saw the problem as soon as he glanced at those papers. He tried to explain:

“That mission is too dangerous. I can't let you do it by yourself.”

“Then would it be better if you went alone?”

You gave Xavier a glance. He was trying to calm you down, but every step he took closer you moved further away. You were upset because he decided to enter a risky area without you, maybe endangering his life, and you were unaware of it until everything had been taken care of. Even with you by his side, he carried the weight of everything by himself. You did not want that, because you felt compelled to share everything with him.

"I'm sorry." Xavier was honest with you. “I should have asked you first. I decided on my own because I thought it was the best thing for you.”

“What's best for me?” You retorted. “Do you even know what is good for me? To participate in my own mission, to decide to do things as I wish, or to fight by your side!”

Only silence covered the room. You collapsed into his couch, burrowing your face into your hands. You hated this feeling of helplessness. He took away your right to make decisions, your right to accompany him on this dangerous mission. The thought that he did not need you was so painful.

“You don't believe in me…” You spoke up after a long while. When you looked up, you saw that Xavier was still standing there, looking regretful and helpless because he was unable to touch you at the time. “I thought we were a team. If we're a team, we won't hide missions from each other, we won't sneak around alone behind the other person's back..."

“I'm really sorry. That mission is much more dangerous than area N109. I can't let you risk it.”

“That means if you had to choose again, you would still do the same and hide it from me, right?”

Xavier remained silent, but you already knew the answer.

You did not know what hurt more; Xavier hiding that mission from you, or he not trusting you could complete it?

You got to your feet, looked at Xavier, and proceeded to the door.

"I truly put in a lot of training to be in a team with you. But maybe that's not enough. If you think you can do it all by yourself then so be it, I don't see the need to stay here anymore.”

"Don't." Xavier seized your hand fast to hold you there. “Don't say such things…”

You drew away from him fiercely. Xavier let out a cry and embraced his left chest at that very time.

It appeared like he was hurt. You scowled and extended a hand to touch him.

“Are you injured?”

Xavier tried to smile, but his face gradually turned pale. He took that opportunity to pull you back and wrap an arm around your waist to keep you in place.

“It's only a little cut.”

“How can it be small when you look so painful?”

Xavier struggled to breathe. He replied:

"I'm sorry. Maybe it's true that I couldn't do that task alone. You were right. We are a team, I need you.”

You feel pleased, but still very angry with Xavier. It was because he chose to go alone that he got injured like that.

“From now on, I will definitely not hide anything from you anymore. So… don't leave me alone, okay?”

You were silent for a while, but wrapped your arms around Xavier to hug him. “I have to check your wound first.”

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

The more you care for someone else, the deeper the wound they cause you.

It had been a month since you could contact him. Just like that, he disappeared, again.

You were frightened. Just like when you were a child, suddenly one day, the friend who used to make snow seals for you disappeared without a trace. No one could hear about him. He had also covertly assigned your monthly health check to another physician without you knowing until you got to the hospital. The last time you had heard about him was when Dr. Greyson told you he were rushing off to the Arctic on urgent business.

How funny it was to learn that from someone other than him. No farewells, no assurances not to worry. And for an entire month, he was absent. Although you didn't have the authority to make him tell you his schedules, at least you wanted to know how long he was going to be gone and whether or not the mission was risky.

You grew more afraid and then angered as you considered him going missing once more. How could he do this to you, after everything you had been through together? Yet he dared to show his face to your house on a rainy night.

When he saw that you were covering yourself from the rain with your jacket, he moved forward to shield you. But you dashed over to the porch. You just looked at him from a distance, but near enough to see that he was alright. After that, you entered and slammed the door in his face.

Not a word was said to each other. He did not even call your name or send a text message. He stood in the pouring rain for a long, long time. You couldn't care less. That night you went to sleep fitfully, and when you woke up the next morning, your auntie neighbor told you that he had just departed a short while after your room's light went out.

You did not try to contact him again. This cold war was initiated by him, so let it be. It was now a week after his return, and you had to go to the hospital for a check-up before an important mission. When you saw the name of the physician assigned to you was Zayne, you requested for another.

Dr. Greyson found you in the waiting area. He asked about your refusal to let Zayne examine your health. Honestly, you could not find any reason to answer that wasn't too personal. So you just sat in silence.

“The first thing Zayne did when he got back was to read your files. He wanted to make sure you were fine while he was gone.”

Dr. Greyson said. You lowered your head and looked down at your clasped hands, experiencing a range of conflicting feelings.

“I don't know what happened between you two, and maybe it's none of my business, but Zayne is a friend, and I need to butt in just this once…”

You looked up at Dr. Greyson.

“Zayne went to the Arctic to seek assistance from his teacher. Things got worse as it became more and more difficult for him to control his Evol. I caught him injuring himself with his Evol. He made the decision to suffer alone until things got in control in order to protect others.”

You were shocked. Zayne had been suffering because of his Evol for the past month without you knowing, while you were blaming him for leaving you.

"Perhaps he refrained from telling you out of concern that you would worry and accompany him there."

The rest of the conversation drifted away. Then you stood up, tried to hold back your tears as you walked to Zayne's office. He sat behind the computer screen, looking up at you with mixed emotions in his eyes, although his face still remained calm.

You entered slowly, noted the scars on his hands. There were fresh cuts that were not yet healed. He must have been very hurt and lonely. What must you do to make him open up to you? What must you do so that you can share the burden with him?

“You… What's wrong?”

As soon as Zayne spoke, you hid your tears by walking towards him in a haste and pulled him into your embrace.

“Please don't go without a word... I won't be able to bear it if you disappear again..."

[peoniesnro]

In Another Universe

#15. His Happy Ending...........

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – parallel universe / kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings- Language/ Angst / INFIDELITY /SMUT- Making out/ Dirty Talk/ Sex toys/ Orgasms in public (when I say public I mean 'PUBLIC' (They are little freaks!)/ Edging/ Car sex/ Overstimulation/ Teasing/ Riding/ Desperate sex/ Jimin is kinda whiny!! /(Hope that's all)/

Word count- 27K (Well, at least I managed to end it there...)

a/n- So, this one took me so long to finish. I'm so sorry for the delay but I desperately hope that the wait was worth it. This is the longest chapter so far. Actually, I had more planned for this chap but I decided to break it up. Becuase of that, there'll be less drama in this one. But again this is another calm one before a storm!! Hope to bring the next chapter soon and thank you for keep staying. (I LOVE YOU ALL❤️)

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Chapter Index

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Coffee?

Everyone has been afraid of something in their life. No exception for Park Jimin. He’s been scared of many things. He’s been scared to death, in fact. If he’s to recall, he’d talk about the day he met Mr. Kim. His girlfriend’s father. Not in a way a person would meet their partner’s parents, but as a formal business meeting. Jimin was a nervous, scared mess when he met the mighty Kim with nothing but a dream in his heart and a proposal in hand. And of course, there was the weight of his friends’ futures as well. That’s all he had. 

Then he was scared to death the day they launched their first game. But when that phase was over Jimin had thought the scary part of his life was over as well. Only if life could be that fun, though. After many years, Jimin had felt so scared for the first time the day he had thought you had to go back. The day he finally caved into his burning desires. The day he begged you to stay. Even though he still doesn’t know the answer as to why, he endured a restless, torturous night. Yet that wasn’t a type of fear that would crawl under his skin and cling to his bones. He was scared, yes, but if you were not to return again, Jimin would’ve still lived. 

But the fear he has felt when you fell down into his arms. Limp. Like a rag doll. His name barely audible on your lips.That was a kind of fear that made him shiver. Feel trapped. He had felt the way his heart beat slowed down. Had felt how it became hard to breathe. He wasn’t just scared to death. He feared for life itself. Yours and his. Because, for a fractured moment, Jimin imagined the coming days and years without you in them. And somehow he knew that, he wouldn’t be able to just live. No. Things have changed somewhere along the line. From that first day you woke up next to him and to the day he watched you turn into the color of pale snow, Jimin has forgotten about a world where you wouldn’t exist. 

So, of course, he was scared. Scared in a way he couldn’t even describe. He was going mad. Especially, since he knew running into a hospital wouldn’t probably do any good. He knew what happened. That was the only reason for him to isolate you in a VIP backroom thanks to Yoona’s help. It has been hard. Countless lies and begging. But he succeeded. Just to see things worsen. He had only left you alone for  a minute. To grab a wet towel because you were burning up. When he returned, however, he went into an empty room. You were nowhere in his sight. Nowhere. Just disappeared into thin air. And Jimin had gone feral. Like a wild animal. Could’ve ruined everything in his mad state where he started to look for you everywhere. Knowing very well that you must’ve gone back. Fortunately, there was Jungkook, who had arrived there late and was scared as much as Jimin, if not more, but still managed to keep things under control.

They’ve blurted blatant lies after a lie. Jimin had to physically restrain Liya’s mother from entering the room, claiming that her daughter didn’t want to see anyone. And in the end, he and Jungkook had won. Everybody had to leave the sick- as some of them thought- Kim Liya on her boyfriend’s hand. And to others it was you- Li- who they left with Jungkook. It caused more than one confusion and Jimin has been facing them ever since. Not that he answered any questions anyone raised, though. He successfully managed to sidestep all of them. Liya’s family, at least, had calmed down after they met Liya. And to Jimin’s great relief Liya had helped him- which was surprising- with a simple lie of saying she was dehydrated. Everything was solved. 

Except it wasn’t. Not for Jimin. Because he was still petrified. Dying inside. That fear that engulfed him the moment you vanished never ceasing despite all the chaos that went through. He was scared about the next day. Or in fact he was scared of the days after that. The fear of not seeing you again was so powerful it had reduced him into a deranged state.  

Hence, the reason for his unannounced visit to Jungkook’s place this morning. The reason for Jimin to pace in front of Jungkook’s main door until Jungkook had to threaten him with broken bones if he hadn’t stopped it. The reason why he is feeling like crying from the sudden relief as he finally notices the figure emerges through the staircase. As if he’s seeing the sun after a night full of horror. A night he didn’t know would end. 

Jimin stops abruptly on his track. A heavy breath of relief escaping his lips as you stop in the landing. A moment passes. Moment of where you two just gape at each other. Your pretty eyes widen in surprise. Glinting. A small smile slowly stretching on your luscious lips. Breathtaking. It’s like Jimin is caught in a spell. Slightly painful. In a good way, though. The relief he’s feeling almost hurts him. 

You break that spell first. Just as a shiver runs through his body.

“Jimin?” You mumble oh so softly. Unlike the last time he heard his name slip through your lips, this time it sounds real. No pain. And Jimin finally snaps out of his haze. All it takes for him is two long strides to reach you. Like a sudden storm. A breathless gasp escapes your mouth as he wraps his arms around your unsuspecting body. Pulling you into his chest. Arms tightly squeezing you. Molding you into his body. 

Oh, God, how relieved Jimin feels. He would never be able to describe this sensation in words. Just as he is unable to describe the fear he felt. Doesn’t know what he would’ve done if this moment never came. It came, though. His worst nightmares didn’t come true. You’re here. Real. He can feel you against him. Can feel your soft breaths against his neck. Can feel your heartbeat against his chest. Can feel your hands soothingly rub his sides. Yet, a little bit of that fear is still there. He absolutely doesn’t want to let you go. Is afraid that you’ll disappear. Literally. What if you just vanish and never come back. So, he holds you even tighter. Tight enough that you whimper. Yet you don’t complain. Just keep rubbing his sides. 

“I’m fine, Park.” Keep mumbling into his neck. “I promise, I’m fine.”

Jimin nods. Forcing himself to gather his shit up. Crying isn’t an option. Among many reasons why it would be embarrassing, the main reason is what suddenly interrupts his little moment of heaven. 

“All right, that’s enough. Move-” Jimin winces at the sudden voice of his dear best friend. To his great dismay, you pull away from his embrace. Looking at Taehyung with even wider eyes. Apparently you haven’t noticed him earlier. “- why the fuck do you guys act like lost lovers kind of shit?” Taehyung grumbles as he makes his way toward you. Only to gasp when you are suddenly yanked away from a Jungkook. Jimin can only roll his eyes in annoyance as Jungkook takes his chance to hold you against his body. “Yah! You too? Seriously, guys? What the actual fuck is happening?” 

No one answers him. You and Jungkook being too busy hugging each other while Jimin being busy not trying to act as a possessive prick. 

“You okay, Noona?” Jungkook finally lets you go. You nod with a soft smile. Turn back to Jimin. 

“What are you doing here?” Question innocently. 

Jimin doesn’t answer your question. Instead just walks over to you. Grabs your shoulders, ignoring the looming presence of Jeon Jungkook. It’s unfortunate that Jimin can’t steal you away. To a place where no one else exists. Since it’s not happening, it seems like he’d have to do with just this. “Are you really fine, Lil? Wh-what? You just diss-” Jimin shuts his mouth immediately, remembering that his best friend is not a part of this loop. 

“Disappeared?” Yet Taehyung butts in. “C’mon, you can say the word disappeared. Because that’s what happened.” He points a finger at a very confused you. 

This has been Jimin’s life for a day. No matter what he or Jungkook had said, Taehyung apparently wasn’t believing him. Of course, he wasn’t. And Jimin believes that J must have been the same kind of pain in the ass for Jungkook as well. 

“Okay, what are you doing here, Tae? You came to see me? You were worried?” You perk up disregarding Taehyung’s previous words. Good question. Jimin has been asking the same question from him all morning. 

Why the hell does he have to follow Jimin around? Why the hell can't he just let it go?

“No- I mean, yes. Kind of. Not like these idiots were.” Taehyung seems baffled by your sudden question for a minute before he composes himself. Gestures between Jimin and Jungkook. Jungkook tries to protest in vain when Taehyung finally manages to take your full attention to all himself. “I mean should I be that worried? Were you fucking dying? It looked like you were dying.” He takes a step forward. Jimin drops his hands down just to bring it up and pinch the bridge of his nose. 

Not again!

“You had a freaking heart attack and this idiot just-” Taehyung points at Jimin now. 

“It wasn’t a heart attack.” Jimin mumbles wearily more to himself than to anyone else. He’s been saying the same thing over and over to Taehyung. Which apparently doesn’t reach his dumb brain. Just like now. Taehyung doesn’t give a single fuck about what Jimin says. Continues with his rant, instead. 

“-took you to fucking rest. Like it was a stupid stomach ache. Who the fuck does that? And then, this other idiot-” This time it’s Jungkook who stands behind Taehyung’s finger. “Just barges in from somewhere and says it’s fine? Fine? What’s fucking fine?” Taehyung throws his hands in the air. Strongly resembling a child throwing a tantrum.

“I didn’t say it was fine. Like… ugh… what the fuck Tae… why the hell are you yelling?” Jungkook furrows his brows. Offended. 

“Can you please let this shit go Taehyung?” Jimin sighs heavily. Wanting nothing but his friend to just let him talk to you in peace. To know what happened. But of course, that’s not going to happen.

“No..” Taehyung shakes his head. Eyes comically wide. “Absolutely not. I demand to know the freaking truth. She disappeared dude.” His finger is pointed back at you. 

“She- what do you mean she disappeared?” Jungkook asks with a straight face. Much to Taehyung’s annoyance. His face falls. Gives Jungkook a disappointed glance. 

“Really? You’re still refusing? Still lying?” Raises his brow. 

“We’re not- Taehyung, are you hearing yourself? How can she just disappear?” Jimin really doesn’t wish to lie to his best friend. But this is not a situation where he can just say the truth either. Not that Taehyung would believe him anyway. 

“Yes, I am. And that’s what happened. She went inside the room and never came back? What did you do with her? Don’t tell me she jumped off a window or something?”

“I took her home later, I already told you.” Jungkook rubs his face frustratingly. 

“No, you didn’t. Stop lying Jeon. I was fucking there. And her mother didn’t recognize her. What do you have to say about-”

“Enough.” Your sudden loud voice makes all three of them jump on their feet. Jimin snaps his head toward you at the same time Taehyung closes his mouth shut. Swallowing down his words. You exhale loudly. Despite your sparkling eyes, Jimin can see how tired you are. Your shoulders slump. Something definitely happened. And all he wants is to know that. To make sure you’re fine. Well rested. His stupid friend doesn’t know when to give up, though. Jimin nearly turns around to grab Taehyung from his shirt and drag him away when you step toward the said man. “You want to know the truth? Here’s the truth-” You fold your arms across your chest. Jimin unconsciously scowls at your words. Wondering. Worrying. But also curious. “I am from a different world and every time I sleep I shift between two worlds. In fact I’m Kim Liya’s alternate version-”

“Woah, Noona.” Before Jimin can process and say something else, Jungkook does. Eyes wide and mouth open. You, however, just hold your hand up. Just carry on with your explanation.  “She and I can’t share the same space. So, anytime when anyone mistakes me to be Liya it puts me in pain. That’s what happened. There you go. That’s the truth you wanted. Happy?” Ask in the end. Taehyung just blinks at your face for a second. 

“I- I- you- I mean- I- you, what?” Then starts stuttering as if his tongue just got fifty knots. Scowls so deeply. Looks offended. Like he just realized he’s been pranked. “Are you kidding me? Li? Do you think this is a fucking joke?” Finally composes himself. Jimin watches the way Taehyung’s expression morphed into a one of hurt. Yet before he can say anything you shrug. 

“So, you don’t believe me? I knew you wouldn’t. That’s why they haven’t told you anything. Because you wouldn’t have believed it anyway.” With that you finally pay your full mind to Jimin. Ignoring still very stunned Taehyung and a very impressed Jungkook. Even a small smile appears on Jungkook’s face. Well, what can Jimin say? That was a smart move after all. You’ve shut Taehyung up for good. And with the truth. It’s no one's fault that Taehyung isn’t believing it. 

“You okay?” You ask from Jimin instead. Funny. He should be the one asking that question. He scans your eyes for answers. Heart painfully clenching. The fact you are here, dawning upon him again. The fact that this would have not been his reality dawning upon him. How worse it could’ve gone. 

Why was he so scared anyway?

Why is he still so scared?

Why does he feel like he’s hanging by a loose thread? Like the thread is about to snap. Like it’s about to end. 

Why is he so afraid of losing you? What has changed? What’s causing this strange pain inside him?

“Jimin.” You step forward when he doesn’t answer you. Your eyes roaming over his features. Jimin feels your warmth as you step closer and closer. Stopping right before him. Waiting patiently till he answers. He doesn’t know how to. He most definitely is not okay. But why? You’re here. And all he wants is to hold you. Hold you close. Never allowing you to go. He just doesn’t want you to go. Anywhere. 

Oh, fuck!

This is not normal. He feels like he’s about to burst. From a feeling he can’t quite decipher. 

You look so vulnerable. Tired. There’s this insane urge inside him to protect you. But then what if he couldn’t? What if he failed? He has failed you just more than once already. What if he does that again? How could he forgive himself if that is the case? Then again, why can’t he forgive him? What’s so special? What are you doing to him?

A small shudder ripples through his body. Jimin forces himself to swallow the knot that is forming in his throat. Wanting to know what’s really happening. Yet as he opens his dry mouth all he manages is to repeat the same old shit. “You disappeared?” He mutters the obvious, stupidly. Closes his eyes. Reopens them. “Wh-what happened baby? You- uh I mean, did you just go back? Like how normally it happens?” Asks at last. And all you do is just gape at his face. A minute passes. Then two. Three. After what feels like an eternity you sigh heavily. Then shake your head slowly. 

“I- don’t kn-know… I don’t remember. I mean, just a voice… that’s all I can recall.” 

Now it’s Jimin’s turn to just gape at your face. Not knowing whether this is good or bad. Jungkook is the one who pushes forward first. Grabbing your shoulder and turning you to face him. 

“What voice? What do you mean? What did it say?” Showers you with a trail of questions, which Jimin thinks fair. Another sigh escapes your pretty lips. A moment of hesitation passes before you shrug. 

“That this is the beginning of the end.” A laugh which is very dry leaves your throat. A failed attempt to ease the tension. “That doesn’t make any sense, you know.” Add. Nobody joins you in laughing. Doesn’t agree with you. Hell, not even Taehyung does so. 

And the loose thread Jimin is hanging onto snaps. Making him drop into a pit with such a force that he feels like all his bones get cracked. Crushed. Pain shoots across his body. Starting from the chest.

No.

No. That can’t be right. Surely, he didn’t hear you correctly.

Beginning of what now?

How’s it already the end if he hasn’t even started it yet. What are you even talking about? What end? 

What does that even mean?

Well, he knows what that means. Oh, yes he knows. He’s been scared for a reason after all. He might not know a reason why but as you slowly turn around to face his frozen figure again. With your eyes dull and mirroring the same fear Jimin is feeling despite the smile on your lips, he doesn’t care for a reason anymore. Just because one thing is certain. He just doesn’t want to lose you. And he will not let that happen either. 

No one is going to steal you. 

Not when he just had you. Not even after ten years together. No. 

You are his. Jimin tries to respond to you with something. Fails. Not because of his incapability, but because your fake smile suddenly drops and you clutch your stomach tightly. Face twisting with pain. 

“Oh fuck!” You curse loudly before storming inside Jungkook’s apartment. 

…………………………

You wearily watch Jimin pacing around Jungkook’s living room. He is driving you mad with all that pointless energy wasting but you find yourself incapable of stopping him. There are much more pressing matters at hand. Because of course there are. And partially, you understand him. To say the least, Jimin looks simply terrified. Maybe even more than that. You’ve watched him grow pale as you state what you remembered.Then you’ve watched him turn into an overprotective father the moment he found out you were sick. You don’t even consider yourself sick—it’s just an upset stomach. You’ve been throwing up intermittently for the past day and Key has already dragged you to see a doctor. And he assured you the symptoms will disappear within the course of a few days. Jimin doesn’t buy that, however. He’s worrying too much. That leaves you with the question why? 

See now, you think you have all the reasons in the world to be scared to death. This is your life after all. Turning into dust apparently isn’t a good thing to look forward to. So of course, you’re scared. You have been ever since you opened your eyes in your bed. Drenched in sweat. Feeling nauseous. Then besides the fear of turning into dust, there’s the fear of everything ending. That fear has never left you to be honest. Since the very day you met that grandpa-kid, you’ve been scared. Scared of losing everything. It’s only that you’ve left that inevitable problem to the future you. This is that future. That problem has come to confront you face to face. And you have no place to run or hide anymore. But above everything, with you knowing undoubtedly that you like Park Jimin, that fear is gripping you like a vice crushing bones. 

When this ends- if this ends- you’ll lose him. 

When this ends- if this ends- you’ll never see him again.

Park Jimin will be just a memory.

And you feel your throat constrict at the thought. Eyes involuntarily starting to sting. You avert your gaze away from Jimin to collect yourself. This isn’t a time to be emotional. Swallowing down the knot in your throat you turn back to the man who’s still pacing around like a headless chicken. 

He’s so worried. Looks like he is about to slam his head into a wall. You’ve never seen him that worried. 

But why? What’s his reason to be scared this much?

True, he was worried the first time you thought this would end. True, he was the one who asked you to stay. True, he is still seeking you around. But to be that worried? It can’t be simply because he cares for you. Can it now? Can-

“Will you fucking stop walking around? I’m gonna throw up too! You are making her feel worse” Jungkook’s voice breaks your gloomy trail of thoughts. You snap your head to find him emerging through the kitchen with four coffees in his hand. Jimin stops his pacing as well. Scowling at Jungkook. 

“Then go ahead and throw up.” Says before he starts it again. 

“For fucks sake!” Jungkook grumbles. Yet ignore Jimin as he hands over a warm cup of coffee to you. You accept it gratefully. There’s only a few things you can stomach these days. Coffee is one of them, fortunately. He places the rest of the cups on the coffee table before sitting next to you on the couch. “He needs to save his energy to think. Not walk around. Ugh- fuck I’m getting a hedeache.” 

You snort softly at the way Jungkook grabs his head with both hands. Dramatic. But also he states a fact. Jimin needs to stop. 

“That’s not going to help Park. Can you please sit down?” You sigh as you place your sweet cup of coffee aside. Jimin halts for a second. Then eye you as if you’re stating something funny. Yet to your surprise he drops into an armchair after a heavy sigh. A moment of silence passes.

“So..” Then he starts. 

“So?” You question. 

“So, are we gonna sit here and drink coffee like nothing happened?” Jimin snaps suddenly. His eyes avert to Jungkook from you. “I thought you cared about her?”

“I fucking do.” Jungkook gasps loudly. Offended. 

“Oh, yeah? Then what? The best you can do is make her coffee?”

“I at least did that. What were you doing?”

Jimin opens his mouth to counter. His brows pulled together. Almost stand up again when you groan. “Neither of you are helping.” You drag a palm across your face, frustratedly. They both try to say something at the same time which you stop yet again. “Besides there’s nothing to be so panicked about. I’m pretty fine.” A lie. You’re not okay. But you want Jimin to calm down. Want Jungkook to stop worrying. “That happened because people thought I was Liya. As long as that won’t happen again, I’m sure I’ll be oka-”

“Okay? Are you kidding me Lil? You’re not fucking okay. You freaking disappeared.”

“Exactly! And how can you be sure that it won’t happen again?”

You blink at Jimin’s face for half a second before doing the same at Jungkook’s. Weren’t they so opposed to each other a minute ago? Now they are on the same side?

“What about the voice you heard?” Jimin states again. Followed by Jungkook’s sharp voice. 

