#<- didn't even know that one tag was a thing tbh

[petermorwood]

Hi i have a question!

I just bought myself a decoration sword replica (anduril from lord of the rings) and I've been wondering: aren't swords supposed to be balanced at the point of the hilt?

Because mine isn't, and I'm wondering if it's because of the decoration sword aspect or if i was wrong in my assumption.

I don't know a lot about sword manoeuvrability, and definitely not enough to assess which point of balance might be useful for different uses, but I've been theorising that there lies a potential answer.

I am hopeful that you can help me clear the mystery, and thank you so much in advance!

No mystery IMO - it's almost certainly because of the word you yourself used twice.

What you've got isn't a sword as much as a decoration in the shape of a sword, a specific sword from a famous movie series at that, and to the average movie fan it's far more important for a replica prop to look like what it, is rather than actually work like it.

A really expensive replica "Ghostbusters" proton pack...

...may well have all the necessary blinkenlights and even a sound system for THAT power-up noise, but 99.999% of owners won't expect it to actually tear holes in the fabric of reality.

Of course there's always that .0001%, tinkering away at the back of garages or in basement workshops. If they ever get a proton pack to work properly, we'll all know. ;->

Replica swords, axes, maces etc. are an exception to this general rule. People want them to work, though TBH "work" usually just means "flourish in a dramatic way" (which can be problematic in itself, as you'll see).

Very few take it to the point (or edge) of "take my enemies apart", and those who do have left a trail of weapon bans in their wake. Thanks for nothing.

*****

On the subject of balance, just for curiosity I checked several of my own repro swords - specifically this lot, photographed some years back when they were out taking the air...

...and rather to my surprise, because the amount of metal in the hilts varies so much, the point of balance on Every Single One is more or less the same - a generous hand's-width, say 4-ish to 5-ish inches / 11-ish to 13-ish cm, down from where the lowest element of the guard stops.

This means, of course, that the balance point on the blade is further down on the side-sword (my avatar) and basket-hilt schiavona than it is on the plain cross-hilts, but that aside, one good handspan seems to be the default distance.

Where does your Andúril replica balance? You didn't mention.

*****

Balance point aside, being "battle-ready" (the usual tag for repros intended for clangy re-enactment) really isn't a consideration for movie replicas, since most if not all aren't meant for use beyond decor, posing, cosplay etc.

Swords like these got the nickname "wall-hanger" for a reason.

Decorative replicas are certainly not for fighting with, so whether or not they balance like a real sword is immaterial. I'm sure some do, I'm equally sure most don't.

TBH, posing and cosplay shouldn't include swinging the replicas about in violent combat simulation movements, because they're usually not made like real swords. The nature of their construction (a thing called a "rat-tail tang") means there's a potential fracture point concealed within the grip.

And THAT means the stresses of sword-fighting moves, even without hitting something, might snap blade from hilt. If not noticed in time, the next dramatic swing might send the blade flying off in a dangerous unintended direction.

About 10 years ago I wrote a long illustrated post about that risk. I've seen it happen and though no harm was done, it was a hair-raising (and for one person, almost hair-parting) experience.

*****

The main questions regarding an Andúril replica (or a Braveheart, a Longclaw, a Conan Atlantean etc., etc.) are these:

"Do I think it's an accurate recreation of the movie sword?"

"Do I think it's a handsome ornament in my home?"

"Do I think it's worth what I paid for it?"

"Does owning it make me happy?"

If the answer to those questions is "Yes", then that decorative replica has fulfilled the purpose for which it was made.

Hope This Helps! :->

[zikadraws]

Alright there we go ! This new oc is based in DC Universe. Long post ahead. (Tdlr included at the end. Enjoy.)

This is Taylor Serils (last name up to debate), a tailor owning a small suit shop in the low quarters of Gotham. Uses he/they/it pronouns, is definitely neither cis nor straight but he really doesn't care. (Basically the incarnation of that one meme about the pronouns.)

He is autistic and the son of a tailor (from who he inherited the shop) and a chemist. He didn't get to know his father too much since his parents were separated, and he was killed in a villain incident when he was still a child ; but his mother never accepted the fact her son was autistic and that medication wouldn't change it so she tried to alter his brain chemistry herself by submitting him to experimental treatment.

Said treatment did predictably nothing against his autism, but got him really sick, and fucked up his neural network, so now he can not feel physical pain (sense of touch still operational though), and his feelings and reaction time are a bit deafened. She went to jail after he absent-mindedly ratted her out at school though (still in there btw, for child abuse and illegal practice of medicine), and he was taken in by his dad's side of the family, from who he picked up the tailoring ways which put him to calm, even though they were a bit put off by him, his disabilities and his... destructive stimming habits.

Taylor uses its body as stress/boredom relief, and so tears out his eyebrows, bites off his nails, and bites off his skin. But the thing is, since he can't feel pain, he takes that to the next level, to the point he has no eyebrows, no nails anymore, and his fingers are bitten almost to the bone. They had to bring him to the doctor about this. They tried everything to get him to stop tearing his hand's skin off, eventually resorting to long gloves. Barely sufficient though.

Despite all this, he contently followed a tailor apprenticeship at his family tailor shop with great application, and actually helped the family business thanks to the chemistry hobby he picked up from his mother (subconsciously wanted to please her somehow then found it relatively smooth, so kept investing themselves into chemistry, and then snuck her chemistry material at his new home), by treating the fabrics himself and making them last longer, which his family was thankful for, albeit taken off.

It's through some customer interactions that he found his calling in life. Some guys would complain to the little family shop about comfort and fit, using, verbatim, the expression "my suit should feel like a second skin". Which sparked something within Taylor.

He began experimenting with fabrics and bits of his own skin, until the fabric he ended up developing could blend in smoothly with his epiderm, as a greffe, and even serve the basic functions of skin, which is to touch, and even, eventually, through trial and error, grow.

He didn't even have vitiligo originally ! His skin turned like that due to his experiments on himself, and since it didn't bother him, he just let his skin like that. The spots have a tendency to shift in shapes from day to day.

He invented a fabric that he could just wrap around his damaged skin and it would just fill in the spot in less than a minute, and since his favourite colour is blue, he used this colour for the fabric. Thus why the blue fabric forearms. He never stopped experimenting in this new specific interest, and crafted really interesting suits with those, praised for how astonishingly comfortable they were. (Also made skin cultures, and obtained skin samples from... various sources.)

By this time, he was an adult and inherited the shop when yet another villain incident took the rest of his family, leaving him alone to handle the shop. It was pretty lonely, but he did end up making friends with a Gotham support group, and especially a young boy (that I'm calling Miles out of pure lack of imagination) and his big brother, runaways living together because of family issues.

His career took a turn when Miles' big brother was murdered by a cop for being black. The cop got away with it, but Miles who was understandably devastated mourned his lost brother at Taylor's, who decided to find out who was the bastard, and realised it was one of his current customers, who came for a suit for a special event.

...So Taylor got to work. And made him a suit. The cop found it very fitting. 25 cents tipped.

The day of the council party the cop was supposed to be a bodyguard for a big head, the suit he was wearing started getting... *very* tight. Skin tight, despite still being incredibly bendy. The cop was annoyed, and embarrassed because it was obvious, but didn't try to take it off... Until the end of the day, where he realized with horror that he just couldn't take it off, because the clothes had fused with his skin. He tried to bolt to Taylor's, who conveniently closed their shop for a week leave.

And then the fabric started getting progressively itchy. Really itchy. Extremely itchy. PAINFUL itchy. Like last stage hives, but even worse.

They couldn't do anything except give him painkillers at the hospital, because hormonal treatments worked for like five minutes before the tissue grew tolerance and came back stronger, and to remove the suit they would have had to remove his skin entirely, which he was starting to do on his own anyway because of how unbearable the pain and itchiness were. So they could do nothing but bind his hands and watch him slowly die of advanced gangrene, as Taylor's suit eventually hit its "necrosis" finale. A genuinely awful way to die.

Taylor did a real masterpiece of this suit, but he wasn't really good at covering his path. The police got him pretty easily, and found his back shop lab with all the skin works. They freaked their minds out, and Taylor was immediately sent to Arkham. He promised Miles, who was pretty much on his own otherwise, that he would be out as soon as possible, though.

Taylor wasn't going into Arkham unprepared. The suit wasn't the last project he got done before the cops got to him, after all.

(Taylor's last project allows him to bend its own skin, which he uses to pick the locks, break out a few other residents as a distraction, steal a few guards' skins, and break out of Arkham. His stay in there lasted 8 days tops.)

(This absolutely kickstarted his reputation amongst Arkham residents. Which may be good, because after getting arrested, he needs a new clientele. Guys gotta eat, yaknow.)

Batman is not on his case just yet, but he will be sooner rather than later.

[TDLR :]

This is my DC Comics OC, Taylor Serils ;

He is about 25 y/o ; he never went to high school ; he is a great formed tailor, and an entirely self-taught chemist ; he owns a tailor shop that happens to have a DIY chemical lab in the back area ; he (they/it) pronouns ; he is disabled (his pain receptors don't work) and autistic ; he has self-damaging coping mechanisms ; his parents were a tailor and a chemist, the first dead and the second in jail (for abusing him) ; his favourite colour is blue ; his specific interests revolve around the frontiers between skin tissues and fabrics, for better or for worse, all because he took an expression too literally that one time ; (he also likes animals, TV cartoons and to knit and crochet) ; he can craft clothes and fabrics that act as epiderm, that he uses to heal, or to steal his enemies' skin, that he grows to be able to bend ; he gave himself vitiligo after his own experiments ; his best friend is a teenager ; he cruelly murdered a cop once ; he got locked up at Arkham and broke out after a few days only ; his criminal case is legally stamped (literally btw) as "supervillain" ; he is morally neutral and has absolutely zero big-scale ambition whatsoever, but more and more villains (and, thus, heroes) are getting to whisper about him.

He Gets Subjected To Trouble.

And yes, this was a summary. I got a bit carried away. I hope it's all somewhat coherent (:

Honestly sounds like the kind of OC that doesn't necessarily needs to be in a specific universe, but any either way, I like the guy. And will likely post some about him. Hope you enjoy him as well ^^

If you got any questions about, or for, him, I'll be happy to respond. Thanks for reading ! 🤗

[basicallyjaywalker]

Wanna ramble about a moment/character in ninjago you think people need to talk about more?

I don't know who you are anon, but I'm glad you asked!

I am desperate for people to character-analyze Wu. I'm desperate for a lot of character analysis including Nya but since I got a lot of my Nya feelings out with some lovely folks the other night (edit: the other night was a month ago dw about it. this took a minute) I'm going with Wu this time

Master Wu to me is such an interesting case of a character who it is so easy to ignore the bits of the show that hint at his wider issues and traumas. He is a man defined heavily by his family and by his past. A lot of criticism he gets, I think, is due in part to that.

I've mentioned before that I've been rewatching S1 with a friend of mine and intermittently pausing to infodump on them about interesting character things I notice from that season. A lot of that has been Wu-focused because despite having seen RotS dozens of times throughout my life (watching it on CN, watching it on Netflix when only it and Legacy were around, rewatching it with friends) I have only just started noticing the seeds of character written in.

I might also just be reading too much into things, but hear me out

In S1 (and by extension, the pilots), Wu is characterized as your typical old wise teacher. In the first few minutes of EP1: Rise of the Snakes, he is chewing out the Ninja for playing video games instead of training. The line he uses? "Never put off until tomorrow what can be done today."

It's a line that gets repeated throughout the series. In fact, it gets repeated that very episode when the ninja go (pun not intended) to fight the Hypnobrai and a literal pre-teen. At first, it seems to just be a piece of wisdom. Some old proverb Wu's picked up over the years, possibly one he even coined himself. However, in EP7: Tick Tock, Wu tells the story of who, possibly, first told him this.

(Source: Tick Tock/Transcript | Ninjago Wiki | Fandom, highlight added.)

It was Garmadon. Now, I'm not gonna dwell too long on Garmadon, if you spend five minutes talking to me you'll learn he was the first character whose story I obsessed over and I want this essay to be about Wu, but I think he plays a role in Wu's overall story, as does Wu's family as a whole.

Prior to this, Wu and Garmadon's relationship has been more of a sibling rivalry taken to a good vs. evil extreme. We didn't know why Garmadon was evil and we didn't know about Wu and his relationship as kids. However, this scene establishes the backstory. They were, as Wu puts it, "the best of friends." That is, until Garmadon gets bit by the Devourer going to get the katana Wu lost.

Now, I know the Devourer bite was destined to happen because of the Overlord or some shit, but Wu doesn't. As far as he's concerned, Garmadon getting bit was a direct consequence of both his mistake and his cowardice. He lost the katana. He was too scared to get it. Garmadon went over instead. Garmadon got bit.

The scene goes on to show the FSM tending to Garmadon in the aftermath. Wu is watching from behind the door, likely told to stay back, but concerned. And in his POV, we get this intense moment, where Garmadon turns, looks directly at him (his eyes turning bright red for the first time), and says "It's all Wu's fault!"

(This clip should begin at the start of Wu eavesdropping. If it doesn't, skip to 0:58. I highly recommend also paying attention to Wu's body language during this scene.)

The camerawork does a great job of showing how this probably felt for Wu. It zooms in, Garmadon's voice echoes, and the background blurs. We see in the flashback that this is a moment Wu has etched into his memory. Not to mention, he was likely a very young child when this happened. LEGO characters' ages are weird, but Wu in this scene has the Big Eyes, which always seem to be used for characters under 12. We don't know exactly how much older Garmadon is to my knowledge, but he doesn't have the Big Eyes, so he's probably closer to 12 and a few years older than Wu for sure.

Imagine that. Being in elementary school and your older siblings gets hurt. They're acting strange. They're lashing out at your father. Then, they blame it all on you. They're hurt because of you. Wouldn't you internalize that?

I could go on about Wu's relationship with Garmadon, but again, I think I've spent enough time on it and I don't want to only focus on that. It's an important part, but there are others.

Let's talk about Wu's relationship with his dad.

Now, I have not yet read the Spinjitzu Brothers series. I cannot speak to any development of Wu and the FSM's relationship in there. I have, however, read The Book of Spinjitzu and blogged some of my thoughts on it here, including some of what it says about Wu.

For those who haven't read it, first, there is a Google Drive folder floating around with all of the canon spinoff books/graphic novels in it. Here's the link if you wanna read them!

The FSM is an... intriguing figure. I mean, in the series he's basically god? He made the entire world. That's already a very high bar to live up to. Then, in Book of Spinjitzu, there's a few specific parts that, when I read them, signaled that Wu internalized a specific message when he was young.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, Page 3).

Wu does not want to disappoint his father. It is up to him (and Garmadon until he turns evil) to "uphold the legacy of Spinjitzu" and, by extension, his family. He says he was "very young" when this was explained to him. Considering he seems to already be training at an elementary age, "very young" means VERY young.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, Page 16).

Here, we again see Wu being very aware that he has some large burden to carry. Something else interesting here is that the thought of the Green Ninja Prophecy is already weighing on him too. His considering if he might be the Green Ninja is of extra interest because of how the Green Ninja Prophecy and the--I wouldn't call it obsession, possibly fixation?--with who it is factors into his later actions, but we'll get to that later.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, Page 19).

This one in particular gets me because it comes after Wu mentions Garmadon becoming more evil. It is a statement of power. Wu knows that the legacy of Spinjitzu now rests in his hands alone. He cannot let himself fall the way Garmadon did. He cannot disappoint his father. Whether or not the FSM intended it, Wu always knew the fate of the world rested, at least in part, upon his shoulder. He knew this from the time he was a young boy and it remains in his mind to this day.

Now, these quotes are indirect, but they all point to one clear idea: As a child, Wu internalized the idea that he alone is responsible for keeping Ninjago safe. He will play a pivotal role in its history.

There's not evidence in this book that the FSM's was a bad father, per se. However, just because one doesn't set out to harm their children, doesn't mean they won't. I often say Wu has an "Atlas complex," which I have no idea if it is an actual concept but use it to refer to this idea. Wu feels as though he is responsible for holding up the world, much like Atlas. He must keep the balance, he must solve the Green Ninja prophecy, he must make his father proud.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, page 61).

I'm going to get further into what this means for Wu as a teacher to the current Ninja Team, but for now let's look at Wu's first foray into teaching.

Morro. Wu's Biggest Mistake.

That might seem like an overstatement, but it's not.

(Source: Ghost Story/Transcript | Ninjago Wiki | Fandom)

Okay he says regret, not mistake, but I was paraphrasing.

Let's turn back to his quote about his destiny. Wu writes, "Is my life's mission to be the Green Ninja? Or maybe it will be to find the Green Ninja and protect him (or her)??"

From a very young age, Wu was not only aware of the Green Ninja but prophecy but also thinking about his place in it. We see this again when he takes Morro in and trains him.

(Source: Ghost Story/Transcript | Ninjago Wiki | Fandom, highlight added)

A big thing Wu is criticized for here is making Morro believe he is meant to be more. That he is the Chosen One. And Morro, being a young homeless orphan just now given some semblance of power and protection, latches onto that. And I can see it, but when you take into account the above that he was trained from (likely) a younger age than Morro and given a similar level of responsibility, it becomes more understandable. Wu is just doing what he was taught. He doesn't believe that he is harming Morro until it is too late.

This is the entire story, but I'm specifically going to be discussing 1:36 onwards here. I also wanted to add that rewatching this scene made me lay down on the floor! What the fuck! But I digress.

There's a lot going on in this scene. For one, Wu washing his hands of Morro in some ways, but not others. He turns his back on Morro when he tells him that destiny has decided, but looks at him again when Morro storms out. He goes to save Morro from the Grundal, but decides that he cannot "teach those who would not listen." Most importantly, when Morro leaves to go find the Tomb of the FSM, Wu leaves the door open. He waits for Morro to return, but never goes after him. And Morro never comes back.

Wu gives Morro's fate a dismissive response at the end of his ghost story ("I am saddened he was banished to the Cursed Realm") but it's clear he still cares deeply about him in the finale of the season.

Wu's VA in this is phenomenal btw. That "Please Morro!" and "MORRO!" make my heart ache.

Morro believed Wu stopped caring, but he didn't. Even after all he's done, even after trying to destroy all of Ninjago--destroying what Wu had spent his life trying to protect--Wu tries to save him. He begs for Morro to come with him. Morro refuses, Wu watches him perish.

Someone else Wu is close to is gone. Wu again considers himself responsible. Everything is his fault.

And finally, we reach Wu today. A cautious, secretive man. He loves his students, this much is clear. Even as early as the pilots, he drops his wise teacher persona to joke around with them.

As with Morro, he trains them like his father did him. He even uses the same methods his father used when he trains them.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, page 32)

While he is hard on the Ninja, wanting them to succeed and training them to help defend the Realm, he lets his guard down more than it seems he did with Morro. He also learned a valuable message from his experience with Morro when he hides the Green Ninja Prophecy from the Ninja, getting angry when they start to push themselves in the same way Morro did upon learning about it. It's clear he doesn't want a repeat.

Now, I can't speak for later seasons (I will eventually) but this fear of repeats, his students going down a dark path because they're tempted by power or greatness, losing someone else, likely drives Wu not telling them other important information. That is just a passing thought though.

Final notes:

I'm currently in the process of rewatching S7: Hands of Time. I actually got this ask right after finishing EP68: Scavengers, which opens with Wu having a nightmare. In it, he and Misako are walking outside of Yang's temple. While walking, Misako delivers this line in response to Wu reminiscing about the time they've spent together:

(Source: Scavengers/Transcript | Ninjago Wiki | Fandom)

This line, to me, is Wu's subconscious trying to tell him something he needs to hear. It's hinting at what might be his greatest flaw. Wu is haunted by his past, by his mistakes. He finds it difficult to tell others because of both his guilt and his desire to not put that worry upon them. In this very season, he makes the mistake of trying to face his past on his own, and he nearly dies for it.

In the same episode, you see Wu trying to make sure Lloyd doesn't make the same mistakes.

(Source: Prev)

Wu stresses the important of the team. It's as if he sees Lloyd blaming himself for what happened to Wu, sees him doing the same thing Wu has, and is trying to prevent him from doing the same thing. This is further emphasized when, after Wu falls asleep (well, fakes falling asleep), Lloyd says "Wu's mistake was going in alone. So was mine."

Master Wu is, like many characters in this show, someone who is more complex than meets the eye. He is not just a wise, old teacher. He is a man who, throughout his life, has made mistakes and carries the weight of each of them on his shoulders. He is a man who tasks himself with making up for those every day. He is a man who wants better for his students, his family.

Until the day he dies, he will guide and protect his students. And possibly? Even after death too.

[coldshrugs]

where's the "i wish I could be creative but all my energy is being used for survival" post

[longagoitwastuesday]

So so indebted to u for posting those lovely illustrations from Cyrano <333 & even more so for yr tags!! I'm completely in love w yr analysis, please feel free to ramble as long as u wish! Browsing through yr Cyrano de Bergerac tag has given me glimpses of so many adaptations & translations I'd never heard of before! I'll be watching the Solès version next, which I have only discovered today through u ^_^ As for translations, have u read many/all of them? I've only encountered the Renauld & Burgess translations in the wild, & I was curious to hear yr translation thoughts that they might guide my decision on which one I buy first (not necessarily Renauld or Burgess ofc). Have a splendid day & sorry for the likespam! 💙

Sorry for the delay. Don't mind the likespam, I'm glad you enjoyed my tags about Cyrano, and that they could contribute a bit to a further appreciation of the play. I loved it a lot, I got obsessed with it for months. It's always nice to know other people deeply love too that which is loved haha I hope you enjoy the Solès version, it may well be my favourite one!

About translations, I'm touched you're asking me, but I don't really know whether mine is the best opinion to ask. I have read... four or five English translations iirc, the ones I could find online, and I do (and especially did, back when I was reading them) have a lot of opinions about them. However, nor English nor French are my first languages (they are third and fourth respectively, so not even close). I just read and compare translations because that's one of my favourite things to do.

The fact is that no translation is perfect, of course. I barely remember Renauld's, but I think it was quite literal; that's good for understanding the basics of the text, concepts and characters, but form is subject, and there's always something that escapes too literal translations. Thomas and Guillemard's if I recall correctly is similar to Hooker's in cadence. It had some beautiful fragments, some I preferred over Hooker's, but overall I think to recall I liked Hooker's more. If memory serves, Hooker's was the most traditionally poetic and beautiful in my opinion. Burgess' is a whole different thing, with its perks and drawbacks.

Something noticeable in the other translations is that they are too... "epic". They do well the poetic, sorrowful, grief stricken, crushed by regrets aspects of Cyrano and the play in general, but they fall quite short in the funny and even pathetic aspects, and that too is key in Cyrano, both character and play. Given the characteristics of both languages, following the cadence of the French too literally, with those long verses, makes an English version sound far too solemn at times when the French text isn't. Thus Burgess changes the very cadence of the text, adapting it more to the English language. This translation is the one that best sets the different moods in the play, and as I said before form is subject, and that too is key: after all, the poetic aspect of Cyrano is as much true as his angry facet and his goofy one. If Cyrano isn't funny he isn't Cyrano, just as he wouldn't be Cyrano without his devotion to Roxane or his insecurities; Cyrano is who he is precisely because he has all these facets, because one side covers the other, because one trait is born from another, because one facet is used as weapon to protect the others, like a game of mirrors and smoke. We see them at different points through the play, often converging. Burgess' enhances that. He plays with the language itself in form and musicality, with words and absences, with truths masking other truths, with things stated but untold, much like Cyrano does. And the stage directions, poetic and with literary value in their own right in a way that reminded me of Valle Inclán and Oscar Wilde, interact with the text at times in an almost metatextual dimension that enhances that bond Cyrano has with words, giving them a sort of liminal air and strengthening that constant in the play: that words both conceal and unveil Cyrano, that in words he hides and words give him away.

But not all is good, at all. Unlike Hooker, Burgess reads to me as not entirely understanding every facet of the characters, and as if he didn't even like the play all that much, as if he had a bit of a disdainful attitude towards it, and found it too mushy. Which I can understand, but then why do you translate it? In my opinion the Burgess' translation does well bending English to transmit the different moods the French text does, and does pretty well understanding the more solemn, cool, funny, angry, poetic aspects of Cyrano, but less so his devotion, vulnerability, insecurities and his pathetism. It doesn't seem to get Roxane at all, how similar she is to Cyrano, nor why she has so many admirers. It does a very poor job at understanding Christian and his value, and writes him off as stupid imo. While I enjoyed the language aspect of the Burgess translation, I remember being quite angry at certain points reading it because of what it did to the characters and some changes he introduces. I think he did something very questionable with Le Bret and Castel-Jaloux, and I remember being incensed because of Roxane at times (for instance, she doesn't go to Arras in his version, which is a key scene to show just how much fire Roxane has, and that establishes several parallels with Cyrano, in attitude and words, but even in act since she does a bit what Cyrano later does with the nuns in the last act), and being very angry at several choices about Christian too. While not explicitly stated, I think the McAvoy production and the musical both follow this translation, because they too introduce these changes, and they make Christian as a character, and to an extent the entire play, not make sense.

For instance, once such change is that Christian is afraid that Roxane will be cultured (McAvoy's version has that infamous "shit"/"fuck" that I detest), when in the original French it's literally the opposite. He is not afraid she will be cultured, he is afraid she won't, because he does love and appreciate and admires those aspects of her, as he appreciates and admires them in Cyrano. That's key! Just as Cyrano longs to have what Christian has, Christian wants the same! That words escape him doesn't mean he doesn't understand or appreciate them. The dynamics make no sense without this aspect, and Burgess (and the productions that directly or indirectly follow him) constantly erases this core trait of Christian.

