For I Have Sinned
“Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God’ For God cannot be tempted by evil.” James 1:13.
But Father Geto can be.
Newly appointed Chaplain of the Noble Court, Suguru is a reformed sinner. Sanctity, discipline and celibacy are commandments of his choosing. A devout servant of the Lord. Armored with the Breastplate of Righteousness, the Shield of Faith.
This should be sufficient enough to withstand temptation.
Right?
Pairing: Geto x Female reader
C/W: Religious themes, dark romance, eventual filth. 18+. MDNI.
A/N: Holy hell. Anon, you sick, twisted genius. You, the puppeteer. Me, the puppet who writes. This one — this story might be the one. Frothing at the mouth to know what you guys think. Going on AO3 for sure. I haven’t decided if I will keep this long fic series here, but since it was an anon ask its only right to honor them with the first chapter.
Art credit: @ potchi_jpg on X
Music: Garden Kisses x Giveon (this was on a manic repeat for at least an hour. It wrote the chapter. I implore you to listen and levitate like I did).
CHAPTER I. Hello, Duchess.
Andesite. Dacite. Schist.
Gorgeous.
Suguru takes a mental note of the rock formations whizzing by just before he spears the Aegean Sea. Tailwind force trailing his feet in an elegant whirl.
Eh, mediocre landing. He’s out of practice.
It’s true. Seminary did not allow for too much idle time in between biblical studies. Devil’s playground, and such.
And it’s not in his nature to half-ass any life endeavor, whatever it may be.
Suguru deftly levels out in the welcoming waves. Loose-limbed and fluid. Choosing to hover below her surface for a few moments longer. The tail end of his thick, singular French braid undulating behind him.
His body flows in tandem with the current. Swimming deep enough to scatter a pool of Fagri. He instinctively captures one in his large hand — not quite as out-of-touch as he thought.
‘Make it to shore! If Poseidon calls, don’t answer Him, son!’
The gentle fisherman called out each time Suguru dove off their vessel. Still two or three, sometimes up to five miles from the coast, he’d plunge into the waters. Regardless of her mood, Suguru craved to be surrounded by her embrace.
To be baptized by her tide.
Showered with her salt of the earth.
A dampened smile blooms across Suguru’s terse lips. Oxygen bubbles float about, from the muffled chuckle escaping him.
His father’s voice rings between his ears. A little less clearly, nowadays.
He always dove deeper than his fellow seafarers. Without the restraints of gear or protective equipment. Unnaturally comfortable in an element more labile than human nature.
Suguru’s father mused about his Stormborn boy’s true lineage.
‘Everyday, I prayed for you. Begged for you. And the God of the Ocean delivered a precious gift. Don’t return to His storms too soon.’
Fond memories, a little yellowed now. Callouses from those days have faded.
Suguru is a different man. Born again. In a new country. With a new home, a new purpose.
Even still, it’s comforting to know the world is 70% water, 30% land. And the Great Majority has always welcomed him with open arms.
No matter the iteration of his life, he’ll always find a home at Sea.
“Father Geto!”
What?
Suguru begins his ascent. He is still by the cliff edge. Not nearly far enough for the Sirens to beckon.
“Chaplain! Are you out there?”
Not even the saltwater penetrates his ears like this melody.
An ethereal crescendo. With all the grace and beauty of a summer swan. Light enough to lull stoic men to a peaceful, permanent, slumber.
More alluring. More disorienting than the songs at sea he’s heard and resisted. Potent enough to drown a warship.
Who is calling for him?
Suguru chases the lethal sound. Careful pauses at each depth-level. To avoid returning to Poseidon’s storms too soon, as his father would say.
“Father Geto!”
Ahh, a voice he recognizes. His alter boy, Noel, at the peak.
Helios is kind, today. Because the Sun kisses Suguru as he breaks the surface. If the Ocean is his home, the Sun is certainly his lover.
“What is it, Noel?” He calls in between strides to the volcanic edge.
“You have a visitor!” A tremble to Noel’s tone. Suguru cant help the low chuckle that leaves him.
Adolescents are always so anxious. Nervous about the most inconsequential, meaningless things. He was once the same.
Who could be visiting? His schedule is supposed to be cleared today.
Suguru laments leaving his clothing at the peak of the cliffside. Tossing a glance over his left shoulder - memories of his past life tattooed in various symbols. His back, covered in a sprawling trident.
A permanent stain from the life he lived before this. It’s unbecoming of a priest to be seen this way.
Latching onto the unforgiving rocky edges, Suguru scales the steep terrain in long steps and short holds. Serrated earth digs into his damp palms with each grasp.
He savors the pain. It’s familiar. An indication that he’s spent some time in the only other place he finds unfettered peace.
“Noel, my schedule was cleared. Who could be—“
“Pardon my intrusion, Father Geto.” You seep into Suguru’s sentence, effectively answering his question.
Music.
Suguru nearly falls backward off the ledge he just set foot on.
Rumors about your beauty pollenated the compound for weeks. Anxiously anticipating your arrival. Hushed voices between maidens. Whispers within the walls of parlors. Bellowing gossip between court officials.
All the words, all the speculations roll around Suguru’s skull. Louder than glass shattering in an empty room.
They were wrong.
Liars.
Not even a tenth of the truth can be found in the frivolous ‘she’s a beauty’, ‘what a pretty face’ and comments of the like taking root in the compound.
No, no.
You were sculpted by every single Deity Suguru has ever studied.
Because the One he has chosen to worship couldn’t have possibly crafted you alone.
The good Lord is simply without the means.
Suguru will have to repent for that blasphemous thought later.
…but God granted him eyesight, no?
Eyes that can see underwater with the same clarity as a cloudless day. He trusts his eyes more than any part of his body.
And they aren’t deceiving him.
Flushed and turned away, Suguru takes a moment to soak you in, while patting himself dry. Maybe taking a little extra time to step into his khaki slacks and white button up.
His wind pipe threatens to spasm with each sip of you he takes.
Exquisite woman.
You could convert a non believer in an instant.
The gentle slope of your nose, those warmed soft, high cheeks deserve to be cherished in a museum.
That dress.
The tailor must’ve sewn it to your body in real time. Rolling hills and dips of your feminine curves. So quick to surrender to the ride your frame is taking him on.
Suguru could fall to his knees and praise the Gods right here and now for their attention to detail.
“Duchess? I’m embarrassed. Forgive my attire, I wasn’t expecting visitors today.”
Still damp but fully clothed, Suguru walks forward with a steady hand outstretched. Intentionally skipping eye contact with Noel, who would’ve interpreted the glance as anger. The boy is practically vibrating in his periphery.
Concerned about possibly making a mistake, sure. But if Suguru were still a betting man, he’d bet your presence is driving Noel’s rattled nerves.
“I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness!” Unveiling your face to him with a gorgeous smile, you offer a delicate hand that drowns in his.
Well.
To call it just a gorgeous smile makes him no better than the rumor mill and its grave underestimation.
The air around him is sliced to a fraction of what it was. Suddenly gossamer thin and inadequate.
You are breathtaking.
“Please.” A deceptively even tone and casual wave of his hand. You wouldn’t know that words taste like sandpaper.
“How can I serve you, Duchess?”
“You do not have to address me as such, Father. I’m not wed, yet!”
Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you laugh. Heat scorches Suguru’s ears and you both are presently under shade.
Do. Not. Covet.
“It’s all the same.” With a restrained smile, Suguru peels his eyes away from yours.
Resting them on his rectory in the distance. He gestures his hands forward. Noel scrambles ahead of you two, undoubtedly to go tidy the chapel (that is already spotless).
“You’re quite the swimmer.”
You could assassinate him, you know.
With that voice of yours. The way it stuns his senses. Far more dangerous now that it isn’t dampened by unrelenting waves.
Suguru is a strong swimmer. He knows it. Noel knows it. The whole court knows it. Great Whites know it.
So why is his spine unraveling at its seams when you say it?
Why is his heart knocking against his sternum like it’s on the run from something?
From someone, rather.
“Mmm.” Suguru hums through closed lips.
Unable to acknowledge the compliment with decorum. He opts for diversion instead.
“Duchess, if I may. What prompted your visit to the chapel? How can I serve you?”
The two of you take lazy strides along the cobblestone path. You ogle at a white rose bush that Suguru is particularly fond of.
“I was touring the compound and noticed the garden surrounding the Church.”
A distracted response, while nestling your nose in a pretty bloom. Sun rays fanning your face as if to showcase that you’re God’s favorite. A biblical example of how flowers should be enjoyed.
Is it just the roses? Or are you this beautiful no matter the plant?
“Ahh. Come, then.”
You’re being indulgent, Suguru.
Maybe so. But the Chapel Grounds are his domain. The greenery lives and breathes under his fingertips. He adamantly refused a groundskeeper for the garden. Taking pride in nurturing its needy existence.
Second only to his eyes, Suguru trusts his hands fully. They’re intelligent. Fast. Expansive.
Definitive. Firm when the situation calls for it, yet gentle. Quick to learn.
Attentive.
He’s never gotten a shortage of compliments on his hands—
“Wisteria!” You torpedo through Suguru’s rapidly disintegrating spiral. And he couldn’t be more grateful.
Regaining a shred of control, he leads you under the oak archway. Draped in curtains of Wisteria. The billowing lilac petals sway romantically in the sea breeze.
Your lips hang open in a pretty, shocked ‘Oh.’ Eyes wide, gazing up at him in wonder. Adoration woven into those beautiful features slams hot and heavy into his lower abdomen. Remnant embers warming below his belt line.
Suguru coughs to reset his over-sensitive senses. A futile gesture because you knock him right back down to his knees.
“Oh, Father…..please?” A soft plea rolls through the slit in your lips. Pulling his eyes down to your pout.
Fuck.
The rock formation Suguru took note of earlier suddenly materializes in his throat. You coated his honorific in a new tone. Breathy and desperate. As if he is the only person who could satisfy your needs.
His skin is half a degree away from melting clear off his skeleton under those big, warm eyes of yours.
“Specify your request, Duchess.”
Both hands jam into his pockets so he can dig his nails into his thighs unnoticed. The searing pain tethering him to this dimension.
A deep rose blooms over your cheeks. Realizing you hadn’t actually asked him a question before begging.
So, prettily.
“May I please tend to your garden? It’s…I’m far from home and gardening brings me so much joy. Please, Father Geto—“
“Yes.”
His agreement comes well before Suguru is ready. Or, thought it through.
Should a noble woman be seen doing tasks as menial as gardening?
Should you be seen without your fiancée on his grounds?
What will you look like?
Kneeling over a bed of sunflowers?
Kneading the soil with your delicate, small hands—
“How can I thank you?” Your lips curl into an intoxicating smile. And Suguru no longer has the capacity to be in your presence.
“No need, stay as long as you like. I have to take my leave.”
Suguru offers a curt wave and terse smile before spinning on his heel. Leaving you, a work of art, beneath the masterpiece that is his arc of wisteria.
He barrels down the Chapel corridors at light speed. The pews, confessional, meeting rooms whirl by his periphery in a drunken haze.
Cold water. Cold water.
The wooden bathroom door creaks and wails beneath his harsh touch. Suguru fumbles with the two-level lock.
He nearly strips down naked. The fire incinerating him from within is unbearable. If there were scissors within grasp he would’ve cut his braid completely off. Because even the familiar sway of his waist length mane along his back is too much.
You are too much.
Suguru’s fingers unravel his braid and reposition his locks into a tight bun. Off the damp skin along his neck.
‘Father….please?’
Your voice echoes from Suguru’s incapacitated brain down to his drooling cock. Icy water splashes against face.
Suguru’s length has been weeping since you first revealed your face to him. Twitching and thrashing with every single word that came out of that pretty, sinful mouth. He’s never been so grateful that today he chose to swim with compression gear, rather than his usual bared skin.
Are you doing this on purpose?
Wide eyed and demure. But with a voice more beautiful than any siren that has tried to lure him to his watery grave.
Is this a test?
Suguru’s fingers desperately grasp the golden cross around his neck. Digging the symbol into his palm.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…” He starts. Ignited, smoldering violet eyes staring back at him are unrecognizable.
They are not of God.
They are dark.
Lust filled.
“Now. And…and at the hour of our death.” Words slip through his gritted teeth. His other hand grips the sink edge.
‘May I please tend to your Garden?’
“God. Please.” Suguru is the one pleading. To anyone above.
For self-control. For reprieve from the shape of your lips when you beg. His cock bucks against his inner thigh. Demanding attention to the ache between his legs.
Are you Eve?
Have you come to destroy his Eden?
Your delectable mounds barely hidden beneath that fucking dress as the Apple?
“Holy…Holy Mary, Mother of God…pray for us sinners.” His vice grip around the cross tightens. Babbling words he hopes can provide him with some restraint, some clarity.
They don’t.
Because his other hand now hovers over the pulsating bulge in his slacks. His manhood starved. Especially having been deprived of touch. Of warmth for longer than Suguru remembers.
“Holy…Mary…fuck.” Blasphemy rolling off his tongue.
Scorching heat radiating from his hovering palm pierces his clothing. Encasing his cock like a warmed blanket. Enticing him like the soft sex of a woman. Every single muscle is under wire tension. Forcing space between his need and his hand.
His hands. Don’t forsake him now. He trusts his hands.
“Father Geto? Are you alright?” Noel’s call from the other side of the door startles Suguru still.
“I’m—“ Suguru clears his dry throat “I’m alright, Noel. What do you need?”
“I saw you run in here and—“
“I’m okay.” Suguru replies, more softly this time. The boy is almost too tender-hearted for his own good.
He doesn’t miss the small sigh of relief.
