#yandere gist x ghost reader

[misstycloud]

Haunted House

Ghost yan x ghost reader

TW: suicide mention

——————

It was with curiosity you stared out the window. A car had pulled up in the drive way. Through the car windows you sa two adults and three children in the backseat. Well, it was definitely not a maintenance company then. It always bothered you so when they came and meddled with your house; though it technically didn’t belong to you anymore you still considered the building as you home, and prison.

You watched as the kids ran out of the vehicle to inspect the house. You had to admit, they were rather cute. Before you hadn’t really thought about having kids and weren’t sure if you ever would, but now you found yourself wondering if you would have made a good mother. One always ponder about the choices out of one’s reach.

They seemed happy, the family of five. Perhaps you would be fine with them around.

“What are you thinking about, dear?” A voice interrupted your dazed thoughtfulness as your mood instantly soured.

“Nothing so you can leave.”

The man behind you sighed. “Do you always have to act like this whenever I’m around?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look back at him, fearing that the sight of him would send you into a frenzy. “I do when you’re the one who ruined my life.”

“Ruined your life? We were happy together, in fact, I remember you telling me ‘I promise to love you even in death’ but I guess that doesn’t apply, not with the way you treat me.”

You nearly gasped at his audacity. The nerve some people had!

“What? Are you actually serious right now- you can’t be? The way I treat you? You want to talk about the way I treat you? You killed me!” You shouted.

You had turned around now. Your eyes took in the handsome man you had once called the love of your life. Despite the hatred for true actions and pain he caused you, a small part of you still felt something when you looked at him. Maybe it was affection? Maybe it was the anguished feelings of a happy life that could have been? You weren’t sure.

He stilled for a moment before speaking again. “I know, and I am sorry it had to go that way-“

“Had to? You weren’t forced to do anything. At least take responsibility for your actions!”

“I wouldn’t have had to do it if you had just stopped flirting with those other men.” It seemed like it was his turn to become angry. “Don’t think I didn’t see how you looked at them, how your eyes lit up when you saw someone you very clearly fancied.”

“Oh my- we’ve been over this a hundred times, they were just coworkers nothing more. Besides, they have wives and kids of their own!”

It didn’t matter how much you insisted, your (ex)husband did not relent in his accusations.

“That doesn’t mean they’ll be loyal. You have no idea what a treasure you are, many would do anything to get to have you.” The man twirled a strand of your hair around his finger, entranced by your beauty.

“Oh, like you, you mean?” You fired back.

“Stop that.” He said. “I don’t want to fight with you, we’ve already done enough of that. I did what I had to do and nothing will ever change that. Now we’ll be together for ever, even in death, just like we promised each other at the altar. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I hope that one day you will understand how deep my feelings for you go and see things from my perspective. I love you, I really do.” He turned to leave you to your lonesome. Before he left, he told you one final thing, “No one else will adore you as much as I, especially now considering no man will ever see you besides me. You’re nothing more than a ghost after all.”

The tear threatening to escape earlier finally welled up. You cried and wiped your eyes with you cold, dead hand.

——————

Just as you had imagined, the family did bring you a new sense of happiness. Whilst not exactly ideal, watching over(spyin on) the parents and the children made your days more fulfilled. They brought laughter and fun back into your undead life.

Unfortunately you weren’t able to look out for them unless they stayed in the house. It was a real pain in the ass, not being able to leave the building. If you could, you would have left decades ago- much to your (ex)husband/ dismay. You suspected he was relieved to find that you were both confined to your place of death. It meant you couldn’t leave him, which was his goal the entire time. He got what he wanted in the end.

After stabbing you out of jealousy, you died in his arms, crying and demanding answers to why he would hurt you. When you (surprisingly) woke up again, you were in the same position you had been when your life drained out of you. Your man was clutching you tight to his chest and he was stroking you hair. At first you had believed it was all a dream, then you thought you survived the whole thing. He was still petting your hair and rambling on how he loved you and how he would rather die than be separated from you. You hadn’t expected him to be so literal.

You were shocked when you had pulled away from him, only to discover a second version of him lying unmovingly on the floor next to you. Then you noticed the pool of blood spilling out from his neck, and the knife he stabbed you with in his hand. With disbelief you glanced back at the ‘living’ version of him. He smiled somewhat solemnly at you as you took in his too-pale skin and the large scar he had on his throat.

