#descriptions on the other hand can burn where they belong | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vampyrsm · 7 months

Text

‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER FOURTEEN | YUKI ONNA

‣‣ Synopsis: Our tale continues down in the depths of a village that had burned to the ground, and within are enemies of the unknown and creatures that seem to be what they are not. A Queen surrounded by Rooks is quite a sorry state indeed.

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 6k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, female reader, fighting scenes, descriptions of wounds, gore, dark thoughts, cursed energy usage, cursed spirits, body horror.

Snow crunches beneath your feet, so loud in the dead of night with nothing but the moon as witness to your descent from the temple, from your home. It guides you along the snow-covered rocky path, lighting the way as you watch the fox dance between the shadows.

The fur of pure white blends in perfectly with the snow, only the blackened tips of its otherwise white ears aid you in keeping track of the creature. It no longer whimpers, nor does it screech like it had. Instead, it bounds in leaps, the lameness in its paw long forgotten. Perhaps that should’ve been a warning sign, perhaps that should’ve given you pause to turn back towards the temple and seek refuge in the safety of Sukuna’s arms.

But something within you urges you to follow the Shikigami, perhaps the child it belonged to had taught it how to tell others its owner was injured.

So down the mountainside you go, following until you reach the scorched Torii gate you had passed through so many moons ago. It stands just as ominously as it once had before, an entrance to the burned village that lay abandoned at the foot of Sukuna’s temple.

The snow has long stopped floating around you, the snowstorm seeming to evaporate into thin air to be replaced with an eerie stillness that settles onto the village. As if even the wind doesn’t wish to further bring this village to ruin.

A whimpering cry has your eyes drifting away from the scorched marks on the Torii gate, only to find the fox has leapt further into the village — calling for you to follow. Your hand itches at your side, wanting to wrap around the blade you had foolishly forgotten in the safety of your bedroom.

With apprehension settling into your gut, your foot passes over the threshold of the village and you take steady steps after the fox. It doesn’t move from where it sits in the centre of the courtyard, beside a ruined shrine that once would’ve been the main offering place of the village. Its tail swoops around to cover its small paws, and it stares up at you when you grow closer.

“Where’s your master?” You ask, almost dumbly, you don’t expect the creature to reply but to rather guide you. Instead, it tilts its head, pointy ears flopping slightly before its eyes glance off towards the side.

The air shifts almost immediately, a pressure that climbs along your spine and tingles at the back of your skull. You don’t move from your position in front of the fox, instead, you only slowly turn to glance over your shoulder.

Five figures stand at the entrance of the village, to the entrance of Sukuna’s temple.

Each of them is clad in black clothing, dark armour covering the important parts. They wear no sigils, with no honoured helmets to signify who they fight for. Instead, they wear only simple black masks to cover the lower half of their faces. Immediately, you can tell the one at the front is a woman and the rest are men.

A set-up. That darkness within you whispers, coils painfully tight in your chest until it threatens to burst. Your eyes flicker over each of them, their souls burdened with a darkness that can only be granted when you take the life of another. They were most definitely not Samurai, nor were they ninjas that belonged to the Emperor.

Assassins.

“Don’t act hastily.” The woman at the front speaks, and her hands remain displayed at her sides. She bears no weapons, but you doubt she uses weapons to subdue her victims. “The Shogun has requested your return.”

To return to your uncle would be the same as impaling yourself on your own sword. He did not want you to return in the hopes of you rejoining the family, he wanted you back to punish you for disgracing the Zen’in clan.

Your eyes drift away from the woman at the front, you observe the others with her. One has dual swords strapped to his back, curved and glinting in the moonlight – something about them told you they held their own power. Another is cloaked in what looks like moving darkness, a thick black fog that curls around his body to hide him almost completely from vision. The other two are armed with regular katanas, yet their stature shows they are anything but your regular samurai.

You had to get out of there. Now.

That darkness within you grapples for control, shoving down any rationality on what you were about to do. It happens before you can even blink, you fling your arm out in their direction with your fingers splayed out. You feel it cut at your palm before the energy bursts forth from your hand and slices through the air, there’s a sudden rise in cursed energy from the ones who have come to take you back. No doubt one of their cursed techniques had to do with defence; they had to protect their own.

In the midst of their shock at the sudden attack, you twist on your heel; unaware of the white fox that now sat atop the shrine with its eyes now a brilliant gold colour. The air around you quietens, and the shouts of those who had come under attack fall silent before you vanish from the spot you’re in.

The air around you shifts and snaps back into place when you can no longer feel the pressure of their cursed energy nipping at your heels. You find yourself further into the burnt-out village, dilapidated houses falling to ruin around you. You had no way of knowing where to go, or more importantly, which way would lead you back around towards the entrance to Sukuna’s temple.

“There’s no use hiding!” A man shouts from somewhere in the darkness, and the cruel amusement in his tone has your stomach churning.

You dart into the nearest house, stepping on the parts of the ground that had been protected from the snow. The moonlight guides you over broken beams and through ripped shoji doors. A quick glance around tells you that this was a family home, snow-covered teddies and destroyed blankets are atop of a futon that had once been a safe place for children. Something painful churns in your chest at the thought, the last slither of your humanity tugging at your heartstrings.

You’re careful with each step until you find yourself crouched into the darkest corner you could find, you press your back to the still sturdy wall of the house. It’s silent outside, with no wind or creatures of the night wishing to disturb what seems to be slowly unfolding in the village.

Moments pass by slowly, and you chance a risky glance through the window up above. Your fingers hook against the cold wood, and you slowly raise until just your eyes are visible. The snow outside is undisturbed, no footsteps to tell you that you have been tracked down.

Something shifts, however, and you take a glance upwards. You watch as a thick darkness seeps from the sky, the stars wink out one by one and the moon is hidden from your view by a wall of thick black. What was that?

“Come out, demon whore! We’ll be nice, we swear.” A man lilts from the newfound darkness, new shadows form in places they couldn’t before with the moon above. Yet you do not see the man who calls out for you, his cursed energy is off in the distance. Not too far from where you could make a run for it, but he wasn’t aware of where you were.

A crunch of snow has your head snapping in the other direction, it’s a single footstep. Then another. Slow and steady. It grows closer and closer, each step slower than the next. You immediately drop back into the shadows, a hand clamping over your mouth and nose to smother any breaths that would dare to give up your position.

Something grabs at the wooden frame of the shoji door that you had entered through, in the darkness you can only make out the heaviness of a solid form filling the doorway. It stands there for a moment, completely still, and you wait for the unknown figure to leap for you.

Instead, the shadowed figure hums. A womanly hum. It sends shivers shooting down your spine, freezing you into place when that figure starts to move closer once again. It climbs over the discarded blankets and ripped paper on the floor as if it had climbed over them a million times before.

As it grows closer, you can hear the rasp behind its hum and the stench that follows it. It’s a sickly sweet smell, like fruit that was too ripe. The figure stops before you, and with it being closer you can make out the white kimono it wears and the paleness of its spindly fingers as it reaches out for you slowly.

You want to scream, to fight the approach of the cursed spirit that reaches forward until those ice-cold fingers brush along your forehead, sweeping away the stray hairs that had fallen over your face.

With the spirit being so close, you’re given the chance to see its face. It’s a woman. She doesn’t have horrific injuries or any abnormalities you had seen with the curse in the shadows, her lips are a pale blue and her skin is almost transparent.

Then it strikes you, like a shock through your system. You had seen this spirit before. She had called for you on the wind, tried to lure you closer and Sukuna had shielded your eyes from her. She found you. Sukuna had informed you that she would feast on your fear, prey on it until she had you right where she needed you to kill you. It’s hard to reign in that fear, to stop yourself from shivering beneath the icy feel of her fingers on your flesh.

You wait for the moment to snap, for the ghost-like woman to grasp at your throat and choke you. But instead, she repeats the motion of stroking along your forehead, those crystalline eyes hold no life as she watches your expression.

“They know you’re here.” She whispers, her voice akin to that of ice. Cold and rigid. “You must run.”

“I can’t.” You whisper in return, dropping your hand from your mouth and almost immediately the spirit drops her hand to run over the apple of your cheek. “I’ve never—I don’t know how to fight so many.”

Yuki Onna regards you for a moment, her pale blue lips pursed in a way that seems far too intelligent for a cursed spirit. Slowly her fingers trace down along your jaw, past stray hairs until it settles against the scarred portion of your neck. Her eyebrows raise, a spark of something in those blue eyes.

“Marked.” She whispers, quickly withdrawing her hand from you as if your skin had burned her. “Run.”

Something snaps near the doorway, and you look up from the Yuki Onna in time to see the figure of a man fill the doorway. He bears only a katana on his waist — one of the ones that were most likely used for defence. His eyes meet your own, an odd glow to them that has your spine stiffening.

You watch in abject horror as Yuki Onna shifts before you, her entire body shifting into something more fitting to her title as a cursed spirit. Gone is the facade of a woman. Her teeth become sharper, her face morphs into something from a nightmare. Her skin is torn and eaten by frostbite, and that glimmer in her eye is gone; replaced by a glaze that only belongs to the dead. She roars, a yowl-like sound as she rips away from you and lunges at the man.

The sound that comes from the man is nothing like you had heard before. He screams a sound that comes from deep in his soul. A truly terrified scream that could only be soothed by the touch of a mother. You take it as your chance to do as the Yuki Onna had instructed; you run.

You feel the air shift almost immediately the second you step outside of the house, there’s no light anymore. The moon was almost completely blotted out by the darkness that had seeped from the sky, sealing you in. The snow crunches loudly beneath your feet, and you struggle to lift your feet high enough to not trip over yourself.

Another guttural scream has you looking over your shoulder hastily, and you’re gifted with the sight of the cursed spirit spreading her long claw-like fingers into the air. She’s perched over something, holding them down with her entire weight and a hand around their throat, it’s Yuki Onna who laughs in delight as the man beneath her writhes and screams for help.

A slice through the air has that scream silenced into a wet gurgle, her claws sank into the flesh of his chest. Uncaring for bones and muscles, it tears through as if the man was made of nothing but paper. To your horror, you watch as Yuki Onna leans her weight off of the man and stands to her full height with the man still attached to her claws.

Another spindly long arm rises up, taking hold of both of his ankles in one hand. You see his arms fruitlessly rise to try and bat away the cursed spirit, but she does nothing but raise him higher. And then she pulls. His bones and muscles all simultaneously crack and snap, skin tearing and stretching as if it were made of rubber.

Blood sprays in every direction, intestines and other organs falling to the snow with a wet dull thud. The once pure snow is doused in the crimson rain, as is Yuki Onna who cackles like a witch. Her body further contorts, her jaw lowering until the length of the man's leg is dangled above the rows of sharpened teeth.

You move when she clamps down on that leg, the snapping of bones in her mouth is like that of a twig. Her kindness to let you run may only be fleeting, it wasn’t unheard of for creatures of such violent nature to turn against anything and everything in its immediate vicinity.

Inwardly you try to reach for that connection you had formed with Sukuna, perhaps you could pluck on the binding vow that tied your souls together and he’d know you were in danger. Yet when your fingers glide along that barbed wire connecting the both of you, it’s cold, cut off, dead.

That alone makes you stumble into the snow until you’re on your hands and knees, the cold bites painfully at your bare palms and melts through the waning warmth of your clothing. Why couldn’t you feel him? Why couldn’t you feel anything anymore? The dull pulse of cursed energy around you was muted, as if it were under a dense body of water. The darkness within you coils and uncoils, pulsing with the uneasiness that grows within.

You were utterly alone. Sukuna wouldn’t come to your rescue as he had in the past, he wouldn’t even realise you were gone until it was too late. Would he hate you for it? Would he think you betrayed him after everything? Your heart seizes in your chest and shatters all at once, that type of pain could only come from loving someone so deeply—so devotedly. To have Sukuna hate you was the same as having to thrust a blade into your own stomach, you’d rather die.

And now you were stranded, in the snow, surrounded by dangerous people who wanted to return you to the Shogun. You had never fought properly in your life, not in a true battle. The fights with Sukuna were just that, a fight, an emotional thing that grew out of control. These people were trained killers, hired swords from the Emperor most likely who had one goal; to return you to the Shogun. Dead or alive was up for debate. They weren’t going to hold back, and you had no idea what their strength was.

“Given up already?” A man croons from in front of you, your fingers painfully curl further into the packed snow beneath you. His footsteps are slow as he approaches. “I didn’t think it was true. That you were connected to that abomination. But by the looks of things, the talisman is doing its job.”

His words swirl in your mind, abomination, talisman. They knew. They knew everything about you and yet you knew nothing about them. Your anger curdles in your stomach, it boils over the edge and burns at your very insides. Who betrayed you? Would it be Sukuna? No. He wouldn’t give up his own power, he wouldn’t hand you over to them.

Kenjaku was a possibility but even she feared Sukuna, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to do something like this.

“When that brunette came to us with word on the missing Shogun’s niece, I thought she was just looking for a way out of the hell she’s made for herself with the Generals.”

Yorozu. The name spoken in your mind silences the ringing in your ears, it drowns out the crunching of the still-approaching footsteps. She did this, she’s the one who reported back to them after Sukuna had turned her away—after he declared you his wife before her. This was her revenge.

That slumbering darkness slithers along your spine and coils itself around your heart, until you feel nothing but the all-encompassing power of what Sukuna had given you. It whispers in your ear over and over that you had to kill. Kill Yorozu. Kill the ones who had come to take you away. Kill the Shogun. Kill the Emperor.

Feet come into view from your kneeling position, your hands still pressed into the cold snow and yet you no longer feel the chill in your bones. Darkness curls at his feet, a thick black fog that spreads out along the snow and creeps closer and closer. That same whisper in your mind tells you that if it touches you, you’re dead.

The air moves above you, and you snap your head up in time to see a hand coming down to grab at your hair. Energy pulses from you, slicing through the air and consequently colliding with the man before you. He recoils immediately, a torn scream pulling from his throat when he grasps at the arm you had poorly severed.

Instead of a clean cut, it’s a spiralled cut from his wrist upwards. His skin opens like a blossoming flower, the blood rushing from the wounds and pooling in the footholds he had formed in the snow. His working fingers attempt to grab at the loosening skin, to hold it in place but it’s all for naught. The bone breathes against the cold winter night, and the pooling darkness at his feet has scattered with the wind.

Unwilling to be caught in his retaliation. You strike again. You rear up onto your knees, flinging a hand in his direction and watch as his body flies backwards from the impact. His body slams into the undisturbed snow with a crack, the powered snow flinging up into the air before it resettles.

You’re on him before he has the chance to blink, the air around you is malleable with the density of your own cursed energy. It visibly dawns on the man beneath your body that you were more than just ‘connected’ to Sukuna, you harboured his energy—it lived within you.

“Filthy whore!” The man spits, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Your fingers tighten further around his throat, his words cut off into a gargled choke. “He’ll kill you. It doesn’t—doesn’t matter what you do. You’re dead.”

You lean closer to his face, pressing against his throat until you can feel the give of the muscles there. It cracks beneath the weight and his eyes widen in pain, yet no scream comes. “I have faced Death. Your threats are nothing to me.”

That same dark energy deep within you slithers along your fingers, coiling around the man's neck instead and you can only watch as his eyes bulge from his head. The whites of his eyes pop with blood vessels, and the blueness of his lips worsens with each passing second. Blood drips from his nose, from the corner of his eyes and leaks in rivers at his ears.

The tension in the air grows until suddenly… it snaps.

It comes in a bang, a pop, and you watch as brain matter and flesh are scattered across the snow beneath you. His blood is warm on your skin, almost scorching hot before it rapidly cools against your chilled skin. It melts into your kimono, staining you in the aftermath of what you had done to him.

Beneath you, his body still twitches, aftershocks of what had so suddenly occurred to his body jolting you from your place. You stand above him, watching his fingers twitch rigidly, grasping at what, you’re unsure. Then as quickly as it started, his body grows still. “I quite liked Hoshi. It’s a shame he died to the likes of you.”

A figure stands in the distance, their hands hidden behind their back but you spy no weapons. Their steps are slow, uncaring for the blood they step through to grow closer. As they come closer, finally do you see their face. The sclera of her eyes are as dark as the sky above and in the midst of them is an iris of pink. She looks otherworldly.

“I should kill you.” She speaks as if she were commenting on the weather, her head tilted to look down at the body that had already begun to discolour in the cold. “But He asked for you to be returned alive.”

“I won’t go with you.” The woman before you raises an eyebrow at the words you spit in her direction, eyes roving over the blood that freezes against your cheeks.

“He didn’t say anything about rendering you a cripple.”

You don’t get to make a move, not even a second has passed when you can only watch the world around her distort as if you were looking through an obscure piece of glass. Her fingers flex and raise up, and then she grabs something.

A sickening crunch comes from your nose, impacted on the hardened snow from the invisible force that had hit you from behind. Blood tinged your teeth and sinks into the back of your throat, a coppery taste that no longer disgusts you as it had only months ago.

Something moves in the air above you and you can only think of throwing your arm out towards her, angling all of your fingers tightly together as if your hand was a blade itself. Unlike the aching pain that comes with using Sukuna’s technique, you find it’s replaced with a tingling sensation.

You watch your arm bend unnaturally, distorted as if it were plunged underwater and you were observing it from above. Was this her cursed technique? You couldn’t put a pin on what exactly she was doing—something with the sky, or the space around her.

But you don’t get a second further to attempt and understand her technique, because the space surrounding your distorted arm further twists around until the palm of your hand is pressed against your bicep.

The pain is sharp and quick, it slices without remorse. The space that held your distorted arm falls away, as does your arm into the snow. She rebounded your technique. A quick glance at your arm is enough to confirm that it had been cleanly severed midway through your upper arm, and the blood that pours from it warms the side of your kimono.

How did Sukuna withstand this type of pain? You’d severed his arms more times than one should be allowed to, he even laughed in your face—... but you can only feel the chill in the air stroking along the edge of your exposed nerves and the bone that aches something fierce.

You stumble to your feet, and your uninjured hand swipes through the blood that pours from your now-sliced arm. It burns warmly against your fingers, thickening in the cold air until it forms a sticky substance on your hand. Your head feels light, the aching rooting itself deep into your bones. It was something else to see yourself mortally wounded, you’ve come to realise. It was a wake-up call that you weren’t anything more than flesh and bone.

The pink-eyed woman before you draws back an arm in your peripheral vision, and that swirling darkness in you roars to life. It bares its teeth and claws, if it were to have a corporal form then perhaps it would roar in fury at being struck with its own blade.

Like being plunged into icy waters, you watch the woman before you freeze in place. The muscles in her arms tensed under the pressure of unleashing your cursed energy, and her fist was just mere inches away from colliding with your already broken nose. Her eyes don’t move beneath your technique, and that gives you just a moment before she realises just how your technique works.

Bubbling hot energy pulses up your spine and spreads along the span of your shoulders, it thrums at the exposed nerves and the edge of the bone until that too starts to bubble and reform skin, bone and muscle in one fluid flick of your arm.

Takako’s eyes widen marginally when her fist connects with nothing but thin air. Her panic is palpable, you can taste it on your tongue, at the back of your throat, it tastes like triumph. Something flexes just beside Takako’s arm, you can see the space around her moving and bending—so you grab it.

With your remade hand, you grasp a hold of the intangible material. It feels cold beneath your fingers, like ice. It’s invisible to the naked eye, but you can see the shimmer of cursed energy that threads itself in the cracks between space and the sky.

Takako opens her mouth to speak, to scream, to question just what Sukuna had made you into. However, you tighten your grip on the invisible space gripped in the palm of your hand—and you throw with all your strength. The cursed energy within is immediately overpowered by your own, and it cracks like a fissure in ice.

Her body is thrown back from your own, tumbling over the body of the deceased assassin in a flurry of white snow. You can feel the grip on Takako’s cursed technique slipping. And so with a burst of cursed energy in your arm, you crack down the should-be intangible thread you had been holding hostage and you watch it crack and splinter further, bursting into a million pieces after it slams Takako down further into the ground.

Something swirls in your stomach, white-hot and roaring to life far too quickly for you to reign it in. Takako remains still in the snow, her body rising onto one elbow to meet your eye. Her body is torn and twisted awkwardly, yet she still lives. And for as long as she lived, she was a threat.

To you. To Ryomen.

That heat within grows hotter and hotter by the second, the snow at your feet melting away into slush, before that too starts to bubble from the heat the billows from you in pulsing waves. It feels like your very blood is on fire, your skin a mere thin barrier between a firestorm and the outside world.

You’d seen Sukuna only once wield his flames. He used it without any strain, you could do it. You knew you could—and truly, you had no choice but to wield them or succumb to the flames and burn.

So you shift on your feet, a side-ways angle, and you raise both of your hands. The fire roars to life suddenly at the tips of your fingers, it bites at the frostbitten skin there and before you can stop it, it expands suddenly.

You grasp it between two fingers, pulling back until you are poised like an archer. The flame lights up Takako’s face, and you can see genuine human terror on her face. Gone is the mask that had protected her from the elements, blood drips from her nose and stains the side of her face.

“Monster.” The pink-haired woman rasps, the blood wetting her tongue.

“Worse.” It’s merely a whisper over the hissing of the fire that continues to burn away at your flesh, wilting away the kimono that had been stained in the unknown assassin’s blood.

In one smooth exhale, you release the arrow made of flame. It roars through the cold air, lighting up the path between both you and Takako. Her body coils up quickly, arms held over her head as if that would stop what is to come—

You can’t stop the arrow on its trajectory, and a shot of surprise ricochets up your spine when something, someone steps out in front of the arrow. An explosion of light blinds you temporarily, and you lift a slowly-healing burnt arm to shield yourself from it. You can hear the snow around you hiss and steam from the impact of the fire arrow being splintered into hundreds of pieces.

Buildings around you splinter further and collapse under the intense heat of the splintered parts of the flame arrow. And when you look out from the safety from behind your forearm, you can’t see a thing, it’s as if you’re looking at a blank canvas of bright white light.

The snow is cold against your back, it nestles itself into cuts you were unaware you had and acts like a stinging salve to the burns along your arms. The night sky above you winks back to life, the inky blackness that had overtaken the sky melts away until the moon greets you once again.

What happened? Your mind screams at you over and over, you want to grasp at the snow beneath your fingers but you can’t move. Nothing feels right, everything feels—off. Something is wrong.

“I’m sorry.” A voice speaks to your side, and you can’t even find it within you to move your head in their direction. Instead, only your eyes move and above you is a man crouched down, looking down at you. His silhouette is outlined by a blinding light, his features darkened from the sheer brightness. “I should’ve intervened sooner.”

“W-Wha—” Your tongue feels thick in your mouth, and your teeth ache as if you had been punched directly. Nothing is making sense.

“Sleep, Lady Zen’in. Your uncle is waiting.” His hand raises slowly, and as he grows closer you can scent copper—blood, a smell so ripe that it sticks your tongue to the roof of your tongue and you can only watch with widened eyes as he leans closer into your space, close enough that you can see brilliant golden eyes looking down at you.

“No—wait..” You try to move your arms, to raise a weak hand to stop him from touching you. But your body protests at the sudden jolting movement, a sharp pain that blossoms in your chest.

Fingers press against your forehead, and that darkness inside of you screeches at the contact. Something warm washes down your body from the fingers pressed to your forehead, it coils around your head and drags your eyelids down slowly.

The man above you remains with his hand against your forehead, but you swear something like colossal white wings unfurl from his back before it all goes black.

...

Sukuna lurches up in bed. His heart beating a rhythm akin to that of a war drum against his chest, his fingers curled against the flesh there, as if he were to reach inside and calm it by tearing it out. His fingers press harder against the side of his chest, it aches like he had been hit by something solid enough to knock the wind out of him.

His mind clears quickly, and he grows silent. Frozen in place with a sense of stillness only a predator could achieve, the chill of the wind from outside cools the sweat building at the back of his neck. But the warmth he had held so close to his chest last night is no longer there.

Sukuna sharply turns to glance down at your side of the bed, a large hand pressing into the mess of blankets and there’s no warmth there. Immediately he takes note that your weapon was still atop the dresser, mounted and displayed so proudly—something he had insisted on doing, to show you that you can be proud of your weapons.

The previous night had held an intimacy Sukuna didn’t think was possible, he had never spoken to someone so softly and so quietly. Sharing stories of the past, mostly your past, and he would share his life experiences in battles—he even found himself telling you his favourite season and the festivals that surrounded them.

But those memories have quickly turned to ash, melting away to be replaced with a fury that only he could wrangle. It bares its teeth, and long claws sink into the futon beside him where your body should be. He can’t smell you, can’t even taste the intensity of your cursed energy on his tongue—you weren’t here.

You weren’t in his home, your home. You were gone.

That thought alone pains him like no other, no wound he had ever received felt like this. It’s a type of pain that has his throat tightening, and his teeth bared to the world. He doesn’t even quite realise he’s out of bed until he’s staring at the sword in front of him. You weren’t stupid, he knew you weren’t stupid. You would’ve never left your weapon behind if you truly planned on leaving him.

And you most certainly wouldn’t disobey the binding vow, he knew you had researched further on the vows themselves. They were unbreakable. A vow between body and soul even more so. You couldn’t leave him, not willingly.