Another key moment of Christian Burgess butchers is the scene in Arras in which Christian discovers the truth. Burgess writes their discussion masterfully in form, it's both funny and poignant, but it falls short in concept: when Cyrano tells him the whole discussion about who does Roxane love and what will happen, what they'll do, is academic because they're both going to die, Christian states that dying is his role now. This destroys entirely the thing with Christian wanting Roxane to have the right to know, and the freedom to choose, or to refuse them both. As much as Cyrano proclaims his love for truth and not mincing words even in the face of authority, Cyrano is constantly drunk on lies and mirages, masks and metaphors. It's Christian who wants it all to end, the one who wants real things, the one who wants to risk his own happiness for the chance of his friend's, as well as for the woman he loves to stop living in a lie. That is a very interesting aspect of Christian, and another aspect in which he is written as both paralleling and contrasting Cyrano. It's interesting from a moral perspective and how that works with the characters, but it's also interesting from a conceptual point of view, both in text and metatextually: what they hold most dear, what they most want, what most fulfills them, what they most fear, their different approaches to life, but also metatextually another instance of that tears/blood motif and its ramifications constant through the whole text. Erasing that climatic decision and making him just simply suicidal erases those aspects of Christian and his place in the Christian/Cyrano/Roxane dynamic, all for plain superficial angst, that perhaps hits more in the moment, but holds less meaning.

Being more literal, and more solemn, Hooker's translation (or any of the others, but Hooker's seems to love the characters and understand them) doesn't make these conceptual mistakes. Now, would I not recommend reading Burgess' translation? I can't also say that. I had a lot of fun reading it, despite the occasional anger and indignation haha Would I recommend buying it? I recommend you give an eye to it first, if you're tempted and can initially only buy one.

You can read Burgess' translation entirely in archive.com. You can also find online the complete translations of Renauld, Hooker and Thomas and Guillemard. I also found a fifth one, iirc, but I can't recall it right now (I could give a look). You could read them before choosing, or read your favourite scenes and fragments in the different translations, and choose the one in which you like them better. That's often what I do.

Edit: I've checked to make sure and Roxane does appear in Arras in the translation. It's in the introduction in which it is stated that she doesn't appear in the production for which the translation was made. The conceptualisation of Roxane I criticise and that in my opinion is constant through the text does stay, though.

[seaside-hysteria]

It sucks that teen titans vol 3 annoys me so much cuz there are some cool concepts and all but I physically cannot read too much of it in one sitting lest the demons get me

[welcometogrouchland]

I broadly think the majority of content you find in "X critical" tags tends to be a bit. Uh. Garbage in terms of legit media criticism, but I cannot overstate their importance in terms of being easily filterable for people who actually like X, and idk if it's the recent migrations from other social media platforms or (more likely) if I'm just having an off week and reading into things too much but like. Can we keep it going/bring it back??? If I have to see one more post about how ppl hate a certain thing in that certain things tag (where fans congregate to find content of the thing), with no filterable critical tag. I might actually kill ppl

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

listening to my Tideturners playlist was a mistake because I am having SO many feelings about the Sidewinder again.

she's not just any AU of Mai Trin; she's a version who's endured the absolute worst case scenario and lives every day in fear of losing everything all over again. but her story flips the entire narrative of Guild Wars 2 on its head; it's all a matter of perspective, and hers comes from an entirely different angle than we're used to.

what is a monster? as they say, to a bird, a cat is a monster.

the Sidewinder's monster is the Commander.

the first Commander she ever met was a tyrant who set the world on fire just to watch it burn. nothing could stop his rampage until there was nothing left to destroy. he made Scarlet Briar's war look like a playground scuffle; in fact, he did it by killing her and seizing her army to do it with. the Sidewinder doesn't have to wonder what a rogue Commander is capable of at their worst. she KNOWS.

and she also knows that if even a single one knew about her outpost, about her, about her people, and decided they were a threat to get rid of, there's absolutely nothing she could do to stop them. the most she could hope to do is be enough of a speed bump that the rest of the Turnabout can escape and make her sacrifice worthwhile.

she's spent decades building up a new world, a new society, and a new identity-- and in a split second a single person could bring it all crashing down. that absolutely terrifies her. it's all so fragile.

a major part of the Sidewinder's personal arc has to do with overcoming that dread to find common ground. because, truth-be-told, much as she'd insist otherwise? she's not so different from the Commander herself. she's fought long and hard to become someone worthy of the trust and respect that so many refugees from so many, many different worlds have placed on her. it's not enough to have it, she wants to DESERVE it. and even if she'd claim she's not there yet, most would agree she's succeeded. she's the beating heart of the Turnabout; none of it would exist without her. she's given all of them the hope that the heroes of their own worlds couldn't.

Mai Trin never wanted to be a leader or a hero or a politician. but as the Sidewinder, she's become all three out of necessity. she had no other choice. no one else was left alive to do it in her place.

so she puts on her mask, and she steps onto the stage, and she talks big, but deep down she knows that if the worst case scenario came back, there was nothing she could do to protect them, not on her own. the only thing that might stand a chance is another Commander, and is she really prepared to take a risk like that? is she willing to put it all on the line to fight for a future without fear?

and even if they are the right choice, even if they do agree to help in spite of it all... can she put one of the last good people at risk, knowing just what horrors they'd be up against? facing someone who's killed others like them a hundred times over, allowing them no rest even in death as their shambling corpses are conscripted into his undead army? how can she, in good conscience, expect anyone to face something so horrific with stakes as high as THAT? which is worse; that they turn against her, or that they trust her and die, adding another force of nature to their enemies' ranks? the Sidewinder doesn't know the answer to that question, if there is one.

there's so much weight on every choice she must make, and the consequences of every wrong move are unfathomable. she might not be the Commander, but that, at least, is one thing they have in common. the decisions they make will decide who lives and who dies.

all the Sidewinder can hope is that when she finally does make that leap of faith, she'll be ready to handle whatever results lay in store.

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen react to their s/o getting cuteness aggression for them

requested by anon! seriously guys you always have the best ideas,,,, anyways i loved this req yet again

masterlist

seungcheol, joshua, junhui, woozi

you make weird scrunchy hand gestures in his face one time and very seriously go “i wanna just shfjkrehfkrrhr your face in my hands, you know?”. and he just blinks, wide-eyed, mostly just fascinated at how to made that sound with your mouth, before slowly nodding his head and going “okay”. you tell him that he's cute on a regular basis in the strangest of ways so like, he's used to it now. once, you grabbed his cheeks and gave him kisses all over and complained about his adorableness until he was laughing, and he thinks that was the best incident of your cuteness aggression over him. the whole idea of cuteness aggression is kinda endearing tbh and the way you in particular express it?? most adorable thing in the world. 

jeonghan, minghao, seungkwan

1000000% capable of getting all aggressive back at you, don't even test him. he'll get all up in your face and poke your cheeks being all like “me?? let's talk about you!! why are YOU so cute huh?? have you thought about how i feel about that??? why do you walk around being so cute when you Know that it's gonna make me fall even more in love with you????” until you're literally giggling at his faux anger over how adorable you are. gives you the side-eye and clicks his tongue bc How Dare you get all screechy about his cuteness when you're literally sitting right there and being way cuter than he could ever be. 

hoshi, mingyu, dokyeom

you yell “WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE” into his face and he will literally jump five feet into the air and yell back “I DON'T KNOW!!! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME” whilst almost sobbing bc why??? are you yelling???? and what does that have to do with him being cute??? your cuteness aggression always takes him by surprise bc he didn't know it would be so… well, aggressive. you ruffle his hair until it's so messed up he can't see a thing and then smack a huge kiss on his cheek before leaving. and he's just left sitting there, hair in his eyes, a little dazed bc uhhh literally what just happened and why is he actually BLUSHING like what have you done to him

wonwoo, vernon, chan

you unleash your aggression over his cuteness on him and he just stares at you with lost eyes and the what are you doing clear on his face. you need to explain to him that there's this thing called “cuteness aggression” that can be activated by things that are just so cute that you wanna scrunch them up in your hands. and he nods and makes understanding noises but you're not entirely sure he gets it. no matter tho bc you start getting the cuteness aggression urges more and more often and now you're beginning to think that he's acting out his cutest actions on purpose just so that you'll come over and squish his face super duper hard

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bananabubble

[jademonument]

always sad going to look for someone you haven't talked to in years, not even to talk to them but just to look back on the things that lead you to meet and talk at the time. and finding something! a lead! and then discovering that all of that is just, gone. evaporated. finding more leads on that person and everything has been scrubbed

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Last Christmas

♥ masterlist | request rules | 12 days of ficmas

♥ pairing: ex!lando norris x fem!reader x oscar piastri

♥ synopsis: last christmas was vulnerable. even more so after you opened up to your best friend lando and him comforting you turned into his confession of love... but the next morning a picture of his girlfriend—whom he never told you about, was the first thing you saw. out of what you'd call destiny, you befriend the two people he's closest too: his teammate and his new girlfriend.

♥ smau - fc: women on pinterest - as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: lando is a bit of a dick in this but it’s only bc its important for the plot lmao! <3

-Christmas Eve, 2023-

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by carmenmundt, georgerussell63, charles_leclerc, and more

yourusername when you’re insecure could be me could be her, you just run to whoever is winning 

view comments

user1 alright who broke our girl’s heart

user2 i’ll break his face

alexandrasaintmleux 🫂

lilymhe love you 🫶 call me whenever you need 

iamrebeccad we’re here for you ❤️

user3 guys WHAT HAPPENED 😭

user4 @/user3 whatever it was is clearly huge because all of the wags are here

user5 oh so this person SUCKS sucks

user6 the sabrina lyrics

user8 SAID THAT IT WAS ME AND YOU FOR LIFE !!

user9 NOW YOURE KINDA ACTIN LIKE I DIED!!

user10 my wife is getting her heart broken by a man 😞

user11 not the mascara running girl he didn't deserve you anyway whoever he was

carmenmundt if you need anything I'll always be here <3

yourusername ty carmen 💋

user12 i know lando just hard launched his girlfriend but i hope he’s still able to be there for yn 😓

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by landonorris, yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 1,019,943 more

mclaren who’s ready for bahrain?

view comments

iamimogen me !

♡ by landonorris

yourusername i’ll be there as always <3

oscarpiastri it’s been a while! can’t wait to see you again

user1 awww osc

mclaren what oscar said!!

blondie_wdj @/yourusername you’re always welcome in the garage

user2 being best friends with a driver means your also best friends with his engineer

blondie_wdj @/user2 so true

user3 i can’t wait to see lando’s gf in the paddock

user5 and her and y/n to be friends

user6 I hope there's no tension between them

user7 @/user6 lets not pit women against each other before they've even met !!

user9 where's yn's man

yourusername no idea 😔

liked by oscarpiastri, francisca.cgomes, lilymhe, and 130,583 more

yourusername after party

tagged; @/oscarpiastri

view comments

user1 STOP is that imogen?

user2 she’s so hot i fear 🫣

oscarpiastri finally made it onto your ig 🙏 I used to dream of days like this

yourusername you are now one of my elite employees

user8 the way lando isn't even in the pictures lmaooo

yourusername @/user8 he wasn't approved by the council

user3 so here for ynoscar tbh

user4 that's what I've been SAYING

user5 so glad lando has a gf so yall finally stop shipping her w him and let the oscarinas have something

iamimogen great to meet you 💕

♡ by yourusername

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Time Skip-

liked by iamimogen, user2, user8, and more

f1gossip y/n and imogen were spotted hanging out all night after the monaco grand prix. could this be the beginning of a new friendship?

view comments

user1 I BEG YOUR FINEST PAEDON?!

user4 they're so fucking cute oh my god

user2 i love it when the girl bsf and gf are besties 🥹

user9 it's mr steal your girl

user8 Imogen break up with your boyfriend ‼️

user7 yn lando Imogen poly when

...comments have now been disabled

-Hungarian Grand Prix-

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri, georgerussell63, and 495,603 more

yourusername BUDAPEST, HUNGARY 📍

view comments

user1 @/oscarpiastri again

user2 how did you recognize him by just his back? 😭

user3 crying because why is yn posting oscar more than lando posts his girlfriend

user4 RIGHT? I don't think I've seen her once on his main or jpg but Imogen posts him all the time :/

user5 its kind of weird since lando used to post dozens of pictures of yn

user6 anyone else notice that he hasn't liked or commented on any of yn's posts in months or am I insane?

user5 @/user6 YES I HAVE

user8 guys I think they went through a friendship break up or something

user4 @/user8 do you think its because of Imogen?

user8 @/user4 maybe

user6 @/user4 I don't think so since yn is with her all the time. I just haven't seen yn talk to lando publicly since last year

mclaren it's always nice to see you!

yourusername valid: all days paddock pass when?

mclaren 👀

user9 hungary is such a random race to go to lol

user10 she's mclaren's good luck charm trust

liked by oscarpiastri, iamimogen, mclaren, and 100,894 more

yourusername YESSSSiogvdrs;okfeLI

view comments

user1 SHES SO US

user7 SCREAMING

user3 ARE WE GONNA TALK ABOUT THE FACT THEY LET YN STAND DOWN THERE

user2 honorary wag !!

user4 oh the sheer amount of pictures she took of him

user5 that's a proud girlfriend if I've ever seen one

user6 she didn't even greet lando...

user10 she was probably caught up in the moment

user6 @/user10 me when I lie

user10 HELPPP 😭 I don't want to admit her and lando aren't hanging out anymore... they were literally best friends

user9 lets focus on the positives: oscar won and he's 100% into yn

-F1 Winter Break-

liked by landonorris, yourusername, and 403,859 more

iamimogen loving winter 🤍

view comments

user1 she’s SO gorgeous

yourusername the prettiest

iamimogen @/yourusername no you!!

user2 stop i still love that her and yn get along 🥹

user3 right they’re so sweet

landonorris ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux stunning

iamimogen 💋

francisca.cgomes hottie

iamimogen love you 😘

liked by yourusername, landnonorris, lilyzneimer, and 203,586 more

iamimogen I'm dreaming of a pink christmas

view comments

user1 lando you need to step up your game

user2 him STILL not posting pictures about her is crazy...

user3 EXACTLY

user4 the way they've been publicly a couple for a year 💀

user7 pink pilates princess core

iamimogen you know it

user12 I feel like I'm the only one who thinks her and lando are cute 😭

user6 no they're cute there's just something... off?

user10 @/user6 exactly. I love them but what the fuck is going on with them and yn

user9 the only place were gonna find lando and yn together these days is Imogen's likes

user5 LMAO

liked by oscarpiastri, iamimogen, francisca.cgomes, and 295,057 more

yourusername photo dump 🩰🎀

view comments

user20 @/iamimogen not yn copying you 💀

yourusername omg i had no idea she invented the color pink. @/iamimogen i’m so sorry queen i had no idea 🫶

iamimogen @/yourusername that’s ok just make sure to give creds next time ❤️

user1 PLSSS they’re so unserious

user2 im obsessed with their friendship wait 

user3 they’re so fucking funny

user4 OSCYN HARD LAUNCH I REPEAT OSCYN HARD LAUNCH

user5 oh I fucking knew it

user6 its a christmas miracle

liked by oscarpiastri, iamimogen, lilymhe, and 948,840 more

yourusername stole your boy and your girl

view comments

user1 THE GASP I GUSPT

user4 jaw is on the floor.

user3 LEAVING THE COMMENTS ON IS CRAZYYY

user5 what a bad bitch move

user7 SHUT UPPPP

user6 so this all WAS about lando?! I'm genuinely so curious now I need to know what he did!?!?!?

user8 oh my god yn is my favorite person

user9 y'all remember that post of her like sobbing last year? was that about lando...?

user10 FUCK OFF IMAGINE IT IS

user12 begging for a story time

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

end notes: i’m really fighting my demons (the urge to make a part two where yn ends up with imogen…) anyways I'm back with super late christmas fics haha !! they'll all be posted out of order from now on lmao

taglist; @sainzzreputaticn @theseerbetweenus @yawn-zi

[https-papaya]

such a gentleman — max v.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

( masterlist | guidelines | drop a request )

PAIRINGS: max verstappen x fem!reader

SUMMARY: max' best friend breaks up with her boyfriend in spectacular fashion. maybe this is the push he needs to finally admit he's in love with her.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i'm genuinely blown away by the kindness and support i've received from everybody so far. i was really nervous to start posting here, but you've all been incredible! i hope that you guys enjoy this one as much as i enjoyed writing it — WARNING that this smau involves references to infidelity (not max or the reader). have fun and feel free to send me requests!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, danielricciardo and others

yourusername what better way to take my mind off things. monaco, you were a dream. next stop...?

view all comments

maxverstappen1 Thank you for being there. 💛

liked by yourusername

user2 hope you're feeling better!

user3 You should totally go on holiday somewhere and just forget about him tbh

yourusername that's the plan 😉

user1 ugh i hope max dropkicks him into next year

liked by maxverstappen1

danielricciardo my offer still stands...

yourusername you're just built different 😔 aus is too hot for me!!

landonorris thanks for convincing max not to order in the sushi platter

yourusername anything for my favourite papaya 🧡

oscarpiastri hey.

yourusername sorry osc, he's got the longevity :( give it a few months?

user4 oSC????

yourusername added to her story

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, landonorris and others

yourusername much needed.

view all comments

user2 the second pic???

user4 omg i cant believe max and her went together sdjhfhdj

danielricciardo and here i thought aus was too hot for you??

yourusername 🫢

user1 oh theyre in love ur honour

user7 showing the ex what he's missing fr

liked by yourusername

landonorris without me??

yourusername next time xx

user3 the fact this means max took the first pic has me spiralling

user5 no way her ex isnt seething over this LMAO

user6 his fault for cheating imo 🤷

liked by maxverstappen1

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and others

yourusername another month, another race. glad to be back 💛

view all comments

user2 no max in the likes?

user3 its over i fear

landonorris supporting the hometown boys, i hope?

yourusername count on it!

user1 and if i speak-

user4 don't.

danielricciardo was the coffee as good as he says?

yourusername even better i promise

user5 HE???

user6 surely-

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, landonorris and others

maxverstappen1 Didn't get the win this weekend, but I won something better.

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

user1 oh my god.

yourusername thank you for loving me ❤️

maxverstappen1 Always ❤️

user4 its so over for her ex BYE-

user3 more affection than her ex ever showed her i know that's right

user2 They're sickeningly cute I can't rn

user5 parents???

danielricciardo fucking finally

landonorris it was almost painful fr

yourusername oh shut up

oscarpiastri no no he has a point

yourusername do you want me to pay for lunch tmr or not??

oscarpiastri i'm willing to take the risk

liked by landonorris and danielricciardo

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

© https-papaya || do NOT rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platforms

[navydoves]

Blood Bag — Chapter 1

"Shh, drink." ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

✎ᝰ. summary. you’re a vampire, you need blood. sylus is the most powerful man on this side of the planet. he has what you need. ✎ᝰ. cw. you’re a vampire/sylus is a human, yearning sylus, depressed sylus, lonely sylus, luke and kieran are side characters, not unrequited but maybe a little, ANGSTY, erotica, lots of pining here bro, sylus will get more pathetic as the chapters go on TBH

✎ᝰ. wc. 9.7k ✎ᝰ. a/n. alright this is gonna be a several part series (nothing over like 3 or 4), because this baby is heavy packed with story. the story is told in sylus’s pov and this first chapter is a lot of character building for sylus. some things are written in-between the lines here and it’s something you’ll just have to figure out as you read more.

also apparently i have a tag list of one? woaahh, crazyyyy.

@phisen hey girl whats up

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ to be in power means to wear the crown of the wind - ruling unseen, yet felt everywhere. there is a jurisdiction through those in power; created by them, and mandated by their people. with great power comes great responsibility, but with great power comes great reward as well. some sovereignties relish in riches or authority because that was the reward of power. owning, succeeding. other sovereignties revered obedience and the autocratic nature of their title, because that too was the reward of power. authoritative, commanding. the only reason empires fall, and people scatter is because their sovereignties could not hold up the weight of their responsibilities. it is the well-established, deliberate ones that have continuous reign. but we live in a world filled of trade-offs; so, while reckless sovereignties get to be reckless because their trade-offs are rebellion and destruction, what do the sensible sovereignties get? loneliness. loneliness is their trade off. the most revered sovereignties are only that because they are the most sound and practical. they pay for longevity with isolation, and not by choice, no, but by necessity. trust is earned. happiness is earned. in order to stand today where he does today, the standing sovereignty of onychinus has lived by this philosophy for centuries. besides his two (rather immature) underlings that have pledged their loyalties to him, there is no other soul that has taken up space in his life. sylus was all too venerated as a leader to care about abundance anymore. every trade was always carefully scrutinized by him to ensure that he and his organization received complete satisfaction; but the only deal sylus has never acknowledged is the deal he made trading his heart for his position. since the first day of creating onychinus, he unknowingly sold off the heart once given to him for the reason of structure, for protection. protection was now evermore a necessity than before, though. while threats of danger always loomed in the empire that was the n109 zone, the recent outbreak within neighboring empires was causing tension. the n109 zone was strictly regulated and monitored as per onychinus's rule, so they barely even felt a scratch from the epidemic, but that was all the more reason to invade them. originating from a lost civilization called linkon, the outbreak was said to also have vanished to time. as their empire fell so too their people and the horrifying disease they carried with them. horrifying by today's standards, that is. what was formerly called their "disease" is now more modernly known as vampirism. vampires weren't creatures, no, as they stemmed from humans and could also carry human genetics - but they weren't human enough to be considered normal. back when their first began as a sub-gene (or "subspecies") of humans, they were accepted rather easily into normal civilization. differences were put aside for the sake of community building as "sovereignties" and "empires" didn't exist as we know them today. but as the saying goes, "one bad apple spoils the bunch." veering off the animal supply stashes the vampires kept stored within their solitary caves, a few rogue vampires decided that the next best thing to animal blood was human blood. it was a very practical thought - humans were much more well-nourished and they had more blood to take. surely, their blood was better than pig's blood. surely, the one or two humans that would be sacrificed would understand that this is for hunger. and surely, their communities would understand that they were doing justice to the greater good. and surely enough, it did not end well. the incident in which vampires betrayed the hospitality shared between them and humans for the sake of blood was dubbed "the first bite." at the time, no one had no way of knowing it - but the bite of a vampire wouldn't take a life; rather, it would alter whoever was bitten to turn into a vampire as well. when this revelation was made, things were more than "not well", they were catastrophic.

the details of it are spared now in history books, but the way of the word says that for the better part of the eon there was enough bloodshed to coat forests red.

in the end humans won was what essentially a war with their biggest ally being the sun. most vampires were innocent in any betrayal, but the frenzied attacks that came after the first bite were targeted at the entire sub-gene of vampires, causing panic and retaliation. an unfortunate set of circumstances, really, but since their supposed extinction their existence was only to the world through tales. a cornerstone story of betrayal and human triumph.

that was until now, though.

it was only a few decades ago that a new surge of vampiric traits emerged untraceably in humans. the sun was scalding to their skin, their complexions ghostly and gaunt, their bodies rejecting normal meals. this rise was declared a state of sovereign emergency and due to mistrust and anxiety welling within people, this was where tensions between empires began.

n109, being the biggest trader and distributor of modern weapons and protective gear, were in high demand. the issue was, sylus was not a man who was willing to bargain that easily with other empires even for the sake of an outbreak. what about him and the people he took care of? even if these people are criminals, mobsters, drug dealers, outcasts of society, they were still established in his area. to put into simple terms, sylus was and is a hardass. he could be called greedy and intransigent by as many news outlets as the world wanted, but he was stern and consistent in his ways. which is why he is the sensible sovereign others cannot be.

he gave up his heart for this position. he gave up half his soul to be where he is. and he'll be damned if he loses it all once again. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ "boss says no, sorry!" luke chirps from behind his mask. he gives the merchant a small shrug, completely resigned in his words.

"nothing we can do it about it!" kieran chirps in the same tone. the merchant in front of them furrows his brows together in clear disdain. the impatient expression that he wore on his face for the past two hours only evolved into a newfound emotion of anger that threatened to burst. the twins exchange a knowing glance at each other but then quickly refocus their attention onto the greying, tall old man in front of them. "why not?" the merchant asks with restrained tension in his voice. the binders of death reports and files he's lugged over city lines for the simple purpose of showing the head of onychinus were now useless. "do you understand what you're denying right now? it's aid! it's humanitarian assistance! what gives anyone the right to deny people life?" the twins exchange another glance. "we aren't denying anything, sir" kieran responds amusedly while flicking his finger back and forth between him and luke. "we are simply the boss's messengers. nothing we can do about it." "yeah, yeah," luke agrees while crossing his arms, "don't go being all bitch-y to us. take it up with the boss." the merchant clenches his fists until his knuckles turn visibly white. the anger was almost a little humorous to the twins, but they kept their faces in check - even with the crow masks on. "how the hell am i supposed to take it up with him if he won't even see me?! why doesn't he bless negotiators with his presence especially after we've gone through days of his intensive security procedures? is he mad?" kieran stifles a laugh so luke decides to answer for him. "don't take it so personally. boss doesn't er... 'bless' people with his presence if he doesn't believe the conversation is worth his time. you're the fourth outlander this month with a proposition about weapon trading for the outbreak. guess what boss said the other three times? i think you have a good idea." "and so how exactly are us smaller states supposed to acquire artillery to fend off these vicious vampires?! the n109 zone has more than enough weaponry to go around without becoming insufficient themselves." "how would you know that?" kieran asks suddenly, his giggles gone in an instant. luke tilts his head at the merchant and shakes it in displeasure. "you're very bold to assume the business of the n109 zone, especially when the case files you've brought us clearly skew the deaths in your area. the elderly dying of regular, human sicknesses is not an issue. yet many of the death files you've brought make it sound like the 'sickness' was vampirism. you can't half-truth your way into a conversation with boss." the merchant shakes his head rapidly and clutches onto the binder of cases. he flips it open and swipes through the papers with haste, determined to explain and prove himself to the twins for the sake of his dignity. "you don't understand, of course you don't! you haven't read the files fully! the elderly-" "nope," luke interjects, "we're not here for a debate. like we said, boss gave orders and we're relaying them. when boss says no, you take a leave." he pats kieran on the back once with a small laugh, an indication telling the brother he had to get the guards this time. kieran sighs softly and steps aside for a moment while luke continues his argument with the merchant. he clears his throat, steps into position, and flails his arms while making cawing sounds to the air.

the immediate embarrassment that flooded kieran was almost enough to make him stop but the incoming of mechanical birds hidden away in the corners of the estate told him he did enough. the birds swooped in and pinched the various corners of the merchant's clothes before dragging him away with disgusting strength. "w..what's happening? get these birds off of me!" he yells while scrambling to catch his flying papers. the twins simply watch the scene with a bit of awe in their gaze. the snail trail of reports falling from the binders, the panicking merchant that were glad was finally out of their hair, and the mechanical crows all flying and pulling in uniform fashion. they giggled. "see? i told you our training on the birds worked," luke cheesed while nudging kieran, "they know our calls now, we're like crow papas to them." kieran stares at his twin for a moment and just very subtly shakes his head in disbelief. "you're weird." "you too, crow head."