You tried not to think about it too much. No matter what he did, you would never forgive him for taking your life away from you because of his irrational fear of you cheating on him. Well, it was impossible for you to leave or cheat on him now. You were the only ghosts in the house and didn’t have the ability to take even a small step outside the front door.

Instead of spending your days avoiding him as usual, you now followed the family around the house. Mostly the children of course. They had the habit of getting into trouble whenever their parents weren’t around. You had forgotten how many times you had saved them from tripping or bumping their heads. You were lucky you could touch things in the real world for a short second. You couldn’t before so you assumed it was because you were a young and weak ghost back then.

The whole babysitting act also appeared to bother your husband, which you relished in. You remembered one day when he approached you after the family had left for the grocery store.

“Don’t you think you’re spending an awful lot of time with those children?”

“I like them so I don’t mind.” You answered and continued staring at the drawings they made that afternoon, right before begging called to get dressed and meet by the car.

“Well, I don’t think it’s right for you to do the parents job.” He sneered.

Rolling your eyes, you said, “Like I said, I don’t mind.” Your wanted to leave it at that but your (ex)husband had other plans.

“Sweetie, I will be honest; I believe your getting too attached to this family, it’s not good.”

You sent a glare in his direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What I mean is I think you should let them be. They’ll eventually move on whilst you’ll be stuck here. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You scoffed at the audacity he had again. “A little late for that, don’t you think? This is the only source of happiness I have, don’t take anything more from me, please.”

“I don’t make you happy, then?” He asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

You could look him in the eye, choosing silence. He grumbled something incoherent. After another long minute of silence, he sighed. He did that a lot these days, you thought.

“Alright, my love. Continue to look after these living people if it brings you joy, but remember, it won’t last forever. I will be here when you’re done.”

Once more he left you alone to look out the window. Despite your will to disagree, you knew he was right. These people- this family- they were all still alive. You were not. Your time was over, your life stolen from you. It was only a question of when they’d leave. Until then, you’d be their guardian in this haunted house.

[acid-ixx]

brutus: the only fucked up thing in the world is you

— masterlist !

let me pitch in another idea before i forget about it, but picture this: a oneshot (or mini-series) based off of "ma meilleure ennemie" where it's platonic yandere batfam x brutus! reader (inspired by jinx in arcane though) x yandere! conner kent. don't mind this at all, i'm trying to flesh out the reader's past in a shorter post 😭

you guys get the general gist. you get adopted by bruce wayne, neglected by the same father all throughout, hurt yet desperate to please your family. though instead of giving up and moving out; you take it in yourself to try to become a vigilante like them, without bruce's supervision you'd be out at night in your stupid costume and determine smile—

fighting crime with an (unsure) grin like your idol, nightwing, in gotham of all places.

in your measly trial of becoming a hero, you fuck up and nearly die at your first try by a criminal attempting to gun you down, if not for the familiar face of tim's best friend, a man you occasionally find yourself staring in awe at every time he visits.

you meet superboy face to face, he charms and saves you from nearly dying. it is him who helps and supports you with your journey, and for the first time in a while you feel seen.

not by your family, not by the vigilantes you idolize— but by the same hero seen as only a mere clone by most.

you quickly fall in love with him, he does so too. that's how your typical romance with the hero goes. it's through his willingness to always assure you that he's yours and that you'll never be alone with him that you dismiss the ache in your chest at another day being ignored by your family, by the flutter in your heart at how you met the one.

he kisses you like you mean the world, he holds your hand every time the doubt becomes too much, it's him who swipes your hair away from your sweaty forehead and tear-stained cheeks, just to let you nuzzle into his leather jacket; to feel and melt into warmth of his blazing chest.

and through it all, you're unaware of just how much he truly loves you from the start, how his heart beats for you and only you.

then one night, in a time where you're without your boyfriend who was in a mission in another dimension, is when you finally see them, your family, huddled together in one of the corners of the alleyway, struggling with a particular fight, that you decide it's high time that you disrupt the flow and help.

you try so, with one of your handmade weapons, but instead of it exploding successfully, out of reach in your family's perimeters, it inadvertently causes the buildings in the alleyway to collapse with its impact. it kills not only the criminals they're fighting, but countless of civilians in the process, and you're the perpetrator of it all.