The dresser creaks beneath his hand, the wood splintering under the pressure. And like a raging inferno, he explodes. The surrounding walls and furniture are nothing to stop the slicing of claws and cursed energy, the room shatters around him as does the heart that beats in his chest tirelessly.

Someone took you. He knows that much. He can’t even sense you beyond the boundaries of his temple, the barriers there had been put up an age ago. He didn’t think anyone was stupid enough to enter his domain, to enter within the wolf's den and pluck his—...his other half from her very bed.

No one surviving, besides Uraume, knew you were important to the King of Curses, he was certain of it—

A face with thick eyebrows and long brown hair framing it fills his mind. A growl unlike any living beast erupts from his throat. Yorozu. He knew she was a fucking idiot, but this? She dared to spill her guts to the Five Empty Generals and no doubt they involved the group of assassins; Sun, Moon and Stars.

“Master Sukuna,” Uraume calls from the entrance of the room, careful to not step further into the room. Sukuna’s body heaves with each heavy breath, the sweat on his body burns away from just how hot his anger is.

His fingers, which had moments ago torn apart wood and stone as if it was nothing, pick up the sword from the display stand. The energy within thrums at the touch, calling for a part of him that had been mixed with your own energy. He would ensure this sword would return to you, and you to him.

“Make the preparations. They’ve taken what is mine.”

‣‣ Main Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader

232 notes · View notes

alien-magnolia · 1 year

Text

My heat’s here (Jake sully)

Fic description: Navi mating ritual, heat/pheromones/omegaverse, dom! Jake Sully, sub/fem!omaticaya reader, breeding kink, manhandling, sir kink., jealousy, 18+ MDNI

“My mate. Now that you are fully Na’vi, I gotta warn you about somethin’,” Jake says to you, as the two of you lay on the grass, your head on his chest, his arms snug around you.

“Hmm?,” you stir, too busy reveling in the warmth of his chest. “Your heat, babygirl,” Jake says to you, gently. You lift your head off his chest for a moment, looking up at him inquisitively. “What’s that?,” you ask, with such innocence. Jake swore that your innocence drove him crazy sometimes. He sighed, thinking to restrain himself. He knew he would not be able to once your heat arrived.

“Well, think of it as a period, one that you got when you used to be human. But this time, you’re just very turned on, and you got a lot of these pheromones around you,” he explains. “So it will affect you, ma Jake?” “Yes. I’ll try not to be too rough with you, babygirl. Don’t wanna hurt your pretty lil’ body,” he coos at you, and you hum contently, laying your head back down on his chest. Your tails intertwine as you both watch Pandora’s moon rise on a hill atop of the forest canopy.

Days later, your heat arrived as expected. You woke with the rising sun shining through your hut, and you would usually welcome the sun, it was one of Eywa's great creations. However, today it burned your eyes, your head hurt, you felt a pain in your body. At first you thought you were sick. But then you felt it — the intense need for cock. Your Jake’s cock.

Your womb was empty, just waiting to be filled!! You croak out, “Ma Jake. Where are you? Need you…,” you trail off. You began to worry. Where was he? Did he leave you, did he not need you anymore? You rise up off your sleeping mat, and begin to pace around the hut.

Your worries were satiated by Jake’s arrival. “Just for some breakfast for us, babygirl,” he shouts as he walks through the little doorway (made of bark of course!) His expression and demeanor changes once he sees you, once he smells your sickeningly sweet pheromones. You see that look of aggressive, predatory, lust in his dilated yellow pupils.

You’ve never seen him walk over to you this quick. His calloused hand reaches over to you, cupping your cheek, while his other hand steadies you, as you begin to lose your balance.

“Baby. You’re heating up,” he says with concern, attempting to restrain himself, although his eyes told otherwise. “Ma Jake…what is happening to me?,” you cried out. “Your heat, babygirl. Told you it would come soon. Don’t worry. Gonna help you out. Gonna take care of my mate,” he whispers to you, pulling you in for a gentle kiss. He leads you over to the bed, helping you lay down on it. You could tell — he was restraining himself. It looked like he wanted to devour you — you hoped that he did.

He’s on top of you, towering over you like a God. His lips meet yours, his forehead close with you only soothed the ache in your womb for just a bit. You needed more. You reach on to grab onto his muscular arms. “Ma Jake…please. Need you. Hurts. It hurts,” you wail out. “Tsaheylu, please,” you whisper to him. He immediately obliged and brought his braid over to yours, connecting the two. You felt amazing, you felt his body, mind and soul.

“I know, sweetie. Know it hurts. Can feel it. Gonna…fuck. Take care of you,” he almost growls, and then uses his strength to flip you over onto your stomach, his hands squeezing and kneading your thighs, your waist. “So fuckin’ glad no other Na’vi men can smell you right now… gonna show them who you belong to,” he almost growls out. Your heat just made him so possesive!! You feel his torso on your back, and before you know it, you feel his fangs digging into your shoulder. You squeal a bit, his sharp fangs digging into your soft shoulder! “Don’t move,” he hisses, one of his hands moving back to reposition you.

You mewl and moan as he trails kisses all over your shoulder, your back, and one of his hands comes up to lift you by the neck, just a bit. “You gonna be good f’me babygirl?,” he asks, his tail erratic, his eyes and soul burning for you.

“Yes, ma Jake. Please,” you breathe out. “Yes, what,” he says, lowly, with a bit of a hiss. You loved it when he hissed, it was so scary and yet attractive! “Yes, sir,” you murmur, ashamed that your heat-induced brain forgot to call him by his title in the bedroom. “S’okay, babygirl. All that heat got you a little dumb, huh? That’s okay. Don’t need to think on my cock,” he chuckles, almost patronizing in a way. That little comment was accompanied by a few slaps on your ass. You liked the pain :) especially from the rough hands of your Jake.

Your pussy is just clenching on nothing at this point. Your ass is red, tail against his torso, you were just grinding up onto him at this point.

“Ma Jake!!,” you scream at him, you wanted his cock, you wanted it SO badly!! His blue hand teases you again, running down your abdomen. He lifts himself off of you, two hands on your hips, positioning you.

You finally feel a twinge of clarity as you feel his hot, soft cockhead slip past your folds and into your warm pussy. You moaned again, you just wanted him deeper and deeper!! “Fuck. My girl, sucking me in…,” he grunts, as you begin to feel his rhythmic thrusts, his skin slapping against yours, his heavy balls dragging against your slit!!

“Ma Jake, deeper, please, sir… you moan out. He listens, his soft tip lightly grazing your g-spot, you feel his cock pulsating and twitching inside you, it just turns you on so much!! You squeeze tighter and tighter around him. You feel his veiny hands trail around your front to grip at your soft breasts momentarily, before returning to their guiding place on your hips, his grip so tight on you. Oh Eywa — he was strong.

“Feel you squeezin’ me, princess. Tell me what ya want. Go on,” you hear his deep and a bit slurred voice above you. He must have been absolutely delirious by how tight you were around him. “Want your knot, ma Jake…please,” you whisper out in a breathy moan. He smirks above you, a wide, predatory smile that has his fangs baring. You hear his chuckle, Eywa, you always loved how deep his voice was.

“Stay still, babygirl. Gonna give you my knot, gonna - fuck, make you mine, gonna fill you up,” he barely moans out, he was so close, you felt it. You both came at the same time, you were seeing white, hot pleasure, he was seeing the same. It felt just as if it was an intense experience connecting to Eywa.

You started crying after you came around. You felt so at peace with his thick knot buried inside you. You also just felt so loved by him, that tears were natural at this point. You realized he must have turned you around in your haze, you now laying on top of his chest, while he was on his back. He notices your tears.

“What is it babygirl? What’s gotcha upset?,” he asks, you can feel his concern through tsaheylu. “Just. Just. You make me feel so complete, ma Jake. This heat was frightening, but not with you. You took away some of that pain, ma Jake, I see you,” you whisper to him, watching his big yellow eyes closely for a reaction.

He smiles back at you, his eyes soft and loving. “Anything for my mate, my world. I’d die for you, babygirl,” he says to you as he pulls you closer for a sweet, long kiss. There was no better feeling on all of Pandora than being wrapped up in your mate’s arms, laying with him, all protected and loved, (and stuck on his nicely sized cock and knot)!!

a/n: will probably make a part two, where Jake gets his rut :) enjoy hehe

avatar taglist: @23victoria @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @jake-sullys-whore @aerangi @brioffthegrid

#jake sully x fem!reader #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #dom!jake sully #jake sully x you #avatar smut #avatar mating #liz’s masterlist

963 notes · View notes

teabutmakeitazure · 1 year

Text

Burgeon

A chance encounter that barely lasted seconds plants curiosity into Chrollo's mind. After searching for you, Chrollo decides to keep himself entertained, but being called to a blood splattered scene causes his initial plan to derail.

>Yan! Chrollo x Fem! Reader

Soulmate au where either person experiences the other's emotions prior to their name appearing on their body. Only Nen users are able to see those names.

>Warnings: blood, murder, someone being eaten alive, mentions of domestic abuse and suicide, premarital hand holding, Chrollo being a creep

>Word count: 10.5k (kind of a slow burn)

Part 2 I Part 3

Fear was not a familiar emotion to Chrollo. If anything, the closest he's acquainted with is excitement, thrill. It was the excitement in thievery that he looked forward to the most, that he relished the most.

Not even three skilled Nen users could make him bat an eye. One pen was all it took to end them, no Nen at all. So why was it that when you both locked eyes through the smoke he felt fear?

The way his heart pounded was a foreign feeling. You were just a passerby, someone who had to stop for cover because a car had exploded seemingly out of nowhere. The culprit, Chrollo, stood on the other side of the wreck as his spiders fled.

Clutching his heart, he imprinted the feeling in his memory, from the way his heart was beating out of his chest to how he was seemingly frozen in place. It was when your eyes widened in horror that he broke out of the trance and moved again.

The next time you blinked, he was gone.

As if the timing couldn't be more convenient, Chrollo couldn't sleep that night.

His troupe members had passed out after getting heavily intoxicated, and he was left alone with his thoughts. Another heist was successful, yet he felt incomplete. Is this another facet of himself he has to discover? To figure out?

No. It was the encounter he had. It was something about those eyes that deeply disturbed him. Could you be a Nen user? It's possible, but if you were, he would've known. You looked… normal.

Either way, it was just eye contact. He will never see you again, so there's no point in overthinking it. As Chrollo calms his mind to slip into slumber, the feeling from before returns. Dread and fear seeps into his being like water does a sponge. A few hours later, his mind finally allows him to rest.

Chrollo was wrong. He was so unmistakably, so horribly wrong.

It has been hardly three days since the heist, and he's already come across you again. Curse this. If you recognise him, it might prove to be a problem. Killing this many people in the library would be a hassle as the authorities would come to realise that the Phantom Troupe is still in the city.

No matter. He'll continue what he was doing. If you do have the gall to approach him, he'll quietly deal with you.

As he mindlessly grabs a book from the shelf, he concentrates on your presence. You seem to be somewhere in the science section. Perhaps you're a student? That would explain why you're diligently looking all over. It must be something particular.

Chrollo stays out of sight and seats himself in a corner. The table fortunately has only one chair and from there, he can see the rest of the floor. If anything, his appearance reassures him. His hair is down, a cloth wrapped on his forehead and his clothing is just as normal as anyone else's.

Okay maybe it doesn't entirely fit the description of an average citizen. It leans towards the more 'pretentious' side as Phinks had once said. However, it doesn't stand out so nothing to worry about.

…

Why are you coming this way?!

Oh wait. Your belongings are on that table over there to the right. Great. Just great. You're sitting on the table to his right and facing him. Ah, at least you're looking into that book you have. Wait, what is he reading? Did he even bother to check what he grabbed?

It was in the literature section, so it ought to be something interesting. No matter. He'll just multitask. If he feels your eyes on him, it'll be likely that you recognise him. In case that does come to pass, he shall immediately exit the premises.

Chrollo immerses himself in the book. He didn't bother to read the title, satisfied at seeing Friedrich Nietzsche as the author, and started going through the words. The priority at the moment is to keep an eye on you, and keeping an eye on you he is because his book is now forgotten as he side eyes you at the disruption of aura.

Grey eyes carefully consider how you channel the flow of aura in your body. It's practised and genius how easily you've manipulated it to flow and concentrate under your palms. However, before Chrollo has a chance to even think about what sort of Nen user you may be, you abruptly stand up.

Grabbing the books and your bag in a hurry, you head for the librarian to check them out. Chrollo slowly keeps pace, hiding behind a bookshelf when you're waiting for the librarian to do her job.

He can see the way apprehension oozes out of you, and he feels more drawn into you. Akin to an unlike magnetic pole, he follows after you, attracted, getting closer and closer each time only to snap out of it when he's a few feet behind you on the sidewalk.

Your bag is now swung over your shoulder, books hugged closely to your chest and eyes constantly darting around like you're looking for something. When you move to cross the road, Chrollo doesn't follow.

There has to be something wrong. This must be some sort of joke. All that stuff was just a fairytale, not reality. So why? Why did he feel overwhelming anxiety and apprehension when he was standing behind you? Why did your tapping foot settle down at that same time?

Why is there now a name written on his forearm?

Hopelessly trying to scrub it off while showering, he realises that it's there to stay. The realisation does little to assist in comforting him. All the evidence points to what he had deduced to be a simple folktale to be reality.

It's alright. Chrollo is a thief after all. The most business he has is to steal whatever Nen ability you have, if it proves useful that is.

There it is again. Anxiety.

Just being within eight feet of you brings about that feeling, but considering how your posture just relaxed, Chrollo finds that being within a certain radius of your 'soulmate' causes both parties to feel what the other feels, which in your case is anxiousness.

So he wasn't feeling fear that day after all. He was feeling what you were.

Regardless, Chrollo puts on a smile and casually takes a seat opposite to you in the coffee shop. It has been a real hassle locating you, so he isn't going to throw in the towel anytime soon.

The sound of a chair being dragged against the floor causes you to flinch, but you don't bother glancing up from what you're reading. Perhaps you're not very outgoing and would like to keep to yourself. He doesn't find any problem with that, for he can quite easily make conversation for two.

Chrollo clears his throat once, carefully eyeing you for a reaction and simultaneously calming his beating heart. Over the somewhat quiet atmosphere of the shop and his calm demeanour being transitioned over to you, you would have easily heard him. He tries again, but you give no response.

He tries a third time, and leans forward as he starts conversation. "I can't help but notice that you've been reading about the quantum properties of light. Are you a physics student?"

Slowly, like how the most grand and most precious merchandise is unveiled at an auction, you raise your head to meet his eyes. In an instant, he feels his heart wildly pound against his chest before his usual calmness is back.

"I'm… not a physics student," you reply, voice meek.

"Ah, someone interested in the topic maybe?"

The most Chrollo is rewarded with is a nod, and you immediately bury your face back into the book. That reaction was more than what he was hoping for, thus he won't complain.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, he decides to take his chances, using his gentlemanly exterior to smooth things over.

"Would you mind if I joined you this evening?" He smiles when you peer over the edge of your book. "I believe the book you're reading is of my interest. Do you want to talk about it over coffee?"

"Why?"

Playing hard, aren't you?

"Well, it would be nice to make friends in the city. Especially if they're like minded, right?"

Smile Chrollo. She might lower her guard.

You put down your book, watching him in consideration. Then, you call over a waiter and give your order, gesturing to Chrollo to do the same. A smile stretches on his face. Oddly enough, he hasn't felt any apprehension again, only mild nervousness at best.

Voice gentle, he starts conversing.

"Are you a college student?"

With narrowed eyes, you watch him carefully. "No. Far from it actually. What about you?"

Chrollo rests his chin on his hands, elbows on the table. "I'm just here for business. I keep an eye on auctions and merchandise. My job is to keep tabs on such matters."

"Alright… then why are you interested in what I'm reading?"

"Science is fascinating, isn't it?"

"You're lying."

Silence.

Chrollo cannot say if the calmness he feels is from you or him. What he can say for sure is that you're not as innocent as you seem. The cold gaze you have is proof of it.

With the grace of a swan, he sits up straight, smile still present on his face as he tries conversing again.

"Why do you think that I'm lying?"

"It's obvious," you reply.

Shaking his head, he keeps his voice soft. "Well, I couldn't just let a beautiful girl like you sit alone like this. Why not converse if we have mutual interest?"

"You're lying again, sir."

Somehow, being called sir makes Chrollo feel… alienated but still good nonetheless.

"My name is Chrollo. What about you?"

You consider him for a moment before you close the book in front of you. "I'm [Name]."

It takes all the composure he has to not let his eyes widen. That's the same name that appeared on his forearm. Perhaps choosing to encounter you was the right decision. You may be able to aid him in one way or the other.

"Well, [Name], truth be told, I felt oddly drawn to you, and I don't say this to be flattering. I really did feel drawn. That's why I approached you."

The waiter returns with the drinks, and he closely watches how you thank him with a smile. An odd feeling stirs in his chest, but Chrollo brushes it off as your emotion.

"Alright," you interrupt. "I have to say… you're pretty weird."

"I do hear that a lot," he chuckles.

"Hm." You lean forward, eyeing him closely. Chrollo sits unbothered at your peculiar behaviour. If anything, he's amused. He's finally found an interesting person with Nen no less. He could even claim that he's ecstatic.

"Is there something on my face?"

You shake your head and return to your seat. The both of you start drinking your drink in silence. However, you keep eyeing him closely and it's rather bothersome. Suddenly, like how a water balloon bursts when too heavy, you speak.

"I was just messing with you earlier, Chrollo. No hard feelings?"

He smiles, "None at all."

Silence once again persists, but is quickly replaced with conversation when most of Chrollo's coffee is gone. He starts with asking about your hobbies and slowly manoeuvres the conversation to hunters. Disinterest is palpably written on your face at the topic, but he pushes through.

"I've heard that hunters are very odd people. It's almost as though they're a completely different breed."

Bored, you trace random patterns on the table with your finger. "Yeah. They're all a little crazy in the head if you ask me. The exam is even worse from what I've heard."

"Are you interested in taking the exam?"

For a split second, Chrollo sees your aura change, but it quickly disappears.

"No," you deadpan.

You're tracing something on the table again, but why has your aura disappeared? Taking advantage of the pause in conversation, he uses Gyo to see if you may have used In. The technique is used for hardly a second, just long enough to know that you did use In, but judging from your disinterested gaze on him, you may have caught him.

"You can do that?"

Chrollo blinks, attempting to act coy. "Do what?"

"Don't act dumb, Chrollo. I saw that."

Amazing. You weren't even looking at him when he did. Has he found a formidable Nen user? Hm. He wonders what your Nen ability is.

With a flirtatious smile, he leans in. "You're quite talented if you found me out so easily."

"Are you a hunter?"

"Not at all."

An expression of deep thought is present on your face, eyes boring into the empty cup that sits in front of you. Chrollo lets you stay under the assumption that you have the power in this conversation. He lets you think and consider your next words carefully, feeling almost giddy at seeing this encounter through to the end.

"Do you know… what Nen is?"

Bingo. Chrollo has finally found an opening and the world be damned if he doesn't use it to his advantage.

"Of course I do," he replies, voice smooth and gentle to lull into a sense of security. "I've actually taught people about it before."

For some reason, you raise a brow at that and he laughs.

"No really. I have taught people before. Mostly my friends. Are you looking to understand it better?"

Cautiously but almost desperately, you give in. "Yes! I don't know what this weird thing is. I thought I was going crazy."

"Well, you've met the right person."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"Really?"

Your expression contorts into one of slight disgust mixed with overflowing annoyance. At the sight, Chrollo keeps his composure in case you may have recognised him or worse, seen through him. However, all panic goes down the drain when you bang your hand on the table.

"You look like you work a corporate nine to five! How are you supposed to be an expert?"

Relieved but still very, very confused, Chrollo slightly tilts his head, eyebrow raised under the bandana. "Are you… insulting me?"

"I'm stating the obvious." You settle down, slumping into your seat. "You better not be lying to me, Chrollo. Trust me, a lot of people already have."

"I promise. I will help you understand your ability better, and that's final."

For some reason, the way your eyes had lit up at that was kind of cute.

Chrollo is absolutely itching to confirm whether you're aware of the existence of his name on your body or not. It might be in some inconspicuous place like behind your knee that you don't look often, but the 'emotional exchange' should have been concerning if not completely odd.

Nonetheless, Chrollo marches on towards your apartment. Naive as you are, you had allowed him to come to your apartment just after a few days of being acquaintances. The credulous mentality you harbour is simply aiding him. Once he knows what your Nen ability is, he will steal it and be on his merry way, any soulmate talk be damned.

Before his finger could even meet the bell halfway, you've swung open the door. Chrollo stands there blinking at your haphazardness, and is immediately pulled inside by the wrist. You stand there in pitch black darkness, the main door stuck to your back like glue as all the curtains continue their purpose of blocking any light from the street.

Had this not been his first time here, he would have been able to navigate the place properly. Pushing aside his desire to eliminate the darkness a little bit, he calls out your name. Chrollo doesn't miss the way you flinch or the way your breathing gets worse.

"What's going on?"

His question further rattles you. Fisting your hair, you drop to your knees crying. What he can see of the sight makes Chrollo feel odd. Why aren't the emotions transferring back and forth between you both?

Being as frazzled as you are, wouldn't it be advantageous if your emotions were transferred to him instead? So why aren't they? Is there some sort of condition he isn't privy to?

You choke on your own wails, and out of something Chrollo brushes off as pity - totally ignoring the pang in his chest - he squats down and holds you. As though soothing a child, he keeps comforting you till your sobs turn into quiet weeping.

Half an hour later, the curtains are still drawn, a few of the lights have been turned on and freshly brewed cups of coffee are present in both your and Chrollo's hands. You make it a point to not look at him, obviously embarrassed at the earlier situation.

So, like always, Chrollo takes the lead and asks what happened.

"I did something," you reply. "I… I don't know how but it just did and then…and then all the light became too much."

This piques his interest. Could it be that you found your Nen ability after just hearing about the basic techniques from him?

"What do you mean by 'did something'?"

You wordlessly stand up and seat yourself on the floor right in front of the centre table. Palm flat on the table, you slowly raise it up, and Chrollo sees something forming beneath it.

Using Gyo is useless, for what you've conjured up is made of hardly any aura at all. It baffles him to see a little rabbit, white but almost translucent, sit there. It blinks up at you, puffy eyes looking back at it with what one can only describe as repugnance.

Slowly, the bunny hops towards you. Its translucent body and solely white colour scheme makes it seem eerily unnatural as it clings to you, climbing up your body and into the crook of your neck.

You pet the animal, but when Chrollo tries to do so while reaching forward, his hand goes through it and touches your neck instead. Oddly enough, when the rabbit bumps its head against his hand, he feels the impact.

"I think only I can touch this thing," you state.

This ability may mean that you're a conjurer, but then why is it not made of aura? Chrollo can't seem to see any even with Gyo, so what is that? When you clench your fist, the animal disappears into thin air.

As frivolous as this seems, if used correctly, it could be a deadly ability.

"Is that what scared you, [Name]?"

Perhaps you took his words to be infantilising, for you look away and furrow your brows. Not even now can Chrollo feel your emotions like he did before. Therefore, he's left to guess like he always does.

"It scared me because it's the light."

The light?

He leans forward. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that light is what's making these things."

Light? So your ability consists of shaping light to your will? It is in a sense just energy.

"How can you be sure," he challenges.

Your stare is cold, merciless and oozing with disdain when you reply. "Because I know it is."

Wow. That's a lot of confidence for someone who was previously overwhelmed. Resting his face on his hands, Chrollo studies the flow of aura in your body. There's no need for him to give away all Nen related information if you're doing this well without it, so maybe he should just withhold it and watch how this plays out.

Had he felt generous, he would've done the water divination test with you, but he's not here to teach. He's here to give a slight push, steal and leave. That's it.

"I created a dead person's head."

Chrollo blinks up at you. That's certainly… something interesting to conjure up.

"Whose head was it?"

This time, your expression is sad when you answer. "My old neighbour. She died recently."

Ah, perhaps it was an unconscious thing. As you put away the cups, Chrollo keeps a close eye on your movements. The reason why your aura has been awakened may stem from this person's death. They might have been close to you considering that you did unconsciously create a copy of their head.

Maybe he needs to do some digging.

As Chrollo lets the midnight breeze blow through his hair, he thinks over the earlier events and information. An abusive husband, a docile wife. You were good friends with the lady, and tried to gather evidence to report the man.

Unfortunately for you, evidence was hard to gather. Whenever you tried, it would backfire and the now dead wife would suffer instead. Thus, when she took her own life, you used the police investigation to your advantage and revealed everything. The man was jailed, but the wounds of your dead friend never healed.

It is highly likely that this event triggered your aura nodes. Extreme emotional turmoil, though rare, is a possible trigger in your situation.

Eyes scanning the view in front of him, he thinks over possible uses of your ability. It's better than what a conjurer can do because you've already proven its versatility with the two extremely distinct things you created.

Maybe he should wait it out, let it develop more. He did, after all, tell you to practise with different things. If in case a new facet of your ability is unveiled, he wouldn't be the first to experiment with it.

The sounds of the bustling city make up for the lack of conversation. Behind you, a mother scolds her son for fighting with his younger sister. Next to them, a group of friends who have supposedly not seen each other for a while drink in the afternoon sun of the park.

You look tired.