"look at what you're also wearing on your head right now." "hey... no bickering! boss wants us to report back to him soon. let's get the crows to pick up and throw away the papers." kieran sighs in surrender and nods. it didn't take long for the mechanical bird army to come flying back from around the corner and into the common room the merchant waited in. with a few more embarassming squawks from the twins, the birds begin picking up the left-over, tattered piece of papers that had clearly gone through a lot from the journey to the n109 zone. "hey luke," kieran mumbles while tidying up the papers on the long, matte-coloured table nearby. "maybe we shouldn't throw these out? boss didn't get to see most of what that guy brought. it might be good if we bring it to him." luke stands straight and tilts his head. "why's that?" "well if these are legitimate death files from states that are suffering from vampirism, then it'd be good private intel for boss to examine. maybe it'd help him gain more... yknow... intimate insight on what's happening beyond the n109. not just bullshit TV news and all that hargon-jargon." "i mean..." luke murmurs while scratching the side of his mask. it wasn't like sylus to give time of day to outsider intel. he preferred getting it his own way, impractical or not. but death reports were a new one. "if he doesn't want them then he can just throw them out. no harm no foul?" kieran nods in agreement and turns back to the papers in hand. time to go find boss.

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"come in," sylus murmurs while not sparing the door of his office a glance. his eyes were trained on the case of guns that was sat up on his desk. he takes a long sip of his herbal tea while tracing his fingers over the cool metal that shaped each ridge of his babies. but his attention was quickly stolen away though, as the noise of ruffling of papers emerged through the door.

"hey boss," kieran greets first while holding the door open for his brother. they both had a handful of messy, floppy papers in their hands that almost threatened to slip out of their order again. sylus quirks a brow as the twins set down the papers causally beside his gun case and step back. "what is this?" he asks with a neutral yet slightly annoyed tone. he slowly closes the gun case and looks up at the twins with a boring expression. he looked exhausted, almost. "death reports from the merchant that came in earlier," luke chuckles nervously, "he dropped a few pages as he left, and we thought you might like to see them." sylus furrows his brows slightly but not out of annoyance. this wasn't like the twins, to bring him something from the negotiators that popped in and out of his estate. "why? didn't i tell you two to dismiss him? why do i need his papers?" "well you don't need the papers," kieran adds on, "but we've never received death reports from any state or empire up until now. it's like an inside look on the effects of vampirism going on. we know you're old boss, but you're not old enough to remember the first vampires, right?"

sylus crosses his arms and looks to the side briefly. "no," he simply answers. "how do you know these aren't faked in some way? or completely illegitimate? what if they're from some other empire that isn't that merchant's place of origin?" the twins look at each other and shrug. kieran speaks up first. “well we don’t. we know some of them are but the rest looked real when we went through them.”

luke follows up. “look boss, you don’t have to give it a second thought if you don’t want to. you look pretty tired anyway, have you been getting any sleep?”

kieran stands on his tippy toes to peer over sylus’s desk. a wave of gratitude washes over him as his eyes catch a glimpse of the familiar green liquid in sylus’s cup. “hey, you’re drinking the herbals we gave you. they’re good aren’t they? you’ve been needing something to calm you down, boss.”

sylus glances over to the steaming mug on the edge of his desk. with slight hesitation he picks it up and brings it to his lips for a small sip. the twins watch him quietly, almost in awe that sylus was actually enjoying something they suggested. the cup finds its way back onto the desk as sylus picks up the reports right next to them. he heedlessly flips through them, eyes scanning every few words on every other page but not fully registering any of the contents. with a sigh, he throws them back onto his desk and waves his hand.

"this is an afterthought to all the weapon modifications and security checks we're running right now. these fucking… vampires - they're making my job harder than it needs to be. and now i have people coming in and out the n109 zone like it's a game of hopscotch, begging for my mercy like im some sort of fucking saint." sylus squints his eyes and bares his teeth in frustration. the empire, the organization he built up from the ground wasn't charity - even in times of crisis.

all these people were cruel. a life so distant to him now still prominently held the ache of rejection in his chest. why does he have to help them? who helps sylus now?

sensing the frustration and indignation welling up in sylus, the twins quickly step forward and snatch the reports off the desk to put on a side table, away from sylus's immediate gaze. "boss, hey, hey, take a deep breath," luke coos, "you're so tense today, is everything alright? when was the last time you slept?"

kieran glances between his brother and sylus and frowns behind his mask. "it's been more than today, you've been at your wits' end for a long while now, boss. we can't remember the last time you… you weren't…" kieran trails off, feeling as if he were over-stepping in his words. he steps back as a subtle sign of submission, but sylus notices the sudden tension between his underlings. he sighs and thuds back onto his desk chair. his head was buried in the large palms of his hands as an exasperated groan left his lips.

"look… it's not something the two of you could understand unless you were in my position," sylus murmurs into his palms. he pulls away from his hands and lays back in his chair, arms tense on their respective rests. "don't go worrying about me when you both have your own responsibilities to adhere to. the n109 zone, onychinus, me, i wouldn't have lived this far if i wasn't okay enough. you two are naive to these feelings. you have your youth, each other, and aren't constantly endangered by your line of work. i make sure of that."

"and you have none of that?" luke mumbles rather somberly, his head tilted down to the floor.

"of course not," sylus replies, "you two have known me long enough to know that. now -, " sylus stands to full height from his chair and briefly looks at the twins before focusing elsewhere. the obvious dejection in their postures made him feel bad, but knowing it was because of him made him feel worse. yet for some reason, an apology, explanation, or anything of the sort couldn't come out of his mouth to reassure them." - i'll need you two to leave. i need some time to myself. have the guards initiate lockdown and get ready for bed. the estate should be quiet."

the twins don't bother picking up their heads and simply nod at sylus's words. luke leads out and kieran follows him through the office door. the tense air they were just suffocated in stalked them even through the corridors of the estate, far from where sylus was. as they pressed for an elevator to descend, kieran turns to luke and lets out a small noise to get his attention. "what do you think?" he asks rather neturally.

luke returns kieran's gaze and takes a moment. "i think boss is depressed."

not long after the twins left his isolated office, sylus returns to work inspecting the weapons on his desk. they were placed so gently in their matte-case after their polishing and refinement, which scratched an itch in sylus's perfectionist brain. these were new prototypes that underwent intensive scrutiny before landing in sylus's hands.

the only difference about these prototypes was that they weren't regular technological maintenances on older weaponry; but rather, modifications made on the best artillery within onychinus. this case of guns were only scrap pieces of what was currently in network within his bases. and this was what other nations were at the door begging him for. weapons made specifically to fend off vampires. alloyed in the coldest type of steel, onychinus' series of vampiric artillery was nothing short of effective as they were nothing short of perfection.

sylus slowly grazes the edges of his guns with his fingertips, reveling in the sleek feel of them before picking up the smaller of the three. he holds it up, points the gun at the end of the room and stills in his stance. the gun was snug in his palm and surged power through sylus's veins. it felt good, it felt more than good. he produced perfection again and that accomplishment was especially honorable when knowing that the rest of the world was in trying times while he, he was succeeding. a brief but telling smirk tugs at sylus's lips. he relaxes and puts the gun back in its mold in the case. while closing the top of the case, his eyes flit to the side to the scattered reports on his side table. he should really get rid of those, he thinks. they're a ridiculous eyesore, he thinks. something as inevitable as death shouldn't be used as a guilty-trip, he thinks. but his hands betray his thoughts as they reach out to the discarded pile. in a similar fashion to earlier, sylus skims through the papers with mild interest and moderate annoyance. he wasn't sure why he felt a boiling upset in him whenever he was reminded of the outside world, but his cryptic mental problems were of no use to figure out when he had real-world problems. the pile almost reached its end when sylus's attention was piqued by something ... familiar? he wasn't sure what exactly was familiar about this report. it wasn't the name, nor the date and place of birth. it wasn't the occupation nor address; nor was it the reason and specifications of death. it actually wasn't any personal details of this person, he noted, but rather something more tangible. their face. her face. sylus bores his eyes at the rectangular photo of the woman on the top left of the report. he isn't sure if he's ever seen her before, but no other face in the reports had warranted a reaction from him like this. his eyes scan over the full document once more before narrowing at the place of birth. philos. if there was one nation sylus hated with vigor it was philos. hate was a strong word for him. even to his mortal enemies he wouldn't say he hated them - more like pitied them for their passion of hating him. philos was the only exception from this moral code of hate, though, as the birthplace of sylus's hate was from philos itself.

he quelled his anger quickly and focused back on the woman’s face. what was it about her that provoked his interest and why did the fact she was from philos leave him unsettled? the questions floating around in his head were suddenly frustrating, causing sylus to grit his teeth and throw the paper back onto the desk.

as if he didn’t have enough stress and paperwork in his life. as if philos hadn’t meddled in his life enough.

he groans softly and firmly picks up his weapons case off of his desk. he strides to the middle of the room and held the case up, eyes scanning his surroundings for a familiar bird.

“mephisto,” sylus calls with a scratchy voice, “take the case back to base.”

a dark crow flies out from the corner and caws as it’s claws grip onto the heavy case with concerning strength. the mechanical bird flaps its wings and glances down at sylus, its beady red eyes tracing his figure.

mephisto, in a way, was the only thing that could be above sylus.

the bird flaps in place for a moment before flying toward the office door with its package. sylus watches mephisto with a twitching lip, a few more words pending in his head.

“and mephisto… tell base those guns fucking suck.”

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the atmosphere was quite mellow. sunday was the best day to visit the bar; all the nerduwells and wannabe vigilantes in the n109 zone had exhausted their energy for the week, leaving the streets and establishments somewhat peaceful.

somewhat.

the recent epidemic of vampirism in neighboring sovereignties caused a spike of anxiety even here. even if the n109 was one of the most established empires in modern day, humans were prone to worry about what-ifs.

what-if n109 defenses weren’t enough to stop an army of blood-thirsty vampires?

what-if the security checks done on visitors overlooked someone?

what if the demand for the n109 zone's involvement in the ongoing epidemic increased, resulting in them making enemies with former allies? what if, what if, what if? but sylus didn't have the energy to worry about the what ifs. he only worried about what is. what is happening in onychinus's bases? well that would be massive weapon modification and revamping. what is sylus's role in the ongoing vampiric invasion? his only role is acting as the head of onychinus and as a protector of the n109 zone. what is currently happening in the main estate sylus worked in? well that would be a reinstation of a better, more thorough built-in security system.

which is why sylus was stuck here in a nearby bar that he frequented. well, frequented is a strong word - he more so popped in and out from time to time and only racked up a tab when he really needed it. the bartenders knew him, of course, and upon seeing the laundry list of a tab he was currently racking up, they felt a little concerned. but sylus was in no mood to talk, drinking was his conversation right now.

one shot empty meant give me another. two shots empty meant give me another. three shots empty meant give me another. four-maybe this language sylus was speaking was limited... but the bartenders understood it well. sylus puts down another shot glass and groans. "give me another. balkan this time, no chasers." "the balkan isn't meant for straight consumption," the bartender informs rather straightforwardly, "we can offer you finger foods with it, on the house." sylus flits his intense gaze from his glass up to the bartender. the frown on his lips and the twitch of his eyebrows communicates more than the empty glasses this time around. the bartender turns to his female co-worker. "balkan, no chasers." the 57th shot is when sylus called it quits. a man of his stature, strength, and age could not be toppled over easily. dragons drank for breakfast, lunch, and dinner on occasion. he was just reliving those days, it seemed. sylus stands and rubs his eyes in exhaustion. he wasn't sure how long he'd been sat at the bar for but the crowd that was here when he first stepped in was now entirely replaced. his gaze was only slightly distorted, but it was enough to make him stumble here and there. he reaches into his shirt pocket and slides out his black card with his fingertips, but is met with refusal from the bartenders. "we have your card on file," the female bartender smiled. "would you like us to call your drivers to take you back to your estate, sir? your renovations are most likely done by now." sylus raises an eyebrow at her. fuck, he must've mumbled on about his current pathetic life affairs to these poor workers and had somehow given them his driver's numbers. but the usual slight sense of embarrassment that would creep up on him was sputtered out by intoxication. he nodded slowly at the girl and sat back down as she left to the back for what he assumed would be a weird call to his chauffeurs. he waited for a period of time completely unknown to him. was the alcohol really screwing with his head this much? 57 was lightweight to him most days, but these days as of late weren't like most days. sure, the vampire epidemic had been going on for a few decades now, but the true climax of the crisis was just now beginning. meaning the true number of headaches sylus got was also increasing. there was a direct correlation to him. he looks down at his hands and frowns. in a drowsy, hazed state, a clear and lucid thought parts all other muddled words. what have i become? his mind goes back to the nonsensical fog that was there prior. it was only until he heard the familiar voice of the female bartender telling him that his ride was outside that he finally focused. he stood, strode assuredly through the doors of the bar, and exited the establishment with none of the emotions he amassed inside left behind. after a short, silent car ride, his destination was reached. the security system of the estate was fully renovated once sylus stepped inside. new DNA sensors, identification scans, ID processors, infrared lights, and an abundance of other authentication protection devices were established. all of which sylus knew by heart. he was the one who had ordered these to be built, after all. this type of security was what he wanted in the near future for all the vulnerable spots within the n109 zone. vampires aren't going to thrive in his empire if he has anything to say about it. sylus only makes it a few steps into the estate before he's beckoned. "boss, boss!" luke and kieran chirp from around the hall. they almost topple over each other trying to get to sylus first. "boss, look at these new ID cards base gave us!" luke giggles, "we had to take a whole shoot for these but they got our best angles!" the twins hold up two ID cards each, one with their masks on and one with them off. it was almost endearing to think that only sylus knew what they really looked like.

"yeah! and because of them, our faces can be sensed without taking our masks off! these new scanners were really worth the money!" kieran adds on with an obvious smile lilting his voice.

but the excitement in the twins' voice quickly die down as they noticed sylus's hazed, apathetic stare toward them. they slowly lower the ID cards and avert their gaze from such a dreadful sight.

"boss?" luke murmurs, "you alright?"

sylus keeps quiet. his eyes were half-lidded and pink and his stance was uneven. he looked a little annoyed but was mostly uncaring of what the twins had to say. the tension that always followed sylus was back now, and at his silence, the twins back away and apologize profusely before vanishing around the corner.

"boss is drunk," kieran simply remarks, childish joy gone from his voice.

sylus turns back to the corridor and walks himself to where an elevator was awaiting his arrival. he steps in, clicks a floor button, and was swiftly taken up directly into his bedroom. his button-up came off first and then his belt alongside his pants. he then slips out of his boxers, shoes, and then socks, all before stepping into his grandiose bathroom for a shower.

while sylus's mouth was quiet this entire time, his head was anything but. a looming sense of forlorn simmered in his chest as his thoughts journeyed him through regret. being in this position with his much power was what he wanted from day one as a baby dragon. and with that dream ripped away from his former self, why did it feel so terrible now to pursue it?

maybe this outbreak incident of vampires was what was needed to remind him of how vulnerable he is. his trade-off for stable, consistent power was this dread that he was feeling now. he once flew through skies free as a bird, now the closest thing he had to free flight was mephisto. maybe that's why he likes crows. they take the flight he can no longer chase. the shower turns off 45 million thoughts later and sylus steps out just as dazed as he stepped in. those shots were something persistent. even his tolerance was withering away, it seemed. he groans softly as he grabs a towel and dries his limbs. every movement felt ache-y and sloppy, but his body was soon dry enough to slip into his robe. before continuing his routine, he takes one good, hard look at himself in the mirror. that was him, surely, but why? why did that have to be him? sylus, leader of onychinus and protector of the n109 zone, a sovereignty of power and advancement. those titles felt isolating, for some reason. but that wasn't anything new. isolation was nothing new.

before he could vomit at the dizziness caused by focusing his eyes too hard, he steps back from the mirror and rubs his head. slowly, sylus's body moves out of the bathroom and into the main part of the bedroom. he slugs toward his bed and sits on the edge before fully twisting his body on the mattress. he doesn't bother lugging the blankets on top of his body, in fact, his skin was scalding. even the robe felt uncomfortable tied around his body like this, but he thought against removing it.

a familiar sense frustration grew within him again. the mere thought of being uncomfortable in his own body was unsettling, it only served his insecurities about becoming vulnerable. he slowly picks up his hand and rubs the side of his face.

"what the hell is this feeling…" he mumbles to himself.

with a resigned sigh, he lets his hand fall back to his side. he closes his eyes and tilts his head back on his pillow. a mixture of exhaustion and pain simmers within his body as he submits to fatigue and let's sleep sweep away his foggy mind.

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the n109 was special in the fact that there was no morning. everyone had their own sleep schedules, but the entire empire was nocturnal, in a sense. sylus himself didn't need much sleep. unlike most humans that needed seven to eight hours per night, he only needed about three or four to fully function, but he could also go days without it. that's why when sylus woke up eleven hours after his night of drinking, he felt a little confused. he squints at the clock on his bedside table to fully ensure that he wasn't imaging the time. no, it had actually been eleven hours. damn, his tolerance was really degrading. he pushes himself off the bed and steps into his slippers. he simultaneously felt better and worse from the night before. his headache was gone for the most part, but the heat under his skin was still there. actually, his skin was so hot that it was a bit itchy. sylus scratches at his face for a few moments before deciding it was somehow the consequence of drinking so much. the alcohol boiling in his body was probably making his body temperature rise, causing this weird sensation. he walks to the bathroom, hoping a cold shower might help mediate this problem. in the back of his head, the myriads of labor waiting for him today laid. he had to run inspections on his new security system to ensure its upkeep, and once he was satisfied, he would go to base to discuss a more widespread implementation of it.

but despite being awake for all of four minutes, it was seeming like nothing was going to plan today. sylus steps into his bathroom and disrobes himself with one tug at his belt. he moves to the shower and turns on the water before staring at himself in the mirror. as he waited for the temperature of the water to drop to the coldest setting, his eyes traced his bare form in the mirror, top to bottom, over and over again. it was almost like he was judging himself. but something catches his eye on his third round of scrutiny. he steps closer to the mirror and leans into his reflection, eyeing down his skin with suspicion. he narrows his gaze on his neck and almost flinches back in shock as he spots something inconceivable. four scarred over circles on the side of his neck, a bit darker than his normal skin tone. a vampire bite. his hands quickly come up to grasp at the patch of skin. he runs his fingertips over the blemishes, but he feels nothing but smoothness there like normal. the bites were healed, but they weren't there the night before, he would know.

vampire bites didn't heal that quickly, but sylus's body was strong enough to recover in record time. in fact, most his scars disappeared after a day or so - but that only further supported the idea that these bites happened recently. most definitely in the eleven hours he abnormally slept. this realization makes sylus stumble back until his back presses against the bathroom wall. "is this some sort of joke? are the twins doing this?" he mutters to himself in disbelief. "how... there's no possible way a vampire could've gotten into the n109 zone, there's no possible way one got into my... my fucking house." a wave of fear washed over sylus. fear was an emotion long forgotten by his brain but in this moment, with the possibility that the security of the entire n109 zone was jeopardized, he felt true fear. quickly, he swipes his robe off of the floor and turns off the shower. he leaves the bathroom and scours his room with intensity, throwing various furniture and items around like a man gone mad.

where was the little piece of shit? how was he supposed to know at what point a vampire got into his estate - bypassing all his new security - and then feasted on him like he was free meat. the mere idea of his privacy and defense being knocked down so easily after everything... everything he's done, it was insanity. there was no vampire in his room, obviously. he figured that as soon as he flipped the bed upside down only to find his bedframe. but there was the entirety of the estate left. in fact, there was the twins left. the thought of the two suffering from their transformation shot panic through sylus, causing him to fly toward the elevator in his room and bang its button to beckon it. at least his body was strong enough to repel the actual mutation of vampirism, and even then, he was suffering obvious side effects. but the twins? they were just boys to him; they weren't anything close to being capable of handling that type of pain. sylus rides the elevator down a few floors to where the twins' room were and then bolts out at soon as the doors open. please, please, please. luke. kieran. bang. bang. bang. "luke, kieran! are... are you guys in there?!" bang. bang. bang. "luke! kier-" "boss, what the hell?!" sylus turns his head toward the end of the hall where luke and kieran were standing. they wouldn't lie, sylus was scaring them a little. a wave of relief washes over sylus as he sees their normal, healthy forms. albeit, they were flinching a little but they were normal. "you two..." sylus whispers, "you two are okay, right?" the twins glance at each other and then turn back to sylus. they nod. "y...yeah?" kieran stutters unsurely. "why? did something happen?" sylus tenses but shakes his head profusely. he lowers his arms off their adjacent bedroom doors and steps slowly toward them. "no, no, nothing happened. i just... had a bad dream about you two. i... wanted to make sure you guys were safe." the twins make another glance to each other. "really boss?" luke remarks, "you had a nightmare? that's never happened to you before. are you sure you're okay?" sylus almost wants to smile at luke's naivety, but he remembers the situation he is in. "that's what you're focusing on?" kieran chimes in, sounding rather happy. "boss is back to caring about us! yay! we don't have to worry about being orphan crows anymore!" luke shoves kieran's side with his elbow, reprimanding him for so openly talking about their fear of abandonment to sylus like this. "ow!" sylus watches the two for a moment, thanking the skies that they weren't harmed. but this revelation opened up a new basket of questions. why did this vampire only target him? were they only trying to take him out? before he could ponder on these questions for any longer, he once again reminds himself that it was only him who knew about this - as far as he was aware. at the very least luke and kieran didn't know, and he intended to keep it that way. "guys," sylus murmurs with tension creeping up in his voice. he tries to quell it, but he couldn't exactly ignore the fact that he had been bitten. so fucking stealthily too. "guys, i'm going to need you two to stay in your rooms for today. i... have to run security checks on the estate and i just need... i just need to go through everything alone. no distractions." "hey we won't dis-" "please," sylus pleads, "please just listen to me. your chores at base today are cancelled, stay in your rooms." the twins seemed genuinely shocked at sylus's uncharacteristic begs. for the first time in a while, the despondent aura that sylus held was gone, now replaced with something they couldn't name. they felt an urge to listen. "okay boss, we'll stay in our rooms," kieran murmurs. luke doesn't verbally respond but nods. they passed by sylus and both headed into their respective rooms, leaving sylus alone in the hall. with a deep breath, sylus looks to the elevator and smiles in anger.

"i'm gonna find you... and then i'm gonna kill you with my bare hands." ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

desperate was the understatement of the century. sylus was in absolute shambles. he checked every fucking camera outside of his estate and nothing came about. he checked every security verification, every sensor, every authentication that was implemented in his estate and still nothing. but his estate wasn't his only concern. he called base to inquiry about the border security checks and for a list of every single person who entered or exited the n109 zone within the last two days. every single name on there was investigated on thoroughly, and still nothing. he was running on fumes at this point. despite his long, restful slumber, restful was the last thing sylus felt. the horror that ensued upon seeing his bites and then the fury that followed it were draining to his already exhausted body. but he could get no peace until he figured out what the actual hell was going on. the good news was, there didn't seem to be any reports of vampire bites within the n109 zone, as well as no reported cases of vampire sightings. that meant whoever was doing this wasn't attacking other people.

maybe not yet, but sylus would rip their limbs apart tortuously before they even got the chance.

this also meant this vampire was probably the only vampire within the n109 zone. statistically speaking, if there were a group of vampires that had infiltrated the empire, someone or some security check would've at least raised one warning flag and sent off a tip-off to base. but there were no such reports at base. in the same way the twins being safe drove sylus equally mad as he was relieved, these new findings did the same. "so you're telling me..." sylus chuckles incredulously under his breath while flitting his gaze between the various screens in front of him, "that little bitch snuck into my land, my territory, and into... ha... my bedroom... to bite me and only me. eager way to assert your dominance... going straight for the top dog." sylus was talking to himself as he had been the last several hours of investigating. he was equal parts fearful, frustrated, impressed, and an innumerable of other feelings. how was he supposed to catch what was seemingly a new breed of ghost vampire? and how was he supposed to feel secure in his position - in his home - knowing that a vampire had snuck into the n109 zone and infiltrated his estate, all while bypassing security. the disbelief of a smile on his face morphed into a grit of anger. sylus stands up from his chair, almost knocking it over with force, and clenches his fists. the security room in his estate was dark and was only illuminated by the white and blue lights that came off of the camera screens. this new room was a part of the mansion upgrade, and yet all of its capabilities served fruitless. "fuck, i can't do anything. i can't... do anything. how can't i do anything?!" sylus's voice was getting progressively louder and more frustrated with every realization. arguably the most powerful man on this side of the world couldn't do anything. he begins to pace. "i can't let anyone know," he murmurs to himself, "fuck, if anyone finds out then my entire empire comes down. if it was found out that a vampire infiltrated the n109 zone and my estate under my watch, it'll be absolute mayhem. i can't. fuck, what am i supposed to do?" the fumes must've been working overtime in sylus's brain, because an idea that makes him halt pops up. "base." he rushes to the intercom by the computerized table in the security room and makes an urgent call to the base of onychinus. he waits for a few seconds anxiously but soon hears a familiar voice. "yes, sir?" one of the heads officers of base answer, recognizing sylus's call. "all the vampiric prototypes you have, and i mean every single weapon, send them over to my main estate. i'm giving you all 2 hours maximum to send them or else i'm coming down there myself and ripping all your contracts in front of your faces. then i’m kicking you to the curb."