... standing in front of the mess you made, blood on your makeshift combat boots. you always make a mess of things, that's why you don't belong, that's why you nearly died at your first night if not for your boyfriend saving you. and now, under the cast of the moonlight—

you're the villain in their eyes.

they don't even acknowledge how you share the same glinting orbs of the ghost that always stares at each and every one of them sullenly. they don't notice the familiar shadow your hair casts, or how you're shaking and silent all throughout the entire scene.

... as if it's the first time you bare witness to such a gruesome sight of gore and scattered flesh.

they don't see that, they don't see you, as always.

all they see is red.

red that stains at the crown of your head, all throughout the soles of your shoes.

bruce doesn't hesitate to beat you black and blue once he gets his hands on you, uncaring for the loud wails (he doesn't know you're crying for the people you killed...) and tiny whimpers that escape your throat, the others don't even pull him back, watching the scene unfold like they're mere bystanders rather than... heroes who could've saved you.

and just when you're about to make a run with one of the openings, he rips at your clumsily disguised mask and comes face to face with you, hoping that he finally sees his child.

but he doesn't flinch back, he doesn't even recognize you, let alone how young and naive you truly are to the cruelty of the world. he sees a monster, he doesn't hear you call him 'father' the meek apologies, or the sorry way your hand braces itself on the merciless impacts on your face.

only for your nose to crack and drip with blood either way, for your eyes to bruise into disgusting shades of purples, blues and yellows, until you're a mess of pierced, delicate skin and impalpable flesh.

you want to die the harder you feel your bones crack under the pressure, you want to die, even when someone finally ripped him out of his clutches and you, and when you had released another one of your smoke bombs that was actually miscalculated toxic fumes, forcing your legs to carry you to your vehicle, adrenaline consuming your entire being despite the tears and the pain that wreck at your body.

ever since then, you've run away. to a world unknown, a city you couldn't recognize, broken heart, broken dreams, broken body. every part of you feels broken.

you couldn't even confront conner in fear that tim has already told him of your situation, you break up with him through a burner phone and change your entire appearance afterwards in fear of being recognized by the very same people who destroyed your life. you try to overcorrect by wearing the opposite of what your vigilante persona wore. you want a fresh new start, a new lease on life.

you still want to be a hero like them.

yet there's a small voice in your head telling you violent thoughts that turn into harsh screaming, criticism, insults, yells at your pathetic being.

they rip and mock at you, the voices of the damned in that wretched day became silhouettes, your tormentors who grate at your ears every time you try to sleep in your molded bed in some shitty apartment in a shitty new city. they tell you it's your fault — it is, god, everything is your fault...! — you're nothing but a worthless mistake if it meant the bat was willing enough to nearly break his moral code just to teach you a leasson.

but you're not only a mistake, but also a monster who killed people too.

suddenly, it's hatred that dictates your actions and not misdirected hope. suddenly, the line between self-hatred and the burning jealousy at how easy it was for bruce to forgive his other children's mistakes as compared to yours; it all blurs into one intangible urge to hurt once more.

the longer the voices went on, the longer you stared at the twisting shadows and were condemned to paralysis in a rotting bed to repeat that scene of carnage over and over again— the more your head feels like it's splitting apart at the seams and you forget what love, what forgiveness, what grace feels like.

suddenly, you're adopted by a villain in one of your nightly escapades.

he knows of your crimes, of your misery and struggles, and he wants to transform you into his perfect sidekick, an easily manipulated puppet in the ruse of his crimes: you let him, you've nothing worth losing for anyways.

no family, no lover, nothing worth fighting for.

you're trained mercilessly, you wear a new face that speaks of only violence and havoc brought upon the plains of every known existing thing. you learn what it's like to let go, to only cherish people who find a use in you, who reward you through your attempts. if it means causing blood and pain to the world for praise, in a man who's willing to not condemn you but ro applaud you instead.

and all throughout, you slowly start to forget about conner kent, superboy, your first love, your only one. either by the hidden shame that torments your thoughts of what your ex-boyfriend would've seen in you, or the genuine thrill of the chase from policemen ready to gun down the new threat, you.

you forget what his touch feels like, the ghost of his fingertips pressing against your waist, his featherlight kisses on your shoulders, the texture of his jacket that wraps around your body like a hug, his raven hair tangled on your fingers, and even the feel and taste of his tongue on your mouth.