And Chrollo has the urge to bring up the topic of soulmates.

Have you really not found a name on your body yet? It's hard to believe. He goes to sleep every single night after staring at that thing on his forearm with as much scorn as he is able to muster. He is a thief. And thieves do not indulge in daft affairs such as romance… or maybe most of them do not.

Contrasting his urges, Chrollo does not know what he would do if you have actually seen his name on your body. Should he use it to gain more of your trust? Or act innocent and pretend he doesn’t know? Would it be appropriate to indulge? Why does he want to indulge? What is so charming about your smile that he is rendered frozen and unable to look away?

Chrollo figures that Shopenhauer was perhaps partly correct in his analysis of love. Infatuation can blind even the most intelligent of men.

Your lips finally part to speak and Chrollo's world momentarily goes silent, the only sound being your voice and his beating heart.

"He's out of jail."

A vivid image of a grinning man comes to his mind, and he entertains it as the silhouette sports a hammer in his hand.

"He's out and he's looking for me."

The desperation in your tone suffices to rouse curiosity in him. Though a restraining order is paltry in this situation, he still suggests it just to be turned down. When you explain that a measly piece of paper saying that he isn't allowed to be near you is useless, Chrollo is unable to hold back a chuckle.

"Then why don't you just deal with him yourself," he proposes. "You're strong, [Name]. An ordinary man like him will go running as soon as he sees your Nen."

Now that the seed has been planted, Chrollo sits back and watches it grow.

Blood has never looked this good on any human being than it does on you. Oh if only he was able to witness it. The dead body of the man lies mangled in the living room, limbs separated, but your eyes seem to be more lifeless.

Intentionally feeding the enraged man information about your whereabouts was supposed to lead to a conflict where you flee home and purposely seek out Chrollo. During the panic, he would take advantage of your trust and steal your ability, take care of the man and be on his merry way.

Cleanup duty was not what he had expected. Well, neither was the possibility of you killing him considering how cowardly and timid you are. You must truly be his soulmate if you've done this.

Chrollo ushers you to your bedroom and asks you to stay inside till he comes for you himself. Summoning Bandit's Secret, he gets to work and once the mess is cleaned, he finds you seated on your bed in the same spot he had left you in an hour ago.

It's almost as though he's looking at a corpse.

Unmoving. He can't even be certain if you're breathing.

Calling your name does not elicit a reaction, so he simply sits next to you, mattress dipping under his weight. Judging from how messy it was, a fight must've transpired before. However, no furniture was broken or even scratched which means it was a clean strike. Not even your hands are dirty, only a few splatters on your face.

Which only boils down to you conjuring up or creating some sort of weapon with the 'light energy' that you manipulate. Whether it's conjuration or manipulation, Chrollo isn't sure. What he is sure of is that you are absolutely devastated.

So, being the gentleman that he is, he comforts his fated other half and bids goodbye after you're sound asleep. It was a completely one sided conversation again, but it doesn't matter.

He wants to break you more.

"Say, Chrollo?"

The man in question looks up from his book, the warm atmosphere of the library putting him at temporary ease. With a tilt of his head, he urges you to continue.

"Why do you always cover your forehead?"

He smiles, amused, and rests his chin on top of his hands. "Why do you wear clothes?"

"Huh?" Incredulous, you lean forward as well. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We wear clothes to hide our body, yes? Some people choose to cover most of it, and some choose to cover less. I don't see anything wrong or socially unacceptable about covering my forehead. It's just another part of my body I wear clothing over."

Chrollo smiles smugly. The way your mouth is left open at the answer is quite delightful. It's hard to believe that just a week ago you murdered someone.

"You're hiding something!"

"Am I," he challenges. "If I recall correctly, I'm not the one with skeletons in my closet, dear."

Lately, he's been getting more bold with the pet names. It's amusing to see you grow flustered over his nonchalance.

"It was self defence. I… I didn't mean to do anything."

Sure you didn't, but neither of you talk about that night. It’s an unspoken rule you set when you acted as though nothing out of the ordinary took place the day after the incident. Ironically, Chrollo is bemused at why you’re not afraid that the police might come after you if he decides to not stay quiet.

"Why did you help me?"

Now that is an interesting question from you. Why did he help you? Was it some feeling of obligation that led to his cooperation? Or did he feel pity? Pity that he will soon leave you after taking away an imperative part of yourself.

But he's never felt pity on his victims before. Why now? Is it because you're his supposed soulmate? The full name is the same, and he is quite curious to see if you are to play a key role in understanding himself.

Perhaps it's time to tip over the cup and let the tea spill. As composed as you outwardly were when asking, he could laugh at how obviously you're panicking, afraid that he might get bored and tell the police. That is one thing he silently holds over you.

However, once the tea spills and stains, it never washes out.

"Have you ever heard about soulmates?"

The question seems to baffle you, for your inner panic morphs into plain dumbfoundedness. Thus, Chrollo takes the liberty to explain.

"There's this folktale that two people have each other's names somewhere on their body that can only be seen by Nen users. These two people are destined to be romantic partners. I thought it was a silly story at first, but it seems to be true. To be frank, I hadn't believed anyone's reporting of it, but seeing it for myself has proven me wrong."

You close your book, eyeing Chrollo closely. "What're you trying to say?"

As ballsy as he is, Chrollo pulls up his sleeve and shows you your name written on it. Mercilessly, he explains how he felt your emotions prior to fully accepting that you are, in fact, his destined 'other half'. Chrollo's tongue holds no remorse to the horrified look on your face as he continues explaining his reservations for befriending you and how he got over them.

Conversely, he stays quiet after the unloading of information and lets it all sink in, allowing you to process what you heard. You look scared and vulnerable, yet Chrollo can't figure out why. Is it because he is your soulmate? Or is it because you're just stuped over something as silly as this?

Whichever it is, you clearly did not know about it which means that you haven't seen his name on your body yet.

"And that's why you helped me…?"

"Frankly," he says, "that's why I approached you in the first place. I felt your emotions in this library and when I put two and two together, I figured it out."

A pause and you speak again. "But… I haven't seen any name on my arm."

"It can appear anywhere on your body. It's usually triggered by the other person being in your vicinity."

Silence.

Was stealing your ability and leaving the right way to go? Why are you looking at him like that? With such hope and friskiness?

Why are you reaching for his hand?

Once intertwined, you make it a point to look at your and Chrollo's hands held together. He eyes the connected hands with childlike curiosity at the uncalled gesture but lets you have your way. Once your giddiness has settled down, he's quick to put on a smile.

"Premarital hand holding? Why, that's a bold move."

The comment causes you to immediately let go of his hand as though touching a hot surface. What part of his little slip had bothered you is beyond Chrollo. However, he continues smiling and tries again at conversation.

"I hope you're not disappointed over who fate has chosen for you, [Name]."

"I'm not." The sudden proclamation perhaps made you nervous because you keep touching your hair. "It was just so sudden."

Chrollo decides to poke a little, just for fun. "So you have no qualms about me being your romantic partner? Is that what you're implying," he chuckles.

Somehow, this kind of flustered look on you is even more precious. Stammering over your words, you take a few moments before you can give a comprehensive reply.

"That's not… w-what I was saying. What I meant was… was…"

"Was?"

Taking a deep breath, you gather all your courage to speak which, by the way, is a lot more than what you used to kill that man. "I meant that I wouldn't… be opposed… to the idea."

Wow. If Chrollo thought he had seen the peak of your bashfulness, he was absolutely wrong. He could almost pinch your cheeks.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't outright reject me. That would have hurt quite a lot."

"What if I reject you later?"

"Hm." Faking contemplation, Chrollo holds his chin between his index finger and thumb. "I would simply kidnap you. I can't let someone as adorable as you escape, now can I?"

"Haha. Very funny, Chrollo."

Very funny indeed.

It was around two in the morning when you texted Chrollo. The second he saw your contact name on his screen, he felt victorious. You noticed, didn't you?

He had been keeping an eye on your schedule. During the hours you were not at home, he would enter your apartment and do a little… redecorating. An example is how this time, he left your kitchen knife over an empty piece of paper with a single red cross on it.

Simple and not bloody at all, but he knows you. Subtle signs are what scare you the most.

Wide open wardrobe doors, an unlocked main door, balcony door slid open with the curtain blowing outside because of the wind, kitchen drawers and cabinets left open, sofa cushions piled into a corner of the living room and so on.

Returning home to things being changed inside your house or waking up to those changes has certainly scared you a lot. Despite being as agitated as you are, this is the first time you contacted him. Did the knife outshine the other things?

No matter. It's not like he plans on replying. It's just a simple message asking him if he's awake. Chrollo doesn't even open the message, dismissing it from the notifications bar and heads to bed.

Perhaps he went too far with the scares.

As dire as the situation was in the beginning, he had thought that you grew accustomed to the changes in your surroundings but he seems to have been proven wrong. There are apparent signs of your weariness and agitation, and the sight almost makes Chrollo frown.

Your eyes cautiously dart around as you grab the cup of steaming hot coffee and bring it to your lips. Chrollo watches closely how you determinedly blow on the drink to cool it down, eyes fixated on the way your lips shape into a pout to do so.

He wonders how it would feel to touch them… among other things.

During your pursuit, you fail to acknowledge Chrollo's attentive stare and how he suddenly crossed his legs after clearing his throat. Begrudgingly averting his gaze elsewhere, Chrollo picks up his own cup and lets the silence between the two of you settle.

Was it not appropriate to tell you about the mark on his forearm? Are you somehow now vying to turn whatever this relationship is into a romantic one?

For the first question, Chrollo thinks he chose the right course of action. Knowing that he is your soulmate will make winning your trust easier, not that he doesn't have it already. For the second question, he can't be sure. There haven't been any such hints from you yet.

The fact that neither of you address the elephant in the room is also maddening. You had admitted to not being against having a romantic relationship with him, but the conversation hadn’t gone further. Should he take the initiative himself? It would certainly be more charming that way, but what if you didn’t bring up the topic again because you’re not ready for the commitment?

Ah, maybe he should go through the romance books you read. There ought to be a few quirks and personality traits of the male lead that could help him woo you.

His thoughts are interrupted by you calling his name. Putting down his cup, he watches you do the same, already missing the little pout on your lips from earlier.

"Chrollo, I think…I think I'm seeing things because of my ability."

Hm. An interesting deduction. You're wrong, but you don't need to know that.

"Do you suspect the happenings in your apartment to be hallucinations?"

You freeze at his question, but manage to muster a reply. "I don't know. It's probably my ability. It is related to light and conjuring stuff up, right? It has to be the ability!"

"Or maybe a vengeful spirit."

"No! No… he's dead. I know he is."

Erratic behaviour and irrational thinking. You're reacting accordingly. Now, to just give a little oxygen to the spark…

"If you're sure it's your ability," Chrollo drawls, "then maybe you should just get rid of it."

Surprise is clearly written on your face, and Chrollo almost smiles at the endearing wide eyes you sport.

"I can get rid of my Nen ability?"

"Of course." He takes a sip of his coffee and continues. "It's possible."

You bang your hands on the table, cup clinking against the surface. "How?!"

Chrollo simply smiles bastardly at that. If you suppose he will give away important information so easily, you're naive. However… your reaction to the matter was adorable if not an absolute deal-breaker.

Maybe he should give a little push before he claims his prize. It's been a fun ride, so why cut it short?

"If you want to know, dear, meet me here again next Friday at this same time. I need to do some research beforehand."

A change of plan is considered, and Chrollo needs time to think it over. Nevertheless, seeing how desperately you agreed, he thinks he might just change his plan after all.

Chrollo isn't certain whether this idea is wise to act on or not. As he makes way to your apartment, he recalls all the other times he's watched you for hours on end daily. There wasn't any noteworthy information he could gather other than your questionable nonchalance at continuing daily life despite everything.

Maybe he's put this off for too long. He should just get the job done and get on with it. Well, not after messing around with you a little more that is. You're his soulmate. The least he could do, if not indulge you romantically, is be a little playful, not that he isn’t going to indulge you, far from it actually.

Chrollo easily picks the lock in your apartment door. Turning on the lights, he sits himself on the sofa, pulling out a book to read while he waits for your usual time to come home. As he goes through the latest romance book you read, an hour passes, and when he can sense your presence in the vicinity of the building, Chrollo feels absolutely elated.

It's dark when you walk in. Closing the door behind you, you kick off your shoes, groaning. Leaving your bag near the shoe rack, you slowly walk in, wincing when the lights are turned on. However, the living room lights aren't the ones that are turned on. It's the kitchen.

"Good evening, [Name]. I hope today didn't tire you."

Squinting, you look at the dark haired intruder casually leaning backwards on the kitchen counter. His appearance is a mystery to you because you do not remember giving him a key.

"And what brings you here, Chrollo?"

"Is it taboo to want to see my destined other half?"

You scoff, "Quite the smooth talker. Seriously, why are you here? You scared the bejeebers out of me."

You carefully eye his posture. If he turns out to be a threat, you could just use your Nen. Maybe make a sword or some other weapon or just make a run for it. No, you trust him. The door was probably unlocked.

"I simply wanted to see you. I'm leaving in a while after all."

This seems to capture your interest. "Leaving? When? We were supposed to meet next week."

"Soon."

"Okay…"

"Very soon."

"How did you get in?"

Ah. There it is.

Before you could even blink, Chrollo had disappeared. Unfortunately for you, by the time your brain even registered the fact that he had supposedly vanished, a blade is pressed to your neck while an arm holds you steady against a chest.

He's behind you.

And he's put a knife to your throat.

"It's been fun. I could even say that the time I've spent here with you was quite enjoyable, my dear [Name]. However," he presses it closer to your neck, a sign that you should stop struggling. "All good things must come to an end."

"What-"

"I've told the police about what you did."

That's a lie, but what do you know?

Chrollo feels you struggle more, and even though he had no need to hold you like this, he finds satisfaction in feeling you writhe against him. It's nice to see you cower in fear.

"I can give you two options, dearest, and you have to choose whichever poison you prefer."

"Chrollo let me go-"

"If I move this blade even a millimetre, it will pierce your skin. It's also poisoned, so I can't guarantee that you will experience anything pleasant."

Another lie, but it easily makes you settle down.

Chrollo continues, "You can choose to either come with me quietly or stay here and let the authorities deal with you. Considering that you used Nen, I believe that the Hunter Association will come after you as well."

He releases you, and goes back to leaning on the kitchen counter like before, casually sauntering there.

"Will you choose me or certain death?"

"Who the hell are you?"

With a smile, Chrollo summons Bandit's Secret and holds it up for your view. The sight makes your insides twist in fear. For the ethically ambiguous man, your reaction is simply amusing.

"Do you not know, dear? I'm your soulmate."

You scoff again, fists balled. "How much did you lie to me?"

"I didn't lie," he states, matter of fact. "I simply withheld information."

The look you give him is one of pure rage. Ah, what bliss. Being on the receiving end of such an expression just makes you more precious in his eyes.

"You wouldn't regret coming with me." Releasing the book in his hand, he relaxes his posture. "We can have a good time together. I don't bite."

"Yeah, but do you stab?"

Chrollo shrugs, a smug smile making the action all the more infuriating. Holding the knife up to your view, you make out its intricate design and all the detailing. It's probably one used by assassins and the like. What should you do?

Before he says something, you cut him off. "Honestly, I'd prefer you bite. That thing doesn't seem to be a pleasant thing to be stabbed with."

"I assure you that biting would come one way or the other. How else am I supposed to mark you? Show my love for you?"

"Are you serious," you deadpan.

"Why? Do you want me to bite you right now? First, premarital hand holding, now this? My, how forward of you, [Name]."

Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating.

"Setting the jokes aside," he says, "I'm primarily here to rid you of your Nen. You asked me, remember?"

As Chrollo slowly steps towards you, your eyes - widened and glossy - stay fixated on Bandit's Secret. When Chrollo stops just a step away, he opens an empty page, watching how apprehension and dread oozes from your being.

Cupping your face with his free hand, he takes the opportunity to rub his thumb on your cheek as he consoles you. He could even almost lick his lips at how innocently you hold eye contact with your glossy, frightened eyes.

"I'll be gentle, so don't worry."

The first thing he did after he drove you here was give you a long list of rules to follow. What you had deduced from them was that you're now powerless and what he says, goes. He even took your Nen. At least now you know what his ability is, and it's in no way pleasant.

The hotel room is oddly fancy, but for someone like him, it's a perfect fit. He didn't tell you much on the way here, only absolutely necessary information like the fact that you are no match for him in combat or any other way and that you’ll have to stay with him for a while if you don’t want the police on your tail.

Your phone is confiscated, the telephone in the room has its connection cut and he's glued you to himself by trapping you between his body and the armrest of the sofa.

If anything, the arm Chrollo has slithered around your waist is just proof that he did hold some sort of affection for you from the beginning.

"If you keep drilling holes into the floor like that, you'll get wrinkles very early from the frowning, dear."

He hears you scoff and despite the book from earlier in his hand, smiles to himself at the reaction.

"I would prefer growing old and wrinkly early than endure this."

"How unfortunate then."

"..."

Chrollo turns a page, eyes going through the words. He feels you deflate, the action prompting him to pull you closer. On your end, it goes unappreciated, for you glare at him from his side.

Hesitantly, Chrollo turns his head to look at you. "Are you mad at me?"

"Nope. Not at all." Sarcasm oozes from your tone, but it only riles him up further.

"Would you like to be?"

Perhaps his smile is what's ticking you off, but it's amusing and he isn't someone to pass up on that.

"No. I'd rather take the wrinkles."

"Wise choice."

Is he really this unbothered after essentially ruining you? For what reason did he inform the police and then proceed to hide you? Why is he acting as though the two of you have been in a relationship for months? How is he so casual?

Before more questions can flood your panicked mind, Chrollo closes his book and announces that it's time. For what? You have no idea.

Chrollo's idea of a first date was to bring you to a mafia hideout with nothing but the clothes on your person. It was mainly a way for him to showcase just how powerful he is and just how much disparity exists between the two of you in strength. If he earns your compliance and submission on the first night together, you wouldn't dare to ever leave him.

You did say you weren't opposed to the idea of a romantic relationship with him, so it should be easy earning your acquiescence and cooperation, correct?

No. You're absolutely horrified at the dead bodies. Chrollo thinks he may have earned your fear instead of submission. But aren't the two things the same in essence? Maybe Shopenhauer is rubbing off on him a little bit.

As Chrollo removes a pen from the dead man's skull, he eyes how you're supposedly holding in a scream. There was hardly any blood involved in the kill, so maybe your terror stems from the act and not the sight. No matter. The man he was targeting is near. It'll be over soon.

An arm slung around your shoulder, his eyes don't miss the way you flinch. Chrollo smiles at you reassuringly, sending you an implicit message that you can take it and you will take it quietly. You're his soulmate. Stomaching this is the least you can do.

Maybe he'll reward you with giving you some privileges for the time being. Perhaps some information and clarity? He didn’t tell you much, so any information he gives you will be appreciated. Well, it's not as though your reaction to hearing that you will now live with him will be a positive one.

Chrollo indifferently saunters through the corridor filled with dead bodies as though walking through a park. You hesitantly follow behind him, staying close as per his instructions. Having arrived at the target's office, Chrollo once again asks you to stay close.

It's precious how you cling to him like your life depends on it.

And it does. It absolutely does depend on him.

The door opens with a creak and the man inside clearly looks like he's seen a ghost. Trembling in fear, all he manages to do is whimper. Chrollo simply closes the door behind him, and wordlessly summons Bandit's Secret, smug at how your eyes widened at the sight of the book.

The idiot crawling on the ground knows what's coming, and he's unarmed so there's no threat to you both. Chrollo supposes that arrogant men like him are easier to take care of since they're too prideful to even keep a knife on their person.

Nonetheless, Chrollo browses through the collection of abilities thinking over what to use. You're standing right next to him, throat dry and possibly even feverish from the fear. The latter is evident from how your face looks flushed and pale.

Using an ability that would swap air with water inside his lungs wouldn't be fun since it would do a quick job. Piercing his body with multiple Nen blades and then burning his skin off would be too terrifying for your poor eyes. Killing him without Nen would be pointless because he wants you to see the possibilities of what he can do.

Hm. What to use. What to use. Maybe…

"Indoor fish."

Your eyes widen at the two fish like creatures that appear in the room, floating. Without removing his eyes from the man, Chrollo gives you a warning. "If you don't want to be eaten alive, you will need to be in physical contact with me, dear."

A lie, but he wants to see your reaction.

Despite you desperately grabbing his free hand, you immediately close your eyes shut out of trepidation. The action will make you miss the point of what he's doing, so Chrollo frees his hand and pulls you in front of him by the shoulder.

Book open in one hand and the other gripping your shoulder, he calmly tells you to watch carefully, not allowing you to close your eyes for even a second. He forces you to watch the man be eaten alive by the fish, his terrified screams echoing in your mind.

Is this feeling a good one? Chrollo wonders if he's feeling victorious over his target dying or over you learning to fear his capabilities.

Ah, he was right earlier. You are feverish. He pulled you to him, back touching his chest and when he cupped your cheek, he felt wetness along with the increased temperature of your body. This night may have been too much for you, but it'll be worth it.

When the fish have eaten everything except for the man's head and half his torso, Chrollo closes Bandit's Secret and watches as his body collapses into a sad pile of flesh. You stifle a scream at the sight, and Chrollo briefly wonders if you felt this when you killed a man yourself.

His curiosity won’t be sated for a while. You've collapsed as well, so he can't ask you now. Well, off to the hotel you go. If you wake up soon, he’ll simply act as though nothing of importance transpired in the past few hours. It should throw you off into lowering your guard.

…

Seems like your legs had given out, not your consciousness. Chrollo’s thought process goes on auto-pilot and before he realises, he’s on his knees as well. The absolutely terror-stricken look on your face stirs something within him; however, an urge to remove you from this death filled environment is trampled by the urge to ruin you further, the latter winning solely because he let it.

He had squashed the will to soothe you like an insignificant insect and failed to dig up any remorse for the action. Even now as you frantically try to regain your bearings, the only thing on Chrollo’s mind is that this outing has ensured that you will never step up to him, and it is absolutely imperative that you do not. The reason is something Chrollo adamantly refuses to acknowledge.

Thus, like he always has, he will steal everything from you. Even if you are his soulmate, his destined other half. From you, he will steal your future and entwine it with his own no matter how.

The domesticity of waking up your beloved as sunlight falls on their face. Ah, such bliss. The curtains aren’t completely drawn, so some rays of sunlight peak through the gaps and fall onto your face. It's a sight that Chrollo would have ingrained into his mind if he wasn't confident that he'd be seeing it again often.

It may be that his arrogance will be his downfall but why not uphold it for the time being?

If it does not aid in anything else, it certainly makes the moment you flutter your eyes open all the more rewarding.

It’s not like he woke you up. You roused from sleep all on your own, and now you’re staring at him in confusion. Like you’re still dreaming. A switch flips inside you and you recoil backwards, putting some distance.

You’re simply being dramatic. On your insistence he had to sleep on the sofa, yet now you have the gall to react this way? Preposterous!

“Good morning to you too, dear.”

Chrollo’s greeting is accompanied with a smug smile, and you seem to have to hold yourself back from spitting something unsavoury.

“You…!”

“Contrary to what you may be assuming, I assure you that I woke up on the sofa. I merely came here to wake you up, that’s all.”

You squint your eyes at him in assessment. “Did you?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Alright.” You settle down and sit yourself at the side opposite to which you woke up since it’s currently occupied by the man who’s become your captor. A question pops into your mind, and you voice it before you forget. “Chrollo, why do the pillows smell like my perfume?”

“...”

“It’s a little cree-”

“I forgot to get them washed.”

Sure he did.

In one smooth motion, Chrollo is on his feet and out of the room. However, he backtracks to the doorframe, giving you a sly look before he pulls out his trump card with the smirk of a man who knows he's won.

In your somewhat vulnerable state from having just woken up, your eyes slightly widen at how he leans against the doorframe, arm raised above his head and resting on the doorframe as well. When your eyes land on his halfway unbuttoned shirt and bare forehead beautifully accentuated with loose hair, you immediately look away, eyes still as wide as saucers.

Intrigued at the reaction, Chrollo makes a mental note to go through the list of quirks and actions he made while reading those books you like. Maybe the time wasn't wasted after all.

It’s past noon now, and the dark haired man who holds a book in his hand while leisurely manspreading on the sofa refuses to give you any information. Well, you did learn something new. Chrollo covered his forehead because of a tattoo. What that tattoo is, you don’t know because all that he gave you for an answer was a smile.

His original aim at seating himself so disorderly was to force physical contact between you both. After last night’s date, you had avoided speaking to him and graced him with yelling when he attempted to share the bed with you. He understands why you would want to build up a level of trust to sleep together, but why avoid confrontation?

It’s absurd. Even forcing you to sit on the other end was a hassle. He even went through the trouble of packing some of your belongings and bringing them over late into the night so that you would be more comfortable in the morning after having to sleep in the same clothes you had worn for an entire day.

Chrollo has an idea about the questions that are brewing in your mind, but figured that his considerate gesture would act as a breaking point that would lead to you giving in and talking.

However, observing how you blankly stare at the wall, Chrollo closes his book and takes matters into his own hands. He remains extra careful to keep his voice gentle to soothe you into a feeling of security, to make you believe that you are safe and that he will take care of you despite what he had demonstrated the previous night .

