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emberfrostlovesloki · 11 months

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Hit and Run [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (Panic! at the Disco) Center (@hotch-girl) Right (@figdays)

Prompt: The BAU reader gets in a hit-and-run accident on the way to work, and Aaron is forced to confront his growing feelings for her. Those feelings are finally shared as the reader nearly faints on a case and Aaron is there to catch her before she falls.

Pairing: Hotch x fem reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: Hurt/Comfort/fluff

Word Count: 13.5K

Content Warnings: Car accident (hit and run [reader]) cuts and bruises, second-degree burns on the legs and feet (and healing of those burns), hospitals, canon typical violence (mention of poisoning and strangulation), fainting (reader) language.

A/N: Good evening, loves! I’m so happy that this is finally finished. It turned out much longer than I had planned. But somehow I’m not surprised. There isn’t a ton of action in this story, it’s just a lot of emotional build-up that I hope pays off in the end. I hope you enjoy this, and if you do, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you have a great rest of your week! Love Levi ❤️

P.S. This is not as edited as it can be. I'll do that tomorrow.

List with all stories

_y/f/s_ = your favorite song

_y/h/l_ = your hair length

_y/f/f/w_ = your favorite face wash

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color

_y/f/f_ = your favorite fruit

_y/b/f_ = your best friend

_y/f/s_ = your favorite TV show.

_y/n_ woke to the lack of oxygen. Her vision was black, and she couldn’t breathe. _y/n_ tried to move, and that was her second mistake. As she tried to shift in what was a very uncomfortable, confined space her body protested. It was also hot, uncomfortably hot. The pain and the heat dragged a ragged breath from _y/n_. That also hurt, her ribs aching against the movement of her lungs expanding in her ribcage. _y/n_’s eyes open and the world swam in front of her. There was something white in her lap. That was all she could make out, as she blinked and saw spots. The heat on her lower legs was becoming unbearable. She groaned in pain. Why was everything hurting? What was going on? She had just been driving to work like every other day for the last two years after joining the bureau. _y/n_’s mind moved back to the early morning.

She had woken at 5:00 a.m. as normal to an alarm that she was now regretting horribly. _y/n_ could feel the approaching time change, and she knew that it would be even harder to adjust to the shorter days and possibly leave the office in darkness instead of the warmth of the dripping orange five o'clock sun. _y/n_ had set _y/f/s_ as her new alarm. Now that she had woken to it for over a week, _y/n_ realized that she might be ruining her favorite song for herself. _y/n_ had rolled over in bed and for one second, wished she was back in college when the worst thing about an alarm had been the prospect of a dreadful 8:00 a.m. algebra class. In the darkness of her room, _y/n_ finally hit stop on the alarm and got out from under the warm covers of her bed. Once her feet were on the wood floor of her bedroom, _y/n_’s natural routine kicked in. _y/n_ moved to the bathroom and turned on the light by the sink. She had to blink a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness. _y/n_ pulled her _y/h/l_ hair away from her face with a fluffy grey headband. She turned the tap to warm and waited a moment for it to heat up. After thirty seconds, _y/n_ leaned down and began raising her face with the warm water. After her face was wetted, she pumped a small bit of _y/f/fw_ into her palm and began applying and lathering it over her skin. Once _y/n_ was satisfied with the coverage, she rinsed it off completely. Lastly, she turned the knob on the sink to cold and rinsed her face once more. The cold water always had the wanted effect; finally getting her tired brain to wake up. _y/n_ padded into the kitchen and started a cup of coffee before moving back to the bedroom to change. She needed to do laundry but was avoiding it -- putting it off until the weekend. Because of this, her options were scant. She decided on a pair of loser-fitting black pants with a simple white grid pattern. She had picked them up at a thrift shop two weekends ago and thought they were a good find. _y/n_ then went to her closet and picked out a _y/f/c_ turtleneck shirt. She added a grey scarf and pulled out some thick socks and her well-worn Doc. Martins. Once the outfit and boots were on, _y/n_ moved back to the kitchen. She doctored the coffee to her liking and opened the fridge. She pulled out a yogurt cup and a piece of _y/f/f_ from the fridge. She leaned against the counter as she dipped the spoon into the yogurt. She needed to eat quickly as morning traffic was going to be hell on the way to work. It had rained the night before and the temperatures had dropped below freezing which meant slick, icy roads. After burning her tongue on the hot coffee and finishing breakfast, _y/n_ made it out to her car. She didn’t forget to grab her go bag or sidearm from its gun safe, as she locked the door behind her.

Coming back to herself, the heat on her legs was really starting to hurt and whatever adrenaline had stopped the real pain from kicking in was quickly ebbing away. _y/n_’s eyes cleared, and she came fully to her senses. She let out a cry. The deflated airbag was resting on her lap with fragments of tempered glass from the passenger side door and windshield. _y/n_ could distinctly hear her breathing. _y/n_’s left hand seemed to be pinned between her seat and the plastic padding of the interior of the car. She tried to pull the appendage free but it was struck. _y/n_ could move her fingers at least which was a good sign. _y/n_ was sure there was some sort of fire happening near her feet and legs, and she used her right hand to clumsily push back the airbag. There was black smoke filling the cab now and there was a tongue of flame dancing near her ankles. She tried her best to pull her feet up as she coughed on the noxious fumes. The situation was becoming dire. _y/n_ started to panic as her eyes welled from the smoke. She tried to undo her seatbelt, but it was stuck. Not thinking clearly with all the pain, she tried to open the driver’s side door, but that too seemed jammed. _y/n_ pulled her turtleneck over her lips and nose and tried to undo the seatbelt again. She didn’t even seem to notice as a group of strangers beat on the unbroken glass of her window to get her attention.

Emily saw the whole thing. Or almost the whole thing, as she made her way to work. The roads were crowded and people driving were either very defensive or just plain bad given the weather. Emily pulled on the main drive to work and saw _y/n_’s car in front of her. Em had considered tapping her horn to say hello but decided against it. They would be together in the office in about ten minutes anyway. As they moved down the road toward the intersection that led to the FBI field office, a car merged into the lane in front of Emily, dangerously. At this, she did honk her horn once and thought, ‘Jerk,’ as the sedan slightly blocked her view of _y/n_’s car. The light, which was notoriously fast, turned green and Emily inched forward. The light was turning yellow as Prentiss approached the intersection, and _y/n_ was halfway through the four-lane street with her blinker on to turn left. There was no way that _y/n_ could see the truck coming from the other side of the intersection. The large vehicle was speeding down the slippery road and ran straight passed the red light and into _y/n_’s car. Emily couldn’t tear her eyes away as the metal collided. Prentiss watched as _y/n_’s body was violently pushed to the side. The sound of the metal crunching and glass breaking had Emily’s nerves standing on end. _y/n_’s car and the truck slid a foot to the edge of the highway curb. There was a moment of silence as if Emily were waiting for something else to happen. The truck didn’t seem that damaged apart from a large dent to the hood, and it roared back to life loudly. The tires squealed against the ice as it backed up and then, very quickly sped down the street. Em memorized the plate number and then pulled forward into the intersection. Prentiss sent up a silent prayer that everyone else on the road had stopped and that another car hadn’t been involved in the crash. Em flicked on her hazards and jumped out of her car. Two other vehicles had done the same thing as her and a large man was already at the door of _y/n_’s car trying to open and free the agent trapped inside. Then there was a petite woman with her phone to her ear speaking to 9-1-1. Em overheard the woman say, “No, we’re trying to get her out of the car now. She’s moving around in there. Yes, yes. It’s the intersection of Neville Road and Barnett Avenue. Because Emily was assured the paramedics were on their way, she moved toward the heavily dented call. She called a number one on speed dial as she got to the wreck.

Aaron had gotten to the office early. When didn’t he? He was normally the first one in and the last one out. No matter how he cut it, either as he found his job important, or that he hardly had a life outside of work -- apart from Jack -- at least his extended hours at the bureau kept him from his empty apartment. When he was there, and Hailey had Jack during the week, it felt all too still. All too lifeless for his liking. At least he got to do some of the more bureaucratic brain-rotting mundane paperwork the job entailed from the team. He could often be found late at night in his office filling out the basic forms for his team over and over and over again in his neat blocky handwriting. So far it was only he and Mogan in the office, Derek was moving toward his desk, and Aaron turned to do the same. In half an hour he was going to meet with JJ to see about the next case for the team. Just as he settled into his swivel chair that hurt his back if he sat in it too long, he heard Derek shout his name. There was a distress in its tone. A sharp “Aaron!” that he rarely if ever had heard from Morgan before. He was on his feet and out of his office in an instant. He flew down the stairs. Morgan was already on the move toward the elevators and Hotch jogged to make up the distance and asked as he moved down the hall, “Morgan, what is it?” Derek turned to Aaron and said, “_y/n_ got in a hit and run on Barnett. Emily just called me. She’s already there.” Hearing this made Hotch’s stomach feel like it was suddenly being squeezed by an iron fist. His heart dropped as the worst possible scenarios flicked in front of his mind. Aaron hurriedly asked, “Is she okay? What did Emily say!” The urgency in his voice probably gave away that he was incredibly concerned for his younger agent’s safety. Perhaps more concerned than a boss should be about his employees. Hotch could see that Derek had caught what he was thinking, but he couldn’t fucking care. Not when he was imagining _y/n_ bleeding out, or already dead in front of him. He couldn’t bear it, so he repeated his question. Finally, Morgan snapped back to himself and as the elevator moved to the ground floor, he replied, “Em says she’s awake but trapped in the car and there’s a smoke filling the cab.” Hotch gritted his teeth, as he nodded along. Smoke meant fire, and fire meant possible combustion. Aaron wished the damn elevator moved faster. When they got to the bottom floor, he and Morgan sprinted past Spencer, Rossi, and JJ who were waiting to pass through security. Spencer asked, “What’s going on?” Morgan shouted back, “_y/n_’s hurt.” Derek’s car was the closest to the pair, and they both got in. Derek moved out of the lot as quickly as he could without speeding or getting himself and Hotch in an accident of their own with the roads as they were. When they got closer to the intersection, the cars were backed up down the road. Aaron looked at Morgan and Derek could see the desperation in his colleague's face. Morgan said, “Jump out. I’ll pull over and be there in a minute.” Aaron nodded and moved out into the bitterly cold air. Hotch nearly ate it twice on the slick concrete. He couldn’t care, he’d crawl on his hands and knees to get to _y/n_. Hotch could hear the peal of sirens in the distance. When he got to the scene, there was an assembled crowd. He elbowed his way to the front. He was relieved to see _y/n_ was out of her car. But the crumpled wreck of metal didn’t much calm his mind. _y/n_ had been pulled twenty or so feet away from the damaged vehicle.

Emily saw Hotch ran, and nearly tumbled, as he got a foot away from _y/n_. Prentiss felt better now that he was here. Em knew that _y/n_ and Hotch had something going on, or at least they both wanted to have something going on. The whole team saw it as a matter of fact. The issue was that neither Aaron nor _y/n_ had caught on. Or if they had, both parties weren’t acting on the feelings between the two of them. Hotch fell to his knees next to Emily. Prentiss was holding _y/n_’s hand. Prentiss sort of handed over _y/n_’s hand to him. Aaron didn’t even think as he took it and held it close in both his hands. Subconsciously, he drew _y/n_’s hand close to his chest, his heart. He was leaning over her, trying to ascertain the damage to her body. Her level of pain. When _y/n_ felt a new set of hands, a familiar set of hands resting around hers, she opened her eyes. Everything was bleary, swimming in front of her. But even with her compromised vision, she knew it was Aaron beside her. His broad shoulder and soft touch were all she needed to know that it was him. _y/n_ thought that she’d know him with less information than that. She believed that she could be blinded and deaf and she’d still know it was him if he walked into her room. _y/n_ tried to turn her head to the side to see his face better, but the man that had ended up dragging her body out of the driver’s side window which Emily had shot out with her sidearm, stopped her movement. There was a painfully loud explosion from _y/n_’s car as it finally combusted. The fire had reached the fuel tank and even though they were far enough away from the car to not be burned, the whole group could feel the heat radiate out from the flaming car. At the noise and heat, Hotch protectively moved his body over _y/n_’s. The loud sound had _y/n_ whimper, and Aaron wasn’t sure he could take hearing _y/n_ like this. Aaron didn’t even realize that the fire trucks, police cruisers, and ambulances had arrived. The sound of their siren was not registering to him, as he only had thoughts for _y/n_. Morgan and the firemen telling the assembled crowd to move back finally brought him back to himself.

Aaron shifted up as two EMTs ran over to them. Hotch reluctantly let go of _y/n_’s hand and moved back to make room for the two men who now had taken his and Prentiss’s places. One of the EMTs pulled out a penlight. _y/n_’s eyes didn’t follow the light. They drifted, and her pupils were dilated. Meanwhile, the other, leaner EMT was looking at _y/n_’s legs. The man had pushed up _y/n_’s pants up to her knees. Aaron looked at the angry red skin on her legs. At some point _y/n’s shoes had been taken off and Hotch noticed there was a small hole in her sock near her big toe. All Aaron seemed to be able to do at the moment was notice small details about _y/n_. Like how her watch face was cracked. How _y/n_’s speech was slurred as the paramedic asked her if she remembered what had happened. It seemed that _y/n_ did, just struggled to get the words out as she said, “Hit ‘an run. Big.” She swallowed painfully and continued, “Truck. Grey green… light.” Aaron suddenly became poignant about Emily being near him again as he felt her gaze linger on him. He turned and looked at Prentiss. Aaron asked, “What happened exactly?” Emily swallowed, as she watched _y/n_ squirm under the hand of the leaner paramedic who was pressing down on her blistering legs. Once Em had composed herself a bit, she said, “Well _y/n_ was one car in front of me. The light turned green. She did everything right, obviously. This guy, I’ve got his plate number and everything was driving a Ford F-350. And it was grey. The guy hit her on the driver's side. He was out of control maybe. He just barreled into her. I couldn’t guess the speed he was going. If the dude had been out of control when he crashed into _y/n_, he most certainly intentionally left without getting out and checking on _y/l/n_.” Hotch nodded and said, “Alright. Well, call Pen about the license plate. She’s sure to be in her office right now. I’m sure she’s called all of us at least twenty times by now. She’ll be relieved to hear from any of us.” Prentiss nodded her assent and moved to get her phone from her back pocket.

Aaron watched the paramedics move _y/n_ onto a waiting stretcher. As they lifted her up, Hotch turned to the larger man and said, “Can I ride with you to the hospital? Where are you taking her?” The man looked at Aaron intently and said, “Rockingham Memorial. Are you her husband? Partner.” Hotch cleared his throat for a moment, as his heart stuttered in his chest, and said, “I’m her boss. She’s a federal agent.” Aaron flashed his badge at the man, and the EMT took a second to look at the badge and Hotch over once. The EMT nodded and said “Alright. We’re going to load her in and then you can sit in the bench seat.” Hotch nodded as the seasoned medical professionals easily transported, wheeled, and lifted _y/n_ into the back of the waiting ambulance. Once the more built man was inside and locking the gurney in place, as well as placing one restraining strap around _y/n_’s waist. Hotch sat on the edge of the small seat. The EMT radiated the other man and said. “We can get moving, Stan.” There was a static and Stan replied, “Roger that. Headed to Rockingman, John.” With that, the large vehicle started moving down the road. John started by pulling out the pressure cuff and placing it around _y/n_’s arm. The man checked in, making sure his patient was still with them, even if not fully present. John asked, “How are you feeling? What’s your pain level on a scale from one to five.” John held up his hands, indicating one and five. Aaron focused in on her, as she said, “I don’t feel anything really. I’m just cold. So cold.” John nodded and moved to the front of the space. The man pulled out an emergency blanket and spread it over _y/n_’s form before he started pumping the pressure cuff to see what her blood pressure was. When the man had taken the reading, he jotted down the number, the EMT looked to Aaron, who was clearly upset, and said, “She’s most likely in shock. Both from the cold and what she’s been through in the last hour. Right now it looks like a mild concussion, some; burns to the legs, lacerations from the glass, and bruising to the body. Given the state of her car and how charred it was, I think we can find _y/n_ very lucky to have so fortunate an outcome. She very well might have died in her car as it caught fire.” Again all Aaron could do was nod along because there was nothing else for him to do but wait to hear more, from the hospital, Garcia, or _y/n_ herself. Hotch knew that he was going to have to think long and hard about what this whole incident meant to him. How he had reacted on pure instinct. How he couldn’t stop himself from seeming composed as he learned that _y/n_ had been hurt. How he had pictured her dead, lifeless body in front of him. How that was the worst thing he could possibly imagine at the moment. But for now, he would wait. Try to be present to _y/n_’s needs. There would be time to think later. Quickly the ambulance rushed to the hospital and when it arrived, Hotch jumped out and made way for the EMTs to lift _y/n_ down and out of the truck. As Hotch watched the men wheel her away to a space he didn’t have access to, John said, “You can go to the front of the hospital and check-in. A nurse will be with you when there’s news on _y/n_’s condition.”

Once Aaron had checked in at the front desk, he paced around the waiting room. Hotch pulled out his phone for the first time in an hour and found thirsty missed calls from Gacia, and three texts from Derek, Rossi, and Emily asking where _y/n_ had been taken. Hotch told Morgan the name of the hospital and what John’s preliminary assessment of _y/n_ had been in the ambulance. He was sure Derek would spread the word to everyone else. Once he ended the call with Morgan, who assured him he, Emily, and Rossi were headed over once they had finished speaking with the police. Next, to keep himself busy, Hotch called Garica. Penelope picked up on the first ring, and even though she said, “Office of Supreme Intelligence, to whom am I speaking?” Aaron could hear the strain in her voice. Aaron replied, “It’s Hotch. Got a read on that license plate yet?” There was a squeaky sound as Penelope moved in her swivel chair. Her tone was now determined as she stated, “I do. Plate number 7PN-G542 belongs to Mr. Paul Wilson of South Carolina. The man is squeaky clean. It appears he’s done nothing wrong in his life. I’m pretty sure this isn’t the guy we’re looking for.” Hotch asked, “Why’s that?” Penelope was typing away wildly, as she replied, “Well Mr. Wilson is Cuban American and the man Emily described was white. Also, there’s a report out for that truck's plate reporting it being stolen two days ago from a lot in South Carolina. So…” Hotch breathed a sigh and said, “Alright. Well, the report’s out there, at least there’s that.” There was a moment of silence before Garcia asked, “How is _y/n_? Em said she looked pretty bad. Did the paramedics say anything else in the ride to the hospital?” Aaron was still pacing but stopped for a moment. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand. Everything felt like it was happening so fast and yet so slow. He looked at his watch, it had only been fifteen minutes since he had gotten here. He had no idea how long it would be until someone came to tell him more information about _y/n_. He exhaled and replied to Garcia’s question saying, “There’s not much more to add from what Morgan told you. The EMT said she was most likely in shock, but she stayed conscious the whole ride over. _y/n_ was a bit loopy though, speaking with slurred speech, and long pauses, but the EMTs seemed to think she would be alright. Of course, only time can tell.” Hotch let the last line slip and realized how strange that sounded coming from someone like him. He repeated the line in his head, ‘Only time can tell.’ How cliche he reflected. Time would tell, time was telling right now as _y/n_ was being examined, prodded, and pocked to see the extent of damage her body had taken. Hotch became aware that he hadn’t been speaking for a minute, as Garcia’s breath on the other end of the line came through clearly. Thankfully Aaron was saved from any awkwardness because Prentiss, Rossi, and Morgan all rushed into the room. Hotch said, “Hey, Garcia, most of the team is here now, so I’m going to catch up with them. You can come a join us if you like.” The technical analyst replied, “I’ll be there in a bit. I’m going to see if I can find more info on the APB for the stolen truck, and then I’ll head right over.” Hotch nodded and said, “Garcia, please don’t break any internet or hacking laws trying to find this guy.” There was a pause and he tacked on, “At least not any that you can get caught for.” Hearing this, Penelope chuckled and said, “You got it, boss man. See you in a few.” The call ended, and Aaron approached the rest of the team.

Thankfully the members of the BAU only had to wait for about another forty minutes before a nurse came out and said, “Party for _y/l/n_?” Just as the middle-aged woman called, Garcia entered the building and all five members moved to the woman. Her nametag had Joan printed on it. Joan smiled and said, “Ms. _y/l/n_ is recovering well. She sustained a second-degree concussion, a hairline fracture to her left wrist, some bruising and lacerations to the face and chest, and second-degree burns to her legs. The whole team seemed to still at the news. Everyone looked around as if silently asking, ‘And how bad is that? What does that mean?’ Joan was helpful enough to answer their unanswered question with, “Miss _y/n_ is recovering well. She’s more fully conscious now. The primary concerns are her concussion and the burns on her feet. She’ll need some aid in getting around for a week or so, and the hospital is going to monitor her for a few more hours to make sure she’s cognitively okay for discharge. The doctor is speaking to her now, but you should all be able to go back and see her in a few minutes. She’ll need someone to stay with for a few days. Everyone nodded along. It was a short wait now that the team knew more, and that _y/n_ wasn’t in any serious danger. This didn’t stop Hotch’s mind from racing. From him wondering what would have happened if it had been worse. If _y/n_ had been seriously hurt. He tried as hard as he could, and yet he couldn’t still those thoughts. This situation reminded him that life was frail. That life, love, could be snuffed out in an instant. Life could be taken and it wouldn’t even have to be on the field, it could happen on a cold Monday morning and it wouldn’t even be his fault. There might not even be anyone to blame. The idea disturbed him deeply. His first were clenched tightly at his sides. He could feel his fingernails digging into the soft skin of his palm. As the nurse indicated it was okay for the team to move and see _y/n_ Hotch thought, ‘This is a problem.

Inside _y/n_ little curtained-off room, the doctor was just finishing up speaking with her and the grey-haired man moved out of the way to make room for the large group. When everyone shuffled in, _y/n_ almost smiled. She was much more coherent than two hours ago when she had been laid out on the frozen ground, Aaron noticed. _y/n_ didn’t look or feel great. Her body ached all over and her vision was still a bit off. The lights were too bright for one thing. She had to stop herself from squinting as the team all herded in around her. She knew she already looked goofy in a hospital gown. The nurse hadn’t let her look in a mirror, and maybe that was for the best. Not that _y/n_ was a very vain person. She tried her best to be content with her body and how she looked, but it felt like crossing some unspoken personal rule to be this disheveled in front of the team. In front of Hotch. For a second, she wanted to hide her face in her hands, or ask Emily, “How do I look?” But it was all pointless, and it would be such a character shift from the normal, no-nonsense attitude she showed in the field and office. So she mustered up a face that hid some of her pain and said, “You don’t have to look so concerned, guys. I feel like garbage, but I’ll live.”

The team did look very worried, and she thought that maybe she really did look as bad as she felt. The team chuckled at her comment, and immediately she felt better. _y/n_’s gaze found Hotch’s, and she noticed the thin line of his mouth. It was set seriously. She wondered if he was mad at her? But why would he be? She’d never really seen him like this before. It was close to the time that Emily had gotten hurt in a case at Waco. But there was something more to this look, and she was too tired to try and decipher it at the moment. Instead, she flashed him the tiniest of smiles. At this, Aaron’s face seemed to settle to its normal stoic look, so _y/n_ looked to the rest of the team so she didn’t start blushing. Penelope moved toward and gave her a little kiss on the cheek and asked, “How are you feeling, baby girl?” _y/n_ normally bristled at Pen’s pet names, but she accepted it once given the circumstances. _y/n_ replied, “Well, they’ve got me on some pretty good pain meds, so all things considered it could be worse. My feet feel funky though, in a not great kind of way. Penelope squeezed _y/n_’s hand and said, “Well we’re all here to help you out with whatever you need.” Derek agreed, saying, “Exactly what Pen said, _y/n_. You need anything and we’re on it.” As Morgan finished, the nurse moved back in and asked, “Miss _y/n_ have you decided who you’re going to stay with for the next few days?” _y/n_ blushed profusely. She hadn’t had time to ask anyone on the team, and she wasn’t even sure they had been informed that she was going to get some help for the next two days. It was embarrassing really. She liked others to think of her as strong and confident. Someone they could turn to, but now the tables had been turned. She looked up at the team, and she could see in all those assembled that they would be happy to have her. Rossi may be less so, but both she and Dave knew that she wasn’t going to ask him. _y/n_ had to pull herself from looking at Aaron. Because if she did, he would readily nod, and then that would mean that they could spend the night together at her place, or his, and potentially the night after that, and _y/n_ wasn’t sure if she could take that right now with how she was feeling. She might say things and do things that betrayed her feelings for him. In fact, she knew she would do something stupid, given all the meds and endorphins rushing through her body. So she looked up at Emily, and Prentiss beamed at her. They didn’t even need to say anything to understand each other. _y/n_ looked over at the nurse and said, “I’ll stay with Emily.” Prentiss raised her hand as her name was spoken, and the nurse moved toward her to get her contact information for the hospital's systems. As Emily moved with the nurse to the information desk, Rossi stepped forward and patted _y/n_ on the shoulder and said, “Keep your head up, kid.” _y/n_ gave him a smile too and said, “I’ll try Rossi.” There was an awkward silence as _y/n_ looked over at Hotch. _y/n_ wondered if he was ever going to say anything, or just keep standing there looking pained and uncomfortable.

Finally, Aaron cleared his throat. Garcia and Dave seemed to slide out of the room before _y/n_ could ask them to stay. She flushed again, and _y/n_ knew that Aaron could see her. _y/n_ wasn’t so silly to assume that Hotch didn’t know about her infatuation with him. It had to be clear. It was just awkward that neither of them had admitted it, even in the slightest. Maybe _y/n_ had read into Hotch’s actions around her, but she was pretty sure he cared about her as much as she liked him. The fact that he was her boss was what was a real punch in the gut. But what could she do? The feelings were there, she just had to stifle them. After a minute of silence, Aaron spoke. He used his reassuring voice, but he wasn’t sure who exactly he was giving comfort to, himself or _y/n. He said, “Would you be honest with me? How do you really feel, and what did the doctor say?” _y/n_ let out a sigh. She couldn’t lie to him even if she wanted to, so she said “My head’s all fuzzy, the lights are too bright, and my feet and legs hurt. Not that they're hot, just painful, like pins and needles all over. The doctor has them bandaged all up.” For some reason, she pulled up the blanket covering her legs to show off the medical gauze covering her feet and lower legs. It went up to her mid-calf and Aaron couldn’t help but cringe a little. It looked painful. He waited to see what _y/n_ was going to report about the doctor’s findings. He said her name, “_y/n_?” The woman in the bed came back to herself and said, “Dr. Jenings said I’d be out of the field for a few weeks, maybe three. The concussion and the fact that I can’t really walk sealed that deal pretty easily.” When _y/n_ finished, she bit the inside of her mouth. Aaron looked her over and saw the disappointment in her gaze. He knew that _y/n_ hated when she was out of the field. It had only happened once before when she got the flu very badly in December last year. She had been out for two cases and as badly she had felt, she still had Gacia fill her in on the case and called Emily or Derek once or twice a day. Aaron wanted to reprimand her, but he knew he would have done the same thing if he had been in her position. He had, however, texted her saying, “_y/n_ please take it easy.” Hotch felt the same way now, as he had then. He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. That really got _y/n_ to look at him, and he said, “This wasn’t your fault, _y/n_. There was nothing you could have done about this, and no one on the team or in the office is going to fault you for having to take a break.” _y/n_ looked a bit crestfallen but nodded anyway. Sometimes Aaron thought that _y/n_ felt like she had to right every wrong the world threw at her. Hotch knew that _y/n_ had a troubled past like every member of the BAU had a complicated past. He didn’t have all the details of her story, but he could sense that she felt pressure to show up. To be there a hundred percent of the time. Aaron knew how that felt. He knew what it meant to think that it was already too late. Hotch didn’t have a lot of time to think about it further as the nurse and Emily moved back into the space. Joan was holding a pair of crutches and for a moment Aaron thought that she must be joking. There was no way that this medical professional expected _y/n_ to get on her feet this soon after what she had been through Not after he and multiple doctors had seen the state of her feet.

Aaron’s concern was addressed shortly as Joan said, “Miss, _y/n_. This might seem counterintuitive, but we’re going to need you to try and get out and up on your feet as soon as possible. The doctor recommends it so that there isn’t a chance of thrombosis or blood clots. There’s also a chance for tautness of the surrounding skin. It will be incredibly painful, but we need you to try and walk as soon as you can for your well-being.” _y/n_ nodded. Aaron could see that she looked concerned at the request, but was trying to hide it from everyone. Maybe even herself. Joan gave _y/n_ an encouraging smile. The nurse said, “Good, well here are some clothes to change into for your release. Would you like me to stay behind and help you with that?” _y/n_ nodded and Joan asked Aaron and Emily to give them some privacy. As the duo moved outside, the rest of the team was waiting for them. Now Spencer and JJ were there as well and everyone asked Emily and Aaron what had happened. The pair did their best to explain what the nurse had said. It took a bit longer than expected. However, Hotch assumed a lot went into getting someone ready for that much pain. Aaron didn’t even want to think about it. He didn’t have to as a half-strangled sound could be heard coming from _y/n_’s room. The sound took the breath out of Hotch and he could see the rest of the team cringe. Garcia was so upset that she hugged Derek. Morgan took the analyst in his arms and covered her ears for her. There was a shuffling from inside the room and more pained noises. Hotch was biting down so hard on his tongue that he was sure it would bleed soon. The door was opened by Joan, and Aaron’s eyes snapped to _y/n_. She wasn’t even trying to look at any of them. Her brows were pulled so tight in pain that they were nearly touching. _y/n_ was leaning heavily on the crutches, gripping the handles with white knuckles. _y/n_ was taking labored breaths, as she moved unsteadily on her feet. She was looking at the ground only. Just at where her feet were meeting the floor. She had on some special shoes, thick black sandal-type things that accommodated the thick bandaging on her feet. The rest of the team moved to give her space and not have to see how pained she looked. But Aaron moved to her other side. It may hurt him to see _y/n_ this way, but it was clearly nothing to how she was feeling. And if his presence could provide even a modicum of comfort, then he would be there for her. Hotch stood on her right as she moved toward the door toward the check-out desk and the charge nurse. Aaron moved his hand behind _y/n_’s lower back. He didn’t make contact with her skin; his hand simply hovered over _y/n_’s shirt. It was a metaphorical helping hand. For one second, _y/n_ moved her eyes to his, and he could see that all the pain was still there, but there was a small bit of gratitude as well. _y/n_ wouldn’t be able to find the words to thank him. She wasn’t sure if she could for two reasons. First was the fact that even breathing seemed like an impossibility at the moment. The second reason was that the team was still around, even if they weren’t looking at her and Aaron. But _y/n_ had a feeling that if she opened her mouth more than a thank you would tumble out.

It took what felt like a very long time, though it was just around four minutes, for _y/n_, Joan, and Aaron to make it to the door. The nurse moved and held open the swinging doors for _y/n_ to get out of. Hotch’s train of thought was similar to _y/n_’s as she moved out into the lobby. He wondered if the team was scrutinizing his actions with _y/n_. If they were, and someone brought it up later, he would address it. For now, his attention was solely on _y/n_. Hotch was grateful that the staff at least let _y/n_ sit while she signed a few forms for her discharge. Emily also took on some papers and Joan also gave Prentiss a few file folders for the needed care steps for _y/n_’s recovery. Rossi moved forward and took the papers from Emily. When the paperwork was finished, Aaron looked over to Em and said, “I’ll drive you both to your apartment.” Prentiss nodded and Derek moved forward to get Prentiss's keys to drive her car to the front of the hospital. Aaron bent down and asked, can I give you a hand up?” _y/n_ looked up at him for the first real-time that day. She looked so tired but nodded her head yes. _y/n_ got her crutches ready to support her weight once she was on her feet again. Aaron bent down, placed his hands under her arms, and lifted her up. Once _y/n_’s weight was on her feet again, she made another pained sound, but this one was much smaller, just a little “mhm,” with an exhalation of breath. Hotch, _y/n_ and Em all moved to the sliding doors and out into the cold air. Hotch watched with a keen eye for any slick or ice spots on the sidewalk. Thankfully it was just a few feet from the hospital entrance to the waiting car. Derek got out of the driver's seat and along with Aaron, helped _y/n_ into the back seat. Hotch noticed the goosebumps from the chilly air on _y/n_’s skin, and he removed his jacket and handed it over as she gave him the crutches that didn’t quite fit in the backseat. Aaron watched with a tiny bit of warmth in him as _y/n_ slipped his oversized jacket over her frame. Em and Derek were talking quietly near the front of the car. Aaron moved to the trunk and placed the crutches there then moved to the front. Morgan stepped forward and asked, “Are you going back to the office after this?” Hotch nodded and said, “Yes. I’ll need to file some paperwork for _y/n_ and reach out to medical and see what timeline they have for time off in the field. However, if you or anyone else on the team needs the rest of the day off, I’d understand. Can you tell anyone else on the BAU team that?” Derek nodded and said, “Will do Hotch.” Morgan gave his arm a sturdy pat and as the built man turned to move back inside, Aaron called out saying, “Please drive safely, Morgan.” Derek looked back and caught his eye before he nodded and then moved back into the hospital.

Emily moved to sit in the back of the car with _y/n_. Em and took the injured woman’s hand in hers. Prentiss rubbed circles over _y/n_ thumb softly, providing a soft touch to distract and remind _y/n_ that she wasn’t alone. Aaron pulled out out of the crowded parking lot. He looked into the rearview mirror and saw _y/n_ leaning against Emily’s shoulder. Hotch asked, “_y/n_ how’s the temperature? Do you need it warmer?” _y/n_ just barely opened her eyes and said, “I’m good, thanks.” Aaron nodded, feeling bad that there wasn’t more he could do for her. It took about a half hour with traffic to get to Em’s townhouse in the center of the city. Emily got all of the files, and Aaron helped _y/n_ into the elevator, down the hallway, and finally to a seat on Emily’s couch. Emily turned on a single lamp and grabbed a glass of water for _y/n_. Prentiss took a bit longer in the kitchen than she needed, giving Hotch and her guest a few minutes of privacy. Hotch knelt and placed a hand on her left shoulder. He wanted to do so much more, to rub his hands over her arms, or stroke the profile of her face with the pad of this thumb. He wanted to dote on her, pick her up, put her to bed, and make sure there wasn’t any pain. But _y/n_ probably wouldn’t like that. She acted so strong on and off the field that he wasn’t sure that this kind of corporal affection would be appreciated. He also wasn’t sure his romantic feelings would be reciprocated either. It was one of the many reasons that he hadn’t said anything about his feelings for her. He couldn’t deny that he sensed a connection between them. Something physical and beyond. But perhaps he was reading into things. His brain going into hyperdrive in terms of profiler mood. His brain seemed to short-circuit sometimes when he was near _y/n_, but he was composed enough to hide it. Or at least he hoped he hid it. Aaron realized that he wasn’t saying anything, that his hand was lingering on _y/n_’s body. He looked at her, and she was staring at him. Her gaze seemed a bit distant, but _y/n_ was trying to focus on him. She opened her mouth and tried to say, “Hotch. I’m…” but Aaron stopped her saying, “Please don’t say you're fine, _y/n_. You were, are, in real pain, and you also went through something very traumatic. You don’t have to be brave right now. It’s okay.” That was all Aaorn could bring himself to say without it getting out of hand. A noise from the doorway had Hotch standing in an instant. Emily entered the room and placed the glass of water on the table next to the couch. Hotch softly said to _y/n_ alone, “Rest if you can, alright?” _y/n_ nodded and moved to take off his black blazer. Without really thinking about anything, or that Emily was standing right by him, he said, “You keep it for now. You can bring it back when you’re back in the office.” Aaron moved and unclipped his FBI badge that was still attached to his exterior breast pocket. He slipped the plastic into the back pocket of his trousers and moved away from _y/n_ reluctantly. He turned and Prenitss had a look on her face that spoke volumes without having to say a word. Aaron let out a little sigh, and he motioned for Emily to follow him a bit farther away from _y/n_. Hotch wasn’t ready to address whatever Em was thinking. Instead, he said in a steady voice, “Feel free to call me or text if you need me, or _y/n_ needs something. Anything. I’m just a few minutes away.” Prentiss nodded and said, “I’ll let you know. She’s going to be okay, Aaron. _y/n_’s a strong person.” Hotch nodded, not willing to address the look Emily was sending him. He moved out the door before anything else could happen.

The next morning, _y/n_ who had just changed her bandages and taken her antimicrobial and pain meds got a call from Aaron. _y/n_ picked up and tried not to give a groan of pain, as she raised her legs onto the bed. She answered, “Hey Hotch? What’s up?” There was a brief pause before Aaron said, “Just checking in. I have some news, but I want to hear how you’re feeling first. How was last night?” _y/n_ could hear that Hotch was using his office voice again. The tenderness that he had spoken to her with yesterday was still there, just veiled behind professionalism like normal. _y/n_ could picture him sitting behind his desk. His knees brushed the inside of his desk as it was just a bit too small for his lanky limbs. He wasn’t on his office phone, given he had called her on her cell. The image of him sitting, bathed in the soft lighting of his lamps was one she played out in her head often. He wasn’t exactly stationary in these thoughts, he was doing things other than paperwork or calling her to see if she wasn’t so battered and bruised. _y/n_ had to push those thoughts back. Now was not the time or the place. Even if her wildest fantasies were fulfilled, given the pain in her body was still feeling, none of those blissful ideas would be able to be completed. _y/n_ stifled a sigh, and instead replied, “It was okay given the circumstances. Things are still pretty painful and I understand what the doctor was saying about the long-lasting effects of a concussion now. My head and brain still haven’t seemed to reset to normal yet, but other than that, I feel as good as I can. Now tell me about your news. What did medical say?” _y/n_ was so familiar with the BAU procedures to not know why Hotch had been calling her. The medical board had gotten back to him to let Aaron know how long she medically needed to be out of the field. Hotch let out a big sigh and replied, “Well the med board looked over your files from yesterday and they’ve grounded you for three weeks, minimum. Given the concussion and the physical nature of being on the field, it’s not wise to have you back with us until then. When you get back after the three weeks, you’ll have to see medical to get cleared back to the field. _y/n_ couldn’t stop the long sigh that they let out while hearing the news. _y/n_ understood the need for her physical well-being, but being off gave her time to think. And if she thought too hard, her mind went to bad places, from the past and present. Working for the BAU mercifully kept her mind on other places and horrible scenarios. But now she was grounded and it sucked. There was a small silence before _y/n_ replied, “I understand.” She could hear Hotch click his pen, a habit of his that she noticed when Aaron was in the office. He would click his pen either on his wooden desk or with his thumb. Aaron took in a breath and said, “Try and rest while you can, _y/n_. You can call me or text me if you have any questions about your return to the field. And if you think you need more time, just let me know.” Hotch said the last sentence as a formality. He knew _y/n_ would be going stir-crazy after three days of not being at work. There was another silence, and _y/n_ asked, “Can I come into the office at least? Like after a week?” Aaron sat back and swallowed his emotion of concern for _y/n_. What more could he say than, “I can’t stop you from coming in the building, _y/n_.” They wrapped up the call shortly after that. _y/n_ closed her eyes for a minute and just tried to relax. In a few minutes, she was going to do her exercises to help with her recovery. It would be a long three weeks.

The team got called away on a case the next day. Thankfully _y/b/f_ was able to help _y/n_ who moved back to her apartment after Emily left for the new case in Vegas. Even though the lights twinkled and shone on the Vegas strip, and there was a highly unique case afoot - an unsub apparently leading people to poison themselves due to bankruptcy and gambling addictions - Hotch found it hard to keep his mind on the case. At the hotel the second night, he tried to find a lead, any lead that would help the team pinpoint more about this unsub. His brain drifted to _y/n_. He wondered what she was doing right now. It was 11:45 p.m. Any sensible person would be asleep given the chance. Maybe she was in her bed. Aaron had to stop himself there. He didn’t have sexual thoughts about _y/n_, at least not yet, but he was so tired that if he kept thinking about her, his brain might idle down that path. This, he would not allow. It was bad enough that he felt that he couldn’t even talk to _y/n_ he would feel infinitely worse if he started getting off to her too. He reflected on these feelings for a moment, how they had come to metastasize in him. From early on during their employment, Aaron could tell that _y/n_ was someone who couldn’t be easily pushed or waived. When _y/n_ had committed to something, they stuck to it. Not that she was one to hang onto an idea or train of thought during a case like Rossi's. _y/n_ tried to be open-minded in that regard. But she had committed fully to the team since the day she signed on. That was the standard, the expectation for him, but _y/n_ sometimes felt over-committed. She would stay up all hours of the night trying to figure a piece of a case out. She relied heavily on his, Rossi's, and Emily’s experience in the field to catch up on facts or training that she might have missed in her previous placement. Aaron sensed that she was running from something given how hard she worked both in the field and the office. He hadn’t asked what that was, but Aaron could sense it. He had hoped that maybe one day she would tell him. But then their feelings toward each other had become more complex. It had happened during a brutal and long case in October last year. It involved kids which was always the worst to deal with for him. The team had been working non-stop until Aaron had essentially ordered them to get some rest. Everyone had moved into their rooms to pretend to sleep and an hour later Aaron was moving down the hall to run a theory by Rossi. He had passed _y/n_’s room and heard crying inside. It wasn’t loud, but he could hear it distinctly. The sobs coming from inside ripped at his heart like a knife. He had knocked and the crying stopped momentarily. _y/n_ had moved to the door, unlocked both bolts, and removed the security chain. Aaron could hear the metal rubbing against each other. When _y/n_ had opened the door, she moved back to let him in. She turned her face as if to hide the pain there from him. Aaron gently took hold of her hand, and she finally looked at him. Softly he asked, “What’s the matter _y/n_? Is it the case? Has something personal happened?” _y/n_ bit the side of her mouth trying to stop the tears from coming again. But she couldn’t, and as she started shaking and crying again Aaron moved forward and took her in his strong arms. She leaned into him; really leaned into him for the first time. He had never seen her so vulnerable before and as he asked, “Please tell me what’s bothering you,” and her enigmatic reply of, “I just can’t Aaron. I can’t;” had changed everything. Because at that moment Hotch would have done just about anything to make _y/n_ feel better. To free her of whatever pain she was feeling. Whatever emotions were plaguing her? And when _y/n_ had stopped crying, and Aaron pulled away, she could see it in his eyes, and she wanted that from him just as badly as he wanted to give it; thus their fates were sealed, because this relationship, or hope at one couldn’t happen, and yet Hotch yearned for it. Thought about it nearly every time he looked at her.