“You gonna stay hidden or something, Noona? It is going to happen.”

 “It is. And what the fuck am I going to do if you just disappeared and never returned?”

Jimin practically yells through his lungs. And your heart skips a beat. No. No, that’s not the right term. That’s not a skip. Your heart stops. Entirely.  Just as how your lungs stop working as well. Just as how everything falls into a deep silence. Leaving you to gape at his face with round eyes. 

What?

Why would he have to say it like that? With that quivering tone. With that damned look in his eyes. As if you’re all he has. 

You keep staring into his eyes. He does the same. Just staring into yours. Completely speechless. That knot in your throat is starting to reform. A pain that is not physical, growing in your chest. You already like him. A lot. But when he’s looking at you that way. His eyes are glossy. Like he wants to hide you away, it makes you realize that maybe it’s not that you just like him. Maybe you’re too deep in this mess. Yes. You are. You are no longer just falling. You’ve already fallen. You just don’t like Park Jimin, but you love him. Of course you do. And you don’t want to leave him. It doesn’t matter how he might feel. Even if he doesn’t feel the same and looks at you that way for no reason, you don’t want to leave him. 

Because you love him. 

You are in love.

You inhale a shaky breath. Still staring into his glossy eyes. Not finding a way to break the sudden charm. You don’t even realize that everyone has gone uncomfortably quiet. It’s like nothing exists at this moment. Just you and him. Until a sudden cough- which suspiciously sounds like a scoff- erupts next to you finally breaks the spell. Making you turn your head toward the person who made the sound. Jungkook stands up from the couch just as your eyes land on him. 

“I need another coffee.” He mumbles softly, picking up his obviously still full cup of coffee. Yet before completely turning away and leaving he looks at you. Face completely void of any emotions. “That voice probably belongs to someone who pays you those visits sometimes, you know. Like that Halmeoni or that kid. Maybe we should try and find them.” Says aloud this time. As if nothing just happened. As if Jimin hasn��t just said he can’t live without you. Well, there’s a possibility that what Jimin said wasn’t that. Nobody except you must have seen anything in his eyes. You clear your throat awkwardly. Trying to shake off the tingling sensation you’re feeling. Trying to act as if your stomach isn’t full of butterflies. 

“Yes. Yes. That’s it.” Luckily for you, Jimin shouts as he jumps into his feet. Almost startling you a bit. Both you and Jungkook pay your attention to the man who suddenly appears as a kid who found their lost ball. “Why didn’t we think about that earlier?” Questions. Those damn eyes of his turning into crescents. To see that makes you strangely calm. You look at him with wide eyes. Then slowly turn your gaze to equally excited Jungkook. Uncertain about what they are talking about.

“Wh- what do you mean?” You question from no one specifically. Jungkook is the one who answers, however. 

“Well, they- whoever these people are, they know what’s exactly going on and you can ask them. Like haven’t they told you that you have a year? It doesn’t make sense that you’re suddenly in pain when you have a whole year to go. You- we have to ask and find what’s gone wrong and find a way to stop it from happening again.”

“We know what went wrong. People mistook me for Liya. That’s what happened.” You point out the obvious. 

“Yes but there should be a way to stop that from happening again.” Jungkook shrugs. Making his argument firm.

“But ho-” You start to raise questions but are silenced by a Jimin who suddenly kneels in front of you. 

“We can find a way Lil.” Mutters gleefully. Grinning from ear to ear. And you know he is not talking about preventing another incident. He’s talking about what you wanted as well. A way to stay here. A way to be greedy. There comes that feeling again. Your stomach is fluttering and heart skipping beats. He wants you here. Just like he wanted you here all those months ago. 

You know it’s not that easy. That it won’t be easy. Even if it works. If you find a way to stay here, what would that hold for your future. Will you keep shifting between two worlds forever? Or will you have to make an ultimate choice and choose a one world? Then what? What about your world? What about the life you’ve built? Will you give up on everything? True, that you always wanted this life but now when you think about it, it doesn’t seem easy. Yet the man before you, kneeling. Peeking at your face with such an excited look in his face, makes you forget the rest of the universe. Or every universe. For now, you just want to agree with him. Want to believe that there's a way that everything would be solved with everyone being happy. A happy ending. 

Your happy ending. 

You nod softly. “Yeah? I mean yes. Uh- but how?” You chew inside your cheeks to keep yourself focused. Not to let your mind go astray. 

You want to find a way. No matter what. You just want this life. This life with Jimin in it. So, you have to focus. 

“Do you remember anything they might’ve said that can help to find them?” Jimin asks again. That excitement never leaving him. You purse your lips thinking. Eyes briefly wandering to Jungkook since he was there with you the first time when the old lady visited you. There’s a chance that he might remember something you don’t. You find him already staring at you, gnawing on his bottom lip. For a minute you think he looks hurt. But then he turns his gaze away. Suddenly finding interest in one of the pictures on his wall. So, you go back into torturing your brain for something you’ve missed. Only to come up with nothing. Empty. 

“I don’t think so.” You shake your head in defeat. “Kookie?” Look at Jungkook expectantly. Just to be disappointed when he shakes his head as well. 

“I don’t think she mentioned anything else besides warning the shit out of you. And threatening to wipe away my memory.” 

Jimin exhales loudly. Gets back into his feet. “There must be a way though. If they can find you, that means they are around here somewhere.” Mutters more to himself. 

“Well it’s not like they are both from this world. I mean I met Halmeoni in this world but that kid was from my world. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack. How are we ever going to find someone who just appears and disappears whenever they like?” You bring out a fair point. 

“Yes but what if you’ve met more than those two?” Jungkook perks up again. Raises one of his brows. You just gape at his face confusedly. Jimin questions him on your behalf.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, there’s a possibility that there are more people like them. It sure can’t be just two. What if Noona has met them without realizing they’re like this- uh- same mysterious creatures?” Jungkook explains with a little edge. You know he’s not certain for himself. Yet that seems like a good point. “Maybe you’ve met someone who you know how to find again and also someone like that Halmeoni.” He adds. “Think about someone who has talked to you like they know something…maybe. Or someone that makes you feel that sensation you know, the one you get when something strange happens.” Tries to make sense. And you get him. Only that nothing comes to your mind. You fumble for an answer. Trying to think hard for an occasion where something like that happened. But before you can even start to process. Jimin lets out a soft noise. 

“That old woman!” Then he exclaims loudly. Eyes wide and looking at you with a knowing look. Clearly expecting you to know what he’s talking about. You don’t. You have no single cue. 

“Wh-what woman?” So, you furrow your brows. 

“Ice cream cart?” Jimin tries again. “Namiseom Island?” And it hits you. You know exactly  what he is talking about. “I don’t know Lil, I felt damn strange. Like-”

“Like she knew something she shouldn’t.” You complete his sentence excitedly. Jump into your feet. You sure did feel strange. Especially when she talked about how short life can be. You have decided she’s been talking about life in general. Because, in a way, a human lifespan can be considered to be short. Or long. People will always think about the odds of dying tomorrow. Until this moment, you have thought that’s what she had meant. But what if she hadn’t? 

“Who’s this woman in talk?” Jungkook butts in. Confused. Just to get ignored when Jimin hurriedly turns around toward the front door. 

“We’re going now.” He states as he walks. You try to protest. In disbelief that he wants to go search for that old lady right at the moment. Before you can do it though, Jungkook starts following him.

“Well, I’m not just sitting back here.” Even walks past Jimin and already grabs his jacket from the coat rack. You roll your eyes in annoyance. They can be quite dramatic when they want. Almost follow them outside when you suddenly remember the fourth person in the room. Who has been awfully quiet the whole time. You turn around to find Taehyung sitting cross legged on the mattress on the floor. Your makeshift bed. His mouth is open and brows pulled together. Bewildered, to say the least. Giving you all a ‘what the hell look’. Poor guy. 

“You coming too Tae?” Yet you ask anyway. A beat passes where Jimin and Jungkook turn to Taehyung as well. Then Taehyung just shakes his head. Slowly. 

“Which doctor should I consult? It can’t be that all three of you are losing your minds. I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s crazy.” Declares in the end. 

…………………………

Empty.

The entire street is empty. 

Strangely, no one is walking down the beautiful lanes beneath the ginkgo trees today. Even when the weather is nice and bright. But that’s not what your concern is. Who cares if everyone in South Korea has decided to never visit Namiseom island again. No. You wouldn’t have cared even if half the population on earth has vanished. Your only concern is that where the ice cream cart once stood, there's now nothing. Empty. Not even a trace. 

But it was here the last time you visited. 

It was. You are certain. Now it is not. It’s a good thing that Jimin was there to bear witness. Otherwise you would have appeared crazy. 

“Fuck!” Jimin curses slowly as he steps forward, breaking the perfect line you'd formed with Jungkook and Taehyung. The latter has joined you in the journey to Namiseom Island despite his lack of faith in all of you. And now while Jungkook is sporting an expression of disappointment and again worry, Taehyung looks like he’s about to have a nervous breakdown. Well, it’s too bad but you have other problems to deal with. So, you follow Jimin close by. 

“Maybe, we came to the wrong place. Maybe it wasn’t here. We should take a look around.” You know it was exactly right here. There’s no way you would mistake it. Yet you suggest for the sake of it. As desperate as you are, Jimin doesn’t even waste a millisecond before he is nodding violently. 

“Yeah. Yes. We should.” There’s that crazy look in his eyes again. Worried. Hurt. Scared. Makes you want to hold him tight. But he is already walking away. Leaving you with no option but to go after him. That’s how you find yourself walking around Namiseom Island like a bunch of fools. To end up finding nothing. Just like you expected. 

And all you feel is despair. A tightness coils in your chest as you sit on a bench. Wedged between Jimin and Jungkook. Staring into nothing. You feel nauseous again. 

“At least that proves, she was exactly the one we should meet.” Jungkook mopes. Jimin lets out a bitter laugh at that. You think it’s ridiculous. Considering how excited and happy you were when this idea popped up in Jungkook’s head at first. Now you all look like deflated balloons. Except for Taehyung, of course. 

“Or… she just moved her ice cream cart away. That's the whole freaking purpose of having a vendor cart. You move that shit from place to place.” Taehyung retorts. Standing in front of the bench you are sitting. Covering all of you in his shadow. He looks comical now trying to prove his very valid point. 

“She was too old to do that.” Jimin mumbles wearily. 

“So what? It’s not like she doesn’t have a family or something. Someone might have helped her. And you guys-” He stops abruptly. Then sighs. “You know what? If this is a prank, it’s awesome. You got me.” Laughs very awkwardly. “Now you can stop.” His tone almost turns into a pleading. 

You feel a headache forming. This is absolutely absurd. Taehyung can be very much correct. Despite all the unbelievable things happening in your life, this old woman can be just another innocent human being. You can’t even believe you’ve driven all the way up here just because of a wild suspicion. It’s not too late to turn it back, however. You should just get the hell out of here.

“I need to find her.” Jimin blurts suddenly. Making every head snap into his directions. 

“Huh?” Taehyung furrows his brows so deep that it looks like it’s going to be carved into his forehead. 

“I need to find that old woman no matter what.” Jimin clarifies this time. No one says anything. You mirror Taehyung’s expression now. Confused. “I don’t care how Tae, just.. Can you ask Mr. Dong? Can’t ask Emi. She will rat me out to Liya and you know the rest of the story.” Jimin continues at the silence of the rest. Mr. Dong is Taehyung’s secretary. You’ve met him during your time at the R.U.N. A good man. 

“Holy fuck, dude!” Taehyung exclaims with an exaggerated drop of his shoulders. “Tell me you’re joking.” Rubs his face. 

“No. I’m not.” To much of his dismay, Jimin states firmly. Gets to his feet. “I just want to find the woman Taehyung-ah. Just help me will you?” Grabs Taehyung’s shoulder. “Please.” Adds. 

“You want me to make my secretary work his ass off to find an old woman who we don’t know shit about?” 

“Yes. And pay all he wants.”

“Gosh, this is damn ridiculous. I-I-”

“Please. C’mon, I’ve done far worse shit for you.” 

A silence falls over. You and Jungkook are watching the two friends who are gaping at each other. To be honest, you think Jimin is being ridiculous as well. That’s just too much. Yet just as you are about to point that out. Taehyung gives up with a heavy sigh. 

“Fine. To hell with it.” Then he eyes you. “This shit better be worth it Li.” Says. 

…………………

At first, you tried to convince Jimin that he shouldn’t go to that length to find an old woman. There was a possibility that all his effort would come to nothing. But Jimin was Jimin. He didn’t listen. He didn’t give a fuck, to say the least. Then as you finally agreed with him, you slowly started to wait for the news. For anything. Something. You would text him every morning as the first thing as soon as you woke up in his world. And every day you received a negative response. Which passed on to Jungkook when you went home. 

The days slowly passed by. One by one. For everyone’s - or at least Jimin and Jungkook’s- pleasure, you didn’t have any awful- as they call- heart attacks. You were doing fine. Day by day, you’ve recovered from having to endure such pain. You suspect the upset stomach you got was mainly due to that than anything bad you ate. Yet with the days, you became normal again. Living your best possible life in two different worlds. The day at the gallery and the incident is slowly starting to fade into the memory. Life is slowly settling back onto a normal track where you are simply struggling with unemployment. 

Just like now. “You can come back to the company, baby.” Jimin whispers into your neck. You’re alone in Kim’s kitchen. It has become such a normal thing for your friends to take advantage of Namjoon’s restaurant. It doesn’t matter how much he would complain. As for now, you are in charge of making Anju for the night. Nobody assigned you. You have volunteered. And just a few minutes after you entered the kitchen, there was Jimin. Right behind you. 

You don’t get to see or meet Jimin at all these days. Just a few sneaky meetups are all you get. You find it insane how you miss him every day. How you long for him. You would never tell anyone but you’re always looking forward to Taehyung or Hoseok to just barge into Kim’s restaurant. Because by experience you know Jimin would be there too. Like now. 

You try to step away from his hold. Not because you want to but because you’re afraid of someone walking in and witnessing this. You don’t even know how Jimin manages to sneak in after you. Jimin doesn’t allow you to step away from him. He tightens his grip while whining. “Please. I missed you.” Hides his face in your neck. Is hugging you from the back. 

“What if someone comes in?” You hiss. Eyes darting between mixing up your peanuts and the door. 

“Let them.” Jimin mumbles again. His soft breath kissing your neck as he speaks. Melting you against him. It’s really hard not to give into his warm embrace. Especially when he gives you a gentle kiss. Right into your pulse point. “I don’t care. Just miss you.” Another kiss. You shiver. Close your eyes. Reopen them and give in. Just lose yourself in his familiar soothing scent. Allowing yourself to feel relaxed. 

“Me too. I miss you too.” Admit. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm.” You sigh as Jimin starts to rub your stomach soothingly. You let your head fall back into his chest. 

“Then come back to work, princess.” Thousands of tingles shoot across your spine when he slowly sneaks his hands inside your t-shirt. “You know everyone will love it if you do. Come back, hm?” His words almost don’t reach your ears. You are slowly falling victim to his trap. Even your breathing is turning uneven. Who can blame you, though. You really do miss Park Jimin. Everything about him. His soothing touch to his breathy voice. Of course, you’re losing your mind on him. And to make things worse or better he starts drawing mindless patterns across your stomach. Making your skin pebbles under his touch. Making you tremble. All the while slowly kissing your neck and jaw. Inhaling your scent. Keeps dragging his fingers across your skin agonisingly slow. Up and down. Down and up. To your sides. Then down toward your waistband. Plays with it. Dips his hands inside. Not all the way down but just a little then pulls out again. You bite onto your lower lip to suppress the moans that are about to slip out. “Lil? Come back?” He groans in your ear, reminding you that you haven’t answered his question. 

Oh yes, the question.

You straighten up like an arch. Trying to collect yourself. This time manage to step away from a slightly surprised Jimin. Turn around to face him. You give him a stern look just to earn a pout in return. 

“Oh, c’mon! Don’t be a stubborn goat, lady.” Whines. You gasp in feigned offense. 

“Goat?” You absolutely love it when you two would start bickering out of nowhere. Remind you of the old days. He’s always regarded you as a stubborn goat, hasn’t he? 

“No. You’re a stubborn donkey.” He says with a stern face. Places his hands on his hips. You gasp again. Louder this time. Yet before you can counter back he starts scolding you. “You fucking need a job, Lil. Why can’t you just take back your old job when the freaking CEO offers you the position himself.” 

You roll your eyes. He’s been asking you the same thing for weeks now. 

First time was the day after you returned from your failed trip to Namiseom. He made an unannounced appearance in front of Kim’s in the evening. Asked you to come out. That was the first day you’ve felt like a real mistress. Sneaking out inside his car. Like a sleazy fox. Just to share a stolen moment of breathless whimpres. Laying in the backseat of his car while his cock was drilling in and out of you. His possessive bites decorating your skin in purple marks while you stained his expensive seats with your essence. Moaning out his name while he fucked you sensually. As if he had all the time in the world and it wasn’t just a moment you borrowed from the universe. And after you’ve both ended riding your highs, as you were drinking up his sweet scent and cuddling on his lap was when he brought up the idea first. 

Come back to work with Hoseok, baby. I’m going mad. I just want you around. 

It felt compelling. Especially when he asked that with a still husky voice and you were running high on your hormones. Aftermath of your orgasms still on your veins. But you said ‘No’. Because no matter how good the offer was, you will not go back into the company. It's too much trouble to go through. You didn’t want to meet Liya again. Not when you are back into being the same nasty bitch you are. Only difference? You are in love now. Despite everything, you wouldn’t risk your forbidden moments with Jimin for anything. It’s all good this way. Even though you have no job. Even though you will eventually become a burden on Jungkook’s shoulders. Or not. You’ll maybe become a burden on Jimin’s shoulders. Like a real mistress. A sugar baby. Your inner self- sane woman who’s still alive inside you- will scream at you. Even though you’ll feel like shit, you won’t go back to work in the R. U. N. If that’s the price for Jimin, then so be it. 

“No, Park. I’m too freaking ashamed to go back there.” You give him a firm shake of your head.

“Nobody knows anything.”

“What if they do? Emi knows for sure. And She will let Liya know that I’m back and I’m not- uh- I’m not risking anything Jimin.”

“Risking what? She can’t make decisions for my company.”

“Yes but she can make your main sponsor say bye to you. You still haven’t figured things out Jimin. You still want time and I’m not going to ruin things even before they start.”

“That-” Whatever Jimin tries to say gets drowned with a loud voice closely followed by the loud thud of kitchen door slamming against the wall. And for no surprise you find Taehyung barging in with a wide grin. J follows him and Jin follows her. Then of course everybody follows everyone, making you thank yourself for stepping away from Jimin. 

Still, with at least a five steps between you and Jimin, you feel nervous when you see your friends. Now you call them your friend. Because you feel that way. Somewhere along this shitty line, you’ve become friends. And you’re scared of them judging you. Of them deciding they no longer want to be friends. But no one shows even a sign of suspicion or noticing something off. 

“Guess what?” Taehyung barks happily. 

“What takes you so long to mix up some peanuts?” Yoongi doesn’t allow you or Jimin to ask ‘what?’ from Taehyung. Taehyung, however, doesn’t care. 

“We just decided, we are going camping.” He exclaims happily. 

“You did? Wow, good for you. Have fun then.” Jimin says with a serious face. Making you and several others snort. Taehyung lets out a very fake laugh. 

“Very funny.”

“What? You didn’t ask me or Lil if we wanted to join.” Jimin states innocently. A small smile is creeping up on his lips.

“No need. I as your best friend made the decision for you. You’re going. And Jungkook here-” He points to Jungkook who has started munching on peanuts without a care. “As Li’s guardian-”

“My what?” You butt in for the first time. Not even knowing whether you should be offended or not. 

“Guardian.” Taehyung repeats himself. Goes back to continue what he was saying. “He made the decision for Li. So, you’re going too.” States. Firmly. You gape at his face in pure disbelief for a minute before averting your gaze to Jungkook in a silent question. Jungkook gulps down his mouthful of peanuts first. Then takes another handful. 

“What? I am your guardian. You are under my protection little lady.”

Jimin beats you in the scoff he lets out. Nobody minds him. Not even Jungkook. 

“Isn’t she older than you?” Hoseok joins Jungkook in eating peanuts. You watch the way Jungkook gives a sneaky smile. Almost like a smirk. Looks you dead in the eye. You both know why. 

“Oh yes, she is. But age is just a number, Hyung. Who cares?” Winks. You don’t think you’ll be able to roll your eyes as much as you want. 

“I am not going.” So, you simply announce.

“Why not?” Jimin gasps right away. You just want to bang your head on a wall. He is asking why now? And Jungkook forgot that you can’t as well. 

“Well, I don’t think I’d be able to stay up for a few days at this rate Mr. Park,” You say to Jimin first. And his face instantly turns serious with the realization. Then you turn to Jungkook to find that the smirk has already vanished. In its place now is gloom. “Too bad you forgot that as my so-called guardian, Jeon.” Nonetheless you say without a care of other people hearing your absurd conversation. They won’t understand a thing anyway. Proving your suspicions true, Namjoon gasps. 

“Wait? What the fuck? You’ve never gone camping? Why would you ever think you have to stay up? We’re gonna have tents and- you know what? We’re definitely going and we’re taking her with us no matter what? This is so sad.” He shakes his head in sympathy. Well, fuck, this isn’t your desired outcome. 

“That’s stupid Namjoon. Even if she’s never gone camping, why would she think she has to stay up?” Jin butts in. Slapping Hoseok's hand away, who is trying to steal the peanuts on Jin’s hand. Instead of Hoseok he hands them all to a grinning J. 

“Ask her? She said so.” Namjoon argues, offended. Jin doesn’t ask you, however. Says something else to Namjoon as you pay your attention to Jimin and Jungkook who now look like wounded puppies. 

“Sure we can come up with something.” Jungkook hesitantly mumbles. Eyes wandering over to Jimin. You follow Jungkook’s action, looking at Jimin expectantly. He doesn't look like a brat who would whine and pout until you agree anymore. Instead he is serious now. You know he won’t do anything that would put your well being under a risk. No. You know he’s already decided to step away. Listen to you. Yet before any of that Jungkook stands up abruptly.

“Wait!” He bursts out. Grabbing everyone's attention. “That old lady. I mean the one who visited you at the cottage,” He looks at you. You know what he is talking about, though you have no idea where he is going with this. Not to mention that everyone is staring at him as if he’s a lecturer and they all are students without a single clue. “She did that because you stayed up, didn’t she?” Jungkook disregards every curious look upon him. “She came because you were doing something you shouldn’t be doing. No more than seventy two hours in one place, yeah? You almost spent more than two days there and boom there she was to warn you.” Jungkook looks excited like a little kid. Eyes all lighten up and face bright. 

“Gosh, no.. not this again!” You hear Taehyung groans. But you don’t pay him any attention. You are fully focused on whatever Jungkook is saying. 

“And then, you didn’t wish- I mean you wished for something you shouldn’t and there that kid came. Again, warning-” He steps away from where he is standing. Rounds the table to walk over to you. And you’re beginning to understand where he is going now. Slowly. But surely. The pieces falling into their places. “Noona? Do you get what I’m saying.” Jungkook grabs your shoulders. Gives you a gentle shake. “You- we don’t have to look for them. They’ll come find you if you just break a rule. Do something you shouldn’t do. Like-”

“Staying up for a few days.” You complete it for him. Jungkook nods enthusiastically. Looks past you at Jimin. A beat passes then even before you can so much as blink you are being yanked back. 

“No! Hell no! Are you kidding me Jungkook?” Jimin drags you back at the same time he steps between you and Jungkook. Lets you go before focusing on speaking with Jungkook. “That’s too much of a risk to take. What if she- what if-” Stutters. Swallows down what was about to say. Changes it at the last minute. “No. We’re not doing that.” Declares. Making Jungkook’s jaw go slack. Despite the fact they both would agree on some things, you know they can’t stand each other. Jungkook appears like he wants to say something else but is interrupted by the tentative voice of Yoona. 

“What are we talking about again?” 

“Yes. Are we talking about a movie or something?” It’s J who chimes in as well. 

“Nope. I think they are talking in a secret code. Those words have different meanings.” Hoseok puts his two cents on the table as well. You turn your head to find everyone gaping at the three of you like you’ve grown second heads. Well, fuck that. This might look more than crazy. You force yourself to give them a smile. Which for sure comes out as a grimace. Awkward. Everyone waiting for one of you to answer. 

“It’s a.. Movie?” Jungkook is the one who manages to bring something up at last. Hesitantly. His eyes on J. Just to let her know that her guess was the correct one. For a moment nobody says anything. Then Jin perks up. 

“Yeah? What movie? Sounds interesting. I feel like you three are characters in it.” Raises his brow. Jungkook sighs heavily. Knowing his lie is obvious. Leaving you to stupidly stare at your friends’ judging faces. You have no idea what to say. Jungkook shouldn’t have started this here. Now you would never find a way to-

“That’s a movie they want to produce” Taehyung grumbles suddenly. Every single head turning toward him. 

Oh, fuck no!

“What?” Yoongi snorts. 

Exactly! 

“Yup. The movie we want to produce.” Then you hear Jungkook agreeing. That’s the stupidest lie you’ve ever heard. Yet even with its absurdity, it makes your friends turn into each other instead of gawking at you. Splitting into two teams to debate how stupid that is. Good. They’ve got distracted. And you take the opportunity to check with Jimin. As soon as your eyes land on him, he shakes his head. Firmly. Mouth a thin line. 

“We are not doing that.” Says. Just grab a chair and sits down. 

But what if it’s the only way?

……………………….

Your blood is boiling. You're so mad, you feel like you could punch a hole through a wall. Or so you think. Probably won’t try it though. But still you’re so mad. Mad at Park Jimin. Who the hell does he think he is, to demand what you should or shouldn’t do in your life? You are fully capable of making your own decisions. Whether they are bad or good. Yet here Jimin is. Ordering you around. Saying ‘No’ whenever you bring up the idea of staying up until someone mysterious would visit or going on that camping trip. 

And to make matters worse, Jungkook has turned his back on you as well. He no longer is excited about his own idea, nor does he want to go on the trip. According to him—even though he hates admitting Jimin's right, he wasn��t thinking through when he brought up the idea. Now though, he doesn’t even want to think about that. 

That drives you up the wall. 

It’s been weeks since the day the idea came in. Since the day Taehyung and J had started planning on the camping trip. An odd pair to be working together, but apparently, they are in charge. Yet no matter how hard you try, these two men in your life are acting like stubborn bulls. Now you’re running out of patience. There’s only so much a girl can take after all. 

See now, it’s not that you wanted to go on a darn trip at first. No. All you wanted was to try out the theory Jungkook brought up. In desperate hope that it would work and you’ll find a way somehow. Then somewhere along the line of you trying to persuade Jimin and listening to Taehyung and J ramble about the same thing over and over again, you wanted to kill two birds with one stone. If you are about to risk your life trying to test out another theory, then you might as well do it while enjoying a weekend trip with the new crackheads in your life. You want to go on that trip. You want to see what will happen if you break a rule. It doesn’t matter how bad things could go. And Jimin and Jungkook can go fuck themselves. 

You barge inside Jungkook’s cozy kitchen. Just out of the shower, your hair still wet. You’ve made up your mind while showering. No one can rule your life this way. 

“I. Am. Going.” You state just as you spot Jungkook standing in front of the stove. Cooking something that smells delicious. He turns around to face you in surprise at your unexpected voice. 

“What?” Asks innocently. 

“Camping. I am going, Jeon Jungkook.” You repeat, more firmly. Yet as how it was all these times, Jungkook sighs heavily. 

“No Noona, you-”

You shut him up by throwing the towel in your hand toward him. He catches it with ease for your annoyance. 

“You fucking don’t get to decide what I do, Jungkook. I decide what I want and right now I’ve decided I am going.” You declare once again before you turn around. Ready to leave when Jungkook starts to say something else. 

“Bu-”

And knowing exactly what he is about to say you turn toward him again before he can even start. “And neither does Park Jimin. He doesn’t get to say what I do either.” Jungkook closes his mouth, proving that he indeed was about to bring Jimin up a second ago. Feeling victorious, you waste no time in storming toward the coffee table in the living room. Just to pick up your phone. You have just rendered one man speechless and there’s another one to go. 

I’m going on that trip Park.

You shoot Jimin a quick text. Almost lock your phone screen and toss it away when it vibrates with a new message. You roll your eyes. At this rate you will start to believe that the CEO of R.U.N has no job to do. That’s how much Jimin has been texting you these days. You open the new message. 

You are not.

A bitter scoff leaves your mouth. 

The fucking audacity of this man. Oh, only if you could throw a wet towel right across his face as well. Unfortunately though, that is not an option. So, you opt into another text message. 

Try stopping me!!!!!!!

Then you toss your phone away just as Jungkook steps before you. 

“Noona!” He whines. Your towel is still in his hand. Looks like a hungry baby. You will not fall into that trap though. He can whine all the much he wants, you’ll not give a fuck. 

“What?” You snap. Feeling guilty instantly when he winces. Just for a second, however. He gains his posture rather quickly and your feelings shift into anger just as he opens his mouth. 

“Oh, c’mon, we can’t do that. You can’t. You didn’t even want to go on that stupid trip in the first place.” Jungkook finally throws your towel into the couch. 

“Well, that’s before you came up with the idea.” 

“Fuck. I’m such an idiot then.”

“No. You’re such a genius.” 

“Noona…�� Jungkook even stomps his feets like a child. You groan, exasperated 

“My god, Kookie. Will you please stop? I just want to see if it works and I want to go on that trip.” A silence falls over following your words. Just Jungkook looking at you with wide eyes. Eyes that are troubled. Worried. Scared. You know they care. Both him and Jimin. But they need to understand as well. “Listen Jungkook. I just don’t plan on dying, you know. I don’t want to do something that would harm me either. All I want is to just try. I’m not going to stay past seventy two and fuck everything up.” You step closer to him. He just pouts. Adorable. “I promise I’ll just sleep before the clock runs out.” Put your hand on his arm, feeling him relax under your touch. 

It’s amazing how close you’ve become. You thank god every day for not letting it ruin between you and Jungkook after that day. It would have hurt so bad if you had fucked up your relationship with Jungkook. In the end, he is the home you come to after an exhausting day. Even when you love Park Jimin. A lot. Too much perhaps. Jungkook is your home. And you want him to understand you. 

“But what if something bad happens, Noona..” He concedes after a long minute. Takes your hand in his. Squeezes. Peers into your eyes. You squeeze his hand in return.

“But what if not? What if nothing happens? What if everything went so good and-” You let out another breath. “Please Kookie. Let’s just go and enjoy ourselves. Even if this doesn’t work or even if they come and say I’ll just have to stop coming here from tomorrow, then at least we’d have good memories.”

“Oh, fuck don’t say stuff like that. Not fair!” Jungkook this time squeezes your hand as if he wants to break it. Making you almost whimper. 

“Please. I want to go and I want you there as well.” You give your best puppy eyes. Despite these two men being a pain in the ass for you with their ridiculous commands and demands, they have made it unbearable when they’ve decided not to go as well. How stupid is that? 

Jungkook lets your hand go. Allowing it to fall limp. Groans. Pushing both of his hands through his tousled black hair. Then gives you a look. Utterly done. Yet instead of saying anything to you, start fishing inside his pocket. You watch curiously as he pulls out his phone. Starts typing something furiously while muttering something inaudible to himself. You are just about to ask him what the fuck is he doing when you hear your phone vibrates yet again. Still confused, you slowly bend over to grab the device. Quickly unlocking it. There sure is a message from Jimin but you ignore it. Go to the group chat J has created for the very purpose of this trip. The newest text there is from Jungkook. 

Count me in. I’m coming……

A slow smile spreads across your face. 

“Happy?” Jungkook questions affectionately. You beam at him. Nodding your head crazily before throwing your arms around his neck. He returns the hug instantly. Arms protectively wrapping around your waist and crushing you in his hold. 

“Thank You.” You mumble. 

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He grumbles. 

………………………….

A vein throbs in Jimin’s head. This is how he’ll die. He’ll have a stroke. The thing is, he’s not exactly mad. No. He is frustrated. Tired. Freaking exhausted. He is annoyed at the fact that he can’t get mad even if wants to. 

Arguing with you is like asking a boulder to move on its own. No use. And if this was anyone else, Jimin would’ve strangled them by now. But alas. This is you he has to deal with. It’s impossible to get mad. How can he after all? 

He swears he was about to give you a piece of his mind when he turns around after you whine out a ‘please Park’. Then there you are. Stubbornly pouting. Cheeks puffing out. An adorable scowl on your forehead. Nose scrunching up a little bit. Getting angry? At you? Who’s he kidding? He just wants to swallow you whole. And top of everything, you have to look like that. The pretty floral dress you’ve chosen for the night dancing around you to the gentle melody of wind. The silky material hugging your ethereal curves divinely. The gloss you have applied on your luscious lips glistening under the street lamps. Just as how your eyes are shining. That starry night. His starry night. How can he be mad at you?

“For fucks sake, Lil!” So he grumbles frustratedly. Steps toward you. You just look to your side. Obviously mad at him. “C’mon baby, listen to me. Stop being stubborn please.” He takes another step forward. You turn your head even further away. He is sure you’ll even snap your neck trying to keep your head turned away from him. “Spring Roll!” So he does his best to make you look at him. 

“What?” You bark. But still don’t look at him. Leaves him with no other options but to grab your face. Squeezing your cheeks and turning you to face him by force. 

But fuck!

Shouldn’t have done that now. You are apparently a witch. Are bewitching him with your fiery gaze and even more pouty lips. When Jimin gently shakes your face and talks to you sternly next he certainly doesn’t feel the way he sounds. It’s just a pretense to get you to relent. “Do you think this is a game, Lil? Huh?” 

“No.” You answer with the same fiery tone. Try in vain to push his hand away. “I know what I’m doing, Park.” Add. Well, that’s the case. Jimin doesn’t think you know what you’re doing at all. He doesn’t want you to do this. No. It’s too much of a risk. He doesn’t even want to humor the thought. There are a million things that can go wrong. You never returning? That’s not the worst case after all.  Sure, it would make Jimin die everyday while being alive. It would hurt him greatly. The prospect of not seeing you ever. Not even a glimpse. But still you’ll be safe and alive somewhere. Even if it is in a different universe. The worst case, however, is something bad happening to you. Turning into dust? Well, isn’t that another fancy way to say dying. The thought alone makes Jimin tremble.

No. He won’t let you. This is all Jungkook’s fault after all. Then the idiot decided to give up like that. Now he has to make sure you don’t do something stupid. All by himself.

“You don’t know what you’re doing baby. You’re acting like a kid.” He stops squeezing your cheeks so you can actually speak. He does it hesitantly. Ready to grab your face again in case you turn your face away again. You don’t. This time you keep your shiny eyes on him. 

“Oh, fuck you, Park. You’re the one who’s being a kid right now. You’re not even listening to me.” You huff. Fuck, you are impossible. Are pouting again. He gets this strong urge to kiss that pout away. Kiss you until you’re breathless and forget about this argument. Or maybe he can just turn you around, bend you over the car hood and fuck all your senses away. That’s not the rational thing to do, however. You’re too precious for him to just avoid confrontations. He has to face it.  

“I am listening to you lady, you just-”

“Then why the fuck can’t you understand that I just want to try.” You interrupt Jimin’s words. And he just swallows his next words up. Not knowing what to say anymore. 

“Lil…” Just rests his forehead against you. You don’t show any dislike. Just sigh in content. So he closes his eyes. Enjoying the close proximity. Enjoying your soft breaths fanning his face. Your body warmth radiating into him. And he feels you relax. Knows that if he’s to open his eyes now, he would witness that fire leaving your eyes. Wondrous. That is. What a single touch from him would do to you. Amazing. How it is the same for him. He relaxes in your hold as well. Especially when you bring a hand to cup his cheek. This feels good. Too good. All he wants is to stay in this moment. Your touch, your breath, and your soft voice are igniting a fire inside him. That fire is not lust though. No. This is something else. This is a kind of fire that is so intense it makes him want to cry. It’s soothing and painful at the same time. It’s a restlessness. It’s a yearn. It’s a fascination. 

God it hurts so good. He doesn’t even know how to explain it to you. Yet it seems an argument won’t solve the problem at all. So, he gives up. Changes the course. “Please.. I don’t want to risk it. I want you to be safe.” Speaks so softly that even he can’t hear his voice properly. You hear him of course. You always will. You just nod. Hand still cupping his cheek. Forehead still resting against his. Gives Jimin a fake sense of hope that you’re about to relent for a second. Then you inhale a long breath. 

“I know.” Mutter. Your breath tingling his lips. “I know Jimin. But I’m so fucking scared.” Admit in a hush voice. Jimin goes rigid on your hold. Squeezing his already closed eyes even tighter. Of course, you’re scared. This is your life after all. If he’s scared of you dying, then you might be petrified. Jimin has always wondered whether you really wanted to do this. Or even if you do, how long it will be until you change your mind. True, you were the one who rushed to him, panicked and scared, when you first heard you only have a year. True, you agreed with him right away when he asked you to stay. But what if you have now changed your mind.  What if you’re being so stubborn because you want to go back. 

Jimin suddenly doesn’t want to listen to you. But you do speak. Completely oblivious to the turmoil he’s going through. “I’m so freaking scared Jimin.” Your voice comes out hoarse. Jimin snakes his arms around you. Places one in your waist and the other on the back of your head. He would understand if you just want to end it. He would just give you the right-

“Oh, c’mon, we were supposed to have a year.” Then you suddenly choke out. Forcing Jimin to snap open his eyes. 

Wait what?

He directly peers at your eyes. Eyes that are glossed over now. Covered with a sheen of tears. No. That’s never been his intention. He doesn’t want you to cry. Before he can say anything, though, you start again. “You were supposed to have a year to make me want to stay. I was supposed to have a year to decide. I just-” You gulp harsh. “I just want to stay, Jimin. You don’t want me to stay anymore?” Ask with such a broken voice Jimin feels his heart physically bleeds. 

“No, baby. Lil, no… I- why would you even say that.” He instantly pulls away from you, so he can get a better view of your gorgeous face. Cups your face with both of his hands. “God, I want you to stay. I want you to stay until you don’t want to anymore. Until you’re so tired of me. Until you’re done with me.” Mumbles, warmly. He’d never admit the sickening joy he feels at your confession. You want to stay. And blame him for yearning for that. 

“Then let’s just try.” You put your hands on top of him. Peer at his eyes. Yours glinting. Beautiful. Oh, so fucking beautiful. He’s growing weak. Even his knees buckle under your soft gaze. He can’t say no. Not after what you’ve said. 

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

What the fuck are you doing to him. Why’s he so weak when it comes to you?

“Fuck, Lil. You just, ugh-” So, he groans. Decides he would give in then. But of course, he still can come up with a good deal. If he’s losing then might as well try to bargain. “Twenty four hours then.” Offers. And your soft expression instantly morphs into a furious one. Damn adorable. 

“Oh fuck, that’s just a day Jimin. Fuck that! Seventy hours.”

“Forty eight.”

“Sixty eight.”

“Sixty. That’s it. No more. That’s more than enough.” 

You open your mouth. Then as if you change your mouth at the last minute, close it back. Sigh. “Fine. Deal.” Agree. “Deal.” Jimin agrees as well. A moment passes. In that moment your expression turns back into an excited one back again. “You know, besides this whole deal, I want to go on that trip so bad.” Say with the most endearing smile he has ever seen. He can’t help but peck your lips. “Yeah?” Questions against your lips. 

“Mm hm, it’s going to be fun. We can sneak out in the night and then fuck.” Your tone is comically serious when you say that. A throaty laugh erupts from Jimin. 

“Is that a bribe, lady. That’s.. Not going to work. That’s terrible.” He shakes his head in displeasure. Or at least trying to appear disappointed. The smile that is spreading across his lips gives him away. 

“It won’t?” You raise a brow. 

“It won’t.” He confirms. You tilt your head cockily. 

“Are you sure, Park?” Ask confidently before dragging your hand through his stomach. And he knows where your destination is. He works at light speed when he grabs your hand and holds it still. Making you giggle prettily. His entire body flushes at the sound. 

Oh, he would do anything to keep hearing that sound. Anything.

“You little minx.” He drops his lips once again toward yours. Catching your lips in a searing kiss. You reciprocate it happily. Curling your arms around his neck and slowly starting to press your body desperately against him. Making blood rush to his cock. Making him painfully hard. It’s funny how he is twitching inside his pants within mere seconds. Just because he is getting drunk on your lips. Just because he feels your body against him. Looks like he would have to take care of the cum stains in his car seats again.  

A minx indeed. 

His minx, nonetheless. 

……………………..

You are giddy like a school kid going to their first ever sleepover. You have been buzzing with excitement for the past few days. Even disregarding your nerves about the prospect of what might come out of this. Poor Key and Jungkook had to endure your excited rambling for almost a week. Jungkook did it happily though. Not Key, however. She wasn’t happy about you going missing for an entire three days. Especially, with her knowing what can happen if things go wrong. She was terrified of the prospect of you wiping out of her memory. You had to reassure her hundreds of times yesterday before bed. Promising on your friendship that you would return safely. Before she forgot you.

You are certain that anything like that won’t happen, though. You have that positive feeling. In your stomach. Of course, you are buzzing. Besides, this is your first time camping. You are a little sad that Key can’t join. Maybe, you will arrange another trip in your world. With Key. And Chan. You not so surprisingly found out that you are very happy about the idea of Key dating Chan. Even though she doesn’t admit it yet. They make a cute couple. And you should arrange that trip. Because you are definitely not opposed to feeling this way again. 

Entire two- hour drive to the camping site with Jungkook and Taehyung was filled with nothing but an endless laughter. Even Taehyung’s very off-key singing has brightened up your mood. You will never admit it to his face but Taehyung is the best company someone could ever wish for. He has you choking on laughter describing all the weird people he met during his search for the ice cream vendor. Jungkook too. All three of you are still trying to calm down from the last joke cracked by Taehyung when he finally brings the car to a halt. You take in a deep breath before practically jumping out of the car. Into the first breezes of summer. Feeling the soft but warm sun kissing your skin and letting wind play with your hair. Crunching green grass under your feet. 

“Fuck, I love this!” You mumble to yourself. Throw your head up to feel the sun in your face. Fill up your lungs with fresh air. Then take a good look around your campsite. Eyes falling on the few people who are already here. You spot Yoongi in the distance. Carrying some heavy bags while Hoseok walks behind him. Probably bossing around. You spot Namjoon and Yoona as well. Helplessly staring down at a tent. They are not going to get that thing up. Not unless someone else helps them. 

Grinning from ear to ear, you raise both your hands to wave at them. Three pairs of hands greet you back. Yoongi greets you with his foot. He just raises his one foot and tilt it side to side. Understandable. His hands are full. You snort loudly before finally turning around to see what Jungkook and Taehyung are doing. Find them bickering over luggage. You walk over them to offer a hand. 

“Need help?”

“No.” Jungkook exclaims. 

“Yes.” Taehyung bursts out. Whips his head to Jungkook in disbelief. “Of course, we need help. There’s so many bags.”

“Wow, you’re such a gentleman.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. 

“I am. Take this.” Taehyung disregards Jungkook as he forces a heavy bag into your hands. You barely catch it, balancing it out on your arms hardly. 

“Yah! You stupid..” You hiss, finally managing to save the bag from falling. Taehyung pays you no attention. “Very gentlemanly… And he’d talk about his impressive dick.” You mutter under your breath. Yet unfortunately he hears it. Straightens up immediately. 

“I do have an impressive dick.” Points out. 

“Well, that doesn’t count if you are not a gentleman.”

“Why are we talking about his dick?” Jungkook butts in, unloading more bags. 

“Good question.” You nod in agreement with Jungkook. 

“Because, I have an impressive one.” Taehyung yet again notes. 

“How can we believe it? You have to show us then.” Jungkook challenges Taehyung with a smug look on his face. Okay, you shouldn’t have brought this topic up. This is going to become a headache now. Luckily for you, though, just before Taehyung can reply to Jungkook’s challenge, the sound of an oncoming vehicle diverts all your attention. You all turn around to witness the infamous black E.W. 

Jimin. 

A huge grin breaks on your lips at the sight. Initially, it was planned that you, Jungkook, and Taehyung all would be riding with Jimin. Then Jimin had to attend an important meeting together with Jin. You believe that the meeting has nothing to do with the new game they are launching soon. For some reason, you think it has everything to do with Jimin’s plan for escaping the vice grip Liya’s father has on their company. His plan for freedom. Whatever the real reason might be, it has made you travel without Jimin. You with Jungkook and Taehyung and Jimin with Jin and J. You would be lying if you say you weren’t a teeny bit upset but that’s not a problem. He is here now. 

You contemplate moving forward for a second. Not knowing what exactly you should do. It’s not like that you can jump into his arms freely. Then before you can do anything Taehyung beats you to it. A huge gasp leaving his mouth and dropping the bag on his hands. 

“Jimin-ah…” Shouts through the top of his lungs. Making you flinch at the loud noise and Jungkook cursing slowly. 

“Yah! Yah! We have eggs in that bag idiot.” He yells after his curse. 

Taehyung, though, doesn’t even hear Jungkook as he’s already running to Jimin. Dramatic. Only- if only you can roll your eyes to the back of your head. Since you can’t do it, you just opt to watch the way Taehyung runs halfway toward the car. Stops when Jimin gets out of the car before he could reach it. And naturally your eyes roam over to the man you’re in love with. Still in his work attire for no surprise. Your stomach does that flip over instantly at the sight of him. Butterflies. Eating you from the inside. In a good way. Just for a long second, however. Even before you can process the feeling, Jimin slams the car door shut. The butterflies in your tummy instantly disappear at the sound, just like how Taehyung’s smile does. 

Jimin turns to face you then. His jaw slack. Eyebrows pulled together. The expression is so tight. Pissed! Undoubtedly, that’s how an angered man would look. And you know how this specific man looks when he’s mad. 

Oh! Something might’ve gone wrong.

You wonder if it has to do something with the said meeting. Or something else that went wrong with the company. You don’t get to think too hard, though. A sound of a second car approaching takes your attention away from Park Jimin and toward a white car. It’s very familiar. You are certain you’ve seen it somewhere. You furrow your brows in confusion as the vehicle comes to a halt. A couple seconds pass. It’s unfortunate the driver had parked it in a way that obscured their face from you. So, you wait patiently until the driver’s side door opens. Until a figure gets out. 

A figure wrapped in a black blazer set just similar to Jimin. Her raven silky hair framing her perfectly maintained face. Tall in her four inches. And wearing a condescending smile. 

Of fucking course, the car is familiar!

Because it’s Kim Liya’s. 

Your stomach drops. A weird sensation engulfs you whole. Really? This again? You immediately avert your gaze toward Jimin. Are met with his apologetic eyes. You can’t believe it. You didn’t know she was coming. Why is she here anyway? Maybe that’s such a selfish thought but nobody has ever mentioned her presence. This is just like the day at the restaurant. Like J’s birthday. Liya has made a surprise appearance and you’ve ruined everything that day. This can’t be happening again. 

You wouldn’t have come if you knew she was coming. Not to be a bitch but this is going to mess things up. You should not believe your gut feeling after this. Everytime you think it’s going to be good, something like this happens. See now, you are well aware that you have no rights to have such bitter thoughts. You know you’re an outsider. This is her life. These people are supposed to be her friends. Or not. Liya is not exactly fond of this friend group. She has made it obvious. Everybody knows it. Which is why you question her presence on this occasion. Still you are the outsider, though. You shouldn't question her presence. This is her world. Her life. She can be anywhere she wants to be. 

And now you can’t do anything about it either. She is here and so are you. It’s going to be an exhausting trip. You would still go through it. You have other important matters to attend to after all. This is nothing. Just three nights of enduring her presence. Just three days of seeing her being Jimin’s girlfriend. The person who you are not. 

Well, it sucks to be you!

You throw another brief glance at Jimin. His eyes are still on you. No longer pissed but remorseful.  You ignore him. Turn around to take the bag to the campsite just as a second figure- who you recognize as Seoyoen- steps out of the car. 

“I thought you didn’t want to come here.” Taehyung asks in apprehension. 

“Plans change, baby.” Seoyeon answers. 

That’s the last thing you hear before you walk over to your other friends. 

………………

You all stand in a circle in the middle of your campsite. Surrounded by the newly built tents. Maybe not all of you are standing since Hoseok and Yoongi are lying down. Yoongi’s face is covered by a hat and you suspect he’s already in dreamland. Meanwhile Hoseok is constantly complaining. 

“Yah! Get this shit done already kids. I need to eat.” He grumbles once again. Prompting J and Taehyung who’ve been going over something on a tablet together, to raise their heads. You find it amusing to see them working together. Especially, when they act like they’re on a mission to save the world. 

“Shut up, Hyung. This shit is important.” Taehyung disregards Hoseok’s complaint with a wave of his hand. Hoseok gasps offended. 

“We are almost done. We just need to make sure we’ve got everything.” J backs up Taehyung. They’ve been saying that for a good twenty minutes now. It’s really ridiculous. Both of them are not the type to be perfectionists. They are the type to just roll with it. Type to eat, drink, and then sleep. No hard stuff. But it seems they have much more to themselves. Are surprising everyone with how meticulously they’ve planned this trip. Everything is on spot. From this place to your food. You’ll give them credits for that. They deserve that. Only that it is getting tiresome now. 

“God, J,J, we’ll know if we’ve missed something. Let’s worry about that later.” Jungkook speaks behind you. His chin is placed on top of your head. Is using you as leverage. You agree with him wholeheartedly. And with Hoseok as well. You are hungry. 

“Yeah? Then what will happen if one of you idiots chopped off your fingers by mistake and we have no first aid kit here? Wait, do we have a first aid kit?” J turns to Taehyung. Both of them immediately rushing to check that. 

“Fuck, I thought Hobi was bad at planning.” Namjoon whines. 

“They are not bad at planning. They are too good. And that’s worse than being bad.” Yoona corrects her boyfriend. Taehyung and J are still rummaging through the bags. You slowly avert your gaze from them to your left. Stealing a glance at the man standing there with Jin. The man you’re in love with. He has changed into much more comfortable clothes now. Is talking with Jin but his eyes are undoubtedly on you. You have not seen Liya and Seoyoen around. Probably still at the bathhouse. Good. You have time to stare at Jimin then. He gives you a soft smile once he notices you’re glancing. You reciprocate it hesitantly. 