“but sir, i thought you said you weren’t satisfi—“

“send. them.”

the resolution in sylus’s voice was something not to be trifled with. the voice on the other end keeps quiet for a moment but then responds the next.

“they will be there in the hour, sir.”

the officer was wrong. they were delivered in the half hour.

the sheer amount of prototypes that were hauled down to sylus’s security room was impressive. sylus watched every single second of the process until every shipment that base brought with them was stashed in the room. they were organized by weapon and then by size, having all the small handguns in one corner and then all BMG sniper rifles in another corner. the room was an eyesore of metal cases, but each case housed a weapon that could potentially kill that vermin of a vampire with efficiency and ease. the sight brought premature retribution to sylus's soul. god forbid he comes face to face with the poor creature. he'll commend them for being so stealthily and intelligent but then kill them in the next breath he'd take. killing so intimately was not sylus's forte, but that's what he felt reduced to at this point.

after base made their final rounds of delivery, sylus was left alone in the security room with his new weapons of vengeance. he steps forward toward one of the cases in the silver section of the weaponry. silver was said to be a vampire's weakness, but also hard to source. carefully, he opens one of cases housing a silver assault rifle and admires the shine on the barrel. it came with silver high-caliber bullet tips and a silencer. in one go, he found his main weapon. sylus smiles to himself and stands with the case, leaving the rest of the cases in the security room for now. he would put those to use at some point, but overloading himself with weapons around the estate would only cause him more trouble. he needed one good gun. he now has one good gun. despite mumbling to himself for the past few hours and feeling like he was slowly going insane, sylus was now quiet in the ride up to his office. his vulnerability was now masked by his armory of weapons, and he would put all of them to use if needed. walking into the room, sylus places the case down on his desk and looks around suspiciously. being paranoid was new too, wasn't it? slowly, he strides around and pulls one of the cabinet drawers to take out a small handheld mirror. he's refused to look at himself since he first found the bite. he raises the mirror and angles it toward his neck, right over the area where the bite was. the scar was almost completely gone now but the discoloration was just faintly there. he could almost visualize the arch of the vampire's teeth sinking into his skin and making him bleed a dinner out for them. it makes him shudder and groan in frustration. quickly, he places the mirror down and swallows. as much as she wanted to get to the bottom of this now, he needed to wait. there was no finding an untraceable vampire. he sighs and slowly lowers himself onto his desk chair. the heat and dizziness that plagued him that morning was practically non-existent now. other than his frustration, sylus felt no different physically. it brought him some sense of reassurance to know he couldn't easily be transformed, but not everyone was like him. in fact, luke and kieran were still practically hidden away in their rooms because of that very fact. "mm, god im exhausted," sylus rumbled with a hand rub to his temples. when his eyes adjust open again they catch a glimpse of something on his desk. he furrows his brows and reaches out for the stray paper, bringing it up to his face. it's that woman again. the one from philos. the one dead. he frowns. "you're torturing me too, yknow?" he chuckles hollowly, "why can't i seem to... know you? you should know your people were horrible pieces of shit. were you a horrible piece of shit like them? you probably were, everyone there was. everyone but..." he trails off, a distant memory in his head failing to reach him. "i don't know actually. hopefully you weren't as miserable as the people of philos. you're too..." he trails off again and stares at the woman's picture. "too kind-looking."

sylus continues to stare at the report for a few more moments before realizing he was talking to himself again-or rather, to a piece of paper. a death certificate. he places the paper down and tilts his head back, softly laughing at himself. "i've gone fucking crazy."

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over a week had passed since the initial incident. every "morning" to "night", sylus spent his time obsessively watching the cameras in his home and scouring the area with his rifle. the twins were quarantined in their rooms for hours on end at a time, and neither of them got a straight answer as to why. right now, sleep was not an option. losing his empire was more important than losing sleep, and this one son-of-a-bitch was threatening the safety of his entire sovereignty. sylus's days dragged on endlessly with routine checks and guarding keeping his body awake at every hour. as much as he hated to admit it, the lack of sleep was genuinely getting to his already muddled brain, making it harder to think properly and function. his human body had limitations his former self didn't, it seemed. his movements were fussy and staggered. he thought it had been days but what if it had been weeks since the bite? was he really worried about something that happened so long ago? he could no longer be sure. but the safety of his empire, of luke and kieran, of his life was not a joke. sylus makes his 73rd round down the same hall that his office was in. the mess inside was cleaned sometime during his manic state, but he couldn't properly remember. his legs grew tired and ache-y from all of his patrolling. it felt like he was being tortured but all of this was his decision to do. slightly defeated, even more-so exhausted, sylus slid down the wall of the hallway and held his silver rifle tightly in his hands. he could still patrol with his eyes of course, just right here. his eyes moved back and forth from one end of the hall to the other, slowly, attentively, drowsily. he kept his sharp ears open for any noises but all he heard was the ambience of his estate. he had worn himself out to the bone. sylus was more susceptible than he thought. his eyes closed.

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"boss! boss! boss wake up! boss!"

sylus's eyes shoot open to see luke and kieran standing over him. their gloved hands were firm on his shoulders and arms as the two shook him with vigor. "boss! there's someone in the estate! boss!" a surge of panic and adrenaline pump into sylus's veins. he quickly stands to his feet and tightens his grip on the gun. "where?! where?! tell me, where are they?!" "we caught them!" kieran yells. "they were in the security room, but we brought them to your office and caught them!" luke adds on. sylus's eyes widen. he figured the twins brought whoever the hell this was to his office because it was the most heavily secured placed in the estate, so the idea of this perpetrator being just a few doors down made sylus triumph. he would thank the twins later. "stay right here. don't even think about moving an inch." this newfound sense of both relief and excitement empowered sylus and every footstep he took toward his office door. slowly, carefully, he unlocks the door with his facial and finger scans before ensuring the twins were still in their same position and then clicking it open. the gun was held up, ready to fire at any given moment once he saw the source of his torture behind his door. the door opens fully and then closes behind him. his eyes scour the area before landing on the anomaly in the room.

a person.

a girl. you. tied up and blinfolded in the corner of the room, unmoving but breathing. he grins and inches closer to you until a mere few feet away. "thought you could play around with me?" he gruffs. "you don't know what you've gotten yourself into. who are you?" you don't answer. he notices your breathing is slow and a bit labored, which was strange given your circumstances. what was stranger was the complexion on you wasn't gaunt or grey-out like a vampire at all, but you still weren’t supposed to be here. sylus narrows his eyes at you and grits his teeth. if you weren't going to answer he would get the answers himself. he leans down to you and pulls the blindfold around your head off with an aggressive yank. the moment it's gone you look up at him, eyes half lidded and drained of energy. soulless. empty. sylus knew that type of look in someone's eye. the look before death. "who are you and how did you manage to bypass my security?" sylus repeats, tone just slightly softer. "answer me or i'll torture it out of you." he watches you open your mouth only for no noise to come out. you were obviously struggling, but with what? sylus didn't know. sensing there was no immediate threat, sylus lowers his gun and knits his brows together in confusion and agitation. "what is it?" he asks.

no answer. "are you playing some type of game? you bypass my security, sneak into my estate, and what? now you're dying? fucking joke right?" you open your mouth again but no noise. this time around, sylus spots it. your teeth, sharp canines on both the top and bottom rows. vampire. a low chuckle escapes him. this was near unbelievable. "vampire. you're the goddamn vampire who bit me and somehow got away with it for all this time. i should thank you, though, you taught me im not as weak as i thought i was and that you're not as strong as i thought you were." you twitch slightly and cough. "b...blood... p...please..." you sputter out in an extremely hoarse voice.

sylus was almost taken aback by your words. you were asking for blood. from who? from him? he didn't believe you had the audacity, but it seems like you did. "blood? blood?" he laughs heartily and clutches his chest. "what makes you think i want to feed you and keep you alive? do you hear yourself?” the surprises just kept coming as tears fell from your face. your clenched expression and obvious pain were a sight to behold, a sight that sylus couldn't exactly bring himself to enjoy. he didn't like seeing torture, if he killed, he did so instantaneously to avoid torturing anyone. but you looked like you suffered just as much as sylus had. he frowns in disgust at his empathy but it was all quickly replaced by keen interest. he squints his eyes at you and feels an unsettling sense of familiarity crowd his chest. where... where did he know his feeling from? sylus quickly stands and rushes over to his desk to grab the rogue piece of paper that never left from there. he brings it back to your form and holds it up to compare the faces. it was uncanny, unreal, unbelievable.

you were the woman in the death reports? nothing made sense anymore. maybe this was the final stage of insanity. but before sylus could even register another thought he hears your voice again, this time more broken and desperate. "blood... p..please blood... please." he stilled. what was he supposed to do? at this point he knew he couldn't let you die, not with all this mystery around you, but what he supposed to do?

you cry out again, using all of your left energy to plead. "pl..please... blood... please! p..please!" he slowly puts down the paper and stares at you. despite knowing this was you in the death report, he still couldn't shake off the feeling he knew you from somewhere. he could almost feel you. deep inside his chest somewhere he felt your presence there.

you weren't some ordinary "person" that was for sure.

he almost thought against it, but his body moved before his brain could catch up. slowly, he crouches down and inches toward you up until your face was hovering over his shoulder. he cups your head from behind and pushes you further into his form. "shh, drink."

a/n: thanks if u made it this so far, lol. chapter 2 soon!

[focusonkayjay]

stuck with you | (3/5)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: computer sci major/ shy/ nerdy! jungkook, econ major/ popular/ influencer! reader, college au, roommates au, roommates to lovers, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

Summary: Jungkook’s a hopeless romantic—emphasis on hopeless more than romantic. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he swore he heard bells chiming, like the angels from above were giving him a cosmic nudge. But he’s always been the awkward, nerdy guy—the one who blends into the background—while you? You felt like a dream way out of his league. Fate, however, had other plans and now, you’re his roommate and living with you—in all your effortless glory—is equal parts chaos and heaven. The only challenge? Keeping his ever-growing feelings in check. That is—until a cocky fuckboy with not-so-pure intentions sets his sights on you, and suddenly, just loving you from the sidelines might not be enough.

Word Count: 21.5k+

Chapter Warnings:  this part contains a lot of mature and triggering content, jaehyun, oc almost gets harassed, inappropriate touching, foul language, smol scene inspired by the euphoria series, violence, graphic fight scene, mentions of injuries, bruises and blood, jaehyun, unhealthy coping mechanisms, oc's going thru it, jungkook's going thru it, jaehyun, mentions of vapes, alcohol, cigarettes, graphic representation of throwing up, mentions of bile, vomit, puke, jaehyun (pls pls lmk if missed anything out)

cher's notes: had the most chaotic week at work bc there was just so much to do ahhh also sweet dreams has been on repeat nonstop and i cannot wait for mona lisa !!! so so excited omg i love that hobi’s experimenting with this new style of music 🥹🫶 anywayssss sorry for the delay on this part, life’s been kinda wild tbh but we move. as always, let me know all your thoughts !! <3

★ PLAYLIST ★ MOODBOARDS

three: standing at the edge of a cliff

You never pictured yourself to be the kind of person who'd end up sobbing in the backseat of a cab with mascara running down your cheeks in uneven streaks, while the driver keeps casting uncomfortable glances at you through the rearview mirror when the largest suitcase you own sits in the trunk, stuffed haphazardly with whatever your trembling hands could grab.

But here you are, in the dead of night, hands trembling against your damp face, furiously wiping at the tears that just refuse to stop falling but no matter how much you cry, the ache in your chest remains like a splinter too deep to pull out.

After that confrontation with Jungkook, a moment so blindsiding it left you completely unmoored, you couldn't think straight and all you knew was that you couldn't stay there, not under the same roof as him, not with the thought of facing him tomorrow sitting heavy in your chest, like a knot that kept tightening no matter how hard you tried to breathe.

You've never heard him speak to you like that before, voice honed to a cruel edge, words laced with a bitterness you didn't even know he carried inside him.

But what cuts the deepest isn't the sharpness of his tone. It's the realization that after all these months of sharing a home, sharing meals, and fleeting moments you thought were just yours and his, this is what he truly thought of you.

You never imagined he could get you so wrong. Never once considered that the warmth you offered, the effortless way you let him into your world, could ever be twisted into something so ugly. That your kindness could be seen as manipulation, your gestures reduced to mere strategy, your attention interpreted as nothing more than calculated content farming.

Shallow. Self-serving. Insincere.

You never pulled Jungkook into your world because you thought he was convenient or easy. Filming videos, content creation — that was your thing, something you've loved for as long as you can remember. 

Whether it was vlogging your quiet mornings, recording random snippets of life, or showcasing the people who mattered to you, content creation wasn't just a hobby, it was a part of who you are.

Including Jungkook in that process wasn't some calculated move or ploy for attention. It was your way of offering him a piece of yourself, an invitation into something that made you feel alive. Because he was one of the rare few who never rolled his eyes at your passion, never called it cringey, or brushed it off as a childish phase. 

And somehow, that unfiltered version of him... the raw, everyday Jungkook that only you got to see because you lived under the same roof, became something your followers adored. 

His awkward quirks, the way his ears turn red when you tease him, the way he stutters when he's put on the spot, the little chuckle he gives when he doesn't know what to say — all of it, you captured with nothing but affection. And you were proud. Proud that so many people got to see and love the very same Jungkook you held so dearly.

But now, knowing that all this time he thought you were exploiting him, that he saw your affection as too much, your attention as suffocating, your presence as something to endure — it doesn't just break your heart. It shatters the version of him you carried in your mind because you had truly believed that maybe to Jungkook you weren't too much. 

You don't know what had gotten to him tonight. Whether it was the alcohol, the beer he downed without explanation or if something else had already been festering beneath the surface. Maybe it was a bad day, and you were just the easiest target. But even then, it feels so painfully out of character. 

No matter how hard you try to make sense of it, you can't believe the things he said. And you can't believe that after everything, this is where you and Jungkook ended up.

You sniffle, fumbling for your wallet as you pay the cab driver, barely managing to tumble out before dragging your overstuffed suitcase from the trunk and within minutes, your trembling finger is pressing the doorbell.

When the door swings open, you're met with Yoongi's startled face, his brow creased in concern, clearly not expecting a visitor — and certainly not you, looking the way you do.

"Baby, who's—" Jimin's voice floats out from inside, but it cuts off the second he steps up behind his boyfriend. His eyes widen slightly as they take in the sight of your bloodshot eyes, messy hair and your suitcase standing beside you.

"Y/n?" he says, voice soft with concern, and for some reason, hearing your name spoken so gently, so kindly, for the first time tonight just does it for you and the tears start all over again, spilling down your cheeks faster than you can catch them.

Yoongi doesn't even hesitate before reaching for your suitcase, silently taking the weight off your hands, while Jimin steps closer, wrapping a warm arm around your trembling shoulders.

Without any questions, they guide you inside their house together, as if they already know you don't have the strength to explain.

You didn't know where else to go, so showing up at your best friends' place unannounced was the only option that made sense. You knew, without a doubt, that both Jimin and Yoongi would welcome you in without a second thought, offering you the safety of their home, the comfort of their presence, and the quiet understanding only they could provide. 

And maybe, just maybe, they could help you feel a little less like your world was caving in.

Sleep comes easier than you expect — not because you're rested, but because you're drained. Because sadness has this cruel way of wearing you out, hollowing you from the inside until there's nothing left but exhaustion. And right now, that's all you feel — empty, tired, and so painfully hopeless.

As the weekend progresses, you spend the entire time confined within the four walls of Yoongi and Jimin's guest room and the couple doesn't bother you — not because they don't care, but because Jimin knows you too well. He knows you prefer space when you're upset, and he's probably the reason Yoongi didn't knock on your door with food in hand, urging you to eat.

Your phone sits untouched on the nightstand, buzzing every now and then — maybe calls, maybe notifications — but you don't bother checking. You can't bring yourself to. You just want to disappear under the weight of the blankets, to sleep through the ache that's settled deep in your chest like a cold, heavy stone.

Your eyes burn, your stomach twists and growls, but you can't muster the energy to get up. The thought of stepping out, of facing Yoongi and Jimin — of seeing their pitying eyes and hearing their gentle voices asking if you're okay — feels unbearable. 

So you stay where you are, curled beneath the covers, face buried in the warm pillow, hoping that if you lie still enough, the world will forget you exist.

When Monday comes, you finally manage to pull yourself upright in bed. Every part of you protests... your body feels sluggish, your limbs weighed down like they've been replaced with stone. 

Your skin feels dry, your head dull and achy, and the gnawing emptiness in your stomach makes you feel lightheaded. You know exactly why — you've barely eaten, barely moved, barely done anything but wallow.

Still, you force yourself to swing your legs over the side of the bed. The floor feels cold under your feet, and even that feels like too much. But you push yourself to stand, dragging your heavy body to the bathroom.

The warm water hits your skin, and for a second, it stings — like your body's punishing you for neglecting it. But eventually, the steam clears your mind a little, washing away the weight of the weekend, and when you step out, you feel just a little less like a ghost of yourself.

You towel your hair dry, slip into some fresh clothes, and mentally brace yourself for the day ahead. Skipping your classes isn't an option — not unless you want to deal with a mountain of catching up later especially with finals right around the corner — so no matter how much your body protests, you know you have to push through.

As you step outside of the guest room, you hear voices from the kitchen.

"Baby, but she hasn't eaten anything all weekend—"

"Yoon, I know..." Jimin's voice interrupts Yoongi. "But she'll come around when she's ready, okay? If she doesn't come out today as well, maybe we can go talk to her." he tries. 

There's a pause before Yoongi loudly exhales. "Still... I'm making her some tea or something. She can't just... sit in there all day."

The corners of your lips twitch — barely there, but it's something. Because even now, even after spending the weekend buried in your own sadness, even after showing up unannounced at their place, they're still here. Worrying, caring, loving you in quiet ways that ask for nothing in return.

When you step into the hallway, their voices fall silent. Both their heads snap towards you, their expressions shifting from concern to relief at the sight of you... damp hair, face no longer blotchy, dressed in clean clothes. 

You still feel fragile, like you're barely piecing yourself back together — but you're up, you're trying.

"Hi." you say softly, your voice a little scratchy. "Finally." Yoongi murmurs, but there's no irritation in his voice, just relief as both of them break into soft smiles.

"I'm sorry." you say quietly as you step closer, settling into one of the chairs at their dining table but Jimin shakes his head almost instantly, following you and sinking into the seat beside you. "Don't apologize." he says gently. "Let's get to class for now, and then maybe you can tell me everything over lunch, alright?"

You press your lips together and nod as Jimin curls his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close, and you don't hesitate to lean into his warmth. 

Across the room, Yoongi's already moving, making his way to the stove. Moments later, he's setting a plate of pancakes, drizzled with syrup and a warm cup of tea in front of you. "Eat." he says, his voice gruff yet soft in that very Yoongi way and you can't help but giggle. 

Jungkook chews on his lower lip anxiously, his gaze fixed on his phone screen. His call log is a mess — countless missed calls to your number, each one unanswered. His texts, too, sit there, marked delivered but never read. 

There's been no sign of you all weekend — no updates on your Instagram, no new tiktoks (he even made a tiktok account just to check), nothing. It's like you've vanished, leaving him stranded in the aftermath of his own words. He doesn't know if you're avoiding him or just off the grid entirely, but either way, the weight of it gnaws at him.

He exhales heavily, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he trudges across campus towards the cafeteria. His late morning class ended a while ago, but he barely remembers what was discussed because his mind's been stuck in a loop of whatever happened between the two of you that night. 

The usual noise of the cafeteria barely registers as all of it dulls beneath the relentless static in his head. He figures he'll just grab something quick, something to fill the hollow pit in his stomach, and head to his next class.

But just as he steps towards one of the counters, he freezes when he spots you by the vending machine at the far end of the cafeteria. Your back is to him, your fingers hovering over the keypad. 

He doesn't know if this is the right time to approach you — doesn't know if you'd even want to see him — but after finally catching a glimpse of you, he's desperate. Desperate to see you up close, to hear your voice, to make sure you're okay — though deep down, he knows you're probably far from it.

His heart pounds violently against his ribs, each beat thudding in his ears as he draws a shaky breath. He forces himself to push past the hesitation, to drown out the voice in his head telling him to wait, to back off.

So he moves, each step feeling heavier than the last until he's right behind you. His fingers twitch nervously at his sides before he finally calls out for you.

"Y/n...?" It's barely more than a whisper, like he's afraid saying your name too loudly will shatter whatever fragile thread of courage he's holding onto.

You turn around almost instantly, your wide eyes locking with his for a fleeting second — and for that brief moment, there's something vulnerable in your gaze. But just as quickly, your expression hardens, your walls snapping back into place the second you realize it's him.

Your posture stiffens, your breath hitches and suddenly whatever craving brought you to the vending machine no longer matters. All you want now is to get away from him — away from the memories of that night, away from the things he said, away from the hurt that's still clinging stubbornly to your chest.

You exhale sharply and turn on your heel, determined to walk away before he can say anything else but somehow, Jungkook moves faster. 

His hand shoots out before he can even think, fingers curling tightly... almost desperately, around your wrist. "Wait." he blurts out and his voice cracks slightly, like he's scrambling to catch you before you slip away completely.

And for a second... you almost turn back. Almost. But then you remember his words and the memory stings so fiercely that your feet stay rooted to the floor. You remain still like a statue, hoping that if you pretend hard enough, he'll just give up and walk away.

"Hey..." His voice comes softer this time, his fingers loosening around your wrist before he finally lets go. He hesitantly steps closer, like he's afraid you'll bolt the second he moves.

"I just..." He pauses, swallowing hard, his eyes flicking down to the floor before darting back up to you — or rather, to the side of your face since you won't look at him. "Listen, Y/n..." His voice wavers, and he exhales shakily like he's trying to steady himself.

"I..." He stops again, fingers curling and uncurling by his sides. His words keep tangling on his tongue, thoughts colliding faster than he can catch them. "I know I... I shouldn't have... I mean, I didn't mean to —" His hand lifts like he's reaching for you again, but he stops himself mid-air, curling his fingers into a fist before they can get too close. "I just... I'm really..." he tries again, but the right words just won’t come out.

You close your eyes tightly, teeth digging into your lower lip, trying to hold down the surge of emotions rising in your chest. "What?" you snap, spinning around to face him at last.

Jungkook flinches slightly, shoulders tensing like he wasn't expecting you to actually turn around... or for your voice to sound so sharp. And when his eyes finally meet yours, something inside him sinks.

Because your eyes... they aren't the same.

Is it possible to feel it... the exact moment someone's eyes stop shining for you? Because that's what this feels like... like something warm and familiar has been extinguished, leaving behind nothing but cold air and silence.

The way you used to look at him with those dreamy, glimmering eyes, so full of quiet adoration — it's vanished. That warmth, that tender glow that once danced in your eyes whenever they found his, has dimmed into nothingness. 

That spark — the one that made him feel seen, made him feel wanted — is gone, snuffed out by something colder, something harsher. And what's left in its place cuts deeper than anything he was prepared for.

Your eyes are empty now, like you're staring at someone you barely know. Like you're staring at a stranger.

And somehow, that feels so much worse than if you'd yelled at him, worse than if you'd cursed him out or thrown every cruel word he deserved right back in his face. Because this? This feels like you've already given up on him, like whatever space he once occupied in your life, in your heart, is just... gone.

"Look..." you exhale sharply, your voice steady despite the tremor of emotions threatening to break through. "I've already heard enough from you. I don't know what got into you that night, and honestly? I don't care to know. But I... I really don't think I want to talk to you right now. So please, just—"

"I know." Jungkook cuts in desperately as he steps closer. "I know, and I'm sorry, but please, Y/n... just come back home. We can talk, we can figure this out, I—"

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head as you take a step back, putting some distance between you and him. "That's not up to you, Jungkook." you say, your voice steadier than you feel. "I'll come home when I want to."

Jungkook blinks, parting his lips like he's about to say something... to explain, to apologize, to justify, but the look on your face stops him. Whatever words he was holding onto seem to wither before they can even leave his mouth. Because you're not just angry, you're hurt. Worn down. And most of all, you look done.

"So stop calling me." you say, your voice thick with frustration, but there's something else bleeding through, something dangerously close to heartbreak. "Stop texting me." you continue. "And stop acting like you care… like any of this matters, when we both know what you really think of me."

Your arms wrap around yourself, as if holding yourself together is the only thing keeping you from completely falling apart. "I get it now..." Your voice cracks on the word, but you push through. 

"I'm just... impossible to deal with, right? Someone who never bothers to look past what's right in front of her. Someone who doesn't listen — who just... " Your breath hitches, and for a second, your face twists like you're trying to swallow the ache that's clawing its way up your throat.

"... brushes people off like their words mean nothing because she always knows best." Your laugh is hollow, bitter. "That's what you said, isn't it??? So just... save yourself the trouble, Jungkook. Don't waste your time pretending you give a damn when you've already made it perfectly clear what you really think of me."

You shake your head, blinking hard like you're trying to will the tears away. "I don't know what's worse... the fact that you said it, or the fact that you've probably always felt that way." you mumble, looking away. 

And with that, you spare him one last look — a fleeting glance that somehow says everything you're too hurt to put into words. There's no fire in your eyes, no anger or spite... just this quiet, defeated emptiness, like you've run out of tears, out of fight, out of the will to care anymore.