Thankfully Aaron’s brain did manage to think of something besides _y/n_, and that was Rossi. Whenever he got stuck, he’d go and see Dave to see what the pro had noticed that he might have missed. It was helpful having someone older than him on the team for Hotch to turn to. Aaron pushed himself out of the bed and slipped on his tennis shoes. He padded down the hall and as he moved forward, Emily stepped out of her room in front of him. Prentiss was on the phone and said, “Yeah the team’s okay. I’d love to be spending a week in Vegas just for fun. How’d you feel coming here during Spring Break some year? You, me, Morgan, and Penelope…” There was a pause and Em continued, “You got it, Baby. Sin to Win.” Hearing this, Aaron actually laughed. He tried to disguise it as a cough but didn’t succeed. Prentiss turned on her heel and relaxed when she realized it was just him. She gave him a bit of a joking disapproving glare at him eavesdropping. Hotch could never not laugh when Emily said, “Sin to Win.” He was still unaware of the connotation or story associated with the phrase, but it never failed to make him laugh. It just sounded so strange coming from someone as polite and proper as Em. He pointed at the phone pressed to her ear and whispered, “Who is it?” He already knew, but Emily indulged him and mouthed, “_y/n_.” Aaron nodded and mouthed back, “Tell her to go to bed.” Prentiss rolled her eyes and said into the phone, “Someone has someone has something to say to you, _y/n_.” Without further ado, Em removed the phone from her ear and pressed it into Hotch’s hands. Aaron flushed red and looked at Emily like a deer in headlights, but Em crossed her arms and just looked at him as if saying, “Do it yourself.” After what felt like a bit too long, Aaron pulled the cell to his ear and said in an embarrassed tone, “Hey, _y/n_. Ummm… maybe you should be getting some rest?” The was a beat of silence, and _y/n_ let out a soft breath at hearing Aaron suddenly on the other end of the line. She replied, “I am resting, I’m in bed right now watching _y/f/s_. I feel so rested that I’m even planning my next vacation. Emily is promising me ‘Sin to Win’ in Vegas in the Spring.” Hotch had to stifle some sort of sound from coming out of his mouth at the rather wild and lurid image his brain came up with in association with _y/n_ and Em’s new favorite phrase. He coughed once and said, “Well good, just don’t get ahead of yourself. Rest well _y/n_.” With that, he quickly handed the phone back to Emily and moved down the hallway, well aware that his agent could see how flustered he was. As Aaron made his retreat, Em pulled the phone back to her ear and said, “It’s me again.” As Prentiss slipped into her room, she smiled. It was fortuitous that she had stepped out of her room when she had. Prentiss, JJ, Rossi, and even Morgan had started waiting for bated breath for something to happen between _y/n_ and Aaron. At this point, Emily was willing to push things in that direction if she had to, and tonight had been a clear, successful first step.

The case in Nevada wrapped up. Hotch was always glad to be headed home, but in this case, he was especially glad. It meant that he could check up on _y/n_ The team decompressed, and a few days into the next week, _y/n_ stopped by the office. _y/n_ sat next to Spencer and Derek talking about the latest case and what she had missed. Hotch clocked her grabbing at one of Morgan’s files, but he swooped in and took it from her hands, turned it over, and set it firmly back on Derek’s desk. _y/n_ pouted at him slightly, and both Spencer and Derek looked away. Hotch and _y/n_ were acting differently than they had before. Aaron had realized after the accident that life was too short and fickle for him to be playing around. The thought of _y/n_ being in a worse situation than being dragged from her car just in time was something that was going to stay with him for a long time. So even if he couldn’t say anything, he was going to at least act a bit more involved. Hotch viewed this like a soft launch, though to the rest of the team, it looked like ten massive steps forward. No one on the team was going to say anything about it though. They were just grateful that something was happening between them. Hotch also started acting like this to see if _y/n_ wanted this like he assumed she did. If she wasn’t interested in his advances then he would stop instantly. This was only his first day seeing her, and he was trying to still act natural, but he couldn’t deny the rush he felt when she looked at him like this. She feigned disappointment at him taking the file she had, but a genuine happiness to see him again. Aaron’s thoughts were shattered as Penelope's voice cut through his mental fog. Hotch turned to look at the small landing that connected the bullpen to the upper level of the floor the BAU was housed on. Garcia said, “The fam is home, _y/n_ is here, and everything is right with the world.” No one on the team acknowledged that their very jobs meant that the world was a horrible, awful, depraved place. But it was the thought that counted. Aaron moved aside to make room for Garcia in the little huddle of agents. He moved to the edge of the staircase, hesitant to move away. He listened in on the conversation the group was having. He pretended to look over one of his own files, even though he wouldn’t normally do that down in the bullpen. He at least pretended like he was missing a paper as he rifled through his full folder. He listened in on Garcia and asked, “So what’s with you and your friend getting into a fight? What happened there?” _y/n_ gave a small sigh at the question, but replied, “It’s this damn concussion. Some things, like the lights or certain sounds, just seem to set me off. I apologized, profusely, and we made up, but it’s just annoying that such little things are bothering me. It makes me feel like I’m not in control. I hate that.” Aaron actually started moving up the stairs as Spencer started going on a tangent about concussion symptoms and car crashes, while Pen leaned down and kissed the top of _y/n_’s head.

A full week elapsed and _y/n_ met with medical and took a physical to clear her for the field. _y/n_ was still walking awkwardly, but they were out of the heavy bandaging and her feet and legs had healed well given the care she took with her body and recovery. Aaron was forwarded the medical report from Dr. Sujedia recommending _y/n_ take off a few more days. Aaron had called _y/n_ to his office to discuss the results. _y/n_ sat down and did her best to look tough and undisturbed. Unbothered by the results of the test. Aaron looked over the papers and said, “As you know, Dr. Ramirez recommends another three to four days of rest. I’m prepping a new case with JJ this afternoon and I want your opinions on your condition. How are you feeling?” _y/n_ was honest with Hotch, knowing that was the best guarantee that they would be allowed onto the next case. She said, “My head’s still bothering me, and I don’t think my legs are down for a chase on foot right now, but I can just sit in the background. I can listen to and organize files in the precinct. I can work with JJ and do a geographical profile, or…” Aaron cut her off with a small raise of his hand from his desk. He knew she was trying to prove that she could still be an asset to the team, even if she couldn’t do all of the physically demanding aspects of the job. Hotch thought it over for a moment. He knew that _y/n_ would be upset if he said no. He saw the determined look on her face. Reluctantly he gave a nod. At least if she was with the team he could look over her. Not that she wanted that exactly, but it would make him feel better. He dismissed _y/n_ shortly after he reminded her that she was to take it easy on the case, doing work that would let her rest her body. He watched as she gave him a big smile and walked out the door. She was so happy that she didn’t even try to hide the little limp she had while walking on her tender feet. Once _y/n_ was back in the bullpen talking animatedly to Emily, he moved over to Garcia’s office. He knocked on the door once before he entered the dim space. Penelope looked up from her three monitors and asked, “What’s up Hotch?” Aaron leaned against the door and replied, “How many times did she visit you while we were away?” The ‘she’ in question didn’t need to be named before Pen said, “Just twice, but I didn’t ask her to Hotchy. I swear she came of her own accord.” Hotch’s set into a firm line for a second before he said, “Alright, well don’t encourage it, at least until she’s a bit better.” He added very softly, “She looks worn out.” Pen smiled gently and could see the concern on her supervisor's face. Garcia replied, “Pinky promise. We’ll take care of her.” Aaron nodded ever so slightly and then moved out of the technical den and toward JJ’s office.

The next case was in North Carolina at the private post-secondary school, High Point University. So far four male students that were all athletes had been found strangled on the school grounds. A panic had set in from the students, faculty, and most annoyingly the donors to the small campus. There was an obvious tie with all of the students being men and athletes. Though different sports had been targeted, not just a single athletic pursuit. There was also the option that scholarships could take a part in the murders as two of the three men killed had been on athletic scholarships that semester. As the team bounced ideas off of each other on the plane ride, _y/n_ said, “There are some wealthy alumni from Highpoint. Maybe this is some wild Operation Varsity Blues type of situation?” As always Spencer took off with this idea and how nepotism could be as real a motivator for murder as rage or shame might be. Aaron looked over his team from his spot near the front of the jet. It felt good to have _y/n_ back, even if in the pit of his stomach he felt concerned about throwing her back in the field like he was. Granted she had asked, but even so, he was still concerned. When they got to the university, JJ immediately started working with the campus media team to get a consistent message out. Hotch moved to speak with the University Police Department and Rossi went to the local station. Hotch took Morgan and _y/n_ with him, while Rossi had Spencer and Emily moved to the downtown police station. Things continued to move quickly as they always did on a case. The team made a basic profile. By the end of the day, due to the unsub clearly being young, or at least mentally young, they had made plenty of mistakes that were easy to pick up on. Unfortunately, the campus's UPD wasn’t used to murder’s happening on their territory and was overwhelmed by the student and parent response. The day unfolded with the team creating a profile and trying to stay as low-key as possible. Because the BAU was the BAU it was clear to the students that something was happening. This meant that the unsub was also likely aware of the presence of the FBI, pulled back, and might stop their killing spree. This would be a good thing except that once the BAU was gone, they could simply start killing again. Therefore, the team started canvassing the campus. Sitting in on big lecture classes and speaking to faculty. The team assumed that the unsub was a student first. Secondly, they assumed that the student was not an athlete, and potentially a student who had to retake a year or even more of coursework at the university.

_y/n_ was trying to listen to her body and abide by Hotch’s request that she take it easy. She had sat in a large mirco-economics class with Spencer and watched as the genius took so many notes. Covering over twenty pages as Dr. Reid wrote furiously about economic theory, where the Professor was wrong, where the textbook, which Spencer quickly read before class was incorrect. All _y/n_ could think of was that she was glad she was not that professor, or that she would ever have a class with Spencer as the instructor -- she knew she would fail the course on entry. After that, _y/n_ moved to the UPD’s department and went through piles and piles of non-sexual assault claims. If the unsub was a supersenior, there could be over six years' worth of reports to look through. She spent most of the day looking over these reports. The next day, _y/n_ spent a good deal of the morning with JJ, fielding concerns from students, bursars, and faculty members who asked questions. The pair also held some interviews with a few students that had caught the team's interest the day before. Although the interviews didn’t reveal much, but they gave _y/n_ an idea about something she read yesterday in a report. _y/n_ didn’t mind doing this kind of clerical work, but it was harming her current condition. Being under such harsh fluorescent lights was making her head swim. It was also putting their temper on edge. The last interview where a young sophomore had scratched his head incessantly and said, “Um,” “Like,” or “And” every other word had put _y/n_ pushed something in her like an itch that desperately needed to be scratched, but there was no actual, physical place to relieve the annoyance. _y/n_ was desperately looking forward to being cooped up alone in the files room looking for that one folder that she was thinking of. It would be killing two birds with one stone. It could be potentially helpful to the team, and it would give her a moment to decompress and let out her annoyed feelings. Just as _y/n_ was getting ready to leave, Hotch showed up and asked JJ and her about their progress. Mercifully JJ answered for both of them. When Aaron turned his gaze to her, she said, “JJ’s right. We haven’t found much with what we’ve looked at this morning. However, there’s a file I remember standing out at the UPD. I was going to head there now actually.” Aaron nodded. He turned to JJ quickly and said, “Keep up the good work here. Call me if you find anything useful. The smallest scrap of information could be helpful now.” JJ smiled at Hotch and said, “You got it, Hotch.” Next, Aaron turned to _y/n_ and said, “I’ll walk you there.” _y/n_ nodded and followed after him as he opened the door for her. Aaron could tell that something was happening with _y/n_. He couldn’t pin it down yet, but he wanted to make sure she was okay. The day was unimaginably hot given that it was November. The campus was also sprawling and had lots of external stairs. The UPD and the file storage center were almost a mile apart. As the pair moved down yet another set of stairs. _y/n_ felt that she was so hot. The sun felt like it was beating down on her relentlessly. As _y/n_ took another step down, she felt her ankle buckle and her mind went blank as her body swooned toward the concrete steps.

Aaron could feel that something was wrong as he and _y/n_ moved down yet another set of steps. Halfway down those steps, he looked over to _y/n_. Her breathing was shallowed and despite being in the direct sun, her skin looked shallow. He watched as her eyes fluttered closed and _y/n_’s body crumpled dangerously quickly toward the hard, sharp steps. For a millisecond, Aaron felt like he was back at the scene of the wreck, but this time he could do something in the moment. He wasn’t powerless. So, Aaron moved his left leg down two steps and positioned his body and arms to catch _y/n_’s limp body. When he caught her, she let out an exhalation at the harsh contact of her body colliding with his. Aaron bent down slightly and used his other arm to pull up under _y/n_’s legs. He gave a soft grunt as he took _y/n_’s full weight in his arms. Hotch moved carefully down the steps and glared at any students who threw him an intrigued or concerned look as he held _y/n_ close to his chest. Aaron moved to a flat portion of the path that was covered. He spotted a bench that was shaded by a large tree. Hotch quickly moved in that direction, and _y/n_ started to stir in his arms; her eyes slowly opening. Aaron got to the bench and sat down with _y/n_ nestled in his lap. He brushed a hand over her cheek, as she fully came to her faculties. _y/n_ gave a small groan and asked, “Wha’ happened?” _y/n_’s slurred speech worried him. Hotch replied, “You fainted, _y/n_. You really could have been hurt if you were walking alone.” Aaron couldn’t veil his concern. Not now. He added, “I’m worried about you, _y/n_.” _y/n_ looked up at him, not fully aware that Hotch’s hand was in her hair, and his heart rate was beating out of his chest with concern. _y/n_ tried to get her vision to clear. The pain in her head from the lights and the heat was still causing her pain and she replied in a tone that she wanted to sound exasperated, but it really just came out like a snap, saying, “Why do you even care?” And once the words were out and the tone became apparent, her vision cleared and she saw Aaron fully, and the look of love and care for her overwhelmed her. In a breathy voice, one that was starting to be overcome with tears, she said, “I didn’t mean that, Aa…” Her voice was strangled by tears and Hotch pulled her close to his body. His head rested on top of hers as he said, “I know. I know you didn’t mean it that way. I know.” And as Aaron held her, she did know he knew. That he knew it all. At that moment she wouldn’t fight him. All she wanted was for him to hold her and help with the pain. He had at the hospital. Even being near him made her feel better. They stayed there for a few moments and Aaron said, “I’m taking you back to the hotel. You need rest and don’t even try to fight me on this. You mean too much to me to be having on the field right now.” _y/n_ nodded and shifted to stand, but Aaron stopped her with a large hand, saying, “You’re not walking right now in this heat. I’ll carry you to the SUV.” _y/n_’s mouth fell open slightly and said, “Aaron I can do it.” Hotch nodded his head no, replying, “I’m not having you move down all those stairs again. The car is only two lots, over. Now if I hold you like I did before, will it hurt your legs at all?” _y/n_ swallowed and softly said, “No. It won’t hurt me.” Aaron nodded and readjusted his hands again. Carefully picked her up again. He moved quickly to the SUV. He set _y/n_ down and got pulled out his keys and unlocked the doors. Once _y/n_ was seated and buckled, he turned on the AC. The ride to the motel was short with Aaron just shooting Rossi and Em a text saying that he’d be back in a half hour or so.

_y/n_ was grateful that Aaron let her walk to her own room. As much as she liked Hotch’s touch and gentle care he had when he had carried her, she had her dignity and desire to still be able to care for herself. In her room, Aaron looked over at her bed. _y/n_ didn’t even care as she pulled off her blazer, slipped off her shoes, and laid back on the bed. While she was doing this, Aaron turned off the overhead light and turned on a lamp instead. He puttered with the air conditioning so that it wasn’t freezing, but not too hot either. He then moved to the window messing with the curtains even though the blackout curtain and decorative curtain were clearly closed. Hotch did this because he didn’t know what to say. Finally, _y/n_ called him. It was a voice she had rarely used with him. It was vulnerable, needy, scared even? When Aaron looked at _y/n_ he saw the desire in her face, a look that must have been the one he had on his own face as he covered her body on the freezing road, and as he carried her to the bench just a few minutes earlier. Aaron was drawn to her and sat on the edge of the bed as _y/n_ said, “Aaron. I like you. I have for a long time. I’m sorry if this fucks everything up between us, and I’m sorry that it took me so long to say anything. But I have to say something.” At this, she stopped and looked at him concerned that she might have ruined everything. Aaron leaned forward, ran his left hand through her hair again, and rested his forehead against hers. He felt such a reprieve at her words. He closed his eyes and said, “I like you too, _y/n_. I’ve been a coward about my feelings and your still here being brave after everything that’s happened to you this month. For a few minutes, I thought I’d lost you and I’m never going to let that happen again. At least where I can. I want to be with you.” _y/n_ gave a little hum and placed a hand on his chest. Knowing that she wasn’t delusional for desiring Aaron suddenly made all her pain seem to fade into the background. His breath on her face was comforting, and she opened her eyes a bit. She shifted up a bit and gave his mouth a peck. At this, Hotch opened his eyes. He gave her a soft smile and moved his mouth more needily over hers. As they shared that kiss, they were both grateful for the other. For the comfort that was to be had now and in the future. There was a lot to be said later, but for now, their love and lips said everything that needed to be at the moment. _y/n_ closed her eyes and let the moment linger. _y/n_’s hand found its way to his chest, placed it over his heart, and felt its steady beat under her palm. _y/n_ closed her eyes and as they continued to kiss, she was certain that she would know anywhere. No matter how they were challenged and pulled, she would always know and love him, and this was just the start of that journey.

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starry-eyes-love · 11 months

Text

Marriage Dynamics-Happy Halloween

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (18+, Minors DNI), AU universe, No Outbreak

Summary | Joel takes his wife out to a Halloween-themed party. A slight disagreement changes the course of the night for both of them but ends with Joel and his wife giving each other some much-needed attention in the woods.

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Explicit Smut, Age gap (Joel 52, reader 37), married with husband/wife dynamics, language, fluff, arguments with angst, dom/sub dynamics (a bit), daddy kink, pregnancy reference (if you squint at the end), alcohol consumption, driving after alcohol consumption (don’t do this people, drive sober)- in the story Joel isn’t even tipsy with alcohol, piv sex, creampie (they’re married folks, and she wants it), body type descriptions (slight), reference to Halloween costumes. Sorry (not sorry) about this one guys, man it’s a rollercoaster ride like any marriage is with a lot of steamy smut at the end. Enjoy & Happy Halloween!

Word Count: 9.1 K

“I know mama, I know,” he said, closing his eyes and trying to will his impending release off a bit so he could give you what you needed. When he opened his eyes he looked into yours and saw that you were staring into his soul. You whispered, “I need you husband.” Joel smoothed his hand over your hair and whispered “I know baby, I see you, and I’m right here.” Joel then bent down and passionately kissed you as he deepened his motions.

October 31st, Halloween

It has been a long time since Joel, your husband, has felt these intense feelings for you, his wife. Yes, you were beautiful, the mother of his 2 children, and a step-mother to his first born daughter Sarah. But something was different about tonight, especially when he saw you walk down the stairs in that black silk dress hugging your curves just right. Tommy, Joel’s brother and your brother-in-law, agreed to watch the boys tonight so you and Joel could have a night out for just yourselves. Sarah was already out of the house and in her second year of college in Seattle, so she wasn't around to help out as much as before. Your friend, Tasha, had convinced both you and Joel to come out to an adult-only Halloween themed party. After many discussions with your husband, and a few nights where he slept on the couch, you both had finally agreed to one night of adult-only festivities, including dressing up in costumes.

Joel didn’t want to do anything that was too flashy, as he didn’t usually feel comfortable doing things like this. You agreed that a simple costume, him going as Dracula, would be appropriate. After several discussions, you decided to go as a female vampire for yourself. Joel had teased you and asked if you were going to be going as Dracula’s bride, and you adamantly said no. Explaining to him that Dracula’s bride was older, had white hair, and never got much attention from her husband. When Joel teased you asking why that was a problem, your response was “I want to go as something different than what reality is.” Your statement had caused another argument where your husband was, once again, spending another night on the couch.

It wasn’t that you weren’t happy in your marriage, you were. But things with Joel Miller had gotten stale. You ate at the same restaurants, watched the same TV shows, hung out with the same people, and did the same things every day without any deviation. You missed the fun nights the two of you would have when you two were dating. You'd been together for 17 years, 15 of those years married. In the past the two of you would stay up all night talking, fuck on every possible surface of your home, including inside Joel's truck.

Even though Joel was almost two decades older than you, now in his early 50s, he looked good, really good. He was physically fit, had a little bit of a softer tummy, not the rock hard abs younger men had. But he looked good with no shirt on and just pants. He had a construction worker's build, salt and pepper hair, and facial hair that you found out that you loved. In bed Joel was amazing, always has been. He'd get you to cum multiple times if he wanted to, that is if he wanted to.

Over the past year the bedroom activity was nice, but lacked a bit of passion or intensity. He could get you there with ease, but you wanted your man to breed you, show you who was boss, edge you, something. You didn't know how to ask him for more, considering he was always so exhausted most of the time.

Joel owned Miller Contracting, his own contracting business. It was an established business for a long time, but recently it had expanded out and was taking on larger projects. About a year and a half ago Joel remodeled a client's kitchen. The client was a CEO of a major company, something no one knew. But Joel said he never cared, he always did quality work as if the person owned everything. He took pride in working with his hands and creating things he loved. The client loved Joel's work so much that when the large company expanded into a different nearby town, Joel was the person they called. He nailed the largest contract in history of Miller Contracting, it was a full time year around job that was going to take 3 years to finish. He hired 30 employees to help get the project done on a large high rise that was going up.

About a year ago is when the bedroom activity became lackluster, and that was the same time Joel started his large contract. He worked longer days, sometimes also weekends. He made time for his family and boys, making sure to be a present father. He attempted to be an attentive husband in the bedroom, but you could see how exhausted he was. Some nights you cried yourself to sleep as Joel fell asleep on the couch, right before he agreed to give you some much needed affection.

But tonight was going to be different, you thought. Tonight you wanted to feel young and alive again. So you decided to buy a sexy black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, that gave yourself a good amount of cleavage, and was mid-thigh in length. You paired it with some sexy lingerie, just in case someone went looking later on, someone you were hoping was your husband. After you finished dressing yourself, doing your makeup, and spraying on your expensive perfume (the one that Joel bought you a year ago as a gift apologizing for falling asleep early), you put on your high heels and then walked down the stairs.

"Babe, we gotta get goin' if we want to make it on-" Joel said as he turned around to see you descend from the stairs in your costume. Joel wasn't able to finish his sentence the moment he laid eyes on you. He always thought that you were a beautiful woman. But tonight, in this moment, it was like his heart stopped beating and he could hear Angels singing from heaven.

"Cat got your tongue, Big Boy?" you whispered as you got up to him with a sly smile.

Joel had his eyes focusing hard on your cleavage and your curves. When he heard you call him his nickname, Big Boy, he almost fainted. He hadn't heard that nickname since he dated you. It usually meant that you were in the mood for some dominance in the bedroom later, where he'd show you who was in control. He had to admit though that since having children, the whole play dominance in the bedroom had stopped because with younger kids, you sometimes had to be fast. He'd still take care of you, but not in the ways he'd used to. Joys of marriage and kids that no one ever talked about. He still loves you, but he did miss your sexual appetite. He just didn't know if he could do some of those moves anymore like he did 10 years ago.

"You, uh" Joel squeaked.

As the high pitched notes came out of his voice, you smiled and chuckled a moment to yourself before you said "what was that baby?"

Joel glared at you for teasing him. He then pulled at the collar by his throat, cleared his throat, and said in a husky manly voice "You look wonderful, darlin.'"

"Well thank you, handsome" you said with a slight wink as you turned to walk out the door, swaying your ass just a little bit more for your husband's roaming eyes.

As Joel watched you walk away he let out a low growl at how you looked. Joel wasn’t a religious man, but he definitely was thanking the good Lord on high tonight for seeing you like this. He took a small breath and let it out in a huff as he followed you outside, saying to himself "that woman's tryin' to fucking kill me."

The entire drive to the party Joel kept glancing over to where you were seated. You were looking out the window with a solemn look on your face. He kept trying to figure out why you had that look. Sure, the two of you have been arguing more. But he thought the both of you had made up, especially when he fucked you in the bed the other night instead of sleeping on the couch yet again. That night he made sure to give you two orgasms, and not just the usual one.

Unable to figure out what was going on in that pretty little head of yours, Joel decided to reach over and lightly grab your hand. He brought it to his mouth, kissed your knuckles gently while saying, "you look absolutely beautiful tonight baby. I feel like I just landed into a dream with you, one that I never want to wake from." He then gently placed your hand back on your thigh, and gave it a little squeeze before returning his hand to the steering wheel.

He saw that you looked down at your hand, like you could still see something there when you said with a slight sniffle, "yeah me too, and I hope I never wake up." Then you went back to looking out the truck window. In that moment, Joel felt his heart ache. Why did she just say that?, he wondered. "Baby, I-"

"Forget it Joel, it was nothing. I didn't mean what-"

"You meant something by it darlin'" Joel said, interrupting you.

"Baby, I don't wanna fight" was all you said to him.

"Not fightin' Angel," he said turning back to the road. "Are you happy or- or angry with me yet?" he said with a slightly shaky voice, hoping that you weren't angry yet.

"Joel, oh my God, no baby, I'm not angry. I am happy, incredibly happy. I just miss how we used to be, that's all," you say trying to defuse the situation.

Puzzled, Joel glanced over at you and said "what do you mean, how we used to be?"

"It's just, you know. It ain't as good as before" you say quickly avoiding his gaze.

"What? What ain't as good as before?" Joel questioned you. As you sat in silence Joel's stomach started twisting in knots trying to figure out what you meant. After a moment he said "Angel, please."

Silence continued from you.

"Baby please, please answer me? What ain't as good, is it our marriage you don't like, or?"

"It's the bedroom, Joel" you said with a rushed voice.

"What's wrong with the bedroom? Is it the decorations or-"

"I don't like how we fuck, ok? It's not as good as it used to be. It's honestly stale" you say with a sarcastic laugh. "Instead of me feeling like I’m fucking my husband, I don’t know, I feel like I'm with a total stranger. Someone who I really don’t like. I walk away hating it, or worse, feeling like no one cares. I just wish it was like it was before with us, where you'd see me, and actually want me."

“I want you” Joel snapped in defense, emotions swirling around his stomach and head like a hurricane. His mind was trying to figure out what was happening in front of him.

“No you don’t Joel, we both know that’s a lie. Sure, you want me because you have to. That’s it. I’m a checklist you have to occasionally check off. Must have sex with my wife, check. You haven’t really wanted it for years, cause if you did, you’d known that I wasn’t always having orgas-”

As you glanced over at Joel mid sentence, you were instantly mortified at what you saw. Your husband was white knuckling the steering wheel, grinding his teeth, and silently cursing to himself with glassy eyes. Somehow you had removed the compassion filter of caring and just started to let your mouth run wild. You wanted to take everything back you just said, but you didn’t know how. As you reached over to try to comfort Joel, he flinched and turned towards the door, away from you. It was then that you fully understood what had happened, you had seriously fucked up.

Joel felt his stomach tighten at your words. His wife, the woman who he cared about and loved deeply, wasn't sexually satisfied with him and apparently had been faking orgasms for a while. From what you said, somehow you no longer liked being with him, and that fucking hurt him so much and cut him so deeply. He loved you, and loved being with you sexually, but apparently you didn't feel the same way with him. So with a shaky voice he said, "Is there, um, is there anything you'd want me to do differently then if I’m not pleasing ya right?"

"No," you said in a meek voice.

"Are you sure?” he said with a huge lump caught in his throat. “It seems like maybe you’d want me to do something differently, cause apparently I’m fuckin’ this all up for you. So what do ya want done different Angel, please tell me" Joel said, trying to keep his voice both steady and even.

With a sigh you said, "Joel, just forget about it, ok. I don't know what I was thinking. I was just saying dumb stuff, I never meant any of it. I love what you do, can’t seem to get enough of it. Don’t worry, ok." Then you reached for the radio and turned it on to try to drown out the uncomfortable silence that now was present between the two of you.

As you thought about what you had said, you felt the feelings of embarrassment and shame creep up your spine. You didn't want to give Joel the wrong impression, and yet that's exactly what you did. It wasn’t that you hated everything he did, you just missed how it used to be. He still gave you orgasms, if that’s what you could call them. They were ok, but they lacked the major intensity that they used to have when you were dating. The more you thought about this, the more you realized that your wants weren't practical anymore with the current life that you were living. You silently sat there scolding yourself for opening up and creating another argument with your husband.

God, why can’t I just let this stuff go and realize that I ain’t ever gonna get it again, you thought to yourself. I mean, I got a great guy, a beautiful house, children, and financial stability. I should be happy. And you were happy, or at least you were trying to convince yourself that you were. The longer you mulled over this in your mind, the more lost in your head you became. The problem was when you got lost in your head like this you didn’t realize that you started to fidget your hands nervously, it was a tick that you had. You also started biting your lip and saying silently out loud “God I’m just so stupid.” These were traits that you did when you were really upset about something, but you never fully register that you do them. However, Joel knows these traits, knows them well. While you were overthinking things, Joel was slowly grinding his teeth, clenching his jaw, and allowing his anger to rise up in the pit of his stomach. He felt like a shitty husband, especially when he hadn't realized that he wasn’t satisfying his wife.

Underneath the surface Joel was seething, pissed off, and deeply hurt at the fact that he wasn't performing up to your standards. But mostly, Joel was pissed at your lack of communication on the topic for a long time. Telling him to forget about it, that you didn't mean what you said, and then scold yourself out loud all made Joel very angry. If you weren't satisfied in the bedroom, he wanted to know. He was your husband, goddamnit, and his wife's needs did actually matter to him, no matter what.

Without thinking Joel pulled the truck over to the side of the road, and then slammed it into park. He then turned and faced you stating in an irritated voice "look here little girl, don't you ever tell me something's fine when it ain't. Obviously your husband ain't performing up to his wife's satisfaction. And you better believe it missy, that I wanna hear about it if you're not satisfied. You hear me? Now, I'm only gonna ask you this question once again, and this time I better get an honest answer from ya. What in the hell would you like done differently in bed, if you ain't enjoying it?"

You sat there shocked looking at Joel seething with anger. Even though you wanted to smack him for that tone he just used with you, you also felt bad for him at what you did. You saw a man who was compassionate and who was hurting. He was searching your eyes, trying to find something to hold on to that you still were ok with him. You also didn't want to argue, but in this moment you saw the hurt look behind those fiery eyes of your husband who you just told wasn't performing up to the level that you wanted. He did care, that much was evident on his face.

You reached your hand out and gently stroked his face while saying "Joel, honey. We both are so busy in life with careers and kids, that we just lost a bit of that spark. You are performing great in bed love, but I miss the days where sex wasn't a chore. Where it was something you needed to have from me, and not something that was a requirement as a marriage. That's all."

Joel took a shaky breath and then let it out with a huff. He closed his eyes and said "how can I communicate it to you, for you to realize that I want you. That I never stopped wanting you?" As he opened his eyes, you saw that they were glassy. "I never stopped needing you baby, what can I do to show you that?"

With a smile you said,"fuck me like you used to Joel," and with that you leaned over and planted a brief kiss on your husband's lips. Joel nodded his head once and cleared his throat, as he felt a thump there. He then put the truck back in drive and continued forward. The rest of the car ride was in silence as Joel contemplated what you said. The only difference was he was now holding your hand and slowly running his thumb over the back of your hand, reassuring both himself and you that he was still here, and that he still loved you.

When you got to the party, everyone was already there. Joel and you walked inside together, but he was quiet. The only statement he asked was if you wanted something to drink and if so what. You told him to get you vodka and pineapple juice, and he said "fine." When he came back you noticed he was drinking whiskey on the rocks, which was only usually reserved for times at home or when Joel was pissed. You didn't let it damper your spirits. You walked around and spoke to people for a while. A fellow contractor quickly got Joel's attention and he was off in the corner visiting with him for most of the night. You found Tasha, your friend, and started talking with her.

After 10 minutes of catching up with Tasha she went for the heart. "So you and Mr. Grumpy pants over there, you guys fighting again?" she asked as she pointed to where your husband was sitting.

"No," was all you said while you took another sip of the second drink you had gotten yourself. Usually Joel would bring you refills of your drinks throughout the night, but not tonight. You saw when he got his own refill, but he never came over to see where you were, or if you needed another drink.

"Oh bitch, please." Tasha said. "Seriously, you and him at it again, huh?"

"Tash, why do you say that?" taking another swallow of your drink while staring at your husband, who has yet to look over at you all night.

"Why? I'll tell ya why y/n, you've been shooting daggers at that poor man all night. Slamming one too many drinks down your throat. So what's up hun?"

"I told him" you say looking down. "I told him how I'm not happy and…"

"No, you didn't" she gasps, shaking her head. You had spoken to Tash before about this and she told you that you needed to open up to Joel about it, but she never thought you'd do it tonight.

"Yup," you said and you proceeded to tell her everything that happened on the car ride over here. "Yeah and now we are here, wherever the hell here is," you say laughing at the reference of being in the middle of nowhere. Which is exactly where you felt your marriage was at the moment, especially when Joel couldn't even look at you.

"Yeah and who put you in that position girlie?" Tash says, staring daggers at you. You just looked at her dumbfounded, not understanding how any of this could be your fault.

With an eye roll she says "look, you needed to tell him you weren't happy, yes. But not right before you show up here, and not say it the way you did. That's a conversation for home girlie, not a fucking car ride" she says rolling her eyes.

"So what do I do Tash?" you ask in a defeated tone. "The asshole has yet to look at me all night, always talking to someone else. He hasn't even asked me for a dance either, and he knows that pisses me off" you tell her.

"Well, show him what you want," she said. When you look at her puzzled, not understanding what she meant she adds "For Christ sake Y/n. Go over to your husband and flirt with his big dumb ass. Baby, he's hurting. You just told your husband that he can't fuck his wife right, and that he doesn't give you what you want. He's upset, hurt, and angry at himself. So he's doing everything he can to not think about it, or you, so he doesn't ruin your evening. So go over there and give that cowboy a ride he won't forget" she says, slapping you on the back laughing.

You giggle at her in return and then say, "I suppose I can go over there and show him how a real cowgirl drinks" you say screwing your face up. "Good thing I developed a strong taste for whiskey over the years cause that's all he's been drinking tonight."

After looking at Tash, you give her a big hug and say "thanks chica for always looking out for me. I love you."

"I love ya too, brat. Now go get your man and make sure to fuck him good tonight. Show him how you ride a real bull" she says laughing.

"Jesus, Tash," you say laughing as you slowly walk away and go over to grab a whiskey on the rocks at the bar. You hated this stuff straight, but you were in the mood to impress the man who was your husband. So as you walk over to the 52 year old man, you quietly bite your lip and think to yourself well, here goes nothing.

Joel was talking to another contractor that you had recognized from the barbeque you held the year before. You remember meeting him there, his name was Dennis and his wife was Sharon. Dennis was about 10 years younger than Joel and still 5 years older than you. Yes, you and Mr. Grumpy pants were 15 years apart in age. You were 37, and Joel was 52. His wife Sharon was a year older than you, and you knew they had kids. But you couldn't remember how many, or how old their kids were.

As you approached Joel, you heard him talking about something with contract work, of pouring foundation, and how his one team member messed it up. You slotted yourself next to your husband and gently placed your hand on his leg, as he was sitting at a high bar table. After continuing their conversation, and neither man acknowledging your presence, you decided to move your hand a little further up on your husband's leg and gently squeeze it. When you still didn't get a response from him you slowly took another sip of the amber liquid in your glass, looking across the bar, as your hand slowly kept traveling upwards towards where you wanted him the most. You saw that Joel had registered your presence by slowly grinding his teeth with his jaw. As you slowly sipped your drink, looking the other direction, you continued your exploration.

When you were about mid thigh range you heard Joel silently take a deep inhale, followed by a longer exhale. You knew your husband, and knew you were turning him on. As soon as you got to his upper thigh you felt Joel very quickly shove your hand out of the way, then he readjusted himself on the bar stool. After a moment you felt him open his legs a little wider.

You looked down at your drink and smiled because Joel was giving you the warning not to continue, but also giving you the open door to continue if you wanted. Joel learned that move from you. He would always try to play with you when you'd be out on dates underneath the table. You'd shove his hand away hard, sit further up straight, but then once you'd relax you'd open your legs wider to allow him more access, if he so wanted. This was your classic move and when you grinned smiling down at your drink, Joel shook his head slightly laughing out loud to himself. Dennis took it as Joel was laughing at the joke he was telling, the poor guy. You knew in fact now that Joel wasn't even listening to him anymore, especially when he nudged your leg with his leg slightly. Telling you that he was paying attention to you with his body language, especially when he cleared his throat and then said "please continue" while looking at Dennis. When Dennis glanced away quickly you heard Joel say quietly to you "please continue darlin'" and then he nudged your leg again with his leg.

You couldn't let that silent plea go unheard, so after a few moments of rest to collect yourself and calm your nerves, you slowly started placing your hand higher up on his leg. This time you stopped one hand length below where you were last time, before he shoved your hand off. You let it rest there and then slowly squeezed his thigh, telling him you were still here. You slowly rubbed gentle circles on his leg in a soothing manner. He hummed his approval slightly, telling you that he was relaxed, content and comfortable with your hand position. But you weren't having it. When Joel went and took a drink of his whiskey you moved fast and reached to grab ahold of his crotch in a hard grip while adding a few firm strokes of his cock before you let your hand go. To an outsider it looked like you were scratching your leg. To Joel he spilled half his drink on himself muttering "Jesus Christ" while coughing horribly. People moved quickly around Joel to get napkins and you said "you okay honey? Don't die on me now. Here, I'll go get you another drink" and as you slowly stood you gave Joel a kind smile. Joel glared at you with steal eyes and muttered under his breath "trouble I tell ya, you're gonna fucking kill me woman."

You refilled Joel's glass, and as you were standing there at the bar you didn't know what your next move was going to be. You honestly never thought that far ahead. You knew you just walked right into the Lion's den and yanked the lion hard by the tail with a move you just pulled. You were racking your brain, trying to think of a good excuse that Joel would buy of why you did what you did when you heard behind you "you know, the first time I laid eyes on you, I knew you were trouble. Tommy told me not to chase ya, but I didn't listen. Thought I knew what I was getting myself into. After that, I don't know anymore" Joel said, caging you between the bar and his chest, with your back against his chest. Joel slowly reached around and grabbed your drink while whispering in your ear, "let's see what type of liquid luck the lady's drinking tonight shall we?" He slowly put it to his lips and then hummed his approval as he downed the rest of the contents and slammed the glass back down on the bar. "You think you're clever at the little antics you just pulled?" Joel sneered in your ear.

You didn't respond right away. You knew now that you had pulled the lion by its tail, and that lion was named Joel, who was slowly snarling.

Your lack of response did nothing for Joel's mood, it actually made him angrier. He bent down and whispered in your ear "I asked you a question, love, and I expect an answer." He then slowly ground his pelvis into your ass, to show you why he was mad. He was hard as a fucking rock, and he felt himself throb in his pants. Your little antics spurred a different feeling inside of him, one that was dormant for a bit. The side to claim you as his in a very dominant way. The way he knew you loved and begged for.

All night Joel talked with Dennis, not because he really wanted to, but because he needed time to mull over what you had told him in the truck. Joel prided himself on taking care of your needs, so when he heard that he wasn't fulfilling that duty, he took it to heart personally. He knew what you liked, he knew that you were adventurous and wanted a man to dominate you in the bedroom from time to time. He didn't know why the two of you stopped. He tried blaming it on kids, but he knew that wasn't the only reason. He was pissed at you for not communicating this to him, but he was more pissed at himself for not seeing it.

You stood facing the bar and felt a weird array of emotions. You could sense Joel's anger, could feel it radiating off from him. Usually in the past this would excite you beyond belief. But something here was different, and it made you feel uneasy. Without thinking, the only thing you said was "yellow."

Joel froze and eased back from you. You said yellow, a warning that you weren't comfortable, and something you never say. He immediately turned you around and said "okay, why yellow?" as he took a step back and placed his hands in his pockets. He acknowledged you, gave you space, and now wanted to know your boundaries.

"You're mad" was all you said.

"Yes" was his only reply.

"Why Joel?"

"You know why, for the antics you just pulled."

"I was just trying to have fun" you said, feeling tears sting your eyes. This was not the way you wanted this night to go.

"That wasn't fun Angel," Joel said, taking another step back to give you some more space.

"Neither was you ignoring your wife."

"I had my reasons tonight" Joel said matter of fact to you.

As you stood there it felt like he just smacked you across the face with his cold truth. You thought he wasn't intentionally trying to ignore you, but apparently you were wrong. Tash was right, you should have kept your big mouth shut earlier.

You looked away and felt the sting hit your eyes of your tears. How did you two get this off track over the years? What happened to you both? You felt a burn hot in the back of your throat. You took a step away from the bar and pulled off your black lace lingerie panties that you had on for your husband tonight. You didn't think he'd be interested tonight in seeing them, but you wanted to give him something. You balled them up into your fist and stepped towards Joel.

"Here, Happy Halloween. I'm going home now, don't worry, I'll get my own ride. You can do what you want with them I guess, cause I- I'm-" and you felt the tears begin to fall. You shook your head and said "this was all for you tonight, and for me to be seen again. I guess I read the situation wrong. And if I'm being honest, I think I've read you wrong a lot in life. I get it, things are different now. I should be grateful for what I get, and I am. I'll sleep on the couch tonight, and you can have the bed" you say as you turn to walk away. After taking a few steps you turn around and say "for what it's worth, I think you're the sexiest man in the world, and I love you."

As you turn back around to leave, you hear Joel say "Red," and then you freeze. He's never said red, never. And now honestly you're too afraid to ask why. But you know the rules; you give space, listen, and then comfort. You slowly turn and see him looking you straight in the eye again when he says it again. "Red y/n, I said fucking red."

You felt a large lump in your throat at his admittance and anger yet again. You swallow, and with a shaky breath you say, "ok Joel, why red?"

Joel takes a moment to contemplate how he's going to communicate this to you. He takes your lingerie and stuffs it in his back pocket as he approaches you and says "one, you thinking that I don't want this or you. Don't. Don't tell me how I feel y/n, ok?" Before you can respond he speaks again.