“Did I pack everything of importance?"

You don't bother moving a muscle when you reply. "Yeah."

Grey eyes narrow at your disinterested body language, deciding to poke and prod a little. "Alright. If I missed anything, tell me and I’ll get it by tonight.”

“If the police are looking for me, then why do you keep going back there?”

Bait taken.

Now, reel it in, Chrollo.

“Mm. Maybe,” he rests his cheek on his fist, back leaned on the armrest, “it’s because no one’s looking for you.”

Something snaps inside you, and Chrollo can’t decipher what emotion it is that you’re displaying with that expression. Breath caught in your throat, he can see your eyes start to accumulate tears, brows furrow in what he recognises as confusion, and teeth clench as a sign of rage. Is it fury that you are experiencing? Your eyes show sadness and brows confusion, so which is it?

“What… do you mean?”

Chrollo decides to answer your question, faking a pensive expression. “Well, I never informed the police of anything to begin with, so I’m certain that no one is looking for you.”

“No one?!” You’re closer now, right in front of him in fact. “Not even my family? My parents?”

“It’s hardly been a day.”

“Then why…”

He braces for your yelling, so he’s obviously surprised when your question comes out as a whisper instead.

“Then why did you do all that?”

Yes. Why did he? Why did he go through the trouble of cleaning up your mess and then lie to you about reporting it? Why did he choose this path when a relationship was inevitable considering your subtle yet clear interest in him?

Well, it’s quite simple actually.

“I wanted you all to myself.” Chrollo leans forward and closer to you before he continues. “Your existence is key to understanding myself. You still have nightmares about killing that man, don’t you? I can’t even remember the face of whoever’s life I’ve taken.”

His hand cups your cheek, and the action feels akin to a searing hot piece of iron being placed on your skin. It’s a detestable gesture at the moment but you let him do as he pleases.

“Such a fragile being is bound to me by fate. So fragile, in fact, that she has to justify her sin by calling the man guilty so as to not let her own guilt take over.”

You flinch at the mention of the murder, but Chrollo’s grip is merciless and he keeps you under his hand. As he keeps staring into your petrified eyes, he moves closer, and closer until all you can see are his eyes.

“Tell me, darling. How did he scream? Was it desperate or spiteful? Was the smell of blood intoxicating or revolting?”

“Stop it-”

“What went through your head as you watched him die? How did it feel to see his limbs fly away from his body?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

The first few tears that manage to escape are promptly wiped away by his other hand. Before he resumes his verbal onslaught, he makes it a point to grab your face with both hands and force you to look him in the eye.

“You’re no better than I am. You continued on with life as though nothing had happened. I can’t say I’m unimpressed.”

His half-hearted compliment causes you to do a complete 360 degree turn, and Chrollo realises that he has found a little foible that he can exploit. You’re too emotional if provoked even the slightest bit and always ready to declare what you’re feeling.

“If I never met you, then all that would never have happened!”

However, sometimes those declared feelings can sting worse than even the deepest cuts with lemon squeezed on top of it.

“So I am responsible for you deciding to kill someone?”

“You were the one to put those destructive uses of my Nen into my head. You… you orchestrated all this!”

Chrollo finally lets go of your face but doesn’t avert his eyes. If anything, he looks at you more attentively now.

“Pointing fingers usually is seen as an act of denying responsibility for your actions, but in this case your finger points to the real culprit. You've caught me. How many years must I now serve, judge [Name]?”

His comment infuriates you further. Clenching your fists, you gather all your malice and concentrate it in your glare, malice oozing from your very eye sockets.

“Chrollo Lucilfer,” you say, “I wish I died before ever having the misfortune of meeting you!”

“Unfortunately for you- wait.”

As much as the admittal hurts, Chrollo’s mind focuses on another pressing matter. He never told you his full name which can only mean…

“[Name], I’m afraid I'm cutting your little tantrum short and as much as I wanted to refrain from anything premarital, I hope you understand when I ask you this. Show me where my name is on your body.”

Like a little child, you protectively wrap your arms around your body, shaking your head profusely in rebellion. “No way!”

“Is it somewhere you don’t want me to see?”

“No!” You stop shaking but your arms are still the same. “It’s not there anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t seen it ever since I got here.”

Ah. That’s because you no longer have Nen. Unlike you, he can use it perfectly fine.

“Where,” Chrollo demands.

Begrudgingly, you turn around, arms now hanging at your sides and legs crossed. “It’s… on my lower back. You can have a look but only this once.”

Hesitantly, Chrollo lifts the fabric of your shirt, unsure of what he may see despite knowing exactly what he will. His eyes widen at the sight. His name, Chrollo Lucilfer, is right there on the small of your back. As though in disbelief, he traces each letter with his index finger, ignoring the way you shiver at the touch.

“Hey, Chrollo?” Voice meek, you don’t turn your head to look at him, speaking sitting as you are. “Why did you lie to me about the police?”

His eyes don’t budge from the sight of his name. “To be frank, I wanted to see your reaction.”

“If your little prank is over, can I go home? I’m sure my parents are worried.”

Somehow, the mention of your family causes an ugly feeling to bloom in Chrollo’s chest. He covers you with your shirt, eyes still fixed on your lower back. Chrollo will try again, and this time he will be clear.

“I’m afraid that you’ll be living with me from now on.”

#yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucifer x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hunter x reader

829 notes · View notes

yanderecrazysie · 2 months

Note

Could you do yandere hantengu clones x reader? Thanks

Title: The Winner Takes It All

Pairings: Hantengu Clones (Sekido, Karaku, Aizetsu, Urogi) x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, descriptions of death

Summary: Maybe you weren’t meant to be a demon slayer. Either way, you’ve bitten off way more than you can chew.

“The winner takes it all

The loser's standing small

Beside the victory

That's her destiny”

-From “The Winner Takes It All” by ABBA

The trees seem to press in on you, their tall branches arching over your head to cage you in. The darkness is all-consuming- inky blackness coats everything outside of the light of the village. The light is brighter than it should be, seeing as many of the buildings are ablaze, the fire casting flickering shadows across the dead grass.

The wood of the houses is dry from the lack of rain and catches fire like boxes of tinder. The inhabitants run screaming from the area, praying that they will reach the next village over and find refuge there. After all, their home is no longer safe.

The air is thick with the scent of demons.

You watch as your crow flies off, back to the safety of the demon slayer corp headquarters. Hopefully, it will return with a hashira, instead of more lower ranks like you and the only other two slayers that still stand.

There had been twenty-something of you to start.

Blood coats the ground in puddles and splatters. The bodies of demon slayers and villagers alike litter the streets and are picked apart by rats. Neither the innocent villagers nor the trained warriors were sufficiently prepared for this battle.

The two slayers that stand are both young men, a rank or two above you at most. You do not know them, but you beg the gods to keep them alive. It’s not for their sake, no, it’s a selfish wish.

You don’t want to be alone.

Chaos rages through the village from four completely different sources. The initial demon has disappeared, the false excitement of taking off his head long since faded. He was, no doubt, alive and hiding somewhere as the four new demons that had come from the beheading wreaked havoc on the burning village.

You want to go back to the headquarters, where it was safe, and find a job that didn’t involve actually fighting man-eating demons anymore. You had cut off the heads of 47 demons, but none of them had been a part of the 12 kizuki, much less an upper moon.

You had seen the “Upper Rank Four” kanji written on his wide red eyes as he begged and pleaded to keep his head. Such a pathetic demon didn’t seem to fit in the upper ranks, and it seemed like it would be a quick execution.

Now, you wish none of you had fallen for that trap. From his head grew another and another until four completely different, extremely powerful demons were wielding their destructive power on the helpless village.

“Hey!” a voice sounds above you, one filled with a boundless joy that does not belong here, “Isn’t that the girl Hantengu’s always watching?”

Slowly, you look up. You’re the only girl around, there’s no doubt in your mind that you’re the topic on his tongue, but you wallow in denial. Hantengu? Isn’t that the name of the whiny demon we were sent to slay?

Above you, flapping his wings, is one of the four demons that now plague this village. His golden eyes stare playfully down at you, his mouth open in a smile so wide that you can see the word “joy” written in black on his tongue.

“I’m so excited! I’ve always wanted to meet you!” Suddenly, the half-bird man is folding his wings and diving straight down at you, cackling gleefully.

You swing your sword upwards desperately but he dodges the blow with ease, his hands- or, rather, his talons, grip your shoulders and rip you off the ground with a kick that sends dust flying and the pair of you into the air.

You have nothing to grab onto but your sword and it takes all you have to hold onto that when the shock of your feet leaving the ground hits you. His talons dig into your skin through your uniform, the nails thick and sharp. Unable to do much else, you let him do what he wants.

He flies to the tallest building’s roof and drops you a few feet above it. You land awkwardly and feel a pain shoot through your ankle as you struggle to find purchase on the slanted ground. Finally, you come to a stop near the edge, heart pounding as you take your sword in both hands and glare at the avian man soaring high above you in the night sky.

A clang startles you and you swing around to face yet another demon. This one has red eyes that glare daggers through your very soul, and his Khakkhara staff bangs ominously against the shingles of the flat roof he stands upon.

He looks much less friendly than the bird-man and suddenly you wish you were in the air again.

Even worse, the other two demons approach from your left and right respectively. The golden-eyed joyful bird-man lands behind you, so that you are completely surrounded by the demon clones.

“You have a good eye, Urogi,” the demon to your left speaks to the bird-like demon with a grin. He has emerald green eyes and carries an Uchiwa, which you recognize as the reason behind most of the destruction in the village houses. You remember him waving the innocent-looking leaf and wrecking a huge hole through several homes at once with just the air alone.

He catches your eye and sticks out his tongue playfully. You are able to easily read the word “pleasure” written on his tongue and cringe in disgust. He laughs, “Aww, she’s so cute! I just want to eat her up!”

The red-eyed demon with the deadly glare raises his Khakkhara and looks down on you with disdain, “I’ll finish her off quickly.”

You prepare for death, closing your eyes and forcing back tears. If only a hashira had come…

“But won’t Hantengu be sad?” a soft voice asks. You open your eyes and look over at the demon to your right. He has big, sorrowful eyes and he looks down, carefully avoiding your gaze.

The scary red-eyed demon holds his Khakkhara in the air, mercifully keeping it from touching the ground and releasing the electric bolts that had spelled the end for several other demon slayers. He lets out an angry huff and his glare turns even crueller, “Maybe he will be happy to see her in pieces.”

“No, he loves her!” the blue-eyed demon insists.

“What demon loves a human?” the red-eyed demon questions in disgust.

“The one we split off of apparently,” the green-eyed demon snickers, taking the information in stride, “‘means we can’t kill her, Sekido.”

“Fine, kill the remaining two scum,” the red-eyed demon, Sekido, commands.

Urogi spreads his wings and cackles, “Gladly!”

“With pleasure,” the green-eyed demon agrees.

The two of them leap off of the tall building, landing uninjured on the ground far below and charging the other two demon slayers. You watch in horror as Urogi opens his mouth, a yellow light glowing brightly in his mouth, paired with a feral screech from his throat before shooting out and hitting the two men square in the face. They fall back, paralyzed, completely helpless as the green-eyed demon descends upon them and…

You look away as the first blood splatter hits the ground. You can’t stand to watch them in their final moments, torn literally limb from limb. There is no hope for them. You know before the final scream that they are doomed to die.

Your trembling legs give way beneath you and you fall to your knees. You slide a little closer to the edge and you almost wish you would fall to your death. Surely that would be quicker than whatever these demons have planned for you.

The sounds of squishing flesh and splashing blood fills your ears. Tears drip down your cheeks and fall from your chin. You’re truly alone now. Or, rather, you’re the only human around.

“Hey, do you think Master Muzan will let us keep her?” an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you close. You look up tearfully and shudder when you see the pleasure demon looking down at you with excitement.

“How sad, maybe she would prefer death,” the sad demon says, “I fear that we may break her.”

The red-eyed demon walks up to you and grips your chin tightly, tilting it upwards so he can study you. He is quiet for a moment or two before he lets you go.

“I can’t deny she is quite attractive,” he admits, angry frown still not leaving his face.

“So we can keep her?” the green-eyed demon asks.

“Ahh, my heart is singing with joy!” Urogi crows, “She’ll be ours forever!”

“Until she dies, of course…” the blue-eyed demon moans sadly.

“Don’t be stupid,” the angry demon huffs, “Master Muzan will turn her into a demon.”

“What a sad fate…”

Urogi smiled widely, “Well, why not begin forever now?” He turned to you, smile morphing into a smirk, “Sorry red riding hood, the big, bad wolf is winning this time around.”

He opened his mouth and a yellow light began to glow inside it.

In a moment, you’d be unconscious and completely at his mercy.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere demon slayer #demon slayer

61 notes · View notes

mendesbadrepuation · 1 year

Text

Oops! Wrong Jersey *Joe Burrow*

Description: Joe gets a little eager while you two are sneaking around after practice. You two try to stay under the radar, but almost get caught by more than one person.

Pairing: joe burrow x female reader

Warnings: a little bit of jealousy Joe, possessive Joe, there is a teeny tiny feature of choking but nothing out the wazoo, alludes to smuuutttt! ;)

A/n: this is totally based off his press conference he had this week of him wearing the wrong jersey. I will be adding Mr. King of the North to my masterlist!

Enjoy everyone!! :))

•••••••••••••••••••

This whole scenario started the moment you entered the practice field. You chose to make some cupcakes for Tee’s birthday and bring them up to the field for him to enjoy after practice. Of course, you made enough for everyone and truthfully that was a lot of cupcakes. Joe had helped you a little bit. He mostly would smear icing on your face and then try to lick it off. Which would then lead to the two of you making out and almost burning the cupcakes.

So when Joe spotted you walking in to one of the meeting rooms with all the cupcakes he couldn’t help but reminisce from last night. Practice had officially ended but he obviously had one thing on his mind. You.

Tee came up to you to give you the biggest hug and thank you for the cupcakes. He immediately dug into them. You were flattered by all the compliments and soon some of the other guys began to get a taste.

“I thought you were going to take these to his party later tonight.” Joe comes up behind you, placing his large hands firmly on your hips. His lips lightly place a kiss on your cheek. He looks at Tee who just rolled his eyes at Joe. It wasn’t uncommon for Joe to remind the boys that you belong to him.

“I was but he wanted me to bring my special dip instead. The one I made for preseason.” You answer him and watch as he reaches for a cupcake.

“Can I help you make it later?” He asks and you see that playful smirk appear on his face. You watch as he takes a bite of the cupcake and his eyes roll into the back of his head. Oh the things that boy did to you.

“Joe Burrow.” Your voice has that tone of warning in it. He continues eating the cupcake until it’s completely gone. You stare at him as he licks each of his fingers clean while only looking at you.

Instead of feeding into his playful antics you simply turn around to say a farewell to everyone. You knew you’d be seeing them in a couple of hours anyways. Joe follows hot on your trail as you began to walk down the hallway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Joe questions you.

“Home.” You shortly reply.

“Why so soon?” He pouted and he ran to stand in front of you to get you to stop.

“I have a dip to make for one of my favorite Bengal’s player.” You respond with the most smug smirk plastered on your face. It could not resist playing with him. Sometimes he made it too easy for you.

Joe looks around the hallway to see if anyone was watching. He grabs ahold of your sides and practically shoved you through an open door. You take a look around the room before he slams the door shut.

“Is there a reason you just shoved me into the ice room?” You ask.

“Can you please repeat to me the last sentence you said? The one about making the dip.” He refers to that particular sentence that you knew would set him off.

If there was one thing about Joe it’s that he was very possessive. He was cocky in a way that never went too far. He didn’t get the nickname Joe Cool for nothing. However, when he found you and you two decided to date. Sharing was never an option. He especially didn’t like it when you would talk about favorites. Joe was a believer that he was your only favorite.

“You mean the one about making dip for one of my favorite Bengal’s player.” There was a certain innocence in your voice that just drove Joe up a wall.

“Need I remind you that you have only one favorite.” He starts walking towards you and you walked backwards to tease him a little more. That was until your back hit the wall and he traps you against it. A puff of air escaped you when he places his hands back on your hips and pushes you further against the concrete.

“I might need some help remembering.” You tilt your head up to properly look at him now. His nose and lips were still a little red from being outside in the cold weather. His hair was tossed in different directions from the rain and him having the helmet on.

Slowly, Joe takes his right hand up from your hips, to your waist, and through the valley of your breasts. He stops at the base of your neck where his fingertips lightly trace the start of your collarbone. The moment Joe wraps his incredibly large hand around your throat an excitement erupts in your chest. Your heart began to beat rapidly. Joe slides his knee between your legs to spread them apart. He presses his lower half against yours where you felt the hard bulge in his pants.

Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. A small, barely audible moan slips from your mouth. “Joe.” You whisper his name as he moves only a small amount that still created a little friction you were craving.

He presses his ring finger and thumb directly against those pressure points that made you dizzy with pleasure. His index finger pushes under your jaw to tilt your head up.

“Look at me when you say my name.” Joe commands. Your eyes connect with his in obedience. “Good girl.” He adds.

Joe leans in and ever so softly presses a kiss to your jaw. You felt his hand that was on your hip slide under your shirt to where it touched your already hot skin. He begins to make a trail of kisses down your jaw and then to your neck. His mouth lingers in a spot and he sucks gently. Your sensitive skin was already bruising. He blows cold air over the new spot and you felt your knees buckle.

The moment Joe connects your lips with his it was like you two hadn’t touched each other in decades. Your hands automatically wrap around to the back of his neck to pull him closer if it was possible. He presses his body into yours to where there was no gap between you two now. When his thigh rubbed against your middle another moan escaped you. You push your fingers through his hair and tug slightly earning a small sigh from him.

The hand that was around your neck slides down until he cups your breast and massages. You began to squirm under his touch with only wanting more. He takes his lips away from yours and you pout at the loss of contact. He resumes back to your neck but quickly goes down to your chest.

“This is in my way.” Joe states and tugs on your thin shirt.

“Do something about it then.” You say a little annoyed with him stopping for that.

Joe takes both his hands and grabs the collar of your shirt. He pulls apart the material ripping it down the middle. A loud gasp escapes you at his ruthless actions.

“Joe!” You shout his name as the shredded shirt lands in the floor.

He covers your mouth with his hand to silence you. “Shh! Do you wanna get caught?” He asks.

You pull his hand off your lips to whisper. “No. But Joe I-“

The doorknob rattles and startles you both. Joe instinctively covers you with his body. “Joe are you in there?” You hear Ja’Marr behind the door.

“Yeah man. I’m just trying to ice.” Joe replies and he was looking at you. His hand found its way back over your mouth.

“Why is the door locked?” He asks him.

“I Uh don’t have any pants on. Didn’t want someone walking in on me.” He thinks of the best excuse he could.

“Well put your pants back on. You have a press conference.” Joe’s head just drops in defeat.

“Okay I’ll be right there.” Joe says. You both wait for about a minute and Joe puts his hand down.

“I don’t have another shirt!” You whisper shout at him. He looks around for something that you could wear. He luckily still had his practice jersey on so he pulls it over his head to hand it to you.

“Here.” He hands you his jersey and you take it from him sliding it on your body. It swallowed you whole but it at least covered you up. “We’ll finish this later.” He winks at you and opens the door letting you walk out first.

“I knew it.” Ja’Marr was standing next to the wall and he has the biggest smirk on his face. When he sees what you have on and the material in Joe’s hand his face turns up in disgust. “You two are disgusting.”

You and Joe both laugh at being caught. “I’ll meet you at home. Hurry up.” You tell Joe and he has a cute smile on his face. He leans down to plant a kiss on your lips lingering a little longer.

After that he runs back to the locker room to find his other jersey. He puts on the first one he sees near his locker and runs back out to where the conference was being held. Joe sat down and took in a deep breath from all the running.

“Did you change your number Joe?” One of the interviewers ask. Joe was confused and looks down at the jersey to see he did in fact pick up the wrong number.

This boyish grin lands on his face and he lets out a laugh. “Well I guess i put the wrong one on.” He responds.

A few of the guys were standing off to the side where only Joe could see them. Ja’Marr leans in to whisper something to them and they erupt into fits of laughter. Joe was smiling still with red cheeks from what really happened. Now all he could picture was you in his jersey.

Ja’Marr points to his head and Joe was not understanding at first. Until he realized how you always will tug at his hair. He had sex hair as some would call it.

Joe clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair. He continues to get questions asked and he truly did try to pay attention. You were all he could think about and it only made him more antsy. He knew that he was going to show you who your only favorite truly was when he got home.

His phone buzzes in the chair in between his legs. No one else could see what he was looking at but him. He briefly looks down and sees your contact name with an image attached.

‘I’m waiting for you…’ he looks up casually answering a question and then looks back to see a glimpse of the picture. A picture of you in that jersey and there was nothing on underneath it.

Joe swallows thickly at the sight of you. His leg begins to bounce in anticipation. Needless to say he did not pay attention for the rest of the press conference.

#joe burrow #joe #cincinnati bengals #joe x reader

795 notes · View notes

my-soupy-brain · 7 months

Note

it’s been so cold and ive been thinking about warming up via soft lovemaking with ted. nice candles burning. his warm hands all over your body. he smells cozy because he’s just been baking biscuits.

OK, we all need this. I know I need this. This description alone put me in a warm, fuzzy, sexy place. So let's goooo!

---

Relationship: Ted Lasso x reader (f)

Warnings: Fluff + light, tender smut

---

You walked in the door of your flat after a long day.

Trudged through a cold rain.

Long meetings and lots of conflicts at work left your brain a little mushy.

But as soon as your nose hit the doorway you could smell the buttery biscuits Ted was making for the week. And your cares melted away.

He looked up to see your drenched hair in the doorway, the rain-tattered clothes clinging to your body, and how your face looked a little forlorn from a long day.

"Hey there, sugar," Ted says gently, approaching you with open arms.

"Oh, Teddy... I don't wanna get you all wet and cold like me," you say and Ted shakes his head, pulling you into his chest and kissing the side of your head gently.

He holds you for a minute and squeezes tighter. You can smell his cologne, how warm and broad his chest is... you kiss his neck gently and he closes his eyes.

"Why don't you go put your things down, change, I'll draw you a bath..."

Your heart could literally burst from how much you love this man.

In minutes you're sinking into a hot bath, with lavender bubbles, a book in your hand. Ted peeks in and sees you, but you don't know it. He admires your eyes scanning the pages, your knees poking out of the water, your skin warm and wet.

When you leave the bath, the bedroom has candles lit, low lighting, the bed sheets pulled back and Ted waiting in one of his undershirts.

Yummy.

You smile as you approach the bed and Ted pats your side. You crawl in, wrapped in your towel, and Ted rolls toward you gently, his hand slowly undoing the knot in the front to open it under the blanket.

"There we go," he says with a low, husky voice, his big, warm hands coasting up and down your waist and hips, up your back, and through your damp hair.

"You're so beautiful, darlin'," Ted murmurs, his lips leaning into your neck where he kisses you ever-so-gently while his arms pull you closer to his body. You drape a leg between his and can't help the movement your hips make against him.

"Mmm," he hums, his arousal turning his touch a little greedy, his kiss needy.

"I'm feelin' awfully warmed up, baby," you whisper to him with a smile and he smiles back, his mustache running up and down your neck, his lips against your ear.

"I ain't done with you yet, sugar," he whispers, his hands still traveling your body. "Smell so good, I could eat ya right up."

Soft moans, heavy breaths. Ted's fingers dance down your stomach between your legs, making him growl when he feels how turned on you are for him. Only him.

It's ever only been him.

Life with Ted is perfect in every way. You're growing together. Learning together.

And you fit together perfectly in every way. And this one included.

When he rolls atop you, nestled between your legs, you look up at him with admiration, cupping his face and kissing him gently as he pushes in.

There's no hurry. No place to be.

The rain patters against the window outside on a cold London night.

Biscuits are cooling in the kitchen.

You belong to each other right now, and that's just fine.

His hands hold your body close, touching you gently, grabbing soft, rounded flesh he loves. You were so self-conscious about parts of your body until you met Ted Lasso, who worships every part of you, just like this.

Your hips move together at a measured pace, soft, slow lovemaking the way he loves it. But you love it, too. No wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. Not with Ted.

His lips return to your neck, kissing, sucking, his breath hot on your ear as he moans for you.

"I love you," you whisper, and he smiles, another moan from his soft lips, as his hips move a little faster. You lace your fingers with his by your head and his heart could explode at the sight.

"I love you, too, my sweet girl," he breathes. As you arch your back and raise your hips to meet his thrusts, the reach deepens inside you, pulling you toward the edge of pleasure.

His dark hazel eyes watch every breath from your lips, the blush in your cheeks rising, the quickness of your breath.

"That's it, sugar. Get there, feel good," he whispers to you, and that sends you tumbling into ecstasy, your legs tightening around him as you clench around his cock.

"Oh, God," he murmurs, feeling you release.

"Ted, oh...oh, baby...yes, just like that..." you answer, and he keeps moving, keeps pushing, harder.

And as your fingernails drag lightly down his back and then down his chest, through the thatch of chest hair that makes you feral, he moans your name and his thighs tighten as he spills into you.