It guts him — the way you look at him like he's not even worth your frustration, like you're done trying.

Then you turn away, shoulders curling inward like you're holding yourself together, like if you let go, you might just break apart right there. And all he can do is stand there — watching you walk away.

When you finally make it back to the table where Jimin has just taken a seat, you're barely holding yourself together. The pressure behind your eyes is unbearable, but you blink rapidly, willing the tears away as you plop down beside him. 

Without a word, Jimin pushes the extra tray of food he's gotten for you towards your side of the table. He takes one look at your face and wonders if now is the right time to ask what's been bothering you. To ask for the explanation you've been avoiding ever since you showed up at his doorstep.

"Y/n..." he starts, his voice cautious but your gaze stays fixed on the tray in front of you, your fingers twitching like you're trying to busy yourself with something to avoid what's coming next. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, and for a second, you genuinely consider it. 

But then you remember... you remember how much it hurt, how raw everything still feels. You remember the sharpness in Jungkook's voice and the memory replays in your mind like a loop you can't escape, each word echoing louder than the last. 

You can still picture the way his face twisted with frustration, the bitterness laced in his tone — like he had been holding it in for so long and finally let it all spill out, no matter how much damage it left behind.

And you wonder... do you really have it in you to go through that again? To recount every detail — every word, every look, every moment that made your chest tighten like a fist was squeezing your ribs. Would saying it out loud make it worse? Would it solidify the thought you've been trying so hard to shake — the one that whispers maybe you deserved it?

Because more than anything, you're scared.

Scared that if you tell Jimin what Jungkook said— Jimin will agree.

Because what if... what if Jungkook was right? What if you really are too much... too stubborn, too blinded by your own perspective to ever notice anyone else's? What if you really are selfish... the kind of person who takes and takes without ever stopping to ask what anyone else needs?

And worst of all... what if you really are shallow? What if the connections you thought you'd built were nothing more than you clinging to people, suffocating them with your presence until they had no choice but to pull away?

What if this isn't just how Jungkook sees you — what if this is how everyone sees you?

So all you can do is press your lips tightly together, biting down hard to keep it all from spilling out and you shake your head. "I just... need some time." you say honestly, your voice small and fragile.

Jimin doesn't hesitate as his hand finds yours. "Of course." he says softly. "Don't worry."

"I'm just... I'm sorry for showing up unannounced at your place. I know I'm inconveniencing you and Yoongi and—"

"Hey." He squeezes your hand firmly, cutting you off. "You're not inconveniencing anyone. You can stay with us for as long as you need." He assures. "And I'm here... whenever you want to talk, whenever you're ready. Okay?"

Your throat tightens, and this time, you can't stop the tears from building. "Thanks, Chim." you whisper. "Thanks a lot."

It's the middle of the week, and while you're not exactly thriving, you're... functioning. You've been attending classes, chipping away at your remaining assignments, and burying yourself in your textbooks in preparation for the upcoming finals. 

At this point, you just can't wait to be done with the whole ordeal and just go back home to your dad for the break.

Living with Yoongi and Jimin has been nice, a temporary refuge from the mess you left behind and though they keep insisting you're not a burden, that you're welcome to stay as long as you need, you can't shake the gnawing guilt that settles in your chest every time you take up space in their home.

You know you can't overstay your welcome because intruding is one thing, but you're still paying rent for that shared apartment with Jungkook, and unfortunately, money doesn't just fall from the sky... so you know you'll have to go back eventually. 

You don't know when though, but moving out entirely feels drastic, almost ridiculous, like you're giving up on something you're not ready to let go of. But at the same time... the idea of staying under the same roof as him, knowing what he truly thinks of you, feels impossible.

And yet... despite everything... despite the sharp sting of what he said, despite the ache still clinging to your chest — you still miss Jungkook.

He might have grown sick of you, but for you, that couldn't be further from the truth. Not even close because living with him had become so ingrained in your routine that now... everything just feels off. Empty. Quiet in all the wrong ways.

It's complicated — too complicated — and as much as you want to push the whole situation away, you can't. Because moving out is a far-fetched idea since apartment hunting is an absolute nightmare, and finding something affordable near campus feels almost impossible. And deep down, despite all the confusion and hurt, some part of you knows that leaving... really leaving... would feel like closing a door you're not ready to shut yet.

Maybe you should wait until this semester ends? Maybe you should move out after the break?

You let out a quiet groan, shaking your head as if that alone could dislodge the weight pressing down on you. Everything feels overwhelming, suffocating in a way you can't quite escape, and more than anything, you wish you had some kind of distraction—something to pull you away from the thoughts gnawing at the edges of your mind.

But you push it all aside, telling yourself that you'll deal with it later. Right now, you just need to get through the day.

With that thought, you make your way across campus towards the stationery store, hoping to grab a few notebooks and supplies. But just as you approach the shop, a familiar voice calls out your name. 

"Y/N!"

You stop in your tracks as you turn around and instantly spot Jaehyun, jogging up to you. "Hey!" he greets, coming to a stop beside you as he catches his breath. "Oh... Jae..." you say, forcing out a small smile. "Hey."

You haven't really seen him much since that night you grabbed dinner together along with Jimin and Namjoon—or maybe, you just haven't been paying attention to your surroundings at all lately. There's been too much on your mind... Jungkook stuff... apartment stuff... university stuff... Everything.

"Feels like I haven't seen you in ages." Jaehyun grins, slinging his backpack higher onto his shoulder. "Have you been avoiding me? I thought we agreed to be friends and not just assignment partners who forget each other." He teases, stepping a little closer, though there's no bite to his words since the grin on his face makes that clear.

"Besides, I saw you in Mr. Jang's class on Monday, but you were completely zoned out." he remarks. "And… well, I've been texting you too..." he adds, his voice softening slightly.

At that, your own eyes widen in realization. "Oh—oh my god, really? I'm so sorry. I've just been so out of it lately, I haven't been checking my messages... or my phone in general." You admit sheepishly.

It's the truth. You've been actively avoiding checking your phone—mostly because you don't want to crumble at the sight of Jungkook's missed calls and messages, knowing that if you so much as glance at them, it's over for you.

And honestly? The brand deals, the sponsorship posts, the endless cycle of curated content—they can all wait. Right now, you don't have the energy to plaster on a smile, to craft the perfect caption, to engage with random people on the internet like everything is fine.

Jaehyun, oblivious to your internal turmoil, lets out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to his heart. "Ahh, forgot you were this famous influencer and all... Didn't know I was that easy to forget." He pouts playfully, tilting his head with exaggerated disappointment.

Something about the way he says it pulls a small giggle out of you, the first in what feels like forever. "I'm sorry, Jae." you say sincerely, shaking your head. "I swear, it's not like that... I just... haven't been feeling the best lately."

At that, his teasing expression shifts as he furrows his brows slightly. "Oh?" He studies you for a second. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitate, your gaze flickering away. "I'm just... I don't know. I'm... stressed, I guess. Finals are coming up and everything." You settle on the safest answer, offering a small shrug. "Okay, yeah... that makes sense." He nods knowingly before letting out a dramatic sigh. "Honestly, I should probably start studying too."

"Probably?" you chuckle, tilting your head.  "Fine. Definitely. But let's not talk about that nightmare right now." He waves a hand dismissively before glancing at you again. "Anyways, where are you headed?"

"Oh, um... the stationery store." you reply, gesturing towards the shop ahead. Jaehyun hums in acknowledgment before suddenly picking up his pace. "Alright then, come on."

You blink at him. "Wait, you're coming too?" you ask, a little confused.  He turns to you with an arched brow. "Yes? What makes you think I don't need a few extra pens?"

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips as you step forward, falling into step beside him and following him into the store.

You weave through the aisles, picking up a few notebooks, flipping through their pages absentmindedly before tucking them under your arm. Your gaze drifts around the store until it lands on Jaehyun, who's currently occupied in the pens section.

"The only reason Jaehyun's even nice to you is because he wants to fuck you."

Jungkook's voice suddenly echoes in your head and your fingers tighten slightly around the notebooks as you keep your gaze fixed on Jaehyun.

There's no way that's true.

Ever since you've known Jaehyun, he's been nothing but genuinely nice. He's easygoing, never oversteps, never makes you feel uncomfortable. So, you can't help but think about just how baseless Jungkook's accusations are.

But no matter how hard you try to brush it off, you can't help but wonder what made Jungkook say something like that.

You've been turning it over in your head for days now, trying to rationalize it. Maybe Jungkook was just lashing out, drunk and speaking without thinking. Maybe he was being overly protective, reading too much into things. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, a careless remark fueled by whatever emotions he had been battling that night.

But still... you'd be lying if you said the thought hadn't been nagging at you because what if there's more to it?

You wonder if you should bring it up... if you should ask Jaehyun outright whether he's ever said or done anything to make Jungkook uncomfortable. Would that even be fair? Would it make things worse?

You sigh, pressing your lips together before shaking your head.

Maybe you should just let it go.

Once you've picked out everything you need and paid at the counter, you and Jaehyun step out of the store together. 

"Hey..." he suddenly starts, turning towards you as he shoves his hands into his pockets. "So, my friend's throwing a party this weekend. It's at this club downtown... good music, good vibes... you should come." He tilts his head slightly. 

"I mean... um... finals are coming up and you also mentioned how you've been a little out of it and how you haven't been feeling the best lately... so maybe you just need a night to unwind, you know? Take a break before the real stress kicks in." he explains. 

You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you mull over his words.

Truthfully, you can't even remember the last time you went to a party just to let go—to dance without overthinking, to let the music consume you, to exist in a moment that isn't clouded by everything weighing you down. 

Maybe this is exactly what you need—a night of reckless abandon, something to shake you out of your own head, even if just for a little while.

And at this point, you're convinced that a few strong drinks, a bass-heavy track, and the simple act of moving without restraint might be the perfect distraction. Even if it's temporary, even if it doesn't fix anything—you'll take whatever relief you can get.

You tilt your head at him. "Will there be free alcohol?" Because, honestly, you could really use a drink. "Of course. Top shelf, if I can pull a few strings." he grins. 

A small, almost reluctant smile tugs at your lips. "Well... I guess I could drop by." you say, genuinely considering the idea. "I probably won't stay too long, though." you add, pursing your lips making Jaehyun raise his brows. "Yeah, yeah. That's what they all say." he smirks. 

You roll your eyes but laugh anyway, as you both continue walking. "Text me the details, yeah?" you say. "I'll let you know."

"Done." he nods. "I promise it'll be fun."

When the weekend finally rolls around, you find yourself seated in front of the mirror, carefully applying your makeup. Yoongi and Jimin have been out all day, caught up in their own world, probably still on that cute little date at the cat café. 

You had thought about asking them to come with you tonight, but in the end, you didn't have the heart to intrude on their plans. That's fine, though because you tell yourself, you don't mind going alone.

With the address Jaehyun sent you earlier, you manage to hail a cab, slipping into the backseat and exhaling softly as the driver pulls away. 

Tonight, you don't want to think. You don't want to dissect your emotions or dwell on things that will only weigh you down. You just want a break—some mindless fun, a night where nothing matters except the music, the drinks, and the warmth of a fleeting distraction.

But despite your best efforts, your thoughts still drift.

Jungkook.

You wonder what he's doing right now, even though you don't want to. You know he's alone at the apartment, and while you can picture a dozen things he might be up to, there's one thing you're certain of... he's thinking about you, just like you're thinking about him.

For the past week, he's been persistent. Texts. Missed calls. Small, quiet attempts to close the distance you've put between you. And yet, you've shut him out completely.

You know it's immature. You know you'll have to face him eventually. But for now... you're just not ready.

About fifteen minutes later, the cab pulls up to the club, and the thumping bass is already vibrating through the walls — loud enough that you can feel it in your chest even before stepping out of the cab.

"Wow..." you murmur under your breath, blinking as you take in the scene outside. The entrance is swarmed with people... a restless crowd dressed in flashy outfits, some with vapes and cigarettes between their fingers, others leaning lazily against the ropes as they chat and laugh, all waiting for their turn to enter the club. 

You step out of the cab, clutching your purse a little tighter as your gaze flickers towards the building. The club itself is a sight to behold—sleek black exterior gleaming under neon lights, velvet ropes sectioning off the entrance, and sharply dressed bouncers standing like sentinels at the door. 

Everything about it screams exclusivity and all you can think is—how the hell are you supposed to get in?

You've gone clubbing before, sure, but never somewhere this upscale and when Jaehyun suggested hitting the club, you thought it would be a random club — the kind with sticky floors, a small bar, and a DJ who's just slightly offbeat. Not this.

You bite your lower lip, debating whether you should even attempt to stand in that impossibly long line, when—

"Oh, hey! You made it!" Jaehyun's voice cuts through the noise, and you turn just in time to see him waving at you from the side. "Oh... hey." you greet him with a smile as he approaches you.

Once he's close enough, his gaze flickers over you for a brief moment, his lips curling into a grin. "Wow... you look..." He trails off, giving you a once-over. "You look good."

You let out a soft laugh, waving him off. "Thanks Jae." you grin. "Now, do you wanna tell me how exactly we're supposed to get in? Because that line is insane." you point out, nodding towards the crowd. Jaehyun only shrugs, completely unbothered. "You don't have to worry about that." He tilts his head towards the entrance. "Just follow me."

You blink, momentarily dumbfounded but once Jaehyun begins walking, you quietly follow behind him and your lips part in shock as he simply strides right past the line, flashing a casual grin at the bouncers like they're old friends.

And somehow... they are because one of them gives him a familiar nod, already stepping aside to let him through.

You hesitate, half-expecting to be stopped — maybe asked for your ID or told to get back in line, but Jaehyun glances over his shoulder, flashing you a grin as he gestures for you to follow. "Come on." he calls out, like it's nothing.

You quickly scurry after him, still not entirely sure how you just bypassed a crowd of people without so much as a second glance.

Once you're inside, the atmosphere swallows you whole. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol, cologne, and something faintly sweet that you can't quite place. The music pounds mercilessly from the speakers, the bass so heavy it thrums through your chest.

Clusters of people are scattered across the expansive room under flashing lights that flicker in hues of crimson and violet, while others crowd around the sleek black bar where liquor bottles line the shelves like jewels on display.

In the far corner, there's a staircase and nearby, a pyramid of champagne glasses stands precariously tall, glittering under the lights as though one wrong step could send it crashing down. The DJ, stationed on an elevated platform, bobs his head in sync with the beats, one hand raised in the air while the other works the mixer effortlessly.

You follow behind Jaehyun, your gaze flitting over the crowd as you weave through the bodies pressed together under flashing neon lights. You even manage to spot a few familiar faces—people you've crossed paths with at other parties, some from university. 

And you can't deny it... the atmosphere here is different, electric in a way that feels almost liberating. 

Jaehyun leans in, cupping his hand around his mouth as he yells into your ear. "Let's get some drinks!" His voice somehow cuts through the music, and you briefly wonder just how loud he had to shout for you to hear him. You nod, following him towards the bar counter.

As you get closer, you notice a few guys lounging by the bar, their conversations pausing the minute they spot Jaehyun. Their faces light up with recognition, flashing easy grins that he returns just as effortlessly. 

They greet him, dapping him up and exchanging quick pats on the back before their attention shifts to you. Jaehyun leans in again to yell into your ear. "This is Dohyun." He gestures toward one of the guys seated by the bar, who flashes you an easygoing smile. "His dad owns this place."

Ah. That explains everything—the seamless entry, the way Jaehyun strolled past the bouncers like he belonged here.

You return Dohyun's smile before shifting your gaze to the rest of the group, introducing yourself (or more like yelling, given the thumping bass shaking the room). Some of the guys have girls draped around them, but to your surprise, they don't give off the usual cold, unapproachable vibe you half-expected. 

Instead, they welcome you warmly, their smiles genuine, their energy easygoing. A few of them even recognize you from instagram and immediately gush over your dress, your hair, your makeup—small compliments woven between casual conversation and somehow that puts you at ease. 

The bartender slides a fresh round of drinks across the counter, the glasses clinking together as they're eagerly claimed. One of the guys passes one to you, and you glance over at Jaehyun just in time to catch him downing his own in one smooth tilt of his head. 

You proceed to down your own shot in one go and the burn is immediate as it sears down your throat, making you wince slightly. 

But oddly enough, it feels good—like a reset, like the weight pressing down on you is loosening, even if just for a moment.

And as the bass thrums beneath your feet and the lights flicker in hypnotic patterns across the room, you start to think that maybe—just maybe—this night might actually be the escape you've been craving.

Jungkook sighs, eyes fixed on the stove like it holds all the answers he's too afraid to ask. The food he just prepared sits there, untouched, still steaming — yet somehow, the sight of it only makes his stomach twist tighter.

It's the weekend again and it's almost been a whole week since you left and somehow, he still can't break the habit of preparing two portions. His hands move on instinct, muscle memory guiding him every single time as he prepares an extra serving, like some stubborn part of him refuses to accept that you're not coming home.

What is he supposed to do with all this food, anyway? It's not like he has the appetite to finish it. Most days, he just shoves it into a container and tosses it in the fridge, only to throw it out the next morning when he can't bring himself to touch it. 

It's a pathetic cycle, yet one he can't seem to break.

He groans quietly, rubbing a hand down his face, frustrated with himself and the tangled mess of regret that's been sitting in his chest like a stone since the morning you left.

He knows you're staying with Jimin and Yoongi — figured as much when Jimin stopped by a few days ago to grab a few textbooks you'd left behind.

Jungkook had pieced together scraps of information through subtle questions disguised as casual conversation — questions that felt anything but casual.

"Has she been eating well?""Is she feeling better?""Did she... say anything about coming home?"

Jimin's answers had been vague and mostly uncertain... but when Jimin, with his usual innocence, had asked, "Do you have any idea what's been going on with her?" — like Jungkook wasn't the very reason you were hurting — it hit him like a punch to the gut.

Just how badly had he hurt you? How heavy must his words have been to make you feel like you couldn't even confide in your best friend? How much of a jerk had he been to you that left you feeling so raw, so isolated, that you couldn't even talk to the people who love you most?

The idea of you bottling it all up, carrying the weight of it alone, drowning in hurt because of him... because of the things he said makes his chest feel hollow, like something vital has been scraped out and replaced with this gnawing, endless ache. It leaves him feeling powerless, useless, like no matter what he does now, he's already failed you in the worst way possible.

He sighs again, softer this time... a breath that barely escapes his chest as he finally serves himself some food. His movements are sluggish, mechanical, like he's just going through the motions and by the time he sinks onto the kitchen island stool, it feels like every ounce of energy has bled out of him.

Each bite feels tasteless — just bland, empty fuel to get him through the day. He chews without thinking, without feeling — because he's not eating out of hunger. Not really. He's eating because it's something to do... something to fill the silence, to keep him occupied, to make the minutes pass just a little faster.

Because staying still? Staying still is worse. It leaves too much room for his thoughts to spiral — too much space for regret to crawl in and gnaw at him from the inside out. 

It makes him picture you curled up, tired and hurting, shutting out the world because of him. Because of what he said.

So he eats... not because he wants to, but because it's one more thing to check off the list. One more step to keep moving forward, to stay afloat... just in case.

Just in case you show up.

Just in case you finally come home.

When he finally finishes doing the dishes and returns to the living room, the silence feels deafening and almost loud in a way that presses against his ears. He wonders if the lights around the apartment have dimmed somehow, or if it's just that everything feels dull now that you're not here. 

He wonders if the paint on the walls has faded, or if it's just that your presence had always made everything seem brighter... warmer, softer, more alive.

He doesn't know if he's crazy for thinking like this, but he can't help it. Because when you were here, even the quiet felt comforting. But now it's just... empty.

His feet carry him down the hall before his mind even catches up, and soon he's standing right in front of your bedroom door, fingers hovering uncertainly over the knob. He hesitates, guilt gnawing at him, but he still twists it open — because he can't help it. 

Because he needs to look inside. He needs the reminder, the cold, painful confirmation — that you're not here.

Your room is exactly as you left it... still messy and he wonders if he should clean it up for you because maybe tidying the space might make things feel a little less... frozen in time. But then he wonders if you'd even be okay with that — if you'd want him touching your things at all.

He steps inside anyway, and the first thing he notices is how that scent... that soft trace of jasmine, is gone. It used to linger faintly, a warm reminder of you even when you weren't in the room, but now... now it's just air. Stale and cold.

His gaze lands on the candle on your nightstand and somehow, it looks... sad. Unlit, cold, forgotten — just like this room. Just like him.

Before he can stop himself, he reaches for the lighter sitting beside it and flicks the flame to life. The wick crackles softly, the tiny flicker casting a warm glow that stretches across your walls. It's small, barely enough to change the room but somehow, it feels like a piece of you is back. 

Like something has shifted, even just a little.

He knows he has no right to be here, no right to invade your space like this... but the ache in his chest pulls him deeper in. Without thinking, he sits on the edge of your bed, and before he knows it, he's lying down — staring blankly at the ceiling.

The faint warmth of the candle flickers beside him, and for just a moment... just a fleeting, fragile second, he closes his eyes and lets himself pretend that you're still here. 

That you might walk through the door at any moment, tired from class or a long day out, and ask him to help you film something, take a few pictures of your new outfit, or test out some makeup on his arm. 

But when nothing moves, when he hears no footsteps, no voice calling out his name... he knows there's no point in pretending. The stillness is real and it only drives the truth in deeper. 

You're not here.

Your initial plan had been simple—knock back a few shots, let the alcohol take the edge off, and then slip out before the night got too messy. But somehow, you're still here, lost in the music, dancing with the girls you met earlier while Jaehyun and the guys are right beside you, dancing in their own world. 

The warmth of the alcohol has settled deep into your bones, coursing through you in a way that makes everything feel lighter, easier. It would be a lie to say you aren't enjoying yourself.

But then, at some point, a wave of dizziness washes over you, making the room tilt ever so slightly. You stop dancing, pressing your fingertips to your temples in an attempt to steady yourself and somehow, the moment doesn't go unnoticed by Jaehyun. 

"You good?" he yells over the music, brows furrowed as he watches you closely. You let out a breathless laugh, throwing him a lazy thumbs-up, but he still steps in closer, unconvinced. "Wanna get out of here?" he calls out again.

For a second, you hesitate, not entirely sure what he means. But before you can ask, he's already reaching for your wrist, his fingers curling around it lightly as he offers you a small smile and you don't protest.

The next thing you know, he's weaving through the crowd and guiding you towards the base of the sleek staircase tucked into the corner. As you follow him up, you glance back over your shoulder, watching the sea of bodies lost in the music, the flashing lights painting streaks of color across the haze of the room.

Once you step into the hallway upstairs, it's a stark contrast— much quieter, dimly lit, lined with sleek black doors. The heavy bass from downstairs hums faintly beneath your feet, muffled enough that you can finally hear yourself think.

Jaehyun finally stops at one of the doors, pulling a keycard from his pocket before unlocking it. The door swings open, revealing a private lounge that looks straight out of a luxury magazine.

The room is spacious yet cozy, with a low leather sectional sprawled across one side, deep brown with cushions that look impossibly soft. A glass table sits at the center, its surface dotted with half-melted candles in elegant holders. 

The walls are a warm shade of charcoal, and golden strip lights trace the edges of the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft, ambient glow.

"What... what is this place?" you ask, stepping further inside, turning slowly to take it all in. The air here is different—quieter, more refined. 

Jaehyun leans casually against the doorframe with a grin, like he's amused by your reaction. "Well... Dohyun lets me use this lounge sometimes." he explains with an easy shrug. Your brows knit together. "But... why?" You glance at him. "Why are we up here?"

"You seemed dizzy down there," he answers casually. "Thought we could relax here for a while."

Okay. Fair. Maybe that makes sense.

Still, something about this—about all of it—feels a little off. Maybe it's the sudden shift in the atmosphere, or maybe it's just the lingering haze of alcohol in your system making everything feel slightly weird.

Before you can gather your thoughts, Jaehyun speaks again. "Why don't you get comfortable?" he suggests, pushing off the doorframe. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

You watch him, debating whether to question it, but in the end, you just sigh softly and nod. "Alright." you mutter, already making your way towards the couch as he slips out, the door clicking shut behind him.

You set your clutch aside and sink into the cushions, rubbing your knees absently as you take a moment to really absorb your surroundings.

It's the kind of lounge you've only ever seen in movies—the kind where rich kids with too much time and daddy's black card do things that would make their parents' lawyers sweat. The kind of place where champagne flows like water, where someone's probably rolled a bill to snort something off the glass table, and where rules exist solely to be broken.

You can't help but think some of these things might actually be happening right this instant, in some of the neighboring rooms on this very floor. 

And suddenly you're wondering if you should even be here. 

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. Maybe it's just the contrast—the overwhelming energy of the party downstairs compared to the strange, almost eerie stillness of this place. 

A few minutes pass and the door creaks open, as Jaehyun strolls back inside. Behind him, a waiter follows, balancing a sleek silver tray adorned with an array of drinks — tall glasses glistening with condensation, their rims garnished with slices of lime and tiny cocktail umbrellas. 

The amber hues of whiskey, the icy clarity of vodka mixers, and a few colorful concoctions you can't quite name glint beneath the low lighting. "Hi." Jaehyun greets with a soft chuckle, sinking into the seat across from you. The waiter carefully sets the tray down on the table between you both, the glasses clinking faintly against each other before he turns and quietly exits the room.

Jaehyun gestures towards the drinks with an easy smile. "Figured we could use a little variety." he says.

You eye the tray warily, fully aware that you're already pretty drunk and that more drinks probably isn’t the best idea. But despite that, your mouth waters at the sight. Maybe one more wouldn't hurt, right?

Jaehyun reaches for a glass, swirling the liquid inside before bringing it to his lips. He takes a slow sip, then gestures for you to do the same. You hesitate for a moment, scanning the array of options before finally settling on what looks like the safest choice and wrap your fingers around the cool glass.