"Two, you are not getting a ride home from someone else. You are my wife and even if I am mad or upset with you, I don't ever want you to think I'm not going to keep you safe and take you home. Baby, I'll always take you home."

"Three, don't you give me those sexy lingerie and then think I don't find you attractive, or that I don't want to fuck you. Also, don't ever suggest that I should do it with someone else. That makes me angry. You're the woman I want, and the only woman for me. Understood?"

You just nod your head. "Ok, and finally" he says while taking a step closer to wipe your tears from your face and more gently says, "Finally baby, no one is on the couch tonight. You were feeling neglected honey, and I'm sorry. You're right, we shouldn't have talked about it right before we arrived. That was wrong for both of us, but we needed to talk. Baby, I fucking love you and I'm so damn attracted to you. And for the record, I wasn't ignoring you. I was giving you space and myself space so we both could figure our shit out. And you get what you ask for in life with me, and more. If your husband ain't rockin' your world, I need to know. But don't drop that bomb on me right before we do something like this together, ok? Now c'mere" Joel says while giving you a tender hug.

You both stand together, holding each other for a moment in a comfortable hug. It's right here in his arms that you feel comfortable, safe, protected, and at peace. He's the man that you've always wanted. He's your husband, best friend, and soulmate. As you pull away you look your husband in the eyes and say "ok big boy, take me home and fuck me," then you give him another peck on the lips.

"No baby, I think I got one better" he says as you both turn to head out the door.

Joel practically dragged you out to his truck, and helped you inside. He then jogged around to the front seat and then left in a hurry. When Joel didn’t make the turn to go back to your house you looked over at him puzzled and said “where are we going?” He just smirked at you and never answered, just turned the radio on and turned it up while singing along to John Mellencamp's 'Hurts So Good’ song.

When Joel turned on a dirt road that wasn’t marked, adrenaline spiked in your veins. You’ve never been out here, on this unmarked road, but obviously Joel had. When he pulled up to a gravel pit, Joel turned the truck and started driving around the gravel pit and through some more trees.

“You know” Joel said, “that dress looks amazing on you tonight baby, kinda makes me hate what I’m gonna do in a moment.”

“What Joel, wh-what are you gonna do?” you whispered panic slowly setting in at how remote the two of you were.

“You’ll see darlin’” is all he said while he gave your knee a little squeeze.

“Joel, uh, baby. You ain’t gonna bring me out here and kill me now are ya?” you said with a small laugh, after all this was Halloween.

Joel looked over at you intently and when he looked back at the gravel path he said “nah babe, gonna do something much better.”

You felt panic spike up in your body and neck, along with desire. Joel was playing it cool, not giving in to your panicked state that you felt. He definitely had something planned, that much was certain, and you knew how this situation played out. You’d find out either when the time was right or if you used a safe word. But you knew that if Joel had something sexy planned that if you used a safe word it would stop, and you didn't want that. So you sat there quietly and tried to calm your anxiety.

Finally Joel stopped the truck and reached into the glove box pulling out a blindfold. He held it up to you and said “turn darlin’ we gotta blind fold you for a bit.” As you turned, you allowed Joel to place the blindfold comfortably on your face. When he was done, he kissed the top of your head and said “ok baby, color?” You knew Joel was checking in with you, to see if you were still ok.

“I-I don’t know” is what you said to Joel in a quivering voice.

“Yes you do darlin’, now come on baby, color” he said in a more soothing tone.

“Between green and yellow, honestly” you said while also adding “I want you to continue though, I’m just nervous and a little scared of what to expect considering all of what has happened tonight.”

You felt him gently wrap his arms around you and said softly in your ear “baby, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sorry for what has all happened tonight, trust me. This is me making it up to ya. Nothin’ bad’s gonna happen to ya, you can trust me darlin’. If ya want, I can take off this blindfold” he said while reaching to remove it.

“No,” you said, “leave it on Joel, I want you to leave it on.”

“Ok darlin’, I’m gonna help you outta the truck and then we are going to walk for a bit. I’ll help ya so you don’t fall, then I’ll remove the blindfold after we get to where we need to, ok.”

You nodded in agreement. Joel tsked at that and said “words darlin’, you need to use your words for me.”

“Yes Joel, I understand.”

“Good girl” he said while giving you a quick peck on the head.

Joel then followed through with everything that he said he was going to do. He helped you down and helped you walk through the forest a bit. You had never been out here so you had no idea what to expect. Finally after walking, and Joel communicating to you where to step, you two had arrived. He told you to wait for a second and you heard him walk around doing something, but you didn’t know what. Finally after a bit he was back at your back. He reached around you and told you quietly in your ear “gonna take this off from ya now. Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell ya.”

You nodded in agreement, and he huffed saying "Angel, I ain't gonna ask again. Words," and he lightly nipped your neck and jaw.

"Yes Joel, I understand. I won't open my eyes."

"Good girl" he said while slowly grabbing your ass and squeezing. "You're always such a good girl f'me." He then gently kissed and lightly nipped your neck at your pulse point. Joel took his time going from your jaw down to your collarbone, and then shoulder. He'd nip you, then use his tongue to soothe the little love bite he just gave you. This drove you wild and he knew it. When he was done, he slowly removed the blindfold.

Finally after a moment he told you to open your eyes and what you saw was the most romantic thing you had ever seen. You two were in a little clearing that wasn’t very big, but Joel had lights strung all around the trees that were orange, red, green, and purple in color. He had cute little Halloween decorations all around, a black blanket on the ground with a dozen pillows. Two glasses of champagne, and a bottle that was sitting on ice already.

“What, how?” is all you said looking around and taking notice of the most romantic scene in front of you.

Joel stood to your side and said “you like it?”

“Oh my god Joel, yes. It’s so amazing. But baby, how? How did you do all this?” you asked wide eyed looking at your husband.

“Well, today at work Tommy and I cut out about 30 minutes into the morning to go work on this. The crews had it all under control. Tommy helped me, took us all morning and most of the afternoon. I picked all of it out at the store, and he helped me put it all up. Teased the hell outta me all day about it, but it was worth it if you like it.”

You stood there shocked and a little teary eyed at the effort that Joel put in. As he could sense your mixed emotions he approached you and said “I know things haven’t always been that exciting recently with us, and I know I’ve been exhausted and tired a lot. Baby, I love you more than anything in this world. Tonight, this is for you. For us. For us to reconnect and rekindle that spark between us. I love you” and he slowly kissed you on the mouth. But he quickly pulled back before the kiss could turn heated and said, “come on, let's get comfortable.”

He led you over to the pillows and blanket and got you situated. You noticed that he bought a whole pile of your favorite snacks and had them all out in little trays with covers on them. He took the covers off, opened and poured your favorite champagne, and then put some romantic music on.

The two of you spent the next hour talking, laughing, and joking like you used to do before kids, and the crazy life that you had. After you had finished the bottle of alcohol you said to your husband “this was perfect Joel, thank you” and then you kissed him on the cheek.

As you pulled away he grabbed your chin and said “that’s not a kiss baby,” while slowly stroking your cheek with his other hand.

“Oh it isn’t” you said teasing, "I thought it was" while gently batting your eyelashes at him.

"No darlin', that's not a proper kiss for your husband who wants you."

“Then show me big boy, show me what is.” And with that you heard Joel growl low and crash his lips onto yours.

The next thing you knew you were straddling your husband's lap and grinding down on his crotch hard, trying to get some friction. He still had your lace underwear in his back pocket. Asshole knew what he wanted to do tonight, you thought. You had a sneaky suspicion that Joel had the plan of getting you out of those lace panties sometime earlier so you could do this without any barriers between you.

After a few more glides of your hips, and a few moans out of your mouth, Joel was unbuckling his pants and taking his hard cock out and thrusting it hard up inside of you. As soon as he did that you moaned at him stretching you so fast and deep. “Fuck babe, you’re so perfect for me. Been thinking about fucking this pussy all day, fuck” he said while he started snapping his hips hard up into you. He wrapped one of his arms around you and tangled his hand into your hair while the other rested on your hip and he helped you grind yourself down into his lap as he fucked up into you.

The two of you were a moaning mess, both chasing your highs fast. “Joel right there” you moaned as Joel moved both hands to your hips and was moving them back and forth hard and fast. “Fuck baby” you said as you tipped your head back and gave over to your pleasure. Your senses were heightened dramatically outside and you were getting close.

Then you felt Joel wrap his arms around you again and then slam you to the ground pounding into you hard and fast saying “fuck woman, why haven’t I fucked ya like this before.”

“Joel” you whined, “baby, please, please I need to-”

“What do you need darlin’, come on, use those pretty words” he said while he continued to fuck you hard and fast.

“God, shit, fuck” you yelled as that coil inside you was winding tighter in your low belly, getting ready to snap.

“Come on mama, say it” he growled in your ear as he placed both forearms on the side of your head, giving you that contact you desperately were craving. “Come on baby, tell me or I’ll stop” he said, biting your jaw and neck in the process.

“I need to fuck so bad Joel, damn, baby. Please, let me.” you said trying to move him off from you so you were back on top. He knew what you needed, that you wanted to ride him hard and fast with your hips. And he loved it when you did, but this was something else. Something primal that was in Joel’s body, his need to claim you as his, to mark you as his. So he moved his arms underneath your knees and hiked them up and adjusted his position so he was getting more deeper inside of you when he growled “not this time baby, let your husband fuck ya ok. When I’m done, I’ll let you fuck me the way you need to pretty girl, got it.” he said as he swiveled his hips and slammed harder into you.

The angle he put you in was something that caused your eyes to roll back into your head. He was hitting those parts of you that were deep, that you had forgotten that he could reach. You wanted him to do this more at home and you made a mental note to fix the headboard so it wouldn’t slam against the wall and wake up your kids. You wanted him to do this position more frequently.

After a few more thrusts and grunts from both of you, you felt your walls flutter around your husband’s cock. Joel could sense it and said “ya gonna cum for me baby, you wanna come on daddy’s cock?” And as soon as you heard him use the term daddy, you were gone and your orgasm took you like a tsunami. You were mumbling incoherent words, most of them being shit, fuck, or Joel, Joel, Joel from your mouth.

Joel slowed his pace down a bit and slowly was rocking back and forth into you as your orgasm took you. He was giving you praise. “Good girl, good girl baby, that’s it. Don’t fight it, come on mama, you got it” over and over again. It felt like this orgasm took a time to die down, but Joel continued rocking into you back and forth through all of it. When you finally came back down to Earth, you opened your eyes and looked up at your husband. Sometime during your orgasm Joel had lowered your legs, and wrapped them around his waist. He was gently stroking your hair, looking at you like he was the happiest man on Earth.

“Wow” was all you said slightly laughing at how fucked out you were.

“Pretty intense there wasn’t it mama” he said while smiling down at you and kissing you passionately.

“Yeah it was Joel, damn. I-I didn’t know”

“See” he said interrupting you “daddy still has a few tricks up his sleeve there darlin.’” You felt Joel slowly start to rock into you back and forth a little faster but still at a leisure rate, giving you praises and affection. You, not realizing what he was doing, opened your hips wider for him and wrapped your legs around him tighter as he continued to rock into you. Joel just smirked at you, knowing full well what he was doing. He was building you for another orgasm, and you weren’t realizing it, something that he cursed himself for that he needed to do more often with you.

As he started to pick up the pace a little, deepening his thrusts you moaned “Fuck Joel, I-”

“I know mama, I know” he said, closing his eyes and trying to will his impending release off a bit so he could give you what you needed. When he opened his eyes he looked into yours and saw that you were staring into his soul. You whispered “I need you husband.”

Joel smoothed his hand over your hair and whispered “I know baby, I see you, and I’m right here.” Joel then bent down and passionately kissed you as he deepened his motions.

You needed your husband. You needed him to kiss away the pain you both had been feeling recently. The heartache of feeling ignored, of feeling left behind, of not finding a connection. That is what you craved the most, the connection with your spouse. It was in this moment, with the way he was looking at you, and how he was making you feel, that you felt the two of you were connecting again. The two of you stared into each other’s eyes as Joel slowly made love to you in the woods.

Joel rocked into you a few more times, loving the way your walls dragged up and down his cock. After a bit he stilled and moved his arms underneath your legs again to deepen his reach. As he bent down he kissed the tip of your nose and said “I’m gonna give this to you hard and fast again baby. And you’re gonna be a good little girl and come all over daddy's cock with that pretty little pussy again, ok? Then I’m gonna take you home, and fuck you on every surface of our house again, making sure you remember who this pussy belongs to. When I'm through with that, we'll end up in our bed. I’m gonna take advantage this one time of our boys not being home, and I'm gonna make sure that headboard is slamming so fucking hard against that wall tonight, getting deep inside that beautiful little pussy. Then when I’m through fucking ya every way I want, including multiple times with my mouth darlin', I’m then going to slow down and make love to my beautiful wife like she deserves. You got that darlin'?” he said as he kissed your nose again.

“Joel, if we do that much love making I’m gonna get pregnant again. I’m off the pill, remember, and about mid-cycle. I don’t remember us having that many condoms,'' you say laughing a bit at how descriptive your husband was at his intentions with you. If you were being honest, you were trying to ignore the excited feeling that you had about wanting him to do all of that to you. But you had to be serious, and had to remind him that you weren't on the pill anymore. Your body needed a break from the pill, and because of some weird lab test results that your doctor had seen, she wanted you to stop birth control and go back to using condoms for a few months.

“Well darlin’” Joel said with a smirk on his face “I guess I’ll just have to give you that little girl that you’ve always wanted then, ain’t I.” And with that, the two of you fell into an intense stride. Grunting and rutting into one another like two animals in heat, him trying to get in you as deep as he could, and both of you connecting both physically and emotionally with each other.

You eventually both fell over the edge together, panting each other’s names, him coming deep inside of you. Secretly you loved how your favorite Holiday gave you everything that you have ever wanted in this world. You loved everything about the man right above you, especially when he said "fuck wife, I need you" as he painted your walls with his white ropes of love. You fully submitted to him that night, and allowed him to give you everything in this Life and more. And when the night ended, with both of you finally sated, and in each other's arms once again. Joel finally gave you that little girl that you've always wanted.

A/N: Happy Halloween guys 🎃

Taglist: @punkshort @shotgun-shelby @strawbunnyx @orcasoul @pedritoferg @chiogarza @jesfreedark @untamedheart81 @rainbow12346 @nandan11 @swiftpascal @eliza-8 @joeldjarin @vickie5446 @nastiasnow @staywildflowahchild @ratoonstown @l3laze

#joel miller #joel and reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #joel miller masterlist #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou hbo #halloween smut #halloween story

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al9ayf · 4 months

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ᥫ᭡ 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 | astarion x f!reader

｡˚ word count: 6.2k

｡˚ summary: reader and astarion are tied to a prophecy that links their souls as one. she inherits the powers of the gods all at the expense of seven thousand souls. will it tear them apart?

｡˚ a/n: i feel this is more on the thematic or poetic side of my writing and i just wanted to explore it more. i love this and i love midsommar. plz dont hate cause i don’t know much of the festival outside of the movie and i just love that dress and yeah i just wanted to do something with it. i hope u enjoy <3

｡˚ explicit content :: NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A HAPPY STORY !!! large age gap, psychological abuse, grooming, angst, mentions of underage sex, teen pregnancy, overall major tw’s but NOTHING IS EXPLICIT !!

what have you done in life to deserve this?

your chest heaves and your breath shakes. with each spin around the pole the air around you thickens with heat, and a bead of sweat rolls down your temple. your sweaty palms let go of cold ones and you raise your arms above your head, spinning three times and then stopping to grab onto cold palms again. laughter and music enter your ears but it doesn’t sound happy. they sound dreadful. as they fall and topple over each other, you have no other cold hand to grab onto.

it’s just you, and one other girl across the pole. she doesn’t drop. she doesn’t stop. she doesn’t know why the others have dropped. she doesn’t know who you are. and for that, she must stop. her black hair woven into braids flies around her like a kite, and you know that if your father could be present, he would fly her above the palace doors to try to challenge you. for this is not a challenge, but the first step towards a prophecy.

but her determination to keep up scares you. your palms get sweatier and your feet struggle to land properly after each step. your body feels lightweight—so lightweight that a single breeze of wind could push you off your feet and send you sinking into the hells. her piercing black eyes are the only thing you can focus on.

“stop!”

the music stops and so do you. your feet trip over each other but you catch yourself just before you fall. your hands grip your white dress and your thumbs feel the intricate stitching of flowers on it. the girl’s chest heaves harder and faster than yours. only now when your vision starts to get clearer can you see how exhausted she is. her forehead is drenched and her eyes are droopy. her gaze isn’t as piercing. the beam of the sun tires her.

“continue!”

and you keep on going. you keep on going until you can’t feel your feet and the tips of your fingers become numb. her braided hair unfurls and waves of black cloud the girl’s vision. she tries to move it, frantically grabbing at the strands to get it away from her face. her panic disrupts the careful step of her feet, and when you spin three more times around yourself the music comes to an end and you find yourself staring at the pole instead.

“we have got our may queen!”

but you don’t listen to the applause or announcements. you don’t listen to the noble families yell in excitement over the news of you becoming the new may queen. you watch as the girl stands up in utter defeat and walks away. you don’t know her name or what family she comes from. all you know is that she tried to challenge the daughter of a goddess and master vampire.

the air gets thicker as people surround you, congratulating you on winning. you recognize the people as nobles of baldur’s gate, some young and some old. they’re here to see the child of cazador szarr fulfill a prophecy. some of them know who he truly is, some of them are oblivious to all the power he holds. but in the end, all are here to celebrate a win that was given to you.

they hold your sweaty palms and giggle in your ear. everything is loud and the liquor in your system isn’t going anywhere soon. it’s a struggle to stand up now after dancing around a pole, spinning around it, spinning around oneself, and stopping abruptly multiple times. it’s a struggle. a girl, the same age as you, comes up with a flower crown in her hands as an older woman walks alongside her. you still heave as she places it on your head and cups your cheeks. she’s smiling a smile so wide you can feel the pain in your mouth.

“you are our may queen,” she says in a thick-accented voice.

you don’t have time to say anything to her for the girls around you grip your hands and drag you away to a larger crowd of people who are applauding you. a larger crowd of corrupt people who applaud you for fulfilling the first part of the prophecy that will wreak havoc onto this world. as you get pushed into the crowd, people whose names and faces you don’t know congratulate you. they cup your cheeks as if they are your aunts and uncles, kiss your forehead and temples as if they are your mother and father, and hug you in a way a sibling would. but you are not their family, and they will never treat you like one.

as you get pushed to the front of the corrupt applauding crowd, you find yourself standing face-to-face with the archduke of baldur’s gate—lord enver gortash. a slaver, a tyrant, a friend of your father’s. he smiles down upon you; a smile so sinister it makes the sweat on your body turn ice cold and freeze.

“i offer my congrats to you, y/n,” he says, stepping towards you. “you will prove to be an excellent may queen. one that will surely turn the heads of the people of baldur’s gate. you will be magnificent.”

his empty compliments do not sway you. they do not make butterflies appear in your stomach or soothe your mind. he does not matter to you in the slightest. because found within an abyss of darkness of your mind is the silhouette of a lonely man. he shifts and merges with the shadows, and moves with a beauty indescribable to a mortal. his form is dreamlike, blurry, and beautiful. he could be described as a figment of your imagination, but he isn’t one. he is very much real.

his body sways to a haunting melody that, at first listen, sounds like a song but becomes nothing of the familiar sort. it is a sound beyond the mortal realm—a sound that belongs to another plane; another world. it echoes throughout the loneliness forever, just like him.

in your mind, astarion is a mesmerizing vision trapped there forever.

to him, you were a presence; a constant companion that has been there throughout his entire life. you were there before he became a vampire spawn before his life had been taken away from him before he had even come out of his mother’s womb. you were always there, always in white or in the nude, swaying sorrowfully. after over two hundred years, he learned and now knows your every curve and movement as intimately as he knows himself. your haunting presence is both a comfort and a torment to him—a reminder that he will never have you.

in the depths of your consciousness, you have glimpses of astarion. he is both familiar and foreign—a presence that tugs at the strings of your heart with an intensity you cannot comprehend. though you long to reach out to him, to close the gap between your worlds and touch the soul that mirrors yours, you are bounded to your father (just like him). astarion, a mere mortal in the eyes of the gods and spawn to your father is deemed unworthy to ever lay his red eyes upon you, let alone share his affection with you. your connection is one of forbidden desire.

you know astarion only through the whispers of the wind and the echoes of his presence in your mind. a ghostly reminder of a love that can never be. yet despite the barrier that stands between the two of you, you continue to hold him in your heart. his presence is a beacon of hope in the darkness surrounding you. in the darkness of your mind, you sway with him to the haunting melody. your souls entwined in a dance of forbidden passion.

you are forever separated yet eternally bound through your father’s blood and the prophecy.

for long now, his phantom touches and whispers have been distant. you do not feel his pain so greatly anymore in the halls of your palace. he has left, and has been gone for far too long. it tugs at your heartstrings to have him gone, but it brings you joy that he has escaped the torment of your father. for every whip and stab and prick he inflicts on astarion, you feel its phantom partner do the same to you.

that night when you return to your palace to attend the ball your father has thrown for you, you find yourself dressed in white again. virginal colors for the new may queen, your father says. colors to represent the queen of may, your goddess mother whispers to you. and after the ascension, after you have completed the prophecy, no longer will you wear white but dawn the colors of dark reds and blacks to represent power and carnality. this was why you were created by corellon and cazador szarr. a divine offspring gifted by the goddess of spring to the vampire to fulfill a prophecy of becoming an ultimate being. and you were your father’s proudest achievement.

he holds your warm hand with his cold one and grabs your hip with a grip too tight. your father, a monster and a vampire, only keeps a soft spot for you. but you know him better than he thinks, and you know it is only an act. once he achieves his power of ascension and takes yours with it, he will discard you. his smile makes you stand on edge, and you long for a genuine warm one. but with a red gaze as piercing as a knife, and skin so white even snow cannot compare, you could never generate warmth from a being colder than ice. not even if he is your father that you can’t help but love dearly so.

“tomorrow, my sweet child, we will ascend,” he whispers to you.

your pointy ears pick up, and you feel the color from your face drain.

“that boy will be here any time tomorrow. and we will greet him with open arms. you see; he will fight, he will beg, he will cry, but i am his father and he will obey. i feel it.”

you feel astarion too. you feel him more than cazador does. you feel his anxiety and revenge bubbling in his blood. you can hear the sharp breaths he takes when he even thinks of your father. you know of his plans to kill the man in front of you in so many gruesome ways. you’ve seen it. you’ve seen so many ways he would have him hung above the doorway to this palace. you’ve seen the ways he would burn him in the sun and flay him a hundred times over before plunging a dagger deep into his chest and letting his blood spray onto him. you have seen it all more than a hundred times.

you know astarion will be here tomorrow. he has seen you for two hundred and thirty-nine years, and not once has he ever laid eyes on you. he has heard your laughter, felt your every pain and pleasure, felt your heartbeat in his own non-beating heart. he will lay his red eyes on you tomorrow and you will lay yours on him.

“and after our ascensions, i will turn you into a vampire,” he says. “you will be beautiful.”

you don’t need to hear his words to understand the true meaning behind them. you can see it in his eyes and in his actions why he sweetens you up just to become your puppet master. but how can you refuse your father when he has given you life? when he has given you the privilege to become the may queen of baldur’s gate? when all it takes is a vampire ascension to complete this prophecy between a goddess and a devil, and you will become powerful. and you know it will all be snatched away once your father claims you as his spawn. and you will be his only child forever.

he twirls you, and without noticing, you bump into a woman holding a glass of red wind in her gloved hands. it spills all over your white gown and you can only stare at her in shock momentarily. it drips down your chest and stains your skirt. her panic is like music to your father's ears, but the screams of a million tortured souls to yours.

“i’m so sorry, my lady!” she exclaims frantically. her voice pierces your head and you feel a ringing in your ears. “please forgive me, i did not see you there! i will fetch the maid—“

“go and fetch the maid and leave my palace, immediately!” cazador yells at her. you could not gather enough words to yell at her for the shock of the spilled wine on your dress paralyzes you. you look as if you have been stabbed multiple times, and it makes you shiver. the woman runs away in tears after having your father reprimand her, but you do not care for her. you do not know her name or her family, and you could not care one bit to know.

“we should get you changed, y/n.”

but you refuse. your night has been ruined by both your father and this woman, and as your two servants grab your hands to lead you upstairs, you bid your father a goodnight. you would not return to the ballroom tonight. you and your two servants ascend the stairs and enter the hallway where your bedchamber lies. you clutch your diamond necklace and rip it off of you, throwing it somewhere onto the ground and leaving it there for one of them to pick it up. your chest is heaving and your palms get sweaty. it’s like the dance all over again, yet you are not drunk nor spinning. it’s anger and panic settling in you—frustration even.

as you stand in front of the mirror and allow the servants to remove your stained gown, you look at yourself and imagine astarion being the one to remove that article of clothing. you shut your eyes to relax and fall into his ghostly embrace. he’s so close to you. you can feel him pressed onto your chest, kissing and hugging you. your heartbeat becomes his and his cold touches become warm. you are his everything, and he is your everything.

they slip your nightgown on you and go sit you at your vanity to comb your hair and remove your makeup. you are pampered like the lady you are, but when you look at yourself in the vanity mirrors, you think of smeared lipstick and ruined mascara from the result of astarion. you long to touch him, to be with him. you want to feel how real he is. you want to hear his sweet words and sassy remarks. you want him.

and as you lay down in your plush bed with only the candlelight on your nightstand, you sink into that dark abyss of your mind and lay with astarion in a pool of black like you do every night. for years you have lived, and for years you have done this. the both of you know everything about each other without ever seeing each other. without saying a single word to each other. but he knows you better than you know yourself, and you know him as if you had created him from dirt and molded him into the perfect being that he is.

astarion, who sits at the crackling campfire with friends and companions all around him, feels your frustration and panic. you are the first person he has ever truly and deeply cared for, and yet he can do nothing now to be there with you. he does not know how to act upon his feelings or express them. all he has ever known is pain and torture, and tomorrow it will all change. the pale elf excuses himself from the party and heads off into the darkness of the woods where his eyes illuminate the surroundings like a bright day.

he stands in a clearing and shuts his eyes to feel you better. to be with you as one. to know that you are waiting for him—aching for him. and he swears he could feel his heart beat again and oxygen enters his lungs. <em>he swears it.</em> and for you, he will do anything. he will complete your prophecy himself if required, and it will be a win-win in his book. you will be free of your father and become an ultimate being, while astarion truly becomes free and gets to become a vampiric master. it makes him laugh. it makes him laugh at how beautiful life could be if he could kill the man who took everything away from him, yet, gave him the one thing he always wanted and needed.

you.

you who awakes the next day gasping for air. for the first night ever since you were conceived, you did not dream. it frightens you, but when you inhale and exhale sharply to regular your breathing, only then do you realize why you did not dream. astarion is here. he is back home. and he is confronting your father. he is acting out the second and last step of your prophecy right at this moment, and it severed your connection for only that time and made you forget all that you had dreamed.

his feelings become yours. no longer is it a distant presence in your mind and body, but a presence that has merged with your soul and claimed it. you jump out of bed and run out of your bedroom. the hallways are eerily silent and there are no servants to be found. the smell of iron lingers in the air, and when you reach the main hall and find the ballroom doors that are always closed open with a mess inside, you follow its blood trail eagerly. you are not afraid of what is happening. you are excited. astarion is also excited, you feel it. you feel the goosebumps on his skin that rival yours. it’s a pleasurable feeling.

you find the old platform by your father’s office. many times have you seen it, and many times has cazador not allowed you to even step near it. but now his demands have ceased. now it is yours to command to take you down into the abyss of darkness. and it descends and it feels like time is slowing down. but with each meter, it goes down, the stronger your connection with astarion is. now you feel his blood and his thoughts jumble together. you feel the rage in him. you feel the need for his revenge grow thick. it hovers over your back. and as you run down that large hall with nothing but your light nightgown on and a beating heart faster than that of the speed of light, you encounter the countless spawns trapped behind cages calling for you. begging for you to free them. but you cannot. you will not.

you rush out into the large ceremonial site decorated with grey and black pillars descending into that dark abyss that resembles your mind. you stand on top of the stairs, and there you see astarion for the first time. his white hairs with speckles of blood and dirt make you lose breath. your ankles give out and you nearly tumble down the stairs if not for your hands catching you first. you scratch your knees on the hard marble and the sound of your fall alerts not only astarion and cazador but of the elf’s three other companions as well.

you stand up and carefully but quickly descend the mountain of stairs ahead of you. your eyes, now full of wonder and excitement, lock with astarions for the first time. and it takes his soul away. you are even more beautiful than what his mind has shown him. you, who is so sorrowful and submissive, stand before him with a power unlike any before. you are and will be the only person astarion deems beautiful enough to shake mountains and rival gods.

cazador watches from his trembling spot on the ground as you push past the companions and stand in front of astarion. cazador, who has forbidden him to ever lay eyes upon you, can do nothing but see the love and adoration spark in your eyes like flames coming out of a dragon’s mouth.

“what are you doing, y/n?!” he screams at you.

but you do not look at him.

fear envelopes his body and his voice and mind become desperate for your attention.“stop this boy! he is not worthy of the ascension!”

but you do not have the intention of stopping astarion.

you look down at your father with a pitiful gaze. you do not say a word to him. you do not say a word to astarion. at that moment, cazador realizes the truth. the prophecy was never meant for him. he who made a pact with the devil mephistopheles to sacrifice seven thousand souls to ascend, and conceive a child with the goddess of spring, was never promised to him exactly to become an ascended vampire. it was promised to a vampire that would ascend, and that would be astarion. your power, which should have been his to take, will help the pale elf rule baldur’s gate and many more cities.

cazador almost cries when he sees his daughter, his own flesh and blood, staring down at him with nothing but pity.

“after all i have done for you, you turn your back on me?! when i have nourished you in love on a silver platter and you dare defy your father?!”

but you continue to stare at him as if he was nothing. cazador cracks and screams in frustration, which allows astarion to take the chance to now carve into his back the runes of ascension. the runes you have seen for years on his back now become woven into your father’s. with each slash, astarion digs into his back, and your father’s blood splatters on your dress, staining it a dark red that almost resembles black. it lands on your sweet cheeks and plump lips. it tastes bitter.

woe, the staff that was once your father’s, now is held by astarion. with a flick of his wrist, you watch as cazador is flung into his spot on the platform and held there. everything turns red as astarion slams the staff down and now chants the the words of ascension. and at the same moment, you feel it in you. you feel the scorching of the spring heat envelope you and your body contorts and twists into positions you never thought was capable.

you grow from your bloody gown a dress large enough to make a queen cry and bow down to you. a flower crown, big enough for a bird bath, sits on top of your head. the dress sprouts out different flowers and captures your whole essence. astarion’s companions have to back away, and before long, both of your ascensions have been completed.

he, who now radiates power, and you, who now radiates the energy of the gods, look at each other as if the world around you has gone away. there is a glow to you that is otherworldly, godlike, and beyond what can be described as beautiful. astarion cannot believe that you are real and no longer in his mind anymore. you are here, present, in front of him.

you smile at him and take the first steps towards him, like a bride on her wedding day.

“how long have you dreamt of me? thought of me? felt my heartbeat in your very chest? you breathed my every breath, i felt your every pain, and we watched each other through one’s eyes. two hundred and thirty-nine years you have seen me and now you have me. to hold, to love, to use… and to destroy.”

your voice, soft as silk but powerful as a dragon, moves him. he falls into your warm embrace without needing skin contact.

“you’re… real!” he exclaims, out of breath. he is smiling from ear to ear, his voice thick with nervousness and disbelief. “i cannot believe that you are real.”

he wants to touch you, but the gown that holds your body does not allow him to step closer to you.

“long i have seen you and heard you, but was never allowed to be with you, let alone touch you. cazador deemed me unworthy to ever lay eyes upon you, and now i know why,” astarion says, his voice dripping with honey.

and now he knows why.

“sorry to interrupt, but, who is she, astarion?” asked tav with a confused look on their face.

you turn to look at them, keeping your small smile on your lips as astarion takes his stance next to you. he is beaming.

“this, my dear, is the may queen of baldur’s gate,” he says. “she is cazador’s only child with the goddess of spring, and…” he stops to look at you.

his gaze feels like the sun on a summer’s day. it burns but it burns good. it gives you the energy you need, and when you look back at him, it forces a toothy grin on his lips.

“and she is my consort.”

—

flowers and vines bloom from the roots of where you once stood at the platform of ascension. the whole area, which was once used to sacrifice seven thousand souls, now flutters with life. its thick air is now heavy with the smell of flowers and walls covered in different plants. butterflies appear around your crown and gown that now sits in the middle as a reminder of who started all of this. you will help end this illithid empire with your newfound power, and rule peacefully as may queen.

the servants that served your father now serve you. you are the lady of this palace until astarion destroys the illithids. but for now, for this night, for the first time, you are both here together. he had left earlier to resume unfinished business, but returned to spend the evening with you.

you wait for him at the front doors with a servant behind you. she’s standing so close to you that you can hear her sharp breaths in your ear. but you don’t say anything about it. you do not care. this is the closest she will get to a god by standing in your divine presence. she longs to touch you, but her shaky hands will not move from their spots by her hips. you know how much she wants you. you know how much she loves you. but as astarion ascends the stairs leading up to the palace doors, you step forward to greet him, and she steps away from the doors and into the dark palace.

the smell of rose, white musk, and jasmine fills the air as soon as he steps into your vicinity. he smiles at you; not a warm smile, but a sinister one. almost as sinister as your father’s, if not better. he finally touches you. it’s ice cold but burns like a great fire against your skin. you yearn for more. you grab his hand and lead him inside the great hall of the palace without a single word exchanged between the both of you. he holds your hand gently but with great strength. you feel that fear of his that if he lets you go, you will leave and never return. but it’s a fear he tries greatly to hide from you, but you know everything about him. you feel everything from him, as he does you.

he stops you in front of the closed ballroom doors and grabs both your hands. you look at him with great admiration, but the words that spill from his lips aren’t comforting or filled with love.

“i can’t believe we did that that. killing all those people,” he lets go of one of your hands to touch your cheek. the grip on the one hand tightens as he cups your cheek. “a pleasant surprise.”

you smile a little. “i wanted what was best for both of us,” your voice is light and soft. astarion melts at the sound of it. “you would get your freedom and power, and i would fulfill my prophecy.” you grab his hand that holds your cheek and caress it with your hand.

“you sweet, sweet thing. i want what’s best for us too, of course,” his smile turns more sinister. “and one wicked turn deserves another.”

“so, tell me what you desire. what can i do for you my dearest pet?”

pet? your smile falls from your face at the nickname. how long has he haunted your mind? how long have you haunted his? when you have felt his every pain and soothed his burning scars. he knows you inside and out, and you know him as if you are him. but now you can’t understand him. his thoughts are all complicated and you can barely understand his motives. you helped him sacrifice your father, sacrifice seven thousand souls so the both of you can ascend and rule with the power of the gods, and now he speaks to you with a tone similar to cazador’s. he feels everything you are feeling, and it makes him frown.

“i’m not him,” his tone softens. “unlike him, i love you.”

“is that the only difference?” you whisper. “know that you cannot lie to me, astarion.”

“i’m willing to share all of this power with you? what’s that if not love? what’s that if not the farthest thing cazador would have done?” he leans in towards you. “he would have taken your power and gotten rid of you before you could breathe.”

and he’s right.

“of course, if that’s not enough—if you need something more—perhaps this isn’t for you?”

and as soon as he’s sweet he turns mean. you know his manipulation tactics. he had done it so many times with his victims, but never before with you. you are his everything, but he makes you feel like you are nothing.

“so. what’s it to be, darling? is this it?”

“no!” you cry to him, now rushing into his chest and hugging him. you cannot fathom being away from him anymore. not after he has been forcibly taken away from you. not when this prophecy has connected you for so long that it would tear you apart if he left. “you are the one that i want—the one that i love.”

his fingers find their way under your chin, and when he looks into your eyes, he sees the tears welling up in them. his finger brushes against your tinted lips and a bit of your lipgloss ends up on them.

“you could be so much more if you want it. one little bite and you could be mine forever,” he whispers. “my dark consort. my right hand. my most beloved spawn.”

“i want to be a true vampire like my father promised me,” you whisper back.

“and you will! all in good time. but we mustn’t rush these things. you may need time to adjust.”

for once, you don’t know if he’s lying or not. you don’t and it scares you. but you want him. you want to be with him. there is nothing more that you want in life than to be with the man who gave you all this love and power. who was the only constant presence in your life that gave you comfort. the only one who loved you and not your power.

“then make me like you…”

“oh, my sweet girl. there is nobody like me. and there never will be again.”

the grip on your chin gets tighter and your breathing gets heavier. his lips are so close to yours. his face is mere inches away and you are having to stop yourself from grabbing his face and never letting go. you need him. you need him forever, and that is exactly what he needs too. and that instant you think those things is when you see astarion smile again.

“that’s what you want, isn’t it?” his voice reaches your ears only and it’s so soft yet heavy. it’s sexy and it’s beautiful. you could hear him speak forever. “to be mine? forever?” he tilts his head ever so slightly so his lips almost touch yours.

yes. that’s all you want.

you don’t say it aloud because he knows. he hears it in his head and yours. your breathing gets heavier and heavier with each second that passes. it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

astarion finally kisses you. his lips are softer than you imagined them to be. he kisses you with such ferocity and passion it knocks the breath out of you. you have never kissed anybody before, and it to be with the man you love and share a special connection with felt alien. you cup his cheeks with your hands and stand on your toes to reach him. you’ve never wanted something more before.

but then he pulls away as fast as he kisses you. you go to kiss him again but he places his fingers on your lips to stop you.

“you’re eager,” he teases. you can hear the laughter in his voice. “shall we have this night together before you join me in immortality? one for the road, so to speak.”

“yes,” you want to say clearly but only come out as another whisper.

“then come with me, my love, and live your final night.”

astarion takes your hand again and leads you up the stairs. the whole time you’re engaged in a bliss of his love. his hand, now held with yours, becomes warm. yet his eyes are still as cold as ice. two servants stand outside your bedroom door, but with the appearance of you and astarion approaching, they open the door for you. you enter first and stand in the middle of the large and dimly lit bedroom. the red, heavy dark curtains shield any moonlight from entering. and when the door closes and you hear astarion come up from behind you, only then do you realize how cold it is in here. how you miss the sunlight when you became the may queen.

he places his hands on your shoulders and slips his fingers underneath the spaghetti strap of your slip dress. you are calm. you do not feel anxious or nervous. you don’t feel a thing besides love and lust as astarion removes the straps and allows the white fabric to fall from your body and pool around your feet. you shiver as you feel his hands trail down to your hips and, again, hook his fingers around the lace of your white underwear and rip it off of you with one swift yank. the fabric rips across your skin and you wince in pain. he shushes you as he turns you around to face him. you don’t try to cover yourself.

you know what astarion wants you to do, and so you reach out and remove his bits of clothing as carefully as possible. and once the both of you stand naked in front of each other, astarion takes you to your bed. he kisses you all while pushing you onto the plush mattress. you struggle to keep up with his fervent kisses, and he thinks of it as cute. how virginal and pure you are. how he will take it all away tonight and make you his. he leans over you and fully lays you on the bed, now getting on top of you. you hold him and drag your fingers across the scars on his back.

he finally pulls away to look at your face, to see what you are feeling. and although you are submerged in his pool of lust, you are no longer submerged in his pool of warmth. no longer do you feel that warmth from him, but the coldness of your father’s eyes and touch. his skin, whiter than snow, reflects your shivering body. and as he leans down to kiss your neck and kiss the space in between your breasts, you think of one thing.

were you only created to be used?

—

six months after the fall of the illithid empire, and six months of being astarion’s dark consort, you find yourself in the large bathtub in your shared bedroom. a servant girl you have seen before sits naked in front of you washing your arm with a loofa and vanilla-scented soap. her black hair is curly from the water, and her once-piercing eyes are now filled with pain. she had not been flayed and hung but turned into a spawn.

tonight, astarion is holding a masquerade ball. he’s inviting the lords of noble houses to make connections with them. he’s the new lord of the szarr palace, and the dear husband of you, cazador’s child. but you do not feel like a noble lady. you do not feel like a beautiful wife. you feel like a weapon that has been used and drained. your goddess mother, who speaks to you riddles of the future to come, gives no protection over you. you are astarion’s forevermore.

the girl looks down at your body, and you do not cover yourself. you allow her to touch your stomach and brush her fingers over the soft swell of your belly.

“my lady, you are with child.”

“i know,” you say to her.

it was your sixteenth name day.

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 angst #astarion bg3 #astarion

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 1 year

Text

Of Truths & Dreams; Sebek Zigvolt

Dreams can tell you a lot about a person. Their wants, their fears. But sometimes they can tell you the truth, and sometimes it isn't pretty.

Supporting Characters; Silver & Professor Trein

Content; Soulmate AU (I call them soul matches though), gender-neutral reader, can be read as familial, platonic, or romantic, enemies-to-friends-to-*insert your relationship here*, reader is done with Sebek's bullshit, bullying Sebek hours (affectionate)

Content Warnings; Talk of death, swearing

Word Count; 5 K

Do not put any of my work into AI, that shit steals. If you do I'm eating your kneecaps.

Prologue & Lilia's Story | Malleus's Story

Sebek knew, even as a young child, that his parents’ marriage would end in heartbreak. That his mother would be left alone for centuries, heartbroken, because of his father’s humanity, because he was mortal. If you know something will only end in heartbreak, why go forth with it? Are a few decades of happiness truly worth it if it will bring centuries of loneliness?

He used to not think in that light, but the whispers of fellow children, and the look of concern in his grandfather’s eyes upon seeing a single strand of silver in his son-in-law’s hair. His father was ageing, and when compared to the fae, he was ageing rapidly. His mother would still be young when his father would be growing old and senile. That’s what started the seed of bitterness, of resentment, of fear.

Sebek was scared. He was scared that he may be dealt the same hand of fate; that his lifespan would be short like his father’s. And afraid that he would outlive him by several centuries if he inherited the fae lifespan. Both terrified him, and he was only six. Six years old and sitting on the tire swing that hung from the hawthorn tree, a scowl etched into his forehead. “It isn’t fair,” he muttered under his breath.

