#( shadow what is this situation you have gotten yourself in )

[somewhereinchaos]

@scumbag-the-hedgehog: ❛ thought you’d be lighter without all that blood. ❜

          ╳ ┊ u l t i m a t e  »  Well, his head feels a lot lighter, but that is probably due to the amount of blood he's lost. The black and ( very ) red hedgehog's vision blurs and distorts intoxicatingly as his brain struggles to interpret what's going on around him. It doesn't make sense. Who is this annoyance anyway? ".. Very funny. Now get the hell away from me." Even though his mind or body wouldn't listen to him, Shadow's voice would always retain its edge. It's almost like the situation wasn't alarming at all. "Or I'll bash in your skull too."

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?

[cloudcountry]

since you guys liked my idea so much here it is: WAYS THE NRC BOYS WOULD MAKE YOU WORSE

reader's personality is based more off of in-game yuu than anything? this set of hcs is a bunch of hypotheticals basically. this can be read as platonic or romantic idk each guy is written as if they are the closest person to you, friends or otherwise.

IF YOU SEE A TYPO NO YOU DONT

mentally preparing myself for the "i wouldnt do that!!!!!" comments...and post.

Riddle increases your attentiveness to the rules tenfold. No matter how meek you are, he makes your voice strong—and oh boy does it carry. You’re yelling at people for running in the halls, chastising them for not doing their homework, and opening your mouth wider when you speak. For a school full of troublemakers like Night Raven, the entire student body is so disappointed there’s another Riddle.

Trey makes you more passive, less likely to speak up when you see something. He’s always stood back in the shadows, watching over everything without saying a word, and it’s seeped into your personality, too. You’re spineless now. This world is unfamiliar, why should you try to do anything? You’d only stand out. You don’t want to be outstanding. You want to be as normal as possible. So you stand back.

Cater gets you wrapped up in the hype of social media. It started out as a way to indulge his interests but now you’re on Magicam all day, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling. You send things to your friends and say “hey, we should do this” but never make any actual effort to connect with them outside of that. You fall easier into jealousy because you’re surrounded by glamor.

Deuce makes you reckless. He’s so willing to throw himself into things and it spurs you to do the same, no matter how many times your teachers or potential upperclassmen tell you not to. You can’t hear anything but Deuce and his yelling, his enthusiasm and terror for whichever situation you two find yourselves in, knowing that you’d follow him anywhere.

Ace makes you all the more prickly, your sharp jabs and irritating smugness a product of spending too much time with him. You two are two peas in a pod, but to an outsider you two just seem...irritating. You have a talent for getting under people’s skin and have definitely gotten better at lying.

Leona thinks its so cute how you try to defend him at every twist and turn. Like no, he is as dastardly as everyone is saying. Why are you trying to deny it? You’re suddenly seeing reason in the most massive ego-ed people this side of Sage Island and Leona honestly doesn’t know if he should be concerned for you or be amused because of you. (This one in particular was inspired by @loser-jpg LMAO)

Ruggie could have made you prioritize yourself more, but you think he took it a bit too far. See, now you’re snatching cafeteria items and worksheets right under people’s noses, giggling as they demand you give it back. Sometimes they don’t even notice you, but even if they did you’ve learned how to be lighter on your feet.

Jack and you are incredibly uncooperative people (unless you owe someone, of course.) He’s guided you away from asking for help, insisting that the people here will take advantage of you then turning around to say that he doesn’t care, he just doesn't want to get wrapped up in your mess. It’s like you can’t trust anyone but him and your Heartslabyul friends anymore.

Azul has given you one nasty sense of perception, allowing you to key into every little detail and find loopholes in the things people say in a second. He’s turned you into a deadly asset, one he treasures just as much as the student body fears. You read over his contracts and point out what you would do to get out of them, and he adjusts accordingly. What a fine team you two make!

Jade makes it clear that his morals are less than savory, and will often encourage you to partake in things you really shouldn't. You rationalize it as Jade helping you go after the things you want, to finally take and take and take from people when you’ve been so selfless all your life, because it's what you deserve isn’t it?

Floyd will often rope you into his schemes, and it's not wrong before you start doing the same. Once a model student, attending every class, you now skip class and watch with amusement as Floyd threatens another student, hiding your smile behind your hand. They may plead for your assistance, but who are you to stop Floyd? This poor soul clearly owed something.

Kalim instills you with a sense of jealousy and helplessness. He has money to solve all of his problems, his life must be so easy. You’ve lived through so many overblots and received no help from anyone, but Kalim has always been so kind and generous to you. It makes you resent him a little, and anyone else who tries to help, because they all have things that you don’t and that's just not fair.

Jamil twists and bends your mind so much that you can do the very same thing to others. You’ve caught onto his little game and he knows it, eyeing you with anticipation whenever you speak in the same honeyed tone he uses when he wants something. You’ve gotten scarily good at hiding it too, shooting him a smug grin because you know he knows, but nobody else does.

Vil brings out so much confidence in your abilities it’s borderline arrogance. You know you’re capable, so why doesn’t everyone just let you handle this? You can do it, they can’t. So they should just step aside. You’re not doing it to be mean, so why are they getting so annoyed at you? You’re just better.

Rook has some eccentricities, and you’re well aware of them. They put you off at first, but now you’re used to him. It just seems normal now. You’re not sure why everyone makes such a big deal out of his tendencies, that’s just how he is. He’ll stalk you, hunt you down, but he’s having fun! Don’t spoil it for him!

Epel is actually the perfect fit for NRC, you think. He’s a troublemaker, he’s stubborn, and he’s so, so angry. But he’s right! Why should you respect people who claim to be above you? It’s so irritating that they walk around with those annoying smirks on their faces. You two should do something about that, don’t you think?

Idia has a very specific way of talking that can not only be confusing, but can also irritate the hell out of people. Of all things you could pick up from him, you picked up his smug jabs and insults, accompanied by a tooth grin and a laugh. It’s unnerving how much he’s rubbed off on you, a true testament to how close you too are much to the chagrin of the rest of NRC.

Malleus finds so much delight in being your bodyguard, your most trusted companion, that he doesn’t even bat an eye when you use his magic for your own gain. You’ve gotten soft, molding to whatever shape Malleus wants you to be just so he won’t leave. You’re helpless without him, only he has the will and the magic to protect you. So won’t he please stay?

Lilia has a way of dodging the truth, putting a smile on his face even when he’s hurting. It makes you think that, if he can do that, why can’t you? Lilia is smart, he knows how to go about life, so you should follow his lead and bury your problems until they’ll never see the light again.

Sebek has done nothing but berate you for being human since you met him, and even if you’ve gotten closer to him over the course of your stay in Twisted Wonderland, you’re starting to think he’s right. If you had magic, if you weren’t human, you’d be more powerful. It’s a fact. You could do so much more if you weren’t so weak.

Silver has made you complacent. He takes each step carefully, protecting both you and Malleus, so why would you need to protect yourself in any capacity? It’s so nice, having this safety net. If you could, you'd rely on Silver forever, never facing the cruel realities of the world that are blocked by his strong arms.

[finelinevogue]

safe with me

summary - you say 'yes' to being intimate with azriel when you really mean ‘no', because your past relationship taught you that saying 'yes' is the only answer

word count - 1.2k

pairing - azriel x mate!reader

[ reference to past abusive relationship - read with care 🤎 ]

It was the dark of night.

Everyone was in bed except you and Azriel, because you'd both lost track of time staying up and talking about everything and nothing. It was a habit you were both readily guilty of. Neither of you cared, though, when your conversations only made the bond stronger.

Azriel held the bedroom door open for you as you walked through first.

"Do you have training in the morning?" You asked him, walking over to your side of the bed.

You picked up the small tin of body cream there, scooping some up so you could apply it to your hands. It smelt of roses and reminded you of the endless walks through the garden you'd had with Azriel over the years.

"I do, yes. Cassian wants to show the priestesses some new defence techniques. He asked me to help him demonstrate."

Azriel locked the bedroom door and rounded the opposite side of the bed to you - his side, you both now called it.

You watched intensely as he lifted his black shirt over his head.

His muscles stretched and rippled as his body moved. His arms lengthened and the veins popped as he lifted his hands above his head.

You swallowed your desire as you admired him.

Due to Azriel's slight compulsive tendencies, he couldn't just throw his shirt on the floor. Instead, he neatly folded it and placed it on the dressing table.

You don't know what was more attractive; Azriel stripping down or Azirel being neat and tidy.

"It's rude to stare, you know?" He teased you as he came back to bed, lifting the covers to slip underneath.

"I wasn't staring." You blushed.

"Tell that to your cheeks."

You smiled to yourself as you stood up to untuck the covers on your side of the bed, before slipping in beside your mate.

The moment you were laid down Azriel attacked you with a flurry of kisses - probably the sweetest type of attack you could endure.

His lips kissed your cheeks repeatedly, making you laugh out loud from the suddenness of it all. You tried to move away and turn a cheek, but he was too insistent on loving you to notice.

He did notice, however, when your laugh started to fade away as he continued to kiss from your cheek to your neck.

Your mind was spinning a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how you were feeling and if you wanted this innocent kissing to turn into something more intimate. The fact that you were hesitating was enough for you to mentally agree that you didn't want to do anything this evening, but conveying that to your mate was an entire different thing.

"Okay?" He asked, slowly kissing over the sweet spot on your neck that normally got you going.

Unfortunately your mind was being cruel.

Instead of being here and in the room with Az, you had been transported back to the same situation with an ex-male of yours. He had initiated an evening much like Azriel was doing, but he knew you weren't particularly feeling it. Instead of accepting your answer of 'no', he had convinced you that you were "just confused" and "this is something you actually want" and to "just say yes".

You hadn't wanted to say yes at all.

But your ex had been so good at manipulating you that he had eventually gotten what he wanted without making it seem non-consensual.

Azriel, being ever so perceptive, could tell you were caving in on yourself, as well as feeling your heartbeat quicken and his shadows picked up on your hesitance and nervous energy. All of it together sent Azriel major red alarms.

"Hey, sweetheart, hey?"

Azriel's face was hovering above yours now, nowhere near your neck but you hadn't even realised he had moved away.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

You looked in his eyes and saw their concern. You didn't want to worry him. This is something that Azriel wants and that should be enough, right?

"Mhm."

You couldn't convince yourself to say the word 'yes' out loud. You couldn't do that to yourself again.

Azriel's hand cupped your cheek so softly you thought you were made out of porcelain. He looked through you before he spoke - his shadows enclosing around you so that you could just focus on each other and nothing else.

"Sweetheart, you're allowed to say no. You know that."

You blinked a few times as if that would help register what he'd just said.

"But..." You stuttered, "But you want to."

Azriel furrowed his eyebrows and tried to keep himself calm. If it weren't for needing to reassure and comfort you right now, he would very quickly dress in his battle armour and take out every male who had ever wrongly taught you about consent.

How someone could let themselves not take care of you if you weren't feeling up to being intimate is beyond his comprension.

Azriel shook his head, gritting his teeth. "That's not how it works with me."

Your eyes started to water as they were opened to understanding what true consent feels like and should be. Azriel was doing the absolute bare minimum in this situation and yet it felt like the most monumental thing to have happened.

"It’s just... When I was with... him, it didn’t matter if I wanted to or not. What he wanted was all that mattered. And I-I guess I just learned to go along with it."

"Well that stops right now." Azriel said, "That's not how we're going to do things, okay? How you feel is more important to me than getting off. Mother above, how does someone even get off if the other person isn't feeling it? Sweetheart, if you’re not sure, then we stop. Always."

A little teardrop fell onto your cheek, but you couldn't help but smile with how loved and protected you felt right now.

You could tell that Azriel was absolutely heartbroken to hear about your past relationships, but he would be damned if he didn't change the wrongs of your thinking. Knowing that your comfort is his priority filled your heart with joy, because it meant that you were safe with him. Safe with your mate.

“I didn’t realise how scared I was to tell you no. I was so sure it would make you angry, or-or disappointed.”

Azriel shook his head again, “The only thing that would ever disappoint me is you thinking you have to hide how you feel. You’re safe with me. I promise."

You nodded in agreement because you did believe him.

You could feel his trust and his assuredness within the bond.

"Can we just cuddle?" You asked shyly.

"Of course we can." Azriel smiled, kissing your forehead for good measure. "Only after I kill your ex..."

You didn't think he was being serious until he started to get up off you and shuffle out of bed. Laughing, you tugged on his arm and because he wasn't expecting it he landed with an oomph on top of you.

"You'll do no such thing."

"We'll see about that." He scoffed, trying again.

"See about it in the morning?" You counter offered, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop him from defending your honour - overprotective mate.

"Fine." He flopped back down on the bed and made room for you to cosy in next to him.

His wings finally wrapped around you, ensuring your safety as the both of you drifted off to sleep, the weight of your confession making it easier to sleep at night. All the while, Azriel stayed up planning his vengeance.

[redr0sewrites]

🌀 A/n: long awaited strip poker shmilk fic ,,,,

🌀Cw: smut, strip poker, mentions of intoxication/alcohol, switch!Shmilk, souljam play?, oral (f receiving), sexual tension

🌀reader is afab/fem and mentioned to be wearing a skirt

🌀 top dividers / bottom divider

perhaps agreeing to such a tantalizing game with the Beast of Deceit had not been one of your most brilliant decisions. maybe it had been the alcohol in your system that had influenced your stupidity, (or maybe you were simply bored), but you had not expected to end the night practically half naked in front of the cookie who was supposed to be your boss. in all honesty, you yourself aren't even exactly sure how you got into this compromising situation.

what had started off as a night of drinking and gambling amongst coworkers had turned chaotic when Candy Apple Cookie stole (and then proceeded to chug) all of Black Sapphires wine, to which he drunkenly responded by chasing her around half of the Tower of Deceit, much to yours and Shadow Milk Cookie's amusement. however, the pair had eventually worn eachother out, and went back to their respective rooms to go to sleep, leaving you alone with a definitely more than tipsy Shadow Milk Cookie.

the two of you continued the same activities you had been playing before, assorted cardgames and other oddities as you bet on meaningless prizes- nickels and dimes, the last jelly star, your favorite mug- this continued until long past midnight, and eventually, Shadow Milk came up with, in his words, a "much more interesting" proposition- strip poker.

"oh c'mooonnn it'll be fuuUunnn!" his lilting voice had rung out, teasing you due to your slight hesitance. the rational part of your mind was telling you to refuse, but the smell and taste of alcohol was so potent it seemed to fog your senses, and his gaze was entirely too warm, almost uncharacteristically so. just the sight of his enthusiasm broke your resolve, and you agreed, matching his vivacious mannerisms as he excitedly retrieves a deck of poker cards from his pocket dimension. all of this led up to the present, in which Shadow Milk Cookie was doubled over in laughter in front of you as you pouted.

"how can someone be soooo terrible at poker?" Shadow Milk is practically wiping tears from his eyes as he floats through the air, giggling at your dismay. so, admittedly, maybe you had overestimated your poker skills, but you had hoped to win at least one round- but nooooo.

"you have to be cheating," you complain, and another wave of giggles overcomes the cookie in front of you.

"moi? cheat? dost thou truly think so lowly of me?" he sighs dramatically, his sing-song voice rings through the air as he floats across the table until his face is inches away from your own, so close that you can practically taste the alcohol on his breath. as he contorts his body to be upside down in the air, he leans in to add, "maybe its just you who sucks!" he accentuates his words with a boop to your nose before pulling away so suddenly you almost get whip lash.

"its impossible that you could have gotten two royal flushes back to back without tampering with the cards in some way!" you retort, and Shadow Milk Cookies grin grows ever wider.

"uh uh uh!!! not impossible, just improbable, toots. nothing is impossible when you're like me," he tutts, before floating back to the other side of the table.

"don't be a sore loser now, i'm suuurrree you'll win the next round~" he coo's condescendingly, before looking you up and down. "so, what layer are ya gonna lose now, hm?"

"oh, fuck you," you grumble again, and he cackles. "oh, you are hilarious! can't do that while you're fully clothed, poppet~" you flush, but before you can open your mouth to retort, he cuts you off. "now, you've lost again, fair and square, hm? so it's only fair that you follow the rules of the game, am i right? if it's too hard for you to choose what to take off, i can always pick for you~"

you shake your head, already contemplating your next move. you had fruitlessly delayed the inevitable by already having taken off your shoes and socks one by one, and then each piece of jewelry you were wearing individually- much to Shadow Milk Cookies complaints. however now, you were stuck. it was either your sweater, your skirt, or your tights that had to go- you certainly weren't going to rid yourself of your undergarments, and you had no other options. after a moment of thought, you slowly pull your sweater over your head, silently saying goodbye to the warmth of the bulky fabric as you toss it to the side amongst the rest of your clothes.

Shadow Milk Cookie titters with laughter as you turn back towards the table, and looks you up and down with an unreadable expression. you shiver, and not just from his scrutinizing gaze, but from the chill of the tower itself. you hadn't realized how cold it was until now, and you shift your bra and rub your arms in an attempt to warm yourself. meanwhile, Shadow Milk Cookie occupies himself with dealing a new deck, humming softly and purposefully not looking at you as he tosses cards to your side of the table.

it isn't long before you begin to play again, but it's difficult to focus on the game when you're embarrassingly cold. besides, temperature aside, you felt as though you were on display. its not that you didn't trust Shadow Milk, in fact, you probably trust him a bit too much; but it was certainly awkward that you had lost so many times and he continued to win almost effortlessly.

as you continue throwing down cards almost mindlessly, your thoughts begin to wander. what would have happened if he had lost? what item of clothing would he take off first? his bulky collar, revealing his neck? or maybe his large cape, or even his puffy sleeves, revealing his arms and wrists. or possibly even his one-piece suit altogether- you stop that train of thought immediately. now was not the time to get distracted, especially not with those types of thoughts. sure, he was incredibly attractive, that you wouldn't deny, but he was also an immortal, and more importantly, going to win. you don't want to make a fool of yourself, and you need to focus on winning, or else-

"HAHAHAAH!" a delighted cackle fills the room as Shadow Milk throws down his hand, revealing a straight flush. immediately, you groan, burying your head in your hands before throwing your cards to the floor.

"thats it, i quit! how on earthbread do you keep getting such a good hand??!" you turn exasperatedly, ready to storm out the door, and Shadow Milk blocks your path instantly.

"ah ah ah! c'mooonnn just one more round? i'll even go easy on you!" he teases, and you glare at him. he's floating firmly in your way, and as you move to step around him, he simply shifts in front of you again with a shit eating grin. with an irritated groan, you light heartedly shove him, attempting to push him out of the way, but he barely moves an inch in the air, leaving your hands planted on his chest and a mocking grin stretching ever wider on his face. immediately you try to pull away, but deft hands snake around your wrists, pulling you in close.

"ohhohoh, getting handsy, are we? no one ever told you to play nice?"

"says the cookie who rigged poker," you grumble, and he snickers. you're close to him again, and it's ever more obvious that he's looking you up and down in the same fashion of a predator eyeing its prey. mismatched blue eyes travel over your body, and you fight the urge to preen beneath his gaze.

"m' not playing another round," you mumble, and Shadow Milk sighs dramatically.

"leaving me already, hm? and here i thought we were just about to have some fun...."

"i'm not- im not leaving altogether,"

"oh?" Shadow Milk lets out a tantalizing hum before leaning in impossibly close, so much so that your breaths cross and noses are brushing. your chest heaves as you clear your throat under your breath, struggling for words as he locks you both into what seems to be an elaborate game of chicken to determine who will pull away first.

suddenly, Shadow Milk Cookie pulls away, twirling you around in an erratic circle before popping his lips together.

"well! seems that we have come to an impass. why don't we settle this in some other fashion, hm?"

"what do you propose?" you follow along with his game, gently pulling your hands from his grip and crossing your arms.

"oh, i think you already know~" he coos, a mischievous glint already forming in his eye.

"maybe i do," you hum, leaning in towards the cookie in front of you. "but i want you to say it."

a beat of silence passes as you stare into those heterochromatic eyes, and you almost begin to worry that you've pushed the flirting too far until Shadow Milk giggles once again.

"oh, feisty you are! i knew you were my favorite for a reason" you blink at the praise, and before you can even process his actions, Shadow Milk Cookie pulls you up, up, up into the air in a floating dance of sorts, twirling you around in a delighted manner as you yelp in surprise. instinctually, you wrap your legs around his waist as nimble hands hook beneath your thighs, forcing you to effectively cling to him in the air.

"put me down," you hiss, to which Shadow Milk simply giggles.

"ohh, i will! why don't we settle this somewhere else, hm? why not in bed?"

you blink again, unsure if you're processing the question correctly. in bed?

"are you asking to sleep with me?" you blurt out, and he glares at you fondly.

"if you want to put it so crudely, then yes, yes, fine. by the witches, were you always this dense?"

you splutter, stumbling over your words as he looks at you amusedly.

"am i supposed to take that as a yes?" he teases, and you groan before nodding, cheeks flushed in embarrassment at his directness.

