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obsessivevoidkitten · 10 months

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Love Stings

Yandere Male Aqrabuamelu (scorpion man) x Chubby Female Reader (CW: Violent Noncon, oviposition, paralytic venom, reader gets stung, stalking, stalking, scratching, biting, claiming bites, crying, mild scent kink, blood, mild blood kink, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, escape attempt, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 4.7k (This was commissioned at the end of September. It is hard for me to write afab reader. Don't worry though, I do not accept payment until I am done or almost done. The customer wished to remain anon. I hope everyone likes it.)

To most people, the wastelands of Treregar were just that, wastelands. Harsh sunlight, miles of seemingly endless sand, with water sources few and far between. Nothing but the hardiest flora and fauna could survive there for any significant length of time. Let alone thrive indefinitely.

But you were not most people. You were a scientist. And to scientists, the wastes were a gold mine of research potential. Some of the strangest creatures and plants called this place home. And with the country now open to outsiders, researchers wanted to make a breakthrough there. You were in search of biological samples that could have medicinal properties.

But the wilder parts of this country were very dangerous. Especially the desert wastes. There were even reports of explorers and scientists going missing and of large chitinous beasts prowling the sands. But you were not going to be deterred by a few tall tales. The others had probably fallen prey to the harsh environment if anything.

Still... it didn't hurt to have a couple bodyguards. You had arranged an escort of a couple fairly priced and reliable mercenaries, two large men by the names of Mr. Whitley and Mr. Matthews, to accompany you while you procured samples for study.

You also came with fully stocked packs and kept to a region near a small river. You didn't believe in letting stories run your life, but there was no need to take unnecessary risks either.

The first thing you did on your arrival, after setting up a base camp with your escorts, was starting your task by taking samples of the river water and the muck at the bottom. There was a good possibility of finding new microbes that could be of interest.

The water was crystal clear, perhaps the purest you had ever seen, and there were no signs of anything dangerous. The biggest danger was the heat. Despite the water submerging your legs and wetting your arms whenever you collected a sample the heat was still stifling.

But you had known what you were signing up for when you started all this and it would only get harder as you started collecting samples outside of the water.

When you collected plant and insect specimens from the fertile banks of the river you had to keep wiping the sweat from your brow. You kept the samples preserved in a specially cooled container that would allow you to study them at length later when you were back home.

Once you had all that you had gathered that day packed away, you ate alone in your tent, Mr. Whitley and Mr. Matthews were not exactly the best company, but that was okay. It wasn’t their companionship that they were being paid for.

When you had finished your meal, if you could even call one unit of mystery field rations a meal, you decided that it would be a good idea to go to bed early. Tomorrow’s adventure would be deeper into the wastes and you would need all the rest you could manage. It was going to be a bit rough on you. You were used to working in laboratory conditions not out in the field. But you knew what you were getting yourself into.

Whitley and Matthews guarded the camp in shifts, but even under their protection you couldn’t shake the feeling like you were being watched as you settled into an uneasy sleep.

On day two of the expedition, after eating another bland ration for breakfast and refilling your water supplies, you found something before you even set out. Odd tracks outside your camp, a good bit away but they were still close enough to creep you out a bit. Whatever had made them was not small.

But you had protection from any threats and you were handy with the knife you kept in your belt at all times. And whatever had made the tracks was gone now. You put it out of your mind and pushed onward.

As the cooler morning hours passed, you were really suffering as you had to start your trek into the desert proper. The organisms suited to such a brutal environment were what you were really interested in. Far more so than what lived in the relatively cool waters.

The sun beat down upon you with all the heat it could manage but still you trudged on. Miles and miles of sand. Stopping only to diligently take new samples and record field notes any time you encountered something new and promising.

You and your guards were overheated, exhausted, and aching. But it would surely be worth it for the scientific knowledge gained by your collective suffering. You all had finally started the long march back to camp when you could have sworn you felt like you were being watched. Whitley must have noticed something off as well as he stopped your trek home to look around. But the worry was discarded when in the distance a giant wall of sand materialized as if from nowhere, It rushed towards you like a great red tidal wave.

A sudden sandstorm.

It was upon you and your escorts in a thrice, you could see nothing at all in front of you as looking up for even a moment would invite the angry sands to scratch at your delicate eyes. From all your studies on the region in your preparation for this trip you had found sandstorms to be very rare this time of year. Your luck was astoundingly terrible.

All you could do in this situation was stay low to the ground, wait it out, and hope that you and your body guards didn’t get blown away. You also prayed that they both had the good sense to not try to walk in this mess. That would only welcome disaster. Trying to stumble about in this weather was a guaranteed method to find yourself lost and stranded in the desert.

On and on the storm raged, sand scraping and biting into any exposed flesh, until finally the whirling winds gradually declined before subsiding altogether. Leaving no trace of what had just transpired except scratches on your arms and legs and the ebbing adrenaline leaving your system rendering you shaky on your feet.

You were sore and stiff from laying in the same position so long. You took a good look around you only to discover that disaster had indeed been welcomed. Neither Whitley or Matthews were anywhere in your sight. Idiots. They were large men, not easily slipped up by the storm and rolled down a hill as you were. The weather couldn’t have pushed them very far. They clearly decided to keep trying to travel despite the obvious foolishness.

Well… they were not exactly getting paid for their brain power. But they were paid to keep you safe. To guard you. And they couldn’t exactly do that if they were determined to be idiots who wandered away from you!

When you made your report they were certainly getting docked for this.

Assuming that you all met back up. You probably would. Eventually. If they lacked a compass like you did then they could just head east until they hit the river and then travel up until they hit the camp. If they didn’t have one they would have to wait a little while and see what direction the sun headed in.

The direction the sun sets actually changes a bit throughout the year, but the autumn equinox had only just transpired so it would certainly set at the most west that it was possible for it to set.

You hoped those two knew that. Surely they did.

Right then you had to focus on yourself though. Without those two you were far more vulnerable. You were not really worried about the wildlife or anything such as that, but if you became injured or something all alone then you would be screwed. Something as simple as a sprained ankle could mean your death out in this blistering environment if you were left exposed to the elements long enough.

You shouldn’t have ventured so far from camp. Your body was aching with exhaustion. You were a bit on the chubby side and your body was not used to being pushed so hard. You perked up when you saw a large figure of a man standing in the distance walking in the same general direction as you were.

“WHITLEY! HEY, OVER HERE!!”

He evidently heard you as he turned around to face your direction and started walking towards you. As you got closer you could tell that other than a few abrasions from the storm he did not seem to be in bad shape.

“I am glad I found you”

You wanted to tell him he would not have had to worry about finding one another if he had just stayed put but you thought better of it and held your tongue.

“I think something may be watching us, I don’t know. I just have an uneasiness and feel like the air has shifted with a barely noticeable scent. I lost my sword in the storm.”

“Then… we better hurry back to camp… Maybe Matthews will be there…”

“Right.”

You noticed he had undone his dagger from his belt and was holding it close, ready to lash out if something attacked the two of you. He may not have had his longer blade but you knew he was still deadly with that one. He would surely protect yo-

The sand in front of you shifted, and from it sprung a beast of colossal size. Hard black chitinous plating gleamed in the sunlight, covering a monstrous form from top to bottom. It was a hulking beast with a human shaped torso on top of the body of a massive scorpion.

Whitley, to his credit, didn’t hesitate. He dodged the tail that struck at him with terrifying speed. He jumped up high and slammed his combat knife into the chitin covered chest of the beast. His blade was deflected as if by plate armor. The tail struck again at an angle Whitley couldn’t dodge in time and his arm was impaled by a wickedly sharp stinger. He twitched in pain for a moment then went limp before being pushed aside by the clawed arm of the scorpion half of the great beast before you.

Then the thing turned its gaze to you. Unblinking, glossy, entirely black eyes stared you down. If eyes were the windows into one’s soul then those eyes let you look into the soul of a demon.

Hopeless though it may be with the speed of the monstrosity you did the only thing your fear stricken brain could think of. You ran.

You ran and you didn’t look back. Cruel though it may have been, you found yourself thinking that maybe it would let you go since it had already taken down Mr. Whitley. Many predatory beasts did not take down more than what they needed.

But the scorpion hybrid wasn’t after food. Humans were not in his diet. No, he was after something much better than a meal. He was after a mate. A nice wet cunt to stuff full of his eggs.

When Kurnugi first caught your scent in the wind a couple days ago he was instantly intrigued, he had never smelled something quite so enticing before. He had to investigate. Though a few miles away he sniffed out your camp and watched for a while.

He didn’t really like the thought of humans in his territory but he stopped himself from attacking and scaring you all away because of you. Your smell was nice, sure, but now that he had seen you he knew he had to know more. You looked so delightfully fragile and soft. He wanted to watch you a bit longer before deciding what to do with you all.

Kurnugi observed you as you went about your tasks at the river. Delicate hands carefully tending to samples. He did not understand why you were doing it, but he liked the thought of those careful little human hands tending to his dick.

At first the scorpion man thought that perhaps the two large males with you were mates of yours but concluded that wasn’t the case as they never shared your nest, never physically touched you, and hardly verbally communicated with you. They seemed to just guard you and keep a lookout.

But they had been unable to spot Kurnugi given how well he stuck to the shadows, used sand to submerge himself partially, and carefully remained downwind of his quarry.

The longer he watched the more he realized how good a mate you would make. Too weak to ever oppose or escape him and he could tell by the way you collected and analyzed your little samples that you must be very intelligent. And you were just so much softer than anything he had ever encountered in this rugged environment. Surely if you were in a place as brutal as this then you’d need much better and dedicated protection than the ones you seemed to call Whitley and Matthews.

Kurnugi was much larger and stronger than any two humans, of course, no matter how well built they were. But they had long metal blades that may be able to get between his natural armor plates. Better to stalk your group for a while and wait for a moment of weakness.

He discreetly followed your party as you traveled away from your base camp and readied himself to attack when he noticed how tired all of you looked. Then the sandstorm struck.

Even a desert evolved being such as a mighty aqrabuamelu would not travel during a sandstorm.

When it passed he could tell by the scents he detected that your group was split up. This was even better. First he went after Matthews, then incapacitated Whitley before your very eyes. He had made sure not to kill them. No, they would surely be taken and bred by other desert creatures. There were many that loved humans.

And then there was you. It was cute how you thought you could escape from him so easily. He allowed you to try, watching in amusement as your tired chubby legs did their best to carry you away from him.

And then he rushed towards you, he closed the distance in surprisingly few seconds and stabbed your soft rear with the tip of his stinger. He was careful not to stab too deeply, but it was still pretty painful. You thrashed for a few seconds before crumpling to the sand.

The venom had paralyzed you, no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t get your limbs to cooperate at all. You could still feel everything though. The sand on your face, the tears about to burst from your eyes. You were certain death was what awaited you.

Instead the scorpion simply bent over to gently scoop you up in his humanoid arms. He held you close and buried his nose in your neck to revel in the intoxicating smell of his new mate, now finally in his possession.

The amorous aqrabuamelu rushed off to his den, holding you tightly to his hard body as he did so. He was excited to get you acclimated to your new home, and to his cock. He was sure after his displays of strength that he would have you moaning for his eggs in no time. Luckily his home wasn’t too far.

The entire trip he happily talked in a chittery voice to you, though you had absolutely no idea what he was saying. He sounded extremely excited though and rubbed your back soothingly as he spoke.

When he came to the entrance to his abode and scuttled into the cave in such a hurry that he almost tripped over himself. He placed you, all nice and paralyzed for him, on his raised pile of bedding and made short work of your clothing. Every inch of skin from your soft human breasts to your inviting pussy were laid bare under his hungry gaze.

He pulled you to the edge of his nest over to where he was standing. He gripped your thighs with his large hands and slowly spread your legs, as if unwrapping a precious gift. Savoring the moment before it was entirely open.

The venom was still coursing effectively through your veins, offering you no recourse. You could only stare into the terrifying red eyes of this abomination as he looked at you and drooled. His intent with you becoming all the more evident as his engorged cock protruded fully from the genital slit at the meeting of his scorpion and humanoid body segments.

There was no way something like that could enter a human without some degree of pain.

Seeing it you wanted to scream. To kick and fight. But you were a prisoner in your own body. All the struggle you could force out of your body were choked cries and grunts of fear.

The scorpion caressed your sides in a gesture meant to be comforting to his scared little mate, but any touch from him only brought about more terror.

He crouched down at the edge of the bed so that his head was level with your crotch. He inhaled the scent deeply before licking the outer folds of your sex.

"Mmmm~"

You could feel it in your entire body as he hummed loudly in contentment. Your flavor was better than he could have imagined.

Your cunt was wetter than it had ever been before. A fact that made you all the more frustrated and angry at yourself. It was bad enough you couldn't get your body to move.

Kurnugi was making out with your entrance, gripping your hips painfully and drawing blood as he lost himself in thoughts about you carrying his spawn.

He enjoyed every heavenly drop of your juices, mixing in a heavy amount of his saliva into you so that you were as lubricated as possible.

He decided you were as ready as you could be and rose up to press his cock against you.

Kurnugi rubbed the tip of his strange inhuman prick against your pussy, grinding against it. He let out a low moan as he plunged into you all at once, unable to hold himself back from doing so any longer. The paralytic you had been drugged with must have started to wear off by that point because as he shoved himself into you you were finally able to scream a bit and grip the bedding beneath you.

The length was insane but the worst part was the thickness. It was like it was trying to rip you open. He gave you time to adjust before he began his thrusting, but there was just no getting adjusted to that type of size in such a short amount of time without a lot more preparation.

You flinched and gasped in pain as he began slowly moving in and out of you.

The scent and sight of the bit of your blood that mixed with your fluids and smeared on his cock only seemed to excite him and he increased the pace, the outline of his cock plainly visible under the skin of your belly. He used one of his hands to rub at the outline as it moved back and forth inside of you, effectively giving himself a handjob while he bred you.

He lowered his head to your chest and ferally bit and licked at your breasts. Instinct demanding he marked and claimed what was, by all laws of the desert, his property.

After what seemed like an eternity you finally had acclimated to the size of the man taking you and began feeling less pain with flashes of pleasure. Chasing those brief flashes, you weakly grinded into each thrust from the scorpion.

Kurnigi’s roaming mouth had found your neck and was sucking and nipping at your soft skin there as if his life depended on it.

The stimulation was only feeling better as the two of you continued, your cries of fear and pain having long since been replaced by weak lusty moans and shivers of delight. You came a couple times and by the third you were completely fucked out. You had never orgasmed so hard in your life and were barely aware of anything other than that nice feeling between your shaky legs.

Kurnugi finally hit his climax as well and bit your neck hard as he did so, injecting something into your neck to leave a permanent claiming mark on you. You flinched in pain but it receded quickly, you were too out of it to really care what he did to you at that point.

Until you felt him cum into you. Your eyes went wide at the sensation as you felt relatively large round masses being pumped deeply into you.

Eggs.

You were shocked and disgusted, but there was nothing to be done about it then. You let the aqrabuamelu lick your various scratches and bite wounds clean before tucking you in with blankets so you could sleep while he made a meal.

He was so jubilant that his pregnant little mate was cozy in his nest while he took care of you. He had a nice home, a large territory, and now a soft mate to dote on and stuff full of his big prick whenever he needed to. Life was perfect.

THREE MONTHS LATER:

It had been around three months since you had been abducted. And it was hours since you had run away from the monstrosity that had kidnapped you. His name was Kurnugi, you had learned, managing very limited communication with the brute. He had finally let his guard down, finally trusted you since you had never been anything but compliant since you had been with him, and he had finally left you alone to go hunt for a longer period of time.

You did not waste the opportunity, it was clear that your bodyguards had not managed to leave the desert, probably succumbing to exposure. Either that or no one had cared to send a search party to look for you thinking you were a lost cause. So it was up to you to rescue yourself.

Once more your legs burned with a familiar exhaustion. Kurnugi was a skilled hunter that moved fast. Once he returned to his den he would begin tracking you immediately. If you were going to succeed then you had to get as much distance between yourself and that cave as you could possibly manage. It didn’t help that you were pregnant with his many eggs. It surely made travel more difficult.

As you made your way up the river you considered walking in it to hide your scent, but you decided against it. The wind was blowing your scent in the direction that you were fleeing from so it wouldn’t help you at all. The slog through the water would only slow you down. And that was the last thing that you needed right then.

The last thing other than suddenly finding yourself laying with your back against the hot sand and looking up with an absolutely outraged Kurnugi looking down at you with a malicious grin on his face.

How had he snuck up on you so silently?

You had expected to be immediately paralyzed by one of his stings, but the scorpion had other things in mind. He wasn’t just angry. He was hurt. You had tried to leave him the first opportunity you had. Had he not proven himself against lesser males to be a strong mate? Had he not provided food and water and shared his home with you? Had he not given you a nice belly full of eggs as any mate would desire?

The aqrabuamelu clearly had to show you your place. He had been too gentle with you. Not done enough to prove that you were, beyond any whisper of a doubt, his property.

And in that vein of thinking he did not bother with his venom, no, he wanted you to have the full ability of movement and still be just as utterly powerless to do anything to avoid him using you as he saw fit.

He pushed you over onto the ground and flipped you so that you were facing the sand with your ass up. Then, right in the middle of the desert, he ripped off the pants he had made for you out of leather and plant fibers.

Kurnugi crouched so that his cock was level with your cunt, his strong hands gripping your hips so hard that they would undoubtedly be bruised. You cried out and struggled just as pathetically as he had predicted that you would.

“Please! Please NO!!! I’ll behave! I-I’ll never leave again. KURNUGI PLEA-”

Your words became a pained shriek as he interrupted them by ramming his entire dick straight into you. No prep at all. He understood your cries for mercy and carried on anyway.

Each thrust into you was slow, powerful, and deliberate, driving your face into the sand as his nails bit into your flesh.

You were right about one thing. You’d never try to leave him again after this. He was going to fuck it into your brain so you’d have no chance of forgetting.

Tears dripped down your face, wicked away by the thirsty air and ground. Your legs shook and you would have collapsed were it not for the strong hands propping you up. Your abused cunt felt like it was being torn apart.

Kurnugi was once more excited by the scent of your blood and began pulling you back and forth over his prick like you were just a cock sleeve built for his pleasure. All you could do was sob and take it and try not to puke.

With a final slam he came in you hard. No eggs this time, since you were already full of them, just fluid that thankfully soothed your insides, if only a bit.

The anger of the aqrabuamelu was finally quelled and he panted with his throbbing cock still twitching and pumping cum into you. He picked you up and renewed the bite mark he had left on you. He did not have to since it was permanent, but he wanted to so you’d remember you were branded property.

Luckily the pain from the bite had been swallowed up by the disorientation and pain from the rape.

A small comfort.

Kurnugi picked you up effortlessly and cradled you close to him.

You couldn’t quite tell what he had said, but you knew it was meant to be soothing. He rubbed your back and chittered sweetly in that foreign language of his. Evidently happy to have that nasty business out of the way and content in the knowledge that you wouldn’t be trying that again.

7 MONTHS LATER:

You couldn’t wait for the eggs inside you to hatch. Kurnugi had assured you that you would be a great parent and since the eggs absorb the DNA of the parent they are deposited in he was confident that they would be the cutest babies in the entire world.

He was so wonderful to you. He doted on you and helped take you for walks when you were restless. He caught or foraged and then prepared all of your meals. He cuddled you close and kissed your swollen belly and made every effort to cheer you up when you were feeling down.

And you were sweet to him too, you learned how to craft things from the leather and fibers he made so you made him little trinkets that he either wore or decorated the den with. And you always greeted him by kissing him softly whenever he came home.

Things were a lot easier now that you could communicate.

And now that you understood that you could never go anywhere without him and to try to do so would be very hurtful for the both of you.

But why would you ever want to do something like that?

#yandere #yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #yandere x fem reader #yandere x female reader #male yandere x female reader #female reader #monster boyfriend #yandere scorpion #yandere scorpion man #yandere aqrabuamelu #yandere monster man #monster husband #My OCs #My OC Kurnugi

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watevermelon · 4 months

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A Beautiful Cage | Sunday x Reader

✧ Summary: You woke up in this beautiful dream, memories lost with a handsome man claiming to be your husband.

➳ Spoilers for the 2.2 Penacony update! ➳ Warnings: Dark!Sunday x Amnesiac Reader; Yandere writing liberties :) ➳ Navigation

“My beautiful Sparrow, welcome back.”

You stared at the man, blinking twice without words as his affection for you shined like the halo upon his head. The grip he had on your hand fell with each beat of your prolonged silence, a new sort of desperation growing at the corners of his lips. Your heart broke at the sight, despite not even knowing his name.

“I’m sorry. Do I… know you?” You asked back, sitting up in the bed and only now noticing your surroundings.

The sterile smell and beeping monitors confirmed the worst. Beside you sat someone whom you felt an inexplicable connection to, a pull in your heart that stirred up warning bells, yet their face brought no specific memories.

Everything about him exuded importance, from the fine fabric and intricate details of his clothes to the matching halo and ethereal wings. He almost looked like an angel, a being of celestial grace and authority.

The man in question grimaced, but continued. “My name is Sunday. Do you remember my face?”

Sunday, like the last day of the week.

The day of rest.

“I’m sorry, no.” Your forehead creased in strain, as if the physical action could bring it all back. A worse revelation crossed your mind, “I don’t even remember my own name.”

“Then I will help you remember, my dear Sparrow.” He spoke gently, repeating the term of endearment as he lifted your hand to his lips. A silent warning bell in your subconscious screamed at you to pull away, but you ignored it to instead stare into his handsome, golden eyes.

“Please, stop me if this becomes overwhelming for you.” Sunday warned before explaining further, “You are my wife. And because of my position in this world, you are often put in danger. And unfortunately, I was not able to protect you from an attack.”

