#BUT if you go to /search/oc some will appear

[crushribbons]

the hot, flirty resident curse

summary: Dr. Frank Langdon just sustained the luckiest on-the-job injury ever.

cw: 2.8k words, nurse!reader/OC, friends to lovers, i started writing this before 1.10 so we're gonna say it's a "1.10 never happened"AU 😭, single dad frank, i made him probably more respectful than he actually is but nurses deserve the entire world so they're getting that too!!!, go hug a nurse rn, brief injury/knife ment, definite inappropriate behavior for a hospital, fem reader/OC.

a/n: drug theft???? what drug theft????

(gif cred)

The “break room” was busy today. Dozens of nurses hustling in and out of the dimly-lit, stale-smelling, and nowhere near big enough lounge. The microwave never could heat her leftovers to a degree that was actually pleasurable for human consumption, so she picked around her butter chicken with a sigh. 

Only three hours left. She could have waited to eat dinner, but the promise of thirty uninterrupted minutes where she would not be yelled at by patients’ families or ordered around by some of the more pompous assholes she worked wi–

Speak of the devil, and he’ll stick his head into the nurse’s lounge, catch sight of you trying to enjoy a moment of peace, and yell, “HEY! Hey, you, Lululemon!” Her eye twitched. The black Define that she was wearing was her favorite. She did not turn to look at what she knew to be one of the new interns that started last week. He scoffed in frustration. “Yoohoo!”

“I have a name,” she said calmly, evenly. The butter chicken now held a lot of interest for her.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know it! How do I get to Imaging from here?” Her knuckles turned white around the plastic fork she was using, and she started to turn and read this greenie the riot act, but someone beat her to the punch.

A hand appeared from behind the intern (she realized with a little chuckle that she didn’t know his name either) and smacked him soundly upside the head. “What the FUCK?!” he cried. Dr. Langdon pushed him out of the lounge and down the hall.

“You will show respect to the nurses of this hospital if you want to continue working here, got it?” Langdon called after him. The kid muttered something snotty, she assumed, and she saw him amble away like a dog with its tail between its legs. “Sorry about him,” Langdon apologized. He hung on the door frame for a minute and chewed his lip. Her hand that wasn’t holding the fork searched for something to do, landing on smoothing down the hair that was already pulled into a perfect bun. “Kid’s an asshat.”

“I’ve known a few of those in my time here,” she joked, and Langdon grinned. She dropped the fork. “There was this one guy…Langdumb, or something like that. He was insufferable.” Langdon gave her an exasperated look that made her laugh and say, “But he’s much better now.” The exasperation was replaced with an angelic beam. 

“Well, thanks for saying that. Some days, I wonder,” he said, then rubbed the back of his neck. She pouted in sympathy without realizing she was doing it. Langdon laughed. It was a little gravelly and when he smiled, he showed off each of his straight, white teeth. Her heart hammered at the ribcage prison bars that held it hostage.

Residents had a reputation. Of course they did; they’d toiled away in thankless obscurity for four years as medical students, so it only made sense that at the first opportunity they had to stretch their newly-educated legs, it would go straight to their head. She remembered Langdon being somewhat of a douche himself as a first-year, always correcting nurses and, on one occasion he later apologized profusely for, disregarding an order Dr. Robby had given for a patient to be intubated. Langdon had been correct in his estimation, thank God, but Robby had berated him in that terrifying, humiliating, cool as a cucumber way that he always did. She had been assigned to that patient at the time, and the memory of Robby quietly seething at Langdon in the corner of the hospital room still made her cheeks hot. That had been what finally whipped Langdon into shape.

Some residents also had a reputation for certain, seedier behaviors. There weren’t enough fingers or toes on the planet on which to count how many times some new hotshot had hit on her, usually opting to do so through negging and second-guessing her work, like she would be tripping over herself to go out on a date with the grown man tugging her pigtails on the playground. The kid Langdon had shoved down the hall was no doubt on his way to do something similar to the first nurse distracted enough to walk across his eyeline.

 Dr. Langdon had no such reputation for flirtiness, and he had never made any sort of advance to her. Thank goodness. It was nice to have a friend in a slightly higher place than her.

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, what’s going on for you, Dr. Frank?”

“Quit calling me Dr. Frank, especially in front of patients.” He rolled his eyes. “That puts a whole ‘Dr. Phil’ image in their heads and I hate it.”

“Oh I’m glad you mentioned that…” She turned in her chair to face him fully and seriously. “My teen has been drinking at parties and my husband is an absent father,” she said, face grave.

Frank adopted a Southern drawl and put his finger above his lip to simulate a moustache. “You have gawt to send that child to military school, it is the only waaay.” They giggled. Frank’s pager went off and he pulled it off his waistband to read it. “Shit, gotta run. Don’t have too much fun without me,” he ordered sternly, a frown creasing his pretty forehead.

Pretty forehead? Fuck is wrong with you? She admonished herself without mercy while she went through the motions of undressing and redressing the various beds in the Pitt for the rest of her shift. It was not a desirable duty to be stuck with. Luckily, it was a slow day in the ED by ED standards, with only two ambulance visits and a quiet trickle of less urgent cases admitted from the waiting room, so she had ample time to think about the piece of hair that was always falling in Frank’s bright blue eyes when he was working, and the way Frank cackled any time he cleaned up on one of his and Mateo’s college basketball bets, and Frank…

God, you’d think I had a thing for this guy, she mused to herself, slipping a pillow into its fresh case. Do not fall for the evil Hot Flirty Resident Curse. It might be a canon event for some nurses, but not for her. No, sir, she had her head on her shoulders more than that. 

Didn’t matter if Frank wore a kitschy, clunky little bracelet, beaded with love by one of his daughters, every day. Didn’t matter if Frank spoke with the utmost respect about his ex-wife whenever the topic came up. Didn’t matter if he had once placed his hand on her lower back to steer her towards the patient’s room that he had needed her assistance with, and that she hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. Didn’t matter if Frank–

–was knocking gently on the door of the room she now stood, motionless, in and asking, “Hey, did you see Mrs. Horowitz getting discharged?”

“Mrs. H-Horo–?” Her tongue felt about ten inches thick as she tried to remember which patient he was talking about and how to move her feet like a normal person. 

“The low blood sugar.”

“Oh, right.”

Frank raised his eyebrows, making her realize she hadn’t answered the question. She wished a hole would open up in the speckled tile and swallow her. “Yes, I saw her checking out with Dana at central an hour or so ago,” she said. Ok, got it all out without stammering. This was just Frank; why was her brain foggy and making it impossible to speak to a man she’d always just thought of as a coworker? Her favorite coworker, sure. The highlight of her day? Also sure, but it wasn’t…She pulled a face that mirrored her thoughts before she could stop herself.

Frank thanked her, then paused on his way out of the room again. 

“Uh..are you done for the day?” he asked, and a glance at her watch told her that yes, she was three minutes past being done.

“I could stick around for a bit,” she shrugged with all the nonchalance in the world. “Need help with something?” Frank shook his head, a tiny smirk she would have missed if she hadn’t been staring too hard at his mouth flickering around his lips. 

“No, no worries, head home! I can totally just grab someone–” 

“No!” She tried to play it cool with a chuckle and threw the pillow she was still holding down on the bed. “Let me help. What is it?”

Frank sighed and yanked his right sleeve up to show her his shoulder, and all the mortification that had been comfortably fading away in his presence came back in full force. She stared dumbly for a few seconds before he turned a degree to his left and she caught sight of the ugly, crimson gash that ran from the back of his tricep to the top of his shoulder. “Jesus, Frank! Mention this shit first!” she cried, rushing to him. “What happened?” 

He grimaced. “Turned my back for one second and a patient grabbed the scalpel off my tray and slashed. I’m angrier about the scrubs, to be honest. FIGS ain’t cheap.” He plopped himself down on the bed and looked up at her. “It’s not bad, really, I just can’t reach it to dress it myself. Would you mind?”

No, Man Who is Colloquially Referred to Around the Hospital as Dr. Dreamboat, no, I would not mind patching you up even a bit. She cleared her throat, trying to muster all her calm and competence, and said, “I’m not sure this hospital accepts your insurance, Mr. Langdon.” Frank grinned while pulling his sleeve up once more and holding it in place so she could access the wound.

“My work,” he groaned. “They got me on the worst plan possible. Acts of God are about the only thing they cover, so if anyone asks, God stabbed me.”

Her laugh surprised her. It wasn’t nervous; it was loud and probably obnoxious and it made Frank beam even more widely. She dashed over to the nurse’s supply station and requisitioned a wound care kit. When she reentered the room, she was horrified to discover that Frank had given up on holding his scrub shirt out of the way and had opted to pull the whole thing off. He was, thank heaven, wearing a white tank undershirt, and sat waiting for her expectantly. She took the second before he realized she had reentered the room to ogle as much as her professionalism and casual friendship would allow.

The sound of the alcohol swab’s packaging tearing echoed through the awkwardly quiet room. “Is it gonna hurt?” Frank whispered, making his eyes huge. She wanted to tell him to shut up.

“Shut up, just stay still,” she said, more thankful than she’d ever been that there was a layer of blue latex between her and the person she was patching’s skin. Using quick, dabbing motions to hide her trembling hands worked better than she had hoped. Frank got bored and started fidgeting after about 20 seconds. She had once told him that he needed four more letters added to his MD title: ADHD. It had been the hardest she’d ever seen him laugh, until, of course, he got distracted by something brightly colored in the distance.

He blew a puff of air from his lips and looked around the room. “Soo. Any plans tonight?”