You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll not be a bitch to Jimin about this situation. No. It’s not his fault. Liya does what she wants. She’s completely allowed to be here. But apparently it’s really hard not to be a bitch when you are jealous. You can’t help but think through your time ahead on this trip. Jimin and Liya would be sharing a tent together. So what? They share a house together everyday. They share a bed. They share food. They share a life. That realization makes you even more jealous. 

God this is pure torture….

Still it’s not Jimin’s fault. It’s no one’s fault. You have to go through this.

You get distracted from his soft gaze and smile when you catch the sight of two friends who are coming toward you through your peripherals. You immediately turn your head away from Jimin. Paying your attention back to J and Taehyung. Just as you do they both straighten up like bolt of lightning. Abandoning their search for whatever they are looking for this time.

“Fuck!” J yells. Taehyung turns to all of you with his hands placed on his hips. Dismayed. As if he’s just discovered one of you ate his favourite cupcake. 

“What? What happened? Who died?” J’s shout makes the peacefully sleeping Yoongi sits up abruptly. His eyes are droopy. He in fact, it seems was in dreamland. 

“We have no water!” J clarifies the reason for her sudden outburst just as Seoyeon and Liya join the circle. 

“What do you mean?” Seoyeon questions very confusedly. 

“We have no water, that’s what I mean.” J regards her with a look that clearly questions her intelligence level. 

“We heard that, J, but what do you mean we have no water? There’s a freaking river nearby.” Hoseok- very much startled like his cousin- points his finger where the said river is located at. 

“That’s probably not safe to drink.” Liya is the one who answers Hoseok. J agrees to her with a firm nod.

“And there’s no drinking water in the camp site. Unless you want to risk it and drink from the river.” Taehyung adds.  “Hell no!” Seoyeon scrunches up her face in distaste when Jungkook perks up. 

“It can be safe, though. People in the movies always do that shit.” Shares. And earn a unified chorus of disapproval. 

“Unfortunately, this is not a movie and I’ll not drink water from a river.” Liya levels Jungkook with a pointed look. You hear Jungkook scoff. “As if we would give a fuck.” Mumbles. 

“Okay, no one wants anyone to end up in a hospital so that’s a no.” J takes charge of the conversation again. 

“And what are we going to do about it? How did we even miss damn water? I mean it’s water.” Jin questions as he walks next to J and peers over the tablet on her hand. “Which idiot forgot to bring what they were assigned to.” He glances over whatever on the device with furrowed brows. For a minute. Then takes it in his hand. And at that Taehyung and J go weirdly quiet. Yoongi is the one who picks up on that firstly. An amused chuckle leaves him. 

“What’s going on?” Jimin joins the chaos for the first time. His voice makes you glance at him again. He isn’t looking at you this time, however. Full attention on his older friend who’s still scanning through the device. Before answering Jimin’s question, Jin throws a brief glance at J. She is just trying her best to avoid looking at anyone.

“That… it seems….wasn’t assigned to anyone.” Jin exhales as he gives the tablet back to J. 

“So much for being too good.” Hoseok teasingly muses. Making both J and Taehyung break into a ramble of thousands of excuses. 

“Yah, people make mistakes.”

“At least we didn’t promise you a weekend in a luxury cottage and then made you do the dishes.”

“Not fair blaming only us.”

“You should’ve checked the details too…”

“Okay, all right, shut it.” Jin interrupts their ranting with a groan. “This isn’t going to solve the problem. What are we going to do?”

“What else? Someone obviously has to go back and bring some water bottles.” Yoona shrugs. 

“Nope!”

“No way… I’m not gonna move a finger.”

“You gotta be kidding me!”

Like that the hell breaks again. Loud voices of disagreement flowing across the otherwise peaceful campsite. 

“They should go, they forgot it.” Jungkook grumbles from behind you. To which Jimin agrees with a beat of heart for your surprise. Jungkook and Jimin are a very weird duo.

“Yes. You are the ones who created the problem so you should be the ones to solve it. Leave us out of this.” Jimin points a finger right at Taehyung. The man in the receiving end leaves a horrendous gasp. 

“Yah! Yah!” Taehyung shouts. “I’m unfriending you from now on. You should take my side and defend me, moron.” Pouts hard that you really feel sorry for him.

“Yah!! What about the time then you ratted me out to Hyung an-“ Jimin starts with a loud whine. Only to get interrupted by Jin.

“Shut the fuck up you two.” He gives both men- who are acting like siblings more than friends- a death stare. Works like magic. Both go silent instantly. “And really Jimin-ah? Kook?” Gives a look to Jungkook as well. You turn around to find Jungkook in utter disbelief that he got called out too. “You gonna just blame like that and leave it to them? What kind of friends would do that?” Asks. “It’s not fair to do that.” Adds. Taehyung and J agree with him wholeheartedly. Jin apparently is back to being the eldest of the group it seems. Or not.

“You’re just saying that because you are whipped for that woman, Hyung.” Hoseok calls the buff out. A sneaky smirk on his face. Jin-like you’ve seen before- turns into red. His face is visibly burning.

“Tha-that’s not-“

“So what if he is? Jealous?” J, however, is thriving. Happiest she’s ever been. Hoseok scoffs at the answer for the question. Yet whatever he wanted to say to that never comes out when Jin takes the matters back into his hand.

“Enough! We are going to do this very fairly.” He orders with a strange glint in his eyes. Strange enough that it makes you squint your eyes in suspicion. He’s not up to any good. You know he isn’t. 

“Oh, c’mon, don’t tell me you’re gonna do that draw thing again!” Namjoon suddenly gasps.

See, you knew he wasn’t up to any good.

…………………..…

“My God, can we just act like adults? Can’t someone just volunteer and go buy the water bottles? It’s like a twenty minute drive. Why make so much of a fuss?” Liya groans from where she is sitting on the ground. Cross-legged. You think she is making a valid point. You people are being a little extra here. 

Everyone is sitting on the ground in a circle. A bowl filled with pieces of papers in the middle. As if you’re about to perform some kind of a ritual. And to add more to the part of being extra, everyone is looking like a bunch of cows who are about to be slaughtered.

“Then you should go and do it.” Hoseok answers Liya with a sneer. “Since you’re so matured.” Adds deliberately. His head tilting to the side a little. Liya gives him a look that clearly screams that she wasn’t talking to him.

“No one’s gonna volunteer Liya. Everyone is so immature. Let’s just get this over with already.” Jin butts in hastily. Saving- probably a heated argument between his friend and his other friend’s girlfriend. Reluctantly they both accept that and pay attention to the silly little thing you’re about to do. “Okay, so, we know it’s just a twenty minute drive and one person can totally handle it, but to be fair we will choose two.” Jin explains the rules- if you can call them that. 

“Or….” Jungkook drags. Is sitting next to you. “You just want to make two people suffer.” Comments, making Jin gasp. 

“I would never-” He starts. 

“Yes you would. We all know that. Just get ahead with this. I can eat the whole GrillGo, at this rate.” Yoona whines from next to her dear- very bored looking boyfriend. You’ve come to know that GrillGo is these peoples’ favourite place to eat junk foods. And you’ve come to love the place as well. Even the mention of the name makes your stomach growl. You can’t agree with Yoona more. Think it’s very fair that she kicks her leg as well. 

For a second, Jin looks like he’d argue. Then he shrugs. Admits. Drags the bowl toward him. “All right, here’s how this will go. Since these two almost planned everything-” Gestures at Taehyung and J. “Their names won’t be here. And-”

“Yah! How’s that fair?” Jimin almost throws a rock at Jin. His plump pretty lips agape in disbelief. Jin isn’t the one who answers him, however. It’s Taehyung who looks even more in disbelief. Or offended. Or a mix of both. 

“Yah! Why the hell can’t you just be happy for me.” 

“For fucks sake, guys, please!” Yoona falls into her back dramatically. Jimin mouths a ‘fuck you’ to Taehyung as Jin shoves the bowl into J’s hand. Not minding the comment Jimin had made. 

“A..nd-” Instead he starts again. “They’ll choose two names. Randomly, of course.” You expect everyone to protest and start mini protests but they look dejected. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Only Yoongi mumbles. 

And like that the game begins. J takes the bowl as if she’s presented with a kingdom, not just pieces of papers with her friends’ names on them. She gives the bowl a good shake. Tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. Then pushes her hand inside, quite not picking up one right away. 

“Hurry the fuck up, woman.” Jungkook groans. J shoots him a death glare. But then finally picks up one. Unfolds it. “Oh, god please tell me it’s not me.” Jungkook interjects again. 

“Well, unfortunately it’s not you. Such a shame.” J rolls her eyes. “It’s Park Jimin.” She informs you as she shows the piece of paper to the rest of you. Everyone breaks into a loud chatter. Even someone starts clapping. Jungkook lets out a noise in satisfaction while Jimin does one in resignation. 

“Of course, it's me. Fuck my life!” Gets to his feet. Pats the dust off his clothes even though there are none visible. “I can go by myself. No need to make everyone suffer.” Adds thoughtfully. Such a sweet thing to say. You would’ve cooed at that in a different time. By the look of your friends’ faces you know everyone thinks the same. Or not. 

“Fuck you, you little prick!” Taehyung yells through the top of his lungs. Startling several of you. “I swear to god Jimin-ah, you and I fucking enemies from now on.” 

“Wha-what the… what the fuck? What did I do this time?” Jimin takes a step back. Eyes wide. Looks innocently clueless. 

“What did you do?” Taehyung repeats. Shows him the bowl which is in his hands now. “You’re stealing my chance to choose a name.” Says as if it’s very obvious. Absolutely ridiculous. Jin was right. They are the most childish adults you’ve ever met. 

“Are you fucking seriou- you know what? Go ahead.” Jimin pinches the bridge of his nose. Frustrated. Taehyung pouts for a second before letting it go and going to fish for a second name. He does it more quickly than J. Unfolds a paper swiftly and stares at it while everyone expectantly looks at him. And you swear you see a quirk in his mouth before he manages to hide it. Then regards everyone with a look which he probably thinks is serious. Yet to you, he’s clearly amused. Excited. Is living his life. There’s a glint in his eyes. And so he fails miserably to hide the elation in his voice when he finally speaks. 

“It’s Li.” Just as the name leaves his mouth, everything falls silent. No loud chatter this time. No clappings or noises of satisfaction that they didn’t get picked. You feel hot suddenly. Feel the weight of the burning gazes on your skin. You know everyone is looking. Because, it is not okay for you to leave with Jimin considering the history you’ve shared. See now, your friends might have never confronted you about what happened. Might have never even brought the topic up and treated you differently. Still, it’s clear everyone knows what you did- what you’re still doing without their knowledge- was and is wrong. There’s no denying that. You don’t know why everybody decided to forgive you so easily.. It doesn’t matter in the end anyway. What matters is the fact that they’ve given you a second chance. The fact that they’ve not made a big deal and was even cool with the fact that you and Jimin were still close. 

This, though, would change that. Surely. Hanging out with Jimin on other times is something else. But, doing it in front of his girlfriend? What kind of a shameless, insensitive bitch would do that. 

Oh no!

You should protest immediately. And it becomes certain when a scoff breaks the silence, closely followed by Seoyeon’s voice. “Are you kidding me?” You guess that question is directed at Jin. You don’t hear whether anyone answered that question. Simply you pay no attention to that. Instead, you open your mouth to disagree with the decision. Before you can do so, however, Taehyung rushes to his feet. Storms toward you. Bends down and grabs your arm. And pulls you into your feet. All in the blink of an eye. 

“Move your lazy ass, Li. The faster you get this done, the faster we can actually enjoy this trip. Go on. Chop chop.” He turns you around. Toward Jimin, who’s looking at you with a dumbfounded expression. 

“No but-” You try again. Just to get cut off. 

“No buts. That was a fair game and you lost. Shoo now.” Taehyung starts pushing you forward. You keep your eyes on Jimin, not daring to look at anyone else. You know they are judging. Heavily. They should be. You know Seoyeon and Liya must be ready to burn you down with their intense gazes. 

You should really put up a fight. But you feel too awkward and uncomfortable to do that. Being in the spotlight is hard. Taehyung takes leverage in that. Keeps pushing you forward. Almost push you past Jimin. You still don’t dare to look at anyone. Your face is still burning.

They are judging. 

They are judging.

They are judging.

So, you just turn your head around to look at that one person, who will never judge you. Catch Jungkook’s wide eyes. He gives you a reassuring smile. 

You’re fine. 

You turn your head back again. This time toward the man who’s in front of you. His astonished expression has changed into something softer. Is waiting for you. Clearly doesn't give a fuck about what others think. He used to think about that a lot. Which is what made you fall into this pit in the first place. But then if he doesn’t care, then neither will you. 

If Jungkook will never judge you, then you won’t care about others doing so. 

If Jimin will wait for you, you’ll always walk up to him.

You’re fine. 

………………………….

Neither Jimin nor you say anything at all as you walk to his car. You keep the silence intact when he revs the engine and pulls the car into the dusty road. You still keep it that way even when five minutes of your twenty minute drive passes. And you almost become certain that would be the case for the remainder as well. At least, until you hear a soft sound escapes Jimin.

You turn your head to find a grin appearing on his lips. His whole face lights up with it. That’s when you realize that the sound you heard was a soft laugh. 

You don’t hesitate for a second before raising your hand and hitting his arm, with a horrendous gasp leaving your mouth. Jimin squeals first at your unexpected attack but then it soon turns into a full blown laughter.

Unbelievable!

“Yah!” You shout. “Don’t laugh, Park.” It does nothing but make him laugh harder.

“Wh- why not?” He manages in between his pretty giggles. Having a hard time concentrating on the road. 

“That’s so fucked up. Why are you even laughing?”

“Because this shit is funny, Spring Roll. Tae is my man after all. Can’t believe he just…” He trails off giving way to another laugh.

“Yes he’s a sneaky little shit, you know.”

“Who cares? It’s not like we did something wrong?”

“Haven’t we?”

At that Jimin’s laughter finally dies down. He regards you with a serious look now. “No we haven’t Lil. I don’t even know why Liya is here. But I know that she isn’t here to enjoy herself or to be with me. She’s just here to piss me off. She has something up her sleeve and I don’t like it. She isn’t innocent.” He throws a brief glance at your way. You stare at him expectantly. “She knows we’re- she and I- are not fine. She knows everything. And guess what? She’d still act like nothing wrong. Like she knows nothing. How could someone do that? She’s a woman on a mission, not a woman in love. I’m done with that shit so no, we’re not doing anything wrong.” Jimin accelerates the car with that.

Well, you still don't think it’s okay. Not really. But what’s the difference in the end? You did what you did. You do what you’re doing. Will anything ever change the fact that you’re in love with this man? The answer is simple. 

No.

You’re already painfully in love. 

…………………………

To regard Liya as a villain makes Jimin awfully guilty. Because she probably isn’t. But when he told you that she was a woman on a mission, he had told the truth. He’s still very much tangled up in this mess without a way out. Kim is a powerful opponent after all. It’s not that easy to flatten a mountain. Especially when he only has a spoon. But he will not just sit back and watch. Not anymore. He really is done. He made a mistake accepting their help in the first place. Choosing the easy way. 

So what? People can’t make mistakes? Jimin can’t make mistakes? He can and he should be having a chance to make up for them. 

He’s been under this pressure ever since the day he promised you that he’s going to find a way. And your little incident hasn’t helped him either. There’s a lot going on. He really needed an escape. Just for a day. And you both know his type of escape isn’t a camping trip. No. His escape is you. But then it had to be ruined like that. Like this. So, sue him for being happy when he gets the chance to be with you. Blame him for being a shameless asshole. Who cares he said. And certainly he doesn’t. Not anymore.

He won’t tell you what exactly happened. Not because he wishes to keep things away from you but because he’s getting this insane urge to protect you lately. Cover you up in a bundle of blankets maybe. Get you into your Spring Roll state. Keep you in his arms and forget the world around you. Make you live in a bliss where nothing bad happens.

In reality though, he might not be able to do that. Yet he can just let you enjoy this trip. Even with the tension on your shoulders. With your unconscious pout whenever you see Liya or Seoyeon glaring at you. With your longing glances at him. He just wants to make sure you enjoy it.

So, he wouldn’t tell you that Liya has made an unannounced appearance in his office this morning. Just after that shitty meeting. All he wanted was to find a loophole in Kim’s life. What he got was the part he already knew. About the scandal surrounding Liya and her mom. About the woman who was abandoned by Kim so he could marry Liya’s mom. About a shitty past that should be buried for good. Which he all knew, not because he dug into Kim’s life but because Liya trusted him to confide in him. That’s not what Jimin wanted. No. If he brings Kim down that would be through something really bad he did. Not with this. Jimin might be an asshole but he isn’t a monster. 

Still he would do his best to win this battle. He’d no longer be the pawn. Which is what he exactly did when Liya stood there in front of his office room with a- very fake- pretty smile. Was apparently there to let him know about an interview. An interview he didn’t know about and was organized to announce their upcoming engagement. Jimin swears he just wanted to say that there won’t be any engagement. But no smart player reveals their hand in advance. So, he had opted into a simple ‘No’. Because he had other plans. Of course, Liya knew what that other plan was. And to Jimin’s surprise she hadn’t made any fuss. Just another smile. And a single line. 

‘Okay, I could use some fresh air too.’

That was it. Now she is here. And something feels very off. Jimin can feel it in his skin. A prickling sensation. Yet he won’t tell you about any of that. True both of your moods were ruined the moment Liya stepped out of her car- as much wrong as it sounds. But still, no need of making it even more awful to you. You won’t be that happy to be reminded of the engagement now, will you? Jimin doesn’t know what exactly sends you off. 

Are you that jealous? 

Maybe. Probably. 

And that makes Jimin’s heart beat faster. If you are jealous that means he’s that important to you. Just like he’s jealous of Jungkook because you are that important to him. 

He glances over at you for the hundredth time. You are finally loosening up. That scowl leaving your beautiful face. And are finally starting to give in to that smile Jimin oh so adores. There’s no way he’d ruin that. He wants you to keep smiling. Without a care in the world. 

Because you are that important to him. 

He wants to keep you away from all the hardships and all the blames. Want to take your side when other’s point their fingers at you. Want to make it easy for you. Just like Jin does with J. 

You’re just saying that because you are whipped for that woman, Hyung.

Hoseok had said. They all know it is true. Even though Jin hasn’t mentioned anything explicitly, they know he’s whipped. And if Jimin wants to do the same for you……

He wanders his eyes over you once again. This time he gets caught, however. You frown at him. In a playful way. Then smile. 

Fuck, he is so whipped for you!

……………………

You unbuckle the seat belt. You’ve reached a supermarket in a small city. Market itself isn't that big but you are positive it’ll have enough water bottles for a couple people. Or twelve people. You place your hand on the door handle, ready to open the door. To get your business done faster. People back at the campsite won’t be happy when you spend a half a day on a task that only takes an hour. Yet before you can, Jimin stops you. 

“Lil.” He calls, making you halt your movement and turn to him. Questioning him with a raise of your eyebrow. He doesn’t answer your non-asked question. Instead another smug smile plays across his pink lips as he reaches for the back seat. That’s only when you realize there’s a bag there. How come you’ve not noticed that? Well, it’s very possible because you were so engrossed in the glint in Jimin’s eyes throughout the whole ride. With a bit of a struggle he grabs the bag then sits back on the seat properly. Hands it over to you. You whine loudly in complaint. 

“A gift? Again? Why woul-”

“You haven’t even seen what it is. Stop freaking complaining.” Jimin cuts you out. 

“It doesn’t matter what it is. It’s still a gift and there’s no reason for you to buy me gifts out of nowhere.”

“Will you please just see what it is first?”

“But this is-”

“Spring Roll!” That’s a stern way to say a name that is used as a nickname. You blink at his face dumbfounded. “Please, see what it is.” He pleads softly. Stark contrasts to the way he called you a second ago. 

Well, him bringing you gifts make you more guilty than fucking him or being in love with him. It makes you feel dirty. Like a whore. Like a cheap person. He knows it too. But Jimin doesn’t care. He’s been bringing something with him everytime he visits you lately. No matter how much you complain, he doesn’t listen. 

You bet this is a piece of jewellery. That’s what he’s best at giving. You already have a box which started to fill out slowly back in your home. What are you going to do with so many earrings? Especially with ones too expensive you can’t wear them to a frat party or a free drink friday at a club. You huff in annoyance peeking inside the bag and finding a box which is undoubtedly too big for a pair of earrings. Then it must be a necklace. You bring the box out. Throw a sneaky glance at Jimin. He has that amused glint in his eyes. 

Weird!

You skeptically pull the carefully placed lid up. Knowing well that there’s something going on. And just as you open the lid your suspicions become true. You are most definitely not staring at a necklace. Or any kind or jewellery for that matter. Instead, you’re looking at a purple device. Curved. Slim. Tiny. Two heads at either side. And there’s a tiny remote beside it as well. You stay staring at the purple thing for an extra minute or two. Then you notice the tiny button on one of the two bulbous heads with a tiny ‘power’ carved under it. And you know exactly what it is. Because of course you do. 

A vibrator!

A freaking vibrator!

You feel your face go red. Cheeks burning up. The AC of the car does nothing to cool you down as you snap your head toward a grinning Jimin. He is elated. 

“Like it?” Even questions as if he just gifted you flowers.

“Oh my god Jimin… you got to be-” You throw your head up. “Seriously?”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Jimin’s eyes go wide. Yet that grin never leaves his face. 

“Are you seriously gifting me a fucking vibrator?” You lean forward, closer to him for more emphasis. He just shrugs. 

“Yes, and?”

You hide your face behind your palms. Partially because you’re frustrated but more because you’re embarrassed. Jimin apparently doesn't like that. He removes your hands gently. “Are you blushing, woman?” Tries to peek at your eyes when you turn your face away. He holds your hands tight. 

“No, but why would you gift me a vibrator?” You groan, giving up trying to avoid his eyes and looking straight at him. 

“You know why, Love. That’s not even a question.” Jimin rolls his eyes. But you almost don’t notice it. Your heart skips a beat. Just as how it always does. Jimin needs to cut some slack for your poor heart. He needs to stop using that pet name. Gives your poor heart hope that he means it. He probably isn't and you know that. That must be just a gentleman thing. He never did that before, though. There comes that question again. 

Why?

You don’t get to dig too deep inside your thoughts, however. Jimin grabs your attention by yanking you forward. Brings his face closer to you. Close enough to share a single breath with you. “I brought you a vibrator so I can play with you.” Murmur in such a low voice a shiver runs down your spine. “You know I love to play.” Places a soft kiss on your lips. This time he makes your breath hitch. Now you’re burning up for a whole nother reason. You gulp harshly, heart already starting to beat violently against your rib cage. 

“Yeah?” You manage to question nonetheless. Jimin nods. With his- now filled with lust- eyes boring into yours. “And you had no better time to give me this? You thought giving me this while we are on a camping trip with all our friends and making me incredibly horny but not being unable to do anything about it is a good idea?” You whisper against his lips. 

“Oh we can definitely do something, baby. And yes this is the perfect time to gift you this because that’s exactly how I planned it.” He lets your hands go. Cups your face instead. Brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. You gasp softly. “You promised some sneaking outs and risky fucks baby. Stay true to your words.” Blows to your lips, making you tremble visibly. Yet you gape at him with wide eyes. This guy can’t be serious, now. 

“B-but now Liy-”

“We are alone now, aren’t we?” He places another kiss at the corner of your mouth. And you nearly moan. Jimin keeps his inviting gaze on you. “What do you say? Wanna do this now?” Rubs his thumb over your cheek. You lean into his touch. Close your eyes to gain some strength. Why would you be so weak around Jimin all the damn time? Well, it’s because he is Jimin. You open your eyes back with a sigh of resignation. Nod. “Words baby.” Jimin grumbles. 

“Y-yes.” So you hastily stutter.

“You sure?”

“Yes, Park.”

“Alright then. Put that on.” Jimin withdraws from your close space. Giving you the space you need to do as he asked. You, however, just stupidly stare at him for a second time. “What?” Jimin gives you a look of disapproval. You know what that means. He’s into this fully and is already playing. And it gets you dripping when he plays. You gulp harshly.

“Are-aren’t we gonna go and get the water first?” You look behind you at the supermarket. Voice breaking up with nervousness. 

“We are.” Jimin answers rather steadily for your likings. Oh you know what he is implying. This guy can’t be serious at all. Yet despite your inner nervous self you can’t help it but squeeze your thighs together, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Jimin. His lust filled eyes grow even darker. You have an exhibitionist inside you and this is time you should accept that. 

“And you’re gonna make me wear this inside the store?” You glance at the purple thing. Sitting prettily in its velvet box. You wonder if this is expensive.

“Yes.” Jimin answers rather impatiently this time.

“And are you gonna make me uh… cu..”

“Hell yes baby that's the whole point. You gonna be my little slut and cum-“ Jimin brings his face closer to you again. Nuzzling his nose in your cheek. “Only if you want to though. If you’re not hundred percent down, then we don’t have to do it. But if you want to, you know you can trust me.” Places his palm over your thigh to give it a squeeze. 

You tremble once again. Feel that familiar fire inside your stomach, making your core pulse. You both know what your decision is going to be. You trust him. Of course, you trust him more than you should. There’s no way you would say no. 

“Fuck!” You exclaim. Giving in entirely.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, I mean fuck, Jimin, you’re so crazy.”