Shadow Milk chuckles at your flustered expression, and before you can even blink, an inky blackness surrounds the two of you. it isn't the first time you've been inside one of his portals, but it is still just as jarring as the world begins to reform around you. you find yourself in a magnificent bedroom decorated in lavish navies and blacks, with silver decals and a recurring eye motif all throughout the decor.

you smile a little when you notice the cards you, Black Sapphire Cookie, and Candy Apple Cookie had jokingly given to Shadow Milk on his birthday just a few months prior sitting proudly on a large desk that you assumed to be his. you were so absorbed in your surroundings that you barely noticed Shadow Milk bringing you towards a large, plush bed before he tosses you down amongst the pillows.

you let out an undignified yelp as you settle among the pillows, and pretend to ignore Shadow Milks' responding snicker. still hovering above you, Shadow Milk slowly descends until he's pinned you down on the mattress, straddling you while firm hands hold your wrists to the bed. he looks down at you, seemingly lost in thought before he ever-so-slowly leans down and presses a surprisingly gentle kiss over your lips. he moves to pull away, but you reciprocate more than eagerly as you lips chase after his. the kiss slowly melts from soft and almost uncertain to passionate and messy, and you pretend not to hear the almost breathy whine he lets out when your tongue runs across his bottom lip, begging for access.

he lets you in almost instantly, and you practically melt into his mouth as you explore it with your tongue. eventually, you pull away, panting and shaking as a thin trail of spit connects your mouths. Shadow Milk is flushed, and his eyes avert from your gaze as a blue tint covers his cheeks.

you have a growing suspicion that the beast of deceit is not nearly as experienced as he lets on, and this is practically confirmed when you roll your hips up to meet his. theres already a prominent bulge forming in his suit, and you watch him carefully as his lip twitches and cheeks flush. he's desperately trying to hold his composure, but he seems almost uncharacteristically unsure. nonetheless, you find it embarrassingly attractive, and it gives you an unprecedented surge of confidence.

you push up against the hold he has on your wrists, flipping you both over so that he's the one pinned to the bed. the cookie beneath you looks up at you in surprise, but as he's about to voice his complaint you smother him in another kiss. he obliges, melting beneath you as you straddle him, grinding down on his clothed cock. the only layers between you both are his suit and your tights and panties, and your desperate for some friction.

you roll your hips languidly against his, setting a slow but steady pace as you grind against him. he moans into the kiss, messy and impatient, and his hands dig into your thighs in an attempt to steady himself, leaving runs in your tights. you pull away from the kiss again, and he stares up at you, eyelids heavy and lidded with lust. his souljam clinks against his chest, and an idea forms in your mind.

an experimental hand trails up from his hips to his chest, slowly reaching for the glowing blue souljam. Shadow Milks eyes widen, but before he can say anything, you run a gentle hand over the surface of the souljam. the reaction is immediate, as Shadow Milk cookie throws his head back with a wanton moan. his hips buck up against yours fervently, entire body shaking as you toy with the essence of his very being.

you don't get far in your ministrations however, as Shadow Milk flips your positions once again, a mixture of irritation and arousal evident on his face.

"hhah- that is not something for your grubby hands to touch," he hisses, eyes foggy with pleasure.

"seems like you enjoyed it though," you tease, and he growls.

he pulls away for a second, but before worry and doubt can lodge itself in your mind, he snaps, and you immediately find yourself bare before him. you flush, immediately noticing his nude form as well, admiring his smooth skin and narrow waist. he crawls back on top of you, and your eyes widen at the sight of his length- long and slender, with a few curls of navy hair at the base, and overall very, very pretty. you gulp, but before you can ask how the fuck is that going to fit inside of you, he slides down lower onto the bed so that he's between your legs. you look at him questioningly, and he grins up at you maliciously.

"aw, did'ja seriously think i wouldn't prep you first? i know i'm a lot to handle after all. besides, you don't know how long ive wanted to taste you..." his gaze darkens focusing in on your cunt. a slender finger runs through your folds, and you let out a needy whine as he finds your clit almost instantly. he circles it teasingly, watching as you gush and clench around nothing. you let out a needy whine, rolling your hips in a desperate attempt to get him to just do something, and he tutts.

"ah ah ah! patience, my dear. let me savor this,," he coos, leaning in to lick a hefty stripe up your cunt, and fuck, it feels good- his tongue is monster-esque, long and forked and a pale shade of blue. it flicks perfectly over clit as he devours you, sucking and slurping at your pretty cunny as though he's a starving predator and you're a delicious meal. you mewl, grinding against his face and clamping your thighs around his head as he laughs.

"there she is... go on, embrace it, hm? be as greedy as you want, poppet, embrace that deceit that comes so naturally to you~" he murmurs, almost talking moreso to your cunt than to you. he's meticulous as he makes you unravel, alternating between sucking on your clit and fingering you and letting his tongue explore your hole. it isn't long at all before you feel the cord in your stomach start to tighten, and you let out a embarrassingly loud moan as he focuses in on your pearl.

"fffuck, Sh- Shadow Milk, 'm gonna-" you choke out between moans, clenching around his tongue as your orgasm washes over you. Shadow Milk cookie guides you through it, still licking and sucking until your thighs are quivering from overstimulation.

"o-oh, shit, t'too much," you whine, pulling away as he giggles.

you pant, struggling to catch your breath as you look down at him through hooded eyes. he's peering up at you through his lashes, looking absolutely delectable between your legs. wordlessly, he sucks the remainder of your juices off of his fingers without breaking eye contact with you, and you swear your heart flips in your chest.

"you still up for the big finale?" he teases, crawling up to your level and pressing a dramatic, sloppy kiss to your lips. you welcome him in easily, embracing the passionate makeout session with fervor as you come down from your post orgasmic high. he hums into your mouth, and you realize you can taste yourself on his tongue. that alone invigorates you, and you roll your hips up against his once more, finding his cock already at full mast.

Shadow Milk Cookie lets out a soft groan as you grind up against him, and the hand not wrapped around his waist comes up to tug at his hair. he lets out a needy whine into your mouth as you tug harder, and he shudders as your nails dig into his scalp. hm. "clearly something he's into,,," you think, mentally cataloguing it for later.

Shadow Milk cookie slowly begins rolling his hips down against yours, soaking his dick with your juices. his tip catches your clit and you both whine in tandem, waiting for an excuse for him to just slip in. you roll your hips harder to meet him halfway and he whimpers, breath hitching as he slips inside you. your gummy walls clench around his tip as he slowly pushes in, barely holding back as he registers your discomfort. finally he pushes in all the way to the hilt, and you both shudder.

"hhah, that feels.." you trail off, moaning softly as he begins to roll his hips. his pace is slow at first, but it soon picks up speed as he grows ever more eager. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as your hips collide, his length filling you up and brushing against your g spot so perfectly that your seeing stars. your clit grinds against the base of his abdomen oh-so-nicely as his pace grows faster and faster, the blunt head of his cock practically abusing your walls. you clench around him tightly and he mewls, hips stuttering as he struggles to maintain composure. immediately, you sense a way in, and flip yourselves over, pushing him down against the mattress once again. he squirms, trying to fight for dominance, but you shush him.

"just relax," you murmur, watching his eyes go wide. "let me set the pace, hm? surely the all mighty beast of deceit deserves to be pampered," you coo, and he blinks up at you, eyes almost hazy with arousal. clearly, flattery worked in your favor.

in an instant, you sit back down on his cock, and Shadow Milk throws his head back in a wordless mewl of pleasure. your pace is unrelenting, and you can already feel your second orgasm of the night building up. you snap your hips against his, hands finding his slim waist and marveling in the way his stomach quivers in pleasure with each roll of your hips. Shadow Milk Cookie looks up at you hazily, almost taunting you.

"h-hnghh, surely y-you can go faster than thi-hn!" he mocks, cut off by you grinding down hard against his trembling cock. your pace becomes impossibly faster, watching in real time as he practically melts beneath you, writhing in the sheets. your orgasm is drawing near, and you can tell his is too by the way his thighs begin to shake.

"ffuck, 'm close," you murmur, and the cookie below you nods, too fucked out for words.

"aww, you close too? 'm gonna need words, baby," you tease, and he glares at you. "u-uhmghh, 'm close-" he mumbles, stuttering between moans as his thighs quiver.

"that's it, good boy," you whisper, the praise slipping out automatically. Shadow Milks' eyes widen, and before you can even say anything else, his eyes roll back and he lets out a mewl as his orgasm washes over him. you clench around him tightly, watching as he falls apart. his orgasm brings you over the edge, and you come undone, clenching around his cock and drenching him in your cum. you continue to grind down against him for a few more seconds until he's whimpering, scrabbling at your hips to pull you to a stop. you slowly pull off of him, flinching in overstimulation as his cock slips out, flaccid against his tummy as you collapse beside him. immediately, Shadow Milk curls up beside you, uncharacteristically clingy.

"that was... wow." you trail off, and Shadow Milk Cookie snorts.

"really? is that all you can say?"

"oh, well how would you describe it, oh mighty scholar of description?" you grumble, and he snickers. a comfortable silence fills the room, before you turn towards him to engage in some teasing of your own.

"...so, good boy, huh?" Shadow Milk Cookie glares at you, burying his head in the pillows.

"shut it! if you bring that up again i'll gag you next time," he hisses, and you blink.

"so there is going to be a next time?" you say delightedly, and he groans.

"forget it, forget it!" he turns away from you, and you giggle. you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling his back flush against your chest. Shadow Milk hums softly, and despite your better judgment, you press a soft kiss to the nape of his neck.

"i'd like for there to be a next time," you mumble against his inky hair. "i'd like for there to be many."

and then Shadow Milk explodes because he is emotionally constipated and unable to be vulnerable ever. kabloom !!! in all seriousness tho,,, AAAAA. soo excited this is done and i actually quite like it ! yippee !! i hope its not too ooc,,,, ANYWAYS LMK IF U ENJOYED AND PLSSS SEND IN SOME SHADOW MILK OR PURE VANILLA ASKS 😈 ALSO BLACK SAPPHIRE COOKIE TOO !!!

[23xfgg]

YANDERE! BATFAM x DRUG USER/SOBER! READER

Ch. 1 <-

(Ch. 2)

(Ch. 3)

AN// Fist time writing something like this so excuse the grammar errors and the lack of sense :))))

I also image the reader to be a black fem!reader but race or gender isn’t mention I just wanted them to be black

Also TW// death, drugs, depression, self harm

As always, the reader watched their mom die at a very young age and since then their whole view on the world changed for the worst. They were given to their biological father who is surprise (not really) Bruce Wayne. Being practically shoved into custody of a man you don’t know while still grieving your mother, it was only normal that the both of didn’t exactly click when you first stepped into that manor. But you still tried to get to know the now only parent you have in your life but unfortunately that wasn’t reciprocated.

Every time you tried you tried to talk to him he always had some excuse regarding his other kids or he was busy with work. You even tried getting along with your other siblings (Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian) but they always had something going on (Dick and Jason) or straight up didn’t want anything to do with you (Tim and Damian). Despite all of that you tried bonding with them again and again until one day where they missed your birthday for then nth time. You finally realised that they were never going to see you as their sibling so you just gave up.

You pulled away from them realising that there was truly no one left after your mom died. The grief and depression consuming you as you just wanted things to go back to normal, before your mom died, when it was just the two of you in your apartment in Gotham. You needed an escape something to make you forget about the pain even if it was temporary.

Cutting yourself was your first choice a you did try it briefly. But that just made you feel worse. The pain was brief with little no to relief and having to see your body covered in those cuts just made the depression worse. Choosing to make sure you body was covered until those scars were somewhat faded. Not like anyone would notice… you are basically a shadow of a background character in this manor.

Your next choice was trying new hobbies but you didn’t feel like socialising with new people. I mean if you can’t get your own family to take notice in your existence, how can you with the random individuals of Gotham.

Now this choice wasn’t exactly the smartest but you realistically had nothing to lose, so you went down som random alleyway in Gotham trying to find something interesting to do as the rest of the “family” was out running and flipping across rooftops doing god knows what. One small passage way into another you you stumbled across a group of people across different ages popping pills, drinking, smoking and whatnot.

Seeing all of this happening, you decided to leave not wanting to ruin their parade. But one of the guys smoking saw you and asked if you wanted to try some, not caring that you don’t exactly look the age to be doing substances. He saw that you looked troubled and he just wanted to offer you something to help take some of that trouble away.

He saw you…like actually see you. He wasn’t looking past you like your “family” did he just looked at you, giving you more attention than that you ever gotten since your mom died. Maybe with the attention plus the grief and depression convinced you that nothing bad was going to happen.

So you took the joint out of his hand, put it in your mouth and smoked it. Taking the edge off and making you feel a little better with your current situation and mental state.

This is just ment to be an outline chapter or like chapter one depends on how I feel about creating more chapters to go along side this one.

I hope you enjoyed reading this (you better lol)

And umm…see you next time 👋

[lilacxquartz]

Can you write a homicipher fic with Mr crawling where Mc is deep cleaning their apartment and he's confused on what exactly they're doing and just like doing domestic stuff? Thank you!💜💜💜

in an attempt to clean;

mr. crawling x reader/mc

plot: you do all sorts of curious things but mr. crawling still can’t quite understand some behaviours — a/n: i hooope this is what you wanted!! like my mind ran with mr. crawling perhaps being sentimental about the stuff you cleaned up, so i went with it, aha, mc is in the real world here and mr. crawling is like, a live-in guard ghost — themes: gn!reader, domestic fluff, character study — w.c: 1.1k • ao3 • masterlist ✮⋆˙

Even if he didn’t quite understand the order of the world that you came from, Mr. Crawling still tried his very best to adapt to you and your way of living. He was perfectly happy just living in your home and existing within your space, finding every nook and cranny to be deeply fascinating. Every other surface had a hint of your scent, with other places, like the bedroom, signaling your once lingering presence—like a signature.

He traced around the areas where such things were left behind, from empty bowls from where you had breakfast to where your dirty laundry was thrown off to the side after a long day. This often led you to pause and tilt your head at such odd behaviour, but you also didn’t quite mind. He did many odd things, after all, such as hovering around in the corners of your home, watching you from a distance while you worked on… whatever it was that needed doing.

Had this been any other situation, you would have probably tried to flush him away with the help of a local shaman, but it was all fine. You brought him back with you for a reason. He wasn’t malicious at all, at least not to you. If anything, he was a little like a guard ghost—determined to keep you safe—no matter what.

However, at some point, too much of your ‘presence’ was left behind and you had to talk yourself into committing to a deep clean. You had admittedly put it off for his sake, finding his almost, enticed state of wonder to be endearing, but a clean space meant a clean mind, or however the saying went.

And things had to go.

At a glance, the apartment was a complete mess. Dust clung to the walls and tables, and there were dirty socks in every other direction. Trash was also becoming something of a problem and for it to not get any worse than it already was—something had to be done—before it was past the point of no return.

Just as you were about to dive in towards fulfilling your task, however, you felt Mr. Crawling’s presence materialise right behind you like a sudden, looming shadow and sure enough, when you turned around, he was right behind you. He was now Mr. Standing more like, you internally tutted, given that he no longer took the liberty to pad around on his hands and knees anymore, instead filling out the whole stretch of room. From the floor to the ceiling, he made himself known.

“What… you… doing?” he asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. He had his finger pointed towards the bin bag in your hand, seeming almost alarmed.

“Cleaning…?” you replied, demonstrating taking some trash from the coffee table and dropping it into the bag. As you did so, his hand flinched away and he seemed rather upset.

“Object… away?” he asked.

“Yes,” you nodded, quickly filling up the bag with more and more pieces of trash that were otherwise littering the surfaces, all the while he seemed to twitch at the very sight, as if he wanted for you to stop but wasn’t sure how to ask you of such a thing.

And before you could continue on your spree any further, Mr. Crawling took a step forward, confiscating an empty crisps packet right from your hands. In turn, you raised an eyebrow, jumping up to grab it from him, but he kept it purposefully out of your reach.

“Give it back,” you huffed, unsure what exactly has gotten into him.

“No,” he shook his head, his tone sounding rather petulant, “I keep.”

You blinked a couple of times, sounding exasperated. “W-why?”

“Treasure,” Mr. Crawling could only reply, clutching the piece of trash to his chest like it was the most sacred item.

You withdrew a deep sigh. Of course, Mr. Crawling had gained some sort of attachment from the things he saw you use. It was actually sort of oddly sweet if it didn’t have the possibility of attracting bugs and potentially growing mould.

“I’m not throwing everything away,” you tried to reason, gesturing at what got put into drawers and what didn’t, “just the trash, the…” you trailed off, trying to find an appropriate word that you both knew, “the dirt.”

Mr. Crawling hesitated, looking at the crisp packet in his hands. “D-dirt… bad?”

Finally, it clicked. At last! You were finally getting somewhere. Oh, how you loved to see him understand you. It was so rewarding, but also, you almost felt bad at just how upset he sounded, but it had to go. “Yes, very bad. Dirt makes… people… sick,” you tried to charade out next, performing a show of you clutching your stomach and looking nauseous.

“Sick?” he asked, trying to understand before looking even more alarmed than when he had first seen you pick up the trash to begin with. “Sick, bad! Sick, bad!”

Before you could respond however, he was in the process of obliterating that poor crisp packet into nothingness, so you warily had to approach him, pluck it right out of his wary hands, and mime out the rest of your intent. When you took hold of the package, you feigned sickness, and then when it entered the bag, you acted right as rain again. All healthy while looking very much alive.

At first, he was horrified at your display but then seemed to get the memo, glancing around at what could potentially make you sick and what was fine to hold onto and so, over the course of the next hour, you slowly but surely got through a deep cleaning session while he kept bringing you all sorts of objects—perhaps missing the memo as to what counted as clean and what counted as dirty—but at least you were finally, actually getting somewhere.

Things like broken mugs were brought to you, along with more empty packets and forgotten socks alike. Some things he was much more defensive about throwing away, but you let him keep the stuff that you were certain wouldn’t actually bring strange things into your home, like that torn and tatted baggy hoodie you had—he refused to let that one go.

“Why do you want to even… keep that?” you asked, watching him cosy up to the piece of clothing.

“Smells… you,” he gleefully replied, taking a deep whiff of the fabric before towering over you, repeating the motion against the crook of your neck, “smells… good.”

“Ah,” you smiled a little, not protesting a single bit, “yeah, you can keep that.”

You supposed that life with Mr. Crawling, after all this time, was still a messy sort of affair, but that much was fine. It was moments like these that made it all worthwhile, reminding you of why you wanted him to stay in the first place.

Even if it did mean that things took forever to get done now.

[morgue-friends]

happy new year!!!

would you be able to write a part two of maidens token where the reader attempts an escape and arrives at her village to see count or lol and her slaughtered village people

"A Maiden's Darkness" | Count Orlok x Female! Reader

Warnings: 18+, Count Orlok is his own warning, reader definitely has stock holm syndrome, death is mentioned, minor side character death, gore, sexual tension, dub-con, blood kink, marking, possessiveness, angst, hair pulling, penis in vagina sex, oral sex (M receiving), rough sex, you can't fix him so don't try sorry.

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness -" Your head hung low in shame, you were ailing with guilt and remorse. You had submitted to death, not once but twice. If there was a god, he'd never forgive the sins you've committed. No matter how many verses of the holy Bible you recited, there would be no salvation for you. You were tempted by the devil, and you conceded, you willed it.

Last night after he had left you, spared you even, to feed from the village and hide before the sun could rise he had unexpectedly returned to you instead. When he arrived you were still lying on the bed draped over with the blood-stained blanket and tears falling from your eyes. You looked over at him and gasped, his claws and mouth dripped with a deep red hue that foretold acts of violence. That same red color followed along the fur of his attire and led you to believe there had been more than one victim with the sheer amount. The stench of iron flooded your nose and you gagged, if you had eaten more than bread that night you probably would have heaved it all up on the bed below you.

Your stomach turned when the thought crossed your mind that it could be the blood of a child he was drenched in. It was revolting, disgusting, and still when he approached the bed you spread your legs for him like an eager whore. He disrobed and you two embraced each other that night once more, you submitted to death once more. The silver locket necklace he had stolen from you dropped to the floor along with his garments. You could remember vividly the way you laid there for him compliantly, moaning and mewling amongst the sounds of his skin against yours. Your thighs were held apart with each of his hands while his hips pounded you downward into the mattress. After he was satisfied he abandoned you once more, retreating to wherever it is he'd go during the day.

The sun sat high and bright in the sky and yet you could still feel his cold hands ghosting over your skin. Here you were now, sitting solemn and praying to a god that would never help you. If your mother were to see you right now she'd shake her head and tell you that you had gotten yourself into this situation and needed to get yourself out. So that's just what you'd do, the longer you stayed here the more you felt like you were losing your mind. His shadow was consuming your innocence and maybe even your soul. He may not have been manipulating you but it didn't feel reasonable for your body to respond the way it did to his. He carried a stench of death everywhere he went and when disrobed looked even more like a corpse than what you expected him to.

After getting dressed and eating the fresh apples he left you on the dining table for breakfast, you began plotting. If you weren't going to plot your escape from the castle then your mind would wander and think only of him, as if you were obsessed. To be fair all you've done these past two weeks is think of him. Where would he go after he fed from you? What was his first name? Why did he avoid coming out during the day? There were a hundred other questions you could ask yourself but you wouldn't get an answer to any of them. Anything he told you about himself was very vague or probably not even true.

You wasted an hour of daytime stumbling around the castle looking for anything that may help you with getting out, but every room was empty of usefulness and filled with standard furniture covered with cobwebs and dust. Weirdly enough you found the baggage that you had brought with you along with your paint supplies hidden behind a tall wooden cabinet. Why he hid your items was beyond you, but the clean dress, undergarments, and shoes were appreciated. You then returned to your bucket of drinking water and tried your hardest to wash off the thick layers of dried blood so they wouldn't soil your new clean dress. When he fed from you he was messy, often rubbing his face into your chest and smearing it around which made you feel repulsive. There were no mirrors anywhere in the castle so you weren't aware of how good of a job you did but it would have to do.

The heavy metal door of the castle opened slowly and flakes of snow began to nest on your shivering frame. The blood loss would make you more susceptible to dying from the cold but it seemed to be a better way out than succumbing to the darkness under the thumb of your captor. The hounds that seemed to accompany him everywhere slowly congregated around you while you trudged through the snow up to the gated entrance. As you exited none of the dogs attacked you, they just panted and stared at you in silence, there was no barking or growling to try to scare you back into the castle.

Nonetheless, their silence and unwillingness to follow you out felt like a bad omen. Like they were quietly telling you that if you leave this castle he will kill you. You weren't sure how far the village he fed from was but there was a glimmer of hope in your mind that you'd make it there and depart by sundown. The snow made your journey take agonizingly longer than expected, every crunch of snow under your heeled boots only seemed to make your travels much slower.

The clacking sound of a horse's heels through the snow caught your attention and you followed the noise closely. There were two women sitting on the horse, you had met them both when you briefly passed by the village on your way to the castle. This was your chance, you had your doubts about your escape and survival chances but seeing them again gave you hope. You ran up to the slowly trotting horse and the steed stood up on it's two legs and cried out as if you had spooked it. "Stop! Stop I say!" The woman towards the head of the horse ran her hands over its face and that seemed to calm the animal but it still eyed you with unease.

