7pm thoughts from a random person on the internet
I love my identity.
I love being asexual and having a multi spectrum (mspec) attraction. I love being pan and polyamorous and thinking about having a big polycule and holding hands and cuddling with many people.
I love being nonbinary and being a part of the mogai community and using neopronouns and having microlables and being unapologetically trans
I love being able to summarize my identity as being Queer & knowing that word to me holds every single word inside it that I've taken to help describe the way I relate to the world and expression.
I love being in love with my attraction to men, and women, and fellow nonbinary individuals.
I love being t4t and having long in depth conversation about gender and sexuality with other trans people, especially my partners and people who have been my partner before.
I love creating and being creative and being able to share that with others
I love being scene and emo and how those subcultures and aesthetics have helped me find myself and express my identity and let me learn to accept my own femininity in a way that feels affirming to my gender.
I love my communities, my fandoms, the friends I've made and the people I've met, and those I look up to and those who look up to me. I think it's the most amazing thing in the world to be able to connect with so many people over shared experiences and shared love of something.
I've been in a bad place for a while, but I think right now, I want to appreciate all the things I love about myself and others and my friends and my communities. Having some self reflection and some self acceptance and some self love to help remind me that things won't be bad forever.
Something I love that my mom does often, is when she complains about love triangles. Let me be clear that I am the one complaining about them, because for fucks sake let me have a love triangle that ends in a poly relationship instead of "ooh this girl has to pick between these two hot guys, oh no!" because I hate that.
But whenever I go off about that my mom points out that what she hates about love triangles is that for it to be a triangle the two love interests have to be interested in eachother as well. Otherwise its just an arrow, not a full triangle. Which technically does support my poly want but that's not where she's going with this. She is just irritated by incorrect wording.
I love my mother very much, lmao
"Is it time to have the poly talk?"
"Which one? Poly means many things."
You S03E08 (Swing and a Miss)
Book title: More Than Two: A Practical Guide to Ethical Polyamory (2014) by Franklin Veaux and Eve Rickert
Maria - Three On One (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1163004611-maria-three-on-one?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=cjstevens2018&wp_originator=DyXmrtSA8a0yzQSVerCnJlQTyrk1DyShCI3hAxFT1CXsaWEMmSh%2FYwmn04Mu%2FaPwhYbnVjeChPBu1C9pT0W3y6zteGez91cOuGJSz3jwBJkpv6xBtiCggzuvdOWk4NPJ (18+) (Sex) (Language) Before Adrian met Jessica, Helen met Maria The prequel to 'Naked Came the Vampire' about how Maria Rios came to be a Vampire, and later Jessica Diaz. The story ends with Jessica looking down the hill at Adrian at Hippy Hollow, but it starts in Alburquerque with Jessica having left her husband after he murdered their unborn child
I've been seeing a bunch of poly stuff recently so I got inspired to finally draw these three, like I think about them alot but haven't drawn any of them much. I might fully color and line this later bc right now I'm tired
Also, before anyone says something about their heights, they are all adults, Shadow is just tall and due to genetics, Luek is small due to having been very weak as a kid and his genetics are also stacked against him, Raina is literally the only (mostly)normal one.
three. i got through <> infinity
in a world where soulmates define ones capability in the world, you’re stuck begging to any high power up there to not assign you any. luck is never on your side though, not when you come to realize that the fucked up universe assigned you seven soulmates. and god, are they hot, which only makes it all the more difficult to ignore the persistent men.
authors note. yoongi being in love with yn is by far the most random thing ive ever done. i always write him so aloof idky LMFAO. thank u for reading! leave me a lil note if u like!
taglist! @borahebangtan @kawennote09 @dreamamubarak @btsarmymochi97 @tsukkisukkii @elleisaletter @toughbook @halesandy @childfmoonn @veronawrites @retrojennie @tinyoonsblog @shadyfox242 @xyahrinx @silscintilla @crushedblackroses @xxxanimangxxx @lilacdreams-00
(send an ask or comment on the series masterlist to be added to the taglist! pls don’t comment on individual chapters, i rarely get notifs and it makes me miss some of you!)
Love On The Brain: Part 8
There was a pain that was piercing at the base of your skull, the sharp intensity that had burned from the weight of the men standing at a bench across from yours as a judge turned his boasting gaze from you, one of the singular omega’s in the courtroom, to the series or six alphas you’d been bonded to.
There was silence that was heavy in the air, the tumultuous lack of sound that was, in itself, deafening as the judgement was about to come down.
Before the judge had leaned forward, before he had given his final word, you turned your head to the left and glanced upon the agent who was overseeing the case.
Your eyes had been sorrowful as you stared the beta down; the look of neutrality was impossible to perceive.
The blank stare as they sat a few feet from you with their hands folded in their lap was aggravating, and all you wished to do was scream at them.
You wanted to scream at them until they looked at you, until they looked at your alphas.
“Look at them!” You had wanted to yell and beg, plead with every inch of your resolve. “Don’t do this to them! Don’t do this to me!”
“After deliberation,” the judge had reached for his gavel, and your heart was plummeted into your stomach, “I have decided to allow the dissolution of the pack in question and allot the omega to the original pack-“
“LOOK AT THEM!” You wanted to scream, and you had.
The sound that had come from your mouth was one of instant and searing pain, as if the bond that had been formed was being ripped from your system as if every tie was being severed with a hot spear.
“Please don’t do this!” Your voice was frantic, and it took everything you had to look at them to commit their faces to memory. “Please! Please, I need them! Please!”
Your cries had become silenced by the sound of grinding metal. Your please had been silenced by the horrendous and tainted scorch that consumed the entire courtroom, your alphas and yourself separated by a wall of fire that was creeping closer. You were screaming their names, your eyes frantically searching for a way out of here.
“Please!” The scene before you had morphed again, and you were back in court, in the same courtroom with the same OAD officer and your alphas. “I was trying to defend myself! He was going to assault me!”
There were no other omegas. You were the only omega in a room full of alphas, and their scents were aggravating. Their smells were assaulting you like thick vines crawling up a solid wall, choking the life of every other plant.
You felt the click of metal around your wrists and a rough hand grab your arm.
“-danger to others-“ your hair was grabbed, and your head yanked back, a firm hand wrapping around your throat.
“-vile and pathetic-“
“Take the marks off.” There was a needle rising toward you, the sharp glint of the end catching in the light, and you knew it was sedative. You knew they were going to remove your marks.
And the judge was at the centre of it all, a grim reaper that was handing down your sentence with a pliant smirk on his face.
The bang of the gavel had sent a strangled scream through you, and the moment the sound had echoed in your head, you had shot awake.
There were beads of cold sweat rolling down your back, dripping between your shoulders blade, leaving a trail of sickly wetness in its wake, as the stench of your nightmare, of your fear, had permeated throughout the room.
“You’re okay.” Your wide eyes had roamed the room, and it was almost natural to be on edge. It was as if all your senses had made you to the alpha in your room, as if you were so blinded by fear you couldn’t recognize the notes of his scent.
Your fear had made you incapable of identifying him, and as a result, you had reached for the drawer of your nightstand to open it. Your hand had sought one of the few small weapons you had within when he spoke again, and your sense of reason returned.
“You’re okay.” When he had spoken again, you let loose the weapon and closed the drawer again. Your wide eyes had fallen into the image of Bucky sitting in a chair near your bed with his arms crossed over his chest.