“So what’s new? C’mon put that thing on.” He commands again but doesn’t wait as he takes the vibrator in his hand. “C’mon.” Urges you to take your shorts off. Is he going to put that in you? You feel another powerful twist inside your guts. A tight clench of your hole around nothing. With a simple nod you bring your already shaky hands to unbutton your pants. Quickly as you can. Then after another glance at Jimin for reassurance you pull the piece of garment down. Down, down, and down until you take it in your hands. Together with your panties. “That’s a good girl. Open up now.” Jimin keeps guiding you, disregarding the small whimpers you are letting out. You bring your feets up on the seat. 

Car park of the supermarket is pretty lonely save for a few other vehicles here and there. And Jimin had parked the car in a corner. Not secluded but away from other vehicles. You suspect that’s a deliberate move. In the end, it’s not as anyone would witness you. So you spread your legs. Slowly but surely. Putting yourself on the view for him. Like a pretty gift. 

“Fuck, baby.” Jimin groans. Puts his hand between your legs. Just a barely there touch on your clit that gets you squirming on the seat. “We need you nice and wet.” He says before taking his hand away, just to put two fingers inside his mouth. You watch in awe at the way he coats those two fingers in his saliva. You are wet to be honest but you’ll let Jimin do whatever he wants with you. You say nothing but mewl when he places those two fingers which are now covered with his spit on your already throbbing clit. 

“Ahh… Ji-Jimin…” You buck your hips up. Forward. Into his fingers. Burning up with a new desire. This will never get old. This feeling. The sensation. This fire. It will never die down. It will never get boring. Not with Jimin. He knows you too damn well. Starts rubbing slow but tender circles on your sensitive nub while shifting his gaze between your pussy and your twisted face. 

“Yes, princess. Drip, hm? Drip for me.” Mumbles sin in your ear. And you listen. Or your body does. You in fact start dripping within mere seconds of his wet fingers playing with you. Just like he wanted. Nice and wet. Jimin stops his ministrations once he’s satisfied with his works. Drags his fingers up and down your slit to spread the wetness across. Hums in approval. “Gonna put this thing on you, okay, love?” Asks you softly as he presses that power button. Nothing happens. You don’t know how it works. Never owned a toy before after all. Yet you nod in agreement anyway. Jimin brings the vibrator closer to your throbbing core and you have to clench your teeth so hard to stop panting like a bull. You can’t be this affected when this hasn’t even started yet.

How pathetic?

But all your attempts come in vain when one of the cool, tiny, bulbous heads of the toy touches your clit. You reel. Already wanting more and more. And Jimin gives you exactly that. He wastes no time in starting to press the other end of the vibrator inside your hole. You moan aloud. It’s not big enough. It’s too tiny to be precise. You don’t feel full at all. Yet just as Jimin gets the little remote in his hand and presses a button everything makes sense to you. 

Oh that’s how it works.

You may not own a vibrator but you certainly have seen enough to know how they look and work. This, though, is something you’ve never seen. It starts vibrating your clit and insides ever so slowly. You know that’s the slowest setting but your breath tangles in your throat. The dual simulation makes your eyes roll. This thing is good. You feel vibrations after vibrations going through your entire body. Gush after new gush of arousals seeping out of you. You clutch the seat for some kind of control as the little toy creates wonders on your clit. 

“Oh fuck, Jimin…” You moan desperately. Humping the air and needing more. It’s good but certainly not enough.

“Yeah? You like it?” Jimin mutters in your ear, followed by a kiss. You only nod. Drowning in numbing pleasure. Your brain is turning into a mush. This wouldn’t have been this good if you were alone, however. You know what makes it this good is the man who’s holding the remote. His intense stare and his presence. And you want him to give you more. Instead of that Jimin turns the vibrator off the next second, reducing you into a whiny brat. “No… not yet baby.” He picks up your discarded clothes. “Can’t have you coming too soon. We have to buy some water after all.” His voice oozes mischievousness as he guides you to put your legs back down.

The toy is still securely attached to your cunt. Residues of what happened are still going through your body. 

You shiver once again before you finally take a deep breath. Ground yourself to put your clothes back on and get out of the car.

Knowing very well that it’s just the beginning.

……………………

Your original purpose was to buy enough water for you. Such a simple task. But it’s the hardest you’ve ever done. You were distracted the moment you entered the supermarket. Not by any other snack or drink. No. Nothing piques your interest at this moment. Nothing despite the vibrations on your cunt. Again. Even before you figured out where you should look for bottled water Jimin had begun his favorite game. 

You snap your head toward Jimin as he presses the remote for a third time now. 

You are standing in the noodle aisle. For no specific reason other than walking around trying to find what you are looking for. Unfortunately for you, you weren't able to find it until Jimin turns on the vibrator again.

“Jimin.” You hiss. Trying hard not to squeeze your thighs or bend down.

“What?” Jimin nonchalantly asks as he takes a packet of noodles in his hand after pocketing the remote. You’re at a higher level of intensity now. Not the highest setting but now it’s enough to make you seethe. You look around hastily. You agreed to this. Yes. But now you’re really inside and doing it for real, you feel mortified. There’s couple people inside. Wandering around. There must be cameras. What if you get caught?

“Maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe let’s–” You start only to get cut off with a mewl you, yourself let out when the vibrations intensifies. This time you actually do bend down. Gasping. Crossing your legs. Jimin clicks his tongue. 

“You can’t change your mind like that baby. You need to stick to a decision.” His words almost don’t reach your pleasure induced mind when he grabs your arm and straightens you up. “Hm?” Looks at you expectantly for an answer. You don’t even know what he’s talking about. Only whimpering at the tingles between your legs, which makes you forget about the world. “You wanna stop, Lil? You can’t stick to one word?” Jimin asks you again in a dangerously low voice. Feels threatening. Taunting. Adds more fuel to your fire. Yet despite his words you can see that genuine concern in his eyes. 

It’s not fair he makes you decide things when you can’t focus. You are partially worried that someone might actually catch you. The pleasure, however, is getting unbearable. Your whole body trembles with the vibrations on your cunt. You can’t see things properly. Don’t even realize that you’ve shaken your head. At least not until Jimin turns off the vibrator again. Edging you for the third time in that hour. You bite into the inside of your cheek to control the helpless cry which is about to leave your mouth. Hold on to Jimin for your dear life since you can’t trust your legs. “Good baby?” Jimin this time asks without that teasing tilt in his voice. Cups your cheek affectionately. You look up at him. 

“Yes- yes I mean..” You pant breathlessly. “Holy fuck stop edging me..” Almost hit his arm. Yet he catches your hand swiftly. Pulls you closer to him. Jimin’s eyes go back to glint in amusement. That smug look reappearing. 

“Yeah? No edgings? Want to cum here then? While there are other people around? Want to be my little slut and cum in front of everyone?” Whispers. And you exhale shakily. 

“Jimin…”

“C’mon, then. Let’s buy those damn water bottles first.” He withdraws from you just to start walking away through the aisles. Dragging you with him. You try to protest which comes fruitful as he effortlessly makes you move with him. Still hot and bothered. Core still throbbing. Trying your best to walk normally with the toy rubbing against your clit with every step you take. 

Jimin walks over a few more aisles with his fingers entangled with yours. Here and there. Without interrupting your journey by making you suffer. Until he finally stops in front of the aisle where the products you’ve been looking at are. Then he turns to you. 

“How much do you think we’ll need?” Questions ever so normally. As if he hasn’t put a vibrator inside your panties and doesn’t have the remote to it in his hand. You gape at his awfully beautiful face. “Lil?” He urges you when you don’t answer him. 

“Seriously?” You take a couple steps forward to stand side to side with him. 

“Hm?”

“Are we just- are you?”

Jimin just raises his brow. Smug. Too cocky. You want to wipe that smug look off his face. It’s unbelievable he’s affecting you this much. You love him, of course. But why the hell are you not in any control? Why would you always-

“Oh, you wanted to cum, yes?” Jimin disrupts your trail of thoughts. First by his voice. Then before you can reply to him, with a gentle vibration in your pussy. You close your eyes shut. 

Here you go again!

That wasn’t exactly what you wanted to question. Honestly, you don’t even know what you wanted to ask. Were just baffled at how unaffected he is acting. Now, you’re getting distracted. Yet again. The toy massages your throbbing clit and your inner walls, just perfectly. Gentle. Like a soft caress. Just for a few seconds because in the next, it’s no longer a gentle caress but a deliberate touch. Firm. Jimin has turned up the speed. You open your eyes to find him looking at you attentively. Stares right into your eyes. Turns the speed another notch up. Then another. And another. One by one. Into the highest setting. 

“Oh, please..” A plea leaves your mouth. You really don’t know what you want. Why are you begging? Is that the need to cum? Or do you want Jimin to stop and take you somewhere else? Whatever it is, you don’t get to sort it out when Jimin steps behind you. Arms wrapping around your figure that is slowly starting to shake. He hugs you tightly. As if he’s trying to prevent that tremble. 

“You asked me to stop edging you baby.” He mumbles as he places his chin on your shoulder. “I’m doing just that. Giving what you want. You wanted to cum, so, go on princess. Cum. Cum hard for me. Let’s drench your panties.” He holds you even tighter. You are gasping for air. It feels too hot. Too good. Jimin’s words are making it even better. You squeeze your thighs together as tight as you can. Trying to control the sensation that is going through you. Your mind is completely splitted between the pleasure and fear of someone catching you. Only you though. Jimin doesn’t even seem to be phased at the idea of getting caught. “C’mon, let go.” He drags one hand upward to your breasts. Doesn’t touch it though. Just hoevers it under your boob. Teasingly. 

“Jimin, we- we can't… what if-”

He shushes you softly. Steals a kiss onto your neck. “Just trust me. Let go. I’m not stopping until you cum.” Steals another kiss. “Fuck, you look so hot baby.” Another sneaky kiss. You doubt you look any hot right now, however. You are just trying to control your facial expression so even if someone walks in they won’t suspect anything right away. Even if you’ll be on a camera, it won’t look like you’re milliseconds away from falling apart. You’re failing at that miserably. Vibrations on your clit are too powerful for you to do that. All you are able to do is clutch Jimin’s arm tightly and focus on staying up right. Even that is becoming impossible now. You are reaching that high so fast. Every vibration makes your mind hazy and that knot inside your tummy gets tight. Tight and tight. Then out of nowhere it snaps.  

You let out a tangled cry as your legs buckle. Jimin holds you tight without letting you fall down. You give up trying to control anything. Your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. Whole body trembling. You fall back into Jimin’s firm body completely. 

“Yes. Like that. Fucking hell baby. Shit! Just like that.” Jimin curses low. Gritting his teeth. His grip is so tight on you that you fear he’d break you. “Cum hard for me. You’re such a good slut, you know. My pretty slut.” Rubs soothing circles into your tummy. Aiding you in riding your high. Keeps rubbing until it finally starts to die down. Slowly. Allowing you to see things clearly again. Making you wince in overstimulation since the toy is still working. Jimin picks up your signs of discomfort right away as he switches off it immediately. Yet keeps holding you close. “Are you okay, love?” Inquires gently. You barely nod in response as you take a lungful of breath. Your tenses up body relaxing after the intense orgasm. Or just starting to relax which turns into a complete opposite when you hear the sudden footsteps. Rushed. You almost jump away from Jimin in panic. Looking around you hopelessly to find a place to hide. You might have came already and the vibrator is off now but you’re certain anyone would notice your fucked up appearance. 

Jimin, however, doesn’t let you take a step away from him. Instead he turns you around to face him. Pulls you back into his chest. You can feel how fast his own heart is beating. This time his arms don’t wrap around you so tightly. It’s gentle. Like a normal hug. You freeze. He pats your back. 

“Oh my, you’re freaking cute, Lil.” Kisses the top of your head. You freeze. Heart pumping. He really needs to stop doing this. Nicknames. Compliments. Soothing hugs. It makes your heart hurt. Bleeding. He needs to stop making you fall for him even more. He does just that. With another gentle kiss. And you hear someone walking past you. And you indefinitely hear a soft coo. 

………………………….

You squirm in your seat, impatiently waiting for Jimin to finish up loading the insane amount of bottled water you just purchased, into the car. He takes more than enough time to finally get inside. After your embarrassing orgasm, he hasn’t started anything. Yet. But has promised you more with a dangerous tilt to his voice, just as that someone who came your way at the supermarket walked away. That time he wasn’t just saying it to make you suffer. He wasn’t trying to play anymore. He was aroused. To a point that it leaked through his voice. And it made that dying fire inside you lit up again. Made you want something more when you had a mind shattering orgasm. Now you are dying to have that more he promised to give you. 

You look at the man who just sat restlessly in the driving seat. He does the same. Eyes hooded and dark. 

“Please tell me you’ll fuck me now.” You burst out before you can process what you just said. Jimin’s eyes slightly go wide before he regains his composure. A slow curse leaving his mouth. He averts his gaze away from you to the outside. Scanning the area. At this rate, you actually don’t care about the place you are in. You just want Jimin to have you. You’re still buzzing from your previous orgasm. Still burning from the need for him. You just need more. More of Jimin. Not just orgasms. You need Jimin. “Please baby, need you.” So, you let him know. Jimin shudders. 

“Yeah? Are you fine if I-”

“Yes. Yes.” You don’t let him complete his sentence. Say a loud ‘fuck it’ in your head as you hastily unbutton your shorts for the second time in the day. Start pushing the clothing item past your hips when Jimin stops you. 

“Hey, hey! Are you sure, Lil? I know I said that it’s fine but I need you to be hundred percent sure, love. It’s day and there’s other vehicles around.” Jimin peers into your eyes. You on the other hand are already nodding madly. 

“I’m sure. Please. Just… god, I need you inside me right now, Jimin. I-”

“Fuck! Okay, get on my lap.” This time Jimin doesn’t let you complete your horny ramble. And he doesn’t have to say it twice. You get rid of your shorts in record time. Put your hand on the toy to get rid of it as well. Just to get your hand yanked away. “Keep it. Gonna fuck you with it.” Jimin clarifies his action briefly before pulling you into his lap. Shifts the seat back to give you more space. You moan at his words which soon turns into a squeal at the sudden movement. Jimin disregards that. Only pays attention to unbutton his own pants and free his hard cock. You know he’s been that way since the very moment he put the vibrator on you. It must damn hurt. Park Jimin is an amazing creature. That much control is truly amazing to you. There’s nothing to be surprised about, though. You’re used to it now. 

Jimin pumps his hard cock few times just as soon as he frees it from the tight confines of his pants and boxers. You keep your hips raised to make it easier for him. Watching the way he pumps his pretty cock. Squeezing the base. Making pre cum leak. You watch in awe. Breath hitching and ears roaring. Jimin doesn’t take much time. Put both of your misery to an end. “Sit, princess. Take me in.” Commands you while holding his throbbing length up for you. You nod in understanding as you align your entrance with his tip. Maybe the design of the vibrator makes more sense now. The reason why it’s tiny. You can take a dick in your vagina while it’s still inside and it won’t make it painful. You take him easily. You’ve been dripping a river after all. His bulbous head breaches inside your tight rim of muscles in one swift motion. Making you moan aloud. Making Jimin curse aloud. “Oh, fuck.. So wet baby. Holy fuck! you’re so wet.”

“God Jimin, you fe-feel so-so good.” 

Jimin nods as if he’s in a daze. “Yeah?” His nails dig into your thighs. “Yeah? Then take me all the way down slut. Go on. Keep going.” Hides his face in your neck. Kissing and sucking. No biting though. That would be awful to walk back with marks on you. You do as he asks. Take him all the way down. Until you’re fully seated on his lap. Until his hot cock is safely buried inside you to the brim. 

You halt in that position. Reveling in the feeling of Jimin inside you. Being so full. Feeling so full. Jimin gives you that minute to bask in the feeling as well. Then he pulls his face away from your neck. Throws his head into the headrest and keeps his eyes on you. Blindly search for the remote. Gives you little to no warning when he pushes that button. Instant vibrations start to massage your clit and your walls. This time though it’s not just you who feel it. 

“Fuck!!” You and Jimin both moan in unison. But what gets you shaking is the way Jimin says it. His reddened face. Mouth agape and panting. Oh so utterly fucked up. Losing it to you completely. It would never fail you to feel this intense pleasure, just by looking at the way Jimin is pleasured. It’s like clockwork. What gets you is what gets Jimin. Especially when he doesn’t let it show all the time. He’d be the one to play you. Get you pliant and control you and himself. But there are moments like this. Where he fails to control. Where he shows you that he wants to mound you. You love it. You love the feeling. There’s nothing like this feeling. It’s how it always was. Yet at this moment, you feel it ten times harder. Not just the fullness. Not just satiating your burning desire. No. There’s something else. It makes you want to have everything. You are so greedy for this man. That’s what makes you clench around him tightly. Making Jimin bucking his hips upward involuntarily. Trying to pull you down on his cock even more. 

“Holy fuck, Lil. Do-don’t squeeze that hard, baby. I’ll just cum right away.” He whines through clenched teeth. Oh he shouldn’t have said that to you. If anything his voice and words make you do it even harder. Not on purpose, no. You’re completely a goner. 

“So-sorry… Fuck, Jimin… I feel like I’m freaking… god…”

“I know. I know.” Jimin slaps your ass slightly. Then molds the soft flesh in his hands. Nods. Licks his lips. “Go on baby, ride me. Have what you want, yeah? Cum on my cock.” Lands another slap. You just give him a firm nod before finally raising your hips a bit, dragging his cock through your pulsating inner walls. Until only the tip is remaining inside. You take a second. Then drops down into his lap again. “Ah yes fuck..” Jimin gulps harshly. His moans are the sweetest melody to you. You want to keep hearing them. So, you do the exact same thing again. Quickly fall into a rhythm. Bouncing on his cock. Up, down, up, down. 

Despite his words, Jimin only gives you the control for only a couple of seconds, however. Before you know it, he’s plunging onto you from the bottom. All the while dragging you down as well. You let him. Allow him to use your body as he pleased. Just try your best to match his pace. 

Rest of the world doesn’t exist to you at this moment. It’s just pleasure and Jimin. The fact that you’re in a public car park doesn’t even reach the farthest corner of your head. Everything is a blur for you. Only thing that makes sense is Park Jimin. And the pleasure he’s giving you. 

“Jiminie…”

“Got you baby. Cum on me, hm? Please? Need you to cream my cock.” 

You hide your face in his neck. Drooling. Jimin picks up the pace. Reaching even deeper inside you. Hitting that spot. That paired with the vibrations are making you see stars. And that high is reaching you faster than you can comprehend. Especially when Jimin is pleading you to cum. “C’mon princess, cum for me, please..” He does it once. Then twice. Just as a third ‘please’ leaves his mouth, your body listens to him. You muffle your high pitched moan by biting into his shoulder as your whole body convulses. Thighs trembling. “Yes, yeah… fuck!!! Let go, love.. Like that, cum hard.” Jimin grunts. You do. Cum hard on his cock. Jimin doesn’t stop his thrusting as you do. Not even when your high starts to dissipate and is replaced with oversensitivity. Not even when you start to cry in complaint. 

“Ji-Jimin. Too-”

“Please, Lil.” All he does is whimper. This isn’t a angry fuck like the time he intentionaly made you cum in a raw just because he was posessive. No. He isn’t trying to torture you either. You know it. That voice of his is enough to let you know that much. “Shit! I can’t.. I’m close baby… so fucking close, take me, yeah? You can take me. Please..” Jimin holds you pressed against him as he continues to plunge into your quivering hole. Making inaudible gasps escape your mouth. 

Oh how you love it when he loses his control. Even if that makes you have to deal with the sensitivity of your cunt. It’s not a problem anyway. All it takes is a couple of thrusts for your pain to turn into a new pleasure. Another bubble of orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. 

“God, yes…. I- I..” You pull away from his shoulder to face him. Stutter on your words helplessly. Yet, Jimin understands you. 

“Yeah? You gonna take me like a good girl?” Jimin rests his forehead against you. Is panting hard. Breathless. You fall back into a rhythm of bouncing on his cock, matching his thrusts. 

“Yes. Yes. Yeah.. Jimin… fuck, need you to cum inside me.”

“I will, baby. Really gonna get you fucking pregnant. Gonna fuck you full of me.” Jimin brings one of his hands to your spent cunt. Presses on your clit over the vibrator. You fall into a state of delirium. Your brain is failing in finding a way to react to such intense pleasure. It’s all too much. There’s that feeling again. You can feel the way how air is charged with something else other than sex. Something is there. Something more. You’ll blame it on your feelings for Jimin. The case is, however, he is feeling it too. He’s not just fucking you for the sake of it. He can’t have enough. You can see it. Feel it. Taste it. He wants you. Just as much as you want him. 

Jimin wants you. 

The man you are in love with can’t get enough of you. 

He is losing himself in you. Your heartbeat is matching with him. You’re sharing one breath. Act as one. 

“Cum one more time for me, love.” He breathes out. And you swear what does the trick is that damn nickname. Or maybe the sensation of being wanted so much by Park Jimin. Whatever that is, you fall apart for a third time right at his cue. This time your ears are starting to ring and your vision is turning black. Not for long since Jimin follows you right behind. You have to force your eyes open and come to your senses so you won’t miss that mesmerising sight. His jaw clenched and eyebrows pulled together. Sweet moans which are dangerously close to your name leaving his mouth. His whole body tenses as you feel his length twitch painfully inside you before the hot ropes of cum paints your walls. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck…” You blindly chase his lips to ground yourself. Jimin does the same. Just a messy kiss with lots of teeth and spit. Somewhere in that kiss Jimin manages to turn off the vibrator. He pulls away first, gasping for air. Both of your chests heaving up and down as if you’ve run a marathon. You try to control your breathing as Jimin peers into your eyes. His own laced with concern like how it’s always after every intense sex with him. But you think there’s something else too. 

There definitely is. 

………………………

Jimin stares at your eyes without blinking. He is just unable to look away. He can’t. You have him trapped inside you. Both physically and mentally. He can’t escape you. He doesn’t want to escape you. He feels free. Relaxed. Even with the struggle for breathing and trying to calm down, he feels relaxed. Cared for. He feels like he is home. 

Without even knowing what he is doing, he brings a shaky hand to wipe down your tear stained cheek. You sigh pleasantly. Your thighs are still trembling beside him. Maybe he shouldn’t have done this here. In a place where he can’t properly take care of you after he ruined you. What an asshole he is? His self loathing gets interrupted when you peck his lips quickly. Just as if you know he is blaming himself. Well, Jimin thinks most of the time you do know what he thinks. You are simply amazing. So, he returns a peck as well. Manages to crack up a smile from you. 

There’s nothing to be surprised about this anymore. Jimin feels that familiar warmth shoots across his body. The same feral urge to keep watching the way you smile, getting to him. Overwhelmingly so. Oh he prays to heaven that whatever you and he are doing here will work. It has to work. You and he have to find a way. He doesn’t want to go without seeing that smile.

Jimin gulps harshly. Heart beating in his throat. This time it has nothing to do with the sex. Even though his sloppy cock is still buried inside you and you are ever so gently torture him with occasional clenches. Still, that’s not the case for his heart to pump blood extra fast. There’s something else. There was something else. There was something else all the time. He doesn’t know since when, but this isn’t about sex anymore. Sex with you was always great. You have him wrapped around your pinky finger. Yet he felt like floating as he fucked you a few minutes ago. And that wasn’t all about the lust. It was uncontrollable how he wanted you when he had you all to himself. He wanted more, more, and more. To consume you whole. To be his. And here comes the problem. He wanted more of you but not just in a sexual sense. He wants more of you. Just you. 

Maybe just more date nights. He wants them to be normal. Not a sneaky date where you have to hide. Wants to be able to bring you gifts without making you feel like a cheap whore. Wants to make you feel like the beautiful woman you are. You deserve all the gifts in the world after all. He wants to walk back to his group of friends with his hands entangled with yours. With nobody there to judge it. With nobody there to point out why it’s wrong. He wants it to be right. Nothing wrong in being yours. Wants to be yours. Just like he wants you to be his. 

Like Jin and J. Like Namjoon and Yoona. 

He wants to be with you!

He exhales a shaky breath, eyes darting between yours. You are innocently staring back at him. No. Not just innocently. They sparkle. His starry night. And so do they speak. You are looking at him as if he is your whole world. 

No. This is not good….

Or it is good….

Jimin feels like he is about to explode. 

‘Then what? Do you love her?’ Taehyung had asked him once and he said no. Because that can’t be the case. Because all he does is care. But he cares too much. He always had. And you feel like home. His person. 

‘I don’t know if that feeling is love Jimin……….’ Taehyung’s voice echoes in his head. 

Love? What a strange word. How does love feel? Jimin thought he knew. He was once in love with Liya. That’s how he believed at least. The thing is, however, he never cared this much. He never wanted her this way. Not fair, yes. But it is what it is. Maybe he was in love  with her, in a different way. This? This is new. And if this feeling isn’t love, then what words can he use to describe it. 

Love. 

Holy fuck. 

He is in love. 

The reason why he is so scared is because he is in love. That unexplainable feeling he gets when it comes to you, has been love. 

He is really going to explode. It’s too much. He can’t keep this feeling bottled up inside. 

“Lil-” He breathes. Completely in a trance. He loves you. You hum in response. He doesn’t know what he should do. He probably should go back. Ask you to move away. Then think things through. “I think I love you.” His tongue slips even before his brain can catch up. And everything falls into a deafening silence. Only the distant voices of some people accompany the surroundings. Your eyes go wide. Just as his own do. In realization that he just said that aloud. Out of nowhere. Just like that, he made a confession. The panic arises in Jimin’s throat. You make it worsen when you start to shake your head. 