every intimate moment with him is replaced by the thirst for vengeance, by the still growing need to satisfy your new mentor, just to satiate the looming parts in the back of your head wishing for a semblance of a family member loving you back.

everything was fine, it was normal and you felt the sense of twisted love and satisfaction. you could live in this moment forever, but even villains accustomed to chaos need a new change of pace—

or rather, to relive what has triggered them to become who they are now.

so it's only when you step foot in gotham, yet again, to bring true carnage into the wretched city, with enough of your protege's convincing despite the concealed fear in the corner of your eyes, that you begin to fuck up even once more.

a/n: this is shit like dumpster fire trash conpared to my other works, and it's really short too uhm, but i need to establish smth in my drabbles because i'm prone to forgetting things a lot, courtesy of my dissociative amnesia LMAO. idk half of what i wrote, i speedran it, added tags and pictures and i already forgot about what i wrote. but this is just the flow of it all so i might cringe at this once i reread it tomorrow and possibly even delete this thing if i hate it enough. hope u guys enjoy this before it might go in the dumpster 😭

[darkdevasofdestruction]

I've found a few focs where Mashita from Death Mark is portrayed as a yandere, & your headcanons are among the few that are really sweet & enjoyable. Thank you very much! May I request a Mashita x Reader where it's how they met, their first date, & their first kiss?

Oh, hell yes! I’m super happy that you like my portrayal of Mashita! I’ve been wanting to write a long fic with him for a few years now, and the chances of it happening are big, after how much fun I had, and still have, writing my story with Seiji from Spirit Hunter NG <3

You first met when Yashiki and Mashita went around the park to do their research of the Bee-Killer Shimi-o and they just found you somewhere in the forest, laying down on the grass, peacefully sleeping, for whatever reason.

Yashiki was looking at you weirdly, while Mashita, being in the law enforcement previously and having experience, went by your side and shook you awake - Only to notice, on the side of your neck, the Death Mark burnt into your skin.

So you were a victim too.

As Mashita called out his partner’s name, pointing out the problem, you fluttered your eyes open and looked up at the man touching you.

For a split second, you locked contact, and Satoru couldn’t help but admire those beautiful fawn eyes that even while tired, looking so innocent - And then, when you realised what was going on, you let out a gasp of realisation and leapt out of there, hiding behind a tree, farther away, barely brave enough to peek from behind it.

The two men tried to call out to you to calm down and explain the situation... But how could you believe two mental guys, in the middle of the forest, talking gibberish about ghosts and curses that would kill you?

Instead, you asked them to go back so you could run the hell away from there, but the brunet man let out a phone number and an address on a slip of paper and put it in a tree, telling you to go to him if you lose your memory or see the mark on your neck - And then, he took his friend and went deeper into the forest.

Relieved, you picked up your bag and the slip of paper and got out of there as soon as possible, ordering a pizza and drinking some hot chocolate to calm yourself down from the awful experience you just had.

The first strike was that you forgot the exact address you were staying at, though the muscle memory and inertia brought you to your home without realising.

The next was the next morning when you went to brush your teeth and saw the awful mark... And the third was that you had no idea where you worked or what were you supposed to do during the day.

Much to your anxiety, you went to the address given by that man and it brought you to a pretty basic apartment complex and you rang the bell - Thankfully, the man in cause answered rather quickly, and with a smug half-smile, he let you in and guided you to the living room where he treated you to some coffee and went to sit on the couch opposite of you.

The fourth strike, that was also the most painful, was when he asked you your name and you opened you mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Just blank. You had no idea what your name was.

And you started freaking out internally, while opening your wallet to look at your ID and telling him your name.

He felt pity, realising you’re in a situation as bad as Yashiki, but he also had that cult to investigate, so he was pretty caught up with two problems at once. Still, he showed you his own mark on his wrist and started telling you about the whole gist with the ghosts and curses and what not.

Then, he asked you why you wanted to kill yourself, which left you confused. “I have an herbs glossary. I usually go to that forest because it has a lot of different flowers so I put them in my glossary, draw them and write medical and botany facts about them.” you explained - To which he pointed out that, whilst you forgot a lot of things about yourself, that detail was something that still remained firm in your brain, so you were still doing well.

Without realising, Satoru protected you during the whole investigation and made sure you were doing alright during all of it - But when you had to go purify the ghost, he firmly told you to stay behind so you wouldn’t be hurt, seeing as the memory loss affected you the most out of them.

