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ahundredtimesover · 9 months ago

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I Want You to Stay (08) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; use of the term slut in a derogatory way, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 17.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii thank you again for all your love and appreciation for this story. Srsly, I'm perpetually blown away 🥰 But like I've mentioned, updates will take longer after this as I return to uni, so I hope for your patience as we get closer to the end.

This chapter also contains triggering topics such as sexual harassment and attempted assault. There's a discussion on what happens after something traumatizing like that, so pls be cautious and know that what's depicted here is just another way of dealing with such experience.

On another note, I hope you enjoy this!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The end-of-autumn chilly air pierces through your skin, lingering even as you settle inside the plant store that gives the warmth that you need. You sigh in relief, and Soomin and Jimin giggle at you because they know how you are. It’s why during moments like this, their affection shows, hugging you from each side as you look up at the shelf for another rubber tree you want to add to your collection.

“What are you two on about?” You ask, nonchalantly releasing your arm to get your chosen glossy plant.

“Nothing, just showing our love,” Soomin says, resting her chin on your shoulder. “We know you love the cold even if you easily get cold. You don’t like hugs either but you can’t do anything about us.”

“It’s true that I can’t do anything about the both of you,” you hum. “But you also know it’s not that I don’t like hugs. It’s just not my preferred form of affection.”

“Even after all the years that we’ve been giving it to you?” Jimin asks, as he pulls away from you to place the plant in your cart.

“Yeah. I mean, if I only give or receive it every few weeks, then it wouldn’t be,” you respond. “But I also wouldn’t really know. Other than you guys, there’s not much affection I feel towards other people.”

It’s a reality you’ve long accepted. You’re away from your family and friends, and the only other form of affection you receive is through sex with the few men you’ve been interested in - pleasurable at best, shallow at worst. Perhaps it’s the reason why you do, you think now. They’re still good substitutes. Being alone doesn’t feel so lonely when you’re intimate with people you don’t exactly share moments of intimacy with. You’ve learned these last few years that there’s a difference.

Your friends just hum in agreement, choosing now to point out that your home is transforming into some zen garden with the amount of plants you’ve bought just this last month.

“Should I just be a gardener or a plant store worker?” You look at them. “Or study to become a landscape designer?”

“Honey, tending to low-maintenance plants is a different thing,” Soomin chuckles. “That’s a start, though. But kidding aside, so a career change is what you’re going for?”

“Hmm, just a thought,” you shrug. “What if moving companies isn’t just what I need? What if it’s doing something completely different? Like being out of an office or answering to someone or something?”

“That’s true. Sometimes we find what we’re looking for in unfamiliar environments,” Jimin chimes in. “Are you thinking about doing it soon?”

“Maybe not,” you say. “I’ve become quite invested in the Arts Center and I really wanna see it through. Maybe after it’s opened, then that’s when I’ll finally step away.”

“Well, you have been doing a lot of work for it,” Soomin agrees. “But… are you sure it’s the only thing holding you back? And not someone specific? A boss, maybe?”

“The Arts Center isn’t holding me back, Soo. And neither is Jungkook,” you state. “After all the years I spent in the company, I don’t wanna let anything or anyone keep me from doing what’s best for me. I don’t… I don’t wanna get stuck there. I don’t wanna keep feeling indebted. That’s what’s held me back this whole time.”

“Oh, hun,” Soomin sighs. “You don’t owe anyone anything. And if you did, you’ve paid your dues, all eight years of them.”

As Jimin heads out to get his car, she entangles her arm around yours and asks again if your decision to wait to resign has something to do with Jungkook.

“Why are you so insistent?” You frown at her.

“Just… wondering. You haven’t expressed disdain for him in so long. Even the weekly ugh work drives me nuts messages have stopped, and that says a lot. I was just thinking that maybe he’s gone soft on you, and that you’ve gone soft on him, too. I just wanna make sure I’m ready when you drop the bomb on us or something. I mean, you two have so much tension, who knows what’ll happen?”

“Okay, what if I’ve just developed better coping mechanisms now and can manage without complaining about it? That’s a possibility. And, even if I’ve been busy with organizing events and stuff, I actually enjoy that,” you explain.

“Okay. So what about Jungkook?”

You look away, knowing that any acknowledgment of the comfort you’ve started to feel around him may start to mean something else once you say it. Admitting even the tiniest bit of attraction is even more of a no-no, so you just play it off, the same way you did when you got home from the gala and you dodged all questions about him, choosing instead to talk about the delicious food and the weird people you met.

“We’ve found a way to move on from how we started and learned that we actually work really well together. We have to be professional and all that.”

Right, you scoff to yourself. Thinking about your boss’ smile as you fall asleep is anything but professional.

“Fine, whatever you say,” she gives in as the car comes into view. “Just know that I’m here, okay? Jimin’s a bit protective and still hasn’t gotten over how that man treated you so you can talk to me in case anything else changes.”

“I will,” you say, giving her hand a squeeze.

You spend the rest of that weekend watching movies and singing your hearts out at a karaoke and stuffing your faces with good food. Before you know it, you’re back in your bed on a Sunday, all alone, but you don’t feel so lonely, nor do you feel so terrible at having to start another week. If anything, you’re wondering how Jungkook spent these last two days. At a club, maybe. He did say there’s always a party he’s invited to.

You stop yourself from thinking of what happens after that. He’s got women at his beck and call after all, even when he’s in Singapore, as Lucas had told you during your call two months ago. But it doesn’t really matter - Jungkook is Jungkook and you’re you. And that’s not yet even considering the glaring reality of him being your boss.

Ever since the gala, you can say that there’s been a change in how you’ve been with him. There’s a lot more attention, you’d say. There’s more admiration, too, when it comes to him doing his work, making decisions, and drawing up plans and designs.

You understand the distance and the detachment somehow. You suppose that whatever he experienced made him that way, so you’d make an effort into making him smile, teasing him a little more than usual so there’s a bit more joy in his day. You can say he’s gotten used to it. Even Mr. Ri would laugh and join in.

And that’s the thing - you anticipate it. You look forward to the curl of his lips and the dip on his lower cheek and the softness in his eyes and the way he turns away or bows his head to hide it. Even the way he’d play it off is quite endearing, a term you never thought you’d use to describe him. It makes you wonder if people had tried to get to know him, maybe knock on the door and wait around to see if he’d come out and let them in.

But all that has brought you to right now - Sunday night as you think about seeing him the next morning. You think back to all the times that you’d entered his penthouse and saw him in his gym attire post-workout, the seconds you’d spent so close to him as you adjusted his necktie, and the breakfasts and car rides you’d shared. You recall the nods of acknowledgement after serving him his coffee, the times he’d agreed with your recommendations, and the instances he’d turned to you for support and his look of thanks after you’ve given it.

Then there’s the grazing of your fingertips, the brushing of arms, the interlocking of eyes.

And your heart, beating a little too fast then.

You groan to yourself. You really have to find a way for this to stop.

You try to keep your distance from Jungkook for the next few days.

You do your usual - fix his outfit, eat with him the breakfast you prepared, go through schedules, and join him in meetings. You do away with the eye contact, you skip the teasing, and you don’t share about your evening like you’ve been doing. And that’s only because doing so just gives you moments to remember, like his gazes lingering or the sound of his laughter. Even more, it messes with your mind thinking that just like you, he spends most of his weeknights alone.

You act unbothered, although him catching you looking at him from your office seat and then you, quickly looking away doesn’t really help your case.

It’s on Wednesday when he passes by your desk to put back some files and you return to your task after giving him a small smile when he asks if you’re okay.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon. Just a little tired but aren’t we all?” You respond, your eyes flitting from him to your desktop screen.

“Yes, but most of us take breaks. You don’t,” he counters.

“Neither do you,” you turn to him with an arched brow.

It’s become a habit of yours to remind him to rest but just like you, he’s pretty stubborn.

“Ah, there you are,” he chuckles. “I was almost convinced you’re not really my assistant if you didn’t point that out but alas, it’s you.”

“Are you testing me, sir?” You frown at him.

A mistake, really, since he gives you that teasing smirk of his that you’re learning is your weakness.

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “You just haven’t seemed like yourself all week and I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay. You can take a leave tomorrow, if that’s what you need.”

“It’s okay, sir. And I’m fine,” you assure him, realizing that there’s not much that could keep you away from him. “Plus, we have that dinner with the media festival organizers tomorrow evening and it’s the only time they’re free.”

“I know,” he sighs. “As long as you’re sure. It’s selfish but I do need you there.”

Of course he does, you think to yourself. You’re there to make his life easier, after all. It’s the only reason why he’d ever need you or want you around.

You confirm that you’ll go to work tomorrow and sigh in relief when he doesn’t say anything more. You decide to go home, wanting to get to the weekend so you can find some distraction, in whatever way that may be.

Thursday comes and you spend your day divided between working with the support team for the upcoming VP events and coordinating with the Arts Center marketing team for the deliverables they need signed off.

It’s busy enough that you don’t see much of Jungkook but that only really lasts until you have to accompany him to that welcome dinner with the organizers of the international media festival that Jungkook wanted to collaborate with for the Arts Center promotions. It’s happening in August of next year and while the partnership has been established, he wants to work on his relationship with them so that the plans could firm up quickly.

You head to Jungkook’s restaurant of choice in Itaewon, a fancy place that serves Korean dishes in a modern, artistic way. You’ve heard about it before; the food looks like something you could put at an art gallery. Korea’s exceptional ability to merge traditional and modern elements is reflected in this restaurant’s menu. It’s why he wanted to bring them here, he tells you.

You settle in your seat, excited for the dishes that are about to come out, and that’s when you see him, the man you dated before Hajoon, and someone you haven’t heard from in a while. Of course, that wasn’t always the case. He continued to reach out months after you ended things with him. It seemed harmless then, and it was only two years ago when he finally stopped.

Chi-won recognizes you first, having come in to serve the first set of dishes. He stares as he sets the plate in front of you, his gaze lingering even as he moves on to one of the organizers to your right. He looks different, which is why it took you another look for his face to register. He’s lost weight and cut his hair; his features look somehow harder, too.

There’s an intensity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. He was pretty laid-back, a reason why you both clicked that first time. He’d have his moments of frustration, letting them out in his own ways like in the bedroom, but he always seemed to get over them quickly.

Things were always casual and you made sure he knew that. He didn’t seem to mind at first but he started to want more and with your new role with Hoseok then, you were always tired and busy. The nights with Chi-won stopped being your relief, and when you told him you couldn’t see him anymore, he seemed to accept it. The messages shortly after were just about asking how you were doing and after answering twice, you stopped replying and then changed your number. You haven’t heard from him since, and you assumed he’d just accepted things and moved on.

But tonight you feel the tension, and so when he stands close to you when he serves the succeeding plates and when he waits around your table to watch you eat, you start to feel uncomfortable.

You try to be present in the conversation happening around you, as the organizers seem to be enjoying the meal while also pitching in some ideas for the launch. You try to focus on Jungkook’s voice this time to distract you. But the pair of eyes that seems to watch your every move starts to become too much, and the anxiety builds as each second ticks by.

It’s while you wait for the dessert when you take the opportunity to step out. Jungkook mentions the invitation drafts so you say that they’re saved in your iPad that you’ll retrieve from the car parked on the other street. He agrees that it would be good to show them, so you excuse yourself and get some much needed fresh air, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulder just by not being in the same space as Chi-won.

That is, until you hear a familiar voice call your name.

You stiffen for only a moment then continue to walk, fumbling for your phone as you try to dial Mr. Ri’s number. But you don’t get to, as the man following you pulls your wrist to get you to face him. You jerk in response, dropping your phone on the ground, and the fear fills you immediately.

“Don’t touch me,” you seeth, cradling your arm as you pick up your phone.

You try to stay calm, even as his smug face gives you chills, and you try to remember the man who liked to laugh and joke around those years ago, seeing now that he’s nothing like him.

“Funny you say that when that’s all you wanted me to do before,” he mocks, inching closer to you. “I know you remember, ___. Those nights were amazing, weren’t they? Your body and your moans told me so, so I don’t know why you wanted them to stop.”

You want to stay silent and not give him anything, but there’s desperation in his eyes, and you’re afraid of what he’ll do if you don’t even acknowledge him, so you give the same explanation you did before.

“I told you. I didn’t want anything serious,” you say, making sure you keep your distance from him.

“That’s not what you’d say whenever you’re drunk,” he counters. “You’d go on about not wanting to be alone, about wanting to be taken care of and being with someone who made you feel loved.”

“I never said I wanted it to be you,” you respond, too quickly for his liking it seems, as you see his look turn into anger.

“So what was I for?” He demands. “Just the guy you fucked for the sake of it?”

“I was stressed with work and you hated yours,” you remind him. “That’s all we needed each other for.”

“But things changed for me,” he says, his voice softening again, the fluctuation of his tone scaring you even more. “I wanted to be with you. And seeing you now, I know I still do.”

“But I don’t,” you state. “I didn’t then and I don’t even now.”

“But you wanted that restaurant owner, didn’t you?” He demands, worrying you that he knows about Hajoon.

“No, that didn’t mean anything. We were never together.”

“Bullshit, ___. I’d see you at the clubs around here with his arm on your waist, just like I used to do. That clearly meant something.”

The thought that Chi-won kept tabs on you even after you ended things makes you angry. Perhaps it’s because he works around the area you frequented during those times but even then, the fact that he even knows what Hajoon does for a living is crossing the line, and in your frustration, you hit Chi-won where it hurts the most.

“Clearly it didn’t mean enough because I’m not seeing him anymore. And I was never serious with him, just like I wasn’t with you.”

He visibly groans. He walks closer to you again, prompting you to walk backwards. With you turned back and walking on your heels on the uneven pavement, you’re worried you’ll hurt yourself. Even more, a part of you is scared that he’ll hurt you. It’s still early on a Thursday night and you’re in the quieter part of town so there aren’t many people walking on the streets; those who are are too far for you to catch their attention. So you continue your steps until you’re backed up against the wall and with nowhere to go, you start to panic, feeling the fear slowly overtake you.

“You know, I came out here because I wanted to talk to you just to see how you were doing since you know, I actually cared about you like you wanted,” he rolls his eyes. “But seeing you act like none of what we shared mattered just makes me so angry. Why do you get to go on and treat me like shit? I’m just gonna have to do the same, then.”

At this, he cages you, his face too close to yours that you freeze in fear. The smirk makes you nauseous, but somehow you find the strength to push him away but he comes back right after, closer each time.

“I said, don’t touch me!” You yell, giving him another shove. “Just stay away from me!”

Chi-won grabs your wrist once more, holding you tightly so he can show you that he has control and that he can do whatever he wants.

“Let me go!” You plead, but he doesn’t budge.

“I don’t want to, not when I get to have you all alone after so long,” he hums, licking his lips and dragging his eyes all over your body. “I always liked it when you came over wearing that skirt of yours.”

You know this is what he wants. He wants you to be scared, he wants to haunt your dreams and not make you forget him because he knows that you obviously already had. You’re terrified but you try to gather whatever courage you have within you to fight back.

But it’s then that you hear footsteps, and a shadow appears behind Chi-won.

“She said to let her go.”

Jungkook’s voice is hard, tense, angry. But there’s control, and you can tell that he’s trying to hold himself back. He comes into view, the mix of worry and anger on his face helping to relieve your fear.

But it doesn’t affect Chi-won, as he continues to hold onto your wrist. Your strained face lets Jungkook know that you’re still in the man’s hold, prompting him to walk closer and repeat his words.

“I said to let her go,” he demands. “Do it. Because we both know there are so many things I can do to you and smashing your face is just one of them.”

Jungkook rolls up his sleeves and clenches his fists. He doesn’t think it’s enough to scare the man who’s holding you hostage but he thinks it’s enough to show that he’s indeed willing to throw a punch if he has to. He’d pull the man away but he doesn’t want you to get hurt. He’d beat the daylights out of this asshole but he doesn’t want you to witness that. You’re terrified already as it is; anything more might just break you further.

So Jungkook keeps his gaze on the man, hoping the threat would work somehow.

It does, as the man lets you go then raises his arms mockingly, as if to surrender. You step away immediately, finding your way towards Jungkook. Chi-won looks at the man next to you from head-to-toe, his attempt at intimidation.

“The boss, I assume?” Chi-won scoffs. “That’s cheap, even for you.”

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that,” Jungkook fumes, trying his hardest to keep himself together and not make this worse.

“Women who are that lonely and that desperate for sex would do anything and use anyone to get what they want and feel better about themselves,” Chi-won shrugs. “I’m just saying I’m not surprised.”

The insult is unfounded. You know at this point, he’s just trying to say anything to provoke Jungkook and put you down in the process. Somehow you’ve learned how to deal with men like this.

“Yeah, I was so desperate that I ended up settling for a low-life like you,” you scoff, hoping the brave facade holds up. “You weren’t even that good. I could only fake it for so long.”

And this is what does it for him, as Chi-won’s face distorts in anger, and while you know your words provoked him, you wanted to show that you could regain your control, and he’s the one who now breaks because of it.

“Fucking slut,” he yells, charging towards you.

But Jungkook charges back, pushing Chi-won towards the wall and making sure he stays there. The anger on Jungkook’s face is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, yet despite this side of him that you’re now witnessing, you can’t help but feel emotional at his presence. If it wasn’t for him, you don’t know what would’ve happened; you don’t know where you’d pull the strength to stand up for yourself.

“You say anything else and I swear, getting fired is gonna be the least of your worries,” Jungkook huffs. “Because this boss knows your manager. This boss knows the police chief at the station not far away. You hurt her and you’re gonna pay for this. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

Chi-won slowly realizes that those aren’t empty words, as he visibly starts to look worried. There’s not much he can do now. You doubt he can overpower Jungkook despite his size. You also know Chi-won doesn’t have much, and losing his job could make him lose everything. And that scares you, too.

“Jungkook, it’s okay. Just let him go,” you plead, tugging his arm to pull him away. You know how much worse it could get if anything else happens. You know that Jungkook is very much capable of inflicting physical pain, and you don’t want blood on his hands because of you. “Let’s just go back inside.”

Jungkook looks at you, the fear clearly still evident - your eyes are glassy and empty, your hand on his arm is shaking, and your voice is cracking. Whatever courage you had at answering back earlier is slowly dissipating, and all Jungkook wants is to get you away from all this.

“I’m fine, Jungkook. He’s just angry and I don’t blame him,” you insist.

All lies, really. You wish the worst for Chi-won, but you know it won’t do you nor Jungkook any good if you both go down this path.

Your eyes plead for him to take your lead this time and he sees it, he sees you, and you see his tiniest of nods before turning to Chi-won.

“Get out of here and call it a night before I do anything else to you.”

Chi-won, who’s clearly still furious, starts walking away. But in his effort to regain the control you took from him, he turns to you before heading back inside.

“You’re really fucking good at that, you know?” He says to you. “Fuck the man you know wants you and then just drop him when you get bored or when you find the next guy who can pleasure you without the commitment you obviously desperately want. You’ll always be miserable whatever you do.”