Another breath. Big smiles. Gentle kisses. You lay Ted on your chest and pull the blanket over his back. His warm body on yours is the best cure for a long, tired day.

It's heaven.

"I love hearin' your heartbeat," he says softly, smiling to himself.

"Yeah? Well it beats the most for you, Teddy," you whisper in reply, your fingers threaded through his hair.

His lips kiss your neck again, your cheeks, your lips.

"Want help slicin' up those biscuits, babe?" you ask and he chuckles softly.

"That sounds good. And then how about take-out and a movie?"

You nod, as if he read your mind.

"Perfect."

"But a few more minutes like this," he asks, and you tighten an arm around him, wrapping your legs around him, tangled like a mass of lovely flesh.

"Even more perfect."

---

*sigh* That's all I can say. *sigh* Oh how lovely would this be. I love soft, cozy-sex Ted. I think he may be my favorite. Thanks for the prompt, friend!

#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fluff #ted lasso x you #ted lasso smut

82 notes · View notes

deathsimage · 1 year

Text

Awakening (part 3)

Ghost x Reader (18+ / NSFW)

Part 2: here

Description: essentially Ghost obviously hasn’t been intimate with anyone for a long time, until now. With you. You awaken a beast in him, practically turning him into a hungry alpha that can’t keep his mind off of you.

Content: cock warming, piss kink, fingering, over stimulation, squirting

Note: this is by far the nastiest part so get your pearls to clutch (last part btw)

Grasping a glass of bourbon in his hand with his mask pushed up just above his nose to toss back the burning liquid down his throat to extinguish the fury in him; but it wasn’t working.

You knock on his door, only hearing silence. He’s ignoring whoever is at the door, assuming you, Soap, or Price. You just knock harder, practically beating on the door. “Simon! I know you’re in there! Talk to me!” Still nothing. Thankfully you’re trained in breaching so you just kick the door open since it was locked. Obviously surprised, Simon turns to see you, silently staring at you.

“Simon what the hell was that?” You slam the door shut behind you. He’s still silent. You walk up to him and punch him in the chest. “Simon talk to me!”

He glares down at you, completely unfazed by the hit to his chest. “you didn’t hear what they said..”

“So? You’ve never cared what people say before”

“It was about you.”

“So? I don’t care.”

“I do!” He snapped

“..why?”

“No one talks about my girl.”

Silence..

You smirk up at him “..your girl?” You say as you step up closer to him, placing your hands on his chest.

His chest is rising and falling with deep annoyed breaths, but within a second his glass of whiskey is thrown to the floor and his hand is around your throat, his foot sweeping your feet from under you in one swift motion, pinning you back against the couch. His mask is moved up just above his nose from where he was drinking, now only inches away from your face.

“Yes. Mine.” He practically growled, causing you to shiver

“Yeah…yours.” You look up at him with longing, waiting for him to kiss you. “I’m all yours Simon..you can have me.”

His lips finally crash into yours, his hand leaving your throat to help the other hand working on your pants to get them off. Within a few minutes the only sound to be heard is the squelching of your pussy against his fingers as his two middle fingers slam into your cunt. “Your pussy belongs to me. Understand?” He growled

“Yes Simon!” You’re practically shaking, back arching off the couch as he holds your chest down with the other hand, his hips between your legs to keep them open while he fingers you relentlessly.

“uh uh. Yes, what?”

“Yes sir! My pussy is yours Lieutenant!”

“That’s my good girl”

The sensation of his palm smashing against your clit every time his fingers slammed back into you made stars spark in your blurred vision. Your toes curled as your legs were forced open by his hips that your knees were bent over. Back arching up off of the couch, your nails dig into the skin of his biceps as your body shakes, high pitched whimpers coming from your lips as you feel yourself reach your orgasm.

He’s chuckling, looking down at his hand that’s glistening even more than it would be normally from just the slick of your cum. Your brain isn’t processing what happened yet, your mind still foggy from the world shattering orgasm you were coming down from.

“Simon?..” you say breathlessly, confused as to why he’s chuckling. Does he find your dumb fucked state cute or someth- oh..oh, you feel it now.

“tt, tt, tt.” He clicks his tongue as he shakes his head “such a bad girl, squirting all over daddy’s couch and even my jeans.”

You- you squirted on him.

You feel your face heat up with embarrassment until his fingers leave your pussy, making you whimper at the empty sensation. Watching him lick his hand clean like he was savoring the most heavenly taste to ever touch his tastebuds, made you blush even harder if it was possible.

“Im sorry sir..” you whisper

He chuckles and looks down at you until he realizes you’re actually embarrassed. “Oh baby doll, no it’s perfectly okay. In fact, I love it.” He gets up off of the couch, kneeling down and pulling your hips to him, pulling your legs open to lick up between your folds, slurping up all of your juices. This made you yelp at the overstimulation, and just from the pure lewdness of the sound from his lips and tongue attached to your soaking pussy.

“Such a good girl for me..” he says as he gets up, lightly tapping the inside of your thigh. “But you still threw a punch at your superior officer. So, in the floor, on your knees. Now.” he commanded, his erection obviously painfully pressed against the zipper of his jeans.

He won’t let you put your panties back on or go clean up, he loves the sight of you like this, especially knowing it’s from him just makes him higher than any drug ever could.

You’re on your knees in front of him with his cock in your mouth, your cheek laying on his thigh as he just watches tv. It’s been an hour or so of him just making you hold his cock in your mouth, not allowing you to do anything else or he yanks your hair and lightly slaps your cheek. He stretches his arms and he groans, looking down at you as he moves to grab the back of your neck. “Sorry love..but I gotta piss.” You start to pull yourself off of him so he can go to the bathroom but his grip tightens, making you look up at him confused with your mouth still stuffed with his cock.

“I didn’t say you could move.”

Your eyes widen, a deep blush on your cheeks as you know where this is going, but the little purr you give against his cock gives him the green light. Letting himself release inside of your mouth, the liquid draining and dripping from your mouth that’s suctioned around his cock, running down the base of his cock and down his balls. Your eyes watered a bit at your mouth and throat being so full, but your eyes fluttered up to his, his palm pressing against your cheek. He lets out a small moan at the sight, wishing he had recorded it to save it forever, but that’s okay, because this wouldn’t be the last time. He exhales deeply at the release, his palm resting on your cheek, his thumb softly rubbing over the soft skin.

“Good girl..you can get up now. Let’s go clean up. You’ve earned it.”

#ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod #cod ghost #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod smut #cod x reader

174 notes · View notes

stranded-labyrinth · 1 year

Note

Hey could you please recommend your favorite hannigram fanfics? sorry if you already mentioned it <3

i'd be happy to! :] keep in mind that these all differ in rating, but i've linked them so you can see the ratings and tags for yourself

Love is Blind by meraki_arcane is one that isn't finished, but i still love it. it was one of the first Hannibal fics i read, actually! it's about Hannibal being a sort of gorgon creature that a village sacrifices people to in order to keep his wrath from destroying them, but when Will gets sacrificed to him, he lives to tell the tale.

each according to its kind by chaparral_crown is one of my all time favorites. it follows a plotline i absolutely love in Hannibal fics, in which after Will gets released from the BSHCI, he decides he's had enough of everyone and moves away without telling a soul where he's gone. this leads to Hannibal trying to use any clue he can find to find and reunite with Will. it's a longer read, but in my opinion it's so worth it. i absolutely love the depiction of Will's father (and how both Grahams end up punching Hannibal in the face, but that's besides the point)

Keep Me Warm by nbcravenstag is another all time favorite! this one is a one shot, in which Will ends up stuck in the cold for a while, and by the time he comes home, Hannibal gets stuck in a PTSD flashback in which he thinks he has to keep his sister warm.

A Clutch at Balance by Devereuxs_Disease is one i haven't read in a while, but i remember thinking it was hilarious. this is basically a fake dating AU where Hannibal comes up with a "plan" to pretend to date Will so that Will may prove to Alana that he is a perfectly stable and capable partner. you can guess where this goes.

Bram Stoker's HANNIBAL by DBMars, another lengthy read that i would be remiss not to add to this list. as i'm sure you can imagine, it follows the plotline of Bram Stoker's Dracula, with various Hannibal characters in place of the book characters. it's still in progress, but it's easy to become obsessed with it.

Family of Strays by justheretoreadhannibalfics is perfect for people who love Dark!Will who was dark before he even met Hannibal it essentially follows Will collecting fledgling killers like strays, adding them to a little "family" in which he'll look out for all of them in exchange for a favor someday. Hannibal ends up catching onto this phenomenon, and seeks to find out more about this mystery man that his young animalistic patient has latched onto.

take my hand (show me to the door) by antiheroblake is a hurt/comfort one shot i occasionally come back to. it follows post-fall Hannigram, in which Will has yet to take off his wedding ring from his marriage to Molly, and the feeling it gives Hannibal is akin to a cursed object that scorches his skin with every touch. obviously, Hannibal being Hannibal, good decisions are not made.

Provoking the Lamb by nbcravenstag is a very smutty fic for people who love the idea of post-fall Hannigram being the ones to remove and serve Bedelia's leg, with Will and Bedelia being their bitchy selves to each other. essentially, Bedelia provokes a very potent jealousy in Will, and he decides to take matters into his own hands to remind her which of them truly belongs at Hannibal's side.

Hosanna in the Highest by Cynthia_Cross, a hurt-no-comfort Hannibal whump that scratched every itch in my brain i didn't know was there. with the most vivid descriptions of senses you can imagine, it follows post-fall Will trying to take care of Hannibal's injuries, with both of them realizing how easily Will accepts this position of power over him. the ending hit me like a goddamn bus, whatever i thought was coming, it wasn't that, and yet i was absolutely not disappointed.

i saw your burning body, waiting by antiheroblake, some nice post-fall injury angst. Will is recovering a lot better than Hannibal is, given the nature of their injuries. Will felt it almost just to let him suffer in his delirium, until he finally decides to check on him.

Crime of Passion by sourweather listen to me. listen. i do not typically like A/B/O fics, much less Hannigram ones, because they typically involve just about every fic thing that i can't stand. this fic, however, is the one A/B/O fic that i've not only enjoyed, but have come back to repeatedly. it's a fake dating trope with alpha Will and omega Hannibal, and it's just so perfect to me.

Only When You're Near by sourweather an angsty post-fall fic where Hannibal realizes Will not only has been sleeping extremely poorly, but also refuses to leave his side. Hannibal fears that Will is either unhappy with their life together or thinks that he doesn't have freedom to move as he pleases, only for the actual reason to be somehow more heartwrenching, but something that can be dealt with.

Hold Me, Don't Let Go by sourweather post-fall Will realizes that Hannibal has probably not had solid physical contact with another person in an incredibly long time. heartbroken, he seeks to remedy that immediately

something of the wolf about you by nbcravenstag a werewolf!Will AU, specifically involving Louisiana's Rougarou mythology. love me some solid worldbuilding

The Lamb and His Monster by petrodactyl352 i can't not include petro's fic here. this follows Will and Hannibal in Florence around the 90s, both of them students, meeting in the Uffzi gallery and becoming obsessed with one another. Will gets asked by his professor to help consult on Il Mostro cases, all while the very beast is courting him.

Prescription for Judas by Artemiaz post-fall, Will still can't come to terms with his complicated feelings for Hannibal. he shouldn't enjoy his presence, he shouldn't be comfortable around him. when it gets brought up, Hannibal challenges this idea, as per usual, and suggests that the two must navigate each other's pain in order to enjoy their compassion.

SnowStorm by reflectiveless Hannibal happens to stop by Will's house just before a snowstorm hits and the power goes out, sending Hannibal deep into a PTSD flashback. Will does everything he can to make sure the man is comfortable, even while Hannibal is cowering in his closet.

Scent of a Woman by Devereuxs_Disease post-fall, Will had thought things would grow more intimate between them. instead, Hannibal comes home with tattered clothes, smelling of jasmine perfume. Will handles that exactly as expected.

Room For Two by Devereuxs_Disease a delicious crackfic where Hannibal ensured that he, Will, and Jack would be stranded by a motel during a case, with only two rooms available with one bed each. his plans are foiled when Jack decides that he and Will shall room together, and Hannibal must improvise. i couldn't stop laughing through this one.

touch me, i'm cold (unable to control) by Naomi_Riddle this one is just starting out, but i'm already obsessed. Hannibal's a bit in-denial about his own need for intimate contact in any way, especially with Will, even when Abigail clocks his feelings. surely having the two move in with him won't complicate things for him, right?

settling the score by honeybeebear i tell you, the Hannigram fistfight-to-smut pipeline is insane. this fic does that beautifully.

i went through all my bookmarks to try and grab my favorites, hope you enjoy! :]

187 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 1 year

Text

My Best Friend (30) (End)

[modern! club owner • Aemond x fem!reader]

[warnings: kissing and fluff so none?]

[description: Aemond has his own club and often does business at the home of one of his business associates. There he often meets his younger sister, with whom he develops a deeper relationship through shared secrets. This is slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

This series has a sequel under a different title, My Beloved Nymph, which you can read here: Part 1

______

Y/N and Aemond were sleeping in each other's arms as the sun went down when the phone rang suddenly. Y/N reached for her cell phone, surprised, rubbing her eyes.

"What happened?" She asked, trying to clear her mind quickly.

“Police searched an apartment which belongs to Albert for drugs and found it well hidden under the floorboards. However, they found a lot of your photos on his computer." She heard Marcus' voice. Her heart was pounding like crazy. Aemond must have heard what he said because he pushed himself up on his elbows, his eye wide with disbelief. “You have to come to the police station to make a statement. I'll be there in about half an hour, don't say anything until I get there."

Y/N and Aemond got dressed in a hurry, looking at each other alarmingly. Aemond didn't say anything, but he wondered who had tipped off the police about the drugs in his apartment, and how they'd even found out about it. He wondered if Marcus and his men had anything to do with it.

They got in the car and drove to the police station. Marcus and Klaus were already waiting for them there. Marcus smiled reassuringly at Y/N as he hugged her.

“I told you we would catch this peace of shit. Come, I'll prepare you for the conversation."

Aemond and Klaus waited impatiently outside the room where Y/N and Marcus were talking to the policeman. Klaus, as her brother, had also been questioned about this earlier. The minutes dragged on and on until finally the door opened and Y/N walked out of the room, pale, followed by Marcus.

"You did well." He complimented her, but she just pursed her lips and nodded. Aemond, seeing the look on her face, suggested they come over for some warm tea. They walked over to the vending machine, and Aemond spoke immediately.

"What happened? What did they tell you?" He asked, feeling his heart pounding with stress. Y/N swallowed softly.

“They showed me pictures on his computer. There were pictures not only of me from a distance, but also of me sleeping, pictures of the inside of my room, of my lockers." She shuddered at the thought. Aemond's jaw tightened at her words. “He took pictures of me through the window while I was changing. At night when the light was on."

Aemond exhaled softly, trying to control himself. He was furious, but glad that the police finally got their hands on him. He hoped he wouldn't get out on bail. He stroked her shoulder comfortingly and kissed the top of her head.

"Go to Klaus. I want to talk alone with Marcus." He said calmly. Y/N looked at him surprised but nodded. Aemond asked Marcus aside. He suggested that they go out for a cigarette, so they both left the police station. Marcus pulled out his package and opened it, pointing it at Aemond. Aemond took a cigarette from him and lit it with his lighter. They both took a drag and stood in silence for a moment.

"How did the police find out about the drugs in his apartment?" Aemond asked, exhaling smoke through his nose, glancing at him intently. Marcus smiled.

"Does it matter?" He asked, flicking the ashes off his cigarette. Aemond frowned.

"It does for me." He said briefly, looking at him intensely. Marcus shook his head disapprovingly, taking another drag, looking to the side.

"Knowing this won't do you any good. Let it go." He said briefly, exhaling smoke through his mouth. Aemond stared at him, his face expressionless. He inhaled, frustrated by his lack of response.

"I have a bad feeling you did a little house search before you reported it to the police, am I right?" He asked suddenly, looking at him carefully. Marcus laughed.

"Aemond, you are a wise man." He said looking at him. There was something unsettling in his eyes, just like when he was in his office. "Why do you get into things that can hurt you. You don't have enough of your problems? Are you running out of topics to talk to your therapist about?”

Aemond looked at him in shock. Nobody but his parents and Y/N knew about it. He was sure none of these people had told him. So where did he get his information from? He pursed his lips.

"How do you know that?" He asked, uncertainty evident in his voice despite his efforts. Marcus looked at him calmly.

"Your brother often visits one of the brothels I own." He said in an expressionless tone, Aemond staring at him in disbelief. "I already told you. I'm not a good person."

***

"What?" Y/N asked in shock as they drove back to his apartment. She couldn't believe her ears. "Did he tell you he owned the brothel we were in?"

"Yes." Aemond said, exhaling quickly. “He is dangerous. You shouldn’t see him again."

Y/N looked at him in pain and disbelief.

"He took care of me all my life, he would never hurt me." She said quickly, feeling a huge pain in her chest. She knew Marcus had secrets and things he was hiding, but she didn't know he was in this business. Aemond snorted.

“With such a place, he definitely has contacts with the mafia. That's how he had to know what they were selling Albert and how much. And that's why he didn't want me to get involved." He said through clenched teeth. Y/N looked at him questioningly. “After Albert texted me, I met up with Marcus. I wanted to know where Albert picks up his goods. Marcus then told me to be careful what I’m getting myself into." He said, anger building up in his chest.

Y/N stared at him in disbelief. She pressed her cheek against the glass and sobbed. Aemond took her hand with his free hand and squeezed it. "I'm begging you, don't go to see him ever again."

***

The next day, Marcus texted her. He wanted to meet. He wrote that Aemond could come too if he wanted, but he'd have to give them some alone time. Aemond had advised her against it at first, no longer trusting him completely, but seeing her desperation and pain, he agreed to take her where Marcus wanted.

It turned out that the given address was a cemetery. The additional number he gave was the grave number. Y/N watched him from a distance, sitting on a bench in front of the statue, which was full of fresh flowers. She knew what had happened. She felt her heart pounding like crazy. She glanced at Aemond, who seemed to be thinking the same thing as she was.

"Give us a moment." She said softly and walked towards him. Aemond stayed behind.

Y/N walked over to Marcus and sat next to him. A photo of smiling Laura looked at them from the other side. Y/N's lips twitched, she couldn't hold back the tears anymore. She looked at him.

"When did it happen?"

Marcus looked at her, the sight of her face making him look full of concern and warmth.

"Three days ago. Everything was ready. Her parents took care of it." He said, but there was irony in his voice. Y/N didn't say anything for a moment. They stared into each other's eyes intensely.

"I'm so sorry." She said finally.

Marcus was silent for a moment.

"He told you?" He asked suddenly. Y/N shuddered, pressing her lips together tighter. Tears streamed down her face, making her vision blurry. She wiped her nose with her hand.

"Yes." She replied in a broken voice. To her surprise, Marcus smiled.

"Good. It'll be better for you that way." He said calmly. Y/N frowned, for some reason his remark infuriated her. Until now, she hadn't realized how strong her feelings for him were.

"How can you say that?" She asked with pain. Marcus hit his tongue against his cheek, her reaction genuinely surprised him. She could see that for a moment he considered whether or not to tell her anything else.

"You do realize that Albert wouldn't be such an idiot to keep your pictures on his computer and drugs at his apratment, right?" He asked and Y/N froze. She stared blankly at him, trying to understand what he was saying to her.

"My people dropped them off. They took pictures of you too. One night Klaus let them into your house. But don't worry, he doesn't realize what he agreed to." He spoke in a tone she had never heard from him before. She felt his gaze burn her. She felt her heart shrink to the size of a walnut.

"You framed him?" She asked quietly, wanting to know if she understood correctly. Marcus laughed heartily.

"Did I? No. He's really a drug dealer and he really took pictures of you in the park. I tried to make the ones that went to the police less... intimate." He said after a moment's thought. "But don't worry. He's got rich parents, he can afford a lawyer. He'll get a suspended sentence. But I suppose it'll give him a tought that you have some interesting friends." He said calmly.

Y/N felt her whole body tremble. She had always sensed that Marcus was hiding something. When she saw him talking quietly to his father in his office, when they were suddenly silent as she entered the room. She explained to herself that these were things they didn't want her to know about. What she was hearing now was a bucket of cold water to her. She thought for a moment whether to ask the question that was on her lips.

"Was what happened to Laura really an accident?" She asked softly, her voice empty and tired. Marcus smiled sadly.

"No. Accidents don't exist." He said, looking at her understandingly. "It was a sign from several people that they didn't like what I was doing. The price of my selfishness. I thought I could take what I want and have her at the same time. But that was impossible. I tried to explain it to Aemond. I hope he is smarter than me." He said and took her hand in his. Y/N looked at him surprised.

"I will take your case to the end. I will keep in touch with Klaus. You can always count on me. But I have a soft spot for you. I won't be able to stop seeing you unless you make me. I shouldn't have come to the University to pick you up. I'm afraid if this keeps up, one day when you're coming home from somewhere in the evening, a strange black car will suddenly hit you, and I'll bring flowers to another grave."

Y/N gasped at his words, unable to breathe. Marcus kissed her hand, as he had done in the car. This time the gesture lasted longer, he closed his eyes as if he would never see her again. Finally he looked at her. There was only fatigue in his eyes.

"Forgive me, I told you I’m selfish. They say that if you love someone, you should let them go. Go away with him and don't try to meet me. Be happy with him as I was with Laura for a few years."

***

After talking to Marcus, Y/N was devastated. She felt like she had just lost a family member. She couldn't sleep at night. Aemond kissed her shoulders and neck tenderly, hugging her from behind. Y/N was cradled in his strong arms, tears streaming down her face, her breathing ragged. His presence was the only comfort that brought her relief.

"My little one. My beloved nymph." He whispered again and again, his lips touching her bare skin. He knew how much she suffered. He felt a twinge of jealousy that this man was so important to her, but on the other hand he understood it and tried to accept it. He kept his thoughts to himself, showing her only his total support and all the tenderness he had inside.

"I love you." She whispered softly, taking a quiet, greedy breath. Aemond kissed her neck again at this confession. "Please, don't leave me alone."

"Never." He groaned, pressing her tighter against him. They both knew that by arrangement, he had to drive her to Klaus's tomorrow. His throat tightened at the thought. He never thought he'd become so dependent on someone.

That he will fall in love with someone so much that he won't be able to sleep without that person next to him. He felt like it was getting worse. He missed her even when she was in class for a few hours. He didn't know how he was going to survive a few days without her.

A thought occurred to him, but he backed out of it, deciding it was too soon. It was coming back to him, again and again. He thought deeply as he stroked her tiny shoulder, placing gentle kisses on her neck. He pursed his lips, not believing he was about to say it.

"Move into my apartment." He said softly.

He felt Y/N shiver and froze in his embrace. She didn't move for a moment, then turned slightly to look at him. Their faces were millimeters apart. She was all red with tears and embarrassment, but her eyes shone.

"Are you serious? I don't want you to feel overwhelmed by my presence. Make you tired of me." She said uncertainly. She was afraid that if he was with her all the time, she would eventually get on his nerves. Aemond ran his fingers through her hair.

"I'm overwhelmed when you're not with me. When I can't confide in you, touch you, embrace you, fuck you.” He whispered, his gaze dark, his artificial eye staring blankly at her. Y/N swallowed loudly at his confession. She felt the same, but was afraid to admit it. She smiled slightly and kissed him tenderly.

"All right."

***

Klaus took the news that Y/N wanted to move very badly. She knew he was as attached to her as she was to him. She had promised him, and was going to keep her promise, that she would visit him several times a week. They hugged tightly without saying a word. Klaus knew he couldn't make her stay. He wanted her to be happy.

Aemond freed up one of his rooms in the apartment, which previously served as his home gym, to make it into a workshop for Y/N. He wanted her to have a room of her own to run away to—just as he had his office on the other side—and where she could work in peace. He knew that at first she would be uncomfortable and that such a place would allow her to settle in better.

They bought special shelves for her, drawers and a tall, sloping desk where she could draw and pin her work, as well as work on a laptop. They bought her proper lighting and an armchair, set out her books and supplies. Y/N even brought her plants from home and put them on the windowsill.

Aemond also gives her a section of his closet to put her clothes in. However, he stipulated that he still wanted her to walk around the house in his shirts if she felt like it, because he liked the view very much. To his surprise, the presence of another person in his apartment did not annoy him. On the contrary, now everything around him reminded him that Y/N was with him and only him, that she was his and he didn't have to share her with anyone.

He watched her as she arranged things in her study. He pulled her to him suddenly and murmured in her ear, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. He loved that it was their gesture. Y/N always beamed when he did that. Nobody else knew what it was about.

"Shall we order something for dinner?" He asked, stroking her bare thigh. Y/N sighed softly, wrapping an arm around his waist, which he accepted with a sound of satisfaction.

"Yes. I don't have the energy to cook. I'm not even halfway through unpacking yet." She sighed heavily at the thought. Aemond kissed her head tenderly.

"Rest, then I'll help you." He said, taking her hand. Y/N smiled as she looked at his face. He did not wear a blindfold in her presence. She stroked his scarred cheek gently, looking at him thoughtfully. "What?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

Y/N only smiled wider and kissed him deeply, standing on tiptoe to reach him. Aemond cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her back with a sound of pleasure, they caressed each other's lips for a moment without breaking away from each other. Y/N broke the kiss by grabbing one of his hands and kissing it. Aemond shivered at the sight.

"I'm so glad I made it." She said softly. Aemond looked at her amused.

"What exactly?" He asked, lifting her chin.

"I became your friend."

_____

I decided to end this story here, feeling that it could get too long - it already has so many parts! Nevertheless, I made a second part of this story with a different title, taking place about 2 years after the events of this chapter, of course with the same characters, referring to the events of this part. The second part would revolve around Aemond's already more serious plans for Y/N and their already more advanced relationship. Thanks for all the kind words so far! 💖😬🔥🥴🥵

@chainsawsangel @yentroucnagol @cardi-bre91 @melsunshine @bellaisasleep @candypurplebutterfly @malfoytargaryen @serrhaewin @svtansdaddyx @iiamthehybrid @beiigegalx @sarahkimtae @fangirlninja67 @namoreno @thetrueblackheart

168 notes · View notes

janedoeswriting · 2 months

Text

The Way The Wind Blows (Stiles x OC)

Chapter Two

Description: Rhiannon finds herself trapped within her guilty pleasure tv show— Teen Wolf. Now, she must choose which path to take… one that leads back home, and another that follows uncertain adventure.

Tags: extreme slow burn, frienemies to lovers, fix it fic, canon change, actions have consequences.

TW: smut??, angst, fluff, sexual harassment, anxiety, depression, obsession, domestic violence, manipulation, etc. Just please do not read if you are sensitive to difficult subjects.

youtube

((Don't Fear) The Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult)

Stiles awoke with a start in a pool of his own drool. His laptop was open but dead, and he had papers scattered around his bedroom. The sun peeked through the window and his alarm clock blared.

It read '8:15 am' in blinking red letters. "Shit."

He was going to be late to his first day of junior year. Stiles stuffed books and papers and slid half the contents of his desk into his backpack before sprinting down the stairs and into his car. He turned the key and after two attempts the engine finally turned over.

The police scanner blared to life. He remembered that he'd left it on the night before. He also remembered how he had stayed up almost all night researching deer attacks and missing persons reports in the area. He'd mostly come up inconclusive. As he sped through a stop sign a voice on police the scanner spoke. "We've found the 10-65 wandering around the forest. She looks unharmed and is cognitive. Taking her into custody."

In the background a girl was yelling indistinctly. Stiles slowed to an eventual stop in the middle of the road, turning up the volume. "10-4, we'll get CPS on their way."

His own father's tired voice rang through the jeep's speakers.

"She's demanding to be brought to the station, Sheriff. She refuses to go to the hospital. She requested you by name."

Stiles slammed on his gas, taking a screeching u-turn in the direction of the sheriff's office.

---

"Stiles, what in the hell are you doing here?! Get to school!"

His father wasn't exactly glad to see him.

But Stiles had pushed past him and stumbled into his dad’s office.

There she sat, wearing a tattered hospital gown and dirtied feet and hands.

She looked up at him through dark eyes and disheveled hair. She still looked significantly better than how he and Scott had found her the previous night. Except now, dark purple circles shaded under her eyes.

Another older woman wearing a pant-suit stood from beside the girl.

“What’s this?” The older woman asked. She looked very professional and ticked off.

“I can help!” Stiles claimed. But his father grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him back out of the office.

The door slammed shut with a bang.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t ground you for a month.”

The tone of Sherri’s Stilinki’s voice was dangerous. The other deputies found something else to do and made themselves scarce.

“Dad, I can help you! I was the one who found her last night—,” but he was strictly interrupted.

“Stiles. Let me do my job. This girl is a runaway. She won’t talk, and we need to find out where she belongs.”

Stiles had gathered that much from the police scanners. She’d run away from the hospital last night, and every deputy was out all night searching for her.

“And you were up all night looking for her, right?”

Stiles recognized his father’s dim eyes and shaky hands from too much caffeine.

“Stiles. CPS is gonna take care of it. We’ve been trying to get her to speak but we’re running short on time. It’s looking like we’re gonna have to skip the hospital and take her straight to Eichen.”

The name of the mental hospital sent a chill down Stiles’ spine, though he didn’t know why. He'd never even stepped foot in there.

“Let me try to get her to talk.” Stiles said with such a serious look in his eyes that Sheriff Stilinski hesitated.

Stiles was about to argue his case, but was surprised by the words “Fine, make it quick.”

Stiles thought his father must have been really tired and desprate options.

He energetically opened the door again to find the CPS worker struggling to get any words out of the girl.

“Let my son try to talk to her,” Sheriff Stilinski said.

The CPS stood and was about to protest when a calm voice said, “Stiles.”

The room went quiet and every eye was on her. Rhiannon, Stiles remembered.

“Can we have a minute alone?” Stiles asked, turning back to the older woman.

The CPS worker looked ready to rip into him for even asking, but Rhi grabbed the woman’s forearm. She looked down at Rhi in shock. Apparently, this had been the most response they had received all morning.

"Stiles."

It was all she said. And that seemed to be enough. The worker looked at Stiles with a harrowing face that said 'you take care of her or else', and walked out in a frustrated rush. Stiles' dad looked at Stiles in surprise, but inclined his head and followed the woman out of the room.

The silence that followed was deafening. It was so long and so silent that Stiles started babbling.

"Hey! Uhhh. We met before, I'm Stiles," and he outstretched his hand. Rhiannon just stared at him, then at his hand, then back up at him. Stiles took his hand back in a rush and rubbed the back of his head. His entire body moved obnoxiously.

Spaz, Rhiannon thought, but couldn't even blame him. That was part of what she liked his character for. His character, she thought. He's just a TV show character.

"So, uhh," he said, grabbing a chair and sliding it forward to sit in it. The noise scraped against the ground loudly. He cringed in response, but kept going.

"You're Rhi-Rhiannon, right? That's what you told me last night, remember?"

Rhiannon couldn't even quite believe it still. Here he was, so handsome and real and talking to her. She felt like she was dreaming. The sensations of pain and hunger from earlier reminded her that she wasn't.

The prick of a needle in her arm. Her fist wrapped in the pillowcase as it smashed through the window. The shards of glass cutting into her feet and knees as she climbed through the opening. The long cold night that followed, not knowing where she was or what she was doing. All she knew was to find home. To go back where she came from.

She wandered all night. Eventually, she collapsed in the woods against an old oak tree. Her sobs racked her body for hours. A deputy found her without any tears left to cry.

When they tried to drag her to the hospital, she kicked and screamed until her gown fell off of her body. When they finally wrapped her up in it again they heard her begging them for one request.

"No hospital. Sheriff Stilinski. Take me to the Sherrif's station. No hospital."

And here she was. Face to face with Stiles Stilinski-- a person who wasn't real.

"That's your name, right?" He asked. Rhi just stared at him. He was so pretty she almost couldn't tear her eyes away. Almost.

Stiles inclined his head expectantly. "Hello?"

Her eyes roaved his face until finally they locked onto his stare. For some reason, he was taken aback by the eye contact, but recouped quickly.

"Where are you from?" He asked.

Rhiannon tilted her head to the side. "Somewhere else." She said, and that was all she could say. How does one explain that she wasn't from this world.

"Okay, that's helpful," Stiles said sarcastically.

"You're real?" Rhiannon asked distantly. Without thinking, her hand raised and ever so lightly touched his cheek. She didn't believe he was really real. That she was really there. Until she felt the warmth of him. In a rush she stood up and staggered back as if she was electricuted by the skin of his cheek.

He leaned back from the contact as well, holding his face. They stared at one another for a long moment. "Do you know me?" he asked without thinking.

Rhiannon said nothing but continued clutching her hands.

This is real, she thought. I'm not dreaming. This is real. This is Stiles.

"Answer me!" Stiles finally demanded, standing up in a rush.

He immediately regretted the dramatic response, but thankfully she didn't respond with fear or shock.

Instead, she continued to stare at him. Which only frustrated him more.

But instead of lashing out at the girl again, he turned and leaned against the windowsill of the office. The blinds were closed but he could feel the tangible presence of his father on the other side of the glass.

"Stiles."

Her voice was soft and level. He slowly turned, and found her gaze. Her chin was held high and her hands held in fists at her side.

He waited for her to say something, but she didn't. Finally, Stiles broke the silence and his own chaotic thoughts.

"What do you know? What do you remember?"

She only watched him in fascination. He didn't know what to do with that. Those His frustration peaked.

"You came from somewhere! Where?!"

The door burst open. His own father came in the room.

He approached Stiles in a flurry.

"Stiles, this isn't helping," he muttered to Stiles. And Stiles stepped back. As if for the first time he saw the girl he was yelling at. Skinny and cold. Wearing a hospital gown with dirty hands and feet. Her words and actions made no sense. She was not afraid. "Dad-," he started, but was strictly interrupted.

"Stiles, go to school. Now."

Scott leapt down the stairs with renewed hope and purpose. He had been waking up early for the entirety of summer. It was only 7:45 and he had already worked out, and gotten a few chapters through his copy of Call of the Wild.

A sound from the kitchen garnered his attention. He swiped a banana and began to peel it as his mom stumbled through the side door. She was a wreck. Her hair was wild and her clothes stained with both blood and sweat and dirt. "Woah," Scott started, noticing the time. She was supposed to be back an hour ago.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked.

"Long night." Melissa said without any energy to even attempt to sound relieved that she was home.

Scott took a bite with a look of pity in his eyes. He didn't envy nurses one bit.

"Must have been crazy in the ER last night, huh?" He asked as she collapsed in a chair at the table.

"You have no idea," she mumbled, resting her head against her arm and closing her bloodshot eyes. Scott was about to lay a blanket over her when she groggily opened her eyes again and mumbled.

"It's fine. I can go to bed--" She said. "But, Scott. There's something I need to tell you."

Her tone switched to a more serious one as she remembered the events of the previous night. His mom even seemed to wake up a bit. Scott stilled, listening attentively.

"Last night, there was a woman who came in with Isaac. They were attacked by someone. All she said was that she needed you, Scott." Scott stared at her in confusion. Melissa searched his gaze.

"You don't know anything, do you?" She stated but it was rhetorical. Scott shook his head to answer she question Melissa already knew. "There's something else," she added, eyes growing droopier by the second.

"That other girl you found in the street-- she escaped the hospital last night. The police found her wandering around the woods a few hours later. And I can't explain it, but it seemed like she knew who I was. And she kept asking strange questions about you."

"Strange questions... Like what?" Scott asked.

"Like... what grade you're in. I mean she said some weird things-- like how she's from another world. But then she went quiet and escaped the hospital under everyone's noses. Scott... she knows what you are. I don't know how, but she knows."

Scott almost didn't wait for Stiles to show. He was late. By a lot.

But just as Scott was about to make a break for his first period and forget the idea of meeting with Stiles before classes began, a blur of blue screeched into the parking lot.

Stiles tumbled out of his jeep in a rush as students filed in the doors. He spoke to Scott in a rapid hushed voice.

"That girl we found last night-- Rhiannon. She ran away from the hospital last night." Stiles said. Scott nodded, "I know. My mom told me. Apparently she knows who I am too. But I've never met her before in my life."

Stiles nodded. "Exactly. And she knows who I am too. I don't know how to explain it, but she knows us."

Scott sucked in a breath as they walked down the hallway. "So what do we do? I mean-- maybe she is just crazy." Scott said.

Stiles shook his head with so much surety that Scott raised an eyebrow at him.

"No-- she isn't crazy." Stiles said. "And what makes you say that?" Scott asked sceptically.

"I-Well I don't really know how to explain it but I know that she isn't crazy." Stiles felt stupid even voicing it allowed. All signs pointed in the direction of some sort of mental disorder, but those stone eyes flashed in his memory and he just knew the truth. She wasn't crazy.

"Stiles, we found her naked in the middle of the road. She broke a window and ran away from the hospital--," Scott started, reasoning with Stiles but Stiles interrupted. "I know, but just trust me. There's something more to it. She knows something, and I'm going to find out what it is."

Stiles sounded so sure of himself that Scott had to believe his friend. Scott nodded, sending his friend a look that said 'Okay, I believe you'. Stiles nodded back, and disappeared down the hallway to his first class of junior year. The bell rang, and Scott walked into his own classroom. He couldn't help the thought that nagged at him.

Maybe Stiles is right. Maybe she knows more than she lets on.

===

Notes: Thank you for reading! Sorry about how long part two took. I'll try to be more consistent. Let me know of any recommendations or thoughts. This will be a long slow burn and there will be a heavy focus on the main character's arc and story changes.

I'll make a masterlist and story stuff soon with all the inspo and playlist and everything.

PART THREE

21 notes · View notes

smallgodseries · 1 year

Text

[image description: A young woman stands among a wild assortment of intergalactic travelers (including Barsoomians, Yithians, a robot, a tank of jellies, tiny translucent blob people, a professional Gnome, and… hey! Is that Jin Jin Jin’s tail I see there?). She wears a straw hat, carnation-colored shirt, black skirt with white polka dots, and black sandals. She holds a heavy black leather bag with several travel stickers (including a bumper sticker that reads ‘I <3 EARTH’) in both hands. Text reads, “187, SUISEI XING, THE SMALL GOD OF SPACEFARING”]

• • • • •

Space. As the sages say, the final frontier. But not for everyone.

Wherever there is vacuum burn and the smell of ozone, wherever sapients don pressure suits to risk the frozen danger between stars, wherever there are those awesome Orion martinis, the ones with the pickled lichees instead of olives—because every civilization that has alcohol will have the martini eventually, in some form or other, as if brined fruit in clear liquor were the summit of social evolution—she is there, or has already been and gone, off seeking a new horizon, a truly final frontier. No one knows where she came from. Just that she always arrives exactly when she intends to, that her ticket is always in order, and that anyone who sails the stars belongs to her, at least for the length of their journey. She doesn’t challenge other gods for their worshippers. She gives them back as soon as the rocket lands. But while they’re in flight…while they’re in flight, they’re hers.

No matter what world she visits, her appearance is the same, only translated for the local biology, so that the sight of her is not alarming: she is always small, always slight and unassuming, attractive to the eye, and as close to female as their understanding of gender allows. She carries her own bags, talks quietly, smiles easily, and seems most comfortable when allowed to don a human skin. She is innocent and ancient, young and outside time, and she has seen things the rest of us can only dream of.

But she carries a camera, and if you can befriend her, if you can make her trust you, she’s always happy to share. She believes in curiosity without conquest, tourism without trauma, and she loves everyone she cradles in her arms of starlight and vacuum.

They say her true form is infinitely vast, the stretch of space itself, and that she is a small god by choice, limiting herself to avoid frightening the faithful she so adores.

They say her perfume smells like raspberries.

They say a lot of things.

Suisei herself says only “Have you been here before? Only I’m supposed to catch the next shuttle for Betelgeuse, and I’m afraid I may be on the wrong platform. Can you help?” Always help her when she asks. Those she blesses always make their flights.

Trust her to be kind.

• • • • •

Please join Lee Moyer (Icon) and Seanan McGuire (Story) each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

WordPress: https://leemoyer.wordpress.com/

Instagram: https://instagram.com/smallgodseries/

Homepage: http://smallgodseries.com

Mastodon: @[email protected]

#Small Gods #smallgodseries #Seanan McGuire #Lee Moyer #icons and stories

222 notes · View notes

icedmatchatae · 1 year

Text

Glimpse of Us | KTH Chapter VII: The True Reality

Pairing: Problematic Idol Taehyung x Grad Student Reader

Genre: Idol AU, Ex-Childhood Best Friends into—, Angst (Hello, welcome to my angst central), Fluff (mainly in the flashbacks), Slow Burn, Eventual Smut

Summary: BTS’s V has been living a lavished and successful lifestyle, but underneath all of that, Kim Taehyung is far from the perfect image the media and fans made him out to be. All he wants is to relive the feelings of happiness and purpose in his life, but how can he when he left behind those memories years ago? The same memories, he hopes to see a glimpse of.

Warning: This chapter is HEAVY ANGST (basically trauma dumping), unhealthy coping mechanism (alcohol use), descriptions of financial instability, illness (a loved one has it), lying/deception, verbal fighting (manipulation?gaslighting?), unhealthy relationship (both in and out of the flashbacks), implied smut, semi-sexual themes, I kinda just wanna hug both of them, kenji is the real one rn :D, but damnnn just wait for the ending

Word Count: 13.3k

A/N: tbh writing this chapter was a little hard if I remember lol, only because of how I wanted to structure the timelines and the back and forth. It ended differently and I added to it, but I hope you enjoy it!! Feedback and comments are appreciated ❣️

Chapter VII: The True Reality || Series Masterlist

Sounds of scraping and dragging from your heels crashing alongside the rundown concrete ripped through the cooling midnight. With your phone in one hand and your bag in another, you tried to navigate through the city to make your way back to your apartment.

What was uncalled for was not realizing you were on the other side of the city and away from your destination. Of course, you were. Taehyung took you to an enriched area, safer to say the least. Nevertheless, it took you almost an hour by bus and train to reach where you lived, a more cryptic and hostile part of the city.

Walking up through the entrance, you glanced up at your apartment complex. It stayed on a shallow hill and was constructed with old red and white bricks, probably built over forty years ago. When you first moved in, the majority of your neighbors were the elderly but they yelled behind closed doors and all had petrifying little dogs barking. There were some younger ones, but none below 30. At one point when you left for school, a woman chased her half-naked husband out of their home with a frying pan. Paint peeled off the lobby walls, dirtied floors, and dark markings you didn’t even want to know, rusted mailboxes on one side, some trash left on the other.

At the very least, this was one of the more secure buildings on this block, having decent front locks, a code entrance, and a visible working elevator. Once you entered inside, you got onto the lift and pressed your floor button twice, because if you didn’t, it wouldn’t have worked properly.

You reached your door and closed it behind you while triple locking it to ensure your own safety. You mundanely scanned the humble abode that was your home. Surprisingly or in this case, an old lady neighbor who snooped at your apartment when you were moving, said you had the better spaces in the building. It used to belong to some guy who had problems, her words not yours. You politely ended that conversation, not wanting to know anything else.

Your apartment was still empty after settling down for months. The only few pieces of furniture besides your bed and dresser were the futon table right in the middle of your living room and the floor lamp. You didn’t even buy it; you found it on the side of the street as it was being thrown away. But it still looked brand new, so you took it in.

You headed towards the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. Afterward, you sat on the wooden floor, settling down at the table. Exhaling, you slouched onto the cool surface. You stared blankly at the half-filled glass, processing what has happened to you.

Though you calmed yourself down when you rode the bus, you were still upset about what Taehyung almost did. He professed your appearance, didn’t agree to your compliments of his girlfriend, and forgot he even had one for a split second as he tried to kiss you. Just thinking about made you grunt in fury, slamming down a fist onto the table causing the glass and furniture to tremble on the impact.

You thought, you really thought that your friendship was starting to revive and thrive for the better. Now you’re definitely uncertain. It scared you because you don’t think Taehyung was ever like that before. Not once did he try anything. Again, he was a physically affectionate person but you’d think there would be boundaries with it if you had a significant other, right?

You were perplexed, wondering what the fuck is he doing. Maybe this was something new about him, a changed person? But yet, it wasn’t right to do and Taehyung would have known that too. Why was he about to ruin a perfectly stable relationship with Clara? It doesn’t make sense.

However, as you pondered on it for a while and in the comfort of your home, there were certain speculations that you found that seemed questionable of their relationship. For starters, Taehyung never mentioned anything about a girlfriend until his members brought it up at the restaurant. Even then, he still didn’t talk about her to you, not even her name.

Every time you saw him and Clara together, the proclaimed physically affectionate Taehyung was nowhere to be found. When outside in public was given, but from Jungkook’s party, they linked arms and she’d lean on his shoulder but that was it. Nothing was coming from his end. Before you went out with him earlier today, he didn’t even kiss or hug her goodbye. It confused you because you watched him do that to his members, friends, and even you despite your rough edges of his touching.

Finally, for now, just an hour ago, your eyes focused on his phone when he received messages. It may be due to his idol status and to hide his personal life, but his device held no signs of Clara or being in a relationship with her. No change of her display name, no Lock Screen photo of them together, and certainly constant messaging back and forth on both ends.

Not once did Taehyung take his phone out throughout the day. If he did so, it was to take pictures before putting his device back into his pocket. You wondered what consisted of their relationship, what was really happening between the two, and maybe that was how they worked. He was an idol and she was a socialite after all, both in the world of media, famous for different reasons, yet a closet powerhouse couple. It was practically the perfect relationship everyone wanted.

It was all so unusual because you heard many remarkable things about them together. They were strong, in love as their eyes told it all, they were even living together!

Rumors of them getting married sparked among their close circle.

Your conscious made you feel guilty. Perhaps even thinking about it too much. Why were you putting your nose into something that wasn’t even about you? You were nothing, which should stay that way. You learned that the hard way and it left a pungent taste in your mouth when a gruesome snippet played in your mind. If you were to be something, it would be a nuisance that ruined the perfect relationship of society because of the attempt Taehyung made.

Thinking back, you were mean to him, ending the on/off friendship again of something minuscule from an outsider’s perspective. But you had to give yourself a little bit of credit because what if it happened again? You know, him begging for your forgiveness, you accepting it, and it repeats. Perhaps next time, he would have succeeded. You didn’t want to risk it. It wasn’t right to him, to Clara, and most definitely to you.

The only way to keep it from happening was to remain distant once again. Maybe getting too close was a sign. Rumors would spread and be twisted as the spiderwebs of communication get tangled by misjudgment and severe impressions. You didn’t want anyone else to interpret your relationship with him in such a way.

Then again, no one ever understood your bond with him. Not before, and most likely not now either.

Taehyung slammed his car door shut before hitting the steering wheel out of frustration. Did he really just let you go like that? He didn’t know where you would be, if you got home, if you were okay. All he knew was that he pissed you off and your friendship was probably nonexistent with your words. He was ashamed of himself, why did he do that?

It came out of nowhere, even shocking him at the moment too. He just—when he looked at you, everything felt so right in his shitty life. All his troubles would go away, knowing that you were there. You stared at him like how you did when you were younger, he must have traveled back in time to when his teenage self found out that he was in love with you.

What a simpler yet scary experience that must have been for him. All he worried about was how much he was head over heels for you, but he never confessed. Not even when he left for Seoul and sure as hell, not after all those years. He kept this secret only to himself. No one knew and probably never will.

But he realized he slipped on that one, both parties not expecting that. Where was he going with this? He still wanted your friendship, which mattered to him the most even back then. He never wanted to ruin it, but he probably has now.

Why did he do that? After he ended the friendship on a whim, he constantly thought about you and missed you a lot. Years and years of thinking didn’t vanish even when he started dating Clara. You were literally in his life for more than half of his life.

Maybe it was longing, wanting you back into his life. But he finally got you! Well before he fucked up. So why did he try to kiss you?

Ugh, he wiped the excess distressed tears off his eyes and cheeks. Now he really wished for your forgiveness. He messed up in the past and he managed to have redemption. Perhaps your patience ran thinner, and you “not acknowledging his status of best friend” probably forced him to be kept on his toes. You had to show him that he couldn’t keep fucking up like he used to.

He looked over to the passenger’s seat and spotted your peace lily plant. Oh, how the night changed so fast.

He wanted to make things right, but he couldn’t do it now. He had to keep his distance, so you wouldn’t snap.

Still, he thought about how he let his stupidity get in the way, hating himself. He loathed this feeling, he needed to stop thinking about it because it would only get worse. He needed to get away from everything.

“Taehyung?” Seojoon croaked, rubbing his slumbered eyes to take a glimpse of his younger friend. He woke up when the idol called saying he was outside. He was too spaced out to even question, so he padded his way toward the entrance. Taehyung went inside before the actor closed and locked the door. The older man wiped his bare face with his hands, letting out a sigh. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“I need a drink with my Hyung.” Knowing the layout of his friend’s one-story house, he strutted into the kitchen and searched through his cabinets for his alcohol stash. Seojoon was known to have variety in his liquors, which he took pride in, but that also meant free drinks for his friends every time they came over.

He found a half-empty bottle of whiskey in the cupboard. Being the thoughtful friend that he was, he picked it up and twisted the cap off before downing it. The burning sensation dragged inside his throat passed his intestines and reached his stomach acids. He burped heavily after clearing the bottle and settling it on the kitchen island to grab another drink.

“Hey, you know you have your limits here.” Seojoon reminded as he grabbed the unopened whiskey from the idol. Taehyung didn’t even fight back but watched him retrieve two old-fashioned crystal glasses from his cabinets. There he poured the syrup-hued content into the cups, then offered the idol one.

They cheered the drinks together before taking a strong sip. “Why’d you come here? It’s almost two in the morning. You’re lucky I don’t have an early schedule in the morning.”

“Hyung, I fucked up.” Taehyung groaned as he tasted the liquor on his tongue.

Unlike his members and especially Jimin, Taehyung felt very comfortable with his friends to the point where he can really be himself and not have to worry about it and what they say. Think of the members as family. You couldn’t choose your family, but you can choose your friends.

It was easy to tell Seojoon, the eldest and played the role of the father of their group. He was more forgiving than his older Hyungs, still caring, still understanding of Taehyung’s perspective yet stern. But when the idol told him about what recently happened, the actor cocked his eyebrow up with concern.

“Why’d you do that?” Seojoon questioned.

“I don’t know…” Taehyung muttered as he swirled the content of his cup around. “It was all unexpected. But she stopped it.”

“Well, that’s good. Otherwise, you’d be a cheater, Tae, and we wouldn’t want that.” The older man said seriously, yet Taehyung lets out an airy laugh before gulping more alcohol. His reaction made him curious. “Why’d you laugh?”

“Ahhh, nothing. Probably the alcohol getting to me.” Taehyung snickered, brushing it off too quickly for Seojoon’s liking. But the older one decided to let it go for now.

“Would you have wanted her to stop it?”

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“How about this?” Seojoon piped as he squinted his eyes in wonder. “If she didn’t back away, and you two kissed, what do you think it’ll mean? What does this say about your friendship with her now?”

What would have happened if he actually kissed you? “I-I-I don’t know.”

Expecting that answer, the actor sighed. “Then you’re lucky, she slapped the shit out of you.” He grimaced as he stared at the inflamed marking on his swollen cheek.

“Yeah, but Hyung, our friendship is basically destroyed now. Knowing her reaction, don’t you think it’d be a lose-lose situation whether or not it happened?” Taehyung’s thoughts were in shambles with alcohol fluffing up his brain.

“It’s better than not knowing.” Seojoon vaguely explained, but somehow it applied to all contexts. “Look, if anything, it’d be worse on the other end because you’d hurt a lot more people, i.e. you, Clara, and ___. It just sucks for you that ___’s still the one that’ll hurt in either case.”

Taehyung exhaled before chugging down the whiskey. He had a nasty shiver down his spine, while Seojoon observed with a scowl. “Do you think she meant it when our friendship is over? She never smacked me before either.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know her that well.” Seojoon honestly responded, making Taehyung pout. “But judging by the times I met her, I think she was spiteful at the moment. She seems…very forgiving, especially towards you. I mean, technically you are the closest person to her in Seoul besides that coworker. If you say it was an honest mistake, then maybe she’ll understand.”

They were met with silence, basking in the conversation. Taehyung poured himself another drink, as the alcohol rapidly got to him. He hoped Seojoon was right, but he feared otherwise. It was difficult to understand when he doesn’t truly know how you felt about him. You still held this weird distance despite his attempts. He wasn’t able to fully engage himself in the friendship if you didn’t reciprocate back and he wanted you to so badly.

“I don’t suppose you’re leaving anytime soon.” Seojoon huffed. “I refuse for you to drive wasted. God knows what happened the last time, you’re lucky you didn’t get far!”

“Hey, I crashed into your mailbox. It wasn’t that bad!”

“Still! I don’t even know how you stole the keys from me.” Seojoon shook his head in disappointment. “But go to the guest room! Sleep the drunk off and maybe get a cab in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Taehyung grumbled, finishing up his whiskey. With shaking legs, he stood up and wobbled towards the room. Before he entered, Seojoon called for him.

Grabbing the idol’s attention, Seojoon said, “Just reflect on what you’re doing. I don’t know if you talk about it with your therapist and all, but please do if you aren’t. Maybe he’ll help you with how to approach ___. Also, don’t do anything that would hurt Clara.”

As soon as his back touched the sheets of the full-sized bed, Taehyung sighed. He thought about the last words Seojoon said. Don’t do anything that would hurt Clara. He scoffed at them.

Yeah, yeah. Everything had to be done to stop her from hurting. Never him.

Staring into the bathroom mirror, you stayed restless. You couldn’t sleep at all last night, resulting in the bags and dark circles around your lifeless eyes. The sun wasn’t even out yet and came later in the day due to the changing of the seasons. You wanted to punch yourself for registering for an 8 AM on a Monday, but there was no other choice since it was the only course topic available.

You indeed had a long day ahead of you. Fortunately, you had classes until noon, but that meant you started work afterward. But that was okay, you just hoped Taehyung got the picture of leaving you alone for some time or forever.

You had to at least appear less dead than you actually were. Maybe some nice earrings would help. You usually had on your necklace, but a little more wouldn’t hurt. Walking back to your bedroom, you reached for your jewelry box to grab that was gifted to you from the Kim family for Christmas when you were younger. Though you don’t talk to them anymore, the gift held a special place in your heart and memories.

When you pulled the said jewelry, the velvet cushion tugged out of the box as well. Separating the two with ease, you were about to place it back inside but something caught your eye. You hooked onto it and touched the symbol of your friendship. Worn down and faded tones over time and smaller than it used to look, you found your old friendship bracelet. The charms were still intact, yet you could see the damage made from careless bumps and scraps against surfaces and edges. Your initial charm had a small piece missing from a very heavy and infuriating throw to the wall.

You still remembered that day clearly, weeks after the last call.

You made your attempts to contact Taehyung and also waited for him to call back. But he never did. He blocked your phone and messenger, so during these times, you’ve been taking advantage of his siblings’ cell phones. You didn’t fully explain to the two what happened between you and their brother, only the fact that he wasn’t answering you anymore.

Sungyeon and Eunjeong didn’t know either, but they were willing to help you. They’d take turns giving you the phone. It hurt knowing that it rang while you got the automatic voice, but you felt that there was still hope in your friendship left. Oftentimes, it did go straight to voicemail during the day and he would call back at night when you weren’t with the siblings. You asked them to never mention your name and how you’ve tried reaching out. So all those feeble attempts were assumptions of his siblings missing him.

It was until one day after school that he finally answered your call on Eunjeong’s phone. The simple greeting of his “hello” wanted to make you cry into tears of relief, but you feared everything in between the call. You didn’t know if he needed more time away, but you missed everything about him. It has been a struggle with the distance, as well as the planning for your grandmother’s funeral. You wanted his comfort by any means. If it was through the phone of his sister, then so be it.

There was so much to be said yet no words came out of your mouth. “Hello? Hello, Jeongie? What’s up? I have a break. You good?”

Eunjeong stared widely, waiting for you to respond. She nudged your shoulder and nodded. You parted your mouth shakily before clearing your throat. “H-Hyungie. It’s me, Blue.” Then silence came after, being so loud that a dull white noise interfered. It was quite nerve-racking. You don’t know if he heard you, so you repeated. “Hyungie. It’s me—”

The dial tone met your ear. You looked back at the phone, seeing Eunjeong’s Home Screen. He ended the call before you could finish the sentence.

Your shoulders deflated into your body and you curled forward. Your body trembled as the tears began to fall off your face. Seeing you like this, Eunjeong shook her head in rage at her brother’s behavior. Regardless, she knew you needed some comfort and she was the only one to give it to you.

She looped her arms around you, rubbing your back to soothe your cries. So much has happened in your life, and Taehyung had the audacity to hurt you too? He was never harsh to you so what happened?

Suddenly her phone rang, catching the two of your attention. It was Taehyung again. Eunjeong glanced at you, shaking your head in refusal. You were scared of being rejected again.

She sighed but thought might as well answer his call. She pulled her phone to her ear and said, “What?” You couldn’t hear him very well, but you heard his shouts. “I don’t care about damn honorifics right now. Why are you being rude to ___?” Yelling again. “What? Why should I? I’m not helping you with your mess—” A sigh, then a milder response. “You can’t ju—I don’t wanna say th—” His voice was softer. “This is all on you. I don’t want her to be shunning our family from your shit.”

A quieter conversation happened between the siblings while you watched it unravel before you. You wiped your tears when you heard, “Whatever, fine. Fuck you!” Eunjeong ended the call before she threw her device onto her mattress. “Annoying asshole.” She muttered, not caring if you heard.

You tilted your head questionably as you asked, “What’d he say?”

Her pupils felt twisted as she struggled to approach what her brother wanted her to convey. It was so wrong and wanted to fight him because not once did you do anything wrong. She bit her lips as a debate broke out in her mind. She knew you weren’t going to take it well, but whoever does when your best friend wanted you out of his life.

Yet your eyes encouraged her to speak up. You were afraid, but at least you knew. You would know if he needed more time or tell you to give him more space from your smothering. It would be okay because your friendship remained intact.

But once she revealed his response, every hope, every will, your bond was shattered.

You said nothing while you nodded, feigning that you understood and agreed with the situation. Eunjeong knew that was a lie, especially with the blooming of tears spilling through your eyes. But before she could even let out a sound, you stood up and ran out of their house and to yours, the cold and empty one.

You rammed your bedroom door shut and let every emotion you suppressed consume you. Screaming, weeping, punching pillows, throwing books across the room, anything to let out the hurt within you. As you were jabbing a plush toy, your friendship bracelet grabbed your distraught attention.

It was a simple symbol of your friendship. The love, care, trust, and worth between you and him. The everlasting memories held together through the strings were crumbling down at your fingertips. Conjoined, my ass. Saying that you were stuck with him and never leaving your side. Complete bullshit. He never cared for you, you were worthless to him, with no trust in sight, and most importantly—

He didn’t love you.

You pulled the bracelet off of you and threw it as hard as you could to your white walls. A cracking noise pierced through the air, the bracelet dropped on your wooden floors holding no sentimental value.

You sunk onto your bed and just let the tears fall so painfully.

You didn’t know how it got in here. Maybe your cousin who helped you pack found it and put it in by mistake. Nevertheless, you still had the bracelet with you and in your hands.

You were honest with yourself when you say that it was difficult to throw it away. It felt like a bad omen. You kept it on for so long, it almost seemed like you were going to be buried in it. The bracelet went through so much, that it, unfortunately, held sentimental value because it was with the Taehyung you once knew.

This one you met had a few quirks here and there, but wasn’t your Taehyung, your Hyungie. He may look like him, have the same birthday, parents, siblings, all of the above, but it was still not him.

It didn’t mean you refused to understand and get to know this Taehyung, but your heart was more reluctant, afraid to open up and accept his comfort and warmth. His words weren’t as trusting, but they felt familiar. You saw him through his eyes, but they were buried underneath unspoken territories. Yes, you saw how much he has been hiding things from you and you knew that they weren’t coming out any time soon.

But you wished for them to. You missed him so much, you wanted to grab that layer of him and run away. But you couldn’t.

If you wanted that layer, you needed to accept all layers, and you weren’t ready for that.

Taehyung arrived back home at five in the morning. He sobered up after taking a three-hour nap. He could still feel the alcohol in him but it wasn’t too intense, so he was functional enough to drive. He didn’t say goodbye to Seojoon and left the premises, as the actor was asleep. It happened in the past, and Seojoon knew that Taehyung got home safely with the tightening trust he unfathomably held for the younger.

The idol sneakingly stepped into his living space, hoping Clara wouldn’t notice. He attempted to be quiet as a mouse and he succeeded with the front door and locks. But once he tiptoed through the living room, he was met by surprise with his enraged girlfriend sitting on the sofa holding daggers in her eyes. She had her pink robe on and bathing house slippers on with her arms crossed.

“What the fuck, Taehyung?” She yelled through her lungs. The high-pitch sound irritated his alcohol-infused body. “I’ve been texting and calling you and not once did you fucking answer.”

“I did answer you.” He rolled his eyes, not bothering to be quiet any longer. “You knew I was out.”

“Yeah, you texted once close to fucking midnight saying you were still out!” The socialite scoffed at his weak reply. “Now it’s five in the morning and you just came home!”

“Okay, what’s the big deal? I’m fucking tired!”

“Where the fuck were you? The last time I heard from you, you were still with ___. I swear to God if you tell me—”

“Well, I’m not! I wasn’t with her. She went home on her own after that text if it makes you feel any better.” He snapped back as he threw his keys on the kitchen island. “I was with Seojoon afterward. We drank and knocked out at his place.”

“Taehyung, you drank?” Clara gasped incredulously as she stood up from her seat. God, he rolled his eyes at how dramatic she was being. “Didn’t I say not to drink too much?”

“You say it, but I don’t listen.” He responded truthfully. “What’s the big deal anyway?”

“To prevent any more scandals from happening. You know what happened the last time you got too drunk?” She recapped, the memory back in her mind. “You almost got arrested for beating someone up. You’re lucky my father kept that under the rug or else it would have exposed you.”

His face scrunched up at the horrific experience. He remembered the severe panic attack he got right after, but he didn’t even remember what the guy said, but it was along the lines of bad-mouthing him and the group. But mainly, insulting him like he knew everything about Taehyung, or in that case, V of BTS.

“Well, I was with Seojoon, happy? I was fucking safe, so stop your yelling.” He sighed, feeling the weight of exhaustion on him.

“No, I’m not happy because you were gone the entire day and I was waiting for you, so we could have dinner together.” She pouted as she stepped towards him. He stepped back when she came closer. “Here I was with my cold side order of extra japchae while you’re out and about with some other fucking chick.”

If steam came out of his nostrils, it would have shown. There she went again with her damn accusations. “My God! You even knew and saw us going out! Stop insinuating shit when nothing happens.”

“I’ll fucking stop when you finally fucking have time for me!” Clara shouted back, eyes bloodshot with stress and despair. “You’re not doing anything right for me, and it hurts when I do so much for you.” He heard sniffing coming from her nose once he spotted a stream going down her cheek. “I’ve been patient and respectful with all these interests and bullshit you’re doing, but you never do it back. Don’t you love me, Taehyung?”

His mouth opened but closed back up as he gulped. “I-I-I do.”

She snorted before rolling her eyes, “Oh, yeah? Then why did you spend the whole day with some girl?”

“She’s not some girl. She’s my best friend!”

“And I’m not your fucking girlfriend?!” She protested, grabbing him by the collar and shaking his stature. With shocked eyes, he tried to calm her down, holding her arms away from him. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you doing other things with her? I know she’s your best friend, but she’s too pretty! I don’t like how much you’re so invested in her. I’m pretty too yet you don’t hang out with me!”

The crocodile tears started forming in her tear ducts, yet her voice was thick with madness. Now she was talking any shit that deemed her as the victim. ”And you have scandals with other idols and actresses. Why does that happen, but we can’t? Fuck, you’re so unfair, Tae! Where’s my loving and sweet boyfriend, huh? One who brings me flowers, takes me out on dates, goes above and be—”

“Stop fucking expecting so much from me!” He interjected, pushing her touch away. He leaned into the counter, creating distance. Raking through his hair, he grunted with annoyance. “You see how much of a fucking train wreck I am! My life is already hard as it is.”

“Yeah, I know how you’re a fucking train wreck and I hate how you’re so adamant about sticking by it!” The socialite sneered, disgusted at how he was acting. “But my life is also hard too! You know how difficult it is to keep this image of us. We,” She pointed at him, then herself. “Are supposed to be perfect, Taehyung.”

“Why do you care so much about how “perfect” we supposedly are?” He hated that that was a concern of hers. He gave no shits about how people thought about their relationship, but he couldn’t speak openly about it because people would get mad at him for disagreeing.

“Because we are their expectation.” She explained like it was obvious. “We’ve been together for five years, Tae! But this is more than just that! We aren’t doing anything like we used to because you’re not making any time. This is your fault! You never make me happy!”

Taehyung squirmed when the blame pointed at him. There it was again too. The guilt ate him for not doing anything right, getting sucked into the realm of ridicule. You can’t do this right, you can’t do that right. This was all his fault.

“I’m sorry.” The only thing he could say in defeat.

“You better be.” Clara wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Maybe I’m overreacting…I don’t want you to stop your friendship, but I’m getting tired of you not having time for me.”

The idol looked down at the floor, refusing to look at her sorrowful state. But he knew she tried making him look at her by grabbing a hold of his hands and gently squeezing them. “I’m s-sorry. T-There’s just been a lot right now with everything.” Her touch burned his skin, the discomfort growing with every second.

“I know, but can you at least try?” She begged, ducking down to see his eyes. “I’m fucking trying!”

Taehyung nodded silently as his teeth sunk into his lower lips. He held back so much and offered so little. Clara was always known to never back down. Her expectations of herself and their relationship were higher than they could be even reached. But knowing if he gave in, then the fighting would stop and maybe she would be satisfied.

He felt her dainty arms encircling his torso as a sign of peace, a thing that couples did after fighting and now making up. Something that worked in the past but now…not so much. With tensed arms, he carefully wrapped around her as well, tightening the hug and hoping it would all go away.

“I love you, Taehyung.” She spoke softly, pushing her face into his shirt.

Her words contorted his face as he sucked in a sharp breath, but she never noticed. Lifting his hand, he laid it flat at the back of her head, caressing her hair. It took him a second before saying it back, “I-I love you too.” His focus was on her now, lips thinned but curved enough to resemble a shy smile.

Raising her head, Clara gazed into the syrup color that was his eyes. Her teary irises twinkled in awe at the beauty of her boyfriend who she loved with all her heart. Shutting her eyelids, she tiptoed higher to attach to his soft addicting lips. Once they meshed, the electricity of passion coursed through her body. He tasted like alcohol, whiskey to be exact, yet it tasted like his musk and tinge of cinnamon spreading in her mouth. It has been so long since they’d kissed like this and she only wanted more.

She pressed herself onto him, holding onto the collar of his shirt. Caught by surprise, Taehyung took a step back, hitting the edge of the counter and then narrowing his hands onto her hips. Her tongue swiped through his lips, begging him to let her in. Though reluctant, the idol accepted the action and the muscles swirled against one another.

The socialite parted away to whisper, “More, Tae. More.”

He knew this was going to happen at some point, despite his constant avoidance. But after what happened, he couldn’t dodge it any longer. His heart palpitated in agitation as he nodded once again, “I’ll give you what you want.” Then their lips touched before they ran and tangled up in their bed in their apartment.

“Taehyung, you’re late again,” Namjoon informed as he checked his watch, then at his heaving younger member before him.

“Sorry, I-I forgot how much time passed.” Taehyung apologized as he stabilized his breathing with his hands on his hips. But the leader held a stern stare with a clenched jaw.

“Let’s not worry about that right now. Bang PD-nim is waiting for us.” Seokjin interjected to ease some tension. “We��re all here, and all good so let’s go.”

After partnering with the Na Group conglomerate, Big Hit hosted their first stakeholder’s event near the company building with the rise of BTS’s popularity nationwide and gaining more international exposure. There have been rumors of them potentially getting invited to the Billboard Music Awards Show next year as well as a nomination, but it was too early to tell.

Being the only active group of the company, BTS was invited—but more like involuntarily told—to come to show their appreciation to the now sponsors of Big Hit. It wasn’t something they preferred since it was meeting new people but had to go to show face at the very least.

An hour into the event, while the older members were socializing with the esteemed guests, the younger ones were a bit bored and sat down at a table in the corner of the banquet. Taehyung, especially, was not only tired but not feeling it. He was the last one to get ready as he was the last one to get up out of bed despite the event being at night. He came home last night close to noon after an NDA encounter, which wasn’t all that new to the idol and the other members. But if anything, he had the most but almost never remembered their faces.

The members haven’t explicitly spoken about it to him but ever since Taehyung became an adult, he hasn’t been…doing so well. The older ones specifically Namjoon and Yoongi assumed that it was just a blue transitional period of his life, but got too excessive with the drinking, one-night stands, and fights. But not with the members, fights with random people, yet still it was difficult to keep that away from the media. If he turned to fighting with members, then that would cause problems, right?

Anyways, he hasn’t been himself and it has been a growing concern. Jimin always worried for his best friend, as Taehyung was the least expectant to take on this spiral. He would usually talk enthusiastically and do things playfully and passionately, especially when they were trainees. Although for a good year after BTS debuted, Taehyung also had a rough time and felt down. None of them knew what happened, apart from the falling out of his childhood friend back home but didn’t think much of it…well, except for Jimin.

Your friendship with Taehyung was always questionable to him. Not in a bad way, it was different, to say the least. He never met you, only heard your voice. But the mannerisms Taehyung gave out were not what a best friend would do. Because what kind of best friend whines about missing your cuddles?

Either way, Taehyung always denied that you were nothing more than a best friend and eventually Jimin gave up. But when his friend continues acting out after being a dumbass and never contacting you again even after almost four years later, the question comes out every so often.

Jimin and Jungkook tried their best into helping their member out, but nothing seemed to work. Seokjin and Hoseok suggested new hobbies…but that, unfortunately, took the wrong track with the NDA collections and drinking. The members faced a wall, unable to come up with a better way to help him.

But then in the corner of his eyes, Jungkook spotted something particular. Or rather felt eyes watching their table. Subtly sensing the direction, the youngest spotted a young lady staring. She was by all means one of the prettiest visuals to see, absolutely breathtaking. Not really the youngest’s type, but nice to look at nonetheless.

However, though he felt her gaze all over, it wasn’t necessarily directed toward him. She was completely oblivious to Jungkook. He followed her eyes, which then landed on the second youngest, Kim Taehyung, himself. But he ignored his setting completely, reading a manga chapter on his phone.

Jungkook’s pupils went back to the girl and she was still keeping them on Taehyung. Jimin kept himself occupied with a flute glass of champagne while people watching at its finest. And at that moment, the youngest had a splendid idea that changed Taehyung’s life completely.

“Taehyungie Hyung,” Jungkook called over while he kept his eyes on her.

“What?” Taehyung muttered as he scrolled through his device.

“Th-There’s a girl staring at you.”

“I’m not in the mood to fuck someone right now. I have a really bad hangover.” The idol bluntly said.

“Tae, you know someone could stare without the idea of sleeping with them.” Jimin joined in the conversation.

“And how was the success rate of that?” Taehyung retorted, ultimately putting his phone down to look at the two. “Probably zero.”

Jimin pursed his lips, accepting the correct answer but he decided to not let it get to him. Instead, he ignored his friend’s reply and turned to Jungkook. “Who’s this chick?”

He tried his best to be undetected, but Jungkook was never good at that. The youngest pointed directly at her, which ultimately caught her attention. All three of them followed his finger, finding the young girl. Within seconds, her eyes bulged out and her lips parted before her back towards them.

“You know you’re a dumbass sometimes, right?” Jimin sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “And don’t fucking point! It’s rude!” He slapped Jungkook’s shoulder, but it made no effect on him. “Do you also not know who she is?”

“Are we?”

“That’s literally Na Clara! She’s a socialite and the daughter of the Na family!” Jimin answered as if they were supposed to know. “Her dad is part of the reason why we’re here! So she could meet us because she’s a fan.”

“A fan she may be, but her eyes were googly eyes for Hyung over there.” Jungkook nodded over to the mundane Taehyung.

Taehyung rolled his eyes and said, “Whatever, not like it matters.”

Jimin squinted at his best friend, then scanned the room for the lady. Once he found her, her eyes were back on Taehyung. Lifting a brow, an interested smirk crept up onto his lips. “Tae, why don’t you talk to her?”

“No, thanks. Don’t want to get into trouble with daddy’s little girl and her money.” Taehyung barely looked her way, but he knew that he didn’t feel good about her.

“Come on, Hyung! It’s a perfect opportunity.” Jungkook suggested, leaning closer to Jimin who was in the middle of the trio.

“Perfect opportunity for what?” Another voice appeared, it was Yoongi’s. The rest of the members came back and sat, completing the group table.

“Na Clara is looking at Taehyung,” Jimin responded, earning a glare at his same-aged member. “She probably likes him. She’s still staring, you know.”

“Wow, Clara?” Namjoon gasped. “PD-nim said she’s a big fan of ours too!”

“She’s pretty too.” Seokjin acknowledged.

“Taehyung, why don’t you talk to her?” Hoseok too recommended.

“Why are you all so adamant on me talking to her?” Taehyung sighed, feeling somewhat pressured. “I’m not interested in her anyway…”

“Come on, you don’t know that.” Jimin countered, nudging him on his side. ”Maybe it’ll be nice, you know? A good change from your hookups.”

“Excuse me? I ha—”

“Tae,” Jimin lowered his voice. He looked around, observing the rest of the group staring back in a suggestive way. He peered back at his stubborn friend.

Taehyung sighed, trying his best not to blow up at his friend. “Chim, hook up or not. I don’t think it’s a good idea—”

“I just want you to find change. We want you to find good change.” Jimin disclosed, being honest with how the group was respectively feeling for him. “You’re spiraling and it’s not good.” With that, Taehyung stayed quiet and bit his lips nervously. Yes, he was absolutely aware of what he was doing but he never bothered to change. “You’re not doing anything bad! We just…don’t know what would happen in the long run.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Taehyung sighed and blinked. “And you think me talking to the socialite would help? Her staring’s not gonna change my life.”

“Okay, I didn’t want to do this,” Jimin muttered before leaning into Taehyung. His lips were near his ear as he whispered, “You haven’t been yourself since you and ___ stopped talking.”

Taehyung swore his heart dropped, skipped a beat, and ached at the mention of your name. It has been so long since your fight and not once did he ever apologize or call back. He didn’t know how you were doing, what has life been like for you, or even if you missed him because he did. He missed you so so so so much.

But wondering if you missed him might be pushing it after what he did, calling you needy and never wanting to talk to you. He still regretted saying that to this day. He knew those words were hurtful and sensitive towards you. Nevertheless, he thought about you almost every day. After almost four years, you graduated high school and probably went to college like you’ve always wanted to. But all he could do is assume and wonder.

He still loves you very much, and hopelessly too. Despite all these one-night stands, he never cuddled, never hugged, never looked their way, nothing but sexual pleasure really and to get his mind off the gutter temporarily. If he did do those things, he dreamt it with only you, his Blue. Recapping all the times he had you in his arms tightly while you slept soundly on his chest, it pained him every day to know you weren’t there anymore. And without you, he vowed never to do it with anyone else.