He looked ragged, his eyes downcast as he sat there, projecting and casting his scent toward you to calm you.
His hair had been pulled out of his face and tied in a small bun at the nape of his neck, and there were defined bags under his eyes. He had carried the weight of an alpha who was distressed, and you hadn’t felt it until now.
Through the bond, you felt his distress. Through the connection, as new as it was, you felt his misery.
“You had a nightmare-“ Bucky had shifted in the chair he was sitting in, yet he hadn’t approached you.
“-I’m sorry. We are all sorry, but I…” he swallowed and looked away, his jaw clenching as his scent had reacted to the guilt, to the remorse and the anxiousness. “I heard you; I felt your distress through the bond, and I…Frank, Jake and I all felt it. He called and Frank….”
“It was about the trial.” You had slowly changed positions, pulling your knees up to your chest and had wrapped your arms around your knees. “Well, the second nightmare was. The first…I was being removed from this pack and given to the original. I was screaming at them all; I just wanted them to look at me, to look at you all.”
“I had nightmares too,” Bucky had cleared his throat and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, “about the omegas we couldn’t save or the ones who were too far gone. I see their faces; I see their broken spirits. Everything that was done to them by people who should’ve kept them safe…I’m not trying to excuse what we did or how we treated you-“
“Can you sit with me? Please?” You had tilted your head, your tired eyes meeting his, and the desperation to feel him was overshadowing your hurt and anger.
“Do you want me to?” Bucky had asked, remaining silent and still, and it wasn’t until you had slid over and lifted the blanket that he had stood from where he sat and moved toward you.
As he moved to sit on the bed, he had gazed at you once more, his blue irises darkening briefly as he had been overcome with conflict.
“I had been convicted guilty.” You had spoken softly, voice barely above a whisper as you conveyed your nightmare into verbals words, detailing all you could for Bucky as he had slowly started to settle beside you, his warmth and his scent, despite still being angered and hurt, offering you some comfort.
“Guilty?” You watched his dark eyebrows becoming furrowed and the hard lines of his frown mirroring his displeasure and confusion.
“The judge had said I was ‘unhinged’ and ‘vile and pathetic.’ The conviction had come, and the strike of the gavel…they had removed the marks. All six were removed forcibly while I was in handcuffs. I could feel the metal as if they were really around my wrists. It felt so real, I thought maybe…it was happening.”
“You should talk to Andy.” Bucky had made the suggestion, his hand reaching for yours as it rested around the front of your shins. “I know you’re angry with us all, but if you talk to him, he could reassure you.”
“I know it wasn’t going to go away just because I was in a pack. I stabbed…” You felt bile rise in your throat, and you had to close your eyes and even out your breathing to prevent yourself from getting sick.
“You were defending yourself.”
“I was also unaccompanied. I was vulnerable. What will the court say about that? I was on the run from the pack I was assigned to. I had…I was-“
“-defending yourself from an alpha who was going to hurt you.” Bucky had shifted closer to you, his fingers weaving in with yours, as he gently pulled your hand away from your leg and returned it to the bed. “You were doing everything you could to keep yourself from being assaulted.”
“Bucky-“ you had slowly relaxed and had returned to a resting position with your back resting against the mattress and your eyes searching his.
“I’m sorry for what I did. I know Ari and Andy are too.” He drew his fingers along the side of your cheek to your jaw. “You really should talk to him if you’re having such vivid nightmares. He could help.”
You bit the inside of your bottom lip and pushed yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap an arm around your waist and bring you to his chest. You let him rest his chin on the top of your head as he fully embraced you, easing you back into peace and comfort.
“I’m still mad at you.” You muttered, snaking your hands under his shirt to rest against his abdomen.
The office door was closed, yet you had known he was inside working on something. You could have been halfway across the property and know that Andy Barber was throwing himself into work to distract himself from both his emotions and yours.
How long had it been since you had talked to them? Hours? Days?
Time had seemed to pass differently with them here, or maybe it had been all in your head as you tried to navigate your way through this experience. It had to even out. Eventually, it had to settle and yet until it had, you were thrown for a loop.
How much time had passed?
Frank and Bucky were back; Jake and Steve took flights home today. They would all be here in one place, in one home, and you would be amongst them all again, and the reemergence of them all could throw you into another heat.
Andy, Ari and Steve would have their chance to mate and mark you. It was a necessary task to seal your position in the pack and prove to the OAD that this was the right decision. Whether you were in a good place with them had been the big question.
You descended the last few steps and had shuffled toward the door of the office with an oversized sweater, acting more like a dress than not, keeping you safe and giving you the added comfort you would need for this.
You had headed Bucky’s advice; you had come to talk with Andy to quell some of the prevailing nightmares that had left you rattled and anxious.
You approached the door and knocked twice before you lowered your hand and let the sleeves of your sweater obscure and hide your hands in the fleece-lined material. You waited until the door opened, and you were face to face with Andy, your breath hitching in your throat as you saw him, the visceral reaction to a beautiful man.
It was a conflict between how you felt about what happened and how you felt about him. You were drawn to them all; you were taken by every one of them, and yet you had still judged hurt and angered by what they had done, by how they had treated you.
“Honey,” he crooned, and his gaze had softened as it fell on you, “are you okay?”
“I want to say yes,” you had been brought to the point of tears, your throat clenching and the ability to breathe without crying was getting harder the longer you stayed there, “but no. Not really.”
“Have you been sleeping well?” He knew without you having to say anything, and you felt relief by his astute sense of awareness.
You shook your head and lifted your sleeve-covered hand to your face, your fingers wiping the few salty tears before they had rolled too far down your cheeks.
You had sniffled and then cleared your throat, your mind struggling to communicate with your tongue to get what you wanted to say out. You were at a loss for words; you couldn’t physically say what you meant, what you wanted.
“Come sit with me?” Andy had reached for your hand, his touch gentle as he pulled your sleeve up and reached for your writing. “We can talk?”
You had followed him into the cozy office and had stood near the door as he reached past you to close the door. As the soft click had echoed in the space, Andy had approached his desk chair again and sat upon the leather, shuffling a few things around to make space for you if you wanted it.
“I’ve been having a lot of nightmares about the trial…about the OAD removing me from this pack and giving me back to them like I’m nothing….”
Andy had hummed while he looked you over, studying you from head to toe before he leaned in and placed his hand on your knee, his thumb brushing against the soft leggings you’d worn under the oversized sweater.
There was an air of comfort like you had experienced with Bucky, and then you heard the same kind of genuineness behind the words he spoke with such honesty.
“I’m sorry for how I treated you. I should have never treated you like you were a job-“
“Bucky said the same thing in fewer words.” You bit down on your bottom lip. “I forgive you, all of you, but I’m still mad.”
“You have every right to be.” Andy hadn’t denied your anger; he hadn’t denied your hurt. Nor had he made an excuse because there wasn’t one. “But if you want to talk-“
“I was guilty. They found me guilty, and then I was…God…”
“You can tell me, honey.” Andy had gently pulled on your hand, gently leading you closer toward him.
“They removed the marks, everyone. There was no hesitation when the judge had given the verdict. There was no shred of remorse or hesitation; it happened so fast, and then…I could feel the handcuffs. I could feel the prison jumpsuit. I felt all of it.”
Andy had remained silent while he listened to you speak. He had heard to you telling him every manner of what you had gone through in your realistic nightmares, offering his comfort via his scent and the soft stroking of his thumb across your knuckles. He had kept his eyes on you; his blue irises fixated on you and you alone as you had unloaded all manners of your anxieties on him.