However, you soon realised that the two forgot the grass root and honey jar in the car so you sprinted out of the car, following the awful vibes that were guiding you, until you reached them and threw the two items at the ghost that was dangerously close and towering over the two.

The ghost was then purified and the two men let out of sigh of relief - Until Mashita went to you and shook you by the shoulders, frowning and reprimanding you for getting out of the car against his orders, and you could have gone hurt, or worse -

“But you forgot the purifying items! You could have died! What would I do without you?!” that explanation stunned the both of you, and immediately, you stepped away from one another, coughing awkwardly and putting the incident at the back of your minds.

When you went by the Kujo Mansion, the two of you were free of the Death Mark and were ready to leave, not wanting to stay any more in that awful place, though cozy, and apologising to Yashiki, Mashita took you out of there and said he would walk you by your home, under the pretext that he’s a man of the law and has to make sure you are safe.

But then he asked you out for a coffee the next day, in the most leisure and nonchalant way there was... So why wouldn’t you accept?

Your first date was as boringly normal as any date could be, just having a nice and hot coffee, a piece of cake, some nice background music, and just chilling - No ghosts, no curses, absolutely nothing that would threaten your livelihood.

And it was the most enjoyable thing in the world.

Tough he’s not a man of many words, he has some pretty interesting things to narrate, and you enjoyed all of them.

Likewise, he felt at ease hearing even the most boring story that you had to tell him, be that some gossip from your workplace or whatever childhood thing you knew growing up.

After a few more incredibly boring but incredibly fun and relaxing dates, and walks through parks that were definitely not haunted, he walked you home and just before you stepped inside your house, he grabbed your face and pulled you into a kiss, leaving you awestruck and wanting for more.

And the more dates you had, the more you got.

He’s a pragmatic, nihilistic and cynical person, and most of all, he loves teasing you, pinching your cheeks, ruffling your hair, giving you looks and what not, but he never means to hurt you.

He’s not the best with words, so he prefers letting his actions explain how he’s feeling - You never felt as safe, appreciated and loved as when you were with Satoru, feeling his arms around your body as he embraced you and kissed the top of your head.

Also, he loves it when he has his arm around you, pulling you to his side, or when you cling to his arm while walking around the city - It really strokes his ego and he feels like he’s really showing you off to the world, because you’re the best.

[missdutch21md]

Music of the Night | 6

Summary: The time is 1856. Location: Paris, France at the Opera Populaire. Taehyung is living his life when who should stumble into his life than the most beautiful singer he has ever heard? She was the missing instrument to his orchestra. She would complete the score for his… Music of the Night.

Pairing:  Opera Ghost! Taehyung x Singer! Ballet Dancer! MC

Universe: Phantom of the Opera AU

Word Count: 2,093

Genre: Fluff 🥰, Mature 🔞

Characters: rich! Seokjin, rich! Yoongi, dance instructor! hoseok, officer! Jimin, stagehand! Jungkook, chorus girl! BlackPink

⚠️Warnings⚠️: mentions of religion (reader prays), stalking, slight yandere themes

Please keep in mind this is a work of FICTION this in no way reflects on any BTS members or Taehyung as a person. This is simply a story for the imagination.

Go b a c k | Turn p a g e | M.L i s t

I slowly stirred from the soft sounds that I heard and grumbled. I turned away from Jennie and asked her to please stop humming in her sleep. Jennie grumbled back at me that I was the one being annoying and making too much noise.

I sat up and turned to glare at her when my eyes landed on a figure on her side of the bed and a shrill cry left my lips. The dark figure of a man was in our bedroom and I couldn’t stop the shriek that came erupting from my throat.

Rose was up quickly and clambered after the retreating figure cloaked in black. He melded into the dark shadows of the dimly lit backstage area of the opera house. Jungkook came scrambling up to our door asking what was wrong.

“There was a man in here!” Lisa and I cried out together while we all clung to our bedmates for comfort. Some girls were crying from the fright and the rude awakening.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in shock as he shouted for Hoseok and Namjoon. The two older men emerged from their respective chambers blearily blinking sleep away.

Jungkook shouted at the older men and tried to find where the intruder had run off to, when they heard a door slam open. Once the older men heard the gist of the abrupt end to their slumber, Namjoon was rushing up to check on us and Hoseok was rushing out with Jungkook to try and tail the intruder.