You stayed silent as Sunday continued on, describing in small detail the life you shared together.

Your name and the world you chose to stay in, Penacony.

A dreamlike world where many partied their days away, celebrities and the affluent from around the universe sharing in one lavish adventure.

And Sunday, the head of the Oak family.

You could hardly believe his words, a world where people were able to freely pursue their dreams.

The hesitation must have been seen on your face, since the kind stranger had countered with a simple phrase. “Let me show you.”

Gold lined the streets as far as the eye could see, casting a radiant glow across the entire cityscape. Fantastical roads floated in the sky above, while buildings were illuminated in a dazzling golden radiance.

Golden Hour, the name for the area, was aptly so.

You stared dumbly in different directions, taking in the fantastical view and the lively bustle of people moving from store to store. Street performers graced nearly every corner, their music blending into a harmonious soundtrack that filled the vibrant, diverse heart of the city.

Sunday lifted an open palm towards you, the corners of his lips curling into a soft smile as if inviting your touch. As you placed your hand over his, you felt the gentle pressure of his grip matching your own tenderness. His hand felt cold and unfamiliar, but you brushed aside the discomfort, chalking it up to your amnesia.

“It’s Mr. Sunday!” A child yelled in excitement, jumping up and down as his company of other children turned at his words.

Suddenly there was a crowd of children, all surrounding your supposed husband and asking for his autograph. A weight on your heart felt lighter, seeing strangers confirm the words of the one person who was influencing your entire outlook on your new life.

Sunday was essentially a stranger, but now the only person you could rely on.

You needed truths and as the crowd grew larger, you could confirm that this man was honest in his words earlier.

“Are you alright, Miss?” One of the children turned and asked you.

Another joined in on the conversation, “Mr. Sunday said you were hurt! Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am. Thank you for asking.” You kept your response kind, but short.

Sunday weaved his way through the short crowd, back to your side. "Please excuse us as we must depart promptly. My sincere apologies, but my dear wife has endured considerable challenges."

“Awww, he loves you!” A squeal broke out from the back, making you unconsciously blush.

Sunday simply smiled, before waving goodbye and leading you on your way.

Sunday resided in a grand estate, passing libraries adorning the walls as he guided you to your shared bedroom. You admired the opulent furniture, once again accented with gold. As Sunday removed his outer layers, you seized the opportunity to survey the room. Framed pictures — your wedding, a festival, and one with a third person who looked much like Sunday —moments that, regrettably, eluded your recognition.

Your husband emerged from the other room silently, regarding you with that same small smile as he drew closer.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember.” You spoke first, genuinely frustrated that your memories were taken from you. “It’s alright.” He reassured you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Can I try something to help you?”

You nodded in quiet affirmation, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips as Sunday leaned closer. His breath mingled with yours, warm and comforting, as he pressed a soft kiss against the tip of your nose before gently lowering his lips to meet yours. The kiss was tender, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, delicate and fleeting, as if both of you were hesitant to disrupt the tranquility of the moment.

But as the warmth of the embrace enveloped you, a surge of emotion ignited within, fueling the kiss with a newfound intensity. Your lips moved in perfect harmony, a dance of passion and longing, as Sunday's hand found its way to the back of your neck, his touch both gentle and possessive. With each brush of his lips against yours, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of you locked in a timeless embrace.

But it was not enough.

“I love you, my Sparrow.” He murmured against your lips. “Whatever you come to need, I will provide it. Lest it be my time, my affection, or even if you perhaps… need space.”

A pang of bittersweet ache tugged at your heart as you processed those last words. It was undeniable how much Sunday loved you, his actions speaking volumes and allowing you the space and freedom if that was what you wanted. It was a sacrifice born out of love, a silent vow to stand by your side no matter the outcome, even as your heart yearned for the completeness that only the restoration of your memories could bring.

But a life without him… did not feel right?

“No, please. I want you by my side.”

It was a small concession, but the radiant smile that blossomed across Sunday's face filled even you with an infectious joy. He leaned in, pressing a series of gentle kisses along the side of your cheek, each one eliciting a soft laugh from your lips as you savored the delightful sensation. In that fleeting moment, surrounded by the warmth of his affection, all worries and uncertainties melted away, leaving behind only the sweet embrace of shared laughter and unspoken love.

You snuggled into his arms at night, the sensation unfamiliar but not unwelcome. As you closed your eyes and drifted into slumber, a relentless melody began to crescendo, growing louder and more insistent until it engulfed your consciousness, becoming the sole sound echoing through the corridors of your dreams.

A woman's voice, light and airy, infused with hope, danced through the recesses of your mind, casting a shimmering veil over your thoughts.

Who was that woman?

And why was she the only memory your mind could recall?

You devoured every book available on Penacony and its rich history, spending countless days ensconced within the walls of your private library. Sunday had even offered recommendations, guiding you towards enlightening reads detailing the intricate tapestry of the Oak family and the other prominent families that shaped the fabric of Penacony's past.

A dream, tantalizing in its promise, offering individuals the chance to manifest and fulfill their deepest desires, but with a caveat—access granted solely through the family's invitation.

But there was nothing of note regarding your situation.

Instead, you found yourself falling into rhythm into Sunday’s life.

You slotted into his life easily, either accompanying Sunday for work or even venturing out on your own. Some days, you would visit his office as he tirelessly worked and meticulously planned for the upcoming Charmony festival. Or, on easier days, strolled through the familiar streets of Penacony as he encouraged you to immerse yourself in the surroundings in hopes of triggering memories.

In each interaction, it was evident the deep love and devotion Sunday held for his people and his beloved city of Penacony. He listened attentively to even the most mundane complaints from others, offering genuine empathy and understanding. His concern and unwavering commitment to his people were palpable, leaving a heartwarming impression on all who encountered him.

It seemed like he was perfect in every way possible.

Life with Sunday was sweet, easy even.

And yet, there was an insistent hammering in your heart, a relentless pulse that sent waves of unease through your entire being.

Every night without fail, you continued to hear that insistent melody, a haunting refrain that seemed to echo from the depths of your past. You couldn't fathom why your mind clung to this particular fragment of memory and it nearly drove you to anger. You had lived an entire life, rich with experiences and emotions, yet it was a single song that your memory chose to preserve. Why not Sunday, or the life you had shared together?

What was the importance of this song?

You found yourself unconsciously humming along to this song even as you traversed Penacony. It was another day with Sunday off attending to business, leaving you to your own devices. You appreciated his willingness to let you explore Penacony independently; it allowed you to experience the city's vibrancy through your own eyes, unfiltered by anyone’s perceptions and unburdened by expectations. The freedom to form your own impressions was a gift, even as the familiar tune haunted your every step.

How could you possibly be suspicious of your husband when he was giving you all this freedom?

Your eyes swept appreciatively across the cityscape until they paused in one direction. You halted immediately, a small tendril of suspicion blossoming into body-wide panic as you recognized the woman standing before you.

In your heart of hearts, you remembered her name.

Robin.

Instantly, an unrelenting pain seared through your brain, but you resisted the urge to duck down, clutching your head as you stared at the woman. She locked eyes with you, surprise flashing across her face before she began running in your direction.

“Robin?” Your voice was barely a whisper, but the woman wrapped her arms around your middle.

Her hug felt deeply familiar, like the comforting embrace of home after a long, perilous journey. It was as if her arms wrapped not just around your body, but around your weary soul, offering solace and a sense of belonging that you had desperately missed.

You continued. “Robin, I… Lost all my memories. You are the only person I’ve recognized so far.”

Robin's face contorted in pain, worry deepening with every word you spoke. She looked you over, inspecting every inch to ensure you were unhurt. Satisfied, she hugged you again tightly before gently patting your heart.

“Robin?” You asked again, but the woman only looked at you and tilted her head in question.

“Are you… unable to speak?”

Yes.

She nodded her head, making you take a deep breath to calm your beating heart. “Is it because of me?”

No.

“I… We should tell Sunday!” You attempted to look for a solution, but she frowned and kept nodding her head no. “Does he already know?

Yes.

“... Will you come back home with me? I don’t remember you fully, but in my heart it feels like I’ve missed you.”

She nodded eagerly, making you a bit more suspicious of her intentions.

You walked side-by-side, making your way back to your shared abode with Sunday, enveloped in a familiar atmosphere. In the absence of her voice, you took it upon yourself to fill the air with conversation, enough for the both of you. You recounted how you had awoken without a single memory, with Sunday faithfully by your side. You described his love and devotion, his unwavering care for your every need.

This felt familiar, being with Robin. However, why now?

Why hadn’t she visited you before?

A part of your mind stuttered, hesitating to confide in Robin about the ominous feeling gnawing at your heart regarding everything that was happening. What if she took her brother's side? Perhaps it was wiser to keep silent, hesitant to disclose your apprehensions, especially considering the possibility that she might be collaborating with him.

You walked into the foyer with Robin and she led you further into the home, into a library with a large desk that had a model of all of Golden Hour.

It was evident that she was on a mission, striding purposefully forward without the slightest hint of hesitation as she surveyed the towering bookcases that lined the walls of the library. Sensing her focused energy, you allowed her to proceed in silence, observing her with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Recognition flashed behind her eyes and she grabbed something resting on the shelf, a rectangular object, before quickly thrusting it at you.

“What do you want me to do with this?” You asked with confusion, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Silent yet urgent, she swiftly took charge and reached to open the flap of your jacket, deftly slipping the object into the pocket before pressing a single pointer finger against her lips, signaling for you to maintain absolute silence.

You shook your head in confusion, near begging for more information. “Silent from who?”

From Sunday?

Or from someone else in Penacony?

But a now familiar voice was heard at the door frame.

“My dear sister, I didn’t know you’d be visiting our home today. Not that I’m not grateful, but I would have stayed home to greet you upon your arrival.” Sunday greeted you both with his customary kind smile, a warm familiarity washing over you. He approached, embracing his sister first in a lingering hug before turning to your side, where he offered you a greeting kiss on the forehead.

“My offer to stay in this home still stands, dear sister.”

Their relationship appeared to be fine, even close. Perhaps Robin hadn’t intended to keep the matter silent from Sunday? However, as Robin bid you both goodbye and you found yourselves alone, you made the conscious decision to remain quiet about the object, keeping it tucked away in your pocket like a silent reminder.

The following day, you ventured out of the mansion and found yourself in a cafe. Uncertain about the object nestled in your pocket, you hesitated to even retrieve it, opting instead to keep your hand inside, fingers lightly brushing against its surface as you inspected it solely through touch.

Nothing about it seemed special, just a rectangular object shrouded in mystery.

Dumbfounded, you exited the cafe, pondering the possibility of researching the object. Was there a library somewhere in Penacony that might hold more information? A tendril of apprehension tightened in your heart as you recalled that the only library you had encountered thus far was the one within your own home.

“Ah, his little songbird.” A voice, unfamiliar, broke you out of your reverie.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” You asked back genuinely.

“Perhaps in another lifetime.” The woman continued, looking you up and down with a smirk on her face.

She was beautiful, even enough to make you feel self conscious. The woman stood tall with porcelain skin contrasting the lavender hues that cascaded down her back. Her gaze nearly matched her hair, a captivating blend of colors with red striking you like the flames of a hypnotic fire.

“My name is Black Swan.” She stated simply, inspecting your eyes as if to see if there was any recognition behind them.

But instead, you blinked twice, uncertainty clouding your thoughts as you awaited her next words, unsure of where she was leading the conversation.

“That’s unfortunate.” She commented on your eyes, once vibrant when she last saw you. “But I believe you have a souvenir of mine.”

Your hand clenched around the rectangular object, a surge of apprehension coursing through you. The thought of broaching the subject with Sunday seemed fraught with risk. Why would you entertain the idea of confiding in a stranger?

“I know you don’t trust me. But would it help if I told you a fellow songbird and I gave it to you?”

Robin.

You paused, looking left and right before stepping closer.

“Hold on.” She spoke softly, her words accompanied by a gentle hand on your wrist, guiding you away from the bustling streets of Golden Hour. Through winding paths and intricate puzzles, she led you, each twist and turn revealing new secrets and hidden passages.

“It isn’t safe here either, but at least now we’re away from the eyes of the bloodhounds.”

Huh?

Though you couldn’t quite comprehend it, with each passing moment in the company of this stranger, you found yourself inexplicably at ease. There was a sense of trust that seemed to grow between you, as if she were a steadfast ally in this labyrinthine journey. You held up the rectangular object in your palms, and she made no move to take it from your grasp, respecting your agency and the significance of the item to you.

She put her hand over the object, “This is an empty light cone. Light cones hold memories, moments in time that were long forgotten even by the user.”

Your eyes shot up in interest, but you did not interrupt her.

“Tell me, do you enjoy this dream?” She asked, seemingly out of nowhere. “Be honest with me, songbird.”

You paused, given the first true opportunity to speak your mind. “I enjoy being here, but something doesn't feel complete.”

“Have you noticed something strange since you first awoke here?”

“Like what?

“Remember. A major flaw in the story you have experienced.”

Your frustration grew, “I can only recall the last few weeks, I can’t go back any further.”

Black Swan fixed her gaze upon you, her eyes locking onto yours with an unwavering intensity as she spoke. “Think back to what you know. Where did you start this story?”

“I was in a hospital, here in Penacony.”

In response, she arched a single eyebrow, a silent indication that there was more to your statement than met the eye.

“And a death in Penacony means what?” She asked slowly.

You strained to recall the answer to that question, your mind rifling through the wealth of knowledge gleaned from the books you had devoured upon awakening. In this dream realm, death held no sway, its specter banished from the bounds of this surreal reality. Your heart quickened with anticipation as the answer began to crystallize in your mind.

“It means returning back to reality.”

If your injuries were indeed severe enough to land you in a hospital bed, on the edge of your life and stripped of your memories, why hadn't you simply returned to reality?

Or rather, why hadn’t Sunday brought you back to reality?

“Wake up, songbird. Break free from this eternal dream.”

Your consciousness plunged beneath the surface instantly, submerged in the depths of an endless ocean. With each stroke, you struggled against the weight of the water, yearning for the surface just out of reach. Yet, propelled by an unseen force, your mind surged forward, propelled by the current of your subconscious.

You coughed up air, gasping for breath as you struggled to fill your lungs, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty washing over you in waves.

Where the hell were you?

You found yourself seated in a pool of water within the confines of a colossal oyster, a fleeting memory flickering in your mind—a recollection of this being the entrance to the Dreamscape.

You were back in reality.

The room was tastefully decorated, with screens displaying a serene beachside view and lush green plants adorning the corners. A cozy fireplace added warmth and ambiance to one wall. It became evident that this was your personal space, as stacks of books adorned every available surface.

As you meticulously combed through the books, your fingers trembled with anticipation, a sense of dread beginning to gnaw at the edges of your consciousness. Each page turned revealed nothing but mundane details, no hint of Sunday's potential duplicity. Yet, the oppressive silence of the room seemed to press in on you, suffocating and thick with apprehension.

Nobody should have knowledge of your clandestine presence, save for Black Swan, yet the hollow echo of a knock shattered the stillness, reverberating through the room like a harbinger of doom. Each rap upon the door sent shivers racing down your spine, your heartbeat thundering like a drumbeat of impending dread.

Was it Sunday?

Was he going to force you back into the Dreamscape?

Hesitation rooted you on the spot, hand trembling as it hovered over the doorknob. Fear coiled in your chest like a venomous serpent, paralyzing your every movement. But the relentless knocking persisted, growing louder and more insistent with each passing second, until it felt as though the very walls themselves were closing in.

“Sparrow, are you alright?”

Sunday.

And yet he sounded… concerned?

His genuinely distressed tone had a disarming effect, causing your guard to falter. With a hesitant hand, you reached for the doorknob, feeling it's cool metal beneath your fingertips.

Even with your slow movements, Sunday hadn’t rushed to open the rest of the door. His voice was gentle, “My love, were you attacked again?”

What?

Did you awaken here the last time you were attacked?

You met Sunday's gaze, but the expression etched upon his face was unlike anything you had ever seen. His eyes, typically ablaze with a golden warmth, now held a chilling intensity, their once vibrant hue dimmed to a somber shade. In their depths, a glimmer of suspicion flickered, casting an ominous pall over his countenance. His stare bore into you with a laser-like focus, each line etched upon his features to show the gravity of his scrutiny.

“No… I was with…”

Your mind stuttered once more, faltering in its attempt to grasp onto the memory of the woman you had just encountered. The image of her beautiful lavender hair and the melodic cadence of her voice began to fade, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. It was as if the memories were elusive phantoms, slipping away from your grasp, leaving behind only fragments of a conversation and a sense of disorientation in their wake.

Sunday remained silent, his gaze unwavering as he observed your inner turmoil with a focused intensity. In a fleeting instant, the tension dissolved from his features, replaced by a tender expression as he lifted a hand to caress your cheek. Leaning in, he gently pressed his forehead against yours, a silent gesture of reassurance.

“Let me take care of you, Songbird.”

“Where… Where are we going?”

“Let’s forgo the Dreamscape tonight. The dinner menu in the lounge sounded particularly appetizing.”

As your mind grappled with the swirling chaos of conflicting memories, one thought remained steadfast: the yearning to return to reality and leave the Dreamscape. Yet, Sunday stood before you, extending an invitation to remain in reality with him. His gentle encouragement, coupled with the suggestion of sharing a meal together, created a tug-of-war within your soul - if he was truly suspicious, wouldn’t he want to return to the Dream?

“Something wrong, my dear?” Sunday asked, his trademark gentle smile once again gracing his features.

A pang of guilt gnawed at a corner of your mind, for you had harbored suspicions of Sunday throughout your time in the Dreamscape. Yet, here he stood, seemingly without fault, extending an open invitation to spend time with him outside the confines of the dream.

“No, let’s.. Let’s get dinner.” You spoke softly, slipping your hand into his and surprising him with your initiative, taking the lead for once.

“Of course, my love.”

You traversed the halls in silence, lost in a labyrinth of thoughts as you pondered the origins of your suspicion towards Sunday. He had been your rock, your unwavering support, proving his loyalty and love over the years of your marriage. It was probably the amnesia that made you wary, but you felt somewhat guilty that you held suspicions over the one person who may not have deserved it.

Lost in contemplation, you scarcely noticed the world around you until you chanced upon a young boy, his striking white hair and azure garments catching your attention in the otherwise familiar surroundings.

“Welcome back to the Reverie! If you need any assistance, feel free to let me know.” He greeted you by name, making you smile at his sunny disposition.

“Thank you, we’re headed down to the VIP lounge now for dinner.” Sunday responded, pausing to reply to the bellboy.

“I’m sorry, I had an accident and I don’t remember your name. Can you tell me yours?”

“No problem, my name is Misha.”

“A pleasure to meet you Misha.” You replied before waving goodbye, smiling as you went with Sunday by your side.

Perhaps you were wrong to be suspicious of Sunday. But no matter, you had an entire lifetime to make it up to your darling husband. He had been so kind to you these last few weeks, you resolved to make amends and shower your darling husband with the love and trust he deserved. Recollections of his tender gestures flooded your mind—the soft kisses, the gentle caresses—that had brought warmth and comfort to your heart over the past weeks. With a smile playing at your lips, you embraced the idea of spending a lifetime cherishing him.

You leaned up on your toes, gently kissing the side of his cheek as you walked through the halls.

Perhaps things were as they should be.

Despite what Robin claimed, Sunday loved you, truly.

Even when you threatened to leave his side for good.

When Robin returned back from her journey on death’s door, Sunday had not simply presented the idea of keeping her here on Penacony.

He enforced it.

In the tender heart of Sunday resided his beloved sister, a cherished soul intertwined with his very essence—his own lifeblood. Why, then, would he ever allow her to return to the perilous realms from whence she came?

Society was too cold, too dangerous.

Robin vocalized her discontent, lamenting the confines of the gilded cage that Penacony had become for her. Yet it was a cage adorned not with mere bars but with the allure of gold and the promise of boundless dreams. She could do anything, be anything. In fact, she was already a renowned celebrity who had the love of her last remaining family member.

Why return to danger when here she prospered?

“It is still a cage.” She would counter, frustration dripping from her words.

And how much more did it break his heart when you took her side?

“Sunday, my love.” As if any endearments would affix his shattered heart. “Robin has a message that she must continue spreading. Keeping her confined here, what about the people she needs to reach?”

No.

He refused to accept their words.

Sunday’s sacrifices were grains of sand slipping through an hourglass, bearing the weight of his every aspiration, relinquished one by one until they formed a towering edifice, precarious yet resolute. At its peak stood the pinnacle of his being — his own life — offered willingly to maintain this dreamlike world even until the very last breath of eternity.

How much more was he willing to give-up?

Or rather, what was he allowed to be selfish for?

His dear sister.

And certainly, you.

As the Stellaron continued to leak Asdana’s memoria into the material world, Sunday felt his final dreams come to fruition. The Dreamscape was blending with reality, making even reality itself an illusion.

He told himself repeatedly that this was for the good of humanity, a paradise where every individual was able to indulge in their delightful dreams and live their own personal happily ever after.

And what of yours?

Sunday granted you the freedom to roam Penacony at will, affording you the opportunity to reach for the stars even in his physical absence. But your frustration mounted, you knew he was watching from a distance anyway, a million eyes at his beck and call in this so-called Dream. You continued to voice your discontent, arguing that freedom within the confines of a cage was not truly freedom.

Why did you insist on leaving this eternal dream?

Would you leave his side and return to being an abandoned orphan, tossed aside somewhere in the old Penacony?

No, he would not allow it.

Even if he had to rewrite your memories along the way.

700 notes · View notes

lleldey · 2 years

Text

The Broken Vow

Description: You met your husband when you were children, foolishly following the pull of first love. Nothing seemed impossible with him holding your hand; dreams and hopes at your fingertips. But when an accident happened, and you were left alone in this world, you learned how to rebuild it without him. Years later he’s back by your side, the only problem – he’s not too keen on having been replaced. It’s not your fault...right?