“I was supposed to give the keynote speech at the Annual Best Nurses in the Universe Banquet, but my friend needed help putting a band-aid on, so I missed it,” she deadpanned absently, while opening the bandage and aligning it over the wound. “Are you worried about infection?”

“Not anymore, ‘cause the best nurse in the universe fixed me up real good,” he simpered. He batted his eyelashes up at her and she snorted to hide the smile that she couldn’t stop from appearing. “Um, well, anyway…” Frank began, but then trailed off. His tone had changed. 

She was almost scared to ask, “What?” Her fingers smoothed over the bandage, adhering it flush to his arm, and tried to ignore the way she felt every ridge and groove of him. Or maybe she was memorizing.

Frank coughed and shrugged the shoulder she wasn’t working on. “Just…if you ever do have a free night, I mean, after work. Or not!”

She frowned. Whatever he was rambling about took a backseat while she made quick work of cleaning off the tray of supplies. “Again, what?” Her grocery order would be ready for pickup in ten minutes, and she didn’t want to miss the window by getting stuck in the parking garage with the rest of the mass day-shift exodus.

“Jesus, do you wanna go out with me?” Her eyebrows shot skyward as she whipped around to face him. “I’m sorry!” He immediately jumped up. “I wasn’t snapping at you, I mean, I was snapping, for sure, but at myself because I couldn’t just…cough it up. It’s taken me, what, like three years?”

He had a sheepish look on his face, and couldn’t seem to hold eye contact with her anymore. Three years. Three years? Three years was how long she had known him. Every last drop of nerve, embarrassment, confusion, attraction all threatened to bubble up in her stomach. She slammed the tray down on the counter next to the sink. 

The reality of her feelings finally hit her full force, and she decided to acknowledge them for the first time in front of that serial stabber God and Frank and everyone: “I think I really like you, Frank.” It was easier than she could have imagined to say it, at last. Especially now, that he’d gone and taken their flirting to its natural conclusion. 

“Well I know I really like you,” he replied, a grin spreading as rapidly as the elation that was filling her chest so tight she thought she might start floating away.

“You fucking doctors, you always have to come out on top, don’t you?”

Frank reached for her hand from the bed and tugged her to him. She stood between his legs, which were dangling off the bed, kicking back and forth like a kid who just got told that school would be ending three hours early on the sunniest afternoon of the year. “That remains to be seen,” he muttered up at her, his blue eyes a lot softer than his tone was suggesting, and she swatted him on the forehead for being so presumptuous before leaning down and kissing the stupid smile straight off his lips. Langdon groaned and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down and onto the bed. 

“Shit, we–” It was hard to get words out when Frank chased after her lips every time she pulled them away. And she had never been good at saying no to him. “We really should not be doing this in here.”

He agreed by putting his hand on the back of her head so he could kiss her even more deeply. “Definitely shouldn’t,” he hummed into her mouth. “Could get caught. Could get fired.” Frank pulled away fully and she took the opportunity to gulp down some air into her neglected and giddy lungs. “Wait, will you still go out with me if I’m not a doctor?” “I’d rather you were ortho, but–”

“Don’t piss me off, baby.” But they were both giggling the same, stupid way they did when they exchanged jokes and insults. Only this time, she was kneeling on one leg in front of him on a freshly-made hospital bed, her other leg slung over his, his strong hand resting on the back of her thigh. Her heart was pounding at a wild rhythm she was not familiar with, and when Frank placed his hands on her waist and pulled her even more flush against his chest, she felt his beating similarly. “I’ve already taken off like half my clothes,” he murmured. “Should we just round up and get rid of the rest?” 

“Definitely not,” she admonished through a laugh. “At least take me to get some jello or something first.” Suddenly, she was pushed off his lap and back to a standing position, her legs wobbling like a fawn’s after being folded under her so awkwardly. Frank tugged his scrub shirt back over his head and rose from the bed as well.

“Jello sounds really fucking good right now, good call,” he said, eyes already focused out the door and mapping the quickest route to the cafeteria. She wanted to laugh and cry and put blinders on the hyperactive physician so he kept kissing her until one or both of them died, but she opted instead to push that one strand of hair (the 90’s Leo one, she would later refer to it as) out of his eyes and said,

“You are insufferable.”

Frank shrugged. He grabbed her hand in his, loosely locking their fingers together and leading her out of the room. Her grocery order seemed like the least pressing matter in the world. “You love it!”

She kinda did.

masterlist

[lufyuu]

,, Tied Up Prince ''

Psychotic villain x Isekai'd second prince male reader

Tw/s: bondage, stockholm syndrome-ish, reader is into how the villain puts him in his place, dub-con, ripping clothes, degration, angry sex, punished reader, yandere-like oc, agressive sex.

The original post

The sound of blades clashing is loud. Ear deafening even. The sound continues for what feels like a century to the young man. When it finally stops, he lets out a frustrated sigh. Not being able to guess what will happen next.

The masked man refuses to fall down on his knees. Instead, he limps a bit while looking up at the sword wielding main character, his sword casted aside. His long messy hair covers even more of his features due to the fact his mask has sustained some damage and yet he still finds a way to taunt the other. “你真的觉得这样就结束了吗？” , letting out a chuckle. With only a few seconds left in the episode, the viewer watches in anticipation, wondering what will happen. The semi masked man limps towards the other and out of nowhere, throws needles towards the main character. As he passes out, so do the end credits.

"WHAT!??? IT CAN'T END LIKE THIS???", you freak out over the cliffhanger ending, urgently scrolling to see if it's ongoing or if there are more episodes— unfortunately, it's neither. You feel as if you're about to metaphorically cry due to frustration. Nobody warned you there'd be a huge cliffhanger after 50 episodes! "God damnit!", you yell at nobody in particular while trying to do more research. Maybe if you look hard enough, the 51st episode will appear...right?

Even after 2 hours, you refuse to give up. You've wasted almost 3 whole days to watch this stupid series, it can't just end like that. You even go through some tiktok comments and edits too find any clues to an episode 51. Though, it's odd that nobody cares to mention the fact that there's a huge cliffhanger on the last episode. Everyone seems to be okay with it? That can't be right. Either everyone's crazy or you're going crazy.

"AHA!", you finally find a "clue" of some sort in the official website. It states that although the series does end on episode 50, it's based off of a novel which is completed. Without a second thought, you search it up only to find that the novel name is...your name? It clearly says [Name] [L. Name] as the title. As they say, curiosity killed the cat. You mindlessly click on the link.

“我们终将相遇，灵魂伴侣。”

.ᐟ.ᐟ

'My head's killing me...', when you open your eyes, you're faced with a ceiling. It wouldn't be odd if it weren't for the fact that it's not your ceiling. "What the...", you instantly sit up on the bed to look around. Not only is the ceiling not the one you usually wake up to, the entire room isnt even yours. You scramble to get on your feet, almost sprinting towards the door. When you are about to open it, it opens from the other side. "Ah!", the short, well dressed girl lets out a shocked noise, "your highness, you're up early", she regains her composure and sesms to be waiting for something. You stay quiet for a few seconds which prompts her to try and break the silence, "may I come in..?", to which you take a step to the right, allowing her to enter the spacious bedroom and put down a tray with food. Before she exits, she opens the windows for you to which you thank her for as she walks out the room, leaving you all alone once more.

"Gosh it's bright out", you walk over to the now opened window and look out. The scent of nature lingers on your nose, it calms your panicked mind in just a few seconds. The birds chirping, the leaves rustling, the sun shining brightly. Far different from the traffic jam and loud vehicles you'd normally hear. This gives you enough time to think about the situation in a calm and rational manner. 'Your highness?', is what you think of, along with the fact that the room and environment is vastly different from the messy, dark room you would usually wake up to. Questioning yourself only led to even more questions and so, you turn to look at the plate that has been served to you. Two steamed buns and a few fruits for nutrients.

"Alright let's see what I can find!", you have some optimism in you as you begin your "investigation". The courtyard is ridiculously big and so are the halls. You alnost got lost halfway in! Deciding it's time for a little break, you sit down on a nearby pavilion. "I've been here for almost an hour, am I just dreaming..", you pinch yourself a few times but end up with a red cheek and still no answers. "Ow...", you sigh, nothing has given you any answers.

"What's gotten you so stressed?", a voice rings out behind you, prompting you to turn around just enough to get a glance. A good-looking and well built man stands behind with a small smile on his face. He takes a few steps forward and sits next to you, "I don't think I've ever heard you sigh that loudly before", he tries to lighten up the mood seeing how blue you look right now. "Well...", realizing something, you do a double take, "Zhou Jian!?", you jump up in disbelief to which he responds with a very shocked face, "yes..?", he looks worried for your well, "was I really gone that long?", he chuckles and scratches his head, "I could have sworn it was just a month", you could only stand frozen in time, jaw almost wide open but you manage to keep it closed. "C'mon, sit down, tell 哥哥 what's on your mind", he smiles with his eyes closed, patting the seat next to him. You slowly sit down while staring bullets into him. "Are you mad at me?", he asks with a worried expression, you turn away, realizing your stare was bothering him. "Ahem no, of course not", in all honesty, you're trying your best to act like a younger sibling and it sure it hard when your older brother is THE Zhou Jian.

He had previously heard of your dissatisfaction with how he is almost always away from home so it wasn't unreasonable for him to think that way. "Hm, then?", he asks, tilting his head and moving closer to you. You don't even know what you want...maybe just a bit of help 'recalling' who you are. Of course you can't just say you lost your memories or something like that, it'd worry Zhou Jian.