Jennie was comforting me, telling me that if anyone could put the intruder in his place it was the pair running after him. I nodded. I knew that she was right considering the hushed rumors of the two that I had heard over the last 8 months.

I hadn’t thought to entertain them though, knowing that nothing good ever came from gossiping. I just kept my head down and worked on refining my skills and keeping my Master pleased. A thought creeped into my mind now, did Master know that there was an intruder in the opera house this morning? I had no way of knowing. Would he praise me for raising the alarm or... was that my master that I briefly saw?

I wasn’t stupid. I also heard the murmurs and hushed tales and the famed Opera Ghost. A mysterious man who often caused strange accidents (most were little pranks to get a rise out of the current leading soprano Francesca). Usually, these little pranks were coupled with a note from “OG”, it hadn’t taken long for me to put two and two together. I never brought this up to my Master, fearing he would think I believed in the gory tales that were whispered at best or acted out to frighten the rest of the chorus girls from time to time by the older, alcoholic stage hand that Jungkook worked under at worst.

Namjoon did his best to comfort us as we waited for Monsieur Hoseok and Jungkook to come back. We waited with bated breaths; eyes glued to the door frame. Jisoo and Rose had made their way to sit on the bed I shared with Jennie. We sat huddled under our blankets and leaned on one another for support. Lisa sat at the edge of the bed ready to attack should the intruder decide to come back again.

After what felt like eons, the two silhouettes of Hoseok and Jungkook filled in the door frame causing us all to relax.

“Did you find him?” Namjoon asked the question that was burning in our minds.

Hoseok shook his head, “No, he got away, we stayed out to circle around the opera house, we couldn’t find any trace of him, or of where he broke in from...” he trailed off, deep in thought.

Most of the rest of the opera house was waking up from their slumber by now, continuing to work on their projects, blissfully unaware of what had transpired. “We’re going to have to tell Jin and Yoongi,” Namjoon sighed rubbing at his temples with his slender digits from his perch on the wooden stool.

“Kookie,” Hoseok started but then paused. “Never mind, just uh,” he glanced around the room and back at the doe-eyed young man. “Just go get some breakfast, let the cook know we’ll be sending the girls down soon.”

Jungkook nodded and was off without complaint.

The rest of the day passed without incident, even the Opera Ghost didn’t come out to taunt Francesca when her singing got especially nasally. The girls were always near, Jennie and Jisoo opted to staying near me, the intruder had seemed intent on getting to me according to their version of what happened this morning.

I just couldn’t wait for night to fall for it to be time for me to meet with my Master.

Unfortunately for me, the day insisted on dragging on for some unknown reason. I did what I could to keep my mind busy and my thoughts distracted from the events of the morning. Today though, God brought me a different distraction.

“Soul-ah?” I heard the soft, curious voice from behind as I mentally ran through the steps of the dance yet again.

I turned in surprise, not paying attention to who was calling my name, “yes?”

Jimin was staring at me, eyes wide with shock. “Soul-ah!” he ran for me and lifted me into his arms easily. I was startled to say the least. My cry tore from my throat causing others to stop and stare. Jimin then seemed to remember that we weren’t alone and set me on my feet gingerly. “I didn’t mean to startle you, my apologies.” Though his eyes were alit with mischief.

I scoffed and playfully smacked on his shoulder causing others to gasp and Francesca to go red in the face. “You absolutely are the worst liar, Jiminie,” I chided.

My dongsaengs watched with interest as the banter flowed between Jimin and I easily. Monsieur Hoseok took his time making his way over. I blanched and lowered my head when I saw him from my peripherals and realized how it must look to the others.

“Soul-ah,” Hoseok’s soft voice was so gentle, “please go and practice your stances 50 times.”

I nodded and with a curtsey, excused myself to find the bar furthest from Jimin and Francesca to avoid further punishment.

“You didn’t have to send her away,” Jimin chided softly to the instructor.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t distract my dancers,” Hoseok smiled at Jimin politely.

Jimin’s eyes flashed with something and looked over Hoseok’s shoulder at the one dancer he was interested in. “She’s my noona—I haven’t seen her in 6 years.”