Warnings: manipulation, yandere, hospitals, divorce, mentions of death, angst, weight loss (not by MC), power corruption, self-condemnation. Please keep in mind this is a yandere story.

Word Count: ~13.5k

One-shot

!In no way of shape and form do I think this is how Jungkook acts in real life, this is pure work of fiction, so if you choose to read it, please keep that in mind!

Life is the biggest mystery of them all. You’ve promised yourself to never again take it for granted, yet now you wish the time to stop, and for you to disappear in it.

You don’t remember how you got here, the parking lot of the hospital seems eerily empty, the vacant lights illuminating the lone space. You rest your head against the seat and wish for whomever is upstairs to give you strength, you remember how you prayed years on end for this day to come, but now that it’s here, you’re at a loss of what to do.

Notifications from your phone light the car, and for the first time in hours, you pick up your muted phone and scroll through the countless messages and calls, some from unknown numbers, probably the medical staff, and some from people you tried your best to forget.

3.04 a.m.

You should’ve been here at least an hour ago, but the ride took almost twice as much as it should’ve. The speed of your car never nearing the limit, every yellow light stopped at, and every minute spent in silence. No music, no thoughts, just silence.

If it were to happen two years ago, you would’ve jumped in relief and happiness, thousand possibilities running through your mind, and body jittering in anticipation, but as you walk through the hospital door, you look around lost. Not sure where to go, not sure if you wish to go.

The reception stares right at you, and you know you should probably go there, but your legs mindlessly carry you to the waiting area. You sit down and look at the people around you, only a few give you company in the dead of night.

A woman sits in front of you, dried tears trace her face, as she clutches the hand of a man besides her. Probably her husband. You watch how he caresses her hand, while they mutter something under their breath, and fresh tears fall from her eyes. It looks like they’re praying. Should you be crying as well?

From your peripheral vision you see someone stand next to you, but you can’t hear what they’re saying, as you continue to watch the sorrowful woman in front of you.

“Mrs. Jeon?”

You play with the gold ring on your finger, the jewelry calms your mind, as you mindlessly twirl it around.

Cough sounds besides you, “Mrs. Jeon?”

Not so far along you were in her shoes, the memory still fresh in your mind. How you sat in the seat for hours, crying and hoping for God to take pity on you. But now you pity the woman; she doesn’t know that the seat she’s occupying will soon become her second home.

A hand on your shoulders breaks your trance, and you look up confused as the nurse once again asks, “Mrs. Jeon?”

Only now you realize she’s speaking to you, and you’re quick to start, “No, no, I’m not-” but you catch yourself, and swallow your words as the realization hits you. No one has addressed you in such way for years, and her words trigger a distant past.

The woman looks at you expectantly, but all you manage to do is stand up and barely nod your head, as memories from years ago plays out in your head.

She outstretches her hand, a light smile graces her tired face, “Mrs. Jeon, I’m your husbands’ doctor, we talked previously,” you shake her hand, only half-heartedly listening to her words, and silently follow her lead.

“Your husband has been asking for you, and dare I say he’s very persistent,” she chuckles, and you butt in, “He’s awake?” she must’ve seen panic travelling through your body, as your hands start to shake and suddenly your surroundings seem grounded, the sleep like state ripped away like a bandage.

“He awoke 2 hours ago,” you stop near a door, laughter resonating from it, and you swear, the voices seem eerily familiar, “your family is with him right now, but he keeps asking for you.”

“His family is here?” she nods her head, and you’re not sure if you can do this. They don’t want to see you, the last time you spoke, you made his mother cry, and his brother chose to ignore your existence.

You drag your hands down your face, you must look a mess, hair sticking every way possible, and the pajamas mixed with your sneakers surely doesn’t help. You feel the doctor’s hand on your shoulder and with a squeeze she points towards the closed door.

Before she leaves, you grab her hand and mutter the words that keep ringing in your head, “How is this possible? Everyone said there’s no hope if I had known...” your words slowly fade, as you watch her with tearful eyes, hoping she’d understand.

“Your husband was taken for his annual checkup, and we noticed some…” she stops and thinks of the correct words, “elements that shouldn’t be present with his condition.” You nod your head, clinging to her every word, hoping that you weren’t at fault for this.

“We did some additional tests, and they came back positive for minimal consciousness.” She holds your hands when your lips began to tremble, “And after your agreeance, we gave him course of amphetamine, and now here we are.”

Her smile should’ve calmed you, but shame manages to creep up your veins; how are you supposed to face him? If he’s been asking for you, surely, he doesn’t know anything. Or perhaps he does and wants to see you begging for forgiveness.

The doctors’ steps slowly fade away, and you’re left with the door glaring daggers into your soul. You try to remind yourself that these are good news, you’d hoped for years on end for this day to come, then why does what’s hidden behind the door scare you so much?

You hear the voices of his family members through the walls, voices from people you used to call your own family. You haven’t talked to them for two years, even if some of them tried to reach out to you.

The room feels suffocating even through the door, you envision their judging stares, and harsh whispers. You lay your head against the door and try to calm yourself. Perhaps they won’t let you in, chase you away even before you step a foot in. But through the war in your head, you hear a soft voice, such a delicate voice you think your mind made it up.

Tears spring to your eyes, as you realize it’s truly him; ever since the doctor called you, all you could think of was his family, the possibility of him being awake seemed so unimaginable, that you didn’t dare to hope.

His voice calls you like a melody, the soft hums you longed to hear for one last time. Gently you open the door, and the room falls silent, distasteful looks thrown at you from every corner. Slowly you step in, still keeping the door open, you wrap your hands around your body when you notice how elegant everyone looks.

What else could you expect from the Jeons? Makeup in the middle of night, suits and silk dresses are a norm, you should know, this was your life not so long ago. You try to soothe down your hair, while stuttering, “H-Hello,” you don’t await a response, and feel yourself caving in further, the dark gazes you expected are overpowering, and you’re close to running out of the room.

“Can I come in?” you try, you truly try to make this less awkward, but you hear your voice quivering, and their heated stares make you turn to the door, longing for a breath of air.

Before you manage to run out of the confined space, Jungkooks’ mom steps up, and approaches you, “Child, I’m so happy to see you,” she grabs your hands, and you manage to smile back, at least someone in this room doesn’t hate you.

Your relief is short lived, as a man’s voice comments from the front of the bed, “Took her long enough” Your gaze drifts to him, as Jungkooks mother scolds him, and you hear a familiar voice, hidden between the sea of people, disapprove as well, “Jin, don’t speak to her like that.”

Your breath hitches, and you try to look past the bodies hiding him from your view. Involuntarily your lips start to tremble, all you manage to decipher is his raven black hair and hand that tries to shoo his family away from blocking you, but that is enough for tears to trace down your cheeks.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and your gaze snaps back to his mom, and her sympathizing smile makes your tears fall down quicker, “All right everyone, let’s head out, and give them some space.”

You start to protest, as much as you wish to see him, you’re also afraid. You don’t know how much he knows, but your hands tremble from the idea of seeing him for the first time in years. Jungkooks mom stops you before you manage to say a word, “You’ve some explaining to do, and we must start preparing for court.”

Your eyes snap to her, and with furrowed brows you mutter, “You’re suing them?”, and the room fills with arrogant chuckles, “They took my baby away for years, of course we’ll sue those incompetent doctors.” She states while longingly looking towards the hidden bed.

Jin shoots you a grimace and mutters as he passes you by, “That’s the least we can do, they don’t deserve their certificate. Those doctors should not be allowed to step near a patient ever again.” He stops by the door and looks you over, suddenly your shoes seem like the most interesting thing in the world.

“They should know what happens when you mess with Jeons.” His words feel directed not only to the poor professionals. They should know indeed, and if they don’t, then they’ll have to learn the hard way. That much you can say from your own experience.

Jungkooks mom stands besides Jin, and pats his cheek while muttering, “You’re right son, now that both my babies are back, they’ll see why you don’t mess with attorneys.” You choose to stay quiet; they can barely stand your existence as it is, you doubt that they would overlook you going against them again.

Silence entails once more, as everyone leaves the room, you don’t miss how they keep a great distance passing you by, as if the mere presence of you disgusts them. But this was to be expected, and you stand still, not looking up till you hear the door close.

It takes a good minute for you to gather yourself and look up, but when you see him lying in the bed awake, looking at you with the love filled smile he used to give you, the barely patched up walls of your heart break, and you cover your mouth to silence the sob that wrecks your body.

Your feet carry you closer to him, and you stand by the bed, body shaking and tears falling. His hand reaches out to you, trying to comfort your restless mind, and you throw yourself in his embrace, the soft huff and chuckle rumbling his chest.

His heart beats against your own, and you pull him closer, not fully believing that you’re not dreaming. Hidden in his chest you whisper, “Is this real?”, but the hand that caresses your hair confirms your suspicion, this is real.

The countless years spent lying on his chest, praying that one day he awakens and embraces you like he used to leaves a bitter taste on your tongue, and you pull away just enough to see his bright eyes and gentle smile, and fall back into his chest, cherishing the moment at hand.

He leaves soft kisses on your head, and you let tears fall freely on his hospital gown, you forgot how warm his skin is, how comforting his touch is, the lonesome years left you with nothing but the far memory of it.

“Has it truly been seven years?” his voice sounds scratchy, his vocal cords vulnerable from all the years spent in silence. You raise your head to look at him, tears still falling, and caress his face noting the beard that has taken its place.

You nod your head and shakily mutter, “Almost eight”, to be precise seven years and two hundred and fifty-seven days of him laying motionless, unaware of his surroundings and your breaking heart. Jungkook heaves a sigh, and you lean into his touch, relishing his warm hand drawing patterns over your cheek.

He carefully examens your face, taking into account every detail and new wrinkle, “You look-”, playfully you groan, and sniffle, “Old? Like a train wreck?” to which he chuckles, and you can’t help yourself but do the same, you haven’t heard his laugh in so long, the sound almost hypnotizing.

“I was going to say beautiful,” you shake your head at his teasing grin, “God truly took his time on you, age suits you well. I just wish I was here to see it; it feels like only a day has passed, yet everything has changed.”

Your smile slowly fades, oh, he has no idea how much everything has changed, but you don’t wish to break his heart, so you opt to cheer up the dampening mood, “And you look like a cave man”

You brush your fingertips against his beard, something he used to keep track of to never grow out. His hair is also noticeably longer, brushing past his shoulders. You used to be the one who cut it, and shaved his face, but you haven’t been here for almost two years.

His hand moves to your chin, and your heart stutters; even though years have passed, he still acts like the man you loved, bringing you closer by your chin to kiss you. Now quickly realizing his motive, you back away and mutter, “We should probably do something about it, there must be shaving cream somewhere nearby”

If he notices the distance you created, he chooses to ignore it, a light furrow of his brows all is seen, before it morphs into a smile once more, “And here I thought you promised to love me for better or worse, even when I turn into a cave man”

Your heart sinks at his words, even though they are true, you’ve no clue how to even start to explain how you broke your vows, crumbled them like a piece of paper. You start to get up in search of a nurse, but Jungkook quickly stops you and presses a button, to which one quickly comes in and leaves in search of Jungkooks demand.

You sit back in a chair and enjoy his silent company while you wait for her to come back, seeing him conscious, breathing and back to his normal self is more than you could’ve asked for, and you can’t stop the tears that grace your waterline.

“I felt like I was going insane while waiting for you. Jin said you moved to another city...?” his questioning gaze looks over your features, and you distantly hum, when the nurse comes back and leaves a small bowl of water, razor, and some shaving cream.

Gently you start applying the cream on his face, and you feel his eyes burning, trying to catch your gaze. Continuing your work, you start to explain, careful with your wording, as the subject entails more than you wish to tell, “It was hard being there alone. But I didn’t sell it if you’re worried about that”

Understandingly he nods his head, and you cup his chin while gently scolding him for moving, afraid to accidentally cut his skin. You see his muscles morph into a smile, and you stop your movements, and look him in the eye as you shake your head with a smile of your own.

You lead the razor gently over the white foam and see glimpse of his youthful skin hidden behind it, “I can’t wait to go back home with you, these hospital beds will give me a backache like no other. Our bed is far more comfortable, not to mention you, who’s the softest pillow to exist.”

You press your lips together, and tightly smile; silence might be the best answer for now. You let his dreams carry on, couple of years ago you would’ve fallen into them with him, but now, you know you can’t afford to do so.

But the sparkles that coat his eyes are too bright and tender for you to extinguish, yes, you are selfish, you allow yourself to live in the fantasy-esque world that Jungkook desperately tries to pull you in, even just for a moment. You lost him for so long, barely found a footing in this world alone, but now that he’s here, the idea of losing him again hurts more than words could entail.

Jungkook is no fool, he sees that something is amiss. Your tense body, and pursed lips tell him that much. He tries to be gentle, it’s understandable that you’re confused, after all almost 8 years have passed. But it irks him when you refuse his touch, doing so seamlessly, that one might not even notice.

But someone isn’t Jungkook, he’s your husband, and has been your lover for six years before the accident. The past few hours have been dubious; at first everyone was elated, tears filled the room as more and more people came in.

But with each time the door opened his patience tinned out, they weren’t you, and as much as he was grateful to see everyone, the one he truly longed for wasn’t there. He tried to calm himself, he knew that you’re well and somewhere nearby, as the doctor said they talked to you, but every time he brought you up, the room turned silent, anxious looks passed by everyone present, till they ended the subject with, hopefully she’ll be here soon, and you’ll understand everything.

Now, what was ‘hopefully’ supposed to mean?

“I’m sorry about Jin, I don’t know what came over him” he starts, carefully observing your movements, but you tick your head, and forcefully shake the razor in the bowl. “He’s your brother, he was only looking out for you.”

“But you have great relationship, he shouldn’t speak to you like that” the sad smile that graces your lips makes him even more confused, “We did. But after you-” you sigh and drop the razor in the bowl, and grab a towel, softly wipe the residue off his skin “A lot has changed, I had a falling out with your family”

You focus all your attention on patting his skin dry, but his hand stops yours, and when you look up you see the light panic clouding his eyes, “How is that possible? Is it because of the accident?” you shush his rambling, and smile while caressing his jaw, “Don’t worry about it, at least now you’re no longer a cave man.”

He huffs, but you don’t pay it any attention, just appreciate his smooth skin that seems radiant in comparison to the last time, when you said your goodbyes to him. You allow him to play with your fingers, and don’t even notice when he pulls your hand closer to his face.

“Why are your fingertips cut? Do they hurt? Your skin isn’t as smooth as it usually is…” you laugh at his zeroed-in attention on your fingers, and with adoration explain, “I’m used to it, I work as a hairdresser now, and every once in a while, help out in a farm”

His facial expression is one for the books, he starts to sit up, and anxiously you try to stop him, but he stubbornly ignores your protests while cradling your hand to his heart, “What the hell did I miss? A hairdresser? But what about photography, it’s your dream!”

You nibble on your lip, while trying to think of a way to calm him down, this much stress surely isn’t good for his body, “Photography doesn’t pay the bills. I couldn’t stay here, Kook. I moved out and this was my only option.”

As much as you try to soothe him, your words go amiss, he shakes his head, thousand thoughts travelling through it, “I don’t get it, you had my trust fund, you shouldn’t have to worry about bills”

He tries to understand, he truly does, but something doesn’t add up, and it keep him on the edge. You move closer to him, and sit on the bed next to him, hoping that it would ease his mind, “They cut me off,” before Jungkook starts to panic, you continue, “we got into an argument, and that was my decision, I stand by it.”

Jungkook shakes his head and opens his mouth, but nothing comes from it. You watch how he falls back onto the pillows with a frustrated sigh, “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, and I’ll handle it. I should’ve taken care of you, and I failed.”

You shake your head, “Don’t say that. Just promise to never again touch a motorcycle in your life.” He takes your hands in his own and presses kisses all over while repeatedly mumbling, “I’m sorry”

“It must’ve been so hard for you. I’ll get discharged, and we’ll move back into our own place, everything will be back to normal. You won’t have to worry about a single thing.”

Nothing will ever be the same, but he’s clueless. Your heart clenches as you realize you have to tell him the truth. He’s living in the idyllic life you created years ago, oblivious of how broken it now is. You have to tell him.

You straighten you back and ready yourself for what’s to come, “Jungkook, I-” But before you manage, he stops you

“What’s that?”

You follow his gaze, and your breath hitches. “That’s my ring, Jungkook.” His grip tightens around your fingers, and very slowly grits out, “That is not our wedding ring”

His gaze travels to your own and noticing the tears clouding your gaze his eyes narrow, “No, it’s not. But it is my wedding ring.”

Silence overtakes the room, but his eyes don’t stray from you, unblinking, frozen, trying to make sense of what you’ve told. “You cannot remarry when you’re already married. To me, might I add.” He articulates every word slowly, as if speaking to a child, and you shake your head and somewhat shamefully mutter, “We’ve been divorced for almost three years”

His neck slowly turns red, and his muscles are strained, veins popping out of his neck and forehead. You feel the doom coming, and you try to make him understand, “Jungkook, please understand. You were basically dead, and I waited for years but I-”

“What the fuck do you mean you’re married to someone else” his voice raises, and you feel the words vibrate through your body, “Jungkook,” is all you manage to whimper.

“You are my wife,” he hits his chest, “My wife, what are you even talking about?!” at this point he’s screaming, and you try to shush him to no avail.

His words become distant, once you see tears streaming down his cheeks. His hand is wailing around, neck strained and face red, and forcefully he pulls you closer by the hand he’s still gripping with full force.

You don’t hear the nurses running in, your eyes zeroed on his enraged state, he tries to push them away, and you force your hand out of his, to try and move away. But your actions don’t go unnoticed, as Jungkook close to lunges toward you.

Everything becomes white noise, and you see everyone screaming, nurses barely able to hold him back from you. He fights against their grip, but his body is frail, and the pool of workers press his body down, all while he scratches, screams and throws pillows every way possible.

Distinctly you hear one of them scream about sedating him, and your body finds the last bit of strength to run out of the room. But you don’t get far, as just outside you bump into his doctor, the poor woman looking over your shoulder astonished, as everything progresses downhill.

You hear him scream your name time after time, but you look at the woman in front of you, and cry out, “I can’t be here, take me off his medical proxy,” You’re out of breath, and you try to mutter a legitimate sentence over your cries, “Ask his brother, anyone, just please-” your words fade, and the woman stares at you in shock, but Jungkook keeps calling your name, and you can’t bear to hear his broken cries. He sounds like a wounded animal, and the sound chills you to the bone.

You push past her and run towards the exit, from your peripheral vision you see his family crowded around the hall, but you don’t stop, even when you hear their voices mixed with Jungkooks shouting after you. You have to get out of here.

Your body moves on its own accord, and perhaps your stressed mind is playing games with you, but you feel someone running after you. Jungkooks cries echo through your mind even when you find yourself in the parking lot, hands shaking, trying to unlock your car.

With trembling hands, you try to ignite the engine, but it won’t start up, frustrated, you hit the steering wheel with your palms, and pray that this isn’t the time your car decides to give up. With a look to the hospitals entrance, you see a dark silhouette running out, you were right, someone was indeed chasing after you.

Praying that they won’t notice you, you sink into the seat, and try to start up your car once more, it takes couple of seconds, but when it does you heave a sigh, and see that the person noticed you only now, headlights turning you in.

You don’t wait to find out who it is, or what they want from you, swiftly you press the gas pedal, and rush back home.

04.46 a.m.

If the road to the hospital took you almost three hours, now you don’t care if you’re speeding, only thing you wish for is to be in your husbands’ arms and cry your heart out. Yes, perhaps you missed a couple of red lights, but you’re too far gone, lost in the labyrinth of your mind to care.

06.10 a.m.

The edges of the clouds shine in golden sparkles, and the darkness slowly dissipates, as sun makes itself known. You drive through the depths of forest green, the car wobbles on the bumpy road, but you feel the end of your misery, as you see glimpse of your home in the distance.

Your body feels frozen, every action robotic, your goal the only thing in mind. You stop the car near the entrance of your home, the stone walls of the house seem lament, and you step out of the car, finally able to take a deep breath.

The door opens, and the gray monotone vanishes, once you see your husband. He looks visibly nervous, but he tries to smile to ease your mind. “How did it go?” his hair is disheveled, and eyes drowsy, it looks like he couldn’t sleep, anxiously waiting for you to come back.

You take a deep breath, and ready yourself to explain how horribly everything transcribed, but all you manage is to whimper “Tae,” before you run into his warm embrace, and let the dam of tears loose.

He caresses your head, and rocks you from side to side, you’re not sure how long you spend like this, you, hyperventilating on his chest, and him, embracing you in his warmth, trying to hold his own tears in. But when you calm down, and look up, the sky is baby blue, sun rays blinding you.

Some say you can’t avoid things you don’t want to deal with, but you're determined to prove them wrong.

For the past week, you’ve buried yourself in work, either at the hair salon, or, more so, helping Tae with farm work. Now more than ever you relish his company, his touch and gleaming smile helps you forget about everything else.

But with ignorance comes sloppiness. You can’t count the number of times you’ve accidentally cut your fingers, while trimming someone’s hair, or daydreamed while coloring hair, only for the end result being a two shades different color.

On top of that, Tae’s farm has gotten multiple complaints, so it made sense for you to clock out of work to help him. You’re applying the last bit of color on clients’ roots, every once in a while, humming along her story that, if you remember correctly, is of how her son drove her car in a ditch.

You make sure the color is blended in evenly when your phone rings. After the events in the hospital, your phone was flooded with messages, and the constant ringing was too much for both you and the phone, as it continued to glitch out.