You will the tears not to fall as the words hit you where it hurts. They’re things you’ve heard not long ago, just in a different variation, and by another man who had the same fate as Chi-won - left by you because you couldn’t give them what they wanted. Maybe you’re too honest when you’re drunk, maybe that’s when the yearning for something meaningful and more permanent comes out, and maybe that’s when they thought they could be what you wanted.

But you’ve always known from the beginning that they couldn’t give you what you desired, and you always hoped you’d cut the cord before they started to want more. Turns out your timing is just as bad as your judgment.

You let them have the final say, though. And then you let them walk away. You feel like it’s climactic for them, liberating even, to be able to tell the person who hurt them that she’s selfish and she doesn’t deserve happiness. You suppose it just proves that they didn’t really feel much; perhaps your read on people isn’t that terrible after all.

You manage to rein all the emotions in and look at Jungkook who remains standing next to you. His fist is still clenched and you see the anger in his eyes. You’ve never seen him like this, not even when Hajoon threatened him. This is the first time you thought he could really hurt someone, and he would’ve done it on your defense.

“We should go back to dinner,” you finally say. “They’re probably wondering where we are.”

Jungkook turns to you, the fear still evident in your eyes but he can see you trying, he can see you try to be brave and bury all that pain in for his sake.

“I’m not letting you go back in there,” he responds, his tone hard and firm. “I’m not letting you anywhere near that man again.”

You don’t insist this time. You don’t want to be anywhere near Chi-won, either. So you just nod and wait for Mr. Ri to arrive after he was called to come to you with the car. Jungkook is about to instruct the older man to go inside and send his apologies to the organizers but you tell Jungkook it should be him. You manage to convince him to properly send them off and pay the bill and while initially unwilling, he finally goes, giving Mr. Ri strict orders not to leave you alone.

Mr. Ri breaks at the pained look on your face - an uncommon sight for him, and one that hurts him. It’s not the first time though, and that just makes it worse.

“Stay strong, okay?” He says, despite not knowing what happened. “You have people around to protect you, to keep you safe. You know that.”

You nod in acknowledgement, as you’re unable to get any word out. But you see the pain in his eyes, too, and for all the years that you’ve known him, the comfort in them always comes.

Jungkook returns and informs you that the organizers will be leaving soon. He asks you if it’s okay if he drives you home and you say that it is. Even if he’s just seen you be humiliated, somehow it’s him you want to be with you as you try to process what happened. You know it’ll ease his mind as well, and you don’t want him to worry any more than he already is.

You both say goodbye to Mr. Ri and then enter the car, with you feeling a little odd to be sitting in the passenger seat with Jungkook next to you. But you settle in, your body moving on its own; it feels quite foreign to you, with your mind in a haze and your nails engraving their marks on your palms, as if by some miracle it could erase what happened tonight from your memory.

But you doubt anything would.

“His shift ends soon and I don’t want to take you home right away, just in case he follows,” Jungkook says.

You look at him questioningly and he immediately knows what you’re thinking.

“I know the manager and I asked him,” he explains as he starts driving away. “But don’t worry, I didn’t say anything. And that bastard didn’t see me. He avoided me and stayed in the kitchen the whole time I was there, as if he wasn’t serving our table the whole evening. I should’ve picked up that he was trying to get near you. I… I’m sorry I didn’t get to you in time.”

You still came for me, you want to say. It’s the thought that keeps swimming in your mind. You don’t know how long you were gone for but he could’ve called; he chose to go out and look for you instead.

It’s as if he knows what you’re thinking, as he says that he noticed you were away longer than he expected.

“It just felt odd. You would’ve messaged me if something was up,” he reasons. “I guess I noticed earlier that he kept coming to our table for no reason but I didn’t pay it any mind. But then another server brought the dessert. I asked where he was and the guy said he went outside without any explanation, and I just had a weird feeling. I should’ve come sooner, ___.”

You want to say that he doesn’t have to apologize, that things could’ve been worse if he hadn’t come, that you owe him your life that he did but you’re feeling too much to even manage a word out.

At the stoplight, he turns to you and sees the half-moons embedded on your skin. He sees the glassy eyes and the trembling lips. He wants nothing more than to shield you from all this, to take you somewhere where you’re safe and where no one can hurt you. He didn’t think that seeing you like this would make him feel so powerless, because much as he can make that man’s life miserable if you let him, what he can’t do is take your pain away. What he doesn’t know how to do is comfort you.

“I’ll drive you around first, is that okay?”

You nod, turning to your right to watch the city pass you by. It’s a breeze driving down the bridge as lights illuminate the Han River. The moon’s reflected on it, too, but you don’t feel any joy nor calmness. All you feel is this heavy burden of disgust and fear and shame and loneliness and anger.

You quickly wipe the tear that falls, hoping that Jungkook doesn’t see. Your eyes remain glued outside, and you watch the buildings slowly disappear, replaced by little cafes and stores closing shop. It’s a familiar street, one you’ve passed by on some mornings, and you appreciate the familiarity.

The car stops but you don’t look away from the window, afraid that seeing the worry on Jungkook’s face will make you break down.

“We’re at a neighborhood park near your place,” he says. “I’ll just be outside, just in case you need time alone. You can put the radio on blast. You can honk if you need me, or you can come out if you want to. I’m just here.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. He just exits the car and walks towards the bench that overlooks the playground. You put the music on loudly, and perhaps just as he expected you to do, you cry. And you cry hard.

You shut your eyes from the pain. It forces you to relive that moment but you do your best to crumple it like paper and then burn it from your memory. You know the burned pieces and the smoke will stay - an alley will trigger you, the scent of cooking oil and cheap cologne will make you gag. It’s how it is with painful memories - they burn you but there’s not much you can do to put out the fire. And when it’s gone, it’s not over. The scars remind you it happened. And then they urge you to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

You don’t know how long it takes for you to cry out all the tears. It feels like they won’t end - they’re the words you couldn’t say earlier, and the words that would haunt you for longer. But they eventually stop falling, and you’re exhausted by the time they do. You have new crescents on your palms, too, and those may go away but you know they’re the only things that will. Everything else will be invisible, and that makes it a harder burden to carry.

Outside, Jungkook glances at the car to make sure you’re still there. He doesn’t think there’s any danger now; he doubts that man got to follow you here, too. But with what happened earlier, there’s this perpetual worry about anything that harms you, and he doesn’t want for there to be even a single second where you’re afraid, where you’re looking over your shoulder in fear, and where you think you’re everything that man said you are.

He can try to keep you safe. He can try to lift you up. But when it’s about trying to forget, trying to move on, he knows there’s not much he can do. He knows a bit about painful experiences and memories that won't leave him. He’s done his best to hide those away, kept in the deepest nooks of his being that’s caused him to conceal parts of himself as well. It’s not easy to do but he does it; all these years later, he doesn’t know how not to.

But then there’s you and somehow, those parts of him that he’s kept hidden come out. Maybe it’s those pieces that will help comfort you, that will help protect you, that will help keep you safe. He’s not sure but if they are, maybe it’s not such a bad thing for them to resurface, if it means you won’t be scared or hurt or alone.

His gaze flits back to the playground. He glances at your direction every few minutes. He wants to respect your privacy, at least as much as what his car and the radio on blast could give. He hopes that all the crying could help ease your pain somehow. He also hopes he’s one person who could.

Jungkook hears the door open and he turns to see you slowly get out. He remains in his seat and waits to see where you go. A minute later, you’re sitting on the bench next to him, your breathing slowed down now, and your hands are less shaky than earlier. Your eyes are still glassy, and he wishes he could wipe the tears away should they fall, but he knows it’s not something he can do.

Both of you sit in silence as you watch the moon dance over the field of grass. It’s peaceful here at this time of the night. It’s not a place you expected him to take you but you’re glad that he did.

You didn’t grow up going to parks because your mother rarely had time to take you; no one could accompany you either. When you moved to Busan during your pre-teen years, you felt you’d outgrown it even if Jimin and Soomin would invite you. There were always so many kids around and you didn’t know how to talk to them or to play with them so you always stayed in your own spot, near the tree where you could watch them run about.

“I didn’t know where to take you but, uh, I loved playing in the playground when I was a kid,” Jungkook bursts through your thoughts. “It somehow always made me feel safe.”

“Did you like going to parks, too?” You ask, finally finding your voice, visibly surprising him.

“Not really. I wasn’t exactly fond of people even as a child,” he softly chuckles, earning him a small smile. “And well, my older brother liked to tease me in front of his friends when we’d play so I would ask to go late in the afternoon once the kids have left. My father picked up on it so he built a playground just for me in our backyard. It was really nice. I’d spend all day there when I was younger.”

A little Jungkook coming down the slide, climbing up the rock wall, and playing in the seesaw looks so wholesome. You wonder if he squealed while on the swing like kids usually do. Maybe. It’s nice to imagine a version of him that’s joyful and free. You wonder when the last time he felt that way was.

You also wonder what has made him share something that feels so personal to him with you. You’re thinking maybe it’s to make you feel comfortable or to ease your nerves; maybe it’s to tell you that unlike Chi-won, he’s not there to threaten you. Maybe Jungkook wants to tell you that he’s someone you can trust, that despite what you are to each other, at this moment, he can be a friend.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you manage to say. “Thank you for coming to find me and keeping him away from me. He… he was someone I used to see and I ended things and I thought we were okay. I hadn’t seen him in a while and—”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” he says softly. “I understand that it’s difficult and reliving it might just make you more scared and upset.“

“But I… I need to say it, at least just this once,” you stammer. “Just so it won’t stay in my head like some made-up reality until I’m convinced it didn’t really happen. Because it did.”

He turns to you, his eyes the most sympathetic you’ve seen them, and he nods.

So you tell him - how Chi-won kept staring at you as you ate, how he pulled you towards him and then caged you against the wall.

“He was too close and I could… smell him, as if he wanted me to remember his scent, and that he didn’t want me to ever forget it,” you say.

Your tears fall slowly this time. Your voice cracks and your nails dig into your skin again. It feels so heavy, that even as you try to expend the negative energy, it’s still there. As if the memory itself is tangible, like a sack of sand filling you from inside and it makes you unable to breathe.

But the sight of Jungkook’s trembling hands catches your attention, and you turn to him - his jaws tight and his eyes, tense and deep.

“I’m so angry for you,” he heaves, his fists clenching now. He still wants to wipe your tears but he also wants to go back to the restaurant and finally punch that man’s face. “You should file a case. You have all the grounds for that. I can get him fired and he can lose everything.”

“The law and society in general don’t favor us, Jungkook. I don’t have bruises or anything; that’s what they look for. They think that all harm done only leaves visible marks,” you sigh, knowing that there’s not much you can do. “There’s no other witness but you and that itself… might not look good. If I do file a case, he’ll just bring up our past, my past, and taint my reputation. That’ll just ruin me and everything I worked hard for will be for nothing.”

“But you can’t just let him get away with this, ___,” he insists, feeling unusually emotional now. “He hurt you. And what if he does it again? Telling the police can keep him away. I’ll make sure of that.”

The urgency in his voice is something new to you. But you also know he’s right. Jungkook’s family has connections that run deep. He can very well seek revenge for you for all he wants but he wants your permission, he wants to know it’s what you want.

“I… I can’t risk it,” you say. “If by some miracle the case is successful, he’ll just spend a few months in jail or do community service then he’ll be out. He would lose more and I would be the cause of all that. And what if he tries to get revenge? How do I win?”

At his silence, you continue. “That’s right, I can’t.”

“But… don’t you want to fight?” He asks, almost desperately. His tone is low, as if he’s trying to convince himself that fighting back is the answer. “Don’t you want to make sure that he won’t do it again to you?”

“I do, but what if I lose everything in the process, what then?” You counter. “I… I’m not strong enough for that, Jungkook. That’s not a battle I can fight, not when I’m alone here. Not when I’m also just trying to get by.”

You look back at his eyes, helpless and apologetic now, and at this time, this companionship is what you need. It’s as if he’s telling you with them that you may think you’re on your own but you aren’t. Even as you shiver from within, you don’t feel so alone with him next to you.

“I… I was seeing him for a year but things weren’t serious. He probably just wanted to scare me, to assert control because he lacks it in other aspects of his life. Cowards do that, I guess,” you shrug, trying to reason to yourself how someone you knew fairly well could do something like that to you.

People change, you suppose. Or maybe he’s always been like that; it takes a while sometimes for the demons to come out.

“But cowards don’t have a right to do that,” Jungkook reasons. “They don’t deserve to just walk away and not deal with the consequences.”

“They don’t. But I don’t deserve to suffer more,” you point out. “The things he said… that’s probably enough revenge on his end, I guess. If he wanted to hurt me, well then, he did.”

There’s an emptiness in your eyes that Jungkook sees. There’s a tinge of submission, as if you accept the pain even if you don’t think you deserve it. And maybe that’s why you’re choosing to fight this battle this way. We can’t do anything about how people hurt us, but we choose how much more we let them do it.

“Prove him wrong, then,” Jungkook says. “He doesn’t get to tell you that you’ll be miserable your whole life. So chase what makes you happy. And let yourself be loved.”

It’s permission that he doesn’t have a right to grant, but he supposes that if there’s any way you can defeat that man’s voice in your head, it’s by searching for the things you want and fighting to keep them.

“One day,” you manage to smile at him. “I’ll do those one day.”

It’s like a promise you’re making to him just as you make it to yourself. Jungkook can’t think right now what that would mean. Finding your happiness could lead you anywhere; it sure could lead you away from him.

“So what happens now?” He asks, hoping there’s a way he could help you get through this.

“I continue living my life and not let this define me,” you shrug, half believing in the power of just pushing through it. “I’ll probably be anxious and paranoid for a while but this is what I can do for now. I’ll just be careful and… learn how to deal with all this one day at a time, I guess.”

“And I’ll have Mr. Ri drive you home every night, at least for these next few weeks. Do you need to move houses?”

“Chi-won doesn’t actually know where I live. I never let him come over. I don’t really like having people in my house.”

Jungkook hums to himself. He isn’t that different from you, it seems. But he takes your word for it, not wanting to impose. There are so many things he wants to do, like ruin that man’s life because things like that can’t go unpunished but he trusts you. At the end of the day, it’s your call, and he respects whatever you decide. He’ll just do what he can to protect you, even if he’ll be worried like hell from here on out, an emotion he’s slowly accepting, knowing what that implies.

“I’m sorry you had to witness all that,” you say amidst the silence. “And that you have to deal with this now. I don’t… I don’t want you to think that I’m weak and that I don’t stand up for myself.”

“You know you have nothing to apologize for,” he shakes his head. “And not fighting back doesn’t make you weak. I guess staying right where you are is a way of fighting, too.”

“I have people around… somehow,” you comfort yourself. “I’m gonna be fine. I have to believe I will.”

Jungkook nods and manages a smile. At this point, he thinks all he can give you is support and encouragement. He’ll continue to do what he can to keep you safe without disregarding your requests, but staying right where he is with you might just be another way to do that.

“Do you want to pass by somewhere before heading home?” He asks, knowing it’s getting quite late. “A restaurant to grab a drink or something? You didn’t get to have dessert so maybe a cafe?”

“A convenience store is fine,” you smile, knowing the treats that would make you feel better.

Jungkook chuckles, as it’s a place he didn’t really expect you’d want to go to after an experience like the one you just had. But it’s you and he should be used to you surprising him, so he nods and gestures towards the car.

It takes five minutes for you to get there and he looks around and asks what you want to have.

“A cup noodle,” you answer, walking towards the aisle where they’re shelved. “Do you want some? I mean, you eat these things, right?”

“Of course I do,” he scowls at you, picking up one himself. “I just… don’t eat it at a convenience store.”

“Because you don’t go to one?”

“I do. I’m not a spoiled brat who doesn’t know how to do ordinary people things.”

“You mean commoner things,” you raise an eyebrow. “Or plebeian activities. Or non-heir stuff.”

“Whatever. I won’t even defend myself to you,” he huffs, giving in because seeing you amused is a welcome sight.

“It’s okay. I’m not judging you,” you teasingly smile. “I’m just… laughing at you in my mind.”

You walk towards another aisle and leave him with a smile he’s glad to be making now. He follows and watches you pick up a few more things before you head to the counter where he manages to bring out his card first and pay.

“That's all I can do,” he shrugs after you thank him.

“You’re doing so much for me already,” you assure him. “Taking me somewhere so I could cry, making sure I get home safe… staying with me.”

“That’s not even enough to—”

“You don’t know how to accept gratitude, do you?” You ask as you blow on your noodles. “I notice how you brush it off when someone thanks you.”

“Not used to hearing it, I guess,” he shrugs, not thinking it was something you’d pick up, although there’s no lie.

It’s always been hard for him to say things - that he’s sorry, that he’s thankful, that it’s okay. You, of all people, are the one pointing that out.

“You should be. Because I’ll say it again.” You turn to him and meet his eyes. “Thank you, Jungkook. I thought I’d just go through this alone but I’m not. And that’s… that’s something I’m not used to.”

“You should be,” he repeats your words. “There are some things you shouldn’t be going through on your own. So if there’s anything else you need, you let me know, okay?”

There’s sincerity in his voice as he speaks. You’re used to the low or stern or commanding tone, not this soft and worried one. But it’s the comfort you didn’t know you needed. After spending all that time earlier crying and feeling afraid, being with Jungkook in this bright-lit convenience store is the unexpected warmth that you’re glad you let him give you.

“I will,” you smile. “You know, this is the longest I’ve spoken informally to you. It feels a little weird.”

He laughs as he gets to the same realization. But for him, it almost feels natural.

“It would be weirder if you spoke formally after all that,” he says. “Like I said, if it isn’t about work then I don’t mind.”

You hum in response, not wanting to dwell on the implication. You’re with him after-hours, at a convenience store - that he personally drove you to - where you’re both having cup noodles and soda. This ironically feels more intimate than being in bed with some guy.

You decide to have your dessert, which is really just chocopie, and you mentally curse Chi-won for making you miss the sweet dishes from dinner. But still, you know this one could easily cheer you up. You give one to Jungkook, and his amused tone catches your attention.

“Oh wow, I haven’t had one of these in years,” he says, eating it one bite. “Mother used to give this to me all the time when I was a kid because her best friend owned the company that makes them. There was a time I’d have it as dessert after every meal.”

“Seriously?” You giggle. “That is so weird. This is my favorite. My mom would always buy this for me. When she worked at a school in Busan, she would give it as a treat while I waited for her at the library. That would just always make my day.”

“Hmm, it’s a good snack,” he says, smiling as he takes another piece that you offer and recalls how he used to have this everyday. “So she’d pick you up at the library? Was that your favorite place at school?”

“Hmm, not really, but it reminded me of the one I used to go to,” you reply. “When we lived in Seoul when I was young, there was this family-run library for children in the neighborhood. It was very cozy, with lots of soft chairs and reading nooks on the walls. There were these huge stuffed toys that you could lie on while reading so it felt like someone was hugging you. It had warm lights, not like those usual bright ones. There was this mural of the characters from the books they had,” you narrate, smiling as you remember the days you spent there.

“Mom would pick me up from school during her lunch break then drop me off at the library where her friend volunteered at and I’d wait until she got off work. When we moved to Busan, I kept looking for it. The one at the school wasn’t the same so I didn’t enjoy it as much, but there was nowhere else to go. Eventually I just got used to it, but the chocopie always made the wait worth it.”

It’s the most you’ve ever told him about yourself and you’re surprised at how easy it was for you to do that. He did tell you a little bit about his childhood earlier though, and you’d like to think it’s your way of returning that kind of vulnerability; a story for a story, a piece of your childhood for a snapshot of his.

You look at him and the small smile on his face. Perhaps he’s thinking the same.

“So you like reading books, then?”

“Not really, actually,” you say, earning you a confused look. “I read all the picture books they had. Those are what I liked. And they had these coloring books and paper dolls and I’d spend hours just working on those. Being there made me feel safe, too; it was like my playground, you know?”

“It’s good you had that, then. Do you still visit that place? The one in your old neighborhood?”

“It shut down years ago, sometime before I returned to Seoul to work,” you sigh. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to it. The couple who ran it passed away and no one was interested in continuing it because it wasn’t profitable. But the community center nearby has a small library and I go there sometimes, when I’m really upset.”

“And read picture books?” He chuckles.

“Yes, actually,” you smile. “Memories are powerful and we need to let the good ones win. My childhood wasn’t the greatest but I felt like I was in a different world whenever I was in a library so being in one, even as a grown up, reminds me that there are still places where I’m welcome, where I can feel safe, you know? It reminds me that the world hasn’t completely turned dark. I’ve got to hold onto those to not lose myself.”

“That’s one way of putting it. I… I don’t think I’ve been to a playground in years before today. Other than the one that father built in the backyard at least. And I rarely even see it because I’m rarely there. I guess I just…. Let myself get lost.”

“Well, I hope going to one earlier somehow made you find yourself. Or at least reminded you of those good old days, the days when you felt free and safe and happy.”

Jungkook thinks about what he’d felt earlier, that much as being in a playground again brought him back in time, all he kept thinking about was you - alone in that car while you let all your emotions out. He wanted to comfort you but he didn’t know how, and he thinks that maybe it isn’t about finding himself but learning what he’s capable of, and that after all these years, maybe he’s still capable of caring for another person, and maybe that person is you.

“It did,” he hums, meeting your eyes.

There’s more light in them this time and he wishes it would stay this way. He’d seen you cry months ago and it wasn’t a good feeling, especially because you’d done so because of him. This time, he feels powerless, and he doesn’t know which is worse.

He gets to be with you now though. Perhaps that’s the difference.

You start cleaning up and it’s his signal for both of you to head out.

It takes him ten minutes to drive to your place and a small part of you doesn’t want to leave. Even in the silence, you felt calm, something that you hadn’t expected to feel around him, considering his default tense disposition and usual detachment. But there’s something about his presence, about him just being there - he’s not trying too hard to comfort you, he’s not imposing, he’s also not invalidating your feelings. What matters is you’re not alone, and other than him making that effort, it’s also about you, allowing him to do that, something you don’t always do as well.

“Thank you again,” you say once the car has stopped.

He nods in acknowledgment then turns to you. “It might be best if you take a leave tomorrow, and by that I mean staying home for safety reasons.”

A day to just process everything isn’t such a bad idea, so you agree.

“If it’s not too much for your friends, maybe they could drive up here so they can be with you. Having people around you that you trust might help in making you feel better.”

“I’ll ask them. I don’t want them to worry but I do need them. So thanks, Jungkook. I appreciate it.”

You exit the car and turn around to wave him goodbye. He smiles as you do, and it’s a sight that helps you sleep later that night - after the long bath and another crying session, after the phone call with your friends who promised to be here in the morning, after the time you spend just hugging your pillow, hoping that you’d stop being scared.

But thinking of Jungkook now makes you feel better and you realize the change again - thinking about him now makes you a little braver.

You spend that weekend wrapped up in your best friends’ arms. They arrived on Friday morning with some pork bone soup and seafood that they cooked for lunch and dinner. In the middle of the day, Jungkook texted you and asked how you were doing, and you couldn’t hide the smile on your face, which prompted a conversation about your little crush that you didn’t expect to get tense, with Jimin stating that while Jungkook did help you, being attracted to your boss is complicated and would lead to heartbreak.

You insisted that it was harmless - a half lie, as you hadn’t thought much about it in that sense - and that it’s not something you plan on nurturing. You’re gonna leave the company one day anyway, and you won’t have to deal with him after.

The succeeding days were spent just at home, with you feeling lighter, until Sunday evening when they had to leave, and you felt a little lonely again.

You try to let that feeling go once you enter Jungkook’s penthouse on Monday morning, knowing that with a day off, you’ll have a lot to make up for and you can’t let anything distract you from your tasks.

That includes the man himself, as he exits his home gym in sweatpants and a dri-fit shirt, the sweat sticking to his body that’s got his chest accentuated. His hair is damp and he’s panting; it’s not exactly the sight you wanted to be greeted with, considering all the thoughts in your head these past few days. You’re reminded that just last week, you’d tried to keep your distance and now, he’s making it incredibly hard for you to do that.

“Hey, how do you feel?” He asks as he takes the glass of water you set for him. “Did you get proper rest?”

“Yes, I did, Mr. Jeon,” you reply.

“Hmm, we’re back to that again, huh?”

It takes you a while but you pick up that he’s referring to the formalities.

“I’m back on the clock, sir,” you point out. “You are my boss and I need to address you accordingly.”

It’s not a reminder he wanted, given how he’s been worried sick about you since Thursday night. Even an hour of boxing after he got home that evening couldn’t rid him of his anger. He wished he’d noticed how uncomfortable you were at the restaurant; he’s been paying attention to you anyway but he just got so caught up with impressing the festival organizers that he missed out on the signs. If he’d noticed, he would’ve gotten to you earlier and things wouldn’t have escalated.

He had to control himself from punching that man’s face the moment he saw how close he was to you. Your plea of letting him go was the only thing that kept Jungkook from ruining that man’s life because he really could. He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand it - people like that need to be punished, but it’s people like you who remind him that fighting takes different forms, and you’re the only one who can define what that means.

But it also doesn’t mean that he can’t get angry for you and he’ll probably feel that for a while. Knowing how you are, he knows you wouldn’t want him to pity you either, so he’ll be what he can be, and that’s someone whom you feel safe around. Regardless, maybe the reminder of your roles in each other’s lives is necessary; it’s what he needs to keep himself from doing more, or wanting to be more.

Jungkook finally acknowledges your statement with a nod and then heads to the bathroom for his shower. Shortly after, you walk towards his closet and prepare his outfits for the week. He meets you in the dining room once he’s dressed, and like clockwork, you fix his tie and his suit.

The effect is minimal but somehow, you’ve found comfort in the routine. What once was a tense and nerve-wracking act is now something automatic and essential for you. In a way, it reinforces your place in his life, but the short distance reminds you that he may be faraway or detached in some aspects but physically, he’s so close. It’s a double-edged sword, really. Some days it’s good, some days it isn’t. Today, it’s the former, and as you look up and meet his eyes, the softness in them says he thinks the same.

You go over your usual with him while munching on some pastries that Mr. Ri was ordered to buy and bring up. The ride to the office is filled with discussions on the upcoming year-end events. When you arrive, you attend two straight meetings before having another one over lunch. You accompany Jungkook to a store opening located in one of their properties after that and it’s 4PM by the time you’re able to sit on your desk for more than 30 seconds. You’ve got two hours to finish what you can today but you find yourself spacing out every few minutes.

Perhaps it’s because it’s the first time since Friday that you’re on your own. Your best friends made sure not to leave you by yourself for those three days - Soomin held you while you slept and silently cried in her arms, and Jimin hugged you for much of the day. Their affection was what you badly needed, and now that you’re without it, somehow you feel incomplete and anxious and somewhat unstable.

Scenes are hazy in your mind. You’re at least thankful they’re not vivid anymore unlike a few nights ago, but the dim lights and the stench of the alley come to you without warning, and you suddenly freeze in panic. Your fingers tremble as you try to type away, your eyes unblinking as the tears coat them, and you feel sick to your stomach that you want to just be buried in the covers at this moment.

The door opening causes you to jerk in your seat and Jungkook stops mid-sentence to walk over to you.

“Hey, ___. You can go home,” he says. “It’s been a long day.”

“I… I don’t know if that’ll help,” you admit. “I don’t know if being alone is what I need.”

You go home to an empty apartment just like he does, he reminds himself. He knows what that’s like. It’s why he spends most weekends in the clubs where it’s loud and crowded; those somehow mask the emptiness that can get tiring when all he has is himself. Being on your own is good sometimes; sometimes it also isn’t.

But Jungkook doesn’t know what he can offer you. His presence isn’t something exactly enticing nor comforting; he wouldn’t wanna be with him, too, if he was in a similar position.

“Is there a way that your friends can spend another few days with you? What about your mother?” He asks.

“They have lives back home,” you sigh. “I… I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to force it if you aren’t,” he insists. “I may not know much but I know enough that these things take time. I…”

I wish I could do more for you, he wants to say.

“I don’t have anything urgent for today,” he says instead. “You can clock off now and Mr. Ri and I can take you home.”

“That’s not necessary,” you say immediately.

“I insist,” he replies. “At least for the next few days until we’re sure that you’re not in danger.”

You nod, not having the energy to reason with him. At least you don’t have to think about how to commute home without risking being too close to strangers.

You pack your things and get in the car, with Jungkook letting you bask in the mellow sounds of the radio while he doodles on his leather notebook. You’re tempted to ask him what he’s drawing just to add some more noise but you decide against it, choosing instead to close your eyes and force unpleasant images away from your mind so you can train yourself to do it this time.

It works. Except, it’s the smile of the man next to you that you see, and when you open your eyes, it’s the same thing that greets you.

He chuckles when you look around and realize that you’re home.

“I was trying to wake you but you wouldn’t budge,” he explains. “Are you just tired or you haven’t been sleeping well?”

“Oh, I just kept waking up last night. I guess that’s why. I’m sorry for making you wait.”

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “Just try to get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nod and exit the car, feeling out of sorts even as you enter your apartment and know you’re safe inside. You nibble on some leftover pizza and try to entertain yourself with the variety shows on TV but you end up spacing out. You curl in bed, trying as much to feel comfort from your pillow that lays stiff next to you.

You’re not big on physical affection, and most days you’re glad you aren’t because you don’t get any of it anyway, but tonight, it’s what you need. Tonight, you just want that warmth, you want a body to curl into and arms to pull you close. You want hands to caress you and soft lips to plant kisses on the places that hurt. You want to hear soft laughter and random musings and plans for the next day.

The vision ends when you realize that you haven’t experienced much of that before. There were moments during the months you spent with the men you’ve dated, but the feeling of safety was lacking, the warmth wasn’t warm enough, and the desire wasn’t overwhelming. You realize that it wasn’t intimacy you feared; losing it or finding out it wasn’t enough is what you were afraid of, and it’s why you always pulled away. No one ever seemed worth it to try or to stay a little longer for.

You sigh to yourself as you will the tears not to fall. The loneliness can get to you sometimes, especially on days when there’s a kind of pain that’s hard to talk about and all you need is comfortable silence and understanding without words. But you try to push through. You’ve been on your own for so long anyway. Even when you had someone, you still came home to an empty apartment and you still felt like it was enough when it was just you around.

You’re unsure if the desire for something more is just because of what you experienced, if the forced closeness and Chi-won’s burning touch hurt you too much or if you’ve been wanting that intimacy all along. Or if someone’s made you realize that you’re ready for it, that it’s actually worth it.

You manage to fall asleep and drag yourself off the bed to head to Jungkook’s apartment the next day. You drop him off at a restaurant for a breakfast meeting before going to the office where you get to work. It’s a busy day that has you meeting with different departments and coordinating with the organizing teams for the upcoming end-of-year events.

It’s mid-afternoon when you decide to go to the outdoor garden just right off the elevators, surprised to find Jungkook standing by the railings. Dressed in a dark gray suit, he’s got his hands in his pockets while he looks out at the busy streets, and you wonder what goes on in his mind when he looks at views like this.

The sound of the door closing catches his attention, and he turns around, surprised as well to see you here.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Yes, I just needed a breather.”

“Am I giving you too much work again?” He shakes his head, finding humor in it now after you pointed out one time how he once gave you so many things to do.

“It’s part of the job, Mr. Jeon. I’ve accepted that now,” you giggle, walking towards where he is then standing some feet away. “But it’s been a busy day and I just needed some air.”

“You can also take a longer break if that’s what you need.”

“I’m okay,” you assure him. “The busyness helps. I’ll get tired and hopefully fall asleep easily and then do it all again tomorrow and the next day.”

It’s a strategy Jungkook knows well because it’s something he does. Being a perfectionist helps because then, he can work himself to the bone without realizing it until he’s entered his apartment. One glass of whiskey and then he’s falling asleep on the couch.

Weekends are tough, which is why partying and hooking up is his go-to. His best friends have asked him a few times what he’s striving towards, what he’s looking forward to and he couldn’t answer. At one point he stopped wondering, but now he wonders about you.

“What do you look forward to, then?” He asks.

“Vacation, I guess,” you shrug. “I get to be with my friends and family but then that flies too quickly then I’m back to this routine. So maybe… I look forward to the day when I start savoring the moment, when I start enjoying what’s in front of me, when I start… feeling less alone.”

The last words come out subconsciously, prompting you to turn away out of shame. It’s not an easy thing to admit. You wanted this anyway. You chose to leave home to pay back a debt and then decided to stay because you wanted to prove yourself. You chose to not commit to anyone because the pain of loneliness is much easier to bear than the pain of losing someone. This is on you, and you deal with the consequences everyday.

Jungkook doesn’t look confused nor curious. There’s a look in his eyes that you catch before his gaze returns to the streets below. It’s understanding; you realize he knows exactly what you’re talking about. And perhaps he’s on the same boat - letting life just pass him by despite the craziness of it all, perhaps wondering when he’ll stop to smell the roses or watch the sunset or listen to the birds. Maybe like you, he’s wondering when he’ll get to do those with a hand to hold and a body to curl into.

The silence is cut short when you’re alerted that Jungkook’s meeting with the Arts Center project teams starts in 15 minutes. You remind him about it then you both head out and go to your desks to prepare. You’re seated on your chair when you look inside his room, meeting his eyes as he looks outside towards you. There’s a small smile on his face that gives you comfort. It’s soft and assuring, and it’s definitely what you need.

Maybe you can start with this, you think, as he nods at you then meets you at your desk to walk towards the conference room. Maybe these are the things you can start savoring before the day comes that you have to leave this place - these moments of quiet assurance, of understanding, of subtle comfort that tells you that despite the walls between you, he’ll be looking out for you even from afar.

The weeks fly by like a blur.

The Thursday after the incident, Jungkook informed you that he got word from the restaurant manager that Chi-won returned to his home in Mokpo to stay with his parents. The next day, you took the train home to Daegu to be with your mom. She hugged you that night as you cried to her, feeling the strength that she’s had all these years, knowing that you have to be just like her and that this time, you have to be strong for her and for yourself.

Spending time with her, Min-woo, and the girls was rejuvenating, and they promised to visit you in Seoul more regularly. They were in your apartment two weekends after, and it truly felt like you’ve become the family you’ve always wanted to have.

Work continued to be hectic as the year-end activities approached. The busyness definitely helped in moving past what you experienced, allowing you to detach from the memories. You gained the strength to keep fighting the way you wanted, and the people around you continued to be supportive and respectful.

Despite all that went on, you managed in organizing the events while also attending to some that Jungkook was invited to.

The first one was organized by the VP’s Office for the partners of projects that it managed, with the other departments attending as well. It was well-organized, and CEO Jeon himself expressed his satisfaction with how the event came together. Jungkook’s speech was impressive. He ran it with you multiple times and he was able to shake off the anxiety by the time he got to the stage. His eloquence enraptured you; so did the way he looked in another Kim Taehyung-customized textured black suit that had you constantly internally smacking yourself because of all the times that Yoongi caught you staring. You were in full denial about your little crush but knowing your friend, he probably had you figured out, and he’d been kind enough not to push it.

The next event was a big one, as the company hosts an annual fellowship dinner for all its partners, which you had a big role in organizing. A few of you were housed in the serviced apartment building near the office leading up to it, as per Jungkook’s instructions, given that he didn’t want any of you commuting or driving home late at night. You remember how he’d said that he couldn’t risk any of his staff’s safety so casually, and you didn’t think he could be more attractive than that moment. Until, of course, when he showed up in his charcoal suit and parted hair, confidently entertaining the guests and delivering another impressive message. You snuck in a few looks later in the evening as he intently watched a ballad performer on stage, his legs crossed as he drank the flute of champagne and licked the remnants of it on his lips, causing your throat to dry up and promise yourself that you’ll get rid of this crush soon enough.

It doesn’t happen, as the final event of the year rolls around. The fellowship dinner this time is with all the staff, including some from the Southeast Asian office. Jungkook goes for a cream-colored suit this time, a light and clean look that makes him look fresh yet sophisticated. You managed to be professional every time he called for you, and you suppose it’s all the stress getting to you, but being near him made you a little anxious - there was a bit of giddiness that you didn’t want to show, but he somehow also calmed you down. The fact that he kept offering you water and making sure you had something to eat didn’t help. You blurted out that you didn’t expect him to be as thoughtful as he was, and when he said that neither did he but that you brought out that side of him after the incident at the restaurant, you had to keep your cool and act unbothered. He looked shy after, and you suppose that he didn’t mean to say it. But he did, and the words kept you up for the nights after.

You know you’re entering prohibited territory at this point and you wish there’s a way out before you get deep into the woods. You let Soomin and Jimin remind you everyday that you can’t nurture the crush, that the attraction can’t be anything more, that there are serious implications if you did, and that you’re gonna have to get over this as soon as possible. It’s Yoongi who tells you to not overthink it, that the more you force yourself out, the harder it actually becomes.

“There are things you just let happen,” he’d said. “That’s how they eventually fall away.”

“That’s how they get worse, too,” you responded.

“They could go either way, but resisting often ends up hurting more.”

You decide to just let the wave take you along while you train yourself to savor the moments for what they are without giving meaning to them. A smile is just a smile, a look is just a look. You know you’ll be without them one day. Just a few more months until you leave the company, and you won’t have a reason to be around Jungkook anymore. At least before then, you can hold onto whatever memories you retain, and you can learn to look back at them with gratitude that during your hardest moments, he made you feel safe.

It’s now towards the end of December and it’s the Tuesday before Jungkook is set to leave for his three-week vacation tomorrow. He called for an early dinner with the team at his new favorite Italian restaurant, wanting to properly say goodbye before you’ll all be without him for a while.

“Savor it, it won't last long,” he teases. “The holidays will be over soon and then I’ll be back before you know it. So enjoy this time that I’m not around.”

“What do you mean, sir? We’ll obviously miss you!” Do-hyun exclaims. “Mostly the once-in-a-blue-moon lunch and dinner treats and the occasional funny remarks but yeah, we’ll definitely feel your absence around.”

Her exaggerated smile lets everyone know she’s teasing, even if you know deep down, she’s telling the truth. Jungkook’s come around these past months, spending a bit of time with each team member and learning their strengths and weaknesses, mentoring the young ones, and sending pastries or dessert during the most hectic days. He’s still serious most of the time and doesn’t join the occasional post-work dinner that Do-hyun guilt trips you into going. There’s always so much to do and his perfectionism has rubbed off on everyone else, but he has his moments. And you know the team appreciates his efforts, too.

“We’ll see. Maybe when I come back you guys will want another boss or something,” he baits.

“That was like, the first two months of you in your role, Mr. Jeon, but we’re over it,” Do-hyun admits, causing Manager Lee to panic.

He glares at her the way Chin-sun does, but you sit there giggling. Jungkook’s chuckling, too, unable to hide his amusement at the young one’s bluntness.

She apologizes but Jungkook brushes it off, saying those first months weren’t his best. You don’t miss the way he looks at you, though, and you’ve trained yourself to not think too much about it, the way you’ve trained yourself these past weeks to just accept his smiles and glances as they are.

“I also took you all here to thank you for this past half-year,” Jungkook continues. “It was tough. I was tough. And it was a big adjustment for everyone but you all showed how good you are as individuals and as a team and I… I needed that.”

“You led us very well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee assures him. “And tough love works sometimes.”

“I suppose it does, and it goes both ways,” Jungkook replies. “And so to thank you, I got you all a little Christmas gift, something you can enjoy when you go on your respective breaks.”

At his words, you distribute the letter envelopes to the team and they open them up, gasping in surprise and in obvious delight.

Jungkook instructed you last week to purchase two vouchers at a luxurious spa for each staff member, hoping that a bit of relaxation can help you all. You were speechless when he said which specific package he wanted, and even if you know the price is just change for him, it was still more than you expected.

“A body scrub, massage, facial, and high tea, on top of the use of their super fancy amenities?” Do-hyun enumerates, her eyes widening in awe. “That’s a full day of being luxurious and feeling rich! Mr. Jeon, this is amazing! I’m totally going by myself and going twice!”

You laugh at her antics, not surprised she’d go that route.

“This is so timely, sir,” Manager Lee says. “My wife and I are celebrating our 15th wedding anniversary next month. This is gonna be a good date.”

“And it’s my birthday in a few weeks,” Chin-sun adds. “This would be so lovely to do with my husband.”

“My girlfriend and I fought so I think she’ll forgive me after I take her with me,” Yohan says, earning him a few laughs.

“What about you, ___? Inviting anyone special?” Do-hyun asks.

“Yes, my mom,” you answer. “She’s visiting next week, then we’ll go home to Daegu for the holidays. I’m sure she’d love this.”

“Ugh, of course. Parents come first,” she sighs.

You laugh her comment and turn to Jungkook, thanking him again for the gift. He thanks you for organizing them, too, and the dinner proceeds with candid spa stories and what you’re all doing for the holidays.

Everyone heads home from the restaurant except for you and Jungkook who return to the office to run through last minute instructions and reminders before he flies in the morning.

You’ve got over a week before your own vacation starts where you’ll spend a few days in Wando, Min-woo’s hometown, but that also means needing to get a lot done before that, and then returning to backlogs after but you’ll worry about that next year. Right now, you’ve got documents that need Jungkook’s signatures and some memos you need him to approve.

It’s another hour until you finish, even if a big part of you doesn’t want him to go just yet. Three weeks feels so long when seeing him five times a week for 12 hours was your everyday these past six months. It’s gonna feel a little odd not having your morning routines and car rides. You remind yourself that you’re gonna have to start getting used to that, given that you’re gonna be letting it all go soon enough. Still, it doesn’t mean you won’t miss it. It doesn’t mean you won’t miss him.

“Have you packed everything, Mr. Jeon? Do you have enough coats? You can get pretty cold. What about all your documents? Did you—”

“Yes, I have,” he chuckles, finding it endearing how you’re speaking too fast and making sure he’s got everything ready.

It’s not your job since this is a personal trip but he supposes that lines have blurred a while back, and he won’t deny that he’s enjoying this bit, especially seeing you worry. He wonders if you’ll miss him, too, but he won’t risk asking you even just to tease.

“I’ve gone on trips before, ___. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Just making sure that things are okay. Because I’m definitely gonna be the one you’ll call if they aren’t.”

“Fair point,” he laughs. “But everything’s good. Hoseok has been bugging me and making sure as well. He doesn’t want anything to mess up this trip.”

“It’s really sweet that he insisted you join him and A-yeong,” you gush. “They love their winter trips and I love seeing all their photos afterwards. I can just imagine how beautiful these ones are gonna be.”

“Well, he says he misses me,” Jungkook shrugs. “I was away for a long time and frankly, we’re more colleagues here than family, so he insisted I go with them. But I also think they just want a photographer because the sights are obviously gonna be gorgeous and I happen to take pretty good photos, you know?”

“I wouldn’t argue against that,” you laugh. “Surely being the third-wheel photographer has its perks?”

“We’ll see. I’ll definitely take advantage.”

“I’m sure they’ll spoil you somehow,” you say. “And you get to enjoy the landscape and the fresh air and the northern lights. Those are definitely gonna look good in pictures.”

“I’ll make sure to take them, then. And show you,” he smiles. “But yeah, I’m looking forward to a different scenery.”

“Where would you have gone if they didn’t ask you to come?”

“Not sure. Maybe to Brazil with Tae and Seokjin. Or somewhere like Hong Kong; I went there last year on my own. This time is gonna be different.”

“And you’ll have companions. That would be nice.”

“It would. That’s different, too, but I’m sure it will be good.”

You think about Jungkook spending his break on his own in a foreign country, navigating it by himself, meeting people, being left alone in his own thoughts. Maybe an occasional companion for the night. Or every night. Perhaps drinking on a rooftop bar to welcome the new year. But just him and no one else. You wonder how lonely that might feel, and you’re glad that at least this time, he can be around people who truly care about him.

Jungkook thinks of how else he can keep you longer, knowing he’ll be without you for three weeks which for him, is an extremely long time.

“Remember to enjoy your time there, okay? Don’t think too much about work,” you pout, knowing he still will.

“___, I’ll be on vacation but I won’t be on a break. You know I’ll still expect updates until next week. I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Of course you will,” you tease. “I’ll make sure to keep you posted. I’ll send emails for approvals, maybe call if something urgent comes up.”

“You’re the only one allowed to bother me, about anything. Remember that.”

He says the words with such finality, as if there’s no way for you to resist. You wouldn’t anyway. Other than knowing that you’ll definitely be bugging him for approvals and such, you also would want to know how he’s doing, if he’s enjoying his time away and if he’s getting enough rest.

“I will,” you assure him. “So, uh. You should head out and get some sleep. It’s gonna be a long flight.”

He nods, knowing that he needs to let you go this time. He decides against offering to take you home - you’ve been insisting that it’s not necessary, and that you’ve been fine with your bus rides to your neighborhood in the evening. He doesn’t want to sound desperate so he finally says goodbye.

He lingers, as he doesn’t move for a good half minute and just stands there by your desk, giving you a look to express things that he can’t ever say.

“Goodbye, Jungkook. Take care of yourself out there,” you finally say.

“Goodbye, ___. You do the same. I’ll see you when I get back.”

It’s another few seconds before he manages to start walking away. One last glance then he leaves. And he convinces himself that the sullen look in your eyes means that you’ll be thinking about him while he’s away, the same way he’ll be thinking about you, perhaps while he looks at the sky, knowing it’s the same one you’ll be looking at, and then you wouldn’t feel so far away.

The time on your watch reads 11:10. The plane should be leaving anytime soon, and you wonder how Jungkook is doing, if he was able to sleep well and eat at the airport lounge. You at least know he got there on time. Mr. Ri arrived some time ago to say that he’s dropped Jungkook off and that he was instructed to take you to work and bring you home until your boss comes back from his vacation. You didn’t argue, knowing that it’s Jungkook’s way of making things convenient for you, given all the responsibilities you have to carry while he’s away.

But other than that, you don’t know how he’s doing without any update from him. Which is silly for you to even expect. This is a personal trip, after all, and even if the line has somehow blurred after everything that’s happened between you two, you shouldn’t be waiting for some message about him having boarded or something. You’ll maybe just wait for his email asking for updates about his father’s comments on the policies that Jungkook drafted for approval. Or once A-yeong has posted on social media that they’ve landed.

You shake your head, knowing that liquidating expenses is more important right now than your boss. But then your phone beeps and the smile on your face is immediate.

[From: VP Jeon] The plane arrived late so we just boarded. I’ll get some work done during the flight but I just emailed you an end-of-year message for staff. Can you check if it sounds good?

[To: VP Jeon] I will, sir. Have a safe flight.

[From: VP Jeon] Thanks. I’ll let you know when we’ve landed.

Simple and professional, you think, but somehow the thought of him messaging you before takeoff - even if it’s work-related - has you feeling giddy. There’s no desire for more. Just knowing he’s okay and also still thinking of you has you satisfied.

You don’t get to wipe off the smile quick enough for Yoongi not to see, as you hear him clearing his throat, prompting you to look up and see his amused face.

“I was just checking in to see how you’re coping with your boss away but it seems you’re doing fine,” he starts. “Unless… he’s the reason why you’re smiling.”

Your silence confirms his suspicion, and he merely laughs in response.

“Yah! You’re supposed to reprimand me,” you pout at him.

“And what would that do?” He challenges. “You’re an adult. ___. You feel what you feel, you do what you do. It’s up to you how you want this to play out.”

“Well, I’ll tell you how it will play out,” you say. “I will continue doing what I’m supposed to do, wait for the Arts Center to open, resign, then never have to see or think about him again. And I’ll be content with that.”

Yoongi doesn’t press or counter you, choosing instead to just agree with your plan and be the supportive friend you need him to be, even if your eventual resignation will make him incredibly sad.

You’re very particular with the people you let in, with the people you allow to become an important part of your life. He’s lucky he didn’t scare you away for you to distance yourself from him, and though you didn’t return his feelings, he supposes that’s better. He gets to be someone you feel comfortable enough to be with, to be honest with, and that’s more than he can ask for. However you choose to approach whatever it is you’re feeling for Jungkook, his friend who’s just as cautious when it comes to people, Yoongi will just be there like he has all these years.

“Anyway, is that all you came here for? To know how I was doing?” You ask.

“I sent you the designs and proposals I need Jungkook to go through,” Yoongi responds. “He said to submit them and he’ll review those while he’s there. I wasn’t going to since I want him to actually rest and enjoy his vacation but he’ll be on my ass about it.”

He explains his vision, which you note down so you can articulate it when Jungkook asks. Yoongi leaves you to work on all your tasks, making sure to send you a teasing smile on his way out.

You continue with your day, ending it with an email to your boss about what transpired and the documents he needs to approve. He responds past 1AM the next day during his layover in Amsterdam. Two hours after that, he messages you that they’ve arrived in Denmark and will have dinner before going to bed.

It’s the day after, on a Friday, when he schedules a video call with you that has you fixing your hair and retouching your lipstick before picking up. He shows up on the screen donned in a white jumper, his unstyled hair making him look cozy and much more boyish than you’re used to. You let yourself be familiarized with the scene, with him seated by a desk with the large window behind him showing clear blue skies and colorful structures. He seems to do the same, as the silence lingers for the next half a minute or so.

He speaks up first, greeting you and asking how you’ve been.

“I’m okay, Mr. Jeon. Getting a lot done on the post-event admin work,” you reply. “How about you? You look refreshed and relaxed. That’s a new sight to see.”

“It’s probably the Copenhagen air,” he says. “It’s gorgeous out here. And the buildings are beautiful. We’re staying at this nice boutique hotel that Hoseok and I explored yesterday. It’s giving us ideas for a serviced apartment with this kind of design. Or maybe villas by the mountains.”

“Oh, talking about work while on vacation, I see,” you shake your head. “I bet A-yeong regrets inviting you to join them.”

“Maybe another day of Hoseok and I just going to hotels and random buildings and she already will,” he laughs. “It’s work but also not. It’s nice to feel inspired by the surroundings. I realized that doesn’t really happen when I’m there.”

“Oh I’m sure. You’re VP Jeon when you’re here and there, you’re just a regular person, a traveler, an architect. As long as you’re getting the rest that you deserve,” you smile.

“That’s true,” he nods, taking your words in.

He’s just him while he walks past the canal, while he explores the city and its vibrant structures; he’s just a man in a foreign country who doesn’t have to connect with people, he just has to connect with what’s around him.

“So, let’s go over your email and the things I need to review and approve,” he continues.

Your hour-long meeting proceeds with approvals and instructions, and he impresses you with how much he’s done despite being on vacation. You suppose he’s still jet lagged and is just taking advantage, but you remind him again that the weekend is coming and you won’t be working, so neither should he.

“I know, don’t worry,” he assures you. “We’re heading to other towns these next few days before taking the train to Sweden. I’ll have time to work but also to enjoy the scenery.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re able to take a break from all the craziness back here,” you say, meaning it.

He works so hard and you always wonder if he allows himself to breathe, to take a pause so he can look forward to something, and then savor it when it comes.

“Me, too. So when you take your vacation, I expect the same from you, alright?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, sir,” you laugh. “I am gonna completely shut out once I clock off next Friday. You won’t hear from me until I’m back here.”

“Of course,” he says after a beat of silence. “You deserve a longer break, actually. You know you can always request for an extension.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to deal with so much backlog,” you respond. “I don’t really have anywhere else to go and people to drag with me. Plus, I’ll have a few days off for my birthday next month so I’ll definitely have more chances for rest.”

Jungkook nods, knowing that time will be bittersweet for him because you’ll get to have your break while he’ll be without you. Just like how it is now, as he’s on this vacation while you’re left to do so much work thousands of miles away from him. It also means he doesn’t get to do his routine with you, something that’s given him comfort and a sense of stability these past months. Seeing you through this call is his only way to remain connected with you, a chance to know how you’re doing, a moment to hear your voice and see the smile he’s been without. It’s just been two days but he already feels it’s much longer.

He finally lets you go, knowing you’ll be clocking out soon. Even if he doesn’t want to yet, he says goodbye.

As you asked, he savors their second day in the city, but he sees you everywhere - in all the greenery that he passes, in the library down the street, in the cafe with all the pastries that they eat at, and in the sky as he falls asleep at night. There’s comfort in knowing it’s the same one you wake up to every morning.

Not having Jungkook this long is a little disorienting. Sure, he’s been away a few times, but he’d still call or message to ask something or to give you instructions. It’s become your habit to bring him coffee every few hours, and you find yourself making one only to realize that he isn’t around.

Seeing him in A-yeong’s social media feels quite intrusive, but you couldn’t help but watch her Instagram stories, with him in a green fleece jumper as he walked down charming streets last Saturday, and then a black coat over a blue sweatshirt as he strolled the beachside on Sunday. He called the day before, on Tuesday afternoon, for your regular check-in, another hour of talking about work, even if all you wanna hear about is how his days have been. You’ve never thought about it as much before, but somehow seeing him in this way makes you care, it makes you want to know what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking.

You shake away the thoughts as Wednesday ends. It’s been a week since he left and there’s over two more weeks until he’s back. You’ll have another call on Friday and there won’t be another one until you return from your own vacation, and the thought saddens you, knowing there won’t be a reason for either of you to reach out.

But you take it as a challenge, as a way for you to slowly get him out of your system. Hopefully being without him for a while will help.

Friday comes and the call with Jungkook goes a little longer than usual. It’s towards the end when Hoseok and A-yeong make an appearance, as they’re all staying at a rental by the lake in a town in Sweden, and are about to have their breakfast.

“___!” Hoseok chirps. “Is my cousin still working you to the bone?”

“Asks the man who has hours-long meetings with his assistant every other day. If I may say, Hoseok, you’re driving Bitna crazy. I think I just saw her earlier pulling her hair out,” you tease.

“Ah, I don’t blame her. There’s just too much going on,” he sighs. “But at least I’m off her back now. It’s your last day before your break, you shouldn’t even be working right now! You should just be hanging out with the team before you all go out for dinner!”

“Like you said, there’s just too much going on,” you counter.

“These men never stop working, do they?” A-yeong huffs from next to her husband, prompting you to nod in agreement. She turns to Jungkook with her arms on her waist. “I’m telling you now, Kook, how are you gonna find a girlfriend when all you do is work, work, party, work, party, and work? Hmm?”

Jungkook chuckles, his hand behind his neck as he tries to give an answer. You can imagine A-yeong hampering him about this, given that she’s quite the proponent when it comes to companionship. It’s why she’s always patient with Hoseok, and why they love each other as much as they do. There’s understanding and respect, there’s trust and honesty. She’s not afraid to tell him when she feels neglected, and he makes up for it immediately.

“I’ll find her when I’m meant to,” Jungkook responds. “But anyway, I was just about to let ___ go.”

“Finally,” Hoseok says. Turning to you, he gives you that warm smile that you adore. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t bug you during your break.”

“Good,” you respond, even if the thought saddens you a little. “Anyway, it looks so pretty out there. I’m so glad you’re all enjoying it.”

“It is! And the sights are spectacular, ___. It’s definitely a must-visit,” Hoseok replies.

“One day,” you say, knowing it’ll probably never happen. Still, you indulge him. “I’ll settle with pictures for now, so you better take lots of them for me to see.”

“Ah, Kook is the resident photographer! He’s been taking a lot so he’ll show you.”

“That would be nice,” you smile. “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you from enjoying your day. So I’ll go ahead. I’ll see you all when you get back!”

They bid you goodbye, and there’s that nod again, that smile, that softness that you’ve started getting used to seeing on Jungkook. It’s what you think about during the team dinner an hour later, while in the car going home as soft music plays, and as you fall asleep.

You hold onto that last image of him, until the next day when A-yeong posts on her socials again. It’s those snippets of his life that make you pause during the day and keep you up at night. There’s so much about him that you’re drawn to, that you want to get to know, that you want to protect.

He’s like a movie that plays in the local theater - captivating, intriguing, yet you remain a spectator and then it ends, moving on and you’ve only got the memory of it etched in your mind. It’s not yours to watch whenever you want and no matter how much you try to analyze it, it’ll always just be your interpretation, not his. He’ll remain as a moving image that you want so much to capture but seems too big, too overwhelming, too far.

But there are instances when you think you’ve got him for a second, that you understand him a little. There are moments like arriving at his penthouse the morning after he gets back from his trip with his mussed hair and oversized jumper that he feels more human, more flawed, more tangible.

It’s when he smiles at you and says that it’s nice to see you again that he feels within reach. It’s also the moment you realize that him being away didn’t really help. If anything, it intensified that feeling that you know you can’t have. You’re gonna lose him one day, and when you do, you hope for only the good memories to stay.

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wttcsms · 8 months ago

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angels like you can't fly down here with me (i'm everything they say i would be), megumi fushiguro ;

pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 11k synopsis people like him don't get happy endings but megumi fushiguro (foolishly) considers himself to be the exception — after all, he has you. content contains yakuza au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, breeding kink, slight daddy kink, attempted sa, minor violence & depictions of blood author's note if ur on my ao3, you know this is from 2021!!! my writing has changed up since then, but i'm going to be releasing a revised version of this which will be rewritten and feature more scenes, more worldbuilding, more plot, relationship and character development, etc!! i figured releasing this on tumblr would help me gauge how worthwhile revision of this fic will be, so lmk if u like this au & want to see it become even better <3

Don’t do it.

He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)

He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.

(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.

And he does.

Every. Single. Time.)

For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.

(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.

After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)

The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.

As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.

Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.

Don’t do it.

He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes.

The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.

“Move.”

It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.

“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.

School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They’re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.

The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.

For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.

And they’re not wrong, anyway.

(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)

Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.

Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.

(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)

No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.

And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.

“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.

(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)

“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.

He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.

Little boy.

He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.

“Leave him alone.”

Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.

Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.

He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.

You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.

All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.

“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”

The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.

“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.

“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.

Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.

“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”

“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [Surname] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”

The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.

After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.

You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.

“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”

It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.

Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.

“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.

“We’re not friends.”

“Too late. I told my dad we were.”

There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.

You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.

“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.

“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?

“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Names]’s!” or “[Name], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like youhave any friends.”

“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.

(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”

Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)

People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.

(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)

“Hmm. Okay.”

But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.

The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.

You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.

“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.

“What’s this for?”

“For you to eat, silly.”

“...How much?”

“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.

“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”

“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)

“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”

He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.

“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”

Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.

Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.

“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”

“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”

“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.

No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.

“And yet, you’re still always here.”

You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.

(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.

Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.

Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.

“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”

You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.

You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.

“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.

If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.

Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)

You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.

(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.

“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.

“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.

“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”

“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?

“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”

“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”

The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.

“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.

“Are you sure about that?”

You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.

“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.

You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.

For your words to be true.)

You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.

He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.

(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”

“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.

“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Name].”)

It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.

Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.

Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.

It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.

Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.

Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.

“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.

“No.”

You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.

“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.

“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.

It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.

“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”

“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.

“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.

(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)

There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.

You like Megumi.

Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.

And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.

It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.

It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.

Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.

He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?

Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.

Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.

Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.

You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.

gumi <3: where are you? gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home. gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [name]. let’s leave now

Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.

You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so whyyou suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.

Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.

He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.

Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…

Do you hate him now?

It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.

He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.

If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.

You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.

He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.

“Ow, man, what the fuc—”

“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.

“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows ofhim. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”

Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.

He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.

He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.

It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.

The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.

The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.

It’s locked.

His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.

Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away.

He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.

It’s a phone ringing.

He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”

Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.

The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”

He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.

The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.

It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.

The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.

“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.

Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirelydifferent.

The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and againand again.

Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.

“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.

As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now?

You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay, [Name].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.

The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.

It’s only a matter of time.

You’re too good to be true.

You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.

“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.

You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.

“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.

Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.

“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.

You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.

“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.

“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that? I could fuck you forever.”

His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.

“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.

There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.”

Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.

“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”

“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.

“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”

He’s silent for a minute.

“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.

You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”

Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.

Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.

Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.

He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.

And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.

Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.

Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?

It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.

He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.

Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.

Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.

“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”

“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”

“So then why do you have to go look for it?”

“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”

At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.

From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.

Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.

Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—

—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.

In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.

#megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #angst #fluff #one shot #drabble #smut #megumi smut #jjk smut #jjk imagines #yakuza au #THIS IS SO OLD IM CRYING #like rereading it... omg what was i ON???

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lune-redd · 6 months ago

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Hello, it's Lelly.

As you may know, I have recently deactivated my Twitter account. A lot of people are speculating I left because I was being harassed for drawing my older depiction of Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls as chubby. However... that's not the direct reason I left. In fact, I didn't really see much of the comments of folks on there getting riled up about it as I muted the tweet the morning I saw that it blew up. I was only merely aware of it all by being told about it from friends, with there being some other users on the site making other really fuckin' stupid comments about my art.

This does however lead into why I actually left Twitter, and it's because of Twitter's overall toxic nature. Overtime, I've really gotten sick of how absolutely revolting Twitter has become to experience. The site is basically built around dunk culture and doom scrolling. You know that one tweet of someone making an example of Twitter's utter stupidity by using pancakes and waffles as an example?

I bring this up because I think this fits my point about how Twitter has this thing of assuming the absolute worst about the most insignificant things, even the most innocuous. The "Bubbles obesity" comments weren't the only stupid comments that came out of that post. I also got a quote retweet that I was "forcefully feminizing Buttercup", even though the whole fucking point of that drawing was to depict a usually tough character in an unusual situation for her. I have also gotten stupid comments on other drawings though, like the one where Mitch pushes Buttercup down for trying to look taller than she is and I got called a misogynist for it, though I'm pretty sure that one was bait (Twitter users have a tough time figuring out what is and isn't bait, it's dunk culture that I'm about to talk about really doesn't help this).

The site's dunk culture is also really fuckin' bad. Quote retweets are a disease, as unlike Tumblr's reblog comments, quote retweets count as a different post. Someone disagrees with you? Show your audience how stupid they are on your page! Hey, are you trying not to see the most abhorrent racist statement imaginable? Well TOO BAD FUCK YOU here's a le epic own giving them all the attention in the world even though one of the most common internet rules are DON'T FEED THE FUCKIN' TROLLS YOU IDIOT. Oh hey, are you trying to explain how you prefer a certain artistic choice over another in something you like? Well you're a deranged ungrateful whiny nitpicker, get owned!

I've seen so many of my friends be belittled for simply discussing their artistic preferences of things they're passionate about. I had a friend who said he prefers the original Crash Bandicoot design over his redesigned look in Crash 4, and had legitimate reasons for why he felt that way (even if he didn't really explain them clearly), and he got dunked for it which made me mad. I'm sick and tired of it all. The reaction to my art is only a mere example of the shit I despise about that site.

I had been planning on leaving Twitter for quite some time, as my follower count was growing nearer and nearer to 10K. I had planned on leaving after 10K followers because that amount was wayyyy too fuckin big for me to handle. I'm a young and growing lad, and I felt it wouldn't be good for my mental sanity to handle all that, so I dipped. The amount of attention I've been getting is simultaneously both wonderful and extremely overwhelming. Even the explosion of new followers and asks on here is quite the load! (Seriously, calm the fuck down y'all) I am very grateful for all the supportive asks I've gotten even though I won't be able to answer them all, thank you all so very much.

tl;dr I didn't leave Twitter because I was being harassed or anything, but rather because of the site's overall toxic and belittling environment.

Adios.

-Lelly

#if youre confused by my wording im so sorry i dont often write long paragraphs like this in my spare time

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barefoot-joker · 2 months ago

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Snake in the Garden Pt 5~Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! Welcome back to Snake in the Garden! I do apologize for my long absence. College has started back up; my depression has been kicking my butt and writing block for this chapter were just a few reasons for the delay. However, I'm back with a bang! I highly recommend reading the warnings on this chapter as it does get a bit intense. Oh, and from the bottom of my heart: thank you all so much for supporting this fanfiction! I cherish every like, reblog and read every comment posted on each chapter. I plan to have multiple parts after this one, so I hope you stay. Also, the taglist is open, so if you'd like to be added don't hesitate to comment! As always, have a great day/night and enjoy part five!

Words: 9626

Warnings: Swearing (more than usual), Non-Con Touching, Non-Con Kissing, Non-Con Sexual Advances/Harassment, Reader is forced to wear skimpy clothes, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Body Horror, Lots of Blood, Various Characters gain Trauma from Lucifer, Lucifer goes into Beast Mode, Lucifer's Obsession goes off the rails, Possessive treatment to Reader, Talk of hanging by snake, Kidnapping, Talk of watching someone die, Major Yandere Behavior from Lucifer, Reader gets Pushed Around, Reader gets put in a Cell, Degrading Name Calling-mainly to Reader, Talk of Cannibalism, Reference to Disturbing use of Body Parts, Talk of Sexual Actions, Talk of Drinking Blood, Reader Suffers Abundantly in this Chapter, Seriously who gave Lucifer a Sword

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

I gasped and my eyes widened as I stared at the two beings in my living room. The one who spoke was a larger man. He appeared to have a dad bod underneath his white, purple and gold robe. The black mask he wore had two large horns attached and his golden facial features held a smug look. Behind him stood a female. She too wore a black mask, her horns curled inwards. She appeared to be wearing a black tunic with black skin tight pants and light gray thigh high boots to match. The crude white stitched mouth scowled at me, almost acting like I was wasting her time. I gulped, both sets of eyes watching me like a hawk. “W-who are you? What do you want?”

The masked man set down his bag of Doritos (which I realized were from my cupboard) and offered a hand. “The name’s Adam, sweetheart. I’m the First Man.”

I looked down at his hand and then back at him. He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “If you’re the First Man, does that mean that Lucifer sent you to come get me?”

I stepped back in fear as he cackled, holding his stomach. “Heavens no! I hate that son of a bitch!”

I lowered my guard a bit. “If you’re not with him, why are you here?”

Adam stopped laughing and brushed his robe. “I’ve come to take you to Heaven with me.”

“But I have no business there. I’m not even dead!”

“I can grant you permission. Let’s say it's one of the perks of being a celebrity.”

He pointed his fingers at me as if they were guns and he clicked his tongue. I looked between him and his companion. She tilted her head towards her master as if to say take his hand. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Come on! Lucifer can’t touch you while you’re on Holy ground. And I have a funny feeling he’d like to get his claws on you, if you know what I’m saying.”

I cringed in disgust at what he was implying. “Besides, I can be your bodyguard! I have special privileges being famous after all. And my wingspan is bigger than Lucifers!”

I looked down at my engagement ring. The snake seemed to coil tight around my finger as the eye glimmered, daring me to trust in the Heavenly man’s words. I bit my lip and looked up at him, his female companion now by his side. The sword at her side glinted and I could picture it ramming into my fiance. I could see the light leave his eyes and blood spill down his snow white skin. The betrayal would show on his face as it had mine when he took me to Hell. I felt my lips twitch into a smile as I realized that maybe, just maybe, these two were my allies. My eyes met Adam’s and I gave a quick nod. “I’ll go with you.”

His smile curled up by his eyes. “Good choice, babe. Lute prepare the portal.”

“Yes, sir.”

The woman stepped forward and raised her sword to the sky. She began to draw a symbol that looked like a cross and chanted under her breath. “In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, let these three souls enter Heaven freely.”

As soon as she finished, gold mist began to circle the ceiling. It began to sprinkle down around us, causing me to sneeze. “Bless you.”

“Thanks.”

I looked up and was amazed to see a bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Sunlight streamed down and it felt warm on my skin. “It’s ready, sir.”

“C’mon, babe! Let’s blow this popsicle stand!”

“Wait!”

I brought my fingers around my ring and forced it off. Relief flooded my body as I set it on the coffee table and I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was finally free. “I’m ready now.”

I let out a squeak as he hoisted me up by my waist, his hand traveling a bit low to my butt. I didn’t have much time to think about it because his golden wings opened up and pushed us upwards. The wind from the angel’s wings swept my hair and I couldn’t help but let out a gasp. Even on a bright sunny day on Earth that sky couldn’t compare to Heaven’s. The blue of the sky was a bright baby blue and the clouds were the purest of white. I reached out a hand and laughed at how light the cloud felt passing through my fingers. “Beautiful isn’t it,” Adam questioned.

“It’s better than I could have ever imagined!”

“This isn’t even the best part.”

I focused my gaze ahead of us and my eyes widened. I could see a patch of clouds with bright pastel colored buildings, almost too bright to stare at. We landed on said patch and the mist surrounding the area brushed away, bowing to the First Man. Adam set me down and I was hesitant to place my full weight down. The cloud itself was soft and yet I didn’t fall through. Casting my eyes up, I saw a golden fence stretching a long distance that I couldn’t even begin to see the end of. In the middle was a set of golden doors creating a gate, pearls and diamonds adorning the bars. I gasped as I realized these were the Pearly Gates that people claimed to see as they passed on. As soon as it clicked, a short, blonde haired man with lightly saturated clothes and white wings appeared behind a podium. He flashed a smile with his pearly whites and beckoned us over. “Hiya! Welcome to Heaven! Can I get your name please?”

“Oh, um, Y/n L/n.”

He flipped to the appropriate page in his large book and when he found it he used his index finger to skim through all the names. He muttered under his breath as he searched, his eyebrows wrinkling after a few seconds. “Um, I’m not seeing you on my list. Perhaps you’re in the wrong place-”

“She’s with me, pretty boy.”

Adam crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. “I told you not to call me that. It’s Saint Peter. Besides, she has to be on my list if she’s passed on. She’s dead, right?”

“No, but-”

“Adam, you can’t just bring living people here! It’s against the rules! Oh my goodness, what if He finds out-”

“He won’t! Now let us in, jackass!”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that. I will not get in trouble again for your shenanigans!”

“You listen here-”

“What is going on here?”

All of us looked up to see two females flying down towards us. The one on the left was much taller than the one on the right. Both had gray dresses with purple and white accents. They landed in front of us and I could see them clearly. The one on the left appeared to be an adult woman with dark grayish brown skin. She had gray scaleras with white irises, long winged eyelashes and white freckles below her eyes. Her gray hair was long and was twisted into thick curls. A glowing white crown with blue jewels floated above her head as her black lips set in a frown. The one on the right looked like a child, her skin a lighter grayish brown tone. She too had white freckles under her blue eyes, the irises being an ombre of purple. Her light purple hair reached the hem of her dress and her black lips formed a pout. Both of their six white wings relaxed at their sides. “Sera, tell this dickhead to let us in! He has no right to keep us out here!”

“Sera, he brought in a human! One that has not yet passed on!”

The taller woman, Sera I assumed, raised her hand. “Enough. Let the girl speak on her own terms.”

Everyone turned their gaze towards me and I could feel my stomach twist in knots. My fingers fiddled with the fabric of my nightgown and I found my eyes were more interested in my bare feet. “Um, I’m Y-Y/n. I lived on Earth but Lucifer kidnapped me. He wants me to be his bride.”

I glanced back up at Sera and a shocked expression graced her features. In a second she flipped back to a more relaxed face, her black lips smiling at me. “My child, you have had quite the journey. Come.”

She moved to the side and gestured her hand towards the gate. I looked at Adam and he pushed me forward. “But, Sera-”

“It’s alright, Saint Peter. This is the one exception I will make.”

“Alright.”

He waved his hand and the gate opened, sunlight streaming through. I took a few hesitant steps forward and the four angels followed behind me. The buildings that I saw before glowed in the sunlight and the golden paved road appeared like marble. The two females stepped in front of me, calm smiles on their faces. “How rude of us to not introduce ourselves. I am Sera, the high Seraphim.”

She bowed her head as the child-like angel giggled. She bounced in front of me and was quick to take my hand, shaking it ferociously. “I’m Emily, the other Seraphim! But you can call me Emmy, Em, E, whatever. Welcome to Heaven!”

I smiled and pulled my hand away from her light grip. “Thank you. It feels so surreal being here honestly. I didn’t picture Heaven to look like this.”

“We are quite the close knit community. Everyone is friendly, polite and the nicest of the nice. We pride ourselves on being the best and most innocent of creatures,” Sera said.

“Oh you’re going to like it here, Y/n! We’ve got the most delicious food you’ll ever taste and the beds are like you’re sleeping on a cloud, they’re so soft! You can indulge in any hobby you like and we even have ice cream with rainbow sprinkles!”

I chuckled at Emily’s enthusiasm. “Sounds like fun. Where might I be staying, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“You’ll be with me, toots. I have several bedrooms in my bachelor pad.”

Adam wrapped an arm around my shoulder. His fingers played with the strap to my nightgown and I felt a pit in my stomach as he slid it down my shoulder. His black fingers caressed the skin and I couldn’t help the shiver that ran down my spine. I didn’t know what was worse: Lucifer’s gentle touch or Adam’s commanding one. “How about we get you something new to wear. Lute, take Y/n and get her some new clothes. While I enjoy seeing those pretty shins of yours Y/n, I prefer to see them just for myself.”

His fingers slightly dug into my shoulder and I gulped. Was he being possessive or was it just my imagination from being around Lucifer? Lute signaled for me to follow her and as we walked the golden road I wondered if I truly was in a better place. I thought back to Earth and how I longed to be there with S/o. I wondered if he was looking for me or if somehow the Devil made him forget all about me. I held onto the hope that he was searching everywhere, calling everyone he knew and scouring every town in our state. “Hey, pay attention! We’re here.”

“Sorry.”

I hadn’t noticed Lute had opened a wooden oak door and was pointing at it. I walked in and she shut it behind us. I looked around the room as she rummaged through a closet. The purple floor was made to look like tiled marble and the light blue walls were a pastel version of the sky. The bed itself was King size and had purple sheets and blankets to match. A white knit duvet laid over top and the whole thing looked so soft. A nightstand with a purple based lamp stood on either side of the oak headboard, a wooden oak desk stood under a stained glass window, a purple wooden dresser stood next to the door, and the purple closet was next to another wooden door. Lute walked over and threw a pile of clothes at my chest. I looked up at her and could feel the anger behind her mask. “This will be your room. Bathroom is behind that door. Change and roam around as you like. Just don’t disturb Adam or myself. We’re busy people, got it?”

I blinked in shock at her tone. Why was she so displeased with me? It was Adam’s idea to bring me here. When I didn’t answer, she grabbed me by the hair and pulled. I shrieked as searing pain tugged at my scalp. “I said, got it?”

It sounded like she was gritting her teeth. I nodded my head rapidly. “Yes, yes! I got it!”

As she let go, she pushed me and I landed on the edge of the bed. “Just because you're in Heaven doesn’t mean you’ll get Heavenly treatment. You’re only here because Adam said so. If it was my choice, you would still be rotting in Hell being Lucifer’s bitch.”

She scoffed and turned, her heeled boots clicking against the tiled floor. I sat in disbelief even as the door slammed behind Lute. Clearly she despised me. The question was why. It took me a few minutes to get over the awkward exchange, finally looking down at the pile of clothes. Lute had chosen a boring arrangement: a white tank top, a golden jacket that was just the neck, shoulders and puffy sleeves, dark purple puffy harem pants, and black gladiator sandals. While I matched Adam's color scheme, Lute made it so I didn't stand out. I sighed and walked to the other wooden door. Opening it, it did house a bathroom like she said. I stepped in and locked the door behind me. Sure, everyone is supposed to be friendly, but with the way Adam made me feel uncomfortable I was not risking my safety. The bathroom held a toilet, shower, and a white marble counter with a sink. Silently I stripped down and put on the angelic garments. I had to admit while the clothes Lucifer gave me were soft, these felt, well, heavenly. I looked at myself in the mirror above the counter. I looked so pale from receiving no sun down in Hell and my eyebags matched the purple of my pants. I sighed and turned the faucet onto cold water. The frigidness felt nice against my fingertips as I tested the temperature. Satisfied, I splashed water onto my face and rubbed it in thoroughly. I breathed in deep and looked at myself in the mirror once more. My cheeks felt a bit warm from the cool contact, but I felt a bit better nonetheless. Drying my hands on a towel hanging on a metal bar behind me, I unlocked the bathroom door and headed back into the bedroom. As I was trying to figure out where I was going to explore first, I heard two voices. Curious, I stepped to my bedroom door and opened it slowly. Nobody was in the hallway, but I could hear the muffled conversation taking place next to me. Hesitantly, I walked into the hall and to the golden door next to mine. I put my ear up close to the wood. I couldn’t tell exactly who was talking to one another, but from what I knew it sounded like Adam and Sera. “-can’t believe you would bring her here, Adam! Do you know how dangerous your actions are?!”

“Chill out, drama queen. Nothing is going to fucking happen, okay.”

“You don’t know what Lucifer is capable of.”

“The motherfucker hides during the exterminations. You really think he’d try and come up here?”

“Yes! When Lucifer desires something he won’t stop till it’s in his grasp. I fear he will make quite the grand entrance to come and retrieve his beloved.”

“Oh please. Even if he does come, I’ll have her wrapped around my finger to the point she’ll obey my every order.”

My eyebrows scrunched together. I could only assume they were talking about me. But why would Adam want me to comply with him? It’s not like I found him attractive or was even remotely interested in him. My ears caught onto light footsteps headed for the door, so I quickly rushed around a corner. I watched as Sera entered the hall, a look of disappointment gracing her features. She sighed and floated the opposite direction of me, Adam soon following after. I let my hands slip down to my sides and decided to take a walk to mull over the whole situation.

I didn’t really pay attention to where I was going, just focusing on my feet lifting up and down as I walked. It wasn’t till I heard ocean waves that made me stop. I looked to my left to see a gorgeous beach sitting in the distance. How odd.

I felt myself drawn to the calming sound of the tide seeping in and out as I made my way over. The wooden steps below my feet squeaked a bit and soon the white sand seeped around my sandals. I stopped at the water’s edge and closed my eyes. The breeze off the sea brushed against my flesh, the warmth feeling like a hug from a loved one. The smell of the salt reminded me of when S/o and I traveled a few towns over from ours to visit an aquarium. The animals were held in their natural waters behind glass panes, but the smell of rich salt permeated the air wherever you went. “Enjoying your freedom?”

My eyes shot open and I spun around. Laying on a long white beach chair was a taller woman. Her long blonde hair blew a bit in the breeze and caressed the top of the sand. She wore a dark purple sun hat with a lighter purple band, a dark purple bikini set, and purple rimmed sunglasses. Even though I couldn’t see her eyes, her aura wasn’t threatening. “W-what did you say?”

“I said enjoying your freedom, dearie?”

“Um, I guess. I mean I just got here so I wouldn’t know-”

“Come closer.”

I was taken aback by her tone. Though she was in a relaxed position, her voice was commanding, authoritative. I gulped and did as she requested. I stopped by her bare feet and could feel her eyes scanning me up and down. She hummed and her lips twitched into a small smile. “So you’re the one Lucifer is obsessed with now. I’ll admit I can see why. A pretty thing like you probably reminds him of the swans he would keep in gilded cages. While they weren’t ducks per say he found their beauty and grace appealing.”

I could feel my cheeks heat up at her compliment. “T-thank you?”

She chuckled and leaned back, soaking up the sun. “Your wedding will be the talk of Hell for quite a few months, I reckon. It’s not often that the King lends out his heart. You must be very special to him.”

“I found him as a snake. He was wounded and I patched him up. God, if only I hadn’t touched him I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

The woman scooted her feet over and patted the empty space on her chair. I sat sideways so I was able to glance at her. “So he took the form of a snake, eh? He hasn’t done that since he offered the apple to Eve. I always did find it interesting how slippery he could be, even when not in his snake form.”

“He’s so clingy. I hardly have any time to myself, he is always by my side. His claws touch me tenderly and when I look into his eyes all I can see is adoration. It’s disturbing.”

“Possessive as always. Perhaps your presence eases his depression.”

“I guess. I just don’t understand why he can’t get it through his head that I don’t want to be with him.”

“It’s called ego, darling. His pride gets the better of him. It doesn’t help that he’s the sin of it either.”

I brought my hand up to sit in my lap and found myself fidgeting with the finger my engagement ring had been on. “Apparently he’s so in love with me that he forgets he was married before. I realize his wife, Lilith I think her name was, left him seven years ago but he acts like I’m his first love.”

The woman was silent for a moment, the calm of the tide being the only sound between us. “Sounds like he’s just trying to find someone who makes him happy.”

“Yes, but at the expense of my own happiness.”

The woman opened her mouth to say something, but a familiar voice made us both look up at the wooden stairs. Emily stood waving her arm, a giant smile on her face. “Adam said you’d be out wandering so I thought I’d catch up and show you the ropes!”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Come on! I have so much stuff to show you!”

I chuckled and stood up from the chair. Just as I started to walk away, the woman’s hand clung to my wrist. Her grip was firm but gentle, making me turn back towards her. With her free hand she slid her sunglasses down her nose just enough to see her eyes. My eyes widened to see her light purple irises gleaming at me. “Please take care of him for me, Y/n. I can tell he truly loves and adores you.”

She raised my hand to her lips and left a light kiss on my knuckles. “Y/n, come on!”

The woman let me slip my hand from her grasp and as I slowly walked away she pushed her sunglasses back up. I was dazed as I reached Emily on the stairs, still reeling from what the woman had said. “Oh I’m so excited to show you everything! I think I’ll take you to the park first, ooo! Or I could take you to the zoo! We’ve got all of the animals Noah had on the Ark and more!”

I didn’t say anything as she grabbed my hand and pulled me away. Before we got too far I looked back at the woman, her hair blowing in the breeze.

I didn’t really pay much attention to what Emily was showing me or what she was saying. I was too focused on my conversation with the woman on the beach. Her eyes felt so familiar to me and yet I couldn’t place where I had seen them before. “/n? Y/n? Are you listening?”

I shook my head to see the young Seraphim looking at me concerned. “Huh?”

“I asked what you thought of the sunset. Isn’t it pretty?”

I followed her arm to see her pointing ahead of us. The clouds around us had turned pink, orange and light purple while the Sun had been cast to be a golden orange. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

“Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m here for you.”

Emily placed a hand on my shoulder, her thumb rubbing light circles. While the offer was tempting I didn’t know if I should tell her anything. I mean what did she know about Lucifer? Would she understand how the woman and I had connected while talking of the Devil? I looked over at her and could feel a wave of calm hit. Emily had this aura of trust and care surrounding her; her eyes sparkled and a friendly smile was placed on her black lips. I let out a sigh. “The woman I was with on the beach. Who is she?”

The angel looked puzzled, holding her chin in between her index finger and thumb. “I’m not entirely sure. She just showed up one day with Adam and Lute. I tried to talk to her but she brushed me off. Come to think of it, she only really talks to Adam. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that she knew about Lucifer and I are to be wed soon. She also had information that isn’t known to the general public.”

“Maybe she heard it somewhere? I’ve heard Sera talk about Down Below every once in a while.”

“No, she knew too many details to have heard it in passing. Besides, she told me to take care of him, almost like she knew him personally. It was like she was giving me her blessing.”

“How mysterious.”

The two of us stood watching the sky slowly paint itself to night. It was refreshing to see something that S/o and I would watch any chance we got. “Y/n, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“What’s it like on Earth?”

I blinked a few times, stunned by her question. “You’ve never been?”

“No. I was created way after Lucifer fell. My only purpose is to make the winners happy and enjoy their eternal life here in Heaven. Sera doesn’t view my position as something needed in everyday human life.”

I hummed and stared at the night sky. A shooting star passed by and I smiled in wonder. “I find it to be a lovely place. The town I live in is a nice community. Everyone knows their neighbors and it was the kind of place where if someone had a barbeque, everyone in the neighborhood was invited. I live by myself in a small house. It was kind of like an apartment but with no roommates. I even have my own little garden out back. It is my pride and joy.”

“That sounds amazing. Do you have any significant others?”

“I do. His name is S/o and he’s my world. Before I was kidnapped we didn’t have much time to spend with one another due to our work schedules. But when we were together, my god those were the best times. He made me feel like the most special girl in the universe.”

I smiled upon remembering my dear boyfriend. The memories of us on dates or him telling a stupid joke that I’d laugh way too hard at flooded my head. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and I was quick to wipe them away. I choked back a sob and tried to focus on the stars. I didn’t want to become a crying mess in front of Emily. “Hiya, toots~”

The young angel and I turned to see the First Man standing behind us, his arms crossed in front of him. “It’s getting late, babe. Hows about you and I get to bed, hm?”

I looked at Emily, who gave me a curt nod. “I suppose.”

I walked up to him, only for him to snuggle me up to his side. “Thanks for watching her, Em! Go get yourself an ice cream or some shit.”

Before I could even say goodbye, Adam was dragging me back to my bedroom. He threw open the door and lightly pushed me inside. I stumbled and turned to look at him. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning. If you need anything, and I mean anything, give me a holler. I’m right next door. Night, babe!”

He threw up a rock symbol on his right hand before slamming the door shut. What is with angels and slamming doors?

I shook my head and went to the closet. I looked in disgust at the pajama choice: a light pink babydoll nightgown with ruffles around the chest area and hem. I searched to see if there were any other options. Unfortunately, there were none. I headed to the bathroom with my pj’s and locked the door behind me. Stripping down, I slid on the nightdress. Looking in the mirror, I cringed at how short it was. I tried to pull the hem down but it stayed around my upper thigh. Growling in frustration, I unlocked the door and headed to the bed. I flipped back the covers and climbed in. I shifted around a bit to try and get comfortable. Even though the mattress was like a cloud, I preferred my bed back home. There I could have S/o’s arms wrapped around me as we cuddled. My homemade quilt and weighted blanket would keep us warm in the Queen sized bed. I could feel the tears from earlier gather in my eyes and slide down onto the pillowcase. I wrapped my arms around my midsection and curled into a ball. I ended up crying myself to sleep.

Over the next few days I found myself next to Adam’s side nearly all the time. The only time I was separated was when I was in the bathroom or when I was sleeping. Even being in the supposed happiest place for death I found myself very uncomfortable. Adam constantly had his hands on me: playing with the straps of my tops, smacking my butt, massaging my shoulders and hips, and his fingertips “accidentally” scraping my boobs. It didn’t help that Lute would constantly glare at me and her face would be pulled into a snarl. I suppose she thought I was disobeying her order to stay away from her master.

I thought about my interactions with the two as I pulled back the covers, getting ready to go to bed. A knock on my door made me pause. It was pretty late so I was confused as to who could be there. “Come in.”

The door slowly opened to reveal Adam. I gagged at how strong his cologne was as I could smell it all the way to where I was. “Um, hey Adam. What can I do for you?”

His footsteps sounded heavy on the tiled floor and the door shutting behind him felt like a blade stabbing into my heart. He lifted his hand and my breath caught in my throat when I heard the lock. I backed up but I felt the bed behind my knees. The First Man stopped right in front of me and allowed his lips to quirk into a deep grin. His hands came up and started to slide the nightgown straps down. Disgusted, I slapped his hands away and went to shove him. As my hands pushed on him, he was quick to grab my wrists and hold them to his chest. “You look so hot, babe. I was right to pick out this pj set. You fill it out perfectly.”

“Let go of me!”

I struggled to pull my hands away but his grip didn’t falter. “Adam, let go! Y-you’re scaring me!”

“Just go with the flow, sweetie. Can’t you see this was meant to be?”

He pushed me onto the bed and before I could get up he pounced on top of me. I was about to hit him but he pinned my wrists on either side of my head. He leaned down and began to kiss my neck. His lips were sloppy and he brought his tongue to lick against my vein. “I’m going to make you forget all about that fucking Morningstar. All that you’re going to have on your mind is the original Dickmaster.”

As he brought his lips down to kiss mine, I let out a growl and threw my leg upwards. I heard him let out a cry of pain before he fell onto the floor clutching his privates. “My balls! My fucking balls! God dammit, Y/n!”

With fear guiding me, I stumbled to the door and fumbled with the lock. “Come on, come on, come on, come on!”

My fingers shook as I heard Adam rise, a groan leaving his lips. “I was going to play nice, toots. I really was. But it seems you want to play hard to get!”

I heard the lock click and I quickly threw the door open. I sprinted down the hall as I heard Adam yell after me. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I ran faster than I ever had. My escape was futile though as I slammed into a muscular body. I looked up to see Lute, her mask off to reveal a white bob and yellow eyes. I was frozen as I heard Adam huffing behind us. “Good job catching her, Lute!”

“What would you like me to do with the bitch?”

“Lock her in a cell.”

“Anything else?”

“Hit her or something for kicking my balls. That shit hurt.”

“Of course, sir.”

I cried out as Lute grabbed my hair and pulled me down the hall. I tried to pull her hand off but she just tightened her hold. With the pace we were going, the two of us ended up at a dark wooden door. Lute opened it and walked me to the middle of the dimly lit room. She opened the black metal door to the cell and threw me inside. I groaned as I felt my knee scrape against the cold cobblestone floor. I looked up at the angel who sent daggers into my soul with her gaze. “I told Adam you were trouble, but he insisted we bring you here. And after all the hospitality he showed you…you go back on his trust.”

“By hospitality do you mean perverted-” I growled out.

Lute brought her leg up and kicked my cheek. I landed harshly on my side and spit out some blood that oozed from my teeth. “Don’t speak of him like that.”

“Why? It’s not like he’s a saint!”

She growled and drove her foot into my stomach. I howled as sharp pain blossomed. “He’s better than you could ever be! I mean look at you. While he’s up here in Heaven you’re Down Below sucking Lucifer’s cock.”

Her foot hit my stomach again and I could feel bile rise in my throat. “How does it feel to know you’ll never achieve anything? Your legacy will be known as the Devil’s little whore and that’s all you're good for.”

I gave her a smirk before I coughed. “At least I probably give better head than you.”

Her eyes widened before they returned to slits. With her teeth clenched, she brought her right fist into my mouth. I felt my bottom lip split as some blood came shooting out. “Oh, triggered are we? Is this because you have pent up sexual frustration for your leader? Is that some kind of kink you’re into: master and servant?”

“Shut the hell up!”

Grabbing my hair, she slammed my head into the stone floor with a warrior cry. My vision blurred and the room felt like it was spinning. With her hand still tangled in my locks, Lute brought my head up and down several times to meet the floor. My cheekbone felt like it was on fire and I figured the bone was probably shattered with the force of me hitting the ground. “Think you’re tough shit, huh? I can tell you’re just a scared little girl. You were never meant for Heaven, even if you weren’t branded as Lucifer’s slut.”

I could feel my anger boiling. How dare she call me such vile names. “You think I chose this life? Hell no! I was fine being on Earth with my boyfriend!”

“Yeah right. You probably summoned that dirty retch. Why’d you do it? Did you want fame? Money? The glory of saying you fucked the King of Hell?”

“I didn’t do any of that shit! If I had it my way I would have never helped that stupid snake in my garden! Then maybe I wouldn’t be forced to be a bride against my will! Or better yet, then maybe I wouldn’t have met you or your motherfucking boss!”

She yelled in fury and brought her foot up to meet my chest. I landed on my back and the air left my lungs. I heaved in oxygen as she kept kicking me. I swear I heard ribs cracking under pressure. Lute didn’t stop there. She slammed her gray heeled boot onto my fingers and I couldn’t help but let out a scream. “That’s it! Scream, little girl! Pray that your hellish Daddy comes to save you!”

“S-shut up!”

I felt whiplash as her foot dug into my cheek, blood spilling down my bruised lips. “You know what we consider people like you? Fallen. Maybe I should cut your wings like we do all the others?”

“N-no!”

She roughly turned me over so that my back was facing her. I attempted to stand when I heard the sound of fabric ripping and cool air hitting my back. Lute however stomped me into the ground, her heel digging into my flesh. I heard her sword being unsheathed and saw its angelic light bounce off the cell wall. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything I said! Lute, p-please!”

She let out a cruel laugh and I yelped at her heel digging in further. “You’re pathetic, you know that? If you were half the woman that Adam claimed you to be, you wouldn’t go back on your word. Some advice for you, sweetie. If you say a threat, really mean it.”

I screamed as her sword pierced into the left side of my back. There had to be some kind of special angelic powers attached because this hurt way worse than when I would accidentally slice my finger while cooking. Lute reveled in my cries as she dragged the blade around forming some shape. Tears fell rapidly from my eyes as I slammed my fist down into the cold floor, trying to focus on something other than the pain radiating in my back. I was relieved when I felt the weapon retract, but the relief was short lived. A blood curdling shriek ripped through my throat as the sword entered the right side and began drawing a similar shape to its predecessor. Lute seemed to take her time, enjoying my wails bouncing off the walls. She harshly pulled the sword out and resheathed it. “While I would love to carry on my tradition of licking the blood of my enemies off my blade, I don’t want to taint my Holy body with your sin.”

“W-what did you d-do,” I stuttered under my breath.

I could sense a smirk gracing her features as she rounded in front of me. Reaching under my armpits, she hoisted me up and threw me against the wall. I cried out as the rough stone dug into my newly acquired wounds. “I just cut the wings off the fallen, dare I say, angel. Oh who am I kidding? You’re no angel. You’re not even as worthy as the dirt beneath my feet.”

“F-fuck you.”

I grit my teeth as she harshly gripped my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes. “What did I say about empty threats, sweetie? Or do I need to remind you?”

I shook my head as a dangerous smile overtook her face. “No, I think you need the reminder.”

Her hand moved to my throat and she made sure to drag my back up the wall as she let me hang. I weakly kicked my legs as I tried to get her to release me. I could feel my body shutting down as Lute squeezed. I was pretty sure I’d have bruises where her fingers lay. My hands started to slide off of hers as my vision began to get a black haze around the edges. “What is going on here?”

Lute let go of me in her haste and my butt collided hard with the ground. I couldn’t see who had entered as I heaved in deep breaths. “Miss Emily, what are you doing up? It’s late. You should get to bed. Here, let me escort you.”

“What were you doing, Lute?”

“Oh, um, I was taking care of a prisoner.”

I could see a familiar head peek around my attacker’s body, a gasp leaving the young Seraphim’s lips. “Oh my goodness! Y/n!”

Emily rushed past and cradled me in her arms, her hand gently rubbing my bruised cheek. “What have you done?! Y/n didn’t do anything to you!”

“On the contrary Miss Emily, Y/n here has committed a major sin. She rejected the orders of the First Man and I was told to punish her in any way I saw fit.”

“I rejected him because he wanted sex. You left that part out,” I hissed, my throat raw from screaming.

Lute bit her lip and I could see she was dying to cuss me out. “I could forgive Adam’s behavior up until now, but this, this is unforgivable! I need to talk to Sera about this. Violence isn’t the answer and neither is attacking innocent people!”

I could see a shadow cast over the white haired angel’s face and her hand reached for her sword. “There’s no need to discuss this with Sera.”

My eyes widened as her sword was unsheathed next to her side. Emily must have sensed something was off as well because her arms trembled around me. “Lute, w-what are you doing? Put your sword away n-now!”

“I can’t risk you running and tattling to Sera. Who knows what she’ll do to us. Adam and I belong here in Heaven! We’re doing good in God’s name! We will not be cast Down Below!”

She raised the blade and brought it down quickly towards Emily’s head. She screamed and with a newly found inner strength I forced myself up. I let out a warrior cry as I brought my arm up to protect my face, the sharp weapon making contact with my left shoulder. I heard fabric ripping and a glass shattering shriek from the young Seraphim. Glancing down I saw my arm was missing, it lying discarded on the dungeon floor. I let out a shaky gasp and stumbled into the wall. “Y/N!”

I went to go to Emily’s side but Lute stabbed her sword into my right shoulder, effectively pinning me to the wall. I screeched and realized there was nothing I could do. I helplessly watched as the evil angel went for the younger girl’s throat. However, a punch to her face made her drop Emily. She grunted as her head smacked the wall next to me and her body slid down to the floor. I looked towards our savior and felt the color drain from my face. There stood Lucifer, six red and white wings displayed behind him. His eyes were completely red as tall, curvy, red horns grew from his forehead. A flame hovered between them and the snake that usually rested on his hat was now wrapped around the tip of his horns. From this distance it looked like his sharp teeth had grown longer, his canines more prevalent. Lute grunted as she sat up holding her cheek, golden blood trickling from a cut. “You BASTARD! You can’t hurt an angel on Holy ground!”

“The rules don’t apply to FUCKING SCUM LIKE YOU! How DARE you lay your filthy hands on MY BRIDE!”

He rushed forwards and sent a hard punch to her gut. Lute let out a cry of pain before Lucifer grabbed her by the feathers around her throat. Her muscular legs kicked violently, her white gloved hands digging into black hands. I could hear the crunch of her neck bones breaking, golden blood flying out her mouth onto the Devil’s claws. “I can think of so many ways I can torture you with. What should I start with first, hm? I could pluck those white and black feathers from your wings and have them decorate a cape for my darling; Or I could have my snakes bite you all over your body as you screamed and writhed in agony. Oh yes, their venom would enter your bloodstream and there would be nothing you could do as it slowly overtook you, boiling your insides to ash; Or I could break each bone in your body beginning with your fingers and leaving your neck. After everything was broken and you felt that pain, I could slowly saw off each limb, starting with the tops of your fingers and going down each joint. I think I would like that! And after every vein, tendon, muscle and bone was cut off your body I could give them to Cannibal Town to feed the residents as a treat from their King. Just before you died, I could cut out your tongue, eyes and ears and give them to Alastor. I don’t know what the Radio Demon would do with them, but I know he’d find a way to make them useful. And as you would crash from blood loss, I would place your head on a spike outside my palace. It would be a reminder to not mess with me or my fucking bride! Oh, I’d have fun torturing your soul as surely Heaven wouldn’t want you as my hellish hands corrupted your purity!”

Lute bared her teeth and her legs started to slow down to a small wiggle. I watched on in horror as he threw her at the wall on the opposite side of the room. As he stomped towards her, Emily ran to my side. She took off the shawl around her shoulders and wrapped it around my left shoulder. She pulled it tight to try and staunch the bleeding. I hissed as the pressure sent shooting pain to my remaining nerves. Lucifer’s black tail flicked up and down, acting like a scorpion's. My pupils shrunk as I watched him wrap his fist around one of Lute’s wings. She scratched at him as he tugged, a scream ripping from her throat. “That! Is for even bringing my dear apple up here!”

He gripped her other wing and tugged, more bloodied feathers in his fist. “That! Is for throwing her around!”

He went back and forth ripping more and more feathers from each wing, a pile growing behind Lucifer as he called out something harmful Lute had done to me. “Get off me, you motherfucker!”

The Devil brought up one of his feet, slamming the heel of his black leather boot into her eye socket. I shrieked as he kept at it, more golden blood dripping down as her face was slowly being caved in. I couldn’t watch this any longer.

“LUCIFER, STOP!”

His foot was in midair as it froze. He looked over his shoulder at me. I scrunched my eyebrows together and let pleas slip past my bruised lips and raw throat.

“PLEASE, STOP! Just stop! You’ve done enough damage!”

He scowled and brought his foot down, turning to face me completely. White irises surfaced on top of his red scaleras, softening as they stared at me. “Y/n, she could have killed you! By God, your arm has been lobbed off! Why do you plead mercy for a disgusting soul like hers? She and Adam should suffer for what they have done to you!”

“It’s not worth it! Killing her won’t rewind time or heal me. Just, just let her be.”

He sighed and looked down at Lute’s crumpled body. I could hear her labored breathing so I knew she was still alive, just in a fatal condition. He walked over and crouched before me. Those white eyes of his were filled with rage and determination, but not directed towards me. He brought his hands up to my cheeks, tenderly rubbing them with his thumbs. “Okay. But I need to remove this weapon from your shoulder. I’m not going to lie, this’ll hurt like hell. Emily, stabilize her.”

“O-of course.”

The young girl moved her hands from my missing arm to underneath my armpits and Lucifer grabbed the hilt of the sword. “I apologize for the pain this’ll bring, my dear. I’ll go as fast as I can without the risk of damaging your nerves.”

I nodded and with that he pulled. I cried out in pure agony. Emily hushed me in an effort to make me feel better but all I could focus on was the pain. When the sword was fully out of my shoulder, Lucifer patted the top of my head and gave it a gentle kiss. He stood and turned back towards Lute, who had pushed herself up so she was in a sitting position. With the sword by his side, my fiance slowly stalked forward until he stopped in front of the fallen angel. I couldn’t see her due to Lucifer’s wings spread out but maybe he had done that on purpose. “You should thank my dear apple. She has shown you mercy in a time when she shouldn’t be so kind. But her kindness is one of the reasons I fell for her.”

I felt a sudden tension in my body. He had agreed to not do anything so why did I feel so uneasy? Suddenly he thrust forward and from the feminine scream that bounced off the walls I could tell he had stabbed her. “But on the other hand, I’m not so merciful. I am the King of Hell after all. What is it that you angels say about me? That I’m a rotten, purely evil, husk of a man who should have choked on his own apple while a snake hung me from a tree in the Garden of Eden? Well let me live up to my title. Let me show you how rotten and purely evil I can be!”

“Lucifer, no,” I cried.

He pulled the sword out of wherever he had stabbed it and lifted it above his head. He brought it down with a yell of fury and I screamed as golden blood sprayed everywhere. I squirmed as some of it had splattered across the room onto Emily and I. It was warm and sticky against my legs and face. I wondered if Lute was even alive after that blow. “You. Sick. Fuck! You’re a monster, you know that?!”

I was shocked to hear the female sidekick, even if her voice was shaky. “I don’t care! I don’t care what others think of me! The only one I need is Y/n! She’s MY darling! MY little apple! MY light! And no one, not even the fucker up here who calls himself Father, CAN TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME!”

My eyes widened and I couldn’t tell if it was Emily or I who was trembling the hardest.

He was crazy.

Absolutely batshit insane.

I finally realized how deep his obsession for me ran.

He cackled like a lunatic, throwing his head back. His whole body shook with how hard he was laughing. He brought the angelic weapon up again and swung down-

"LUCIFER!”

All of us froze. There in the doorway stood Sera, a multitude of eyes surrounding her gray curls. Her fists were balled at her sides as she walked in. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Lucifer didn’t even look at her, too focused on his prey in front of him. “I’m acting in self defense. Aren’t I, Emily?”

Sera looked at the two of us and Emily squeaked. “Is this true, Emily?”

“I-I-I-”

“Be truthful, my child. I don’t want you scorned for siding with the embodiment of evil.”

“...He saved us, Sera! Lute, she, she, she was going to kill me! If Mister Morningstar hadn’t stepped in both Y/n and I would be dead!”

The High Seraphim was taken aback, her eyes fading from her hair. “What?”

“Hey, what’s with all the commotion? Some people are trying to sleep-”

My gaze saw Adam walk in behind Sera, his mouth allowing a yawn to pass. The pit in my stomach grew as I feared how he would react when he saw the state of his right hand woman. Sure enough his eyes landed on her and his body tensed. “Holy shit…Lute.”

His hands balled up next to his sides and his eyebrows scrunched over the top of the golden eyes on his mask. “You, motherfucker! You, son of a bitch! You could have killed her-”

A screech ripped my throat as Lucifer whipped around and sliced through Adam’s arm. It flopped to the floor and a chorus of fear filled the air. The First Man was quick to grab his open wound, liquid gold coating his fingers. “What the fuck. What the fuck! WHAT THE FUCK! YOU CUT OFF MY ARM, YOU ASSHOLE!”

With Lucifer turned I could see the fire burning in his eyes. He was scaring even Sera, her taking a step back. “What is it they say? An eye for an eye? Well in this case it’s an arm for an arm.”

“YOU, DICKBAG! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!”

“Why don’t you ask your little whore when she wakes up? I’m sure she’d love to tell you in great detail while she’s in between your thighs sucking you off about what happened.”

Adam growled and released his shoulder, his bloodied hand pointing at Emily and I. His index finger started to glow with a bright white light and I feared he’d shoot me. With the threat in the air, Lucifer brought the tip of the sword to the masked man’s throat. He pushed it in, not enough to draw blood but enough to make the consequence known. “Don’t. Even. Think. About. It. You’re lucky that my dearest told me not to kill anybody. Because believe me, my limit has been passed and I’m hanging by a fucking thread.”

Adam gulped and the blade moved with the bob of his adams apple. I could see fear in the egotistical man’s eyes and even his stance had changed to try and protect himself. “Say, how about I cut off the other hand to join its partner on the floor? I could make them into a pair of cup holders for my beloved and I to use as we sip your thick rich blood from bejeweled goblets.”

“W-why would you want to do that? My blood doesn’t even taste that good!”

“Let’s see, I could name a million reasons. But the first one that comes to mind is to punish you for assaulting my fiance! Did you really think I wouldn’t know about you constantly putting your wretched paws all over her?”

“L-look, you stole two of my wives. I was only returning the favor!”

Lucifer grit his teeth and I swear with how hard he pushed them together they would shatter. The glare that he sent towards Adam was lethal as his eyes turned completely red once more. His black knuckles turned white with how hard he gripped the hilt of the sword. “Those two were just to show how superior I am to you. Y/n is different. She is my true love! She’ll remain by my side for the rest of her eternal life and together we will rule Hell as King and Queen! And if you think you can take that away I’ll cause my own extermination! Any and all winners will be subject to my wrath! They will be slaughtered one by one and their souls forced to burn beneath my hooved feet! I’ll torture every last one of them as I send them to each ring of Hell, the Cardinal Sins and Overlords free to do whatever the fuck they want! UNDERSTOOD?!”

The sword was pushed a bit further into Adam’s neck, a light trail of blood sliding down from the small gash. The tension was so thick that the weapon in Lucifer’s hands wouldn’t be able to cut through it. “Y-you got it, man! Just don’t hurt me!”

The Devil chuckled and pulled away. “Oh, Adam. So above it all until your whole existence is threatened. Then you turn into a pussy and cower away.”

Throwing the sword into Lute’s left wing with a huff, he used his now open hands to conjure a red misty portal. When Lucifer turned to face Emily and I his white irises had returned to his red eyes and a soft smile reached his lips. He walked over, his bloodied boots clicking against the cobblestone. Slowly, as if to not scare me further, he crouched in front of us. His arms reached for me and as he got close Emily hugged me tight to her frame. Tears ran down my cheeks and wet their previously dry tracks. I shook my head and curled my legs into my torso, trying to get as far away from my fiance. “Please don’t hurt her, Mister Morningstar!”

His face dropped and he shook his head side to side. “You honestly think that I’d hurt my darling? I’m hurt, Emily.”

He reached for me again and before the young girl could put up a fight, he wrapped his arms around me. Standing up, he hoisted me bridal style and brought our foreheads together. He closed his eyes and nuzzled me close. A purr rumbled in his throat and he opened his eyes. That frightening look of adoration had returned, his pupils almost looking like little hearts. He gave my forehead a kiss and then turned towards the other angels. “Goodbye, cunts. Hopefully we never see you again.”

His presence commanded the room as he walked us towards the portal, the familiar dark red sky of Hell peeking through. “Let’s go home, my dearest Y/n. We deserve some alone time together.”

A sob wracked my body as he flew forward, the portal closing immediately behind us.

~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST

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rainrot4me · 3 months ago

Text

Pretty Girl

Summary: The bar was Nina’s scene, her favorite place to be with you by her side. But when some creep tries to extract revenge in the middle of a crowd, you’re both forced to do what you do best. But when confidence falters, you have to show just how worthless guys like that can be.

Characters: Nina the Killer x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Alcohol, creepy guy, mentions of a gun, violence, harassment, depictions of death, murder, they have sex in the same room as a dead body, sex in a bathroom, public sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal eating out, scissoring

Words: 5.7k

Nina felt the most comfortable in a crowd.

Every creep had their own preferred environment: Jeff enjoyed the tight alleyways in dark streets, Toby and EJ liked the dense woods right before sunset, Masky and Hoodie felt the most comfortable in abandoned warehouses or dead buildings, and Slender felt the most at ease in his own mansion. Nina wasn’t any different, and neither were you.

When the two of you paired, the one place you always wound up was a dingy bar or way-too-loud club off the highway. They were always shrouded in darkness and colorful lights, packed to the brim with people of all shapes and features, nobody could ever tell you two looked different. Or at least they weren’t sober enough to. But you both preferred it that way.

Nina was a socializer for sure, caking on good amounts of makeup to disguise her smiling scars so the guys she talked to wouldn’t notice, acting giddy enough to get them to buy her a drink. You sat at the high-top table she had snagged, sipping slowly on your beer as you watched her, ensuring none of the guys got too handsy or pushy. While Nina enjoyed being in the crowd, you preferred to just watch it, surveying the drunks and their poor dates being left for the cute little killer. She stood out, that’s for sure. The bright rainbow lights accentuated her dyed hair, making her eyeshadow and hair clips look even more neon than they already were. She just looked right at home here, almost blending in with the smoke fogging the room.

“This guy got us some pineapple vodkas!” Her flushed face smiled at you, hauling up onto the stool perched in the corner of the dark club, sweaty bangs being pushed out of the way. Setting the tiny glasses on the table, you swirled them around, giving the liquid a small sniff before deeming the alcohol good enough to drink. “Havin’ fun?” You half-yelled over the blaring music, Nina leaning forward to read your lips. She nodded quickly, sipping the drink before cringing at the sour taste of the vodka and quickly setting it back down. She was more of a seltzer girl anyway. “Yeah! Real busy tonight, I don’t recognize any of the guys here!” Even though you frequented the same hotspots, it was unusual to see the same person twice. These bars were always off some random interstate exit with only those passing through interested enough to stop. Wasn’t much else in this town.

Nina pushed her drink towards you and you gladly accepted, smiling as she hopped down to the concrete floor and disappeared back into the crowd of sweaty nobodies. You decided your beer was more enjoyable, finishing off the freebies and swigging the stout alcohol down. The bar was littered wall to wall with trashy posters and signatures of singers you had never heard of, the loud music thumping in your ear as the lights flashed in your eyes. Even though it was overstimulating, you loved the feeling of just getting to exist in the crowd, accompanied by your favorite person.

Now, Nina and you weren’t anything serious. Sure, you shared drunken kisses and wrapped around her just a little too tight when she slept over, but it was just love for your closest friend. Despite her being an adult and fully capable of taking care of herself, you always felt called to watch over her and make sure nothing happened when she wasn’t looking. She was crafty with a knife, easily able to take down everyone in this room if she wanted, but to you, she was just a pretty, sweet girl in need of your protection. This stood evident now.

Her giddy expression pulled through the crowd towards you, your back already straightened as she stumbled to your side, wrapping her arms into yours. “Come dance, already! You just keep sitting here!” She laughed, tugging your jacket sleeve off of the stool and into the crowd, your half-empty beer still firm in hand as you playfully rolled your eyes. “I’m not much of a dancer, Nina��” You smiled, letting her hands intertwine in yours as she began to bounce along with the rhythm, her energy contagious. “Yeah, but you can try!” She teased back, tugging your arm over her shoulder as she sunk into your side, pushing your hips against hers as she giggled. The music thumped loudly, feeling the base under your feet as people pressed against you, shoving you two closer. You let her lead, jumping when she did and swaying to the rhythm, slowly sipping on your drink and trying your hardest not to spill it when she suddenly turned you around.

You laughed along with her, enjoying being in her presence, this small little moment in this big room, just you and her. Until she gripped the back of your shirt, holding tightly as her swaying stopped. You looked at her, confused as to why her excitement seemed to fade, following her eyes up.

A larger man had his phone held out, scrolling onto something as he stared at Nina, eyes glaring. Nina pressed closer to your side, looking towards the floor to avoid his gaze as you just stared back, wondering what the hell he even wanted.

“Hey, I know you.” The man shouted over the music just enough for you both to hear. You glanced at the girl beside you, letting your arm rest on her shoulders as you tried to figure out who he was and why he had his phone pressed in your faces. He was much taller than either one of you, dark hair and a stern look that felt like trouble. You had to find an out before he got to looking too close. “I don’t think so, man.” You returned, taking a step backward and pulling Nina along with you. But the man just shook his head, turning his phone towards you as you finally caught what he was scrolling to. This guy was sober, or at least, sober enough to recognize you two in the dark.

It was an older picture, a couple of years ago maybe. The shot was blurry and bright from the flash, but you could tell exactly what it was. You and Nina cringed, looking at a picture of yourselves in the middle of a mission mid-stab on some guy. Blood-soaked and crazy-eyed, your glares shot right into the camera, your faces disheveled. Your blood ran cold as you saw yourself half-crazy, already taking a step toward the person behind the phone. You couldn’t recall what you were doing it for, but it was very clearly the younger two of you. Looking back up at the man, his expression was more upset now, confirming his suspicion from your reactions and closing the space. You pushed Nina back, sliding your jacket off of your hip to show the revolver you had holstered to your belt, the man planting in front of you as Nina tugged at your sleeve.

“Found this on my buddy’s phone after he was killed. Filed reports, nothin’ ever came up. Guess the universe just wanted me to get to you myself.” He scoffed, leaning in towards your face and spitting his words, closing the distance no matter how much you backed up. The crowd pulsed inwards, pushing you closer as your headache grew from the music. You had to get you both out of there. This guy was insane, his demeanor switching on a dime, full intentions on acting some revenge he thought he was owed.

That’s when you remembered the beer bottle still clutched in your fist, flipping the glass over and hauling it upwards. Only a few members of the crowd noticed as you swung it up into his chin, the bottle shattering and cutting into his jaw. The man rears back, gripping his already bloody face. “C’mon!” You shouted at Nina, grabbing her hand and pushing through the patrons oblivious to your panic. Breathing heavily, you shoved your way to the bathroom, miscalculating which way the exit was and landing yourselves in a deeper part of the bar, swearing as you made it through the swinging door.

Nina followed in as you slammed it shut, turning the small lock and pushing her into a disgusting stall. The bathroom wasn’t any brighter than the bar, flickering linoleum lights shining just enough to see in front of you but doing little to hide the amount of trash and filth there was in there. Graffiti lined the walls, your pants loud as the music muffled in the other room. You had no clue if that guy had seen you come in here, but you shoved the stall door shut just in case, locking it as well and trying to push Nina back further. “[Y/N]...” She whined, her hands on your shoulders as she was crammed beside the toilet, pressing her into the corner as you both stared at each other. “Who the hell was that?” She gasped.

“Friend of some guy we killed, I guess. He has a photo.” You cursed as you heard sudden knocks against the door, and then the knocks turned to pounding. Nina gripped your shoulders tighter, her free hand tugging up her skirt to grip the knife she had holstered to her thigh, the weapon concealed. You reached for your gun too, cocking it as you pressed your back against her, shielding her from the threat that was coming.