“I left your updated schedule on your desk.”
“And what would I do without you?”
Suguru can almost hear Noel smiling across the barrier. Gleefully padding away. Completely unaware that his presence was the saving grace from disgracing himself.
Another splash of cold water on his face and multiple deep breaths later, Suguru finally gains enough composure to emerge.
Curious about the updates to his schedule, he strides to his office. A leather folder awaits with his itinerary.
Saturday: 0800 - 1000- Youth lecture
Saturday: 1800 - 2000 - Evening mass
Sunday: 0700 - 0900 - Morning mass
Sunday: 1300 - 1400 - Pre-Marital Counseling [CONFIDENTIAL]
“High court, then.” Suguru muses to himself. Pulling out the envelope with a matching demarcation. Meant for his eyes only. Should the seal be broken en route to the recipient the offender could be sentenced to death for treason.
And at this moment, Suguru finds that fate less painful than the spear currently piercing his lungs.
His eyes burn into the names written at the bottom of the page.
The Duke Ahriman & The Duchess-to-Be.
E/N: Hello from [redacted]. I am literally losing my shite. I’m already in love with the plot before it has even fully materialized. And prince-of-the-sea-Suguru? This headcannon has me in a chokehold I fear. Thank you for reading 💋
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rock god
you've got one year left to either finish your novitiate and become a nun like your parents always wanted, or leave the order and live a secular life like you've always wanted. but the fact that a sister's flirty nephew is staying in the convent for the summer provides a perfect distraction to such headache.
♔ PAIRING: rockstar!jungkook x novice!reader
♔ GENRE: 80s au, angst, smut, humour, fluff, s2f2l
♔ WORD COUNT: 16.3k another long one i'm sorry
♔ WARNINGS: minor characters death, religious themes, catholic guilt, smoking weed, swearing, sacrilege and exhibitionism: fingering in a church, profanity, blasphemy, quiet sex & loss of virginity (you're probably thinking girl AGAIN?), protected sex, betrayal, one mention of rape
♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: for an atheist i do seem to write a lot about religion lol. the first song jk writes & performs for reader + the inspiration for the title is rock god by selena gomez, and the second one church by chase atlantic. i recommend you listen to them in advance☺️ also, we'll pretend jk is blond in the banner okay?
1986
The day was going incredibly slow, as all of last month’s had.
Most people would attribute that to the fact that you were a novice, but their idea of what that entailed was far from the reality. Contrary to popular belief and even if some sisters wished it was the case, cloistered nuns didn’t spend all day just praying. There were many other things to keep busy with in a convent, such as attending to one’s studies, doing household chores, or working to bring money in and keep the place going. Free time had never been the part of the day you looked the most forward to, though, until recently. Not that it got any better then.
Contradictory as though it was, you were kept from the present by the same plaguing thoughts you didn’t want to be left alone with… And sometimes, such as now, you didn’t have any choice but to force yourself back into reality, running late as you were.
The novice mistress Sister Daeun—that is, the one responsible for the training of the novices—had assigned you to fix the torn seams on your classmates’ habits that morning. Hey, someone had to do it. So off you ran through the cloister not to melt under the same sun others didn’t seem to mind.
Others being Jungkook and the group of girls who gathered around to listen to him play the guitar.
The presence of men wasn’t rare in your abbey, built some centuries back. It was sort of shut off from the rest of the world, hidden up in a mountain, but lost hikers always wandered into it and the abbot was more than happy to let them spend a night or two as guests, regardless of their gender.
Jungkook was a guest too.
He was in a rock band, or so you’d heard, and that career choice was why his parents had kicked him out, something you’d pity him for if he wasn’t always in a cheery mood whenever you chanced to see him around. Of course, what guy wouldn’t, surrounded by girls?
It didn’t bother you that some of your less spiritual sisters succumbed to his tattoos, long dyed blond hair, charming voice, and piercings. Their parents would doubtlessly tell them to stay away from someone who looked like a delinquent—your conscience did too—but then again, they were the ones who’d forcefully made them join the order, so you understood where the girls’ disobedience came from. On a personal level, in fact.
Though not because of the same reason, you weren’t there willingly either.
Unlike theirs, your behaviour wasn’t scandalous in any way and there was no need for you to be schooled in rectitude, no. This was just the path your parents had wanted you to take since you were little and you’d resigned to comply, however unhappy it made you. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t make a good nun, devout as you’d been raised and actually enjoyed being, but it wasn’t your calling.
Leaving the lively cloister behind and trying to do the same with your affliction, you rushed to your destination.
About three hours later, you were still sat in front of the sewing machine in the otherwise empty laundry room, humming on a loop the part of the song Jungkook had been playing earlier. You couldn’t deny it was catchy... Besides, you needed a tune to distract you from the machine’s repetitive noise and the summer heat, or else you’d go crazy. Maybe you had already, given you’d failed to notice someone opening the creaky door and walking in.
“Hello?”
Startled, you raised your head to meet the eyes of the rockstar himself, filled with something akin to interest. “Oh, hi...”
Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” Before you could kindly tell him not to worry, that it was your fault for spacing out, he grabbed the hem of his shirt to show you the hole in it that until then you hadn’t caught sight of. “I was told to come here to get this fixed?” He then glanced at the dozen habits lying on the table you still had to work on, and changed his mind not to burden you, “But I can come another time– Or not at all! I mean, ripped clothes are trendy, aren’t they?”
For the first time in a while, you laughed genuinely and not out of courtesy, “I wouldn’t know, there’s not much variety in a novice’s wardrobe.” Since Jungkook’s t-shirt would just take a moment to mend and you didn’t mind helping him, you decided to neglect your current task without a second thought, holding out your hand with a smile. “It’s alright, really!”
“You’re an angel.” He smiled back as he took off his t-shirt, exposing a toned body you weren’t prepared for. Bet he says that to all the girls, intruded a thought in your mind as though to make go away the uplift of his compliment, but you brushed it off before he reached the table. “By the way, was that my song you were just humming?”
“Oh? I heard you sing it earlier, but I didn’t know it was yours,” you said while getting to work. Meanwhile, Jungkook leaned against the door’s frame. “I don’t really listen to music much.”
“What?!” He was utterly shocked, eyes wide like he’d seen a ghost. “That’s the greatest sin of all! I’ll have a serious conversation with the abbot, they’re not teaching you girls the important stuff here.” Father Jimin would certainly be amused at such a request. “But I did see you running earlier in the cloister, now that I think about it. It is hot, Y/N, but I don’t believe the floor is in flames.”
He knows my name? What a stupid question. Whoever had told him to come to the laundry room must have seen you entering it and mentioned you’d be there.
“Yeah, I was late, had overslept. It probably looked like someone was chasing me… Nun on the run!” you rhymed out of nowhere. “There’s a title for your next single.”
“If naming my songs will get you to listen to them, I’m down.” You looked up from the task at hand to ask him if that meant he’d credit ‘Sister Y/N’ as a songwriter, but the sight of someone walking down the hallway towards the laundry room scared the words away. “You know, you’re too pretty to be a nun.”
Sister Daeun, now right behind Jungkook, smacked the back of his head and asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jungkook’s smile turned into a pout as he rubbed the spot. “Nothing, aunty. Ouch…”
Yes, he was her nephew, which was the main reason why Father Jimin had allowed him to stay not just for a few days, but the whole summer. Sister Daeun had promised on his behalf that as a thanks, he would help around to earn his bed and under no circumstances put in peril anyone’s vow of chastity. If he weren’t so good-looking, you imagined she wouldn’t have needed to make that promise.
“Y/N…” she sighed when she saw the pile of habits you had yet to fix the seams of. Despite the disappointment in her voice, she made sure to say tactfully, “It’s almost midday, I asked you to have all of them done before ten.”
Jungkook was the only one in the room who had no clue as to why you’d been working so slowly, but he didn’t hesitate to step forward when your head lowered in shame. “My bad, I’ve been distracting her for hours. And on top of it, I gave her more work…”
He approached the sewing machine, got his t-shirt, and put it on, all while you stared at him at a loss for words. Why would he take the blame? Sister Daeun started telling you to finish some other time and get ready for lunch, but you stopped listening, attention fixed on Jungkook as he discreetly winked at you before leaving.
That wasn’t the last time you met that day. Well, incorrect, because it was past midnight.
Like many nights before, guilt stirred a restlessness that kept you from falling asleep, the only solution you could think of being walking around the empty abbey in the hope of tiring your body and with it, your brain. It wasn’t that easy, though, often hours how long you’d wander about, always ending up at the cloister. Sitting on the stone base between the columns and gazing up at the stars brought some peace to you. More than praying, it appeared.
That night, such peace was disrupted when barely after ten minutes of it, the sound of a lighter being flicked made your head whip around.
“So you do have hair,” Jungkook joked as he sat against a column, bending one knee so he could rest his elbow on it. Although a bit embarrassed you were in your pyjamas and thus wearing no white veil that covered your head in front of a guy you didn’t know, you did the same on the next column to be able to face him. “Can’t sleep either?”
“Lately, not.”
He puffed at his joint before offering it to you, and a short laugh broke through your lips. Was he seriously tempting a novice to burn one with him? To be fair, he did mean to help you sleep, but it was still a bit… much for you. “I’ll pass, thank you.”
“Yeah, probably not a good idea,” Jungkook nodded at his own words before taking another puff, blowing the smoke to a side so it wouldn’t reach you. “I don’t want your parents to make a complaint because there’s a bloke loose in the convent corrupting the nuns. Can’t afford to be kicked out of here, too,” he whispered the last bit, as though talking to himself.
“Don’t worry, that’s not happening.”
“Why not? Are you girls not allowed visits or something?”
“No, we are, it’s just… they died last month. Car crash.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” You could see in Jungkook’s wide eyes how much he regretted bringing them up. “That explains why you were out of sorts this morning... Agh, I can’t believe they’re still making you do work, what a bunch of heartless pricks! Not to mention class, I mean, isn’t it summer?”
His indignation for your sake came as a surprise. Ignorantly, you’d allowed prejudices to decide what kind of person Jungkook was before he got the chance to show you himself. The familiar guilt well-deservedly returned to grip your heart.
“Father Jimin actually had me switch jobs with some sisters so that I’d get to do less demanding stuff,” you came to the poor abbot’s defence. “It makes no difference, but he’s not to blame nothing can.”
"Doesn’t praying help?” He took another puff, lips curling into a smirk at the thought that next crossed his mind. “I thought nuns had a direct line with God.”
The truth was your relationship with the Lord had strained. As someone whose thoughts and desires couldn’t help but fall into sin over and over, you didn’t feel worthy of His comfort, or dared ask for guidance. His or anybody’s.
“I have to go through the telephonist angels first, I’m not an official nun yet.” The muscles of your face relaxed, gaze falling to your lap. “To be honest, I don’t think I want to be.”
Jungkook’s head cocked to a side. “Really? So, what are you doing here? You don’t strike me as the type forced by her p– uh, family.”
“I do like this place and what they’re teaching us, but I’m here because my parents wanted a saintly daughter who could put in a good word for them up there. I tried telling them once that I have dreams of my own, but it ended in an argument they had the last word in. Now that they’re dead, it’s like the topic is permanently sealed, I can never talk them out of it. And I mean, I love them, so how can I disappoint them? What would it say about me if I waited until my parents were dead to disobey them?”
Only after you finished venting did it dawn on you that perhaps you’d said too much. After all, what did Jungkook care? What did anyone?
“What’s your dream?”
The question took you aback, but you still answered, “I’d like to go to university, get married someday, have kids... Not be trapped inside these four walls for the rest of my life, you know?”
“I know exactly what you mean, trust me,” Jungkook said quietly before puffing at his joint again. “You’re free to leave, though, right? I don’t need to master-plan an escape?”
You hummed a laugh, mindful not to be loud enough to wake anyone up, given neither of you should be out of bed. There may or may not have been a curfew you were breaking, as well as a tradition called the Great Silence in which everyone kept quiet from the final liturgical prayer of the day until the earliest one the next morning. It was a rule often broken, especially by you, but that didn’t mean the abbey wasn’t dead silent.
“Anytime I want, yes, only next year I’m supposed to take my solemn vows.” Jungkook nodded but a slight frown gave away he didn’t know what that meant. “Poverty, chastity, and obedience? It’s like a wedding with Jesus. I can always divorce him, but that doesn’t mean marriage is a light affair.”
Most orders didn’t work like that. There were various stages one had to go through before becoming a professed nun: an optional aspirancy, then a postulancy, a novitiate, and finally, a juniorate. Since you’d gone to Catholic school all your life, you’d skipped the first, done no more than a few months of the second, were about to start the final year of the third, and would not be doing the fourth since your convent didn’t teach it. Instead of six more years of formation before taking your perpetual vows, then, you had only one.
“Damn, and here I thought I had the most fucked up horoscope of the year. Maybe we were born on the same month.”
“What do you mean?”
“Doesn’t everyone know my parents kicked me out because I want to be a rockstar?”
“Yeah...”
Once again, you’d assumed wrongly about him. That because of his profession and looks, he was a rebellious kid who hated his parents and was glad to be rid of them. You hadn’t even considered their shunning might be putting him through a hard time.
“Look, disappointing your parents beats living a miserable life just to please them, even if it sucks. One day we’ll be old, and I personally want to look back and not regret my youth, feel like I wasted it. I’m not gonna tell you what to do but if you want my opinion, getting out of here and chasing your dreams says no more than you’re in charge of your own life.”
You had no idea why after that, Jungkook had taken it as his mission to stick with you.