Denial?

Disbelief?

Rejection?

Jimin doesn’t get to figure that out as you start to quickly pull away from him. Scurrying away from his lap. As fast as you can. As if he burns you. 

“No Lil- Hey- I-I just-” He tries to stop you but it’s already too late. You’ve practically jumped into the passenger seat. Are pulling your pants up in a record time. Don’t even look at him. 

No. No. No….

What has he done? What kind of idiot is he? Who would just say something important like that, out of the blue. Saying it after sex while high with emotions must be normal for other people, yes, but not for you guys. You are not normal. You are in a forbidden relationship. And until now, it was just lust. Or it was supposed to be lust. Then he changes it like that in a heartbeat. Even without thinking of the possibility of what you might be feeling. 

You care about him a lot. You get jealous. You look at him with that look in your eyes. You smile at him like he’s the reason for that smile. You bicker with him like you are a married couple with two kids. Still, that doesn’t mean you are in love with him. And he’s an idiot who doesn't know when to shut his mouth. 

Jimin’s chest tightens painfully. An unexplainable weight heavy on his shoulders. 

You might not ever reciprocate his feelings!

He loves you!

Oh boy he does. Even though it took him more than enough time to just admit it, he does love you. He knows that for sure by how it hurts to think you’ll not love him in return. How else can he explain the pain? He is in love. 

But even before he can even figure things out and actually let you feel the way he feels, he ruined everything. Even before he started, he ended things. Now, what? What if you run away? Did he scare you away? No, he can’t afford that now. No, he needs to make things clear. He needs to-

You open the car door. 

“Lil-”

You get out.

“No baby, wait!” Jimin feels like his mouth is full of sand. Feels like an invisible hand is choking him to death. It never was this much of a struggle for him to get dressed. Fingers shaking. Almost trips over his own feet as he gets out as well, finally. “Lil, fuck, please.” Jimin hurries after you. Like he is in a dream. 

Damn, you are fast!

How did you even walk that long in a mere second. It’s a good thing that Jimin is fast as well. He reaches you with just a few long strides. Only one thing echoing inside his head. 

He won’t just let you walk away. He just needs a moment to explain. He just needs you. 

“Spring Roll!” Jimin grabs your shoulder to turn you around. You hiss slowly in annoyance as you are forcibly turned around. That fiery look back in your eyes. The thing is, however, the fire is dying down. Is getting replaced by a glossy look. “Lil,” Jimin swallows first to get rid of the sandy taste. 

“What?” You snap. Shake off his hand from your shoulder. 

“Fuck! Let me just-”

“Let you do what? Explain?”

“Yes… Listen, I didn’t mean to-”

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips. That doesn’t suit you. No. He wants you to giggle like a schoolgirl. Wants you to smile like a ray of sunshine. How did he manage to get you from exactly that to this. “Of course, you didn’t mean it Jimin.” You cross your hands across your chest. Another scoff. Shake off your head. “Course you don’t mean it.” Mutter more to yourself. 

“What? Lil?” Jimin furrows as he tries once again to touch you, just to get rejected. He has no idea what you’re talking about. 

“For fucks sake Park!” You let your arms fall limp beneath you. This time finally look at him properly. “You can’t just fucking play with me like that. You can’t just call me nicknames, bring me gifts, beg me to stay and all that shit. And you would just confess out of nowhere? And then say you don’t mean it? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Holy fuck! What are you even talking about?” This time Jimin doesn’t give a fuck about you trying to escape his touch. Maybe he does have an idea about where you are going. Well, fair!

Did he just say he loves you and then say he didn’t mean it?

“You shouldn’t joke about things like that. I-I-” You finally give up trying to get away from him. Instead just avert your gaze downward. Voice just trailing off. And that feels like a slap to Jimin. 

“I’m not joking. Lil! Will you just let me talk?”

“Then what, Jimin? Do you actually love me?” 

“Yes!” That’s fast. Too fast to be honest. Just like earlier, Jimin just surprised himself along with you. It’s fine, though. What’s there to hide anyway. What’s the reason to drag this out? He said what he said and damn did he mean it. “Yes. I do.” So, he starts without letting you butt in again. Without letting you storm away. “I know it’s sudden. I- I’m just, fuck, listen I meant what I said, it’s not that I wanted to drop a bomb on you like that. I’m sorry I did it like that and probably I’m making it worse right now. I’m just an idiot who took so long to realize that I’m in l-love with you. I’m sorry I just told you it like that and I understand if you don’t-”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing so much?” You groan, putting a stop to Jimin’s rambling. Hit his chest slightly with a curled up fist. Look to your side. Eyes welling up. Bite onto your bottom lip. “Where does this even come from?” Mumble so quietly. Yet Jimin hears you. He will always hear you. 

“From here.” He grabs your fisted hand, pressing it to his chest. You roll your eyes through the tears. “Okay, that was corny, but hey,” He squeezes your hand to grab your attention. “It was always there. Like I said, it took me time but c’mon, Lil, you know it was always there. I begged you to stay, I brought you gifts, I called you nicknames, I got freaking jealous, I couldn’t even let you go even if it meant to risk the world I built so damn hard.” A sigh escapes Jimin’s lips. “I was so scared of you never coming back, I am still very scared. I did a whole lot of things I would’ve never done. It was always there. Spring Roll, I do love you. Even if you don’t-”

“But what if I do?” You inhale shakily. Jimin feels his heart throbbing. God! “You asked me to stay but I agreed right away, didn’t I? I wanted to stay away for both of our sake but I always ended back in your arms. I never wanted to leave. I was losing my mind every time something happened that made me realize I have to go back. Why do you think I keep wanting to live a life shifting between two worlds? Not belonging to either of them? Why do you think I want to risk everything to find a way to stay.” Tears that have been welling up your eyes finally fall down. Staining your cheeks. “So, please Jimin, be sure you mean what you’re saying.” 

Jimin feels thousands of pieces scattered inside him. It’s completely automatic how he pulls you into a tight hug. So lost in you. “I am sure, though. I am so fucking sure.” He mutters into your hair. And you melt into his touch. Jimin keeps you in his embrace for how long he has no idea. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? He could’ve gone days like that if you hadn't pulled away first. Peer into his eyes. Yours still glossy but he can see what’s under that. 

Your words can mean only one thing right? You said the same things as him. You want him to be sure because you feel the same right? Jimin kind of knows it. Yet he wants you to say it aloud. It would be nice to hear it fall from your lips. He can’t pressure you, however. He doesn't want to force it out of you. No. That’s not what he wants. So he says absolutely nothing. Just stare back at you. Basking in the feeling. Enchanting. You are so enchanting. 

“What are we gonna do?” You finally break the silence. 

“About what?” 

“About this? We- uh- Jimin we shouldn’t. We shouldn’t have started any of this in the first place.”

“But we did, didn’t we?”

“Look where it got us. What if it really doesn’t work? What if we don’t find a way?” 

“We are going to find a way. It is going to work.” 

“I’m so scared, Park.”

“It is going to work love. Trust me, hm?” 

“But if it doesn’t? I need a plan. I need to know you’ll stay even if we have an expiration date. I want to know what will happen if there’s no way this could work. If this isn’t going to end well-”

“If that’s the case, then we’ll write a tragedy.” Jimin shushes you with a kiss. He gets that you are scared. He is scared. Like you said, you shouldn’t have. This won’t be easy. But he’ll do everything to make it easy for you. Because in the end, he made his choice. To love you. So, even if it hurts, he’ll keep writing the story. Even if it means dying a little every day or a thousand times over, he’ll keep writing the story. Because, at the end of the day, he has always loved you. From the very day you called him a kidnapper. From the very day you called him a pervert. From the very day you called him, Park. Your Park. And he wants you to know it. So, he mutters it once again. 

“I love you.” 

You nod. 

“But I hope we'll write a happy ending.” Say against his mouth. 

“I’ll write the ending you want, I promise.” 

“I want a happy ending.”

“Then you’ll get a happy ending.”

A small smile appears on your hollow face. Oh, he’d write the ending you want no matter what. After all, you deserve it. He deserves it. He deserves you. 

His happy ending……….

..............................................................................................................................

a/n- Leave a note if you enjoyed this one!

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[divaofmads]

MOB WIFE | JOEL MILLER

☠️It is inspired by an Italian mafia who turns into a mafia boss when a woman enters his life while he was a physics teacher.☠️

I'm not someone who has a mafia fetish, but I definitely have a fetish for imagining Joel Miller as a mafia or a teacher. ^^

☠️WARNINGS: ‼️18+ only‼️, Age Gap (early 20s/ late 30s), oral for male and female, bdsm, punishment, No Y/N, Betraying, Daddy Kink, Some Getting Harm, female reader, Joel turns very Creepy and Dark, Rough Sex, lovers to enimies, Sexual Violence, Crime, Blood, Murder, No Orgasm for you, Slang!, Language!!!

Note: I am an amateur for all these and apologize for any mistakes I made as English is not my native language.

Word: 15k+

~ Don't get inspired, just read and enjoy ~

Before becoming a mafia member, Joel was an academic in the thermodynamic department. He had a peaceful life. The only problem was the difficulty of the course he taught. Most of the time he would write questions on the board and no one would understand them. And those who thought they understood topics could not perform well in the exams. Luckily, you were there. You had an insatiable interest in chemistry and physics since high school. It was only natural that you would shine in this course, which was a mixture of the two subjects. For the past forty minutes, you would discuss topics one-on-one as if it were just the two of you in the class. You would go to his office after class and even though he had a lot of work to do, he would always make time for you. Sometimes, while discussing the effect of entropy on life, you learned details from your own lives, which brought you closer. Joel looked into your eyes like no one else had ever looked in. His eyes contained love, compassion, and happiness. As you realized his interest in you, regret, sadness and love appeared in your eyes. Because you hid your family. Everyone thought your last name was completely coincidental. You were a big liar and the consequences for that lie would be disaster for both of you.

After class ended, if your departure times were the same, you went to the front of the building where his office was located and waited for him. Although he was surprised to see you at first, after he got used to it, he would walk out the door with a smile. He had his laptop bag in one hand, his jacket draped over the finger of his other hand and placed it over his shoulder, your engineering books between your body and your arms, you were walking slowly down the tree-lined path. Even though you were brave, you were too shy to talk. He would say the first word to start a conversation. Sometimes, you got nervous when it came to your family. You had to lie. Your mother was a housewife, your father was a taxi driver. Since your financial situation was below average, you worked a part-time job. You couldn't leave your family. Despite everything, you had a happy family. While all these lies were coming out of your lips, the fact that your father killed your mother was harassing you. You felt trapped between all these lies and truths. Your face was down, emotions showing on your face. Joel, misunderstanding the reason for your discomfort, wrapped his arm around your shoulder and made suggestions to you.

But now you've changed a lot. You were not interested in the lesson anymore. Even though you seemed to be watching the board with your elbows on the table and your head supported by your hand, you were startled when Joel asked you a question.

It was another day when you weren't paying attention to class. Because there was a boy on your mind. He was obsessed with you and he knew who you were. He knew who you were in love with. If you didn't go out with him, he would tell everyone who you really were. All your lies would come out and Joel would hate you. Your friends would stop seeing you or anyone who wanted to take advantage of your power would become your friend. In fact, the boy's father was using him. They were rich and wanted to strengthen their company by taking support of you which is the member of respectable mafia family.

You frowned as you looked at the second law of thermodynamics written on the board, thinking about what the boy had told you. Entropy is the thermal energy term that best describes life and death. While this topic should interest you, your gaze is actually proof that you are not in class, and your flinching and stuttering whenever he asks you a question was really getting on Joel's nerves. He was aware that your capacity was not ordinary like others. He was also aware that if he worked on you at this young age, you could be one of the good scientists of the future. What happened to you? He had to find out.

"I want you to leave the classroom." Joel said while writing a question on the board. At first, no one understood. Everyone was looking at him with blank stares. The chatty student in the class asked him who he was talking about. Pedro turned his body towards the students and looked at you. The others followed the lecturer's eyes. You were ashamed. You didn't deserve what Joel did to you. You could have defended yourself, but you didn't. Besides, you had more important things on your mind than thinking about these things. You were angry with him, you were hurt. You unzipped your bag and stuffed everything on the table inside. Your movements were loud. You were stepping on your heels hard as you left the classroom.

Joel called you. “Come to my office after class!”

Everyone was surprised at how the topic had come to be and how it had trapped you in its center.

You wanted to get out of the building and run as far as you could. There were plenty of places on campus where you could hide. You had gotten tired of crying over time. You were wiping your eyes with the backs of your fingers when you saw a beautiful cat watching you. You sniffed and looked at the cat. Had the goddess Bastet come? This nobility inspired you. You picked up your bag and took out your little sketchbook. You hadn’t picked up a pen in a long time to express your art. Your creative spirit had finally come out of the cell it had been locked up in for a stupid young man. The cat had long gone from you, but who cared? You had seen that cat with your mind, not with your eyes. The cat with black and cinnamon fur looking at you haughtily, was dancing in your notebook, searching for happiness in the thorny arms of gloom.

"Painting is another way of keeping a journal." He said. You knew who the voice belonged to.

So you responded without looking up. "Pablo Picasso."

When you saw him sit next to you, you compromised your comfortable position and show respect to your lecturer, despite what he did to you.

He asked without looking at your face. "Why didn't you come to me after class?"

"If I had go to office of someone who wronged me early, I might have said things I would regret later." you replied.

Joel was amazed by your sincere response. You had brought up the subject that bothered you without breaking the barrier of respect. It was a sensible, intelligent response for a twenty-one year old girl.

"Is it unfair that I am angry because you no longer pay attention to class, ignore the lessons, and lower your grades?"

You replied with a sad look. "I'm not special to you anymore, am I? I'm not different."

Joel looked at you. “Do you think I feel that way about you?”

He took the sketchbook from your hand and waved it in the air. "Who else could do this besides you?And I haven't seen that notebook on your desk in months."

He didn't answer your question. He really kept an eye on you all the time. While you were chatting with your friends in the cafeteria, while you were doing research in the library.

You pressed your lips together shyly and looked down. “I haven’t felt this cared for in a long time. Thank you, Mr. Miller.” It was your first smile after class.

"You don't have to date a guy like Bill in order to love yourself. Don't be fooled by his popularity. He's nothing. And neither are those who follow him."

You were very surprised. He had misunderstood your closeness with Bill, but he knew about you.

"I wish I could make you aware of yourself," he said with meaningful looks. "Then you would understand who you really belong to." You didn't know why, but you felt strange.

You stammered, "Thank you for this nice conversation, Mr. Miller," and stood up. "See you on Wednesday."

You felt his eyes still on you as you walked away. You couldn't see, but you knew. It was exciting. Maybe it was just the typical young woman erotomania you had in mind.

He gave you strength and you no longer cared about what Bill told you. Joel cared about you. Of course, as a mature man, he would see through the lies you told and support you.

You were as active as ever in Mr. Miller's classes. You asked questions and talked about the subject you had researched the day before. While you usually avoided classes, you now listened to the lesson alone, ignoring Bill.

By the time Joel put a question mark at the end of the equation he wrote on the board, you had already solved it and were shouting the answer with excitement. He turned to you and smiled with satisfaction,

"Not bad at all, well done," he said, making you proud among the other students.

But your disregard for him was starting to get on Bill's nerves. He wanted to have fun with you and make love. To satisfy his sexual desires. You were the most attractive girl in school and he had already made you his own. You were the chosen one for him. You should have been grateful to him and done everything he said as if you wanted to please your king.

One day Joel was sitting in his office checking the exams. He wasn't happy with any of them. The highest grade was DD and when he saw that he was about to cry with happiness(!) Of course your paper was at the top of the list. Although he was hoping for an A+, he was also very happy that you got a B+. It really gave him hope that you were starting to get back to your old self. But not everyone thought like him. He heard shouting from the window. A girl and a boy were getting into a verbal fight. And the girl's voice was familiar. He got up from his chair and went to the window. How upset he was to see you fighting with Bill! That young dude was in a relationship she didn't deserve.

The more you tried to fix things with Bill, the more he scolded you, thinking he was the worst. He was practically forcing you to do something. You were begging him, but he wasn't listening. If you didn't do what he said, it would be bad for you. The other students around were looking at you with question marks and astonishment. Joel couldn't stand the injustice you were doing to yourself, so he clenched his teeth and fists. He could go downstairs and make him regret the day he was born after taking him away from you. He should have spent the day in the hospital corridors because he upset you. If you were together, he would have a nice meal with you after school to celebrate your success. However, you were ignorant because of your age. A mature man knows how to treat a woman in front of him, and would satisfy a woman's desire for a relationship to the fullest. He wanted to make you experience this, but he also respected that he wouldn't want to spend his life with an old man.

Joel wanted to put all this 'blind love' nonsense aside. It was time for the woman he loved to open her eyes. He looked at you again from the window of his office and called out, his tone hardening.

"Come to my office right now!"

The students around you were also watching you curiously.

You looked up reluctantly and turned your head from side to side to show that you didn't want this. It would be best to surrender yourself to loneliness and get depressed. But Joel's angry gaze was more than enough to break your stubbornness.

You puffed out your cheeks and whined like a little girl.

Joel was pacing back and forth while waiting in the office. He was too anxious and nervous to wait. The moment the door opened and he saw you in front of him, he released his anger.

"What are you doing! Do you realize you're ruining your youth for someone like him!"

You were sobbing. "No matter what I do I can't stop him, I've done everything he wants but he wants more!"

Joel got angry. You heard how his tone got harsher. "I told you! I warned you! Why are you with that son of a bitch and not someone who loves you!"

The curse you heard from your teacher had stopped your crying, turning your sadness into confusion. Since it was lunch break, there was no one on the office floor, thank God.

No matter how much you were aware of the hatred in the man's eyes, the pain he was hiding inside had settled in your heart. You didn't know what to say. Should you tell him everything?

"Why does my life concern you!" You tried to ask for an explanation, but it was more of curiosity. You wanted to know the reason. If you knew, if he had told you the truth while looking into your eyes... Were you ready for a single word that came out of his lips?

Your question frustrated Joel. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall behind you, thinking. He muttered to himself.

"You're right. It's my fault," he said and motioned you to the door. You turned back to Joel, looking guilty and slowly walking towards the door. Before you walked out the door, you looked at him again and whispered.

"We don't have the relationship you think. There's a lot you don't know about me."

He frowned, finding it strange. “What do you mean?”

You were about to leave the office without answering when Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you to him, hugging you tightly. He was kissing your hair. “What’s wrong with you?” then he took your face in his hands. His gaze was stern. “I’m here for you, do you hear me? Tell me everything, no matter what.”

"I am that person," you said. Joel looked into your eyes as he stroked your hair, urging you to continue. "My last name is. I am the daughter of a famous mobster. Bill. Bill knows that, and his family is using me to get close to my family. He's threatening me with you. He's threatening to ruin your life and complain to my father. He knows how much I love you."

Joel pulled away from you in shock. “This can’t be happening, you…”

You were crying.

Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you back into his office, closing the door behind him. “Those stories you told, were they all lies?”

You wrapped your arms around your chest. You couldn’t look at him; your eyes were fixed on a spot on the floor. The corners of your eyes were red and swollen from crying. “Yes, but I wanted to hide from the sins of my family for once. I wanted people to look at me normally, Joel. I wanted them to meet me and spend time with me with neutral feelings. It wasn’t my choice to be born into this family. I’m so sorry.” Tears flowed down your cheeks, creating an image resembling roads.

Joel didn’t know what to do or say. All he knew was that he didn’t want you to cry in front of him. He wanted you to be strong. You shouldn’t have to answer to anyone. His fingers gripped your chin roughly and tilted your head up. He wanted to change the fear in your eyes. He suddenly brought his face closer to yours and brought his lips to yours. His tongue was exploring the inside of your mouth. His fingers on your jaw were now caressing your cheeks.

He pulled his head back and hugged you tightly. “Maybe you should have sought heaven in the arms of a man who desires you. Not by hiding behind lies.”

It was hard to talk while crying. "I couldn't drag you into the dark pit of my life, but I can't take it anymore. I had to tell everything to someone I trusted."

You were the woman Mr. Miller called 'my weakness'. Of course, it was impossible for him to resist you when you were talking to him like that. He looked at her with displeasure. His attitude was strict. "Don't worry about anything that bothers you. Just know that I am here for you and will always be here for you."

Without waiting for you to respond, Joel moved towards your lips, wanting all that waiting to end. He was kissing you so hard that he held you tightly by the waist, feeling that you couldn’t keep your balance. His fingers touched your cheek and squeezed your lips between them, making them part. This way, his tongue could easily find its place in your mouth. You felt ticklish as the papillaes rubbed against yours. His saliva was flowing from the tip of his tongue to yours; it was warm. Almost equal to his body temperature. Then he took his tongue out and tasted the outside of your lips. In the meantime, one of his hands was in your hair, pressing you against him. Your hair was under his fingers. He suddenly grabbed them and tilted your head back.

"Am I really the one you want to have your first with? Are you sure about that?" he asked with his passionate gaze.

"I've never been so sure," you responded. You liked his tough attitude.

He released your hair and took a step back, ordering you to take off your shirt. You started to undress at the same time. After throwing your clothes aside, Joel quickly moved towards your lips. This time he didn't intend to hold you back. You shivered when you felt his weight and strength all over your body. You stumbled back and your body fell into the soft fabric of the couch. Joel fell right on top of you. A small groan came out of your mouth in surprise. Then you both started laughing. But you couldn't help but make love. This man knew how to touch you. Joel buried his head in your neck and sniffed.

"Why can't I get enough of your scent?"

The scent of your skin made him hungry; its color decorated your skin like a maraschino cherry on top of a dessert. "If you only knew how hard I tried to smell that every time you passed me." His tongue traveled from where your pulse beat to her throat and then down to your collarbones. His hardening penis between your legs was slowly starting to put pressure on your outer lips. Your eyes widened in surprise. You didn't think he could be this hard. You moaned raggedly.

He put his elbow on the seat and supported it. He wanted to watch your surprise before he was about to go down to your breasts. His face was right above you now. He was looking down with pleasure.

"How do you feel? Do you like it? Don't you want more?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. You bit your lower lip, showing how much pleasure you were getting.

Joel straightened up, pulled the waistband of your shorts and pulled them off along with your panties. He looked at the hairs that had just started to grow on your outer lips. Even though you apologized shyly, Joel really liked it. He leaned over you again. Your head was between his arms, supported by his elbows. His face got even closer to yours. He hugged you. You felt like you were in prison. Orgasm prison! His lips were on your cheek, his hot breath hitting your skin as he rubbed his penis against your inner lips. He released one hand and unbuttoned his pants, trying not to get off of you.

He placed his penis between your inner lips and began to rub it from your clitoris to the entrance of vagina. Joel's lips parted. His eyes squeezed shut. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How can you be so hot and wet? We've only just begun. Did you desire me that much?"

You moaned every time Joel’s penis tip slid over your clit. “Oh, you moan so well. Perfect!” he said.

You heard the office door suddenly open and close. Shit! Someone had seen you. Joel got up quickly, fixed his clothes, and ran to the door and out. A few students in the hallway looked at him but didn’t understand what had happened. When he looked back at you in the office, you were startled by what he had said. “It was Bill.”

From that day on, Bill didn't use what he saw against you. It was as if he had forgotten what he saw. Even though Bill's family and your family were getting closer day by day, there were still things that weren't right. Still, the relationship between you and Joel was getting better day by day. You were bonding. You would meet secretly in his office during meal times, lock the door and have sex.

***

If there was one thing that was bad about hot summer days, it was the rain for Joel. The raindrops increased the humidity, making the air even more oppressive.

Her linen blouse was soaked and uncomfortable. He put the book down next to him, took off his T-shirt in one move, and threw it on the chair across from him. His now wheat-colored skin, shiny with sweat, looked quite inviting.

While looking at the heat transfer questions in the book in his hand, he was shaking the ash from the end of her cigarette into the beer residue in the glass on the coffee table next to him, and at the same time trying to solve a question about the heat exchanger unit of the tubular evaporator in his mind. As if his eyes were swearing loyalty to the page, he took the cigarette between his two fingers and squeezed it between his lips when he heard a notification on his phone. The light on the screen distracted him and made him look in that direction. It was on the coffee table. At first, he thought it was one of his friends who had written it and ignored it. He found the answer and turned the next page. But his eyes were on the phone. Perhaps the department head had announced that there would be a meeting early tomorrow. He liked to choose such inconvenient hours. After school, when you feel free, work doesn't leave you alone.

He took another sip from his cigarette. Then he threw it in the glass. It made sizzling sounds with appetite, as if the beer was waiting for it to do the same.

Joel used his index finger as a bookmark, placing it between the pages he was on, and leaned over to unlock his phone.

The message was from you. Since he didn't have such habits, he got excited and sped up his movements. He put the book where it was before and stood up. His eyebrows were furrowed with curiosity.

- Help

When Joel saw your message, he called you in a panic. You didn’t answer. He called again. The phone rang for a long time but you didn’t answer. Joel was about to go crazy. He was walking in the living room with harsh steps. He was muttering and cursing to himself. “What the fuck is going on!” While he was thinking about what to do, his phone rang. Anger, fear and curiosity made his hands shake. When he saw your name on the screen, he hurriedly answered it, afraid that you would hang up.