"She has the smell of death on her." Before you could ask for help a feeling of anger washed over you. These two women knew you were heading to that castle two weeks ago and didn't even bother to tell you what you were getting yourself into. "She is probably a vengeful spirit, the vampyre does not keep his whores for this long." The older woman made the sign of the cross with her fingers as if she was blessing herself for just seeing you and the two continued off on their horse finishing their conversation in Romanian. You'd cry but these past few days have absolved you of all the tears you had left to release.

Disgust. Disgust was what you felt about yourself, the Count, the castle, the villagers just everything. The sun began to set and your heart sank in your chest, a part of you wanted to keep walking until you arrived at the village and found somewhere vacant to hide. While another part of you wanted you to turn around and walk back to the castle, sit at that dining table, and greet your lover with a smile. After contemplating what to do you let out a scream of frustration and continued toward the village. If the horse was walking slowly in this area that meant that they had to be close to their home.

The sun had officially set by the time you arrived in the center of the village. There were houses and homes around you, all with drawn curtains but you could see the glow of candles inside which let you know everyone was inside their homes and they'd most likely never open the door to what they thought was a 'vengeful spirit'. Each door was covered in garlic and a variety of crosses and bible pages. The more homes you past the darker the sky became and you had this frightening feeling that death would soon be coming for you, that it was already searching for you and knew you had gone missing.

On the far end of the village was what you believed to be a church, there were no candles inside and the windows were not covered by curtains. You turned the knob and the door opened with a creak and revealed a room full of chairs, benches books, and whatever else the moonlight decided to show you. After closing the door behind you and taking a few steps forward you almost slipped on something somewhat sticky and overtly soft on the floor. You couldn't see very well what you were stepping on but the stench of death gave you a vivid impression. That had to have been pieces of an animal or a human even, as the familiar scent of true death you had become accustomed to was far too unique to be this.

That devil - your devil, had the stench of death but mixed with something far more abnormally comforting. It reminded you of your childhood days when you'd play alone in the small damp cave that resided behind your home back in America. The smell of that cave, the smell of pinecones in a forest, and pure decay were the smells you identified him by. Suddenly several books fell off of the shelf behind you and you almost fled until you saw the cause of the loud mess. "Oh dear god in heaven." Right before you was a man sitting in the darkest corner of the church.

He had to be at least a few years older than you, once your eyes had become adjusted to the darkness you could see him somewhat better. "You're still alive?" His Romanian accent was thick but at least he spoke English to you, the surprise in his tone sent you reeling. "No thanks to you or anyone else in this damned village, you're all SICK! Sick for letting me journey to that monster." And at last, the tears you believed to be depleted soon fell from your eyes. You had every right to be upset, to feel as though you were betrayed. "Iartă-mă, forgive me, I will explain but did he release you?"

"Explain first and I'll tell you." You were stern enough to get the point across that you weren't letting up. The man's expression harshened a bit before it relaxed. He grabbed what looked to be a bottle of gin off of the pedestal next to him and took a swig before looking up at you. "My name is Mihai, I asked to be here to protect the others, the vampyre will feed off me-" It all began to make sense, he was a willing sacrificial lamb which was why the church seemed to be so unprotected, and dark. You felt a pang in your stomach remembering that this was supposed to be a holy church. Consecrated ground that would protect against all evil and yet evil still invaded like a sickening plague.

"- Feeding it is better than letting it feed itself, yes or no?" You declined to answer that question as you put your back against the wall and dropped to sit on the floor. Feeling like an idiot you let your head hit the hard surface behind you, looking up at the unlit chandelier dangling from the ceiling. That's why the dogs let you leave this morning and why you were seemingly able to find your baggage. He knew there would be nowhere for you to go, the villagers too succumbed to his darkness and would never assist you. The one structure in the entire village you could enter freely and it was his feeding ground.

He wanted you here, wanted you to see that this was the kind of power he had over others and it was making you nauseatingly sick. You stumbled to your feet and turned to look at Mihai who was currently downing his bottle of gin again, he had no idea of the fate that awaited him. The Count would draw out his death and turn what was supposed to be quick feeding into a lesson for you to learn. If you had never left the castle this man would never endure the torture that lay ahead of him.

"Mihai I'm sor-" The flickering of candles interrupted you. The crucifixes that were placed upon the walls slowly turned upside down and the Mother Mary statue you were standing next to began to bleed from its eyes. "He is coming." As you said the words your hands began to tremble and shake. Even without the dramatic display of power, the rise of goosebumps on your skin and the tremble of your frame told you how his shadow drew near. The door of the church opened up with a slam as snow flurries began to enter the church with the gust of wind.

The flurries landed on the floor sticking to the bloodstained wood, there were small clumps of whoever he had decided to feast on the night prior now illuminated by the candles. Your eye twitched miserably as that had been what you almost slipped on earlier. Suddenly at the frame of the door, a tall imposing figure with glowing white eyes appeared, its eyes were directed at you solely and neglected the presence of Mihai. As he stepped into the church your gaze averted to the floor, you didn't have to look at him to see his disappointment.

His stare carried nonexistent daggers that pierced their way through your body and soul. His deep ragged breathing echoed through the room and silenced all other noises the further he walked in. The door slammed itself behind him and it made your heart leap a small yelp escaped your mouth. You kept your gaze on the floor and he closed the distance between the two of you to the point where all you could see was the fur of his cape below in your vision. A clawed hand shot up and grabbed the lower half of your face and forced you to look up at him as he towered over you. "You will watch and if you dare look away then it will be you instead."

"Yes, my Lord." You answered mindlessly, knowing that your life at the moment was being held teetering on the edge of a dangerous cliff, and any foolish movement would send you tumbling downward. In your situation, that dangerous cliff happened to be your lover. He didn't release his hold on your face while his dark eyes stared intensely into yours, the gaze was so intense your eyes strained from the lack of blinking. You feared that if you took the chance to blink he'd snap your neck then and there for disobeying further. Thankfully his gaze was averted when Mihai purposely dropped his now empty glass bottle onto the planked floor of the church.

You took that much-needed blink and his hand was no longer painfully cupping your face but he now had it around the neck of the villager. Mihai's face became a deep purple as he was lifted against the wall, and as soon as his chest became eye level with the harbinger of death, his heart was latched onto and he began to be drained. Watching this happen before you showed you how much this creature held back when he'd feed from you. The way he siphoned blood from Mihai was nothing like what he'd do to you.

Him being a messy eater wasn't news to you but the sure brutality of the pressure he exerted against the man's ribs was so excessive you heard a sickening crunching noise as it sounded like they had fractured under duress. It was pure savagery displayed in front of you but you didn't dare look away. You watched as he had instructed you to while the life dissipated from Mihai's eyes. The blood from the villager's body flowed so much that it began to speckle the floor below them. When the body of the sacrifice finally dropped to the floor of the church and what now looked like a rabid beast corrected his posture and turned in your direction, you knew it was your turn.

"What kind of host would I be if I didn't indulge my guest in a little- how do you say it in English? Entertainment." Your face twisted in disgust at his mockery, you liked it better when he barely spoke to you. The more conversations the two of you had the more you realized he had a sadistic sense of humor. "Did you enjoy your trip today? I hope you found whatever it is you were searching for." As he took one step forward you took two steps back, not wanting to deal with whatever wrath or 'mercy' he wanted to give you.

The blood continued to drip from his mouth and your thighs involuntarily trembled. You mouthed a 'no' as you realized what was going on with you. For your body to react like this at such a scene brought back those feelings of guilt and shame you had this morning. You'd make the false accusation that he was manipulating you into this but both of you would know that was a complete lie.

His bloodied hand grabbed a hold of your hair and brought you to your knees. "If you were to kill me right now I would not need to blame you as I have disobeyed! I don't deserve your forgiveness but I will still ask for it." His grip on your hair painfully tightened and there was only a little bit more pressure needed before he'd be ripping the strands straight from your scalp. "You leave my castle, fraternize with a human man, and ask for my forgiveness?!"

His booming voice reverberated off the walls of the church and made the flames of the candles dance violently upon the wax sticks they sat on making you feel much smaller than you were and as you sunk into yourself like a scolded child. His furred cape flared in front of you angrily as he turned and walked away from you. This man was livid with rage before you and it only made you fear him more, you pondered why you even thought it was a good idea to flee the castle, to begin with.

"I'm sorry my Lord!" Before you could stand up to continue to beg for forgiveness and your life, a clawed finger pointed downward at the floor indicating for you to stay down at the level you were. "You will crawl to me..." You didn't need to be told twice by him so you put your hands on the cold wooden floor, lowered your back, and slowly crawled to him. When you reached him your fingers grabbed a hold of his furred cloak and you looked up at him with pleading wide eyes. The scent of your growing arousal made his nostrils flare and you could see there was an internal war going on within his mind about what he was going to do with you.

It was a demeaning idea but your fingers crept under his heavy cloak and you found the button latch to his trousers. He allowed you to remove his flaccid length and the heavy sack resting beneath it. You should have been utterly disturbed by how grotesque he was but you breathed a small moan while grabbing a hold of his cock. The longer you held him the harder he seemed to grow. Fully invested in what you were doing your hand tightened around him slightly and gave a few slow strokes of his shaft. The way his foreskin pulled backward and forward along the bulbous head of his cock was intoxicating and it was now you too who was breathing heavily.

As much as would have liked to deny it, there was a deeper connection than either of you would have expected to bloom. It wasn't just sexual it was disturbingly spiritual as if you'd never be truly free of him the same way he'd never be truly free of you. You had driven yourself mad about succumbing to his darkness but it wasn't just his at play, it was yours too. The longer you stayed with him the faster your mind began to unveil the depraved and dark thoughts that you kept at bay to keep yourself sane.

This mutual infatuation dared to ruin the both of you and you came to terms with being quite alright with that. It didn't take long before he fully hardened under your grasp and you gave his weeping slit a long and desperate lick. Your eyes never left his predatory ones as you coaxed the head of his erection past your lips. You sucked your cheeks in as your head began to bob up and down his cock. His entire length would never fit in your mouth so you kept your hand stroking at his base while your mouth worked on the half of him that it could please.

The fingers of your free hand found themselves in between your legs and sliding down your undergarments so you could spread apart your slit. You were unbearably wet with need as your walls clenched around nothing. Two of your fingers rubbed desperate circles around your clit until you were a panting mess and whining with his cock in your mouth. Your lover - your darkness, kept his composure and looked down at you with intrigue. His angry glare from earlier had softened but not enough to make you feel safer.

He grabbed a hold of your head and pulled you away from his shaft and his tip left your lips with a wet pop. You didn't stop stroking him at his base while his sharply pointed nails descended from your head and stopped at the side of your neck. One of his nails pierced your skin and drew a short line across your tender flesh. The pain was agonizing but you knew if you stopped he'd simply claw you deeper.

"That mark is for talking back to me and out of turn on the first day we met." You didn't have to look down to know that fresh blood dripped from your wound and further downward into your dress. His nail came into contact with your flesh again and you felt the carving of another short line. "This mark is for spending countless nights crying because you wanted to go home." He gave you a shorter moment of recovery before the pointed claw dug into your skin again.

"And that one would be for refusing the first few meals I would leave for you..." He wasn't smiling but his eyes held a sadistic gleam to them, he was hurting you and he found it amusing as usual. Your hand loosened around his shaft momentarily while the stinging sensation of your wounds began to cause your eyes to water. You shut your eyes entirely as another line was carved into your neck. "Once more for running away from my home. You have four now. If you ever gain a fifth that will be your final night with me."

When you opened your eyes his hand was freshly slicked with blood and now pressed to his lips so that he may taste you. To taste the life that he deemed so endearing to keep around him. Watching him do that made your slit weep with arousal even more. Before you could take him back into your mouth he stopped you and instructed you to turn around with a wave of his finger and you obeyed. You sunk back onto your hands and knees knowing what he was implying but it still surprised you when dropped down behind you and your dress was lifted above your hips.

You gasped when the head of his cock prodded at your folds before he thrust forward and entered you. When your body became flush with his, your hips rocked against him begging him to move. Even your walls pleaded with him dearly every time you felt yourself clench miserably around him. His length pulled away from you before sinking back in with a hiss from him as he started up a feral pace. Your body jerked forward every time his hips met with yours followed by a moan from your lips. With every thrust his sack would slap against your swollen clit and that made you whimper even more.

Your cunt was so greedy for his touch just to be able to take all of him like this when he'd just started. The pain of the lines he had drawn on your skin was soon forgotten about and forgiven with how pleasurable it felt when he split you open like this. It wasn't just the physical pleasure affecting you, you were also getting off on the power that he had over you, how little effort it would take for him to kill you right here while buried within your wet heat.

In between your moans and whimpers, you'd hear him grunt in approval from behind you. What was completely unexpected and took you by surprise was when his hand found its way back into your hair and he forced your head to the side so he could claim your mouth in a kiss. This level of affection was new to you but it soon became welcomed as well when his tongue slipped into your mouth. Blood, whether it was yours or Mihai's lingered in his mouth which intimately transferred over to yours and you greedily accepted it during the kiss.

With his cold tongue exploring the cavern of your mouth he only pounded you harder from behind which made your back arch further for him. You took one of your hands off the floor and started vigorously rubbing your clit in circles desperate for your approaching climax. When that peak reached you and your walls spasmed furiously around his cock you moaned loudly against his mouth and the overstimulation made you remove your hand and squeeze your legs tightly shut but his fervent thrusts continued.

His mouth left yours and your head was pushed down roughly onto the floor while he continued taking you from behind. Your legs began to tremble and your body wanted to inch far away from him but he held you firmly in place making you take everything he gave you and more. The increase in pace made your lower belly tighten as you came for him again around him. Your eyes rolled back and your hips buckled against him while you cried out with your release.

The thrusting stopped abruptly and he pushed so deeply inside you that it was painful. The tip of his cock began to twitch against your cervix and several ropes of his release shot into you. Your needy walls were milking him of his seed, making him fill you up like this. He left you feeling so full and satiated as the deed you'd both have done was nothing short of passionate He pulled out and you were flipped over onto your back so that he could lick the dried and congealed blood from the wounds he left on your neck. Your eyes grew heavy-lidded and you just laid there and let him salivate all over your neck and chest as much as he pleased.

You didn't remember closing your eyes and falling asleep until you woke up in the guest bedroom of the castle. You were light-headed from your ordeal last night and you nearly fell off the bed when you turned to see what looked like a stone grey box in the middle of the room. The more you stared at it the more you could make out its morbidly beautiful details and carvings. For some reason, it started to look more like a coffin maybe even a sarcophagus than a box or container as you thought it was. It looked expensive and ancient and you had no intentions of touching it unless you'd like to receive your fifth and final mark this evening.

Images of last night as memories came back to haunt you and a familiar ache between your thighs threatened your composure. With that ache, you felt an undeniable soreness, and inklings of pain that flooded the left side of your neck. Before you were able to exit the room the sound of stone sliding against stone made you stop and look at the now-opened grey sarcophagus with wide eyes as a clawed hand reached out from the darkness within it. Suddenly you were ready to succumb to it all over again.

[juniperdugong]

How silly

Pairing: Salaryman!Nanami x reader Genre: Romance, Fluff, Angst (?) CW: Heavily Suggestive but no real smut !!!MINORS DNI!!! WC: 4,269

A/N: Note, a Nomikai is like an after-work drinking party. Also...I'm back, lemme know if this is absolute shi- or not.

Despite his austere demeanor, Nanami Kento's house was rather cozy. There was enough space for himself and then some - when he's rather cold and calculative on the battlefield or behind a desk, his house remains warm and bright, inviting even.

Although, right now - to you, it was anything but.

You were leaning against the living room wall, your heart stirring with every sound Kento made in the kitchen. There were perfectly good and comfy seats to be taken on the couch but your nerves willed you to stand. You fiddled with your fingers and scanned the room - It wouldn't have been too long ago that you might've felt comfortable in this space, maybe even felt at home. But now it just served as a bitter reminder, one that Kento just had to bring up again.

"Take a seat, it's not like you to not make yourself at home." Nanami came in teasing you, all smiles as he brought in two mugs of tea - just the way you liked it, just the way that he remembered you liked it.

"I feel fine on the wall, Nanami." Your tone conveyed your nerves in a way that Nanami definitely disliked judging by the way you see his eye twitch slightly. You would be the first to talk casually but right now being formal was the one thing keeping that lump in your throat from forming.

"I thought we'd gotten past the formalities, y/n…" Disappointment rides over his face, he should be expecting this after how he acted in the office but it only makes his mood more sour. Sensing your apprehension he lightens up, "Right, sorry-", adjusting himself on the couch, he picks up one of the mugs and starts sipping, "Saw you've got a new assistant." He doesn't elaborate or even meet your eyes as he changes the subject.

"Nana-" He throws you a stare that makes you clear your throat, "Kento… what does me having a new assistant have to do with anyth-"

"Can I not have a good and well-mannered conversation with my co-worker?" He cuts you off, knowing what you're prodding him for but not giving in just yet.

"Not if that co-worker is me and anyways, I think officially speaking I'm your boss. Even more inappropriate." You nip at your fingernails before pulling your skirt down, "But that isn't even why we're really here."

He sets down his mug and gets up, your breath hitches at his movements and his gaze darkens at your trepidation - he approaches you slowly, "Let's not be like this, y/n.", it sounds like he's fed up with your attitude. You couldn't understand why he would be the one fed up in this situation but suddenly you can't control your breathing, chest rising up and down more and more rapidly as he stalks forward, the way the lighting hits him makes his shadow grow from your perspective- You feel like an animal being hunted and you're not sure if you like it. His eyes narrow as his imposing frame towers - caging you in.

"Kento, stop." You're stern as the pit in your stomach grows. And he pauses, shaking his head and chuckling before backing away and composing himself.

"I'm sorry- Sit. Please. I have a feeling we might take a while…" Acting as though he didn't just try to intimidate you he sits back down. Turning on the TV he drags out this moment of tension until you feel coerced to sit or else you'd get nowhere and you'd have come here for nothing.

---

Of course, it wasn't always like this. There was a point in time when his stalking was desired, lusted after, and in turn, he was fond of your seductive fawning & controlling side. Yours and Nanami's relationship was almost like a TV-perfect office romance/forbidden love trope. Both competing to get promotions, bickering in meetings to gain advantage & prestige, nothing more than idle talk about client meetings during work hours, and both equally as cold & uncaring in the eyes of everyone in the office.

After hours…now that was a different story altogether. What started as coincidentally meeting at the convenience store - both of you hammered after a night out to relieve stress - turned into much more. What neither of you would admit to calling an office crush twisted itself into love motel stops & Nomikai's that became routine for you two. Always claiming that "just one more night" would quell your desire for each other. It was almost toxic the way you wanted one another - how the frustration of the office during the day could be taken out on each other during the night.

But that relationship changed once you got promoted. You both had been up for the position for some time - having several meetings & being observed constantly - near continuous stress. Being so fiercely competitive you went at each other's throats, desperate to prove your worth to the company. Your nights out became back-to-back sessions of rough love-making that would end with tired eyes remembering the hostile environment you've both cultivated at the office that you would now have to return to in the morning.

When it was announced that you had gotten the position things began to shift. Of course, there was the relief of securing something earned through hard work & loyalty but looking Nanami in the eye became harder, as if through this your loyalty to him was in question. Over the next month your nomikai's together were less frequent, you were moved to the office one floor up so talking was rare now too - it all fizzled right at the climax. "How boring." Nanami thought.

Months passed and eventually, you lost all contact except for the occasional meeting or report. In a surprising turn of events, you got promoted again when the department head got fired as the new year came. This effectively made you Nanami's boss and once more your paths crossed with increased frequency.

Everything was really good. No longer colleagues and rivals, your relationship got better. You still felt the occasional guilt of climbing the corporate ladder faster than him, but it wasn't anything either of you could or would change at this point. You were able to make light conversation, the spark of the corrupted crush you had so long ago reigniting, but this time, more purely—more right.

You'd blush as you came into your office and saw a note with a coffee or breakfast sandwich next to it. Inside poetic waxing of 1-3 sentences often harping on "having a good day" & "gaining energy" from these lovely efforts. And at the end always signed "Ken."

Even the smallest efforts made your heart swell, as would anyone's given the circumstances and the man. Without needing physical intimacy there was a subtle tension, never negative, instead an electricity in the air that made the office feel more alive… Well, at least that's what you two would experience. Maybe this time you get off on the right foot and build up something real - although still heavily taboo between boss & employee. At least it would be a relationship bound by more than tenuous midnight moans & morning walks of shame.

---

At your height within the company, it would be stupid to take on menial tasks like running to the printer, confirming meeting times, and scheduling on-site appointments. Not too soon after your promotion, a peer advised you to get a full-time secretary or personal assistant. You had more than enough salary to pay someone, so why not? Less on your plate meant more time spent thinking about your personal life, something you couldn't afford to do before.

It didn't take long for young university hopefuls to come crawling out of the woodwork once you posted the job offer. Colleagues began being overly nice during work hours in hopes of buttering you up enough to mention a name of an underclassmen or relative. During this period, noticing the buzz around you Nanami came around less frequently in fear of being a bother but his presence made itself known in the refilled snack drawer by your desk and the organized documents that you had complained to him about over lunch. Eventually, you settled on a very nice young man who had good enough experience to not be a hassle to train but not too experienced to where your seniority felt pointless.

Sure enough, it made things much easier over the next week. Meetings went by more smoothly and you could contain work more strictly to office hours.

In your newfound free time, you often drifted to thinking about Kento and what your relationship was. You started to consider the thought of "liking" someone, of liking Nanami Kento seriously. How nice it would feel to go to dinner with him after work with no expectations of the night, of stealing kisses in the break room, of waking up next to someone and this time not rushing to gather your clothes from off the floor.