"How'd you like the party?" Jaehyun asks, taking another sip of his drink. "It's nothing like I expected." you admit, swirling the liquid in your glass before taking a slow sip. "Do you come to places like these often?" you ask. At that, he smirks, taking a lazy swig from his drink. "Mhm." he hums. "Sometimes."

You nod slowly, letting his answer settle between you. The initial unease you felt when you first stepped into this room is beginning to fade, replaced by the soothing lull of alcohol in your system and the plush comfort of the couch beneath you. 

"Honestly, I feel like I needed tonight." you sigh, finally relaxing into the cushions. "Really?" Jaehyun's voice holds a hint of curiosity. You hum in response, tilting your head back to gaze at the intricately designed ceiling.  "It's just been a tragic week." you exhale, the words slipping out before you can think twice.

A brief silence lingers before Jaehyun speaks again. "What happened? Is everything okay?" he asks. 

At that, you lift your head, and somehow, you can physically feel your expression shift—your face falling as the weight of everything crashes back onto your shoulders and you can tell Jaehyun instantly notices when he proceeds to move around the glass table and settles right beside you on the couch, without any hesitation.

You don't think of it much and simply stare down at your drink. "Hey." Jaehyun inches closer. "You wanna talk?" he asks, keeping his voice soft. "It's just..." You hesitate, exhaling sharply. "I had an argument with Jungkook."

You don't catch the subtle smirk that tugs at the corner of Jaehyun's lips before he quickly masks it with feigned concern. He tilts his head slightly, watching you carefully. "Oh? Your roommate?" he asks, his voice smooth. "What happened?"

You hesitate, exhaling softly as you swirl your drink in your hand, watching the ice clink against the glass. You still don't really feel like diving into the details... so instead, you just lick your lips, giving a nonchalant shrug. "It's nothing serious." you lie.

"Well..." Jaehyun drawls, inching a little closer. "If it wasn't anything serious, you wouldn't be feeling like this." he says and somehow, you hate that he's right.

"I know." you admit with a sigh. "But I just don't wanna talk about it."

He hums, watching you for a moment before reaching out, his hand settling lightly on your knee. You don't think of it much as you look at him with a soft smile. "Well, that's fine." he says, nodding as if to reassure you. "But is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

You let out a small huff, tilting your head. "Like what?" you raise your brows. "Well maybe we could start by trying to decode whatever the hell that guy downstairs was doing. Y'know, the one who looked like he was being electrocuted mid-dance?"

That makes you snort. "Oh my god, you mean the neon shirt guy? I swear he looked like he was dodging invisible punches." you remark. Jaehyun lets out a laugh, shaking his head. "Dodging? To me it looked like he was throwing hands at the air like it owed him money."

You burst into giggles, shaking your head as you recall the absurdity of the scene. Some guy had taken over the dance floor earlier, flailing so aggressively that the people around him had instinctively stepped back, giving him space like he was performing some sacred ritual.

"At one point, I swear he was just... stomping in circles?" you say between wheezes. "Like—full speed. Just stomping."

"Dude was either summoning something or trying to exorcise himself in real-time." Jaehyun cackles, his eyes crinkling. "Maybe both." you add, still breathless.

Jaehyun keeps the jokes coming, still exaggerating about the guy's moves and expressions making you double over. But then, as a few moments pass, somewhere in the middle of his sentence, you become acutely aware of his fingers that are now somehow on your thigh. 

Your breath catches, a strange flicker of discomfort washing over you.

You don't say anything—don't want to ruin the atmosphere, don't want to make it into something bigger than it is—so instead, you shift slightly, angling your body just enough to make the contact disappear. 

The movement is subtle, barely noticeable, but thankfully, it does the trick. Jaehyun's hand falls away, and you exhale quietly, relief washing over you.

But then, a few minutes pass.

This time you're talking when you feel it again... when you feel his palm land on your thigh again, fingers spreading across the plush of your skin. The pressure is heavier now, intentional in a way that makes your skin prickle, makes your stomach curl into itself.

And then—a small squeeze. 

Your breath hitches as you force yourself to glance at him. His expression is unreadable at first... casual, almost too casual. His lips curl into an easy smile while his eyes remain hooded as he watches you. 

"Have I..." he starts, his fingers still resting firm against your thigh. "Have I ever told you how pretty you are?"

His voice has changed... lower, slower, silkier in a way that makes the air in the room feel thick and stagnant, like it's pressing down on you. He leans in just slightly, close enough that you can catch the sharp bite of his cologne mixed with the faint burn of whiskey clinging to his breath.

The space between you, the one that had felt safe just moments ago, now feels suffocating.

Your fingers tighten around the glass in your hand, your pulse kicking up in your throat. You will yourself to keep your face neutral, to not let the discomfort crack through, but suddenly, everything about the room feels wrong.

The dim golden glow of the lights, the muffled bass of the party downstairs, the way the leather couch sinks beneath you... it all feels like a trap.

"Hey..." You start, placing your glass on the table nearby and reaching for his hand with forced ease—like if you play this off as something light, something harmless, it'll make it easier. "I think you're drunk, Jae."

You try to laugh, to make it sound teasing, to turn this into nothing—but your fingers barely brush against his before his grip tightens like iron.

He doesn't let go of you... instead, he shifts—his palm creeping further up your thigh, as if testing boundaries he already knows he'll cross. His tongue flicks over his lower lip, his smirk widening. "Come on..." he murmurs, voice low, smooth, coaxing. He leans in, closing the space between you in a way that feels suffocating.

"You want this, don't you?" His voice is deceptively soft, but it slithers under your skin like something vile. His eyes roam over your face, and your stomach twists so violently that, for a second, you think you might actually throw up.

You reach for his hand again, fingers trembling as you try to pry it off—to make it clear without saying the words. But this time, he's faster as his fingers lock firmly around your wrist. 

"Come on, Y/N..." He drawls, like this is some kind of game, like your discomfort is amusing. His hold tightens, sending a sharp ache up your arm. "When are you going to stop pretending?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" You try to keep your voice even, to mask the fear steadily creeping in, but it betrays you—it wavers.

You don't even know how Jaehyun's demeanor shifted so suddenly, how his expression contorts, twisting his features into something almost inhuman, something predatory. The soft boyish charm he's always worn so effortlessly is gone, replaced by something that makes your blood run cold.

His lips curl into a scoff, as if your resistance is a mere inconvenience, as if he's growing tired of this little charade. "I know you want this, Y/n." he muses, too self-assured, too convinced of his own delusion.

"What are you—"

"Oh, please." He sneers, rolling his eyes. His grip tightens like a vice, and you flinch. "Don't fucking act hard to get now." he growls as his smirk vanishes in an instant. "Let's just get this over with, yeah?" He murmurs.

For a moment, you don't quite understand what he's implying but a sickening realization crashes into you like ice water, freezing your veins, when he leans closer, closer—so close that you can feel his breath against your skin.

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up and with all the strength you can muster, you yank your wrist back, desperation fueling the force behind it. "Jae, what the hell are you doing?!" The words burst from you.

You scramble for your purse, heart hammering so violently you think it might burst. But before you can even rise from the couch, his grip is on you again as he wrenches you backward, knocking the breath from your lungs as you crash into the cushions again. 

Your vision tilts, the world tipping sideways as panic claws up your throat and suddenly he's standing right in front of you now, towering over your trembling frame.

You look up at him with glistening eyes, while he stares down at you. "God, you're so—" He grits his teeth as his hand jerks upward so fast that your instinct kicks in before thought does and you flinch, your body snapping shut as you squeeze your eyes closed.

Silence.

Then—an exhale.

You dare to open your eyes, just enough to see him with his own shut tight, his chest rising and falling, his fingers twitching. He's forcing himself to rein it in, to not let whatever this is to spiral out of control.

"God, you're so fucking annoying," he breathes out, voice seething. The words sting, but what's worse is the way he's looking at you... like you've done something to him, like you've pushed him to this.

"For two months, I've stuck around, trying to be a good friend to you..." he continues, voice laced with resentment. "And this... this is what I get in return?"

You swallow, shaking. "We were assignment partners—"

The scoff that rips from his throat is sharp, bitter, cruel. His jaw clenches so tight you can see the muscle twitch beneath his skin and it's so clear that he's holding back.

Holding back from hurting you.

"God, just shut the fuck up, okay?" His voice snaps like a whip. "You really think I was being that nice to you just for some stupid assignment?" he spits. "All those times I sat there listening to you yap about the most irrelevant shit, all those times I actually tried to be nice to you..." he scoffs, shaking his head.

And then, he leans down, just slightly... just enough that the shadows deepen around his face, just enough that the last remnants of sanity are stripped from his expression.

"You owe me, Y/N."

Your stomach churns, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. "I don't owe you anything."

Jaehyun lets out a dry, humorless chuckle, tilting his head as he rolls his eyes like you’ve just said the dumbest thing imaginable. "God, you are so fucking boring." He drawls the words out slowly, as if they physically exhaust him. "You really live in your own little world, don't you? Just prancing around like some oblivious little princess, thinking everything revolves around you."

His eyes glint with something cruel, something designed to hurt.

"You just love the sound of your own voice, don't you?" Jaehyun sneers, his tone dripping with venom. "Completely oblivious to the fact that no one actually gives a shit about you. You walk around acting like you're deep, like you're interesting, when in reality, you're just another self-absorbed airhead who thinks posting a few half-decent selfies and videos online makes you relevant."

He scoffs, shaking his head. "That whole 'influencer' crap you do? It's laughable. Snapping pictures of yourself, rambling about whatever superficial nonsense is trending—you really think that makes you special?"

His lips curl into a slow, condescending smirk. "Newsflash, sweetheart… you're as shallow as they come. A pretty face with nothing going on underneath. Just another desperate nobody screaming for attention, hoping someone—anyone—will pretend to care."

Your breath hitches, but Jaehyun doesn't stop. He doesn't even hesitate.

"And when you're not yapping about yourself, you're running your mouth about that pathetic little roommate of yours…" he sneers, his voice curling into something mocking. "God, it's always 'Jungkook this, Jungkook that.'"

He rolls his eyes, mimicking your voice in a high-pitched, saccharine tone. "'Jungkook and his stupid animes, Jungkook and his fucking rubik's cubes, Jungkook is so sweet, Jungkook is so smart.' Jesus Christ." He shakes his head, clicking his tongue. 

"It's pathetic. Watching you talk about him like he's some kind of genius when he's just another clueless little loser who has all these weird little obsessions.”  His lip curls in disgust as he takes a slow step forward, almost like a predator cornering its prey. 

"You really think anyone gives a fuck about what you have to say? That any guy actually likes listening to you?" He scoffs. "Let me break it to you, Y/n, because no one else will."

His voice drops lower.

"If any guy ever pretends he's interested in you for anything more than a quick fuck, he's lying. Straight up. Because that's all you are. Just a warm body with a halfway decent face."

You don't even realize the hot tears spilling down your cheeks, as you sit there frozen, trapped in the venom of his words. Each syllable slices through you like a blade, carving wounds deep into the marrow of your being. I

You should move, speak, fight back—but you can't. You're paralyzed beneath the weight of his gaze, beneath the cruel smirk twisting his features, beneath the realization that he never saw you as anything more than a joke.

"You're just another one of those bitches with a decent face who thinks the whole world is at her feet." He grins. "Like you're special. Like you matter." His eyes drag over your body before he opens his mouth again. "But here's the truth, sweetheart—" he leans in just slightly. "You're nothing."

You're biting down so hard on the inside of your lower lip that you swear you can taste the sharp tang of blood. The sickening feeling roiling in your stomach is unbearable now, a toxic mix of humiliation and fury that threatens to consume you whole. 

You can't sit here any longer... not with him, not in this suffocating space that reeks of sweat, liquor, and the poison dripping from his lips. With a sharp inhale, you push yourself off the couch, wiping the wetness from your cheeks in a futile attempt to erase the evidence of your breaking. 

You turn on your heel, ready to walk out of this room, this night, this nightmare but his hand clamps around your wrist again.

"Where do you think you're—"

The words barely leave his mouth before your hand swings through the air so quick that the slap lands with a sickening crack, the sound reverberating through the lounge. Jaehyun's face jerks to the side, his cheek blooming red in the aftermath. 

He stays there, frozen, like he's still trying to process what just happened—like he never thought, even for a second, that you would fight back. But you don't give him the luxury of recovery as you wrench yourself free, spinning on your heel and bolting out of the room without sparing him another glance.

You run down the hallway until you reach the staircase again and suddenly the pulsing bass of the club slams into you. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and alcohol, the flashing neon lights doing nothing to steady your spiraling mind. But you don't stop. You can't.

You fly down the staircase, vision blurred, the world around you reduced to nothing but static. You barely register the people you shove past, their startled protests fading into the background as you move purely on instinct, driven by the desperate need to escape.

When you finally reach the base of the staircase, ready to bolt towards the exit, you don't even notice the sleek table in your path until it's too late. Your hip collides with the edge, sending the delicate pyramid of meticulously arranged champagne glasses trembling—before toppling in a spectacular crash.

The glass shatters and the liquid spills across the floor. The sound is deafening, probably even louder than the music. The entire club seems to inhale at once, all eyes snapping towards the catastrophe you've left in your wake.

Your own eyes widen in horror and the weight of a hundred stares presses against your skin like fire. But the embarrassment barely registers because the only thing louder than the chaos around you is the voice in your head screaming at you to run.

So you do.

You don't think twice before tearing through the crowd, weaving between bodies with reckless desperation. You don't care where you're going. You just need to get out—to get as far away from this shithole as possible.

When you finally burst through the exit, the club's neon glow flickers behind you, casting long, distorted shadows against the pavement. 

The night air hits you like a slap, searing your overheated skin as you stumble forward. It burns your lungs as you inhale, the cold so biting it almost feels like punishment. But you don't stop.

You run.

Your heels slam against the concrete, each step sending a sharp, jolting pain up your calves, but it barely registers. The world around you is a blur—streaks of headlights cutting through the dark, the distorted echoes of drunken laughter, the far-off wail of a siren. 

The city keeps moving, oblivious to the storm inside you. 

At some point, without even realizing how far you've gone, the chaos fades behind you. The towering buildings give way to something quieter... wide, tree-lined streets, dimly lit by old streetlamps. 

The air is cooler here, and the houses stand still in their slumber, their windows dark, their lives untouched by yours. The world here is asleep, blissfully unaware of the storm clawing at your insides.

And then—

Your legs give out.

You barely register the moment your knees hit the damp grass by the sidewalk, the impact jolting through you. One of your hands claw at the soil below, fingers sinking into the dewy blades while the other rests on the tree nearby for support, but the spinning in your head is relentless. 

The nausea twists in your stomach like a cruel, merciless force, and before you can even brace yourself—

You retch.

The force wracks through you, seizing your entire body as everything inside you spills out in heaving, gut-wrenching waves. Hot, acidic bile burns your throat, the taste bitter and vile, leaving your body trembling in its wake. 

Your nails continue to dig into the cold ground as you gasp for air, only for another shudder to rip through you, forcing out more until there's nothing left... just empty, aching convulsions.

And then, silence.

The quiet is deafening.

And as you sit there, hunched over in the damp grass, breath shuddering, body trembling from the weight of everything, you stare down at the mess you've just made. 

The sour taste in your mouth lingers, bile stings at the back of your throat, but it's nothing... absolutely nothing compared to the way Jaehyun's words replay in your head, carving wounds that you know won't heal.

Your limbs feel weightless, detached, like you're floating in some cruel limbo between reality and a nightmare, like you've become something hollow, something breakable. 

And for the first time since your feet carried you away from that club, you let yourself shatter.

You feel like the biggest fucking fool to walk this earth, because, honestly, how did you not see this coming? How could you have been so blind, so laughably naive, so utterly oblivious to the things that were right in front of you, screaming at you, clawing at you for attention?

And just like that, Jungkook's voice comes rushing back—not just from that night, when his anger wrapped around his words like fire, but from all the times before. All those moments when he tried so hard to be discreet about his discomfort with Jaehyun, the way his questions about your dynamic always carried an underlying concern. All those times he was desperately trying to spell it out for you, practically begging you to listen.

Begging you to see Jaehyun for who he truly was.

But you didn't.

You brushed him off like it was nothing, dismissed him like he didn't know what he was talking about. Because, apparently, you really are the kind of person who doesn't notice the flames until you're standing in the middle of the burning wreckage.

And now, here you are, choking on the smoke.

The tears spill over faster, hotter, but they don't bring relief. They only fuel the fire inside you... the one that burns with realization, with regret, with the sickening truth pressing its sharp claws into your chest.

Because they were right. Both of them. Jungkook and Jaehyun. Every single fucking word.

You are oblivious. You are shallow. You are blind.

The self-loathing seeps into your bones, wrapping itself around your ribs like iron shackles, squeezing tighter and tighter until you can't breathe, until all you can feel is the weight of it pressing down, dragging you under.

You cry and cry, but the ache doesn't subside. It only intensifies, spreads like venom, because now you see it all so clearly. 

Jungkook wasn't trying to be cruel. He wasn't trying to hurt you. He was trying to protect you. He was trying to save you from this exact moment, from this exact pain, and you... you threw his concern back in his face like it meant nothing.

And now, what do you have left?

Nothing.

Everything has crumbled around you, exploded in your face, and you have no one to blame but yourself. Because you trusted too blindly, because you let yourself be deceived, because you didn't notice the monster grinning at you from right under your nose until he finally sank his teeth in.

And at the end of it all, you can't blame Jaehyun for wanting to take advantage of you and you can't hate Jungkook for being right.

Because this?

This is all on you.

The shrill ringing of Jungkook's phone startles him awake, dragging him out of the depths of sleep. But before anything else registers, it's the scent that fills his nose that fully wakes him up.

The familiar fragrance of your shampoo lingers on the pillow beneath him and it's only then that he furrows his brows, the persistent ringing of his phone cutting through the haze of sleep. It takes him a moment to fully register where he is.

In your bed. In your room.

Did he really fall asleep here last night?

A sharp exhale leaves his lips as he rolls onto his back, rubbing his face with one hand. God, he couldn't be more pathetic.

Shaking off the grogginess, he sits up, reaching blindly for his glasses before grabbing his still-ringing phone from the nightstand. His brows knit together when he sees the caller ID, confusion flickering across his face, but he quickly picks up.

"Hey... Jimin?" Jungkook murmurs, his voice scratchy. "Hey, JK. Sorry for calling so early on a Sunday." Jimin says, a trace of hesitation in his tone. "I just... wanted to check. Did Y/n come back to your place last night?"

Jungkook's drowsiness vanishes in an instant. 

He doesn't respond right away. Instead, he pushes himself off the bed, moving on instinct, his bare feet hitting the cold floor as he strides out of your room, gripping onto his phone. 

Were you back? Had you come home?

The thought spurs him forward. He moves through the apartment in a blur, eyes darting frantically across the living room. Empty. His footsteps quicken as he reaches the kitchen. Nothing. He knocks on the bathroom door, waits for a response—some sign that you're there. Silence.

"JK? You still there?" Jimin's voice cuts through the thick fog of Jungkook's thoughts. He swallows hard, forcing himself to respond. "Uh... no. She's not here." he breathes out. "Why? Did she... did she not come back last night?"

Jimin exhales, the sound heavy. "No... she didn't." he says quietly. "That's why I thought she went back to your place. But... all of her stuff is still here, so..." His voice trails off, uncertainty settling between them.

"Do you have any idea where she might've gone? Did she not say anything before she left?" Jungkook's words come out faster than he intends, his concern barely restrained.

"I'm not sure..." Jimin admits. "She mentioned some party, but Yoongi and I weren't home when she left, so I don't know the details." There's a brief pause before he continues. "I've tried calling her, but she hasn't picked up. Maybe she's just staying over at a friend's place... I should probably call around and check."

Jungkook doesn't respond immediately, his grip tightening around his phone. "Yeah... yeah, you should probably do that." he finally says, voice strained. "Please... just keep me updated."

The moment the call with Jimin ends, Jungkook is already searching for your contact, fingers moving on instinct. A part of him knows you won't answer—especially not him, of all people—but he still tries. Because hope, no matter how foolish, is a stubborn thing.

He presses the call button, holding his breath as the line rings. His leg bounces anxiously, his grip tightening around the phone until—

Voicemail.

A shaky exhale leaves his lips as he drops onto the couch, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His heart pounds against his ribs because all he can do now is pray you're safe.

But as the day drags on with no updates from Jimin, Jungkook feels like he's losing his mind. He's called you more times than he can count, each attempt met with the same annoying voicemail. 

His anxiety coils tighter with every hour that passes as he paces the apartment mindlessly, fingers twitching against his phone, refreshing his messages every few seconds—waiting, hoping, searching for any sign of you.

When evening rolls around, his phone buzzes, and he barely gives it time to ring before answering. "Hey, JK..." Jimin's voice comes through the speaker, slightly hesitant. "Did you find her?" Jungkook instantly asks, not bothering to greet him back. 

"Not exactly." Jimin exhales. "She finally texted me, though... but... it was nothing much. Just a simple 'I'm fine.'" He pauses, and even though Jungkook can't see him, he can hear the doubt laced in his tone.

"I texted her back, asked where she was, but she hasn't replied..." Jimin continues, his sigh heavy through the receiver. "But yeah... I just called to let you know. Don't stress too much, alright? Hopefully, we'll see her in uni tomorrow."

Jungkook barely registers the reassurance, but he still forces himself to hum in acknowledgment, though the sound feels hollow even to his own ears.

When the call ends, the gnawing unease only worsens. Jungkook sits there, phone in hand, mind tangled in questions with no answers. Where had you gone last night? And why are you suddenly unreachable now? It's so unlike you—so far out of character—that a sinking feeling settles deep in his chest.

And the worst part? He can't shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, he's the reason behind all of this.

He clenches his jaw and shakes his head, forcing the thought away. No. That can't be it. You probably just went to a party, had a few too many drinks, and crashed somewhere for the night. 

Maybe at a friend's place that Jimin doesn't know about. Yeah, that's the most logical explanation. But even as he tells himself this, it feels more like a desperate attempt to convince himself than anything else. A flimsy excuse to ignore the unease clawing at his chest, the part of him that whispers that something isn't right.

That familiar weight of self-loathing crashes over him like a tidal wave, and with a sharp exhale, he does what he's done too many times today—he checks your socials.

It's become a habit at this point, tapping on Instagram, searching for your name, hoping to see something—anything. A story, a photo, a check-in, a clue. Anything to tell him where you are.

But this time, when he types your username into the search bar, his brows knit together.

Nothing.

He blinks, confusion prickling at the back of his mind. That's weird. Maybe he misspelled it? He tries again, slower this time, carefully entering each letter.

Still nothing.

His heartbeat stutters as he immediately switches to tiktok, fingers moving faster now, dread creeping in like a slow, suffocating vice around his throat. But it's the same there too. No account. No trace of you.

He stares blankly at his phone, his mind scrambling to make sense of it and when realization dawns on him like a punch to the gut.

You've deactivated all your socials. 

When the next day arrives, Jungkook is already on his way to university, despite not having any morning classes because he's hoping to catch a glimpse of you, probably in the econ building or at least somewhere on campus. 

His steps are quick yet restless, hands buried deep in his hoodie pockets as his eyes scan every passing figure, trailing over familiar faces and unfamiliar ones alike, searching and searching but it's futile. There are too many people, too much movement, and the nagging uncertainty of whether you're even here gnaws at him like a splinter beneath his skin.

Still, he keeps looking.

The morning drags on, and as students slowly filter into their classrooms, Jungkook finds himself standing there, stuck between frustration and impatience. Maybe he should just wait for Jimin, ask him if you came to class today... if you're safe, if you're okay. If you've finally decided to resurface.

With a sigh, Jungkook finally decides to head towards the cafeteria, hoping to pass the time until his next class.

By the time afternoon rolls in, he’s drained. He barely absorbs anything from his lectures because as usual, his mind is constantly drifting back to you.

As he steps out of the lecture hall with the other students, his phone vibrates in his pocket. His heart jumps, fingers moving quickly to pull it out, half-expecting Jimin’s name on the screen. But instead, it’s Taehyung.

"Hey." Jungkook answers. "Hey, Kook. Are you on campus?" Taehyung asks from the other end. "Yeah… I umm… just got done with class." he replies, maneuvering through the crowded hallway.

"Oh, perfect. Could you do me a favor?" Taehyung continues. "Yeah, of course. What’s up?" Jungkook says, shifting his bag over his shoulder. "I left my locker key back at my apartment, and I can’t run back to get it since I have class now. But I need it for practice later, and I won’t have time to grab it in between. If you’re free, do you think you could swing by and pick it up for me?"

It’s a bit of a hassle but Taehyung’s apartment isn’t too far from campus, but it’s still out of the way, and Jungkook isn’t sure he has the energy for it. 

But then again, since he’s got no classes anytime soon, he can’t really come up with a reason to deny Taehyung and besides, turning him down over something so small would make him feel like a complete jerk. "Yeah, I got it. Just send me your door code." he sighs.

"Thanks a lot, Kook. I owe you one. I’ll meet you in the locker room later, yeah?" Taehyung responds and Jungkook hums, ending the call. 

After about thirty minutes, Jungkook is already making his way back from Taehyung’s apartment. By now, Taehyung’s class should be wrapping up, which means Jungkook might as well head to the locker room and wait for him there.

Navigating through the sports complex, he moves past the familiar maze of hallways and when he finally reaches the locker room, he notices the door is slightly ajar. 

He hesitates for a moment, unsure if he’s even allowed in, but quickly decides he doesn’t care. As long as he doesn’t have to talk to anyone, it’ll be fine—he just needs a place to sit and wait for Taehyung.

Pushing the door open, he steps inside, his gaze instinctively sweeping across the space. The faint scent of sweat lingers in the air, and the sound of muffled voices from nearby echoes against the tiled walls. 