“What’s going on honey, talk to me!”

Although you answered him, Joel could only hear you sobbing, then screaming. Joel shouted insults at you to get you to come to.

“Tell me where you are now, I’ll come!”

You said, your voice trembling, that you were at Bill’s house. “I did something terrible, Joel. Please help me!” You shouted.

Joel muttered to himself, "My God, what did you do?" Then he tried to calm you down. He was telling you that everything would be okay. Everything would be okay. They would overcome all their problems together.

"Now calm down honey so I can figure everything out. Okay? If you calm down everything will be perfect."

"Do you believe everything will be okay?" you asked emotionlessly.

There was hope in Joel’s voice. He acted as if he was happy despite everything, but his expression was the opposite.

“Of course, honey. You should believe too. Send me your location now."

The house you were in was in the suburbs.

When he arrived home by car, an hour had passed. He was now in front of the door. He looked around first, then checked if there was any noise coming from inside. He knocked on the door. After waiting for a while, the door slowly started to open. You were standing in front of him like a dead woman. Your skin was pale, your under eyes were dark. Your eyes were red from crying. When Joel looked at your condition, he pushed you away in fear and entered. He saw blood stains on the floor from the door that opened into the living room. When he entered there, Bill's lifeless body was lying on the floor.

He whispered, "Jesus fuckin' Christ! What have you done!"

You were sobbing while trying to explain the incident. "He made a plan, he made me come here. He said he saw us and he would kill you. He would do worse things to me than killing. His father betrayed us and he worked with the enemy family to appear as my father's friend. He attacked me to possess me. After torturing me tonight, he was going to kill me. I had no other choice." It didn't seem like you were explaining the events to Joel, it was like you were begging God for forgiveness.

It was his first night of crime. You had killed someone and Joel witnessed everything that happened to you that night. He gathered you and your things, pulled you by the arm and you got in the car and drove away. You were not well. You were in no condition to talk. All you felt was nausea. Things were going to get messy between the two families. It was unclear where Joel would fit into this story. He got involved in this without meaning to. He took you to a motel, took your clothes off, took a shower, then laid you on the bed and thought about what to do.

He sat down for a while and closed his eyes, trying to calm down with your phone in his hand. And now, the move that changed everything was finally made. After Joel calmed down, he called your father on his phone. He needed to tell him everything, so they had to meet.

Your father was talking to Joel in his office in your mansion. He was a manipulative man with high psychoanalysis skills. A beautiful talent for defeating his enemies. He understood Joel's character from his first sentences. He was too proud to betray the person he promised to. Moreover, he was madly in love with his daughter. He was ready to do anything for you. Maybe he could test Joel to decide whether or not to take him in.

In the end of the night, Joel sacrificed himself for your love and wanted to take the blame. Of course, the person who guided him was secretly your father.

Joel went to prison. Of course, Bill's father was in cahoots with the enemy family and their men were there too. They gave Joel hell in prison by order. Psychological violence, beatings, starvation, cuts on his face and body and tortures that I don't want to say. Joel went through personal mutations for every bad day he spent in prison. But no matter what, Joel didn't give you away.

On the day you were supposed to meet him, he was in such bad shape that he couldn't even appear before you. Although the guard had initially told you that he didn't want to meet you because he didn't want to, a small amount of money had been enough to make him tell the truth. Now you wanted to see him even more. Two officers had taken his arm to get him to come into the room. His face was bruised and one of his legs was broken.

You cried as soon as you saw him. Even though you said it was all your fault, Joel didn't think so. It was a price to pay for love. You kissed him on the lips.

"Oh Joel, things are so bad out there. I spend every day in fear and worry. My father said it would be better if you stayed here for a while longer. He promised to help you."

Joel understood everything. What he had experienced during his time in prison and what your father had told him made him look at life differently. He realized how much of a spoilsport and hypocrite he was.

Your father didn't help Joel. It seemed that way at first. But his only goal was to get Joel on his side and make him his assistant. He did everything for this purpose. He made your father experience situations that would prove his loyalty from prison. When the time came, Joel also told big lies, slandered people. He smuggled banned substances and equipment into prison. Your father and Joel were talking with secret messages, giving your father strategic ideas in the face of the events.

Joel eventually learned to survive in this rat hole, and there was no trace of his academic identity left.

Eventually the situation with Bill's family came to an end, but the feud with the Fontana family remained. Joel was released from prison after four years thanks to a corrupt prosecutor's decision.

Joel wasn't the only one who changed during those four years. After Bill's death, you too became closer to your father and his business. While your family life felt foreign to you, you began to manage your father's business step by step, while hiding your wealth and how it came to be. No one called you by your name anymore. You were Mrs. Castello. Even though you were a feared woman, you still felt the old you deep down. It was calling out to you from the black well you had imprisoned. But you had long since passed the point of no return. Whenever you visited Joel, you both saw the changes in you, but you didn’t talk about it. Otherwise, you were as afraid of feeling guilty as Joel was of hating you.

After Joel got out of prison, his only home was your mansion. That was his life. He wanted to be a promising professor but he had to be a slave to the mafia boss, however he had a plan.

You were in your father’s office, wearing a black jacket with a sable collar. A pencil skirt that was just above the knees and black stockings. You were sitting on the arm of your father’s chair, examining the documents in his hand. The red soles of your Louboutins were shining because you had your legs crossed.

Your maid excused herself and came in to announce that Mr. Miller had arrived. While your father had a pleased expression on his face, you swallowed nervously.

Joel made eye contact with you when he walked in. It was so long that your father looked at you and started talking.

“We’ve been waiting so long for this day to come.” he stood up and walked over to Joel, hugging him tightly. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, Don Castello.” he said, but his eyes were still on you, a look you couldn’t understand.

You got married in a lavish wedding. Joel was now the son-in-law of the respected mafia boss, his right-hand man. He was the key to their fight against the Fontana family. Don Castello never left him. His decisions were never wrong. In fact, he had convinced them that he had infiltrated the Fontana family and betrayed you. He would leak information that they thought would be useful to them. In return, he would receive a large amount of money, property and men. Of course, he would never tell you what he had obtained. But there was one detail your father missed. Joel was never loyal to you. He was learning the secret files of two enemy families and using them for himself, and no one understood.

One day, you noticed the secret room of the house you lived in with Joel. It was a day when Joel went out of town. You were alone at home and unknown enemies opened fire on your house. You were caught in the middle of the conflict while they attacked your house with powerful weapons. While you were trying to escape, a rococo painting from the ceiling to the floor was shattered by bullets. After that bad night, you discovered the door leading to the secret room. You had to be good at software to solve the code, but luckily, you were an engineer. You knew software work well anyway. You worked until Joel got the news of what you had experienced and returned home, and finally you unlocked the door. The interior surprised you. At first, you couldn't even understand why there was such a room. There were many photos of people from the community hanging on the walls, notes, and maps drawn with pencils. There were many files and documents on the table and in the cabinets in the room. It was prepared to use even the smallest information about the mafia families. And you were taking the leading role. As you looked through the notes and documents, you saw that Joel had been aiming to cause a rebellion by manipulating everyone who worked under your father's command all this time. He had plans not only for you, but also for the Fontana family, and he was succeeding step by step.

Your breathing quickened. You had no idea your husband could be so dangerous. You should have been afraid of him, Joel was no longer the lecturer you met at university. He was a menace and he was betraying you to become a Godfather!

You heard his voice as you looked at the plan paper in your hand.

"So you finally learned everything, my dear."

"You...I don't understand why. Joel, you betrayed us. You betrayed me, the woman you loved!"

"A small price to pay for what was stolen from me, my love."

You frowned in disappointment. You waved the paper in your hand. "Was all of this more important than our love?"

Joel approached you. He grabbed your shoulders and caressed them. Although his expression said he was in love, the arrogance and ambition in his eyes scared you.

"No one can harm you, my love. I'll put an end to all this family nonsense. I'll take over and you'll be my queen. Not the Castell family, not the Fontana family... We'll rule the city together."

You looked calmly into Joel's eyes. You placed your hand on his cheek. "The man I love, where is he?"

“I’m still the man you love. It’s just that all this has shown me the dark side of life.” Your lips were trembling. “You were never that man, Joel. You just waited for the right time after you found out I was Castello, right?”

Joel gritted his teeth. "This isn't true."

Your face was expressionless as tears rolled down your cheeks. "When I started college, the reason I wanted to hide who I am was to protect myself from bastards who thought they could use me to gain power. Like Bill. But I see that I had already given that person my own hand."

Joel felt conflicting emotions at their most intense. Hate and love, sadness and anger, regret and satisfaction. "You know all that stuff isn't true."

You took two steps closer. Your bodies were a few centimeters away from each other. With a stern look, you said, "Everyone has chosen their side. I am now one of your worst enemies, watch your step, love of my life," and left the place.

You left the house without even taking your phone. You were able to cry after getting into the car your father had given you for the wedding and setting off. You were sobbing. Even if you tried to escape the curse of your last name, you would get caught sooner or later.

Your father was waiting for you in his office. When he saw you crying, he hadn't thought of Joel. After you told him everything, he started shouting with saliva coming out of his mouth and vowing revenge. You were your father's right-hand man now. Even though Don Castello was a powerful man, you knew Joel's weaknesses and weak points just as Joel knew you. It was time to trust your own intelligence and take control of the game. Who else could be more hostile than two people in love?

The battle between you was getting more and more personal. Just like chess, as you made moves, one side lost pieces, but neither side gave up.

Not only you but also your friends supported Don Castello. There were still a few families that remained your friends. They would help you at the cost of their lives.

The news was busy with the aftermath of the war between you and Joel. Every day, people were dying because of you. Bombs were going off, hostages were being taken, and there were clashes. The police should have intervened, but justice didn't work in this city, force did. The strange thing was that the more you fought, the more you fell in love with each other. The more aggressive you became as your love and passion intensified. Joel wanted you by his side more than ever. He wanted to touch you, smell your skin again. But now you were sins to each other. He couldn't stomach this. He wanted revenge on everything. Every second he was separated from you, forced to fight you, the seeds of revenge were growing in his heart.

One day he realized that all this had to end. It was a never-ending fight. Every moment he thought he was going to win, you were making a counter-move and ruining his plans. The best thing was to confront him.

He sent a message to the mansion. He would arrive there with his men on Friday. Everything would end and someone would win. You would sit in Don Castello’s office and make your decision instead of him. You turned to your father, who was sitting in the chair in front of the desk. “Father, I know you understand the decision I am going to make,” you said. Don Castello nodded and you continued. “Have them take you to our secret base outside the city. And don’t leave until this fight is over."

Don Castello looked at his daughter with a firm expression. "No, I did not become Don Castello by running away."

"I can handle him, but Joel won't stop until he kills you! You have to run!"

The man reached out to his hand on the table and shook it. "I'd like to say I'm sorry for everything I've put you through, but I'm a man whose emotions were taken away from him when he was a child. All I can say is that I have complete confidence in you. You'll be just as good as me in this community."

The real war would soon be fought in front of your house. That's why preparations were made, all possibilities were considered. Until that day came...

You and your father stood on the steps of the mansion. Your men surrounded you to protect you. Joel came with his men. You saw the men you used to work for. Your father had helped them, given them work when they were about to starve. But now they were with Joel.

Before they could begin, Joel stepped forward and glared at the woman he loved.

"Do you really want this, my love? Do you want our love to end in such an epic way? You still have a choice. Come to me and everything will be over."

You shouted. "The man I loved died years ago. I have no choice to make anymore!" then your voice got lower. "It will all end tonight."

Joel looked at you without answering. Every moment from the first day you met until today flashed before his eyes. He really didn't want this. He had such beautiful dreams with you. He swallowed. Then he looked at your father. He knew that everything was his fault. His eyes were as dark as before now. He gave the order to start. Neither Joel nor you were holding back. You both had weapons. You were fighting each other to death in the fight. You took cover behind one of the Greek columns at the entrance of the mansion and targeted Joel, who was hiding behind his car, and continued shooting. When you hid, Joel started shooting and running towards you. In the meantime, his men were protecting him.

You called out to your most trusted man to take care of Joel so that he would be distracted and you could shoot him easily.

You tried to get close to Joel by coming out from behind the pillar, by protecting yourself from the bullets and shooting at the others.

Joel was struggling with two people at the same time. You were caught in the middle of the fight, unafraid of death. Then there was an explosion. Immediately afterwards, the maid screamed loudly. "Don Castello!"

You turned around and looked. One of Joel's men had shot your father. His body was lying there on the ground. The man who betrayed you had killed your father had once trusted the most. You ran towards your father, screaming, but that man wanted to kill you too. This time he pointed the gun at you and fired. But Joel jumped on you, preventing the bullet from hitting. He shouted at his men to retreat.

You were in Joel's arms, screaming that you hated him. "Let me go! I wish I never met you!"

You hit his head with your gun to escape. You did it. As you ran towards your father's lifeless body, Joel called out.

"I'll let you mourn your father. We're leaving."

Joel got what he wanted, your father was dead. It made a big splash in the entire criminal community. The news that your father was dead. The city's police department was in shock. While everyone was arguing about who would be the new owner of the city, Joel had already declared himself the new The Boss of all Bosses . Even though you were separated, he remained married to you, a loyal and loving husband.

Of course, this was different for you. Yes, Joel was treating you like the man you fell in love with; you still loved him as before. However, you also wanted to avenge your father. That's why you made a deal with the famous detective of the police department. In the end, you managed to put him in jail. And for a very small matter. Tax evasion. With the pride of this, you lived happily ever after in your mansion. For a while, you were the queen of the mafia world all by yourself.

I imagined and designed Y/N as a godmother.

You were in the courtroom among the audience. Of course, you were sitting in the front row because you were Joel Miller's wife. But you were worried. Joel kept his eyes on you while his lawyer spoke and gave his defense. He knew very well that he went to prison because of you and today was the day of his acquittal. When you looked into his eyes, it was obvious that he was thinking about what he was going to do to you. You were so close to being together(!) So, were these your last moments of peace? Yes. The woman he loved had betrayed him. Moreover, he had a reputation as the most brutal mafia boss in your community. Who knows what kind of monster the betrayal of the woman he loved would turn him into!

You looked away from him, but you didn’t change your upright posture as if you were trying to convince him that you weren’t afraid of him. But you were praying inwardly that the judge would find an excuse to put him back inside. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out the way you wanted. The jury and the evidence were in his favor. You were beginning to wonder how much the judge had been sold for. When the verdict was given and Joel was released, there was a loud applause in the courtroom. You turned around in shock. The public, who knew him from the news channels and interviews, hadn’t neglected to come to the hearing. He had a lot of fans. It was scary. From the outside, most of them looked like the children of good families.

When the court was finally over and they started to go out, you were the first to stand up and walk quickly. Joel was smiling meaningfully at you as you got up from the chair. He knew you couldn’t escape him. No matter what you did, go underground; he would still find you. Knowing this, you started walking down the hallway with shaking legs and a sullen expression in your eyes. Your father's friend and assistant Mr. Montana was waiting for you outside, by the car. Both doors of the car were open. You got in without wasting any time and started walking. Two big guys were standing behind the car. When you got to the main road, another car appeared to protect you. Everyone knew very well that Joel was looking forward to this day. He had to be faster. You were yelling for him to be faster! They were probably after you right now. When you lost your track and entered a deserted road, you would change cars, easily lose your track and get out of town. When you arrived target, you could breathe for passport procedures.

When you got to the suburbs, you looked around. There were no cars in front of you or behind you on the road. You leaned back in your seat, thanking God. With a heavy heart, you said,

"This is great! I won't see him forever!"

A pained expression was on his face. When you met him years ago, you thought he was the love of your life. Now he was your enemy. Your enemy whom you still loved like crazy!

"Finally," Mr. Montana said. "My queen, we finally saw the vehicle that was going to pick you up!"

A black van was waiting for you. Mr. Montana had chosen to stay while you got out of the car. Miller's men could have come in the meantime and opened fire on you. But you wanted to get in the car as soon as possible and leave without attracting attention. You turned to Montana as you greeted the driver of the van and drove off.

"You'd better go now. We shouldn't attract attention. It's safe from now on."

Mr. Montana asked with a worried look. "Are you sure, m'am?"

You looked at him firmly. "Of course. Go ahead!"

If you wanted to change vehicles, it wouldn't make sense to have a bunch of guys following you, stopping and waiting. So you wanted them all to leave. The driver and the two guys in the car would be on the alert in case there was trouble.

You got in the car as soon as possible. Contrary to what you thought, the car was empty. Only the driver in front greeted you from the rearview mirror.

"Welcome m'am. If you wish, we can set off immediately."

Although the man's gaze bothered you, being accustomed to your father's men did not leave any room for doubt.

"Yes, please."

The driver started the car and you set off. You were still looking around paranoidly. There was no one in the back that would make you think they were Joel's men.

You caught the driver's eye from the rearview mirror. He smiled.

"If you wish, I can close the screen. You will have a comfortable journey."

You pressed your lips together and gave your answer with a shy look. "That would be great, thank you."

After the automatic door closed, you relaxed your formal sitting position. You were looking outside. The sense of anxiety that had emerged inside you was clouding your mind. It was impossible for you to escape from Joel so easily.

You took the wrong turn. The man had missed the road. You leaned forward, frowning. You tapped the screen.

"You took the wrong turn! Hey!" He didn't seem to hear you. You raised your voice. You started tapping the screen harder. "I'm telling you! Stop the car right now, right now! Or you'll pay dearly!"

This wasn't the person you agreed with. You took the wrong car. It was one of Joel's men. They had killed the original driver who was supposed to take you to the airport, cut him up into pieces and put him in the back of the trunk. The car waiting was the right one; except for the driver.

You started screaming and banging on the windows. You lifted your legs up and started banging your heels against the window. You took deep breaths and gathered your strength, using your legs hard. But what could you do against the unbreakable glass?

Your screams echoed throughout the car. "You'll pay dearly for this, you son of a bitch!"

Soon, a hissing sound was heard and the room began to fill with knockout gas. Even if you tried to cover your face with your shirt and held your breath, it was impossible not to be exposed to the gas. You could neither open a window nor was the density of the gas decreasing. Finally, you let yourself go. Your body was relaxing, convincing you to let sleep take over.

When you opened your eyes, you could swear that the world had turned upside down. Maybe the world wasn't the problem. You were hanging upside down from the ceiling. You were completely naked, your arms were tied to your waist with a burgundy rope. Your lower leg was tied to your upper leg, the rope was stretched and tied to the other rope that tied your arm.

The light of the candles burning in the room with tiled walls was reflecting on the surface of the tiles. The musty smell of the pipes passing through the ceiling, covered in mud and filth and covered in moss, filled your lungs and made you feel nauseous. Even though it was uncertain what would happen to you, you were aware of the pain you would soon suffer. You were struggling as if you could break free from the ropes. Your hair follicles swelled as the coldness of the environment penetrated your cells, but the adrenaline spread by the fear surrounding your body prevented you from realizing the coldness of the environment.

Even though your voice was muffled by the gag, you continued to cry, and finally the moment had come. When the heavy door began to creak open, the sound echoed off the walls in a piercing way. You stopped crying and focused on the door. Although you couldn’t see it clearly because it was so dark, you could see enough to understand that Joel had come in. The way he was dressed, his anatomy, the way he was walking down the stairs…

Your muscles were tense. Your hands and feet were shaking. You were trying to say something. If you hadn't had the gag in your mouth, you wouldn't have been able to apologize to him. No matter how scared you were, no matter how much you regretted what you had done because of the pain you would go through, you wouldn't let him use your weakness as ammunition.

Joel began to descend the stairs, looking at your naked body in front of you. The candlelight, just like the tiles, was reflecting on your sweat-soaked skin. The orange color of the candle flame mixed into the palette that made up his skin tone. The damp look was so seductive that it brought to mind eroticism, a wet vulva, and how writhed as he caressed you.But you betrayed him. You betrayed him as the woman he loved and trusted, you wanted to get rid of him. That's why he could have killed you - by making you writhe in pain. But you were the only thing he valued in this life. He should have punished, but his love set his limits.

The thud of the shoe heel was starting to threaten you more deeply as it got closer.

Joel spoke his first words with a half-mocking, half-angry tone.

"So you thought you could escape me, my love? You thought you could get away from this man who is so head over heels in love with you." He was standing right in front of you now. His lips were right in front of your eyes. Every word he said was passionate as it came out. "What a shame, what a shame, my dear." He put his hand on your forehead. After wiping the drops of sweat from your forehead with his fingertips, his hand went to your hair that was tied into a ponytail this time and gently pulled your head closer to his, pressing his lips to your forehead; he smelled your skin and kissed you passionately.

" Oh, it's been a long time since I did that!"

Then he placed both hands on your cheeks. You were used to his roughness. Even during his academic days, he liked to treat you rough in bed. He squeezed your cheeks and reached for your lips. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn't. He stuck out his tongue and licked your lips as if he wanted to grasp their shape. His tongue covered your lips many times and slid up and down. He must have been unable to slow down, so he left your lips and started to adorn your chin with bites. Of course, his tongue was not restless. He continued to lick from your chin to your cheekbones and then to your eyes. Your face was filled with his saliva, your skin came alive with his moist touches. You groaned as your body spasmed with the unexpected slap. It hurt.

He shouted as hatred gushed from his eyes. "Why! Tell me why you did it! You knew what would happen to you!" When he grabbed your hair hard and lifted your head up, your head was spinning from being upside down. "Did you think you could escape me, huh? Do you think I'd leave you alone?" Suddenly calming down, he answered his own questions in a whisper. The mocking attitude on his face was frightening. "No, my beauty, there's no way you can escape me. Not possible while my soul, which has drifted away from God, is bathed in your holiness." After kissing her cheek awkwardly, he whispered in her ear as if he had something to hide. "You're the reason I'm alive. Even if you go seven floors below hell, I'll find you and bring you out, do you understand me?"

Your breath was shaking with fear. But when he looked into your eyes, there was no trace of fear.

Joel suddenly shouted, knowing that this was a challenge. "I said, do you understand!" Your eyebrows were furrowed in fear, and you blinked. Joel laughed with pride at revealing the role you had played. He breathed deeply and caressed your bare breasts in a harassing manner. He sighed at the sharpness of the tips and the pink color.

"You have no idea how much pleasure it gives me to see you afraid of me, my dear! It's more erotic than the nights I spent fucking you for hours; I'm sure of it."

He released you. He took a step back and opened the corner of his jacket, taking out his knife from a hidden pocket. High carbon stainless steel. Its sharp tip and razor-sharp edges and brilliance.

All kinds of torture came to your mind. The one you feared the most was that he could rip your eyes out. Your father had tried this on an assassin who was trying to kill him. You started to struggle and struggle as if you could escape the ropes. You were trying to shout, to scream. Your eyebrows were furrowed in fear. You were crying. Joel approached you again, showing you the knife, and held the sharp end in front of you, making eye contact.

"Shh... My love, don't worry, I won't hurt you. I just need to take the gag out of your mouth. I think we should solve our problems by talking as husband and wife," he said. He looked very calm and cute, but his expressions were never sincere. When you didn't stop crying, he suddenly pressed the sharp end of the knife against your throat. Although it hurt, it didn't even leave a mark on your skin. His angry gaze was back again. "First, stop crying! The helpless behavior of a strong woman like you gets on my nerves." he stopped and thought. Then he kissed your cheek. Insincere innocence appeared on your face again. "At least for now." Joel dragged the edge of the knife along your skin without pulling it out... From your neck to your jawbone, from there to your cheek and the binding part of the gag; it stopped there. He inserted it between your skin and the binding and started cutting the fabric. At the same time, he held you respobsible, as if he was muttering to himself. While one hand was holding the knife, the other hand was holding your waist with a force that hurt.

You began to cry and beg Joel to release you. But the words Joel used while demanding an explanation were enough to make you angry. He slapped you again. He shouted as if his throat was tearing. His skin turned bright red. "Tell me, was it worth it! Did you think you would avenge your father when you told that son of a bitch commissioner everything!"

"Enough, stop! I'm sorry."

He had calmed down. He took a step back, looked you up and down and started to walk around you with heavy steps. He was thinking about how and to what extent he would apply the evil ideas in his mind to you. Not being able to see what he was doing when he was standing behind you fed your fear. You heard his footsteps again. He was walking away from you. It must have been the loyalty he felt to his love if you died painlessly with a single bullet. You started to hear rattling. The sound of metal hitting the tiles, a banging sound resembling a cupboard door. You couldn't catch your breath.

Joel took the black leather whip in his hand and hit it in the palm of his hand, wanting the sound to bother you. If it was this hard even when he hit his own palm, the pain you would feel on your skin would be unbearable.

Joel approached you. A shiver ran through your entire body as he placed the tip of the whip on your spine and rubbed it all over. "Don't worry, my beauty, I won't treat you like I treat the other informants, but that doesn't mean I won't punish you." As soon as he finished his words, he hit the tip of the whip against your hip with all his might. The muscles in your body tensed, a weak "ah" sound escaped your lips.

"Did it hurt, huh?"

You stuttered. "Yes!"

"Good, I'll hurt you more."

This wasn't a whip used for fantasy. It was a leather whip used in horse riding to provoke animals. And it hurt more with each stroke. Your screams grew louder, eventually turning into pleas. Your skin was bright red, spreading to other areas that were white. The places he hit were slowly starting to go numb. Joel understood this from the calmness of your screams. A moment ago, you were screaming and struggling to get free of the ropes. Now it had been replaced by moans and small screams. It was time to stop. He threw the whip down and stood in front of you. He pulled your hair hard and hurt you. He looked into your eyes with greed.