So, after a few months of back & forth and more time than ever to attempt something like this, you decided to test your waters by setting up coincidental bump-ins with him but the results were odd. You were friendly with each other sure but in your gut you could feel him pulling away. Every interaction becoming shorter and less filled with niceties & casual talk leaving you confused. You were so sure that this was working, that weeks ago this would've led to a real connection; Maybe you weren't on the same exact page but close enough… you had thought that at least.

Were the signals too mixed? Did he want to return to the casual sex from before? Was that what he was after all along? Was he not on the same page and saw this simply as friendliness between higher-up and lower employee?

But then what did it mean when he'd brought you coffee in the mornings? Or when he'd stop by your office during lunch to ask what you were eating? Or the shy smiles you'd steal from each other when you were sure no one was looking? What does all that mean if not "I like you"?

You couldn't stand it. Waiting for the coy smile of the businessman sitting across the room during a meeting became almost torturous. You're not sure but it feels like a significant change had occurred without you knowing. Like over the past week a frost had entered and frozen over an innocent springtime.

The next 2 weeks were spent analyzing this thing between you and in your analysis you confirmed one thing. That this was not a case of growing apart but rather an avoidance caused by an unknown subject- Unknown to you that is. A confusing loop of getting just close enough to observe the glimmer of want in his eyes when you were around but never close enough to actually talk about it. And that's when you knew that you had to do something or the spark would fizzle just as quickly as it did before.

---

"Nanami, can I talk to you in meeting room 3?" His eyebrow quirked at your sudden question.

"Oh sure, was something wrong with yesterday's reports? Or did the client from Y company say something?" As per usual he kept on the topic of business - He has no precedent to think this was anything but, after all.

"No, I actually just wanted to touch base about something else." His face was inscrutable as your words were taken in.

"I'll be there in 15. Just let me finish up these last couple of emails." Even his tone was monotonous, with no hint of deeper thought or meaning. For all you know, he could be cursing you out in his head.

15 minutes has never felt this long before. Circling the room you went over the conversation you've meticulously planned - All the responses he could make and all the actions he could take. You're not sure if in doing this you only made yourself more nervous or if it at all quelled your worry but you couldn't stop. Not until you heard those heavy footsteps and the door click.

"Nanam-"

"Y/n-" You almost giggled as your voices overlapped but seeing the forlorn look on Kento's face made that moment of joy subside.

"Sorry, you called me here for a reason. Please…" He gestured towards you to continue.

"Ah- I umm I just wanted to talk to you because recently it seems like you've been…avoiding me. I mean it's not like I expe-"

"Stop." He cuts you off abruptly. "Not during work hours, please."

"Then when? I can never find a moment with you alone these days. It's only in an official capacity like this can I even see you right now."

"Y/n-" He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples before continuing, "Look - I'm sorry. I have been avoiding you. But it's for a good reason."

"Good reason? What reason?" You don't mean to sound as mad as you do but you couldn't help it - You were hurt. What reason could he possibly have for distancing himself like this? The look on your face must've conveyed your emotions perfectly because he immediately softens raising a hand to your cheek to comfort you.

"Mrs. L/n are you in- I am so sorry." Your assistant walks just before Kento can reach you. "Mr. Lee is ready to see you in your office. Please excuse me." He leaves just as quickly as he arrives.

You turn your attention back to Kento as you see his gaze linger on the door as it swings closed. Whatever softness he was going to reach you with has hardened, his eyes narrowed with a look of displeasure. "Ken-"

"It looks like you have to go, Mrs. L/n." He straightens up and addresses you formally. You're about to speak up as he leans in close to your ear, "My house tomorrow after work if you have further business to discuss regarding this manner."

Fixing himself he doesn't even spare you a glance. He makes his annoyance far too obvious with the low grumble that echoes throughout the room. Completely frozen from the shock of his whispered proposal you couldn't comment on his attitude, not even as his boss.

You shudder at the thought of being alone with him again after those words. What consequences have you brought upon yourself this time? Going to his house either sounds like the worst hell or the most gracious heaven right now and your mind can't settle on which one sounds more probable. There was only one way to find out.

---

Well now you were certainly in his home but the pressure in the room was enough to make an elephant sweat. Coerced to sit you breathe out heavily, adjusting yourself to as comfortably as you could in your rigidness. Kento reaches for the TV remote and turns the volume down before turning to face you nonchalantly.

"This silence is scaring me a bit, Kento." You break the silence, your words have a joking tone but he takes it seriously even as you pose a fake smile.

"I'm scaring you? I'm…" He swallows his words, straightens out, and takes a breath, "I'm sorry about that y/n. What was it that you wanted to discuss?" It's almost sickening the way he puts on the formality of business with you after nearly pouncing.

"What? No, you're not- Wait. Can we just stop this?" You rush to clear up whatever spiraling thought he had from your few words before focusing your gaze down, embarrassed of bringing up the subject.

"Stop what?" And it sounds like he's genuinely asking. Raising your head back up to meet his eyes you see confusion but also want to resolve whatever this is. Some amount of confidence is restored as you realize that it isn't just you who wants to fix things.

"Well, like I said back in the meeting room, you've been avoiding me Kento. And don't try to deny it."

He pauses trying to collect his words, "I have. But like I said for good reas-"

"Then just tell me the reason Kento." You raise your voice out of frustration.

Nanami retreats, readjusting to calm his nerves. You've never seen him so timid except for when he has to ask if his favorite treats are in stock at the bakery. He can't bring himself to look at you anymore. Whatever confidence he had was blown away by your exclamation. He picks up his mug, takes a sip of his tea, and fiddles with the handle - head downturned.

A murmur comes from him, "What is this?"

"What?" You can barely grasp the words.

"This." And he gestures between the two of you. "What is it? Y/n."

"I'm not understanding, Ken." And you notice the nickname catches his attention as his head whips to look at you - only then do you realize that you haven't addressed him so casually since before your promotions. Not even when you were flirting through office exchanges. For a second you wonder when that hostile relationship became more casual & comfortable than what you had grown accustomed to now.

Nanami bites his bottom lip, "Are we something? Anything other than coworkers? Tell me upfront, please because I don't think I can handle any more of these blurry lines. It's hurting my heart too much." It's a shock to you to see him this way but even more of a shock to himself as he's sure he's never even been this shaken by a curse standing right in front of him but now you've gone and turned things upside down.

You're speechless. Isn't that what you meant to ask him? He was the one putting distance between you. He was the one avoiding you. And now he was asking you this as if you're the one to blame for his actions. For someone so incredibly smart man, oh man was he dumb when it came to emotions. For the first time above the sheets, you're seeing Nanami Kento crumble into your hands. The intimidation tactics from before you now realize were just a front for him to hide all these feelings.

"Do you want to be something other than "coworkers"? Nanami." You scoot closer to him.

"I don't know what to think right now." His eyes are glossy but not yet tear-filled however with the shaky tone you have a feeling that the flood was incoming.

"Just tell me everything that crosses your mind. Anything is better than nothing right now." You're begging him at this point to open up to you. Staying in this relationship purgatory hell for any longer would drive you up a wall.

"Maybe…I don't know." He sighs, " I just- I don't think I'm in my right mind when it comes to you." Placing the mug back down he puts his hands to his face trying to gain clarity.

"What do you mean? Ken." You reach out to him, placing a hand on his knee.

He turns his head to face you again, another heavy sigh escaping him before placing his head back in his hands speaking slightly muffled. "You've made me insane, y/n." He chuckles and you smile, it feels so good to hear him laugh genuinely for just a moment even in his presumed "insanity". "Every time I see you I just want to- I want to hold you. And every time you're near my heart feels at peace but never at ease. I don't know what to make of you."

"I'm afraid I'm still not understanding?" You can sense the inner turmoil he's going through but his word vomit, although pretty, isn't helping you piece it all together clear enough to respond; You're not sure what's holding him back but you know you want to help him through it. Standing up you place yourself in front of him, kneeling slightly to pry his hands away from his face.

He looks up at you as you stand tall before him. Tears now brimming. You never thought a day would come when you would see Nanami of all people on the brink of collapse, as sad as it was it was also extremely cute. But, Was whatever he had to admit something to get this emotional about? Or was it just the fact that it involved you? Even he couldn't be sure of the answer.

"I'm pathetic." He lets his hands flop onto his lap as his shoulders slump and his head hits your stomach in defeat.

You chuckle at the admission brushing the back of his head and letting your hand play with the strands at the nape of his neck. "How are you pathetic? Have I made you feel like that? Is that why…you won't talk to me anymore?"

"What?! No!" He exclaims before calming down once more, this time he places his chin on your navel to look up at you, "I'm pathetic because I get jealous over - what is probably - nothing…" He digs himself back into the softness of your belly, bringing his arms to wrap around your waist - securing you where he can breathe you in.

"Can you let me in on what this "nothing" is? Because I've been nothing but confused these past few weeks, Kento."

Breathing you in, he says something completely muffled that tickles you just enough to lightly chuckle.

"Hmm?" You brush at his gel-hardened hair to coerce him to face you and he follows your movements as if entranced by your touch. His eyes close as he brings his hand to meet yours now leading you to cup his face letting his thumb brush over the skin on your hand. How good it feels to smell you he thinks.

Oh how men fall, more specifically how Nanami Kento falls to your visage as slivers of city lights intertwine with the warm interior and you're illuminated like no goddess he could even imagine. If he could stretch this moment in time forever he would - but he cannot and thus he resigns to just taking you in as your face continues to screw up in confusion.

"Your assistant." and he lets his head hang once more, too embarrassed of his truth to let you meet his eyes.

"My assistant?" You're genuinely confused by the two words for a quick second before it clicks, "Oh…my assistant…He's why you don't want to take me out to lunch anymore?"

"I always want to take you out to lunch, y/n. But how can I- sigh When he's with you 24/7 & gets to be with you all day, how can I not feel so…angry."

"Ken…" You almost have no words, of course, emotions are fickle and he can't control the way he feels but it is kind've silly; While you've been worrying your butt off over him, he's been hiding his possessiveness when you never asked him to. Part of you (a really big part) finds it cute, the other part acknowledges just how stupid that sounds. All this running around each other for nothing - weight lifted but reassurance surely still needed.

"I told you. Nothing." Once again he digs himself so deep into your stomach you're sure he's bound to create some sort of mark.

"No no, not nothing. Well-"

"See!" And you both giggle at the immediate retort.

The entire time you're above him you can't help but think about how odd this position is physically and metaphorically. You're "above" him and he doesn't mind, not the way that you thought he would anyway. And the truth is that Kento would much prefer you above him (in more ways than one) and whatever doubt you had that he would despise you - that he should despise you - after everything that you've taken from him vanishes; you mean so much more to him than official positions and rankings. He loves you, the way his eyes have gained back their sparkle just by being in your presence proves it.

"Should I get rid of him?" You're half joking but in your truest heart of hearts if he asked you would try your best to accommodate his worries.

"Don't do that to the kid…"

"So you're aware that he is just a kid-"

"As I've told you multiple times now, I know it was baseless emotions. Not that I could help it but I know- I should've talked to you sooner."

"Yes. Much sooner." You return to your place beside him on the couch clutching his hand in yours and resting your head on his shoulder.

"Forgive me?"

"Never." He looks at you a bit confused. "Spend every day - starting now - making it up to me Nanami Kento."

A grin so big you couldn't ever imagine it on his face unless it was happening right in front of you - as it was right now - appears. He straightens himself, adjusting pants and all - as if he wasn't already extremely attractive - and faces you. "You've got a deal Mrs. L/n." He holds out a hand and with a firm shake tackles you into the sofa. Suddenly, once more you feel at home in his home. You feel just right where you need to be with Mr. Nanami Kento… or just Ken.

A/N: Holy hell...I'm back babies. Srsly though what did you think of this fic?? Idk how to feel. It's like between a masterpiece and a piece of garbage idk....

Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @iluvmattyb

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unlucky Night ~ BC

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 3.1K 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: strangers to friends, to potential lovers, cute, fluffy, chan acting like a protector - we stan a king - 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Chan x GN!Reader 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

You sat at the bar, your fingers gripping the cool glass of your drink as you stared ahead, trying to ignore the man next to you. His presence was almost suffocating and you'd been doing your best to ignore him and pretend he wasn't there but it was becoming increasingly more difficult with each passing moment.

He had sidled up to you over an hour ago, and despite your polite rejections, he persisted like a shadow you couldn’t shake off. Even the barman had attempted to make the guy leave you alone but he was persistent in staying right where he was. Claiming he was a 'paying' customer and it was a 'free country'. You started to grab your things trying to move away from him, you'd come out for a nice relaxing night and so far you hadn't gotten that.

"Come on, sweetheart. I’m just trying to have a good time," the man said, his voice slurred from one too many drinks, he stunk of vodka and the smell made you want to vomit. You clenched your jaw, keeping your eyes fixed on the shelves of liquor behind the bar.

"I already told you, I'm not interested," you replied, your voice sharp but measured. You didn’t want to escalate the situation, but every time he spoke, your patience wore thinner. You'd been taught to always politely decline since you never knew what someone was capable of, but right now you wanted to smack the guy over the head with the glass he was nursing his drink from.

He leaned closer, invading your space, and you had to force yourself not to recoil.

"You’re playing hard to get, huh?" He chuckled, the sound grating. His breath was catching on your head as he moved closer to you, your hands clenching into fists.

"I like a challenge," he whispers, you can hear him licking his lips and it finally pushes you past your limit. You took a deep breath, glancing around the bar for an escape, but none seemed available. The bartender was busy, and no one else seemed to notice the tension between you and the man.

"I’m not playing anything," you said, your tone firmer now. "I came here for some quiet, and you’re making it difficult." He raised an eyebrow, clearly not getting the message—or choosing not to, whatever his small mind could come up with.

"Quiet? In a bar? You don’t look like the quiet type to me." He moved closer, his shoulder brushing yours, making your skin crawl and your stomach churn. If this was what he was like in public you didn't want to imagine what it would be like if you'd run into him in a dark alleyway on the way home.

"Let me buy you another drink, and maybe we can go somewhere else after." You finally turned to face him, your gaze hard and unflinching. You wanted him to finally get the point through his tiny brain,

"I said no." Each word was laced with frustration. You were at the end of your rope with him and you were two seconds away from insulting him,

"I don’t want a drink. I don’t want to go anywhere with you." you figured he would finally understand that you meant no but of course not. He didn’t back down. Instead, he smirked! Smirking as if this was all part of some game you were both playing and that you were just trying to test him.

"You’re being feisty. I like that." He placed a hand on the bar, trapping you on one side.

"Don’t be like that, babe. Let’s just—"

"Stop calling me 'babe,'" you snapped, your voice rising slightly. "I’m not interested. Leave me alone." You snapped a little harsher at him this time, earning the attention of the couple on the other side of the bar from you.

The man’s smile faltered for a brief moment, but he quickly regained his composure, leaning even closer. He shrugged his shoulders and smirked at you, his eyes looking you up and down as he drank in your appearance.

"I think you just need to loosen up." That was it. Your heart pounded with a mix of anger and anxiety, and you could feel the adrenaline kicking in. You had to get out of this situation before it escalated any further. Your eyes scanned the room again, desperate for a way out, and that’s when you spotted a guy sitting alone. You weren't sure he was going to be any better than the arsehole beside you but he seemed nice enough, his eyes were on his laptop,

Without another thought, you stood abruptly, pushing the bar stool back and making a beeline for his table, hoping that this stranger could help you where words had failed.

Your heart raced as you made your way toward the table at the back of the pub, weaving through the crowd while trying to appear as calm as possible. This was your one shot of getting away from the creep and you didn't want to blow it, you could still feel the man’s gaze following you, his presence still heavy on your back, but you forced yourself to focus on your next step. You didn’t know this guy at the table but you hoped he was as nice as he appeared to be,

He was sitting alone, his attention on his laptop when you reached his table, you bit your lip a little. Hesitation washed over you as you stood there for a moment, unsure how to begin or how to even ask him for his help but here you were. He glanced up, his dark eyes meeting yours, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to concern as he noticed the panic flickering in your eyes.

“Excuse me…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed, forcing yourself to speak louder, more confidently, you didn't want to come across as creepy like the guy from the bar.

“I—I know this is weird, but… there’s a guy over there who’s been following me all night. He won’t leave me alone. Can you… Can you help me?” The man blinked once, taking in your words, his gaze briefly flicking past you toward the bar where the man still lingered. His jaw clenched so hard you could see it from where you were standing, and without hesitation, he slid to the side, making space on the bench next to him.

“Sit down,” he said softly, his voice calm but authoritative. You didn’t waste a second before slipping into the seat beside him, your heart hammering against your chest. The second you sat down, you felt an immediate sense of relief, though the anxiety still churned in your stomach.

"I'm Chan," he introduced himself quietly as you nodded along with him, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him. It was now that you realised he had the most beautiful eyes you'd ever seen in your life.

"yn." You whispered back to him, a shy smile forming on your lips as your chest began to flutter. He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours as he spoke in a low voice meant only for you.

“I’m going to play along, okay? But I need to ask—can I put my arm around you? It’ll make this look more believable...but only if you're comfortable," Your breath caught in your throat. You were grateful he even asked, considering the situation, but the way his voice was so gentle and steady like he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, made you nod almost instantly.

“Yeah,” you whispered, still feeling nervous but trusting him. Without missing a beat, Chan slid his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close in a way that felt protective rather than invasive. He let his fingers rest lightly on your shoulder, not gripping too tightly but enough to make it seem like a natural gesture. His body was warm against yours, and for the first time that night, you didn’t feel as vulnerable.

His free hand found yours on the table, his fingers gently intertwining with yours and you were sure your heart was about ready to throw itself at him now.

“There,” he murmured, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “How’s that? He still watching?” You dared a glance toward the bar, where the man was glaring in your direction, clearly displeased by the sudden shift in your attention.

“Yeah, he is,” you whispered back, your voice trembling slightly. You were worried he would be there all night and Chan would eventually have to leave you alone.

“Don’t worry,” Chan said, his voice soothing. “I’ve got you. Just follow my lead.” Then, to sell the act even further, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to make it seem real. The warmth of the gesture spread through you, and though your heart was still racing, it wasn’t from fear anymore.

“Babe, you okay?” he said louder, for anyone watching to hear. His thumb stroked your hand as he continued to play the part effortlessly.

“I didn’t think you’d make it tonight.” You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Yeah, I just… got held up,” you mumbled, trying to match his tone. Chan squeezed your hand gently, leaning closer again, his voice dropping back to a whisper.

“We’ll leave in a few minutes. I’ll walk you out, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t follow.” You nodded again, your pulse slowly calming with every second that passed by his side.

"I hate that he's made you panic, I can feel how hard your heart is racing," He whispered to you, but little did he know your heart wasn't racing because of the creep - well, maybe at first - but now it was all for him.

"So what brings you to the bar?" You asked with a smile, and he smirked turning his laptop screen around to show you what it was he was working on but you couldn't make sense of it.

"Music, I come here to focus sometimes when I can't do with the silence of my studio," He smiled at you as you stared at the screen, his eyes lingering on yours as you scanned over the screen,

"What about you, beautiful?" He asked with a smile, your eyes slowly looked back at him and you felt your body heating up from the attention,

"Long day, I wanted some quiet after work but I guess I was unlucky...but it's improving," You whispered, his cheeks turning pink as you flirted back with him,

"Well, I'm glad I could make your unlucky night that much better." He winked at you.

What was meant to be just a few minutes of pretending stretched into something much longer between the two of you? You and Chan settled into an easy rhythm of conversation, your initial nerves melting away as you found yourself drawn into his warmth, both literally and figuratively. His arm was still draped casually over your shoulders, felt natural now, and his presence put you at ease. At first, you kept sneaking glances toward the bar, checking to see if the man was still watching, but after a while, you stopped looking, forgetting he was there altogether. Chan had a way of making you forget about the unease from earlier, all of it melting away into nothing.

His laugh was infectious, and the stories he shared with you made you feel like you'd known him longer than just a couple of hours now. He had a talent for making you feel like the only person in the room, even as the pub bustled around you.

“So, you’ve never been to Australia?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes. You shook your head, laughing lightly.

“Nope. Never. The farthest I’ve travelled is from home to Korea.”

“Well, you’re missing out,” he said with a grin.

“When you do go, I’ll give you all the recommendations. Best beaches, places to eat... And don’t worry, no kangaroos in the cities. Everyone always asks about the kangaroos.” You giggled, holding your hand over your mouth as you tried not to get too loud.

“I wasn’t even thinking about the kangaroos.” Chan leaned back slightly, his hand still resting comfortably on your shoulder as he continued.

“Good, ‘cause they’re honestly a bit terrifying up close.” He shuddered playfully before you giggled at him.

This whole thing had started as a tense situation and had suddenly turned into something that felt more like a spontaneous first date. You found yourself telling him things you didn’t expect to share, laughing at his jokes, and learning about the person behind the calm, cool exterior.

At some point, the pub began to thin out, the bustling energy of the night slowly quieting down. You glanced at your phone and blinked, surprised.

"Wow, it’s already past midnight.” Chan raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely surprised.

“Really? We were supposed to leave a few minutes ago, right?” His lips curled into a small smile. “Guess we got a little carried away.” He laughed softly as you joined in, realizing that you hadn’t even thought about the man who’d been following you. Turning to look toward the bar, you saw that he was long gone. You hadn’t noticed when he’d left, but now it felt like a distant memory, something insignificant compared to the night you’d spent talking with Chan.

“Looks like he’s gone,” you said with a relieved smile. Chan’s arm tightened slightly around your shoulders as he followed your gaze. Part of him was a little disappointed that this was over but he was relieved you weren't going to have some creep following you around.

“Good. I didn’t want to leave you alone until I was sure.” He looked back at you, his eyes softening. “Still, let me walk you out and get you a cab. Just to be safe.” You nodded, grateful once again for his thoughtfulness. He stood up, offering you his hand, and you took it as he helped you to your feet. His hand lingered in yours for a moment before he dropped it, guiding you toward the door with a protective closeness that hadn’t faded since you first approached him.

The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, refreshing against your warm skin. Chan stayed beside you, his arm gently brushing yours as you stood at the path. He waved down a cab, making sure it stopped directly in front of you.

Before you stepped inside, he turned to you, that playful smile back on his face.

“So, I’m guessing we didn’t get to talk about everything yet.” You laughed softly and shook your head at him.

“No, I guess we didn’t.”

“Then how about we finish this conversation another time?” he suggested, pulling out his phone. He wasn't usually the type to pick up people in bars and ask for their number but with you, he'd felt something, a genuine connection that he didn't want to let go of.

“I think we owe ourselves a less stressful night.” He finished as you nodded at him.

“I’d like that, a lot.” You whispered before the two of you exchanged numbers, the glow from his phone illuminating his face as he saved your contact. After sending a quick message so you had his number too, he looked at you again.

“I’ll text you. We’ll set something up.” He suggested. You nodded, opening the door to the taxi and sliding into the backseat, Chan leaned down slightly, his hand resting on the doorframe as he looked at you. He didn't want you to go but it was getting too late now.

“Take care, alright? And text me when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

“I will,” you promised, giving him one last grateful smile. “Thank you… for everything.”

He grinned, his dimples showing as he gave you a small wave. “Anytime.”

The cab pulled away, and as you watched him grow smaller in the distance, you couldn’t help but feel like tonight had turned out much differently than you’d expected but much, much, better than you'd expected.

You stared at Chan as the two of you sat in the same booth table you'd been in a year ago today,

“A whole year, huh?” Chan’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. He squeezed your hand, giving you that soft smile that still made your heart flutter, even after all this time.

“Yeah, hard to believe,” you said, grinning up at him. “Feels like it was just yesterday that I walked up to your table and asked you to save me from that creep.” He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Best decision you ever made.” He winked playfully, and you nudged him in the ribs.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not wrong,” you teased, squeezing his hand back as you found a familiar table toward the back—the same one where you’d sat with him that night.

As you both settled into the booth, the memories of that night played vividly in your mind. You remembered how nervous you’d been, approaching a stranger for help, how you’d ended up spending hours lost in conversation with him, and how he’d walked you out, making sure you were safe. It felt surreal to be sitting here again, but this time, things were different. This time, he wasn’t just playing the part of your boyfriend.

He was your boyfriend.

“So, how do you feel about this anniversary?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “One year of dealing with me. Not bad, right?” You laughed softly, resting your head on his shoulder as he squeezed you, softy, pressing his lips to your temple.

“One year of putting up with your terrible jokes, you mean?” His laughter joined yours, a deep, happy sound that you never got tired of hearing.

“Hey, you love my jokes.” he whined at you making you smirk,

“Debatable,” you teased, though the smile on your face made it clear just how much you adored him. “But really… this has been the best year.”

Chan tilted his head slightly, his eyes warm as he looked down at you.

“Same here. Best year of my life, actually.” Your heart swelled as you looked at him, slowly leaning in and kissing him softly.

"Happy anniversary baby," You whispered before he leant his forehead on yours,

"Happy Anniversary, stranger." He winked before you giggled, cuddling into his side again.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @s3ungm1nxxl0ve

[rainydaygotham]

I MARRIED MY STALKER —more on page 4

Tim Drake x reader gn || part 1 || 1760 words

a/n: okay so some context, this is supposed to be an isekai’d reader. only been in this universe for a month but knows dc lore. also i wrote 90% of this literally 2 years ago lol i stay silly

It was a strange situation. Laughable, in a twisted kinda way. You knew you had a stalker. You hear him follow you home every night after work. Or, well, morning technically. You get off that late.

You've never been one to write something off as paranoia. Especially now that you lived in Gotham. Especially especially since you lived in the Narrows. Like you're not stupid.

Whenever you would turn around, checking your surroundings, you wouldn’t find him. The footsteps weren't on the ground, you've elicited. He was up in the rooftops, doing parkour. Great.

You really hoped it wasn't a supervillain. Imagine that, you're given the miraculous opportunity to carve out a new life for yourself in a big city and you almost immediately get killed horrifically by a guy in a halloween costume before you even get a chance. Actually, with the way your luck goes, that checks out.

It was becoming increasingly clear the predator didn't just know your work schedule, either. When you'd go out for groceries, or to a diner, he’d often find you then too, following you around town. It was like he was studying your behavior patterns, which actually is pretty typical of a true old fashioned stalker, now that you think of it.

Even so. He never got any closer than he always did. Never actually attacking you. And eventually, you got used to his presence, thinking nothing of it when you heard the occasional scuff of boots against the concrete and metal of the city.

But the strangest thing happened as you shambled home from your second job tonight, eager to get on with your evening.

You see him.

Or, at least, you see his shadow. His form silhouetted against the wall, standing bold as he eclipsed the red glow coming from some sort of neon sign.

He doesn't move, as you stare at the shadow on the wall. Which strikes you as odd, if not terrifying, because you had gotten the vibe that this man knew what he was doing. It was like he wanted you to know he was there.

And you recognize the silhouette. That's Red fucking Robin.

You take a deep breath. You are relieved, truthfully. Even if it was clear he thought of you as some sort of target.. Or maybe he was protecting you from the real stalker, and the supervillain theory was truer than you'd hoped…

“I don't believe I have any information you would want,” you call out, trying to figure just what the hell he thinks he’s doing.

“That’s not necessarily true,” his voice is different than you expected.

“So like. You gonna beat the shit out of me or can we go up to my apartment and have this discussion over a pot of coffee?”

“I— I would never hurt you,” his calm and deep voice cracked for a second, like he couldn't believe what you just implied. You know as if he hadn't been stalking you almost the entire time you'd been in this goddamn city.

“So my place it is, then,” you confirmed.

“You’d invite a dangerous vigilante into your home?”

“Are you saying you don’t have the ability to ‘let yourself in’ at any time you please?”

“Well, no,”

“Then I don't see how me voluntarily letting you in is any less dangerous.”

And that's how you wound up in this situation, nervously pouring a mug of coffee for one of Gotham's infamous vigilantes.

You were glad that he for some reason took this softer route. As you recall, whenever a Bat wants to have a talk with someone they usually just appear in the shadows of their home or office, scaring the bejeebus out of them.

You couldn't completely tell, because of the mask, but you got the feeling he wasn't looking around. He'd already studied your apartment, most likely. His eyes were trained solely on you.

"Room for cream and sugar?" you ask. You know the answer. You're a barista in the daytime, and you've served a certain Wayne Ent. CEO more than a few times already. Which, now that he could be your stalker, makes sense. He was scoping you out. Great.

"No thanks. I prefer it black."

"Dark like you, right?"

He cracked the smallest of smiles as he took the mug from your hands, like he was holding back from outright grinning. Strange. That was a really lame and overdone joke. Maybe he doesn't get out much.

"I like it black too," you ran a hand through your hair,

"I know you’ve been following me around," he looked a little guilty at your accusation, "but I don’t know why. I haven’t done anything suspect—“

“I’m protecting you,” Tim butt in.

“I’m in danger?”

He shifted uncomfortably.

"…I can’t say that you aren’t.”

“Goddamnit," you set the mugs down on the table a little too aggressively, "So what am I looking at here? Joker? Poison Ivy? Condiment Man?”

Tim looked sheepish as you poured the coffee into the mugs. As much as he could with that mask, anyway. He grabbed a mug and took a long sip, swallowing loudly. Ah, it was a little too hot, but he was trying too much to act cool to let on to the fact he just burned himself. He let out a breath to cool off his tongue, but played it off as a sigh.

“I can’t tell you.”

You sighed deeply, yeah, that’s what you thought he’d say.

Well. As much as you didn’t like the sudden interruption of your new life, you had been wondering when you were going to be pulled into something like this. You knew it was inevitable, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.. Right? People don’t get sent to other dimensions for no reason, right? And besides, now that you’ve settled in, you’ve started to get bored.

"So what’s our game plan?” you asked as you took a sip. Ah, a little too hot.

“Game plan?”

“You know. The part where you’ve got an overly complicated plan to catch this criminal and you need my help as bait,”

He smiled at you, incredulous, “You’d want to be bait?”

“Not. Necessarily. No,” you took another sip to cover up your eagerness, “I just want to help,”

“Helping is my job, Sweetheart,” he took a long sip to look roguish, “you’re a civilian,”

“Yeah but,” you tried not to sound put down by his reluctance to let you into his world, “You— I… I’m interested in not being a civilian, if you know what I mean…”

Tim stared at you, trying to compute what you were asking of him. Feeling silly, you put up your dukes and mimed punching someone to make your point. It was really cute, actually. He grinned at you.

He did not expect.. this. He thought you’d be scared. He thought he could metaphorically take you to a scary movie just so you’d cuddle into him out of fright. He did not think your brain would’ve picked the ‘fight’ option out of ‘fight or flight’. Maybe he underestimated you. Miscalculated his moves. Albeit, this might be way more interesting…

“Train me,” you tried not to sound too desperate.

You held your breath, waiting for his answer.

Tim focused on the coffee, letting what you just said linger in the air. This was a dirt cheap brand of grounds, burnt and acidic. He’d have to get you some real coffee soon.

“Okay.”

You released the air in your lungs with one big huff. Hopefully your breath didn’t smell too bad, as you basically washed his face in it. Even a strand of his bangs fluttered. Real smooth, dumbass. But you quickly forgot that insecurity as your brain caught up with what he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,”

“No interview or anything? Not that I can’t be trusted, but how would you know I can be trusted?” hey stupid, stop trying to talk him out of this.

“Well I already uh,” he coughed awkwardly, “I already know a lot about you,”

“Ah, yeah, you were stalking me, weren’t you?”

You had no idea what the fuck kinda info he could have considering you don’t really have a background to check in this universe, but okay.

Tim scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah.. Sorry about that. It was all for your safety, I promise,”

You giggled, “Thank you, Mr. Robin, I do feel safe now, knowing it was you,”

“Oh uh,” you could see a blush start peeking out from under his mask, “My pleasure— I mean uh, it’s my duty to you. —As you are a citizen of Gotham, I mean.”

“So when do we star—“

You were cut off by his communicator beeping. He put a hand up to some earpiece he had.

“On it. Be right there,” Tim told someone over the line.

He looked back at you guiltily. You waved your hand in a “it’s fine” gesture.

“Go be a hero Mr. Robin,” you stood to start taking the mugs to the sink.

He held up a finger to ask you for a second as he basically dumped the entire mug into his mouth and gulped it all down. He parted from the mug with a gasp of satisfaction, and you snickered as you finally took it from him.

He stood and brushed himself off while you busied yourself at the sink. You didn’t really worry about whether he was about to disappear into the night like he was never there in the first place. He’d be back. Watching you in the shadows like he had been every night you’d been here...

Did he know you weren’t ‘native’, so to speak? Maybe whatever trouble you’re in now is apart of how you got here in the first place. You’ll have to ask him later…

A hand found its place on your shoulder, and you turned around to him fumbling with his communicator with the other hand. You felt a buzz in your pocket.

“Here’s my number, I’ll text you later, okay?”

You noticed how he didn’t even go through the formality of asking you for your number. Guess we’re a little past pretending this is a normal interaction between two people who want to get to know each other better. You smiled at him as he started making his way to your door.

“Bye Mr. Robin,”

Chuckling at the nickname, he turned back one last time as he held the door, “Bye Y/n,” he grinned at you before making his disappearance back into the shadows of the night.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Scintilla

{Sung Jinwoo/Reader}

《Scintilla: A tiny trace or spark of a specified quality or feeling.》

-

Taking ahold of the situation, you grab Jinwoo by the scuff of his shirt, glaring harshly at the team placed in front of you. "Do you honestly think I'd let you get harassed by paparazzi?"

You scowl, gazing at the reporters as if they personally offend you, which they did...

-

You decided to take Jinwoo on a date once both your schedules aligned. He readily agreed, waiting for you to pick him up at his apartment. You had gotten yourself ready, flowers in hand for his mother and treats for his younger sister. Jinwoo himself... Also flowers and chocolate!

Arriving to the door, you happily knock as Mrs. Sung opens the door, gasping at the lovely bouquet. Letting you in as she goes over to the kitchen to put them in a vase, you drop off the snacks on the table for the younger Sung as you wait on the couch. Tapping on your thighs as Mrs. Sung grabs a few refreshments and converse with you.

Yelling and a few crashes is heard in the other room Jinah rushes out into the front room, laughter filling around you as Mrs. Sung gasps. Jinwoo chases after his younger sister, begging for his shirt back as she ignores him. "That's what you get for stealing my snacks again!"

"I didn't know! Give that back! (Y/N) is going to be here in a-!"

"Ahem!"

Mrs. Sung smiles, a dangerous aura surrounding her as the two siblings pause their bickering. Slowly turning to their mother, before slowly backing into the hallway. Harsh whispers shared between them as Mrs. Sung chuckles at your rather happy smile.

"I take it that Jinwoo will be home by nine, yes?" "Yes of course!"

"Mom..." Jinwoo sighs, arriving to the scene quickly. Dressed in a blue cardigan and a simple black dress shirt and slacks, shoes matching the ensemble. 

His mother giggles as she grabs your cup, along with hers, going to the kitchen. 

The two of you leave soon after, sneakily yawning as you place a arm over his shoulder to his waist. Blinking at the cheesy move in broad daylight, he smirks, summoning a shadow soldier to do the same to you. You laugh, letting go of him as the soldier fades into his shadow.

Finding the nice restaurant, the two of you sit as the waiter asks for your drinks. All the while, you smile sweetly at the male sitting in front of you as he laughs, recalling a story of one of his dungeon raids.

Unaware of the audience (and mini generals) watching you two.

''Our queen loves you very much, look at her gaze. It doesn't leave you at all, sire."

"She had arrived three hours earlier! Bringing gifts for your family like a perfect suitor for your hand!"

Jinwoo sweats at the commentary, while appreciative. He didn't have the heart to tell the small shadow generals to leave. He smiles as you discuss about your day as he tries to pay attention. 

You on the other hand, noticed a few onlookers from other tables.

"Is that THEE Hunter Sung...?!"

"I wanna take a picture with him!"

That wasn't even counting the small paparazzi forming outside, their blinding lights from their phones and loud chatter from beyond the glass weren't WANTED!

You continue your story as the drinks arrive, pausing to sip and recall what the main point was. Becoming distracted by the insistent chatter, you hold in your scowl as you look at Jinwoo.

He himself wasn't fairing any better, his smile twitching as he grips his cup. 'Ah, I see where he get's THAT smile from...'

Taking ahold of the situation, you grab Jinwoo by the scuff of his shirt, glaring harshly at the team placed in front of you. "Do you honestly think I'd let you get harassed by paparazzi?"

Fed up, you pull out some cash for your bill, placing it down as you grab Jinwoo by his hand. Pulling him along as the two of you run out the building.

You scowl, gazing at the reporters as if they personally offend you, which they did...

"Jinwoo!" You pant as Jinwoo keeps pace worriedly. "Let's just go to my place and order take-out!" You shout, turning to gaze at him for his approval. The male nods determinedly, his bright giggles stirring you on to run faster to your destination.

_

Omake: "His Highness future Queen is astounding! If not a queen, they would make a excellent soldier!" "How idiotic! They must be a general or better standing knight!"

-

(Something silly! Jinwoo is such a sweet hard working guy, awww! Anyway, reblogs, comments  and hearts always apperciated! Thanks for reading!)

[angelicsz]

Hello!! May I ask for a separate scenario each for Pure Vanilla Cookie and Shadow Milk Cookie from CRK? The idea behind it is, the reader (who is their partner) is helping them destress or simmer down after a long day — and brushing out their hair in comforting gesture! Thats what I want the most!

The 'why' of their fatigue can be different. Maybe Reader is laying Pure Vanilla on their lap and brushing out his long hair to help him relax for the evening on their wedeing bed. Meanwhile for Shadow Milk, maybe he's wound up from the boredom of having to play nice in the kingdom all day now that he's technically 'redeemed' or something..! Just my thoughts, you can switch it around a little, I just wanna brush their hair...

Sorry if this is long! Thank you for offering your lovely work! Please take care!

"ease your worries"

summary: comforting your partner, that's all.

↱ before you read: gender neutral reader, implied marriage, established relationship, ooc shadow milk? pet names, if you find any more please let me know.

0.5k | m. list

shadow milk:

"i practically cannot do anything now. no NOTHING." he complained as he stared at the sky above you. you were laying in the forest, its the only place you could have some peace for yourself, however you do not come here often. you hummed in response, brushing his scalp, playing with his hair at this very moment.

"and who does he think he is? HE took MY soul jam HE took everything from me, and yet.." your boyfriend stopped for a moment, looking up at you. "maybe he didn't took everything from me."

a smile appeared on your face "sorry? i didn't quite catch that?" you whispered, pretending to be oblivious. you watched as his face changed from pure love and admiration to somehow mad and annoyed.

"i said that i hate him." he practically snarled in response. he hid his face in your thighs, and groaned in annoyance as you chuckled, clearly amused by his behavior.

nevertheless a few minutes later a comforting silence appeared and none of you seemed to want to move from your places. savouring the moment. although you will have to apologise to him for your behaviour.

pure vanilla:

after your husband came back from beast-yeast he looked completely different. even though he seemed to shine brighter than usual you could see the tiredness in his eyes, after all eyes never lie.

that's how you ended up in the current situation, him laying his head on your lap, you mumbling meaningless words of comfort in his ear. the room had a pleasant atmosphere, the birds were chirping, the open balcony bringing fresh air into the room and the sun that is just about to rise.

you noted that pure vanillas hair has gotten much longer than his length before. not that you minded of course.

"mmm.. dear i have to get back to my duties." he practically purred on your lap. you chuckled, amused at his antics. it was awfully hard to get him to lie down with you, you knew that your husband's very hard working and needs a break. despite his objections when you dragged him into the bedroom he practically melted immediately. despite his statement, he didn't seem to want to move from your lap nor was planning to.

"your hair got longer." you changed the topic, brushing your fingers against his scalp. "would you want me to take care of it?"

".. later sunshine." he mumbled. oh you thought he looked so pathetic right now, lovingly of course. noticing how your husband was practically falling asleep, even though he didn't need any, you lied your head on the headboard and closed your eyes, savouring this very moment.

sorry for the late reply, lowkey died for a moment here.

[writinginatree]

Caught

Relationship(s): Brennan Sorrengail/female!Riorson!reader, Bodhi Durran & Xaden Riorson & Garrick Tavis & sister!reader

Summary: Your older brother and closest friends get overprotective when they find out you've started dating your mentor Brennan behind their backs.

Warnings: Age gap (reader is 20, Brennan is... however old he canonically is. 29? 30? Idk), being caught making out, threats and teasing. First time I'm writing for Brennan, so pls don't judge too harshly.

Anonymous requested: Heyy can you make a platonic fic where Xaden is y/ns brother and she gets her signet which is kind of similar to brennan's so y/n and brennan start hanging out and they start liking each other so they start secretly dating. But one day Xaden, Bhodi and Garrick catch them (the three can be protective)

Afterwards, you can't even say which of them caught you first, because your eyes were closed when they walked in. Had they been open, you probably still wouldn't have noticed, busy sticking your tongue down Brennan's throat as you were. It wasn't until you heard the noise of disgust from the doorway that the two of you realized someone had walked in. You immediately sprang apart, but it was too late.

The secret is out, and now you have to deal with the consequences of not locking the door in form of the three overprotective guys standing in the door to Brennan's office.

"What the hell," Xaden growls, and for maybe the first time in your life, you understand why people are afraid of him. That is murder shining in his dark eyes, directed straight at your secret boyfriend.

For a tense few seconds, everyone is silent. You find yourself wishing you had a signet like Imogen's to simply erase what they just saw from their memories, but of course you would have never gotten so close with Brennan in the first place if you weren't a mender.

"Could we just pretend you guys didn't see that?" you try to diffuse the tension.

Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi answer as one without even looking at you. "No."

Their furious expressions are so similar that if you squint, it almost seems like your brother has multiplied. As if one angry Xaden wouldn't be trouble enough.

"Thought so..." you sigh, and exchange a look with Brennan, who gives you a tight-lipped smile that you assume is meant to be reassuring. You're too nervous to be reassured, though. This situation has a huge potential to get very ugly.

"Care to enlighten us on what exactly it is that we just saw?" Garrick challenges, cocking his head at you.

"It's called kissing," you retort. Maybe being snippy isn't the best idea, considering how pissed they are, but you can't help how annoyed you are by the interruption. "If you're not familiar with the term, we have a library where I'm sure you'll find a dictionary to look it up."

"Really," Xaden growls. "You sure about that? Because it looked like a lot more than kissing, considering where he had his hands."

Damn it. You were hoping none of them had noticed Brennan's hands under your shirt, or the way you'd been perched on the edge of his desk with your legs on either side of his hips, but of course you couldn't be so lucky.

Thank gods things hadn't gone far enough for any clothing to come off yet.

Even as it is, you're not sure how the fuck you're going to keep your brother from murdering Brennan. There can be no doubt he wants to, not with that look on his face. It's a testament to Xaden's self-restraint that he isn't at his throat already.

You take a step to the side, positioning yourself in front of your boyfriend, just in case the situation escalates, but Xaden isn't having it. His shadows wrap around your arms and pull you away from Brennan, not releasing you until you're right in between Bodhi and Garrick with Xaden in front of you.

"Hey! What the fuck, Xay!" you yell, only to be ignored. When you try to walk back over to Brennan's side, a waist high wall of shadows blocks your path.

Brennan asks, a lot more calmly than you, "Don't you think you're overreacting a little?"

In your opinion, Xaden is overreacting a lot. This is ridiculous. The three of them have always been very protective of you, but this is a whole new level of overprotectiveness, even for them. Maybe it's because they've never had the chance to give someone the shovel talk before, since both of the two relationships you've had so far — if you can even call them that, considering they consisted of no more than a handful of dates each — had taken place while the boys were already away at Basgiath. Or maybe it's the suddenness of unsuspectingly opening a door only to be met with the sight of you and Brennan making out.

If you'd just told them you're dating, it might have gone better. You had meant to tell them — eventually.

You had known all along you wouldn't be able to keep your relationship hidden forever. Xaden has a talent for sniffing out people's secrets — probably a side effect of having so many of them himself. You didn't want to keep it secret forever, only as long as the relationship was still fresh, until you figured things out a little more. The problem was the question of how to tell people without them making a big deal of it. Both of you knew right from the start people would judge you once they found out — because of the age difference between you, because he is a Lieutenant Colonel and you're just a first-year cadet, because he is the one instructing you as a mender.

Of all the ways your brother — or rather brothers, since Bodhi and Garrick are just as close to you as Xaden — could have found out, this is just about the worst.

"Overreacting?" Xaden asks in that deceptively soft tone that usually promises a painful death. "I catch you being all over my fucking baby sister, and you think I'm overreacting for putting some distance between you and her until I know what the fuck is going on here?"

Brennan rubs a hand over his face and sighs. "No. I get that. But it's not what it might have looked like."

"Isn't it? Then please, do tell me what the fucking hell you think you were doing with my baby sister."

Before Brennan can do so, you snap, "I am not a baby! I'm twenty!"

Xaden only spares you the barest glance, but that's enough for you to realize he's not just angry with Brennan, but with you, too. His curt answer confirms that. "You're grounded is what you are."

You gape at him, not sure you heard him right. "You can't ground me!"

"Watch me."

Just like that, he dismisses you, turning back to Brennan and demanding he explain himself. As if nothing you have to say about this even matters.

"You're being ridiculous, Xaden! What I'm doing with my boyfriend is none of your fucking business!"

Damn, it feels good to actually call Brennan that out loud.

Your brother looks momentarily put off by your giving Brennan that title, but ultimately ignores the statement. He doesn't even turn to look at you again. "I'd like to talk to Brennan alone for a moment, Y/N," he says. His voice is calm, but you can hear the fury simmering just beneath the surface.

"Absolutely not!"

"I promise I won't kill him... for now."

"How reassuring." You hesitate, knowing this is a fight you can't win. "Promise you won't punch or otherwise hurt him, either?"

"That depends on him."

"Go. I'll be fine," Brennan says.

You wish Xaden would let you near him. If you were in reach, he would doubtlessly be giving your hand a reassuring squeeze like he's taken to doing lately when he notices you're nervous, and right now, nervous doesn't even begin to describe how anxious you are. It's impressive how Brennan manages to stay so calm with Xaden trying to glare holes into him. Maybe his near death experience during the rebellion has made him immune to fearing for his life. Or maybe he's just good at hiding his nerves. He certainly isn't so stupid to think your brother is not a threat just because he's younger than Brennan.

"Alright." You point a threatening finger at Xaden. "But I want him back in one piece."

"Yeah, I gathered as much," he says, which isn't exactly agreement, but better than nothing.

Bodhi and Garrick lead you from the room, taking you in the middle. It simultaneously makes you feel like a child and like you're a criminal being escorted to prison. They lead you to the kitchen, the silence between you heavy like it's never been before.

"Guys—"

"Save the excuses for when Xaden is done with Brennan," Bodhi advises. He doesn't really sound angry, but when you risk a glance at his face, he's still wearing that scowl that looks like it belongs on Xaden's face instead of Bodhi's.

"I don't know why you guys are making such a big deal of this," you mutter as you take a seat at the kitchen table. "I'm more than old enough to have a boyfriend."

"That's not the point," Bodhi says. "The point is that he's too old to be your boyfriend."

"Bullshit. You're making it sound like he's ninety. Or like I'm ten."

Bodhi and Garrick shake their heads and refuse to say any more for now. You should probably be glad for the relative peace while it lasts. Once Xaden joins you, you'll be getting an earful, no doubt.

The waiting is bad. The not knowing what Xaden and Brennan are talking about, exactly, is worse. And the worst of it all is your own imagination running wild with all the horrible things that could be happening inside Brennan's office while you sit here, thinking they're just talking. Logically, you know Xaden won't attack Brennan, no matter how much he might want to. By now, he probably already realized Brennan holds no bad intentions toward you, and has calmed down. Even if he were to get violent, your boyfriend is perfectly capable of defending himself. None of these facts stop you from worrying, though.

After what feels like an eternity, Xaden walks into the kitchen. To your relief, you don't see any blood on him. That doesn't necessarily mean anything — you know he's perfectly capable of slaughtering someone without getting any of the mess on himself — but it's a good sign nonetheless. He doesn't look quite as furious anymore, either.

But not furious anymore doesn't mean his anger has evaporated. He's still far from happy, that much is evident by the look he gives you when he takes a seat across from you, folding his arms on the table. You know that look very well; it always means you're about to get lectured.

But before he can start, you can't stop yourself from asking, "You didn't hurt him, did you?"

"No," Xaden says, drumming his fingers on the table. He exchanges a look with Bodhi and Garrick, and adds, "Apparently, they're in love, so I decided to let him live."

Garrick snorts. "Well, clearly having a thing for Sorrengails runs in the family."

You ignore Garrick and glare at your brother. "If you'd just asked me, I could have told you that too. You didn't need to make such a scene."

"Watch it, or I really will ground you."

Rolling your eyes, you ask, "Why are you so mad about this, anyway? Aren't you and Brennan, like, friends?"

"That doesn't mean I want him dating my sister. He's too fucking old for you, not to mention he's supposed to be your mentor."

"I know it's not ideal. But you're not in the position to talk, considering you were Violet's wingleader when you two got together. And Brennan never gave you shit for that."

At least not as far as you know.

"Xaden and Violet are almost the same age, though," Bodhi points out. "Brennan is like, a decade older than you."

It does sound kind of bad when he phrases it like that, which is probably why he did it. Still, it's not the world-ending issue they're making it out to be.

"I'm aware. And I know that kind of age difference is a bit... unusual—"

"It's fucking weird is what it is," Garrick interjects.

"Fine, whatever. But I'm an adult, in case you haven't noticed, so—"

"A very young adult," Xaden corrects.

"Stop interrupting me! What I'm trying to say is, just because Brennan is a few years older than me doesn't mean he's taking advantage of me or anything like that. I'm not a little kid."

"No, but you're young and inexperienced. Even if he doesn't mean to take advantage of you, it's a fact that he's in a position of power over you, and you've never even had a proper relationship before."

"Just because my previous relationships ended before they really started doesn't mean they don't count. Besides, there's a first time for everything."

"Sure, but—"

"No but! Stop treating me like a godsdamned child, Xaden! I'm only three years younger than you. And I understand why you're... concerned... about the age difference between Brennan and me, okay. But—"

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Xaden interrupts. "Tell us?"

"Because I knew you'd freak out!"

"We're freaking out because you kept it from us so long! How are we supposed to look out for you if we don't know about the shit you're getting yourself into?! If you really understood why we're concerned, you would have told us."

"I was going to tell you! Just... not yet."

"You should have told us the moment this started," Garrick says.

You cross your arms and lean back in your seat, glaring from one of them to the other. "Why? So you could have meddled and stopped us from getting together?"

"So we could have made sure you're safe," Bodhi insists. "We're just trying to look out for you!"

You soften a little at that. It sucks having to justify your relationship like this, but you know they're not arguing with you just to make you feel bad. They only want your best, even when they're being unreasonable and overbearing.

"I know. And I appreciate it. But there really isn't anything to worry about. Brennan is very gentlemanly, you know."

"Well, that's good."

You think maybe they'll leave it at that, but then Garrick asks, "How long has this been going on for, anyway?"

"A few weeks."

It had started innocent enough. When your signet manifested, Brennan was the obvious choice to mentor you. Before that, you'd only known him fleetingly, from Battle Brief and through Xaden. But once you started spending time with him honing your signet, your admiration for his strategic brilliance quickly grew more personal and turned into a full-blown crush.

After months of unsuccessfully trying to fight your feelings, you'd been baffled to find that Brennan returned them.

In your mind, your chances with him had seemed practically non-existent. After all, he is a revered strategist, a war hero and member of the Assembly, while you're just a cadet, constantly overlooked in comparison to your brother. You're nothing special — a good fighter, but not exceptional, bonded to a dragon that is big but not huge nor legendary. Your signet, while useful and not overly common, is nothing out of the ordinary, either. Not even your appearance is anything special — you wouldn't go so far as to call yourself ugly, but you don't have the kind of striking beauty that turns heads wherever you go, either. It's always your brother who draws everyone's eyes, while you fade into the background. Xaden is the powerful one, the brave and selfless one, the pretty and charismatic one, the leader. Meanwhile you're absolutely average in every possible way.

And yet somehow, you'd been lucky enough to earn Brennan's affections; Brennan's, who is way out of your league! You'll be damned if you let these overprotective assholes ruin that for you.

"Weeks?! You've kept this from us for multiple fucking weeks?"

"Yes, Bodhi, I did. Because I don't fucking owe you guys a report about my love life."

He winces. "Of course not. But usually a new relationship is something you tell your friends about, don't you think? Like Xaden said, we can't keep you safe if we don't know what's going on."

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, okay?" You sigh. "I just wanted to avoid this very argument we're having, but I should have known that wouldn't be possible."

Bodhi smiles, and it feels like a peace offer. "Well, it kind of is our job to worry about you."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. And you don't have to like that I'm with Brennan, but you do have to accept it."

The three share a look, and then Xaden nods. "Okay. But we'll be keeping an eye on him."

That was to be expected. You can live with that. Unnecessary as their concern seems to you, it's kind of nice to know they're watching over you.

"Okay. Then if you don't mind, I'm going to go talk to my boyfriend now." You love calling him that. You're going to do it every chance you get for the foreseeable future.

"Talk to him, yeah?" Garrick teases. "Let me guess, you mean the same kind of talking you were doing earlier?"

You ignore the gagging noises Bodhi and Xaden make at the idea, flipping the three of them off as you walk away.

Brennan is in his office where you left him, and true to Xaden's word, he's unharmed. Closing the door behind you, you let out a deep breath and slump your posture.

"Well, that was..."

"Stressful?" Brennan suggests, crossing the distance from his desk to where you stand with three long steps.

"Yeah. That sums it up." You smile. "Definitely not how I meant to spend the afternoon, but at least that matter is out of the way now."

"Did they give you a very hard time about it?"

You shake your head, fidgeting with Brennan's fingers. "They're overprotective to an unhealthy degree, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. If it wasn't so annoying, it would almost be sweet how worried they were. What about you? How many death threats did Xay make once I was out of the room?"

Brennan chuckles. "Oh, a bunch. But they'll only take effect should I mistreat you in any way, shape, or form. Nothing to worry about. It wasn't easy to placate him, but we talked for a while about what I see in you, and I guess in the end I convinced him that this is serious."

"Good." You place your hands on his chest and give him a playful grin. "Now, where were we when those idiots interrupted us?"

Brennan pulls you against him, both hands on the small of your back. You slide yours to the back of his neck, and he presses his lips to yours.

"Right here," he mutters into the kiss. "And this time" — you feel his hand shift, followed by the sound of the lock clicking as he uses lesser magic to lock it — "no one will walk in."

[childrenofcain-if]

My MC is dramatic enough to have a crash out over one B grade, all because they made their entire success quota revolve around the fact that they've always gotten straight As in every tests. College is gonna be such a rude awakening for them 😭

How would M react to an MC who is spiralling because of one average grade?

the dorm bathroom’s yellow light sounded like a dying insect, casting a sickly pallor over your reflection. you leaned against the sink, fingers gripping the porcelain until the skin covering your knuckles stretched as far as it could.

the mirror showed a stranger—sunken cheeks carved by sleepless nights, shadows pooling like ink beneath your eyes, lips trembling as if trying to outrun the sob lodged in your throat. your skin had a yellow undertone to it, thanks to the bathroom light, and it made you look like you had jaundice. honestly, you’d have preferred that to the situation you were in right now.

B. the letter glared in your mind, bold and mocking.

B. a splinter under your fingernail. a pebble in your shoe. a stain on a white shirt.

you’d handed in that exam with hands steady as a surgeon’s, heart singing ‘this was easy, per usual.’ but the grade had come back like a verdict: you were wrong. you’re just like everyone else. you’re not special anymore.

you’d spent years folding yourself into the shape of excellence—midnight oil burned to ash, highlighters drained dry, every social invitation declined with a polite, “i have to study, sorry.”

you thought about your wasted potential, the way you had spent your life striving, pushing, grinding yourself down to bone and nerve and exhaustion just to be the best, and now—what did you have to show for it?

your worth was an equation: As = brilliance, respect, worthy. without it, you were unspooled. a equation with no solution.

back in your room, you tore through the silence like a wild thing. the bottle of cheap vodka—pilfered from a party that D invited you to months ago, “for emergencies”—glinted on your desk. your hands shook as you unscrewed the cap, the smell sharp and chemical.

this is what failure tastes like, you thought, the first swallow burning a trail to your gut. the second was smoother. the third didn’t burn at all.

the room tilted, walls breathing in and out. you slumped into your desk chair, macbook screen still open to the grade portal.

B. you wanted to claw it out of the digital ether, scream at it until it rearranged itself into the letter above it. instead, you drank. and drank. the bottle became a companion, its weight in your hand a perverse comfort.

what’s the point? the thought slithered, oily and familiar. you’re a goddamn fraud. all those late nights spent studying, all that praise—for what? to plateau? to be ordinary?

your vision blurred. you imagined your classmates’ faces, their tight smiles. “oh well, they were supposed to burn out at some point.” your professors’ voices, syrupy with pity. “you’ll bounce back.” as if resilience were a trampoline to you, not a bruise.

the door creaked open. you didn’t turn. footsteps—light, familiar—paused at the threshold.

“hey,” M said softly, their deep, posh voice immediately recognisable.

you had half the mind to admonish them for entering your room without knocking, but you didn’t. you couldn’t. not when your tongue was feeling swollen, your throat lined with sand.

they stepped closer, their presence a warmth at your back. “you didn’t answer your texts. i… got worried.”

again, you maintained your silence. M furrowed their brows, walking closer to you. their hand hovered near your shoulder, then withdrew. they then crouched beside your chair, eyes level with yours. their umber brown gaze—flecked with gold, like sunlight through maple syrup—held no judgment. only quiet concern. “talk to me, love.”

you wanted to snap. to lash out. but their voice, steady as a heartbeat, disarmed you.

“i got a B, M,” you whispered, the letter a curse. “a B. do you know how many hours i—?”

“yes.”

the word stopped you. M rarely ever interrupted you in the middle of a sentence.

“i know,” they repeated, softer. “i’ve watched you. every library all-nighter. every time you skipped lunch to review notes. every moment you treated yourself like a machine.” their hand finally settled on your arm, a warm anchor. “i just wish i could convince you that your grades do not diminish the amount of work you’ve put into it, love.”

you shook your head, eyes now burning with unshed tears. “you don’t get it. i’m supposed to be brilliant. if i’m not the best, who the fuck even am i?”

M’s thumb brushed your wrist, a gentle stroke. “do you remember that one elective you took for astrophysics? the one with dr. conway?”

you blinked. of course you did. you’d transcribed almost every lecture to M, whether they wanted to hear it or not. they were never really inclined towards anything STEM related, but they still listened to you regardless.

“stars,” M said, “don’t measure their worth by how brightly they burn. they just… are. and even when they collapse? they scatter stardust. new planets. new life.” their voice thickened. “you’re not a grade. you’re a star. you think i don’t see it? the way you dissect a poem like it’s alive. how you remember every footnote, every theory of your ridiculously complicated classes.”

“that B?” M plucked the bottle from your grip, setting it aside. “it’ll never stain your potential. it’s a miniscule particle in the brilliance of your cosmos. nothing more.”

a sob tore loose. M pulled you into their arms, your face buried in their sweater—smelling of jasmine and the faintest trace of incense. they didn’t shush you. didn’t offer platitudes. just held you as you let your emotions pour out, their fingers carding through your tangled hair.

when the storm passed, they guided you to bed, your legs wobbling.

“sleep,” they murmured, tucking the comforter around you. “we’ll talk about this more when you wake up, if you still wish to.”

“okay,” you slurred, eyelids leaden. “good night.”

M smiled, a sad, sweet curve. “good night, meri jaan.”

as darkness crept in, you felt it—the ghost of lips against your forehead, featherlight. a breath, or a dream. but in that liminal space between waking and oblivion, you let yourself believe it was real.

[bluelavendre]

Please, I'll Change, I PROMISE!

Mafia Jungkook x Reader

Y/n’s Pov

Dating someone whose life is filled with shadows, whose actions are often unpredictable, is terrifying. One minute, you’re laughing together, lost in your own bubble, and the next, you’re haunted by the possibility that this chaotic love might cost you your life. And yet, with every scar, every tear, you still find yourself clinging to the love they offer, no matter how broken or twisted it might be.

Jeon Jungkook was a mystery when I first met him. I was on a business trip in Tokyo, minding my own business at a club. I didn’t know who he was, nor did I care. His charm was magnetic—dark eyes, that dangerous aura, a smile that made my heart skip even when I knew I shouldn’t have fallen for it. He seemed just like any other guy at the club... until the night of our anniversary.

We were at a high-end restaurant in Seoul, trying to enjoy our quiet dinner. I hadn’t noticed the tension in the air, the quiet whispers and the cold stares that followed Jungkook everywhere he went. Not until it was too late.

Gunshots rang out, shattering the silence. My heart raced, my mind couldn’t process what was happening. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder, and everything went black.

When I woke up, the sterile smell of a hospital room hit me before I even opened my eyes. Jungkook was there, sitting beside me, his face clouded with guilt and something darker.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved with me,” he muttered under his breath, as though the words physically hurt him. He wasn’t even looking at me, his hands clenching at his sides. I didn’t respond; the words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat.

“You don’t understand, do you?” he continued, his voice strained. “I never wanted you to get hurt. I swear, I tried... but it’s not that easy. This life, this world... it’s all I know.”

I saw it in his eyes then, the truth—the weight of the choices he had made. Jungkook wasn’t just a man who got caught up in bad situations. He was the situation. The danger, the chaos, the violence—it was all tied to him, and somehow, I had been pulled into it.

That night, he swore to me he would change, that he would get out of this life. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust that the man I loved could be different. But promises are fragile things, and the promises he made never lasted long.

Three years later…

Nothing had changed. We still lived in this cycle, like two people trapped in the same nightmare, unable to wake up.

Jungkook came home late, sometimes drunk, sometimes high, sometimes not at all. There were nights I’d wait for him, my heart pounding in my chest, praying that tonight would be different, that maybe this time he’d come back unscathed. But more often than not, he didn’t.

“You’re still waiting up for me?” Jungkook asked one night, his voice raspy and filled with a hint of amusement as he stumbled into the apartment, eyes bloodshot and full of something else I couldn’t quite place. "You're too good for me, Y/n. You deserve better."

“Then why don’t you give me better?” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, the hurt creeping into my words. "You promised you would stop."

He looked at me, his gaze sharp, almost cold, yet there was something beneath the surface. Guilt. Love. Regret? "I can’t walk away from this," he said, his words harsh, but his eyes softening. "You wouldn’t understand, Y/n. I’ve been in this for too long. It’s who I am, it’s what I do."

I knew it was no use. He couldn’t escape his past—he couldn’t escape who he was. And maybe I didn’t want him to. Because in the end, no matter how many times he hurt me, I couldn’t stop loving him. Maybe that was the real curse.

Jungkook walked over, kneeling in front of me, his eyes searching mine as if trying to find something he’d lost. His hand reached up to gently touch my face, his thumb brushing over the bruise he didn’t mean to leave.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I don’t want to hurt you. I never did.”

The words felt hollow, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to. His actions spoke louder than any apology ever could.

This was our reality. The love that could kill us both, and yet we stayed. Because no matter how chaotic, how painful, the connection between us was undeniable.

The blaring alarm ripped me from the warmth of my bed. With a groggy sigh, I stretched, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before glancing to the side. There he was—Jeon Jungkook.

Even in sleep, he looked intense. His long, dark hair was messily sprawled across the pillow, his tattooed arm resting over his toned chest, rising and falling with each breath. His physique was unfairly perfect—broad shoulders, defined abs, and ink that traced his skin like a masterpiece. If only he weren’t such a walking contradiction.

With a shake of my head, I slipped out of bed and headed for the shower. The water was warm, washing away my lingering exhaustion as I mentally prepared for another long day of lectures and hospital rounds. Being a med student was no joke—balancing school, life, and a relationship with someone like Jungkook? That was a whole different challenge.

By the time I was done getting ready, I stepped out of the bedroom only to be met with the smell of bacon and eggs. Jungkook stood in the kitchen, shirtless, tattoos on full display as he moved around effortlessly, flipping bacon in the pan.

“Babe, have breakfast first,” he said, turning to me with a soft smirk. His voice was still thick with sleep, but his dark eyes held that familiar intensity.

I took the plate he handed me, smiling as I looked down at the perfectly cooked meal. “This looks really good,” I said, meeting his gaze.

He simply grinned, the corner of his lip lifting slightly before he sat down across from me. We ate together in comfortable silence, the only sounds coming from the occasional clinking of silverware. Moments like these made it easy to forget who he really was outside the walls of our apartment.

Once we finished, I gathered the plates and washed them, my mind already racing through the long day ahead. When I turned around, Jungkook was by the door, pulling on his black leather jacket and grabbing his helmet. His inked fingers ran through his messy hair before he turned to me, his expression unreadable.

“Where are you going this early, Kook?” I asked, tilting my head in confusion.

He looked at me, a glint of amusement in his eyes, and held out my helmet. “I’m giving you a ride to school.”

I blinked. “You? Giving me a ride? Since when do you—”

“Since today,” he interrupted, a smirk playing on his lips. “Now, let’s go before you’re late.”

I rolled my eyes but took the helmet anyway, following him outside. His Harley Davidson was parked near the curb, sleek and polished, the engine humming beneath his fingertips as he revved it up.

Climbing on behind him, I wrapped my arms around his torso, feeling the warmth of his skin through his jacket. As we sped through the streets, the wind whipping against my face, I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to pretend that this was normal—that we were normal.

When we finally arrived at my university, Jungkook parked by the entrance and turned to face me. His hand reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear before he leaned in, pressing a quick peck on my lips.

“See you later, babe,” he murmured, his voice husky.

I felt my face heat up as I glanced around, but no one seemed to care. Biting my lip, I nodded and slipped off the bike. “Be careful, okay?”

He smirked again, adjusting his gloves. “Always.”

With that, he rode off, disappearing into the morning traffic. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding before heading inside.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, two familiar faces rushed toward me.

“Oooh, boyfie,” Sungkyung teased, nudging my side.

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”

Jamie, on the other hand, wasn’t as amused. She crossed her arms, giving me that knowing look. “Y/n… you know what I’m going to say.”

I sighed. “Jamie, don’t.”

“You know he’s toxic,” she pressed, lowering her voice as we walked toward class. “You have your whole future ahead of you, and he’s—”

“I know,” I cut her off, not wanting to hear it again. “But it’s not that simple.”

Jamie pursed her lips but didn’t push further. No matter how many times she tried to convince me to leave Jungkook, she never forced it—she just let me make my own choices. Even if she knew they were mistakes.

Because, deep down, I knew she was right.

But knowing something and doing something about it were two very different things.

Detaching yourself from someone who was the only person you had left was harder than people made it seem. It wasn’t just about love—it was about survival. After my grandma died, there was no one else. No family to run to, no home that felt safe. Except for him.

Jungkook.

A text message popped up on my phone, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I’ll fetch ya after school, babe. Luv u ❤️”

I stared at the message for a moment, my chest tightening. I wanted to believe him. I really did.

—

Classes ended at 7 PM.

Jamie and Sungkyung stood by the entrance with me, exchanging hesitant glances as I reassured them. “He promised, okay? I’ll be fine.”

Jamie let out a sigh. “Just... call me if anything happens.”

I nodded, waving them off as they disappeared down the hall. Then, I waited.

7:45 PM.

8:00 PM.

8:30 PM.

The streetlights flickered, casting long shadows on the pavement. My breath curled in the cold air as disappointment settled deep in my bones.

"He must’ve forgotten." The words felt bitter on my tongue, but I forced a small, humorless smile to myself before turning away.

I went home alone.

—

The apartment was dim when I walked in, the faint scent of alcohol lingering in the air. And there he was—Jungkook, sprawled on the floor, his shirt half unbuttoned, reeking of whiskey and cigarettes. His long hair was disheveled, his knuckles bruised.

I stood there for a moment, just staring. Not with anger. Not with shock. Just... exhaustion.

Without a word, I walked past him, my heart heavy but my mind numb. I did my night routine in silence, changed into my oversized hoodie, and sat at my desk to finish my homework. I didn’t even know why I was trying so hard anymore.

Jungkook didn’t even stir. Didn’t even realize I was home.

Maybe he never really did.

When I finally laid down on the bed, my body felt like lead. My mind raced, drowning in thoughts I didn’t want to acknowledge. Why am I still here? Why do I keep waiting for him? Why do I keep hoping—

The bed shifted.

Warmth.

A strong arm snaked around my waist, pulling me close. The smell of alcohol mixed with his cologne hit me before his lips brushed against the back of my neck. His voice, deep and slurred, broke through the silence.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his grip tightening around me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my throat burning. I didn’t move. Didn’t push him away.

“I tried,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “I tried to come, baby... but I—I messed up again.” His voice cracked. “I keep messing up, don’t I?”

I felt my chest tighten painfully.

“You should leave me,” he continued, barely above a whisper. “I know I don’t deserve you. I ruin everything I touch.” His fingers curled against my hoodie, holding onto me like I was the only thing keeping him together. “But I don’t know how to let you go. You’re all I have, Y/n.”

A silent tear slipped down my cheek.

Because he was all I had too.

And that was the saddest part of it all.

The next day at school, I sat at the usual table with Jamie and Sungkyung, absentmindedly stirring my iced coffee with my straw. Last night’s events lingered in my head like a dull ache I couldn’t shake off.

Jungkook’s slurred words. His grip on my waist. The way I had silently cried myself to sleep while he held me like I was his lifeline.

“Y/n, hellooo?” Sungkyung waved a hand in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Huh? What?” I blinked, realizing I had completely zoned out.

Sungkyung rolled her eyes playfully. “You so weren’t listening.”

Jamie sighed, nudging my arm. “We were saying—we should have a girl’s night!”

I gave a small, halfhearted smile. “That’s a nice idea…”

“Yes! Finally, you’re agreeing to something fun without us dragging you,” Sungkyung cheered.

Jamie, however, wasn’t as easily convinced. She studied me carefully, her brows furrowing. “Are you okay, Y/n?”

I hesitated. Lying felt useless—they both knew me too well.

“I just... didn’t get much sleep,” I admitted, taking a sip of my coffee. It wasn’t entirely false.

Sungkyung scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, I know why.”

Jamie shot her a warning glance, but it was too late.

Sungkyung leaned forward dramatically. “Let me guess—Jungkook promised to pick you up, but he never showed, so you waited, went home alone, and found him drunk?”

I flinched at how spot-on she was. My fingers gripped my cup tighter.

Jamie groaned. “Sungkyung.”

“What?! I’m just saying the truth.” She turned to me, her voice softening. “Y/n… I hate seeing you like this. You deserve so much better.”

Jamie nodded in agreement. “That’s why we need this girls’ night. No stress. No boy drama. Just us, unwinding.”

Sungkyung grinned, nudging me. “We’ll get you out of that sad, mopey mood if it’s the last thing we do.”

I let out a small chuckle despite myself. “You guys are too much.”

Jamie smirked. “And you love us for it.”

“Damn right she does,” Sungkyung said smugly. “So, it’s settled. We’re dressing up, going out, and reminding Y/n that life is fun without a tattooed, emotionally unavailable boyfriend.”

I rolled my eyes but felt a warmth spread in my chest.

Maybe, for just one night, I could pretend things were okay.

“Fine. I’m in.”

Sungkyung and Jamie cheered, high-fiving each other like they just won a battle.

I smiled—really smiled—for the first time that day.

Maybe this was exactly what I needed.

Friday night.

I zipped up my overnight bag, stuffing a few last-minute things inside before slinging it over my shoulder. The excitement for our girls' night should’ve been the only thing on my mind, but the heavy presence behind me was impossible to ignore.

Jungkook had just stepped out of the shower, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead as he towel-dried it. His tattoos were still glistening from the steam, and his silver lip ring caught the light as he spoke.

“How long are you gonna be there?” he asked, voice low.

I didn’t look at him. “I’ll be back on Sunday.”

Silence. Then, the bed creaked as he sat down, reaching for me. Strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him. His warmth was intoxicating, his scent a mix of soap and the faintest trace of whiskey from the night before.

“I’ll miss you,” he murmured against my shoulder.

I sighed, placing my hands over his for a brief moment. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

Jungkook tightened his grip slightly. “I’ll fetch you on Sunday. I promise.”

I only hummed in response. Promises with Jungkook were... unpredictable.

—

The ride to Sungkyung’s place was quiet. Jungkook’s hand rested on my thigh as he drove, occasionally tapping his fingers against my skin like he wanted to say something but never did.

When we finally arrived, Sungkyung and Jamie were already waiting outside, arms crossed like two judgmental older sisters.

Jungkook barely had time to park before Sungkyung let out a low whistle. “Wow, what a rare sight. Jeon Jungkook actually following through on something?”

Jamie shot her a look before turning to me. “You good?”

I nodded, stepping off the bike as Jungkook handed me my bag. His fingers brushed mine for just a second too long.

Sungkyung leaned in, lowering her voice. “You better not mess this up for her, Jungkook.”

Jungkook only smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I said I’d fetch her, didn’t I?”

Jamie sighed, grabbing my arm. “Let’s go, before he starts making empty promises again.”

Jungkook tensed at that, but I only gave him a small nod before following my friends inside.

As we walked up to the door, Sungkyung whispered, “Okay, that was tense. We need shots. Immediately.”

I let out a breath and smiled. Maybe this weekend was exactly what I needed.

The weekend was full of laughter, inside jokes, and carefree moments with Jamie and Sungkyung. For the first time in a long while, I felt… happy. Really happy.

We danced in crowded clubs, ate overpriced desserts at cute cafés, and spent late nights in our hotel room talking about everything and nothing.

It felt normal.

It felt like a life I could’ve had.

As we lounged on the hotel bed, scrolling through pictures we took that weekend, Jamie suddenly spoke up.

“See?” she said, nudging me. “You’re happy without him.”

I stiffened. The warmth I felt earlier dulled instantly.

“Jamie, not this topic, please.” I sighed.

Jamie’s expression softened, but she didn’t back down. “Y/n… I’m just concerned for you. We are.”

Sungkyung nodded, her voice gentler than usual. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

I bit my lip, looking down at my hands. “I know.”

“Then why?” Sungkyung pressed. “Why are you still holding on?”

I exhaled shakily. “I’m just… waiting for the right moment.”

Jamie and Sungkyung exchanged glances, their worry evident.

A beat of silence passed before they pulled me into a tight hug.

“We’ll always be here for you,” they whispered.

I shut my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat.

If only they knew that letting go felt just as terrifying as staying.

—

Sunday evening.

I stood outside the café near our meeting spot, my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, waiting.

7:00 PM.

7:30 PM.

8:15 PM.

Cold air brushed against my skin as I scrolled through my phone, rereading Jungkook’s last text from Friday.

“I’ll fetch you on Sunday. I PROMISE.”

I scoffed bitterly. Of course.

Jamie’s name popped up on my screen.

Jamie: Want me to take you home?

I stared at the message for a long time before replying.

Me: No, I got it. Thanks.

Dragging my bag behind me, I hailed a cab and made my way home.

—

The apartment reeked of smoke, alcohol, and something even heavier. The sound of laughter and music pulsed through the walls.

I stepped inside, my stomach dropping at the sight before me.

Jungkook was sprawled across the couch, his long hair messy, his tattooed arm draped over a half-naked girl sitting on his lap. His lips were slightly parted, pupils blown wide as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. A mirror with white powder sat on the coffee table beside empty bottles of whiskey.

His gang members lounged around, girls draped over them like accessories, lost in their own intoxication.

It was chaotic. It was filthy.

It was everything I had been trying to ignore.

My throat tightened, but I refused to make a sound.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered lazily towards me. For a split second, his expression faltered—just for a second—before he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Ah, shit…” he muttered, rubbing his face with one hand. “I forgot, didn’t I?”

A girl whispered something in his ear, giggling as she ran her fingers down his chest. He didn’t push her away.

I clenched my fists.

I wasn’t even surprised.

I turned on my heel and walked straight to our bedroom, closing the door behind me.

I wouldn’t cry. Not this time.

I was just… tired.

So, so tired.

Author’s POV

Morning came, and Jungkook woke up with a pounding headache. His mouth was dry, his body heavy from the lingering effects of last night’s mess.

With a groggy groan, he rubbed his face, only to realize—something was off.

The bed beside him was cold.

His heart clenched as he turned his head.

No Y/n.

Panic surged through his veins. He shoved the blankets off and stumbled toward their wardrobe, yanking the doors open.

Her stuff was still there.

He let out a shaky breath, gripping his hair in frustration as flashes of last night hit him like a cruel movie reel. The powder. The drinks. The girls.

And Y/n.

Standing there. Watching him. Saying nothing, but saying everything.

The bathroom door clicked open, and he turned immediately.

Y/n stepped out, hair damp, her oversized shirt hanging loosely over her frame. But what caught Jungkook’s attention wasn’t her silence—it was her eyes.

Red. Swollen.

She had cried.

And he was the reason why.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, stepping toward her.

She didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him.

She just walked to the closet, pulling out a fresh pair of scrubs, acting as if he wasn’t there.

The coldness cut deeper than any words.

“Y/n…” He swallowed hard, desperate now. “Please. Just talk to me.”

Nothing.

She grabbed her bag, throwing in a few things, her movements stiff—controlled, like she was forcing herself to hold it together.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, his frustration bubbling over. “Damn it, can you just say something?!”

Y/n froze.

Slowly, she turned to him, eyes finally locking onto his. And when she spoke, her voice was eerily calm.

“You want me to talk, Jungkook?” she said, tilting her head. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

Jungkook felt his chest tighten.

“Let’s talk about how you forgot about me again,” she continued, stepping closer. “Let’s talk about how I had to take a cab home alone after waiting for you like an idiot.”

His jaw clenched. “Y/n, I didn’t mean to—”

“You never mean to, Jungkook!” she snapped, voice finally breaking. “But you always do! And I keep forgiving you like a fool!”

Jungkook reached for her, but she stepped back.

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand!” She let out a bitter laugh, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I love you, Jungkook. But loving you is killing me.”

Silence.

A flicker of pain crossed his face. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to break something—not at her, never at her—but at himself. At the mess he had become.

“I’m trying,” he muttered, voice strained.

Y/n scoffed. “No, you’re not. You just say that every time you mess up so I won’t leave.”

Jungkook’s throat tightened. He couldn’t deny it.

“I keep waiting,” she whispered, voice trembling now. “Waiting for you to change. Waiting for you to put me first. But I’m always second to the drugs. To the alcohol. To this life you promised you’d leave behind.”

Jungkook inhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. “Y/n, I—”

“Save it,” she cut him off.

She was done listening.

Jungkook stood there, fists clenched at his sides. He looked at her—really looked at her.

And for the first time… he saw it.

She wasn’t just mad.

She was tired.

Defeated.

The girl who used to look at him like he was her whole world… now looked at him like he was breaking it.

Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat, voice barely above a whisper.

“…Are you leaving?”

Y/n opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

And that hesitation—that split second of uncertainty—made his chest ache.

Because maybe she wasn’t ready to leave.

But she wasn’t sure if she could stay either.

Author’s POV

Silence hung heavy between them, thick with unsaid words and broken promises.

Then, Jungkook moved.

Before Y/n could step away, his arms wrapped around her—tight, desperate, pleading. His face buried into her shoulder as his grip trembled.

“Please,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Don’t go.”

Y/n’s breath hitched.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight the way her heart clenched. She tried to push him away, hands pressing against his chest, but he only held on tighter.

“Jungkook…” she choked out.

“Just… just let me hold you,” he begged, his voice thick with emotion. “Just for a second.”

Her resolve wavered.

He smelled like a mix of alcohol and cigarettes, but beneath it—beneath all the things she hated—was the scent of the man she once fell so deeply in love with.

She felt his body shaking. His breaths uneven. And then—

A tear fell onto her skin.

Jungkook was crying.

Her chest tightened as he slowly sank to the floor, pulling her down with him.

They sat there, tangled in each other, knees touching, foreheads pressed together as silent tears slipped down their faces.

“I’m so sorry,” Jungkook whispered, voice raw. “I don’t know how to be better, but I swear to God, I— I love you.”

Y/n sucked in a shaky breath, blinking away her own tears.

“I know,” she murmured. “But love isn’t enough anymore, Jungkook.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head as his fingers clung to the fabric of her shirt like she would disappear if he let go.

“I can’t lose you,” he croaked.

Y/n’s bottom lip quivered. “Then why do you keep pushing me away?”

Jungkook had no answer.

So he just held her.

Held her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

And for a moment, just a moment, Y/n let him.

Because no matter how much pain he caused—

Letting go still felt impossible.

Y/n’s sobs broke the silence, her body shaking as she finally let the pain consume her.

“I can’t do this anymore, Kook,” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook stiffened. His heart clenched so painfully it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Please don’t say that,” he sniffled, his arms tightening around her like she would slip away if he loosened his grip. “Please, baby, don’t.”

But Y/n shook her head, her tears soaking the fabric of his shirt.

“You don’t get it, do you?” she whispered, voice trembling. “I love you so much that it hurts, Jungkook. And the worst part?” She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her lips quivering. “I don’t think you’ll ever stop hurting me.”

Jungkook’s chest ached. His hands found her face, thumbs brushing against her damp cheeks.

“I’ll change,” he swore, his voice desperate. “I promise—just give me one more chance. Just one more, baby, please.”

Y/n let out a bitter laugh through her tears.

“You always do,” she murmured. “You always promise.”

Her breath hitched as she clenched her fists.

“But I end up hurting every time.”

Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath, his hands falling away.

His throat tightened, eyes burning as her words sank in like a blade to his chest.

He wanted to argue. To tell her she was wrong. That this time would be different.

But how could he?

When she was right?

Jungkook reached for her again, fingers ghosting over her wrist, but she pulled away.

And that simple movement—so small, yet so final—broke something deep inside him.

“Y/n…” his voice cracked.

But she was already standing up.

Already walking away.

And for the first time—

Jungkook felt what it was like to truly lose her.

Jungkook’s grip loosened.

For the first time, he truly felt it—the weight of his mistakes.

Y/n stood up, her legs weak beneath her, wiping at her swollen eyes. She didn’t say another word, just walked to the bed and lay down, her back turned to him.

Jungkook hesitated before following, his heart hammering in his chest.

He knelt beside the bed, his vision blurred with tears as he looked at her. The woman he loved more than anything—lying there, silent, distant.

His chest ached.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I’ll change. I swear.”

Y/n didn’t react. She just kept staring blankly at the wall, tears silently slipping from the corner of her eyes.

“I’m so tired,” she murmured.

Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat. He reached for her hand, but she didn’t hold him back.

The room fell into suffocating silence.

Hours passed. Evening fell.

Jungkook had eventually drifted off to sleep, his arms wrapped around her leg, holding onto her like a lost child. His breaths were uneven, as if even in sleep, he was afraid.

Y/n, however, stayed awake.

Her fingers lightly combed through his long, dark hair one last time, watching how peaceful he looked—how human he looked when he wasn’t drowning in alcohol, drugs, and violence.

Carefully, she shifted, easing his head onto a pillow. Jungkook stirred but didn’t wake.

She wiped her face and stood.

Then, with quiet, deliberate movements, she packed her things.

Her hands trembled as she folded the clothes he had once helped her pick out. As she placed the small gifts he had given her into her bag. As she looked around the room—their room—one last time.

Finally, she turned back to the bed.

Jungkook’s brows were furrowed, as if he could sense something was wrong even in sleep. His fingers twitched, reaching for someone who was no longer there.

Y/n felt her throat tighten.

She stepped closer, crouching beside him.

She hesitated—just for a second—before pressing the softest kiss to his temple.

“I love you, Kook,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

A tear slipped down her cheek as she lingered, memorizing the way he looked.

Then, with a shaky breath, she turned away.

And left.

Jungkook’s POV

His hands trembled as he gripped his hair, his breaths ragged and uneven. His head pounded, but nothing—nothing—hurt more than the emptiness in his chest.

"Hyung… I messed up," he choked out, voice raw with desperation.

Kim Namjoon sat beside him on the couch, his expensive cologne mixing with the thick scent of whiskey and regret that clung to the air. He exhaled slowly, swirling the dark liquor in his glass.

Jungkook's fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"It was because of that fucking woman," he spat, venom lacing his words. His jaw tightened, rage flickering behind his glassy eyes. “The bitch that was beside me that night!”

Kim Seokjin raised a brow from across the room, adjusting the sleeve of his luxurious suit. “And whose fault was that?” he asked, though his tone was indifferent, almost amused.

Jungkook’s nails dug into his palms. “If she hadn’t fucking been there, Y/n wouldn’t have left—”

“Oh, please,” Min Yoongi scoffed from the corner, his voice lazy as he tapped a cigarette against the edge of an ashtray. “You really think she left because of that girl? You’ve been screwing up for years, Kook. She was just looking for an excuse.”

Jungkook’s head snapped up, anger flashing in his bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t fucking care why she left,” he growled. “I want her back.”

A dark chuckle filled the room.

Jung Hoseok leaned back against the bar, pouring himself another drink. “So what, you’re gonna beg? Cry at her doorstep like some lovesick idiot?” He smirked. “Come on, man. You’re Jeon Jungkook.”

Park Jimin leaned forward, setting his drink down with a clink. “What exactly do you want to do, Kook?” he asked, his voice deceptively light.

Jungkook’s fingers twitched. His heart pounded in his chest.

“I want her back,” he repeated, but this time, there was something darker in his tone.

Taehyung, who had been silent until now, finally turned from the window. His sharp eyes gleamed under the dim chandelier lights.

“And what if she doesn’t want to come back?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Silence filled the room.

Jungkook’s lips parted, but nothing came out.

The room was filled with men who didn’t believe in no. Men who built their lives by taking what they wanted—by force, if necessary.

Namjoon leaned forward, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

"Then make her."

The air in the room thickened, the words settling deep into Jungkook’s mind.

His heart pounded. His grip tightened.

A slow smirk ghosted across Jimin’s lips as he reached for his phone. “Say the word, Kook,” he murmured, “and we’ll bring her back to you.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily, his mind clouded with desperation and obsession.

He had already lost her once.

He wasn’t about to let it happen again.

Basement of the Jeon Estate – Private Island

"Please! I didn’t do anything!" The woman’s sobs echoed through the cold, dark basement, her voice hoarse from screaming. She was on her knees, wrists bound together, blood smeared on the side of her face.

Jungkook towered over her, his face devoid of emotion. His grip on the gun was steady, his breathing calm. He had done this a hundred times before.

Yet this time, his rage burned hotter than ever.

"You were the one who caused this," he muttered, voice low and menacing. His eyes darkened as he took a step closer.

"You slut!" he spat before pulling the trigger.

A deafening bang echoed through the basement. The woman’s body slumped to the floor, lifeless. Blood pooled beneath her, staining the concrete.

Jungkook exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he turned away from the corpse. His hand didn’t tremble. His heart didn’t race.

He felt nothing.

A slow, deliberate clap filled the room.

“Well done, son,” a deep voice spoke from behind him.

Jungkook didn’t even flinch.

Jeon Junhyuk, his father, stepped forward, pride gleaming in his sharp eyes. His suit was pristine, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back perfectly. He rested a firm hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“I’m so proud of you.” His lips curled into a smirk.

Jungkook didn’t reply. He just nodded once, slipping the gun back into his holster as they exited the dimly lit basement.

The Jeon Estate – Dining Hall

The scent of roasted meat, cigar smoke, and expensive whiskey filled the grand dining hall. Laughter erupted from the long mahogany table, surrounded by men in tailored suits—Korea’s most powerful businessmen, criminals who masked their dirty dealings behind legitimate empires.

Women in silk dresses sat on their laps, giggling, whispering sweet nothings to the men who could end lives with a single phone call.

As Jungkook and his father entered, conversations hushed momentarily before resuming.

“Ah, Jeon!” Kim Sik, Taehyung’s father, raised his glass in greeting. “Join us! Your son is becoming quite the man.”

Junhyuk chuckled, pulling out his chair at the head of the table. “That he is,” he agreed, sipping his whiskey.

A woman with dark red lipstick slinked toward Junhyuk, her hands ghosting over his shoulders. “Mr. Jeon,” she purred.

Jungkook barely paid her any attention. He sat beside his father, silent, as he stared blankly at the table.

“Son,” Junhyuk’s voice cut through the noise. “Why not have another woman? There are plenty left for you.”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered to his father’s, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand.

The other men nodded in agreement.

“Yes, Jungkook,” Kim Sik added. “Women in Ireland, Australia… anywhere you want.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw, his gaze dark and unreadable.

“I am a man who loves a woman, Father,” he said, his voice steady but laced with an edge of finality.

The table quieted slightly, eyes turning toward him in curiosity.

Jungkook exhaled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

“If I could have a family…” His voice softened for a moment. “It would only be with her.”

And for the first time in a long time, Jeon Jungkook felt something.

Regret.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, the glow of the chandelier casting sharp shadows across his face. His fingers tapped against the rim of his glass, mind lost in thoughts of her.

He had always been selfish. He had always taken what he wanted.

And right now, he wanted her back.

“So,” a deep voice interrupted his thoughts.

Jung Kyuseok, Hoseok’s father, set his glass down with a soft clink, eyeing Jungkook curiously. “What’s your plan?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe we could help.”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, a ghost of a smirk forming.

“I’ll give her time,” he murmured, voice low. “I’ll make myself worthy of her.”

Some of the men scoffed. Others chuckled.

“Worthy?” Seokjin’s father raised an amused brow. “That’s a new one. Since when does a Jeon earn something instead of taking it?”

Jungkook’s fingers stilled against the glass.

“I will take her,” he said darkly, his voice laced with something far more dangerous. He looked up, his gaze cold, predatory.

“As soon as I’m ready.”

The meaning behind his words was clear.

The table fell silent for a moment before Junhyuk chuckled, swirling his whiskey lazily.

“That’s my boy.”

4 Months After the Breakup

Y/n’s POV

I curled up on the small couch, a warm cup of tea in my hands, as the soft hum of the city outside filled the quiet space of my apartment.

My apartment.

The thought still felt foreign. This place, once just an old memory of my grandmother, had now become my safe haven. It smelled of fresh linen and vanilla candles—nothing like the suffocating scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke that used to cling to my clothes.

I glanced around, taking in the cozy mess of my books stacked on the coffee table, the soft knitted blanket draped over the armrest. It was far from luxury, far from the extravagant penthouse I once shared with him—but it was mine.

For months, I thought I needed him.

For months, I convinced myself that without Jeon Jungkook, I would crumble. That my world would shatter beyond repair.

But here I was. Breathing. Living. Surviving.

And then it hit me—I can really live without him.

I wasn’t broken. I was just attached.

I exhaled, a small, almost bitter smile forming on my lips. Maybe this was always meant to happen. Maybe we were never made for each other, just two souls colliding at the wrong time, mistaking chaos for love.

And maybe, just maybe, letting go was the bravest thing I ever did.

The rhythmic sound of fists slamming against the heavy bag echoed through the private gym. Jungkook's muscles tensed with each strike, sweat dripping down his sculpted frame, his breath steady but heavy. He had been here for months—isolated, disciplined, clean.

No smoking. No drinking. No drugs. No women.

Just training, rebuilding, and regaining control.

“Son, walk with me,” a deep voice broke through the silence.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. His hands moved with practiced ease as he untied the wraps around his knuckles, his calloused fingers flexing as if ready to fight the ghosts in his mind.

He followed his father out of the training hall, stepping onto the grand garden path. The moon cast a silver glow over the vast estate, the air crisp with the scent of the ocean. Flowers of every color bloomed around them, swaying gently with the wind.

“These were your mother’s favorites,” Junhyuk murmured, his gaze softening as he reached out to touch a delicate white lily.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched at the mention of her. His mother—the only person who had ever taught him love without conditions.

Junhyuk turned to face him, his expression shifting back to its usual steel.

“This fortress is yours, son,” he stated, his voice laced with finality. “Continue the legacy that your mother and I started.”

Jungkook remained silent, staring at the empire laid before him.

Power. Wealth. Control.

It was all his for the taking.

Y/n’s POV

Months passed in a blur of textbooks, late-night study sessions, and the unrelenting pressure of med school. The anxiety and sleepless nights felt endless, but every moment was worth it. And today—today—it all came to fruition.

I stood at the front of the auditorium, my cap and gown draped over my shoulders, the sea of faces blurring in front of me. My friends, Jamie and Sungkyung, stood beside me, their smiles wide and bright. We had made it.

“I can’t believe we’re actually done,” Sungkyung whispered, squeezing my arm. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“I know,” I replied, my voice cracking slightly. “It feels unreal.”

Jamie grinned, her eyes playful as always, but there was an undeniable softness to her expression. “You did it, Y/n. You actually survived.”

We all laughed, the weight of the past few years finally lifting.

As the ceremony continued, I couldn’t help but think back on everything I’d been through—the highs, the lows, and everything in between. There was a part of me that had once thought I couldn’t do it, that I wasn’t strong enough. But I was. I had proved that to myself.

Graduating wasn’t just about the degree; it was about the journey. It was about finding strength in moments of vulnerability, realizing that no matter how hard it got, I could always stand back up.

“Look at you, all grown up,” Jamie said, nudging me. “Soon, you’ll be the one saving lives.”

“Maybe,” I chuckled, but my heart swelled with pride.

Sungkyung wrapped her arms around me. “You’ve come a long way, Y/n. I’m so proud of you.”

I smiled, feeling a weight lift from my chest. For the first time in a long while, I felt truly content.

Author’s POV

Two years had passed.

Y/n had moved on, embracing the life she had built for herself. She had no time for the ghosts of the past, no time to dwell on what might have been.

She was thriving.

Working as a doctor at a private hospital, she had made a name for herself—though still considered a newbie, she carried herself with confidence. Every day was an opportunity to prove that she could stand tall on her own, no longer tied to a world of chaos and heartache.

Tonight, as the amber glow of streetlights reflected off the pavement, Y/n pulled into the parking lot of her small, cozy apartment. The engine of her modest car hummed as she cut it off, the silence of the late evening settling around her. She wasn’t driving some sleek, expensive car, but the one she had now was hers.

She stepped out, locking the car, and grabbed the grocery bags from the passenger seat. They were a mix of essentials—nothing glamorous, just the basics after a long shift. Her feet carried her toward the entrance of the building when a familiar voice called out from behind her.

“Hey, Dr. Y/L/N!”

Y/n turned to find her neighbor, Suxi, standing by her door with a friendly smile on her face.

“Hey, Suxi,” Y/n greeted her with a tired but warm smile, her eyes still holding that glimmer of kindness that never seemed to fade.

Suxi took a moment to look at Y/n, her gaze thoughtful. “Long shift, huh?” she asked, noticing the exhaustion in her eyes.

Y/n nodded, adjusting the grocery bags in her hands. “Yeah, but it’s worth it. One step closer to where I want to be.”

Suxi chuckled. “I see that. You’re always hustling. You know, you’re really something, Y/n. I admire you.”

Y/n paused for a moment, looking up at the stars overhead. “Thanks, Suxi. It hasn’t been easy, but I think it’s starting to feel like it’s all coming together.”

“Good,” Suxi said with a smile, “You deserve it.”

The exchange was simple, but there was something about the moment that made Y/n reflect. Two years had gone by, and she was stronger than she had ever been. She had rebuilt herself—piece by piece, day by day.

But somewhere, deep down, she couldn’t shake the lingering question: What about him?

Jungkook’s days had been spent in a haze of cold isolation, but he had not forgotten. Even in the silence of his private island retreat, his mind often wandered back to her.

She had moved on.

He had seen her, unknowingly, through the lens of others—his men. He wasn’t foolish enough to approach her directly. Not yet. But he needed to know. He needed to see for himself how she was living, whether she was truly gone from his life or whether some part of her still lingered.

The men were discreet, of course.

Their orders were clear:

Follow her. Watch her.

They had been tailing her for weeks now, their presence so subtle she wouldn’t even know she was being watched. Jungkook sat in the shadowed confines of a luxury car parked far enough down the street, watching her apartment from behind tinted windows. A man in a dark suit, sitting beside him, leaned forward and spoke in a low tone.

“She just left her building, sir. Heading to the grocery store.”

Jungkook nodded once, his eyes narrowing. His fingers clenched into a fist on his lap.

“Good,” he muttered. “Keep watching.”

His men followed her every move—tracking her comings and goings, making sure nothing went unnoticed. Y/n’s world, her quiet life, was being slowly cataloged. Every smile exchanged with neighbors, every simple errand completed, and every peaceful moment she thought was hers—he saw it all.

From the rearview mirror, Jungkook’s reflection stared back at him, cold and distant.

It was maddening, the way he couldn’t let go, even as she moved forward, living her life without him.

A part of him was still haunted by her absence, consumed by the idea of losing her.

“Make sure she’s safe,” he ordered quietly, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside him. “No one gets too close.”

The men nodded in silence, as they continued their watch.

Y/n’s feet echoed softly against the hallway floor as she walked toward her apartment door, the weight of the grocery bags pulling at her arms. The world around her seemed peaceful, as it always did after a long shift. Her neighbors had already retired for the night, and the usual hum of city life had quieted down.

But tonight, something felt different—like a quiet tension in the air she couldn’t quite place.

As she approached her door, she heard footsteps behind her—slow, deliberate, too steady to be a casual passerby.

Before she could react, strong arms grabbed her from behind. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she struggled against their hold, her grocery bags slipping from her grip. She spun around, but the cold steel of a gun pressed to her side froze her in place.

“Don’t scream,” one of the men warned, his voice low and menacing.

Y/n’s heart hammered in her chest, panic flooding her system. She couldn’t even scream if she wanted to—the threat of the gun was too real. She instinctively reached for her phone, but another man grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully.

“What the hell do you want?” she demanded, her voice trembling but defiant.

“We’re not here for you to talk, Dr. Y/L/N,” another man said, his grip tightening.

They started to drag her toward the elevator, her feet stumbling as she struggled to break free. The cold, silent presence of the men only intensified her fear. She recognized their faces—sharp suits, dark expressions—no one she knew, but they had the look of people who didn’t care if they were noticed.

They shoved her into the elevator, one of the men pressing the button for the ground floor. Y/n’s breath came in shallow gasps, her mind racing for an escape, for anything she could do to get out of this. She barely registered the elevator descending—her focus was on the sharp edge of the barrel against her side, the feeling of helplessness beginning to drown her.

When the elevator doors opened, they pulled her out into the underground garage, where a black van was waiting. The men shoved her into the back with frightening ease, slamming the door behind her.

The moment she landed in the cold, dark interior, the door to the front of the van opened, and a figure stepped inside—Jungkook.

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with shock.

“You...” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Jungkook stood in front of her, looking more like a stranger than the man she once loved. His hair was a little longer, his face harder, the darkness in his eyes unmistakable. He looked almost... broken.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice rough, like he wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry.”

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. “What have you done?” she managed to choke out, the betrayal and fear flooding her in equal measure.

Jungkook stepped forward, his face serious, but his hands trembled as he reached for her.

“I had to. I... I didn’t know how to get you back, but I’m not letting you go again.”

The van rumbled down the road as Y/n sat there, her heart racing in her chest. Jungkook’s presence in the van made everything feel so much heavier. His face was set in a grim expression, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. He hadn’t said much since she had seen him, and the weight of silence between them was suffocating.

She pulled herself away from him, trying to steady her breathing, but the panic only grew.

“You don’t have to do this,” Y/n said, her voice shaking but firm. “Let me go. Please, Jungkook.”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze cold, as though he were still wrestling with his own emotions.

Before she could say anything else, one of the men in the back of the van moved toward her. He was tall, wearing a black suit, his expression blank. He pulled out a small syringe from his pocket and showed it to her, the liquid inside swirling ominously under the dim lights of the van.

“No,” Y/n whispered, her voice low and panicked. “Please—what are you doing?”

The man didn’t answer, his face stone-cold. He grabbed her arm roughly, and before she could even try to pull away, the needle pierced her skin.

The cold sting of the injection spread through her veins, and a strange dizziness washed over her immediately. Her body felt heavy, like the weight of the world had suddenly shifted to her shoulders.

“No... no, please...” Y/n’s words slurred as she fought against the effects of the sedative. Her mind was starting to fog over, the world around her blurring. She tried to push herself up, to get away, but the strength to move was slipping away.

Jungkook’s eyes locked onto hers, a faint, almost sorrowful look in his gaze.

“I didn’t want to do this, but you left me no choice.” His voice was barely a whisper, and it hurt more than the physical pain.

She opened her mouth to speak, to plead with him one last time, but her vision swam, her head growing heavier by the second.

“I’m sorry, Y/n…” Jungkook’s voice was the last thing she heard before everything went dark.

Her body slumped, her head falling against the cold, hard surface of the van as the sedative pulled her into an unconscious haze.

Author’s POV

The low hum of the boat’s engine was the only sound filling the thick silence of the night. Y/n was completely unconscious, her body slumped in the back of the van, but her mind was still lingering somewhere in the darkness. The sedative had done its job, but it didn’t erase her awareness—only dulled it.

She could hear the men talking, their voices muffled but distinct in the space around her.

“What are we going to do with her, boss?” one of the men asked, his tone filled with cold curiosity.

Jungkook’s voice, steady and commanding, cut through the air.

“Take her to the room,” he ordered, his words deliberate, like each one was weighed with a heavy, irreversible finality.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat despite the fog in her mind. The room? She didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend what they meant.

Her head felt heavy, like it was being pulled underwater, but she could still hear them clearly.

“The room?” the man asked again, his voice betraying some uncertainty.

Jungkook didn’t falter. “Yes, the lab. The doctor that Kim Sik hired will be there, and she’ll do her part.”

Y/n’s body twitched involuntarily as her heart pounded against her ribcage. Lab? She could barely process the words as they hit her like a wave. What were they planning to do with her? The dread crept in, but her body refused to respond—still too sedated to fight, too weak to even move.

Jungkook’s voice softened just slightly, as if trying to reassure her despite the cold command in his previous words.

“You’ll be okay, baby,” he said, his words barely a whisper in the room. The tone was strangely gentle, like he was speaking to the woman he loved and not the person he had just dragged into this terrifying reality. “You’ll wake up, and everything will fall into place.”

But his words didn’t bring comfort. They only deepened the pit of fear that had already started forming in her chest.

Y/n’s eyelids fluttered, a half-conscious attempt to wake up, but the sedative still held a firm grip on her senses. Her mind raced, but her body was far too heavy to move. She felt as if she were sinking deeper into the darkness with each passing second.

Author’s POV

Y/n jolted awake, gasping for air as she clutched her stomach. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths shallow and erratic. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus on her surroundings. She was in their bed, the familiar sheets surrounding her. The nightmare she had just woken from felt so vivid, so real. She could still feel the coldness of the laboratory bed, her clothes being ripped away, and the excruciating numbness spreading across her body. But now... now she was safe.

She touched her stomach instinctively, but when her fingers brushed over her skin, she froze. Her fingers curled around a cool metal band—a wedding ring. Jungkook.

Her eyes widened as the confusion washed over her. The dream, the nightmare, was so real, so terrifying. But... where was the baby?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Jungkook’s voice pulled her from her racing thoughts. His voice was raspy, like he had just woken up as well, though his tone was laced with concern. He reached for her gently, brushing her hair back as she sat up on the bed. “Come back to sleep, babe,” he urged softly.

Y/n blinked, still trying to piece everything together. “I… I thought…” She trailed off, shaking her head as her confusion only deepened.

The morning light crept into their room, but Y/n still felt unsettled, as if the fog of the nightmare was clinging to her, threatening to pull her under once again.

She stumbled out of bed, the dizziness hitting her like a wave. The nausea crept up in her stomach before she even made it to the bathroom. She barely managed to make it to the sink before she bent over, vomiting heavily.

Jungkook was quick to follow, his hands gentle as he held her hair back, his other hand resting on her back as he murmured softly.

“Baby, let’s get you checked out, babe,” he said, his voice filled with concern. There was an underlying tension in it, but it wasn’t the same coldness she had grown used to.

Y/n wiped her mouth, the taste lingering bitterly. “Yeah, I think so too... I’ve been dreaming weirdly these past few weeks,” she admitted, her voice hoarse. The feeling of the nightmare still haunted her, and the confusion lingered like an unwelcome guest.

Jungkook’s expression was unreadable as he helped her back to their bed, though his eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite place. He was trying to be supportive, but something about his demeanor made her feel like he was hiding something.

After a brief moment of silence, they were on their way to the hospital, the drive uneventful but tense.

Once they arrived, Y/n was led into a sterile examination room, the hospital’s cold air doing nothing to ease the chill she felt inside. The nurse led her inside, and she couldn’t help but blink in surprise when she saw the woman’s face. It was... Sungkyung.

For a brief moment, Y/n thought she was still in the dream. The nurse's face was the same, and the familiarity sent a shiver down her spine.

“Sungkyung?” Y/n asked in disbelief, but the nurse simply smiled warmly at her.

“Just call me Nurse Jung,” she said lightly, adjusting her clipboard.

The doctor came in shortly after, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat when she saw her. The doctor had the same features, the same aura. It was Jamie.

Jamie’s face looked as serious as ever, but Y/n could see a glimmer of recognition in her eyes.

“Y/n, we’ll take good care of you,” the doctor said, her voice calm but filled with concern. “I know you’re worried, but we’re going to run a few tests to make sure everything is okay.”

Y/n swallowed thickly, her mind still hazy from the nightmare. Tests? But what was she supposed to be worried about?

The doctor pulled out an ultrasound machine, and Y/n was too exhausted to protest. The cold gel hit her stomach, sending a wave of discomfort through her body. The monitor flickered to life, and her heart skipped a beat when the technician started moving the wand around.

Jamie, standing next to her, gave a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Y/n. We’ll see what’s going on in there.”

But when the screen lit up, Y/n’s entire world stopped. The small, flickering shape on the monitor was unmistakable. It was a baby.

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Am I...?”

“Yes,” Jamie said gently, nodding. “You’re pregnant, Y/n.”

A heavy silence filled the room. Y/n’s mind raced as her hand instinctively went to her stomach. The baby. The nightmare. She was pregnant.

But the question that filled her head was why? Why did she have no memory of this? What happened to her during the time she’d been missing? What was Jungkook hiding?

Tears filled her eyes as the truth sank in. She wasn’t just haunted by her nightmares—there was something much darker she had yet to understand.

Y/n’s heart was pounding in her chest, her hands shaking as she looked at the ultrasound screen. The small flickering shape of the baby—it was unmistakable. The words the doctor spoke barely registered in her mind, her breath caught in her throat as her world seemed to spin out of control.

“You’re pregnant, Y/n.”

The words echoed in her head like a haunting melody, but something deep inside her instinctively felt like there was more. The nightmare, the strange sensations, the growing sense of dread—it all made sense now, but it didn’t quite fit. How was she pregnant? What had happened during the time she couldn’t remember?

Jamie, still standing next to her, looked at her with concern, her gaze lingering on Y/n as she processed the news.

“You’re going to be okay, Y/n,” Jamie said softly, but her voice didn’t sound reassuring. It was filled with an unspoken worry, like there was something more hidden beneath the surface.

Y/n’s eyes darted between Jamie and the monitor. “How… How long have I been pregnant?”

The question hung in the air, and Jamie’s silence spoke volumes. She shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the nurse who stood in the corner of the room.

“I… I need to check something,” Jamie finally said, her voice quieter than before.

Before Y/n could ask anything further, Jamie stepped away, whispering something to the nurse who quickly left the room. The air felt thick with tension, and Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Suddenly, the door to the examination room creaked open again. A figure entered, standing still in the doorway for a moment.

Jungkook.

His eyes locked onto hers, and his face was unreadable. He stepped inside, his footsteps slow but deliberate. The cold, emotionless look in his eyes made Y/n’s chest tighten.

"Y/n..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the moment hanging between them.

“Jungkook…” Her voice cracked, too many questions swirling in her mind. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me I was pregnant?"

His eyes flickered with something unreadable, then a shadow passed over his face. He walked closer, his presence overpowering the room.

“Because I didn’t want you to know,” he said softly, the words sending a chill down her spine.

A silence settled between them, thick and suffocating. And just as Y/n opened her mouth to respond, she heard a soft knock on the door.

A voice from behind the door, low and authoritative, echoed through the room:

“Mr. Jeon... we have a problem.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes darted between Jungkook and the door. What could be more of a problem than this?

Jungkook’s expression turned cold, and he glanced back at the door. “Not now,” he muttered, but the voice on the other side persisted.

“It’s urgent, sir.”

Jungkook’s eyes met Y/n’s for a moment, his gaze darkening. The tension was palpable.

“Stay here,” he said to Y/n, his voice low, a command disguised as concern. But she could feel the weight of his words—there was something more behind them.

Before she could respond, he turned, walking swiftly toward the door.

“Wait, Jungkook, what’s going on? What’s happening?” Y/n called out, panic rising in her chest.

But Jungkook didn’t look back. As the door slammed shut behind him, Y/n was left alone in the room, her heart racing, her mind spinning.

The sound of muffled voices outside the door grew louder as she sat there, alone with her thoughts. She had no idea what was happening, what Jungkook had been hiding from her all this time.

And then, suddenly, a soft beep filled the room—an ominous sound coming from the monitor beside her.

She looked at the screen, her eyes widening as the numbers on the machine flickered and changed.

It wasn’t just her pregnancy that was a mystery anymore.

It was everything.