Most of the lockers stand closed, their metal doors lined up neatly, a few left slightly ajar with gym bags lazily hanging out.

Jungkook exhales, rolling his shoulders as he leans against the nearest bench in the middle of an aisle, pulling out his phone to check the time. Taehyung should be here soon.

Just then, the muffled voices from earlier become much clearer and Jungkook figures a few students must be on the other side of the aisle, talking amongst themselves.

At first, he doesn’t think much of it—until he hears a very, very familiar voice. 

“She was such a bitch.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow at the sheer venom in the words, his head tilting slightly. He doesn’t intend to eavesdrop, but he does it anyway.

"I told you, bro, Y/n would be a hard target." Another voice chimes in, and at the mention of your name, Jungkook’s entire body goes rigid.

That’s when it clicks. Jaehyun is on the soccer team too, which means that familiar voice belongs to him—and right now, he’s talking about you.

Before he can think better of it, Jungkook rises to his feet, stepping around the lockers as quietly as possible. He peeks into the next aisle and spots Jaehyun, standing in the middle of a group of guys.

Some of them are busy adjusting their jerseys, a few lacing up their cleats, while others lean against the lockers, clearly entertained by whatever bullshit Jaehyun is spewing.

“She was so fucking insufferable, man.” Jaehyun scoffs, yanking his shirt over his head before reaching for his practice jersey. “I swear, she thinks she’s some kind of godsend just because people hype her up online.” He shakes his head, and the guys around him chuckle.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. He knows exactly where this is going, and he doesn’t like it one fucking bit.

“Took her to one of the most expensive clubs in the city. Danced with her. Bought her drinks. All that for what?” Jaehyun spreads his arms dramatically, turning to his teammates. “She kept trying to push my hand away like I gave a fuck. Like, stop acting so hard to get, geez.” He sneers.

Jungkook feels something sharp coil in his stomach, a heat rising to his chest that makes his fingers twitch. The words alone are disgusting, but it’s Jaehyun’s expression that makes his blood boil—like whatever he’s saying is just a joke, something to laugh about.

“Like, you’re telling me I tolerated her ass for two months over some dumbass assignment because I actually wanted to be nice to her?” Jaehyun scoffs, shaking his head as the other guys smirk and nod in agreement.

"I swear, she thinks she’s all that. But I guarantee you, if she didn’t have her precious little Instagram followers hyping her up, she’d be nothing. Plain as fuck. Body’s decent, I guess, but nothing special. Face? Mid, at best. And don’t even get me started on her annoying ass attitude—fucking unbearable."

The group laughs, one of them muttering something Jungkook doesn’t catch.

“And bro, she never shuts up. Kept talking about the most irrelevant shit, and don’t even get me started on that loser roommate of hers—like I give a single fuck." Jaehyun lets out an exaggerated groan. 

"I should’ve known she was gonna be a waste of time. Could’ve spent those two months with someone actually worth it, but no, I had to pick the shallow, self-obsessed one.”

Jungkook’s grip on his phone is so tight he’s surprised it hasn’t shattered. The roaring in his ears nearly drowns out the rest of the conversation, his vision tunneling in on Jaehyun’s smug, laughing face.

“She should be grateful I even wanted to fuck her… like??? But man, remind me not to go for the self-obsessed ones next time cause they’re so fucking uptight—”

Jungkook moves before the thought even fully forms in his head. One powerful stride into the aisle, and before Jaehyun can blink, Jungkook’s fist is already crashing into his jaw with a force that sends him reeling. 

The impact is brutal—flesh meeting bone with a sickening crack as Jaehyun’s body crumples to the cold tile. The room plunges into a stunned silence, but it lasts for only a second.

Because Jungkook doesn’t stop.

Jaehyun barely has time to lift his arms in defense before Jungkook is on top of him, pinning him down on the floor with his weight as he grabs Jaehyun by the collar just to slam another fist into his face. And then another. And another.

Junkook’s knuckles split open from the sheer force, but he doesn’t care. The pain barely registers because all he sees is fucking red.

“How… dare… you… fucking… talk… about… her… like… that.” He grits out between each devastating punch, his voice seething with rage. 

Jaehyun's face is a mess of blood and bruises now, his lip torn, his cheek already swelling. He gasps, his body writhing in an attempt to escape, but Jungkook doesn’t let up. The rage burning through him is insatiable and he’s making sure Jaehyun feels every ounce of it.

Blood drips onto Jaehyun’s jersey, staining the white fabric, pooling onto the floor in slow, viscous drops. His head jerks violently with each hit, his groans turning weaker, more pained.

But still, no one steps in.

The other guys stand frozen, wide-eyed, paralyzed by shock or fear—maybe both. They were laughing just minutes ago, feeding into Jaehyun’s vile words, and now? Now, they’re nothing but silent spectators. Not a single one of them dares to intervene.

“Kook?? What the fuck—KOOK, STOP!”

Taehyung’s voice finally cuts through the haze, but it barely registers in Jungkook’s mind.His breathing is ragged, his chest heaving, his fists trembling. The blood roaring in his ears drowns out everything else.

Because how fucking dare Jaehyun? How dare he stand here, spitting out filth about you like you were nothing? Like he had any right to speak about you that way? Like he didn’t deserve every single hit Jungkook was landing on him?

Jungkook has never been the kind to lose control like this, never been the one to get into fights—but right now? Right now, he doesn’t give a shit about consequences.

Because Jaehyun fucking deserves it.

Taehyung is utterly baffled, his mind struggling to process the chaos unfolding before him. But he doesn’t hesitate.

Without thinking, he rushes forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Jungkook’s torso and hauling him away from Jaehyun. It takes every ounce of strength he has with Jungkook thrashing in his grip like a wild animal, but Taehyung refuses to let go.

"Jungkook, stop!" he yells, his own breath coming out ragged and his muscles straining as he keeps his best friend from lunging forward again.

Jungkook finally stands up with his chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides and his entire body coiled with barely contained fury. Blood drips from his split knuckles, staining his fingers, but he doesn’t even glance at the damage as his glare remains locked onto Jaehyun’s stupid bloodied face.

"You always act like you’re better than me." Jungkook seethes, his voice low, lethal. He watches as Jaehyun groans, barely able to open his eyes or lift his head. "But talk about Y/n like that again, and I’ll fucking kill you."

Taehyung tightens his grip, feeling the tension still rippling through Jungkook’s body, the barely restrained urge to break free and finish what he started. And for a second, he genuinely thinks Jungkook might do it. Might snap. Might throw him off and go right back in for more.

But Jungkook doesn’t move.

He just stands there, breathing heavily, eyes still burning with unspent rage as he watches Jaehyun writhe on the floor.

"Kook, come on… let’s go." Taehyung urges, loosening his grip around Jungkook’s torso while his fingers quickly latch onto Jungkook’s arm before he can even think about turning back.

Without another word, Taehyung drags him out of the aisle, away from Jaehyun’s wrecked form, and straight towards the locker room exit. 

Practice is the last thing on Taehyung’s mind right now—he’ll deal with the coach later, though he doubts much explanation will even be necessary.

The coach is well aware of Jaehyun’s reputation, his arrogance, his sleazy, insufferable nature. If anything, Taehyung wouldn’t be surprised if the man felt a sense of quiet satisfaction that someone had finally put Jaehyun in his place, delivering the kind of reckoning he’d long had coming.

Taehyung doesn’t stop until they reach the nearest washroom. He shoves the door open, yanks Jungkook inside, and slams it shut behind them.

“Okay, what the hell just happened in there?” he exhales sharply, crossing his arms as he stares at Jungkook, waiting for an answer.

Jungkook closes his eyes, inhaling deeply before letting out a slow breath. The sharp sting in his knuckles finally registers, the dull ache pulsing through his skin, but he doesn’t care. 

It’s nothing compared to the fury still burning in his chest, nothing compared to the sickening weight in his gut as Jaehyun’s words replay over and over in his head like a fucking broken record.

Everything clicks into place now. Jaehyun must have invited you to a club over the weekend, thinking he could finally make a move on you and take advantage of you like he had always wanted. And when you—of course—refused, he probably lost his shit.

Jungkook doesn’t even want to imagine what Jaehyun might have done to you or said to you afterward, how he might have made you feel, because he knows firsthand how fucking cruel Jaehyun can be. 

The more he thinks about it, the worse it gets.

He can almost picture you, feeling cornered, feeling small. Feeling stupid for ever thinking Jaehyun was just being nice. Feeling like maybe it was your fault, like maybe you led him on somehow.

And that—God, that makes Jungkook sick to his stomach.

Because if there’s one thing he knows about Jaehyun, it’s that he never stops at just one insult. He drags people through the mud, twists words like a knife to make them bleed, tears them down until there’s nothing left. 

So what had he said to you? What had you been forced to hear? How much had it hurt?

Jungkook grits his teeth, fingers twitching at his sides. Knocking Jaehyun out should’ve felt good. It should’ve felt satisfying. But it doesn’t. If anything, it only makes him feel worse because hearing Jaehyun say those things, hearing him reduce you to nothing but a game, a joke—

It only reminds him of the things he said to you too.

No, it wasn’t as vile, as disgusting as the shit Jaehyun spewed, but it was still harsh. Still cruel. Still enough to make you look at him differently. Jungkook swallows, hands curling into fists once again. Maybe he deserves to get punched in the face too.

“Kook?” Taehyung calls out again, louder this time, finally snapping Jungkook out of his thoughts.

Jungkook leans back against the sink, his head tilting up as if he’s searching for answers on the ceiling. “Tae… I fucking messed up..” His voice is strained. Taehyung furrows his brows, arms still crossed as he watches his friend carefully. 

There’s no way Jungkook regrets punching a guy like Jaehyun—not when he was so damn furious just moments ago. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“With Y/n.” Jungkook mutters, shaking his head. “I messed up big time with Y/n.”

Jungkook proceeds to narrate everything to Taehyung. 

How he chickened out of telling you the entire truth about Jaehyun, not because he was afraid of Jaehyun, but because he was more terrified of you misunderstanding him or finding out about the way he feels for you.

How he let his own insecurities cloud his judgment, how he twisted his emotions into something ugly, something cruel, and lashed out at you over a misunderstanding. How the alcohol had only fueled his worst instincts, stripping away whatever restraint he might have had left, until all that remained was the ugliest version of himself—the one who said things he could never take back.

His voice wavers slightly as he speaks, but he doesn’t stop. He lays it all out, piece by piece, not sparing himself from the weight of his own mistakes. 

“And that’s why she’s been staying with her friend, Jimin for the past week.” Jungkook finally finishes, his voice quieter now, almost defeated. “You really did mess up, huh…” Taehyung murmurs, exhaling deeply as he processes everything. 

He’s now leaning against the other sink right beside Jungkook, with his arms still crossed. There’s no judgment in his voice, only the quiet acknowledgment of the wreckage Jungkook has laid out in front of him.

Jungkook swallows, running a hand through his hair. “And now, I don’t even know where she is… or how she is.” he mutters, frustration bleeding into his tone. The uncertainty gnaws at him, the not knowing, the possibility that you’re still hurting because of him and now, even Jaehyun. 

“Yeah, that sucks.” Taehyung sighs softly. “But there’s not much we can do.”  he continues, shifting his weight against the sink. “You just have to wait until she’s ready… until she decides to show up.”

Jungkook knows Taehyung is right but that doesn’t make it any easier. 

He wishes—so badly—that he could see you right now. That he could take back every cruel word, every moment he let his own insecurities cloud his judgment. That he could apologize, not just with words but with every ounce of sincerity in his being.

More than anything, he just wants to make you feel better. To undo the damage, to erase the pain he’s caused. But all he can do is wait.

It’s 4 a.m. on a Thursday morning when you sneak out of Jimin and Yoongi’s apartment with your suitcase rolling behind you. As you stand by the elevator, waiting for the numbers to descend, you pull out your phone and type out a quick message to Jimin.

"Going back home today. Don’t worry too much about me. Gonna focus on studying for finals, so I’ll see you next week. Thanks for letting me stay over, Chim.”

You know it’s far from considerate to disappear for days after spending a week at his place, only to slip out at the ass crack of dawn with nothing but a brief text message as an explanation. It’s thoughtless, maybe even a little selfish.

But right now, you’re a mess and you can’t bring yourself to face the concern in Jimin’s eyes or endure the weight of Yoongi’s silent understanding. You don’t want reassurances, don’t want to be told that things will get better when everything inside you feels like it’s caving in.

So, you take the easy way out. You leave quietly, hoping they’ll understand. 

After the nightmare that was Saturday night at the club, the mere thought of being around another human had felt unbearable. So after puking your guts out by the tree, you did the only thing that made sense at the time—you found refuge in a dingy motel.

Over the past few days, you’ve rediscovered an old habit of yours: sleeping through your problems. It’s not the healthiest coping mechanism, but right now, it’s the only thing keeping you afloat because staying up and thinking about everything that has gone down recently feels… unbearable. 

And you’ve been dissociating the best way you know how—by ignoring every single phone call and text that comes your way. Every notification feels like a tether to a world you’d rather not engage with, so you cut the cord entirely.

Deactivating all your social media was the final step, a quiet retreat into solitude.

You have no plans of telling anyone what happened between you and Jaehyun, just like you didn’t tell anyone about what happened between you and Jungkook. 

And with so much to hide, it’s making it harder and harder to exist under the same roof as Jimin and Yoongi because you’re terrified that, at any moment, you’ll crack—that one wrong look, one gentle nudge of concern, will be enough to make you fall apart right in front of them.

And then there are finals. You’ve already wasted too much time doing… nothing. Jimin and Yoongi have their own exams to worry about, and the last thing you want is to be another problem they have to deal with.

So, there’s only one option left: sucking it up and going back to your shared apartment with Jungkook.

It’s just a few more days. You’ll just stay locked up in your room, studying. Finals barely last two weeks, and after that, you can finally go home for the break and be with your dad. 

You try to be as quiet as possible as you enter the door code of your shared apartment.The second you step inside, the familiar scent of laundry detergent wraps around you like a ghost from another life and for a fleeting second, your throat tightens, and you think you might actually cry. 

So, you swallow it all and simply drag your suitcase across the floor as you make your way to your room. The moment you step inside, a quiet sigh slips past your lips. Your room is still a mess—just the way you left it. 

You push the door shut behind you, before releasing your suitcase and waddle towards your bed, collapsing onto the mattress. A quiet whine escapes your lips as you bury your face into the pillows.

You’ve decided that from today you’ll spend a little less time wallowing and more time studying because you really, really need to catch up on all your studying because finals are literally next week.

The past few days have been a lot and you’ve spent so much time blaming yourself for everything but also trying to push it all down, hoping that if you ignore it long enough, it will eventually fade into the background.

You inhale shakily, your fingers gripping the sheets as if grounding yourself to something real.

You’ll get over it.

Eventually.

Hopefully.

Jungkook groans, blindly reaching for his glasses on the nightstand as the soft morning light seeps through his curtains. The warmth of the sun does little to shake off the exhaustion clinging to his bones after another night of restless sleep, another morning where he wakes up feeling worse than before.

It’s been like this for days now and he knows exactly why.

Jimin told him you still weren’t back and Jungkook couldn’t help but think that you were out there somewhere, alone, likely drowning in silence after whatever awful things Jaehyun had done to you. 

He so badly wishes he could catch even the slightest glimpse of you, just to see how you’re doing.

With a tired sigh, he swings his legs over the bed and pushes himself up, dragging his feet towards the bathroom, hoping a splash of cold water will shake him out of this fog. 

But the second he steps into the hallway, he stops in his tracks when he hears the clear sound of running water coming from the bathroom. 

His breath hitches and all his drowsiness vanishes in an instant. He proceeds to take a hesitant step forward, pressing his ear to the bathroom door, and his eyes widen. 

The shower is on. Someone’s inside.

This can mean only one thing if he isn’t dreaming. 

He doesn’t waste another second and instantly runs to the doorway, his heart stumbling in his chest when he spots a pair of heels by the entrance. He doesn’t stay there for long though, because before he knows it, he’s sprinting towards your room. And the moment he steps inside, his eyes immediately land on your suitcase, standing by the wall.

You’re back.

You’re finally back home.

He stays in the living room and settles on the couch, anxiously bouncing his leg as he chews on his lower lip. A thousand words swirl in his head… apologies, explanations, desperate pleas, but he has no idea where to even begin. All he knows is that when you step out of that bathroom, he needs to talk to you.

Lost in the endless cycle of rehearsing what to say, his thoughts come to an abrupt halt when he hears the bathroom door creak open. Instantly, he shoots up from the couch, his pulse hammering against his ribs.

And then you appear.

Your damp hair clings to your skin, and the oversized bathrobe draped around you makes you look even smaller than usual. You freeze in place the moment your eyes meet his, visibly startled. 

You were really hoping to shower and slip back into your room unnoticed before he woke up. But now, standing face-to-face with him, you can’t ignore what’s right in front of you.

Your heart clenches.

He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t been sleeping well. And when your gaze unconsciously trails down his figure, you catch sight of his hand, wrapped in a bandage around his knuckles. He hurt his knuckles?

You’re instantly concerned and a question forms at the tip of your tongue, but then, just as quickly, you remember why you didn’t want to face him in the first place. So you look away and without another word, you walk past him, heading straight for your room. 

But just when your fingers graze the doorknob, his voice stops you. “Y-Y/n.” it comes out shakier than he intends and he internally curses at himself. 

You stop, but only for a fleeting moment. You already know what he’s going to say—probably questions about where you’ve been or an apology for everything—but you don’t want to hear it. You can’t.

Because the truth is, you’re ashamed. Ashamed to face him, ashamed to look him in the eye, because no matter how much you try to push it to the back of your mind, you know this whole situation with Jaehyun could have been avoided if you had just listened to Jungkook. 

And the weight of that realization is suffocating.

So before he can say another word, you step into your room and quietly shut the door behind you.

Jungkook lets out a defeated sigh, his gaze lingering on your closed door as his fingers anxiously toy with the hem of his shirt. What did he even expect? That you’d just stand there and talk to him as if nothing had happened? Of course not. Of course, you wouldn’t.

How could you, after everything?

Maybe you just need time. Maybe pushing you right now will only make things worse. He can only imagine how much this has been weighing on you, how exhausting it must be to carry it all alone.

He just hopes and prays that you don’t bottle it all up. That you’ll talk to someone. Even if that someone isn’t him.

“You really just left early in the morning? Do you have any idea how unsafe that is?” Jimin scolds, his brows furrowing as you sink into your seat.

It’s Mr. Jang’s last lecture of the semester, and considering how many classes you’ve already missed this week, you’re relieved you made it today.

“I’m sorry, Chim, but I got home just fine.” you murmur, offering him a small, placating smile. Jimin exhales sharply, clearly unimpressed, before settling into the seat beside you. 

“Seriously, I was so worried about you these past few days. What’s going on with you, Y/N? Are you ever going to tell me?” His voice is gentler now, his concern evident in the way he tilts his head slightly, eyes searching yours for answers.

You feel super guilty because Jimin clearly just wants to help, but you can’t bring yourself to fully let him in because it’s just so hard for you.

“I got into an argument with Jungkook…” you admit quietly, keeping your gaze fixed on the desk in front of you. “And let’s just say… things didn’t end well. I needed some space.”

Jimin blinks, his expression shifting from concern to mild shock. “An argument? With Jungkook?” His disbelief is almost tangible. “With our roommate JK???”

You huff a small, humorless laugh. “Yeah. I know, right?”

Jimin shakes his head, still struggling to process the idea. “I just… I mean, I didn’t think he was the type to argue…” he says, voice laced with hesitation. “Besides, he was so worried. When I went over to grab your textbooks, he looked… really out of it.”

Your chest tightens, but you keep your face neutral because frankly you don’t know what to do with that information. 

“Okay, fin.,” Jimin relents a few seconds later, though you can tell he’s still not convinced. “But what about these past few days? Where were you?”

You inhale sharply, scrambling for a convincing answer—because there’s no way in hell you’re telling him you spent four nights in a cheap motel, crying over how Jaehyun nearly harassed you. 

And speaking of Jaehyun… you’re paranoid because you know you share this class with him, and the last thing you want is to run into him.

“Umm… I was staying over at Seri’s.” you lie smoothly. “You know, that girl from my Econometrics class?”

Jimin squints slightly, like he’s trying to recall the name. “Oh…” he lets out, a little confused. Still, he nods, though the flicker of doubt in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. “Well… alright.” he mutters, but it’s clear he’s not entirely convinced.

“But anyways, how are things between you and Jungkook now? Did you guys talk it out?” Jimin asks curiously. You open your mouth to respond, but your words falter the moment your gaze flickers towards the entrance. 

More students filter in, and your breath nearly catches in your throat when your eyes land on him.

Jaehyun.

Your initial reaction is a jolt of unease, but confusion quickly follows when you take in the state of him—bruises blooming his cheekbones, a split lip… and is that a broken nose?

Jimin follows your gaze before leaning back slightly. “Oh, right…” he says casually, nudging his chin towards Jaehyun, who is now making his way to his seat with his head down, as if hoping no one will notice the mess he’s in.

“Forgot to mention… apparently, he got into a fight with someone in the locker room or something.”

You blink, taking in Jaehyun’s disheveled form, but the sight stirs nothing in you. No concern, no sympathy. Just indifference. You couldn’t care less about whatever happened to that bastard.

So, without another thought, you turn away, refocusing on the front of the room—just in time for Mr. Jang’s arrival. The shuffle of chairs and the low murmur of conversation come to a halt as everyone rises to greet him.

Finals week arrives faster than you expect, and before you know it, you're drowning in a sea of textbooks, notebooks, and endless practice papers, your calculator practically an extension of your hand.

You barely step out of your room, and on the rare occasions that you do, you make sure to have your bulky headphones clamped over your ears—an unspoken barrier to keep Jungkook from striking up any conversation.

But despite your efforts to shut him out, you still notice the small ways he tries to reach out. The hesitant knocks on your door, the quiet calls for dinner, the gentle questions about whether you need anything. 

Each attempt is subtle yet persistent, like a hand reaching for you through the thick fog of avoidance you've wrapped yourself in. And though every word, every gesture tugs painfully at your heart, you force yourself to ignore him.

Still, he doesn’t stop.

He’s started leaving small offerings outside your door… fruits carefully placed like unspoken apologies. Some days, it’s oranges. Other days, apples. Occasionally, pomegranates.

And it infuriates you.

Not because of the gestures themselves, but because they make you feel wretched. Because every small act of care, every quiet attempt to reach you, is a reminder of the one thing you can’t bring yourself to do —face him.

It all comes crashing back in the worst possible way, looping over and over in your mind. The guilt. The shame. The way he still cares, despite everything. And God, you wish he didn’t. You wish he would stop trying, stop worrying, stop being so damn kind. It would make it easier. It would make all of this easier.

The day your last exam ends, you return to the apartment right when the sun sets, only to find Jungkook already there, pulling his suitcase out of his room. You overheard him on the phone with his parents yesterday and you know he’s leaving for Busan tonight.

Your train to Ilsan isn’t until tomorrow afternoon, which means you have a few hours to pack so like always, you pretend he isn’t there. You don’t look at him, don’t acknowledge him. Just head straight to your room, shutting the door behind you like clockwork.

Jungkook sighs softly, running a hand through his hair when he hears your door click shut—again. He should be used to this by now, the way you shut him out so effortlessly, like he doesn’t exist. 

But no matter how much you ignore him, he still finds himself standing here, trying. Because how could he not?

He’s leaving tonight. And he won’t see you for an entire month. He can’t leave things like this, can’t just walk away without at least making sure you’ve eaten.

His train is in two hours and he should be making preparations to leave, but instead, he finds himself hesitating outside your door, lifting a fist, and knocking gently.

You hear it. You always do. But you pretend you don’t, as you move towards your closest to sort out your clothes and begin packing. 

"Hey, Y/n…" His voice is quiet, hesitant. "I, um… I made some jajangmyeon earlier. It’s still there. Please eat something if you haven’t had dinner yet."

Something in you suddenly snaps.

Not just frustration—everything. The guilt, the shame, the unbearable weight of his kindness when you don’t even deserve it. It all comes crashing down on you, tearing through your already fragile self-control.

You move away from your closet, crossing the room in a few short strides before yanking the door open so violently that Jungkook actually flinches. His eyes go wide as he takes a startled step back.

"Can you just stop?" you spit and Jungkook stiffens immediately, his breath catching at the sheer force behind your words.

"Y/n, What—"

"Stop." Your voice wavers, but the anger in it is raw, overpowering the cracks threatening to split you open. "Stop caring about me. Stop doing all these things when you know I don’t deserve them."

Jungkook blinks, completely taken aback, his brows drawing together as he takes a hesitant step forward. "Y/N, what are you—"

"You were right, okay?" The words spill out in a bitter, humorless laugh, one that shakes as it leaves your lips. You shake your head, almost as if you can't believe you're saying it all out loud. "Everything you said about Jaehyun. You were fucking right."

The admission tastes like poison, burning its way down, and the look on Jungkook’s face only makes it worse. That quiet concern in his eyes, the unbearable softness in the way he watches you fall apart right in front of him, it makes you feel even more pathetic.

"Are you happy now?" you whisper, voice trembling. "Are you happy that the stupid, clueless, naive girl finally got what she deserved?"

Jungkook’s lips part, but no words come out.

"Because that’s what I am, right?" Your voice rises, the dam finally breaking. "Some desperate idiot who couldn't see the truth even when it was right in front of her face? Some pathetic girl who’s always so caught up in her own stupid influencer world to notice anything real around her?"

"Y/n, stop it—"

"No!" You step back when he moves towards you, shaking your head furiously, eyes blazing with something raw and self-destructive. 

"You were right about him! You were right about everything! But guess what, Jungkook? I don’t want you to act like you care about me when you know that all I’ve done is use you… when all I’ve done is make you sick."

Jungkook's breath stutters, but you don’t stop.