“What isn’t fair?” The gentle voice of his father startled Sebek, who fell off the swing. The older man picked him up and dusted off Sebek’s clothes. “There we go, not even a scratch,” he chuckled, ruffling his son’s pastel green hair.

How can he be so happy? Sebek scowled, and he felt a warmness build up in his eyes, tears. “Nothing,” he spat and ran off.

Unlike his mother, Sebek could lie, and it came easier to him than his siblings. It’s because I’m closer to him. And that scared him. It scared him, and he didn’t know why. He loves his father, but his humanity, that scares him.

Pushing something away is much easier than accepting it, even adults, both human and fae, do it. Keep that fear and hide it away, under a mask of superiority. But the truth will always come out, one way or another.

I hate you! But he didn’t, Sebek loved him, but it was easier to pretend to hate something than to love it and then for it to wither before your very own eyes.

…

Sebek’s dreams had colour, except for one. It was a mix of fae and human, and a sign from the Thorn Fairy that he had a soul match… but why was there one colour that was missing? His dreams should have been black and white, but the sky overhead was blue, the poppies in the field a brilliant red, and the centres of daisies a cheerful yellow. But one colour was missing, green. Where green should have been, there was nothing but shades of grey.

“Is anybody there?” His voice called out. He could hear his voice, his words weren’t floating in front of him. There was also no one else in the field with him. Sebek was alone. “ANYBODY?!”

He started running, he didn’t know where to, but he needed to get away. So he ran, and he kept on running until he came across a path which forked out into two directions, a crossroad. Sebek needed to choose. Left or right?

On the left, there was a butterfly flitting lazily down the path, whereas on the right was a hornet, its stinger wielded like a sword. The butterfly reminded him of his father, as butterflies do not live for long, and were seen as demure things. The hornet reminded him of his mother and grandfather, fierce and ready to defend; they, and the hornet, were knights. They feared nothing.

Sebek took off running down the right-hand path and kept on running until he came across a familiar castle, the castle where his grandfather worked. The fires glowed grey in Sebek’s eyes, but he knew they must have been green.

“Who are you?”

Sebek startled at the voice and he turned around. Standing behind him was a boy around his age with silvery hair, and lilac eyes. He could clearly make out his face, and his voice. The boy was clearly human, and that irked Sebek; his soul match wasn’t here but this random human child was? Behind him was the butterfly from earlier, glowing white and fluttering about before coming to rest on Sebek’s chest, resting on his heart.

Go away. Leave me alone. But Sebek bit his tongue and marched into the castle. “A future knight,” he boasted, bottling down his true emotions. “I’m going to be a knight. Like my grandfather!”

The boy walked behind Sebek and gave him a sleepy hum. “That’s who you’re going to be,” he said matter of factly, “I asked who are you not who are you going to be.” Not even three minutes of knowing each other, and the relationship between the two children was off to a rocky start.

“Names have power,” Sebek huffed. “How do I know you won’t use it to cross me, human?” He spat out the last word, human, his anger out in the open, his insecurity showing itself. “You tell me yours first.”

The other boy raised a pale brow at the hostility but decided it would just be better to accommodate rather than butt heads. “Silver. And you?”

Sebek huffed, but he could tell that the boy, Silver, was being honest with him. “Sebek.”

Silver offered him a soft smile, his eyes going from the butterfly which was still resting on Sebek’s heart to his face. “It’s nice to meet you, Sebek.”

And then Sebek woke up, blinking his eyes groggily. The only thing he could remember being the castle, his wanting to be a knight, and a butterfly that wouldn’t leave him alone.

…

The mirror took less than a second to place Sebek into Diasomnia, there was no better or other option. And Sebek was happy, so happy that he could continue serving Malleus, or in his words ‘Young Master’. Scratch that, Sebek was overjoyed. But the ceremony, which should have been perfect, was marred with chaos, because of a human. A magicless human.

Sebek shook his head. Today was good, regardless of the chaos. It should have not mattered, but Sebek couldn’t help but feel that it would have repercussions, a butterfly effect of sorts. It had the hairs on his neck stand on end. He could worry about it more in the morning though, he was of no use to anybody if he didn’t rest.

He was on the tire swing in the backyard, slowly going back and forth with the gentle breeze. What am I doing back here?

Usually, his dreams were about training, about being a knight, of protecting the Draconia line… not of childhood places, let alone at his own home. And sitting on the tire with him was the butterfly, still pale and glowing.

“What do you want,” he questioned the insect.

But the bug paid him no mind and took flight, doing gentle loops around his head. And as Sebek watched the butterfly, he noticed the slow shift in his dream. Everything started to take on a green hue, and the butterfly was now a brilliant pastel green. That could mean only one thing.

They were here. Sebek didn’t really know what to think or feel. On one hand, compared to many, he hadn’t been waiting for very long, which is seen as a kind gesture from the Thorn Fairy. But on the other hand, Sebek was confused about what his colour difference could mean, and why now of all times? He didn’t have the time to go chasing after some random stranger. He had a duty to uphold, and if they got in the way, or possessed to be a danger to his Young Master… well, Sebek knew what he would have to do.

The air in front of him shimmered. They are just entering the REM part of sleep now. Sebek clenched his fists and righted himself up, standing straight as a board. First impressions meant everything after all, and he for one did not want his first impression to be someone sitting on a tire swing and questioning flying insects.

The air stopped shimmering, and they appeared in front of him, their appearance hidden because ‘Good things come to those who wait’ according to the Thorn Fairy.

“Yeah, sure, why not. My day just had to get weirder,” their words floated in front of them, irritated. Sebek could feel their eyes looking him over, inspecting him, judging him. “Who are you supposed to be, huh?”

Sebek wasn’t sure what to expect when he first met his soul match, but he wasn’t expecting someone so… rude. Well, rude in his eyes at least. He felt his eye twitch, but he held together his composure. “I am your soul match!” The words were barked out, but they just floated in the breeze with no volume. The only thing that indicated that Sebek had said it loudly being the exclamation point at the end, as well as the sharpness of the letters.

But his soul match, even though he couldn’t properly make out their face, did not look impressed, and that rubbed him the wrong way. Every fae child grew up waiting in anticipation for their soul match to enter their dreams, to see their coloured hue tint their shared dreams. So why weren’t they more excited?

“Did you pay any attention to me,” he huffed, still standing at attention, like his grandfather taught him. “I said that I’m your soul match!”

His soul match just brought their hand to their temple and massaged the spot. “I heard… saw? … you the first time, buddy,” they muttered tiredly. “That’s nice, that I’m your ‘soul match’,” they did air quotes around the term, “but I have no idea what that means or why I’m here.”

Sebek felt a lump form in his throat. Fae know about soul matches, even if it was kept secret from the outside world, fae knew. That meant that his soul match wasn’t fae, and other clans knew of the term, which only meant one thing. His soul match is human.

They were weak and short-lived. Sebek had taught himself to look down on humans years ago, so why now, would the Thorn Fairy make his soul match human? The part of himself that he most feared?

…

You were running on fumes. Of the meagre sleep you were able to get, you were rudely interrupted by some stranger blathering about how humans were inferior. And quite frankly it pissed you off, royally so. You already got enough shit from everyone else about being magicless in a magic-dependent world, but for your ‘soul match’, someone you barely knew but was supposed to make you happy, constantly berating you for something that you couldn’t change. Yeah, you avoided them at all costs. And when you couldn’t avoid them? Well, you ignored them. It was much easier to ignore someone when you couldn’t actually hear them; all you needed to do was shut your eyes. Could you sleep when you were already sleeping? Well, you were. It was better than paying any attention to your bristly companion.

At least the tree you were resting under was nice, but you could feel your ‘soul match’ staring daggers at you. Cracking an eye open you found them standing as straight and stiff as a board, an air of a scowl surrounding them.

“Who pissed in your cereal?”

Your ‘soul match’ reeled back, and you saw a bunch of nonsense spelt out in the air before they controlled themself again, going back to their stiff posture. “THAT IS RUDE AND UNBECOMING TO SAY!” Their words were all capitalized, a sure fire sign that they were yelling at you. But since your first, and honestly disastrous, meeting weeks ago, it had very little effect on you. If anything, it was funny; seeing someone who held themself in such high regard be nothing more than a yappy dog.

You waved them off, shooing away their words. “You didn’t answer my question though. Did someone piss in your cereal?”

“NO!” They shouted, looking so fed up with you. “You are so… so… so ANNOYING,” they fumbled around with what word to use but finally decided on one. Annoying. “Humans are so annoying! The lot of you!”

And there they went again, on their anti-human tirade again. Seriously, what is their problem? “Better annoying than some stuck up prick,” you countered.

You knew you were playing with fire, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to piss them off. You were tired of playing nice in your waking hours, so in your dreams? You could be as snarky and confrontational as you pleased. Consequences be damned.

They were fuming, and sputtering. “How dare you?! What makes you think you can just act like that?!”

You sighed and got up from your resting spot, and moved over to them. “Because. I. Can.” You poked them, hard, in the chest with each word. “And what makes you think you can act like that? Like an entitled asshole who demeans and belittles others who are different from you?! What is your damage?!”

And right as your soul match was about to answer you, you left the dream, waking up from your own frustration.

Looks like it was yet another night of a restless sleep, only to be met with disappointment and wanting to do nothing more than prove everyone wrong. Prove them wrong about you, and for your soul match, prove them wrong about humans.

…

Understandably, you were not in the best of moods that day. At best you got maybe three hours of rest before you woke up due to pure frustration at your ‘soul match’ and their sour disposition. And it was noticeable, well, noticeable to some people who could pick up the subtle shift. That your smile was a bit too forced, and that you weren’t fully paying attention.

Professor Trein noticed, and Lucius had stayed on your lap throughout the entire class. And as he was walking up and down the aisles, making sure people were actually doing their work, the older man tapped you on the shoulder. “Prefect, a word after class,” it was said quietly enough that you were the only one to hear that, and he went back on patrol.

Shit, was I spacing off? You just hoped that it wasn’t anything serious. The last thing you needed was Crowley finding out about your grades slipping or any other infraction, and getting on your case and bringing up your situation for the nth time. So, the rest of the class seemed to drag on for what felt like forever, even though in reality, there were only fifteen minutes left. But every time you felt the anxiety spike, Lucius would shift in your lap or knead his paws into your uniform, dragging you away from obsessing over it. And finally, the bell rang.

“You guys go on without me,” you said to Ace, Deuce and Grim, shooting them a tired smile. “I’ll catch up with you.”

The trio waved you off, and headed off, leaving you alone with Professor Trein, who was sitting at his desk, preparing for his next lecture.

You took in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “You wanted to speak with me, Professor?”

He set his papers down, and motioned for you to take a seat, which you did. This, this meant something bad, you could tell. Why else would he motion for you to take a seat?

“Prefect,” he sighed tiredly, “have you been taking care of yourself?”

Of course he noticed, Trein, unlike your friends, noticed the familiar look. He noticed the tenseness in your shoulders, and the dark shadows under your eyes. Noticed the cheerful air grow weary, which was such a pity. You shouldn’t have to shoulder everything you do, especially while juggling all of the responsibilities and new knowledge that you’ve been acquiring.

You looked down at your lap, fiddling with your fingers. “No, not really,” you admitted.

Professor Trein nodded, since he already knew that, even without the confirmation. “I won’t press you for details, but I’ll have a discussion with the others, about lightening your workload. Please, do take care of yourself, Prefect.”

Take care of yourself. That’s something you hadn’t really been doing, what with all the errands, the near-death overblot incidents, and the piss poor sleep you’ve been getting lately because of your ‘soul match’.

“I’ll try.” You couldn’t guarantee anything, but you would try.

“Alright then, that’s a start. Now, off you go, lest you be late,” he collected the papers he needed and adjusted his coat, ready for his next lecture. “Be kind to yourself, Prefect.”

…

Sebek woke up that day irritated. What is your damage?! Who did that human think they were? But that statement irked him more than it really should. He wasn’t harmed, his value and worth was not impaired. So why was he so affected by the phrase? Why should he care so much about what a stranger said to him? Because no matter what, they are still your soul match. He shook his head and marched out of his room, going ahead and performing his morning duties, his mood being apparent, following him like a storm cloud.

Silver noticed this as Sebek came to a stop beside him, ready to greet Malleus. “Something is obviously upsetting you,” he murmured, shooting him a sideways look while still standing at attention.

Sebek glared at Silver out of the corner of his eye, his brow slightly pinched. “It’s none of your business,” he hissed under his breath. The last thing he needed was for the Young Master to catch wind that he was distracted while on the job. Malleus wouldn’t really mind, but Sebek wouldn’t forgive himself for his own ineptitude.

Silver sighed and turned his eyes back towards Malleus’s door. “It’s better to admit something than bottle it up Sebek. Eventually the truth will come out, one way or another.”

“Now is not the time for that,” Sebek said, trying to control his volume. “And it doesn’t concern you.” It concerns only me and them.

Silver raised his brow but left well enough alone, he knew better than to egg Sebek on when he was in one of his moods. But he knew that the truth would come out, and he felt like it would rear its ugly head sooner rather than later. He just hoped Sebek didn’t just blow up on the wrong person. Not because Sebek was bad for feeling whatever emotions he was feeling, but because not everyone understood him.

Maybe even Sebek didn’t even understand himself either.

…

You and your soul match were back at the house, but instead of standing straight up like they had a stick up their ass, they were sitting in the tire swing, swinging gently back and forth. And the butterfly that always followed them around, was resting comfortably on their chest, right above their heart. Here was this usually grumpy and tall person, swinging on a tire swing, a butterfly on their chest, and it was kind of cute. In a really weird way. But you could tell they weren’t happy, muttering to themself.

Usually, you would poke the bear to get a reaction out of them, but tonight you didn’t want to. You were too tired to put in the effort. Plus in all the weeks of antagonising each other, you hadn’t really gotten to know them.

“Hi,” you said, coming to rest beside the tire swing.

Your soul match — who was in actuality, Sebek — gave you a curt nod as a hello back. Something was on his mind.

“What did you mean the other day?” He turned to look at you, eyes probing to try and find something that would tell him who you were in the waking world. But your appearance remained fuzzy, except for your eyes, which gleamed softly in the green lighting of the dream. He hadn’t really paid them any attention, but now he was lost in them, and what he saw was tiredness. “What did you mean by, what is my damage?”

Sebek wasn’t angry, which surprised you. You would have thought he would be a thundering storm cloud, but he was more like the cool breeze that came once the storm had passed. And you noticed his eyes, chartreuse with vertical slits. You could have sworn that you had seen those eyes before, you knew those eyes, but the person in mind was evading you.

You sighed, and the butterfly that was resting on his chest took flight, did a loopdeloop, and came to rest over your heart instead. “I don’t know, “ you admitted. “I was angry and tired. My life is just hectic and sleep is usually an escape from that, but instead I found myself in here with you… You didn’t really help either. Kept on looking down on me for being human, so I kinda snapped… I’m sorry.”

Sebek felt his voice get stuck in his throat. I should be the sorry one. But instead he offered his hand to you. A handshake. “Don’t be sorry for your anger; it’s better out than to let it fester.”

You took his answer to heart. It felt weird, the two of you were at each other’s throats for so long, but because of your combined tiredness and realizations, there was a truce of sorts. “So,” you looked Sebek in the eye, “what does this make us?”

He raised a brow, “Well, we are soul matches. The Thorn Fairy decides upon a person who will bring out the best in you, and in turn, you do the same for them.” He scratched the back of his neck. He knew that he had to tell you everything, but it felt like he was doing something wrong; technically this is breaking a rule, but you deserved to know. “We can be anything we want to be. It’s up to us.”

“Huh, that’s nice I guess. That we get to choose what we are. Thought for a second we would be forced together by the narrative to be in a relationship,” you chuckled. But it was nice that you could choose what the two of you were. “For now how about uneasy friends?”

“Uneasy friends?”

“Yeah, ya know I can’t forgive you that easily for dissing my entire species. Kinda hard to forgive that.” Your tone was light, but you were serious. You couldn’t just go from being dearly detested to buddy-buddy with your soul match.

Sebek pursed his lips but he knew that he was in the wrong. “I’m sorry, truly.” And it was genuine. Sebek didn’t hate humans, he loved them, but that love scared him because he knew that they wouldn’t last forever. That you wouldn’t last forever.

You leaned back, splaying out in the grass. “Well, explanations can wait. I for one want to cloud watch. You wanna join?”

Sebek rolled his eyes but decided to humour you. “What does that cloud look like?” To him it just looked like an odd blob.

“Hmmmm, kinda looks like a crocodile in a blanket burrito,” you mused. And you were kind of right, but it still looked like an odd blob to Sebek.

…

Things had quieted down in your and Sebek’s dreams, and for the first time in weeks you felt well rested and not like you were going to randomly pass out in alchemy class only to find yourself headfirst in a cauldron. Plus you felt like you could actually get along with your soul match now, but you still liked to bug them just a little bit so the two of you could bicker. It was fun to see their reactions.

“So, if you’re fae, that must mean that you’re super old right?” You had a shiteating grin on your face, and your words floated around their head, poking at them to mirror what you had said.

Sebek rolled his eyes, he had become accustomed to your sense of humour, it was charming in its own bewildering way. “I am not old!”

You bumped his shoulder, “So you’re just a kid? Ew, gross.”

“I AM NOT A CHILD EITHER!” There it is, that spark, like a bolt of lightning. “If you must know, I am attending a mage school! Therefore, I am not old.”

You hummed, thinking. “What school? Maybe we go to the same one? Although I probably would have recognized you, what with your… unique personality and being fae and all. I don’t think I could mistake you for somebody else.”

Sebek faltered. They attend a mage school? “What do you mean by that, human?”

There was that word again, human, but this time it was said with fondness, without hostility.

“Personality or school?”

Sebek sighed, and massaged his temple. “Why do I feel like you’ll just answer both?”

You sent him a wink, “Because I will!~ Part of my charms.” You chuckled but decided to humour him by getting straight to the point. “Well, even though you can be prickly, you care very deeply. A bit awkward, but in an endearing way. Loud, and opinionated. It would be hard to miss you, ya know. I mean that in a nice way too, by the way.” You stopped, and considered what you were going to say next, as it could mean finding him in the waking world much easier, but you were ready to meet him. “As for the school thing, I go to Night Raven College.”

“WHAT?!” His words were the largest that you had ever seen, and you knew that you probably would have needed to cover your ears if you could actually hear them. “YOU GO TO NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE?! SINCE WHEN?!”

Sebek was distraught. You were so close but he didn’t even know? How could he be so blind?!

“Judging from your reaction I’m guessing you also go there, huh? Small world after all, I guess.” Your words didn’t reflect how you were actually feeling though, they mirrored Sebek’s perfectly. “Since you’re fae, I’m also guessing that you’re in Diasomnia. Am I right?”

Sebek looked at you, beguiled. “Y-yes! And what of you?!”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Huh, weird. “Looks like that’s a dead giveaway…” you muttered. Seems like the Thorn Fairy wasn’t going to make this easy for the two of you. But you got an idea. “Tomorrow at lunch, meet me in the botanical gardens! By the roses!”

You were snatched out from the land of dreams by your alarm going off, but you knew what you needed to do. You were ready to meet them. You were ready to meet your soul match.

…

Sebek was nervous. After so much he was finally going to meet his soul match. He knew he had seen those eyes somewhere before, been subjected to their teasing on several occasions, but the dreams kept your identity secret, shrouded in mystery. But now, now he and you would know. So why was he nervous? You had come to know him in your shared dreams, but Sebek was nervous that you would reject him once you knew who he truly was.

So he had arrived at the botanical garden in a sprint, having run from his class the moment the bell signified it was over. And it was empty, save for the butterflies and other pollinators that flitted about. It gave him time to gather his thoughts, and he paced by the roses, trying to place where he had seen you before. It was all so annoyingly familiar, it was on the tip of his tongue, but your face and name evaded him. Sebek wasn’t used to being nervous.

He had placed nervousness as weakness, as something human. He couldn’t afford to be nervous, not when he had a duty to the crown to fulfil. But maybe being nervous wasn’t bad. Maybe being human wasn’t bad. Yes, they were weak and had their faults, but that’s what made them beautiful. And Sebek realized and accepted that that was just as much a part of him as it was a part of you.

Sure, it was messy, but Sebek was coming to accept that part of himself because of you. And it would be a work in progress, as he had years of a combination of an inferiority and superiority complex due to the mixture of fae and human, but he was willing to work on it. Not just because of you though, it was a combination of you, accepting himself, and forgiving his father.

He was mad at him for so long because it was easier to be mad than to love and then lose him. He was mad for his mother. But now he just wanted to say that he was sorry. That he loved him, that he loved him so much that he was scared of losing him.

The door to the botanical garden opened, and Sebek froze. First impressions are everything! He was about to straighten himself up, but he remembered the last time. This wasn’t a first impression, you knew him, you’ve known him for a while. So, he relaxed, he took a seat on the bench next to the roses. And focused on calming his breathing.

A butterfly, a pale green butterfly, flew around his head before coming to rest on his shoulder, crawling leisurely until it got to a comfy spot, sitting above his heart.

He looked up from looking fondly at the small insect to find you, his soul match, standing in the middle of the path with a butterfly, the same colour as his, resting on your heart.

“I knew that you felt familiar! Ha ha!” You smiled, like you had just won something.

And Sebek felt the same.

Fin!~

Author's Notes; I love Sebek, but I also like bugging him, so I kinda made the reader a menace in this one. Go forth! Be menaces in the world! Huzzah!

Tags; @xxoomiii, @eynnwwyjth, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @savanaclaw1996

Masterlist~

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clockwayswrites · 2 years

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Specter of Starlight - Part 1

Summary:

Tim meets a specter of a ghost on a roof. He doesn't know that, not at first. At first he just meets a friend. It's only later he becomes very, very scared for him.

Content warning:

While I promise a happy ending, this fic does not start out happy. The start of this fic deals with (mistaken) suicidal ideation. Neither character is, but the assumption is made and there's a lot of internal thoughts about running into someone on a ledge in the middle of the night and how to handle that. Proceed carefully, darlings.

Wc: 666 (coincidentally spooky)

_____

Sometimes a person on a roof was just a person on a roof— someone out to get some fresh air or distance or space. Sometimes a person on a roof was a tragedy waiting to happen. As protectors of the city, the Bats had to learn to tell the difference.

They tried to stop every time that they could, just in case, but when they were in the middle of a chase or attack they had to make a call. They all had choices that haunted them. They could only make the best guess based on what they knew. Obvious apartment complexes, lower buildings, people on the phone or smoking, in the middle of the roof— if they didn’t have the time, those were usually safe to pass on. Tonight it was an office building, several stories high, a person sitting on the edge of the building as silent and still as the stone gargoyle they were next to. Tonight Tim wasn’t going to risk passing by. At least the figure was looking up and not down. Maybe it was okay. Please be okay. Tim landed lightly, almost soundlessly, on the roof. Still, he saw the shoulders of the person stiffen ever so slightly. They had heard him. Tim let the toe of his boot catch purposefully on the aggregate of the roof— let himself be obvious in his presence. He went kept wide. It was far enough away not to be a threat (that was a lie, Tim would always be a threat) but close enough that at this height he would have time to catch the person if they jumped. With ease, Tim hopped up onto the ledge and let his feet dangle out over the open air. For him the height was comforting, an old friend. “What brings you all the way up here?” Don’t ask them if they’re going to jump. Don’t ask them if they’re that far gone. Don’t cement the idea in their mind. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim took in what details he could in dim light. Dark hair— black likely but possibly dark brown. Late teens likely, early twenties if they were a late bloomer. Which was possible. They’re far too lean— lean enough to be pushing into gaunt. Bright blue eyes flicked to look at Tim and then back up to the sky. “Stargazing.” Tim stared up at the cloud cover that was so thick not a bit of starlight sneaked through. They snorted, as if reading Tim’s mind. “Yeah, it’s not being very cooperative.” There’s a subtle drawl to their voice. Midwest accent, Tim’s subconscious supplies, not a Gotham native. Not even someone who’s been here long enough to lose the accent. Just long enough to be up on a roof in the middle of the night. Their voice is almost lost in the night air even though it’s still as death. There’s not a single breeze to snatch their words away, but the voice is still just a little hard to hear. “I don’t think you’re going to be in luck tonight,” Tim replied. “Lady Gotham isn’t known to be accommodating.” They gave a long hum at that, clearly thinking something over. “Guess I’m not really stargazing then.” “So what would you say you’re doing?” Tim tried to keep his voice casual. They gave a little shrug, eyes still glued to the murky sky. “Just… wondering it must be like… to die without getting to see the stars one last time.” Tim jolted towards them instinctively, his hands gripped white knuckled tight on the ledge to avoid reaching out. Don’t do anything that might give them a reason to jump. The stranger glanced at Tim again. A crooked smile graced their lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Tim wants to say he’s not scared. It would be a lie. “I’m not up here to jump, I promise. I very much want to live.” Tim wanted desperately to believe that.

_____

AN: Finally wrote the start of this last night when I couldn't sleep. I gave it a rough polish so here it is! I don't know if I'll post all of it on tumblr, as I think I want to play around with chapter pacing for effect, but have this here at least. (Also I cannot tell you how many times I wrote Tim as TIme.) As always, stay delightful.

@michealawithana | @skulld3mort-1fan | @legowerewolf | @tsukihimeyfan | @bahfev

#dp x dc #danny fenton #tim drake #brain dead #dead tired #i think those are both the ship names #yes?#tim/danny #tw sui ideation #tw suicidal ideation #not really but it's feared #let me know if there needs to be more cw tags #specter of starlight

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writteninlunarlight-years · 2 months

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Ex! Husk x Reader

FWB! Vox x Reader

Moon~

(Some pretty upsetting stuff happened to me, and like always, when I am down, I gotta write those emotions out so I don't have writer's block. This is sad and ouchie, yet let me know if you want Husk’s side of the story or even a happy ending. Thank you to those who support me and my writing)

Tw: verbal abuse, rage, depression, anxiety, poor life choices, unresolved issues

The day you two met was still ingrained in your memory like yesterday. You were being chased by mob bosses on the streets. The moon's glow guided you as you thought about seeking refuge in that glitzy Casino; fingers crossed, you would be lost in the sea of noise and flashing lights. Though your wish came true and you managed to avoid the boss, Scott free, you never expected to land face-to-face with the man you had.

He had a beautiful black and white tuxedo fit, a half-buttoned dress shirt with an excellent-fitting pinstripe jacket, and a cigar hanging from his mouth. Looking up at him, you know fear was the feeling that should be coursing through you, yet what you felt was unadulterated lust and desire. He was your aphrodisiac; nothing else would compare.

He took a special interest in you, too. Not every day does someone bring danger into the feared Casino Overlord's home, let alone look him dead in the eye the way you did. Originally, it was just a job, a simple work experience to help keep you out of trouble. That changed all too soon, though.

Gifts appeared at your hotel room door, from lovely outfits to perfumes and even jewelry. He tried to woo you, but you had already fallen for him. Eventually, your job at the bar turned into sitting on his lap at the card table. You would relax him when he lost and congratulate him when he won. One excellent win resulted in him bedding you, claiming you as his. One soul contract later, and you were his and his alone.

To go back in time and alter reality would be a miracle; that isn’t life, though. Instead, your life here was a moment of looking up at the moon from a new location that was no longer the Casino.

You and Husk got in your fights; everyone did. Yet Husk, when he was drunk, was temperamental; he was angry and hated losing. No amount of sex, cuddles, or kisses could fix it. What went from gifts and showers of affection turned into arguments and cold nights of sleeping alone. He would never raise a hand to you, but raising his voice became a new constant as his power in the scene of the Overlords faltered.

Years of arguments and false promises about things getting better and you two overcoming anything opened you both up to weakness… Then they came in—the young upstart overlords Vox and Alastor, ready to gamble with the big cat on day one. The two were charming, and charisma ebbed off of them in waves.

You did your due diligence at your job that damned night, smiling, flirting, anything to knock them off their game. If Husk beat the up-and-coming stars of hell, maybe he would feel better than he had been. You were wrong, though, because he didn’t win, and neither did you.

A deal was struck. The man you loved and grew to care for, even through the fighting and long cold nights, sold you off. In one game, your new soul owner was Vox. It was a blur—there was yelling, chains breaking and forming, and you being taken away.

When you woke the next day, you were in a small penthouse of Vox’s. You were his ‘lover’ now, as he put it. Husk had sold you off. Tears streamed down your face as you realized the love you harbored for him was not the same love he harbored for you.

Vox was kind to you; he cared for and treated you like royalty. When his fallout with Alastor happened not too long after, you two only had each other to pick up the pieces; you wouldn’t say the relationship that formed between you two was out of desire or want; it was a necessity to stay alive.

You two may sleep together and pretend in front of cameras, but at night, you both think of who you once loved. The people who hurt you both in intricate and damning ways. The people who strengthened your bonds together to the point that you two found the most comfort in one another.

You were always on the sidelines when the Vees came around and got big. The connection you and Vox had made you off limits to the other two Vee’s. He didn’t want you whored out; He didn’t want you as a model; he wanted you to find happiness like he was searching for.

Yet every night, you two lie on opposite sides of the bed, looking out the grand window and remembering your happiness left a long time ago. Your’s when Husk sold you off like a pawn, and Vox when Alastor became too good for him. Both of you have deep, untreated wounds. Vox grew angrier as years turned to decades, yet he never raised his voice at you. He knew of the life you lived prior to him taking on your soul. As for you the pain over the decades just turned to more profound loathing and sadness for you.

You loved Husk, you still did, and on nights when Vox would go out with the Vees or consummate their relationship, you would find yourself sitting outside on the balcony of Vox’s penthouse, staring at the moon. Sometimes, you wonder, ‘Does he see the same moon as I do?’ ‘Does he miss me like I miss him?’

Your questions were sadly answered one day, much to your dismay. You were opting to witness the downfall of Alastor with Vox on the day of the extermination, and that’s when you saw him. Not only did Alastor not die, and the hotel stood tall once more, but Husk was one of Alastor’s souls…making those same eyes he once made for you at a spider demon.

Vox noticed your change in mood and quickly calmed his destructive rage to help you, but it was too late. You saw it all right there on his 4 K screen. You were replaced, unloved, and not wanted. You were only ever a pawn to try and keep power for as long as he could, until Alastor had his soul, and then Alastor dropped Vox.

Swallowing the tears, you excused yourself to the room and went straight to the balcony. Looking on the horizon, you could see the Hazbin Hotel, where Husk was probably smitten with the spider demon. Choked, pained sobs left your frame as you screamed at the moon like it was all its fault for leading you to that casino when you were running from the mob bosses.

When Vox found you, it was a sorry sight. You were curled up on the balcony in a ball, silent sobs wracking your body. Vox explained that the spider was one of Val’s souls, that he knew Husk was Alastor’s soul, but that since he had your soul, Alastor would never let you near. You laughed sadly; Vox wasn’t wrong. The minute that word got out that Alastor stole an overlord's soul, he dropped Vox. You never imagined the soul would be Husk’s.

Vox helped pick you up and leaned you against his chest as you two looked up at the moon, “Hey, Vox, do you think they are looking at the same moon?”

#x reader #lunarwritings #moons #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbinhotel #hotel hazbin #husk hazbin hotel #husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #husker #husk x reader

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lilyginnyblackv2 · 2 years

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Misaki and Kazuki - Miri’s Mother and Her New Papa - SPOILERS!

I really hope that we get to see Misaki (Miri’s Mom) and Kazuki interact again.

In the interaction that we got in Episode 3, both Misaki and Kazuki were making assumptions about each other and their connection and experience (or lack thereof) with childcare based solely on their genders.

They both show room to grow as people. Kazuki as a caretaker of a child, since he is still fairly (though not completely) new to the concept of parenthood, and Misaki as a person who values herself, her dreams, and learning to nurture the small goodness that we see inside of her (like when she tells Kazuki to sit down so she can care for the cut she caused to his face).

Both of these characters have experienced trauma, and Misaki is stuck in a cycle of abuse. I don’t think Misaki is going to be a one-off character, not only because of this image from the OP, which is very likely her crying eye (the eye color, makeup, and eyelashes are all the same):

But also because of this tweet from her Japanese VA:

The English text reads:

I play the role of a character named Misaki Unasaka. Let me stop here for now. I hope to see the story through with you all.

(Note, I really appreciate that her VA also wrote the message in English!)

To me, that indicates that she will be making an appearance again. Over on r/anime, I saw some thinking that Misaki would only show up again if she learns that Miri has inherited a lot of money or something. But, well...

I don’t think that is likely, since we don’t even know if that mafia boss was aware that Miri had been born/existed. Also, inheriting mafia money is probably a bit complicated, and I doubt his actual wife (if she survived, tbh, I can’t remember off hand) would allow that. But even more so than that, I feel like it would just be falling into stereotypes, and be too much of a black and white depiction of child-rearing (in a negative sense) that Buddy Daddies has largely avoided up until now.

They’ve done great stuff with the Red and Blue Oni Trope. Kazuki is the red oni, and he is more expressive and open, but he isn’t as impulsive, which is Rei, imo.

Rei is the blue one who is colder and more closed off, but he is also the more childish of the two.

Miri’s associated color is pink (with orange being her secondary, and honestly more fitting color), but she doesn’t have a demure or stereotypical girlish personality (because goodness knows gender presentation starts that young).

So, I don’t think they would just write Misaki’s character like that - leans too much into poor and easy writing. Also, it goes against the writers wanting to make the child-rearing experience feel realistic.

Personally, I would much rather that they meet up again (or even a few times) and we get to see Misaki learning to value herself and reach a better place mentally and emotionally - finally being able to leave her abuser behind (perhaps with the help of Kazuki and Rei). BUT, her “happy ending” WON’T be becoming Miri’s mother and caretaker again.

How refreshing would it be to see a woman’s story end like that? Realize that the best thing she could do for her daughter and herself is to not be her mother or caretaker. While the proper and best caretakers and parents for Miri are two men. That’s a message we need to see more - the ideas that not all men are bumbling idiots who can’t care for kids and that not all women are natural caretakers.

Misaki and Kazuki both claim these things to be true, in how they spoke and interacted with each other in this most recent episode, Ep. 3. So, let’s see the series and future interactions prove them wrong and have them learn and grow together - coming to an understanding that these preconceived stereotypes simply aren’t true.

#Buddy Daddies #Kazuki Kurusu #Miri Unasaka #Misaki Unasaka #BD spoilers #Buddy Daddies spoilers #speculation post #meta post #long post #this may not happen ofc #but I would love it if it did!

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1218-814 · 7 months

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Twisted Wonderland Analysis (Tarot Card Offical Countdown Art)

Ace (23) and Duce (22)- No cards (in Major Arcana), The fool(s). Meaning new beginnings, having faith in the future, being inexperienced, not knowing what to expect, having beginner's luck, improvisation, and believing in the universe.

Normal: Beginnings, Innocence, Leap of faith, Originality, Spontaneity

Upside down/reversed: Chaos, Folly, Lack of direction, Naivety, Poor judgment, Stupidity

I’m going to think Ace and Deuce are both the fool. I’m sure that they will the strongest card (the ace of spades). So the card confirms that they will be. In central Europe, the fool is the 22nd and the strongest card, which confirms this theory more.

They are both the first students MC interacts with (without Grimm), which is the “new beginnings”

In the commercial of the Heartslabyul arc, you can see Cater and Trey on the edge of the screen showing most of their faces. But Ace and Duce show only show half of their Faces. This isn’t really about the card “The Fool” but it could mean they will be an odd card up the sleeve

My card is in black, white, and red as well, so I think I used the right version, just because the cards’ color and the color of the Heartslabyul dorm are alike if not similar. (Ace=red and Deuce=black in my opinion)

In my version “the fool” has a crown in their hand. So I can conclude that the crown symbolizes “power”, I think he’s trying to communicate with someone who is higher than him (gods, rulers, etc.) using it. And the stick he’s holding represents fertility, which has a strong correlation to “trickster”, and the ends of the stick can also correlate to having two opposite ends (figuratively). Thus, it means that the person symbolizes being a fool, but they still have a side that calculates a plan. So it can also mean that the person, while not having a plan, still has a plan (Wikipedia, and yes, it's confusing sorry.)

Rook calls MC “Trickster Yuu-Kun”. The name does confirm this theory (fool=trickster). (”Trickster”- one who has two sides, the one who will change the story) And it is MC, Duce, and Ace that make a huge impact on the story.

Cater Diamond (21)- The World Za Warudo; represents an ending to a cycle of life, a pause in life before the next big cycle beginning with the fool. It is an indicator of a major and inexorable change, of tectonic breadth.

Normal: Achievement, Perfection, Fulfillment, Possibilities, Successful conclusions

Upside down/reversed: Delayed success, Failed plans, Lack of completion, Stagnation

Cater's last name is “Diamond”. Diamonds are the hardest jewel and are called the “king of all gemstones”, but they are also very brittle.

Cater is a very optimistic character, but he is also secretly very insecure about himself, so he hides his true self and acting the “perfect and strong diamond” to public

Trey Clover (20)- Judgement; time of resurrection and awakening, a time when a period of our life comes to an absolute end making way for dynamic new beginnings.

Normal: Awakening, Decision making, Redemption, Reincarnation, Renewal, Transition

Upside down/reversed: Poor logic, Poor or hasty judgment, Self-doubt, Stagnation

Trey didn’t stop Riddle when he was making unreasonable rules (poor judgment), which caused riddle to overblot, and this makes him have stagnation with his judgment.

But, the card means “renewal” which could represent his unique magic (Doodle Suit overwrites with what one imagines)

Riddle Rosehearts(19): The Sun; The card portends good fortune, happiness, joy and harmony. It represents the universe coming together and agreeing with your path and aiding forward movement into something greater.

Normal: Enlightenment, Joy, Marriage, Material happiness, Success, Vitality

Upside down/reversed: False impressions, Lack of clarity, Low Vitality, Sadness

When people first think of the sun, they tend to think of Kalim. But in this case with the Marseille cards, Riddle is the perfect fit for it.

In the Marseille card of the tower, it looks like the “sun” is spewing out what looks like flames to the tower removing the crown-like top, which may be a reference for Riddle’s unique magic, “Off with your head.”

In the Savannaclaw arc, Riddle managed to stop Leona from overblotting too soon. Also, Leona’s overblot form uses nature, While 2 of the dorm SSR cards are fire-based, which makes him have an advantage over Leona

In his past, he was raised very strictly, which may also make him symbolize “sadness”

Jack Howl(18): The Moon; the card of illusion and deception, and therefore often suggests a time when something is not as it appears to be. Perhaps a misunderstanding on your part, or a truth you cannot admit to yourself.

Normal: Deception, Difficult period, Fear, Hidden things, Insecurity, Mental confusion

Upside down/reversed: Insomnia, Mysteries unveiled, Release of fear, Unhappiness, Unusual

In the Savannaclaw arc, he was disappointed in Leona, whom he thought he was above doing those things (difficult period and hidden things).

After he and Ruggie were able to respect Leona again after the overblot and Leona can try his best. (Release of Fear)

His unique magic and hair do have some elements of “The Moon (a transformation like a werewolf (unusual)

At night, he (the moon) and “the stars” are the only ones near the height of “The Tower”

Ruggie Bucchi(17): The Star; you are likely to find yourself feeling inspired. It brings renewed hope and faith and a sense that you are truly blessed by the universe at this time.

Normal: Astronomy, Good health, Hope, Inspiration, Opportunities, Spirituality

Upside down/reversed: Despair, Disappointments, Illness, Missed opportunities

In the Savanna Claw arc, said something about opposing people's thoughts but he was disappointed when Leona said they could never be first.

After the overblot he has hope that he and Leona, the king he chose, can win the Magical shift tournament next year

Ruggie is the star, so he will not leave “The Tower’s” side (Leona)

Leona Kingscholar(16): The Tower; commonly interpreted as meaning danger, crisis, destruction, and liberation. It is associated with sudden unforeseen change.

Normal: Accident or damage, Catastrophe, Destruction, Renovation, Unexpected

Upside down/reversed: Illness, Losses, Obstacles, Volatile situation

I don’t know if you’ve heard about this theory, but there is a theory that Leona is an important person in the ‘infinite loop theory’, and that's why he is repeating the grade, to break the loop.

In the opening, you see him standing in a very high place, which could represent the tower.

Floyd Leech(15)- The Devil; being seduced by the material world and physical pleasures. Also living in fear, domination and bondage, being caged by an overabundance of luxury, discretion should be used in personal and business matters.

Normal: Bondage, Enslavement, Fear, Feeling trapped, Materialism, Temptation, Unhealthy relationships

Upside down/reversed: Breaking from addictions, Divorce, Freedom from restraints

Bondage, enslavement, feeling trapped... Floyd hates shackles, which I assume is “bondage”

Floyd is usually hard to read like the card, as well as being a free-minded character.

Jade Leech (14)- Temperance; indicates that you should learn to bring about balance, patience, and moderation in your life. You should take the middle road, avoid extremes and maintain a sense of calm.

Normal: Alchemy, Balance, Connecting with your guides, Harmony, Looking for divine intervention, Moderation

Upside down/reversed: Disharmony, Imbalance, Lack of patience, Onset of illness

Jade seems like a patient man, but the card says differently. If we see the ceremonial robes SSR cards, you can see that Riddle would agree that Jade is not what meets the eye. Yeah, Trey you need new glasses

Jade is probably holding back his true self; In the card, there’s an angel-like figure who has wings. Maybe, it’s suggesting the idea that Jade seems like an angel, but he’s just a demon in disguise.

Azul Ashengrotto (13)-Death; Unlikely that this card actually represents a physical death. Typically it implies an end, possibly of a relationship or interest, and therefore implies an increased sense of self-awareness.

Normal: Endings, Failure, Letting go of attachments, Mortality, Profound change, Severe illness

Upside down/reversed: Delayed endings, Depression, Living unaware, Long terminal illness, Resistance to change

In the Octavinelle arc it goes: Letting of his past (attachments and depression)> Taking away other’s power because of his unfair deals (endings)> his contracts become sand> Overblot. Then after the overblot he has restarted his career (Profound change)

In a wider sense, he literally symbolizes death. In the Scarabia arc, because he came, Jamil overblotted (Ending, Bad in this case).

Jamil Viper (12)- The Hanged Man; the card that suggests ultimate surrender, sacrifice, or being suspended in time.