It was common knowledge that you’d barely uttered ten words since your parents’ accident, so all eyes were drawn like magnets when you engaged in conversation with him of all people for hours on end. Since you came from vastly different worlds, it surprised you too that even though his company didn’t lessen your guilt, it was the best way to distract you from it. And precisely, that was his intention.
He would sit next to you at meals, trying to convince the sisters around the table in all seriousness that because they were cloistered, they weren’t aware Earth had been invaded by aliens last year.
“Do you think we’re stupid?” a postulant asked, giggles escaping you at how ridiculous the conversation you were having was. “Some of us do go out sometimes, I think we would’ve noticed.”
“They want you to think everything’s normal because only an army of nuns can defeat them!”
“How do we know you’re not one of them, huh?” you played along, narrowing your eyes in suspicion while Jungkook placed a hand on his chest, feigning shock.
“Aunty will vouch for me but even if not, I can’t believe you’d doubt me. We’ve known each other for like, what, a week? That’s enough for me to follow you into battle.”
“Sorry but can’t be too careful during an alien invasion.”
“That I warned you about! Why would I say anything in the first place?”
“I’ve been here for many years,” an older nun chimed in from the other side of the table, making everyone turn their attention to her. She addressed Jungkook, “You’ve just reminded me why I joined the order.”
He blinked, dumbfounded. “Why, sister?”
“Men talk so much nonsense it makes my head hurt.”
To see Jungkook argue playfully about aliens and men with a seventy-year-old nun who was having none of his shit was an experience, but it wouldn’t be just that.
Like you’d told him, Father Jimin had allowed you to switch jobs. Your old one consisted of embellishing clothes with elaborate religious embroideries—hence why Sister Daeun had asked for your help with the torn habits—that would later be sold on a street market stall in town beside other products manufactured by your sisters, whereas your new one required almost no effort.
There was an old married couple nearby who ran a goat farm, and a small group of nuns from your convent helped them in exchange of a portion of the food they made, instead of a salary. Father Jimin was clearly trying his best to raise your spirits when he’d assigned you to tend to the cutest new-born goats, but it wasn’t until Jungkook tagged along and you saw him struggle with the baby bottles, spilling milk all over his clothes and cursing at the tiny animals, that the abbot’s goal was achieved.
“No, no, no, come back, you little shit!” He chased a hoppy kid around the barn, unable to contain that lovely high-pitched laugh.
“How are you making a mess out of literally the easiest thing in the world?” you teased from the bag of pine shavings you were sat on, another kid resting otherwise peacefully on your lap.
“That’s easy for you to say, I’ve got Psycho making me do cardio over here!”
“Try this one,” you giggled, motioning to the empty spot beside you with your head so Jungkook would sit down. When he did, you lay the kid on his lap carefully and brought the baby bottle to its mouth, both of you watching as it fed without any problem. “See?”
It didn’t take long for the milk to run out, after which you and Jungkook stroked the kid to sleep while the other one still hopped around, sharing a smile when your fingers accidentally brushed.
Because he’d tag along, you agreed to helping out in the kitchen on another day, as time was somehow bearable if he was there. But you were still going through the motions, your parents’ absence ever-present.
“What do you think?” Jungkook stirred you awake from your trance. “Bitchin’, right? The best thing you’ve ever heard?”
The song that got stuck in your head the day you met was playing on a boombox he’d brought from his van and put on the worktop while the two of you and three other sisters cooked lunch.
The girl you’d just heard, he had explained, was the band’s lead singer Amber, whom he sometimes joined apart from playing the guitar. There were also a Hoseok on the drums and a Taehyung on the bass. Bangtan, their name was. You’d never heard of them.
“I’m not sure about the lyrics,” meaning all the cursing and allusions to sex, which got your sisters flustered in the background, “but I like the tune.”
“The tune…”
“I’m just more used to church songs, is all.” Jungkook’s eyes lit up. “No.” You knew he was thinking exactly of blasting his rock songs in the middle of Mass.
“Why not?” he asked as a joke while trying to steal a couple of french fries from a dish. You slapped his hand before he could.
“Because Father Jimin will exile you, duh.”
“And don’t you think I’ll give up yet. I’ll be found outside your cell’s window playing music on my boombox until you agree to go out with me.” You should’ve cast away the heat before it reached your cheeks, as his flirting was obviously just for fun. Something he did with all girls and which meant nothing. “Better yet, I’ll write you a song.”
“I don’t think a novice is the perfect muse for a rock song, especially if it’s about…”
Jungkook shook his head. “I’ll keep it PG-13 for you, I promise.” He then grinned, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll start working on it tonight.”
You weren’t together at all times, though. No, you had class, he had work, sometimes you didn’t see him for whole days. Such was the case one cloudy afternoon around three weeks after first meeting, when Father Jimin approached you in the cloister. It had been a while since your last visit to his confessional box, so you feared a scolding.
“I wanted to talk to you, actually,” he said with that distinctive, soothing voice of his as you walked together, “about Jungkook.”
Your heart missed a beat for a reason that escaped your knowledge. It felt, somehow, as though you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t. “What about him, Father?”
“I hadn’t seen you smile for a while and now it’s all you do when he’s by your side. I know the past month has been very difficult, so it makes me happy to see you get through the loss of your parents, Y/N.” Did it really look like things were fine? Well, better that than having everyone worry about you until things got fixed, if that ever happened. “However,” Father Jimin continued, “as your Spiritual Director, it’s my duty to advise you not to rely too much on someone other than God for solace. There’s a reason for enclosure, so that the outside world doesn’t distract us from religion. Unless… you’ve reconsidered your life as a nun? There’d be nothing wrong with that.”
What Jungkook had told you that first night, you’d been chewing on ever since, but God and your parents had long won the war. ‘Honour thy father and thy mother’ was one of the Ten Commandments, after all.
“I have no doubts. I belong here.”
The last time you’d stepped in town had been for the funeral, but Bangtan was doing a gig at what Jungkook claimed was the coolest venue he’d ever been in and he’d managed to persuade the other members to perform Rock God, the song he’d pulled an all-nighter to write. You didn’t know what a title like that had to do with someone like you but apparently, the lyrics were from your point of view.
“You have to come,” he’d begged for the millionth time across the table the previous day, interrupting your Bible reading in the library. Luckily, nobody else was there, or had been before his arrival.
‘Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.’
Did that mean He would forgive you for the sin of going against your parents’ wishes? That you could hang the white veil and live how you dreamed of? The next passages from the Book of Isaiah answered those questions.
‘If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land:
But if ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.’
In other words, you were fucked. There was no way out.
“I’d have to ask Father Jimin for permission, and I don’t think he’d let me go to a rock concert.”
You’d laughed to yourself at the idea but Jungkook had been serious, insisted, “Tell him you want to go buy groceries or something, he won’t say no to you.”
“You mean, ‘lie to him because he’ll take pity on you.’”
“Please.” He’d sank his elbows on the table, leaning so close you almost had to back away. You would have, had he not bewitched you with the most angelic of smiles. “Do it for me? I’ll tell Saint Peter I made you do it so he lets you in Heaven.”
That’s how you ended up in the queue for his concert, holding a plastic bag full of stationary you’d told Father Jimin you needed for class.
Jungkook had given you no ticket, said telling the security guy your name would suffice, and surely enough ‘Sister Y/N’ got you in. The habit had wisely been left at home, but the man still frowned at your modest outfit before putting a wristband on you that was a different colour than everyone else’s. You assumed it meant you were VIP.
There was a secluded area with round tables near the stage you were indeed taken to, where only a handful of other people were hanging out, waiting for the show to begin. You wouldn’t have thought of approaching them, as there was likely nothing you had in common, with them or anyone in the whole poorly lit venue. If you were there, out of your comfort zone, it was for Jungkook only.
The lights at some point changed colours and finally, the concert began. Bangtan got on the stage and performed song after song, giving their all to an audience that cheered loudly. You cheered too, captivated by a Jungkook who made you feel things with every look he gave you.
His blond hair was wet, whether with water, product, or sweat you didn’t know, but it dripped down his curls to his ripped clothes which allowed a glimpse of the inked skin of his torso. When had he got new tattoos? They weren’t there the day he’d got his t-shirt off for you to sew. You had never paid much attention to those that covered his veiny right arm and hand, but now you found yourself tickled by the fact, and wanting to see them up close. Definitely the tattoos, not his bare body… But most tantalising of all was the passionate way he played his electric guitar, moving around the stage with a confidence that made it clear he belonged there.
With that confidence, though, came a cockiness that had him eye-fucking every pretty girl in the crowd. Who’s to say he didn’t write songs for them too? Not to mention Amber, to whom he sometimes got so close you feared they were going to kiss—as did their fans, judging by their screams of excitement.
The last song of the night was Rock God, which he made sure to announce by enthusiastically mouthing you ‘This is it!’. You braced yourself for the lyrics.
Preacher man walked into the club, and he said
He said, "Hey girl, can't you walk and not stray?"
Father, I'm torn and I'm selling my soul to the
Rhythm, the beat and the bass
'Cause I can't confess my rock and roll ways (Ooh)
'Cause I'm so possessed with the music
The music he plays
Was the preacher man supposed to be Father Jimin? He wasn’t likely to walk in the venue right then, but the idea of him attending a rock concert was so absurd it made you smile. You guessed the tone of the song before Amber had even got to the chorus.
I can't stop my feet from dancing to the sound of his drum
(Oh no) I fell in love with my rock god
I can't keep my hips from swaying to his sweet melody
You see, I fell in love with my rock, rock god
Oh, so not only did you like his music in this narrative, but you were also in love with him? You raised an eyebrow at that, to which he failed to bite down a smile. There must be thrill in succeeding to seduce a novice.
The next verse was similar to the first one. Then came the chorus again, twice, but it was the bridge that struck you, putting an end to the fun you were having. Jungkook watched your reaction closely, as he had during the whole song.
No, I wouldn't change a thing even if I could
'Cause I chose a path and I'm not looking back
And I'm sorry if I left the angels crying over me
The chorus was sung twice more but the music muffled into the back of your mind, the bridge’s words lingering in the foreground. Would you be able to choose a path that resulted in your angels weeping? How could you? And how could Jungkook portray you as remorseless over it, when the matter was eating away at you inside?
The show was over before you knew it, and the audience slowly exited the venue while the band got out of their rockstars outfits and makeup backstage. About fifteen minutes later, they came into the area you were sat in and Jungkook bumped fists with the friends who’d come to see him in a rush, so as to not keep you waiting any longer.
Checking out your collared shirt and ankle-length skirt while approaching, he whistled. “Gee, Y/N, I can’t handle myself when you dress so sexy.”
“Because a novice’s habit is so much better.”
“There’s an appeal to it. Makes a man want to tempt you.” Earning a smile from him, you rolled your eyes. “Thoughts on the song. Shoot.”
You pouted. “Full of blasphemies. Are you supposed to be the rock god?”
“Who else?” Jungkook asked surprised. How did that escape you?
“Then why do I say ‘sound of his drum’? You’re a guitar player. Are you trying to set me up with your bandmate?”
“‘Guitar’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘god’,” he said matter-of-factly, it hitting him in the pause that followed. You laughed. “Well, yeah, neither does ‘drum’… but it does a bit more, right?”
“A bit more, yes. So, are you and Amber dating?”
Jungkook smirked. “Jealous much?”
“If you are,” you ignored his question, “she might not be too happy her boyfriend’s writing songs to other girls.”
“She has a boyfriend,” he cleared up, lifting a weight off your chest. “We’re just friends, what we do onstage is part of the show. Don’t worry, you don’t have to fight anyone to keep me.”
“What a relief,” you joked, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Listen, I’m gonna get going, it’s late and you said you were getting some drinks with Bangtan, so I’ll leave you to it. I had fun tonight, you did great.”
“I can drive you to the convent,” he offered, but you shook your head, picking the plastic bag up from the table.
“It’s alright, Sisters Joan and Theresa are still at their stall in the street market. I’ll go back with them.”
“Swell…” he said under his breath, hoping you couldn’t tell he’d wanted to say ‘bummer’ instead.
You didn’t see each other until the next night, when you broke the curfew yet again to hang out in the kitchen. Sat on the table, the two of you discussed your dilemma while sipping at the awful tea Jungkook had made. There weren’t many ways to fuck up tea, but he’d still managed it, holding the old kettle responsible.
All had begun with him pointing out you’d paled towards the end of Rock God and you telling him the lyrics had moved you because you’d chosen to finish your novitiate. There was no way, therefore, you could sell your soul to the rhythm, the beat, and the bass.
“I know I said I wouldn’t tell you what to do, but–”
“You did.”
“But hear me out. Now that we’re friends, I can’t just watch you make a decision I know you already regret.”
“I’d regret leaving too, at least this is the selfless choice.”
“Well, aren’t you a good person!” Jungkook’s mocking made you sigh and sip on your tea like it were alcohol. It did taste as bad. “Y/N, you need to live for yourself, not for two fuddy-duddies who couldn’t put their daughter’s happiness before theirs.”
“Don’t be mean to them.”
Jungkook only bit his tongue because of your pleading tone. “Sorry… Even if you loved your parents, you can’t deny they put you in a tough spot. I’m sure wherever they are, they’ve realised they were wrong and want you to be happy however you choose.”
“The thing is, they were convinced I’d be happy as a nun, that I just wanted to switch to secular on a whim. That’s why they ordered me to stay, they were looking out for me.” Jungkook almost grimaced at the word ‘ordered’, fought against commenting how messed up was the fact that you were using it in this context. Staring at the almost empty mug on your lap, you wondered whether it was insensitive of you to speak your mind. “It’s also what’s happened to you that I couldn’t bear happening to me, even if my parents are gone. I don’t want to do anything that would make them spurn me. I don’t want them not to love me,” your voice broke despite your best efforts.