You contemplated the idea of changing your number, but the next day complaints started coming in, and you decided that this isn’t the best time, both financially, and in case someone needs to reach out to you about that. And even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself, somewhere deep down you knew that won’t stop him. But Taehyung advised you to mute everyone’s notifications except for his, and so far, the proposal has worked perfectly.

Quickly you apologize to the woman, and pull off one of the gloves, while answering the phone, “Hi, honey. I’m working, is everything all right?”

His voice comes out rushed, and your smile fades, as you try to understand what he’s saying, “Can you slow down please, I can’t hear you”

He takes a deep breath and this time you manage to hear what he’s rambling, “Okey, I’ll be there soon, we’ll figure something out.” The line disconnects, and you curse under your breath, this isn’t good.

Moving into action, you grab your things, and turn towards one of your colleagues, while packing “Can you please take over my client? I have an emergency, and all that’s left is to wash her hair and style it” you ramble and look at her with puppy eyes.

“Which time is it this week? You can’t drop all of your clients on me” you clasp your hands together, and do your best to give her puppy eyes, but she rolls her eyes.

“I know, but it’s very urgent. Tae’s about to get sued, and he needs me”

She looks at you with a pitying gaze, “This one last time. Next time please remember that I also have a family to go back home to”

Quickly you kiss her cheek and turn to the exit, but you should’ve known that it won’t be this easy. Red fury, or rather, your boss stands at the aisle with a disapproving gaze. Before she starts to protest you butt in, “I know I’ve been distracted, but it’s truly an emergency. I promise once this is over, I’ll take double shifts, but please understand”

She looks nonchalant, and somehow you think that’s worse. She doesn’t scream, or scold you, but simply shakes her head, already given up, “Go,” quickly you thank her, but before you manage to exit, she notes over her shoulder,

“You haven’t been clocking in the hours. If this continues, I won’t have another option but to fire you.”

One foot out of the door you stop, at this point this job is your only income, but you make your decision, as your rush towards the car.

You try to convince yourself that there’s no other option, your husband needs you. You’ve already broken your previous vows, and sure as hell won’t do that again. After all you promised, for better and for worse.

One good thing about living in a village, everything is reachable in spam of minutes. But as you speed down the road, the idyllic ambience and joyous people make you feel like you’re suffocating.

This was never what you wanted, you enjoyed the bustling crowds and big cities dreams, but then the ground disappeared under your feet, and you were left all alone, lost, with no one there to ground you.

But then you met Taehyung, and he gave you another chance in life, even if it was the furthest thing from your reality. You could be the friendly neighbor who talks about her children morning-night. It never was your dream, but it is enough, because you have him.

You rush out of the car in search of him, for once thankful of your small home, as you quickly find him in the living room buried in scattered documents and disheveled hair. Once he notices your presence, he lifts his head up, and you kneel in between his legs to wipe his tears.

“What’s going on, Tae?” he shakes his head, and tries to calm himself. “They are suing me, and I don’t know what to do.”

When you left for work, things weren’t great, but they weren’t necessarily bad. You thought that this was another situation that would pass with time, but now you’re stuck, how could everything change so drastically in a few days?

“A little girl is lying in hospital because of me,” you shudder a breath and quickly stop him, “This isn’t your fault-”, he interrupts you, “But it is! I changed the supplier for a cheaper one, all the complaints, their health is on me!”

It doesn’t add up. He changed it two months ago, why are there problems all of a sudden? You watch his devastated face expression, at a loss of what to do to make everything better.

“Now, I have to compensate costumers, pay the workers, and find attorneys. I’ve already stopped all production, but I can’t fire everyone, they depend on me. I can’t believe I’ve ruined my family’s business.” He shakes his head, and you draw patters over his knee, not sure what to say, just listening.

“And I have no clue where to find resources for everything. I’ve already paid out most of our savings, and it’s just been a week. I don’t know what to do with court, you know how hard it’s to get attorneys.”

A thought strikes you, a possible solution to this whole thing. But you shake your head, as you realize what that would take out of you, you’re not sure if it would serve for better or worse. You rest your head against his knees, and think over the possibilities; you’re the last person he wants to see, you’re sure of that, but do you have a different solution?

But his screams still echo through your head, and you’re not sure if you can go through it again. But you have to try, for Tae.

“I might have a solution for that.” Confused he searches your eyes, and realization dawns upon him. Taehyung quickly gets up and starts pacing around the room. “I’m not putting you through that.”

“He’s our only option. There’s a reason why they’re the best attorneys in country. Worst case scenario, he can give us contacts or dismiss all together.” You don’t voice out the thought that he could indeed do worse, you’re not sure of his emotional state, but judging by the last time when multiple nurses had to hold him back from you, you’re going in blind. And honestly, you don’t blame him, you are at fault for his misery.

“Alright, but I’m coming with you.” A humorless laugh escapes you, “No, you’re not. He might be unwell, but if he sees you, rage will consume him. You didn’t see what I saw, he doesn’t want to see me honey, let alone you.”

Silence consumes the room, and you know that it’s agreed upon. You have to do this for Tae, and you know you’ve to talk to Jungkook. As much as you’d like to pretend the past 20+ years of your life didn’t happen, you can’t do that. You love him, but you can’t afford to do anything about it. You’re divorced, and that was your doing.

Turns out you can’t hide from things you don’t want to deal with.

You’re not sure if this is the right call; it’s been 5 minutes of you standing frozen in front of the door of a place you once called home. Not a single thing has changed, even the doorman recognized you, never mind that years have passed.

You calm yourself (rather try to convince yourself) that everything’s all right. You hoped that Jungkook would deny your request of meeting up, or rather not pick up the phone in general, but he answered on the first beep of the call.

The conversation wasn’t pleasant - even awkward - no pleasantries exchanged. You take a deep breath remembering the lone sentence he muttered during the phone call, “Are you coming back?”

Seeing him brought up memories and feelings you did your best to burry, most prominent one – guilt. You remember the incident at the hospital; how hard you tried to pretend as if nothing has changed, till the truth came out, and you saw his desperate eyes pleading for it to not be true.

Guilt you felt that moment was consuming, you knew that it’s your fault, so you ran. But somehow that didn’t help, only amplified the gut-wrenching pain of leaving the one you love behind, in pain and hurt.

But you comforted yourself with the knowledge he has a crowd of people by his side – they can patch up the tear you made. He doesn’t need you.

And as pathetic as it is, you’re afraid of stepping into the apartment. Isn’t it ironic, you’re the one who’s hurting him, yet you’re afraid of how you’ll feel. Selfishness at its best.

Straightening your back, you knock on the door, silence greets you, and after good 30 seconds you try again. When nothing happens, you try the door handle – it’s unlocked.

Door opens and the comforting smell of your home envelopes you, even if no one occupied it, somehow, it’s still drowning in the smell you seeked comfort in – your washed-out scent mixed with Jungkooks.

Slowly stepping in, you shudder a breath; you’re transported back 7 years ago, the creamy walls and coat racks filled with both of your jackets, messily thrown out shoes in the hall, and photography’s of your small family decorating the walls.

You close your eyes and envision Jungkook coming behind you to help you shrug off the coat, and give you a kiss on the cheek, while hugging you from behind. Just like he always did. The memory seems so tangible yet so far away.

But you open your eyes to the vacant hall, dust particles coting the furniture. Cold seeps under your skin, and you remind yourself of reality. Calling out Jungkooks name is useless, as silence welcomes your nervous state, but your body leads you to the living room, sort of déjà vu coaxing you to go there.

And just like you thought, he’s there. Overlooking the cities horizon, standing still besides the window, even when you address him.

“How are you?” you try to start a conversation and move closer and sit at the couch far enough from his reach, yet close enough to see his stiff body. But his back is turned to you, and he doesn’t give you the least bit of attention. “Door was unlocked, hope you don’t mind me barging into your home…”

“Our home” he’s quick to interrupt, awkwardly you shift weight from foot to foot, “Well, I’m glad you’re alright-” his hollow laugh makes you pause, not sure what to do. His emotions far too intense to what you’re used to, his aggravated scoff makes you sink in with guilt, the gentle mannerism he always bestowed hidden behind waves of betrayal.

Now looking at him through the reflection of the window, you can see he is not the man you’ve known and cherished dear to your heart. His body looks frail, you’re afraid that a stronger breeze of wind will make him break.

But still, your heart cries out for the past. And if it didn’t feel real beforehand, now it does.

He is wearing the sweatpants you bought him years ago, when you first moved into your apartment and decided to paint the walls yourself, you can still see washed out splotches of blue and white on them. Only now the pants are way too big for him, barely hanging on his hips, threatening to fall off any second. His shirt swallows his whole body, pitifully hanging from his shoulders, with no muscles or fat to cling on to.

“You left me. You threw me out the first chance I wasn’t of value to you anymore.” His words hurt you more than imaginable, and as much as you know that’s not the truth, you let him talk. You deserve to hear what you have done.

“And now I have nothing. No job, no home, no purpose, no-” his breath shutters before he whispers, “no one to come back to.”

“All I have is money and this empty space. Space that we built for our family.” He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Before you chose to exchange it for that low-life.”

You know what you have done is immoral, but your husband has done no wrong, only nothing less than hold you through these last horrid years.

“Jungkook stop. Please, don’t mix him into this, you know nothing about him-”

He turns to you, and you realize you mistook his anger for pain. His face is scrunched up, brows furrowed and eyes hollow with undeniable rage. You don’t recognize the person in front of you, the soft eyes you longed to gaze at one last time are long gone. And you can’t blame anyone else, but yourself.

He looks older, the dark circles beneath his eyes undeniable, the wrinkle that seems to be taken place in between his brows. And the sharp cheekbones that pinch through his skin. He looks unhealthy, his skin colored in yellowish tone.

“Don’t I? Aren’t you here because he lost his job? Because his dirty secret has come clean, and no one wants to be associated with him?” He steps closer to you.

“Because you want to beg me, your husband to take a pity of your side dick, and give him a job?” As he progresses towards you, you’re able to see how his body trembles, and at this point you don’t know if it’s due to his rage or unwell body.

“He’s not able to take care of himself, let alone you.”

“Am I wrong?”

Looking at his disheveled body, you know you can’t lie to him. You’ve done things you promised to never do in your vows. You hurt him, and you left him. And that’s the greatest pain one can cause another.

But you’re left confused. He knows. But how does he know? Has he been keeping tabs on you?

“Jungkook. Do you have any part in this?” You’re afraid to ask, the answer already looming in his previous words.

“And here I was hoping that my wife still cares for me. That she came to visit me, her husband, who has been almost dead for years.” He shakes his head with a scoff, and you look away.

“But no, she’s more worried about her affair. She doesn’t even care.”

“You know that’s not true.” You bite back your tears. There’s nothing you can say to make it better. You play with your fingers in your lap, too ashamed to look at him.

“Isn’t it? Because I’m here, waiting for you to turn up. And my wife isn’t even bothered to show when I’m being discharged. My wife doesn’t even care I wish I’d be dead, then live with the knowledge that she’s sleeping in someone else’s arms, living the perfect life we promised each other.” His voice breaks, but you still refuse to look at him. He’s crying, breaking down in front of you, and he has every right to do so, because you betrayed him.

Silence drags on, you, not able to look him in the eye, while he shakily breathes out, trying to stabilize his breaking heart. Pacify himself from the reality he’s welcomed to.

“But you know, I’m not sad. I’m angry.”

“I thought about killing your boy toy.” Frightened, you look up, “You know we have contacts for that, hundreds of them lining my phone, hoping we’ll help them in exchange for a favor. But then I thought, what a great feeling it would be to dig my nails through his skin, watch as the life trickles out of him, and smile, when his blood drowns my skin.” You rush to him, hoping to awaken him from his dulled thoughts.

But as you stand in front of him, you’re afraid to touch him, and the thought drives the knife in your heart deeper. You’re afraid to touch the man you promised to love for eternity. The man your heart yearned for years.

“And I want you to feel every bit as I do. I want you to hurt, the same way I do. I want you to see the world crumble beneath your feet and know that there’s nothing you can do about it.” His overbearing frame casts shadow over your form, and you mingle your hands together, trying to stay strong.

“But then I realized, that would be too easy. And you wouldn’t get your lesson. As it turns out, you still don’t know that wife doesn’t disobey her husband.”

“I have always been there for you. And now, you will see what it means, when I stop taking care of you. Because now, you can’t do anything, and I can do everything.”

The promise in his eyes scars you, but when you see the first tear trickling down his cheeks, when you see the hurt you bestowed upon him, nothing else matters except for him.

You watch how he starts to hyperventilate; his body shakes uncontrollably and his face pales. And the moment his knees buckle, your haze is broken, and you catch him in your arms. Panic overtakes every nerve in your body, and you call out for him, only to feel his tears on your shoulder.

You try to move his face towards yours, but he stubbornly shakes his head, hiding in the crook of your neck. “Jungkook, honey,” your voice trembles, “we have to get you to the couch,”

His heart pounds aggressively against your chest, you can’t muster what he sobs in your neck, his cries overpower any possibility of deciphering what he says. You feel your pulse in your ears, and you’re close to succumbing under his weight.

“Please, you have to lay on the couch.” You’re powerless, your own tears cloud your sight, the only thought running through your mind is to get him to safety. You move your hands around his waist, and you thank the gods, as Jungkook seems to hear your words, and weakly takes a step towards the seat.

To see a man, you love crumbled in your arms, barely standing, and breathing, breaks a piece of your sanity. You don’t know what your body is doing, but you zero on the couch, and only distinctly hear yourself muttering “We’re almost there, one more step” with every step you take.

You fall into the couch, your hands automatically reaching for his face, hoping to understand what is going on. You’re met with his blood-shot eyes and tear covered face, his breath is shallow, and you don’t know what to do.

Jungkook throws himself into your embrace, and you finally hear what he’s been muttering like a mantra all this time, and the words “please don’t leave me all alone” only serve to make your own tears escalate.

“I need to call the ambulance” you cry out, only for Jungkook to hold you tighter and cry out no one after the other. His breathing gets worse, and you realize if he doesn’t calm down, he will pass out.

“Jungkook, breathe.” You loudly breathe in and out, caressing his head, and feel him messily repeat your actions. Every second seems eternity long, and you pray to whomever sits upstairs, that he will be alright. With heavy chest you watch how his breathing normalizes, and sobs turn to hiccups, your body deflates, and you rest your head against his.

You allow your heart to stabilize, carefully listening to his shallow breaths, “Do you have any calming meds?” you whisper in his hair. He detaches from your skin and looks up.

“Please don’t go.” He defeatedly whispers. You hush him and rest your forehead against his, “I’m here, but I need to make sure you’re alright.” Uncertainly he nods, and points towards the kitchen.

You get up from the couch and Jungkook grabs your hand, “Kitchen” you whisper, and see the relief in his eyes. The moment he lets you go, you rush towards the room, you shake your head, as the kitchen counters are filled with bottles of medication, pills scattered all over.

You search through the bottles; your home never looked like this, Jungkook is a perfectionist, he never left a single dirty dish out, but now the space is covered in dust, no sense of your family home present.

Picking the right bottle, you search for water, only to realize it’s not here. You open the fridge to find it empty as well. Praying for the best, you open the trash, and you know you’ve failed him. You turn to the couch, to see Jungkook watching you with tears still running down his face.

You want to cry, but now is not the time, with both of you unstable no good will rise, and he needs you now. You try to silence your mind and fill up a glass with tap water. Thankfully, his family kept the apartment running.

You return to Jungkook and press the glass and pill in his hands. Silently you watch how he follows your command and bend down to your purse to fish out your phone. “What are you doing” he panics besides you. Before he starts to hyperventilate again, you grab his hand and as softly as possible whisper, “Only ordering food, don’t worry.”

You notice how your hands shake around your phone, barely managing to order, before your phone drops to the carpet. You catch Jungkooks gaze, and you don’t know if you should, but you wish that you’d be wrong,

“Have you-” you swallow, and try to keep composure, “Have you eaten anything since you’ve been discharged?”

He doesn’t answer you but continues to stare. You take a deep breath and continue, “Have you drank anything?”

If Jungkook doesn’t decide to murder you for your betrayal, you’re sure that the silence will. The dark circles and blood-shot eyes encourages you to get to the bottom of this, “Slept?”

You search his eyes for an answer, praying that he’s too stubborn to answer, rather than cavalier enough to try and withhold the truth from breaking your heart further. But he simply stares, no emotion travelling past the deep mahogany eyes.

“You know I can’t sleep without you.” Is the only thing he whispers. He doesn’t break your eye contact, and you wonder, perhaps he truly wants to see your pain, enjoy the way his self-neglectance makes you feel like you’ve failed.

You take another look at his disheveled form, gulp down your emotions and turn to the stairs. “Where are you going?” one single step away from him, makes his voice shake in panic, and you wonder how’d you get to this place.

With a look over your shoulders, “Run you a bath”, Jungkook nods his head in understanding, and silently follows you. You turn to him once he reaches the staircase, unsure if he’s strong enough to climb it.

He pushes your outstretched hand away, and mutters “I can climb the stairs.” You send him an unsure gaze, but his eyes harshly move up the stairs, urging you to go in a silent command.

The house truly looks the same, only difference being the coat of dust over the space. Automatically you go into the master bedroom, even if you haven’t been in this house for years, your body still remember every nook and creaky board.

You expect the bedroom to look the same as well, but the bed is filled with your clothes, as if they were thrown around. You send Jungkook a questioning gaze, but the same void eyes greet you; you wonder if this is how it’s going to be, him looking at you with empty eyes.

It’s funny how the one you love, can be the reason of your anguish. You promised to love one another till your dying bed, but here you are, looking at each other with nothing but hurt and betrayal.

Silently you go into the bathroom and start preparing his bath. When you left, you were sure that was the last time you stepped a foot in this house, you wanted to start over, so you left everything behind.

Even if your past actions were rushed, now you’re thankful for them. Cupboards are filled with oils and bubble bath solutions, you have to take a double look to check the expiration dates, but you sigh in relief, as the gentle smell of lavender and chamomile fills the space.

The smell takes you back to when everything was perfect, ever since you two started dating, bath was a sort of escape from reality. After a stressful day at work, you lit the candles, and drowned in each other’s embrace in midst of bubbles. Spilled wine, kisses on shoulders, laughter, and bubble beards - that was the reality.

You help Jungkook step into the bath, and your breath hitches as you see the full extent of his fragile body; scars from the crash, and skin pressed right against bones, bones so prominent that you’re able to see how his sharp shoulder blades bulge when he moves, every single rib, and back bone.

Now this is the reality.

You pour water over Jungkooks hair, the black strands lightly tickle his shoulders, visibly grown out over the past few years. Surprisingly, he relaxes under your touch, head leaning against the bath while you massage shampoo into his hair.

He’s looking at you, but you try to ignore his gaze, as every time your eyes meet, you’re met with dark circles and red, puffy under eyes. The room falls silent, the only sound being the water trickling from his hair.

Jungkooks shoulders slowly relax under your touch, and you move to massage his neck, careful, observing his body language. But his body only further melts into your arms, and when he sighs, you’re sure you made the right call.

The main reason of your visit escapes your mind, you gathered his answer when he named called Tae, but the possibility of him being involved in the ordeal seems great. You keep in mind to check if there’s any correlation between them.

“When I was under, all I remember are sparks of warmth enveloping me,” you stop your movements and look at his face, how his eyes search the ceiling, as if they hold the truth to his misery, “But then it stopped, and coldness overtook my body. Conscious enough to feel like you’re about to wake up yet suffocating in coldness and loneliness.” He whispers, and your heart clenches at the tears clouding his eyes.

“I think it’s because of you - when you stopped visiting me. I think I felt it.” He tilts his head up to catch your gaze, and you stare at him in silence, no words able to bear the barrier of guilt. At times you’ve caught yourself regretting your decision, heart crying out for your ex-husband, missing his touch, and soothing kisses. But you could never regret meeting Tae, he’s been with you through it all, and you’ll be forever indebted for that.

You caress his cheek, and he looks at you lost in thoughts, but when he pursues his lips, you know somethings weighting his mind. “How did you meet him?” Your fingers freeze and you search his eyes confused, is he actually asking about your husband? No uncontrollable rage behind the words?

But he looks just as lost as you are, but you don’t miss your shot and cautiously murmur, “At the hospital. His mom was admitted, and we leaned on each other for support.” His face scrunches as if your words were physically hurting him.

“I’m so glad I helped you bond over my anguish.” He spits out, and his body tenses. You see the patterns of anger return, and desperately whisper, “Jungkook-”

“Save it.” His tone is final, and his clenched jaw combined with his stiff body should’ve been a warning for you to drop it; but he gave you a small bead of hope that everything might be alright, and you don’t want it to burn out.

“If you’d give him a chance, you’d see that he’s a good man” your words are rushed, and so are his actions. His shoulders move to his ears in disgust, and he jerks his body away from your touch, his back turned to you, “How the fuck can you talk with such ease about your affair?” his voice raises.

“The idea of him touching you disgusts me; do you actually want me to hurt him?” you watch helplessly how he pulls his hair. His voice breaks and body shakes, and you pull him back into your embrace by his shoulders.

Your body leans over the tub, and you back hug him; arms around his shoulders, as he’s pressed against your chest. “How can you do that to me? I love you, and you promised to be mine years ago. Does that mean nothing to you?”

His voice shakes and body sinks deeper under water, face pressed against your arms. You calm your own heart and brush your nose over his hair, smelling the gentle lavender. Water splashes everywhere, your top soaked, but you don’t mind, as you try to ground him.

“I love you with all of my heart,” you murmur against his wet strands, “Never forget that.”

You stay in each other’s embrace for a while; Jungkook cherishes your warmth like never before. Yes, he’s out of the void he’d been stuck in for years, but the feeling he told you about hasn’t faded.

The past week had been excruciating, he was alone in your home, in the place he should’ve felt the safest at. But void overtook his mind, coldness seeped under his skin, and he felt like he’s back in the cage he barely escaped from.

No matter how high he turned on the heating, his body was shivering from cold, and he awaited the day his body would freeze, and the pain would go away. Death seemed like an escape.

He realized this wasn’t his home, not really. His heart wasn’t bound to it, it was bound to you. And the further you were, the tighter the golden strings around his heart pulled, cutting off blood, and leaving him suffocating.

He detests the man who steals your warmth, who stole you from him. He doesn’t understand why you chose a farmer over him. Him, who does everything and beyond to fulfill your dreams, him, who painted the walls your favorite color, and made your forever home from stars that painted the sky golden.

Happiness doesn’t come to those who wait, it comes to those who fight for it. And he will fight for you. Physical alterations have never been his style, but if it comes down to it, he wouldn’t put it past him. But then again, he’s an attorney, and sometimes one has to use his advantage.

Silence is interrupted by a doorbell, slightly startled from the noise, you mutter, “Food must be here”. Before Jungkook manages to disapprove you quickly let go of him, and with a quick peck on top of his head, you’re flying down the stairs.

The moment felt too intimate even for you and moving out of his presence gives you time to collect yourself. You choose to ignore the confused look on the delivery-guys face; at this point you’re used to looking like a mess. Mascara smudged, hair tousled, clothes soaked. You simply smile and gather the bags from his hands.

Goosebumps cover your body due to the wet clothes, and your carry the paper bags away from your body, so they don’t get ruined as well. Jungkook awaits you in the bedroom, clean clothes on his back, and you watch how he gently removes your clothes from the bed and carries them into the walk-in closet.

You put the food down and follow him, the closet is still mostly full, not a single piece of clothing out of its usual habitat. Your fingertips traces over the elegant dresses, so soft to the skin like you’re touching a cloud.

Not so long ago this was your life, formal parties and theatre plays a part of your daily routine. Memory so far yet so tangible. And now you’re married to a farmer, overalls and dungarees is your daily routine. You don’t mind your life, found comfort in the routine of it; yet now, when you’re presented with the life you gave away, you can’t deny that at times you miss it.

“Here,” Jungkook hands you one of his t-shirts, “You must be uncomfortable.” Uncomfortable is an understatement, your skin irritated from the rough fabric, but he gives you his clothes in the midst of a full closet of your own. You bite back a remark and take it, quickly shooing him away to get dressed.

You pull the shirt over your head, all while not taking your eyes off of a particular dress. You take it off of the hanger and a smile graces your lips. This is the dress in which you announced your engagement; the red silk fabric reminds you of the sprinkles of champagne, and happily applauding family members. You take a closer look at the bodice and laugh, the maroon stain where Jungkook accidentally spilt his wine still visible, the day was too happy for you to be mad, you simply laughed it off.

Each of the pieces carry out a significance of your past life; the mahogany off-the shoulders dress for your first gallery exhibition, the elegant romper you wore for Jungkooks bachelors party, because yes, he refused to spend it without you. You’ve to pull yourself away from the memorial of your past, this isn’t real life.

When you come out of the closet, you sit next to Jungkook on the bed, and hand him a tray of soup – probably the best course of action, considering he hasn’t eaten in days. His hands shake around the spoon, his body exhausted from muscle extortion and sleepless days.

You look around the room, picture frames of your college days and wedding decorate the walls. Suddenly you can’t wait to go back to your husband, the overflow of memories overwhelms you.

A certain question keeps bugging you for more than a week now. You didn’t feel comfortable rising it in the hospital, Jeon judging stares left you relentless as it was, but this is Jungkook, you should be able to ask him anything, right? “Do you actually plan on suing the doctors?” you softly mutter as to not startle him with the hot brew in his hands.

He lowers the spoon and ticks his head, “If it wasn’t because of them, we wouldn’t be in this situation. Someone has to pay for it.” You watch how he continues to eat; to a certain extant you understand his stance, what wouldn’t you’ve done couple of years back for him to wake up.

But he wasn’t the one who spent every week crying on doctors’ shoulders, they offered you strength and compassion, and your consciousness spikes of you not being able to offer them the same in time of need.

Jungkook pushes the bowl away from him, and groans, “I can’t eat more. I feel sick.” He didn’t even eat half of the bowl, and you worry how fragile his body is, but you don’t push.

“Will you promise to eat more when you wake up?” he looks at you with a calculative gaze before he focuses on the bedsheets. “You won’t be here?” he emptily snickers “Am I your pity case?”

He still doesn’t understand. You grab his hand, and make him look at you “Jungkook, I love you with all of my heart,” you hope that the fierce look in your eyes confirms that, “But I have also promised to love him,” his face scrunches, and he looks away from you. Jungkook opens his mouth to cut you off, but you draw his head back to you and continue.

“I have signed a document stating that I will love him” you know that’s the last thing he wants to hear, but he has to understand you’re married, and your rightful place is to be besides your husband.

He shakes his head without saying a word, and falls into the pillows, “Like I said, someone has to pay for it.” You watch him and shake your head, he’s great at blaming everyone but you, for your own actions.

You put the food on the table, and climb back in the bed, remembering how hard it’s for him to sleep without you by his side. You draw the comforter over him and lie on your side watching him. He turns to you as well and intertwines your hands.

Neither of you speak, and you wait for Jungkook to close his eyes. But he fights sleep, and a droopy grin paints his expression, imagining him lying in the bed 7 years ago with his wife. But his stubbornness holds no strength to his prominent eye bags, and his eyes slowly close.

Before he falls asleep, he whispers the lone thought eating his consciousness, “If you hadn’t married him, would you stay?”

Out of all the questions he’d asked, this is the easiest one. Without a second thought you whisper, “Always.”, and the last bit of stubbornness leaves his body, his smile increases, and he pulls your hands closer and kisses your knuckles.

His breath evens out and his cheeks form a pout as sleep invades his body. As peaceful as he looks, you can’t stop the unease creeping up your nerves. The view seems hauntingly familiar to his motionless body in the hospital.

You have to stop yourself from waking him up, just to check that the last week hasn’t been a fever dream, and he is, indeed back to life. You force yourself to stay put for a couple of more minutes, trying to prioritize his health over your discomfort.

But you feel uncomfortable leaving him like this, what if he awoke only for a moment, and will never be by your side again? You sit up, ready to quietly leave, but with one last look over your shoulder, you cave in and pinch him.

When he furrows brows from the unexpected sensory you breath out.

You contemplated leaving then and there, but guilt crept up your spine, like you were abandoning a lost puppy. Only in this scenario, the puppy is a grown adult, who’s begging for you to stay.

Standing by the door you take one last look at the apartment and decide you can’t leave it like this. Judging by Jungkooks exhausted state, you have more than enough time to rid this place of the painful reminders coating every inch of it.

You found some gloves in the kitchen and got to work. You didn’t stop till every corner gleamed and spent what little money you had on his groceries. Perhaps you haven’t made the best decisions, but you do care.

“He threatened you!” Taehyung looks at you flabbergasted, searching your eyes as to why you’re so careless of it.

You arrived home yesterday evening, and ever since then both of you have been arguing, neither willing to see the others POV. You told him the truth, Jungkooks distaste for Taehyung, his possible involvement in the lawsuit – you were honest and told him everything, and now you’re starting to regret that choice.

You drop your bag on the hallway floor, ready to leave the house and escape to your job, tired of the pointless arguing, “He’s lost, confused, what do you expect from him?” You never know how one might act in stressful situations, his life has turned upside-down; he missed out on most of his twenties – the time when one enjoys themselves, relishes the responsibility free life, and celebrates freedom. Of course, he’s lashing out.

“Not to threaten both of us, that’s for sure.” His words irk you; a sense of defensiveness comes over you, and you bite your cheek trying to calm down, “You don’t know him, he acts threatening, but his soul is gentle, he’d never hurt a fly.”

Taehyungs shoulders drop once he sees your pleading eyes; arguing has never been your pitfall, but these past weeks have been the most stressful of his life. Each muscle in his body is tense, ugly bursts of anger colored with desperation bubble in his chest. There is a reason why he vowed for better and for worse, you’re in this together.

Two letters fall from the doors mail slot and Taehyung bends down to grab them. You watch how he tears one of them open, while simultaneously hands you the other. Your name is printed on it, and you’re left confused when you see courts stamp next to it.

You’re about to open it, but before you manage to, Taehyung curses and you look up and meet his helpless gaze. “They’ve annulled my certificate till the court ends.” You purse your lips, trying to understand what he just said.

You move over to him and read the notice in his hands, “What does that even mean?” you look up and down from him to the letter, scared of the consequences that might entail, “That means hundreds of laid off workers, bankrupt business, and no income whatsoever. What are we supposed to do with court? All of our savings went into compensations, and no one wants to associate themselves with us-”

His words fade out as your gaze shifts to the letter in your own hands, you shoot daggers to it, and forcefully rip it open. Your eyes scan the text, and mutter “Oh my fucking god.”

At this, Tae stops his rambling, and when he notices court papers into your own hands, he nervously asks, “What?” You look up from the notice and clear your throat, “Um-”, you’re not sure where to being, your mind unable to process the information.

“It says that my divorce to Jungkook is annulled, as I have submitted forged documents,” his eyebrows scrunches and he shakes his head confused, “Wait what-”, but you’re not done, and you scan the other notice “And I'm being summoned to court as forgery is a criminal offence.”

“That’s not possible, I saw the doctors give you the documents with my own eyes!” his voice raises, but a particular symbol at the bottom corner of the notice gains your attention. You put both documents together to compare the stamps, and barely audible whisper “No fucking way.”

You snatch the documents from his hands, and when all the stamps match, you call out once more the only sentence your mind can muster, “Oh my fucking god!” You look at Tae in expiration and show the documents in his face.

“Bottom left. Under the prosecutor’s signature. Does the stamp remind you of something?” He takes the papers from your hands, and when he pursues his lips, and takes a double look at them, you know he’s got it.

“Is that…?” with a feigned laugh you finish his sentence, “Jungkooks company.”

You look at each other at a loss of what to do, when he said he had the power – he meant it. But never in million years did you think he would use his status against you, the corrupt ways of the law and one’s upper hand leaves you restless. Worst of all, he wants you to know it, he could’ve used any other company, one you wouldn’t recognize, and played his schemes unbeknownst to your knowledge.

But no, he wants you to know that he’s in power.

Unfortunately, you don’t see another choice but to fold under the pressure; your hands automatically reach for your pockets in search of your phone.

“Where is my phone?” Rushed you mutter, grabbing your purse to look for it there. Instead of answering, he asks, “What do you plan on doing?” Not finding it there you move to the coats rack, not minding if the jackets fall over in haste.

“I have to go to him. There’s no other choice.” Frustrated you sigh, and close to shout, “Where is my damn phone?!”

Taehyung comes up to you, and stops your actions, “Don’t go to him. We can fight this. We’ll take out a loan, and-” you interrupt him, “No one in their right mind will give us a loan. We’re already in debt as it is, you’re jobless, and my wage barely covers food. And now, we're both on trial.”

At that you groan, forgetting one crucial element, “Can you call my boss, I won’t be able to go in today. I still haven’t found my phone!” Taehyung stands silent, and after a while fishes out his phone to follow your command. He’s not able to rebut your words, he knows you’re right.

He puts the call on speaker, and after a couple of beeps your boss answers the phone, “Hi! It’s me. I know it’s a short notice, but something important came up, and I won’t be able to come in today. But I-”

“Save it. You have a week to collect your things, I have no use of a slacking employee. You’re fired.” With that she hangs up, and you’re left speechless looking at the beeping phone. You contemplate all of your life choices, when did life get so hard?

You look at Tae and drop your shoulders, “And now we’re both unemployed.”

He closes his eyes, and you see defeat written across his face when he moves to the windowsill and grabs your phone to hand it you. Quietly you thank him and drop it in your bag. Before you manage to step a foot out of the door, he calls after you, and you turn your head to look at him.

“He’d never hurt a fly, right?” He’s using your words against you, and you hate that he was right. But your blind love for your ex-husband left you fooled, and without a word you step outside.

You march down the hallway to Jungkooks apartment, hours you spent alone in your car only fueled your desperation. You didn’t bother calling him, somehow you felt like he knew you’d be there soon.

His door’s unlocked, and that only further proves your point. Not wasting a second, you walk through the apartment, and find him in kitchen cooking. This time he looks collected, hair in ponytail and clothes without a single crease.

He looks up from the cutting board and smiles, “I was wondering when you’d come by. I’m making your favorite, come, sit.” He points to the kitchen island, and you drop your bag on the table and move your hands on your hips.

“Why did you do that?” he washes his hands and looks at you questioningly. “Don’t pretend. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He smoothly stirs the sauce in the pan and comforts you, “If you’re worried about the charges – don’t. I can take care of that once you move back in.”

You stare at him incredulous; how can he speak so calmly about it? “I’m worried about being called to court over procedures that aren’t even legal.”

“Submitting forged documents is a valid reason to being called in.” he ever so calmly states, and you feel your blood boil, “Every document I submitted is real. And I’m sure the doctors will testify so.” But he only smiles and shakes his head, and continues to stir the food, while cheekily clarifying, “Will they?”

You consulted five different specialists before proceeding with divorce, of course they’ll testify the same, as their answers broke your heart one after the other years back. You shake your head trying to figure out where he’s coming from, why wouldn’t they-

Till it clicks. “You threatened them. If they don’t comply, you’ll sue them.” Jungkook tilts his head and presses his lips together, “I don’t threaten people. I simply explained their options.”

Your mouth agapes, and you whisper, “This is insane, Jungkook.”

This gathers his attention, and he clicks his tongue and comes closer to you, “You said your affair is the only barrier between us. I got rid of the problem, you should be thanking me.”

“Marriage Jungkook! I’m not having an affair, I’m married.” You raise your voice and hit your chest. He never calls it what it is. A marriage. One you freely chose.

“No, it’s not.” His tone changes, and now you’re both angry. You recognize the deep tone, it’s the one he used in courts, not a single person willing to interrupt his matter-of-fact statements. “You’re lawfully married to me; your surname carries my legacy. Don’t ever compare me to your adultery.”

He might be right, but he seamlessly evades why you’re married to him – how he used his power to tie you to him. “I will fight this.” You bite back.

“Will you though?” you clench your jaw, “Because I don’t see you winning. Are you willing to sacrifice your boy-toy and his whole family for a fight you’ll never be able to win? Their business, which they created generations ago. Go against specialists, who will testify the same statements? Not to mention what resources you have; jobless, without a penny to your heart. Do you think that anyone will employ you, with a criminal record?”

Fighting back tears, you wince out, “How do you know that?” Seeing your glazed eyes, Jungkook stands in front of you, and pats your hair, “You live in a village. Words travel fast.”

Unable to hold it in, you sob, feeling trapped with the burdens of life dragging you down. His words ring through your head, and you know – he’s not a man of who’s words should be taken for granted.

Your sobs increase once you realize – this is not a fight you’ll ever win. He pulls you into his embrace, and you scrunch his shirt in fists, hating him for dragging you into this mess, hating him for getting on that motorcycle years ago, and leaving you all alone. Hating him, for he was the one you promised your heart to – hating him, for not being able to hate him.

He rocks you from side to side, and shushes your cries, “You broke our vows, but I promise to patch them.” He detangles your hand from his shirt, and you don’t notice him pulling your ring off your finger.

The sound of something falling catches your attention, and you see the silver bands lying on the floor. You look up and see him slipping your wedding ring on your finger, the golden ornament shining in the light bright as ever, as if it had never gathered dust in the drawer.

Jungkook kisses your forehead finally satisfied, the golden strings tying you back to your rightful place. Back to him.

“For better or for worse, baby”

Hi! Hope you enjoyed this story, as always would love to hear your thoughts on it. And thank you so much for all of the attention preview got, hope it didn’t disappoint ☺️

I haven’t managed to edit it yet, wanted to publish it for all of you, as you’ve been waiting for awhile.

As always, thank you for reading, hope you stick around! 🌻

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yandere bts #bts yandere #jungkook fanfic #jungkook yandere #jungkook x reader #yandere

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threepandas · 3 months

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Bad End: Hidden Heir

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The Duke's family had very distinct eyes. It was genetic. An aggressively dominant trait at that, though it tended to die off, after a few generations out of the family. Supposedly a "blessing of the Gods". Spring to be exact. Bounty and luck. And the family certainly WAS bountiful.

In all the best and worst ways.

Wealth, corruption, children and bastards. It was a family so aggressively ALIVE, it could only be Spring's blessing that made them so. Pouring mania and madness into their veins like sweet sunlight. Whispering glory and riches, into power addled ears. They burst with life. Even as they endlessly destroyed themselves.

They were fictional.

Fascinating set dressings, for the stage play of someone else's story. Unimportant beyond their role in world building. As the origin story and power base of a character lead.

The Story ITSELF didn't even occur here. But rather, in the capital. Where the players of significance had gathered.

And I? Oh I was some minor antagonist, so insignificant to the plot, I genuinely could not remember which of seven different women I actually WAS. It had been an ongoing series. Otome Isekai. Reverse harem.

And I was either in the ORIGINAL original novel, the isekai'd plot novel, the anime adaption, OR a horrifying fever dream. My memory was largely useless. But? I did remember the characters. The archetypes.

And the fact, that the author had clearly been going though a Yandere phase.

My region of the Reverse Harem collect-o-thon? Horrifying! Red flags everywhere! No one here should date, leave room for fantasy Jesus, have we considered the joys of being a NUN? Yes. Yes I HAVE thought about it.

I was pretty sure I'd never make it. End up dead or captured by some sort of Nun Yandere. Or God Yandere. Possibly both. Assuming the bandit yanderes don't get me first. It... it was very stressful, living here.

Luckily? I knew when I could leave.

Or so I thought.

Because my house? The Dukedom? Had the "yandere butler who is secretly an heir." Who starts out with loyal dog behavior. A little highly possesive master and servant play. Then rises to become a Duke. Presumably? That is when I die. Or am disowned.

Death is most likely. Since my role was "minor antagonist" and I was to be mean to the sweet, earnest, Harem possessing Protagonist. Don't see WHY I would. Live and let live. Good for her etc etc. But regardless? Best to avoid, just in case.

The problem? Who do you think Mr Illegitimate Heir serves before she gets here? The OTHER possible heirs? Of course not! They'd "oops! Hunting accident~☆" him in a heart beat. Father isn't stupid. And my sisters? Issues. Violent, violent, issues.

He ends up with ME.

Father, WHY.

Obviously, I ignore him. I see nothing. I hear nothing. There is no war in Ba Sing Se. Mmmmm, tea. Good book. Ignore his creepy staring. His creepy, creepy staring.

Thankfully? I never really ran out of Totally Legitimate reasons to send him away to learn or do something. Proper tea making. Door maintenance. Eastern embroidery. Something, anything, and off you go! Bye bye~☆!

Unfortunately. He got faster. Better and better at learning. Mastering skills. Coming BACK. Showing up to stand in the corner, silent and looming, like an omen of death. Those damn eyes. The fucking family eyes!

I don't have them. And NOT as, my Father would have me believe, because I "take after my Mother". But because I am not genetically related to the Duke. I have GOLD eyes. When I wear the right shade of green? I pass. So I am condemned to forever wear green. Don't even really like it much. But?

I am pretty damn sure? I was just... pretty.

A lovely, orphaned, golden eyed child that COULD pass as his. So why not? It was a whim that payed off. Unlike in the original stories, I imagine. Since I am by FAR the best behaved child in this entire house. Ha! Suck it, bio-kids, the adopted one's the favorite! Maybe should have been less lil bitchs.

....I carefully do not say.

Those are INSIDE thoughts.

Fuck. He's still LOOMING. Isn't he? Go awaaaaaay. Where is Protag-chan? Come be doe eyed and busty! Trip adorably! Go "kyaaa~" or something! I feel body heat and freeze. He's leaning over my shoulder to pick up the teapot, pour me another cup. I can FEEL the barest graze of his knuckles against my back, from where he's gripped my chair. The smell of his aftershave almost hauntingly pleasant.

Like he KNEW exactly what smells I liked most. Went out of his way to find one that best suited my preference. Coincidence. Please, PLEASE be a coincidence! I do not turn my head. Keep my eyes locked straight ahead. Barely breathing.

He steps back.

The new pot is sharp and herbal. Almost bitter. I force myself to drink. Can't see a sugar dish, and REFUSE to turn around and ask for one. Ignore. IGNORE. My pounding heart calms. My muscles slowly start to relax.

It... it IS weird, though, now that I think about it? That Protag-chan hasn't reached the Dukedom yet. She should have. God only knows I sent Creepy to the capital enough times, with enough highly specific instructions, that he should've had his meet cute's and dates by the dozen. Been half way in love. So... why...?

Huh.

Dizzy.

The taste of tea sits wrong on my tounge. I stop drinking as the world sways. Letting the cup fall from my hand. Splatter, roll, and shatter. I try desperately to stand. A gentle gloved hand catches my elbow, supporting me. I turn. Giddy eyes. Triumphant, wide, spring green eyes. Too green to be gold, too gold to be green.

An almost cruel, mocking, yet loving grin.

Another hand slides around my waist, braces me against his side. Gleeful little murmurs, too pleased to be reassuring. You. You did this! You DRUGGED ME!

I can barely move, body relaxing against my command, going limp, as he draws me close. Presses his face against the side of my head, against my temple. A deep, shuddering breathe, that he savors like wine. I try to pull free but can not. Feel his lips pull into a vicious grin against my skin. Hands begin to run in gentle, claiming, exploration.

And at last the drugs kick in... the wo..rld..

G..oes..

Dar..k........

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere otome isekai #yandere x you #yandere duke #adopted reader #they are not half siblings #yandere oc #yandere otome #just wanted to clarify cause it be like that sometimes in otome #bad end au #bad end hidden heir au #hidden heir au

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oval3000 · 11 months

Text

Chapter 4

Yandere Psych Patient König x Nurse reader

Warning: Possesive, Obsession, Death, Gore, Blood, Smut, Toxic behavior, age gap. Assault.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

-------------------------------------------------------

"I don't like this," Jacob rubbed his for head, giving a few scratches. His hand on his hip with a slump posture. His eyes were giving out with annoyance and tiredness, not from the labor work, but from the system.

The fellow nurse could give an eye roll after seeing what was happening. "Anything to save some money, right?"

Mr. Miller ordered that half of the guards on the fifth floor would go to other floors to cover other shifts of guards that quit and who were..laid off. Those 20,000 thousand dollars couldn't come out from thin air as to what Mr. Miller thought it would, so it was the only option, to send some guards home.

Meaning that other guards from other floors had to move around and, unfortunately, your floor was affected by this.

The two guards that were on König, left as well as four others.

Things have now changed, your safety may now be a risk. But to to be quite honest with you, your safety is nothing to be worried about.

You did your morning rounds, assisted where there is needed. During their lunch, you heard the main phone ring from the floor. Jacob picked it up, "this is Jacob. Yes, sir. Okay...yeah...no problem." He hung up the phone taking a deep breath. He walked behind you and tapped on your shoulder. You turned your head away from the computer, "Mr. Miller wants to see you in his office."

You felt a big tull on your stomach. You were nervous. He never called you in his office before and with everything that is going on, you could only imagine worse.

Is he going to fire you?

You can't loose this job, the pay is good. You can't pack and move again to find something better.

You headed down to his office in a bit of a hurry, you didn't want to miss their lunch round check ups. You knocked on the brown wooden door with his name ingraved on a gold platter.

"Come in." You entered into his office and saw him sitting as his usual chair, writing whatever he is writing on a piece of paper. He stood up, fixing his suit. Mr. Miller, about the age of 50. Still has a grown set of hair only it's shown to have some grey strand hairs peaking through. 6 feet 3 inches maybe. Looks a bit fit, lackes muscles though. His light beard with a few grey strands of hair that follows the shape of his long jawline.

You saw photos that are in his office. Paintings of mountains and oceans. You saw his degree in psychology and business on a sharp, dark, brown, frame hanged up on the cream wall.

"Is there something wrong, sir?" You questioned standing behind the two chairs aligned perfectly in front of his desk. You hoped that he doesn't fire you. You can't hit rock bottom. Not now after everything.

"No, I just wanted to check up on you. I also wanted to apologize for the way I reacted towards you during the Gabriel incident. It was really unprofessional of me to do so. You were just doing your job, I'm sorry." He creeped in closer to you. You felt uncomfortable, a bad vibe coming off from him. He placed his hand on your shoulder, gripping it lightly. "If you need anything, my office is always open for you."

You swallowed the little bit of saliva, taking a step away from him, but it only brought him closer to you.

You panicked. You looked around to see if anyone, anyone at all can see, but nothing. The door is shut, the window blinds are closed. "It's okay sir, I should get going."

You turned around to walk away, but you felt his hands on your arm, pulling away in. "You look adorable playing hard to get"

Your eyes widen. You felt absolute frozen. "Sir. Let go of me!" He dragged you in front of his desk. The movement was so sudden, you couldn't say anything. "Please sir."

He gripped your shoulders tight that you couldn't move. You felt his body pressed against you. You felt his hips pushing in deeper. You couldn't help, but to let tears fall from your eyes. You felt so frozen that you hated yourself. This couldn't be happening to you.

You honestly wished he called you in to fire you. His body completely compressed to yours making you bend over on his desk. His hands roamed your body. His cold hands went inside your scrub shirt. You shook at his touch with fear. "No!Please! Stop!"

"You feel so good " he cupped your breast, pulling under your bra to get a better touch. Eventually his one hand left one of your breast and it landed on your ass. You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling and his zipper being pulled down. He gripped onto your scrub pants and pulled them down, including your underwear, showing your naked vagina. "Fuck. I should've fucked you along time ago."

"Please! Please! Stop! Let go of me!" You cried out, feeling his finger pressed on your area.

A beeping sound came from his phone, "Sir, you have a call coming in. It's from the CEO."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." He finally let go. He yanked your body closer to him. He cupped your face with his hand. You felt his disgusting breath near your mouth. "If you tell anyone about this. I'll ruin your fucking life. You got that."

You nodded as he aggressively let go, making you fall a bit on his desk. You felt so humiliated while pulling up your scrub pants and fixing your bra. You were about to walk out when he said, "Oh and make sure no one sees you like that. Get yourself fixed."

You didn't bother turning to him. You walked about quickly and ignoring the staff by not making eye contact. You pressed the button for the elevator, which felt like an eternity to arrive. Never felt like hours waiting for the elevator. Thankfully, no one was there, it was just you. You pressed on the fifth floor button.

You wanted to vomit. You scrunched your face as the tears fell down your cheeks. You covered your mouth trying hard to cover your sobs. Even though you are alone in the elevator, you felt embarrassed. You took deep breaths as it was reaching near the floor. You wiped away as much tears as you can. Even so you know your eyes and nose are red and puffy.

You avoided eye contact with everyone. You prayed that no one will come up to you ask why Mr. Miller called you down to his office. You grabbed the medical cart with the things you need and quickly went to each patients room, the last one being Königs.

You jiggle the kids, the guards left for you, to open his door. You swang the door a bit open and back inside his room. You grabbed the tray with his medication and placed it down on top of the cart. König watched you. He knew something was wrong.

You raised your head up, feeling the tears forming again. You hated yourself for not stopping the tears from coming out. Not now. Not when you are doing your job.

But you couldn't help it. You covered your face as tears were running down your face. You didn't want to cry in front of a patient, nevertheless, König.

He quickly got up and took your arm to pull you closer to him. He sat back down on his bed with his legs spread a bit to let you in closer to him. He couldn't see your face, which was still buried in your hands. If you could see his eyes, the look he's giving you. The same look he gave to the people he wanted to kill, to his enemies in the battle field. "What happened, schatz?" his thick accent was hard and impactful. You uncovered your face to see him, for him to see you. He saw the tears, the redness in your eyes.

The sympathetic look he gave you made those tears flowing again. Being comfort is not something you're use to. Your always dealing with everything by yourself.

He palmed your cheek, wiping your tears away. You shook your head lightly. You can't tell him. He's your patient. You can't tell your patient is a psychiatric hospital that you were almost raped by your boss. "Bitte tell me."

"H-he....touched me." You stared away, but his other palm touched your cheek, making you to look at him.

You saw the stare he gave you. Filled with sympathy and anger. "He. Touched. You."

You nodded. "He trapped me in his office. He was going to rape me. If he didn't get that phone call, he would've-." Your words turned into sobs.

He got up and pulled you into a tight hug. Your head was buried into his chest, letting out your quiet sobs.

He held you tight and close. His hand rubbing your back while the other was petting your head. "Shhh..it's okay, schatz. It's okay."

He turned his head towards the slight, opened, door. His way to freedom. Your freedom.

Away from this. From every assholes that's here. Away from everyone else.

"Mein liebling. Mach dir keine Sorgen. Ich werde ihn töten. Ich werde jeden töten, der dir wehtut. (My darling. don't worry. ill kill him. I'll kill anyone that hurts you.) " he gripped you tight. He doesn't want to let you go. He wants you to be attached to him. For you to share everything of his. "Mine," he whispered. "All mine."

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #fanfic #yandere #yandere konig #yandere könig #könig mw2 #konig x reader #konig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig #könig x y/n

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starillusion13 · 5 months

Text

(TEASER)

“Obsession is a dirty aspect to look at, but the night is dirtier, my love. Either we kill you or we kill the night. What you say?”

Pairing: Criminal! Ateez ot8 x f! Reader

W.C: 2.3k (Main plot: ???)

Genre: Smut, Strangers to Lovers(?), Thriller , Yandere

Warnings: sweet threats(lol), meeting strangers, agreeing/ doing something without your consent, inappropriate touch (a little), mention of gun(not for shooting), pervert looks of Ateez. There’s not really any warning for here other than these all. (Rest all the warnings to be announced in the main plot.)

Network: @k-vanity

"Who?"

"I don't know." The young girl groaned and held her forehead, elbow resting against the wooden table where different liquor bottles and designed glasses were placed. "Honestly, I haven't seen them before and I don't think they belong here or from anywhere near, where are they actually from?"

You asked again, sitting in the stool opposite to her, "and if so, then why are you so concerned about them? They might be attending our night party like other men from around."

"Noooo." She whined and sat straight, giving her full attention to you. She eyed your white and brown combination dress with the knife placed in the leathered strap holder of your waist. "They asked Mr. Byun for an arrangement." looking into your eyes directly, the words fell from her lips.

You knitted your brows together and leaned forward, "and what for?"

"They want to have a party here." She scoffed and raised a brow before mimicking your posture, leaning forward and whispered, "and there would be only them. No one else is allowed."

"Why are you whispering this?" You asked her but in a whisper. "Also, how can it be a party if they are the only ones attending it?"

"Right? No. That's not the case. They want someone to accompany them through the night. A well known and trusted person of Mr. Byun and he even agreed to it."

A frown appeared on your face, "who is accompanying them?"

"You."

"No way." You stood up and glared at her, "don't tell me you supported him in this."

She slowly nodded. She remembered all the words exchanged between the men and the owner of the grand tavern of the kingdom, Mr. Byun. She was there from the beginning till the end of the goodbyes shared. Not really a proper goodbye. She remembered how a man with sharp eyes placed a box on the table and slid across from him towards the old man, before smirking at him.

When she wanted to protest against it, another man, might be the oldest one among them because of the way others were addressing him, he glared and stared at her as if challenging her to dare to speak.

She gulped remembering the scene. The box had some gold coins and jewels and the old man happily accepted the gift.

She flinched when you tapped her shoulder, "where is he? I need to talk to him."

She shrugged and stood up, "I don't know. Might be planning for tomorrow night. Soon, he will call out for you."

"I'm going out to search for him. I'm not accompanying some men whom I have never seen. If it was to serve drinks like any other night in the presence of others then I would have no problem. But alone, that's a different story."

You turned around towards the door and when you were about to step forward, she grabbed your arm and made you face her, "they offered him a huge amount of money in advance and also they promised to pay him more."

"So?" you eyed her grip on you, it was like a warning but also a pleading to accept the situation you were currently into.

"He won't be backing off. You know Mr. Byun and his greediness for money. Do you think he will change his mind?" she loosened the grip, when your hand fell by your side dramatically.

Why suddenly the situation is like this? Just a few minutes back, you were okay with everything then how the situation turned into against you and you are left with nothing just to accept your coming fate. It's not like you can't run away from this, but if you do then the consequences won't be good. Serving the guests with drinks and some occasional dance is what helps you to earn for your living and even if you run away from here, where will you go? Nowhere. You haven't been to any other place, other than the outskirts of this village.

You stared at her for a while and when she was about to speak something, you raised your hand, stopping her midway, "tell him I will be here tomorrow evening. Before...before the men could arrive at the tavern."

"...okay." her eyes followed your figure leaving the grand fancy wooden door of the inn. She sighed and slumped back into the stool beside, rubbing her forehead and mumbled, "I don't know if it's going to be good or bad." suddenly, she smirked, "but I hope she will get one of them for herself. She doesn't have to be single anymore and they are so breathtaking...oh my god."

>>>><<<<

"Mr. Byun?"

Hearing your voice, he turned around with a smiling face and with quick steps, he strolled across the room to hold your hand and drag you inside. The more you explored your surroundings, the more you realized the men inside the room were all unfamiliar. You haven't seen those four faces ever and the way you were staring at them, it seemed sure that you were......attracted?.......curious? But they are literally attractive and breathtaking. Whatever. You averted your gaze back on the old man holding your wrist.

You could feel the four sets of eyes boring a hole in your figure but you didn't pay attention to them. Or rather, you didn't have the courage to do that. You were feeling so shy and exposed in the room, even when you were all covered and beautifully dressed up because you were planning to go to the market wit Miara and before that, you decided to meet the owner if he did need anything.

"Meet them, y/n. They are our new guests." he hummed and nodded towards them. You were questionably looking at him. Guests? And why do you have to meet them?

Hearing your name for the first time, they tasted the word again and on their lips. rolling their tongue lovingly to see how sweet it will feel and sound like to call you with the name. the name really suits you and they have to tell you to make you aware of it.

You casted a subtle glance towards them, before one of them could hold your gaze with him, you turned around quickly but still you noticed one of them smirked at your activity and the one near you whispered, "sweet." and you are sure, it was meant to be heard because the way someone behind you chuckled and the man in front of you joined in their play. "Isn't she sweet? She is the best worker of our inn and tavern. I know she will take good care of you all."

"Huh?" you were so confused with the way he was talking about you to those men in the room, "take care of them? Who are they? And I don't-"

The old man laughed cutting you mid sentence, "of they are the-"

"Wait." The tallest one of them stood straight from where he was leaning against a shelf. He was all in a brown and black pants with a brown long coat with several layers of clothing inside it.

He chuckled seeing your little scared expression which you were trying your best to hide from them with your strong facade, he noticed how your eyes were nervously looking around the room to avoid his gaze. The way you pulled your lip between your teeth and bit down on it, a groan escaped his throat and the dirty smirk grew on his face.

He stood tall in front of you. He looked taller when he was so close to you, you tilted your neck back slightly just to look at his face. "Well, I think I want to introduce myself to her." he looked at the man who was still holding your hand and noticed his grip, poking his tongue to the inner cheek, he said with no emotion, "I would like to have some space. No need for you, old man...ah wait what's again..."

another male, who was manspreading on the leathered and cushioned sofa spoke up, "Mr. Byun." and chuckled after giving away the old man's name.

"Yes, Mr. Byun. you can leave now. We can introduce ourselves to her." hearing the order from the man in front of you, he wasted no time to leave your hand and leave the room. Wow. he promised to give you shelter and keep you safe from the outside world, just to leave you to die in this dangerous inside world.

"Hello, pretty." he bent a little forward, his eyes scanning your face, a little mole on your chin. He touched it with his thumb and smiled. "You are really pretty when close to me."

Your mind was screaming to push him and step back. And you did listen to your mind, but to only one thing: to step back. He quickly grabbed your hand and again chuckled, "why are you running away, princess? We mean no harm." his other hand poked under your chin to make you look up. Wait! That feels like metal. Yes it is. A Gun. "or we mean harm." he pushed your chin up a little more and whispered, "but in a good way. By the way, I am Yunho."

you were staring at the ceiling in absolute fear.

"Yah...don't scare her." Someone separated you from the tall man who was smirking while standing a few steps back. The other male patted your cheeks and smiled, "I'm pretty sure if we introduce ourselves like that. She won't accompany us tomorrow."

You whispered, "tomorrow?"

"Yes. haven't you been informed about the party?" he asked and tilted his head, his eyes traveling down your whole figure. The thoughts running inside his head were more impure than his already dirty, flirtatious gaze on you. But his bright smile. Oh, if only Miara was here then she would have started talking with him this instance.

He was in a black tight pant and a loose black shirt hanging in his body with a black thin cotton belt around his neck. You have seen this style on some younger men in this area, "It costs a lot to look at me this long, sweet one."

You gulped and clutched your dress by your side, "I know about the party but..." so these are the men? That is why Miara was excited to see them again. "Well, this sexy and attractive face has a name, that's Wooyoung." he winked in the end.

The one manspreading on the sofa smirked and poured a drink into a single glass, only one-forth of it and took it in hold. He was in a pretty similar outfit like Yunho but his coat was light in color and shorter in length. The other glass in his other grip was half filled.

When he walked towards you, Wooyoung stepped aside for other one to come exactly in front of you. Well, the two who have already introduced themselves to you stood close enough to you to observe your small reactions to every little detailed movement of theirs. They were enjoying the control they had over you. They were satisfied to see how they were making you feel small in front of them.

The glass with little quantity of liquid was extended towards you, "Here a drink for you, my love. And, the name is Seonghwa." you grabbed it and eyed the liquid with confusion. "Not the drink. That's my name." you nodded absent-mindedly and he smiled sweetly at you, before brushing his fingers over your cheek, "i think I will enjoy the night a lot."

"Hm. me too." Wooyoung nodded and folded his hand.

Seonghwa made a clunk sound with your glasses and sipped the drink of his own. The last male, who whispered 'sweet' when Mr. Byun was there, stepped towards four of you, "drink it." there was an authority in his tone. His furry jacket with the fancy hat and leather pants, he seemed like to be extra fancy than others. As if his looks and how people would look up to him matters a lot.

"I...I don't drink." you mumbled.

"That's a good girl." the way the words sounded so attractive from his mouth and you felt like you were going to comply with every order dripping from his mouth but you scolded yourself. You are no one's property and without any reason, it's so wrong for someone to order you around except mr. Byun. "But a single sip won't matter."

You eyed the drink and glanced at him.

This time, Yunho spoke up and it had a demanding undertone, "drink it, princess. We usually don't repeat a word but for you...fine. We can be a bit dirty." He laughed afterwards.

After a mental battle of fighting yourself, you finally brought the glass to your lips. Their intense gazes on you and the way the fourth male stood beside you and placed his hand on your lower back to urge you to take the sip and Wooyoung patting your cheek slightly, you closed your eyes and gulped a sip, coughing a little when it directly went down your throat and you removed the glass from your lips. "This tastes so weird."

they laughed hearing your complain.

"I know. I know. Take it slow. But gradually, you will feel fine." when you kept staring at him without a word, he laughed, "I know what you want to ask. But that's for tomorrow. You have to impress me to know my name." he leaned towards your neck, inhaling your scent with his sharp nose like a pervert, "or it's too bad."

What exactly is bad?

Who are they? And why are they acting like this?

Seonghwa again clicked his glass with yours, "Arriba!"

COMING SOON...

_____________________________________________________

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate. also, you can notice I haven't described the members in details because it will be mentioned during the main night event when others will also appear.

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn @vtyb23 @haechansbbg @dassmyname

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johnwickb1tsch · 7 months

Text

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 13 all chapters

-Later that evening he picks you up near your hostel in a gorgeous wooden water taxi. You’d gotten more than a few odd looks from the scruffy backpackers hanging out in the courtyard, as you’d exited in your chic new dress and heels. You wonder if you look utterly ridiculous, until you see the way John looks at you. There is a heat in his dark eyes that could burn the city down, and you flush all over, knowing the evening hasn’t even begun and you’ve already soaked through your new silk panties.

He waves away the driver, lifting you down by your waist into the boat. It surprises you, and you cling to him, though you never feel for a second that he might drop you. The strength in his arms is unyielding as an oak.

He’s changed into a black suit for the evening, and he’s so fucking handsome you could die. When you’re settled in the bench seat in the back of the boat he lifts his arm for you in invitation, and you nestle in. The night air is a little chilly once the boat gets going, but you are pressed to the long lean length of John’s side, and he keeps you warm. He drives you a little crazy, drawing slow circles with his fingertips on your bare arm.

You go to dinner, and it’s everything you’d hoped and feared. The light is low, the food is delectable, the wine is good, and Mr. Wick is the very picture of dark temptation in the candlelight. He is charming, and sweet, and he touches your fingertips lightly with his from across the table. You always knew he had a wry sense of humor, but loosened up with an aperitivo, he is downright funny, and you find yourself laughing at his comments with purest joy.

You brought that leather-bound notebook from Florence in your new little handbag. When you present it to John he cradles it in his big hands like you have gifted him with something made of pure gold, his dark eyes shining like high-polished mahogany. He looks at you with a tenderness that makes your knees weak, and you are glad you are already sitting down.

“I know it’s not much…” You feel a little sheepish suddenly, thinking about what he spent on you earlier that day.

“I love it,” he assures you adamantly, and tucks it into his inside pocket, where it will rest over his heart. “Thank you.” He reaches for your hands across the table again, and as if you weren’t gone enough already, you feel yourself steadily, inexorably, falling in love with this man.

Afterwards you go for a walk. He smiles down at you, amused when you stumble on a raised cobblestone, steadying you with an arm around your waist.

“I think you are a bit drunk, Miss y/n,” he teases you.

You like wine, but you don’t drink it often. You’d had half a bottle with dinner, plus a negroni aperitivo, and a digestivo of grappa after dessert… Yes. Yes you are, and maybe it will hurt in the morning, but right now it feels wonderful.

“And whose fault is that?” you fire back with an insouciant smile, winning real laughter. The rare sound warms you to the bottom of your soul.

“Guilty.” He’d ordered the drinks, after all.

There is a mischievous sparkle in his jet-black eyes, and you think maybe he’s a bit drunk too. Or maybe it’s just this fucking country, that’s so goddamn romantic. You’re not sure why that annoys you in that moment.

You pause on a bridge, and he reaches up to lightly touch your hair, sweeping it behind your ear, tracing the curve of your neck. It’s almost like he’s petting you, and you cannot help but close your eyes.

Is this man finally going to kiss you?

A small, feral sound escapes you with the thought, and you are too tipsy to be embarrassed about it. It makes him smile knowingly, and now you think he might actually have an inkling of what he’s been doing to you.

You do not know it, but over your shoulder, John sees a suspicious shadow move in an enclave in the distance. He does not like the look of it at all.

“I should probably get you back to your hostel.”

You stick your lips out in a pout, mildly infuriated and currently lacking any healthy inhibitions.

“Are you really going to make me tell you how much I want you, Mr. Wick?” What an effective truth serum a good chianti makes. Your hands find his tie, pulling him closer towards you. He lets you, of course, until your bodies are nearly pressed in a line.

It’s almost enough, but not quite. Never quite, it seems.

He lowers his forehead to rest on the top of your head, and you sense that he is coiled tight as a spring, practically vibrating with the effort of holding himself back. You can feel it in his hands on your sides, as though he can’t decide if he should pull you closer, or push you away.

“Do you?” he asks, his voice gone low.

“As if you don’t already know,” you grouse petulantly. There is a part of you deep down that knows, as you look up at him, that you are pulling the tail of a tiger. You just don’t possess the self-control at the moment to stop.

He narrows his eyes at you. “It’s hard to read you,” he confesses in a rare moment of vulnerability, which you find utterly absurd.

“Hard to read me? Mr. Tall Dark and Broody? Mr. Hot and Cold? Mr. I’ll Take You Out On My Bike For The Ride of Your Life on Your Birthday Then Barely Speak To You?”

Again, he laughs, though this time there is an edge to it. He frames your face in his big hands, and you know he could crush you if he wanted, but you still cannot suppress a sigh. You crave the strength in those hands on you with every fibre of your being.

You’d let him pull you apart, so long as he promises to put you back together again.

“Sweet girl…my love is a curse. I don't want to hurt you—but I don’t think I’m strong enough to let you go.”

It almost sounds like a warning.

You pause at that, listening to your heartbeat pounding in your ears. There is a hint of darkness in that sentiment that would have scared you a little, had you been in your right mind. As it is…you are too far gone, and you are desperate to have it all out at last.

“Are you talking about your wife?” you dare ask, your voice hushed as though she could overhear you. Maybe she can. Maybe her spectre would have the mercy to let this man who still walks among the living go. “John…she got sick, and that is not your fault. You can't blame yourself for that.”

He just shakes his head slowly against you, his long fingers sliding into your hair, tightening at the base of your skull.

“You don't understand.”

He has you firmly in his grasp, and it sends the most delicious thrill down your spine, right to your loins. You can’t help but squirm against him, closing that distance at last. The line of heat between your bodies pressed is maddening, and you marvel that you can think at all.

“I'm trying to.”

“I know.” There’s something in his tone that cracks your heart in two, and you find you are afraid. You’re afraid that he still might backpedal on you after all, after all this, and you’re not sure your heart will survive it.

“Please don’t let me go?”

He tilts your head back, in full control of you. You do not fight him, too entranced by his mouth hovering over yours.

“Remember that you asked.”

You don’t get the chance to formulate a response, because at last his mouth presses to yours, and you forget everything but the feeling of his soft lips and the tantalizing intrusion of his tongue. You would have surged to meet him, but he holds you immobile in his strong hands, taking you just the way he wants you. Yet you are a greedy thing, and your fingers seek the flat planes of his chest, running over the muscled contours beneath his jacket, up the column of his neck to grab fistfuls of his soft hair, the way you’ve craved practically since the first time you laid eyes on him.

You fancy you almost hear it snap, when at last you manage to break this man’s iron-clad self-control.

Or perhaps it is you, your fragile body, that makes an audible pop when he grabs you up in those strong arms, his fingers digging into your waist as he practically lifts you from the ground in the desperation his ardor. You meet the fury of his kiss with a matching passion, with lips and teeth and tongue, so caught up in the whirlwind that you entirely forget where you are, that you’re in public, that you’re probably not alone. The focus of your world narrows to the single pinpoint that is him, and maybe it’s been that way for you for a while now.

It’s over all too soon, when he tears himself away, breathing heavily in the bend of your neck. You make a small sound of protest, needy for more of his delectable mouth, and he nips your shoulder, maybe hard enough to bruise. You jump with surprise, but you don’t exactly mind the feeling of his teeth in your skin, as though you are something sweet he wishes to devour.

In that moment you reckon you would let him eat you whole, and lick the bones clean.

You are aware of it this time, when he lifts his head to look beyond you, his hawkish gaze sweeping the shadows beyond. It seems like he’s worried about something. But you are wrapped up in his arms, tucked perfectly against his larger body like you are puzzle pieces finally found—you feel as though nothing could possibly touch you.

“I should get you back,” he says, his voice pure gravel.

“I don’t want—”

“Don't fight me, y/n.”

He uses a tone of voice you've never heard from him before. It is hard as granite, utterly forbidding, and your blood turns to ice in your veins. Feeling this change in you, he sighs and kisses your forehead in apology. “Come on.”

Slightly comforted, you let him lead you with your hand in his, though you still feel more than a little unbalanced, and not because of the height of your heels on the uneven paving stones, or the tremor in your limbs from that hurricane of a kiss.

This man…

You are not sure what unsettles you more. The whiplash of his mood, or the fact that you’re not sure you wouldn’t follow him to the depths of Hell anyway, so long as he held out his hand to you.

#here it is lovelies <3 #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #bittersweet john wick imagine #john wick imagine #yandere john wick x you #yandere! john wick #yandere #yandere john wick

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riff-is-on-a-fucking-crisis · 1 year

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dratacoe having taco tuesdays, that's it

#itsfunneh yhs #itsfunneh yandere high school #yhs mr draco #yhs mr tacoe #dratacoe #btw for ppl who don't know they're teachers #mr draco was funneh and gold's homeroom teacher during season 1 #and mr tacoe is their english teacher in season 2 #crackship #rarepair

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juniperxyz · 2 months

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A Safety Net

Pairing: Yan!JayJo × F!reader

Content Warning: Yandere behaviour, mentions of stalking, physical abuse, female unsafety, mentions of forced marriage, maybe ooc Jay Jo?

Disclaimer: this should not be viewed as romanticization of stalking/yandere, it's merely a warped fantasy from the pov of a helpless character

Word Count: 4,645 words

Reblog if you want me to write more fics, and let me know what you want to read!

P.s can someone teach me Tumblr mobile formatting? 💀

M A S T E R L I S T

───※ ·❆· ※───

If there were two elements which would perfectly characterise the greatness which propelled Sara Kim's family into success would be gold and grandeur.

Grandeur for the glory her family of egoistic professionals and cut throat entrepreneurs parade around in. For the excessive flaunting of riches and endless achievements. Of grandiose luncheons, eclectic dresses and jewels in every colour of the rainbow that painted her monotonous life, like some montage of emotions.

But gold deserved its own special category, a very unique limelight to further underscore just how efficiently it encapsulated her materialistic life.

No, the woman wasn't referring to the golden spoon the daughter of elite entrepreneurs was born with.

But she was referring to the cage she was born into, a confinement which had even imprisoned her mind. Such boundaries of protection were what isolated her from the dangers of the world, as well as its sparse inhabitants and even sparser blessings, and especially from herself.

───※ ·❆· ※───

The sun had begun its ascent into the horizon, and so did her frantic housemaid's up the stairs leading to her room.

But Sarah had stirred awake long before, one of the few merits that walking around eggshells gifted her.

Or maybe a demerit, as the culprit for her sleep deprivation today no longer the fear of screaming mother, but rather the opposite: the unusual benevolence and kindness of her seemingly normal parents.

An odd kindness. Completely normal as per their perceptions, following their jovial announcement of her marriage being fixed last evening. Within an instant, the Dictator facade of her parents slowly thawed, perhaps from the relief of ‘accomplishing the responsibilities of the daughter’, of finally being able to brush her off their hands.

Choice was an illusion in her life, a concept Sara understood early on as she slipped bare feet into the one of the array of slippers aligned before her. But a mindful choice, a decision where the benefits were a majority, especially ones in her favour, was one piece of autonomy she bargained for from her authoritative mother. Perhaps it was the one sliver of mercy she granted in her unkind life, or maybe some form of training to get the woman primed to the decision making tasks required of a housewife. Had Mrs. Kim acted more of a mother, maybe Sarah would have considered the former possibility out of respect.

But maybe that autonomy she thought imagined to possess was also an illusion, just another one of their ‘spoiled’ daughter's whims that had to be entertained when their money couldn't fix it.

And here she was, with dishevelled hair, drooping dark circles, and a drowsiness threatening to plant her face-first onto the floor.

But as her eyes traced the sunrise through bleary eyes, her heartbeat quickened momentarily as another realisation setting upon her. Another thing which had greatly contributed to her early bird tendencies. Another person.

She first met him years ago in the renowned secondary school Sunny High, the national factory which churned out some of Korea's most obnoxious elites. A man who was nothing but everything at the same time. An introverted studious loner who kept to himself, while also being the school's academic whizz and a cycling prodigy. He hangs out with no one, but had everyone's envious gazes hanging upon his every move. He made no advance towards any girl, yet every girl's lovesickness only advanced with every disinterested scowl he shot their way. Likewise, he'd ignored all the boys and didn't care for their aimless attitudes, but the expansive mountain of accomplishments he overshadowed wasn't ignored by them. A separate league, an otherworldly being, an extraterrestrial intellectual and many more praises were flown in his way, none of which he was receptive to.

Except to her confused rambling.

“Hey, I'm really sorry to bother you, and I know I shouldn't bother studious kids…”,that particular day was still fresh in her memory, her awkward stance, her awkward uniform and that awkward chuckle. Of all days, it just had to be that particular and with him, of all people? “But I think you're sitting on my seat? For French?”

Aloofness had long shielded her from the taunts and jeers she'd receive in earlier schools, but the sudden pin drop silence unnerved her. Had she made a mistake? Did she offend him somehow? Broken some important hierarchical rule of the Sunny high student body?

Although whispers gladly answered her anxiety, they only worsened it further.

No way she's talking to him, who does she think she is?

She's asking that guy to move??? Does her dad own the school?

She screwed big time, man. Talking to a superior while looking like that.

These newbies are no respect but all attitude-

“Sure.”

His voice was deep and clear, but not as deep as the second silence that filled the room. Confusion had rooted her feet to the floor, panic slowly creeping in as she took in all the frightened and frustrated faces of her clas–

“Here!”,metal screeched violently against the floor, as a woman with a pixie cut sprang up, “You can sit with next to me-”

“She's fine here, Yuna.”,he snapped instantly, rather rudely despite the monotonous tone. Yuna gingerly pushed back the chair, concern flashing rapidly across her face. Alongside sympathy.

The boy shifted his belongings to the adjacent desk, which only now she noticed had been suddenly vacated. A deep shade of red coloured her cheeks as she looked down. Had she paid enough attention to her surroundings, she wouldn't have to take his seat unnecessarily. And she would have also noticed an even more concerned and sympathetic bandaid boy sitting now next to Yuna.

“I never caught your name.”,she croaked, cringing internally as the boy frowned in confusion.

“That's because I never gave it.”,he replied curtly, prompting an uneasy chuckle as she beat herself up mentally. She can cover herself in all the Cartier she wants, but never can she carry charisma.

“Well…uh..”,she covered up the awkwardness by clearing her throat, “I'm Sara Kim, by the way.”

The man kept silent as his calculating gaze was fixated upon her. She took this opportunity to stealthily scan his features, and truly, some people's luck was really just in all of the right places. There was no denying about it, from the chiselled jawline, swan like neck, slender nose and alluring, sapphire-toned eyes that seemed to brighten with each second.

“Jae-hyun.”

Sara blinked in surprise, mumbling, “What?”

The boy titled his head ever so slightly, perfectly aligning with the window just in time for the afternoon sun rays to directly bounce off his face, illuminating his reserved, yet resplendent features so strikingly that stole her breath.

“Jae-hyun Jo.”,he lowered his eyes, the faint streams of mahogany in his iris beaming in the sunlight. “But you can just call me Jay.”

Jay. No matter what Cartier she always carried, his charisma was even more priceless. A price indeed she'd one day have to pay for.

───※ ·❆· ※───

“My, Jae-hyun dear, you never fail to impress us.”

Never did Sara believe she'd witness the day where a sliver of emotion would crack through Jay's heartless mask. Well, she also believed her parents wouldnt foolishly fix her marriage, but here they are. Forget the fact that this man was sitting in his house, an impromptu visit four years after their graduation, or that it was his first meeting with his family outside school.

Her mother's perfectionism knew no bounds, even going so far as to scrutinize all her friendships, crafting every playdate carefully to her standards, and only permitting any interaction within the safe confines of her ‘home’. This means it's her first interaction with a Sunny High friend outside school hours too.

Well, at least officially.

Because Sarah Kim knew very well it wasn't the first time they two crossed paths outside.

Or at least have crossed paths where she wasn't aware of his looming presence.

All those three years at the wretched junkyard of elites, she had naively assumed she was taken under his wing. She revelled in being under the guidance of the valedictorian, who ensured she received stellar scores and minimum bullying throughout her tumultuous high school years.

He fixed every deficit in studies with their prolonged study sessions, but left her deficit in social awareness unfixed, which if patched up would open her eyes to the alarmed gazes of the students, the growing concern of his cycling teammates and sparse friends, especially the several interventions by some rabid redhead; the only one who ever stood up for her. The only one who ever understood what was in store for her.

But just like the gullible girl her mother raised her to be, she tossed those worries off her mind, and instead tossed her hair as she profusely thanked him at their graduation. Sarah expressed her gratitude heartily, perhaps even going overboard given it's her only friend since forever, only male friend since forever.

She regretted not having stressed on the ‘friends’ part harder, even holding back from saying so as to relish in the heated, innocent blush of his face. That one moment of illusionary love would cost her lifetime, as did all her gullible decisions.

No matter how overbearing or protective Jay was, Sara always chalked it up to the man's way of expressing his concern. After all, it was no different from her Father's, who also didn't let her take one step outside without his approval, and as bad as he was, Jay's not him, but simply a ‘concerned friend who's keeping her safe’, right?

It was right in high school, despite his stubborn insistence on walking her everywhere. Even feeling nice a few months post graduation. Then alright when she'd coincidently run into him on the street. Then okay when she'd spot him lurking from afar at times. Then when she swore some shadows were shaped strangely at night. Some camping awkwardly outside her window, some trailing right behind her footsteps during nightfall. Then when she saw visions of him everything she stepped out, when her phone drained too rapidly, filled its storage too quickly. When her web cameras began blinking too randomly. And when she began receiving parcels too strangely.

Through broken windows.

Just like his madness was a gradual process, so was her own descent into her own. Where she once was a simple girl who worried only about the clouds above her head, she had now descended into a paranoid insomniac who couldn't even trust her own shadow.

Like some protective older brother he paraded himself as, Jay would always reprimand her tersely whenever she got too close to some boy. Now, the instant she looks in a man's direction outside, her phone is instantly bombarded with spam messages and missed phone calls. Where before she'd snapshot pictures with every possible friend she could find, much to Jay's disdain, he now filled her gallery with snapshots of her own home the instant she breathed around any guy. Even if it was platonically. Even if it was professionally.

So the woman perfectly understood his intentions as he sat in his white coat next to her father, revelling in his first reunion with her like he hasn't been keeping his tabs on her since who knows for how long. Even when she closes her eyes she can still see his daunting silhouette. Even when she passed by her neighbour's and friends' houses, their terror-stricken faces, heavy with meaning, also reminded of him.

Her one shot at freedom, her long standing position as a creative director in a renowned firm, had slapped her in the face when she was to collaborate at the same hospital he worked at. Now he truly had her under his thumb, yet still graciously hides himself from her, like some cryptic grim reaper, always looming over her like some grotesque storm cloud, forever sealing her in a state of being watched.

It's the combined stress of having strict parents and a persistent stalker that deprived the woman of her only place of solace: sleep. But perhaps Jay's genius abilities surpassed it's limits as he formalized even in her dreams, switching them to nightmares that plagued her senses with shudders from their flashbacks.To walk on eggshells and tiptoe past bear traps. Sarah didn't realize when she switched from being an artist to an antelope.

Yet, all hope was not lost for the woman, she repeated to herself as she trudged into the washroom. Her mother still let her make some decisions, and as vindictive she could be, she kept her daughter's best interests in mine.

Her future husband would be great. Her future husband would be merciful. He would be strong and protective. Altruistic and considerate. That's why her mother settled upon him, didn't she? Her decisions were for her betterment, right?

Right.

She had nurtured her ambitions this far, built an impactful career in such limited time, acquired something no other woman in her lineage did; achieved some semblance of independence, even if it also was only accessible via her parents. There was a reason her company, her hard work, was eligible to be collaborated with Jay's hospital in the first place. Her job, and her future husband would be her new reset button. Then she can walk away from this life with her head held high, wipe away her tears with no regrets to carry with. Smile with no sorrow.

───※ ·❆· ※───

But in the silence of the bridal dressing room, Sarah carried nothing but regrets and sorrows with her.

Oh how gullible she was, how foolish, how naive, how starry-eyed and optimistic she behaved. Like her parents ever looked out for anyone but themselves, transforming any disposable being into their pawns for success, nor sparing their offspring as well. Keeping her child's emotional well-being in mind? She wanted to howl at her stupidity. Ensure she would tie the knot with some gentle man? As if! ‘Gentle’ is one thing, but geriatric is another. She should have seen it coming, oh how, just how could she miss it? Of course her parents wanted to climb up the social hierarchy , of course they'd discard her concerns and anxieties, tossing her into the arms of some aged millionaire. Of course they'd further entrench her in the very traditionalism she so desperately tried to escape.

And her meagre fantasy of her strong career? Laughable, utterly laughable considering it only bettered her marriage prospects as she was slaving away at her very fiancé's company. No wonder she garnered so much attention in so little time, her parents probably sat her up on some stage to be auctioned off too. That's of course why salary boosts and promotions came with such ease.

Though the August heat of Jeju Island was melting its inhabitants, Sarah felt an unshakable shiver rattling her heart, trembling her limbs and rolling bullets of sweat down her back.

Her engagement party just winded up a few hours ago, with her horde of tight-lipped cousins and family friends cheerily bidding her goodnight, like she was ignorant to their snide remarks. None of them understood what fate had in store for her. No one could understand what plight she was trapped in. The terrible fate of marrying into that geezer Song's family, where every woman lived, dresses, and birthed as per the conservative traditions. She wondered if their high collar and penchant for feminine attires was part of their modesty or to conceal certain secrets. Certain marks. Certain wounds.

Her nutritionist and ob-gyn ensured she was fed and fattened up like a cattle as part of wedding preparations. Yet, the bizarre conditions of her wedding, and of the ancient traditions that stripped a woman away from her identity, was a stress that kept her immobilized with panic and abhorrence, emptying her bowels night after night from the unyielding pressure as the Song's bride.

The duties, the expectations, the traditions, the culture, the environment, the family line, the children, everything, everything she struggled so hard to run away from came crashing down upon her. She sucked back tears all her life, enduring the beatings and beratings in hopes of escaping into a newer and better life, armed with her job and education a freedom

Oh what a lie, oh what a sham it all was! Those very two things she thought to be her weapons of rebellion had only solidified the Kim family's relations with the Songs, condemning her to a mediocre homemaker life for a decrepit man who sputtered enough life for lust.

Sarah sank to her knees, the bare skin blistering upon contacting icy ceramic. Manicured fingers dug into freshly curled hair, ruining the hairdresser’s hours of hard work as her frustration bunched them up in her hands, pulling apart her scalp from the madness and hysteria.

Though it was sweltering even in the night, her bare legs were shivering as they paced anxiously around her room, ignorant to the scandalous slip dress she was to wear. Some meaningless bet she lost, where her heartless bridal party plotted to make her the butt of their jokes. She felt her vision sway once more, a hammer pounding her head as a third migraine attacked her in the night.

She felt dread pool her stomach, bubbling dangerously, threatening to hurl her innards even if no food was left to puke out. The panic intensified so tremendously alongside her migraine, that she didn't notice she'd succumbed to her knees, limbs paralyzed as the room spun around in circles.

Memories flitted around the rotating room alongside reminders. Morning Make up session. Bridal outfitting fitting. Last minute venue inspection. First meeting prior engagement. Bridal party pictures. College graduation. Bridal photo shoot. Sunny High graduation. Catering confirmation. National exam preparation. Walking down the aisle. Walking home from school. Standing next to the groom. Standing next to the finish line. Staring into the void. Staring into the shadows-

Her eyes widened with disbelief, the room stilling back to its original position. Shadows. Exhaustion prompted her panicky mind to first whip her head around in search of shadows, nothing less from the gullible girl she always was.

As if on autopilot, the woman slipped on her flats, not caring for their impracticality or of her dress. She draped a single shawl around her sickly figure, shielding her face as she strode outside the hotel suite, racing down the flights of steps, and slipping out from the employees-only exit, as if she were the shadows of a passerby.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Her heels throbbed with pain, knees reddened and jittery from the humid winds and walking. It was sweltering no doubt, but a flimsy dress does a good job in allowing every draft of wind to circulate her noodle limbs.

Still, she dragged her feet on, scraping the cheap rubber flats against the ground, refusing to give up so readily, to fail before she even began.

In the flurry of panic, she carried nothing of use to her, leaving her stranded and disconnected in some desolate shady part of the island. Desperation had long blinded her from the lustful gazes of suspicious street men, ensuring she quickened her steps whenever a man looked at her for too long. But it was her only shot at searching. Only shot at survival.

In the corner of her eye, a suspicious figure shuffled, but disappeared into the darkness the instant she focused upon it.

Shadows. Like a moth to light, the woman sprang on her heels, dashing across the street and sinking into the twisted, dark alleys. This was certainly no place for a hopeless vulnerable woman, but no corner in this world offered her sanctuary from her nightmare, save for the one in this alley.

“Hello?”,she croaked, voice warped with trepidation. Was this a bad idea?. Another breeze sifted through her dress and her knees quivered, “Are you there?”

The ancient whirr of the overhead air conditioners and the flickering buzz of the street lamps comfortably filled the silence following her voice. It was hard to keenly sift through all noises while being stuck in a cramped residential area, where the monotonous whir of fans acted as a constant backdrop. It was a smart move for covering felonious antics, but it did little to quiten the growing footsteps approaching her.

Her heartbeat quickened, and a dull thud began ringing in her ears. No, she can not spiral into her emotions right now, “Hey….it's you, isn't it?”

The man stepped into a dimly lit patch in front of the dumpster, his tall stature seeming broader and more daunting since he last visited her house.

“Yo-you-”,the fear paralyzed her throat, constricting her airways, but she persisted, “You're him, aren't you? That guy, who's always following me around.”

She cringed at how pathetic she looked, dressed too lightly for the cold, chased down some stranger in a shady street, and tried to make polite talk with a brooding masked man whose eyes swirled with secrets. Dangerous secrets.

The man stepped closer, and it required everything in her willpower to not flee instantly, until a gloved hand left his pocket. “I came to make a bargain!”

He paused, eyebrows narrowing suspiciously, perhaps confused by whatever a powerless girl can possess to make a bargain. A girl with little possessions she was indeed, but there is nothing more she valued than her greatest, strongest, and most indispensable possession: herself.

“You want to take me, right?”,she shuddered, trying to hold back her tears, threatening to break her voice, “I-I'll come with you, okay?”

This seemed to confuse the man further, and she didn't realize he had removed another gloved hand from his pockets. Whether this was a good sign or a terrible one, she had to steer it towards the former.

“I have no objections against your wishes.”,she breathed, her heart pounding so violently to the point she heard it in her ears, “I'll do whatever you want, and go wherever you take me too, promise!”

Everything rested upon this one moment. Either she buys her ticket to freedom, or a one way condemnation to hell. A different type of hell.

The man stepped closer, before the street light fully illuminated his face, as he undid his mask and tugged off his beanie. Her heart plummeted as he attempted to gauge the emotional expression he continuously wore, fearing for the worst until he raised his arms, and she raised her hopes, and ran to close the distance in between them.

“Oh, Jay!”,she sighed, deeply inhaling his minty scent, a small aspect she realized she took for granted. The woman wrapped bony arms over his broad shoulders, barely able to lock hands while his own arms consumed her body with ease.

Though she wouldn't deny he was a dangerous, deranged control freak, she also can't deny how warm and comforting his embrace was. How protective and soothing her sinewy arms were, how his hands felt soft and gentle as they stroked her small back reassuringly. His touch was inviting, uplifting, and so tender, that this momentary physical content was enough to dissipate all of her anxieties. Has she been deprived of a support system so terribly? Of physical touch that terribly?

“Please take me with you.”,she pleaded, pulling back to gaze deeply into those pair of eyes that forever kept her under his watchful gaze, “I'll do anything, but please take me away from my family.”

She doubted she needed to explain her circumstances, given his constant surveillance must have uncovered more answers than she herself was aware of. Perhaps that was another benefit of choosing him over that geezer, he already discovered and understood all of her worries and problems.

Large hands cupped her cheeks, heat emanating through the soft gloves as his thumbs caressed damp skin, “Don't worry.”,as always, his voice deep, endless, fluid and reassuring, “I'm here for you now.”

Just hearing that one sentence was enough to uplift the burden weighing down her shoulders. She felt her knees buckle, being caught just in time by Jay, as the gates to her heart flooded open, pouring out all of her bottled up emotions she'd harboured since childhood.

Sara wept silent tears on his shoulder, consoled by the gentleness of his hands that swept down her tousled hair. All her life, she was to be constructed for others, built for others, at the command of others. No facet of her life was spared as her parents, her family and her friends took advantage of her position to climb up the ranks of social hierarchy. Anything conducted in relation to her was solely for the benefit of others, or for some non-existent ‘greater good’.

Yet Jaehyun Jo, valedictorian of Sunny High, prodigy cyclist of HummingBird, the only friend who did not abandon her side, even when she did, his main desire from her was just….her. He asked for nothing at all, indifferent to all power and grandeur attached to her name and simply sought for her most priceless jewel within her possessions; her heart and her affections.

While others snatched her to deconstruct and rebuild the woman at their whims, forcing her to sport numerous facades to accomplish who knows what sorts of business ventures and social feuds, he simply wished to snatch her away from the watchful eyes of world, but to also leave her intact as she is, untroubled, undisturbed and at ease.

He knew how susceptible she was to anxiety and panic attacks, how socially awkward she could be in public, and how little elegance she possessed thanks to her nerve-wracking paranoia. He also knew how terribly weak she fared in studies, in fine arts, in tennis, and all sorts of extracurriculars shoved down her throat for boosting her image. And especially her image, he was well aware of how her shyness terribly sabotaged it one instance after another.

And yet it didn't change his perception of her, didn't prevent him from pressing a soft, tender kiss on her forehead, replacing his lips with his own forehead afterwards, “I'll keep you safe and sound, love.”,he wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, reassuring in that same, melodious, reaffirming tone, “I promise.”

This was the truth she had been searching for all her life, the breakaway from the hellscape she once believed to be externally enchained too. The golden cage she forever resided in, illuminated not by the rarity of the metal, but by the searing hotness of the bars barring her from an escape.

When in reality, the true escape, the true sanctuary was in his love. A pure, untainted love that accepted even her lowest state and anguish, which suddenly reformed all those stalker incidents from one of infatuation to fondness.

The man side-stepped the woman, her hands automatically slipping around his bicep. It never ceased to amaze her how he only grew stronger with every interaction. Or maybe the stress just made her smaller, and every surrounding threat larger.

The woman pulled herself close to his warmth as they approached a limousine, for once not caring from where something sprang into existence. She didn't have to worry about that. She didn't have to worry about anything at all now.

Jay slipped into the leather chairs, pulling her hand alongside him as she comfortably snuggled into his side. The dim ambience coupled with the smooth jazz lulled her to sleep, a gift that at last came with ease from all her unease dissipating.

The golden cage from where she would forlornly admire the world no longer exists, and even though she was simply placed in another entrapment, the woman wouldn't mind it so long as her captor one who would let her flourish, and one where she was cherished.

#windbreaker #windbreaker manhwa #windbreaker (yongseok jo)#windbreaker webtoon #jay jo x reader #jay jo #yandere jay jo #fanfiction #fanfic

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ashensgrotto · 1 year

Text

The Sea's Sacrifice (Part 1)

Characters: AzulAshengrotto / Jade Leech / Floyd Leech x F!Reader

Total Word Count: 14.7k+

Part 1 (You are Here) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Synopsis: A potential job as a marine biologist’s assistant leaves (Y/N) feeling something fishy going on behind the scene…

Author's Notes: Original Idea came from @merakiui 's annonymous ask with a short story / headcannon -> https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/684490143936167936/ooohhh-i-love-those-writing-ideas-you-had-for-sea?source=share

and I absolutely love this concept and wanted to take it a step further. I don't write yandere nor fanfiction as much as I did a few years ago. However, I do hope I do this piece justice; I will had links to the next part once it is completed and ready for viewing.

Also, this is a work of fiction. I disagree anyone that justifies the following behaviors which are represented in this fic (if I think of more, I will add them as I go):

rape/non-consent/dub-consent, possessive/controlling/dominating behaviors, and manipulation

Cruel and cold like winds on the seas

Will you ever return to me

Hear my voice sing with the tide

My love will never die

Over waves and deep in the blue

I will give up my heart for you

***

If someone were to tell you that you’d eventually be pulled into the wrong end of the sea by, not one but three, unknown sea creatures - you’d probably laugh your head off, thinking they’ve lost their mind.

But how wrong you’d be.

When you had initially applied to work at Twisted Wonders - an emporium of oddities that were collected and studied by the greatest minds in existence - you thought you’d be taking an everyday desk job; answering phone calls, scheduling tours, directing visitors… that sort of thing.

Never in your right mind would you believe that you would be working alongside the Dire Crowley - director and owner of Twisted Wonders. Mr. Crowley was an acclaimed renowned genius with an air that was both mysterious and alluring. He was approximately 170 cm in height (five feet, seven inches) and wore rich tailored clothing made of silks and leather with gold embroidery and jewels embedded into the vest and belt; of course, he upped his strange allure by consistently wearing a heavy leather overcoat that hung to his frame, decorated in black feathers - real or faux, no one was sure, a top hat that perched on his head, and a mask of black that reminded you of a crow - his arched nose hidden under the long rim of the mask that poked out like a beak.

“Here’s the deal, (Y/N),” Mr. Crowley spoke, reclining back in his desk chair as a pair of golden eyes peered out from behind the mask, “We’ve recently acquired three creatures that need to be observed. My team, however, has been unsuccessful at getting remotely close to studying them. They seem to think that an outsider might have a higher success rate at being able to approach them more than any of us will due to their knowing who we are.”

“So, what is it exactly that you want me to do?”

“I want you to observe them,” Mr. Crowley spoke, pushing a contract towards you, “You will work with my group of scientists for about three months as well as the three creatures. You are to notate anything and everything you see the trio doing - how they eat, sleep, react with each other, and so forth - and document everything for our records, no matter how insignificant it is. If you prove your worth and competence within those three months, you will be moved to another position within the facility of your choosing.”

“And that’s it? That’s all I need to do?”

“That’s it.”

‘Seems pretty easy for a payment of twenty dollars an hour…’ you thought as you looked down at the contract before, “And this is my… compliance, right?”

“That would be correct, as well as a safety and confidentiality agreement,” Mr. Crowley answered, offering a pen in your direction.

You took the instrument and wrote your name across the bottom of the page on the dotted line.

“Alright,” Dire Crowley took the contract and stood, pressing a buzzer on his desk, “with everything in order, I’ll have Grimsley take you to meet Divus Crewel and Mozus Trein - the overseers of our aquatic project.”

“I’m sorry, did you say aquatic?” your eyes widened in surprise.

“Dear me, did I forget to mention that part?” Mr. Crowley tapped his chin, his glowing eyes looking up toward the ceiling before returning to rest on your features, “Our newest arrivals are of the oceanic nature - I’ve never met or seen them myself, however Professor Crewel and Professor Trein will be able to go over the basics with you and introduce you to the trio in question.”

“As long as they don’ forget the good stuff!” a snarky voice spoke from behind.

You turned in your chair toward the door to see the man who must’ve been Grimsley.

He was about 163 cm in height with pale skin and dark gray hair with tufts of flame blue poking out in random directions. His eyes also were flame blue and held mischief in their depths that matched the smirk on his face as a set of sharp teeth peered out from behind thin lips. He wore a suit of black with a vest that matched his hair, a black and white-striped tie, and a white dress shirt. Leather loafers padded softly against the carpeted flooring of Crowley's office as he held out a black leather gloved hand in greeting.

"Grimsley Overblot," the man smiled like a Cheshire cat, "I'm Mr. Crowley's henchman and errand runner here at Twisted Wonders."

"(Y/N) (L/N)," you answer, taking Grimsley's hand with a shake, "pleasure to meet you."

“Grimsley, go ahead and take (Y/N) to see the good professors,” Dire Crowley spoke, a satisfied smile on his features, “I’m sure the two are more than ecstatic to meet her.”

***

As it turns out, both men were ecstatic to meet you - though Professor Trein was a bit more reserved about it versus his partner.

Trein's appearance matched his personality - his posture indicated a "no nonsense" aura as did his unchanging features. His lips would quirk into a small smile before they would fall to a straight line as his dark eyes settled on your uneasy form, as if he enjoyed watching you squirm like a germ under the microscope. He was dressed as any scientist would; a heavy white lab coat that fell to his knees hung around his frame that covered a white dress shirt and charcoal-colored dress pants and loafers. His hair was gray with streaks of white and wrinkles covered every inch of his face and neck. He also wore a set of white pristine gloves and had a cravat around his neck with a singular emerald gem that held the cloth together.

As for his partner, Professor Crewel was a bit more… eccentric. Crewel had a sort of energy about him that reminded you of a young dog - not a puppy, but not an adult either. He was always cocking a smile that bore teeth, chuckling when he patted the top of your head as he called you "puppy." His clothing matched his laidback ideals too - a heavy black and white fur coat with a red silk lining covered the charcoal gray dress shirt and pants. His vest was black on one side, white on the other, and wore a red tie that matched the gloves on his hands.

“So,” Crewel spoke after introductions, pulling a cigarette out of his pants pocket and lighting the object, “any questions before we get you set up?”

“I guess my big question is what exactly will I be working with?” you ask.

“We believe the trio to be mers, but they’re not your typical ones,” Trein explained with a sniff as his features twisted at the smell of Crewel’s smoke, “All three of them have the upper bodies of men, but lower halfs of sea creatures. Two of the three half the lower half of what we believe to be that of a moray eel and the third the lower half of an octopus. The twins are typically more curious of the three, though they can be aggressive. Several of our closest colleagues were attacked by the duo after accidentally disturbing them - their bites have left scars and one of our colleagues actually lost their leg from their attack.”

“... and you don’t think I will?” you had to question, the comment coming out high-pitched.

“Well, moray eels - specifically - will attack only if they have been disturbed,” Crewel answered nonchalantly, “We believe there are similarities between the animals and the mers, which is why we are gathering as much information as we can. We want to know what the similarities and differences are between moray eels and the twins.”

“Okay, but I still don’t see how I won’t get attacked by those two. And what about the third?”

“You won’t be attacked as long as you stay still and don’t make any sudden movements,” Trein answered, “Once they get used to you, you’ll know.”

“As for the third,” Crewel answered, “he’s a cecaelia - half man, half octopus.”

You blink, “Don’t moray eels eat octopi?”

“Typically, yes,” Trein answered, “which is strange, in this case. The trio were originally found off the coast in the Coral Sea - living in harmony with each other. When we brought them here, the moray mers have consistently been surrounding the grotto that is in the enclosure - the cecaelia hiding within and rarely comes out. We think that the cecaelia may have raised the morays, but we’re not completely sure.”

“And it’s been a devil of a time trying to get a glimpse of him too,” Crewel shook his head, eyes rolling to the ceiling.

“You mean you haven’t seen him? Not once?”

“I saw him when he was first brought into the enclosure,” Trein sighed, “however, it was dark and I couldn’t see him very well - the eels could be seen because of the bioluminescence that exists within their bodies, allowing us to see their figures.”

“Speaking of which, come,” Crewel rested a hand to the small of your back, “let’s get you acquainted with our aquatic trio, hm?”

Crewel and Trein led you to the opposite end of their laboratory where a large glass wall stood with a set of double doors that led to what appeared to be the edge of a massive pool. Once inside, the smell of fish and humidity tickled your nose as the sound of lapping of water reverberated in the slightly dimmed room; the only light being illuminated from the pool itself. The gray walls stretched high, the ceiling covered by long triangular beams that permitted the echoes of voices and lapping water in the room. One the far left was a coat rack and a small freezer with a large fan blowing the heated air around the room.

“When you come in - which will be about six-thirty each morning, you’ll hang your coat on the rack and put your lunch in the freezer before feeding your charges,” Crewel explained, walking over to the freezer and lifting the lid, “We always restock the food the night before, so you don’t have to worry about not having anything in here for the day. There will be nine buckets total in the freezer - three for the morning, three for noon, three for dinner - so make sure you dump all three buckets in the water, but don’t toss the actual bucket into the water.”

“What’s in them?” you ask, wrinkling your nose at the mixture within the buckets.

“A collection of shellfish - shrimp, crab, clam, lobster - and assorted fish are what they primarily eat,” Crewel answered as he closed the lid to the freezer, “We’ve tried feeding the moray twins octopi - but they refuse to touch it and often threw it at the feeders when they came in. Also, feel free to wear something comfortable. The water temperature varies from 45℉ to as low as 39℉ so we have to offset that with the atmosphere in our enclosure here at approximately 77℉ to 85℉ - never mind that one of the twins likes to splash newcomers right off the bat.”

“So, shorts are ok?”

“Shorts would be preferred, so yes,” Crewel nodded.

“But not too short - lower thigh length to knee length is acceptable,” Trein chided, “you are also permitted to wear sandals within the enclosure as well as a t-shirt or tank top due to the humidity. However, if you do choose sandals and tank tops - please bring a spare pair of tennis shoes to wear on the way in and on the way out as closed toed and heels are required within the labs and main building as well as something to keep your shoulders covered; this is a place of employment, not enjoyment.”

When you nod, Trein continued.

“After you feed them their breakfast, take a seat and use the notebooks over here to document any findings,” Trein walks to the opposite end of the enclosure, opening a locker filled with office supplies, “Take whatever you think you might need for the day and have a seat at the edge of the pool and begin your observations. It might take a few days before one of the twins actually approaches you, but once they do, you should be able to start the observations with no problems. During your first few days, remember to stay still - morays attack when startled or provoked, which we don’t want to happen. You’ll let them come to you and, hopefully once you get acquainted, you’ll be able to do your observations with no trouble at all.”

“Alright.”

“Your shift will be twelve hours total,” Trein also explained, “you will be expected to eat lunch with the trio and feed them their supper before you leave for the night at six pm and place any of your notes back in the locker here for Crewel or I to collect at the end of the day. When you leave, make sure the door is locked. Typically, we will be here until eight, so we often check the door on our way out - but just so you are aware, the door does get stuck on occasion; you may need to knock on the door a few times and one of us or our staff will get you out.”

You nod again.

“Alright, are there any questions?” Crewel asked.

“No, I think I’ve got it.”

“Very well,” Trein smiles, “We’ll see you tomorrow at six sharp - no later.”

“Thank you very much for this opportunity,” you bow your head to both of them before shaking each of their offered hands as the two escorted you out of the enclosure - none of you aware of the two sets of heterochromia eyes that watched your figure from below the water’s surface.

***

One week passes slowly as you go through the motions as the Twisted Wonders aquatic observer.

Every morning, you arrive at quarter to six and greet Crewel and Trein at their laboratory doors. After they unlock and head into their own offices, you make your way to the enclosure and place your bag on the coat rack and the brown paper bag that contains your lunch in the freezer before hauling out the three of the nine gallon-sized buckets one at a time and dump the contents into the water, watching a little bit to see if anything will appear to snatch up a meal as the fish disappear into the murky depths of the pool. After watching the last piece of morsel disappear into the depths, you turn toward the locker, grabbing notebooks, pens and anything else you think you need and take a seat at the edge of the pool.

As the hours pass by, you jot notes down about anything you see - which is nothing.

7:30am: Ripples of water, no sign of the creatures

10:30am: Still no sign of the creatures

12:30pm: Fed mers, no sign of breaking the surface yet - maybe they know I am waiting for them and want nothing to do with me?

2:30pm: Still no sign

4:30pm: I heard a splash, but saw nothing. Maybe they’re nervous?

6:00pm: Fed the mers their supper - Hoping to get a sign of them before I leave today.

Day after day after day, the notes were the same: No sign. No sign. No sign.

By the end of the first week, you were beginning to wonder if you actually would ever see the creatures or if they even existed - or even, heaven forbid, if you were a test subject yourself for believing that there were mers that lived in the enclosure.

When Saturday morning came, you trudged into the enclosure with a heavy sigh and slowly began to begin the day’s events. Everything you did now seemed slower as the hope of seeing something otherworldly began to diminish like smoke. You pulled the first bucket of food out of the freezer and brought it to the edge of the pool, dumping the contents in before standing to return the bucket to the side of the freezer when something slimy and light hit the back of your head. Your hand instinctively reached up and brushed the hair behind your head, feeling traces of water and slime. You looked down to see what hit you, finding the bottom half of an unidentifiable colored fish laying behind you.

Your eyes shifted to look out into the pool - but no movement or any indication that something had thrown the half of the fish at you could be seen.

‘Maybe I’m just imagining things,’ you thought as a sigh escaped your lips, picking up the fish and dropping it into the second bucket before it was dumped over the edge of the pool as well.

As you turned your back to grab the last bucket, again something smacked against the back of your head, a clicking sound following shortly afterwards.

‘Ok,’ you thought, a slight smirk appearing on your features as you picked up the large hunk of lobster from the ground, ‘whoever or whatever you are, I’m assuming you want to play. Well, let’s play.’

You grab the last bucket and dump the contents into the water and kneel at the edge - watching like a cat watches a mouse before pouncing. A few moments pass before you feel your back begin to strain, forcing you to stand. As you do, a whole king prawn nearly smacks you in the face as another round of clicking echoes in the enclosure. You whip your face toward the pool, just in time to see two sets of eyes watching you.

Silence defends the enclosure as the three of you stare in silence at one another.

Your heart races as you realize that the creatures staring at you must be the twins.

You can’t see them completely - their entire bodies are hidden under the water while the tops of their heads and their eyes are the only thing being seen from your position at the edge of the pool as they regard you from a few meters away - but you can see that they are nearly mirrors of each other.

They both have skin the color of seaweed with short hair to match - a longer piece the color of deep sea teal arching in the front of their faces. Instead of human ears, they have fins - likely hiding the gills they use to breathe underwater behind them. The one on your left appears to be more cautious than their twin on the right - their eyes are sharp, their right colored brown and left colored gold, and watching every movement you make as if calculating whether to attack you or not. The one on your right appeared to have more of a droopy expression on their face, their lower eyelids dropping into a bored expression, but their gaze is still sharp. Like their twin, their eyes are different colors - the left colored brown and the right colored gold instead.

You swallow thickly, unsure of what to do exactly.

Moray eels attack if provoked, you recalled Crewel saying, so you didn’t want to make any sudden movements in case they read it wrong and attempt anything. However, it seems that the decision is quickly made when the one on your right slowly approaches the edge of the pool. You stay as still as possible as they approach, their eyes locked on yours as if in a trance.

When they reach the edge, you can see the length of his body in the murky depths. His skin is a darker seaweed teal with little stripe patterns on his cheekbones and arms - with likely more on his lower body hidden deeper in the depths. Large fins poke out from his lower arms, giving him and his brother the ability to glide through the water quickly. You couldn’t see his tail, but if you had to guess - you thought he could be approximately six feet in length or longer.

Then, salted sea water covers your entire body, causing you to sputter at the surprise at getting splashed as the moray mer peeled in laughter. His brother follows up with three sharp clicks before the duo disappear under the water, leaving you to wonder what in the world just happened.

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