Normal: Breaking old patterns, Circumspection, Letting go, Metamorphosis, Suspension

Upside down/reversed: Egotism, Inability to change, Missing an opportunity

Jamil sacrificed so much. He killed his own feelings and was suspended in time (in some sense), incapable to change, and wanted to be king, but in the end it all went to waste (missed an opportunity)

Kalim Al-Asim (11): Strength; predicts the triumphant conclusion to a major life problem, situation or temptation through the strength of character. It is a very happy card if you are fighting illness or recovering from injury.

Normal: Confidence, Enjoying power, Inner strength, Potency, Self-belief, Virility, Vitality

Upside down/reversed: Hedonism, Lack of self-control, Lacking courage, Self-doubt, Vanity

In this case, I would say that this is most likely, represented by, Kalim’s unique magic. Oasis maker requires him little effort while being very powerful. Depending on how he uses it, it could end up even killing people.

His personality says most of the reversed card, he holds many parties (hendonism) and he get’s Jamil to do most of his dorm leader work.

Epel Felmier (10)- Wheel of Fortune; common aspect to most interpretations of this card within a reading is to introduce an element of change in the querent's life, such change being in station, position or fortune: such as the rich becoming poor, or the poor becoming rich.

Normal: Chance, Changes, Destiny, Luck, Opportunity, Winning

Upside down/reversed: Bad luck, Disappointment, Misfortune, Mishap, Unforeseen setback

In the game he has an achievement (?) called “the pretty boy with thin luck”, I think fate will work for him this time, and he gets to challenge Vil (Change and chance)

His fate with MC and the others will change in the future is what I also think.

Rook Hunt (9)- The Hermit; suggests that you are in a phase of introspection where you are drawing your attention inwards and looking for answers within. You are in need of a period of inner reflection, away from the current demands of your position.

Normal: Introspection, Meditation, Self-reflection, Solitude, Soul-searching, Withdrawal from society, Helper

Upside down/reversed: Exile, Loneliness, Misfit, Sadness, Withdrawing from loved ones

The normal ones are basically his personality

Rook is a character to help understand Vil, such as in the Lab Coat story.

Literally, his unique magic is called "I see you"

He did not help Vil, being the one who was always loyal to him in the Pomfiore arc.

Vil Schoenheit (8)- Justice; indicates that the fairest decision will be made. Justice is the sword that cuts through a situation, and will not be swayed by outer beauty when deciding what is fair and just.

Normal: Balance and equilibrium, Cause and effect, Fairness, Justice, Responsibilty

Upside down/reversed: Dishonesty, Imbalance, Lack of accountability, Legal flaws, Unfair treatment

Vil is very unfair to people, such as Epel,

He also does acept other’s opinion if they are actually trying, such as Jack in his Gym Uniform story.

He does judge people all the same (but he doesn’t like people that don’t put effort)

Other than the “fair” in the card it can also mean “fair” as in beauty; His counterpart is known for using the word in that meaning

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall who is the fairest of them all?”

Ortho Shroud (7)- The Chariot; card about overcoming conflicts and moving forward in a positive direction. One needs to keep going on and through sheer hard work and commitment he will be victorious.

Normal: A journey, Ambition, Confidence, Drive, Overcoming obstacles, Will power

Upside down/reversed: Lack of direction, Scattered energy, Self-doubt, Going out of control, Selfish

Othro is the only one in the whole countdown who is upside down, hence making all the meanings reversed.

If you pay close attention to his personality he is some what selfish, such as him unleashing his beam.

Idia Should (6)- The Lovers; represent relationships and choices. Its appearance in a spread indicates some decision about an existing relationship, a temptation of the heart, or a choice of potential partners. Often an aspect of the querent's life will have to be sacrificed; a bachelor(ette)'s lifestyle may be sacrificed and a relationship gained (or vice versa), or one potential partner may be chosen while another is turned down. Whatever the choice, it should not be made lightly, as the ramifications will be lasting.

Normal: Being at a crossroads, Choices, Commitment, Falling in love, Partnerships

Upside down/reversed: A broken relationship, Infidelity, Relationship issues, Separation

The relationship is his relationship with Ortho.

He made a choice in the past that he should have not made lightly. aka the one that lead to his brother's death

Sebek Zigvolt (5)- The Hierophant/Pope; seen seated on a throne between two pillars symbolizing law and liberty or obedience and disobedience. He wears a triple crown, and the keys to Heaven are at his feet.

Normal: Education, Learning, Marriage, Religion, Seeking counsel or advice, Spiritual guidance, Tradition, Trust

Upside down/reversed: Abuse of position, Breakdown, Poor counsel, Rejection of family values

He may as well breakdown because of his loyalty to Malleus

He holds the stick like the card in the left hand.

He worships Malleus (religion) and he trusts him too much

Silver (4)- The Emperor;suggestive of stability and security in life. You are on top of things and everything in under your control. It is your hard work, discipline and self control that have bought you this far. It means that you are in charge of your life now setting up your own rules and boundaries.

Normal: Authority, Father figure, Law and order, Leadership, Power, Promotion

Upside down/reversed: Control freak, Immaturity, Lack of discipline, Loss of authority, Manipulative friends

Silver is based on a non-villan character and protects Malleus. His non-elemental magic is light

He is going to be the axis of the story; he said “I think I have met you before”

The card resembles the picture very much

In his lab coat story, he holds a book that is the exact opposite color of what others have.

He does bring order within the Diasomnia arc

Lilia Vanrouge (3)- The Empress; traditionally associated with maternal influence, is the card if you are hoping to start a family. She can represent the creation of life, romance, art, or new business.

Normal: A new opportunity, Abundance, Maternal care, Nurturing, Pregnancy, Stability, futility

Upside down/reversed: Domestic problems, Financial issues, Stagnation, Unwanted pregnancy

Lilia is the father figure of Malleus and Silver

His talent is lullabies (nurturing)

It also can mean fertility, unknown, and time (apparently idk)> symbolizing his long life. Unknown> What we see is an altered appearance? fertility> He literally hatched Malleus

Malleus Draconia (2)- The High Priestess; a card of mystery, stillness, and passivity. This card suggests that it is time to retreat and reflect upon the situation and trust your inner instincts to guide you through it. Things around you are not what they appear to be right now.

Normal: Hidden talents, Intuition, Mystery, Spiritual insight, Things yet to be revealed

Upside down/reversed: information withheld, Lack of personal harmony, Secrets

Literally Maleficent. nothing else

Might hold some of the keys?

What I can say now is that he needs to retreat and reflect because what he did in chapter 7 is not nice.

Dire Crowley (1)- The Magician; it points to the talents, capabilities and resources at the querent's disposal to succeed. The message is to tap into one's full potential rather than holding back, especially when there is a need to transform something.

Normal: Determined, Dexterity, Resourceful, Skilled, Strong powerful man

Upside down/reversed: Communication blocks, Confusion, Deceit, Ill intentions, Lack of energy

By looking at the card and characters, then the most reasonable to think that will betray us is him

He may be the person who made the world of Twisted Wonderland. (There was a black magician named Crowley in Britain)

~~~

These are from their respective sources, mainly for personal reference

Also, I wrote this like 2 years ago and touched up. So Im sorry if I'm wrong

Likes, reblogs, and follows are always appreciated :)

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m1ssunderstanding · 8 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 21: The Concert

Every time they're not on camera I simultaneously feel so relieved for them and so upset that I don't get to watch. Messed up of me, but hey. Remember that slightly disturbing quote where Paul said he actually does believe he's kind of public property and he's fine with that?

He looks so determined. Like the fairy tale prince staring down the dragon or Enjolras about to hijack a funeral (Literally my baby was conceived after I watched this in IMAX so if that tells you anything about my feelings . . . I'm going to be annoying I'm sorry I can't help it)

Her legs look so good in those tights! I love that Mo came not because her boyfriend needs his mommy but because she wants to see them perform! Kissing her on the mouth right now.

Danger boy Paul!

Fun fact, I was this John for Halloween in 2021 to a college party. My hair was already like that, and I had dirty white keds and black jeans, so I just did fake sideburns, fake glasses, and a fake fur coat. I tried to get my best friend to be Paul. She wanted to be a hooker, and I was like “It’s the same thing!”

See, look at him and his whorish ways!

John’s little lip-bit smile. He’s so happy with himself nailing that solo. Cutie.

Cocky boys. As they should be. I love when they’re proud of their work together. Get Back is 95% just Looks between John and Paul, isn’t it?

John and Paul instantly jump into their little “humble working class entertainers” act. You know what just occurred to me? You know how they talked about the “rattle your jewelry” comment backstage and Paul dared John to say it? I wonder if they talked about the “audition” comment too.

It really is a beautiful thing they’re doing. It’s lovely, watching everyon leave their desk jobs and their shopping and whatever else to sit in their fire escapes and congregate in the street and huddle together on rooftops. It really is just like the happy end in a sixties zeitgeist movie.

All the girls nervous to be too enthusiastic after years of being made fun of themselves and watching others like them being mocked on TV. Let girls like things, damnit!

Mo jamming! I’m in love.

John mouthing Paul’s lyrics.

“Paul McCartney singing that. What a voice.” Literally me if time travel existed.

“And if SOMEBODY loved me like she does,” Well, it is good manners to look at the person you’re talking to, I guess. But you do have an audience, John. And a mic and a camera.

“Absolutely disrupt all the business in this area.” Yes! Get those blue meanies, boys!

“No lay rishi gahd blay bloojaygoo” should replace all the stupid quotes the Lennon estate puts on everything they sell. Then I’d actually want their shit. Paul trying to magic the words from his head into John’s there. Successfully, though.

That “Pleeeeeheeeeease” is one of the prettiest beatles vocal moments. I love it with all my heart. And clearly, so does Paul. Doing that thing he does, inappropriately thrusting into his bass.

Oh my gosh it’s the song Paul and John do together on tour right now!

That “Yyyyyeeeeeah, yeaaaaaah!” (I mean the whole song, the whole concert, but especially that) does things to me.

John’s extremely blurry, because he turned his head quick enough to give him whiplash there, sorry everyone. But look! They’re having the time of their lives! They just love performing together so much!

Everyone goes to check on their accumulating audience. (except Paul. Wonder what that’s about.)Ringo’s little pleasantly surprised smile is so so sweet!

It must be so fun for them to be performing One after 909 again after all these years. Bitter sweet with everything that’s changed since then.

LMAO Kevin thank you for your service!

He’s a silly cutie.

The mic in the street asking that girl if she’d like them to come back every lunchtime. Imagine if they did? How cute would that be? Like back to their cavern lunchtime shows. Maybe that could’ve saved them.

Them playing God Save the Queen reminds me of that story where Brian was like, “This bigger manager wants to buy your contract from me, and I just wanted to be straight with you. They could probably get better deals for you.” and they were like, “If you sell us to him we’re only playing God Save the Queen from that moment on.” It’s probably a fake story, but that’s what it made me think of.

I always think that quote of Paul’s is so strange, where he was like “I never got the chance to watch John while we were playing.” Like. What are you talking about, baby?

Literally “Uh. Yeah. Uh. Yeah.” Fucking his bass. Staring at John. Okay? And I’m not supposed to take that and run with it? I’m not supposed to assume from that that you want to fuck your songwriting partner?

I think he genuinely wants to get arrested. I really do. I think he wants them all to get arrested so they can finally be alone in a room together. A lovely cell for four. Just shimmying at them. And Billy looking at him like, Bro. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Paul’s “woo” and shimmy :: John’s “woo” and weird little kick move. And Paul looks so fond, of course.

God bless Mal for stalling those little fucks as long as humanly possible. And Debbie! “Don’t actually go on the roof because it’s overweight.” Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss!

Absolutely LOVE John and George turning their amps back on. That’s right. You guys are what’s keeping the country going at this point, so if you want to play on your roof they better let you play on your roof and say thank you.

All the times when they just simultaneously turn to each other. Like, yes, this is our que to stare hungrily into each other’s eyes.

My stomach just dropped at those words across the screen. “This was the Beatles’ last public performance.” We know, Peter Jackson. You don’t have to remind us. Jeez.

John and Paul’s two very different but equally important leadership roles in the band at work here at the end of the concert. John delivers his iconic line, makes everyone laugh, and seals the band’s last performance with a very tight bow. Meanwhile, Paul’s climbing the gate to bypass the crowd and schmooze the police out of arresting Mal.

THIS is sooo cute. Heads buried together and John’s very sweet, “‘s’matter? Hmm?”

George is so cute here in the control room afterward. No wonder they don’t listen to his not wanting to do things, honestly, if he acts like this after. “What’s the law say why you can’t do that? Well how disturbing the peace? Yeah, I’m for taking over London. And every rock group in the world all on different buildings, playing the same tune.” Adorable.

Poor John. It breaks my heart that he doesn’t think his little lyric flub is funny. He’s disappointed in himself. I wish he could see that that’s one of the things everyone loves about him. George was grinning ear to ear about it. For fuck’s sake, that’s one of the reasons Paul fell in love with you in the first place. If only John could see himself the way we see him, you know?

This little moment cracks me up. John always has to be mommy’s naughty little boy, and Yoko does a very sweet job of playing her part here.

Linda and Paul are so touchy and clingy and it’s very romantic and I love that Ringo joins in and makes fun of them.

The whole after-show glow for everyone was just so palpable and fantastic. I wish they could've gone on performing together. Clearly it made all of them very happy.

#and that's that #Apparently we've got a bonus day though that I forgot existed #so that's nice #Or not for anyone that was excited to not see these on your dash lol #tumblr live #paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

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mikareo · 11 months

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⌗ RENAISSANCE ₊ ˖ ་. rin itoshi x fem reader (2.1k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ he's never been one to appreciate art, but you've given him a new set of eyes— the love he feels for you is overwhelming, and he hopes it lasts forever. (bonus for rationalism and romanticism; necessary to read first!)

contains; colorblind!rin, painter!reader, rin’s mom is reader’s art mentor, swearing, immense fluff, kissing, sae and rin actually have a good relationship, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness author's note; bonus ending for rationalism/romanticism!

This is a fancy-ass venue.

Rin can’t help but feel underdressed for the occasion, despite being clad in a fitted white button up and black tie, whilst his dress-shoes cramp his feet in the worst ways imaginable. He almost looks like that one moviestar in the romantic comedy you love so much. Was it the one with the rich guy in Singapore or the one where they worked in an office and he was a businessman? Rin can’t remember. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter either way. He’s distracting himself too much, he needs to focus— tonight is one of the most important nights of your career. No, it is the most important night for your future career. His mother contacted every big art distributor and critic that she has professional relationships with. It’s your night…and wow did you kill it.

It’s almost as if you’ve plastered yourself across the walls. Every art piece that his eyes roll over is exceptionally you - your personality, your passions, and your heart - and it’s obvious you’ve spent months curating the most perfect array of paintings a person could muster.

He can read your story like an open book while he slowly makes his way through the gallery. There are paintings depicting your childhood, ones that remind him of the stories you tell him of your primary school drama and premature interests. That one must be when you broke your arm while learning to ride your bike. You’re particularly stuck on that story— strongly stating how upset you were because it was your dominant arm, halting your ability to paint for seven weeks. Referencing your painting passion, there’s a whole array of canvases dedicated to your love for art; beginning with inspirations of immaturity to skillful selections of texture techniques. Rin is obviously no art critic, but if he were, he’d write a whole expose on how amazing you are.

With his mind so engaged with your talent, he’s oblivious to the people passing by; so oblivious that he doesn’t even notice his own family approaching.

“She’s talented isn’t she?”

Holy shit. The familiar voice of his mother startles Rin, but he instinctively wraps a loose arm around her waist and greets her with a grin. She returns the affectionate expression and it’s painfully obvious that he got his smile from her, and even more painfully obvious that they’re all related when Sae walks up with his teeth beaming. Long lashes and a toothy grin, the physical brand of the Itoshi family; famous in not only football, but good looks!

“Y’know I always knew she had an innate ability.” Miss Itoshi has a faint smile on her face, gazing at her youngest son with nothing but pure happiness. It’s a true display of a mother’s love for her youngest son, and Rin doesn’t know what he’d do without her guidance. She squeezes his side and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. God, he’d be so embarrassed if his teammates saw this. “Though, I always thought she specialized in artwork.”

Hm? Rin sends a puzzled glance in her direction. What is she going on about?

His mom continues, knowing her son well enough that he needs a clear explanation in order to understand anything at all, and presses her hand against his chest. “I didn’t realize she was so skilled at touching hearts.”

His heart is beating faster at the mere thought of your beauty.

There are tears behind Miss Itoshi’s eyes and Rin can feel the waterworks attempting to break his own dam. They’re an emotional duo, him and his mom, Sae gets tired of their antics sometimes— but Rin knows he loves them. Their mom always knows the right thing to say. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Rin.”

Sae smirks, nodding in agreement. “You seem so at ease. It’s cute.”

Reflexively, he pulls them both into a big hug— which is the first hug he’s given Sae since he was nothing but a young boy, six years old and playing soccer for the very first time. Rin finally understands what it means to love and be loved, all because of you; and now he can apply that same love to his older brother, who was his rival for so long. The overwhelming comfort he feels in his family’s arms is the same warmth he felt when he made his first goal and ran into his mother to celebrate his newfound passion. For a long time, Rin believed that it was only possible to have that one singular passion. Oh how wrong he was.

“I get it now.” he says softly into their ears. “She helped me understand.”

“And we’re happy for you,” Sae pats him on the back as hard as he can, eliciting a threatening glare from his younger sibling, to which their mother laughs.

“Check out the centerpieces down the hall.” Miss Itoshi nudges Rin on, standing beside Sae. “I think you’ll love them, sweetheart.”

With their encouragement, he carries on with the gallery and down the straight hallway of evolving paintings. Every step he takes, seems to carry him into a new era of your life. It’s almost as if he’s time traveling through memories that seemingly morph from abstract to realistic art; and he learns more and more about you with each passing second, ultimately leading towards one large painting in the center of the room.

Holy shit. You’re breathtaking.

Never in Rin’s life has his world stopped due to paint on canvas— but right now, it feels like every single brush stroke is a frozen second that he gets to relive again and again, just basking in the presence of your beautiful skill.

The way you’ve outlined your hair with thin lines and highlighted your lovely cheekbones, is nothing short of masterful. If he looks close enough, he can understand the comforting feeling of cupping your face with just his eyes. He didn’t even know you did self-portraits, but now he wishes he could hang this very one right above his couch; to show off the talent of his amazing girlfriend for everyone to see (not that he actually has many friends other than his teammates).

Where are you? He needs to let you know how special it is to be with someone like you—

“Cat got your tongue?”

Speak of the devil.

“Do you like it?” You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

You said the same thing when you first met.

Rin looks between you and the painting, now realizing that no matter how masterful your skill is, it’s impossible to capture just how gorgeous you are in any form of art. You’re simply exquisite. The most talented painter in the world wouldn’t know how to appreciate your beauty. Davinci? No. Botticelli? No. Di Angelo? Not even he could sculpt your features to perfection. However, despite his high standards, Rin believes that your self portrait is the greatest thing he’s ever seen.

The familiar feeling of flusteredness grows on his cheeks as he holds eye-contact with you, wondering what color it is you’re wearing. He bets it’s red, you always wear red around him. “I love it.”

As your right hand finds his palm, the left reaches up and cups his cheek. With a gentle touch, your lips are on his and Rin feels his head take a spin on the merry-go-round of love. He can’t get enough of you. If he had a choice, he’d spend every waking second of his day peppering you in light kisses on every part of your body— and he’d make sure that you never felt loneliness again. You deserve nothing less than the absolute best, and he’s made it his life’s goal to give that to you.

Slowly, he begins to feel your smile against his lips and you pull away with a lovesick gaze. He pulls you into his chest, cradling your head and kissing it softly before whispering how proud he is, and it’s almost unbelievable how far Rin’s come. Somehow you’ve lured him into a bottomless ravine where the only resource to live is to be hopelessly in love with you— and truthfully, he never wants to escape. You're everything to him.

“You love it?” your eyes are shining brighter than the sun. “You haven’t even seen my best work yet.”

“Oh?’ Rin raises his brows, mocking surprise at your statement. “Well now you have to show me. It’s only fair.”

You place your hands on his chest and peck his lips before spinning him around. He’s confused for a moment, wondering what you’re doing when you could’ve just led him to the canvas instead of guiding him around like it’s a dance class…but then he sees it.

He sees himself.

Never in his life has he completely understood what being in love is. Yes, he's felt love. From his mother, who raised him to be the man he is; caring, thoughtful, and compassionate. From his brother, who helped him understand ambition and sacrifice. From his teammates, who challenge him to be the best he possibly can and to support one another without holding grudges. He's felt different types of love from so many people in his life. Familial. Platonic. Admiration. This is different, though. The love you show him is true love. It's the kind of love that movie stars win awards for portraying. It's the fantasy that kids dream about having when they grow up into big adults. It's the thing he thought was impossible to obtain, but was lucky enough to stumble upon you in that empty art studio on the best day of his life.

He didn't know love could be expressed in this kind of way. Through the very same paint strokes and brush marks that used to make him nauseous with hatred. Seeing your masterpiece, he doesn't understand how he could ever hate something so amazing. Art is spectacular. No. Your art is spectacular. You are spectacular.

"You love it right?" You're trying your best not to giggle at his awestruck reaction. "Want to know the best part?"

Rin can feel himself nodding, desperately reaching for your hand in an attempt to ground himself from the air he's walking on— and you begin to explain. "It's a dual piece. Notice how we're facing each other?"

Oh my god, you are facing each other. He hadn't noticed it before, but he can see clearly now. You've placed him in the dead center of the room, giving him a full view of both of the paintings— opposite of one another on two opposing easels. "Tell me more, baby." His voice is nothing louder than a whisper, only for you to hear.

"I'm painted in black and white."

Oh?

"You're painted in color."

...Oh.

"I wanted to show how love knows no bounds. There's beauty in how you see me and how I see you. It doesn't matter that I'm colorless to you, you still look at me like I'm the prettiest girl in the world; and I only wish you could understand how vibrant your eyes are, Rin. You're the most handsome man I've seen in my entire life."

He loves you.

He loves you so, so much.

A part of his heart feels like he's falling in love with you all over again. It's growing larger and larger, unable to contain the capacity of feelings he holds for you. He's so overwhelmed with joy that tears begin to fight to escape his eyes, ultimately dripping down his cheeks like watercolor on paper, and he sweeps you into the tightest hug known to man.

There's really only one thing left to do. One thing to close this chapter and carry on with the rest of your love story, something that's sacred only between the two of you. Something that he hopes to say to you everyday, every night, every hour, and every minute that he can.

"I love you."

this is the end of this series! every part was such a joy to write and i'm so thankful for all of the feedback i've been given. more fics coming soon love y'all <3

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

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taleasnewastime · 2 years

Text

The feeling’s slow to fade

Summary: There’s something out there. In the woods. On the streets. In your home. You know it’s there have just never seen it. It starts with one seemingly small death, a bird but builds into bigger and bigger animals. Everyone brushes it off, only you feel the ghost of something following you, only you keep seeing the animals it horrifically kills, only you think something bigger is going on here. But when you start to try and work out what’s happening, it seems the guy who has hated you since school is also taking an interest. The two of you embark on a journey to try and find out why animals are mysteriously dying in your town, discovering things about each other along the way.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: Enemies to lovers, horror with a touch of fantasy, smut, fluff, angst.

Word count: 26.7k

Warnings (there are spoilers in this): Mention of death of both human and animal, mentions of readers parents dying – though not graphically described it is heavily discussed, more detailed descriptions of dead animals, reader kills something, blood, reader feels queasy, uneasy feelings and feelings of being followed, reader is sick, idk I don’t think it’s overly scary but these are still the themes, it’s more emotional than scary? swearing, Explicit sexual content, safe sex, penetrative sex.

Authors Note: Happy (slightly belated) Halloween! Written for the BTS Writing Café’s Welcome to Horrorwood event. Surprise @sunshinerainbowsbts! Or maybe not as I feel like I was being the most obvious person in the world. I tried to throw you off, but it’s hard to not talk like yourself (before the whole squash debacle I even tried to use the flavor not flavour etc. but quickly gave up when it became obvious I’m not American). I apologise for the length of this, I got carried away as I always tend to get when I write. I also really struggled with the ending of this. But before I completely downplay how great this story is, I hope you enjoy! Thanks for all your help writing this, I hope you notice all the little bits I added from the answers you gave in your asks. Et Voila!

There’s blood everywhere. Splatters on the floor and dots all over the walls.

Something died here. Or maybe it was dragged here given the smears in the blood by the door. Whatever happened, it wasn’t pretty, and it happened while you were sleeping only a meter away.

You feel a little queasy. You’d just stood in that blood, can still see the outline of your foot. It was how you’d first realised something was off, waking up and immediately standing in blood isn’t exactly your definition of the best start to the day. Flicking on the light to brighten the near pitch-black room had shown you the horror you now stare at.

Your stomach turns. How did you sleep through whatever happened here? What created so much blood? Whatever it was put up a pretty good fight. And though you have an idea of what, or who, may have done it, it does nothing to ease your worries. If anything it only heightens them.

Heart hammering, you work your way downstairs. Careful to not step in any of the blood, though much of the smaller patches have already dried. You’re not sure if you want whatever it is to be alive or dead. Both seem pretty grim options.

You follow the smears and splatters around your house. They don’t take you far, mostly because the cottage is only small, but soon enough you’re stood in your kitchen staring straight at the thing that created all the blood.

It’s dead. Lifeless body a bit mangled with no hope of resurrection. And sat on one of the bar stools, looking as if he couldn’t care less, is the murderer.

“Tofu,” you scold.

Your cat gives you a curtesy glance before going back to cleaning his paws. Given the amount of blood all over your home you’re surprised his pristine white fur isn’t marred. Though, honestly, you couldn’t care less about your arsehole cat in this moment. You give him a small push towards the exit and then a soft boot out the door. Through the window he gives you a small glare, you’d have normally given him food before kicking him out the house for the day, and he must be pretty proud about his catch. But he’s coated half your house in blood and by the looks of it, has already had a half decent meal today. No, he deserves to be outside, at least until you can clear this up. You’ll shove some food outside before you head to work.

You look back at your room, a headache already forming. You hate Fridays for various reasons, you really don’t need this on top of everything else.

Settling on at least getting rid of the bird’s body before heading to work you try to work out the best approach. The blood around the house will take longer than you have to clean, but maybe you can at least put something on the patches to stop it staining. Honestly, right now, it all feels like a problem for future you, though she won’t be impressed with that decision.

You step closer to the dead animal. It’s a big bird and you’d feel a little impressed with your cat if it wasn’t for the situation. You don’t examine it too closely, it’s pretty mangled and not the nicest sight, plus you don’t have any desire or the time to look at it closer.

You end up having to rush around your house to get ready for work, that headache only increasing in intensity as you leave the house.

The bell dings above your head, a twinkling sound so at odds to what you associate with this place. All you feel is dread whenever you step into the small, quaint bookshop.

The bay window holds a display that changes weekly, today there are various Agatha Christie novels and games. A murder mystery theme for Halloween. The walls of the shop are lined floor to ceiling with books and even in the small space there are a few tables also crammed with books.

Tonight they’re all pushed to the side and one is cleared and crammed with people around it instead. Games night. One of the few occasions you ever come into this place. All other times you avoid it like the plague. It’s a shame, because in any other situation you’d try your hardest to come to this place daily. It just so happens that the man you hate, or more the man that hates you, owns the place. You’re surprised he even lets you in on games night, there’s probably a barred sign with your face behind the till even though it’s only him and Olivia that work here, both know you. He’s probably scribbled little horns on your head and uses it as a dart board, you know, the usual.

As it turns out, you’re allowed on the premises, if only for one night every fortnight.

The man in question, the one who hates you with every fibre of his being, is currently stood looking down at the group sat around the table. He’s smiling, something you rarely see, and you hate the fact that the expression seems to suit him. It brightens his face, lightens his normally dark eyes, causes little creases to appear in the corner of his eyes and those little teeth are kind of endearing.

Ok, nope. Your traumatic day is obviously getting to you because nothing Yoongi has ever done can be considered endearing.

You take a small step into the room and call out, “hey.”

Yoongi’s head is the only one to turn your way. His whole demeanour changes in the process. Before he’s even made eye contact with you his smile has dropped, his body becomes stiff as he stands straight. He looks at you for all of one second, his expression flat, telling you everything he’s thinking; he wishes you weren’t here, hell, he probably wishes you didn’t exist. Your fake smile only widens a little, because as much as you wish you weren’t, you’re not as low as Yoongi and would never treat him like he treats you, even if you do dislike him.

His eyes flick to your smile, a look of disgust crosses his face as his jaw clenches and then he’s twisting and heading out the room.

Well, it could have been a lot worse. At least he didn’t verbalise his hatred.

You take another step into the room, shrugging off your jacket and trying your best to not let your first welcome set your mood.

“Hey guys,” you say again, this time slightly louder.

“There she is,” Seokjin turns and beams at you, at least someone seems happy to see you. “You do realise this thing starts at 7, right?”

“It’s 7:20, Jin, she’s hardly late.”

You shoot Olivia a grateful smile before looking back at Seokjin. “I’ve had a shit day, ok?”

“Oh?” He sounds happy rather than the concerned you were hoping for.

“At least sit down first,” Namjoon cuts in this time, gesturing to the empty seat next to him.

You drop your jacket on the back of the chair before sitting down. You don’t miss the fact that Yoongi has drifted back into the room. He’s stood behind the till messing with something you can’t see but you’d bet he overheard the fact you’ve had a shit day and has come to bask in your misery.

Honestly, you’re not sure when his hatred started. As far as you’re concerned it happened when you moved here and started at the same school as him. It was a rough time for you, your mum recently passed away due to a car accident, and your dad in his grief moved the two of you halfway across the country. New house, new town, and new friends on top of all the other emotions you were trying to process; you’d tried your hardest to feel upbeat walking into your first class. When your teacher pointed at your new seat you’d shuffled over to it and then smiled as warmly as you could at the boy sat in the seat next to yours. You introduced yourself, watched as his eyes dragged their way across your entire being, judgment and displeasure written on his face the whole time. He didn’t say anything, didn’t smile back or tell you his name, he just turned away from you and sat as far as he could while the class started.

When you brought up his reaction to others, they didn’t seem surprised, apparently it was a very Yoongi reaction – whatever that meant. You brushed it off, took it to mean he was shy. Only, the next lesson with him, he was sat somewhere else. So disgusted by just the sight of you, he asked the teacher to move.

It only went down from there. You started in the school late, were well into your GCSEs by the time you joined. You did well academically, actually enjoyed school. Unfortunately, Yoongi was in most of your classes, both of you at a similar level that you became rivals of a sort. You wouldn’t have minded much, could live with being in the same classes, but he obviously hated it. Whenever he outperformed you on a test he’d gloat, it became a race to answer the teacher correctly before you could or get better marks then you.

You remember one time trying to extend an olive branch by asking him for help with some homework, he didn’t even look at what you were asking for help on, just mumbled how he couldn’t help you and disappeared. The next day you saw him helping one of your classmates, Aimee, with the same piece of work.

You’ve never been able to work out what you’ve ever done to Yoongi for him to hate you. Apparently just existing is enough. Any time you brought it up with your mutual friends they brushed it off, that same old excuse of it just being what Yoongi does. It never felt like that when he only left rooms when you appeared or lost his smiles with you around or became impossibly quiet in your presence. Whatever it was he had against you went on well into sixth form, right until the point you left for university. While he stayed where you grew up, you moved away. You started a new life, studied hard to progress in the career you always wanted, while he opened this bookshop.

And then it all fell apart.

Your dad announced he had cancer. Stage 4. Terminal. All the words you never want to hear about a loved one.

You moved home to look after him. Left your job and your life. You had to, he had no one else, there was only you and you could never leave him when he needed you the most.

It’s been three months since he passed. Just over a year since you moved back here. Months when you could have left, gone back to your old life. And yet you’ve stayed.

“So come on then. What was so shit about this day?”

You look at Seokjin and the broad smile on his face, one of the group of friends from school who still live in the area. “Do you want me to go get you some popcorn so you can properly enjoy this, or are you happy listening without snacks?”

His eyes glimmer at the joke. “Yoongi will get it, won’t you?”

You can’t stop yourself from glancing at the man, his eyes already on you, cold and hard as if it’s you asking him to personally attend to your needs. You open your mouth to tell him he doesn’t have to, anything to not add another black mark against your name. He disappears out the back before you can say anything.

Seokjin’s still smiling innocently when your eyes turn back to him. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“Tofu killed a bird this morning, there’s currently blood all over the house,” you begin in a flat tone. “Then when I got to work Pedro gave me a list longer than my arm to complete, insulted me approximately ten times and then proceeded to sit back and do nothing all day while I slaved away.”

“Only insulted you ten times? Sounds like an improvement to me.”

“I don’t know why you still work there,” Olivia comments over Seokjin.

“Because I need money.”

“Yeah, but you have a degree. You could get a hundred jobs better than that one.”

Not here. You don’t say the obvious words because that would lead to questions you wouldn’t know how to answer. Instead you say, “if you know of any, feel free to let me know.”

“Yoongi was saying how we could do with some help with the accounts.”

Olivia says the words the same moment Yoongi leans between you and Namjoon to place a bowl of popcorn on the table. It throws you, the statement from Olivia because everyone knows Yoongi hates you, so why would she even bring it up if not to stir the pot? The fact Yoongi is so close, placing the food Seokjin asked for right by you also doesn’t help the way you tense at her words. The combination makes you unable to respond meaning Olivia carries on talking.

“That’s what you did before, right? An accountant for Jacobs or something?”

“I doubt I’d pay Y/N enough to enable her to quit her job,” Yoongi’s deep voice comes from right behind you.

You’d assumed he’d left the room again but when you turn he’s there, like right there. You have to crane your neck to look up at him and when you meet his eyes he lifts an eyebrow. Flustered you turn back to the table.

“Yeah, but I bet there are other businesses that need the same services. You could be freelance?”

“I, uh –”

“I bet if we asked Jungkook he’d say the gardening company would take you on too.”

She’s getting way too excited about this thing that’s never going to happen. You can’t start your own business, there would be hoops to go through, things you have no idea about to do. Yes you hate your job, yes you worked so hard to get high up in your old accountancy firm and yes you loved it. Part of you craves to go back to it and if an opportunity came up here to do just that you’d jump on it.

But that doesn’t mean you can do it alone with no experience of freelance. You can’t rely on your friends for business. And by Yoongi’s response it’s pretty clear he wouldn’t hire you even if you were going for it. No, it’s not happening, not even a possibility in your mind. You need to shut this down.

“Where is Jungkook anyway?”

There’s a second pause at the change in topic. Luckily Namjoon picks up what you’ve dropped.

“Worked late tonight so couldn’t make it.”

“Which,” Seokjin’s beaming again, this time the smile not directed at you but behind you. “Means you’re going to have to play. For even teams.”

There’s a pause and you can almost feel the hole being burnt in the back of your head.

“I count four of you. You don’t need me.”

“Two on each team. We need someone to ask the questions and you know, check Y/N doesn’t cheat.”

You glare at Seokjin; he doesn’t even look at you. They love to poke at the fact that Yoongi hates you.

“Fine,” Yoongi grumbles behind you. “Let me go get something to drink.”

You almost ask him to get you something too, preferably something strong to help you get through this night. At least you already know the result of the game because there is no way you’ll be winning even if you’re on a team with Namjoon.

This day just gets better and better.

There’s another dead animal. It wouldn’t be a weird sight on your walk to work given you see it on the main road through town, roadkill happens all the time, but this animal doesn’t look like it’s been hit by a car. What causes a chill to run down your spin is the amount of blood. And more the way it’s splattered across the road, mirroring your house.

Much like the bird in your house, this fox didn’t die without putting up a fight.

It’s too big for Tofu to have killed, even if he was allowed out at night to have done it. It’s too big for any cat to have killed. Maybe something bigger? A wolf? But you don’t get wolves here. Plus, you don’t think any animal would cause the injuries you can see, it all looks too calculated. Messy, but like they knew what they were doing.

Another shiver runs down your back.

Standing up you glance around the street. You have the feeling of being watched but as you look around you can’t see anyone. The street is empty and completely silent. Still, that prickling sensation lingers.

Completely spooking yourself on you decide it’s pointless lingering here, you can’t do anything for the fox now. You start back on your route to work, trying to shake the weird feeling that’s come over you.

“It’s weird.”

“Yeah,” you say, putting a pumpkin in your basket, you probably won’t eat it but it’ll look cute by your fireplace. “I mean it’s got to be a coincidence seeing two brutally killed animals so close together.”

“Yeah,” Olivia says, looking at the vegetables laid out in front of you. “But that’s not why it’s weird.”

You wait for her to pick the perfect courgette, something that takes far too much consideration. You sometimes do your food shopping together. You told Olivia about the dead animals you’ve seen in the last few days, how upsetting, gross and unsettling it is. The friends you have in the area is what you pin staying here on. You never had friends you could talk to so openly or go food shopping within the city you used to live. In reality there are other things, deeper feelings rooted in your dad’s death that keep you here. But even though it’s been months since he passed, you’re still unable to properly delve into those thoughts and feelings.

“It’s weird because I also saw a dead animal yesterday.”

“What?”

“Yeah, like the ones you saw, only it was a badger,” she picks up an apple, pausing. “I think. You know, it was hard to see with all the blood and you know, disfigurement.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She frowns at you. “You wanted to know about a dead animal?”

“If it was killed the same way as the one I told you about in my house, then yes.”

“Thought that was Tofu?” She says but then waves it off, starting to walk away from the veg section. “Anyway, it’s all a weird coincidence, like you said.”

“But what if it’s not?”

She gives you another look like she thinks you’re crazy before looking at the range of sausages. She doesn’t even give your answer a response.

“I mean Tofu couldn’t really have killed a bird the size of a pigeon. And there was no blood on him, but there was blood everywhere,” you pause, another thought only just coming to you now. “He’s not even aloud out at night and I don’t have a cat flap, so how did he bring it in?”

“Maybe he’s a better killer than you think,” she says flatly, not giving your theory any room to bloom. “You should watch out.”

“But there have been two other murders on top of that.”

“Of animals,” she corrects, carrying on with her shop, yours is long forgotten.

“Don’t you think that’s more than a coincidence though?”

“Tofu killed that bird. The other two were probably just a car or something.”

“A car didn’t kill that fox.”

“Ok then another animal.”

She’s stopped now, is staring at you with an exasperated look. You’re stood in the middle of the dairy aisle possibly having an argument with your best friend about, what exactly? Some dead animals around town? It feels stupid when you think about it, but you can’t let it go.

“This is why I didn’t tell you. What do you want me to say?” She says, her tone just as tired. “That some sick person did it? I don’t really see what that’s going to achieve.”

She’s right, of course. You’re not really sure what you want from this conversation, maybe just someone else to acknowledge how weird it is, to make you feel better about the dread you’ve felt since seeing that fox, that lingering feeling of being watched. But even if Olivia agreed with you, even if she said she also had a weird feeling about it, what would that achieve? It would surely only worry you more.

“You’re right,” you say, deflating. “Sorry, I’ve just a bit off all week. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

Olivia softens too. It wasn’t really an argument, but you’re both back on more even terms now.

“Do you want to pick up any medicine?”

You glance at your half empty basket and then plaster a small smile on your face when you look back at her.

“Nah, I think I might just head home and have an early one.”

Worry seeps into her face, smaller than before, but there nonetheless.

“I’ll text you in the morning to let you know how I feel. I can always take the day off.”

She’s still frowning when she talks, but at least has a joking quality to her tone. “What would Pedro say about that?”

“He’ll have to do some actual work for once I guess.”

None of your laughs are real, both of you faking that you’re ok after the conversation you’ve had. But neither of you say anything as you turn and pay for only half the food you came here for. You bundle yourself tighter into your jacket when you leave the shop and prepare for the walk home alone in the already dark evening.

“Heard about all the dead animals around town,” Seokjin’s stuffing his face with crisps, seeming not to care about any crumbs. “Weird how they’re all dying around Y/N.”

“Maybe she’s cursed,” Jungkook jumps in before you can respond.

“Or, maybe she’s the one killing them,” Seokjin looks to the door that leads to the back room and shouts, “she’s probably practicing before she kills you, Yoongi.”

Jungkook doesn’t even attempt to hide his laugh, while Namjoon at least stuffs his face with some pretzels to hide his. Seokjin still looks satisfied when his eyes fall on yours across the table.

“Maybe it’s you that should be watching out,” you reply, Jungkook ‘oohing’ and picking up the bowl of sweets as if watching a fight. “And anyway, it wasn’t just me that saw the animals.”

You glare at Olivia, the snitch, who conveniently avoids your eye contact.

“Was it also you at the old cottage?”

Your eyes snap back to Seokjin, “huh?”

“Police have reported a break in and asked for anyone to come forward with any information.”

“Well, if you don’t know anything, no one stands a chance. It is where you live isn’t it?” Jungkook teases Seokjin and you watch as a small fight breaks out over the sweets Jungkook holds.

It’s weird though. The old cottage is run down, sat in the middle of the forest it’s been empty since you were at school. One of those places that kids dare each other to go in. Maybe that’s all there is to it, some school kids playing a prank and the police having enough of it and finally trying to crack down. But why now? Why didn’t they report all the times it’s happened before? What’s so special about this time? And what are the chances that it happens at the same time all these animal deaths keep popping up?

“I might go.”

Your statement gets Jungkook and Seokjin to stop bickering. Silence falling over the room and all eyes on you.

“Go … where?” Namjoon asks.

“To the old cottage.”

“Why, exactly?”

“Because don’t you guys think it’s weird?”

“Yeah,” Olivia chips in. “But the police are dealing with it. There’s nothing we can do.”

“Oh come on,” you look to Jungkook and Seokjin, the two most likely to be happy breaking a few rules. “It’s not like I’m going to commit a crime. Walking through the woods isn’t a crime, is it?”

“No, just creepy as hell,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.

“Sorry, didn’t know I was sat with a load of wusses.”

It doesn’t get the reaction you wanted, you thought it might make someone bite and agree to come with you, but the table remains silent. Fine, you’ll go on your own, though you’re not about to admit that out loud given the reactions so far.

“Fine,” you sigh, relaxing back into your chair. The table seems to do an audible sigh of relief.

“I don’t get why you’re so obsessed by this,” Olivia asks.

“I’m not obsessed,” you say, not convincing yourself let alone the room. “Just curious.”

“It’s weird,” you decide it’s best not to point out that’s part of the point.

“Y/N’s just into creepy stuff,” Jungkook smirks.

“Yeah, you wish you knew that,” Seokjin hits Jungkook’s side with a wink, gaining a disgusted look from you and Jungkook.

“No I don’t,” he’s quick to defend, before his tone turns lighter. “But I know someone who would.”

“Alright,” you shake a hand, wincing. “Can we just get back to the game? Who’s go is it anyway?”

“Mine,” Namjoon pipes up for the first time.

Everyone trusts he’s telling the truth; no one even thinks he might be using it to his advantage to get an extra roll of the dice.

You look up at him, mind distracted by what you’ve learnt and what you’re going to do with the information. You know you have to go to the abandoned cottage; you just wish someone else had agreed to go with you. But whatever, you’re a big girl, you can go through some woods alone, however creepy.

Your eyes drift from Namjoon, catching someone staring at you behind him.

Yoongi’s stood behind the till, even when you look right at him, he doesn’t pretend to not be staring. His eyes bore into you like he can read every thought. It’s you that flushes and focuses back on the game. Yoongi just continues to stare at you.

A branch cracks in the distance. You jump, clutch the flashlight tighter in your hand as you look back towards the sound.

It was probably just as deer. Or a badger. Or a terrifying creature that’s following you through the woods determined to –

Nope. You’re not letting yourself do that. You’re not getting carried away.

It was just a deer. You repeat the words in your head as you turn back on your course. Heading up the track that’s covered in dead leaves you try not to let your mind wonder. Focus instead on the orange and brown leaves that make a light crunching sound every time you take a step. It would be idyllic if not for the creepy trees, darkening skies and near silence that surrounds you. But you’re trying not to think too hard about that.

There’s another snap, this time closer and you swear you hear footsteps.

You don’t turn to look. Heart hammering you just increase your speed. As if walking faster towards the creepy, abandoned house that’s brought you here is going to help. Why you thought coming here would be a good idea, you’re not sure. The sun is setting, soon you’ll be alone in the dark with the potential of something following you and no one knowing you’re here.

You’re going to die.

You’re going to die alone, in the woods, with no one even realising.

Another twig snaps this time closer, louder. You jump, trip over a tree root, and decide it’s just better to hide then run. Rounding a tree to hide you pull your phone out your pocket and clutch it to your chest. Your breath comes out unsteady and loud. You try to slow it down, try to calm yourself even as you hear footsteps getting closer.

It goes silent and then a figure rounds the tree and stands right in front of you.

“You alright?”

You jump, knock the back of your head on the tree and then stumble forward. There’s a dull ache made even worse when you look at who’s just appeared.

Yoongi looks at you, a small smile on his lips you wouldn’t see if you didn’t know him. It’s a look that’s subtly smug, a look that if you told anyone they would say he just looks flat faced but you’ve seen it enough to know that he’s amused by you. Not in a good way. Amused at the fact you’ve just embarrassed yourself in front of him. Just another reason for him to dislike you.

“Fuck,” you mutter, clutching your thumping heart. “Yoongi, what the hell?”

His head cocks to the side and that coupled with his casual greeting shows how he has no idea how scared he’s made you. That, or he was doing it all on purpose and is happy to see it’s all worked.

Rubbing a hand on the back of your head, more to make a point than anything, you send him a glare before continuing to walk. He easily falls into step beside you and even though you expected it, it still annoys you.

“What are you doing here, Yoongi?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Well I asked first.”

“I thought we’d agreed you weren’t going to come out here.”

You turn your head to look at him, a deep frown on your face, only to see he’s not joking.

“We?”

“In the bookshop.”

“I hadn’t realised you were part of that conversation.”

He’s quiet and when you look at him there’s a slight colour to his cheeks. It could just be the walking and cold air, but you like to think it’s because of what you’ve said. Good, he should feel awkward, he wasn’t even part of that conversation and what right does he have to come following you to tell you shouldn’t be here?

“Is this all something you’re doing?” His head turns to you at the question so you’re both staring at each other. “You know, is that why you’re following me here? Because you don’t want me to work out it’s something you’re up to?”

He looks taken aback, even shakes his head a little as if to clear it. “You think I’ve been killing animals?”

No, you don’t. Still, you shrug and focus back on the path even as Yoongi stares at you. “Maybe.”

“I came here because …” his voice is full of anger and the fact he cuts himself off makes you look back over at him. You both stare, a tension rising as you wait to hear his reason and he tries to hold it back. “Because I didn’t want you walking in the woods at night, alone.”

“But you thought I’d agreed not to come,” you push because it’s too awkward to acknowledge his reason because that would imply he cares about you and that’s absurd.

He gives you a look that speaks volumes, one that says only a fool would believe that.

“Right. Well. Next time don’t creep up on me.”

“Next time don’t go off on your own.”

“Well maybe next time you could speak up and help me not look like an idiot in front of my friends.”

“That’ll take some convincing.”

He says it lightly, playfully but in this moment and because it’s him, the joke flies over your head. You glare at him before walking a little faster, attempting to increase the distance between you. It only takes him a second to close the distance. There’s a light laugh on his lips when he’s back at your side.

“Oh come on, Y/N, you know I was joking.”

“Do I?”

“You’d have laughed if it was Jin who said that,” the lightness in his tone starts to seep out again, not that you notice, your anger consumes you.

“Because he’s my friend,” you say and then as if to drive the point home, add, “and he never made fun of me and my grades at school.”

It’s not fair and it’s not a point you overly dwell on anymore. Sure, it upset you growing up and it’s what caused such a divide between the two of you. But you’re old enough now to be over it. It’s just that in this moment, tensions running high with the man you are so rarely alone with, you find everything seeping out of you.

It’s silent as you round the top of the hill. And when you look at Yoongi there’s a frown on his face and a distant look as if he’s trying to work through something.

You sigh, about to apologise or move on but he speaks before you can.

“You think I made fun of your grades at school?”

It’s more the way he says the words that take you back. The light, slightly broken tone he uses as if the thought upsets him.

“Well, yeah.”

He looks at you with a face that reflects his tone, and you find yourself trying to explain as if he wasn’t there for it all.

“You never helped me with homework, and I remember hearing you laughing about a bad grade I got once. I’m pretty sure Jimin told me that you said you were surprised by me when I first joined too.”

“I never laughed at your grades.”

You roll your eyes. Though you’re not sure what you expected. When you moved back here you thought that after years of not seeing each other Yoongi might be more normal around you. He wasn’t, so you’re not sure why you’re disappointed not to hear any ownership for his actions now.

“It was never like that. I told –”

“It’s alright,” you cut him off. Even if he sounds keen to explain you don’t want to listen to his excuses. “It was years ago anyway.”

“Is that what you’ve –”

You cut him off again by pointing out the house that brought you out here. You should never have brought up your history anyway. And Yoongi trying to deny everything he did only proves that.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He doesn’t say anything as you walk towards the house. It’s creepy, the cottage has some its windows boarded up, ivy growing up the exterior. There’s a metal fence a few meters from it, a notice telling people not to enter. You ignore it, stepping up to the fencing you look back at Yoongi in a silent question. Understanding, he steps towards you, flicks you a smile before placing a hand on the joint between two fences and pulling them apart to make the gap bigger for you to slip through.

Flustered by him being a gentleman for once, you slip through the fence without a thank you.

A chill runs through you as you take a step towards the house and wait for Yoongi. You’d never admit it aloud but you’re glad he followed you. The dark, crumbling house looks less than inviting and despite your attempt at heroics you know you would have backed out of this by now.

“How’d you know I was here anyway?” You look over at Yoongi when he steps beside you.

His eyes flick to yours briefly before going back to the house.

“Shall we get this over with?” He ignores your question, walking away from you before getting an answer to his.

You nearly trip in your haste to catch him. “Because I get that you might not have believed me, but how did you know I was coming tonight?”

He continues to ignore you, hand going to the door he gives it a hard push and it creaks open.

You’re annoyed when you walk in, a common emotion when you’re around Yoongi. He continues to walk away from you, doesn’t hold the door open for you this time and you don’t think to catch it. Just before the door clicks shut he turns with words on his lips.

“Don’t let it –” the door shutting cuts him off and he flashes you a glare. “Close.”

“Right, because it’s my fault.”

He rolls his eyes, looks to be struggling to bite back words as he walks back towards the door. You watch as he reaches for the handle, but there’s nothing there. Your heart drops, blood runs cold and again you have that weird feeling of being glad you’re not alone.

“I never said it was your fault,” his voice comes out low, quiet as he tries to not snap at you. It does nothing to calm you.

“You didn’t need to.”

He ignores you, his fingers working at the door, body pushing into it. While you stand staring at him, verbalising your annoyance, he’s being proactive and trying to get you out of this mess.

“I didn’t ask you to follow me.”

“Yeah, well I bet you’re glad I did now. What would you have done if you were stuck here alone?”

“If you hadn’t been distracting me, then maybe I would have thought to hold the door open.”

“I didn’t realise you found my back so distracting,” his voice is still deep, but that same jokey tone has seeped back in. Much like last time it only riles you more.

“I didn’t ask you to come Yoongi. I don’t need you to save me or whatever the fuck you think you came here to do.”

Silence fills the air. Thick and heavy. Yoongi’s stopped prodding at the door and you’ve stopped shouting.

He turns to look at you and you can’t read the emotion written over his face when he looks at you. A mixture of too many things to decipher. His eyes flick over your features no doubt trying to read you the same way you’re trying to read him. Whatever he sees has him looking away and clenching his jaw.

He doesn’t say anything as he walks away deeper into the house.

You stand, shocked by the door for a few seconds before twisting and chasing after Yoongi.

“Where are you going?”

“To find another way out,” he says it curtly, a message to not argue with him. You once again ignore him.

“But we’ve only just got here.”

“And there’s clearly nothing here.”

“We’ve not even looked.”

He rounds on you. “Listen, I don’t know what you expected, but there’s nothing here Y/N. Even if there was, what would you do? What would that tell you?”

You don’t know. It’s the same thing Olivia asked you and you still don’t have an answer. You don’t know what you expected or what you wanted. But, just like with Olivia, it doesn’t stop his words hurting.

This time when he walks away from you, you don’t follow.

You were going to do this alone, you don’t need to follow Yoongi around like a scared pup. You take a few seconds to calm yourself before twisting in the opposite direction.

It’s not a big cottage, only three rooms on the ground floor and you assume the same on the top. You can imagine it would have been nice back when people lived here. But after so long sitting unused and unloved, it would take a lot to get it back to that state.

Still the exposed beams are cute, the windows old and warped. You peak your head around the door of one of the rooms downstairs, do a visual sweep of the room without stepping in and when you find nothing of interest you back away. Just because you’re trying to be brave doesn’t mean you’re going to be reckless.

You pause at the bottom of the stairs. There are vines crawling up the banister, a small window blocked from letting in anything from outside.

Gripping the banister, you put a foot on the first step. Slowly put your weight on it to test it out. There’s a creak but that’s it. It doesn’t collapse, doesn’t strain under your weight. It’s only the first step, but it makes you more confident to slowly go up.

Your heart pounds with every creak your foot creates. Alone, you can feel your fear building. However hard you try to supress it, it doesn’t work. You can’t help but think that Yoongi might have left you here alone. You wouldn’t blame him, you weren’t exactly fun to be around earlier. Still, the only positive you can think to him leaving you is that he found an exit. All you need to do is do a sweep of upstairs and you can follow his lead.

There’s an overpowering smell when you reach the top of the stairs. Throat thick, heart hammering you don’t want to consider what it could be. You’re only half aware of Yoongi calling your name as you walk towards the smell.

It’s a cleaner kill then any you’ve seen so far but it’s a far bigger animal.

Stood frozen in the doorway you gaze upon the animal as footsteps work their way up the stairs. There’s a soft curse as Yoongi comes to your side, but you’re more aware of his warmth seeping into your side.

“It looks like someone slept here,” your voice is husky, eyes still firmly on the animal despite your words.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, you can see his head scanning the room before he turns to look at you.

“Do you think it struggled?”

He doesn’t answer, because what can he say to that, even if he answered it would be a lie. His hand coming to rest on the small of your back rips you out of your trance. Head twisting to look at his soft features.

“I found a way out.”

You nod, find yourself twisting to look back at the animal. Yoongi stops you with his other hand going to the shoulder furthest from him. He turns you to fully face him.

“It won’t help,” he says the words you know but can’t process. “Let’s go.”

Still in a trance you let him guide you. Honestly, you’re terrified. You’re not sure what you hoped for but finding another dead animal, bigger than any you’ve seen before, more human sized, hasn’t helped. It’s cemented in your head that’s something not right, but it’s also made you realise that you can do nothing.

You don’t know what it is and even if you did, something that’s killing animals that big, that violently, what help do you think you’ll give? You feel so helpless, so lost, so scared as Yoongi guides you downstairs and then out through a window he managed to open in one of the back rooms.

Together you walk silently back through the woods.

The next few days are much the same as your everyday life, the only difference being your mental health.

You can hardly sleep, feel nervous as you walk to work, are jumpy at even the smallest noises. You don’t socialise as much, try and find comfort in solace, though it doesn’t comfort you in the slightest.

Every dead animal you’ve seen in the past few weeks plays across your mind and every day you expect to see a bigger, more horrifically killed one.

Though it was the smallest, the bird is the one you dwell on. It was killed so close to where you slept and you were unaware until you woke that it keeps you up at night. You don’t know what’s causing it, don’t know what you’d do if you came across it. The not knowing somehow makes it all worse. Your imagination running away with you.

The only thing that you can think that makes it any better is that so far you don’t know of any humans who have been killed.

You go through your days worried and more like a zombie than a human.

“What you buying?”

You jump, clutch a hand to your chest. This man is going to give you a heart attack one of these days.

“Do you make it a habit of sneaking up on people?” Despite the question you shove the chocolate you were trying to convince yourself not to buy in your basket and move through the store.

“I didn’t sneak up on you. You’re just really unobservant.”

“I had my back turned; I literally couldn’t see you. Hence, you snuck up on me.”

He lets out a little sigh when you stop by the bread, but you continue to ignore him. You have no idea why he approached you to begin with let alone why he’s following you. Normally you both stay on opposite ends of the shop if you are unfortunate enough to visit at the same time.

“I’d go seeded if I were you.”

You glare at the bread you were mentally debating over and even though you know he’s right you grab the loaf of white, squishing some slices as you put it in your basket and carry on around the shop. Yoongi continues to follow.

“You planning on advising me on all my shopping?”

“I can if you want.”

You come to a stop by the juices. If he’s not going to leave you alone, you’ll just ignore him.

“Orange and mango is way better than just orange.”

“Thanks,” you say, picking up the apple juice.

“I’d go cloudy apple too.”

“Thanks for that,” you mutter continuing to ignore his advice as you walk away.

You pick up some rigatoni and then pause and look at him when he doesn’t make a comment. There’s a small smile on his face to show that while you’re hating this, he’s loving it.

“Not got anything to say about my pasta choice?”

“It’s the one I would have gone for,” he shrugs. “Not going to change it to prove you prefer everything different to me?”

You work your jaw as he continues to smile. This whole thing is so unnerving for so many different reasons. And while you could stand and argue with Yoongi all day, you just twist and continue with your shop.

“What do you really want, Yoongi?”

You walk a few steps before he says anything.

“I wanted to see how you are after everything.”

“I’m great.”

“You don’t look it.”

You glance at him, can’t even bring yourself to give a sarcastic smile. “Thanks.”

He rubs his hands together as you continue to debate your choice of squash, there’s just so much choice. You pick up on the fact you’re making him uncomfortable but do nothing to change your tone. If he’s regretting doing this then he can just leave now.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” his voice sounds like a sigh, as if he feels as tired as you are. “I’m just … the other night was a lot and I wanted to check you’re ok.”

The words make you pause. You know you look like shit, you know you look as tired as you feel. But Yoongi has never shown concern for you before, normally he does everything he can to ignore you. Speaking to you in the first place is strange enough but checking in on you is something else.

You pick up the orange squash, it’s your favourite flavour.

“I’m fine.”

Before you can twist and walk away Yoongi’s hand reaches out to grab the handles of your basket. Your jaw tenses as you look down at it and he’s quick to drop them, though he doesn’t apologise.

“What are you doing after this?”

You frown as you look at him. This conversation is only getting more and more weird.

“I just,” he pauses again, runs a hand through his hair as his eyes dart around the room in search of the words he wants. Now you’re looking at him you can see the same tiredness in his features. Maybe you’re not the only one having sleepless nights over this. “I wondered if we could talk about it?”

“I thought you thought it was all bullshit?”

His head dips as he narrows his eyes at you. “Can we just talk?”

You toy with the handles of your basket, become fidgety as you play for time. Yoongi lets you have it, is patient as he waits for your answer. You know what you should say, it’s just that it’s Yoongi. But he’s the only one who’s on the same page as you and you won’t deny that you also need someone to talk to. Even if it this person who you don’t like very much, you realise you have to talk to someone soon or you’re only going to build it up more in your head.

“You alright to come back to mine?” Yoongi’s shoulders relax at the words though his face doesn’t change in emotion. “I need to get this stuff in the fridge.”

He nods. “I’ll follow you.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

You turn as you speak, “he’s not a people person, so I wouldn’t –”

You cut yourself off when you see Yoongi. Tofu is winding his way around Yoongi’s legs, his purr loud enough for you to hear. As Yoongi bends down to scratch his head your cat even leans up to try and deepen it.

That bitch.

You beg for his affection and he never gives it and yet here he is willingly giving it out to a man he’s never met before.

“He must realise I hate you.”

Yoongi chuckles, his eyes still on your cat, completely unbothered by your statement. You start to warn him that he hates being picked up but are too late. It doesn’t matter anyway, because as Yoongi cradles your cat in his arms, he only snuggles closer and purrs louder. It takes you a second, the picture of your grumpy cat looking so content in the arms of a man you thought you hated, someone who currently looks softer than you’ve ever seen him, is a sight that’s hard to break away from.

“Of course,” you mutter, eyes still focused on the scene.

Yoongi only looks up at you, a bigger smile than you’ve ever seen on his face directed straight at you. Your heart does a weird flip, your stomach twisting, the air in your throat catching.

“He’s cute.”

“Tofu,” you manage to mutter.

Yoongi looks back down at your cat with that same big smile and eyes full of love.

“Well Tofu, as much as I love this, you’re getting white fur all over me.”

He gives the cat one last scratch before setting him of the floor. You watch, still frozen to your spot, as he wipes a hand down his top, trying and failing to get rid of all the white fur. When he looks up his eyes meet yours and his smile only widens at whatever he sees in your face.

“You alright?”

“I didn’t know you liked cats.”

“Right,” he laughs, stepping further into your house, closer to you. “You pictured me as some sort of all hating, miserable guy.”

“Something like that,” you mutter.

“Well, I like cats.”

“Ok,” you nod, trying to snap out of it. “Want a tea?”

Tofu follows both of you as you head to the kitchen. You ignore them both as you flick the kettle on. You can sense Yoongi looking around the room, taking everything in as you focus on making the drinks. His first question still takes you off guard though.

“Have you got plans to move back to the city?”

It’s asked awkwardly, not the best way to necessarily word what he’s asking, but you know what he means.

It’s a question about where you live of sorts, possibly his way of broaching topics you’re less comfortable with but intrigue him. Because they intrigue everyone. And now he’s here, in your home, maybe he thinks it’s ok to start asking. The topic that never comes up, finally some vague way to broach to it.

You clench your jaw as you reply only a half answer.

“It’s been so long I don’t think my old company would take me back.”

“You could contact them and ask?”

You shrug. Honestly you’ve thought about it, but there’s always an excuse as to why you don’t have time. You know you’re putting it off, you’re just not ready to dig into why.

“Or you could re-apply for some other jobs?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

There’s a small pause and then Yoongi says, “the other day, when Liv said I need an accountant and I … well, I do actually need a hand if you want?”

You finish making the drinks, turn to place it on the counter in front of him. He seems genuine, nervous even. “I don’t need any handouts.”

“It wouldn’t be a handout. I need an accountant, you just happen to be one.”

“Used to be one,” you correct.

Yoongi shrugs. “I can get someone else but the offers there.”

Focus on your tea, fingers fiddling with the handle, you give him a small, muttered thanks.

“So the other night,” you thought he’d ask more, thought he’d start asking about your dad the way everyone tries. You look up at him, surprised he’s already moving on to the reason he asked to come here. “What did you think?”

You frown, again, not the question you were expecting. Yoongi seems to catch himself, letting out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck, eyes flicking away from you. He seems overly nervous since arriving here, it’s only now you’re looking at him you’re picking up on it.

“I guess what I’m really asking is, are you ok?”

“Why wouldn’t I be,” you answer too quickly.

One of Yoongi’s eyebrows lift. “It was just a lot, I guess.”

“It was just a creepy –”

“And you seemed to space out a bit when you saw that dead deer.”

Is that weird? You want to ask. Seeing a dead animal and not being overly comfortable. Seems perfectly reasonable to you.

“And you wanted to check I was ok?”

“That’s hard to believe?” He asks, your tone obviously suggesting it is.

“We’re not exactly friends.”

“I can still want to check in on you,” he says sharply, almost annoyed.

You take a beat so that when you talk your tone no longer holds any emotion. “Alright, I’m fine. You?”

He doesn’t look like he believes you, or at least looks like your answer hasn’t done anything to reassure him. Yet he doesn’t say anything else, just nods his head.

“Great,” you say. “Now can we get to the reason you came?”

Yoongi waits, doesn’t say anything. He looks like he couldn’t care less about asking anything else. As if he’s already spoken about whatever it was that made him want to come here.

“The animals are getting bigger,” you state, as if giving him the answer in the quiz.

Still, he says nothing.

“Does that not creep you out?”

“Does it creep you out?” He throws the question back, irritating you.

“What is this? A therapy session?”

He looks taken aback by your sharp tone for a second, but quickly levels his features. “I guess I don’t know what you’re expecting from all of this? Animals die all the time.”

You clench your jaw as you turn away from him. He’s just like everyone else, you should have realised. This was why you were going to do it alone all along. Because everyone thinks you’re insane. Because no one else gets how weird and creepy this whole thing is. Because no one else had an animal murdered a few feet away from where they slept. Because no one else cares that things are dying and that maybe, just maybe, something could be done to stop that.

“But yes,” Yoongi carries on in a tone as if he’s stepping on eggshells. You’d feel bad for making him feel like he has to try and work out how to navigate this conversation with you if you didn’t dislike him so much. “I have to admit that deer didn’t look like it died of natural causes.”

You turn back to face him, he’s said enough to deserve that but not enough to get rid of the glare on your face.

“Is that what the bird looked like when you found it here?” His words sound the equivalent of a hands up gesture; please don’t shoot.

“Yep,” you say. “I found it right where you’re standing.

He doesn’t seem phased by the fact, his eyes just casting down as if he’s going to find some clue there.

“That must have been pretty creepy,” he admits, his eyes going back to yours. “You ok here on your own?

“I have Tofu to help, it’s fine.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe you, but at least doesn’t dwell on it. “And you’re sure Tofu didn’t kill the bird?”

“I don’t let him out at night. How would he have gotten the bird in?”

He pauses to think. “What do you think it means?”

You sigh, it’s the million-dollar question. “I don’t know. But I was hoping we’d find some sort of clue at that house. All we discovered was it’s probably some sick human who’s camping out at an abandoned cottage in the woods. They’ve probably run away from there now anyway if the police really were there.”

“Maybe fully run away? Meaning this is all over anyway?”

“Maybe,” you say, not convinced at all.

“What’s everyone dressing up as for Halloween then?”

It’s Friday, which means it’s another games night. While everyone is focused on their hand of cards, trying to work out the next best move, Seokjin is leaning back in his chair his cards face down on the table. You’d wonder if it were a tactic into making you think he’s amazing at this game if you hadn’t already played it with him before. He’s horrendous at it. He just doesn’t care enough to get any better.

“Can’t tell you. You’ll find out on the night,” Jungkook says as he moves around the order of his hand.

“Boring,” Seokjin states, eyes trailing around the table. “Yoongi, what are you wearing?”

You find yourself looking up at the man in question. For once he sat at the table with no complaint. Though he’s still sat as far away from you as possible, he didn’t try and get out of playing or run into the back of the shop when you arrived. In fact he might have given you what he’d consider a smile when you walked in. Now though, he’s sat not quite as relaxed as Seokjin, but his cards are loose in his hand, and he looks like he knows exactly how he’s going to play and will probably win this game.

His eyes flick to you as if sensing your stare and you dart your focus back to your hand, face flushing.

“I’ve got some black jeans on and this top says Fear of –”

“Yeah, not now,” Seokjin snaps as if he’s the only one allowed to get the laughs Yoongi’s currently gained from the table. “For Halloween.”

“Right,” he replies flatly, though you think you hint a smile in his tone. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Oh my god. Y/N, help me out here?”

“Uh, I was going to do Jen Walters,” you pause and when everyone wears blank faces you continue. “You know, She-Hulk?”

“You’re going to paint yourself green?” Seokjin’s face lights up like Christmas day.

“No,” you crush his hopes. “I’m going as Jen Walters. The human form. You know, big shirt and … never mind.”

“Yeah, sounds boring.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you smile and look back at your cards.

“I’m surprised you’re not going as the killer.”

Your smile drops as quickly as it appeared. You don’t look up at Seokjin, don’t want him to see that he’s gotten to you, it’ll only encourage him. But it’s too late. However small your reaction, he’s seen it.

“You could bring a dead animal, have blood splattered all over you and –”

“Alright Jin.”

To yours and seemingly everyone’s surprise, it’s Yoongi that cuts Seokjin off. Yoongi looks at him with a hard gaze while Seokjin looks back with his lips twisted into a smile. Your heart pounds for so many different reasons as you watch whatever is happening unfold.

“What?” Seokjin sounds innocent enough. “I was just saying it would be a good costume.”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t funny.”

“Who said it was a joke?”

There’s silence from Yoongi, his glare seeming to harden which only makes Seokjin’s smile widen.

“How is that all going by the way? Gotten any closer to catching the killer?”

All eyes turn to you and you heat from within. You know their feelings about this and you know they don’t align with yours. No matter what you say, they’ll tease you for it.

“You don’t care, so why should Y/N tell you?” Yoongi once again comes to your rescue and you’re too relieved to question it.

“Maybe you can tell me then? You have been helping, right?”

Yoongi flashes his eyes to you, something like guilt crossing his face, though you’re not sure why he would feel guilty.

“Can we just play this game?” Jungkook cuts everyone off. “I really wanted to get home by 8 for bake off.”

“Is that who you’re going as?” Taehyung jumps in. “Paul Hollywood?”

Jungkook just pouts his lips a little as if to stop his smirk and shrugs. Picking up three of his cards he announces, “three tens,” and places them in a pile in the centre of the table.

You don’t even bother to look at your own cards to check how that affects you. You’re too busy looking at Yoongi and wondering what the hell just happened.

“Are you dressed as Tofu?”

Yoongi looks down at himself, then back at you. “Isn’t Tofu white?”

He has a point. Still, the small amount you’ve had to drink coupled with his all-black outfit, little black cat ears so soon after meeting your cat makes you question it. Or maybe it’s just the surprise of him wearing something besides his normal outfit. You can’t recall Yoongi’s previous Halloween outfits, but you’d put him down as a wear normal clothes and say he’s Ross from Friends sort of person. But here you stand, at the annual Halloween party, being proven wrong.

“Yoongi’s met Tofu?” Jimin hands you the drink he left you to make. “When?”

He sounds way too interested and you feel a little sorry for Yoongi given the smile Jimin’s shooting him. The smile only adds to his outfit, the half red, half blue hair really makes him look like a psychotic Harley Quinn.

“The other day,” you cut in, attempting to save Yoongi but only put the spotlight on yourself.

“Yoongi came to your house?”

“That is where my cat lives, yes.”

“But Yoongi was there?”

“Is that so unbelievable?”

Jimin looks back to Yoongi, something unspoken goes between them, something you don’t understand. You take a sip of your too strong drink to cover your awkwardness before Jimin is looking back at you.

“No,” he says with a smile, everything about him screaming that the word he’s just said is a lie.

“Right,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Well I need a new drink,” you lift your still full cup up, eyes flicking between Jimin’s beaming smile and Yoongi’s flat face. “I’ll see you weirdo’s later.”

Before you make it out of earshot Jimin’s already on Yoongi.

“You went to her house?” He half screams and you resist the urge to look back at Yoongi’s expression.

“It was nothing.”

“But –”

You don’t catch anything more. Jungkook’s appeared in your face making that horrific slurping noise as if about to spit on you. You push his shoulder, fingers running along the exposed skin on his chest. Does his V-neck really have to be so large?

“You’re not Chris,” he makes the same joke he’s made a hundred times. And like every time before you don’t laugh.

“And unfortunately, you’re not Harry Styles.”

Jungkook just beams at you. “Harry Styles wishes he could be me.”

You hum, smirking into your drink. You have to admire the boys confidence. And his costume is pretty cool or would be if he wasn’t incessantly making spitting sounds as if he’s going to spit on Chris Pine.

“You should have brought a goat,” you say.

“And what are you anyway?” His eyes trace up and down your shirt covered body, disapproval on his features.

“She’s my Sophie of course,” an arm wraps itself around your back.

“It’s a crap Sophie costume. Isn’t she, like, an old woman?” Jungkook continues to judge.

“Nah, she’s as gorgeous as this lady here.”

You roll your eyes as you look up at Taehyung. “Is one drink all it takes for you guys to turn into utter sleaze balls?”

“Ouch,” Taehyung laughs, his arm only brining you closer into his side. “Thought you wanted me to show you the world?”

“Isn’t that Aladdin?” Jungkook says flatly.

Taehyung brushes the comment off. “Same difference.”

“Well, thanks Howl,” you say, slipping out of Tae’s arms. “But I think I’ll give it a miss.”

“You know who he is but not me?” Jungkook shouts after you as you walk away, sounding genuinely offended. “At least let me know if you see Chris!”

You look over your shoulder laughing as you shake your head at them. Eyes drifting you see Jimin and Yoongi still stood talking where you left them, the latter’s focus is purely on you. It makes you stutter the way he doesn’t hide the fact. His flat features would have once caused a pang of anger to shoot through you, as if annoyed he would be staring at you with such dislike for doing nothing. Now, knowing Yoongi better, you can’t help but wonder if the look isn’t dislike at all. Instead of a pang of anger, you only flush and whip your head to look away from him. Your heart still leaps, though the feeling is nothing like annoyance.

You spend the party trying to avoid Yoongi. Once you would have done it because you had no desire to be around him. Now, it’s because you can’t trust your feelings.

You drink, have one too many of Jimin’s ‘special’ cocktails that taste like pure alcohol. You laugh at Seokjin trying to convince everyone why dressing as John Tucker is the best outfit. You watch as Olivia walks in dressed as Chris Pine and Jungkook finally gets to spit on her lap, it’s gross and yet Olivia laughs like it’s the best joke they’ve ever made.

For what feels like forever, you have fun. Sure, there have been glimpses of fun since your dad passed, but tonight you feel fully free of everything. For once there is no guilt or overbearing thoughts of something you should be doing instead.

You manage to avoid Yoongi until late in the night when, stood alone, someone comes to stand by you.

“How you getting home?”

You twist to look at Yoongi, a smile still on your face. For once it doesn’t drop when you meet his flat face.

“Huh?” You glance to where you see people leaving; is it already that late? “Oh, I’ll just walk.”

He raises an eyebrow, gives you a look to let you know that’s not an acceptable answer. You flounder, search for something to say to distract him.

“Did you see Namjoon scuttle?”

“Scuttle?” He questions and you beam, mission success.

“Yeah, you know,” you pincer your hands in a crab like motion. “Scuttle, like the crab he was dressed as.”

“Oh,” he elongates the word. “Was that what he was?”

You giggle. You actually giggle at something Yoongi said. And it wasn’t even that funny a joke.

“God, I’ve had way too much to drink.”

He lets of a small, huffed laugh. “I’d don’t know whether to be offended or not?”

You laugh again, this time swaying a little because of it. As if on instinct, Yoongi’s hand comes out to steady you.

“Alright, let’s get you home.”

You roll your eyes. “I can walk home alone.”

“You’re on my way.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, then it’s not much of a detour.”

“In a place this small it really is.”

He levels his gaze at you, clearly done with coming up with reasons and is just going to try and scare you into agreeing. It doesn’t work. But you still find yourself stopping from putting up a fight. It’s an effort to argue and not any other reason that you don’t continue to push.

Yoongi stands by your side as you go round and say goodbye to everyone. Surprisingly nobody comments on it. You thought Jungkook would for sure make some sarky comment, but maybe he’s had one too many too as he just pulls you into a hug and whispers something about having a good night but making sure you’re safe. Maybe he is concerned about the mysterious thing killing animals after all.

You walk in silence. Your focus on your feet as they move through the pitch-black night.

“Did you have a good night?”

Yoongi’s cheeks are tinted with colour from the cool night air when you look over at him. His gaze is set forward, avoiding eye contact after the awkward question. You don’t think anything of it.

“Yeah. Hoseok even let me try on his astronaut’s helmet.”

“Wow,” you look at him, catch the smile he’s trying to hide. “That’s a big word for you.”

You laugh, the tension between the two of you instantly disappearing. Once that joke would have rubbed you the completely wrong way. Now you find yourself wanting him to keep talking.

“Says the man dressed as a cat.”

He hums, the noise deep, developing in his chest and vibrating through his throat. Fuck. Has Yoongi always had that low a register? It’s not something you’ve picked up on before. Not in this way anyway. Not in a way that makes you look at him like you’ve never seen him before. The smirk growing on his face tells you he knows you’re looking at him.

You clench your jaw, eyes darting from his face up.

“Hey! Your ears have gone!” He reaches up, mock shock on his face as his hands go to his actual ears. You giggle, again, and gently slap his arm. “Your cat ears.”

“Oh right,” he says as if he didn’t know that the whole time, the wide smile on his face telling a different story, one that says he’s proud of the reaction he got from you. “They were making my head hurt.”

“Oh,” you pout, looking back in the direction of your house, you’re nearly at the top of your lane now. “I thought they looked cute.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond and you think nothing about what you’ve said.

“Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah, possibly one of the better Halloween parties Liv has thrown.”

“Really? You weren’t a fan of the 80’s themed one?” You say it in a teasing way. No one was a fan of the 80s themed year. Firstly, there was a theme that wasn’t just Halloween. Secondly, it was back before you all went to university when everyone drank way too much, Jimin didn’t know his limit and threw up in the first twenty minutes, Taehyung following close behind merely at the sight. It all went downhill from there.

Yoongi only laughs at the memory, shaking his head at you.

“Don’t take this the wrong way …”

“Always a great start to a sentence.”

You pause, before deciding to just go for it. “I never really took you as one to enjoy parties.”

It takes him a second but he laughs at your words, a small huffy laugh that implies the words aren’t a surprise to him.

“Because I’m a cat hating, party hating, fun hating sort of guy?”

“No, it’s just …” you look around as if in search for the words, though mainly are trying to avoid Yoongi’s stare. It’s not unkind, it’s just interested and a little intense. “I don’t know, we didn’t really get on growing up.”

“We didn’t?”

You look at him, eyebrows raised in a really? expression. He smirks back.

“Ok, you didn’t get on with me.”

He frowns a little at that one. “I didn’t?” This time it does sound like a question, not an attempt to joke.

“You hated me.”

“I’m not sure that’s true …”

“You changed seats so we weren’t sat by each other in class. You used to boast whenever you got a question right that I didn’t. I’m pretty sure you mocked my choice in shoes one time.”

“Ok, maybe I was a little jealous.”

“Jealous?” The word throws you.

“Well, yeah?” He throws back as if it’s obvious. “I mean you had it so easy.”

“Easy?” Another word you weren’t expecting. This one never being something you’d associate with any part of your life.

“Yeah. You just walked into school one day wearing the uniform like … well … like you did and everyone instantly liked you and then you were sitting next to me and I had no idea how to talk to you. Then you just made it all worse by being so good at literally every subject. You were perfect.” He shrugs, looks across at you and you swear your mouth is popped open as wide as your eyes currently are. Frankly, you’re unsure how you’re still walking. “I was jealous, Y/N.”

You were perfect.

You must have misheard or not understood. But the words, said in Yoongi’s deep tone, just keep cycling through your mind.

You were perfect.

You would never have thought Yoongi would say those words. Because surely that’s not true. He hated you. He would leave whenever you arrived, looked angry when his friends invited you to stuff, was annoyed when you got better marks then him, looked disapproving when you turned up with your tie in the perfect knot and your skirt floating mid-thigh. He hated you.

You were perfect.

But he was jealous? All this time you’ve read his emotions wrong. He was jealous of the girl who felt like she struggled to fit in, who’s mum had just passed away, who was awkward and hated her hair and the spots she’d get across her forehead, who thought every girl in school was prettier and funnier than her. Who thought the boy currently walking beside her was far smarter than her. He was jealous of her?

“This is you, isn’t it?”

He knows it is, but your far away look and the fact you haven’t turned down your lane makes him ask. You look at him, mind still whirling trying to work out what it all means, and nod.

He’s back to being awkward as he continues to do as promised and take you to your door. By which point you’ve at least made up your mind that Yoongi isn’t as bad as you thought, that maybe you need to give into the fact that you like him more than you make out. If he can admit he was jealous of you – which you still can’t get over!! – then you can admit you like him.

“So, uh, goodnight?” Yoongi says when you manage to unlock your door. Your turn to face him, endeared by him clutching his hands and looking awkward. He once thought you were perfect.

“You don’t want to come in to see your biggest fan?”

His eyes flick over your shoulder as if half considering it. “I should head home.”

“Oh come on,” you reach out and grab his wrist, encouraging him into your house. He doesn’t put up much of a fight to stop you. “I’ll find my dad’s scotch and everything.”

“Oh … you don’t have to –”

“It’s only going to waste in the cupboard anyway.”

You’ve dropped his hand now and while he awkwardly stands by the door watching you, you’re a riot of movement around the kitchen.

“Honestly, it’ll be nice to see it enjoyed,” Yoongi still doesn’t say anything as you grab two glasses and a half empty bottle of scotch. “I hate the stuff. But still find myself having a sip from time to time,” you pause, even having had a drink you find it hard to admit. “It’s probably weird, but it helps me remember him, helps me feel closer to him sometimes.”

“It’s not weird,” Yoongi is quick to reassure you.

You nod, thankful even if he’s only saying it to be kind, and then lead the way to the living room. Setting the glasses down, Yoongi says nothing as you pour large, nearly half full glasses of Scotch. When you settle into the sofa you take your glass with you and find yourself twisting to look at Yoongi.

He’s staring down at the amber liquid, watching as it swirls around the glass. When he looks up at you his face is flat but everything about him is soft.

“Will you tell me about him?”

It’s asked in a way that tells you to say no if you want to.

But the feeling that comes over you is utterly mad because you find yourself wanting to answer him. It’s mad because you never answer that question; not when he was alive and struggling, not when you were the only one there to help him through it, and certainly not since he’s passed. Every time someone has tried to broach the topic of your dad with you, to see if they could help when he was battling cancer, see if you were ok when he was passing away, see if they could do anything when he was finally gone; every time, no matter who it was you’d push them away with a none answer. And yet here you are, wanting to answer. Which is mad because it’s Yoongi. The man who you thought hated you, that you disliked, that you’re now not sure how to feel about. Maybe it’s because of everything that’s happened to the two of you recently, extreme circumstances pushing you together despite your feelings. Or maybe it’s because he's someone that you’re not as close to, someone you feel you could talk to and then not have to see again.

Like most emotions you feel, you know the reason you want to open up to him, you’re just not ready to acknowledge it.

“He was really funny,” you start, and it takes Yoongi a second to realise you’re not saying no. As you talk, he takes a sip of the Scotch, his face warming and his body relaxing as he listens to you. “But in the way most dads are. He loved to embarrass me. I remember once I got 100% in a test, and he would tell everyone who would listen about it. I found it really embarrassing but now looking back I can see he was just really proud of me. He was the same when I got my place at university. He didn’t cry or tell me he was worried; he smiled the whole time he drove me there and left me in my new flat. It must have been hard though, driving his only child off to a new life leaving him all alone. But he was so excited and he obviously didn’t want me to worry about him.”

You pause as you take a sip of your drink, wincing against the strong taste. It helps soften the tightness in your chest though.

“He sounds like he really loved you.”

You smile at Yoongi, sadness still in your eyes. You’re putting on a brave face like you always do when this topic comes up. But for once you don’t deflect, you say what’s actually on your mind.

“I think that’s why I feel so guilty,” you start, finding your glass of Scotch easier to look at than Yoongi. “I hardly came back here, left him all alone while I was out building a career. I even pushed him away at times, used to cancel coming home and say I couldn’t do weekends when he asked to visit. All because I was trying to build a different life.”

You pause again, take another, much larger, glug of your drink. It goes down easier this time and when you look at Yoongi he just sits patiently waiting for you to continue.

“I’m sure you know my dad had cancer,” Yoongi gives a gentle nod as you expected. “He didn’t hide it from me. He didn’t even know he had it until he went to the hospital for something else. But I just wonder if I hadn’t moved away, if I hadn’t pushed him away, if I’d seen him more, maybe I’d have notice something wrong. Even if he hadn’t realised, maybe I would have. Maybe he’d …”

You trail off, not able to say the words. Tears fall down your face and your throat matches the tightness in your chest.

It’s how you always feel when you even think about your dad, let alone talk about him. The guilt and feeling like you never did enough. As if you wasted the time you could have had with him. He did so much for you in his life and you took it all for granted. You feel so rotten. And it’s why you never think about it.

You try and push away all the emotions now, conscious that Yoongi is still sat watching you.

“Sorry,” you smile despite the tears rolling down your face.

“Don’t apologise.”

As you wipe your face Yoongi shuffles closer. You don’t even jump when his hand comes into contact with your knee. It’s done so gently and feels so comforting you let him leave it there.

“I’d offer you a tissue, but I don’t know where you keep them.”

You laugh, spit flying out your mouth. It’s gross but Yoongi is still smiling at you, his thumb now rubbing soothingly on your knee.

“I just … you asked me what my dad was like and now I’m just laying all these unwanted feelings on you,” you laugh again, this time it’s hollow and Yoongi doesn’t join you in it. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he gets you to drag your eyes back to him and does something that shocks you. His spare hand reaches out and wipes away some of the tears you missed, you jump a little at the touch but not enough to get him to stop. “I told you not to apologise.”

You nearly apologise again but manage to stop yourself and just end up nodding instead. Catching the slip, Yoongi smiles at you, his one hand still on your face, the other on your knee.

It doesn’t feel weird, if anything it takes you a while to click who you’re currently sat with, who’s hands are currently on your face and on your knee, who you feel comfortable with and don’t want to pull away from. But you do realise who it is, and however comfortable it feels, part of you thinks how weird it is.

Slowly, you pull away. Part of you wanting to stay in his hands, gaining his comfort. Part of you not wanting to upset him. Part of you still feeling a little weird that you are feeling all of this towards Yoongi and that he’s so willingly giving you this affection.

He doesn’t look offended or upset as you pull away and wipe a hand across your face, he just lets you go. The distance between you increases, but only marginally. There is no longer the length of the sofa between you like when you first sat, though he isn’t holding you anymore, his knee still grazes yours and if you wanted to you wouldn’t have to reach far for his hand.

“Anyway, that’s all in the past.”

Yoongi looks unsure for a second, doesn’t seem to know whether he should say anything that might upset you more or just leave it and let you gloss over everything. Secretly, you get what you want.

“I never knew him, so I realise how this will sound, but you know he’d be proud of you, right?” He pauses, waits a second as if expecting a reply. “And all that stuff, the guilt you feel and the sadness, you really don’t have to apologise, I’m happy you told me. But you shouldn’t feel guilty. It sounds as if he got everything he wanted. His daughter going off into the world and making something of herself. If he really did go round shouting about how great it all was and how proud he was, doesn’t that tell you how happy he would have been to see you achieving everything you did?”

He's right, you know he is. And having opened up for the first time about your guilt, it’s the first perspective outside of your own that you’ve heard. It’s one you’ve not considered or at least one you’ve not let yourself consider.

You sniffle, the noise not cute or delicate. You’re past caring.

“Thanks Yoongi.”

He reaches out and lightly squeezes your knee, though this time his hand doesn’t linger.

“You know, you’re really not so bad,” it’s easier than you had imagined to admit. “I can see why everyone’s friends with you.”

“And here I’ve been hoping you’d be the one to convince them to leave me alone.”

You laugh again, rolling your eyes at the blatant lie for the purpose of comedy. A smile returns to his face as he looks at you and it makes your chest tight for a different reason. Your focus goes to your empty glass. It’s a good distraction, leaning forward to fill it back up, topping Yoongi’s up as you go.

“So, what do you think?”

Even though he’s already drunk plenty of it, he takes a long, slow sip to savour the flavour and give you an honest opinion. You watch as his lips pucker, his Adam’s apple bobs and then his tongue runs a slow trail along his bottom lip. You feel flushed when his gaze finally levels on you.

“I think your dad had good taste.”

There’s movement out of the corner of your eye. Your heart stutters when you notice it, but it truly drops when you look fully up at it.

Of course you’re right by the graveyard.

Of course that’s where you see a shadow like figure darting away from you.

Of course it’s night time and a mist has settled over the village.

Of fucking course.

A deep breath and you’re heading into the graveyard. You contemplate telling someone but then question who you’d tell. If the last few days have told you anything it’s that nobody believes you, or even pretends to show an interest in this.

Well, that’s a lie. There is one person.

It’s at the first noise that you break. It’s only a bird taking flight from the trees but you jump so high, your heart nearly giving out, that you decide to give in. Yoongi hasn’t been that bad recently. Maybe it won’t be so bad telling him.

“Y/N?”

He sounds surprised. His pitch high, you can almost picture him looking down at his phone as if double checking he didn’t misread the name. The mental image almost makes you smile if it weren’t for the more powerful thought that you’re calling Yoongi. Min Yoongi. The guy you’re supposed to hate, who’s supposed to hate you and therefore not answer your call. Especially sounding so –

“Y/N,” his tone is firmer, the question gone.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you stumble over your words, eyes scanning the misty graveyard. “It’s just that, well, it’s probably nothing. And sorry for calling you, you’re probably really busy and don’t need me disturbing –”

“What is it?” He cuts you off.

“Right, sorry,” you say these two words slowly but the following coming in such a rush they sound like one word. “I thought I’d let you know I think I saw something in the graveyard and just in case I die or go missing someone should know where I went so yeah that’s where I am the graveyard.”

“Hang on. Slow down. You’re where?”

“The graveyard.”

He curses before you hear some background noise. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know what he’s doing.

“I didn’t call to get you to come here,” your voice has lost its fear at least.

“Stay where you are.”

“Yoongi –”

It’s your turn to curse at your phone. The fucker hung up on you. The cheek. The fucking ego on that man to think you always need saving. He has some sort of hero complex, that at least might explain why he’s always trying to help you.

You click on your phone, about to call Yoongi back, but are cut off by a branch snapping and when you look up you see something moving in the shadows.

Blood running cold, phone forgotten, you start to move towards it. You’re too loud though, the thing pauses long enough to look at you – at least you think that’s what it does, the dark doesn’t help – and then it’s moving a lot faster in the opposite direction to you.

Cover blown, you shout after it to stop as you try and run after it.

Whatever, or whoever it is, is too fast though. Every one of your steps seeming to be three of theirs.

“Wait,” you shout into the darkness, your breath coming out in a thick fog of white.

You really need to get in better shape. Only a short distance covered and yet you’re panting as you come to a stop. The thing is gone. At least out of sight in the dark foggy night. But there’s something else. A weird smell in the air. When you get your breathing under control you realise what it is.

Your blood runs cold as you stand straight as a rod. Despite the fear you head towards the smell.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you wonder around the graves. You find it where you saw that thing, only making you more certain that whatever that thing was, was what you’re after. It’s smaller than the deer you saw in the cottage, but bigger than a fox, but its body is so disfigured that you can’t tell what it is.

You feel sick.

“Y/N.”

You’d nearly forgotten you’d called Yoongi, nearly forgotten he was going to come here. At least this time his appearance doesn’t make you jump.

“Y/N,” his voice is louder and when you look over your shoulder you can see his silhouette outlined by the streetlights behind him.

“Here,” your voice is hoarse, but his head still snaps in your direction. You don’t watch as he stomps in your direction, can just hear his annoyed mutters as he gets closer.

“- told you to stay. Assumed that would be clear enough to mean the entrance of the graveyard not the fucking darkest spot. What if something had –” he cuts himself off when he comes to your side. You expect him to question what he’s looking at but he remains silent. You guess it’s pretty obvious what it is.

“I saw whatever it was,” you say, drawing Yoongi’s attention to you. “I chased it but it –”

“I’m sorry,” his tone it tight, terse and gets you to look at him. His features are just as stern. He looks livid. “You did what?”

“It ran off before I could see what or who it was.”

“Well thank fuck for that,” his tone almost has you stepping away from him in surprise. It’s been a while since you heard him speak to you like this.

“Oh right, sorry. Didn’t realise I had to wait for you to arrive before I went and found out what’s been causing all this.”

“Do you have a death wish or something?” It’s a rhetorical question, still he continues before you can answer with a snarky comment. “I asked you to stay put and wait for me. Not run headfirst into trouble.”

“Yeah, and what help would you have been?”

“Probably none. But at least we would have been together.”

Together. The word feels so weird to associate with you and Yoongi that it makes you pause. Both of you stare at each other through the white fog created by your breath.

“There’s nothing more we can do here,” Yoongi’s voice is softer, still tense but less accusing now. “Shall we leave?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, take one last glance as the dead animal before nodding your head.

Yoongi waits for you to lead the way, closely following behind you. He doesn’t leave your side until you’re safely back at your house. Even then he looks reluctant to leave you.

Yoongi doesn’t appear at your weekly shop. You don’t bump into him in the street. It’s the week off for your games club.

What once would have been a week you’d have loved, now seems weird.

You don’t miss him, but you notice his absence. You find yourself looking for him when the door opens in the grocery shop. You find yourself looking over your shoulder when walk to work. You find yourself listening to Seokjin a little more closely, just in case Yoongi’s mentioned. Everywhere you go, you look for signs of him.

He’s not mentioned. He’s not there. And strangely, you feel it. Even Tofu reminds you of him now.

All of it only pushes you more into working out what’s going around town.

There haven’t been many dead animals in a while, but that doesn’t comfort you. You’re on edge all the time, waiting for something else to turn up. You fear this time it won’t be an animal that you see, which only makes you think about the whole situation more.

The police have gone quiet, not that they were doing much in the first place, but they at least were looking into the abandoned house in the woods. And then there was the graveyard. Maybe it’s moved to another location to sleep, but whenever you try and think of somewhere it could sleep, there’s nowhere.

When you think of all the times you saw dead animals, the time you saw whatever it was in the graveyard. There’s a thread. Thin, but a lead none the less.

You have a plan.

He wasn’t best pleased when you didn’t tell him last time you did something like this. You could text him your plan, or call him, or just not bother saying anything at all. Still, you find your feet walking towards Yoongi’s shop.

The lights are still on and as you approach the glass door you can see Yoongi’s shadow moving around in the back room.

You pause only a beat before knocking on the door. As expected, Yoongi’s head pops out from behind the door to the back, his lips popped open in that way you’ve grown to know is his thinking face. It’s cute.

The thought jolts you. Maybe it’s why you give an awkward wave of your hand, forcing a smile onto your lips as Yoongi tries to smother his as he heads to the door. He doesn’t unlock it before he opens it.

“It wasn’t locked.”

“I noticed,” you say through your forced smile. He makes it hard for you to like him.

“Ok, well you know for next time.”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.”

“You coming in or ..?”

“No.”

“Ok,” he pauses, waits for you to explain. As always, his patients outlives yours.

“I, uh, I’m going back to the cottage in the woods.”

His head cocks to the side, surprised. You carry on before he can get annoyed.

“I thought I’d tell you. Only because, you know, you seemed pretty pissed off last time I didn’t.”

A nerve ticks in his jaw. But he just nods his head, his hand slipping from the door.

“Give me a minute.”

And with that he turns and leaves you standing alone at the door.

You fiddle with your fingers, shift your weight from foot to foot. Yoongi’s quick to grab a jacket and appear back at the door. His reaction is expected at this point, but it doesn’t make it easier, the way he comes so easily without question. Especially given the fact that you so easily came here. You’re not one to easily ask for help.

“You alright?”

You force the smile back on your face, not sure if the gesture is reassuring or makes you look more manic. “Yep, good, great. You?”

He hums, you definitely need to chill out. Any second now and he’s going to call it a night before it’s even begun.

Yoongi locks the shop, tests the handle to double check and then you’re both walking.

“What you been up to recently?” You shoot a look at him as if his question proves he knows how much you’ve been missing him this past week. He doesn’t look like he’s been secretly watching you or hearing things through your friends, he looks like he’s genuinely interested.

“Uh, just work,” it’s awkward and it gains you a small smile from Yoongi.

“And works made you want to go back to the cottage?”

It throws you, like most things Yoongi says. It puts you on edge even though he says it lightly, the smile still on his lips.

“Oh come on,” he laughs the words. “Did Jin tell you the police had been back?”

“No,” you mutter.

“Then what’s changed?”

Your whole demeanours changed since first seeing him. You’re on edge, preparing yourself for whatever he’s about to say. You knew he wouldn’t be happy about this, you just hope he won’t talk you out of this.

“Nothings changed,” you say flatly. “I still want to find out whatever’s happening.”

“And you always have to do that when it’s pitch black out?”

He laughs at his joke, you only clench your teeth. His laugh continues as he looks at you, low and light, but meeting your pissed off makes him realise you’re not on the same page.

“Hey,” he mutters, hand coming out clasping your wrist, bringing you both to a steady stop. You don’t look at him, but also don’t pull away. “Let’s go later, when it’s light out. Come back to mine and we’ll have a cuppa.”

You shake your head. No. Being stubborn has never been one of your best traits.

“I have a theory,” you admit. He waits, hand still holding you in place. You take a breath before explaining. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing. But I was just thinking about it and every time I’ve seen an animal it’s been at night, or just as the day’s started. And when we last went to the house it was night and there was nothing there. I just thought, maybe, it hunts at night and if we went now, in the morning, we might see it.”

“Ok,” he says gently. He doesn’t point out that if you waited a couple of hours like he suggested your theory might still be proven. Maybe he sees how anxious you are to do this, how you couldn’t sleep last night after thinking the theory, how the minute you could class the day as starting you got ready to go. His eyes roam your face for a second, his fingers holding onto you for a second longer before letting you slip away “Let’s go now.”

Both of you walk in silence as you head towards the path that’ll lead you to the house. Slipping into the trees the day only grows darker.

You’re lost in thought as you walk. You’d not considered your plan this far in advance, maybe a small part of you had thought Yoongi would stop you, but there he is next to you. Your thoughts turn to whether your theory is right. If that happens then you’re about to come face to face with whatever is doing this. And then what?

As different scenarios flash through your head you get distracted. The darkness, your distracted mind and the tree roots littering the path is a combination that has your feet tripping. Your hands go out to break your fall and while it stops your from hitting your head, it doesn’t stop the pain.

Your hands and knees bang into and then scrape along the ground. The pain starts in your right knee but it flares brighter in your hands. Yoongi is down by your side before you can lift them up to inspect the damage.

“You ok?” There’s no hint of anything but worry.

His one hand is light on the small of your back, while the other goes to your hands as you lift them from the ground, not quite touching but hovering around them, unsure. There’s a sharp intake of breath as you turn them palm side up. You can’t see any cuts, but that’s more because there’s too much blood to see where it’s being produced.

“Let’s get you up.”

Yoongi’s hand moves from your back to your hip and though you don’t need his help, it’s nice to have his support as you scramble up from the ground. You know he’s a one step at a time sort of guy and you also know with how bad this cut is what his next words are going to be. It’s why, when you’re stood up, you turn your hand away from him, push it down to your side as you stand facing him.

“It’s ok,” you say before he can speak.

A frown forms between his brows. “We should go clean that.”

“It’s fine.”

“There was a lot of blood.”

“And yet, it’s fine. We should keep goi–”

“You must be joking if you think we’re still going.”

“Then call me Nicole Byer, because clearly I’m fucking hilarious.”

“I don’t know who the fuck that is,” Yoongi says flatly. “I’m not taking another step unless it’s in the direction of my house.”

“Relax,” you say despite clenching your own jaw. “It doesn’t hurt that muc- ow!”

You accidentally brush your hand against your leg causing a flash of pain. One of Yoongi’s eyebrows quirks, a sign of him letting you know he’s right. Your jaw only clenches tighter in response.

You’re about to protest further but the sound of a branch snapping behind you stops you.

Yoongi’s eyes shoot over your shoulder as you grow tense. There’s another snapping twig, closer. You can only watch Yoongi’s reaction to whatever is playing out behind you. The way he tenses, his eyes wide, his skin losing all its colour, only terrifies you.

You open your mouth, about to ask what’s happening as you start to twist. Yoongi’s eyes snap to you. He lunges, takes the step to close the distance between you and closes his arms around you.

“Shhh,” he whispers into your hair.

There’s no comfort in this embrace. It’s all fear and tension. You want to know what he’s seen, need to know what’s going on. As if predicting this, Yoongi speaks again.

“Don’t move.”

Despite the words you do the opposite, Yoongi’s hands tighten around you in response.

“What is it?”

He shushes you. Not rudely, but in a quiet way, a panicked way. It only makes you want to twist in his arms more, which only makes his grip tighten.

“Y/N,” he mutters, his lips right by your ear. “Please, for once, listen to me.”

“What is it?” You whisper back.

“Nothing.”

It takes a second for him to reconsider. And then before he can clarify his hands are on your hips and moving you from his front to behind him, his whole body a shield as another branch snaps, the closest one yet.

You can see it now. Over Yoongi’s shoulder, hidden behind his back.

It’s like nothing you’ve seen before. More human than animal. But less human than anything you’ve seen.

It’s walking slowly towards you. Its movements distorted, head jolting from side to side with every step it takes, arms held out limp in front. It’s wearing clothes but they’re ripped and torn showing scarred skin underneath. Its head, if you can call it that with hollow sockets where eyes should be, thin to little hair and a flattened nose, lifts in the air.

It’s stops then. The action should feel comforting, if only a little, but it moves its head around as if sniffing the air.

And then it looks right at you.

Body no longer moving, you feel like your breath has stopped. Yoongi’s grip tightens on you, his whole body tensing as if he’s readying to fight.

The blood on your hand, you realise. The cut that you created only moments ago is what has brought it here. It kills animals, devours them presumably for food. And now it’s sniffing the air as if it’s about to do the same to you.

And while you’re utterly petrified at whatever that thing is and what it might do to you, the strangest sensation washes over you.

You don’t want Yoongi to die.

Sure, you also don’t want to die. But he told you to run while he was going to stay and fight. He’s now protecting you like a human shield. He’s now gripping you as if he’s feeling exactly the same way about you.

Oh god. Do you like Yoongi? Like, more than like Yoongi?

The answer doesn’t have time to form in your mind as the thing jerks, drawing your attention back to it. Yoongi pushes back into you, clearly also shocked, but in doing so he knocks into your hand, pain coursing from the cut there. He must realise, hearing you suck in your breath or maybe from your body language, because his hold on that side of you softens.

Both of your focus still on the thing and waiting to see what it’s going to do.

To your surprise, and utter relief, it takes one last sniff, turns and then runs away. Both you and Yoongi stay where you are for a second longer, just in case. But only a couple of seconds pass from it disappearing from view to Yoongi letting you go enough to turn and face you. He doesn’t say anything as he grabs your good hand and starts to lead you out of the woods and back to his place.

Your hand is clutched to your chest as Yoongi tears around the room. You thought you’d seen Yoongi mad before, but it was nothing in comparison to this. You can’t even take in his home, which you’ve never been in before, due to your eyes tracking his every movement, unsure what he’s going to do next.

He tears open a cupboard door so forcefully you think he might rip it off from the hinges. You bite back any words you might have; you don’t want to add to his annoyance, but your hand is also throbbing so badly that you just want something to help with the pain.

“Why do you keep doing it?” He spits the words out as he searches in the cupboard for anything to help mend you. “Why do you care so much? You always hated this place and yet you’re so fucking obsessed with that thing.”

You tuck your hand a little closer, blood dripping onto your already ruined top. Your stare is firm when he twists round to look at you, bandages in his hands. His look is like thunder, still you hold it. Tension rises as neither of you break the stare or the silence in the room. When Yoongi speaks it’s soft, almost croaky with emotion.

“You could have gotten us killed.”

Your eyes drop at the words. Maybe it’s the shock setting in that’s making him lash out, but he doesn’t need to say it out loud, you were both there and you both know you were only there because of you and that thing only came because of your blood. You almost killed him. And what’s even more confusing is he was going to act as your human shield.

There’s a deep sigh before the sound of feet shuffling towards you. A scrape of a chair before you see the tops of Yoongi’s feet. When he sits his legs are framing yours, his knees almost touching yours. Still you don’t look at him.

“Let’s see it then.”

His voice is gruff and doesn’t inspire you to give over your injured hand. Yoongi must realise, he’s much more observant than you thought. Shuffling closer his knees press into yours as he lays his hand face up on your lap so you can see it.

You look up at his face. There’s a pleading look in his eyes, like he really wants to help you.

Reluctantly you lay your hand in his, keep your eyes on his face so as not to see the cut. Yoongi looks down at it and lets out a sharp hiss. The noise makes you start to pull away but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist and stop you.

“It’s ok,” he mutters, his free hand trying to sort out the things he needs.

“It doesn’t sound ok.”

“There’s just more blood than I expected.”

“My now red shirt didn’t allude to that?” Your tone is snappy despite the attempt to joke.

“It’s ok though,” he pauses, looking up at you with a smile. “I don’t think I’m going to have to cut it off.”

You flush, have to look over his shoulder to stop the tightness in your chest. It’s a terrible dad joke, something Seokjin would say, and yet you find it loosening you.

“I’m going to clean your hand,” he goes back to his muttering. “It might sting a little.”

The wipe touches the outside of your palm, as far from the cut as possible. Yoongi works it over your skin in gentle swipes, getting closer and closer to the cut. He pauses before he wipes the cut and then, holding your hand firmly in his, he runs the wipe over it. Instinctively you try to close your hand, but Yoongi doesn’t let you.

“It’s ok,” he says, gently. “Just a little more and then it’ll all be over.”

He continues, muttering about how he has to do it to stop any infection, how the cuts not that bad but maybe you should go to the doctors in the morning and keeps repeating how close to finishing he is.

He doesn’t say anything as he puts some cream on your cut and then wraps a bandage around your hand. It gets a little unnerving. You liked his gentle mutters, found comfort in it. But the silence is horrible, worse even then when he was slamming the cabinet doors. At least then you knew how he felt. Now, you have no idea.

“Thanks,” you say as he twists away from you and starts to clean. The only thing that gives you a little hope you haven’t completely messed this up is that he hasn’t drawn completely away from you, his knees are still firmly pressed into yours.

You nudge your leg into his. His movements stall for a second, not much but enough to create another spark of hope. Still, he doesn’t look at you, just continues to clean. Or maybe he’s just pretending to clean.

You move to knee him again, a little harder, a more distinct movement to tell him you want him to look at you.

The smile that was starting to grow drops as Yoongi pushes away to stand.

Eyes wide, you follow his movements. Heart pounding in your throat you watch as he runs a hand down his face.

Maybe you misread everything. Maybe these feelings aren’t two sided. Maybe Yoongi is genuinely just being nice. But how could you have read this all so wrong? As if to answer the question you silently watch him for any signs.

He goes back to cleaning up, winding up bandages, creating a neat little line of safety pins, something for the sake of nothing. He’s avoiding you; being near you, looking at you, talking to you. Everything. And it only makes your heart pound that bit harder.

You should leave him to it, you shouldn’t push him. But something makes you reach out and take his wrist, the same gesture he’s done to you so many times before. It gets him to stop his movements if nothing else. But he doesn’t look at you, just stares down at the counter.

“Yoongi,” you whisper his name. It’s spoken like a question, one you’re not even sure the meaning of.

His eyes flick to you, his body still facing away from you, your hand still wrapped around his wrist.

An unknown confidence sparks inside you despite the fact your throat tightens. You swallow before slipping your hand lower. Yoongi lets you lace your fingers with his, his eyes tracking the movement before they look back at you, a small frown now between his eyes. You try not to worry about how your actions could be a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” the words are said as gently as his name was.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want you to apologise.”

You nod, not sure what he wants you to say instead. He doesn’t enlighten you to what he does want and the fact only makes you more desperate. There was a time, not so long ago, when you wouldn’t have cared what Yoongi thought of you, in fact, him ignoring you would have been welcomed. You would have done anything to push him away. But now, you don’t want that.

“Yoongi,” your voice sounds pleading as you push yourself to stand. He doesn’t back away, doesn’t pull his hand out of your grasp, so in the end you’re chest to chest with him, bodies not quite touching.

“I don’t get you,” he says, and though it’s not what you want to hear, you’re so relieved to hear him talk that you just want to hear him continue. Because you can’t lose him too, all your other friends didn’t believe you, they left you to do this alone, only Yoongi stayed by your side and now after one mistake, you can’t lose him too. “I don’t get why you keep pushing this.”

You know why. You may not have realised the day you saw that dead bird in your kitchen or when you started to realise that wasn’t an isolated incident. You didn’t read into it, probably because it was too painful to admit. But now you know why. You just can’t seem to admit that to Yoongi.

Your eyes dart over his shoulder. “Because that thing is killing animals in –”

Panic. That’s all you feel as Yoongi shakes his head and starts to pull away from you. Heart hammering you chase after him, scramble to reattach your hands.

You can’t lose him too.

“Because so many things have died in my life, so many people, that I can’t risk any more dying.”

The words fly out of you. They ring around the room in the silence that follows. Neither of you are moving anymore. Yoongi stopped at your admission and you followed suit not long after. His brow is furrowed even though you thought he would have guessed that was the reason why, just wanted you to admit it, show you trust him.

It pains you to carry on. But it’s as if now you’ve said one thing, you can’t stop.

“Because my mum died. And then my dad. And honestly, I can’t let anyone else die,” your voice is pained, starting to take on a husky quality as the emotions start to build in you. “Because that thing is starting to kill bigger and bigger things and who’s to say it won’t be Jin next, or Liv … or you.”

It doesn’t look like it was the answer he was expecting. But as soon as the first tears slips out of your eyes he’s back on you, arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest, lips by your ear as he tries to sooth you.

“I can’t … let … anyone,” your words stop coming out, throat closing as tears continue to fall down your face and sobs wrack your body.

Yoongi pulls you tighter against him, letting out a soothing shush in your ear.

“It’s not going to kill anyone. I won’t let it.”

You nod, even knowing Yoongi has no power over that. Your throat is too tight to speak.

“Everything’s going to be ok.”

It doesn’t feel that way but you want to believe him regardless. You trust him and over the past few weeks you’ve started to rely on and lean on him for support. Even if he can’t do anything, maybe it’s best you start letting someone in, help hold the load that’s been weighing so heavily on you. Together, that’s the words Yoongi used and it’s one you need to start believing in.

Your breath comes out as a shudder as you pull away from Yoongi’s chest, just enough to be able to look into his eyes. They’re full of concern as he flicks between yours, deep gorges of worry lining his forehead.

Neither of you move. Neither of you speak. You’re hardly even breathing as you stare at him from what feel like a breath away.

A tension rises between the two of you, one you’ve felt before, but this time there’s nothing causing it to break and you find yourself not wanting to break it.

It’s you that leans in. It would feel like a risk but knowing everything Yoongi has hinted at about how he feels – or at least felt – about you and after growing so much closer over the past few weeks, you’re confident he wants this as much as you do. And you know, or at least can guess, that the first move will always have to come from you. There’s too much troubled history between you and Yoongi seems like one of those guys that wouldn’t be able to read a sign if it was right in front of him.

He’s still when your lips touch his and you’d bet if you opened your eyes you’d see him looking back at you. Lips curling at the edges at the thought of how affected you’re making him, you push further into him, take his bottom lip between yours and tug it gently.

You feel him gasp, his fingers tightening on your hips. You smile again as you start to pull away. But Yoongi’s finally woken up from whatever shock possessed him. He chases after you, so eager that he pushes too much of his weight into you causing you to have to step back.

Still in his arms you laugh as your lips pull apart. How have you gone from Yoongi slamming doors and shouting at you that you nearly killed him, to this? It’s surreal.

Holding you steady in his arm Yoongi attaches his lips back on yours. There’s no laugh on his lips and he effectively kisses yours away.

There’s so much want in his kiss. His fingers curling around to your back, tugging you impossibly closer as if he needs more and more of you, wants to make sure he’s not missing out on a single thing.

All your thoughts simmer down until only those of Yoongi are left. The feel of his hands, so large, on your back. The push of his legs against yours. The taste of his tongue as it pushes against yours. The feel of his slightly chapped lips. The smooth plane of his nose running along yours, dragging along your skin as he twists and turns his head to get the perfect angle to kiss you. The coolness clinging to his hair as you tangle your fingers in it.

Every part of him is a contrast. And every part of him you want more of.

You push into him, too hard to begin with so that he has to take a step back. You laugh while Yoongi remains serious, hands on your hips dragging you back onto him. His lips steal your laugh, swallowing it as his hands start to roam your body. Laugh turning into a moan, you arch up into him, try and silently encourage him as your own hands wonder the panes of his body.

He’s solid. Far more than you thought he would be.

You shift, your thigh grating along his body. You’d not noticed before, your bodies pressed fully against him, but obviously not there. He’s hard. And now you’ve felt it you realise how much he must be straining in his pants. While Yoongi tries to twist away, get back to the position you were in where you couldn’t feel him pressing into you, you try to chase the feeling of him. Because, damn, is that how turned on he is from making out with you?

“Stop,” he pulls away, hand firm on your hips to make sure you follow the command, the other going down to his crotch to adjust himself.

You smile at him, glance down at where his hand is to see what you’ve only felt until now. When you look back up at his face, he’s finding it hard to hide the amusement he’s feeling.

Pushing forward you steal a kiss before he can stop you.

“Do you have a bedroom in this place?”

The question should be obvious but it seems to throw Yoongi off, the hand on your hip tightening as his face quirks in surprise. Your heart squeezes.

“You know, so we can …” you drift off, not quite able to spell it out so plainly. Still Yoongi doesn’t say or do anything, your words seeming to freeze him. “Unless you just want to continue making out in your kitchen?”

His eyes flash to your lips then just as quickly go back to your eyes. Colour lights his cheeks. You think he’s going to chicken out, think you’ve moved too fast or said something wrong, read him wrong, but then he’s moving. He nearly grabs your injured hand, but just as his fingers graze the bandage wrapped around your hand he pulls away. You laugh as you hold out your other hand. Back to being serious Yoongi takes your hand and leads you through his house.

You catch glimpses of his house as you head through his hall and up his stairs. It’s not much smaller than your house, a narrow hallway leading to some steep stairs. There aren’t many photos, not a lot to tell you about the man in front of you. A few pieces of art, even fewer photos, all on white walls; clean and tastefully placed, rather than the more chaotic and colourful approach you take.

It’s very Yoongi, you realise. And the fact that doesn’t worry you tells you everything.

As soon as you walk through Yoongi’s bedroom door, you’re back on him. Tugging his hand, you get him to twist towards you before you push into him and place your lips back on his. Even as your tongues tangle you don’t stop moving. Your hands go under his t-shirt, feeling the smooth yet hard panes there. You feel his muscles go taught as your hands go higher.

You smile against his lips, satisfied with the reaction you gained. Your hands start to go higher but stop when Yoongi’s hands take a handful of your ass. Gasping you pull away from him, pulling your hands out from under his top you lightly slap his chest.

“It’s a good ass,” he defends, as if that would help.

You hit him again, still soft but a little harder so that you push him backwards. He laughs and when you go to push him again, he takes your wrists in his hand. He easily tugs you back into his arms, keeping your hands pressed between you as he gently kisses you.

Nipping and tugging, he pulls your lips gently between his teeth before kissing the spot better. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips but when you open up for him, he doesn’t go in. He’s teasing you and while it frustrates you, it really turns you on.

Building you up to a point where your hands are tugging to be out of his grasp, he finally lets you go.

You tear at his clothes, struggle for a second to find the hem to his top but when you do you break away from his lips to tug the material over his head. Making the most of the opportunity, Yoongi rids you of your top in a similar manner, his eyes roaming your chest appreciatively. Rolling your eyes you reach behind you and remove your bra, giving him something to actually look at. Colour tints his cheeks but his eyes don’t move away.

“You just going to stand there?” You smile, working at the button of your jeans.

Your trousers are halfway down your legs before Yoongi comes back to himself, the colour remaining on his cheeks as his hands go to his trousers.

“You got a condom?” You say when you’re both naked and your lips are back on each other, the back of your knees touching the bed.

“Yeah,” Yoongi mutters but doesn’t move from the spot in your arms.

Too transfixed by him, it takes a second for you to do anything. “Are you going to get it?”

He hums against your lips. “In a minute.”

You giggle, the noise swallowed by Yoongi. Still neither of you break from each other.

A minute passes and then another. Hardly any time but enough time for you to want more.

“You going to get that condom?” You say against his lips, only gaining a hum in response.

It feels like torture to pull away from him. You let your legs dip beneath you as you sit down on the bed behind you. Yoongi’s hands fall away from your side, your lips feeling cold without his on them. Now much lower, your eyes are level with one of Yoongi’s other attributes. Only having seen it straining against his trousers before now, you can’t help but admire his hard, thick cock. You don’t even realise you start to lean towards it until Yoongi steps away, a deep laugh leaving him.

His hand wraps around himself as you continue to watch. Dragging your eyes up to his, you curl your lips into a smile. He doesn’t react, his face flat as he stares down at you. You swallow, swear a pool is starting to form between your legs. And then he nods his head to the headboard, and you know you’re dripping.

He’s silent as he drifts away from you, cock still wrapped up in his hand. Your eyes track him as he walks to his draw. He pauses before looking over his shoulder at you. Fuck. He doesn’t have to say a word to get you shuffling back up his bed.

The draw opens and as Yoongi walks back over to you he rips open the foil pack, dumping the rubbish on the floor but keeping the condom rolled up as he crawls onto the bed. Your breathing feels heavy and laboured as he crawls towards you and then knees either side of you, shuffles over you. He stops only when his knees are level with your hips.

You watch, breathless, as Yoongi kneels over you and rolls the condom down his length.

Is this happening? Are you really about to have sex with this guy? It’s not even that, are you really about to have sex with Yoongi? The guy who hated you, who you disliked, who you couldn’t even be in the same room with only a few months ago.

Even as you watch him rolling the condom on. Even as you’re lay naked beneath him. It’s hard to believe.

“Hey,” the word makes you drag your eyes up to Yoongi’s face, now full of concern rather than lust. “You sure you’re ok with this?”

You nod, then realise that you should verbalise your feelings. “Yeah.”

“We can stop. We don’t have to go any further.”

“I want to,” you reach a hand up and he leans in so you can more easily run your hand along his jaw. It’s a contrast to all the heat between you up until now. “I just can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Me either.”

You feel like you mean it in different ways. The way Yoongi says it doesn’t make you think he means he can’t believe he’s about to have sex with the girl he hated not so long ago. No, he looks like a man who’s dreams are all coming true.

Yoongi leans down, chest resting on yours as his lips touch yours. Slowly, deeply, with so much love that you try not to read into, you kiss each other. Tongues twisting against each other, teeth clashing, lips pushing and pulling.

You reach down between your bodies but before you can get to where you’re aiming, Yoongi’s on you. In that all familiar way his hand encompasses your wrist. He doesn’t even have to break the kiss as he drags your hand back up your body and pins it over your head. The whine you let out is halfway between pleasure and dissatisfaction. You want more and you want it now.

Yoongi is slow to give it to you. His hand pinning one of yours above your head, the other injured one he’s more careful with.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he mutters against your lips. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You’re so drunk on him that you can’t comprehend the words just yet. Arching up into him you just try and let him know how much you want him too. Still, he takes his time with you.

Kissing you for another excruciatingly long minute, Yoongi finally reaches down to grab the one thing you want. He never breaks the kiss as he runs his tip between your folds, but when he comes to rest at your entrance. Forehead pushing against yours, his breaths are heavy as they mingle with yours, chest heaving so much that it dips low onto yours.

He doesn’t push into you, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t kiss you or move. Just looks down between your bodies breathing so heavily you begin to wonder whether it’s him that’s not ok with this.

His hand now loose on your wrist you easily pull out of his grasp. Gently your run your fingers through his hair, his eyes flicking to yours at the gesture. You don’t rush to speak, let the moment linger for a second.

Eyes now on yours, you don’t even get a chance to speak before Yoongi’s pushing into you. Just the tip to start. In and out in slow yet satisfying motions. Your eye contact never breaks. Even as he starts to push deeper into you, even when the pleasure becomes so much you have to fight to keep your eyes open, your contact never breaks.

Pushing your feet onto the bed you angle your hips so you can push up into Yoongi every time he grinds down into you. Deepening how much Yoongi goes into you, increasing the pleasure, which seemingly only gets Yoongi to stop.

“Fuck,” he elongates the word as he comes to a stop fully in you, his eyes closing and head dipping. “Please don’t do that.”

It takes you a second. He doesn’t want you to help him? Only wants you to lie there looking pretty? But then it occurs to you.

“What, this?” You say as you clench around him.

He lets out a low growl like sound, his jaw tight as he angles head to look back at you.

“Just give me a minute, ok?”

You smile, at least it seems that one thing hasn’t changed, your joy for winding him up hasn’t diminished. “You going to come so early?”

A nerve in his jaw ticks, his eyes darken.

“And what you going to do, huh?” You carry on when he doesn’t respond. “If I don’t stop?”

You wait a second and then smirk as you clench around him.

“No, seriously,” he says, voice strained as his chest buckles in towards you. “I need a second.”

You bite back your laugh because that’s not going to help this. Hand going to his head you run soothing lines across his scalp, pushing him to relax into the crook of your neck. It’s flattering, honestly, because even though you’re not gaining much physical pleasure right now, Yoongi being so affected by being inside you is such an ego boost.

Slowly, as if not wanting to move too fast too quickly, Yoongi begins to move again. His head remains where it fell on your skin, his forehead pushing into you, lips hovering just over your skin, breath coming out in huffs that fan out across your skin.

His pace builds. From long, slow movements, to faster and quicker thrusts. Your head falls back, you can’t stop yourself from arching up into him, your hips gyrating into Yoongi on their own accord. This time he doesn’t tell you off, doesn’t stop, just keeps going.

“I’m going to come soon,” he admits more breath than words.

You can’t even speak, words losing all meaning before they can leave your mouth. Instead you hum out your agreement. You’re so close, his tip running along every seam within you.

He shifts on the bed, skin becoming slick with sweat, he adjusts his knees either side of you so he can thrust deeper but slips as he does so. Though not graceful, it pushes him into you at such an angle that has you groaning out.

“Oh,” he says in his own bout of pleasure, pausing just long enough to feel you loosen around him before thrusting into you again, trying and succeeding to hit that same spot. You twist in pleasure beneath him, the coil in your stomach knotting and tightening. “That’s the spot?”

You don’t respond, can’t respond, as Yoongi leans over you hold your hip on the side of your injured hand and your arm on the other side, pinning you in place as he thrusts again. He makes it harder to move, puts you in a position you’re at his mercy. You’ve let him know your weak spot and he’s going to use it against you.

The moans fall from your mouth of their own accord as Yoongi punctuates every spot by making sure he hits that spot within you. Every time you can flutter your eyes open you see his own face contorted in pleasure, screwed up in a way that lets you know he’s fighting every instinct to come.

Reaching a hand between you, you sloppily place a finger on the bunch of nerves to help you get to your release. With every thrust you feel Yoongi’s skin on the back of your hand. With every thrust the coil in your centre tightens and tightens.

“You close?” Yoongi can barely get the words out, his hips never stopping for a second. “Please tell me you’re close.”

You let the question go unanswered again. Unable to answer him. But yes, you’re so fucking close. And as if spurred on or maybe just growing impatient or possibly just chasing his own release, Yoongi dips back down onto you, his hips flush with yours as he puts more power behind each thrust. One, two, three, four short but powerful thrusts is all it takes for you to come. And on the fifth Yoongi stutters and comes in the condom.

His hips continue to move, slower, shallower, as he mumbles words you can’t hear against your skin.

Too tired to move, you both stay like that for a few minutes, when Yoongi finally pulls out you’re already half asleep. You try to rouse yourself, you should head home but Yoongi’s hand grazes your forehead.

“You should sleep,” he mutters.

Too tired to protest or think much about where you’re with, how significant it could be to stay the night, you fall asleep.

The last thing you’re aware of is a light press of lips on your temple.

A twig snaps.

Your heart hammers as you look around the woods. It’s so dark but the moon is bright tonight and it’s letting you see the outlines of the trees around you, but nothing else.

Another twig snaps. This time louder. Closer.

You twist, heart hammering as you look behind you.

There’s nothing there and it only terrifies you more. There’s something out there, watching you, getting closer and you can’t see it.

Snap.

You twist a final time and there it is. Limbs disjointed. Movements jolty. You watch as that thing takes another slow step towards you. It’s still far away, but it’s getting closer. You would twist and run but when you try and move this time you find you can’t. Looking down your feet are in thick, wet mud.

Panic sets it. Withering and pulling and fighting you try to escape the mud keeping you trapped while that thing gets closer and closer.

Snap.

You want to scream, but your voice catches in your throat. Silent and stuck you become a victim to whatever it wants to do to you. You can’t escape.

You watch in horror as it tilts it’s head in that now familiar way, seeming to sniff the air. You expect it to twist away like it did before. Expect it to be repelled rather than attracted to your scent. What you don’t expect is its head snapping in your direction.

You finally let out a scream as the thing comes running towards you.

You wake with a jolt. Feel sweaty in the bed from the dream you just had. Heart still pounding from what you’ve just witnessed.

Just a dream, you try to reassure yourself, despite it feeling so real.

The next thought that goes through your head is that this isn’t your bed. The arm draped over your waist isn’t something you normally wake up to. And yet it doesn’t add to your panic, if anything it helps calm you down.

Twisting, you roll over so you’re facing the person next to you.

Yoongi’s eyes are heavy with sleep, barely open as a smile transforms his face.

“Morning.”

Your stomach flips at the dark husk that is his morning voice. Yoongi’s hand tightens on your hip, his fingers rough on your skin but so nice. It brings back flashes of last night, only heating you up more.

“Hi,” you whisper back causing Yoongi’s smile to broaden.

A silence falls over the two of you, not awkward or weighted but comfortable. Yoongi’s fingers steady on your hip, a small comforting movement on your skin. Sleep still heavy on your brain, laying in bed, in Yoongi’s arms, you feel yourself slipping back into sleep.

That is until you shift, the initial aim to get more comfortable, but your leg bends and pushes a little too close to Yoongi. You feel him, not quite erect but still hard.

Every nerve in your body comes alive, the point on your leg that touched him retains the feeling. Even though you touched him all last night, had him inside you, have now slept in his arms, you still feel unsure how to react. Do you call it out, try and be sexy and cool, two words you’d never associate with yourself? Or do you pretend nothing happened, something you once would have done but now unsure if that’s how you should be?

Yoongi, the ever-patient man, let’s you think it out.

“It’s weird,” you say, surprising both of you by speaking so calmly as well as the actual words. “I would never have thought I’d wake in bed next to you.”

Even though the words come out as rude, Yoongi smiles, his fingers squeezing your side. “The Min Yoongi.”

You giggle, shuffling closer into him, though careful to avoid anywhere your leg touched earlier.

“I’m pretty sure my fifteen-year-old self wouldn’t believe this is happening either.”

It’s something he’s alluded to before, something you’ve never pushed for more information but now you have the chance.

“Because he hated me?” You say it with a smile, a hint of a joke, but it’s a serious question you want to know the answer to.

“I’m not sure that’s the word I would have used.”

“It’s what I always thought.”

“I guess I was a bit of a dick with all the nerves I felt around you.”

You smile, shaking your head.

“You don’t believe me?” He says. When you nod your head he hums in thought, the hand on your hip pulling you even closer to him so that his hand can rest on your back, your chests ghosting each other, your faces only inches away so that you could hear each other even if you whispered. It’s like, even though you’re the only two in the room to hear whatever is spoken, you want to make sure these words are only for the other. “Jimin mentioned there was a new cute new girl who started before I ever met you. He thought anything with a heartbeat was attractive, so I didn’t think much about it, until you walked into that first lesson.”

You can’t smile at anything he’s saying. It all feels too real. Probably because it is real. All these things he’s hinted at in the weeks you’ve been getting to know him and yet it still feels strange to have such a shift in what you believed to be real.

“I don’t really know what I thought. I’ve never really reacted that way at just the look of someone. You just looked so beautiful and perfect and my hormonal self really struggled when you started to walk towards me and I realised you were going to sit beside me,” he smiles as your heart pounds. “Fuck,” he chuckles the words. “Let’s just say I wish I had a pillow.”

“So you asked to move seats?” Your voice is raspy, but neither of you draw attention to it.

“You really I think I could have sat next to you when that was my first reaction to seeing you?”

You laugh, “what did you tell Miss Talbot to get her to move you?”

He shrugs, the colour tinting his cheeks telling you a different story. It warms your heart thinking of that boy you knew from school doing all of this.

“I just can’t believe it,” you say. “I can’t believe you actually liked me.”

He hums again, his eyes flicking over your face. “I think I more than liked you.”

“You had such a funny way of showing it.”

He groans, closes the distance between you, his bare chest pressing into yours as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. You can only laugh.

“I was an awkward fifteen-year-old boy who didn’t know how to react around beautiful girls.”

“How did you ever pull?”

“I hardly did,” he mutters into your neck.

Your heart clenches, your hands going to the messy strands of hair on his head. “Still, I really did think you hated me,” you pause then add, “even when I moved back, I thought you hated me.”

He pulls away from you, holds his weight so that he’s resting above you. His eyes are intense now, no longer half closed and sleepy, but instead are awake and dark.

“I’ve been a dick,” he repeats, no excuses made. “Can I make it up to you?”

You watch as his eyes flick to your lips, a clear message of how he hopes to make it up to you. It’s still weird, still takes you a second to comprehend just who this is and what you want him to do to you.

It’s so different from last night, at least the start when you were the one who was having to push him. That shy, nervous guy is gone now.

“How do you plan on doing that?”

“I can think of a few ways.”

He’s slow to lean down into you. Slower still to move his lips against yours. Nose pushing into you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. There are so many emotions behind everything he does, as if if wants to tell you things without using words.

Even when he pulls another condom out, rolls it on and pushes into you, his movements are slow. His lips reattach themselves as he rolls his hips into yours and you try and not think too hard about the fact that all of this feels like way more than just sex.

The bell tingles and for the first time it doesn’t fill you with dread. What you do feel though, is nerves. They’ve been pumping through you before you even saw Yoongi through the window, well before you decided to come here after work, to be honest they started nearly as soon as you left his house this morning.

The door closes slowly behind you. Your focus purely on Yoongi and the way his eyes drag slowly to yours. They’re indifferent to start, start to warm in welcoming a new customer but then burst with shock before settling on what you think is joy, even if he does school his smile down from the beam to a small curl of his lips.

“Oh hey,” your eyes shoot left at the voice, not realising Olivia was even here. “You’re here.”

Her eyes flick to Yoongi, a question on her face that reads what the fuck is going on? when she looks back at you she plasters a smile on her lips.

“Don’t see you here much.”

“Oh right, hi Liv,” you say, not having thought too much about the fact you’d have an audience for this. Turning to Yoongi you’re surprised he’s moved from behind the till, stepping towards you with that same small smile.

“Don’t you have some stock to deal with in the back?” Yoongi asks Liv, predictably she doesn’t move.

As you step towards him you can’t help but remember that this is the first time seeing him after the night you spent together. It was only this morning, but you didn’t do too much talking before you left his place. You heat, try and fail not to suddenly be awkward. Yoongi’s smile only widens, clearly picking up on your behaviour and is clearly very amused by it.

“Hey,” you mutter.

Yoongi’s smile twitches, his eyes alive. “Hi.”

“You ok?”

“Yep,” he pops the p. “You?”

“Uh-huh,” you smile like a fucking teenager who’s in front of her crush.

“Did you come here for anything in particular?” Yoongi’s tone is playful. “Need my help finding anything?”

You laugh, light and gentle. Your mouth opening to come back with some retort. The words never leave your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” it’s Olivia that speaks this time, dragging your attention to her but failing to get Yoongi to stop looking at you. “What the fuck am I watching right now?”

You heat for a second time, find it hard to drag your eyes back to Yoongi even as you can feel his focus still on you. This whole thing is weird enough without Olivia being here.

“I – uh –” you look back at Yoongi for help, he only raises an eyebrow as if also wondering the same thing. “Well, I’ve come for a book.”

You look back at Olivia and smile, though you’re sure the gesture looks more manic than reassuring. Olivia frowns, eyes flicking back to Yoongi with that same unsure look.

“Ok,” she elongates the word as her eyes drag back to you and your still manic smile. “I guess I have work in the back to do then.”

She hesitates a second, reluctant to go as if waiting for you to shout out for her help any second. Slowly, she drags her feet along the floor in the direction of the back room.

“So what book do you want?” Yoongi’s tone is all amusement and cheek.

“Lord of the Rings?” It’s the first book you think of, one that causes Yoongi’s lips to pop open for a second before he nods and starts to lead you around the room.

He takes you to the corner furthest from the open door leading to the back room. His back to you as he searches the shelves you build up the courage you need.

“So, uh, I didn’t actually come here for a book.”

He turns, his face still alight with amusement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, though his tone suggested that was pretty obvious.

“Well that’s good because I don’t have Lord of the Rings in stock.”

Your eyes flick to the travel books he’s lead you to as if betrayed by something you didn’t even want. The smile is wide on his face when you look back.

“Who doesn’t stock Lord of the Rings?”

“I can order it in if you want?” He lifts an eyebrow, a laugh on his lips. “But I thought you didn’t come here for it?”

“Right,” you flush, eyes darting away from him. The only way you think you’ll be able to ask him is if you don’t keep eye contact. “I was wondering if you wanted to come to mine for food tonight?”

Your eyes flick back to his face to gage a reaction. The smile doesn’t fade, his eyes don’t dim. He still looks immensely happy and your heart softens in relief, worry seeping away as if he may answer any other way.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “That would be nice. I can get to you by 7?”

You nod, a smile to match his taking over your whole face. Back to being crushing teenagers you stand for far too long just smiling at each other. The only thing to break you being Olivia dropping something heavy in the background. You jump in the air as you hear a loud ‘sorry’ that doesn’t sound very apologetic.

Flushing you look back to Yoongi who still looks like he couldn’t care any less by the rest of the world. As if, as long as you’re stood in front of him, he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.

“Right,” you mutter. “Well, great, I guess I’ll see you later?”

Yoongi nods, you nod back and then remembering the audience flash your eyes to the back room before darting out of the shop to safety.

Tofu darts out the door when you open it. Yoongi’s stood with a bottle of wine and a large bunch of flowers. You awkwardly take them off him, the items getting in the way enough that all you can exchange is a small half-hug. You flush and ramble about having to find a vase as you lead Yoongi to the kitchen.

“I didn’t even ask if you ate meat,” you say, horrified as you put the flowers in an inch of water in the sink. You look around at the nearly finished meal. “Or if you have any allergies. I mean do you? Because we can order something in or I can run to the shop and get –”

Your words trail off when you turn and look at Yoongi leaning against your counter, a wide smile on his face.

“It looks and smells amazing,” he says.

“It’s just roast chicken.”

He hums, then says in a sweet yet sarcastic tone, “just,” as if there’s nothing throwaway about what you’re making.

“Well,” you say, drifting off and turning away from Yoongi’s gaze. You’re so unused to this Yoongi. Or at least having to interact with this Yoongi like it’s a normal thing. “Shall I pour some wine?”

“Tell me where the glasses are and I’ll do it.”

You look over your shoulder, eyebrow raised. “A proper gentleman,” you tease before telling him where he can find them.

You fall into an easy rhythm as you both get on with your own tasks. Yoongi pouring the wine, you managing the food. It’s easy, feels normal. It’s nice.

“Here you go.”

You turn to be given a glass of wine, gladly accept and gulp a large sip. The two of you fall into easy conversation about your days.

There’s a weird noise, a meow that’s high pitched and more a warning than anything. Still half concentrating on Yoongi you flick your eyes over his shoulder.

You see it. Through your kitchen window. It’s in your fucking garden.

You go still before the panic fully sets in. Yoongi’s still talking, his back to the window he’s completely oblivious to what you’re seeing. But that thing is all you can see.

It’s seen something, you can tell. Your heart hammering in your ears, your breath shallow, your mind is slow to catch up to what you’re seeing.

And then you realise.

Your first instinct is to go for a knife you left out to cut the veg. Sharp, powerful, you don’t think any of this through as you start to walk to the door.

“What’s going on,” Yoongi’s words are slow to come to your ears, but as you’re slow to head to the door, he’s faster to work out what’s going on. “Fuck.”

Your hand is nearly on the handle when Yoongi stops you. You fight against him, are deaf to his words begging you to stop.

“It’s Tofu,” you blurt. “It’s going for Tofu.”

Yoongi’s hand slackens enough for you to pull out of his grasp. Banging the door open you rush outside, Yoongi hot on your tail.

“Tofu,” you scream as if your cat is like a dog and would run to you. He doesn’t, his attention is solely on that thing. Cornered, Tofu’s fur stands on end, back arched, tail bushy to make him look as big as possible.

Heart still pounding, adrenaline coursing through you, you start towards that thing. You scared it off once, maybe you can do it again.

Something stops you. A tight hand wrapped around your wrist. When you turn to look at Yoongi it’s with betrayal.

“Give me the knife,” he says

“I’ve got this,” you bite back, trying and failing to escape his grasp.

“Give. Me. The. Knife.”

“No.”

“Y/N,” he warns.

You look at him, glance over your shoulders to see the thing nearly on top of Tofu. His small furry body starting to shake in the corner of your garden. It’s not stopping. If you don’t do something now it’s going to get him. When you look back at Yoongi you’re sure it’s with desperation.

“Please,” you mutter. “Let me do this.”

His hand slackens, his face softening. You know he’s not happy about this, but he can see why you want to do it. You’ve opened up so much to him, more than anyone else. Still, he doesn’t let you go.

“Please,” you plead.

He shakes his head and your heart drops. But then he releases your arm. Before you can turn and carry on your mission he says, “we do this together.”

You nod though really you have no plan and no time to come up with one. In the time Yoongi stopped you, all your confidence has gone. Your adrenaline is still high but fear is starting to creep in.

“Hey!” Yoongi screams, he gains your attention but you’re not sure it’s done anything to that thing. “Over here mother fucker!”

You’d laugh if this were a different situation, but as it is your face stays steady as you look back towards Tofu. That thing is now looking at you, it hasn’t moved this way but is at least looking, head cocked to the side in an almost unnatural angle.

“Hey,” your voice is croaky, and you have to cough a little to clear it. “Get the fuck away from my cat.”

It comes out clearer. The thing turns and looks fully at you now. And then it starts to move.

“Y/N.”

There’s a flash of white fur as Tofu takes the opportunity to run. The thing is moving straight for you now, faster than you’ve ever seen it move before. It’s why Yoongi shouted your name. It’s why you held up the knife, the only thing you could do, hardly enough time to do anything else.

You scream, guttural, more like a war cry than from terror.

You stick your arm out, feel and hear the knife penetrating skin and then muscle and eventually the cracking of bones. There’s a screech from the monster, high pitched and full of pain. It flails it’s arms, catching your arm and ripping the skin. Still, you manage to hold the knife tight, your own screaming mixing with its. Blood sprays out of it and from your arm. Your injured hands gives a twang of pain as you bring it to grip the knife, twist as you pull out and then stab it again.

This time it pulls away. Movements more disjointed but slow as it slinks away from you. Blood pouring from the wounds. You don’t want to watch but you also can’t look away. You did this, you need to watch the consequences.

Slowly, but eventually, it stops moving. The world is silent and the thing is dead.

There’s blood everywhere. Not quite splattered like the bird you first discovered was, but this time it’s all over you.

Twisting to the side, you throw up all over your lawn. Yoongi’s almost immediately there to hold your hair back and rub your back through the whole thing. He whispers words you hardly hear, things about how it’s ok, how there was no other choice, how he’s going to stay with you for however long you need him. You think that might be forever, and you think if you asked he’d agree.

You remain on the lawn far longer than you should before Yoongi coaxes you inside for a wash. He takes care of everything, the long-forgotten food, Tofu still hiding outside, and you.

It’s all over, you let yourself think as you fall asleep in Yoongi’s arms that night.

“You can’t place a Jack on a King.”

“It’s the same suit.”

“Yeah, that means fuck all.”

“They’re both picture cards.”

“Have you even played this game?”

“Pretty sure I’ve played it more times than you.”

“You do realise this isn’t cheat, right?”

“Y/N,” you try to dampen your smile as you look over at the man whining at you.

“Seokjin?” You ask back in a sarcastically sweet way.

“Can you tell your boyfriend to fuck off?”

You hum as you look over at Yoongi, that smile becoming hard to hide. You open your mouth to say as much but Yoongi leans in and kisses your words away. Pushing his shoulder you laugh before he can kiss you again.

“I preferred it when you two hated each other,” Seokjin groans as he fishes his Jack off the pile. You and Yoongi are too consumed by one another to hear.

#Yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi fan fiction #horrorwoodcafe22 #btswritingcafe #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #suga fan fiction #suga x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff

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mqsi · 1 year

Text

This wasn’t in your sketches

part 1

welcome to my first longer story, I don’t know how many parts it will have but it’s safe to say I have the whole fic planned out. I’m going to work on requests between uploading this, don’t worry.that’s all, enjoy :)

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You woke up one morning with a call from your manager, informing you about a job opportunity you could only dream of. You always had passion for creating ,pulling together different supplies and materials, sketching stuff. That’s how you ended up applying for a Nike designing contest at 18 years old and actually winning it, earning yourself a job at Nike. You were put under your loving manager, Carla. She was in her 30s and had a very bubbly personality. But she could be too much at times. Like right now.

“Buen día beautiful, i assumed you were up so I called!” her voice echoed trough your phone. It was only 8am and you had a free day today.

“Yeah I’m up” you said without even opening you eyes.

“Awesome! You won’t believe what a deal I got for you. I’ve managed to get a famous footballer to model the new spring collection pieces that YOU will design!”

Your eyes snapped open and you jumped up in bed.

“How come? Why me? Isn’t there a lot of other, more experienced designers here?”

“Oh honey please, I wanted to make an opportunity for you. Plus Gavi is already a Nike athlete so his manager was happy to let him do this!”

“Gavi? Like Pablo Gavi?”

“We will have a first meeting with him tomorrow, so you can get to know him a bit and see what prefrences he has! Have a good day!” and she hung up. You were sitting in bed for another 15 minutes, just thinking about what just happened. Suddenly, your stomach started doing flips, what if you screw up?

Tomorrow came fast, you woke up, got ready and met up with Carla so you can go together. You were meeting up in your studio. As you entered the room behind Carla, Gavi was already there with his manager.

“Hello, I’m glad you two could make it today!” She yelled, greeting both men.

“Hi Carla, nice to finally meet you in person” Gavi’s manager said. Carla started chattering about the project before finishing with presenting you.

“I put her in charge of this project, cause she’s young and I wanna see her rise in this job. She has a lot of potential” she said, her arms pointing at your direction. You took a step forward and introduced yourself. Before you could say anything else, Carla inturrupted you once again.

“Okay! How about we grab some coffee in the cafeteria outside, while they finish everything up?” she said, grabbing Gavi’s manager by the arm and practically pulling him away.

“Are you sure? We should-“

“Oh of course I’m sure! You two will work great” she said,looking at you, before dragging the man outside. You let out a sigh before nervously turning to Gavi who sat in the chair, manspreading with his arms crossed against his chest. He was wearing a white hoodie and some black cargos.

“I’m sorry, she’s a handful” you said, trying to read Gavi’s expression.

“I can see that” he said, letting out a breathy laugh before making eye contact with you.

“Alright, let me just check the information I have” you said, opening some files on your computer so you can escape his intense gaze “I don’t have your measurements so-“

“How old are you?” Gavi cut you off.

With a confused look you turned your head around to look at him

“Why?”

“Cause you look younger than me”

“I just turned 19”

“How are you 19 and work as a main designer for Nike?” he said, making a face.

You put down some papers you were rummaging trough and faced him with your whole body, while leaning against the table.

“You’re 18 and cost 90 million, do you really want to talk about this?” you asked sarcastically.

“Do you only see me as a price tag?” he asked now obviously irritated by your statement.

“Me personally, no. But half of the football world does”

“What are you now, a football expert?” Gavi said, irritation more evident in every sentence he said. For the first time today you were glad Carla inturruped the conevrsation by opening the door slightly.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, smiling like usual.

You composed yourself and turned to her with a loving expression on your face.

“Yes, everything is perfect” you replied, relaxing your face as soon as she left.

Turning your attention back to Gavi who was looking at you with his signature frown.

“Can you get up so I can measure you?”

Without a word, he got up from his seat and you walked over to him. You knew he wasn’t tall but the fact that your faces were so close to each other made you swallow, before returning to the task. You instructed him to hold one end of the measuring tape as you bent down. While you were trying to read the number accurately, Gavi spoke up.

“Do you do this often?”

You looked up at him, confused.

“Excuse me?”

Gavi was looking down at you, trying to keep a straight face.

“Get on your knees for men you meet for the first time?”

There was a few seconds of you two just staring down at each other, before you stood up. Your faces were now even closer than before but you didn’t care. Gavi was looking straight at you, lips curving into a smirk.

“If my job wasn’t hanging on this, I would slap the shit out of you right now” you said in his face. Before he could say anything else, you finished what you were doing and turned around to write down the numbers.

“Anything else?” he asked.

You looked back at him for a second before leaving the studio. Yes, there was something else, there was a lot of things to discuss but you were not capable of doing that today, not after that comment. The golden boy will have to make time for an extra meeting. As you were about to cross the street to reach Carla, Gavi came rushing to you.

“Hey it was a joke. I thought you have a sense of humor like that, that’s all”

“I saw enough of your temper on the field to expect such behaviour but not like this” you replied.

“Well good thing this isn’t a football pitch and I don’t act like that in everyday situations”

You turned around to face him.

“In that case I also don’t forgive with a pat on the shoulder”. Gavi was trying to form a sentance but you stopped him “I’m a big coffee lover” you said before crossing the street.

——————————————————————————

part 2

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moonlightdreamzz · 2 years

Text

baby, it’s cold outside

in the midst of an intense snow storm you and sunwoo are trapped in tbz’s dorm together, giving you two nothing but time to talk about any and everything - including his feelings for you.

pairing: sunwoo x black!fem!reader

g: very fluffy!! with slight angst. and slight smut at the end. hehe.

sigh. how did you not know that it was going to snow today? specifically the winter storm you had a front-row seat to, courtesy of sunwoo’s gigantic window that allowed you the perfect view of city.

the wind is blowing hard, forcing the white flakes to move around in a hectic manner. the streets are already beginning to go from black to white, all in thirty minutes. you had so many plans tonight, for one, not being stuck sleeping on sunwoo’s couch. you were separated from your bed by miles in the double digits, yet you could still hear it calling your name in desperation.

“you know,” sunwoo interrupts your thoughts. he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment he realized you wouldn’t see or feel them burning holes into you. “staring at it isn’t going to make the storm pass by any faster.” he chuckles.

you were so precious, and you weren’t even trying. you never tried. everything about you was so effortlessly beautiful. he can’t lie - he’s a little hurt that you don’t seem ecstatic about being trapped in here with him, but what could he say? you weren’t his girl; he just wanted you to be. even so, his heart can’t but feel drained in his chest—as if it was tired for beating for you.

he had learned a long time ago that he needed to embrace your relationship for what it was instead of mourning what he felt it should be. you were his best friend, and he was yours. the two of you had an uncanny amount of things in common, but even in your differences did you two manage to grow together.

it has to be freezing outside with the number of layers you have on. your outfit consists of all black, minus the fuzzy beanie you sport on your head and your signature brown uggs. your hat is a jade green, a color the two of you agreed a long time ago was yours to own forever.

"i might as well take all of this off, hm?" you chuckle in subtle disappointment. your hat goes first. you swiftly toss it to sunwoo, knowing he will catch it with ease and he does. next is your coat, followed by your hoodie that you added for extra protection, and lastly your boots.

"don't sound so excited." sunwoo can't help but mock. he takes all of your belongings to the main closet, which was to the right when you stepped into the dorm. he didn't even have to press his nose to it to smell the sweet, yet citrus scent that always lingered on your soft skin. sometimes, he truly believed that you weren't real—that you had to be an angel on a secret mission to bring comfort to others on earth. to him.

meeting you was a complete accident. a beautiful one, but an accident all the same. he had relived the day in his dreams so many times and he could never forget not even the smallest detail when telling the story to another.

it was backstage at music bank, and sunwoo was in a hurry to get back his dressing room as the boyz were up next to perform. the only problem was, he had completely forgotten how he found the bathroom, and where the bathroom was in conjunction to his dressing room. he was drinking water as he frantically ran around—receiving all kinds of odd stares from stylists and idols, but he didn't care. thinking he may have found his way, he turned the corner sharply only to bump into you. his water bottle completely tipped over; spilling all over your shirt and pants.

God had to be on his side, right? i mean, what are the chances that the first time he’s seen you in awhile due to his hectic schedule, a snowstorm says … surprise!

what are the chances of this being the one time sunwoo didn’t go to practice, meaning no one was in this dorm except you and him. the members were currently stuck at cre.ker, and he could tell they were not happy about it the way the his phone has been vibrating aggressively, non-stop since you got here.

“thank you.” you are still standing near the window, and sunwoo can’t help but let out a chuckle.

“you know you can sit right? why are you acting like this is our first time meeting? we’re best friends, big head.”

your infectious laugh begins to fill the dorm, so much so that for a second sunwoo’s forgets that it’s only the two of you in here. he can’t help but smirk at you. inside, he was smiling, but he could never do that for you. if he looked at you with the power of what he felt for you, his secret would be blown.

“sunwoo.” you’re snapping in his direction repeatedly, and now he’s embarrassed. he was always in a daze when you were around.

“you were not calling me.” he defends quickly.

“i absolutely was, big head.” you mock as you plop down on the couch, swinging both your legs over and closing your eyes. “but I’m not surprised. you never listen to me.”

you loved to offend him. “i always listen to you.” he confesses. there had to be some type of poison in the snow. his usual tough exterior was softening and you had only been here for thirty minutes. yes, your gorgeous features were enough to make any man or woman drop at first sight, but sunwoo had trained himself well. his number was rule was to never show you too much emotion—well, at the least not the kind that would lead you to believe he was in love with you.

“you tired?” he questions from his position on the floor. his legs are crossed as he holds his weight in the palm of his hands.

“more like over it.” you sigh, “but I came over here to see you. I’ve missed you. we’ve both been so busy, but i still feel like the worse friend ever.”

“you’re the farthest from a bad friend. why would you even say that?”

“what type of best friend ghosts her own?”

although you couldn’t help your coping mechanism, that didn’t mean you didn’t feel horrible about it. especially with sunwoo considering he was your ride or die. he deserved better from you.

“we all have bad days y/n. shit, bad weeks, bad months. as your best friend,” sunwoo rises off the floor to rest beside you on the cozy couch. he could see in the way you loss focus on the conversation that you were reminiscing on false memories. “it’s my job to understand you, and know that you don’t hate me or anything when you go quiet sometimes. i know that’s just how y/n is.” he hits your knee affectionately.

he looks up at you now, even though it makes him feel nauseous. you feel even worse. you hated making eye contact with others, especially him. you can’t speak. his sultry eyes have always had the ability to put you in a trance. you’re trying to find the words to respond to him, but it’s like you can’t move.

the way you always get lost in his eyes would make any one else brag, but sunwoo never allowed his ego to be too inflated by it because he knew it had nothing to do with you sharing his feelings.

“how many times have I sucked as a friend? hm?” he speaks once more.

“never.” you gasp in offense. “can you be a meany sometimes? absolutely. but sunwoo,” you grab his already sweaty hand, and he can’t help but feel itchy all over. this was another quirk of yours—your affectionate nature. he knew he would never be able to adjust to it, though. “you are always there for me. all those nights I was calling you to rant about chris…I know you were so damn tired of my ass, but you answered every-time. you can’t say the same about me.”

he was so happy listening to you talk before you mentioned your dickhead of an ex boyfriend.

he never liked bangchan. you and sunwoo had both agreed a long time ago that he had the ability to read people, and he usually wasn’t wrong, but because he loved you so much he wanted to be wrong about the guy. you looked at him with those doe googly eyes of yours. all you did was text him, stay on the phone all night with him, and all the other stuff that sunwoo wished you did with him instead.

he genuinely thought he was going mad, but he couldn’t shake the feeling. even the members thought he was crazy.

“tell me he doesn’t throw you off.”

“listen, I don’t know the guy, sunwoo.” kevin sang politely. “he seems like he could go 50/50. he’s either the best person in the world, or the worst.”

“kevin!” sunwoo yells, stopping him and jacob in their tracks.

“sunwoo!” they yell back in unison.

“50/50? this is y/n we’re talking about right now. like, our y/n? the one near and dear to our hearts? the—

“one you’re in love with?” jacob interrupts with a smirk, not able to harbor even the tiniest bit of irritation towards his member in this moment.

sunwoo is the one haulting now. “what?”

well, they were right. kind of. he came to realize his deep angst towards you and your australian lover was partly due to the fact that he was jealous and in love with you, but he still was completely right about bangchan. he was every distasteful thing sunwoo knew him to be. and he had completely shattered your heart. you—his angel’s heart.

“you aren’t talking to him again, are you?” sunwoo whispers. his right leg begins to tap in anticipation. he loves you to pieces, but you had this weird habit of giving some of the worst people second chances.

“of course not.” you laugh out loud.

phew.

“after cheating on me, and barely being remorseful, fuck him.” you raise a middle finger in the air for good measure.

“i’m just sorry you had to go through that. you didn’t deserve it. you didn’t deserve any of it. the inconsistent behavior, the ghosting and coming back, him fucking on girls that could never even compare to you. he never deserved you.”

sunwoo wants to say more. he wants to go on and on about how lame he is. but he knows you, and he knows that if you want to talk about it you will. plus, he was out of your life now. sunwoo wasn’t going to let any of his energy back in.

your heart feels comforted, yet sore from sunwoo’s caring words. he always gassed you up, on your good days and bad. if someone was going to remind you of your worth, you could count on him. but even his kind words couldn’t make you feel better about your sometimes terrible taste in lovers.

“thank you.” you mutter, breaking eye contact with him finally. “you know, the same can be said about you and yoona.”

oh, yoona. just like sunwoo never liked bangchan, you never liked her. probably because she made it clear she didn’t like you, but everyone always tried to convince you that you were just upset that you had finally been replaced. you never understood the jabs, because you and sunwoo had never dated. he never has had feelings for you.

how do you know that? was always the question. and you’d always have the same answer.

“because when sunwoo wants a girl, he gets her.

was sunwoo really good to you? yes. was he always there when you needed him? of course. but what was a true bestfriend if they did not have these characteristics? you were so thankful to sunwoo, because he’s the closest thing you’ve ever had to knowing what love should feel like. the sweet words, feeling genuinely encouraged no matter what you are about to face, the little gifts that reminded him of you.

“yoona,” he chuckles, reminiscing on how genuinely insane she was. he liked it though. maybe because his down right shameful attempts to show you how he felt about you never gained him anything, so when she was so crazy in love with him, it felt rewarding. you hated her though. shit, he did too…kind of? it was toxic as fuck.

sunwoo has a history of toxic relationships. you always tell him he deserves better. he always wanted to say you were the only better he would accept. that whether a girl was sane or insane, the toxicity would never end because he would be in a relationship while in love with another person. he wanted to emphasize the fact that it wouldn’t be fair to his lover because it could be the day of his wedding day—if you ever even uttered something along the lines of “I want to be with you”, he would run away with you without thinking twice.

but instead he always settled for a plain “mhm.”

“you remember when I was busy practicing for kingdom?” he begins, barely being able to hold in his contagious laughter.

your eyes go to the back of your head immediately as you recall the story he was about to tell. you also realize that you are still holding his hand, so you swiftly let go as you try to get comfortable on the couch. now your palms are sweating. sunwoo has the softest hands in the world. the anxiety you did not realize you had been harboring in your belly has dissolved.

sunwoo’s heart stings when you pull away, but he’s used to the feeling. “don’t roll your eyes at me.” he teases somberly. “a wise woman once told me that you have to laugh through the pain.”

“finish your story.” you roll your eyes again, but this time with that beautiful smile of yours fighting to hide.

he laughs a couple more times before finishing. “and she went through the building asking every single person, even the trainee’s where I was. so fucking embarrassing.” he face plants. maybe he can laugh so hard because she was long gone. or maybe he needed help. regardless, the story was worth telling again because even you are laughing now.

“cheers.” you announce, faking as if you have a shot glass in your hand.

“cheers, but for what?” sunwoo questions.

“to us both being best friends, and having the worst taste in lovers.”

“less talk about them, and more talk about you.”

“it shouldn’t be just about me. i mean, I am in your home.” you sing.

“well i don’t want to talk about just me.”

“so let’s talk about us.” you say, not even realizing what those words did to sunwoo. he was doing so damn good. you were attempting to hypnotize him with those beautiful features of yours. your plump lips, your beautiful melanated skin, your pretty brown eyes, your enchanting smile, and your beautiful braids that had recently got redone.

“I like your hair.” he whispers. fuck it. if you two were stuck in here all night together, he was bound to fall in love with you all over again anyways.

“do I look good, mr. armstrong?” you quote, throwing your braids over your shoulders with all the confidence in the world resting on your finger tips.

he wants to tell you that you are the most beautiful girl that he had ever seen, but once again he refrains and settles for a sly smirk instead.

“oh-“ you sit up promptly, inching your face closer to his, “I asked you a question.” you tease.

he hates how much he loves you. he hates how nervous you make him.

now there’s a silence. it’s peaceful, yet so many things can be heard. even through the storm there are cars on the road trying to get to their destination—honking and swerving along the way. he can hear the heat blowing throughout the dorm. sunwoo can also hear you breathing. he can tell you are relaxed, and yes, you are still so close to his face.

“i’m not moving away until you say yes.” you breathe right on his earlobe.

“then I guess you’ll be sitting right here all day.”

he could barely get that out without choking.

you begin to nod your head before speaking, “okay…I see how it’s gonna be tonight. you’re being tough on me, even though I drove all the way over here just to see you—keep in mind that time you spilled water all over my outfit at music bank.”

he’s smiling now. he’s fucking smiling because like he mentioned before, this was his favorite story to tell.

“it was an accident.”

“then why do you look like you’re about to bust out laughing, sunwoo.” you punch his arm lightly, like a child, and he breaks.

sunwoo always said he loves your laugh, but his was even more infectious. maybe it was because seeing him genuinely find something funny was a rare sight, or maybe…you didn’t know what that other maybe was. you knew you would do anything to see him laugh though.

“oh my God.” is all he can get out, still trying to calm down from his laughing fit.

“it was never that funny.”

“then why are you laughing too?”

good point.

“sunwoo,” you speak when you can finally catch your breath, “how am I going to sleep here? i have no bonnet, no night clothes, not a damn thing.”

“well, i may not be able to fix all of that, but I do have clothes. come on.” he gets up from the couch, placing a hand out for you to join him. in reality he just wanted an excuse to hold your hand again. it always calmed his anxiety down.

you don’t hesitate to grab it before allowing him to lead you to his room. this wasn’t your first time in here. back before you started getting booked for more make up gigs, you and sunwoo would hide from the world here quite often. you always asked him did the other members hate you.

“of course not. no one could ever hate you. it’s like, scientifically impossible.” he would always say.

sunwoo directs you to sit on his bed as he squats down to get to his drawer.

there it is again. the peaceful silence. for sunwoo, this was something that could never go unnoticed. he just wished there was a way he could get the balls to confess to you, and that although you didn’t like him now, that you would be open to letting him show you what real love feels like. he wasn’t always the most confident even though he pretended to be, but there was always a small part of him that wished you just give him a chance.

you were literally his peace. how could he ever be with someone else when they could never make him feel like this?

sunwoo grabs one of his graphic tee’s and some basketball shorts. he would’ve gave you some sweatpants, but you hated sleeping in pants especially in a warm environment.

“thank you baby boo.” you blow him a kiss before getting up to go to the bathroom to change. it doesn’t take long for you to switch clothes, and you can’t help but chuckle as you observe the messy bathroom you were in. boys.

there have been plenty of times where you sported sunwoo’s hoodies and jackets, but his entire wardrobe was a first. you walk out, all of a sudden feeling a wave of embarrassment run through you.

why were you so cute? you’re waddling back to him, his clothes doing their best to fit your body.

“cute.” sunwoo mutters. while you were in the bathroom, he was trying to figure out a way to turn his pillow case into a scarf for you. he had no idea how any of this worked, but he knew silk was important for your hair. he also knew you were gonna start crying soon when you had to mess up your freshly done hair on top of being stuck in here with him.

“thank you.” you mutter back, but you turn around as if you forgot something in the living room. you had to have ran the way you reappeared so quickly, this time with a bottle of wine in your hand.

“where did you get that from?” he scoffs. “alcoholic.”

“i prefer the term, extremely stressed.”

sunwoo attempts to stand, “let me get us some glasses or something.” but your hand sharply grabs his wrist to hault him.

“sit down. are we not best friends? we’re just gonna share it.”

this was so embarrassing. this was the closest to kissing you he would ever know, hm?

before he can blink the bottle is open and you’re downing it like you hadn’t had liquid in your body for 48 hours — nothing unusual from you. he takes the bottle from you after you chug it and does the same. he had never had this wine before, but it was good as hell. it was sweet, but citrus at the same time—wait.

“this is going to sound so weird,” he begins, “but why does this wine taste how you smell?” he chuckles.

“you’re not already drunk are you, lightweight?” you’re smiling at him again. you were always fucking smiling at him.

the night goes on, the two of you drinking more and more of the bottle until it’s empty, simply a weapon for an intruder. you had no intentions of doing this, but fuck it. you can’t lie, the room is spinning. you take a look at sunwoo who’s already looking at you.

every time you got drunk with each other and made eye contact like this, you felt it. you had always tried so damn hard to not feel like this, but how could you not? look at him.

he was so perfect. his skin always looked like it had been made love to by the sun. his teeth were perfect, his face was sculpted to perfection. he was fine as hell. you may have been able to push down everything else you felt for him, but that was something you could never deny.

but you knew him. and you had given up the dream of the two of you ever being a thing when you saw how he acted with girls he actually liked. he oozed with confidence, because just like you knew he was fine, he knew he was fine too.

did sunwoo show you how a woman should be treated? yes. but that’s what real men did. they became your examples so that you never have to be confused when you actually date. truth be told, all of his members had their moments where they did nice things for you.

now sunwoo is snapping in your face. he’s so damn drunk, and he knows it because he can’t stop giggling like a middle schooler who was sitting beside his crush for the first time.

his thoughts are running wild right now. there’s so many emotions bouncing from wall to wall inside of him that he genuinely feels like he can explode. your beauty has intensified by a thousand even though his vision was not as clear as it was before. his love for you, although he didn’t realize it was possible, has gotten even stronger in a mere thirty minutes. his length is twitching and his mouth, unbeknownst to him, was watering ever so slightly as he looks at you.

the two of you have been drunk together before, but it was always a gigantic group of people around, so what’s about to happen, could never happen.

it’s as if sunwoo no longer has control of his body. his left hand slowly creeps on your knee and he begins to rub it ever so gently. his eyes have yet to leave yours. he’s afraid he’ll blind you with how intense he’s glaring into you, but he can’t look away. he feels like he can see through you.

you can’t stop him. truthfully, him caressing your knee was nothing abnormal, but this time it feels…different. and the way he’s looking at you—you can’t help but squeeze your legs together. you don’t know what else to even do in this moment.

now sunwoo is moving closer to you. he expects you to start moving back, and it was at that moment he was going to excuse himself, but you don’t move. your breathing that was previously relaxed is now unsteady, and he swears he can hear how loud and hard your heart is beating.

“babygirl.”

he presses his plump lips to yours, and it’s as if time stops.

you know how they say when you have a near death experience, your life flashes before your eyes? well, that’s what the two of you were experiencing right now. this was the death of your friendship, now being reborn into something even deeper, although the two of you weren’t sure what that meant.

it’s like a projector is replaying every moment the two of you have ever had for the both of you to see. his lips are still connected to yours—your eyes seemingly wired shut as you’re forced to watch the movie that was your life.

sunwoo sees music bank, he sees himself frantically apologizing until he looks up, wondering what a beautiful girl like you was doing back here around all of these judgmental people. he sees the first time the two of you ever hung out. tbz had thrown a party at their dorm, and through text you had told him you didn’t have any friends and he was determined to change that. even so, the two of you decided to stay in sunwoo’s room, refusing to be rowdy like everybody else. you talked for hours about everything and nothing at the same time. that was the first time sunwoo realized he was falling in love with you.

you see every single time sunwoo has been there for you—no matter the time, place, or reason. how, even when you made the poorest of decisions, he rode for you. you see every kiss to the side of your head, every gift, every hug. most importantly, you unlock a feeling that you had been keeping hidden for an incredible long time; the fact that you wanted him to be more than a friend to you. you had no idea why you never allowed the feelings to be freed. maybe you were scared. you damn sure didn’t think you were good enough. but sunwoo is kissing you right now. and through his lips can you feel every single emotion he has been hiding from you as well.

it’s as if someone smacked sunwoo on the back of his neck. he pulls away quickly, his eyes widening in horror, but then his brain reminds him that he’s not sober, and it’s now or never.

“y/n,” he begins, cupping your fluffy cheeks that he loves so much. his tan skin always looked so pretty against your choco colored. “i’m—i’m so drunk right now.” he chuckles sadly, “like genuinely I’m such a fucking mess, but that kiss…that wasn’t because I’m drunk. well, it was, but these feelings are real. they’re so fucking real and I’m sorry that I’m doing this, but I’m so in love with you. and please don’t think that I realized this over the course of a night. for the past two years that I have known you have I been allowed the pleasure to grow in love with you. more and more everyday.”

sunwoo is crying now, which is something you had never seen him do. you place your hands in his wrists as they continue to hold your face—rubbing gentle circles into them.

has sunwoo really felt like this all along? have you really been wasting your time dating shitty people, when the man of your dreams has been sitting here for two years wanting to be with you all the same?

“sunwoo i—“

“just let me finish,” he wipes the tears that feel like they will never stop falling before continuing his drunken rant, “i know you don’t feel the same. you don’t have to tell me. and I know I probably ruined every bit of friendship we have built all this time, but I think I’m at my breaking point y/n. it’s so hard, holding all of this inside of me.”

you want to let him finish, but you can’t. you want to feel what he just made you feel by pressing his lips to yours again. everything happens so fast. your lips connect to his in a passionate romance, and he haults for a second before returning the fire you were putting on his lips. both of your clothes are coming off too quickly to remember where you guys are throwing them. you’re grinding on his length, moaning loudly at how big he is. sunwoo is whimpering and the tears are still flowing because, this can’t be real. you feel so fucking good on him as you grind your panty covered pussy on his dick.

as drunk as the both of you are, you’ll never forget this. the both of you fall back on the bed, and like a movie, the scene blurs out.

sunwoo makes love to you that night. he makes love to you over and over again. if there was anybody even remotely close to this dorm, they heard it, but he doesn’t care. he wanted everyone to hear him moaning out your name because you are so fucking beautiful and you make love to him so good. and he wanted them all to wallow at the fact that he was the one making you feel this damn good.

scream my name, babygirl. he remembers saying passionately to you in every position. the both of you hear it in your dreams too. you see it all in your dreams. his confession of how patiently he had been waiting to make love to you like this. how gorgeous your body was even with every mark you have on your body. your beautiful hyperpigmentation that you have always been insecure about.

how in love he is with you.

you begin to feel your five senses again; you can feel the sun, although she’s not warming you up any due to the cold weather that’s still prominent, your eyes are starting to gain vision again, and you stretch your entire body feeling pleased with all the cracks you hear. you feel sunwoo’s arms around you, which causes your heart to stop beating for a mere second before your body forces your entire body to start sweating.

he looks so at peace as he sleeps. his arms are wrapped tightly around your waist as his leg is placed right under your womanhood. yours is wrapped around his waist. you remove the cover ever so slightly to take a look at him in all his glory. he was so beautiful. his body was beautiful, and you no longer had to imagine what it would look like in a moment like this.

sunwoo begins to wake up too. it’s almost as if he’s still drunk with how at ease he currently feels. he can smell you before his eyes even open. the smell of love still lingers in the room. before opening his eyes, he can’t help but to pepper kisses all over your face, neck, and chest.

now his eyes are open and enchanted by yours like they always are, but this time it feels different. it is different. sunwoo doesn’t know what to expect. he doesn’t know if you’re going to say you regret it. he’s honestly petrified right now.

but then you do it—you smile. that heart warming smile that always made him melt is resting on your face, and he knows.

you don’t regret it at all.

“what do we do now?” you whisper so innocently. the sun is assisting with your natural glow. your voice is raspy, but it’s music to his ears. your bare body is really here for him to respect, worship, and love. it’s right here in front of him.

“i meant it, y/n. everything I said.” he presses his forehead to yours.

“i know. me too. even though I didn’t say much.” you chuckle, moving to put your head in his chest. you didn’t even care about the fact that you slept with no scarf last night. this moment overthrew that.

“i love you.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as he always does. “and I wanna show you that I’m all you need.”

“i love you too, sunwoo.” you beam, “and I want you to show me.”

this moment—it’s so sweet, and gentle. just like you. the entire room is at ease. birds are singing outside and sunwoo has no idea whether it’s still snowing outside or not.

a knock on the door interrupts the beautiful moment.

“so um, I let you guys have your moment and all because whoop whoop! so happy that the two of you realized you are madly in love with eachother, but can the two of you please put some clothes on so I can come in my room?” kevin sings behind the door.

fuck! the two of you both say in unison before laughing uncontrollably. you and sunwoo get out of bed to put your clothes back on, but still don’t take your eyes off eachother. you can’t.

all sunwoo could do now was thank the heavens, for they allowed this snow storm to blow the two of you in each-others arms.

authors note!! i really hope you guys loved this. sunwoo…that’s my man my man my man! im so in love with him I had to get it out haha. kisses love you all hope you’re having a good ass day. stay beautiful.

#sunwoo fluff #sunwoo imagines #kpop x black reader #tbz imagines #the boyz x black reader #sunwoo #tbz scenarios #kpop x poc #kpop imagines #sunwoo smut #Kim sunwoo #tbz #the boyz

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