"I don’t need you doing things for me." You spit the words out, your chest heaving. "I don’t need you leaving food at my door like I’m some helpless child! I don’t need you to take care of me when all I’ve done is take you for granted and ignore you when you tried to warn me!"

Jungkook’s heart sinks as he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks—tears you probably don’t even realize are falling. He can clearly see the meltdown you’re having, a breaking point after holding everything in for far too long. 

And he wants—no, needs—to calm you down before you spiral any further.

"Y/N, I do those things because I care—"

"Well, don’t!" Your voice cracks, and suddenly, you feel like you’re suffocating. Like every word is clawing its way up your throat, demanding to be set free. "Stop caring! Stop acting like I’m worth the effort when you and I both know I’m fucking not!"

Jungkook’s breath hitches, but you don’t stop.

"I’m selfish. I’m shallow. I’m so fucking self-absorbed that I didn’t see what was right in front of me until it blew up in my face." A sob escapes you, your shoulders trembling violently now. "And you were right. Jaehyun was nice to me only because he wanted to fuck me."

Jungkook flinches at the sheer venom in your voice, at the way you spit the words out like they disgust you.

"So there you have it !!" Your voice is shaking, dangerously close to breaking completely. "Go ahead, Jungkook! Say 'I told you so.' Rub it in my face! Make me feel even smaller than I already do!"

"Y/N—"

"Just fucking do it!"

Silence.

And somehow, that’s worse than anything he could’ve said.

Because Jungkook doesn’t say “I told you so”. He doesn’t look smug or victorious or even remotely satisfied.

He just looks at you, at the tears streaming down your face, at the way you’re barely holding yourself together. And the quiet devastation in his eyes is enough to send a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you.

You can’t do this.

You can’t breathe.

So before he can say another word—before you can completely fall apart in front of him—you turn on your heel and slam the door shut.

You slide down against your door as you drop down on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as sobs wrack your body, each one pulled from a place so deep it leaves you hollow in its wake.

On the other side, Jungkook stands frozen. He stares at the door, at the barrier between you, but it does nothing to drown out the sound of your cries. 

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he inches closer. His palm finds the door, fingers splayed wide, as if by some miracle he might be able to reach through the wood and touch you. He closes his eyes, his forehead pressing against the surface, and with every muffled sob that escapes you, his own agony deepens.

"Y/N…" He begins and he knows this isn’t the most ideal way to have a conversation… with a door between two people who should have never ended up on opposite sides. But if he waits any longer, he’ll lose the courage to say what he needs to.

"Y/N, I know…" He swallows hard, trying to steady himself. "I know you don’t want to talk to me. I know you don’t want to see me. And I… I get it, okay? I do. But please, just… just hear me out. Just this once."

He waits. He listens. And when he still hears the faint sound of your sniffles, he exhales shakily, turns, and slides down until he’s sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the door on the other side. It’s not much, but it’s something—an attempt to be closer to you, to lessen the chasm he’s created between you.

"I don’t even know where to begin, but I’m sorry." His voice wavers and his fingers curl into his palms, his nails pressing into his skin as if self-inflicted pain could absolve him. 

"I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. For everything. For the way I lashed out, for the way I let the worst parts of me take over—for the way I threw words at you knowing damn well I was hurting you." He lets out a weak humourless laugh filled with nothing but regret.

"If I could go back in time, I would. I’d go back and stop myself before I ever made you feel horrible about yourself." He lets out a heavy breath, his head tilting back against the door.

"I was a coward." The confession slips out quietly, but there’s a weight to it. "I let my own insecurities get the best of me. I let jealousy twist into something ugly, something cruel…"

He pauses, straining to hear anything —any indication that you’re still with him.  And then, when he hears the sound of your shaky breath as you try to hold back your sobs, his chest tightens, his throat burns, but he forces himself to go on.

"I should’ve been honest with you when I found out the truth about Jaehyun. I should’ve told you straight up, should’ve warned you. But I didn’t. And do you know why?? Because I was more afraid of being misunderstood by you. I was afraid of you seeing me as some weird, overstepping roommate who had no right to care so much." His voice trembles, and he gulps, trying to ignore the sting behind his eyes.

"And I was also afraid of something else. Something so much bigger. So much worse." He inhales sharply, screwing his eyes shut, his lips parting before the words finally slip past them.

"I’ve always been in love with you, Y/n."

Silence.

The kind that shifts the air between two people who are on the precipice of something irreversible because there’s no going back from this. 

"Second day of orientation." He lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head at the memory. "That’s when I first saw you. You were this… this dream that just felt so out of reach and I was so… so convinced I’d never get to talk to you." A single tear slips down his cheek, and he lets it fall.

"And then, somehow, fate made you my roommate." His voice softens, turns almost reverent. "And just like that, my entire world shifted. Suddenly, I was existing in the same space as you. Breathing the same air. Living under the same roof." He lets out a bitter smile, the ghost of every memory he’s ever made with you, in this very apartment, flickering behind his eyes.

"You… who always included me, always made me feel like I belonged, always looked at me with this impossible warmth in your eyes… yeah, it felt like heaven." He chuckles, but it breaks halfway through, his hand swiping roughly at his tears.

"I wanted you so bad, Y/n. But at the same time, I felt so undeserving of you because… have you seen yourself?"

Still, you don’t speak. And Jungkook wonders if you’re even listening anymore, if you’ve already tuned him out, if his words mean nothing now. But even if they don’t, he needs to say them. So he continues.

"I know I said some truly awful things to you. Things that made you question yourself, made you doubt your worth, and I hate myself for it. Because none of them were true." His voice catches, thick with guilt, thick with sorrow. 

"You are extraordinary in every sense of the word, and I… I just couldn’t handle it. I let my own insecurities, my own issues, my own fears ruin everything." He sniffles, rubbing at his face as more tears spill.

"But I was so scared, Y/N. Because you felt like a dream, but you had still become my friend. We shared the same roof… and you… you were like my safe place. I mean… I’ve made the most memories with you out of anyone from uni. So our existing friendship… it was too much of a price to pay for my feelings, because there was just so much on the line." He pauses to take a deep inhale.

"I didn’t want to lose you." He whispers, but he hopes it’s loud enough for you to hear. "Because I just… I just knew… you’d never see me the same way." His breath shudders.

"I was terrified." he admits. "Because loving you felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall." he smiles to himself bitterly. "And I did, Y/N." His voice cracks, splintering like glass. "I… I fell so fucking hard."

A soft, broken hiccup slips from your lips, your trembling hand pressed against your chest as if trying to hold your heart together. You sit there, motionless, a statue carved by the weight of his words, struggling to breathe under the sheer force of everything Jungkook has just confessed.

You don’t know how to act. Don’t know what to say.

Your heart is a mess, hammering so violently against your ribs that you wonder if it might just stop altogether and maybe it already has.

The silence stretches between you like a chasm, as you try your best to process everything and you don’t even realize how much time has passed until your fingers move on their own, wiping the dampness from your cheeks.

And then, as if pulled by a force beyond yourself, you push yourself to your feet and turn around.

Your fingers tremble as they curl around the doorknob, hesitation seizing you for a fleeting second. You don’t know what you’re going to say when you see him on the other side. You don’t even know what you want to say.

But you need to see him.

Just to make this moment feel real. Just to convince yourself that you’re not hallucinating, that you didn’t just dream up everything you heard him say. So you twist the knob and slowly swing the door open.

But it’s too late because Jungkook’s already gone.

<-part 2 // part 4 -> (coming soon)

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[angelltheninth]

Hey you know that trope where (usually) friends have to hide from a suspecting enemy but there is nowhere to really hide so the next best thing as to not draw attention to themselves is “quick we have to kiss because they are onto us!” One example is that one kiss scene with Steve rogers and Natasha.

Can you please write Clark, Bruce, Dick and Jason being in that similar scenario with reader? Whoever initiated it is up to you :)

I've written multiple fics with that exact premise, I know the trope very well.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, undercover mission, kissing, catching feelings, flirting

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Would do this with Clark more than anyone tbh. He's so cute!

BRUCE WAYNE

Takes his mission very seriously, a lot serious than you actually. Not to say that you don't but as long as you're at a fancy party you might as well have fun with Bruce. He however wants to get in, get out and get the mission over with without the two of you getting discovered, which proves harder when people keep whispering about what a cute couple you are and looking at you all the time. When he tilts your chin and captures your lips in a kiss he notes the surprised sound that leaves your lips after which he tells you he's sorry for the quick decision, but he needed to sell the idea of the two of you actually being a couple now that that is the most popular narrative and the one that will help the two of you the most.

DICK GRAYSON

Is more than happy to go on a mission with you and be your pretend boyfriend for the evening, now if only he could gather up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend for real. Maybe he will if this mission goes well, it would make him a lot less awkward around you at the very least. Dick keeps glancing at you and at the people around you, hearing them getting more and more suspicious of the two of you right before you pull him by the tie and take him to the dance floor, smirking the whole time. As he's blushing his body falls into a rhythm with yours, the movements natural, the music and the atmosphere getting to his head so much that he kisses you at the very end of the dance, eliciting cheers and claps from the crowd, no more doubt.

RED HOOD

Loved the fact that the two of you got picked for this mission because it gives him even more chance to tease you and make you blush. Jason knows he can be a bit of an ass sometimes, okay, a lot of the time, but that doesn't diminish the fact that he still enjoys your company a lot more than the company of others. The people around the two of you are constantly looking over, at you specifically and he hates that, he was supposed to look at you like that, not anyone else so he leans in close and asks you for a kiss, otherwise he fears someone might ask you instead and he will blow your cover. Blushing at his request you smash your lips against his to shut down any smug words he might say to you next.

CLARK KENT

Was flustered when you asked him to be your partner on this mission, but he did say yes, he wanted to go, he wanted to make sure you were safe. He was a little fidgety around you, nervously glancing at you, at your lips, at your pretty dress, then quickly back at the crowd when he'd get caught. You loves teasing Clark when he got like this, you knew he had a crush on you but didn't want to call him out on it, he should tell you that himself, which is what you hoped would happen on this mission. Instead he kisses you out of panic when someone asks if he was your boyfriend and then apologizes profusely afterwards, saying how he couldn't think of any other way to make the lie convincing, which is funny coming from a man like him.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

For an obey me req- kissing under the mistletoe? Would the brothers even know about it? Would mc have to explain ehat it is? Would mc pull smth to get them under the mistletoe or maybe the other way around? Uou can choose whatever you're comfortablew scenario or hcs, characters too(but I would love it if you could include dia and mammon maybe🙏🙏) and everything else (I know this is terribly vague- I just want some nice holiday fluff tbh💀)

SUMMARY: MC has learned a new trick they can use to make a sprig of mistletoe appear over their heads. And that's what they try to do to the boys they'd like to kiss.

COMMENTS: Considering what's going on, I'd like some fluff too. ❤️ Maybe it was the uncertainty surrounding Obey Me that made it a little more difficult for me to feel motivated to write this, but I really wanted to do it.

I hope you and all enjoy it 🎁

CHARACTERS: Demon Brothers + Dateables = Lucifer; Mammon; Leviathan; Satan; Asmodeus; Beelzebub; Belphegor; Diavolo; Barbatos; Luke (platonic and cute); Simeon; Solomon.

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Kissing

WORD COUNT: An average of 280 words per character.

CONTEXT: You learned a spell to make something small appear and levitate wherever you wanted. Needless to say, you immediately thought of approaching someone and having a sprig of mistletoe appear above the two of you for a kiss.

Lucifer was in his office doing some paperwork as usual. You walk down the stairs and stop in front of him, on the other side of the desk. He looks at you and sees a sly smile.

“And what are you up to?” He asks with a smirk.

“I learned a new trick.” You say and snap your fingers.

A tea cup appears levitating, you pick it and place it on the desk, offering it to Lucifer. He looks at the tea, then at you and smiles charmingly.

“A spell to summon small objects?” He chuckles and smell the tea. “That's what you usually do for me. Did you really make the tea and come all the way here just to give it to me using that new trick of yours? Ha ha. Fine, I'll take a break. As long as you keep me company.”

He drinks the tea, says it was very good and thanks you. You say there's just one more thing left to do and he raises an eyebrow at you, curious.

You snap your fingers and a sprig of mistletoe appears above the two of you. He drags the chair and stands up.

“You mean your reward for the nice break you gave me?” He smiles seductively “So, was this all because you wanted a kiss from me?” He says as he slowly walks around the desk. He comes very close to you and tilts your head with his fingers on your chin. “If you were needy, you could have said so.”

He brings his lips close to yours, but doesn't kiss you. He wants to see you look like you want him. And only when you look at him sulkily does he kiss you deeply.

“Well... I've already gotten a lot of work done, I can extend my break..” He grabs you by the waist, sits you on the desk and continues kissing you...

Mammon had sent you a message asking you to come to his room because he had an idea for some new scheme.

His new idea was to imitate a brand that had just started selling those big calendars with photos, the problem is that he was thinking of making those calendars with sexy photos... of him. He wanted your help because he didn't want to pay a photographer and would rather you photograph him.

You don't like the idea, but instead of simply showing jealousy, you decide to pay him back in kind. You tell him that you recently learned a trick where you can make a sprig of mistletoe appear over your head. You suggest trying this trick on people who look like they would pay to have you kiss them. Knowing full well that his answer would be...

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! Your lips are mine and mine alone!” He blushes when he realizes what he said and how he said it. “Don't ever suggest that again! Even as a joke!”

You come back to the idea of his calendar.

“So, you want the Great Mammon just for you too.” He smiles. “Fine. I'll come up with another idea. But no mistletoe or kisses, you hear?”

“Not even with you?” You ask and make mistletoe appear over your heads.

“No mistletoe or kisses for anyone but me!”

You hug him and he attacks your lips with a burning passion, ignited by your teasing. And if you let him, he'll pick you up and continue your make-out session in his bed.

Levi invited you to watch a new Ruri-chan Christmas special with him in his room.

Parallel to the main story of Ruri-chan saving Christmas, the friend who has a crush on her had told her about the kiss under the mistletoe and was trying to get a kiss from her but kept failing because she was very absent-minded. You hear Levi feel sorry for the friend throughout the story.

“Ahh! It's so frustrating to see his effort, while at the same time not wanting to pressure her, be in vain because he's so distracted.”

“Tell me about it...” You mutter to yourself.

“What? Sorry, I couldn't hear you well.”

“I was just agreeing with you.”

In the end, when the friend was about to give up, Ruri-chan finally notices a mistletoe above them and gives her friend a kiss on the cheek. Levi celebrates, despite admitting that it was predictable that the story would end like that.

You ask if that didn't make him want to go through the same experience and kiss someone under the mistletoe. He blushes.

“W-well... y-y-yes... but I would only do it with you!”

“Then go ahead.” You point up and Levi sees a sprig of mistletoe levitating above your heads. His blush deepens.

“HEY! T-that's not fair! I wasn't prepared! And you planned this!”

“If you don't want to...”

“NO! I mean, I do! I mean...” He takes a deep breath. “Why do you always do this when you catch me off guard?”

He comes closer and gives you a sweet, affectionate kiss. That extends into a loving hug. And if you let him, he'll keep kissing you and cuddle with you in the pillows and blankets you laid out on the floor to watch the christmas special.

Satan was in his room, reading. You knock on the door and he tells you to come in. He smiled the second he saw you. You say you want to show him a new magic trick you learned.

“Really? I can't wait to see.”

You snap your fingers and a bookmark with a kitten's head drawn on it appears levitating.

“Ah, you learned how to easily make small objects appear.” He takes the bookmark and uses it to mark the page of the book he was reading and closes it. “It really comes in handy in situations like this. This is when I lose my pens.”

You snap your fingers again and a pen with a cat paw design appears.

“Ha ha. You decided to show me your new trick with little gifts?” He smiles. “I'm flattered. Or maybe you're just really in the Christmas spirit.”

Speaking of the Christmas spirit, you say that you wanted to use that trick one last time and that it was the real reason you went to see him. He smiles curiously and expectantly. You snap your fingers one last time and a sprig of mistletoe appears levitating above your heads. He blushes and laughs.

“How did I not think of this? Sometimes I forget how cunning you can be. This will be very useful for pranks. But for now...” He holds you by the waist and turns you around to make you lie in his arms. “I must fulfill a tradition.”

And he kisses you gently and softly, before slowly deepening the kiss.

Asmo invited you to his room to try out new makeup and beauty products he bought. You go and after having a spa session, he does your makeup so you can go with him to a party. For some reason, while Asmo was fiddling with your makeup, you wanted to play a little prank on him.

Whenever he turned to pick up a product, you used your new trick to make it appear in your hand and hide it. He thought it was strange that he couldn't find the eyeliner, but it could have fallen on the floor. He started to get suspicious when the same happened to a blush and saw the lipstick disappearing just in time. He looks at you and sees a little smile right on the corner of your lips.

“Hmm? Someone's being naughty~” He smiles “Ha ha ha. Are you the one making my things disappear?”

You admit it and he asks what you're doing. You tell him about the new trick you learned.

“Oh, yes, I remember seeing Solomon use that trick instead of getting up and getting things himself. It’s a very useful spell.” He continues to do your makeup and when he's done he just stares at you. “Your lips look so delicious with that gloss~.”

You snap your fingers and make a sprig of mistletoe appear over your heads. Asmo sees a new shadow on your face and looks up, then looks back at you with a smile and a look of desire.

“How sneaky. It's a shame to ruin your lip color so early, but a tradition is a tradition.” He starts by giving you a sweet kiss, but as always, he can't stop there and deepens the kiss.

You ended up not going to the party because you were having a private one in Asmo’s bedroom.

Beel was working out in his and Belphie’s room. Belphie was probably sleeping in the attic. You knock on the door and hear Beel telling you to come in. You walk in and see him lifting weights, he smiles the second he sees you.

“Hi (Y/N). Did something happen?” He asks. You say no, that you just wanted to show him something. “Oh, so you don't mind if I finish my workout, do you? I'm almost done.” He finishes the workout with the weights and look at you. “Hey, since you're here, can you help me?”

If you accept, he will ask you to sit on his back while he does push-ups. When he's done, he's all sweaty and you hand him a towel to dry off.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Hes smiles. “What did you want to show me?”

You say it was just a new trick you learned. You snap your fingers and a bottle of fresh water appears levitating in the air. You hand it to him.

“Oh, cool! And thanks! My bottle was getting empty already.” He drinks the entire bottle in almost one gulp. “And now I'm hungry. Do you want to come with me?”

You say you just want to do one more thing before that, snap your fingers again and a sprig of mistletoe appears above your heads.

“Hm?” He looks at you apologetically. “Thanks, but I don't think you should eat mistletoe, I know it's poisonous.” But then he realizes. “Oh! Wait! Mistletoe?” He blushes a little and smiles a lot. “The kiss, ha ha. Sorry, I didn't remember.”

He kisses you like it's the most natural thing. But as soon as he pulls away, he licks his lips.

“I also forgot how good your kisses tasted... Can I kiss you more? I can eat later...” The more kisses he gives you, the hungrier they become.

Belphie was sleeping in the attic. You approach him to try to wake him up, but it seemed like he could sense your presence. He slightly opened one of his eyes to look at you and smile.

“Hi, (Y/N)~” He says in that lazy, sleepy voice of his. He stretches out one of his arms, opening them for a hug. “Did you come take a nap with me?”

You say you can join him, but after you show him something. He gets curious and you ask him to sit on the bed. He does and you sit next to him. You snap your fingers and a little cow plush appears levitating. He gives you that lazy laugh of his.

“How cute. Is it for me?"

You confirm and give him the little plush as a gift.

“Thanks. But you know, it seems lonely. Why don't you give it a friend?” He sees that you look a little confused. “Like, I don’t know, a little sheep maybe?” He smiles.

You snap your fingers again and a pink sheep plush appears. Belphie picks up the two stuffed animals and places them side by side on the bed.

“Cute. Now why don't we keep them company?”

But you say there's one more thing you wanted to show him. You snap your fingers one last time and a sprig of mistletoe appears levitating above your heads.

“Ha ha ha. I was actually thinking about doing the same to you eventually. But I'm glad it was you who did it.”

He leans in and kisses you lazily but lovingly. You feel his arms wrap around you and suddenly he pulls you so you can lie down on the bed with him.

Diavolo was in the Demon Lord's Castle, more precisely in an office dealing with some paperwork. Barbatos welcomed you, took you to Diavolo and then asked permission to go and leave the two of you alone.

Diavolo smiled the second he saw you and when Barbatos closed the door he sighed in relief.

“You are my salvation.” Diavolo tells you. “I've been dealing with bureaucracies for Christmas celebrations all day.”

“You should take a break then. Let me try to help with that.”

You snap your fingers and a cup of tea made by Barbatos appears levitating. You carefully pick up the teacup and place it on the desk. Diavolo gives you that loud laugh of his.

“Ha ha ha! Barbatos said he would make me tea. Did you use that trick to teleport the teacup here? I hope he doesn't take it the wrong way. Thank you. But I would like you to join me and there is only one cup of tea.”

A small portal appears near you and above the desk. You just see Barbatos' arms come out of it with a cup of tea and place it on the table. Then the same with a teapot and a sugar bowl before the portal closes. Diavolo laughs heartily again and invites you to have tea with him.

After tea, he doesn't hide his sadness at seeing the time for you to leave arrive. He thanks you for the visit but it is when you say that you haven't done what you came there to do yet. This brings the smile back to his face and piques his curiosity.

You snap your fingers and a sprig of mistletoe appears levitating above your heads. Now not only does he have a huge smile, he's also blushing slightly.

“You truly are a box of surprises.”

He leans in, cups your face and kisses you sweetly and lovingly. The kind of kiss that already misses you.

“Do you really need to go?” He asks after the kiss and puts his arms around you. “I can take the rest of the day off for you.”

Barbatos was taking care of his duties in the Demon Lord's Castle, as usual. You go there and, as expected, he is the one who welcomes you.

“Good afternoon, (Y/N)” He smiles. “It's always a pleasure to have you. To what do we owe your visit today?”

You say you are there precisely to see him and to show him something.

“Truly? Well, I'm honored. And what would you like to show me?”

You don't want to waste too much of his time, so you decide to get straight to the point. You tell him it's nothing special, just a little trick you recently learned. You snap your fingers and a sprig of mistletoe appears levitating above your heads. He chuckles.

“Simple spells can also be charming to watch, and you just proved it. But your choice of object and its position seem to be part of the real reason you came to show me this trick. Am I correct?”

You give him a guilty smile and he chuckles again.

“And you know that it will be my pleasure to carry out this tradition with you.” He leans in, gently holds your chin with his fingertips and kisses you gently and delicately.

Luke wanted to make Christmas sweets from all the three worlds and asked for your help to make sweets from the Human world.

You were helping him in the kitchen and decided to use your new spell to bring the ingredients and utensils to you, also as a way of training. Sometimes you get it right the first try, other times something close but different appears, like a kitchen roll instead of a wooden spoon, or pepper instead of salt.

When you got it right Luke would give you an encouraging smile of congratulations. When you got the wrong object or ingredient, you would both laughed together.

“It was close.” He will tell you with a cute smile. “Try again! I know you'll get it right this time.”

But one of those times, you were thinking about the possibility of using this trick to get a kiss from someone, so you ended up getting distracted while summoning the ingredient and a sprig of mistletoe appeared levitating above your heads instead.

Luke blushed immediately and laughed awkwardly. You give him a kiss on the cheek and he gets even more flustered.

“Hey, but I shouldn't be the only one getting a kiss.” He stands on tiptoe and kisses your cheek back. He's still blushing, but smiling.

Simeon was in his room in Purgatory Hall. You went to visit him and he paused writing a new book to give you the attention you deserved.

“You came all the way here just to show me a new trick you learned? He he. I'm flattered that you did all this just to share something with me.” He smiles sweetly. “Now I'm looking forward to seeing what it is.”

You say it's nothing that special, just a silly little spell.

“It's okay. I'll be happy to see anything you would like to show me.”

You snap your fingers and a quill pen appears levitating. Simeon was surprised. You pick up the quill pen and hand it to him.

“Oh, is this a gift for me?” He gives you a charming smile. “Thank you! The feather is beautiful. I'll test it out as soon as I get back to writing my book. ... No, no, of course you didn't interrupt me. I would stop anything I could be doing for you.”

You say you just wanted to show him one more thing with that trick. You snap your fingers again and a sprig of mistletoe appears levitating above your heads. He laughs and blushes slightly.

“You truly are generous in giving me two gifts: a new quill pen and a kiss from you. I am truly blessed to have you in my life.”

He comes close to you, places one hand on your lower back and the other caresses your face as he looks at you affectionately. His kiss is extremely sweet and loving.

Solomon was the one who taught you this spell and you were training with him in his room. He was enjoying watching you, regardless of whether your attempt went well or not.

The first few times you tried that trick you failed, and Solomon laughed, you just didn't know if it was with you or at you. After you started to perfect your technique he started to congratulate you and tell you that you are doing a great job. You started feeling mischievous, wanting to get revenge for his laughter at the beginning.

You snap your fingers and the glass of water that was on his desk appears above his head. The glass flips over, but he uses an impermeable charm at the last second as if it were the most casual and easy thing ever. He picked the glass to place it safely on the table again and got up from the couch, smiling.

“I sometimes forget how naughty you can be. Hmm? Upset that you couldn't pull the prank on me? Ha ha ha. Sorry, but seeing you pout is really cute. I couldn't resist.”

You turn your back to him pretending to be really upset. He gets closer to you and if you let him, he will hug you from behind.

“Aww, don't be mad at me.” He kisses your cheek. “You wouldn't want me to go too easy on you either, would you? It's so much better to see you actually surpassing me for real.”

You snap your fingers again, he looks up and sees a sprig of mistletoe hovering above your heads.

“Ha ha ha. See? You outsmarted me instead. I really have a great apprentice.”

He breaks the hug and you turn to him. After all that fun he couldn't contain himself and hugged you tightly again while kissing you passionately.

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX