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scary-grace · 1 year

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Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 4) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Chapter 4

You don’t see Tomura the next morning, but when you come home from work, Phantom is loose in the yard, and Hizashi is hanging out just beyond the fence, studying an empty jar. “I came to get this, since we’re out,” he remarks. He has sharp teeth, just like Himiko. “So, what happened last night?”

You play dumb for all you’re worth. “Something happened last night?”

“Of course it did. The vibes coming off this house are impressively horny,” Hizashi says, and you cringe so hard you’re surprised you don’t explode. “I’ve been there. Consequence of spending too much time embodied – you start feeling things a normal human body feels, and going incorporeal doesn’t make it go away. That was a nasty shock for me, too.”

You really don’t want to ask Hizashi any questions at all, but you’ve got one – and it’s a subject change, so you seize it. “Is it true that ghosts’ power levels are stagnant? Are you just stuck with what you started with?”

“That’s not what I thought you were going to ask.” Hizashi tosses the jar from one hand to the other. “I’m guessing you’re asking because of our sexually frustrated friend in there?”

“I’ll pay you to never say that again,” you say, and Hizashi laughs. “Yes. He said –”

“That he didn’t want to come here. I’d buy that, easy.” Hizashi glances over his shoulder at the house, then beckons you away down the block. You’re not sure how far you have to go to be out of Tomura’s earshot, but you stop when Hizashi does. “Here’s the thing. He and I are the oldest ghosts in this neighborhood, but we’re not the same kind of old. I chose to be here.”

“Why?” you ask. Hizashi stares at you. “Did you come here to hurt people?”

“I came here because I wanted to be people,” Hizashi says. You stare. “Ask him what it’s like in the world between and you’ll understand. But to answer your question, we don’t spend our whole existences at the same power level. There are two kinds of ghostly power. There’s what you get right at the start. Then there’s your potential. Conjurers – the worst ones, anyway – they want potential. That’s why they grab the youngest ghosts.”

His expression darkens, and your legs almost give out beneath you. Is this how Tomura makes other people feel? You’re surprised that anyone’s ever set foot in your house. Hizashi doesn’t notice what he’s doing to you, or if he notices, he doesn’t care. “Eri had low surface power but massive potential. Her conjurer bound her in the worst situation possible, figuring she’d have to tap into that potential to take control of her environment and make it her own. She found another way out, but your ghost didn’t.”

He glances back at your house. “Based on how strong your ghost is now, his potential was massive. He probably hasn’t even found his limit yet. What’s weird is that he hasn’t used it.”

“Did you use yours?”

Hizashi grins his sharp-toothed grin. “Why do you think it took them so long to burn my opera house down?”

You’ve wondered, every so often, what it would have been like to be haunted by Hizashi instead of Tomura. Now you’re pretty sure you’d have had a breakdown. Aizawa must have nerves of steel. “Anyway,” Hizashi says, “he’s not smart enough to tell a lie that big. He’s telling the truth.”

He tosses the jar at you and you barely catch it in time. “And whatever you did last night, don’t do it again. I can handle his mood, but it’s messing with the little ones.”

You cringe. The last thing you want is for Eri and Himiko to pick up on whatever Tomura’s doing – even if they do know all about sex from observing humans already. But you also don’t know how to fix this problem you apparently caused. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Ask Keigo,” Hizashi says, already walking away. “He’ll know.”

Keigo? You’ve talked to Keigo some, since he’s the only person in the neighborhood who’s actually in your age range, but it’s occurring to you now that you’ve never actually met Keigo’s ghost. You pull out your phone, considering texting him, but there’s no point when his house is across the street and his car’s in the driveway. You walk back to your house, retrieve Phantom’s spare leash from your car, and take her with you when you head across the street to knock on Keigo’s door.

Keigo answers it pretty fast. There’s a handprint-shaped hole burned in his shirt, still smoking faintly, and it draws your attention like a magnet. “Uh, what is that?”

“Ask Dabi,” Keigo says.

“Ask her damn ghost. It’s all his fault.”

“No, it isn’t. You can control your behavior, you just don’t want to.” Keigo rolls his eyes. “I saw you talking to Hizashi. I’m guessing he sent you?”

“Yeah. Can we talk?”

“Yeah. Just let me get my shoes. And a new shirt.” Keigo ducks back into the house, and you wait on the steps, wondering if you’ll get a glimpse of the former ghost who lives here. Keigo’s voice issues from within the house, but he’s not talking to you. “Don’t go out there if you’re just going to get into a pissing contest with the guy across the street. He could crush you with both hands tied behind his back.”

“He can’t cross that fence, and I didn’t give up my powers like an idiot. That means I can do whatever I want with his human –”

“He’d blow that house apart and come get you, and you know it.” Keigo reappears. “Sorry about him. He’s in a mood. Let’s go.”

“Hey, who said you could leave? I didn’t say you could leave! Get back here –”

“I’ll be back when I feel like it! Bye-bye!” Keigo waves and then slams the door. He hurries down the steps and you follow him. He doesn’t stop until you’re at the top of the street. “Sorry about that. I’m guessing you’ve got questions.”

You have a lot of questions. “Aizawa said Tomura was the only ghost left in the neighborhood.”

“He is,” Keigo says. “You know how ghosts have to want to be embodied more than they’ve ever wanted anything for it to work? Dabi tried to change his mind halfway.”

“Oh,” you say. “So that makes him half ghost?”

“It makes him a scar wraith. Half of him is permanently materialized, half of him isn’t, and most of the time he’s a total bitch about it.” Keigo crouches down to tie his shoes. “He lost half of his ghostly powers and picked up most of the downsides of being embodied. He’s going to be like that until he makes up his mind.”

“Oh,” you say again. “That’s, um – is that why your house is always on fire?”

“You got it.” Keigo straightens up again. “I know we got out of there in a hurry, but you’re not actually in danger from him. I just wanted to teach him a lesson. Like you do to yours when you leave.”

Is that what you’re trying to do? You don’t know if you’re trying to punish Tomura or just trying to figure out a game plan before you go back in. In this case it’s definitely the latter. “Hizashi says my ghost is, um –”

“Horny,” Keigo says. Your face heats up. He starts walking, and you follow him. “Yeah, they get like that sometimes. And they don’t like it. Usually they dematerialize to get away from feelings they don’t like, but it doesn’t work, and that pisses them off, too.”

Phantom stops to sniff a tree, and you let her for a second before tugging her along. “Why?”

“Maybe you don’t know, because you’re a girl –”

“Girls get horny too,” you say. This is maybe the dumbest conversation you’ve ever had, excepting the one you had with Tomura about why Phantom can’t have dead birds even though she really wants them. “Are you saying it’s because they have to do something about it? They don’t. They can just wait for it to go away.”

“Yeah, but waiting for it to go away is uncomfortable,” Keigo says. You’re not going to argue that one. Being horny when you don’t want to be is deeply unpleasant. “And ghosts suck at tolerating discomfort. Yours is pretty inexperienced with everything from what I’ve heard, so he probably doesn’t know what to do, and unless you want to leave a copy of The Joy of Sex lying around –”

“I don’t.” You shudder. “I don’t want him getting ideas.”

“Then you’re going to have to explain,” Keigo says patiently. You give him a pained look, and he sighs. “Tell him to materialize fully and get it out of his system. That’ll solve the initial problem.”

The thought of heading back to your house and telling Tomura he needs to masturbate makes you want to die. But you’re even unhappier about Keigo’s second sentence. “What do you mean, the initial problem?”

“Hizashi and Magne gave me the ghost sex talk when we moved here. Kind of late, but it helped, sort of.” Keigo rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Once ghosts figure out how it works, they go one of two ways. Either they decide it’s gross and they’re not interested – that’s what Magne did – or they decide they’re really into it, which is what Hizashi did. And they can’t generate that feeling on their own the way people do, so they go after the people who made them feel that way the first time.”

That sinks in fast, but you’ve got no idea what to think or say or do about it. What comes out is the last thing you wanted to tell anyone. “I just held his hand. That was it! I was just trying to prove that there’s a difference between physical contact that hurts and stuff that doesn’t hurt because he won’t quit scratching his neck until it bleeds – and I’m pretty sure he hated it –”

“If he hated it, then you’re fine,” Keigo says. “Honestly, most of the adult former ghosts I’ve met aren’t into it even after they embody themselves permanently. Hizashi’s only like that because he spent enough time embodied to get used to it before he made it official. If it was a common thing Aizawa would have written a guidebook on it by now.”

Aizawa does have a lot of guidebooks. It took you a while to realize that most of the literature he sent you home with was stuff he’d written himself. “Although,” Keigo muses, “I guess Aizawa never hooked up with an actual ghost. He and Hizashi didn’t bang until after Hizashi was embodied.”

“So, um –” You can’t believe you’re about to ask this. “Did you, uh –”

“Did me and Dabi hook up before he fucked up his embodiment? Yeah,” Keigo says. You thought he’d be embarrassed, or proud. Instead he looks sad. “He didn’t use to be like this, or go by Dabi. His real name is Touya, and he was a lot, sure, but he wasn’t like this. I wouldn’t have gotten into it with him if he’d been like this the whole time.”

“I get it,” you say. You’ve had bad relationships before. “Do you think he’d go back if he embodied himself all the way?”

“Probably? I don’t think he’ll do that, though.” Keigo sighs. “They almost never decide consciously that they’re going to embody themselves. It happens because of how they feel. The little ones, they embodied themselves because they wanted to be with their families. They wanted to be seen and loved more than they wanted to be powerful. Magne jumped because Spinner didn’t have anybody but her, and as far as I can tell, she’s sort of surprised she did it. Hizashi did it on purpose, but Hizashi’s different – and from what he’s said, he’d probably have done it unconsciously at some point. He loves Aizawa that much.”

Now you get why Keigo looks so sad. “I bet Touya just got nervous,” you say. “I mean, it’s kind of a big decision, right? The biggest one they’ll ever make. And it’s not like he left. Even after you left his old haunt he stayed with you. That’s got to mean something.”

“Maybe.” Keigo smiles halfway. “A guy can hope, right?”

“Of course,” you say. Personally, you’re hoping for something different from Tomura.

You spend way too long pacing up and down the street after you say goodbye to Keigo, trying to work up your nerve. But eventually the weird tension from the house becomes perceptible to you even from outside it, and you remember what Hizashi said about the kids. You order yourself to suck it up, unlatch the front gate, and make your way inside. You can tell Tomura’s watching you, marking you closely, while you give Phantom a treat and some water. Once you’ve gotten her settled, you make your way upstairs to your room and shut the door. You can’t look at him while you have this conversation. You squeeze your eyes shut and speak up. “I know how to fix your problem.”

“What problem?” Tomura’s voice sounds tight and uncomfortable. “I don’t have a problem. You have a problem. You hung out with that guy across the street –”

“Because I needed help with you,” you say. It’s quiet for a second. “I figured out a solution to your problem. So you won’t feel the way you’re feeling anymore. I know it’s uncomfortable.”

“No, you don’t. Humans don’t feel like this.”

You manage to laugh at that one. “Humans feel like this all the time, Tomura. Half the dumb decisions people make in movies are because they feel like this.”

It’s quiet again. “How do I fix it?”

You bury your face in your head. “You have to materialize all the way. Then you have to touch yourself.”

“What do you mean, touch myself? You said I wasn’t supposed to scratch.”

“Not there.” You’re pretty sure your face is melting off from sheer embarrassment. “You know where that feeling is? The one you don’t like? You have to touch yourself there to make it go away.”

“Why?”

“It –” You chicken out. “You’ll figure it out once you try it. Go in the bathroom and shut the door.”

“Why do I have to go in there?”

“Privacy,” you say. There’s no way to tell him that you don’t want to have to clean ghost cum off the hardwood floors.

You hear footsteps down the hall, followed by the bathroom door opening and closing. “This is stupid,” Tomura says. You couldn’t agree more. “I’m doing it. It still feels – weird –”

That catch in his voice is something you really could have gone without hearing. “You don’t have to narrate,” you say. “You deserve privacy. I’m giving you privacy. I can leave the house –”

“No, don’t.” Tomura sounds pretty sure about that. “This was your idea. Don’t you want to – ugh.”

You don’t want to know what that was about. At all. You think about getting your headphones, except if you don’t respond when he talks to you, he’ll come looking to see why, and you really don’t want him to come talk to you in whatever state he’s in at the moment. Maybe it’s over already. Maybe he’s one of the vast majority of ghosts who think it’s gross and this will never happen to you again. You’re sure that’s it. It’s over already. It –

A low sigh echoes through the house, and you freeze in place. There’s a few uneven breaths, and then another sigh, followed by a sharper sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. “What is this?” Tomura asks, his voice strained in an entirely different way than before. When you don’t respond, he says your name, followed by another one of those sharper sounds. “I don’t understand. Why – ah –”

You clamp your hands down over your ears, but it’s like your ears are attuned specifically to him. You can hear everything. Every ragged breath, every whimper, every needy, desperate moan, and suddenly you’re sure that you got the other kind of ghost, the kind that finds sex and lust fascinating instead of gross. You’ve made a mistake. Not just in telling him to solve the problem like this, but in sticking around to listen. Because listening to this, knowing that you touched his hand and turned him on so badly that it’s been permeating the neighborhood all day, is doing something to you, too.

Your face is flushed, but it’s not just from embarrassment. When you touch your wrist to feel for your pulse, it’s fast. And worse than all of that, you’re wet. Knowing it’ll make things worse doesn’t stop you from sliding one hand down the front of your jeans, recoiling when you realize just how wet you are. This is a disaster. You can’t let him know.

There’s only one solution you can think of. No time to get to the bed, or to do anything more than sink to the floor, unzipping your jeans just far enough to give your hand room to move. You shove the heel of your other hand against your mouth, because you’re not loud but you’ve never done anything like this before and you’re not sure what will happen. You squeeze your eyes shut as you brush your fingers between your legs, the sound you make muffled by your hand and drowned out by the almost-agonized moan that issues from the bathroom down the hall. “I can’t,” Tomura pants. “I can’t – stop – how does it stop –”

“You’ll know.” You think your voice is steady enough. How is he still going? The first time you masturbated, you were so wound up that you were done almost faster than you could think. And he’s a guy. “Just keep going.”

“Keep talking.” Tomura’s voice is just as raspy and ragged as his breathing is. It shouldn’t be hot. You shouldn’t find this hot. “Is this –”

He breaks off in a whine. “How it’s supposed to feel?” you ask. You increase the pressure of your fingers against your clit in spite of the fact that he’s clearly expecting you to talk and you don’t want him to know what you’re doing. “Like you’re going to fall apart, but it feels so good you don’t care?”

“Yeah. Ah –”

“Like that,” you say. You find yourself spreading your legs wider, giving more space for your hand to move. “Exactly like that, Tomura. Don’t stop.”

You’re telling him how to touch himself, but it’s all wrong. It sounds the same as what you’d be telling him to do if he was here, if the fingers slipping inside you were his. What is wrong with you? Thoughts flash through your mind, thoughts you shouldn’t have, and your breathing turns shallow and harsh. “Say something,” Tomura whines, begs. You picture what he must look like right now, face red and hair stuck to his neck and forehead with sweat, completely at the mercy of a body and a need, and crook your fingers, shuddering. “Come on. I need you. Don’t leave me. Please –”

“I’m here.” The strain in your voice would let anyone else know exactly what you’re doing, but Tomura doesn’t know – and even if he did, the sounds you hear tell you that he’s lost in his own touch, chasing his own high. You might as well not be here. All you are is a friendly voice, a guide in uncharted territory. “You’re doing great. You’re almost done, aren’t you? You know what you like by now. Do that, and keep doing it. Don’t stop until –”

The sound he makes is inarticulate and absolutely filthy. Your muscles clench around your fingers, and you rub desperately at your clit with your free hand. Without a hand over your mouth to muffle yourself, you’re reduced to biting your lip until it bleeds as you listen to Tomura shuddering through the first orgasm of his existence. And that’s what tips you over the edge, really – the thought that it’s his first, the thought that it’s because of you. Blood spills into your mouth as your hips jerk against your hands, your vocal cords straining with the effort of holding back the sounds you want to make. You can’t remember the last time you came this hard. All you want to do is sprawl out on the floor and go to sleep.

But you can’t. You need to hide the evidence. You can’t let Tomura know what you just did. You zip and button your jeans, cringing at the slickness of your fingers, and leave your room, hurrying to the downstairs bathroom to splash water on your face. You get a glimpse of what you look like in the mirror and stare in horror. Your face is flushed and your eyes are dilated and there’s a drop of blood at the corner of your mouth that you smear away with the back of your hand. You look like a mess. The only thing that will save you is that Tomura doesn’t know what to look for.

His voice drifts through the house, still unsteady. “There’s a mess in here.”

“I’ll clean it later,” you say. “Since it’s my fault.”

The floor creaks once or twice, then stops, and you know Tomura’s dematerialized. It’s not a surprise. You can’t imagine how much energy he burned through, and sure enough, when you look out the kitchen window, you see a line of dead blackberry bushes along the back fence. Sex stuff takes more life-force than anything else. All the more reason for this to never happen again.

Tomura’s presence slips into the room, surrounding you like he does sometimes. Usually you shoo him away, or threaten to leave until he slinks off, sulking. Today you can’t. You coped okay with your first orgasm, but you were alone. You know you’d have felt weird if you hadn’t been, and if the person who talked you through it had ignored you afterward. You let him settle in, staring fixedly at the dead bushes along the fence. Only one or two are still alive.

Tomura’s voice rasps against your ear. “Do I have to do that every time?”

“There’s not going to be another time,” you say. “It’s my fault for touching you like that last night, and you told me not to do it again. So we’re good.”

“It felt good.” Tomura sounds sure about that. Your stomach twists. “It only felt bad because I didn’t know what to do. Now I know.”

“I’m still not touching you like that again. You said no. I can’t ask you to respect my boundaries when I don’t respect yours.”

“What if I take it back?” Tomura asks. The twist in your stomach is painful this time. “What if I want you to touch me?”

“Then it starts being about what I want,” you say. “And I don’t want to.”

It’s a lie. You’re lying. Another human would know you were, would know by the heat of your body and the flush in your cheeks and the heavy, painful sound of your heartbeat. “You don’t want to,” Tomura repeats. His presence slips away again, going to some place far enough that you can barely feel it. “I didn’t say I wanted it. Like I’d ever want you to touch me.”

His voice is the last thing to vanish. You want to stick your head under the faucet and drown. “Fine.”

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it, and after the hand-touching incident and everything that followed, the atmosphere in your house feels worse than it ever has before. You don’t know where Tomura’s going, but there are times when his presence vanishes almost completely, and when it does, you can barely stand the emptiness he leaves behind. You never lived alone until you lived here, and you thought you loved it. Now you realize that you were never living here alone at all. Until now.

The jar of bugs start piling up on the front porch, and rather than letting them die, you let them go. You don’t tell the others to stop bringing them. Some part of you is hoping Tomura will come back, that you can go back to the way things were before, but you don’t need one of Aizawa’s guidebooks to tell you that it’s not happening. You rejected him. And if there’s anything you’ve taught Tomura about how humans work, it’s that no means no.

You start spending extra time at work. Sometimes you bring Phantom with you, with Mr. Yagi’s permission, and it makes you popular with your coworkers like you never were before. You still hate it, but it makes it easier to be at work. And it means you don’t have to go home until you’re ready.

At least, most days you don’t. But you woke up with a splitting headache today, and a sore throat, and because you weren’t coughing, you decided that you didn’t have an excuse to skip work. You leave Phantom at home and drag yourself into the office, and you get through four hours of your workday before Mr. Yagi spots you and sends you home. Your pleas not to go home fall on deaf ears, and you drive home slowly, struggling to keep your eyes fixed on the road in front of you.

When you get home, Phantom greets you anxiously. She knows you’re not feeling well, and when you sit down in the front hall to pet her, you realize that you’re going to have a hard time getting up. It doesn’t matter. You can take a break. You let your eyes fall shut.

When you wake up, it’s to grey, rainy, late-afternoon light falling over your face, the sound of Phantom whining in your ear, and a voice you haven’t heard in three weeks. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Tomura,” you mumble. You were hoping sleep would make you feel better, but it feels like your headache’s actually gotten worse. “I’m fine. Just wanted to sit down.”

“Don’t be stupid. And don’t lie.” Even the sound of Tomura’s footsteps across the floor hurts your head, not to mention Phantom’s whining. “You fell asleep on the floor. You’re making this weird face. You don’t look right. What’s wrong with you?”

He almost sounds worried. “My boss sent me home. He thinks I’m sick.”

“Are you sick?” Tomura asks. You think about lying, decide not to, and nod. The pain that splits your skull makes you want to throw up. “Can you fix it?”

You have cold medicine somewhere, and pain relievers, but you’d have to get up to get them, and you’re so dizzy. Maybe you should call somebody for help, but who would you call? Nobody in your neighborhood is going to set foot in your house, and you don’t have any friends from work. And all your old friends have started to slip away, courtesy of your new world, your new friends, your new life. Who do you have to call? Nobody. The thought makes you sad, and feeling sad makes you even more tired than before.

“Wake up,” Tomura snaps at you. Phantom whines and licks your face. “Stop it. Wake up!”

Phantom’s worried. Tomura’s mad at you. Somewhere in your clouded mind, it occurs to you that you need help. That maybe it doesn’t matter who you call as long as you call somebody. You pull your phone out of your backpack and get as far as unlocking it. Then your head starts to ache worse than before, a dull pounding that fills every crevice and corner of your skull. Everything feels hot and humid and awful. You shut your eyes again. Anything to make it stop.

You’re cold when you wake up again. Well, some of you is cold. There’s a small warm patch on your stomach, but the rest of you is cold. Not regular cold. Tomura’s cold. He’s materialized, completely or close enough, and he’s holding onto you awkwardly with one arm while Phantom rests her head on your stomach. You can hear Tomura’s voice. He sounds pissed. “If I knew what was wrong with her I’d say it,” he snaps at whoever he’s talking to. “She keeps falling asleep. She’s not supposed to be home yet. She’s too warm.”

“So she’s sick.” That’s Keigo’s voice. Is Keigo here? Why did Tomura let Keigo in the house? “And she’s sleeping a lot?”

“I said that already. Stop repeating what I already said.”

“What are her symptoms?” That’s Aizawa’s voice. It starts to dawn on you slowly what’s happening here, and you almost laugh. “Symptoms. You named some of them already. Fatigue. Fever. Is she coughing?”

“No.”

“Does her breathing sound different than it usually does?” Jin’s mom is talking. Now you know for sure. “Does she have a rash?”

“Her breathing sounds normal,” Tomura says. He’s on the phone. He somehow unlocked your phone, went into your text messages, and conference-called the entire ghost friends group chat. You’d laugh if you weren’t worried it would make your head explode. “What’s a rash?”

“It would be on her skin. Does her skin look like it usually looks?”

An ice-cold hand brushes over your cheek. “It’s too hot. Her face is red. The rest of it looks okay.”

“Check for bites. We brought over tons of bugs. If enough of them bit her –”

“Hitoshi, hang up the phone,” Aizawa orders. “You’re supposed to be at school.”

“You’re supposed to be driving,” Shinsou fires back. “You’re picking up Eri from school early because she’s sick.”

Eri’s sick. You claw your way out of semi-consciousness and grasp the phone. “Does she have what I have?”

“Oh, good. You’re alive,” Keigo says. “Your ghost was pretty panicked.”

“I wasn’t panicked. Shut up.” Tomura’s grip on you tightens. “Someone else is sick?”

“She fell asleep in class. She has a headache and a fever,” Aizawa says. He sounds unhappy. “When would she possibly have been exposed?”

“We brought over some bugs last night,” Shinsou says. “Maybe it was then.”

“It could have gone the other way, too,” Jin’s mom says. “Kids get sick a lot easier than adults.”

“Good point. Maybe Eri got it first and brought it –”

“But Shinsou isn’t sick. If Shinsou lives with her and isn’t sick, how come –”

“I don’t care,” Tomura says loudly. “I don’t care about your sick kid. I want to know how to fix my human.”

Tomura’s making a great first impression. You’ll be doing damage control with Aizawa later, once you feel less like a puddle of body aches and sweat. “If she’s got what Eri’s got, it’s probably the flu,” Jin’s mom says. “She should have cold medicine on hand. Most people do. Pain relievers for the headache and body aches, cough drops if she has a sore throat. And she’ll need to eat. Do you know how humans eat?”

“I’m not stupid. I know how food works.”

“Don’t cook,” Aizawa, Shinsou, and Keigo all say at once. Keigo keeps talking. “You’re not embodied. You don’t have tastebuds. Whatever you end up cooking is going to be –”

There’s a scuffle on Keigo’s end of the line. “It’s going to be fuck awful,” Dabi announces, and Shinsou snickers. “Go ahead and poison your human. See if I care.”

“The next time you even look at my human I’m going to disintegrate your ugly face.”

“My ugly face? Have you seen what you look like? I’m surprised your human hasn’t gone blind.”

Tomura snarls. “At least I never set my human on fire –”

“You’re both pretty,” you mumble, and Keigo cracks up laughing. “I’m not that sick. I can heat up a can of soup in the microwave.”

“You’re so stupid. You fell asleep on the floor,” Tomura snaps at you. “You can’t do anything. I’m going to have to drag you everywhere.”

“No one made you touch me,” you protest. “If you weren’t here –”

“Well, I am here. So shut up and let me –”

“If you two are going to have a domestic, hang up the phone first,” Hizashi says loudly. You didn’t realize he was there. You jump, and your head collides with Tomura’s chin. He swears and so do you. “One of us will stop by later to make sure neither of you are dead. Goodbye.”

There’s a click as he hangs up the phone. Shinsou hangs up a second later. Jin’s mother hangs up after promising to bring over some food, and Keigo stays on the phone a little longer. “I’ll drop by in an hour or two, like Hizashi says. Can you promise not to kill me if I set foot in the house?”

“The only person I’m going to kill is your idiot ghost.”

“Cool,” Keigo says. You can hear Dabi arguing in the background that it’s not cool at all. “Bye.”

He hangs up the phone, too. Now it’s just you and Tomura and Phantom, piled up on the couch in the living room. You don’t remember getting to the living room. Tomura must have dragged you, like he said. You thought he was so mad at you that he was never going to show himself again. Apparently not.

“What’s a domestic?” Tomura asks after a while.

“A fight,” you say. “Just another word for fight.”

“Then why didn’t he just say a fight?”

You really don’t want to get into this right now. “A domestic is a kind of fight. The kind couples have. He was making fun of us by pretending we’re a couple.”

“I don’t like him,” Tomura says after a moment. “I can kill him for you.”

“Don’t do that,” you say.

“He scares you.” Tomura scratches at his neck with the hand that’s not gripping your shoulder. “If I can’t not scare you, I might as well be the only thing that does.”

Maybe you’re just sick and stupid, but you don’t hate the sound of that. “That’s kind of sweet.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tomura says. He slides out from behind you and drops you onto the couch with a thud. You see a patchy flush on his face before he turns away. “I’m getting your medicine. Stay there.”

You’re not really in a position to go anywhere. You scratch behind Phantom’s ears with a shaky hand and close your eyes again.

When you wake up, you find that Tomura’s turned your medicine cabinet inside out and brought you absolutely everything. Sorting through it is the first laugh you’ve had in a while, and once you’ve got a double dose of painkillers on board, you’re willing to risk it. “Why did you bring this?” you ask, waving a box of band-aids at him. “You’ve seen me use these. You know they’re not for this.”

“How am I supposed to know that? You use stuff that’s not for the stuff you’re using it for all the time.” Tomura snatches the band-aids away and picks up another box. “What are these?”

“You definitely didn’t need to bring those,” you say. “They’re condoms.”

“What?”

It figures. He didn’t know male from female until Hizashi told him, but he clearly has certain associations with condoms, and he doesn’t like them. Probably because of all the movies you didn’t know he was watching with you. “Relax. Does that box look open to you?”

“No,” Tomura says, inspecting it from all angles. “If it’s not open, why do you have it?”

“In case I need it,” you say. “I don’t need it right now.”

In fact, you’re having a hard time imagining that you’ll ever need condoms again. You can’t exactly bring anybody home to hook up with, not with Tomura constantly lurking around, and you like sleeping in your own bed too much to spend the night at anybody else’s house. Beyond that, if you ever wanted to get serious with anybody, you’d have to explain about your house, about Tomura. There’s no way to explain that. No way to explain him in a way that won’t end any relationship instantly. Maybe it’s just that you’re sick, but you find that you don’t mind the thought.

You choose a box of cold medicine and swallow a dose of it, then pop a cough drop into your mouth to soothe your throat. Tomura watches you the entire time, only partially materialized. “Does that taste good?”

“No. It numbs my throat so it hurts less.”

“What do you do when things hurt?”

You were going to try to fall asleep again as soon as you’re done with your cough drop, but Tomura’s in a mood to talk. And as much as you hate to admit it, you miss talking to Tomura. “There are different kinds of hurt, for people. If it hurts physically, like this does, I can take medicine. I can put ice on a bruise or use a heating pad for cramps. There are ointments that have numbing agents in them, same as the cough drops. There are lots of things to do when something physically hurts.”

“If something hurts my body, I can dematerialize,” Tomura says. You wish it was that easy for you. If you could evaporate right now, you’d do it in a heartbeat. “What about other kinds of hurting?”

“Um –” You break off, trying to wrap your head around it. “Emotions hurt sometimes. The bad ones, usually. Being sad or angry or lonely or scared – all of those can feel like they hurt. They can hurt a lot.”

“How do you make them go away?”

“You can’t,” you say. Tomura’s expression darkens. “There’s not medicine that fixes feelings, at least not all the way. You just have to live with them until they stop. Or until you get used to them.”

“That’s stupid,” Tomura says.

“You’re telling me.” You close your eyes. “I guess talking about them helps sometimes. Not for everybody, not all the time, but it can make you feel less alone.”

“I didn’t hate being alone before,” Tomura says. You open your eyes and find him scowling, his face flushed. “Now I do.”

You want to remind him that he’s the one who pulled away, that he’s the one who left, but there’s no point. You roll over instead, facing the back of the couch, and the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. “I missed you.”

You couldn’t have picked a dumber thing to say. Tomura’s got the emotional maturity of a frat guy – he gets mad easily and takes “no” poorly and makes you explain your boundaries five billion times before he even thinks about respecting them. Telling a guy like him that you missed him is a one-way ticket to being mocked for being needy and clingy and pathetic. You can already feel your eyes burning in anticipation of being humiliated.

But Tomura’s not a human man. He’s a ghost. The rush of air filling a previously occupied space tells you he’s dematerialized, but the cold settles around you, and his voice rasps in your ear. “I missed you too. Idiot.”

“You’re the one who left,” you answer. “You’re an idiot, too.”

You’re expecting him to slip away again. Instead the cold spot envelops you more securely than before. “Shut up.”

You fall asleep like that, and when you wake up, it’s to the sound of the fire alarm going off. Tomura’s watched you cook plenty of times and probably should know better, but apparently when you mentioned sticking a can of soup in the microwave, he took it literally. You should be pissed. You probably will be, once the cold medicine wears off. But at the moment, when you’re dizzy and sleepy and feverish, all you can think to do is be pleased that he tried at all.

#lovhalloweenhorror #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #x reader #reader insert #shigaraki tomura #ghost story #loser nerd ghost boyfriend

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angelpink610 · 3 months

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Shadow Work is NOT meant to be easy or comforting;

Guess it’s about time that we talk about this!

This is a reminder to myself and to anyone that might need it—the ones who feel like it’s only bringing them down, that it’s making them feel miserable or bad. Let’s clear up some things.

Feeling down in the moment is the best sign you can receive that IT IS WORKING! Shadow Work is the courage to look at the parts of yourself you despise the most, you fear the most, you are embarrassed of the most. It’s not simply acknowledging that bad things happened to you, it’s experiencing them all over again but now straightening up your back and looking right to its face.

I, myself, also am someone that's still learning about it and have been experiencing hard times throughout it. Sometimes I feel unmotivated and down, also lately I had noticed my sleep was a bit more inconsistent and I have big dark circles. Well, I know that saying this is probably going to scare some people even more away—and I understand the unsettling feelings! But the way that I see it, it’s like anything great in life: takes time, heavy work and some sacrifices.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sacrificing my entire life because of it. I workout every single day, keep my mind active, go to university, all normal. But some minor sacrifices are the price we pay for lifelong healing. My personal experience’s greatest example of sacrifice is how much emotional energy it actually takes from you. I swear on my word that sometimes when I look at the notebook I use as my Shadow Work journal, I instantly feel kind of “off vibes”, like the energy that it has is unsettling—but, here’s the thing: it is!

The energy that it requires to heal your deepest traumas, pains, griefs, obviously wouldn’t be super light and nice. Your words carry the pain you felt, some that you still feel, the heaviness of its result on your life (maybe years, decades of constant suffering, even); it’s pretty obvious that the notebook that carries them wasn’t gonna be all warm and fuzzy.

It’s not easy, guys. And I know that, at this point, you might’ve already realized that, but I want to remember us all of something: it’s in adversity that we are able to grow. You are capable of living through this healing process, you are capable of surviving the dark before the light, you are capable of facing your monsters and returning with their heads on a stick. But you HAVE TO BELIEVE IT.

Live through the suffering stage of the process like the champion you already know you are. Don’t give up when you suddenly burst into tears during a meditation session where you talked to your younger self. Persist when you have to stop and take deep breaths at every few sentences you write when you are journaling about a traumatic event because it feels like it’s too much. Hold onto it tighter when you live all over again the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.

One last time: I’m not saying it’s easy or simple (in reality, those may be some of the hardest things you’ll ever have to do through your entire life, perhaps). But I do mean it when I say you’ll understand why you had to go through all that once you reach the light on the other side, and your scars will be the forever reminder THAT YOU ARE A SURVIVOR.

The same way a lot of kids are not scared of/don’t see evil in certain horror imageries until they are told that it is scary and choose to follow that thought—we should learn from them as adults and finally understand: monsters are only monsters when we give them the power to haunt us.

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philaet0s · 2 months

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a random, non exhaustive list of headcanons I have, that I don’t necessarily use in all my fics but that are very dear to me:

— TRANS NIALL I WILL NOT LET THAT HEADCANON GO ❤️❤️❤️❤️

—speaking of Niall, I just know he and Baz had a fling at some point. dated for a few weeks, maybe a few months, when they were 15

— Baz speaking Arabic ❤️

in canon compliant fics, I like to think that she taught him bc 1) it was important to Natasha 2) as a fuck you to Malcolm because he doesn’t understand it well so she and Baz can have full conversations in front of him without him knowing what they’re saying. in normal AUs, he knows it because his grandparent taught him. which leads me to another headcanon…

— …in normal AUs, Baz was raised by Natasha’s parents for a time, when Malcolm couldn’t do it. Also I hc Baz’s grandparents as people who both are from Egypt and moved to England as young adults. And they’re muslim too

—Baz having an eating disorder. works for both canon compliant and normal aus tbf but i include it more in normal aus as a “replacement” for his vampirism

—in Normal AUs, Baz being a vegetarian (vibes + something to mirror his “I don’t eat people” type of vampirism)

—Baz being disabled. should not be a headcanon but since he was magically healed in canon it is. also Baz using a cane. very very important to me

—i wish i’d include these in fics more: simon as a trans man (ftm) and baz as a nonbinary person. i’ve explored that in a few of my fics and it’s a lot of fun. it can add SO MUCH to simon’s character, and as for baz… idk, just vibes. but i’m a bit conflicted abt baz because i feel like he wouldn’t fuck with something that’s too far away from the “norm”. like he’s gay and that’s already not fun for him but gay is a generally accepted identity (in the sense that a majority of people are aware gay people exist, not that all they accept them) while nonbinary might be a bit Too queer for canon baz. i think that’s something he’d discover a bit later in life after some deconstructing (or if he evolved in a more queer environment)

—I also really like giving Baz addictions. idk he just seems prone to addiction. i am forever haunted by the scene of him drunk in the catacombs in 5th year. to me he definitely had issues with alcoholism then… so he could see signs of it in simon in ws. and they both stopped drinking altogether after that. woohoo

(alcohol’s not the only addiction i imagine baz has, i do also like giving him drug addictions. bc again. he seems prone to that. + he’s a depressed kid with more money than he knows how to use. he’d try drugs to make himself “feel good” and then become addicted)

—Baz studying English Literature in university (Oxford, unless he goes to UCL to stay in london with Simon) and working as a teacher and/or a writer. that’s the two jobs i can see baz doing the most

—Simon being a baker!!!! I do love writing Simon as a construction worker but baker Simon has a special place in my heart

(I also have entire backstories for Daphne and Niall but I’m not going to be annoying and detail them here bc I already did in the notes of one of my fics (I will TOTALLY detail them here if ANYONE asks lol))

#snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #co/ws/awtwb

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fights4users · 10 months

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Forever fighting- Rinzler, Alan and Tron’s return

There’s a lot of interesting takes on Rinzler out there, here’s mine.

I can’t fully accept the idea of Tron being Rinzler forever. Both because my heart couldn’t take it and that’s just not who Tron is. People forget how he’s such a force of pure good and virtually unable to give up.

As wonderfully tragic as Rinzler is as a concept you can’t tell me he wasn’t fighting every solitary second of the reprogramming, of the virus, the brainwashing, all of it. You can do all of this to him and you can make him forget who he is on the surface but you cannot stop his desire to do good- you can’t keep him from fighting - especially after making him a weapon. (Something done by both Sark and Clu)

The idea hadn’t originated by me but his should is not only by the damage but from this subconscious battle. Clawing his way back to the surface. That’s why he’s in the games or on a task or guarding because any god damn second you leave him on his own Tron is going to try to break free. Distract, fight, kill, no rest.

I sort of love the scene in the sea because of this, Flynn fundamentally breaking something in his new coding enough for him to fight clu and his color returning to neutral in the sea. JUMPED at the opportunity to break out the minute he gets it. I don’t think he had fully, I see it more as punching his hand through the shell. There’s a crack in the armor but he’s not wholly free.

While I don’t believe Rinzler is a separate person from Tron- as it’s still him at the end of the day just… hurt. (there was a post awhile back comparing him to a werewolf I agree with) I also don’t think he’d just magically be himself again with no problems.

He’s going to be fighting Rinzler (himself) for the rest of his existence. It is going to haunt him for a long long time. These things he did. Horrible things he can’t fully remember, programs missing he’s sure he had a part in. It’s complicated. I really think it was a flash bang of regaining consciousness .

Legacy doesn’t really do the mirroring that 82’ does however I’d argue that Rinzler can also mirror Alan in this case!! Alan had been on the board for a long time, he’s never officially out of the company he’s just been silenced. He quips here and there but he has to control himself or otherwise he is out like that. It seems like he’s caught in just as much a leash as Rinzler, and he’s fighting it too. His funding of Flynn lives, his activity in forums, his constant attempts to reel sam in — this man is out of his mind trying to restore some kind of morality to the company. Justice -> really is a driving force and connected thing between him and Tron.

By the end of the film he’s freed in a similar way, he’s the head now and can speak a bit more freely. He’s learning to grief and repairing his relationship with Sam and Roy just as Rinz is supposedly free.

I just- again “pure hero” isn’t just a title projected onto Tron it’s textually true especially in the world of the first film.

This became more about Tron than Rinzler as his own entity but the point still stands. I talk about the dynamic more in a older post where Rinzler really gives me attack dog vibes and I didn’t want to rehash that, instead giving a new perspective. And talking about a connection I don’t think anyone’s talked about (or I’m stretching)

#feel free to add onto this it’s late I could do better #I’m late to the party but everyone was doing their take on Rinzler a little bit ago #adding to this — always goes with my dog coded post #tron #tronblr #tron legacy #rinzler #Rinzler Tron #alan bradley #meta #Tron meta #character study #essay #might be my last Tron post for awhile

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dan-whoell · 3 months

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what are some phancoded songs?

@fryday has covered this a ton recently, but some I doubt anyone else will say:

How Far This Can Go by Bowling for Soup. The chorus??

Let’s take it fast to slow Hold our breath and jump into whatever this is Grab a coat and let it all rain down If we never stop believing, it’s gonna be alright But if we don’t try, we may never know How far this can go

It's very early days, but also every adventure they've had??? Like even as recent as resurrecting the gaming channel, if they hadn't taken the chance on doing that we might not be in the middle of whatever the phagenda is now. I also think about Dan being 18 and still not having coming to terms with his own sexuality, but still jumping into whatever was going to happen with Phil.

By the time the curtain's falling There'll be standing under and screaming out our names Can’t you hear the future calling Will go all the way and never be the same, yeah

I mean. Self explanatory. Makes me cry to think about everything they've built. And I love the love the audience has for them. I can't think about it too long or I end up a pile of goo.

Come Monday by Jimmy Buffett. I grew up listening to this man, I've done a list of some favorites. But this one specifically gives me dnp vibes.

Come Monday, it'll be all right Come Monday, I'll be holding you tight I spent four lonely days in a brown L.A. haze And I just want you back by my side

Again, I think about them in the early days, hanging on every visit and always trying to get back to their bubble together. But also Dan on tour. I wish I could remember who it was that made a post about why now as far as a potential rebrand/launching so hard into joint content again, and the tldr was after wad, Dan coming back and and being like 'Okay. I've done it solo, and I've realized I don't want to do this without you.' And that's the same vibes I get with this song. Being away from each other sucks, and I just want you back by my side.

I can't help it, honey You're that much a part of me now Remember that night in Montana when We said there'd be no room for doubt?

You know. Their lives are so intertwined. Phil literally said our life. They own a house together. They have their own fucking language. They know each other so well. I've said it before but although I don't believe in soulmates, they are the exception to the rule. As for the second half... I mean. Early days. Jump in. See how far this can go.

I hope you're enjoyin' the scenery I know that it's pretty up there We can go hiking on Tuesday With you I'd walk anywhere

It's the idea that everything they've done for 15 years, and everything they will do, they'll do it together. In the sense of a joint endeavour, or just supporting one another in solo projects. Them doing shit they'd never normally do on their own, but they have their soulmate by their side so how bad could it be?

(This one is depressing so apologies in advance)

Haunted by Spanish Love Songs. Sort of a Phil perspective on Dan's struggle with depression.

You're not haunted You just miss everything You're not a cautionary tale So don't you vanish on me

And you're not haunted It's just the devil in your skin It'll be this bleak forever But it is a way to live You're not alone You just miss everything When you're feeling like a ghost Would you come haunt me? Please come haunt me

I'm not gonna say a lot here, but I know what it's like to love someone so fiercely and be heartbroken that they cannot see themselves for who they are. I've also been the person who can't see it. I think a lot about Phil always being there for Dan, and I'd love to hear him talk about the experience of love in those situations. (And if he never does I totally get it, it's private and it's not really our business. Just from a relatability standpoint.)

This is in the same vein but Washington Square Park by The Wonder Years, specifically this:

She said, “I let this slide when we were younger You know you don’t have to write like this The whole world’s full of losers If you get a chance to win, (you should) take it!”

Like. Phil always trying to get Dan in colors. Dan face down on the floor and Phil being there to pick him up and distract him. I love a love song as much as the next guy but this is my bread and butter.

To end on a happier-ish note, Love Will Keep Us Alive by The Eagles.

I was standing, all alone against the world outside You were searching for a place to hide Lost and lonely, now you've given me the will to survive When we're hungry, love will keep us alive

Early days??? Phil being the first person that made Dan feel safe??

Don't you worry Sometimes you've just got to let it ride The world is changing Right before your eyes

Coming out??? Meeting so many queer fans on tour and that being a push to come out themselves?? HELLO??

Now I've found you There's no more emptiness inside When we're hungry, love will keep us alive

I think about the state of things now, how fucking happy they've been since coming back. How different it feels from when they started. There's always been laughs, always been fun, but there is so much joy now. I'm sure I've said it but personally my heart feels so fucking full when I see how far they've come. When I see what they've built for themselves.

Anyway I could go on and on about songs that make me think about dnp, especially stuff that's not top 40's pop or is 30+ years old, but I think I've yapped enough on this particular post.

#i tried looking for the 'why now' post so i could link it but tumblr search function has defeated me :(#also may i hope it's okay i tagged you. i just couldn't not given the subject #also also this is nothing against top 40's pop! i just tend to listen to the same shit ive been listening to for 15 years #so i miss a lot of newer stuff #thank you anon for giving me the opportunity to yap about music i very much enjoyed this #anon #phan #music #ks chats #dan and phil #god ive got my tags all mixed up idk what im doing #if there are typos im sorry ive done my best

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helenofjupiter · 10 months

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assigning taylor swift songs to bridgerton couples (part 2)

with explanations that no one asked for (proceed with caution)

part 1 for a, b, c and d

eloise & phillip - i hadn’t even read the book and i knew paris was their song. i feel it captures their essence. “no, i didn't see the news 'cause we were somewhere else” while benophie are just as deep in the countryside, i think philoise truly don’t care about anything that goes on in the ton. “i want to brainwash you into loving me forever” i’m not sure why this line in particular stands out to me in context of their relationship. maybe because going into it they both had their agenda. also phillip constantly thinking he has to find a way to make eloise stay forever. “confess my truth in swooping, sloping, cursive letters” i think this one is self explanatory. secondly electric touch, i was hesitant about this one cause i’m just not a fan of this song sonically but the lyrics were too on point. “just breathe, just relax, it'll be okay // just the first time ever hanging out with you” - eloise sitting in her carriage on the way to meet a man who basically proposed to her without meeting once. from phillip’s “i've gotten used to no one callin' my phone” when eloise shows up and the servant’s “hey, we got a caller” and phillip going “wtf no one comes here, you sure about that”. also “i've grown accustomed to sleeping' alone” yeah eight years will do that. “i was thinking, just one time maybe the stars align, just one time and maybe I call you mine”

francesca & michael - so i have a story regarding this one. as i got to the second half of the book and the spice started flooding in, i felt like the need for some equally sexy music in the background and i remembered (honestly don’t know how i ever forgot) the altarpiece of taylor’s music false god. truly all the stars aligned, while i read the words “she felt cherished. worshipped. loved” miss taylor swift sang “we'd still worship this love”. other than that it does fall into the vibes category. tho if one day we are blessed enough to actually get their season i am expecting every social media feed to be drowning in edits of franchel to this song. but also alternatively to don’t blame me. again, sexy. well the spice in this book was just on another level and i also couldn’t figure out if taylor has a song about being in love with your cousins spouse for six years. i think this is more from michael’s perspective. i mean “i've been breaking' hearts a long time” he even broke mine by being fictional. “if you walk away i'd beg you on my knees to stay” michael stirling would absolutely do this and frankly i can’t stop picturing it. if we do get to them in the show some glorious day, this is my official plea to include this song in the soundtrack.

gregory & lucy - speak now is the somewhat lazy choice but have you read the prologue timed to this song. “i hear the preacher say, "speak now or forever hold your peace"” the church went silent “there's the silence, there's my last chance. i stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on me” the priest stopped his drone, and every spine in every pew twisted until every face was turned to the back. to him. “horrified looks from everyone in the room but i'm only looking at you” she said nothing, but he saw her. // she looked so beautiful. i rest my case. it was really hard to pick a song for them because there’s so many twists and turns in the book so my honourable mentions are haunted (when gregory convinced everything is solved and then lucy goes and marries another man) and daylight. finally i settled with ivy. “my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand, taking mine but it's been promised to another” i mean lucy has been promised to another man from the start of the book. it just fits them, okay (can you tell i’ve been writing this for four hours at this point).

hyacinth & gareth - dear god, hyacinth is my favourite character in the whole books series. i adore her but for the love of god i could not figure out what songs to choose for hyareth. it was truly a headache and if anyone has any suggestions, please do not hesitate to tell me. because they are such a chaotic and energetic duo, i wanted something that would fit them musically but ended up picking cowboy like me and peace. both are truly in the vibes category, i don’t have much of an explanation. in cowboy like me “and the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up” felt kinda reminiscent of the whole polt line with gareth and his father who wasn’t really his father. peace has a little more substance to it. in my head this is more from hyacinth, she is wild and you will never get bored with her but she can also be a lot and tiring. “you know that i'd swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches. give you my wild, give you a child” this is who hyacinth is, she is a ride or die, and i truly believe she would sit in the trenches with gareth.

#bridgerton #eloise x phillip #philoise #francesca x michael #franchel #gregory x lucy #grucy #hyacinth x gareth #hyareth

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darkfictionjude · 4 months

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Etymology nonnie here!

I think I explained I wanted to have well thought out names for my MC's. I became the etymology nonnie thanks to that.

And I already explained why my boy MC who romances Imre is named Indiana. And all the cutesy silly ideas I had based on the names. I+I=We will always haunt me. If I ever write a fanfic of WWC I'll have to include it for sure.

But here I came to announce I, surprisingly, came with the perfect name for an MC to romance Nia with. Which is funny, since I was actually trying to come up with one for an MC who'll romance Lorcan.

It came from one of the asks you answered minutes ago. Since people were asking you about the birds Nia liked. What better name, then, than Robin? It's specially nice because it works for all genders. And it makes the birdie nickname work overtime. All my MC's are male, but I think Robin works well. Nickname Rob (which coincidentally is also the nickname of an OC of mine, whose full name is Robert, lol). Mostly thinking from male references like Robin hood, as well as the many versions of Batman sidekicks.

Now, for my MC romancing Lorcan, I'm still undecided. I really have been liking Ambrose lately. It means immortal (which feels oddly ominous for this game), and for nicknames I could go with Ames or Brose (or Bro... No, I can't do that... Evil shall not tempt me). Yet, as much as I like the name, it does not convince me entirely yet.

The other one I was considering was an anagram of Orla. That is, Arlo. It doesn't have a certain meaning, but I think it's cute. And it has deep ties with the story. It follows from Prudence trying to have a second Orla with MC, to the point that even the name is related to her. And it's also wholesome and down to earth, which I think fits for a potential partner for Lorcan. I think it's also cute a potential nickname for Arlo is Lo (there are other options, like Rollo or Arly/Arlie), so it feels very tied to Lorcan specifically.

I don't know. I'm probably giving it way too much thought. But, what do you think? If not of the names, at least of my endeavor to have specific names based on the RO I'm romancing?

I do think it's a bit contradictory to the themes of WWC, that involve MC finding their own identity and selfhood. But I also like names to fit together in meaning, phonoaesthetics and overall vibe between romantic couples. So, I don't know if I should defend myself or not.

I do think robin is very cute. It could be a reason Nia calls mc that

Arlo would make sense thematically but it would also cast a shadow on mc and Lorcan’s relationship. Unless you want to constantly have his relationship with you be forever tied to Orla, it would always be a crowded relationship. The only way Lorcan’s relationship can work if he stops looking at mc like Orla’s sibling and the name Arlo just wouldn’t help. He would feel bad thinking he’s replacing Orla with you so it’s just willingly inviting more of Orla into there.

Ultimately I don’t care what the mc’s are called since it’s choice based and all of you have reasons for whichever name you pick I’m just giving my two cents on what I would think if mc was called that

#names #MC #Orla #Lorcan #we wretched creatures

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philomelia · 2 years

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arguing had never been a rike specialty. they solved their issues in silent ways, in little slights, in the deaths between rolled eyes and growled snipes (passive aggressiveness had been ingrained into their dna). cassie had only seen them fight once-- and it hadn’t been verbal. athena had raised her hand, looking every bit like a goddess scorned as her fury became real and defined. clotho had held her ground. a spitting, brutal sort of girl with teeth as big as her heart. when they clashed against each other, it led to tears (mostly cleo’s, mostly cassie’s). there had been silence across their lives for days after, an uncomfortable sort of lull that replaced what had once been a hectic and erratic home, overwhelmed with love. there had been no apologies, but eventually they learned to co - exist, and then to love each other again. cassie had never asked what the fight had been about: she never wanted to bring it up again, though she and cleo shared pointed looks whenever they snapped at each other across the dinner table. her mother had reduced her to tears quite a few times, but none of that ever came after an argument. it came after a loose comment or a snap of teeth (it came unexpectedly, like the wound had manifested before the pain had been dealt).

“ i love them. i want to be a part of it. i don’t think i would have survived this long without them-- i mean, family’s weird, right? you spend more time with them than anyone else in your life. all your biggest developmental periods are with them, too. they literally influence the way your mind works. i feel like everything about me has been passed down from them, and i’m sure they feel the same way about me, and my mother probably feels the same way about her sister--- she only has one. i’ve always wanted a big family, but my grandpa died when i was young and my grandma is sort of a recluse. she lives up a mountain, you know, and rarely visits us. my aunt doesn’t have any kids, either. dad’s side of the family doesn’t talk to us much. ” they didn’t live a lifestyle that most people approved of. “ it’s not like i want to separate from them forever. i don’t think i could even do that without surgery. are you the eldest brother, @doomdays? you sort of give off that vibe. ”

he shares his fears in a way that makes her ache. her hand reaches out, pressing against his back and rubbing away at the muscle there (she’s playing at comfort: she hopes she’s giving enough-- she wonders how much it takes to smooth away someone else’s agony, to shoulder some of the pain that crashed into their soul). she can barely carry her own. how is she meant to help anyone else? nevertheless, she persists. “ i’m sorry, ” she says, and knows it’s a meaningless thing to say, and says it anyway, and says it with meaning. she is sorry: she has never been alone before. she has longed for a moment of peace, a time where she could close her eyes and hear the tranquil lull of silence. it feels wrong to wish for something that has haunted someone before-- it is asking for her own life to be turned into someone else’s tragedy (it doesn’t make her stop wanting it, though). her hand lifts to squeeze at his shoulder. behind them, the sun is beginning to set. her head rests against his shoulder, a brief nuzzle of affection as she searches for the words. “ if you ever feel lonely like that again, my door’s open, okay? i’m basically never busy. ”

she moves to her feet as he agrees. soon enough, they’re sat in her van, her hands clasping the wheel as she leaves the driveway behind. already, the feeling of escape comes as a relief (it crawls through her veins and nags at her bones). “ the nearest mall is a little bit of a drag away from here. you wanna turn on the music? ”

#doomdays #𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐢. verse one ... o' shrill - voiced nightingale!

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thylacinetears · 1 year

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I've taken forever to post this, but here's my full ESC2023 ranking!

With comments and scores out of 10! Long post obvs:

#37 Romania: DGT - Theodor Andrei: (0.5) Gross, boring, just all-around terrible. The staging is awful. The singing is bad ("aLL oF YouR DEmoNs coMe SCREEEMIMANNEHHH" haunts my dreams). The lyrics are gross, and the attempt at wordplay doesn't even make sense? All of it is trying so, so hard to be sexy and failing miserably. Half a point for having some Romanian, but that's it.

#36 San Marino: Like An Animal - Piqued Jacks: (1.0) Worst singer this year and it's not even close. The lyrics are also terrible and kinda give me creepy vibes. 100 songs in the national final and this is the best they can get? But it does get one point for having a pretty good instrumental, and the drummer is killing it.

#35 Albania: Duje - Albina & Familja Kelmendi: (2.0) Really overdramatic. I don't like the instrumental, it's way too sparse and random. The message is meant to be pro-family but it just comes off as anti-divorce? But the intention is nice, and Albania having a song in their own language for once is nice.

#34 Greece: What They Say - Victor Vernicos: (2.5) Just generic. There's not much I can say about this song because I forget it every time I stop listening. It's not intolerable to listen to, I guess?

#33 Germany: Blood & Glitter - Lord of the Lost: (2.5) It's unique, but somehow really boring. I don’t really like this genre so I'm biased, but this is just noise to me.

#32 Switzerland: Watergun - Remo Forrer: (3.0) Nice voice and piano, but wtf is Switzerland doing singing about war? I don't like the lyrical execution of the concept at all. Definitely not a fan.

#31 Malta: Dance (our own party) - The Busker: (3.5) It's a nice sax riff, but they run it into the goddamn ground. The rest of the song just isn't very good. It's cool, but kinda annoying.

#30 Ireland: We Are One - Wild Youth: (3.5) Also very generic, but it has a nice arena-pop sound to it. The message is well-intentioned, though so incredibly overdone.

#29 Lithuania: Stay - Monika Linkyte: (4.0) Nice concept, but it just sounds really bland to me. I don't really know what I don't like about this song, but it just doesn't click with me.

#28 Denmark: Breaking My Heart - Reiley: (4.0) It is very much corporate TikTok bait. But there is a good song underneath all that, and I actually like the vocoder.

#27 Croatia: Mama SC - Let 3: (5.0) Yeah, it's very weird. I don't like the repetition, but I do unironically like the instrumental in the "Onaj mali psihopat" part. Not the best novelty/political song, but not the worst - solid 5/10.

#26 Azerbaijan: Tell Me More - TuralTuranX: (5.5) I like it, it's quite nice and feel-good. But it seems like a complete rip-off of Something Good by Bic Runga?

#25 Poland: Solo - Blanka: (5.5) Ignoring the context and that live performance… It's a bop! It's not super original but it's really catchy and fun.

#24 Israel: Unicorn - Noa Kirel: (6.0) Kinda disappointing, after all the hype. (Why couldn't she have saved Thought About That for ESC instead!) But it has a nice chorus, and some good hooks.

#23 United Kingdom: I Wrote A Song - Mae Muller: (6.0) Very British, and very pop! But that chorus just doesn't really hit for me, and I'm not a fan of the spoken word part.

#22 Cyprus: Break a Broken Heart - Andrew Lambrou: (6.0) This is actually a banger though! I'm biased because Australia, but still. Simple concept but good execution.

#21 Georgia: Echo - Iru: (6.0) No, I don't know what on earth is going on in the lyrics either - guess that's just Georgia though. I love the drama of the instrumental, and Iru has a really powerful voice!

#20 Portugal: Ai Coracao - Mimicat: (6.5) It's cool! I love the culture, and Mimicat has a great voice. But for some reason it doesn't really click with me.

#19 Moldova: Soarele si luna - Pasha Parfeni: (6.5) I'm usually a big fan of the folktronica entries, but this doesn't quite hook me as much as Fulenn or SHUM. But it's still pretty good, and I love the concept of the lyrics!

#18 Serbia: Samo mi se spava - Luke Black: (7.0) Super unique! It's good, it's just that there's so many good entries this year, so it doesn't stand out so much. Gives me Grimes vibes, like a hybrid of Violence and My Name Is Dark.

#17 Belgium: Because Of You - Gustaph: (7.0) So incredibly unapologetically queer, and I love it for that. Such a fun song, makes me want to get up and dance!

#16 Iceland: Power - Dilja: (7.0) Uplifting, upbeat, poppy - this season needed a song like this. She absolutely kills those vocals, too!

#15 Italy: Due Vite - Marco Mengoni: (7.5) Really gorgeous and emotional, with incredibly beautiful lyrics. I get chills when that second chorus comes in, honestly. But it's just not quite as good as Italy's other entries.

#14 Armenia: Future Lover - Brunette: (7.5) Has a real 2000s pop/RnB diva vibe, and I love the lyrics. The instrumental is amazing, and I love the blend of genres.

#13 Ukraine: Heart Of Steel - TVORCHI: (7.5) I love the RnB groove mixing with the dramatic violins! It's really grown on me since it was first released, it's just super slick.

#12 Austria: Who the Hell is Edgar? - Teya & Salena: (7.5) So wacky, and yet such a bop. It manages to successfully balance a hilarious concept, catchy beat, and somehow a serious and relevant message? I actually can't believe they managed it. Well done, enjoy your gas station champagne from me streaming it, lmao.

#11 Latvia: Aija - Sudden Lights: (8.0) There's no other song like it this year (or maybe any year!), and I love its post-rock sound. However I admit that at least 50% of why I love this song is that outro.

#10 Norway: Queen of Kings - Alessandra: (8.0) THE pop banger we needed! I love the electronic bassline and Alessandra's incredible vocals.

#9 Australia: Promise - Voyager: (8.0) Not at all my genre, but I love it! That electronic intro and his vocals are everything. I don't like the scream after the second chorus, but the rest is amazing.

#8 Czechia: My Sister's Crown - Vesna: (8.5) Unique, cultural, powerful, and arguably the best chorus of the year. Those harmonies, man. Czechia is absolutely killing it at the moment.

#7 Estonia: Bridges - ALIKA: (8.5) This makes me really emotional, as I definitely relate to the lyrics. But even without considering that, this is just everything good about ballads - gorgeous piano, excellent vocals, and beautifully convincing delivery.

#6 Spain: Eaea - Blanca Paloma: (9.0) I'm so glad Spain went traditional this year. Hypnotising, gentle and yet powerful. The imagery of the lyrics is so beautiful, and of course Blanca's incredible voice carries the whole thing.

#5 Netherlands: Burning Daylight - Mia Nicolai & Dion Cooper: (9.0) The Netherlands continues its sad era with this gorgeous song. I love the two voices, the lyrics, the slightly detuned piano... But most of all I love the outro - I relate to it so much.

#4 Finland: Cha Cha Cha - Kaarija: (9.0) THE icon of the season. This really is worth the hype - fun, dancey, crazy, party! It really hits its stride in the second half, but honestly I just love the whole thing.