Very obviously, Nina could hold her own. She was tough, a little demon when she needed to be. But your instincts overrode her own, some primal protective thing that made you throw yourself out in front, willing to take anything for her sake. “Just stay put.” You grit back, reaching to grip her thigh and rub your thumb gently across for comfort, your body tense as you hear the bathroom door finally slam hard enough to open, the door ricocheting off the concrete walls.

“Where the fuck are ‘ya?!” The man shouts, his voice loud as the muffled music becomes audible again, footsteps heavy against the tiled floor. You grit, pressing your shoulders back harder as you point your gun up, aiming through the closed stall door ready to shoot. Broken bottles and trash crunch under his shoes as the haze of smoke from the bar wafts through the open door, your senses overloaded as you breathe heavily, trying to stay concealed. “Fuckin’ whores.” He snaps again, tossing open a stall a little ways down and cursing when he finds nothing. You can see his boots stomping closer under the door, Nina panting behind you as she watches too, trying to hold her breath.

Another stall door slams open, closer this time. “I’m gonna fuck you both up. Little shits, show you who you’re fuckin’ dealin’ with. Show you what you deserve.” He growled, stepping in front of the stall you two were crammed in. Nina held her breath, clutching your shoulders so tight it began to sting, but you just held steady, pointing the barrel right where his head would be.

As his body slams into the door you scowl, finger heavy on the trigger. His chin was sliced up, blood still gushing down his neck and soaking his shirt, the shattered glass making deep gashes into his flesh. He was breathing heavily, fist clenched around the broken bottle you had hit him with, pointing it towards you. “Gah, you’re both fuckin’ freaks, too.” He spat, wiping his shirt sleeve across his chin and hissing at the burn, glaring at you. “This is what you get you fuckin’ demon.” He snapped, pressing forward. Gritting your teeth, you pulled the trigger, his stance shifting suddenly as he charged you and left the bullet to graze his shoulder.

“Fuck!” He roared, hauling back to grip the now torn clothing that was spurting dark blood, hunching over as you pressed off of Nina. You had a pretty nice silencer equipped onto your revolver, it was necessary for the work you did, especially now. Sure it made the weapon bulky and hard to sway, but it was worth it to drown out the noise with the music still thumping on the other side of the walls. “Move!” You hissed, toeing forward to push Nina in front of you, shoving her past the man and towards the door in a scurry. You followed, barely making it two paces before you were jerked back by your hair, his bloodied fist clamped into the strands.

“You bitch.” He panted, tugging you back towards him as he gripped the bottle, clicking his tongue in your ear. Nina turned, steady movements as she watched, trying not to make him react if she pressed too close. You panted, reaching back to grip his fist tangled in your hair but he only pulled you closer, wrapping his arm around your neck. Pressing the shattered bottle to your cheek, you stilled, breath catching in your throat as he nicked your skin and smiled. “Maybe I’ll make you look like her? Carve some ugly-ass scars into your cheeks too, huh?” He snickered, gritting his teeth against your ear. This guy was so much larger than you, his arm taking up your entire neck as he choked you, threatening by pressing the glass at more of an angle. Nina cursed, you both at a standstill as she let her knife rest back into the holster around her thigh, her eyes focused on his movements. “Let her go. I’m the one who killed your friend, she doesn’t deserve this.” She grits, raising her hands to either side of her head in surrender, breathing steady. He only snagged you tighter, growling. “Neither did he, but you cut him up anyway. I think it’s only fair I take yours too, yeah?” You choked as he clamped his arm in, pressing the glass until it cut into your cheek, hissing as you tried to pull back. Hauling your knee up, you slammed your boot back into his knee, a curse ringing from his lips as he hauled you around.

Nina took the chance, brushing her skirt out of the way to grip the handle of her knife, closing in faster than you could see. It took no time before you felt that arm unwrap from your throat, the big guy being hauled back as Nina’s body jumped onto his, hooking her legs around his torso and latching on, her thin frame hooking around every limb as she gripped his jaw, turning his head to the side with a snap. Her knife flashed up, your disheveled breathing distracting you as you watched the blade cut into the skin of his throat, tugging the skin until it sliced open, warm blood splurting out. Nina hauled herself up, swinging her leg over his shoulder to get a better angle as she cut deeper, wrapping her fingers into his hair and forcing his neck open, making sure to catch his esophagus, cutting off his scream before it even had the chance to come out. He was sputtering blood across his lips, hands reaching to paw at Nina’s clothes as he kneeled, coughing for air.

Unhooking her legs, she let her feet hit the floor, stepping back as he clattered onto the concrete. With a few final chokes and blood pooling underneath, Nina gripped your arms, hauling you up as she checked you for any injuries. “You alright?” She smiled, swiping her thumb across the tiny prick the glass had made into your cheek, rubbing your cheeks. You nodded, still out of breath as you looked down at the lifeless body that was still jerking from the aftershock, kicking at his limp legs. “Go to sleep, motherfucker.” Nina groaned, bending down to wipe her blade with his sleeve, cleaning the metal, and repositioning it back into her holster. You did the same with your gun. Stepping over him, she stepped to the door, locked the bolt, and stepped back to your side to survey her work. “We gotta clean this up.” You groaned, letting her hand intertwine with yours as she leaned close. Nodding, you both sighed.

Locking the bathroom stall door, Nina climbed back under the opening at the bottom, wiping her knees off as she turned to you. There was no telling how many paper towels you had used to get most of the blood-soaked off the floor, but there were still noticeable stains in the tiles. In a bathroom this dark, who could really tell anyway? You had propped this guy up on the toilet, locking him in so someone would find him at a later date, unaware of the horror inside. There was still no telling who he was or why he had thought himself a personal savior of his long-dead friend, but the two of you brushed it off, stepping to the sink to clean yourselves up.

Blood sunk into the drain, your hands feeling less grimy as you looked over to Nina, her expression locked onto herself in the mirror. She was prodding at her scars, pushing her cheeks together and apart, watching the tissue separate as the insides of her mouth became visible. You dried your hands, leaning back to catch her view. “You good?” You teased, elbowing her as she snapped back, smiling and nodding. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.” But her gaze kept catching back to the mirror, looking at her mouth. You elbowed her again, giving a more serious look as she groaned.

“Am I really, like… that ugly?” She shied away, looking towards the floor as you groaned, sliding your hands down her arms to grip her hands, squeezing tight. “Nina. That guy doesn’t know wha-” She cut you off, shaking her head and pushing back, tensing. “No, I’m being serious. Like, I know these were for Jeff and everything, but no one but him even likes them…” You scoffed, leaning down to meet her eyes, eyebrows raised in offense. “I like them!” It was awkward now, nothing you could say would bring her back from this hole she was digging herself. She just looked so defeated.

“Nina. You are the most beautiful girl ever, and if some asshole with a savior complex is going to let you get all down on yourself, then you have seriously got to re-evaluate.” You grit, reaching your hands to cup her cheeks, running your thumbs across the healed scars, her actual smile spreading slowly. “Thank you…” She quietly smiled, letting her hands grip your sleeves as she looked at you, gazing slowly from your eyes and across your features, landing on your lips. You then realized you hadn’t let go of her face, suddenly very aware as you tried to think of something to say. It all got lost when you realized she was leaning in.

You followed, eyes hooded as you watched her eyes close, fingers sliding up your shoulders and wrapping behind your neck. It was brief, but you pecked the other, disconnecting as you breathed each other’s air slowly, contemplating.

But Nina pressed forward again, letting her lips spread across yours as you groaned, wrapping your arms around her waist. It was slow, desperate movements that had your heads turning in rhythm, kissing so gently but so hard as you both panted. “[Y/N]...” The killer breathed against your lips, letting her hands tangle up into the back of your hair as she pushed further, her tongue sliding against your bottom lip. You groaned, pushing yours into her mouth and sighing at the feeling, the sweet kisses turning heated way too quickly. You both clawed, palming at the other until you were dizzy, clinging for more.

You pulled back first, lips wet with her spit as you panted, gazing into her eyes. She was so pretty, you really did think so. Pretty and insanely dangerous, perfect in her little way.

You pressed back, missing her mouth to kiss against her scars, humming as she gasped. “So pretty…” You smiled, planting another kiss at the jagged corner where the tear ended, letting your hands run along her waist. She was blushing pretty badly, tugging at the back of your shirt and giggling at every press of your lips, her smile growing. You giggled, letting yourself pull back to face her again, hugging her close. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, Nina. No matter what you think.” Her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes caught in the flickering ceiling lights, casting a nice glow on her cute face.

Her hands tugged you closer, pressing her lips against your cheeks and down your jaw, planting onto your neck. You gasped, her hands hooked around your waist as you pushed against her shoulders, confused. “Nina? What’re yo-”

“Let me thank you.” She smiled, sucking gently onto your skin, tugging your jacket down your arm, and pulling your shirt to expose your shoulder, peppering the skin with gentle kisses. You blushed, her actions throwing you off, her eagerness unclear. “Thank me? For what?” You groaned as she nibbled into your skin, the area reddening as she kissed again, moving back up to your jaw. “For being so brave… For being so sweet…” She slid your jacket off of your shoulders.

“For being so kind… For being so strong…” Her hands pressed up into your shirt now, your skin riddled with chills as her nails grazed your skin, your jacket now pooled onto the floor. “Nina…” You whined, hands planted onto her shoulders as she pushed up further, letting her hands palm against your bra. Gasping, you looked at her, the mischievous expression lacing her smile easing you back against the wall as she tugged your shirt over your head.

It was cold in this bathroom, her warm hands rubbing against your arms, lacing down to your belt. “Nina.” You warned now, watching as she slowly sunk to her knees, your eyes going wide as you leaned back into the concrete wall, hands planted behind you. “For being so pretty… For being so loving…” Her hands tugged at your belt now, unlooping the mechanism and tugging the leather out from between the loops, careful to lay your holster down carefully as she returned to your jeans. You could only stare as she ran her palms against your thighs, leaning forward to kiss your lower abdomen, planting kisses every couple of inches until she was at your crotch, mouthing at the area. “Let me thank you, okay?” She smiled sweetly, her words full of thick desperation. You couldn’t stop yourself from nodding, lips parting as you watched her slowly unbutton your jeans, tugging them down your shaky thighs.

You were already wet, panties bright in the dark bathroom as the music continued to thump outside, the patrons oblivious to what had happened in here. Or what was happening now. Nina kissed against the cloth, her hands palming at your thighs as you gasped, shoulder blades pressed back into the concrete as your hips angled, desperate for her to move those kisses downwards. “Nina…” You whined, nails digging into your fists as she looped her fingers into the waistband of your panties, ever so slowly tugging them down, pushing past your knees. She smiled at the view, kissing her way closer again.

You died at the anticipation, legs spreading as she kissed right at the crook of your thigh, lips grazing your soft cunt. You hissed, letting one hand come off of the wall to wrap behind her head, cupping her jaw as she smiled up at you, finally pressing in.

Your head fell back against the wall as her tongue slid through the folds of your cunt, spreading you around the muscle and driving your hips forward to chase the sensation. “Fuck-” You groaned, hand gripping her jaw as she rolled her tongue up, pressing against your clit and stimulating it to life. “You taste good, too…” She giggled, letting her nails clench into your thighs as she slid back in, pushing her tongue across your folds. You gasped, jaw loose as you watched, her mouth sucking and lapping at the arousal that was spreading, your cunt already aching. She pushed up, letting the muscle press against your entrance, your hips pushing forward as she slid in. You moaned, both hands lacing into her hair as she slowly rolled her tongue, collecting every lovely taste that poured from your cunt until she was moaning too, the vibration overwhelming.

“Oh god…” You moaned, hugging her head closer between your thighs as she grinned into your folds, her lips becoming soaked with your juices and her own saliva. Probing her tongue, she slowly tugged it out, your groan soon cut off as she found a new home latched onto your clit. You whined, her tongue flicking at the sensitive nub as she sucked, your hips jerking with her. “Yeah, oh fuck, yeah-” You gasped into it as you felt her hand trail off of your thigh and up towards your cunt, her fingers sliding through the wetness she had created and pushing your folds apart. They slowly circled your entrance, her tongue flat against your clit as she pushed two digits up, curling them immediately.

Gasping, you lurched forward, your fingers tight in the strands of her hair as she began to slowly pump her fingers, dragging louder moans from your lips. The bass echoed through the walls, Nina feeling the vibrations under her knees as she worked, desperate to make you feel good. Her fingers pressed against your walls, angled to push your insides and make you whine, the sensitivity a wonderful feeling. You rolled your hips in time, her tongue focused on your aching clit as she sucked, arousal soaking her fingers the deeper she went. You were falling apart, eyes half open and voice tired as she drew you closer, every movement a step closer to driving you mad. The worst part: she looked so pretty between your legs.

“Keep going…” You mewled, gritting your teeth as you let your hips grind in time with her fingers, dragging each sensation out as she smiled, popping off of your clit. “Cum for me, love… There you go…” She teased, eyes wide as she looked into your eyes, her doe eyes making you moan as she reconnected with your clit, keeping her gaze steady. You blinked quickly, eyes slowly beginning to roll as you felt your cunt clench down, your abdomen swelling as you cried out, her fingers driving you past your limit. “Nina-” You grit, cumming on her fingers as your hips pressed down, dragging out the stretch the best you could as she lapped at your orgasm, tongue pressing around her fingers and relishing in the sweet taste. Her fingers tugged out of your cunt as you panted, popping the digits into her mouth and smiling. “Thank you.” You rolled your eyes.

Regaining your breath, you stood straight, Nina still perched between your knees as you kicked off your pants, sliding them to the side as you hauled her up to her feet. With her fingers still latched in her mouth, you turned her back towards the wall, pressing her back and quickly pushing your hands up her shirt, tugging at her tits. “My turn, sweet girl.” She giggled, hands wrapping around your neck as she melted into your touch. Her panties were next, reaching under her skirt to tug the lacy fabric down, kicking them off as you pressed between her legs.

Nudging your knee in, you planted your hands onto her hips, pushing her down until her wet cunt made contact with your thigh. She gasped, fingers gripped into your shoulders as she began to rock her hips, grinding herself down onto your leg and nudging her clit, her gasps so sweet. You kissed her cheeks, letting you guide her to get herself off on your thigh, hips desperately jittering as her arousal soaked your skin. “You gonna cum like this?” You teased, pushing her down harder and digging your nails into her skin, her answering whine enough to make you wet again. “I know you can…” You grinned, tugging her off of the wall and turning her around, her chest pressed against the concrete as you repositioned your knee, pushing your leg up to meet her cunt again.

She immediately began to thrust her hips, grinding her hips back against the sensation as she arched, digging her nails into the concrete. “[Y/N]...” She mewled, your hands pressing her skirt up to grip her ass, the view stunning as you watched her arousal spread across your thigh, her movements getting faster. “Come on, Nina…” You teased behind her, the indents of your nails appearing on her ass, little red marks contrasting against her pale skin. Reaching around her hip, you pressed your fingers to her clit, swiping the bud until she was whining and leaning back against your chest. “Oh, fuck…” She smiled, reaching behind to wrap around your neck, stuttering her hips in time with your fingers, chasing her orgasm that was quickly approaching. You let your fingers dip into her cunt, pushing past her clenched entrance and stretching her, her orgasm quickly following.

She clamped down around the digits, hips jerking up off of your thigh to chase the feeling, grinding her clit against your palm. You smiled, her whines and moans fluttering to your clit again as you rubbed yourself, fingers swiping across your clit as Nina panted against your chest. Turning back around, she chased your touch, tangling her fingers into your hair as she smashed her lips to yours, her body sinking down the wall to the floor. “I need you, love…” She mewled, reaching down to tug your hips closer, thighs spreading. You smiled against her lips, desperate tongues swiping against lips as you cupped a hand under her knee, pushing it back.

Her legs stretched, knee pressing back to her ribs as she held her leg, spreading her cunt wide for you to see as she sunk into the wall, contorting for you to climb on top of her. You pressed in, wrapping your legs intertwined, gripping her shoulder as you rolled your cunt against her, clits grazing. She moaned, leaning in to latch her lips with yours again, rolling her hips as your folds slipped between the other, arousal damp. The floor was cold, goosebumps riding up your bodies as you moved, desperately trying to sink your cunts in closer.

Her face was dark, the flush of her cheeks desperate as she jerked her hips, chasing the post-orgasmic feeling until you were panting into her mouth, biting her lip. “So good at taking me, yeah? Such a pretty girl when she’s falling apart on my cunt…” You teased, her lids heavy as your clits fluttered, folds soaked as they slid, thighs shaking. She blushed deeply, dragging her lip from your teeth to plant kisses across your neck again, fully jerking into you as you sped up, grinding her cunt down against your own as she reached up to grip the sink counter. “Faster-” She breathed, panting against your skin, sweat dripping down your brows.

Obliging, you angled differently, clits catching sideways now and drawing even louder moans from her lips. “Nina…” You groaned, legs getting tired as you stretched, determination and arousal driving you both as you clawed at the other, hips stuttering. “Feels so good…” She smiled, her mouth finding its way back to yours as you breathed deep, letting her kiss swallow you as you felt your cunt clench, clits grinding statically against the other.

Gripping your shoulder, Nina began to sit up, pushing you down to the tiles as she climbed on top. You smiled, her arms wrapping around your leg and holding close to her chest, arching her back to sink down again. “Gonna cum…” She whined, slowly sliding her hips back and forth, arousal spreading across your folds and making you jerk, moaning. She was antsy now, clawing at your thigh and digging her knees into the ground, redness blotting her skin. You watched, sweaty and exhausted but so willing to keep going. “C’mon hun, c’mon…” You groaned, reaching to wrap your fingers into hers and angle your hips up, clits bumping and jerking against the friction of your movements.

Gazing at you, she hissed, rutting down until she lost eye contact, pupils rolling back as she came, biting into her lips while her nails dug into your skin, clawing. Muffled moans echoed against the concrete walls as you did the same, hips locking in place as you rode out the feeling, cunts soaking and dripping down the other’s thighs and onto the floor.

Gasping, you both held the other close, insides rippling with your orgasms and exhaustion, chests heaving. You panted against one another, hugging whatever you could touch close and just breathing the moment. Leaning forward, you swiped her colorful bangs out of her face, her pale skin patchy with redness as she smiled at you. “Still pretty.” You grinned, and her smile answered enough.

Dragging your clothes back on, it was impossible not to wrap your arms around each other as you sauntered through the bar. The stench in the little bathroom was already getting bad with rot, but that was someone else’s problem now. You would never be able to tell the killer was this cute girl with rainbow clips in her hair and loud makeup slightly smeared across her eyelids. The crowd had dwindled, the lateness of the night getting to you both as you pushed through the still-present crowd, holding hot bodies close.

Even as she climbed into the passenger seat of your car, pushing your hand away from the wheel and climbing onto your side, straddling your lap, you still thought she was so pretty. Her hand reached to the side of your seat, pushing the lever to lay your seat back, your hands already pushing up into her shirt as she giggled, unbuttoning your jeans again.

The prettiest.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thank you to my wonderful editors, @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

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