Jungkook immediately stole the mug from your fingers and put it next to his on the table, so he could hold your hands. “Listen to me, my parents are assholes. Like, genuine bad people who shouldn’t’ve been allowed to have a kid. I won’t tell you the things they’ve said and done to me because you’d cry, but they are a different breed. Normal parents love their children no matter what. Why do you think yours would spurn you if they were still alive, instead of realising that they were making you unhappy?”
Good point, actually. If only it wasn’t far more complicated than that…
The second Jungkook withdrew his hands, you missed their warmth, even though it was a hot summer night. He sipped at his tea, and you suspected he only mmm-ed with delight to make you laugh, given he bloody well knew its taste was disgusting. Idiot.
“Just promise me one thing,” he added, a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you quit being a novice, go out on a date with me.”
Now, that made you laugh. “A date?”
Jungkook nodded, anchoring his foot to one of the legs of your chair so he could drag it close to his and rest his arm on its top rail, the proximity such that you could feel his breathing against your cheek. Heart racing, you crossed your arms and tried your hardest to appear unbothered. “I’ll pick you up at five and we’ll go roller-skating until we can’t feel our legs, then we’ll have dinner in my van while we watch a drive-in movie– A scary one, so you cling onto me for safety. Then I’ll drive you home, walk you to your door, and you’ll go ‘Oh! It’s too late, why don’t you stay over?’. So we’ll have some drinks, and you’ll take my hand to lead me into your bedroom, and then…”
“And then we’ll say our prayers and go to sleep.”
“To sleep, yes,” Jungkook chuckled, “afterwards.”
“I don’t know what makes you think I wouldn’t live almost like a nun if I left here. I am, in fact, a Catholic.”
“A relaxed one, I dare say. Oh, come on. You’ve never thought about breaking your faith’s rules? Not even to have fun?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a confession, but you shook your head.
“I can have fun without breaking the rules, I always have.”
Jungkook nibbled at his lip for a while, mentally debating with himself. Whichever of the voices in his head won, it made him say, “What if I showed you my ways? Would you be up for that?”
“Up for what, exactly?”
“You’ll see.”
Due to the series of communal prayers scattered throughout the day called Liturgy of Hours, it was as early as five that the whole convent got up. You’d usually go straight back to bed after the first one and get what more rest you could until it was time for class or work, but today, despite it being Sunday, a few sisters had volunteered to go to the farm and help around, you and Jungkook joining them to nanny the goats.
You didn’t mind getting your habit dirty there, but it was being an awfully hot July, which was the reason why you were wearing lighter clothes that morning when walking into the chapel alongside Jungkook to attend Mass. He was an atheist whom you supposed only went to these things to spend more time with you, and that warmed your heart.
Ever since you’d started hanging out, the same less devout sisters who’d previously flocked around him had gone back to the handsome abbot’s orbit, so the nearer pews to the altar had quickly been taken. Together, you sat alone at the back, the pew all to yourselves. Three quite tall sisters were sat in the one in front of you and acted as a barrier Father Jimin hid behind of, but as long as you heard him, it didn’t matter.
Your mind went elsewhere no more than a couple of minutes into the service anyway. Tuning out seemed to be easy as of late.
It was just so unfair, all of it. You could be learning in university, meeting new people, living a normal life where you wouldn’t need to ask an abbot for permission to go out if you fancied taking a fucking walk! It didn’t have to mean you’d stop practising your religion or let yourself fall into sin at all, nothing had to change in that regard. You took a deep breath charged with frustration. If only your parents hadn’t decided to take the car in the middle of a storm and you’d had more time to make them see reason… Why did they have to die? Why did God have to take them and leave you alone?
Right in the middle of your brooding was when Jungkook put his hand on your bare knee and asked in a whisper, “Hey, are you okay?”
You forced a smile that he didn’t seem convinced by, so his hand remained on the same spot after he’d gone back to paying attention to Mass. His touch didn’t make you uncomfortable, you welcomed it and the comfort it provided, but your jaw did drop when it slowly travelled down your inner thigh, towards your intimate area.
“What are you doing?” you mouthed, petrified at the possibility of anyone noticing. Luckily, the only person facing the pews was Father Jimin, who couldn’t see a thing from the altar thanks to your barrier-sisters.
“Showing you my idea of fun,” Jungkook leaned in to whisper, lips brushing against your earlobe. It wasn’t that what made you gulp, though, but the fact that he reached your clit and rubbed it softly over your linen shorts, up and down, side to side… The unexpected pleasure made your breath hitch in your throat, gaze flying around the chapel at the speed of light. “No one’s watching,” Jungkook reassured you. “Live a little, Y/N.” Feeling his middle finger now press your clit firmly and at an increasing pace, you looked at him, shocked there was no sign of shame on his features, eyes half-lidded with arousal as they studied your worried ones. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
Stop? You were still registering something had started there, in a sacred place, during Mass! What you were letting Jungkook do to you was all kinds of sinful, but… it felt so good you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Sobering up, he ceased his actions at that lack of consent, and was going to withdraw his hand and apologise had you not grabbed it and kept it in place down there, much to the surprise of both.
Relief showed on Jungkook in the form of an exhale. He wasted no time, then, sliding his hand inside your shorts and underwear, making you bite down on your lip when he found your clit once more and rubbed it in circles. He lingered there just enough to make your core pulsate with ache when he abandoned it to move on to your wet slit, something you had to slouch for him to do. He eased two fingers inside you that he began pumping in and out with a mastery that got you squirming in your seat, hand glued to your mouth to hold back the moans that threatened to escape it and gaze locked on the tattooed sleeve that disappeared inside your shorts.
That was when everyone started singing a hymn. Jungkook took the chance to quicken his movements, the sounds of your irregular breathing and his fingers sliding into your juices eclipsed by the song. He licked his lips, coating them with saliva before leaving chaste kisses on your neck, knowing if his tongue met it he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from fucking you right there and then. When he pulled back, he noticed you’d closed your eyes to get lost in the pleasure, and that they opened only when you felt his breath near your parted lips, to stare down at his. So close, yet he restrained the urge to kiss you, intent on watching you come.
He didn’t have to wait long, your walls now clenching around his fingers every time he rubbed that magical spot, thighs shaking as a result. All the tension built up inside of you suddenly released, and you dissolved into a daze just in time for the ending of the hymn. Not to overstimulate you, Jungkook gently removed his fingers and slipped out of the chapel. He returned a minute later with his hand washed and dry, and although you readily intertwined fingers with his when he reached out, you dared not meet his eyes after what had just happened.
That night you lay awake tossing and turning forever, unable to forget the feel of his touch.
Inexplicably, you weren’t ashamed of all the sins you’d added to the collection that day: falling into the temptation of lust, doing pre-marital sexual acts that didn’t lead to procreation, breaching your vow of chastity, desecrating a holy place, taking the sacrament while in mortal sin… Somehow, you just weren’t. You were, right after, but now it was as though you’d managed to sweep all the guilt related to it under the rug. As for the one related to your parents, well, Jungkook had been the sweetest distraction from it.
A distraction you craved again.
You must have been held sway by a demon when you got up from bed to go find Jungkook, but you were in no hurry to free yourself from its grasp.
Except for the first night, he tended to be the sleepless one who wandered about the abbey until you eventually joined him, so you knew he’d be awake. Indeed, he was on the phone in the community room, getting tangled up in the cord as he paced around, nervous. He couldn’t see you lurking in the hallway’s shadows, so you decided to let curiosity get the better of you and eavesdrop the conversation he was having.
“No, you’re not following,” he whispered into the phone. “My cousin’s friend’s brother is into this hot religious girl, and I– he! sort of fingered her in public… In a church… No, there were people present, it was in the middle of Mass… Nobody, that I’m– that he’s aware… No, Hoseok, it’s not dope! He’s going up and down the walls like a fucking yoyo... He isn’t so sure it was a good idea, fears he might’ve crossed a line… Well, he hasn’t seen her since, I think she’s been avoiding him– Agh, he thinks!... Fuck yeah, she did, and he loved it too… The problem is that I don’t want her to regret it and feel bad about it just because it wasn’t the time or place, or to never want to have sex because I got her into it the wrong way… What? He, I said he… You’re right,” he sighed, putting an end to his pacing. “I’ll tell him. Thank you, bro... ‘Night.”
Arms crossed, you couldn’t help but smile fondly. He was that worried about it? You should’ve known, you were friends after all. That was all he probably wanted to be, at least. Friends. With benefits, but friends. Who would want to be more than that not only with a novice, but with one as troubled as you?
A noise made you look up. It was Jungkook, now by the window, flicking his lighter over and over to pass the time. Your eyes inspected his fingers under the moonlight, the same ones he’d buried inside you that morning, and the longing that had got you out of bed returned to move your feet in his direction. You must’ve been abrupt while approaching him, though, as he jolted with a gasp at the sight of you.
“Sorry.”
“Y/N…” he said as he caught his breath from the startle. He had hoped you’d show up, but not so suddenly. Payback, he thought, for the way we met. “Listen, about earlier–”
You cut his sentence short with a kiss. It was soft at first, as timid as you felt, but Jungkook soon got over the shock that had frozen him and took charge of the matter, pulling you in a tight embrace. His tongue entered your mouth and swirled around yours like it was always meant to, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe. How else could it feel so good, and Jungkook so addictive?
It was a challenge, but you found the strength to step back and whisper so lowly that he almost didn’t hear, “I want you.”
“Are you sure?” Jungkook cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to look into his eyes. No need for that, they already had you enthralled, dark with the desire you’d infected him with.
“Yes,” you exhaled, taking his hands in yours to lead him upstairs. “With you, yes.”
Once in your cell, you lost your pyjamas in a matter of seconds, both too impatient to feel each other.
Being naked and seeing Jungkook so was initially nerve-racking but once you were under the sheets, under his toned body, your bashfulness flew out the window. Especially when you saw his dick, already hard from just making out—you figured he’d been charged up since the morning. Yet his priority wasn’t his own pleasure, but yours, not an inch of your skin left untouched by his lips as he slowly travelled downwards. Until you started giggling out of nowhere, and Jungkook raised his head from in between your boobs to look at you in confusion.
“Your Barbie hair is tickling me,” you teased him as you tucked behind his ears the blond cascade that covered his face and grazed over your chest whenever he moved.
“Barbie, huh?” Jungkook whispered next to your ear only to lay a warm kiss right under it, all while he positioned himself in between your legs. “Do you want me to tickle you somewhere else?”
“Actually, I…” How did one say such a thing? “I want to tickle you, but I don’t know what to do.”
He chuckled, “My pleasure to instruct you.”
You did as he said and reclined next to him, upside down so he could touch you—he’d insisted—while you sucked him off. It did feel strange to take him in your mouth and run your tongue along the length of his shaft, at least until you heard his breathing speed up, resisting to buck his hips into your face as he was. Your cunt throbbed, and you wished Jungkook’s cock was inside it instead of your mouth. He seemed to sense that, so his hand soon crept between your thighs to remedy your ails, a whine escaping you then.
“You’re just as tight as earlier, fuck,” he groaned from the pillow as his fingers struggled to curl and uncurl inside of you, given you couldn’t keep still. It made you all the more eager to pleasure him, taking him as deep as you could so he saw the same stars you were beginning to see yourself. “You’re doing so well… That’s it, suck it harder, darling, ah… Wait, stop, stop!”
Immediately, you backed off. “Did I do something wrong?”
Jungkook sat up and used his thumb to wipe the drooling trail of saliva on your chin. “You were doing too well, miss.” Ogling your body, he licked his thumb. “Why don’t you come over here?” You nodded, would’ve agreed to do anything he asked in that moment.
He lay down again while holding your hands to guide you over to his lap, over his erection, but your sudden nerves made you shy away. Nevertheless, Jungkook pulled you closer with a smirk. “Where are you running off to?”
“I’m sorry, just… Will it hurt?”
He sat up to peck your lips cutely, “Oh, it will be excruciatingly painful,” and you pushed his chest with an eye-roll, so he returned to his previous position. He grabbed the condom he’d stopped by his cell to get before following you to yours and put it on.
A deep breath later, you grabbed his cock and placed its tip in your wet entrance, looking down at it to make sure you were doing it right. Hands between his head and the pillow, Jungkook watched patiently, turned on by your inexperience and the fact that he and he alone got to be the one to pop your cherry, make you break your vow of chastity. He thought it’d take you a while to get used to the size of his dick, but you surprised him by rolling your hips almost aggressively the second you sat on it, chasing pleasure as though it would escape from your grasp otherwise.
“Shit, yes, like that.” All flushed under you and with his eyes barely open, feeling the way you moved with all his senses, Jungkook ignited a lust in you that even an angel would be willing to fall from grace for.
“Oh my God, it feels so good…”
“I know, baby.” He wanted to dig his nails into your hips and move them back and forth himself but found that for a virgin, you were already doing a superb job, laughed instead. “Look at you, fuck. What a dirty bitch, you’re loving it.”
“I am…” you panted, his name-calling sending you over the edge. “Jesus, I am.”
It wasn’t long until Jungkook felt your walls clench tight around him, something he didn’t blame you for as he himself was close too. His cock had been burning in his pants ever since Mass, even after he’d jerked himself off in his cell when the service had finished and you’d vanished. Grabbing your wrist, he pulled you close to his mouth and kissed you hungrily, but even then, you refused to stop moving, felt too good. “Gonna come already? You like me that bad?”
I like you a lot. You were having a tough time not moaning, especially when he talked. His deep voice did all manner of things to you. “I’m so close, ah...”
“Why don’t I help you out with that, hm?”