When you had finally come to a pause, Andy had tilted his head and stroked his thumb against the underside of your wrist, scenting you in comfort and warmth. He had pulled you toward him until you were close enough for your chests to touch.
“Would you like me to walk you through the process? Step by step?” you had answered him with a nod of your head, your silent movement his answer.
Andy had continued his gentility by easing you onto his lap, affixing you in a way that was most comfortable and then he had held your back to his chest with his left arm while using his right hand to move the mouse on his computer, pulling up the first of many digital files he had.
He hadn’t expected to see you when he had walked through the door into his room, although his surprise had extended beyond just seeing you in his room.
His surprise had come at you studying the little rack of numbered shells he had on the wall, your inquisitive gaze fixated on the light-coloured shells and the coloured numbers that had been fixed upon them.
You had been so focused on the shells, so drawn to their numbers that you hadn’t heard Ari enter the room, nor had you registered his scent as it had quickly filled the empty spaces of the room. You hadn’t been aware of Ari until he spoke quietly, his voice soft as not to spook you.
“Princess,” he had further entered his room and set his headphones he’d used during his run on the shelf nearest the door, watching you look over your shoulder, “are you okay?”
“I haven’t…been sleeping well. I uh…I went and talked to Andy and Bucky.”
Ari had followed your gaze as you directed your attention back on the shells, your curiosity at the object on the wall drawing him closer as he sought to give you an explanation on the item.
He had moved closer until his chest was against your back, and his hands had naturally forced to rest against your hips. He was hesitant to touch you, to put his hands on you, after everything he had done after he had made you feel as if you were nothing more than a job.
That was the farthest from the truth, and yet none of them had quantified that in any proper manner. All they had done was make you feel as if you were an obligation.
“That is the number of omegas we’d saved.” Ari had turned his head and brushed his lips against your ear, his voice sending pleasant shivers down your spine as you reacted to the feel of him so close and his scent that was so comforting and endearing.
It was the touch and the silent way of communicating that had extended the apology and acceptance without needing to air it all verbally.
There was lingering hurt, as there had been with both Bucky and Andy, but beneath the lingering hurt and irritation was forgiveness. You had and would forgive them, but you would not let it slide so easily.
“You are not just another omega. You are not an obligation or a job. You are so much more.” Ari had moved his hands from your hips to the front of your waist.
His fingers had pressed against your sweater before he had slowly started to pull up the bottom to trail his fingers along the edge of your leggings. He needed to feel you in the same manner as Bucky and Andy, just as you needed to feel his comfort.
“You saved them all?” You had reached out to touch the first shell, the number of omegas they had saved was right in front of you, and it had explained so much about why they had done what they had, yet it didn’t excuse them.
“Bucky had nightmares too.” Your fingertips traced the edges, ridges of the shell and the written number on the curve. “I could see it, or sense it, the way he spoke about them. They were intense and the…omegas they couldn’t save or the ones that were too far gone to return to everyday life-“
“It’s not an excuse, but we were afraid. We have seen what happens to omegas; all of us in different aspects of our careers have witnessed the aftermath of what can happen within seconds-“
“They removed my marks.” You had pulled your hair off your shoulder, exposing Jake’s mark on your neck, your fingertip running along the healed scar. “They removed them all.”
“They use a chemical treatment that loosens the molecular attachment.” Ari had placed his hand on top of yours, weaving your fingers together to feel the same mark. “It burns like acid. Omegas have described it as being burned from the inside, the pain is radiating, and the emptiness they feel after is traumatizing.”
“They had removed them all while I was in handcuffs.” You had pressed your back against his chest and turned your head, brushing your cheek against his chest. “It was needle after needle; it was as if liquid fire was consuming me. Even before that, the entire room was engulfed in flames.”
“It was a nightmare,” Ari hummed in your ear, his chest vibrating against your back, “it won’t happen, sunshine. I promise we will all do everything we can to keep you safe.”
“I’m sorry.” He had stood firm as you pulled away and turned to face him, your arms reaching for and snaking around his waist before you had pressed yourself flush against him.
You had nuzzled your cheek against his pectoral, enjoying the moment his scent had enveloped you entirely. “You are so much more than an obligation; than another omega on another job. You are so much more than all of it.”
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A short treatise on polyamory
Polyam is not nearly so nefarious or confusing as some folks seem to think. From my perspective (the only one I’m qualified to talk about), polyamory is about allowing human relationships to follow a natural course, whatever that might be.
I am not saying that polyamory is better. It’s not for everyone. Relationships are all different. (don’t drop into my DMs complaining to me about “how could I” unless you actually want to have a discussion about it. Most people never get past the “oh I couldn’t”. Ok then, don’t!)
For me, anyway, relationships are not all or nothing. Demanding that much from someone, that they put a big ol’ wall around their heart (or their genitals) just feels .... not for me.
As a kind of personal / emotional / political statement, I just can’t get the idea of owning someone. Everything about that rubs me the wrong way. It constricts and I just balk at the restraints.
My husband is the best man in the world. Bar none. If some lady wanted to have a laugh with him, be his friend, flirt with him and make him feel as gorgeous and wonderful and desirable as he is, I am 100% in love with that idea. He deserves it. I’m not going to draw a line in the sand and say, “yes you can be friends, but don’t enjoy each other’s company TOO much” or “sure you can flirt, but don’t hold her hand”. No way. I’m secure enough in our marriage. Another woman sharing his time and affections doesn’t take away from what he has with me. He’s not pie. I’m not losing out on a limited resource.
In a lot of cases for me, it’s “this person is really wonderful and I like having them in my life” which is what a friend is, with a bonus “I would also like to know what their kisses taste like”. I’m not interested in stealing your man, sis, I want the two of you to be happy as hell together. I just want to be able to laugh with him over pizza and beer and maybe sit on his face if he’s down for that and not have you worry that he’s not coming home to you.
As a person who is naturally polyam (as opposed to someone who chooses to live it for whatever reason), there’s the additional, more rare, openness to the idea that more than one person in the world can move my soul. I chose to spend my life with my beloved husband. I continue to choose him every day. To make him, and us, and our future a priority. When another person comes along and something about the space between us shifts my heart and soul, I am not going to ignore that connection. Love like that is a gift. Sacred. My love is a river that doesn’t run dry.
I find that some people are more confused or opposed to the physical or sexual openness of polyamory and others to the emotional openness. It seems to speak more about our personal fears than it does to anything else. Jealousy comes from fear. Fear of not being enough, not being as good as, being replaced. I don’t have that fear in my marriage, and I work hard at negating the fear in my other relationships as well (with less success, but I keep trying). Communication, reassurance, honesty.
People who tag their extremely long fic posts with polyamory are killing me please I don’t want to have to scroll past fifty posts of weirdo smut just to see some good ones
— summary: keep your heart warm, no matter how cold they have been to you
— pairing: bts x reader
— genre: angst, mafia!au
— word count: 8.4k
— warnings: emotional/mental abuse, violence, character death, allusions to physical abuse
— a/n: shorter as compared to parts 2 and 3 but i thought this would make a good chapter by itself
— part one / part two / part 3 / part 4
— masterpost “How pathetic of you to bully a child twice your age. Do you have no shame in yourselves?”
Three heads turn your way, two of them a few years older than you and one with her knees on the floor, tears ready to stream down her little cheeks. You know those two older ones, you recognize them. They once served under your mother before she passed away, and although they openly glare at you, they do well with holding their tongues back in the presence of the failed daughter who returned home.
Scramming away without a word, not even apologizing or bowing your way, your brows furrow slightly as you hear their feet scurrying away before turning your attention back on the third maiden.
A poor little soul, clothes torn and dirty, different from the clean ones those ladies had on, with her cheeks puffy red and swollen eyes, tears ready to spill at any second yet she holds them back when you stand before her.
A small little girl.
“How old are you?” You ask in a gentle voice.
“T-thirteen,” she stutters, head lowered.
Just thirteen years old, already working under the Reapers, meaning her parents probably faced the wrath of your father and were eliminated, or she was simply an orphan child to begin with, having stepped into the wrong line of an alleyway and messed with the wrong people.
You can’t help her, you have no power, and for a second watching the lithe little girl cowering before you, it almost reminds you of the face of the little daughter no one had ever cared for.
You see yourself in her and lower yourself to your knees.
“How long have you been here?” You ask and she answers obediently.
“Two years, my lady.”
Two years, so about a year after you left the Reapers household.
A small bitter chuckle leaves your lips. “Do you know who I am?”
“I…” She looks up timidly, tears still held back but despite it all, you see courage and strength in them. “Y-You’re the...the daughter of..of the boss.”
“That’s right,” you nod, “then you should know that I am not a.. ‘my lady’ to anyone here, right?”
“...” She doesn’t say a word to that, brows furrowing slightly and for a second you almost think her tears are for another reason. “But…”
“I am a nobody in this house. I have no power, so even if I want to help you, I cannot do anything for you. The only thing I can do is drive the presence of my lower subordinates away.” You give a rueful smile. “They do well in leaving the room when I am present. They will not help nor listen to me, but they will leave. So if you should ever need anyone to stop bothering you, just come to me and no one will dare to stay when bathed in my presence.”
You thought that she would nod, listen to your kindness, but instead, she hits you with a question.
“But why?” She asks in her small voice. “Why do they do that, my lady?”
You almost want to laugh at the way she’s still calling you that title despite the fact that you’ve already told her of you having no respect in this house.
“I am incompetent,” you simply say. “I am nothing but a pawn,” you pause, giving her a small smile, “a useless pawn. That’s why I returned here, because I couldn’t be made useful to my father or my ex-husband. When you can’t do anything right, when you can’t have an answer as to what you’ve done wrong, when they can’t even give you an explanation...that’s how you come to know that you are unloved and uncared for. That’s how you know that you are useless. And that’s why I came back. Silence holds a lot of answers, little one, and sometimes that silence can damage you so much more than any word can ever do.”
You stand back on your feet, ignoring the small dust particles your dress has picked up from the floor, and begin to walk away from the little girl who watches you with pitiful eyes from behind.
You hadn’t expected her to run to your side that quickly but she does, the very next day, knocking on the door to your room with innocent doe eyes looking up at you. You take one glance to the side and see the back of a man walking away to realize someone was bothering her again.
“Good job.” When you pat her lightly on the head, you see the most sweetest smile with the most precious eyes which turns into crescents at your praise.
She doesn’t speak much, but you find out her name a few days later after her daily visits, yet it becomes too frequent and you begin to grow weary.
“You cannot keep relying on me, Yuna.” A tilt to the side and you know a little girl her age doesn’t understand what you’re saying. “I cannot continue to protect you, you will have to eventually learn to defend your own self.”
Her face falls at your words and you hate the way you know you’ve probably shattered her hope in life. But what else can you do? You can’t even protect your own self.
“If you keep coming to me, my father will eventually find out. If not by himself, then his servants will let him know and no one,” you stress, “wants me to be happy.” Her little brows crease and you let out a small sigh, not wanting to explain this to a child but she has to know. This is the world of the mafia, after all, and concealing her innocence will only harm her.
She has to know.
Otherwise one day she may lose her life if the warnings never reach her ears.
“If you keep staying by my side, if you keep coming to me, and if you let anyone know of our kindness to each other...you will die.”
Her small body freezes in place, her eyes kept still, but you see the fear in them as they begin to tremble and her own body begins to follow soon after. She wants to ask you something, you know, but Yuna can barely even open her mouth without her voice cracking before you.
She wants to know what you mean.
And you let her know.
“You will die,” you repeat, voice a little softer, a little weaker, and a little more frail. Your eyes fall to the floor yet you keep your tears behind, knowing that showing weakness is unpleasant even towards a young child. “You will die, just as the first person who had ever shown me kindness.” She looks at you with an arch of surprise and curiosity and a bitter chuckle leaves you. “Perhaps some servants have wanted to show me kindness, perhaps they’ve wanted to reach out and lend me a hand…but they know the consequences to that. Father will kill them if they ever care for me.”
You’re surprised by the utter venom that leaves the lips of a small child, surprised by the amount of hatred she holds in her eyes as she speaks of those servants, and a part of you yearns for that sort of courage she has to hate others.
You want to hate others but…
Keep your heart warm, no matter how cold they have been to you.
You take a silent breath in and a silent breath out.
“Perhaps, but it changes nothing, as you can see. No one wants to reach out and no one wants to die. That is why...I cannot protect you, Yuna,” you tell her softly. “Even if you weren’t the one to reach out, if I were to ever care for someone...father will kill them as well. That’s why you shouldn’t associate yourself with me. I will only kill you.”
“No, I…” She shakes her head from side to side, tears welling up along her eyes as if the single thought of leaving you will break her. “You’re the first kindness I’ve ever met.”
Just as Mister Butler was to you. But you killed him in return and you know more than anyone to never do that to a child.
You stand from your seat and turn your back on her. “I will not allow myself to kill a child.”
“What did I tell you?”
Yuna lets her tears fall, it’s the first time she’s ever allowed her tears to fall, and your heart breaks knowing you’re the cause to them. But she quickly goes to wipe them away as if she understands, as if she knows just how much her tears are affecting you. How much of a burden they are to you.
A small child but knowing that someone before her is suffering and hiding her pains. She knows she can’t burden you with her tears when you have your own ones to deal with.
“I..” She clears her throat but even then, when she speaks again, her voice still breaks, “I can’t leave you.” A small sniffle and she looks up at you with such a desperate expression. “Please,” she says as she claps her hands together. “Please, my lady, let me stay, I-...L-let me vow my loyalty to you...only you.”
You frown. “No,” you tell her firmly. “What is the use in giving your loyalty to someone who can’t even defend herself? Need I remind you that I have no power?”
“I don’t care,” she cries and cries. “I’ll serve you. Only you.”
“My lady.” A strong voice, broken yet strong, her eyes though filled with tears, are also filled with such determination and for a moment you’re speechless at how earnest and stubborn this little girl is. “Let me serve you.” A knee to the floor and a head bowed. “Until the day I die, my life is in your hands.”
A lost child, orphaned, and hurt, looking for guidance and a parental figure and she finds that in you. Just as you had seen Mister Butler, she sees you in that light and the mere fact of you deserting her will only result in a shattered child with a loss of hope.
How can you ever do that to a child?
“You have to promise me something.” Her eyes widen slightly when she looks up at the frailness in your voice, at the sight of your tears forming along your waterline. You lower yourself before her, meeting her at eye level as you take her small, poor little hands into yours and wrap them up as a mother would a child. “You have to promise.”
“I..I-I’ll do anything for you, my lady.”
“You have to promise me that you won’t love me.”
Yuna freezes in place yet you stay firm and shake your head.
“If you love me, I will not allow you to stay by my side,” you warn her softly. “You got that? The second I see that in your eyes, I will discard you.” She doesn’t say a word so you push her further. “Yuna.”
You’re so small, so small and weak compared to your father, yet the way you speak her name is so commanding Yuna almost loses her composure for a second. Tears fill your eyes, desperation, but at the same time there is strong determination and so much strength in them that Yuna knows right at that second, there is no one else she would rather follow than you.
The first promise made from the first follower of the ruined Reaper’s daughter.
You’re pushed so hard into the very room you hoped to never return to and stumble onto your feet, causing a hard landing onto the floor. The pain on your shoulder hurts but you pay no mind to it as you rush back onto your feet, not daring to glare at the man who handled you unfairly but pleading at your father instead.
“Please,” you say as you fall to your knees, hands tightly clapped against one another as you look up at him. “P-please don’t keep me here. Anywhere but here.”
A disgusted scoff falls from his lips. “So shameful,” he utters without emotions and it stabs at you in ways you’ve never hurt before because hearing this from a father you love and being reminded of the very words your ex-husband once told you hurts more than anything.
Namjoon still haunts your thoughts everyday just as the rest of them and it hurts. Your stomach twists in ways it’s never done before, filled with heartache and fear which threatens to consume all that you are. Every word that he’s ever spoken to you repeats in your head and you try to block them out by covering your ears but that stops nothing.
His words stab countless needles into your heart.
Stop it, please stop.
“You’re a grown woman yet you still dare to shed your pitiful tears before me? If you really wanted respect, you wouldn’t dare show your tears nor bend a knee to anyone.”
“Please, father, I—”
“Useless. Utterly useless.” He turns his back to you without another word and just as he begins to walk away, you see the little girl that has vowed her loyalty unto you, eyes filled with so much hatred as her jaws clenches hard.
Yet you shake your head her way, losing faith, and her eyes which shows so much disgust and protest is the last thing you see before the door is slammed shut before your face.
The wind hits you hard and you’re reminded once more of another scene with Namjoon.
The first and last fight you had with him when he had shut you out and everything began to fall apart.
You can feel your body trembling as you try your best to avoid the condition of the White Room, knowing more than anyone how terrifying it is. Perhaps it may look like an ordinary room to just anyone, a once white room that’s now filled with black and dirty marks like jagged knife scrapes, but to you, it is a nightmare.
A nightmare you can’t seem to ever escape.
You crawl yourself to a corner, facing the wall so you don’t have to see anything, and push your knees so close to your chest. Then with a bit of discomfort from your aching shoulder, you hug yourself as you begin to rock your body back and forth.
It’s comforting in a way.
It’s supposed to be comforting and keep you away from the fears but how can this ever be a form of comfort anymore after you’ve had people who were by your side to hold you?
“But they’re gone,” you whisper to yourself. “Gone…”
A tear falls and another falls and you shake. You tremble hard.
“Hoseok,” you hear yourself call out a name. “Hoseok please…” You don’t know what you’re begging for because he’s gone now, you’ve pushed him away, left him alone to deal with the problems for himself. You left him, you left them all.
“Hoseok, I...I’m scared. I’m so scared.”
“You can come to me.” You hear his voice in the back of your mind, so soft, so gentle, as he holds out his arms for you. You want those arms, to collapse into them, to let them hold you and take all the fears away. He loved you still and maybe Hoseok could have been the key to fixing the relationship but you were too afraid to find out. You want to hold onto him and rely on him yet at the same time, you’re afraid of him.
And now they’re gone, the promise is gone, just as you will never be able to go to Hoseok ever again.
“What do I do...what do I do, Hoseok? Who do I rely on now? There’s no one but me yet I...I scare myself the most. What do I do, Hoseok?” You cry pitiful tears and your voice breaks and fails at times but almost as if thinking alone won’t help you, as if you have a chance at him hearing you if you were to speak your thoughts aloud...he’d come.
“Please save me...Please hold me...Hoseok…”
Yet no one comes.
And no one ever would.
You fall quiet when Yuna expresses her anger for the first time ever.
“Why do you just let him do that to you?! Why didn’t you fight back?!”
Why indeed. Why, why, why? You ask yourself that every day yet the same answer comes back to you every single time.
“To survive,” you tell her. “That is the only way I can survive.”
“But don’t you want to live and not just survive?!”
Of course you do. Of course.
But how? How can you?
You want to scream and shout and blame the world for the life it’s given you, faulting it for every single thing that has happened to you but how can you? How can you blame anyone else for your very own life choices?
Keep your heart warm.
Keep your heart warm.
“It’s my fault for being weak and useless.”
“No, that’s not it.” Yuna cries and cries for you. She gets angry, gets upset, and wants to hurt others for you. Just for you. “You can’t blame everything on yourself because none of this is your fault.”
You shake your head, not wanting to hear any comforting words at the moment because it reminds you of them, of what they once were before the coldness got to them.
Keep your heart warm, no matter how cold they have been to you.
Cold. The room is so cold.
“Please leave,” you ask Yuna without sparing her a glance and you know, you know she wants to protest but you can’t have her in the room no longer. She will only give you false hope and you can’t love anyone anymore.
They’ll all leave in the end.
“Leave.” So you decide to shut them out first. “You’ll die if he ever finds out you’re only loyal to me.” It’s an excuse, an excuse, and although Yuna probably understands that, she knows not to go against your words. “So please leave.”
Keep your heart warm.
You don’t have the heart to look at her because you know she’s probably crying for you, wanting to help, to reach out and lend a hand. But you can’t take it, you can’t even allow her to hold her hand out in the first place.
She’ll leave in the end, just like the rest of them.
“What happened to you?”
It aches a little but you allow Yuna to apply some poultice on the shoulder you injured when that man had pushed you onto the floor a few days ago. You couldn’t get it treated yourself, not since you were locked up in the White Room for around three days, and although you had hoped to keep it a secret from Yuna, she eventually found out and is now tending to you.
“The shoulder?” You ask a question with a question.
“No,” she shakes her head. “I know how you got that and I’ll deal with him late—”
“No.” You quickly say in a firm voice. “You can disobey my orders with anything else but interfering with anything that involves my father or openly standing up for me is an absolute no. I will not kill a child.”
Yuna falls silent for a moment, eyes a little fearful when you stare down at her but eventually she nods solemnly.
“I’m sorry, my lady.”
Keep your heart warm, your voice echoes in your head and you let out a sigh. “You’re a good kid,” you say with a small pat to her head, “I don’t want you dying for my sake. Being like this is already dangerous enough but luckily no one enters my private room. You have to be careful.”
“Yes, my lady.”
You turn around once more to allow her to continue tending to your shoulder. “What were you trying to ask?”
“I…” her hand pauses mid-air, “I wanted to know why...why you returned,” Yuna asks. “Aren’t you afraid of your father? Unless...Mr. Kim was worse?”
“No,” you shake your head lightly. “Mr. Kim treated me much more fairly than father could ever do.”
You fall silent for a moment and the room echoes in silence, but Yuna doesn’t say a word. She knows how to be patient, she knows when it isn’t the right time to speak, when to listen well, and that is what she does. She listens to your silence, until the moment you can speak again.
“I fell in love.”
She remains silent but you know she’s surprised by your answer to her simple question, a question that hurts to hear, a question that hurts to answer, and a question that keeps swarming in your own head every single day.
Even if Namjoon and the others didn’t love you anymore, you could have stayed, safely and securely from the pain of your father, from the trauma he has instilled onto you.
It was one of the toughest decisions to ever make and even now you wonder if you’ve made the right one.
Even if Namjoon and the others no longer loved you, you could have lived hiding away from your father.
“He loved me too...they all did.”
But staying with them has hurt you far more than you could have ever imagined.
“Mr. Kim had six lovers before me, before the marriage, and they were the ones to fall in love first. I was scared then, scared of their love, afraid that one day I’d be left abandoned and some misfortune would befall us if I were to accept their love. I was afraid of falling.”
You remember the kindness they held in that moment, the soft hands which caressed you so gently, the kind whispers, the tender smiles and touches. You remember it as if it were yesterday. Yet yesterday is no longer, just as that precious moment.
“They made me a vow, a promise. They promised to catch me when I fell. And fell I did, pretty hard. They caught me though, just as they promised to. But just as they caught me...they were also the very ones who dropped me and shattered me.”
You aren’t even sure if your words make sense to a thirteen years old but it doesn’t matter.
“...Oh.” Yet Yuna responds well. “Why?” She asks. “Why did they catch you just to let you fall?”
“...That’s a very good question,” you say with a rueful smile so transient it’s become a habit of Yuna to catch that split moment when you give her a smile. Fake as it is, she catches them all.
When she finally finishes wrapping the bandage on your injury and helps you put your sleeves back on, you turn to the young girl who has yet to understand the concept of love. “This is why you cannot love me.” She listens to your words, her eyes never leaving yours as you speak directly to her. “I lost once, then all seven at the same time. Love...doesn’t work for me. If you love me, I will be the one hurting in the end and I don’t think...I don’t think I can handle a false hope anymore.”
She bites her lower lip for a second, eyes trembling. “Do you believe I will one day leave you too?”
“Everyone does,” you say and allow no words of hers to protest against that. “And I suppose that’s why I returned. Because in here, I can predict the outcome. I’m used to the pains and sufferings here. In here, in the Reaper’s house, no one loves me so I don’t have to be disappointed in the end. I can predict the hurting so I can hurt a little less.”
“That…” Her tears return once more as her brows furrowing with frustration. “That’s not...you shouldn’t...it’s not…”
Yuna doesn’t know how to form her words yet you understand at the sight of her strong fingers clenching onto her skin so tightly.
“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” You say with a bitter chuckle. “But I’m fine. I’ll be fine...one day.”
A child like her shouldn’t have to trouble herself with your nonsense. She has her own troubles to worry about.
“How do you expect to survive in this world if you can’t even hold a gun?” The words your father spits out are harsh as he always has been when he watches you from afar, gaze as sharp as that of a hawks’, with two of his men standing tall on each of his sides. “Pick it up,” he demands and you stand there, staring at the handgun you had failed to hold just seconds prior, now dropped on the floor helplessly.
You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath in, because you know that despite how afraid you are of that thing, your father’s disappointment far exceeds any other fear you hold in your heart.
When you crouch to pick the gun up once more, you aren’t sure if your slow breathing is occurring any longer, the only thing on your mind is to try and keep calm as you feel the metal in your hand.
You feel yourself trembling, the beat of your heart racing a thousand beats per minute, and suddenly you can’t see what’s before your eyes any longer. Images of the two dead bodyguards and Mister Butler flashes in your mind like a recurring nightmare that will never go away.
A shot to the head. A bodyguard falls.
Someone holds you down, shielding you from the bullets. A shot to the head and he too, falls limply onto your body.
The weight is heavy against your chest and you aren’t sure how to breathe.
You hear a gunshot far in your memories, so distant, so faint, but you remember being so alert the second you heard it. At the time the sound was so loud and clear, ringing and ringing in your ears, and the next thing you knew, you were standing right before a pair of eyes that no longer holds light.
He was your sun.
Hands far too unstable to hold onto something, you feel the gun slip out of your grasp and when it hits the floor with a loud thud, your blurry vision falls clear once more as your mind retraces back to reality.
Ah, you’re scared.
You close your eyes tight, not wanting to look at that disappointing gaze of his, not wanting to face his wrath.
Yet you hear it loud and clear when his heavy footsteps marches towards your smaller frame. Your shoulders tense up, hunching close to your ears as your body shakes uncontrollably, yet the thing he lashes his anger out on isn’t you and when you hear a harsh slam of the gun to the floor right before you, you know he’s picked up the gun meant for you and smashed it to pieces.
“Are you that incompotent?! How weak are you to not even be able to hold a simple gun?!”
You flinch at his booming voice and bite hard onto your lips in order to keep your whimpers from escaping. If you make even the slightest noise, he’ll bring you back to the White Room. He’ll punish you.
“Fine,” you hear his strained voice when he turns for a moment. “If you can’t hold a gun, then hold this.”
Your eyes open to face what he has to offer but you weren’t at all prepared to be thrown a dagger right at you.
“Ah!” The sharp blade cuts your palm and drops to the floor and blood quickly begins to drip heavily. You let out a gasp, holding onto your wrist when the pain stings but fear more of the moment your father takes a harsh inhale.
He holds his temple as if suppressing his anger, and when that doesn’t work, the fire in his eyes is enough to make you tremble as he turns from you. “Take her to the White Room.”
Your eyes widen.
Two strong arms take ahold of you when the door opens wide and father leaves the room without a word. “Fa—” Just as you’re about to call out for him, you catch sight of a familiar little girl and her screams.
Two people are dragging her away forcefully and your heart stops.
“Let her go. Hey!!” You rush to run to them but is forcefully held back by your own people and quickly struggle to leave their grasps. “Stop!! Let me go! I order you to let me go!!”
Yet no one listens to a word you scream out.
“Let me go!!”
You scream and shout, trashing your body as much as you can but they’re far much stronger than you will ever be, and in just a split moment, the sight of the little girl who looks up to you so much falls out of sight.
No one listens to you and you’re thrown back into the White Room once again.
Yet this time you’re more desperate to get out, this time you scream until your lungs give out, until your throat sores and can no longer take it, throwing fists after fists, banging onto the metal door so hard, begging and pleading and not caring for the blood and blisters that forms along your hands. Yet no one listens.
No one hears as they fall deaf to everything that is uttered from your very own lips, from the only daughter of the Reaper.
You aren’t sure how many hours you’ve stayed in that room, you aren’t even sure when you passed out but you did and when you open your eyes again, it’s when the doors to the White Room have opened up once again.
A gasp leaves your lips and before the guard can even tell you you’re free to leave, you stand up so fast and dash straight out of the room in just a split second.
Darkness fills your vision, your head spinning and your feet stumble upon one another but you don’t care to treat your own self just yet. You have a mission and that is to find Yuna, to make sure she’s alright.
You hear voices, asking after people, and though they show open disgust towards you, they tell you where Yuna should be and you run after the place.
You aren’t sure how many minutes have passed but even though you’re out of breath, even though your head spins in endless circles, you don’t care one bit unless you see it with your own pair of eyes that Yuna is alive.
She has to be alive.
That little girl with so much passion, so much life in her eyes.
They can’t kill her.
You hear a few voices from a room and immediately hide behind a wall, waiting and watching until the door opens and two familiar men emerge from the door. The same men who took Yuna away.
Anger rises from your chest but you know better than to confront them. You’ll risk Yuna’s life that way and even though there’s a chance she might not even be alive anymore, a part of you still has hope.
When they walk down the opposite hall from where you came from, it takes a few more seconds to watch their backs disappear before you stand before the door leading into a room.
Room 157, it states.
A long corridor of rooms fills this space up, a building different from the main house but still resides in the same property of the Reapers.
You feel so sick you want to throw up. Who knows how many other prisoners they’re keeping in here.
You shake your head to rid of the useless thoughts as you know that right now, confirming Yuna’s life is far more important.
The door creaks open and the first thing you notice is the cold air immediately taking over your body. You shiver and hold yourself. One single light source falls into the room from an open window, illuminating a small, little body, who holds herself up into a sitting position, her head hung over towards the floor as her arms are wrapped against her stomach.
You let out a gasp and quickly run towards Yuna after making sure the door was locked shut.
Upon your voice, her head slowly looks up.
“Yuna!” You feel tears stinging your eyes and in just a split second, you’re right by her side and allowing her to lean onto you for support.
“Ah…my lady…” She calls in a frail voice. “Why are you here?” It’s barely audible but you hear her. You hear every single word.
“You’re so cold.” You leave her for a moment to shut the window closed before returning to her side with your jacket taken off in order to wrap her up well. “What did they…do to you..?”
The sight of her is enough to know just what it is that they did to her.
Her face is bruised, cut lips, red markings on her neck and arms, and she holds onto her stomach so much you know they’ve probably gone there as well.
Tears fall from your eyes as you hold onto her. “I’m sorry,” you cry. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t come any sooner.”
“No,” Yuna shakes her head lightly, “If you did…I would have been in a worse state. I would have died.”
“Still.” You can’t forgive yourself. You can’t. “If I…If I came sooner..—”
“What are you talking about, my lady?” She leans away from your hold, brows furrowing as she examines the state you’re in. “They locked you up, my lady. There was nothing you could have done,” she says as she takes both your hands in her hold, letting you gaze down at how they appear before both your eyes.
One palm smears with blood from the dagger, your knuckles and the side of your hands cut and filled with red blisters from all that banging in hopes of knocking that door down.
You were so desperate to save Yuna you forgot about your own pains.
“We’re in the same boat,” Yuna says as tears fill her eyes and begin to roll down her cheeks before she can even hold them back. “I wanted to save you but I couldn’t and you…you wanted the same.” Her little hands tremble as they hold yours, pain and guilt filling her expression as she looks at them. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“How can you say that? Why would you apologize to me?”
“I don’t know, I…I don’t know anything.” She falls into your chest, crying and crying. “I just…I just want to make it all better.”
But she can’t and she doesn’t know how.
Just like you.
How do you save someone when you can’t even save your own self?
Yuna bandages your hands up so that you can treat her wounds.
The room is quiet, so so quiet, but the silence is comfortable and the silence is soft. You need no words exchanged in order to understand each other, not when you’re the only ones who can rely on each other.
Yuna is but a child trying to survive in this world after your father took her parents away from her forcibly. She yearns for your affections, for your love, and although you know you cannot accept her love nor can you give it to her, you let the little girl stay.
After all, she’s the only one keeping you sane at this moment.
With Yuna, you can breathe, even if it means a little. Because a little goes a long way and a little is just enough for you to open your eyes the next day.
She lays on your lap when you finish bandaging her petite body up, lying there as a child would seeking for their mother’s warmth. Her body curls up closely, head resting on your thigh as you sit there on the floor of your bedroom, lightly running your fingers through her hair.
Eventually her breathing slows, eyes no longer twitching, body no longer trembling, and the grip on your hand loosens. A blanket falls on her body as she falls asleep right there on your lap.
You hum a light tune, watching over her with a gentle gaze even as your heart aches at the sight of her peaceful expression.
Although Yuna is only ten years younger than you, still you feel a connection with her in ways you’ve never felt before. If you ever had a child, would it be like this?
But then again, that would mean having lovers, wouldn’t it? Having a husband who still loved you?
Your brows furrow and a silent tear falls from your cheek.
In the silence of the room, you’re far too afraid to let out a cry so you sit there, watching Yuna carefully as your own tears descend silently.
Two broken souls holding onto each other so the other doesn’t fall.
You only have Yuna now, and she only has you.
“You want me to...remarry?”
You can hear your heartbeat racing hard, hard, and hard. It drums so loudly, so quickly, as your mouth dries and your throat clogs up with an invisible force after hearing those words uttered from your father when he passes you a folder with the man he wishes you to remarry.
Yet you don’t wish to open any of its content and see the face of a stranger.
“Father, who would want to marry someone who had just recently divorced?”
“Why does that matter? It’s not as if I’m asking the both of you to love each other.”
“Do you wish to disobey my orders?” He raises his voice, a glare leveled your way to make sure you know not to go up against him and normally you will cower, normally you will sit back down and lower your head and listen to his every word but this...you can’t do this again.
You’ll only hurt in the end and you know that if you were to ever fall into another mafia’s household, you may break. Who knows what sort of man this person is but either way, whether they will be kind or just as your father is, the outcome will remain the same and you know more than anyone that you do not wish to shatter once more.
“Please father, please reconsider.” You run to his side, kneeling down the floor and lowering your head before him. “I know I’m only a pawn but I’m useless, aren’t I? I can’t do anything right and if you send me to another mafia house, this one might not be as forgiving as Mr. Kim was. Mr. Kim was gracious enough to lend you his power even after the fact that we’ve divorced but—”
“Then why did you let him divorce you?!” You flinch under his raised voice but keep yourself still under his foot, knowing you can’t back down despite how afraid you are of him. Your eyes are squeezed shut and you know, although you know that father isn’t one to hit his own daughter, still you await the hand to come down at any time.
“Why are you such a worthless, incompetent child who can’t even keep her own husband? Just how much of a nuisance were you for him to return you yet be kind enough to still lend me his power? You’ve never done anything right and for once I believed things were going well, I thought that for once you were doing your part yet here you are, back on your very knees and at the foot of her own father. You’re useless.”
He stands from his chair and you hear his footsteps stomping away with a storm right behind him. “I’ll be a damn fool to send you elsewhere. Send her to the White Room.”
Your eyes open wide and your head is quick to turn towards the figure of your father walking away. Two men walk towards you, both of them you hadn’t seen before, both of them tall and bulky and fear overrides you.
“Please…” You beg, yet no one listens.
And once again, you’re handled roughly and without a care, dragged back to the very room you’ve dreaded your whole life.
When the door shuts after they’ve thrown you into the White Room, you remain lying on the floor without moving a muscle.
Tears fall from your eyes as your heart aches and your stomach churns and your nostrils thicken and your body trembles. You hold your hands to your mouth, trying to keep the noise from leaving your lips because you know uttering a single sound will only anger your father.
You don’t want to face any more of his wrath. You don’t want him to throw you away again and into another mafia.
You told him it was because the inevitable would come with you returning as a useless child but the truth is, you just don’t want to marry anyone else other than the very same boys who had broken your heart and left you completely shattered.
You don’t want to marry anyone else but Namjoon.
Kim Namjoon who hates you.
You love him, you love him, with all that you are, no matter how worthless and foolish you are and no matter how much you never deserved to love him. Any of them.