“What about her?” Taehyung questioned, suppressing the sadness of the loss of you.

“It’s been years, Tae. If you’re not talking to her, then you should move on.” Jimin explained, but Taehyung shook his head. “Maybe this isn’t about her, but still. You should do something.”

He’ll never admit it, but Jimin was right about you and what he was going through. He felt a bit stuck in his past, but it was only because of how happy he was when he was with you. Everything after you seemed boring, stagnant, and numb to his fast-paced lifestyle and career. He didn’t feel like he was growing as a person, just being a human who was being told what to do and say. Kinda like right now.

But Jimin had a point. He has been not feeling much with his life. The NDAs and constant drinking weren’t doing much for him besides a temporary fix. Change may be what he needed.

He glanced to the side and saw Clara, who was surprisingly talking to someone else. She was pretty and fairly approachable. Could this be the change he needed? Someone that wasn’t you? Of course, no one could replace you but still. He hasn’t even thought of talking to anyone else as he did with you. He doesn’t think he could do it. But with this sudden urge from his members to go for it, he seemed to be outnumbered with his choices. His members meant well, so maybe. But none of them ever knew how he truly felt when you were out of his life.

Yet he second-guessed himself. Being encouraged or rather forced by his group members, it seemed that it was inevitable for him to avoid meeting and talking to Clara. Seokjin jokingly suggested settling down with her, which Taehyung found repulsive but laughed it off fake-happily.

Once Taehyung stood up from his seat and walked towards Clara, her sparkling eyes found his nervous yet sad ones. He greeted and introduced himself to her and she did the same back. To his dismay, they had a filling and fruitful conversation for so long that they didn’t realize that the event was about to end. But he couldn’t help but compare her to you. You were different, in appearance and aura. Clara seemed confident in herself but had a people please vibe. She didn’t look all that genuine in his eyes but still seemed nice in a passive-aggressive way.

She was nice to talk to, but that seemed it for Taehyung. Clara, however, wanted to see him again and asked for his number. Reluctantly, the idol accepted, reminding himself of what the members said. It happened all too fast that he couldn’t remember what they even talked about. But little did he know how important it was for them to be together and the relationship that would flourish for years, to the point where there were talks of marriage.

Yet the thought of you floated in the back of his mind.

A loud bang on the table you sat at interrupted the peaceful break that you used up to take a quick nap. “Howdy, partner!”

Raising your head from your arms used as a cushion, eyes readjusted to the lighting and blinked until the sight was visible to you. It was a weak sight since you only saw Kenji bugging you once again. “Why are you in a bright-ass mood all the time?”

Kenji joined in and sat across. “Well, one of us has to when the bright bubbly worker is a cold stoic fiend right now.” You scowled at your coworker before getting back to sleep in your final minutes. The younger observed you, looking more tired and weak today than before. You’ve gotten better with your habits lately, so it was worrisome to see you like this. He hoped it was only an off day today and that you weren’t back on a self-destructive cycle again. “You good, ___? Never had enough sleep?”

Sighing, you knew you weren’t going back to napping. You pulled your chin up from your sleeping position and rested on the tops of your forearm to look at him. “Yeah, had a little trouble last night so it resulted in this.”

“Family doing okay?” He referred to your circumstances back home.

You sighed, yet felt surprised that was the least of your problems…well, today that is. It was only because you somehow managed to pay the medical bills on time this past Saturday. “Grandpa is…getting by.” You scrunched your nose at the thought of him. He nodded, understanding his condition but couldn’t fathom what you were going through.

Ever since your grandmother passed away unexpectedly, he has been working harder to provide for both of you. He worked restlessly in the fields from sunrise until sunset while you picked up everything in the household. You’d help him on the weekends but worked at the shop and other menial jobs around the town for some extra earnings after school. Since you were a minor, you weren’t allowed to have a steady job so everything was under the table.

Your family wasn’t as financially stable but kept a roof and food on the table for you. Your grandparents were somewhat retired, yet kept to themselves in their farming. After the passing of your parents, their life insurance money was used to support you and your needs. Of course, the numbers decreased as you got older, and by the time you graduated high school, there was little left to support you through college in Geochang.

You even contemplated not pursuing college and continuing with family farming, but your grandfather convinced you not to as it wasn’t something you loved. He knew you and he would regret it years later, so without talking to you first, he took out loans for you to pay for the rest of your college. But he lied in the beginning and said it was money saved on the side by him and your grandmother for you for emergencies.

You believed him, so you agreed and went to college all without knowing. You even graduated and had a steady job before going back to school, and he still didn’t tell you. However, it was only when you were about to leave for Seoul, he collapsed on the ground during lunch and went unconscious.

You rushed him to the hospital where you found out that not only has he been keeping the loan payments from you but also his health was declining and been growing weaker by the second. That morning was a trigger that caused him to be bedridden in the hospital even after you left.

You were livid with emotions and couldn’t comprehend what was happening as it came all at once. So you straight up broke down and cried in the middle of the hospital room while your grandfather’s nurse, Moobin, tried his best to calm you down. You were upset about everything, even refusing to move now that you found out about the truth. But the main thing that you had to do was help and care for your grandfather regardless of how you felt about your hometown.

You took on so many roles on the farm, at home, and when you visit the hospital. You were on the brink of exhaustion, but all of that was taken away from you by your other family relatives willing to help you both out.

Even without the labor, you had to think about the loans you now had to pay off. Half of your savings wasn’t even enough to cover at least 15% of how much you owed. Don’t forget about the lovely interest! Fortunately, it was on pause when the loaners found out that you were going back to school.

But then there were your grandfather’s medical bills. You had the responsibility of paying them off and helping him as he stayed at the hospital, too weak to be self-sufficient. Though your grandfather always told you not to worry about the money, you still did, even to this day. Both of your grandparents never wanted you to worry about their grown-up problems, to the point where they were always discreet and kept things from you. But you had the habit of overhearing, wanting to take ease and weight off their shoulders for how much they’ve done for you. Again, they reminded you that you were their child and needed to be raised, not raise them, but your need to assist remained. They worked hard for you, so the least you could do the same back.

You had a few family members from another farming providence move to Geochang and were willing to help with the farm, house, and grandfather, which you were grateful for. But you’d never ask for any financial means despite all of them knowing what happened.

Money has always been tight for you, especially living in this city. That’s why you never bought things for yourself unless it’s necessary. Your clothes were either thrifted or gifted to you, school books were rented through the public library, you didn’t have a car—not even having a license, and your laptop which cost a fortune was a present from the elders of your hometown knowing that you’d need it.

You missed home sometimes, for your grandfather of course. Buildings and skyscrapers were a bit much for you, people were somewhat cold-hearted, and it was harder to haggle here. You wished to visit soon, but with money right now, all you had to focus on was school and work.

“You know we’re here for you, right?” Kenji reminded, leaning into the surface of the table. You smiled at his endearment worrying and constant reassurance that you always liked.

Living here has gotten better though. You weren’t as alone as you were back in Geochang. After your only friend ever dropped you, you didn’t turn to others especially when you had no time to socialize since you were helping your grandfather. When you did accept them, then it only left you disappointed and even more distant. Your social meter was practically non-existent over there.

Though you were usually closed off and wary, you’ve met very nice people here and worked with a good family who truly cared for you. Despite your guilt for leaving behind your ill grandfather who begged to differ, it made your depressing boring life a little happier than previous years as well as warmed you back up.

“Yes, I know. Thank you, child.” You nodded, reaching your hand out to mess his hair up. He grimaced and cursed at you when you treated him like a little kid. “Even Halmeoni and Harabeoji too.”

“You don’t need to do everything on your own, you know. Especially when you always do things for others and yourself. Jesus, when was the last time you even did something for yourself?” He questioned.

You stayed quiet as you scrunched your nose in wonder. But when you don’t answer, Kenji complained, “The fact that you have to think says something.” He earned a glare from you. “You like to give and help, but never want anyone to do the same back.” He mentioned as he scoped the quiet restaurant. There were some tables filled, but every one of them has been served. “Just like serving, it’s nice to have a helping hand.”

“I know…” You rolled your eyes. “It’s just hard to trust people sometimes. I need to be careful.”

“How long does it take for you to trust someone?”

You kept quiet, pondering the question. It took you a while to trust Kenji after months of knowing him, you knew to trust his grandparents as soon as possible, and some college peers never got too close to you since you refused, maybe it just depended on the person.

Then your mind went to Taehyung. You always had one foot in and another out the door, in case he fucked up. You were being more strict with him. But the thing was that Taehyung had his own category for you. He was different because he wasn’t a complete stranger, he was your best friend who you used to trust after breaking it. And yet again, he broke it. Well, not really. You don’t know yet, it has been barely a day yet.

“Depending on the person, I guess.” You shrugged.

“What about Taehyung Hyung?”

“Why must you resort to him?”

“Because you have history with him.” He smirked, pushing his fists up into his cheeks to squish them. Unfortunately for you, he acted as someone you confided in since he was always nosy yet understanding. It has gotten more and more like that when you first told him about Taehyung, but not all. “Seeing you’ve gotten closer to him after all, do you trust him now?”

You exhaled, leaning back into your chair. “Trick question.”

“It’s not a trick question.” He scoffed. “Or you just don’t want to answer it because you already know and you don’t like the answer?”

“What are you trying to be, my therapist?”

“I can.”

“Look Taehyung and I are not as close as you think. He’s different now, an-and changed, practically a stranger.” You semi-lied, trying not to make it a bigger deal than it actually was. “And we’re also fighting now. He disappointed me.”

“Not as close but fighting, wow. Didn’t know strangers do that.” Kenji replied sarcastically. You eyed him out, wishing to punch his cheeky smile off of him. “If he upsets you that much, then first, he’s not a stranger, second, he’s worthy enough for you to care for him. And third, probably enough to have your forgiveness. Maybe even trust, like do you really wanna give up on him? I feel like you’re the type to not give up easily.”

“You’re such a little shit.” You couldn’t say anything to defend yourself with his statement because deep down you knew it was true. So you resorted to bad-mouthing him, and blushing like an idiot.

“I’m a little shit who’s right.” He hummed lightly, not caring for your anger. “From the past weeks, he’s been here and with you, you’ve gotten better. Happier and healthier in your frozen exterior. You like it but you don’t wanna admit it with the past, and your damn pride.” He explained unapologetically. “New flash, my dear. It’s the past, so move on.” He said it so plainly that it insulted you. But it was the cold hard truth.

A customer called for him to which he stood up and you checked your phone, seeing that your break was over so you stood from your seat. “I know you’re scared, ___. You don’t wanna get hurt, can’t blame you but deep down you still want him there. So be a little bit more forgiving of him. Be okay with trusting him. Hell, maybe lean on his shoulder for support. You’ve seen that guy all without that fame and fortune that probably no one else knows about. Even without that, I’m sure he’s still the same Taehyung.” He grabbed a chair and was about to head to the table, but wanted to say one last thing. “Knowing you, you do things passionately and wholeheartedly. Why not do the same in your friendship with Taehyung instead of being on edge?”

You paused yourself as your heart thumped questionable. Why not do the same in your friendship with Taehyung instead of being on edge? The very question stayed in your mind for the weeks to come.

Laying down on his bare back on top of the disorderly dirtied sheets while his legs tousled with his naked partner resting calmly curled up by his side, Taehyung looked up at the ceiling. He didn’t know how long it has been with the blackout curtains covering any light from the outside.

Yet another day restless and upset with himself of two things—you and Clara. But right now, it was all because of her.

The earlier moments recaptured in his brain. The sudden rush of energy, electrifying touch on one’s skin, and immense release was brought upon them for hours as two lovers shared the love they had for one another. Bodies stick and tangled together to further the lasting bond.

If only that were true.

Energy was always being drained out of the life force. When she touched his skin, it felt dreadful and scorching. The connectedness into one was nowhere to be found. In fact, what was left of him in the aftermath was the uncomfortable numbness that he stilled upon himself for years. The use of his body for her own needs while he suffered the consequences of his.

With teary eyes, Taehyung glanced at Clara’s sleeping form. Even in no light, she glowed bright, bright enough to not notice his struggles, his true self. She slept so peacefully, never bothering to care if he was. He went back to the ceiling watching, as his pupils burned with hopelessness.

At the start of their relationship, it seemed so good. He gave her a chance with his heart, eventually making him fall in love and give his all to her. Spending hours together bonding, receiving blessings from family, and the gilded romance of their love was so jubilant that it was all fake.

Because underneath that so-called love was nothing but fights, accusations, gaslighting, and insecurities. It was like water and fire, and one of them would always be extinguished at the end.

Clara was expectantly nice on the outside. Her sweet and kind behavior felt like a ruse the second she stepped into the closed doors and four walls because there, she tricked his whole entity. Discouraging, insulting, playing cheese in the trap, lying, all she did to him. Yet Taehyung was the bad guy making her cry, being unfair, and spending less time with her?

Of course, she covered them all up by helping him on the outside such as begging him for therapy, helping him to reconcile with his members, and especially showing off how fabulous and perfect their relationship was to their circles. Though kept from the general public, as long as she knew she had Taehyung, that was all that mattered.

Nothing Taehyung wanted mattered to her. If it did, it was to help her image. It has gotten worse as time went on, exponentially within months. But sadly, he knew she was his endgame, and that very thought injected poison into his mind. There was nothing that can be done, nothing he could do without consequences.

Disgusted. He felt disgusted with himself. He wanted to shower and wash all the scum off his ruined body and damaged mind. The tears welled up and ran down his face and temples while snot formed up his nostrils with no one else to hear except for himself. He felt like he had no one, no one truly caring for him. No signs of help.

It wasn’t what he wanted. Because if he said what he wanted, everything that was built up to this point would be destroyed. And what he wanted was a dream, a hopeless dream that he so determinably wanted.

It was so close yet far to even reach.

The serene of the nightfall sat the motionless park. The glistening of the moonlight reflected off the clearing river, glowing the scene around. The sounds of gentle winds could only be heard as Taehyung and Clara laughed together, enjoying their time and meal together.

It has been six months since they first met, and six months since a somewhat blossoming relationship began. The two have gone on countless dates, exchanged gifts, stayed up long nights for video calls, messaging each other, and have already seen each other’s families by now.

Yet, they weren’t entirely “official.”

Of course, BTS was on its way to success as its popularity grew exponentially overseas. Obtaining new and diverse fans, selling sold-out shows, crafting rich and authentic music, and the list goes on. But that also included restrictions for the seven members.

The life of an idol came with a price, and that included having their private life be limited from hanging out with friends and family, having eyes on you at any time of the day, pretending to not know what sex is, and everyone’s favorite—dating.

Dating continued to be a controversial topic as it even removed members from the group, led fans into foes of their once favorite artists, and somehow technically ruined their lives. It could be an exaggeration, or not.

But that was more of a reason for idols to not date, or at least be careful about what they were doing and who they were with.

However, it wasn’t as much in Taehyung’s case.

In the eyes of the public, Na Clara was the ultimate dream girl, a down-to-earth socialite who deserved the whole world for everything she did. She was sweet, smart, charming, gorgeous, and an absolute pleaser. And Taehyung did see that in her…but always questioned what was more to it.

Everyone would think that they were becoming the new “it” couple…well in secret. With their looks, their fame, their interests, their connections, it seemed so fitting, even perfect, one might say with this idol-socialite combo to just be together.

The idol grew quite fond of Clara, hence why, he kept her around. He learned much about her—mind, body, questions, responses, even remembering and picking up certain habits that the socialite had like asking what things were in a pout or making a disgruntled face of disinterest when seeing problematic people.

His members and friends saw how Clara made life so easy for Taehyung. She wanted it easy for him. She wanted to take the heavy weight of life off his shoulders. She took him out of that down-spiraling playboy NDA life, told him to do this instead of that if it’s not good for him, and comforted him when times got rough and times were indeed rough…still rough.

It was best to say that Clara was the best thing that ever happened to him.

But why wasn’t their relationship being taken to the next level?

“Oh, Tae! It’s so beautiful here.” Clara gazed into the atmosphere like from a scene from a 2000s indie film. “Thank you for bringing me, and the little picnic dinner. So adorable!”

Taehyung’s vacant expression at the park view was ripped away as he glanced down to the blanket where their dinner rested —take-out pasta and fried chicken with two empty wine glasses that were stained red. The idol hummed and nodded, “I’m glad you enjoyed this.” He was careful with his words.

The socialite turned to face him. His eyes weren’t meeting hers as they stared back into the scenery. There was a physical distance between the two, the picnic basket in the middle of them. Although they had slept with each other countless times and it was obvious what their relationship was by now, Taehyung never showed as much affection to her as hoped.

Clara found out through others that Taehyung was a cuddly person, who loved to touch those he loved and cared about, but she never experienced it herself. They kissed and hugged, but it was almost mechanical. Maybe it was just because they weren’t official, and he didn’t want to scare her off. She didn’t know, she even tried talking to him, but Taehyung continued to be an enigma.

“Come closer, Tae.” She motioned him to be near, which was usually typical as the socialite would be the one to initiate things.

Though he cocked an eyebrow at her, he obliged. Pushing the basket away from their space, Taehyung scooted closer to her until their thighs touched. Clara then rested her head on his shoulder before he hesitantly wrapped an arm around her dainty waist. He pressed his cheek on the tops of her head, slowly getting into a comfortable position.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

There was a slight pause, but it went unnoticed by her. “Yeah, it’s been better.”

“I’m glad for you…” She smiled before furrowing her eyebrows as she did her best to gather her words and confidence. “Tae, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Oh no, am I in trouble again?”

The socialite giggled at his assumption, shaking her head. He felt her stare “No, babe. I’ve been thinking…about what we are.”

Taehyung grew confused as he looked down at her supple face. “What do you mean?”

“I really really like how things are with us. I enjoy being with you and learning more every day about what’s going on in your head. Just the thought of you makes me get butterflies.” Clara explained the best way she can. “It makes me want to fall harder and harder for you that I want more.”

“M-more, why?” Okay, he knew he sounded stupid and probably shouldn’t have responded that way but it couldn’t be helped. He was taken aback and wasn’t expecting such a serious conversation to a causal date. It wasn’t even as fancy as past dates and dinners.

Clara pouted at his response but tried her best to remain lax. “Well, what do you think about me? Us? Is this us just being like…this enough for you?”

“You know my life is difficu—”

“Yes, I completely understand!” She interrupted before sighing. “I’m also in a similar boat too.”

You will never understand, Taehyung thought but didn’t speak out loud. He always thought a lot of thoughts but never said them.

But the longer Taehyung said nothing, the more anxious Clara was becoming. Maybe she just needed to get the point across, also known as her feelings. As a measure, the socialite then took Taehyung’s unoccupied hand and intertwined it with hers. Her brown almond eyes gleamed at his under the silvery moonlight as she said her four words, “I love you, Taehyung.” So soft and delicate yet enough for the idol to gasp slightly. “I’m in love with you, I’ve been loving you for a while.”

Clara’s heart skipped a beat.

But Taehyung’s didn’t. It was more panicking about how she was acting so forward with this and why she wanted more. He was fine with what they were doing now, and now alone.

“Look, you don’t need to say anything. I know you’re not ready to say it yet and that’s fine, but don’t you want to take our relationship to the next level? Being official. I’m willing to do all it takes to be with you. Please, Tae?” Clara wondered as she tried to find his eyes. They wandered elsewhere, not wanting to face her. The socialite felt herself sinking at his reactions. “Unless…”

That was when Taehyung finally reached her. Her glowing irises layered with a slight gloss while she bit her painted lips. Was she about to cry? Taehyung started to feel guilty. “Unless what?”

Clara composed herself before asking, “Unless there was someone else.”

Unless there was someone else. The words now consumed his brain. There was no one else near him after meeting Nara. The members saw no one too. His playboy days were practically non-existent. There was no one to go to, no one to comfort him, no one to make his day, no one to make him smile, no one to make him happy.

Except.

Then suddenly something—someone appeared before him. Someone who had longed for.

Whatever how Clara looked, her features formed into another. Rosy plump cheeks filled with joy and life, cheekbones shaped into glory, hair shorter but braided down to the chest, perfect cute rounded nose, and those familiar doe eyes.

The ones that would suck him into a trance every single moment and be immersed in the ever-glowing beauty of the kind and altruistic aura he knew. The aura that made him feel like a magnet and gravitate towards. The gravitation that made him realize that no other love would ever compare to this love he had.

The love he had for you.

Taehyung loves you so deeply that it continued to this day. The undying love he never confessed to you, not even when he was with you, not even when he was about to leave, not even through your night calls. Even after the falling, he continued to wish to see you again and tell you his confession that was hidden and buried deep in his heart that he told no one else, not even his members or family. Why? Because it was a confession for you and only you.

He saw you in front of him, smiling your patient smile and laughing with tears in your eyes. He now noticed the flush of your face, the puffiness around your eyes, and the inaudible sniffling you were doing. He realized it was a memory of you, the day he found out that he wanted to love you more than you or he could possibly imagine. The love his father once told him and be forever ingrained into it.

“Hyungie…” Your loving tone was voiced out as the vision of you looked back at him. Even when appearing sad and heartbroken by a dumbass individual, you looked like an angel. You were so beautiful. “I will always love you.”

Immediately, he spoke, “I will always love you too.”

“You do?” Another voice shattered through his consciousness, causing him to snap back into reality.

It wasn’t you. It definitely wasn’t you. You were gone, and you were never coming back even if both parties tried. There was no ___ and Taehyung. No Blue and Hyungie. All trash, absolutely nothing. No future together, whether near or far. The relationship you once had with him has been crumpled up and cast away, burning into the pits of broken memories that hurt him by the slight thought.

You weren’t here anymore. He couldn’t save it. He loves someone who wasn’t here with him anymore. The falling tears he didn’t realize he shed ran down his face. Oh, how he missed you so much. He wanted to do anything and everything in the whole world to get you back and into his arms again.

“Taehyung,” Clara called for him again, but he was unresponsive. He was too busy crying out the overwhelming love he had for you. He chanted faint “I love you” with his eyes closed, thinking of you.

It was only when Clara cupped his face with her pale hands and moved his head to meet her eyes. Taehyung’s eyes opened up, expecting you but he knew it was too good to be true. It was her, the only person he had.

But not the one he wanted.

“What happened? You started crying.” Her tone was so much different from yours. Yes, sweet, but sickly sweet.

“I-I-I think…I just—got overwhelmed with emotions.” He didn’t want to say what was on his mind. It was an asshole thought for her anyway. Better to keep it hidden.

The socialite nodded, simply taking that because she was more concerned and very much intrigued with what he said back. “You said…” His bloodshot eyes tiredly stared back blankly. “You said you will always love me. Is…that true?”

He blinked. Her hopeful demeanor was seen kilometers away, evident that she needed the reassurance. But Taehyung held back as the voice in his head debated on what to say.

He cried for you. Yet you were gone, and you took his heart with you. He didn’t know what you were doing, probably college, having a fun normal life, getting a boyfri—no. You were doing your own thing for years without trace or contact. The second he fucked up, everything about you was gone in his life. Little by little until his life practically forced you out. But the memories remained.

But was this it for him? To go on with life without you or his heart? To have all of you before but have none of you now? He didn’t know how to go on with life without you. What was he going to do?

Look at him right now.

But Clara was here, she’ll only be here from now on, and that pained Taehyung. No one would ever replace you. He refused to replace you, you were his one and only Blue.

Still, you were out of his life and left him empty but with a purpose. He was an idiot and he should be punished for what he did.

All he needed to do was survive without you. He had to at least try. He needed to do this. He needed to fall in love with Clara. Do it for him and his state.

“Yeah…I love you…with all my heart.” He was supposed to say this to you, not her.

Clara’s hope glowed bright like the heavens as she threw herself on him, making him stumble back and fall onto the blanket. She straddled his hips, embracing him with all her might. Taehyung didn’t know what to do and laid there before hugging her back to avoid awkwardness.

She lifted her head that rested on his shoulder before giving him a deep kiss which he did back willingly. What felt like passion and an exchange of love from Clara was only messy, wet, and forced to Taehyung. She parted from him with a string of cold saliva stretched, their foreheads resting on one another.

She focused all her attention on the man she loves. The burning devotion flamed her whole body, wanting all of him, wanting all the love he had for her. At last, Na Clara, the socialite, the visual of South Korea, was with the rising idol, Kim Taehyung, V of BTS.

“I love you.” She cooed, pecking his nose.

Yet Taehyung’s eyes grew blurry as he lets go of more tears and pain within him. Through the fuzzy vision, he only thought of you. There wasn’t anyone in the world for him, but you. But he had to remind himself that you weren’t here.

This had to do. This had to work.

“I love you too.” I love you, ___, my Blue. He cried out. Clara giggled, thinking how incredibly sensitive he was being for her. She whispered reassurances and comforted him, saying that it’ll be okay and not to cry. She was here for him, always by his side, wanting to turn his dark days into sunshine and rainbows. It was all perfect. The couple, the love, the bond, all perfect, perfect, perfect.

Yet perfect never meant that this would work.

Tagged: @manuosorioh @kaal-ee @stfxthv @dahliasbouqet @bertqut1 @fuckthinking @taebangtanbabe

#taehyung x reader #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfiction #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts x reader #matcha masterlist

155 notes · View notes