Hoseok’s eyes softened in understanding. That wasn’t the witty banter of lovers bumping into each other, he realized. It was the genuine reunion of siblings. “Still, there is a time and place for this kind of reunion,” Hoseok smiled clapping the younger man on his shoulder lightly. “Also, I’m not sure Francesca can stand not having your attention,” the older man added under his breath for only Jimin to hear. "You wouldn't want to cause your noona trouble, would you?"

Jimin nodded and made his way to the lead soprano to finally greet her, making sure to put in more effort today. He didn’t want his momentary lapse in judgment to cause his noona any more trouble with the lead singer especially since there were rumors that his noona would one day take her place.

After finishing my sets as Hoseok instructed, I took my place beside Jennie and we continued with practice. Hoseok watched us all closely. He was going easier on us considering the scare we all experienced this morning, but he still expected us to give our all to practice.

When the owners of the opera house had heard the news, rumors spread throughout the company quickly speculating about what this would mean. Jin and Yoongi had immediately sent out Jungkook to find some more young men that would stay watch for us to get added to the staff as stage hands. It couldn't hurt to have more eyes around, it was decided. A few hours later, Jungkook returned with two boys, Hyunjin and Han, they were introduced to the entire staff and performers. Yoongi interrogated the two to ensure they would be the right fit.

Then Jin swopped in and calmed the two young men easing their fears and they were led away by Jungkook to show them their sleeping quarters. Suddenly, it seemed that Hoseok was sending us off for dinner. I was happy to finally rest and couldn’t help the stirring butterflies that seemed to attack me now.

I ate quickly and told the girls I would be going down to pray for a few hours. They nodded and bid me a good night before giving me brief, strong hugs to send me on my way. I slowly made my way down into the chapel and lit a candle to help brighten the room a little and even said a prayer for the candle I lit.

“Angel,” his voice was clearer today.

“Master,” I beamed, the assault on my nerves deciding to finally settle at just the sound of his voice.

“I’m so glad that you’re safe,” he sounded as though he were right behind me. I nodded and clasped my hands together nervously. My senses heightened at the prospect of potentially seeing my master tonight. What a glorious end to the day that would be! I felt the smooth of fabric against my bare arm and stilled at the contact and then relaxed, knowing that my Master would never hurt me.

I took deep steadying breaths and turned quickly to look behind me to be met with the cold unfeeling stone wall. My heart sank. “Master?” I called out, the hurt clear in my voice.

“Today is not the day, My Angel,” he sounded further away again. Much like the distant deity that I thought him to be once more.

I couldn’t stop the cries that came then. I fell to my knees and cried at his rejection. I prayed that The Merciful Lord would reach down and smite me to end the pain. The torment and stress I had carried in my body all day finally broke me and I sat there in a crumpled heap, crying.

I didn’t hear his footsteps like I sometimes thought I could faintly hear in the past. I just felt strong arms and his distinct scent encircling me and pulling me close.  I clung onto him desperate to revel in at least this. Man, or ghost, I no longer cared. It was him. He was the one who inspired my voice and helped me to fly like I did was all that mattered to me. I didn’t try to turn to look upon his face again afraid that whatever dream my mind had concocted would end once again.

“Take all the time you need,” he hummed in my ear as he rocked me in his lap.

I don’t know how long we sat like that, or how long it took for my sobs to die down. All the while, he stroked my hair and held me close against his chest, calming me and giving me all the comfort and support that I needed to slowly build myself up again. I studied the sleeves of the coat that he wore now that my tears had stopped.

The cloth was fine, the weave was intricate. When the light of the candle caught the fabric just right, parts of it shone revealing a subtle pattern.  I took deeper and deeper breaths trying to memorize the scent of the man wrapped around me. “Take me with you,” I suddenly asked. “Wherever you go during the day, let me be part of that world.”

There was a soft sigh behind me. “You already are,” he hummed I felt him press me closer to his chest. “You need to sleep pet,” he softly reminded.

I nodded and reluctantly allowed him to detach himself from me. I waited until I was sure that he had left so that I could say my prayers and made my way slowly up the steps to the bed chambers. Han was at the door and allowed me to pass by wishing me a good night.

I thanked him and slipped through the door shutting it behind me. I fought sleep as I changed into my night shift after shutting the door softly and landed on the bed to let sleep take me. The crying took more out of me than I thought possible and the next thing I knew, I was in dream land.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I know it's been a while since my last post! But there is still more to come!