Even still, even as you were the one to break the chains around your wrists, even though you were the one to call off the marriage and asked him to never let you meet them again, you love him still. It hurts more than anything to love someone so hard, to still love when the other party has already forgotten.
You fell into the relationship like a fool, knowing the consequences that you’d face yet risking it all despite it. You are the fool that thought you could ever have love and keep it until the day that you die. You are a fool, a dumb, useless fool.
“Worthless, incompetent child.” Your father’s words echo in your head.
“Stop,” you tell yourself. “Stop it.”
“Stop..shut up.” You hit your head.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“So shameful.” This time these words belong to Namjoon and you choke out a cry yet it fears you so much because you’ve made a sound.
“Please,” you beg at no one at all as you slam your fist down onto the hard floor. “Please.” What are you begging for, you aren’t sure. Why are you begging, you aren’t sure. But you want it to stop, you want everything to stop.
You don’t want to feel anymore, you just want to be numb.
Numb to the pain.
Yet you can feel it all. You can feel every little ache that stabs needles into your heart countless times. You can feel the stinging of your knuckles as you slam it onto the floor. You can feel your pounding headache, your aching heart, your wet tears, the coldness of the room. Everything. Everything.
Keep your heart warm, no matter how cold they have been to you.
Keep your heart warm.
Ten Years Later
A shot right through the chest and he falls, like a completely wasted plastic bag. A useless, utter fool.
You’ve pierced him straight through the heart, just as he deserves, for all the countless times he’s stomped on it without a second thought. He doesn’t hold a heart in the first place, so what use is it to him at all? If anything, you’ve only done him a favor.
When you walk towards the hopeless man with clicking red heels and stand right above him so that he can see the face of the very person who’s sending him straight to hell, his eyes widen a little.
“Huh,” you speak, completely unfazed, “that was a bit...unsatisfying. I thought it’d be more thrilling killing my own father.”
A string tugs at the corner of his lips. “Who knew…” He coughs a few times, face anguished in pain as blood pools around him. “Who knew the very person..I brought into this world...Would be the one to end me.”
You stare at your father without any sign of emotion masking your face. You feel nothing as you watch him lying there helplessly. “You never saw it coming?” You ask and it takes a few painful seconds for him to shake his head.
“I would be mad but...I’m actually quite proud.”
What a foreign word to both you and him.
“You don’t seem happy.”
“Should I be?” You ask flatly. “Perhaps I would have ten years ago, before I finally realized how shitty you were and that I would never live up to your expectations. But now?” You watch the night sky, noting at the darkness of the clouds and the coldness of the air. Rain is coming. “Now I feel nothing.”
“How foolish indeed,” you agree. “Though I didn’t do this for my own satisfaction, although that could have been a bonus,” you say. “You were just an obstacle in my goal so I had to get rid of you.”
“That’s right...Because you..you are daddy’s little girl.”
A small scoff leaves you as you return your dead gaze back on the very father who you once yearned so much for. “You’re wrong about that, father. I’m no one’s little girl. I’m my own girl and I belong only to myself.”
A shot straight through his head and his eyes are no longer filled with light. They never were in the first place, never had any sort of light, and now they belong completely to the dark. Just as it should have been from the very beginning.
And right on time, the sky rumbles and the rain falls from the sky.
You close your eyes and tilt your head towards it, allowing the rain to simply fall and fall, and for a moment you think it’s rejoicing, as if to fill in the void of your emotionless self who doesn’t understand the concept of joy. The sky rejoices in your stead, screaming in thunder claps, filled with such a storm, the wind howling and crying, yet you stand there, standing still beside the corpse of the Reaper.
You’ve done it.
You’ve killed your father, the very person who has tormented you your whole life. He’s gone now and never to return ever again.
Yet you feel nothing.
No joy, no sadness, you simply feel...nothing.
He was proud of you, he said, and you scoff because of how dumb that was. It doesn’t make you happy, it only fills you with disgust. That man doesn’t deserve to utter such words to you, as if saying so will make a difference and have you begging him for forgiveness.
But you’re done with that. Done with apologies, done with crying.
And now that the very man who held the highest position to the Reaper’s chair is dead, it’s your turn to take the throne and wear your crown.
You’re the Reaper now.
You hear a small gasp behind you and with the click on your heel, you turn at an instant with your gun leveled right at the very man who made the sound and—
Right before your finger can pull the trigger, you meet the very eyes of a man you once loved long, long ago.
Kim Namjoon and his lovers right behind him.
They stand tall, crisp black suits, with brows furrowed and mouths slightly agape at who they see before them; an ex-wife, an ex lover. Eyes as dark as the eclipsed shadow, it widens slightly as they burn straight into your soul and for a moment, just one split second, you think you may have felt your heart taking a single leap.
But it ends there and once more, you feel absolutely nothing.
You stand there with your gun pointed at Bangtan’s boss for a moment, eyes never leaving Namjoon as he takes up your challenge. Silence fills saved by the pouring rain and the noise of the city street.
Ten years has certainly been long since you no longer feel that yearning, aching, and love you had for them long, long ago. You no longer tremble before them, no longer cower, and no longer watch them with the eyes of the pitiful mafia daughter who could do nothing to defend her own dignity and honor.
No longer that shameful, pitiful wife.
You’re the first one to break eye contact.
You tilt your gun back, spin it along your forefinger before placing it at your side.
Well, you hadn’t expected your ex-lovers to be the ones to catch you in the act of killing your own father but it is what it is. They always believed you to be a spoiled little princess and daddy’s little girl but here you are, an image entirely different from what they have always known.
You take a step back onto the edge of the skyscraper and without blinking an eye, let yourself fall and have the wind catch you.
They never disappoint unlike some certain people.
“Y/N!” Hoseok calls.
It was Hoseok.
Ah, he sounds as concerned and worrisome as you once remember so well. The memories slowly retrieved for just that moment, the same ones you’ve forced yourself to shove back which had been hidden so well under all the darkness that you have succumbed to.
When you let your eyes open, you see their alarmed faces but in just a few seconds, your body is caught in the arms of a certain second-in-command, who holds you securely without falter until the moment the two of you are back on the ground.
A small smirk curls along your lips as you hop onto your motorcycle and ride off, knowing fully well that their eyes are trailing right behind you, just as you once were ten years ago.
But that weak hearted girl then is no longer here. You’re the owner of this body now and you will no longer tolerate anyone getting in your way.
If your life was a fanfiction, what genre would it be and how would you tag it ? ?
You were such a friend you thought you would be able to sneak your Cuntiness in and steal my husband. Worst scenario it was mutual for us to all be together.
You wanted him to yourself. You were working your hussel and then guess what…what was your text “you win” “ he’s all yours” what was my comment? “He always was!”
So karma is a bitch “my friend “! Hate to be in your side of it. I manifested you leaving and you left.
The joy of alternate sexuality!
New paintings coming this week! ❤️☺️ Yay! I'm so happy 🙂 I'll get to share them with you! And they'll be available in both print shops. 🤩👕 1 Polyam inspired landscape 2 Agender inspired landscape 3 Seascape with sun Are you excited!? I am. 😉 #scans #scan #painting #availablesoon #soon #excited #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtpride #lgbtpride #agender #polyam #agenderartist #nonbinaryartist #polyamorous #polyamory #nonbinary #nonbinarypride #agenderpride #polyampride #sunset #sunrise #art #artbyveya #acrylicpainting #artwork https://www.instagram.com/p/CXIwyiXr9w0/?utm_medium=tumblr