What to do...you have to continue exploring this strange world but also can't risk alerting Zhou Jian...That's it!

"I think I just need a stroll out", you look at him. He tenses up and his eyebrows begin furrow. "You know that's not a good idea", he shakes his head, shit you just fucked up..how were you supoosed to know you're not allowed out?? "Please? There's something I need to do", you try to plead, "and I won't be out an hour", but no matter how you persist, he doesn't waver. "弟弟, if it truly is important, I'll send someone to do whatever it is for you", he offers an alternative but that doesn't work for you. There is no way to convince him so you think of another idea. You close your eyes for a moment and nod, "it's okay, I changed my mind", giving a half smile.

"Oh...they're so tall..", you look at the walls you planned to climb to get out. You never learned how to climb a rope either so that's out of the question. Maybe your secret get out plan won't be happening afterall.

'Think [Name], think!'

You pace around, trying to think of another plan. Those cliche romance shows lied to you! You can't possibly climb a tall building. While pacing around, you can't help but feel as if you're forgetting something but what? You try your best to recall the whole series, the plot, what happened and what started it.

"Zhou Jian has to defend his kingdom against the villain due to the fact that...", you talk to yourself, trying to regain memory of the show, "the villain seeks out the Kingdom's rumoured hidden temple in order to seize...", as if everything's connected, you remember the most important thing, "..the power within!", your fist gently hits your palm, and your eyes widen with excitement. "That means I probably have powers like that too!", you almost let out a happy noise but remembering that you are most likely going to be spotted faster if you do, you contain yourself. "How to activate it..", you try to think of jumping over the wall, maybe gracefully flying over to the other side but nothing happens. "They make it look so effortless in the shows", you start to wonder if there's really not a single system window to guide you.

"Your highness! It's time for your tea", a maid is clearly looking for you, shouting loudly as she searches for you everywhere. "Oh shit!", you'll get found out in no time if you don't escape now! A sudden wave of panic sends your body suddenly flying over the 40ft tall cement wall. "W-wAoHH", You brace for impact but fortunately for you, your body doesn't hit the ground roughly, infact, your fall is cushioned by an invisible object. You need time to process what just happened but the guards right around the corner says otherwise. Without missing another second, your legs sprint towards the town in hopes of not getting caught red handed. 'It seems my magic is unstable..is it because I'm not from here or is it just my new body that's weak..?'

You huff and huff due to how fast you just ran from the imperial palace to the bustling streets. After a while, you pull yourself together and look around, finally noticing the amazing scent of the street food being sold. "Excuse me", a little girl says, trying to get past you as you're blocking the middle, "sorry!", you instantly move to the side to let her get past. "Now, where to start", your eyes dart around, a mom and daughter sharing a tanghulu, a couple enjoying their stroll together and even a homeless looking man being given a baozi to eat. Looking at everything up close in person gives a different feeling than when you're watching behind a screen. Despite being here, you still have little to no clue as to who you are in this world and what your purpose is. All you know if that you're the brother of the protagonist. In the original show, there were no mentions of the protagonist ever having a younger brother so people assumed he's an only child. The only heir to the thrown, who knew there would be a spare?

Well you can't dwell on that too much, you have to at least find out what arc you're in right now. Maybe by knowing, you'd be able to assist the protagonist in fighting! Technically you're the main character now that you've isekai'd into the world so there's no way you'd be in any sort of danger!

You turn your attention to your right, the neverending displays of food makes your mouth water. Unfortunately, due to you not paying much attention to where you're walking, you bump into someone. The impact was enough to send you stumbling backwards. The stranger's hand instinctively wraps around your waist, preventing you from falling onto the people behind you and potentially creating a domino effect. His taller stature surprises you. Only when you stabilize yourself, he removes his hand. "Next time, be more aware of your surroundings", his voice is somewhat elegant yet intimidating and indifferent. You can't really diciphere him as his face is covered by a very oddly terrifying mask. It definitely stands out which makes you wonder if he does like the attention if brings him or simply he's unaware of his unique accessory. Though, before you can ask anything, he walks in past you, dissapearing into the crowd. Something about him seemed...very familiar.

After several hours of strolling and finding absolutely nothing, you notice the sun going down, dusk is coming and the night is about to settle in. So, you decide to get back to the palace the same way you got out of it, panicking and then being thrown over the wall.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Nobody seemed to have questioned why you were gone for half the day. Fortunate for you of course but does beg the question why nobody noticed a prince going missing.

In the morning, however, the same maid who had been calling out to you for tea did question where you were. "I wasn't feeling tea", was your simple yet effective answer.

"Gosh I was out for so long and yet found nothing in return", you kick a rock in the courtyard while sighing loudly. The masked man already erased from your mind. What's even worse is that with your hair this long, it takes more effort to take care of it, not to mention the hanfu which made you stand out like a sore thumb. At just a glance, one could tell you're royalty due to your attire. Maybe you should have thought of that before going out yesterday. This time, you'll dress up just like any other commoner there. There must be at least one that doesn't look like a prince's daily outfit in the closet. You look through the ginormous closet, sorting them out one by one until you finally stumble across an acceptable one.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Back to the bustling streets once more. The smell of food is still as amazing as you remember it. You seem to have forgotten something but fret not, your stomach is here to remind you of it. "I forgot...I didn't have breakfast..", you vaguely remember the picture of a plate filled with food on the table of your room. Well you can't turn back now, you're too far in. "I'll just buy something in the market", you say to yourself, walking towards the nearest food stall which sells roasted meat on sticks. The sight is already mouth watering, you can't wait to sink your teeth into it. "老���! One roasted meat please", you grin ear to ear knowing you'd have one in your hands in a few seconds, "that'll be 3 coins", did you even bring any money? You desperately try to search your hanfu for any signs of coins but to no avail. "C-can I have it...for free?", you awkwardly ask, "hah? Who do you think you are, just so you know, have to feed my family too."

'Time to pull out my status' you thought to yourself, "well, I'm—", "I'll pay for it", a hand behind you gives a few coins to the seller, prompting the seller to give the roasted meat to you. You look behind to see who had stolen your spotlight only to be face to face with yet another mask. The same mask actually. "Thank you but I could handle it by myself", you give a slight smile, "oh? It seems to me you had no money, or perhaps you'd like to pay me back?", you can tell he's a bit annoyed but what you can't tell is that he's amused. "In that case, I take it back", getting a sudden eerie feeling from the man, you leave immediately and he watches you run off.

You run until you're sure he wouldn't be able to see you anymore. "Jeez what even was that..", you wonder to yourself, why did your guts just tell you to run?? That's odd. Really though, something about that man is super familiar but what?

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

6 months have passed since you've been transmigrated to this world. Fortunately, you adapted quite a long time ago. The strange masked man hasn't been seen at all and because of that, you forgot all about him. The past few months have been relatively peaceful, with some royal guards getting occasional injuries from the amount of fights they've been in. Thankfully, Zhou Jian isn't one of them. You had a hard time accepting that your life in the original world might never return but hey, at least you're treated like royalty. The only downside is that you still aren't allowed outside. A huge bummer.

You enjoy some afternoon tea with Zhou Jian as bonding time for the two of you. "I'm surprised you haven't been sent to the battlefield yet", you jokingly comment, earning you a playful glare from the protagonist, "don't jinx it", he puts his porcelain teacup down, "though, it is strange that the scoundrel hasn't shown up in a while", he's referring to his enemy, the man who has been trying to get rid of your kingdom so they say it. "He's so mysterious too, no matter how many men I send to discover more about him, it's as if he doesn't exist at all but at the same time, he does", Zhou Jian says, looking up and wondering to himself, confused. "One day when you do catch him maybe you'll find out who he truly is", you sip on the hot fragrant tea. The two of you chat for a while before a guard interrupts it.

"Your highness! It's an emergency! The King himself has personally requested you on the battlefield to fight alongside him, it seems the enemies have gotten stronger", the voice is panicked, shaky, stumbling over his own words and trying his hardest to keep his composure but ultimately failing, miserably. Zhou Jian immediately gets up, grabbing the weapon he always carries by his side and rushing out with the guard, "I'm going to be back soon", he glances at you while he says this. Without anyone to chat with, you get up from your seat and head towards the library. Behind you, the servants bow as they take the cups and desserts away.

Even when night falls, neither the king nor Zhou Jian has returned. It's quite common for soldiers to camp out for a few days so you don't worry too much about it.

The hallways are oddly quiet. Probably since there are less guards and servants surrounding the place seeing as a few went to tend to the King and heir. More peace and quiet for you. The stars at night twinkle, the moon glowing so brightly, the sound of crickets. Not even the cold air bothers you. You yawn a bit, "time for bed", your legs carry you to the bed, not as comfortable as the one you had back at home but you can still sleep on it. You tuck yourself into bed and close your eyes, wondering what you'll have for brekafast tomorrow.

At the stroke of midnight, the sounds of blood gushing doesn't even wake you up. No scream can be heard due to the intruder's silencing them. "PROTECT THE SECOND PRI—", the loud voice cuts off, indicating the murder of the man. The imperial palace is a mess, filled with fresh blood and dead bodies. You sleep peacefully, blissfully unaware of the massacre happening just outside your room. Even the door creaking open doesn't wake you up from your deep slumber. A tall man hovers over you, a crown in his hand. He mumbles something but it's so quite that not even a soul can hear it. With a snap of his fingers, your hands and ankles are bound together respectively without you ever even noticing it.

"你真是个可爱的睡美人"

.ᐟ.ᐟ

Your eyes are half open, your vision all blurry due to just waking up. Your whole body aches but when you go to stretch, you find it to not be possible. You struggle and notice your hands and ankles bound by something that's glowing red. It hurts whenever you try to get rid of it. "Go on, the sight of you struggling amuses me", a voice says out loud from a corner of the room. The masked man gets up from his seat and as he walks closer to where you are bound, you notice that his mask is slightly damaged. Well, a part of it has broken off, revealing his blood colored eye.

He carries himself with such elegance that you'd think he's royalty at a first glance. He brings himself down to your level, his eye crinkle softly at the corner, the look on your face is just so adorable. "I never would have thought we'd meet again, 小王子", he grabs your chin, lifting it up so you two make eye contact. "I had an inkling you were apart of their little kingdom, I just didn't expect you to be so naive", he continues while looking at your frustrated face which he adores, "did you really think those pesky little servants could ever protect you?", you turn your head to the side, not wanting to even touch him. It is honestly a bit embarrassing for you as you've watched this whole series, know the plot and yet here you are, kidnapped by the villain himself of whom you finally remember the name of, Xu RenFeng, and not even getting the chance to put up a fight.

Xu RenFeng thinks for a moment, the silence deafening. "How about this, you and I become partners so to say", you're confused by what he's suggesting but he elaborates, "since you're hidden and have no purpose in that palace, you could be with me could you not?", he looks at you expectantly with a psychotic look in his eye. "I would kill you now but you're way too adorable to be killed just like that, I'm offering a role of a lifetime", while it does tempt you in a way, you're still not too sure about dying with him at the end. "No thank you", you don't even look at him as you say this, "I'll give you some more time to think", he stands tall and turns around, walking out the door to your prison.

To say it's a prison is exaggerating. At least it looks like an average bedroom. Not as luxurious as the one you had before but still comfortable. After a few seconds pass, you find your hands and ankles no longer bounded, giving you some freedom to explore the room you've been captured in.

Of course the surviving servants and royal guards had to inform their king and future king what had happened. From the massacre of many, many servants to the second prince going missing, presumably taken by their enemy. "We should've known it was a trap the moment he left", the King is referring to the man himself, Xu RenFeng. "Why would he want [Name]?", Zhou Jian questions, frustrated by how the situation has gone from manageable to a complete mess. His hands balled into fists, worrying for his brother's safety. They have to find you, and fast.

Meanwhile, you've been held in the room for about 5 hours. All you've been up to is trying to think of a plan to maybe just maybe, trick him long enough for the psychotic guy to let you go. From what you've seen in the show itself, he is a very calm and calculating individual, making it hard for anyone to get past him. "Gosh, it seems that the only way to get out is by relying on brute force!", compated to modern times, the door isn't made out of very strong material, maybe you can knock it down or something. When you body slam the door, it doesn't move an inch. "Well that goes my plan", you just sit against the door you had just tried to body slam in defeat.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

As days passed, you try a different method of breaking out each day but they all fail in getting you out the the prison-like room. The only time the door would open was when Xu RenFeng himself would bring you food and place it on the table in the room. Even then, when the door opened, you would be bound once more. At least the food was always good. Each time he brought food to you, he'd try to persuade you into joining him. Something about you really did pull him in. You had power over him whether you knew or not.

One day, when there's a knock on the door, you get an idea. Xu RenFeng enters the room in silence, holding a plate in one hand. He puts the food down and as he's about to open his mouth, "can you eat with me?", you ask, surprising him. Today he's wearing a different style of mask. It doesn't cover his lower face, only the eyes. You wonder why he covers his face and remain mysterious. Even towards the end of his life, he never once took off his mask. The reason was never revealed. Though, it did add to his charm which is why a lot of people fell for the guy. He hesitates but gives a slight nod, closing the door with a wave of his hand.

He takes the seat across from you, not having anything on his side of the table. "Oh, I thought you'd grab your own food?", you ask while munching down on the prepared food. "No, I'd rather enjoy the view while I can", his lips turn into a smirk. Unsettling but not the weirdest thing he's said while with you. You get a bit nervous, wanting to pull off the plan but what if he notices beforehand? 'Agh, no more overthinking it, it's now or never [Name]!', you think to yourself and reach over the table, violently tearing the mask off his face, taking him by complete surprise. With great strength and agility, he grabs ahold of your wrist which has his mask. You stare at his face. He wasn't an average looking man. No scars or bruises. Instead, he's the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on. You're left speechless and so is he for a few seconds.

The look of shock in his eyes is replaced with that of anger. Without uttering a single word and with your wrist still held in his hand, he walks over to your side of the table, glaring at you before pulling you to the bed and throwing you on it. Fortunately you aren't hurt, only frightened. You're pinned to the bedframe by the intimidating villain. Your back is against the frame and you have nowhere to run. "I've been painstakingly patient with you and yet here you are taking off my mask. Was it not obvious to you I didn't want it off, EVER?", to say he's angry is an understatement, his eyes are even more psychotic. All you can do is freeze up due to fear, knowing neither fight nor flight are options in this very moment. You can't muster up an apology, both due to fear and also the feeling of superiority, to you, this man is just a character, he'll be no longer once you find a way back to your home! Without an answer, he takes it as you not wanting to apologize. "Do you really think just because you're a prince that I can't hurt you?", he chuckles at your pathetic expression. With another snap of his fingers, you're bound once more.

As much as you'd like to deny it, the way he's aggressively holding you is really turning you on. Xu RenFeng grabs at your clothes and rips them, leaving your body vulnerable to the man. "What a sight", he looks at you up and down. You try to cover your face with your hands because of embarrassment but he pushes your hands away. "Oh my prince, don't hide your adorable expressions", he purrs.

When you blink, his hanfu has already been diacarded on the floor not far from the bed. "Won't you help a stressed man out?", with his clothes being gone, you can see his hard cock. You stare at it for a little too long, long enough for Xu RenFeng to notice. "Hm? Lost for words are we?", he seems proud of that. "I..It's..—", you bite your lip to contain the moan you were about to let out as the man lifts your legs up to his shoulder and stretches you out with two fingers. "There's a much easier way for this but I'd rather do the old fashioned way to see how you writhe in pleasure just from my fingers. You close your eyes shut, clenched fists as his fingers move around inside, "I'll stretch you so well that this big cock slips right in", just that alone makes you tighten up, earning a satisfied hum from the other. Before long, he decides it's time to add another finger, stretching you out even more. "Ah..ngh...", your moans aren't really heard, the noises you let out are more comparable to humming. Xu RenFeng doesn't like that one bit.

His take his wet fingers out of your tight hole, leaving you feeling empty and opening your eyes as to why he did that. Relying on his strength, he pulls you onto his lap, your hole hovering over his cock, almost touching the tip. "Hu–aggh", you barely have time to react before he plunges you down all the way. You let out the loudest moan that Xu RenFeng's servants are able to hear from outside the magic-sealed room. "What an amazing voice you have, 小王子", he looks up at the person who is unable to speak due to the pain and pleasure he has brought them. His cock remains inside your hole without moving an inch, "a-are you trying to tease me...move", you try to stimulate yourself by bouncing on his cock to the best of your abilities but you can't seem to do that due to him having a tight grip on your waist. "You're so fragile, I'll have an easier time breaking you", he lifts you up until the only thing left inside is his tip and immediately slams you back down on his large cock, repeating this over and over again. "Fuck..", he groans while you're almost screaming-moaning. You never imagined this would be how your first time would go. Xu RenFeng pounds your ass so rough and fast that your ass is turning red.

You feel his precum inside you as he hits your prostate over and over, showing no mercy. "Your hole was made for my cock, wasn't it?", you can't even come uo with a response in that cock filled head of yous, "I'll make sure you remember the shape of my cock by fucking you everyday", he lets out a deep laugh, watching you bounce up and down his cock. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he goes deeper until you can't think of anything anymore. You cum while moaning loudly, still being bounced up and down. The stimulation is driving you crazy, everything feels like a fever dream. Not long after you came and without warning, he cums inside while still pounding you, not stopping for a second. He's cumming as he's thrusting inside, giving a new sensation you never thought you'd feel. "I see you're enjoying this more than I am, how adorable that expression of yours", he points out, "aren't I glad I picked you up along the way", if he could, he would have given himself a pat on the back that moment. You try to push him off, wanting to go at your own pace or to possibly just take a breather, "ah-ah, we're not done", he keeps thrusting deep inside, "don't worry, I'll return you in one piece to your family soon~"

He didn't stop until he had pumped at least a few cups worth of cum inside of you. You passed out due to how rough he was being. Xu RenFeng made sure to tuck you into bed. When he came out the room with his mask back on, he appeared to be very refreshed, some servants even whispered to the others that he was practically glowing. All because of a certain young prince named [Name].

You may not know it yet but you're now stuck with a psycho of a man.

Translation notes!

你真的觉得这样就结束了吗？

Do you really thinks this is over?

老版

Boss (in this context, used to address shopkeepers/vendors you want to buy from)

我们终将相遇，灵魂伴侣。

We will meet eventually, soulmate.

弟弟

Little brother/younger brother

哥哥

Big brother/elder brother

你真是个可爱的睡美人

You really are a cute sleeping beauty

小王子

Little prince (endearing)

I have so many ideas for this man but couldn't fit all of them in one fic🥹

There's this one kink I know you'll love but unfortunately didn't make the cut, maybe next time/drabble!

[gldrushh]

GUILTY AS SIN? | JK | PART 𝐈𝐈

"He remembered how to stay—and you learned that some things are worth the mess, that love sometimes comes too late, but longing never does."

→ Pairing brother in law! Jungkook x widowed fem!reader

→ Genre forbidden love! au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

→W.C 17.10k

→ Warnings oc is going through it, Jungkook is a flirty menace, ceo jk, lovesick jk, simp jk, possessive Jungkook, jealous Jungkook, rich people lunch time!!, mentions of blood and injury, mentions of drinking, yoongi makes an appearance, he has no lines, namjin, yearning?, bathroom escapdes, silly banter, sexual tension kissing, making out, explicit sexual content, fingering, an almost handjob, penetrative sex, dirty talking, soft Dom jk, praising, creampie, bathroom sex, fluff (you don't even wanna know my definition of fluff), hoseok is a victim, minho is haunting the narrative as he should, angst (sorry girls It’s my brand 😝), doomed siblings

→ Playlist dress by Taylor swift, I can't be more in love by the 1975, in the woods somewhere by hozier, I can see you by Taylor swift, last words of a shooting star by mitski

→A/N Hii! Hello!! First things first: THANK YOU. Like, thank you in all caps lock. The love you all poured into Guilty as Sin honestly made me giggle to myself more than once. Every comment, message, share, and heart, It meant the absolute world to me. You’ve made this messy little story so much more than just words. You made it matter. And it was just so disrespectful of me to keep you waiting so long for a part 2 that wasn't really in my plans but yeah. Life got a little too unbearable, the plot bunnies misbehaved (you know how they are). But I really hope it’s worth the wait and not me just reheating my own nachos 😅😅 This is also most probably the last thing I'm gonna write for this story, at least for a long while. Thank you for reading. Thank you for being patient and most importantly,thank you for being kind. I love you and please do let me know your thoughts. Message me. Tell your plants. I'm all ears.

| PART 1 | PART 2 |

A thing about churches is that they were built for quiet.

Not silence. No, silence is an absence. This is presence. Heavy and hushed and holy.

There was something about the air inside them—perhaps the solemn, how it was weighty, drenched in devotion—that made the world outside feel far-flung. The towering arches, the glow of candlelight flickering against stained glass, the low murmur of prayers threading through the smother.

The light is softer here too, filtered through the glass—fragments of crimson and gold painting benches and pressed shoulders. Candle flames sway slightly, flickering like they know secrets, like they remember everyone who ever sat here in search of something they couldn't name.

You tell yourself this stillness is what you needed. That this space—sacred and slow—would help clear your head. But the truth is, the quiet here doesn’t comfort. It exposes. Peels you open from the inside out.

You hear too much in it. Feel too much in it.

Even on days when you could still hear easy synchronicity—hands clasped, laughter spilling into the cool air. Especially on days like these.

Or maybe you're mixing that up with something else. Something that has been coloring your days blue for a while now.

Something that doesn't pauses for holidays, doesn't make exceptions for birthdays, doesn't even bother to step aside for just one evening and let one breathe.Does not give way to leaded glass windows or the allay of a congregation. No, it lingers, seeps into places meant for worship, curls around the edges of pews and prayers alike. Certainly doesn’t soften on afternoons like these. Even though the flowers hadn’t wilted.

You hadn’t given it much thought.

Or rather, you had avoided thinking about it altogether.

Perhaps that is why, sitting here now—hands folded neatly in your lap, shoulders drawn tight—yet you feel it, heavy as ever.

Your mother-in-law had insisted you come, refusing to leave you alone, her soft-spoken request leaving little room for refusal. Mira had chimed in too, linked her arm through yours with a smile that tried to coax you back into the land of the living, or like she was letting you in on some joke only the two of you shared.

And so, here you were.

Church had never been a place you frequented, even when Minho was alive—he hadn't been particularly devout, preferring to spend bargaining his way through the sunday market and believing in the way the sky could shift from blue to violet in the span of a single evening—though you both had come when his mother had asked you to, of course, had sat beside him in these very pews, but never like this.

Not without him whispering some irreverent joke about heaven’s waiting list, about how maybe angels got bored too.

But now, you found yourself here more often.

If only because there was no reason not to because what waited you was a quiet apartment, a neatly made bed you hardly slept in and a day untouched by plans, by purpose, by anything remotely significant.

Also because you thought he wouldn’t be here.

Your mother-in-law had told you he wouldn’t be able to make it, had mentioned something about work, something about how he's not big on religion, much like his brother and oh, how you’d clung to those words. Let them blanket your nerves in fragile relief. One more hour. One more day of—knowing you wouldn’t have to see him today, that you could go on one more moment pretending you weren't aware of the inevitable, that you weren't unraveling at the seams every time you so much as thought about him.

That, that's why you had been skirting around him.

Maybe not consciously. At least, that’s what it looked like (You knew. Deep down, you knew.) But ever since that night—God, you really don't want to think about that or him in front of.. God without feeling like you're going to burst in flames. But its not exactly easy.

Not here, where the quiet literally wangles you into the deepest darkest of your thoughts. Thoughts that you're sure would.

Because the quiet here curls around your memories like smoke, drawing them out from where you’d hidden them. It coaxes them up your throat and behind your ribs until they’re a dull, burning pressure you can’t shake off.

You shift slightly in the bench. Mira breathes beside you, soft and steady. You press your palms flat against your lap, grounding yourself.

It hardly works. Especially not when he arrives. That strange, electric knowing. Like the air knows him. Like the space adjusts around him.

The low creak of a door, the faintest hush falling over those nearest the back.

Late, quiet, slipping into the back like a ghost who had learned how to walk among the living, embodying every bit of the word 'handsome' in the most tailored of ways. Hair laid out in perfect symmetry. A ironed, muted blue suit hugging every bit of his perfect posture. Eyes so probing, so demanding of attention that you wonder why you ever got confused when everyday a new number of girls would approach you at school, especially at university for his number.

Then he had just been your doe eyed friend who you wanted to spare from heartbreaks. Not aware of the term-"heartbreaker" that had been given to him. Ironic, really.

Now you feel like you understand. You feel like you sense him before you see him. Sense every bit of his presence that you maybe had overlooked before. A shift in the air, the faintest murmur of acknowledgment rippling through the congregation.

Both Mrs Jeon and Mira are turned towards the figure, thier expression brightening in recognition, waving small hands at the figure that is approaching your way, pulse quickening with the footsteps.

No.

He said he doesn't do church.

He wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t sit—

The soft creak of the seat behind you made your breath hitch.

The older woman only smiled, a pleasant suprise. For her, atleast. "Jungkook-ah! You came! Oh, how lovely!"

She's sure the reason is that he is finally letting divinity in, you're sure you're losing yours.

You don’t turn but Mira does as she shifts beside you, knees bumping against yours to smile in greeting. Saying something about how her husband should learn a thing or two from him and give this a try, accompany her once in a while. A deep, warm chuckle in reply hits you square in the back of your head and your shoulders tense.

Low, rich, like warm amber poured over ice.

It lands like a bruise.

You feel it—real and impossible and close.

You swallow hard, keeping your eyes downcast, determined not to react any more. You fix your gaze on the marble altar, on the golden flicker of votive candles.He’s behind you. Of course he is.

Because where else would he be, if not the one place you prayed he wouldn't?

Even as the sermon continued, voices rising in unison for prayer, you could barely hear them, could barely not feel your dirtiest secret behind you, close enough that if you leaned back even slightly, you might brush against him.

The service moves forward, and you try to focus. You try to listen. Tried to will your ears to listen, to stay anchored in psalms and promises and the choir’s distant swell. Just get through this.It couldn’t possibly be so difficult. No one knows. No one suspects a thing. The polished congregation kneels and stands with rhythm and faith, unaware that your spine was stiff with a secret, that your breath refused to steady. Only you knew. Only he does. And that truth grips your tounge so hard there’s no way it’s ever slipping past your mouth.

But then a touch happens. As if maneuvering. A whisper of movement behind you, so faint it could be the air shifting, a trick of your mind.

Light. Fleeting. Not direct. Not quite.

Just the faintest brush of fingertips against the ends of your hair that spilled over your shoulders, the softest, most cursory pull. Just a teasing pass, like he’s testing the silk of it between thumb and forefinger. There’s a pause, then the strand is gently looped once, slow and idle, as though he’s turning it over in thought.

Then released.

You freeze.

The answer to that is that it happens again. A lazy twirl of a strand, a slow release.

Not enough for anyone to notice. Not enough to draw attention. But enough for you to feel it. Enough to make your skin prickle, your heartbeat stutter.

You shift in your seat, pressing your hands tighter into your lap, back rod-straight, lungs stuck in a breath that wouldn’t come. The sensation was too distinct now, too exact to mistake.

It doesn’t stop. Another strand. A drag of fingertips. A near-caress.

What the fuck is he doing?

You don’t turn. You don’t react when you should have thrown him a warning glance—but that would mean acknowledging him. That would mean facing him.

And you didn’t know how to look him in the eye and not think about it.

His mouth. Your sigh. The sound of your name said like prayer and profanity.

Didn’t know how to hear his voice and not remember the way how his lips shaped against your skin. Venal. Hungry.

Didn't know how not to follow the tattoos that ran through his sleeve and pretend that you haven't took your time exploring them. Aversly. Teasingly.

Didn’t know how to feel the weight of everything you weren’t supposed to want pressing down on you like a second heartbeat.

The way he had tugged your shirt up with reverence and bitten down like he wanted to leave a mark not even salvation could scrub away.

Do not react.

Do not move.

But he kept going. And the sermon blurred.

Gods, you were going to burn. You were going to hell. And he'd be there already, waiting with his hands in your hair.

When the sermon concludes, you stand too quickly, push your hair forward and Mira shoots you a look, her fingers grazing your wrist in question. You shake your head, offering her a quick, brittle smile before stepping toward the exit. You walked. Out of the stall. Out of the building. Out of your goddamn mind.

To your relief—you were still a perfectly coordinated bundle of cells when you were out. The sun hit you outside, sharp and sudden, dragging long shadows over the stone steps. You sucked in fresh air like someone who had been underwater too long.

The relief lasted long enough until Jungkook spoke under the sun casting long shadows against the stone steps. “I’ll drive.” Voice cutting through the polite chatter.

“Oh, that would be great, dear. Y/N, Mira, come on.” Your mother-in-law, oblivious, beamed, completely unaware that you had just spent forty-five minutes debating if setting yourself on fire in the house of God would be less painful than what had just happened.

The car ride should be easy.

It should be nothing. A short drive. A forgettable stretch of road between church and the Jeon family estate.

Should be.

But as you are pressed against the window, your coat bunched beneath you like a failed barrier, you want to either open the window for air or bolt from the moving car, with every inch of your skin crawling with awareness, tight and buzzing and flushed in ways that had nothing to do with the temperature.

The cabin is too quiet. Too warm. The low hum of the engine does nothing to drown out the sound of your heart, which feels like it’s beating directly into your throat.

And then there’s that scent again.

The scent of leather and something distinctly Jungkook curling in the closed space. A mix of his cologne—something dark and woodsy—and the faintest trace of laundry detergent, clinging to his shirt like it had no intention of leaving. It shouldn’t be so familiar, but it is. And that’s the problem.

“That sermon was lovely, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Jeon’s voice is light, warm, like freshly baked bread. The kind of voice that belongs in a home, not a car filled with tension so thick it could choke you.

Mira hums in agreement beside you. “It was.”

You blink, only now realizing how little of the service you actually absorbed.

“Of course,” Mrs Jeon continues, turning slightly in her seat, eyes alight with something rebuke, “not everyone was paying attention.”

You tense, breath catching, even when the accusation isn’t aimed at you. You feel it anyway.

“What?” He finally speaks, voice even. A little hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in hours. Like his vocal cords were dry from silence and prohibition.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know, Jungkook-ah." his mother huffs, shaking her head. “You join for the first time ever in a while, sit in the back, and then spend half the time looking like you didn’t even knew where you were." she finishes with a scolding tone.

Jungkook exhales through his nose, hand tightening against the steering wheel. He doesn't argue.

Because It did seem so.

Mira, ever the enabler, bites her lip to stifle a laugh, glancing at you with barely concealed amusement.

You do not look at Jungkook.

You absolutely do not.

Mrs. Jeon, unbothered by the quiet tension thickening in the car, continues, “You know who else was praying a little too hard?”

Silence. No one answers with whatever self preservation they have.

Not because they don’t want to. But because they know better.

Because when Mrs. Jeon starts on church gossip, there’s no stopping her because apparently it's what it's best for.

She leans in, lowering her voice like she’s about to reveal something sacred. “Mrs. Kang.”

Mira gasps dramatically. “No.”

“Oh, yes.” A firm nod. “She was crying, dear. Again. Right in the middle of the third hymn.”

You blink. “Why?”

The older woman tsks, as if the answer should be obvious. “That husband of hers. You know how he is.”

You makes a thoughtful noise, tilting your head. “Didn’t he… move to Seoul?”

“Yes, but does distance stop a man from causing stress? I don’t think so.” You didn't think so too.

Jungkook exhales, long-suffering. “Why do you know all of this, eomma?”

His mother waves a hand dismissively. “Please, son. I hear things.”

Mira leans in. “Did she cry last week too?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Jeon replies. “But last week was because he didn’t call her for three days. This week, I believe he’s dating someone half his age.”

Mira sighs. “Men.”

You let out an involuntary snicker before you can help it. You don’t even know if it’s a real sound or something your soul exhaled out of disbelief.

Then, you make the mistake of glancing toward the front.

Because Jungkook’s eyes are on you.

Not on the road.

Not on his mother, who is still detailing the tragic love life of a woman you barely know.Not at the red light blinking in the distance.

His eyes are dark and unreadable, barely hooded, like he’s watching you and also thinking about the last time you were under him, gasping. Like maybe he’s remembering the way your nails looked against his neck. Or the way you said his name like a prayer, far more pledged than anything the pastor could conjure.

And every so often, you caught him.

The first time, you looked away immediately. The second time, you stared out the window so hard you gave yourself a headache. The third time, you stared back, even as something molten and dangerous simmers in the quiet between you.

His gaze held yours for a beat longer than necessary before shifting back to the road.

Every part of you was aware of him.

Of the way he adjusted his grip on the wheel. Of the way the veins along his forearm flexed when he turned. Of the way he never looked away fast enough.

Mira nudged you gently. “You okay?”

You nodded through the lie. "Fine."

Your mother-in-law again turned in her seat, smiling warmly. “I hope you’ll stay for lunch, Mira. We have invited the kims too. It’s been long overdue." The word ‘lunch’ doesn’t quite capture what’s waiting at the Jeon house.

Because it isn’t just lunch.

It’s crystal glassware, centerpieces too elaborate for a midday meal, and courses that require cutlery you don’t know how to use properly. It's a show. A subtle flex. A performance wrapped in linen napkins and wine pairings. And if you had to guess, this lunch isn’t just a friendly catch-up.

It’s Mrs. Jeon doing what she does best—playing politics with a smile. Maybe it’s her way of returning the favor after that party the Kims threw. Maybe she’s angling for something else entirely. But it’s definitely not casual.

She then adds as an afterthought. “We thought it would be nice to host something a little more intimate after such a wonderful service.”

“Oh, I’d love to.” Mira grins, relaxing against the seat. “Y/N, you up for it?”

You forced a small smile. “Uh-yeah. Yeah, of course!”

It’s automatic. Reflexive.

Because you can't say what you really want.

Which is to get out of the car.

To breathe. To clear the fog from your chest that smells like leather, and cologne, and fire.

From then, from the backseat, you had counted the moments until you could step into open air again and feel the crisp edge of early spring, the scent of freshly turned earth and blooming jasmine lacing through the quiet garden. The table was set beneath the sprawling branches of the old oak, where dappled sunlight filtered through on the delicate porcelain plates, silverware so polished it reflected the light, dishes, conversations lively and layered with subtext in the way rich families knew how to be.

You, too used to know the dance.

Used to let the brezzy hum of conversation wrap around you, used to nod along at the right moments, used to catch the way Minho would kick Jungkook under the table just to make him crack a smile.You remembered that.

Now, Mira sat beside you, her elbow jolting against yours as she reached for a serving spoon, her plate already filled to the edges.“Try this one,” she whispered, already loading her plate still like she hadn’t eaten in days. And then there was Yoongi—her husband—sitting with a plate he barely touched, scrolling through something on his phone until Mira shot him a look. He cleared his throat and slid it away.

Across from you, your mother-in-law delicately dabbed her lips with a napkin before resuming conversation about Mrs kang with a woman- namjoon's mother- who had grayer streaks in her hair that only painted the greater picture of elegance, her voice carrying that effortless ease of someone used to commanding a room. Someone who had enough money to command at all

Then there's Jungkook who sits two chair away from you, separated by separated only by a stretch of linen and eating irons. Jungkook who could barely catch up to Namjoon's enthusiasm about his dad dying, something about the shifting board members, something that should require Jungkook’s full attention."And now that my father’s out, the balance is shifting," Namjoon said. “We’ve got a chance to pull things clean, finally. The new proposal’s solid.”

Especially when his father speaks. "You’ve seen the numbers, Jungkook," His deep voice cutting through the low hum of conversation. “The deal’s been in discussion for months now. The board expects your response by next week.”

“I’ll look it over.” He acknowledged it with a slow nod.

"Not look over, son." His father’s tone was measured, but firm—the kind of voice that had always left little room for negotiation. "Confirm."

Jungkook exhaled through his nose, setting his wine down. "I won’t confirm anything without making sure it’s solid first."

He pauses. A glance. His father’s sharp gaze flickered over him, assessing. Not questioning—no, never questioning. Because Jungkook had earned his place, had spent years proving himself, had molded himself into the kind of son his father could rely on, because Minho never did.

Not that Minho ever needed to. Not that he ever wanted to.

Jungkook had understood that early on. That Minho had been different. That Minho’s place had always been elsewhere—with paint on his fingers and art in his head, with you curled into his side, laughing in a language he had willed himself to forget. And so it had fallen to him.

And Jungkook—Jungkook hadn’t minded. Not really.

Not when he could see the relief in Minho’s eyes every time their father skipped over him in business conversations, every time he looked at him liked he had birthed a catastrophe. Ambition morphed into inheritance and starry eyes jaundiced. Jungkook realized that this was what he was born for. That his older brother was a fool for denying everything that had been laid on a silver platter for him.

And because it had been easier than actually admitting that maybe he wasn't a fool at all. That maybe it wasn't the legacy he was born for.

Because every waking moment he finds himself tangled in the thoughts about what was right in front of him.

It had been days, yet it remained, stitched into him like something permanent—like the ink on his skin, like the weight of his own name.

It wasn’t just the memory of it. Not just the way you had felt beneath him, the way his name had left your lips in shuddering breaths. It was everything else—the before, the after. The way you had looked at him, wide-eyed and hesitant in the dim light of that unfamiliar room, as if realizing for the first time that he was capable of something like this. That he had spent years knowing, wanting.

Jungkook, who had spent years perfecting restraint, found himself breaking under the weight of it at only the sight of you that brought the memory of the night where he pretended you were his, like fever rushing through.

Because you would not look at him.

Because your eyes had skimmed past him all afternoon, slipping over him like he was nothing, like he hadn’t once been pressed against you, groaning into your skin.

And fuck if it didn’t drive him insane.

His fingers curled around the stem of his glass, his knuckles white as he brought the wine to his lips, stealing glances of you reaching for a pitcher of water at the same time as Mira, your fingers brushing, the smallest of startled laughs escaping you.

Soft. Effortless. Rivaling the intoxicity of the drink in his hand. He couldn't remember when it was the last time he heard it, only the withdrawals that came with it.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, setting down his glass before he did something reckless—before he let himself stare too long, let his thoughts slip into something visible, something impossible to ignore.

And then, as if the universe were intent on pushing him closer to the edge—you left, something he used to be best at.

You pushed back your chair, the scrape of wood against stone barely registering above the conversation which started with Mrs Kim going- “I should probably head home soon,” she said. "Joon's father probably running the househelp ragged by now.”

Namjoon huffed a laugh beside Jungkook, reaching for the hand resting on his thigh. “Let him. Maybe they’ll finally get him to stop redecorating the library every three months.”

Seokjin, seated beside him, shrugged. “Or maybe he’ll burn the place down and finally have an excuse to build that ‘modern masterpiece’ he’s been threatening to commission.”

Mrs. Kim sighed, exasperated but fond. “I wouldn't put it past him. He’s been threatening that ‘modern masterpiece’ since 2003.”

Mrs. Jeon clapped her hands together. “Oh, nonsense. Stay for tea at least. Mr Kim will be fine. Yoongi, you’ll take another pour, won’t you? Y/N, dear, why don’t you grab the set from the kitchen?”

"Of course. I'll be right back." you murmured, barely loud enough for anyone to catch, save for the ones listening too closely. Save for him.

Jungkook watched as you stepped away, disappearing through the doors of the house, something tightening in his chest.

The moment his hand closed around the stem of his glass again, Jungkook knew what he was about to do.

Would it be too obvious? Too stupid?

He doubted it.

Maybe it was reckless. Maybe it was childish. But as his grip tightened and the glass stem cracked beneath his palm, sending shards of glass and a sharp jolt of pain through his hand, he felt something darkly satisfying settle in his chest.

The table fell silent.

And all eyes fell on him. "I-I'm sorry. I didn’t realize." He cleared his throat and started to rise up from his seat.

Namjoon, the closest to him, attempted to reach for his hand and he instantly flinched. Just because the wound was intentional, didn’t mean it didn't hurt.

"What the hell, Kook? Are you okay?"

“Its nothing,” he muttered, jaw clenched as he pressed his uninjured hand to his palm, watching the thin trickle of crimson bead against his skin.

“Jungkook?” His mother’s voice came next to break through the quiet, sharp and immediate, her chair scraping against the stone as she pushed back. “Oh my god—what were you thinking? Do you need me to—”

“No,” he cut in, firm but even, already standing. “I’ve got it.”

Seokjin, looked up from beside his boyfriend, a just as suprised and bewildered expression taking over his face. The same one that mimicked every other person's that sat around the table, with Mira looking like she was going to choke on her food as she met his eyes before her husband smoothed a hand down her back.

"Are you sure? You don’t need any hel—"

"I'm okay, hyung. I said I got it." He said it with perhaps too much irration shimmering beneath his words and the table fell silent again.

Jungkook ignored them all.

He was already moving.

Already following.

Through the hallway, past familiar frames on the wall.

He finds himself checking his reflection in one, taking note of his hair that seem tousled and runs a smooth hand over them.

He finds you in the kitchen.

The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting golden lines across the marble counters, across the soft fabric of your dress. You stood with your back to him, your hands grasping something—kettle, tray? Don't know.

You just know that you feel him before you hear him like you always do, the weight of his presence shifting the air, settling around you like something impending. You pretend you don’t notice. Pretend you’re too preoccupied with the cups in your hands, as if arranging over the same sets of cups for the fourth time will make it any more legible. It’s pointless, really—You had always known Jungkook, even in silence.

“Gonna keep avoiding me?"

It’s not exactly a question.

Not accusing, but certain. Because yes, you have. Not because you’re angry, not because you regret it, but because it scares you how little you do.

You swallowed. Still not looking. “I’ve been busy.”

He drawls out. “Have you?"

That makes you look up.

By this time you should have realized that it's always a mistake when you do that.

Because he’s leaning against the counter, a hand tucked casually in his pockets, sleeves still rolled up, collar slightly undone. And he’s watching you.

Not like at the table, where his expression had been smooth, unreadable or like that one time where you had been exactly where you are now and he was exactly where he was. Just then, it had been the same illegible look.

Here, in this quiet, his eyes are darker. He looks at you like he knows.

Its in the way his gaze dips, taking you in and how the amber light fluidly danced across your hair that framed your guilty face. So fucking adorable. "So busy you won't even look at me."

You hated how your breath hitched. Hated how you had no answer that didn’t sound like a lie.

You forced a slow breath and placed the napkins in the space left in the tray. "I've had a lot to do."

"No you didn't."

"I did."

"No you didn't, Y/N."

You force yourself to move, to wrap your hands around the tray, to act as if this conversation isn’t happening. “What do you want me to say?”

Instead, he pushed himself off the wall and came closer, close enough that the warmth of him touched your spine, close enought that you could see everything—the way his jaw tightens, the way his throat bobs when he swallows, the way his fingers twitch at his sides and when he finally spoke, it was low, just for you.

"Tell me you don't hate me. I can't go on like that." Has no idea how he has done that for years and has no intention to relive that ever again. He's a buisness man now. Buisness men learn from their losses and never give up profit.

Heat curled in your stomach.

Minutes passed. Too many, too few.

And he waits. He’s patient like that. He always has been.

But your eyes were drawn to something else entirely.

His hand.

The sharp contrast of crimson against his skin, fresh and glistening, pooling at the edge of his palm before dripping onto the tiled floor in slow, schemed drops.

You inhaled sharply, setting the tray down with a quiet clatter, your pulse kicking up. “What the—Jungkook, what happened?”

He didn’t answer right away, didn’t even glance at the wound. Instead, his eyes stayed fixed on you, dark and unreadable, watching the way you reached for his arm, fingers curling around his wrist, your touch careful and instinctive. Maybe it wasn't that bad of an idea, he thinks.

You turned his palm over, assessing the damage. A deep cut, but nothing catastrophic. "You're bleeding."

His voice was slow, aforethought. “I noticed.”

Your head snapped up, irritation flickering behind your concern. “What do you mean, you noticed? Why didn’t you say anything? You should’ve—”

Your breath catches, shifting your weight, as he steps closer, the space between you dwindling.

You try to ignore it. Try to recoil from it. Try to do anything but this. Because you recognized it now. This wasn’t about his hand.

Not really.

Not when his gaze flickered down to your lips in that moment.

Not when his fingers twitched at his side, like he was waiting.

Not when the air between you suddenly felt too thick, too warm, too charged. Too much like that one hallway.

You swallowed, cursed under your breath and forced your eyes away from his wound to take hold of the abandoned tray. You didn’t trust yourself enough with his. With him.

He seemed to revel in that fact.

His fingers brushed against your wrist in protest, dwadling, intentional. His head leaned in, lips grazing the curve of your jaw, just the lightest touch, just enough to rattle the glasses on the tray, just enough to summon a maelstrom of sensations.

Your hand flexed beneath his grip, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, quieter, like the world outside of it ceased to exist.

No. No. You reminded yourself of the straight stuff.

“Jungkook, let go. Everyone's ou—”

He doesn’t let you finish.

Jungkook’s breath ghosts over your cheek, his nose brushing against yours, the scent of him—sylvan cologne, something faintly sweet—pulling you under, drowning you in it.

He turns you, presses you back against the counter. His eyes are dark, searching of the surroundings for a moment before they are back on you. Then, so is the unrelenting heat of his mouth, catching your lips with his, slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world to corrade you.

His lips moved against yours, insistent, beguiling you to open up, to give him what he wanted. Because it had been days. Days since he had his first taste. Days since you have deprived him off it.

And so you did.

You gasped against his mouth, your fingers curling against the handle of trays, gripping, steadying yourself. He groaned at the way you responded, at the way you always responded, despite every calmour, despite every attempt to put distance between you.

You didn’t know who reached first, who needed more, who ached better—only that neither of you pulled away.

The kiss deepened, his uninjured hand slipping beneath the curve of your jaw, his thumb dragging against your cheek, his teeth grazing against your bottom lip. The wounded one curled around your waist. You gasped at the contact—at the warmth of his blood seeping through the fabric of your dress, staining the pale church blue with sin. You felt it against your ribs, hot and sticky. You didn’t care. You whimpered into his mouth, heat pooling low in your stomach, and that was all it took to prouduce a low, guttural noise in his chest, his fingers flexing against your waist, gripping, needing, wanting

And suddenly, the counter is the only thing keeping you upright. Your mind is spinning, lost in him, lost in this, in the fact that this is happening—

Here.

Now.

Where anyone could walk in.

“Y/N?”

Your heart stopped.

Jungkook froze.

Your mother-in-law’s voice was distant but getting closer.

Your breath hitched, panic flaring in your chest, but before you could pull away, Jungkook caught you again.

Pressed his lips to yours, stealing another kiss, this one shorter, sharper, like a punishment, like he was branding you with it as if he hadn’t already stained you with his blood, making sure you’d feel it long after he let go.

But he didn’t.