#3 France: Evidemment - La Zarra: (9.5) I'm a France stan, what can I say! But they just keep sending quality - from the dramatic intro to that incredible disco-pop beat drop to the amazing bridge.

#2 Slovenia: Carpe Diem - Joker Out: (9.5) Basically my favourite from the beginning! It puts you in a good mood from the first line, and just keeps the energy all the way through to the end. My favourite part is the guitar solo after the first chorus leading into the second verse. It's so cool...

#1 Sweden: Tattoo - Loreen: (10.0) Right in my dance-pop loving heart. Loreen is truly like no other - a once-in-a-generation performer. When that second chorus hits... It's almost too perfect. But I love how there's that unusual chord progression to keep you interested, too. There's just nothing to fault about it, I love every single second!

#eurovision #esc 2023 #eurovision song contest #eurovision ranking #eurovision 2023

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inklore · 3 years

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always forever.

premise: after the emergence, after almost losing druig, the events haunt you in your sleep. but when you wake druig is there to calm you and remind you that he’s not going anywhere.

pairing: druig x (f)eternal!reader

warnings: small dream sequence in the beginning, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, lots of talks of feelings and loss, slight sub!druig, super sappy, angsty, i suck at writing fluff and pacing so don’t act surprised when it sucks, eternals spoilers!! you are in control of your reading consumption so if you don’t vibe with any of the above please do not go on. 18+ only minors dni, you will be blocked.

word count: 2.1k+

etc: i know what you’re thinking: am i sick of writing soft!druig smut with nothing but forehead touches and super intense sap? the answer is no and i never will be! and i hope you all get the hint in this that druig is the king of eating pussy and has sub counterparts that make me weak xoxo.

“He’s gone. We have to go.”

“There’s nothing else we can do.”

“We have to leave him.”

Their voices burn your ears, each syllable sounding like a blowtorch to your ear drum. Your head ringing so loudly, your body shaking with pain, the heartbreak mixed with grief and guilt making your chest feel as if it might implode; all you can do is scream. Scream so loud that you think your throat might start to bleed from how it burns.

But it’s all you can do as you look down at him, his lifeless body, the greying of his skin. His beautiful blue eyes now dull and shadowed. He was dead. Gone. And now you were alone with a whole in your heart and a black abyss forming where your soul should be, sucking in every last feeling and memory you had of him until it’s a festering ball of poison that’s a constant reminder that he’s gone forever.

When you wake your throat feels just as raw as it did in your fevered dream. A sheen of sweat has gathered along your forehead and neck, and you can’t seem to catch your breath, can’t seem to come back to reality. Can’t get the image of your lovers greyed lifeless face out of your mind, can’t stop picturing Ikaris pull him through the sky and slam him to the ground as if he were nothing, meant nothing. Ending your entire world with just one fatal swoop and flash of his eyes.

You feel the tears run down your cheek before you even comprehend that you’re crying, that your grip on the sheets is straining your wrist.

Until you feel his hands on you, at your neck, your cheek, your wrist. “Hey, hey,” his voice is soft and filled with concern, strained with it as he pushes the sheets off of the both of you, moving so he’s now positioned at your front where he can see you better. “Shh, shh.” His hands bracket each side of your cheeks.

“Druig,” it’s soft, choked but it pangs your heart to say his name. Burns your throat even more. There’s a tear filled haze over your eyes that stings as you try to blink them away. “You–“ your breath can’t seem to go back to normal the more you try to speak, the more you cry. “You were gone. Ikaris–“

“Shh, I’m not gone.” Druig pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you firmly. Your body shaking against his naked chest. “I’m right here,” he presses a gentle kiss to the side of your head, the tips of his fingers running down your back slow and soothingly.

The two of you sit like that for a while, your body coming down. Draining all the adrenaline and heartache from your nightmare—that was almost a reality. Could of been your reality. Your breath returning back to normal as you breathe in each shaky intake of air nice and slow. Your cheek is wet against his shoulder from your tears, you do your best to wipe them as you lift your head and pull back from him. And now you can really see him. The tears no longer in your eyes, the image of his grey and shadowed face gone. He’s here, he’s alive. Your Druig.

“You okay?” His brows are etched with worry as his thumb runs along your cheek.

You nod slowly, sniffing. Your eyes checking him all over for any sign that this might actually be part of the dream. That this wasn’t your reality right now. That he was really gone and this was some fevered apparition of him. “I-you were gone. Ikaris had killed you. I saw your..” you trail off as your chin starts to wobble. The tears threatening to come back, the hurt waiting to bring you down again.

“Ikaris never stood a chance,” he reassures, the upturn of his cocky grin making you chuckle softly. But there’s still sadness in your eyes and it makes Druig’s chest ache. A feeling he knew all too well, one he didn’t like, especially when it came to you. He’d be lying if he said there hadn’t been fear deep within his marrow when he thought this would be it, that Ikaris was finally going to shut him up for good. Images of the times the two of you had spent over centuries together, your beautiful laugh, and the way you kissed him when he wouldn’t shut up, all flashing through his head as he laid helpless in the bedrock.

But Ikaris didn’t kill him. A few scratches were nothing compared to what could of happened. The two of you losing each other. But it had happened the two of you got out of it safe and together, and something like that was never going to happen again, Druig would not allow it to.

He takes your hand and presses it firmly to his chest, his heartbeat beating against your palm. The warmth of his skin against yours once again breathing life into you, making your heart swell and pump faster. “I’m here. I’m alive. No one’s ever going to take me away from you.” He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to your fingers, “I promise.”

And something within you breaks. Breaks in a way that can only be put back together by him, can only be touched, pressed, kissed, fucked by him. Bring you back to being whole. Remind you that it’s you and him forever. That it would take more than an angry Eternal or God to rip the two of you apart again.

You don’t recollect yourself moaning his name until your back is pressed into the mattress and Druig is on top of you, your sleep clothes gone, his mouth on yours; your cheek, your neck, against your chest where your heartbeats just a little faster. His hands are massaging your breasts in his palm, running the pad of his thumb over your nipple making you moan into his mouth.

And Druig swallows it down, every moan every whimper until all he can breathe and all he can taste is you. His love. His everything.

His lips are searing wet and hot as he kisses down your chest and sternum. Your breath and eyes heavy as you watch him make his descent until he presses a kiss to the top of your mound, his eyes staring up at you before fluttering closed as you feel his tongue move past his lips and slowly run over your clit. Your breath hitching in your throat as your back arches from the bed, your hand going to the top of Druig’s head as your fingers run through his soft hair.

To watch you like this was a gift to him.

Druig remembers watching plenty of artists paint masterpieces throughout the centuries he’s been alive. He remembers watching the beauty of history unfold before his eyes, read poetry from infamous poets. Had people bow down to him as if he were some kind of God. But no matter how many beautiful paintings he saw come to life, or sonnets of everlasting poetry he heard, or the praise from humans; nothing looked or sounded as good as you did when he was between your legs.

The way your moans vibrated through your body, toppling over your beautiful lips and filling the room with a symphony of whimpers and need. The way your legs shook around him, the way your skin felt against his palms when he gripped your thighs, licked, kissed, bit them. And the way you let yourself be consumed by him, pleasured by him, as if this was his last meal and your last time savoring the pleasure. The way you both let it wash all over you and consume you until every nerve ending felt as if stars were exploding in your blood stream. A feeling neither of you could fully comprehend other than; you needed this. Needed each other.

Druig loved having his mouth on every part of you, loved letting you know that your body was a temple he wanted to pray to everyday. Touch everyday if only to feel that beautiful spark it gave off. To be a part of you and the space you took up, the life you breathed into a room, into him. But the telepath was not shy in admitting while he loved devouring every part of you; his mouth watered at the thought of it being on your pussy, daily. He couldn’t look at you without thinking it, wanting it, to taste, kiss, and devour your wet cunt. It was his favorite meal, his favorite treat. Nothing tasted as good as you did, he got drunk off of you. His tongue lapping at your juices, lips wrapping around that sweet bundle of nerves that had you pulling his hair and his eyes rolling back in his head.

And after he’s made you come twice over, your fingers digging into his shoulder as you try to pull him up, “please, Druig,” you moan. His boyish grin making your stomach flutter as he lets his tongue run along your wet folds a few more times before pressing a kiss to them and coming back up to meet your lips, his tongue bombarding your mouth, giving you a taste of your own sweetness.

You let your hand move between the two of you wrapping your fingers around his hardness, as you stroke him slowly. Druig pulling from your lips to let out a breathy groan that fans across your face. His lips even more plump and swollen from his assault between your legs and your own mouth, the wetness that gathers along his bottom lip as he licks them making you want to chase his tongue into his mouth with yours. You’d never get enough of his lips, of kissing him, of any part of him.

The tip of his cock skates across your sensitive clit as you grind your hips against him, your body shaking from the overstimulation and the ache to have him inside of you.

“Fuck,” Druig’s voice is low and deep, barley above a whisper. “Want to be inside of you, love.” He presses a kiss to your lips, runs his hand along the junction of your neck where your jaw meets it, presses his thumb below it to push your gaze up to meet his. “I need it.” Your body trembles at the seriousness in his eyes that mixes so beautiful with lust and desire. His tone on the cusp of begging.

And when he slips inside of you the low breathy grown that falls from both of your lips is dizzying. Both of you feeling that missing ache become whole as Druig bottoms out inside of you. The drag of his cock as he fucks you slow makes your mind go hazy, wild. You have to press your head into the crook of his neck, bite at the flesh there to stop yourself from being too loud. To stop yourself from shaking because it’s so good, he feels so good inside of you. So thick, so big. His moans fanning out at the shell of your ear, as his fingers rub slow circles in time with his thrusts against your clit, quickly pushing you over the edge again. His name a choked sob on your lips.

Druig keeps fucking you through it, that slow gentle way full of passion and heat. Keeps whispering sweet words and moans in your ear, “I’m never going to leave you, love. It’s you and me for centuries to come.” and “Fucking you like this for the rest of my life is the only treasure I need.” And then he’s moving from the crook of your neck to look down at you, to watch your beautiful face contort with pleasure as he fucks you, as you take him so good, so perfect, as if you were made for him, for his cock. For his love.

Your nails digging at his back as he fucks you deeper, a little harder as he feels his release coming. The groans he lets out are nothing short of angels hearings. Your palms press to his cheeks, bringing your foreheads together, hot breath mixed with shaky intakes, “Druig, come for me.” And it takes everything in him not to let his emotions take over as you whisper the words, sending him over the edge buried deep inside of you.

There was a time the only emotion Druig felt was distain and anger. His emotions bottled up and stored away. But then there was you, and then there’s was this. All of it. The shared touches, devotion, love.

And he doesn’t know how he had ever lived without it, and doesn’t think he ever could again.

#druig #druig x female reader #druig x reader #druig eternals #druig smut #druig one shot #eternals x reader #druig imagine #druig x y/n #eternals x you #druig x you #**#*heat leveled*

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

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What Do You Want For Christmas?

Christmas present HCs for the boyyyyyyyys! I know it’s cliche, but I’m trying to get really into the Christmas vibes this year!

Lucifer

Get him arthritis medication. Get him viagra. Get him-

I’m kidding he gets the old man related presents from Satan and Belphie, MC should get him something different.

The human should use their considerable seductive power to ask Diavolo to give Lucifer a week off. Okay, to be honest, the seductive power isn’t necessary, MC can stop taking off their shirt.

When presented with his time off, Lucifer will roll his eyes and mutter something about how he doesn’t really need time off. But when the Holiday party is over MC will hear the LOUDEST snores coming from Lucifer’s room.

Man sleeps through an entire day. He really needed that… he’ll love MC forever.

He probably gets MC something they made an off handed comment about wanting like- eight months prior. Lucifer has a memory like a steel trap and MC gets what they ask for!

Mammon

Obviously MC should sacrifice their life savings to the great Mammon in this time for gift giving. Come on human, don’t be stingy!

Listen, Mammon loves expensive things, but he has… so many… he’ll appreciate whatever MC gives him, but he’ll be way more happy with something hand made or special between the two of them.

He plays it off like “Haha, best holiday, you all havta give me things, haha did you keep the gift receipts if I don’t like anything?” But the moment he and MC are alone, it’s hugs and tears.

But what Mammon gives to MC? Expensive. Just… MC is going to be loaded down with more jewellery than they can feasibly wear without looking tacky.

“Are these the millennium diamonds? Weren’t these stolen by the Pink Panthers?” “Sh don’t worry about it.”

Leviathan

He has a list.

A long list.

Ahem, he’d like the brand new Ruri-Chan and Azuki-tan Holiday figurine, the real height Lucario plushie that’s legit being sold, the collectible TSL mugs that are going on sale next week-

Yeah, MC has plenty of options, but we here at Stupid Headcanons inc hope MC has money to spare because merch is EXPENSIVE.

As for MC, Levi gives them the most romantic gift of all…

A multiplayer video game ❤️

…and a custom designed controller that Levi feels suits MC. They’re his player two, they should have a bomb looking controller!

Satan

ANOTHER ONE WITH AN ACTUAL LIST PRAISE BE.

If asked, Satan will hand MC an entire list of books that he want, these range from expensive old tombs that can only be acquired by selling one’s soul, to cute graphic novels that can be bought for like- 10 bucks.

While Satan does want the books on his list, he wouldn’t be opposed to MC piling on some new books that they like. There’s truly nothing more intimate than fangirling over a book with someone.

Other than books, we’d recommend getting Satan shelves… for his books. MC should also do their best to assemble them for Satan because he and IKEA furniture do NOT mix.

Asmodeus

Oh dear MC! He’s so glad they asked, he wants a-

We hope MC brought a pencil and paper with them, because they need to catalogue and chronicle Asmo’s word vomit.

“I want twelve new mirrors, the ones with the pretty ornate frames but not the ones with haunted rubies imbedded inside I also saw the cutest new purses at Majolish but it’s just so easy to find knockoffs-”

As Asmo rambles, he gets a little side tracked and ends up blabbing about the things he wants to get for MC… they should just pretend they didn’t hear him.

But yes, clothes, purses, skincare products, accessories, all good for Asmo!

But if MC REALLY wants to get him to cry, they should make him a photo album. Asmo LOVES scrapbooks, and if it’s just photos of him and MC well… 🥺 he just might ruin his foundation!

Beelzebub

Food.

Okay, basic choice, but other than food, what Beel really wants is a peaceful day with no one yelling or being at each other’s throats.

He’s easy to please, he’ll love whatever MC gives him. But when it comes to his gift to MC… he actually puts a lot of thought into it. He spends days wandering around stores and searching online for just the perfect thing to give to his favourite human. Beel goes through literally everything he knows about MC and finally settles on the gift.

Then comes the horrible realization that he spent all his gift money on food… geez, talk about pulling a Mammon… but shopping makes him hungry!!

…after all that hard work when he’s sitting on his bed putting the present in a gift bag he realizes he could have just ASKED MC about what they might have wanted.

Oh well, at least Beel got his Christmas wish… it was surprisingly peaceful that Christmas Eve.

Belphegor

Ah yes, that point in the school year where Belphie is preparing to go into hibernation… sigh, so sleepy…

What does Belphie wants for Christmas? He’s so glad MC asked, he’d like some peace and quiet.. and one of those temperature changing pillows.

Straight forward and to the point. The only problem is that his brothers also got him temperature changing pillows, so that Christmas Eve when Belphie got through all his presents, there was no force on heaven or earth that could wake him up.

Even though it’s kind of cheesy, Belphie gets MC one of those star certificates that says MC owns some random star. Belphie claims it’s the star next to his and Beel’s, so they’re always close together and no one else can take it from them.

Awwww…

Then Belphie passed out. He was turkey tired and surrounded by pillows! Leave him alone!

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me Lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me! headcanons #obey me Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me! fluff

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hollyhomburg · 3 years

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.4)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Yoongi makes his choice, so does Moonbyul.

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin,

Tags: Graphic material, Death, Murder, Dead bodies and dying described in detail, brief suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression, DARK THEMES, guilt, blood, a touch of blood kink? drugs, murder/crime themes, guilt, kinda fuck or die vibes? finally fluff at the end, mating marks,

W/c: 7.1k

A/n: here is the moment you’ve all been waiting for! the big d word moment!!! my carpal tunnel is acting up, I will probably not be able to get the next chapter out for a few days or until next week. Chronologically the next chapter continues after part 1.

(PLEASE READ TAGS FOR CW BEFORE YOU PROCEED)

Previous part — Masterlist

Part 4: If I Have You

Pulling the trigger is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

Geumjae’s body flinches back from the force of the bullet. The ceiling splattering with the spray of his blood. It hits the side of your face too, your white shirt crested with red at the shoulders, dripping down your throat along with the blood from your mating bite. It’s a percussive splatter, noisy as it hits the wall.

People never talk about how blood gets everywhere during a murder. Yoongi is unable to stop his flinch when Geumjae’s brain matter and viscera splatter against him, just a little.

Yoongi didn't think you'd actually do it.

He watches you shove the body away from you, hard, what's left of his head, an empty vessel, hitting the floor with a hollow thud. His hands leave you for the last time, but the pain isn't finished.

Yoongi barely has the forethought to lunge forward, knees scraping, wrestling the gun out of your hand before you can turn it on yourself. The barrel of the gun is hot when Yoongi's hands close around it and yank it away from your own temple. The smell of burning skin joins the metallic scent of murder. Your scent is a mess- it’s barely had a chance to mix with Geumjae’s burning wood-burning bread and wrath, rainstorms, and gunpowder.

He shouts your name but you don't respond.

Yoongi yanks the gun from your hands, probably hurting your fingers but panicked when he hurls the gun to the other side of the room and takes your hands in his, wrestling with you and screaming your name until the fight goes out of you.

You’re hyperventilating when you stop struggling. Both of your wrists pinned above your head in both of Yoongi’s hands, his knees pressing your legs to stillness in a way that could be sexual but isn't- it's the easiest way for him to restrain you- both sprawled on the bloody floor. Yoongi’s crying, tears dripping down his nose, every other drop shines pink from what's on his face.

“Yoongi please- please just let me go- I don’t want to become a ghost- I don't wanna become a walking corpse.” The way you look breaks his heart, your neck so bruised and bloody, your face swelling too from Geumjae’s hits. The way your eyes hold only darkness and no warmth as you look at him and beg- beg him to let you take your life. Your pupils are so small he can't see them at all.

“Let me die Yoongi- please just- if you do one thing for me- let do this. let me go."

Yoongi looks at your mating mark and can already see the thin tracery of ink spreading under your skin- inky blackness spreading from your mating bite and up your throat. A piece of someone who’s dead inside of you, shot through with silver to make it stand out more.

It’s like some silly zombie bite in a bad horror movie but it’s so much more haunting, The veins in your eyes are even starting to discolor. You have maybe a few minutes before the mating bite takes you over completely and you’re mated to someone dead.

Zombie movies were nothing more than fear of this taking root in common culture, everyone fears losing their mate. What else is more terrifying than something that takes your humanity in the way that this has taken yours. This is every person’s worst nightmare- a death sentence.

‘Ghosts’ are what society has dubbed the women and men who live after losing their partners. Most of the time they live without alpha or a pack- unable to bond to anyone else ever again once their mates are dead. Mating bites are a one-time thing.

When one-half of a mated pair dies- a person's body has a peculiar way of letting outsiders know how to treat them gently- The mating mark turns black like a brand. A mark to let everyone know that they would never have another person to take care of them- to love them.

But you aren’t alone- you’re not alone because you have Yoongi and he’s right here with his wide palms on you. Hands that where always made to fix things, but you aren’t just some broken toy that needs a bit of glue. He’s too late, just seconds too late and only inches away.

He grips both of your forearms in either of his palms hands, pulling you closer. Making you sit up, dragging you into his lap like carrying your weight in his arms will fix this. Anything to hold onto you- to not lose you too soon.

"Stop- just stop, I've got you- I've got you," Yoongi repeats it more for himself than he does for you.

But there are wounds in your body that can’t be fixed by simple hoping. There is a limit to what one person can take. Despair is one hell of a drug and while Yoongi fights and fights there is no undoing what Geumjae has done to you.

But maybe…

Yoongi dares to hope; “It’s only a half bond if we-“ he falls silent as the idea settles over him like a bucket of cold water. His brain rushing over everything he’s ever learned about mating bites and beta’s; all of the statistics and articles that Namjoon had shoved down his throat when Jungkook had first stopped having seizures.

The medical mystery that betas were; how they were able to heal unseen hurts and maybe- maybe this was like that. Maybe the solution to this problem lays in Yoongi’s veins, in his mouth.

His jaw aches at the very suggestion of it. “I’m a beta- and betas don’t usually mark- because- because they’re stronger than alpha and omega bites.”

It’s the only truth that makes sense. All of the stories of omegas and alphas going crazy after being bitten by betas, not being able to move from them too far, extreme clinginess- a bond that was too close, too strong, stronger than anything else in their life. You weren’t supposed to bond with someone so deep, the bite almost seemed to do more harm than good.

But you’re already dying and there isn’t much worse that could happen to you.

You don't have anything to lose but Yoongi does. You shake yourself free from his arms and pull back. Recoiling from what he’s offering to do for you; tether him to you forever when you might not make it.

You can already feel the mating mark taking hold- It's already starting to cloud your judgment, deep down, the part of you that cares if you survive this is already winking out. The blankness sinking through your every inch, The emptiness. You’d be surprised if you lifted your hand to your chest and found your heart still beating.

“Yoongi- No- you don’t have to- you’ve already got a pack and don’t- don’t bind yourself to someone like me.”

It’s the same argument that you had before but there’s no force behind it- every stupid excuse you had for him not to love you is moot now that your husband is dead next to you. But you're done; Every breath takes more effort than it should and you feel so heavy. You look down at your lap and feel the lethargy sinking beneath your bones like lead. Hidden hands gripping around your throat cutting off your words.

You feel like you’re choking on something.

You’ve felt depressed before (how could you not have given what your life was like before Yoongi). And having a mating mark from someone deceased feels like that but worse, like it's turned up by a factor of three. A weird mixture of dizzy, absent, and dissociative. You have never felt less connected to your own body, it feels foreign.

You are nothing but a soul inside a body, craving release. A thread of black that wants to tug you down to where ever Geumjae is now.

The sinking sadness says to you with gentle hands- this is a fine spot. You can just sit here, It’s okay. You don’t have to move, you can just sit here until you die. As long as no one bothers you and hurts you again, you could just sit here, as long as it was quiet and peaceful. Things don't even have to be good, you don't need good things, you just need it to not hurt anymore. Until the earth reclaims you like it takes abandoned buildings.

A sharp pain that goes through your heart, an ache so deep that it speaks to cavernous places, wakes monsters that you didn’t know where there.

You’ve never really wanted to die before, maybe as a passing thought- but didn’t everyone think that way? it’s so different now- where the thoughts are all consuming, running over your words in your head like oil spreading and staining cloth.

Die- want to die- want- want- want die- wanna go- wanna be quiet- wanna fall asleep and not wake up- want to-

But if you decided to lay here and not get up again, Yoongi would stay too.

He would try and get you to move, probably beg and try to get you to live. Even if he never bit you, he’d stay next to you until the end, just to hold your hand so that you didn’t have to be completely alone. You thought dying would feel more lonely, But maybe it doesn't feel that way because Yoongi’s here.

His hand closes around yours, his thumb rubbing soothing circles as he cries. And you think if you want one thing; it's for him to stop crying. Out of all people- Yoongi doesn't deserve the hurt (but maybe you're biased because you love him).

That tips the scale in his favor.

Geumjae’s blood is pooling on the floor. His body gives a twitch, the last remnants of his misfiring nerves as he dies. You feel the painful jerk in your mating bond. Yoongi watches the muscles of your neck twitch.

Neither you nor Yoongi pays him any mind.

"You don't have to do this Yoongi." Yoongi’s hand on your cheek- is like a balm to those words, pushing them out of your head. “You can’t take it back. If I die- you could die too.”

“But I want to” he kisses your cheek- and the contact lights a flame down your neck to your touch starved heart. The heat flares to light and the next second your body and your mouth are aching to bite. Your instincts an avalanche around you begging you to complete the bond that’s tearing through you making you shake. He kisses a little closer to your lips, cheeks wet and cool against your skin.

Geumaje and Yoongi were related by blood at all, maybe your instincts can’t tell the difference.

“I don’t care if it does- I can’t- I’m not going to just let you die” his voice breaks on the last word. Not when it was me who was too slow to save you; He won’t say the words or whisper his guilt into the open air.

“Please sweetheart- let me.” He kisses your lips. So soft- achingly soft, Your first kiss, you wish it had happened under better circumstances.

You hate that the first kiss you and Yoongi share tastes like blood.

But there would be more- there could be more kisses if Yoongi manages to do what he’s saying he can. The mark on your shoulder is already healing, the blackness stretching to scar treacherously fast. Normal mating bites usually take a day or so to heal, but not yours, it’s already scabbing and sealing in the poision.

If you’re going to try this- if it’s going to work- it has to be now. The bond is advancing, regardless of the fact that Geumjae is barely dead, barely cooling beside the two of you.

It’s barely been 10 minutes since you shot him. And if you listen carefully- you can hear sounds in the rest of the house, maybe someone else from the gang here- about to come upstairs and discover the mess of you three. muffled voices and heavy footsteps grow louder by the second.

Yoongi is safe but you’re not. “Yoongi,” you say, his name a broken hymn on your mouth. Musical- and Yoongi can’t think of a time when he wouldn’t want to hear it. Hoping for more of this closeness and maybe one day, a love that doesn’t hurt.

You get the feeling that even if you are broken beyond repair, this man could fix you. Wide hands and careful fingers that rub the blood away from your skin, hands made for making things and mending things when they break. And maybe you’re selfish enough to let him bind himself to you- broken as you are.

You press your forehead to his, you have to ask one more time. "Are you sure Yoongi?"

He nods, quick and small, "I'm sure." there isn’t anything in his eyes that makes you doubt him.

"Okay," you say softly, tugging him closer, tilting your chin up to the sky, your skin stings where it stretches around the mating mark. "okay. Come here then."

Your hands tangle in Yoongi’s hair as you guide his mouth to your throat, and his mouth sliding into the space where Geumjae was just minutes ago. He lingers for just half a breath before sinks his teeth over the mating mark, a little deeper- his mouth a little wider. He makes the bite a tiny bit offset.

Your breath hitches, back arching. His hands-on your waist go hard, holding you closer to him, as close as he can get you. Unlike before when Geumjae’s bite was agony, this feels like heroin- like every drug mixing together sending you up and up.

If you looked down and saw your hands were tipped in gold you wouldn’t be surprised. For a second you think you can taste colors, and then the chocolate sea salt of Yoongi settles over your tongue delicious, like ambrosia- fuck it’s so strong, it’s halfway between a headache and a high. You gasp when you feel it, feel Yoongi all over, Goosebumps rising on your arms as he touches you. The smell of ocean breeze and chocolate filling you in a way that Geumjae’s scent didn’t.

Geumjae’s bite was nothing compared to this, a whisper to a symphony.

This must be what a mating bite feels like when you want it. You cry out. Gripping the lapels of his coat. Yoongi’s heartbeat thunders in your ears, the only thing you can hear, until the beat matches to your own, heartbeats pumping in sync.

Your blood tastes sweet and he wonders what it says about him that he likes the taste. He gulps at it- once- twice- and then a third time just to make sure the mark sticks, maybe he could suck a little bit of Geumjae out of you.

His kisses get feverish, lapping up your blood with wide laves of his tongue, moaning a little. and this time when you kiss- with your blood in his mouth, they get hurried and rushed like he can consume you, each one sweeter than the last. There is one moment of nausea, only one moment where Yoongi sees the black tracery receded and feels it dim.

Maybe it’s not gone, but at least it's buried.

Yoongi can almost feel you, can almost feel the bond, but not yet. Your scent, it's all cake-sweet now. You kiss him until your jaw aches until your lips feel bruised. Until you know the sounds below actually are people, rushing around trying to find Geumjae. Calling out your names.

Yoongi is the first to break apart, the room spinning. “Do me” he lifts the edge of his shirt, picking out a spot that he likes, the meat just above his hip. A spot is half-hidden by his shirt and his pants.

Not everyone likes to have their mating marks on their neck (you certainly would have chosen to have yours another place had you been given the chance). And Yoongi stretches out so that you can get your mouth on him, your mouth on the spot he wants to bind your soul to his.

He holds one of your hands in both of his hands so gently as you cup his hip and bite down, even as you begin to make out the noise of gang members coming up the attic stairs. Yoongi bites down a moan, lets you take one gasp of blood into your mouth before your teeth leave his skin.

The high rushes over him and he knows his pupils are mirrors of yours, black and dilated. He just has time to wipe his blood from your mouth and get you as close as he can, before the attic door creaks, the barrel of a gun pushing it open. And the gangsters enter the room with practiced steps.

Yoongi pulls his shirt back down just before they have a chance to see.

You play the part, slumping against him and letting him take the reigns. the people must take it for pain even though you’re shaking not with sobs, but from the feeling of Yoongi’s soul intertwining with yours. Full body shivers and something solidifying between the two of you.

Together you shake, Yoongi is barely aware of the gangsters clearing the room.

You feel like you can taste his thoughts, though you can’t actually hear what he's thinking. You can feel the way they tumble like small waves over each other. You feel concern and something else, something that feels an offal lot like love shoot down the fledgling bond as Yoongi’s arms pull you up, firmer against him.

It makes shivers rise on every inch of your skin, the pleasure he feels when he touches you that you're now hyper-aware of. It's what your body has been craving- the completion of the bond.

You both bleed- your blood dripping onto the floor. One part sacrament and sacred love and another part poisonous longing for a man you hated so much more than you ever loved him. This feels strange, it feels wrong, and that you have one part of you reaching out for something that’s not there. And then this- with Yoongi, right and front of you and inside of you. Completely occupying your heart and your mind and your body.

Accept for that one poisoned inch; you might not be completely his, but it's enough now, the bond with yoongi occupying those thoughts you'd had minutes before.

The gangsters don’t touch Geumjae, at least until Moonbyul enters the room, unarmed. Yoongi’s cousin eyes Yoongi from the door. There isn’t enough room in this torture room for the 12 or so gangsters and the three of you, they press against the walls, guns at the ready.

Moonbyul approaches Geumjae’s corpse, turning him over with her foot to see his blankly staring face, turning it towards the heavens instead of hell. For a moment, Yoongi thinks she might actually kick him. She plucks her pink handgun from the floor. Someone passes her a rag and she wipes it free of blood and fingerprints.

Her eyes on Yoongi are hard; a bit of mirth playing on the edge of her mouth as she plays her hand. A queen in a room full of pawns and knights, and the king underfoot. Her hand of aces.

Betting it all on a simple game of roulette- red or black- will Yoongi challenge her or not. Yoongi doesn't miss the way her finger hovers on the trigger.

“I suppose this entire situation would be concerning to me- if you hadn’t already named me as Don.” she nudges Geumjae's body again with her foot. "I guess he didn't take it well?"

She lies effortlessly, taking the moment to seize power. So this was what she was waiting for. Yoongi doesn’t challenge her words for fear of what she might do right now, not that he really would anyway.

Yoongi tips his head forward in difference, “No he didn’t,”

Moonbyul tucks her gun back into her waistband, and holds out her hand to pull yoongi to his feet.

Yoongi takes you with him, small and still a little high in his arms. You hide your face in Yoongi’s shoulder, Holding onto him tight. You don’t know if you could take it if they tried to separate you now.

Yoongi has to swallow to continue, struggling to think before he speaks with so many new sensations shocking his body. He's intimately aware of the way you shift in his arms, arms tightening around you at the very idea of you moving more than an inch away from him right now as you settle onto your own two feet. still a little unsteady.

“He- he mated her against her will, and then he tried to kill us when I told him I wouldn’t- and- and after-” It’s not a lie- not really, but it still feels that way. Moonbyul doesn't need to do anything more than that to nod to call her men off, and they all relax around the room.

They instantly fade from engaged concern to understanding. The other heads of household will probably grill Yoongi more. But you’ve both got time to get your story straight. For now, they need to clean up the body.

It helps that threatening the beta is a punishable offense; no one will question Yoongi killing him- especially since they’re brothers. Most of the families tend to think that inner house spats that family's business. Yoongi doesn’t know which of his relatives will inherit the title of head of the Min family, but it won't be Yoongi.

You’re small and silent in Yoongi’s arms, so vulnerable, he keeps you a few paces away from any of the mobsters, bites down a growl whenever any of them come too close to his mate. It’s just the mating bond making it’s self-known. You are his. No one can touch you.

Yoongi has never been a possessive man, but now he is. The mating mark tearing through him and screaming at him to protect, to provide, to nurture, and keep safe. He strokes down your back as his cousin quietly orders the others to clean up the mess and Geumjae’s body. The family has cleanup crews on call for this very reason.

They quietly offer to burn the house down to stage the death but Yoongi doesn’t care. He guesses it belongs to him now or maybe you. It depends on which bond the family will consider more important; the bonds of a half mating or the bond of brotherhood.

“I’ll handle it-“ his cousin has the good grace to offer comfort to Yoongi that way when he gets you into her car. she doesn't say anything about the dents in the side.

Yoongi doesn’t quite hate her for any of this, but he doesn’t trust her the same way he did before either. She’s gotten what she wanted- the Don position. Plucked it from Yoongi’s hands.

“You haven’t had a chance to call the heads of house and tell them about your decision yet, but after that, you should be free to go” she reads him easily as always, The only other manipulator up to par with Yoongi himself in the gang. She knows that not an inch of Yoongi wants to stay in this house or this city a second longer.

At the idea of leaving you to straighten up in Yoongi’s lap to listen in a little more, you share a look with Yoongi. Your mate, your body sings the eye contact makes you shiver in your seat. Yoongi pulls you closer, stroking up to your arm mistakenly thinking you’re cold. You pull yourself closer to him- but it feels like you can’t get close enough, He makes a dissatisfied noise in his throat.

Yoongi will have to get used to this feeling. Like his soul is walking outside of his body. It feels incredibly vulnerable and intimate- He can feel your panic, how physically you’re being torn apart right now, every few minutes you shake. Yoongi puts your legs over his and holds you close. Watching your face closely for every twinge of pain as the lights of the city flicker over you two.

The meeting with the heads of house is tense, though the usual group of is two short now, standing only at eleven members now that Geumjae is gone and Moonbyul is named Don. You cannot be Don and a head of house at the same time.

It takes every bone in Yoongi’s body to let you be taken into the other room by Moonbyul’s mate to check over your injuries. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder. He catches Moonbyul’s nostrils flare, but she doesn’t say anything. “Would you look at her bruises for me?”

Later Yoongi will check them himself, again and again until he's sure you're all right. But the sooner you get ice on the nastier bruises the better off you’ll be. Someone should look at your ribs and your head too- he has half a mind to take you to the hospital before you leave the city. He doesn’t know how long it will be before you’re stationary again. He’d stay in the city tonight if you needed to. But he can feel your panic down the bond, The sooner you both get out of here the better.

With Geumjae dead there is no true opposition against his cousin's rule. She stands at the head of the table like she’s meant to be there. And still- the heads of the families talk through the night, kicking the non-proverbial dead horse into the ground. There is little mourning for Geumjae, one granny who cries faintly in the other room while the heads argue. Yoongi supposes he should look more upset, but no one pays attention to him now that he’s made his choice.

No, what they spend most of the time discuss is you. Sat in the other room, able to hear all of this, the men and woman weighing your fate and deciding what to do with you. If Yoongi listens, he can hear Hyejin’s quiet voice. Can feel your discomfort as the ice hits your ribs, maybe broken, definitely badly bruised.

Yoongi flinches every time he feels the pain pulse down the bond. Maybe in time, it will feel less sensitive but right now- Yoongi can feel your hurts just as bad as he can feel his own. A part of him is reaching out into the other room, screaming in his ear to go comfort his mate.

He has a mate. Yoongi can scarcely believe it.

The gangsters around the table remain blissfully unaware of that fact. Most of the heads are on the same page, and he won’t reveal his mating mark unless he absolutely needs to, he will let that secret stay secret unless necessary. It’s a good bargaining chip. They wouldn’t kill you if they knew it was going to kill him too. But still- it’s hard to hear them argue over your fate when he can’t intervene.

“You know the rules- no divorces and no separations,” one alpha says, he’s older- nearing 60, but Yoongi can’t excuse that cruelty with age. The youngest, the head of the Ahn house does the rebutting for Yoongi, and he bites his tongue.

“But it wouldn’t be a divorce; she’s his widow now and his ex-mate technically.”

“Yes but that’s only a half bond.” There is only one omega head, and the woman snubs her long cigarette out on the table leaving an ashy circle

“It’s only the alpha bite that matters- or have you forgotten?”

To her credit, the omega doesn't back down. “Chances are she’ll die anyway why are we even talking about her, we should start transitioning already.”

“That’s easy to say- if she’s got nothing left to lose what’s to stop her from going to the police.”

“I can keep an eye on her,” Yoongi volunteers, jumping at the chance to turn the discussion to his favor. They can all go fuck themselves if they ever dare to try and hurt you. “You say she’s as good as dead anyway. So you shouldn't mind if she comes with me.”

The likelihood of anyone living after their mate dies is in the teens. Yoongi knew that and even then he bonded to you anyway. He can only hope that with his bite coursing through your veins and your body confused that you’ve got better odds than that. Yoongi did what he promised to do, now your odds are both 50/50. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t go to the police.”

Through the bond he can feel your curiosity and a little bit of fear too, you’re listening in. And he does his best to let his calmness comfort you too. Your panic instantly relaxes and he senses you reaching out. If you were next to Yoongi you’d be holding hands, and it kind of feels that way. If you could ever hold hands with someone’s soul.

“You realize that if you make her your responsibility, anything bad that happens will fall on your head as well” their betas might be sacred- but they aren’t free from the rest of the laws of the gang.

“I understand.” The Don lifts her head, regarding Yoongi with a heavy look. “She’s his widow and whether we want to address it now or not, the law says she’s inherited his wealth.”

It's met with immediate opposition, several heads of house start speaking over each other at once, but Yoongi speaks up again, shouting over them. A beta raising their voice is about as strange as one giving or getting a mating bite, everyone falls silent. “Give it to me or her- I don’t care.”

another few minutes and they’re ready to let you go. they vote on it, and only 3 out of 11 heads vote to have you killed. Moonbyul gives the all clear, “Then you’re free to go.” Yoongi doesn’t even say goodbye, going to you in the other room just as quickly as he can without outright running. The Don’s mate is crouched in front of where you sit. Your body is mostly clean of blood and you’ve been put in other clothes; a pair of sweats and a baggy shirt.

Yoongi can see all the bruises on the side of your face turning purple and Yoongi wants to cup your face and bring it to his, kiss away the pain coloring your skin like watercolors, but can’t do it here. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“Not for her but maybe for you, no ones checked you over yet, have they?”

yoongi grits his teeth, seconds away from snapping at hyejin, he wants her to get away, get as far from you as possible. “i asked if she needed the hospital.”

Hyejin stands when Yoongi crouches. shaking her head when it becomes clear yoongi isn’t to be argued with right now. “There’s something wrong with her- but I think you know what” her eyes hover on Yoongi’s hip.

So at least she’s figured it out. She has the good sense to utter the words quietly. Though the people in the other room aren’t concerned with Yoongi anymore, they’ve already launched into discussions about transitioning power and re-defining responsibilities. It seems Moonbyul had a plan on how she wanted the family to run from the beginning.

He shakes off his annoyance, “Thank you,” he says to the omega, holding out a hand to you, which you take, still not saying anything. Tiredness holding you down to the chair. The same kind of look you’d had when Geumjae had died. The mating mark has been taped over but some of the blackness is still there. Yoongi wonders when it will fade, if it ever does.

“I wish I could say I’ll see you soon but I don’t think I will.” You and Yoongi nod, your hands twined between the two of you. She knows that neither you nor Yoongi has a love for the gang. No one stops you and Yoongi when you leave the house. Immediately hailing a taxi. You stop only at Yoongi’s safe house for a spare 20 minutes, while he packs up a fraction of his belongings in a hurried rush, anything to get out before someone tries to change their mind.

If Geumjae had any hidden loyalists the beta that killed him and his runaway wife would be the first targets. Let alone their reaction if they knew who had really killed Geumjae. The quicker the two of you get away from the city the better.

You end up at the train station, Yoongi breaks the bracelets off of your wrist- the same ones that he saw you wear on you the first night- and the ones that he’s always thought looked like shackles. He yanks at them as hard as he can until they snap; kissing your wrist after each one is off. You throw them over the side of the chain-link fence and into the darkness- to be lost forever you hope. The symbols of all you’ve lost.

When you get on the train, you cuddle close under Yoongi’s jacket and into his warmth. He’s a protective barrier between you and the third seat that thankfully remains empty this late into the night it’s so late it’s nearly early morning. Most of the train is empty besides an elderly couple at the front. Regardless, the two of you sit behind them. Yoongi can’t take his eyes off of the potential threat. Actually flinches when the conductor comes around to stamp your tickets.

You head off into the night- your little box of light in a sea of street lamps and hidden dangers. You almost fall asleep a few times, head bobbing as you catching yourself before it hits his shoulder. After the third time this happens he pulls you in close, tucks your head close to his scent gland, and commands “sleep” in a voice that you cannot disobey.

Eventually, you wake, the car is bright with the midday sun and the car is half full. Yoongi’s eyes are bloodshot as they train on every passenger who comes in and leaves your train car. Yoongi holds your hand, rubbing his thumb up and down the back in an endless trail. A conductor opens the door of your train car to pass through, bunching a few tickets here and there from the new passengers who have boarded the train.

He passes by where you're bundled and Yoongi flinches so hard it wakes you fully. his shoulder accidentally nudging a bruise on your cheek, He murmurs his apologies, panicked hands fussing over you. He could feel that he hit one of your bruises and the horror of hurting you make him wide-eyed and worried. You catch his hands, pressing the pads of them to your lips. Yoongi's hands shake as they touch you, hours later, he's still high on adrenaline.

“You need to sleep Yoongi” it’s been a long few days for both of you.

He doesn’t answer with more than a grunt. But you get off the train at the next stop and it’s nearing noon by the time the two of you stumble across the street to a motel, and it’s shitty and smells like cigarettes and the lady at the front desk asks if you need the hourly rate or the daily rate. Though she does give you a discount because Yoongi’s a beta. Eyeing the blood-soaked collar of his jacket and the bloody bandages on your neck.

You should be holed up somewhere safe away from prying eyes to adjust to your new mating bite- not in a hotel where the smells of other people assault your nose. Making you press close to Yoongi because everything smells so new and scary. Like your senses have been turned up and only Yoongi can quell their sensitivity.

you don’t realize that the attendant gave you two beds until you get to the room. you both stare blankly before you cough and separated. the closeness too much now that you’re alone and free from threats. Though it doesn't feel that way.

you hate it- you don’t want to curl up across the room from Yoongi- you want to be next to him. you almost whimper when he He steps away to the other bed to set down his backpack. You want to cry, your skin feels irritated and itchy without his pressed to yours. You want him to touch you but you can’t stay it. Don’t know how to ask around the thickness in your throat.

He gets a clean shirt from his black backpack and helps you put it on so that you don’t irritate the mating bite. You can’t lift either of your arms much and neither can he but he pushes through the pain for you. He only has 2 or three sets of clothes that he grabbed from the cottage, and it’s all you’ve got.

“We’ll get some more clothes for you tomorrow.” He doesn’t say that you should have grabbed some of your clothes- because you both know you couldn’t handle staying in that house a second more than was necessary. You barely thought to linger long enough to grab your purse, which thankfully had everything you really need in it.

Somehow he has athletic tape in his bag, and he spends a few minutes changing out your soaked through bandages, bundling up toilet paper, and taping it over your mating bite. Only after yours is taken care of does he let you do the same for his bite on his hip, and the burns on his hands.

You pull his pants off and then his boxers down just enough so that you can get at it, small from your mouth, the skin around it irritated and pink. You try not to let your eyes hover on the small happy trail that traces from his belly button downwards. The band on his boxers is stained with blood- and you wonder how much it hurt to have it dig into it all day.

You curl up in separate beds, and only when you’re under the covers do you slide off your pants. leaving you only in a large shirt that smells like yoongi. Yoongi does the same, says “goodnight” and shuts off the light but doesn’t turn away from you, keeping his eyes on you in the darkness.

You’re silent for a few minutes, but you can tell that neither of you is falling asleep. Your bed feels cold and you wonder if he feels the same, you let the distance hurt for a minute before you give in.

"Thank fucking god-" He peels back the blanket for you the second you make the move and dash across the cold room. you scoot into his warmth and he lets out a little ‘oof’ when you collide. Letting him pull you closer, put the blanket over your back, and make sure all of your skin is covered.

It’s not enough for Yoongi and he pulls you sideways so that he can get some of his weight on top of you. A growl building in his chest at the thought of anyone walking through the door right now.

He needs to check the lock, make sure that no one can possibly disturb you. Needs to- the instinct filling him so harshly he can’t breathe. He tries to pull away, but your hands tighten on him, and you let out a whine so heartbreaking that instantly has him releasing comforting chocolate, flopping back on top of you nuzzling under your chin, you feel like you’re drowning in it.

Your love with Yoongi is still too new and raw to be close like this without feeling shy- and yet you can’t resist, your mating bond is like a fresh burn that you can’t stop picking at because it hurts. (Like there’s something dead there that you need to get rid of, you can’t heal around, you need to tear it out so that it feels more like bleeding rather than something that was carved out by hungry heat.) You fiddle with the bandage at your neck before Yoongi takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

For a moment, you crave the release that blood might give you- and like he can feel it. Yoongi presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “Couldn’t sleep?” Yoongi says. You shake your head. The motel creeks and overhead you can hear someone else moving in an adjacent room. Yoongi gets his head on your pillow and adjusts his hand around your waist so that he’s not hitting the vicious bruise that Geumjae left with one of his kicks.

The last 24 hours have been such a tangle. It feels weird to not move now. Yoongi’s heart is still hammering; you can feel it under your palm. You’re both unwilling to relax and close your eyes even for a second even though you’re both exhausted.

You’re worried if you close your eyes you’re going to see Geumjae's face.

Yoongi left the light in the bathroom on for you. Sensing that the shadows would be too thick with nightmares for you to handle for long. You look at each other in the darkness before Yoongi lets out a shaky little giggle.

“Do you know what I just realized?” he says, the words quieted against the too scratchy bedspread. “We could have gotten a better hotel, we easily have enough money for it now” and that’s true.

If Yoongi’s orders were followed and the gang's accountant really did transfer all of your inherited wealth to your name then- fuck- both of you saw the bank statements. Both of you know how much money Yoongi’s family had amassed- the same wealth that Geumjae had inherited and now you.

“Fuck you’re right,” you say, ducking in so that you don’t have to meet Yoongi’s eyes. Geumjae used to hit you sometimes if you did that- and trained habits die-hard.

yoongi kisses your brow, slow little pecks that travel down your cheeks, as unhurried as they are sweet. It's strange to be close to him now when it’s all you’ve wanted for the last few months. You never thought you’d get this. It feels like a daydream and a nightmare all at once.

“We could buy a whole house- or three” and even then you’d have more than enough money to live on after. For the rest of your days, comfortable and cozy even if you were foolish with the money. Yoongi still gets his stipend from the gang. No doubt to be greater now that he’s the only beta.

He stops his kisses, mouth hovering on your cheek, “We could do that.” he sounds like he’s barely containing his excitement.

You’ll both be fine. Neither of you will ever have to worry about money again and it makes you feel sick and happy with something that feels a terrible lot like grief.

Even if you got that- the last 24 hours haven’t been worth it. You’re not entirely out of the woods yet. The mark on your shoulder is scabbing over and inky. But every few hours of closeness that the two of you have- Yoongi think’s he sees the color fade- just a little bit.

You don’t know where the giggle comes from but one moment it comes out of your mouth and you laugh, and Yoongi joins in the sound startling out of his chest. He presses his forehead tight against yours and sighs at the sound. You see the moment clarity falls on him and an idea settles into his mind the second it hits. And dim happiness settles over your bond.

Yoongi lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your bruised knuckles. “Let's buy a house.”

You smile- tired from today but still willing to placate him. “Okay Yoongi, we can do that.”

Now finally, his eyes are starting to droop, every few seconds he tries to keep them open, but you know he's seconds away from sleep. His words slurred when they whisper, his sweet chocolaty breath tickling your cheeks. “Goodnight sweetheart- love you.”

“Love you too,” it’s the first time you’ve ever said those words to each other. It feels like the first of many times you’ll say it. Forever- you and Yoongi will be mated together until you both die. And who cares if that happens tomorrow or months from now. Who cares? Because you have him and that’s all that matters.

Yoongi holds you and knows- that he will love you- as long as he can.

He watches you sleep, waits until your eyes are closed. Until he can make sure you’re safe and warm. A gentle purring fills the hotel room, soft and peaceful. yoongi hears it louder when he presses his ear to your chest. He tries to keep his eyes open, but somewhere around the second hour- they fall closed.

Neither of you dream.

—————

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adezahnae · 3 years

Text

While We’re on a Little Trip (Part 3)

A/N: Hello my princesses😌 I hope you all didn’t wait too long for this🥺 I wasn’t feeling like myself bc of my period🙄 I hope you enjoy💕

Warnings: Bit of plot twist, humor, fluff, slight smut, love making, secrets, Daddy kink, jaehyun got some explaining to do😔

Tagged People: @ahgasearmyfan @whoreforshuaaa

Your POV

Me and Jaehyun were now in a store, paying for snacks for the road, well for the flight. I couldn’t control my excitement as we were getting things. “Oh my gosh! Omg! I can’t believe I’m getting on an actual plane soon!” I said following behind him. “Mhm.” He said not paying me any attention and just grabbing things while listening.

“It’s just like...this is what the rich people do! Go on trips that needs a plane!” “Mm.” “And what if it’s first class?! Like ooo!!! I’m gonna be soo happy!” “It’s a private jet, babe.” He said now walking to the cash register. “Eeee! Yes! That’s even better!! Like it’s like rich couple vibes and with the house as well along with a nice car and speaking of car, we were drove here! Ha! This is so coolll!! And just imagine how beautiful it’s gonna be up there..WAIT! HOW BEAUTIFUL IT’S GONNA BE UP THERE!” I ranted like an excited child in a candy store.

Jaehyun sighed. “One popsicle please?” He asked the cashier. The man gave him one and paid for it. “Thank you, come on Y/n.” Jaehyun said while pushing me out of the store. “But no! Didn’t you say the house we’re staying at is gonna be on a private beach?! Ahh! I can’t wait! The waves of the pretty water and maybe the moon will shine!” I said as he helped me in the car.

“Yes sweetheart.” He said entering after me. “I can’t even form a correct sentence anymore, this is the best thing ever! Like the best thing ev-“ I was cut off by him popping the popsicle in my mouth. “Baby..you’re talking too much. Just wait until we get there okay?” He said. I nodded. “Ooh! This is the blue flavor!” I mumbled while eating the popsicle. He smiled at me. “Okay, you can go now.” Jaehyun said to the driver. “Yes sir.” The driver said.

We were now in the parking lot of the plane and our luggage was getting loaded into the plane. I finally finished my popsicle and Jaehyun helped me out of the car. “Wow!” I exclaimed as I looked at the jet. “This is beautiful Jae! Really!” I said hugging onto him. He hugged me back and kissed my forehead. “Come on, let’s get on.” He said taking my hand and leading me to the plane. Before we could enter fully, we heard a car pull up.

“JAEHYUN! STOP!” We heard a girl say. We turned around and seen that it was a different girl. “Jae. I have to talk to you.” She said. “Jaehyun, who is this?” I asked. “Y/n, get on the plane and don’t say a word.” He said to me. I looked at her and back at him. “Jae-“ “Baby, don’t go against my word right now.” He said turning his head towards me. I sighed and nodded.

“Okay..” I walked on the plane and sat down on the chairs. Wow, it had a kitchen, a bed, a bathroom. It was like a mini house apartment. I went up the stairs and seen that it gives you the top view of plane. “Wow..” I smiled. I heard that the jet was taking off now and I then hear Jaehyun enter the jet, without a word.

I went back down the stairs and seen him in the chair, with his head in his hand. “Jae?” I called. I approached him slowly. “Jaehyun?” I called again. “Yes?” He replied. “It’s okay...whatever it is..it’s okay..” I said rubbing his shoulders. I walked around and straddled his lap. He breathed out and let his hands fall to my sides. “I love you..remember that, Y/n.” He said.

He looked as if he did something wrong or ashamed of something. “I know, tell me what’s wrong?” I asked. He shook his head and pulled me towards him. “Just...tell me you love me.” He said. “I love you..I’ve always had and I always will.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my shoulder. His lips traveled up my neck and to my lips.

His movements on my body started to roam up. He took the zipper on the back of my dress and pulled it down. He found my bra clip and unclipped it. He picked me up and placed me on the bed. He pulled off my heels and let my hair down. He kissed on my neck again while he pulled my dress down along my bra. I gripped on his shoulder. “Jae..” I moaned. He took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. I unbuckled his pants and pulled them down. While I did that, his lips were on my nipples.

He left soft kisses and sucks on them. I arched my back up and put my fingers in his hair. He took the rest of my dress off with my bra and underwear and placed them in the chair beside us. He pulled down his pants and underwear and kissed my cheek, sliding in. I gasped out and bit my lip. “J-Jaehyun...Daddy..” I whispered moaned. He groaned while moving his hips in and out slowly. “Do you love Daddy? Forever?” He asked me with the still same regret in his voice.

I was in too much pleasure to talk about his tone. “Yes. I’m gonna always love you..” I said placing my hand on his cheek. He rocked his hips into mine faster, making me groan out. “I love you too Y/n..” He whispered looking in my eyes. We made love as the jet was now flying in the sky.

Jaehyun’s POV

I sighed out as I sat by the end of the bed. Y/n was now asleep behind me and it was night. How can I tell her this? This would break her, it would hurt her so much...My thoughts were cut off by my phone vibrating. I seen that it was Alexa calling me. I picked up the phone and answered. “Hello?” I said. “She wants to speak to you..” She said. “Go ahead.” I said. “Hi daddy.” I heard my daughter’s voice say.

“Hey baby, how are you?” I asked. “I’m okay..I miss you daddy.” She said. “I know baby, Daddy misses you too.” I smiled. “When will I see you again?” She asked me. I smiled at her words. “Soon baby. You will see daddy real soon.” I said. “Okay..I wove you. Do you wove me?” She asked. I shed a tear. “Daddy will always love you. No matter what happens.” I replied. I heard her give the phone back to Alexa. “Hey.” She said. “Yes?” I replied wiping my tear. “Why her?” She asked, knowing who she was talking about. “Alexa you have no right to ask me what’s going on in my life.” I said.

“But! She was pretty! Jaehyun! I was before her, and that crazy bitch of a wife you married! I have your daughter! You can’t tell me why you choose her?” She complained. “You sound pathetic, Alexa. We are over. It’s been three years now.” I said. “Does she call you Jaebear as well?! Did you beat her like you did me?!” “I did not beat you Alexa.” I growled. “Yes you did! You always did! Remember when I put you in jail for that?! Does she know that you’re a woman beater?!” She exclaimed.

I peeked over at Y/n to see her fast asleep still. I went upstairs and sat down. “Listen, don’t you dare talk about this shit in front of my daughter because I know she is still there. I turned my life around Alexa.” I said. “Did you really?! How about the time where you forced me to get pregnant with her, when I told you I didn’t want children! You forced me to get pregnant with Lia!” She cried.

I sighed. “Alexa stop it right now.” “No! I’m sick of this! Being under your spell like I wasn’t there before her! I am the first one! Before your bitch ass wife and my stupid ass sister!” She yelled. “WATCH YOUR FUCKING MOUTH WHEN YOU TALK ABOUT HER!” I yelled. “You must really love her...why can’t you love me Jaehyun?! Me?!”

“Because you were hell to me! In and out my wallet every night we slept together! And do you see the shit you’re putting me through right now?! Why do you wanna be in the picture soo badly again Alexa?!” I exclaimed. “I hate you..you make me sick!! You put me through hell! You hit me every damn day!” - “I only hit you twice Alexa and told I would never do it again.” - “I don’t remember none of that! You put me through so much shit..I HATE YOU!” - “I hate you too! Believe what you want, I care nothing for you anymore. I care for only my daughter.”

She went silent. I heard her walk away and close the door. She sighed. “Jae..you always know how to get me hot and bothered don’t you?” She said on the phone. I hear her unzip her pants. I sighed. “Alexa stop this right now.” I said. I heard her moan. “Please..say more harsh words to me. You know, your cruelty always got me wet..” She said.

“Alexa, I said to stop.” I growled. “Ooh growl again, come and hit me. You knew that turned me on too..” she moaned as she touched herself more. “Alexa, you’re fucking mental. You choose to fight with me every change you get and I’m sick of it..I will be coming for my daughter. We’re over.” I said. “Yet you’re still on the phone, listening to my wet pussy. Why don’t you hit me like you did before? You knew I liked it. Just pretend it’s Y/n. Pretend like you’re listening to her moans over the phone. Come and hit me Jae..put your hands on me.” She moaned.

I closed my eyes and sighed. “Okay Alexa. Listen to Daddy.” I said. “Mhm? What do you want me to do?” She asked. “Take the hand you’re touching yourself with and use that thumb to rub over your clit.” I instructed. She whined out as she did so. “What else?” She asked. “Now take your other and hang up the damn phone. I’ll see you in court when I get back.” I said. “Jae!” I hung up on her and walked back downstairs. I seen that Y/n was still asleep. I sighed and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry I’m putting you through this...” I whispered while rubbing her hair, shedding a tear. “Jae?” She called. “Yes baby?” He said. “Are you okay? Why are you crying?” I asked. I quickly wiped my face. “No reason Princess. Just go back to sleep..” I said. She nodded. “Stay with me..” She mumbled as she pulled me towards her. I crawled in bed with her and let fall asleep on my chest. I stroked her hair as I looked out at the clouds and the stars and moon. I have my ex-wife trying to ruin me and Y/n’s life, I have my daughter to think about, and now Alexa is trying to come back and my past is trying to haunt me alive...Why did I do this? “How am I gonna do this?” I said to myself.

Your POV

I woke up from my slumber and turned around to see Jaehyun’s sweet smile. “Good Morning.” He said. I smiled and kissed his lips. “Good Morning.” I replied. “We’re here..” He said. I sat up in the bed. “Really?!” I exclaimed. “Mhm. Here put your clothes on.” He said handing me my sundress with my sandals. “Okay, let me go and brush my teeth.” I smiled running to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, washed my face and showered.

I got out of it and I put my dress on. I walked out of the bathroom to see Jaehyun dressed as well in some jeans, a button up shirt and a cap that was backwards. “Are you ready?” He asked me with a smile. I nodded. “Uh huh! Let’s go!” I said grabbing my bag. I figured all of our bags were in the car and we walked out of the plane.

We seen the driver and bodyguards fighting with some woman. “Let me go! I know him!” She yelled. “Stop.” Jaehyun said. The men pulled away and revealed the same girl who was there when we boarded the plane with a small girl in her arms. Jaehyun stopped dead in his tracks as if he just saw a ghost. “I told you Jae, you can’t just throw me away!” She yelled. She looked strung out on drugs.

“Jaehyun who is this?!” I exclaimed out of fright. “Hi daddy..” the little girl waved. “W-What?” I asked. Jaehyun looked over at me and then back at her. “Oh! I’m sorry we haven’t met, I’m Alexa! Yo-“ “Alexa.” Jaehyun said. I looked in between the both of them and seen that I favored her a little bit. “Why?! Just tell her! You’re so weak!” Alexa yelled.

“Tell me what?” I asked, lowly. “That your little boyfriend her was fucking-“ “Damn it Alexa shut the hell up!” Jaehyun yelled. “No! I’m not leaving! You need to spend time with your daughter anyways!” Alexa yelled. “D-Daughter?” I questioned. “Damn it Alexa, LEAVE!” Jaehyun yelled while losing his temper. “Daddy..Why are you yelling?” The little girl asked while frightened. Jaehyun sighed.

“Alexa give my damn daughter and leave.” Jaehyun said. He took the little girl from her arms. “Now leave.” He growled. She smirked. “You know I love this side of you Jae..” She said trying to feel on him. I step forward. “Just go...” I said. “Aww how cute you are-“ “Leave me the hell alone.” Jaehyun said. “Fine..but you will never forget me. Ever..” She said. She got in her car and pulled off from us. “Daddy..I’m hungry.” Little girl pouted. “Okay, we’re gonna go and get something for breakfast..” Jaehyun said.

I couldn’t register anything at this moment. A daughter? Alexa? What was she trying to tell me? I seen Jaehyun turn to me. “Y/n-“ “Don’t. I...can’t think right now..” I said. I got in the car and shut the door behind me. I heard him sigh and get in after me. I put on my seatbelt and looked out the window. He got in the car after me and put his daughter in the seat beside him. He buckled her up and himself in the seatbelts. “You can go.” He said to the driver. “Yes sir.” We drove off to a restaurant in silence. I couldn’t even stomach to look in his direction...

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