"You'll be mine again, do you hear me! You'll fall in love with me all over again, whether you want it or not! Because you have no other choice!" He kissed your lips. His tongue had pushed your lips as if it was crushing them, meeting the inside of your mouth. The moisture on his tongue was intense. Your thirsty lips were wet with his saliva. It was disgusting, but it was as seductive as it sounded. You felt like you were one with the man you desired. He was sucking and biting your tongue on one hand. His hands were not idle, however. He was lifting it up, reaching your belly and caressing it down to your breasts. You wanted to scream when he suddenly squeezed your tips while stimulating them, but his merciless kiss prevented you.

Joel moved away from you again. He moved behind you, where he had just gone, and started turning the handle mounted on the wall. You could hear the sound of two metals rubbing together and you were slowly starting to lower. When Joel thought it was enough, he stopped. When he came back to you and stood in front of you, he saw how the inner lips of your vulva were glistening with your juices.

"Oh no, look at you," he pressed his fingers to your clitoris and moved all the way to the entrance of your vagina. "You're soaked, darling. Wasn't today supposed to be your punishment?" he said mockingly. Then, he brought his fingers together and raised his hand into the air and slapped your vulva. You flinched at the scream that escaped your lips.

"Joel, you don't know what you're doing! Please stop!" you said in a tearful tone.

He only responded to this with mockery. "Honey, I don't know whether to listen to your words or act on what I see." He slapped your vulva over and over again. Even though it hurt, the shocking flicks you felt on your clit were making your pupils dilate in pleasure. Your moans of pleasure were mixed with your cries of pain.

Joel couldn't take it anymore. He buried his head in your vulva. It was a betrayal! It was already your biggest betrayal when you left home. He was willing to go to jail again for you, but right now he just wanted to fuck you like an animal. To get inside you, to feel you from the inside! To fuck your vagina hard and take all his revenge on your burning pussy! The liquid flowing from your vagina was the honeydew in the hive for him. He was licking all the liquid greedily, smearing it on his lips. Your vulva was now burning. His slapping had turned the pinkness on the skin into redness, and this was whet Joel's appetite even more.

He moved one hand to the fabric of his pants as he continued. He clumsily tried to undo his belt buckle. Even that was hard to do when he was focused on your sweet peach. He undid the buckle without removing the leather belt from its slots and his fingers met the zipper. You thought the bulge that appeared in front of your eyes as you pulled it down would hit your face in a moment. His hardened penis was straining the fabric.

After his penis was out of his pants, Joel took it in his hand and pulled his mouth away from your pussy lips to look at where he would place his cock. You didn’t want to perform oral on him in this position. There had been many times when he wanted you to hang your head off the bed. He would use your mouth as a vagina. But you were gagging and gasping for breath. That was why you never adjusted the position that way. But right now, he didn’t care about that at all. You had to take your punishment.

Joel was in ecstasy with the pleasure you were giving him. He continued to suck your vulva while moaning, but after a while he couldn't resist and lifted his head from your buried womanhood. He put his hand on the inside of your thigh, spanked it and squeezed it with almost all his strength. You were sucking it so well that your groin cramped up until you couldn't orgasm.

His voice was shaking, "You know how to drive me crazy," he said and laughed with pleasure. He reached down to your breasts and slapped them every time he made them cum, caressing them painfully.

Moans interspersed with each sentence. "Yes, my love! Make your husband happy! It'll be a bargaining chip for the punishments I'll give you in the coming days, huh? What do you say, my beauty?" He squeezed your nipples so hard that you stopped sucking his cock and tried to scream in pain. Joel laughed. "I can only come when I watch you moan in agony," he said and crushed your nipples between his fingers once more.

Even though your body was shaken by the pain, the interruption of your vaginal pleasure was more annoying than the action itself. You put the oral sex aside and gently brushed your teeth against Joel’s flesh, trying to get him to take his cock out of your mouth. In response, he winced and took his big cock out of his mouth.

He got down on one knee and brought his face level with yours. He grabbed your hair and pulled. "What do you think you're doing!"

You grinned cheekily, calmly and confidently. "What about me? I'm dying to squirt all over your face."

"First you'll fill me up. Then it'll be your turn." he said and suddenly he let go of your hair and stood up, putting his cock back in your mouth and thinking that he was fucking your glistening vagina in front of him, he continued to fuck your mouth with back and forth movements. At this time, he put his index and middle fingers together and pushed them into your vagina. His cock was fucking your mouth, his fingers were fucking your womanhood. As your pleasure increased, your oral performance also increased and finally Joel slapped your vulva repeatedly and ejaculated. His sperm overflowed from your lips and the salty taste spread all over your mouth. The hot, slippery and thick fluid would have long since slipped down your throat if you hadn't been upside down. When Joel pulled his cock out of your mouth, he felt exhausted. He was tired. Breathlessly, he kissed her inner thighs with calm touches. "You must be a sex goddess. You have a divine talent and I worship it."

He took a few steps back and moved away from you, adjusting his fabric pants. In the meantime, you were watching him, while at the same time, you were grazing the semen flowing from his lips with your tongue. Even though your stomach was queasy as you stood upside down, you had already lost your way in the hot deserts of lust. Your expectations were high. You wanted to find an oasis in the middle of the hot desert.

You asked Joel while he was fastening his belt. "When will it be my turn?"

When he was ready, he stood in front of you again and leaned down, leaving a passionate kiss on your forehead. "You will come whenever I want, and that's not right now, my dear wife!"

You were surprised. Your groin ached, your vulva was on fire, your clitoris was pulsing. You shouted with the anger of being left unfinished. "You can't do this! I hate you, do you hear me!"

It was such a pleasure to disappoint you that he stood up, grinning evilly. "Honey, these are better days. Enjoy them," he said, and stood up and turned around. While you were hurling insults at him, he was walking towards the door. The evil man smile we are used to from movies covered his face. Without compromising his indifferent attitude, he acted as if you were not there, opened the door and left you there alone. Until his servants came and untied you.

[mothwingwritings]

WOW!!! I LOVED "The Innocent Act Of Dredging Up The Past", IT WAS VERY GOOD!

I wonder how Y/N reacted when she found out she was pregnant and how Fox allowed herself to keep the baby because he doesn't seem like someone who likes sharing attention.

Thank you so much darling!!! I am so glad you asked me this because I have been thinking about Ren as a father nonstop since that request. My brain has been full of many thoughts and opinions and I am happy to have an outlet for sharing lol. That being said, forgive my blathering. ^^;

(18+ and warnings for noncon, pregancy/baby birthing talk, incredibly unhealthy relationships, abuse, and being kidnapped/held against your will.)

Being impregnated by Ren would be absolutely dreadful for you, causing you to spiral into a pit of fear and despair the moment you miss a period or begin to feel queasy in the morning. With the signs starting to show, your brain comes to the instant conclusion that you are with child-his child, and it frightens you like nothing else before. At first you try and convince yourself nothing is wrong, that you are probably just late due to stress, and your upset stomach can be any number of things, it doesn’t necessarily mean you are pregnant. Any of your symptoms can be explained away by something else, so in an effort to try and maintain your sanity your brain churns out explanation after explanation, no matter how nonsensical they may be, in hopes of calming your rampant nerves by coming to some other resolution. A stream of constant lies and false reassurances play on repeat in your brain, forcing the thought that you may actually be a mother to the farthest reaches of your mind.

But the longer you wait and the more you dwell on it, the more you are faced with the inevitable. He never wears protection, you haven’t had access to birth control, and despite your warnings of it being a delicate time of month for you, his base instincts always won out in the end. There was nothing else this could be.

Faced with the reality of the situation, you were now tasked with the burden of sharing the news with Ren. You didn’t want to tell him, terrified of what his response would be, worried that he would somehow blame this all on you and hurt you because of it, quite possibly worse than he ever has before. But an even more horrifying concern than that is if the news actually pleases him. What if he wants to keep the baby? What if you were forced to carry this pregnancy to term while trapped in this grim environment, left to raise another human that shares half their dna with a man who has done nothing but cause you irrevocable damage?

No matter what the outcome, none of them are favorable.

But you didn’t have a choice, and you knew it was better to break it to Ren sooner rather than later, lest this whole nightmare become irreversible. In the event he saw things your way, you wanted this thing out of your body as soon as possible (though you loathed to consider what strings Ren would pull to achieve this, and what backwater procedure would be done to do so).

At first Ren brushes it off, not truly believing your concern. He’s had sex with you countless times without protection and just now you get pregnant? Seems suspicious, so he concludes you’re either overreacting or trying to get a rise out of him, potentially both, and that in and of itself riles him up. Are you telling him this as some kind of ploy? Are you using a false pregnancy as a means to get him to ease up on you a bit or as an attempt at escape? After all you had gone through together, after all the love he has lavished upon you by sharing his home, his life, his heart, with you… Would you really tell a lie like this?

He struggles with that possibility. Despite his inclination to feel otherwise, he has a hard time believing you would use a pregnancy scare for your own selfish benefit. You have always been a good girl, his good girl, and deep inside he knows this is not something that is within your nature to do, even if he does have some major doubts.

So, though he doesn’t truly believe your claims, he buys the pregnancy test more as a means to shut you up and prove a point than because he actually believes you. Needless to say, he ends up biting his tongue over that one.

When hit with the truth, his emotions are mixed. On one hand, he wants nothing to do with children or child rearing. He didn’t have to do much of a self-assessment to recognize he would be a shit father, and he never particularly wanted to be a father to begin with. His own upbringing wasn’t the best, he himself never really having a father figure that was worth a damn to guide him or show him any love or support. He had no parenting manual to go off of, and was sure that a culmination of having no positive family experience and maturing into the warped individual he had become led to no other conclusion than NOT being cut out for fatherhood in the slightest.

More than that however, the thought of sharing you, even with a life he helped create, really REALLY pissed him off. Thinking of all the nights you would be spending tending to the baby when you could instead be wrapped up in his arms, or all the attention and affection you will be giving some inept kid that could instead be going towards him, truly gets under his skin. He doesn’t WANT to share you. You’re HIS. And while a baby isn’t going to change that, he doesn’t want the needless competition to begin with.

But on the other hand, having a baby does have its appeal. It would be nice to bring a life into this world that loves him from the get-go, completely relying on him while being totally oblivious to all that has happened in the past. That sort of pure, blind love is hard to come by in this world, and the fact that he could obtain it so easily from a life he created with you, a human that has your blood running through its veins, is EXTREMELY appealing. And on top of that, you are sure to love the child whether its conception was wanted/planned or not. If you loved a child that was half his for the remainder of your life, would that not bind you to him for just as long? Though he didn’t doubt your loyalty (or his ability to keep you tied to him with no hope of escape), it would be a nice assurance to have in the rare event things did not end up going his way.

Once that thought enters his head, it’s over. No further thinking or future planning is required-he is going to be a father, and YOU are the beautiful mama! Congratulations! (Does he get off to you being pregnant? Did this pregnancy make Ren Hana realize he has a breeding kink??? Sources say yes and that’s your problem to deal with now. :))

♡

Holding his newborn for the first time, he has never been so nervous. Tears flood his eyes as he watches the small bundle squirming in his arms, his heart aching as they stare up at him with wide, pure, inquisitive eyes. He was no stranger to ending lives, but creating them? This was something entirely new, as exhilarating as it was scary. His smile grew as he stared at her small face, pleased that she looked so much like you. He could only hope that her personality would mirror yours as well.

♡

As time passes and the baby grows, you find out quick that Ren has a very ‘hands off’ way of parenting, which is to say he relies on you to do most of the work. And honestly, he feels that is fair. He’s the breadwinner who works hard to provide for you and the newborn, which leaves all other parental duties in your capable hands. You are left to be the child’s main caregiver, their guiding force to lead them through life, their teacher, confidante, and friend. It’s a daunting task, all residing solely on your shoulders.

Ren won’t readily admit it, but he much prefers it that way. All the abuse that he has suffered through from an early age, every heinous act of violence that has been carried out by his own hands (your wounds, included), all of it has turned him into something unrecognizable, something grotesque. Even if he wanted to have more of a presence in his child’s life, he knows he doesn’t deserve it. If he had too much sway in the kids development there’s a good chance they will grow up to be like him in some way or another, which would be a waste of all the love and hard work that you had put into raising them into being an upstanding person. Ren had made peace with who he had become, but that didn’t mean he wanted to keep a cycle that someone like Strade had begun going either.

So, the baby more or less becomes your soul responsibility, and god is that a burden for you. It’s bad enough that you have such little support from Ren to begin with, but the fact that this is YOUR first time being a parent as well makes it all so much worse. You have no idea what the hell you are doing, and with Ren making sure to keep you as isolated as possible you had no one else to turn to for help, either. It was just you and this brand new life with no one else to rely on, if you fucked up in even the smallest way it could be devastating to the baby. If your daughter got truly hurt, sick, or worse in your care, you didn’t know how you would live with the repercussions, let alone handle Ren’s reaction.

If your life with Ren hadn’t already made you a strung out, nervous, irritable wreck, being a mother certainly would. As she continues to grow, Ren refuses to discipline the child at all, not wanting in any way to appear like a ‘bad guy’ to your daughter. Given the circumstances, part of you is thankful for that (you honestly don’t know what you would do if he turned his ire towards her), but it also just makes things more difficult with you. You are already beyond stressed about trying to raise a child in this type of environment, having no united front and constantly butting heads makes raising her that much harder, especially when any kind of rule you attempt to establish can so easily be overridden by her father who has no remorse over the frustration this causes, nor care as to how his flippancy may affect your child’s development in the long run.

It’s also not lost on you that being the sole disciplinarian also paints you in a less than favorable manner in your child’s eyes, something you are sure Ren has thought about as well. Being the ‘strict’ parent means your child will be more likely to hide things from you, or seek out her father instead of you for support, approval, and advice. Given whom Ren was as a person, this thought didn’t sit particularly well with you.

All you can really hope and pray for is that somehow despite the lack of social interaction and outside influence she will grow up to be a decent human. Even maturing under the delusion that her father is a noble man, even if in some instances you have to make yourself the villain, as long as it helps her out in  the long run you’ll do everything you can to insure your daughter lives the best life she possibly can, whether her father helps you or not.

I think the REAL problems will begin when the child gets older. When she truly comes into herself and forms her own opinions, develops her own personality, and starts to forge her own way of life… It’s gonna be messy. :/ Your child’s autonomy is definitely going to be a point of contention for Ren in the future, and he won’t be so pleased if/when she catches on to his true nature and begins to rebel or straight up reject him. God forbid she tries and join forces with you or attempt to become your savior. It’s going to take a lot of cunning on her end to make it out unscathed.

Also, I kind of touched on it previously, but Ren would be incredibly horny the whole pregnancy. Not that he isn’t already incessantly slavering over you, something about seeing you round and full just makes him snap. Which is scary in its own right, Ren isn’t the most gentle of lovers to begin with and has a tendency to lose himself more often than naught, hurting you in the process. It’s a constant struggle to satiate him while protecting yourself and the unborn baby, best of luck to you! :D

(And he’ll definitely breastfeed from you. He’s gotta make sure you are producing enough for the baby, ya know? :))

[etherfabric]

Directions from Your Higher Self

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

Pile 1

The Star, The Moon

You started to believe in miracles, and are now scared shitless. No small expectations keeping you safe from disappointment anymore. You got a taste of what magic feels like, and now fear dullness like the plague. Two things: You are allowed to have boring days, that doesn't mean the magic is gone. It can't be Christmas everyday. You would get sick of the lights eventually, believe me. And the other thing: That's why they say that victimhood can be a kind of safety blanket. If you already expect only crap from life, there is no horrible suspense anymore. But now... you can't go back. Even if you try it.

This is an icky phase of metamorphosis. It's normal that it feels disorienting and like you can't make sense of anything anymore. Do soothing stuff, calming habits, be around safe people. And spoiler: This is about embracing your humanity in a whole new depth. Don't worry, it will feel supernatural again soon enough. But for now, practice being plain, while also weaving your belief in miracles into it. Challenging, yes, but nothing you can't handle. You got this.

Pile 2

The Moon, 3 of Pentacles

Nothing you put energy or effort into seems to yield anything. It feels like punching in slowmotion, nightmarish. Hitting no one who needs to feel your hits. Newsflash: This is not a time for work! Get soft, dammit. You can't experience rest while still trying to prove something. No one is watching. You are being your own cruel audience, and boo yourself into despair. What are you aiming at? Who convinced you that particular thing is the sole hope for you to be happy ever again?

I love you, you are me, I am you, but I can't let you go on like this. Not with what lies ahead of us. If you only knew how easy things will get. How many fears will never come true. How much lighter you could afford to be. How much love you already deserve. But you have to dare opening your arms, and put the tools down. The monuments you try to erect are aimed at Gods you won't believe in anymore once you experience your feminine side as a gift, and not a curse. Grindset? Grind your teeth while napping, if you have to. But this is bigger than your egotistical, temporal ambitions. You need to do it slow, and I won't stop insisting. Because I can see more than you. You will have no choice but trusting me on this one.

Pile 3

The Emperor, The Devil

Have you heard of this awesome thing called "free will"? Let's take that baby for a ride. Use 3 spoons for the same meal. Lie on the floor of your hallway and recite a song. Buy a stranger a magazine about trains. Take a pair of scissors to your least favorite shirt. Name your nail polishes after famous people. The possibilities are literally endless, but yet you rotate the same 7 things. They will stay ready for when you need them next, but let's shake it up a little, huh? No wonder you feel trapped and stuck. But YOU make the rules, at the end of the day. Yes, there are outer limitations you have no influence over, but even in a literal cage, you can decide what you think, or how you sit, or what notes you hum, or what shadow figures you make with your hands.

The thing itself is meaningless - it's about you experiencing being a CREATOR. Not just a servant to others. I don't care if it's throwing a paper plane into your bathtub, or quitting your job and disappearing to Nepal - but we crave novelty and agency. Deeply. Break the self-imposed limits, any of them. Just to feel what it feels like. It's more rewarding than you imagine.

Pile 4

The Hanged Man, 2 of Cups

Oh shucks. You like someone. It happened. And you can't cancel it willynilly. Suppression has run its course, and now you have to face the embarrassment of having a heart with a need to connect and love. This has completely ruined your illusion of sovereignty you so deeply depended on to feel safe in the world. What now? Where will it lead? What does it mean? What will happen next? Do they like me? Do they think of me? Do they think of me badly? Why do I think about them? Is this me being brave, or pathetic? Is there a true difference?...

The questions don't stop, and you know what - they shouldn't. This is less about the "result" of this connection (I know, boo me, because this is your hyperfixation above all, despite not ever admitting it) and more about getting you out of your shell to be curious about yourself again. The heart needs to be open, and these fears and doubts have been there for a long time already. You are ready to face them, examine them, and learn more about yourself than any flavour of aloofness could ever teach you. I know you hate it, but I can also see the faint giggly twinkle in your soul from up here, buried under all this denial and acting tough. And that's the most scary part for you. That you actually like someone, like, in THAT way. How scary that life has no guarantees, but coming to peace with that truth will serve you much more than any relationship ever could.

[aussie-roadkill]

Hi guys I am going to ramble about the end scene of Generation Loss now

I fucking LOVE how Hetch taunts Ranboo in this,

“I still have a roll here to play” A nice hint of superiority, saying I’m important, you’re not, I still have a purpose, which of course is furthered with the “You’ll stay until you’ve outlived your use, that might be tomorrow, or a thousand years from now” Ranboo might be the hero, the main character, but he’s still just playing a role, he’s still a toy that will get tossed aside when Showfall gets bored of him

“Your choices, your decisions to let other people die for you” Calling Ranboo selfish, telling them they killed those people. That its their fault. Live or die this is the last time Ranboo would have free thought, and Hetch wants to make that as painful as possible, make him feel guilt, make him hate himself.

“They can’t get enough of you, and looking at the poll they want to play with you forever” the vote was 51/49 at this point, and Hetch implies the audience all want Ranboo to stay, to suffer in this twisted show. He wants to make ranboo panic he wants them to be afraid, to feel terror, to feel like they’re trapped, and it works, they start screaming, begging the audience too kill them, saying they can’t live with the things they’ve done. Hetch just lies to scare him, he just lies because he enjoys the pure raw emotion it gets out of his ‘actor’

“He’d rather quit than (...) keep entertaining you” Taunting both Ranboo and the audience, calling him a coward, a quitter, trying to make Ran seem like the bad guy, telling the audience they don’t care about them- how selfish, he’d rather die than make you happy, does he really deserve this mercy? Don’t you want him to stay and suffer, keep giving you content, keep being your puppet

Ran saying “I saw everything” and Hetch responds “And you’ll see so much more” at 55/45, the vote just ended, He won’t be seeing more, that’s a lie. He just wanted Ranboo to panic, he wanted them to think they were going to be trapped in here forever, he delighted in the sheer panic, the begging for anything else, even death

anyway, all hail Autism Jesus, he died for our stims

[cloudyskydreams]

Yandere types UT,UF,US,HT

So!!! I asked and y'all have delivered!! I got like 4 yandere asks already and they are all very good. I figured I should probably do this one first as it'll give me a better idea how to write the others ::3.

These are just small rambles and their yandere types, surprisingly Stretch was the hardest for me here.

Anyways hope you enjoy!!

➽──────────────────────────────❥

Undertale:

Sans: Manipulative ,possesive , stalker.

This man is a PRO gaslighter. He wasn't there and he has no idea what you're talking about and a matter of fact you weren't there either?? Bro can lie his way out of any situation and sometimes he feeds you lies just for the heck of it to keep you out of the loop and further trapped in his web. He doesn't think it's weird he likes to watch you, he's just making sure you're staying good and safe. Uses his teleportation ability to his advantage for sure and enjoys creeping you out sometimes by making noise in your house and teleporting outside a window to watch your reaction (he thinks it's cute).

Papyrus: Delusional, Obsessive, Overprotective.

He's really good at lying to himself and telling himself what he wants to hear. You should also get really good at this because it'll make things easier for you in the end. He just loves you so much and is so happy to be around you when he can be. Gushes about you so much his brother and friends all think you two are in a relationship of some sorts (atleast friendship) when y'all are still just strangers basically. Once you get closer Papyrus loves having you depend on him it gets to the point where he starts to sabotage things in your life so he can run in and "save" the situation as a hero.

Underfell:

Red: Obsessive/Possessive, Clingy, Manipulative.

Red's never thought he was worth it or that anyone would ever love him and that doesn't change as a yandere. He knows how disgusting and vile he and his affections are and so he hides them with manipulative sweet lies and gentle affection. He's constantly all over you when he gets the chance finding ways to sneak touches as acquaintances and gets bolder with his touches as your relationship progresses. Desperate for positive attention from you fuck he'd even take negative attention like getting hit or degraded anything as long as your focusing on him. In his eyes he belongs to you, he is yours and you have no choice but to be his.

Edge: Possessive, Controlling, Stalker.

This man is a schedule freak and he has your schedule memorized a day or two after knowing you with some good ole stalking. Plans everything out to a t from how you meet to the point of your eventual relationship and gets frustrated when things don't go exactly as planned. He hates how there's so many outside factors that can affect the budding relationship between you two. He's definitely not stalking you by the way his schedule just conveniently starts to line up with yours and you find yourself in the same areas constantly. Oh you're taking this hobby class what a surprise edge is also taking that class.

Underswap:

Blue: Impulsive, Obsessive/possesive, Unstable.

Blues emotions greatly depend on yours at the moment. If your upset he's upset if you're happy he's happy. It's extremely hard to expect what's to come from him due to his impulsive nature and with is instability it makes quite a duo. He's not above hurting other people to get to you and occasionally if he has to hurt you to get his way he will.

Stretch:, Manipulative, Obsessive, Soft

. He's really good like Sans at lying his way out of situations but he also uses his manipulative tactics in a poor me situation alot to garner sympathy from you. The world's a cruel place and he's aware of this he just wants to keep you safe so badly. He feels guilty when he has to hold you in comfort over losing a friend/family member or feeding you poisoned food to keep you sick so he can take care of you but its easier this way... All you need is him and he knows this it's only a matter of time until you get it too.

Horrortale:

Axe: Sadistic, Clingy, Possesive/Obsessive.

What a nice combo. Axe falls and falls hard when he finds the object of his obsession. They just stick out to him and he thinks about them for a long time even after they're gone and that's when he realizes.... he didn't forget them. He takes that as a sign it's ment to be and basically kidnaps them from the start after stalking them to know their schedule and the perfect time to take them. Leans heavy on Stockholm syndrome and isn't above hurting his darling as punishment and training. After being a sadistic fuck he'll love bomb you with cuddles and affection divulging into his clingy side.

Willow: Overprotective, obsessive, Harmless

Willow is very much like papyrus in the sense of he sets up situations to be your hero. He also gets really jealous of other people and friends and will try to slowly get you to disconnect with them and rely more and more solely on him. He won't hurt you or anyone else he just doesn't have it in him. Doesn't mean he won't ask his brother to do something for him if something needs to be done though. He's one to have a shrine/collection of your items he's collected over the time of knowing you.

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Not to sure how I feel about these but atleast they're done and now I can work on some asks with personalities already in mind! Thanks so much for everyone who replied to my request so fast!