He didn’t wait for an answer before bending his knees and repeatedly thrusting into you with such force that it had you gasping for air. If you’d known he could fuck you like that, you’d have asked him to be on top at the beginning. Eyes squeezed shut, you buried your head in the crook of his neck to moan against it as you came, finally letting go. Jungkook bit into your shoulder, not to hurt you, just hard enough to keep himself from grunting loudly as he found his own release after a few more thrusts, but your bodies remained locked until your heartbeats slowed down.
It didn’t hit you how loud your panting had been until your breath toned down and there was silence in the room. You prayed it hadn’t woken anybody up.
At some point, you got off Jungkook for him to remove his condom and go throw it in the bin next to your desk. You covered your naked body with the sheets, expecting to next see him get dressed, but he lay back on the bed. You didn’t understand.
“Aren’t you leaving?”
He scoffed. “Kicking me out, ouch. Why would I leave?”
“I thought… that’s what guys do.” At least, that was what your non-virgin sisters had told you. That men lost interest in a woman as soon as they’d had their way with her.
Jungkook shook his head as he said softly, “I’m not going anywhere.” Having sex surely messed with one’s head, there was no other explanation as to why you blushed like a teenager. The two of you got on your side, facing each other, and Jungkook started caressing your arm with the back of his fingers, the simple action so soothing you thought you’d fall asleep. “Is this nice?”
“Very,” you replied, eyes closing against your will.
“Did I go too far earlier?”
You were taken aback by the sudden question. “Maybe, but I liked it. You were right about breaking the rules. Looking back… I think it was what you said about living a little that got to me. Here at the convent, I don’t really feel alive, but I do when we’re this close.”
“See?” Jungkook asked gently, trying to make you see his point. “What’s stopping you from quitting, then? Nothing should cost you feeling alive.”
“Apart from my parents?” you sighed. “Look around. As a novice, I couldn’t receive their inheritance. Vow of poverty, remember? What you see in this cell is everything I own.” Jungkook had already noticed on his way in your lack of personal belongings. A cross hung over the bed, a small pile of religious books on the desk, a framed photo of you with your family, and little more. It was so empty and cold that anyone would’ve thought you’d just moved in. “I can’t afford to go to university, much less live on my own.”
“Well… I’ve been saving up for a while and I’m moving in an apartment with Hoseok and Tae when summer’s over. Why don’t you come stay with us? I’m sure they won’t mind!” he said enthusiastically, eyes sparkling like he’d come up with the solution to all your problems. “I’ll help you find a job and you’ll be able to afford uni, easy-peasy.”
You were too sleepy to chuckle, but a faint smile did tug at your lips because of how determined he was to fix things. Things that were too broken to be fixed. “Let’s not talk about this right now, please?”
Even though Jungkook wasn’t pleased with your response, he forced a smile. “Why, did I tire you out?” Leaning in, he kissed your lips lightly. “You’re right, let’s not ruin the moment. Come here.”
He had you rest your head on his chest, and held lovingly, you fell asleep.
Understandably, he’d left by the time you woke up. If anyone saw him coming out of your cell, they might work out what he’d been up to there and the two of you would be kicked out of the convent. His scent lingered in your sheets, but it didn’t make any less disappointing waking up without him by your side. What’s more, as you put on your habit after having a quick shower, you were assailed by the most heart-breaking questions.
What if Jungkook had pretended to be your friend only to get in your pants? What if, now he’d got what he wanted, he blew you off? What if you’d risked everything for a guy who felt nothing for you?
To your immense relief, when you walked into the refectory for breakfast, he waved at you with a smile and gestured you to sit next to him. You were going to before Father Jimin suddenly appeared before you.
“Good morning, Y/N,” he greeted warmly, as ever.
“Oh, good morning, Father!”
“I wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”
You blinked. “It is, why?”
Shit. He knows?
“You left the chapel in a hurry after Mass yesterday,” he said, “and you didn’t show up to the remaining services. Were you unwell?”
“Oh... Yes, I was.” If you had locked yourself up in your cell, it was for no other reason than to avoid Jungkook and digest the fact that he’d fingered you in public. You lied, “I was sick all day, but I’m fine now.”
“I’m glad,” Jimin said with a smile you returned, then grabbed your hand to surround it with both of his, like old people will. “I know this comes out of nowhere, but I’m really proud of you, Y/N. For pulling through these challenging times. Many, including myself, can only learn from your strength. I know you’ll make a great nun.”
He gave your hand a soft squeeze and left you there, frozen in your spot. It was as though your sins finally dawned on you, all of them at once. You’d really believed leaving the convent didn’t have to mean you’d betray your faith and here you were, sleeping with a guy you’d met barely a month ago without shame because that made you feel alive.
What had you done? What were you turning into?
No longer hungry, you left to go back to your cell, tears already streaming down your cheeks before you made it out of the empty hallways. Or were they empty?
“Y/N!” You ignored Jungkook’s voice and quickened your pace, too ashamed to face him. “Hey, wait up!” He sprinted to reach you, concern shaping his features when he blocked your way and realised you were crying and trying to hide it from him. One thing was telling him your troubles, another to break down like a pathetic, helpless little girl. In the most caring tone, he asked, “Hey, what’s wrong?”
You explained, told him how you felt.
“I’m letting Father Jimin down,” you sobbed. “Him, my parents, God, and everyone.”
“You’re not,” Jungkook kept repeating. “You’re in a period of discernment, right? So who says you can’t reach a conclusion by trial and error? That’s what other nuns have done too. Before they got here, yes, but it was doing things they later regretted that convinced them to become nuns.”
“I don’t regret last night,” you said in all honesty, “but I do hate that I don’t regret sinning... You just can’t understand, you’re not religious.”
Jungkook looked down. “Maybe I can’t, but if I know something it’s that if what we did made you happy, it shouldn’t be a sin.” He looked around to make sure no one else was there before cupping your wet cheeks and kissing you, every muscle in your body relaxing under his touch as he knew they would. “Now come with me and eat something.”
He didn’t fully convince you, but your will wasn’t strong enough to resist his tempting.
For the next three weeks, you continued sleeping together at night, pretending you were no more than close friends at day. Whatever the time, Jungkook made sure to spend as much of it as possible with you, although not for a moment did you ever let yourself believe he had any feelings for you other than sexual. You weren’t even sure you wanted him to develop them, truth be told, as this thing you had was a fling. Come the end of summer less than a month from now, he’d move out and you’d start the second and final year of your novitiate, so whatever it was between you had no future.
Still, he kept writing you songs.
Some he’d sing quietly in bed so you’d fall asleep listening to his angelic voice, but the latest one, Church, he’d also asked you to come see him perform in a concert. And so, you’d lied to Father Jimin again, claiming the ancient kettle in the kitchen was broken and a new one needed to be bought. What’s a sin more to secure your one-way ticket to Hell?
Jungkook had warned you this song was not PG-13. He’d be the one singing it, not Amber, and he’d begged and begged you to wear one of his huge t-shirts to the concert with nothing underneath, refusing to tell you why. Leaving the abbey dressed as modestly as was expected of a novice, you changed outfits in the venue’s toilets. You didn’t know why you’d agreed to it but the first line of Church explained his request.
You're wearing nothing but my t-shirt
Call me shallow but I'm only getting deeper, yeah
Stay on the ground until your knees hurt
No more praying, baby, I'ma be your preacher
He half whispered the whole verse into the microphone, all while his eyes pierced yours from the stage. You couldn’t look away either, entranced by his voice and presence. So far from where you were sat, how could he make you feel as though the air had run out in the whole venue?
And I'll keep leading you on
If you keep leading me into your room
The drinks are all gone
But that's fine, baby, so am I
You remembered the date Jungkook had talked about taking you out on and how… standard it now sounded to you as he turned his attention to the girls who cheered for him in the audience. Was it scripted? Something he said to all of them to lead them on? The more you thought about it, the more you realised he’d never actually take you skating. No, you were just for keeping his nights busy.
His gaze found you again.
I'm about to take you back to church (back to church)
Well, tell me your confessions, baby, what's the worst? Yeah
Baptise in your thighs 'til it hurts (you know it hurts)
'Cause I'm about to take you back to church (oh yeah)
I'll keep you up until the sunset
Speaking in tongues, yeah, we ain't done yet (yeah)
Don't take my verses out of context
I know it's weighing on your conscience
Those last two lines… Further confirmation your relationship was just sex and that you shouldn’t read too much into anything he said, or feel guilty for sinning by having a friend-with-benefits. It was self-contradictory of you to feel down about him not reciprocating your feelings, but you did. Don’t they say love is irrational?
Despite how sad you’d got, the night didn’t end with the concert, but with Jungkook fucking you without restrain. When he was inside you, nothing else mattered.
You were in the back of his van, parked somewhere near the abbey yet not enough for anyone to hear the loud moans that each of his thrusts caused, even with the windows open not to melt in there.
“Fuck, keep moaning for me,” he grunted, gripping your waist to keep you in place.
“Keep fucking me, then…” Jungkook scoffed, would’ve commented on how dirty he’d turned you had he not been so close. You’d come already yourself, but were more than glad to let him go on until he did too.
“Since you’ve got such a big mouth,” he said, panting, “why don’t you put it to good use?”
It took him most of his willpower to pull out and remove his condom. You sat up and opened your mouth for him to shove his hard cock in, swirling your tongue around the tip before closing your lips tight around it and starting to bob your head to take all of him. A bit more experienced now and having learned to love sucking Jungkook, you knew exactly how he liked it done. You could feel it, his cock twitching against your tongue as you savoured it, letting you know he was going to come.
He pulled back again to jerk himself, and you began rubbing your clit, aroused again by the sight between your spread legs. “I thought you were done?”
“Yes, but you’re so hot…” you moaned, and he huffed out a laugh. Biting his lip harshly as he ogled your naked body and the way you touched yourself, it wasn’t long until he came all over your thighs, your own release following.
Jungkook smirked when he was no longer out of breath. “Dreams do come true.” He was staring at your thighs dripping with his cum and your own juices, and you realised he was talking about Church’s ‘baptise in your thighs’. You were about to smile when the rest of the song came to mind, and suddenly you didn’t feel like it anymore… Once Jungkook had cleaned you up with a cloth, he lay down next to you. “Come here.”
You always hoped he’d say that, even though he never failed to. So resting your back on his chest, he held you from behind, caressing your hands in a comfortable silence. It was then that you noticed the blank spot between the tattoos in Jungkook’s wrist. It was tiny, but seemed intentional.
“Are you not inking this bit?”
“I’m saving it for a small symbol, maybe a letter.” He kissed your temple. “Your name’s initial, what do you say?”
Your lips committed to it before your brain did. “Do you get tattoos of the others?”
Jungkook frowned. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he did. “What others?”
“The other girls you sleep with.” There was no jealousy in your casual tone, but it was still petty. Jungkook shifted so he could face you. He was indeed frowning, both perplexed and offended.
“There are no others,” he promised, serious as you’d ever seen him. “You trust me that little?”
“I didn’t think I had to trust you. Aren’t we just hooking up?”
Jungkook rubbed his eyes as if the confusion was giving him a headache. “You thought I was sleeping with other girls and said nothing?”
By what right could you ask him to be faithful in a relationship you planned to end soon? Besides, what if in doing so, you annoyed him enough to stop wanting to be friends? If sharing him with others was the only way to have him, it hurt, but you’d do it. You looked down as you whispered, kind of embarrassed, “I guess I do like you that much…”
Jungkook raised your chin with his curled index finger, made you look at him. He despised the sadness he saw in the depths of your eyes, the one you were trying to repress. “You’re much more than sex to me. I worship you and if I could, I’d spend every waking moment next to you.”
In a small pause, you tried to rack your brain. “Is that from a song?”
“No, but it should be. I’ll write it down later.” Jungkook nodded, agreeing the rhyme had potential. Still, he wasn’t going to let you change the subject. “Y/N, I’m in love with you.”
He is? That did take you off guard.
“You shouldn’t be, I’m a novice,” you said anyway at your most hypocritical.
Jungkook sighed, “What’s so wrong about it? Don’t you love me?”
You didn’t want to lie to him. A smile made your lips stretch before you answered, “I do,” and softly, Jungkook kissed them. Every time he pulled back from a kiss, it felt like it had been too short, no matter how long it lasted. Like you needed more because you could never be sated of him. “Does this mean… we’re dating?”
“I mean, you’re technically engaged to Jesus, and I’m not a guy who likes sharing,” Jungkook joked before giving you a peck and returning to his previous position under you. “If you don’t wanna be just lovers, you’ll have to break up with him first.”
You answered nothing. Should you listen to him, though?
Around two weeks of bliss sprang from your love confessions, where it became hard to pretend you weren’t mad for each other in public, such as when he’d whisper in your ear how provocative you looked in your habit and you giggled like a schoolgirl in love—which, technically, you were. Your parents barely made it into your thoughts, as they were filled to the brim with Jungkook.
From the moment they were over, it all went downhill. Worse, it fell into an abyss.
You had just come out of class with other novices when your hand was grabbed by someone who dragged you through the hallway to head upstairs. “Sorry to steal her, sisters, it’s urgent!”
“Jungkook, what are you doing?” you asked as he led you into your cell in a rush, closing the door for privacy. “You can’t be in here during the day–”
“I’ve found a way.” Only then did you notice how excited he was, a grin across his face. “A way to pay for your university.”
His aunt had been the one to tell him, at the beginning of the summer, that he must plan ahead as an adult now that his parents had turned their back on him, but it wasn’t until he fell for you that he actually started doing that. He was sure he wanted you to be by his side on whatever path he took, for his future to merge with yours somehow.
You, however, knew this conversation would not end well. “Enlighten me.”
“Bangtan is going on a nationwide tour next year.”
“Oh my God, that’s great!” You held his hands and grinned with him. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Y/N, this means I’ll earn a lot of money.” Then, you looked away. “With what I’ve got saved up plus that, you can afford to go to uni, even a private one, and we don’t have to live with the boys, we can have a place of our own! On the road we won’t even have to sweat about that, our company will pay for everyth–”
You freed your hands from his grasp, said with a nervous laugh, “You’re going a bit fast, Jungkook…”
His grin faded. “What do you mean? Isn’t money what you need to get out of here?”
“I’m grateful you want to take care of me but I can’t leave, you know why.”
“Are you serious right now?” Jungkook couldn’t believe it. “Y/N, your parents are gone. I know it’s hard but you have to move on, I don’t want you to wither in this place when you have a chance at happiness.”
“Just because you chose to let your parents down doesn’t mean the rest of us want to.” You regretted those words as soon as they left your mouth, the sound of Jungkook’s heart breaking reaching your ears. Or was it your own?
It took him some long seconds to process you’d said that, then answer, “I told you how they were to me, forgive me for not giving a shit about them.”
“Well, mine are a different story. I do care about them.”
“And not about us? We can’t be together anymore after I leave the convent. Have you not thought about that, or were you going to end things like they meant nothing? Because for weeks, I’ve been trying to find a way to have a future with you.”
“I never asked you to,” you sighed, welling up. You might not have, but a part of you had wanted to. Wanted to go with him too. “There’s no way we can have a future together.”
Jungkook teared up as well, and you hated yourself for it. He was being met with unjust meanness from the person he genuinely loved. You sucked so bad.
“What am I to you, then? What have I been these past months?”
“A distraction.”
It wasn’t a lie, and that’s what hurt the most. You loved Jungkook, and yet, you’d used him to set aside the pain of your parents’ loss and the guilt that was consuming you for being a sinner. You were always going to dispose of him like a toy outgrown, regardless of everything he’d done for you.
He stared for a while, but you couldn’t meet his eyes out of shame. “That’s good to know,” he muttered before storming out, leaving you in a puddle of tears you deserved to be drowned in.
You trudged your way to class after a grey morning in the library. There was still no passage from any religious book that excused your countless sins and promised the salvation of your blighted soul, but that didn’t worry you so much right now. What did, was Jungkook.
He was likely avoiding you—for which you couldn’t blame him—though you doubted meeting and apologising for the ugly things you’d said would be a remedy to the damage done. Not that you didn’t mean them, but they could’ve been said with tact. Jungkook’s wicked crime was loving you, after all.
So busy were you missing something as random as his cologne that you didn’t notice until the end of the class that everyone kept stealing glances at you, whispering to each other afterwards. Even if a tired demeanour wasn’t deserving of such a disproportionate reaction, you still blamed the barely two hours of sleep you’d got for your sisters’ scandalised looks, but another novice approached you in the hallway out of pity to let you know you’d actually made the convent’s news.
You froze in your spot when she said it was because Jungkook had spread the rumour that you’d been sleeping with him.
No, please... Tell me he hasn’t.
Leaving your sister where she stood and running off to find him with the disapproving gaze of every other person you passed burning into your skin, you prayed you were inside a nightmare harder with each stride.
Jungkook couldn’t have betrayed you. Someone must have seen or heard you and put two and two together, right?
Such theory turned into dust when you saw him sat in the cloister surrounded by girls like the day you’d met, playing a melody in the guitar for their attentive ears. Somehow, you knew he’d done it then, and on purpose. You started to feel sick as you approached them, whether because of the summer heat or the knife stabbed and twisted in your back, you didn’t know.
“We need to talk.”
Jungkook didn’t bother to look up as he said, “If we were still dating, I’d totally be shaking at that sentence, Y/N.”
Some of your sisters giggled, others bit their lip not to. You went red, begged, “Please.”
Albeit reluctantly, he stood up and followed you to an empty hallway. You didn’t know whether you were more upset, scared, surprised, or disappointed, but the smell of the cologne you were missing earlier managed to calm you down a little, as Jungkook’s company tended to do. Your stupid body seemed to not have caught up on the fact that he was the cause of your hurting.
“What do you want?” he asked curtly.
“What do I want? To know how you could tell everyone about us, Jungkook, how you could do this to me. I’ll be expelled! And I don’t have parents or a family that will take me back if I go apologise to them, I have nowhere to go. Is that what you want? For me to be with you because I have no other choice?”
“Of course not, we’re done,” Jungkook assured you that wasn’t his plan, which you believed. He hated your guts, his dark eyes told you. “But now you’re not tied to a place you don’t really want to be in.”
“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t do this out of revenge.”
“So what if I did?”
You stared at him for a while, speechless like he had the time you’d last met. “And here I thought you’d proved me wrong.”
“In what,” Jungkook asked in a scoff, “becoming a nun now that you’ve been dicked down?”
The coldness of his tone stung your heart. In disbelief, you shook your head. “No, in that there was more to you than what first meets the eye.”
A grain of shock broke through the mask of indifference Jungkook was wearing, probably because your words weren’t visibly said against your better judgement this time, but while seeing him through the same lenses as his parents did. You looked at him just like them the night they’d kicked him out, in a way he had hoped you never would.
And how could you not? You’d thought you knew him, yet he’d gone ahead and ruined your life. Maybe you never did know the real Jungkook at all, who was now too taken aback to come up with an answer before another novice approached.
“Father Jimin wants to see you, sister,” she said, after which you took a deep breath, nodded, and followed her without so much as giving Jungkook one last glance.
In his office, sat on his desk, Father Jimin was quiet. Had been so since you’d come in and sat down.
One of his elbows rested on his chair’s arm and two fingers pressed on his closed lips as he thought of what to say. You already had an idea of what it would be, and it made you no more ready, fists clutching the skirt of your lap.
“I don’t know what to say,” he finally confessed in a sigh. It struck you how it was the first time in the few years you’d known Father Jimin that you didn’t see a smile on his face, or at least friendliness. He was the kind of person who always saw the best in people but right now, there was nothing good left in you. “I’m truly at a loss for words. I never thought you’d do something like this, or that I’d find out from other mouths.”
Tears blurred your sight at the memory of him telling you he was proud of you. “I know I have no right to ask for forgiveness, but I’m begging you, Father. It was the mistake of my life–”
“You broke your vows, Y/N. Defiled a holy place.” Oh… Jungkook had admitted to that as well? Chin trembling, you pressed your lips together not to cry. “Lied to me about it and God knows what else… This behaviour cannot be tolerated. You can stay in the abbey until you find a job and a place to live, but you are dismissed from this community, if not excommunicated.”
You sobbed, unable to hold it in anymore, “Father, please. I can’t let my parents down, their last wish was that I become a nun–”
“Isn’t it your wish? Were you lying about that too?” Your head lowered in shame and Father Jimin leaned back into his chair with a loud sigh. “You should have thought about your parents before getting involved with Jungkook. Be grateful they aren’t here to see you stray this bad.” He waited for you to say something, but shame kept you from it, as he was right. “You may leave now.”
Everything had happened so fast that a week later, you were still assimilating it.
Except when necessary, you barely left your cell. Dreaded both the judgemental looks of your sisters and the non-existent ones from Father Jimin, who ignored your presence whenever he had to suffer it in the chapel or the refectory. Not to mention running into Jungkook. To your knowledge, he’d been kicked out too, was sometimes seen moving boxes from his cell to his van. There wasn’t much for him to pack, so you guessed he was dragging the process. What for, you tried not to care.
That was the main reason why, helped by the yellow pages, you’d been job-hunting through the telephone. Not that it was better or worse than going in person, because nobody wanted to employ an ex-novice anyway. They literally hung up when you mentioned you’d been expelled from the convent—as expected, to be honest—but lying again was not an option. You’d learned your lesson the hard way.
Eventually, you did manage to land an interview for a job. Given it didn’t pay that well, it’d be a while until you could afford to move out of the abbey and even longer until you’d step in a university as a student, which was frustrating, but at least you didn’t need anyone’s permission to leave. Since you weren’t a novice anymore, nobody batted an eyelid at you heading outside the afternoon of your scheduled interview.
You were near the main door when, out of nowhere, Sister Daeun stopped you to talk.
“My nephew’s told me everything. I can’t say I approve of your relationship, but it does make me feel better that there was love involved. A lot, apparently,” your gaze averted to the ground, “which makes your decision to break up with him out of respect for your parents all the more admirable. It was wrong of Jungkook to make it public, he knows that, and he would like to apologise and give you the money he made this summer.”
“I couldn’t take it, sister,” you opposed. “It’s his. He needs it to pay rent, he’s moving in with Hoseok and Taehyung.”
Wait, was that why he hadn’t left yet? Because he wanted to wait until September so he didn’t have to pay for August?
“He’ll make much more when he’s on tour,” Sister Daeun insisted. “This is the least he can do for you. That I can do for you, too. You’ll always be my novice, Y/N, no matter what.” Without a second’s thought, you hugged her tightly. It was solacing to know there was at least one person who saw past your sins. “Jungkook’s gone to get the money but he won’t be here until late, Bangtan is opening for another one of those rock bands in a concert tonight. He’ll give it to you tomorrow.”
“I was just going into town, so if you tell me the name of the venue, I’ll stop by. He must be there doing a stage rehearsal.” You remembered the light in his eyes when he’d explained to you everything about the vocation he was so passionate about, how sweet his smile was… No. No. You shouldn’t feel anything after what he’d done. “I want to get this over and done with as soon as possible.”
That turned out to be yet another bad decision.
Once your interview was over, you rushed to the same venue you’d seen Jungkook perform Rock God and Church.
Paying no mind to the fans at the entrance who looked askance at you for jumping the line, the security guy let you in when he recognised you. Memories of the two nights you’d previously been there stormed you while getting backstage, especially how fast your heart had beat because of the racy lyrics of the songs and the way Jungkook had looked at you from the stage.
Now, it died inside your chest as you watched him make out with Amber at the end of the otherwise empty hallway.
He had her pinned against the wall, hands gripping her ass to press their bodies together and lips devouring hers as though he couldn’t get enough. Amber’s hands were wrapped around his neck, and she now grabbed a fistful of his hair to pull his head back and start kissing his neck. You saw how Jungkook smirked at the action, turned on by her dominance.
Both in their rockstar outfits, they looked like a perfect match, so you couldn’t help but wonder if they’d been dating all along. If that boyfriend of hers Jungkook had told you about was none other than himself.
Forcing yourself out of your shock, you exited the venue through the back as quickly as you could, saving the cascade of tears that was already building up in your eyes until you were alone.
It wasn’t that you were going to forgive him and expected his apology to come with an offer to date him again, but even after everything he had done to you, you still loved him. You hated yourself for it, but you couldn't help it. You were so stupid that you wished he'd find you there, sat on the cold concrete, and just held you in his arms until you stopped crying.
The next day you slept through breakfast, and would’ve stayed in your cell until lunch had Father Jimin not summoned you to his office again.
Curiously, this time around he looked… sorry?
“I’ve been made aware of some information this morning,” he said from across his desk with a nod.
“About me?” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Oh, God, what now?
“I can’t answer that because it has to do with a confession, but it’s made me realise I was wrong.” He leaned in, gaze moving around as he tried to think of a way not to reveal anything disclosed in the confessional box. “I should’ve been more cautious instead of welcoming just anyone into our home. Sometimes, I fail to see beyond the surface, and it results in the harm of others. A harm I pray it’s possible to heal from.”
“I don’t understand…”
“What I mean is that you don’t have to be afraid anymore. You can go back to being a novice, or take as long as you need to resolve any doubts you might have. Whatever you choose, I’ll support you.”
“But, why, Father? The things I did– You forgive me?”
“I’ve seen you regret them even if they weren’t your fault, so yes, I do.” You frowned. “I just hope you can forgive me too.”
On your way back to your cell, you walked slowly, using all your energy to figure out what Father Jimin had been talking about. When the answer popped up in your mind, you turned around and ran through the abbey. If Jungkook had done what you thought he had… Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find him, as you almost crashed together when turning to the next hallway. Had it not been because he’d grabbed your waist in time, you would’ve fallen.
When he realised it was you, he let go and stepped back. “Y/N, I wanted to talk to y–”
“Did you tell Father Jimin you raped me?”
The question took him by surprise. “He talked to you first… Wait, I thought confessional secrecy was unbreakable?”
“He didn’t tell me, I deduced it on my own.” You crossed your arms, disappointed you were right. “Why would you do that? I can’t make sense of it.”
“It was the only way to get the abbot to take you back. It’s not like he can report me to the police, and I’m leaving anyway… I told him I made you do things and that you were scared to tell anyone.” Jungkook looked everywhere but your eyes. “I’m really sorry for outing you. It was fucking childish of me and you didn’t deserve it. I was just so mad at what you said… but I know that’s no excuse.”
A part of you wanted to apologise for that and even ask him if it was too late to start over, but another reminded you of what you saw last night and stopped you, along with the one that should hold the most weight—your parents. It was a miracle you’d been given back the chance to honour their wishes, so you couldn’t ruin it again.
“I also wanted to give you this.” Jungkook handed you an old school bag. “My aunt told you what’s inside, right? She mentioned earlier you were going to come pick it up yesterday at the venue.”
“Yes, I forgot…” you lied. “I was at a job interview and got out quite late.”
“That’s okay. Did it go well?” He shouldn’t have asked, it was none of his business anymore. The interest in you had just rolled out of his mouth before he could stop it.
“It did, actually.” Both of you knew that if you went back to being a novice, you couldn’t take the job, but neither addressed it.
“Swell.” Jungkook put his hands inside his pockets, looked at you like he wanted to say much more. “I hope you have a happy life, Y/N. I really do.”
“Wait, are you saying goodbye? You’re leaving now?”
So soon?
“Yeah, poor Father Jimin thinks I’m… Well, you know. I wouldn’t want someone like me around you girls either. Plus, it’s September today, summer’s over,” he said with a forced smile. “Hoseok and Tae are waiting for me in the van. I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
Before he could leave, you walked closer and gave him a hug. It didn’t feel right even when he wrapped his arms tight around you and buried his face in the crook of your neck, what with everything left unsaid, but you needed to feel his warmth one last time.
“Goodbye, Jungkook. And happy birthday.”
Two years later
“You’ll like Bangtan, they’re wicked hot,” Chloe said for the third time, rather trying to convince herself than you, as she knew rock wasn’t your type of music. “Especially Taehyung, he’s my favourite!”
The concert was supposed to start soon, so hugging yourself and rubbing your arms, you stood on your tiptoes to check if the long queue ahead was moving any faster. “Well, I’m glad they’re hot, ‘cause I’m freezing.”
She, Chloe, was a friend you’d made on the first day of university. Lots had changed.
“It won’t be long now, get the tickets ready,” she gave you something to do, to forget about the February cold.
As she’d promised, it took less than five minutes for the two of you to enter the biggest venue in town. Such was the fame of Bangtan now. You were only glad the security guy from the other times wasn’t there to recognise you, since Chloe was unaware of your past as a groupie. It wasn’t that you were keeping it from her… You just didn’t feel like talking about him.
“Come on,” she grinned while grabbing your hand, all excited, “let’s get close to the stage!”
The concert lasted what felt like an eternity.
Not only did you have to endure Rock God and Church again, which opened the wound of a relationship you still hadn’t healed from, but you also had to keep your head down so as to not be spotted by the band members.
It was going alright, though, until you made the mistake of glancing up, and saw him. And he saw you.
Minus the fact that he wasn’t a blond anymore, Jungkook looked the same as always. Not that that was a bad thing. Whether in his rockstar outfit or covered in goat milk, he took your breath away. He skipped a few notes due to the shock of seeing you in the crowd but as the professional he was, he managed to make his faltering almost unnoticeable and keep playing the guitar like nothing had happened. But he wouldn’t lose you out of sight.
You wanted to look away, leave, even, but found you couldn’t, like Jungkook had put a spell on you. A spell that only broke once Bangtan thanked their fans for coming and left the stage.
Chloe, who’d been cheering throughout the whole show, now went on about how amazing it had been, how hot Taehyung had looked. Not really listening, you automatically nodded to everything until you heard, “Let’s go to the toilets before a line forms, I really need to pee.”
“Sure.”
You held her purse while you waited outside, recalling how Father Jimin had warned you seeing Jungkook again would only make your wound sting—to which you’d agreed! The only reason you were there was because you’d promised Chloe. Chloe, who was taking so long.
With a sigh, your eyes neglected that random spot on the floor they’d been fixed on and flew around to end up on those of Jungkook, who was walking towards you. The few people in the line to use the toilets gasped and watched their idol, but he didn’t care, walked past them like they didn’t exist. You, weren’t sure what to feel when he was finally in front of you.
“Hi,” he said with a faint smile that you returned rather awkwardly, given the fact everyone was looking at you. “Can we talk… in private?”
Every cell of your body told you to decline, that Jungkook was a book you shouldn’t pick up again even to leaf through, but your head nodded on its own accord. Hope you don’t mind, Chloe.
It was upstairs to the now deserted first floor he led you, and the balcony of which you stood next by, where you could see the few people left heading out. They didn’t hold your attention for longer than a second, though.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Jungkook spoke almost shyly, yet his eyes didn’t leave your face until he forced them to, not to weird you out. How long had he been staring like that? But you looked so pretty...
“I’m here with a friend from uni, she’s a fan.”
He didn’t understand. “Wait, you ended up leaving the convent?”
“I did finish my novitiate but I never took the vows. They let me live there, though.”
It wasn’t a decision you made overnight, obviously, and one Father Jimin and Sister Daeun worked hard for many months to make you see it wouldn’t have upset your parents as much as you believed, much less get them to stop loving you. In fact, you were still coming to terms with it, not entirely free of guilt, but a mix of secular and spiritual life was proving to be exactly what you needed.
The university and the abbey, parties and Mass, your new friends and your family… You could have both and save your soul from damnation. Now, could you save your heart from breaking all over again? It felt like it already was, physically so close to Jungkook yet so far that an uncomfortable silence had fallen between you.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
You looked at him. Cut to the chase, alright… “I’m not. A-Are you?”
Was that a sigh of relief he let out through his parted lips, or did you just want it to be? “No.”
“I thought you’d be dating Amber.” Jungkook frowned slightly, so you went on and confessed, “I saw you together the night before you left. I came to pick up the money and… Well, none of that matters now.”
Horror painted Jungkook’s face. That was how you’d remembered him? Getting off with Amber?
“She’d just broken up with her boyfriend,” he wasted no time in saying. “Neither of us was thinking clearly. It was a one-time thing, an adrenaline rush after a concert.”
You hugged yourself, lips pressing together at the details you didn’t want to hear. “You don’t need to explain, we weren’t dating anymore…”
“Fuck, I’m sorry that you’ve thought all this time that I was with her,” Jungkook apologised anyway, gaze falling to the floor in shame. “Actually, I know that it doesn’t count for anything, but I’m sorry about a lot of things.”
“Yeah, I wish it did. Count… Or better yet, I wish I’d gone with you,” you laughed, at the fact that you meant it.
“What?” Jungkook took a step closer, as though he’d misheard and wanted to make sure he got it this time. Suddenly, you realised what an idiot you were being.
“Nothing, forget it.” You turned around to leave before the lump in your throat summoned any tears, but Jungkook took your hand to stop you. He couldn’t let you go, even if he’d been the one to leave last time.
“I’m glad you didn’t come with me, Y/N, and that you got to do what you wanted. But I do wish I hadn’t ruined everything and hurt you. If I could go back, I'd punch me in the face.”
It didn’t mean you’d forgotten, but the truth was that you’d forgiven what he did a while ago. After all, “I was also a dick to you.”
“If you’re a dick, then I like dick.”
Actually, you hated him.
You hated even more that that made you laugh but it was because of Jungkook’s clownery that you first fell for him. And you’d never stopped loving him. He smiled fondly, caressing your hand. On his wrist, where there used to be a small uninked spot, now was your name’s initial. Neither had he, it seemed.
“Does this mean you want us to…?”
His eyes opened wide, feigning scandal. “What, here? I’d sooner do it in a chapel.” You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t keep from smiling. “How about we start with a date? Say... Friday at 5pm? I know a good roller-skating rink.”
⇢ drabble: faith
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HALF A HEART - COD characters x Poltergeist!reader
POLTERGEIST COD AU
⥇❥"Reader" is a literal ghost, AFAB reader and referred primarily as to as "you", sometimes explicitly referred to as a woman, implied to be British and implied to have died in the 1500s/16th century, though the location isn’t relevant for much other than attempted historical accuracy with her death/why she’s in England. Reader is also not said to be of any skin tone or ethnicity, just that she was *likely* born in England. Reader is from a time when afab people weren't commonly educated and canonically has slight trouble reading and learning after her death since she can't access books or learning materials and had to self-teach herself to read and write after death where she couldn't ask for help, this will probably change though after she meets 141. Said information is slightly relevant to the plot, though I can make an alternate version if people want an amab/gender neutral reader :)
also roach is canonically part of this and has little antenna attachments to his helmet because i said so
⥇❥Word Count: 4096, excluding warnings and text above the cut.
⥇❥CONTENT WARNING FOR:
↪ Technically age gap? Reader was born and died long before any cod character
↪ possibly historically inaccurate as i was unfortunately not alive in the 1500s nor most of the following time periods
↪ possibly incorrect depictions of a ‘poltergeist’, as reader is an amalgamation of different types of ghosts/folklore (i mainly just didn't want to use the term ‘ghost’ because it’d be confusing with Ghost the character)
↪ possibly OOC characters
↪ american author writing europeans
↪reader is (basically) rasputin with their death
↪ slight mentions of religion or religious themes (mainly about the afterlife, existence of heaven/hell, and brief mentions of witch trials which were mostly religiously motivated.)
↪graphic description of how reader died (witch trials, so think salem witch trials kind of graphic)
let me know if i missed anything or should edit the content warnings!
Link to main masterlist - Link to HALF A HEART sub-list
You have been warned, scroll at your own risk.
Let’s get things straight. You are, for all intents and purposes, dead.
Deader than a doornail, in-fact, you’ve been dead for almost.. 500 years now? Well, you're rounding slightly but nobody cares for the exact amount of time.
Now, that is a long time to be dead for… Well, a long time to be dead but still conscious; a spirit, ghost, apparition, whatever you wanted to call it. If it weren’t for the fact you were more-so apparition than person, you’d almost say it’s like being alive and immortal for longer than god (or genetics, you weren’t picky) ever intended.
And being ‘alive’ for so long is very boring; especially now that the deep-seeded anger in your heart has faded, those who wronged you long gone and their kin far too distant from them for you to ever wish ill-will towards them. Especially now that the fear you felt, the horrific terror you felt being escorted to your improper grave and the existential dread that hung heavy when you revived, only to realize you hadn’t survived nor been healed for a second chance. No, you were dead; rejected by both heaven and hell, not even worthy for eternal damnation. The only upside to this was that you were still capable of interacting with the living world; more than you could say for the very, very, VERY small number of ghouls you had met in your time of unliving. Apparently you were a bit unusual, you being far more capable and capable of manipulating the living world than the 'run-of-the-mill' ghost.
That being said, your current behavior, which was following around some hunky military men like a lovesick maiden, was totally excusable…
…It wasn’t creepy, no, you weren’t being improper. You were totally just... curious. It couldn’t have been the fact that you died unwed— a pure virgin, hardly having even engaged in romantic acts, as you were devout in your chaste nature. I mean, surely your absolute devotion which led to you never even kissing a man or woman, holding hands or lying with someone earned you a little justification to do… whatever you were doing right now.
Okay, maybe it was a bit creepy. But dying a without so much as ever having ONE cute little date with heated cheeks, bashful giggles, and butterflies in your stomach as your hands brushed each others— FOLLOWED by being forced to go entirely unperceived much less feeling any sort of physical contact or verbal interaction for A COUPLE CENTURIES makes this somewhat understandable.
It’s not like you were really DOING anything, (because, again, that was a wee-bit hard in your current state) you’ve just kind of been following this guy around?
(You followed him around because you overheard people refer to him as ‘Ghost’ and as an actual ghost you found that a little funny)
Then that led to you following his team around. You had, somewhat, messed with the men— not much, mainly flickering lights, closing doors, and moving objects slightly.
There had been slight complaints, but not much indicating they knew they were facing a lonely, dead girl who died unfairly supernatural danger in the form of a poltergeist with abnormally strong powers. Just assumptions that ‘the wiring was faulty’, or that ‘someone must’ve left a window open’, sometimes they just assume someone knocked something over (despite nobody being near said knocked object). Oh, and your favorite was that ‘some stupid recruits moving shit’— speaking of which— the guys you followed were all pretty high-ranking from your understanding and occasionally trained recruits. That was cool in its own right, but it was especially great for you because you could lob stuff at them and get some poor recruit in trouble. It was fun.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t fun enough to keep you entertained. Now, given when you were born and raised it wasn’t a surprise that you weren’t particularly that literate. Your brain (long gone and returned to the ground) wasn’t even physical or attached to you anymore, so it wasn’t a surprise that learning things was often hard for you(something you hated in death, as learning things would help pass the time if it weren't frustrating and near impossible both because you couldn’t access physical hobbies or items like books AND because your brain—or lack thereof— simply didn’t take to information like it used to), but you knew enough of written English to make out most newspapers and documents. Despite that, you had very little clue of the strange ciphers and terms used by the men, even though you had remained mainly around the military base they were staying in for a few months.
…That was until recently, when you decided you were curious enough to try and actually learn about what they’re doing. You were currently following this guy— Captain Price, you think— because from what you knew (as a woman who died in the middle ages, uneducated, illiterate, dying fairly young by today's standards anyways and having lived without ever partaking in any wars or battles and not ever bothering to ask about any) he was the highest rank of the team, followed by that ‘Ghost’ guy you originally followed (he’s called a lieutenant, a word you hated writing or reading because it was so damn hard to spell or even look at), then this ‘Soap’ fella (A sergeant, another word you weren’t a fan of) and then this ‘Gaz’ bloke (Who was apparently also a sergeant, but he was the second? So he was lower? Why did they need two? And why was one rank worse than the other? You didn’t know and frankly found it stupid.) There were also these other people; Shadow Company or something, you didn’t really get it because the guy who they most frequently talked to from that company was white as a sheet, but whatever.
Anyways, recently you found out that while wandering wasn’t an issue for you (you weren’t ever bound to a particular area, probably because your body, or whatever remained of it, was far from where you died, and you couldn’t really remember where you were when you died so you weren’t particularly attached) it was very hard for you to follow after the ‘vehicles’ they used. Sometimes they used these wheeled inventions called ‘cars’ (which were kinda like the horses, carts, and carriages of your time but not shitty). They also had these things— called ‘helicopters’ or something similar with a different name (again, you didn't know why they made things so complicated but whatever) that were able to take them anywhere by air. Pretty cool if it weren’t for the fact it made following them anywhere exceptionally difficult. So you had to go about a different method if you wanted to actually follow them anywhere.
Possession.
Not necessarily like the kind you’d seen in a ghost-related movie you watched over an unwitting couple’s shoulder. It was more so just somewhat attaching yourself to someone, letting part of yourself (probably your soul, if you actually had one) attach to theirs, letting them become a tether into the physical plane. The realm of the living. If you pushed it far you could absolutely do like they do in the movies, but you found that kind of scary since you didn’t know how much of your soul was required for that or if you could be exorcized like in the movies. You really only tethered yourself to someone when you first transitioned into… whatever you were now.
A wraith, at the time, aggressive and vengeful against the man who accused you, the town that raised you then gazed at you hungrily— blaming you for their sins. Calling you a temptress for the beauty you acquired with your maturation, something you were once proud about turned into something you abhorred.
At one point you even felt festering hatred towards the family that raised you. A mother who birthed you only to denounce birthing you, claiming a devil implanted you as a demon of the night that’d ruin their village and took the milk meant for sons, your elder brothers. A father, one who doted on you before as his precious only daughter and youngest, turning his head; unable to watch as you were tied to the pyre and lit ablaze— a man who was cowardly and evasive. The siblings of yours that you grew with— were close with, were cared for by, were raised by!
All for them to pretend they had nothing to do with you. Or to join the crowd’s jeering turned cheers as you sobbed, salty tears unable to extinguish the fast-growing embers. Not one of them dared to correct the executioner’s methods. Witches, despite stigma, were usually hung or otherwise given quick deaths prior to the burning; but you…
Oh, poor, poor you. Things weren’t quite done correctly. You were still alive when they tied you to the post, surrounding you with flammables and letting the flames lick up your body. Catatonic, unable to beg for mercy, for them to kill you properly. Though, even if you were able to speak, you probably wouldn’t beg. You were desperate to survive. When they butchered you like the farm animals you’d skinned many times before with your dear-old-dad. Failed to cut the correct places and left you bleeding, conscious but paralyzed in pain and fear as they dragged your body to a make-shift wooden post in the town center. Never let you burn fully, the triumph leaving their voices when they still saw you, struggling— eyes still moving, hyperventilating as your arms thrashed trying to break the burnt ropes, paralysis spell broken by desperation— still living, still struggling, still surviving.
They didn’t have the courage to finish burning you either.
It'd be a poor choice if you were a witch, since burning was supposed to be done to stop them from cursing people…
Actually, now that you’re thinking about it, maybe you were a witch? Maybe you had somehow sold your soul, and with no soul to give you could enter the afterlife? Maybe that’s why you felt a path of fury when you died? You felt wronged and cursed people for nearly half the first century you found yourself un-living.
Regardless, the cowards backed away from you with wide eyes, and eventually you felt the ropes break, your body barely reacting to what you wanted it to do, stumbling around aimlessly despite your efforts.
All you could do was scramble out the village, betrayed and never wanting to return.
Eventually, you fell to a crawl, dragging yourself through the grass, fingernails caked with a mix of dirt and blood, as if your near-corpse was trying to create a shallow grave every time you scraped them across the ground…
Somehow, you ended up falling into a river. You don’t know if you fell during your crawls or if someone put you in there, just that it was excruciatingly cold and your lungs, shrunken and shriveled by the heat of your incomplete incineration couldn’t get any air. You tried pulling yourself out but you were too far gone. Even then, ‘til the point your eyes closed you never gave up. Maybe you were so against dying your soul remained, even when your body went.
Honestly, you weren’t ever really sure which of those injuries eventually lead to your drawn-out and overdue death, but you didn’t care. What you did care about, upon re-awakening, was revenge, hearing the blood-curdling screams of those who wronged you, those who feigned ignorance, those who lied, and those who threw you out when false accusations came. You were swift in it, tethering yourself to everyone in town, attaching small pieces of yourself meant for one purpose: tracking.
No matter where they went they were damned, your violent-haze, the cravings for others to bear a fraction of your misfortune. You were like a tsunami, quick to approach with little warning, only the quick recession of water to warn those who’d be affected. (Not that your victims knew what a train was, but it was like the equivalent of seeing a train barreling toward you and being unable to move, only able to process what's about to happen.) And you were even swifter to strike, small misfortunes not enough to quell that furious fire inside you— brighter than those that scalded you. All ended in what you thought were well-deserved deaths.
But, that wasn’t what you’d be using them for. Not today, and hopefully never again.
You decided you’d turn up the heat a bit and have these men notice that they were, in fact, haunted and not just clumsy or forgetful. You had an easier time manipulating things when no-one was around, or when someone was alone. Easy prey for the ghoulish you, even if most of these guys could probably have easily broken you in half when you were still alive. It sounded dumb to give yourself away, since they might try to send you back to the rest you used to crave upon first re-animating, but it was necessary to tether yourself.
So… here you were! Fucking around and moving things, only to be met with just minor annoyance by this guy. ‘Price’, for some unknown reason, just seemed minorly peeved by your interactions, not convinced they were supernatural.
You moved his chair and desk(which was pretty hard with how heavy it was) and this guy just groaned about how his superiors treated his office however they wanted when they needed something.
You sent his papers flying, stacks of paperwork sorted neatly into piles of done and yet-to-be looked at, all flying. You flung the pen he used too, sending a blotch of ink onto the floor with the papers, permanently soaking them. Minor annoyance, didn’t even say anything. Just… grumbled.
Hell, you toppled over a WHOLE bookshelf, loud thud echoing as it fell to the ground and all its contents scattered. And this guy? Grumbling about how the flooring was uneven!
If you had a physical body, you’d be beating your head against a wall right now. Seriously, it was frustrating!
You guessed you had done something correctly though, as he seemed annoyed enough to leave his office and go for a walk. Throughout said walk you continued throwing items and flying through his body, which usually caused people immense discomfort, sometimes to the point of causing panic attacks or full-on freak-outs. All that? Yeah, met with a “Bit chilly today.” or a “Someone outta close th’ windows.”
You were offended, to say the least.
Now, you were in a common room with several other people, including those guys, Gaz and Soap, who now talked to the Price fella. It was harder to interact with things, especially with so many people in broad daylight, in light in general. But you surprised yourself when your frustrations and slight anger led to the lightbulbs in the room flickering several times before simultaneously combusting into sparks and broken glass, all electronics—mainly the radios strapped to almost every soldier in the room— with speakers blaring loud static as you flung the nearest object, a bench that you didn't initially notice was bolted to the fucking ground out from it and towards Price, and the other two who surrounded him.
‘Oops..?’
Okay, maybe you weren’t entirely devoid of anger and wrathful vengeance, but you’d like to think your self-control was a lot better than when you first died. You did have around… well, about 400 other years to learn some self-restraint and become slightly less blood-thirsty?
ANYWAYS; Lucky for you they all managed to dodge that heavy and fast approaching bench! good thing they were all trained soldiers who were always on guard Oh, and even better everyone in the room now looked at the uprooted bench with wide eyes and terrified expressions! So… mission accomplished?
Well, sort of?
“The hell?!” Everyone in the room backed towards whatever wall was nearest to them, behind unmoved furniture, or otherwise tactically covered positions as quick as they could, many (including the poor sod you’d been following and the rest of his team) having their guns ready and aimed at the entrances or near the uprooted bench.
…Yeah, you didn’t really wanna deal with this.
So you floated off, through the walls pretending your problems didn’t exist, as you usually did.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You came across something pretty interesting, that Ghost guy was doing some strange hand gestures to this other masked fella (why was everyone here covered almost head to in something?). For a moment you thought they were trying to summon something before remembering that the military used hand signals and stuff.
Anyways, you now had a new guy to follow! He looked pretty cool and he had these little things hanging off his helmet that remind you of a bug. Something… was slightly off with this guy though. You could’ve SWORN he was occasionally glancing over at you, or your general area. Ghost, who you couldn’t really tell much expression-wise due to him also wearing a mask, seemed to lift an eyebrow. Or furrow them. You didn’t know, you just saw his forehead area shift a bit under the mask.
“You 'lright?” He turned and glanced over at you, where his bug-like friend kept glancing. Bug-fella looked over at you for a few more moments before shaking his head and gesturing at Ghost again. Ghost seemingly returns to his resting facial position and glances back towards your general direction, not quite as spot on as his friend was. “Y' just keep looking over there, ‘was wondering why.”
Ghost loses interest quickly, turning away from where his friend was staring, resuming his silent communication with the still-unnamed lad, hand gestures becoming far too fast for you to even comprehend what they were doing even if you did understand what the gestures meant. After a short while of just floating around and watching them, Ghost gives the shorter man a light bump to the shoulder with his fist (seemingly friendly?) and turns to leave. “See y’ round.”
It’s just you and Bug-boy now. The room empty, and his eyes (not that you can see them, he’s wearing a helmet and goggles that are practically solid with how heavy the glass is tinted) are aimed directly at you. You float over, hovering a good foot or two off the floor because the ground and gravity were for cowards, and stop a few inches away from him. He reaches a hand up towards you, only for it to quickly phase through your arm, then your torso, then back into the air. He’s startled by the feeling, you can tell, shivering as goosebumps raise on his arm and his hair stands on end, you can tell because of his sleeves being bunched up at his elbows.
“Sorry.” you say, not even sure if he’d hear you. Maybe this was some weird coincidence and he couldn’t actually see you. Though, to your utter surprise and slight delight he kind of waves it off, making gestures (full body ones this time, not the hand-signals you couldn’t quite understand) that you could interpret as meaning ‘not to worry about it’. Your eyes widened, before breaking into a big grin. “Wait, wait, wait, you can see me? You heard me— can hear me?!” He nods, looking at you, observing, then gesturing with his hands again.
You.. feel a little bad that you don’t understand whatever military signs this must be, tilting your head and frowning. “I… I don’t understand. Sorry, I don’t know much about the military signals or whatever you were using. The code signs and words you guys use weren’t around when I lived. Or died.” He seems a little confused, then brings out a rectangle from his pocket— a phone, new invention and quite useful. It lights up as he puts in the code and opens something, pressing at the glass.
After a moment he turns it towards you. It… takes you a little to adjust to the brightness (and to read the small letters, given your eyesight and low-literacy). “Give me a second, it takes me a minute to read.” In your peripheral he nods, though you don't move your gaze away from the screen.
“That’s fine, not many people know sign language. It’s not a military signal, just a way I communicate since I’m mute.” You read his words aloud, relatively slowly and he nods after you’ve read it; confirming you’ve read it correctly.
You glance back up at him. “Mute… So you… can’t speak? Right?” Another nod, then he turns the phone back to himself, rapidly pressing the screen and turning it back again. You read again, “What are you? How are you floating, and why’d my hand go through? Why were you watching us?” You hum, floating away from him slightly, sinking slightly to a sitting position, though still remaining affixed in the air and not sitting on an actual chair.
“Well, I’m dead. I guess you could call me a spirit, spectral, a ghost…” you chuckle a bit at the last one. “Well, maybe not that last one, it seems your friend already occupies it.” You lean forward again, nearly doing a backflip in the air before stopping in a lying position, holding your head in your hands. “I guess me being dead physically but alive… consciously, or spiritually I guess..? Resulted in me being incorporeal, thus not really touchable by people or gravity.” He nods at your words before motioning for you to continue when you pause.
You avert your eyes. “Well, watching people is all I usually can do. Incorporeal and all. I’m not sure how you can see me when I’m not manifested or tethered to you, but it’s nice…” Smiling sheepishly, you can only hope this guy— the only person you’ve actually talked to in a long, long, time— isn’t grimacing under his mask. You hesitate before reaching out towards him, running a finger down his throat in thought, forgetting it'd just phase through. “Maybe it's because you can't speak? It's not a sense but it's like maybe because you don't have one thing your other senses are better? But back to your prior questions. Being dead is… boring. All I can really do is fuck with people and watch stuff. You and your friend, Ghost, and his other… teammates are just what have caught my interest recently.”
He nods and trots over to a nearby bench, you grimace thinking about the mischief you caused slightly earlier by throwing a bench at the captain. Let’s hope your bug-friend doesn’t overhear that and stop talking to you. “What’s your name?” He types, and turns the phone to you, a single word there. “Roach? Like… the bug?” your mouth quirks into a crooked smile and you giggle, flicking the antenna like attachments to his helmet. “Fitting, you got the antennas and everything!”
Floating down onto the seat, you try your best to sit on it, your bum and thighs slightly phasing through the seat but it's fine. ‘Roach’ begins typing on his phone again, having it set on his thigh so you can watch while he types. It was also probably just in case someone came in or saw him and so he wouldn’t look crazy turning his phone around to nothing (from other people’s perspectives).
“People can’t usually see you?”
You sigh and lean back, accidentally reclining into the wall and to the other side before realizing he probably won’t be able to hear you if you speak. “Oops, I forgot I’d phase through. Uh, yeah they usually can’t unless I’m actively haunting them and choosing to. It takes a lot of energy to do that though, so…” He nods and hovers his fingers over the phone, thinking for a moment.
“What's your name?”
You hum, thinking for a moment. You... haven't had to introduce yourself to anyone in centuries.
"This... well, it's a little embarrassing, but I can't remember."
"Why don't I call you 'Poltergeist' for now then, since Ghost is taken?" You smile at him, your cheeks feel like they've heated up slightly, but not from the lingering burn you got after your death, no, it was the burn of happiness. Giddy from this guy giving you a name, almost like you were a stray. You shouldn't be this happy, clinging to him and internally deeming him your new best friend, but you were.
Your undeath began a new chapter today, now living as 'Poltergeist' (at least until you remembered your name) with your new ghost-inclined friend Roach.
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