“Please” he breathed against your mouth, he kisses you deeper, hungrier. He drinks you in like he’s been starving, like he wants to ruin you.

Like he already has.

His tongue brushed against yours, hot and sure, and your stomach twisted, heat

licking at your spine. “Tell me you don't."

A voice—your mother-in-law’s, calling your name grows closer and semblance slams into you like a freight train.

Yet Jungkook stands untouched, refusing to let go, refusing to understand what's he doing, how it could end.

"Jungkook, stop—mhmm—Mom's coming!"

Your resolve is slipping.

Falling.

Falling.

Gone.

And then, when you finally find your voice—

You don’t tell him to stop.

You whisper—breathless, aching, a confession and a surrender all at once.

“I don’t.”

Jungkook groans a curse and he's swift in the way he pulls away because it's only in a second away that another figure breezes into the space.

Your mother-in-law stands in the doorway, looking between you and Jungkook , her brows pinching in mild confusion.

“What was taking so long, dear?”

Jungkook is the first to move, straightening, rolling his shoulders back like nothing happened. Like his tounge wasn't down your throat.

You, though, find it hard to hide the compact it had on you. You're sure everyone in the room can hear how your heartbeats, can hear how it wants to get out of your constructing chest. Your wide blown pupils gaze roams everywhere and stops at the tray in your hands.

Yeah, right.

You start to speak. “I was just—”

But before you can finish with whatever you come up with, her eyes land on his still-bleeding hand that's making a mess on the once polished clean floors.

“Why haven’t you cleaned that up yet, Jungkook-ah?” she scolds, sighing. “You’re going to get an infection.”

Jungkook exhales through his nose, and swips his tounge over his kiss bruised lips. “I was going to."

“I’ll help him, mom. Why don't you take this?” you blurt out, too quick, too loud.

Your mother-in-law’s eyes flicker to you. Something unreadable passes through them.

Then, after a long beat, she nods, smiling. “Youre a sweetheart, Y/N. I'll take this.”

She steps forward, plucks the tray from your hands, and turns toward the dining room without another word.

The moment the door clicks shut behind her, the weight of everything crashes into you.

Your pulse was still erratic, your lips tingling from his kiss, your hands shaking as you turned to him.

You whirled on Jungkook, eyes blazing at his audacity.

"What were you thinking?"

You wanted to kill him.

Your fingers curl into a fist before you can stop them, and you swat his chest, your palm colliding against solid muscle.

He catches your wrist before you can pull away.

And before you could yank off, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Your breath stutters.

His eyes flicker down to meet yours, dark and knowing. His expression pleased. Deliciously so. Almost resembling the look that crossed over his face after he had made you come on his mouth for the second time, saying something along the lines of how he could stay buried—

Oh, shit. Uh, scratch that.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” you heave out.

His lips quirk. “Likewise.”

You inhale sharply, snatching your hand from his grip, grabbing his unsullied wrist instead.

“Shut up and come here.” you mutter, tugging him toward the hall.

Jungkook lets you drag him to the bathroom, silent, unresisting. He thinks if it's you he has to follow, he will, even to the ends of the world. Wherever you want.

For now it's the bathroom that was silent, except for the soft drip of the faucet and the sound of your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears. The space was impossibly small with him in it, the air thick with something that hadn’t dissipated even after your mother-in-law had nearly caught you both in the kitchen.

And the moment the door closes behind you.

You realize two things.

One: His hand is still shaking, still bleeding, still a mess of raw skin and recklessness.

And two: You really don’t trust yourself to be alone with him.

Yet you always found yourself in closed rooms. Closed bathrooms, for this instant. Only places you can afford being this close.

You turned the tap, watching as the water rushed down, steam curling into the air. Jungkook stood behind you, leaning against the sink, his injured hand still cradled in his other. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing strong forearms, tendons shifting beneath inked skin as he flexed his fingers experimentally.

The sight shouldn’t make your stomach twist the way it did.

“You’re a idiot." you muttered again, reaching for the first aid kit tucked behind the mirror cabinet.

Jungkook hummed, the sound deep, amused. "So, I've been told."

You turned, finally looking at him, and immediately regretted it. Because he was watching you. Again. Not passively, not carelessly—but like he was memorizing something, like he was still thinking about the way you had whispered I don’t against his lips only minutes ago.

Your throat tightened. You gestured toward the sink. “Hand. Under the water.”

He didn’t move.

Instead, his head tilted slightly, a slow smirk ghosting at the edges of his lips. “That an order, angel?”

You exhaled sharply, grabbing his wrist before he could make another smart remark, forcing his injured hand under the warm stream. He hissed at the contact, fingers twitching, but otherwise didn’t complain. Blood swirled in the sink, a diluted pink that spiraled down the drain.

You repeated, biting the inside of your cheek. “What were you even thinking?”

Jungkook’s voice was ceaseless, unfaltering. “That I wanted you alone.”

Your hands stilled, fingertips just barely brushing against his palm. His words lingered between you, weaving into the steam, settling into your bones.

Slowly, carefully, you lifted his hand out of the water, watching as droplets slid down his fingers, over the sharp lines of his knuckles. The cuts were shallow but jagged, the skin angry and raw, small flecks of glass still embedded in his palm.

Your chest ached.

You reached for a towel and dabbed carefully around the wounds.

This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. But he was also In pain and a part of you has never liked him In pain. It reminded you of nights where he'd think too much about where he actually belonged. Something very candid. Something very raw. Something a child shouldn’t have to think. You had known how to bandage scraped knees and scuffed elbows. Knew nothing about those nights.

You refocused on his hand, plucking a pair of tweezers from the kit and leaning in, carefully pulling out the slivers of glass still buried in his skin. Your breath brushed against his wrist, your fingers gentle, your focus unwavering. Jungkook didn’t move, didn’t even flinch.

But he watched.

Watched the way your brows furrowed, the way your lips pressed together in quiet concentration, the way your hands trembled just slightly when his thumb twitched against your palm.

He inhaled deeply. "You're good at this. You always have been."

You ignored him, reaching for the antiseptic. “This is going to sting.”

Jungkook smirked. “You sure you don’t want it to?”

You pressed the gauze down harder than necessary.

Jungkook inhaled sharply, his good hand gripping the edge of the counter. “You're enjoying this, aren't you?”

“A little,” you admitted, pressing again just to make a point.

His laughter was quiet, but it was real.

You forced yourself to focus, wrapping a clean bandage over his palm, fingers tracing lightly over his knuckles as you secured it in place. His skin was warm beneath yours, solid, alive. You wondered if he could feel the way your pulse was hammering.

You sucked in a breath, finally, finally releasing him, stepping back like distance could fix what had already unraveled.

"This is reckless." You spoke, not knowing yourself if you meant his hand or him following you to the kitchen. "We need to stop doing this." You finished and looked up to gauge his reaction to your words, only to find that he was already staring.

Too close. Too secure. Too much.

You weren’t sure what you were excepting. Hurt? Regret? Guilt?

Definitely not the recap of what happened in the kitchen. Definitely not his good hand lifting. Again.

It’s imperceptibly, resolute. His fingertips brush your hip first, featherlight, a touch so barely-there that you almost convince yourself you imagined it.

Almost.

Until he grips.

Until he tugs.

And suddenly, you're slamming right against his unmalleable frame,

Your eyes fly up, locking onto his.

Jungkook’s gaze is unreadable, filled with something that makes your stomach clench. His hands plant themselves firmly on either side of you, caging you in.

“You tell me to stop,” he said quietly, “and I will.”

Your fingers tighten around his forearm.

You should.

You should.

But you don’t.

Because he shifted, tilting his head slightly, the smallest movement—one that said he’d do it again.

Kiss you.

Undo you.

His gaze flickers down, lingering on your parted lips. "Yet all you do is look at me like you want me to fuck you on this damn counter. And Jesus, angel, if it doesn't make me rock hard."

The crude words leave him like there’s no consequence to him. To you they rise goosebumps all over your body. For a moment, you try to convince yourself that it's a warning sitting heavy on your skin.

It shimmers through your mind, something about distance, about lines, about how you’ve already crossed too many. You could still say it.

You could still put an end to this before it tattered beyond repair.

But then Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightened, and suddenly, the ground wasn’t beneath you anymore.

Your breath caught as he lifted you. Effortlessly, hands firm, unwavering. The air shifted around you, heat rolling off him in waves, and before you could catch your breath, the cool press of marble kissed the backs of your thighs.

You swallowed hard, fingers instinctively curling into the fabric of his shirt. He settled between your parted legs, the warmth of his body bleeding into yours.

Your pulse thrummed, a frantic, uneven rhythm against your ribs.

"That," you breathed, trying to sound firm, trying to anchor yourself in reason, "sounds like a bad idea."

Jungkook exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. "It does."

And then he kissed you again.

It wasn’t fair, the way he kissed.

Like he knew exactly how to disentangle you.

Like he knew that every time his mouth met yours, resistance becomes a footnote.

His tounge moved with yours, fingers traced the edge of your knee, palms gliding up the sensitive skin of your thigh before finding its mark at your hip with a confidence that says its his anyways. A soft ache that doesn’t seem to matter anymore. He doesn’t move closer. He doesn’t have to.

The space between you is already non existence.

But his hands need to be closer. Preferably, inside so one of his hands slides higher, disappearing beneath the hem of your dress. Unhurried, exploring, teasing.

Your thighs tensed against his hips, heat coiling in your stomach, something familiar and overwhelming pressing at the edges of your ribs. His bandaged hand then found the small of your back, fingers splaying against your spine as if mapping you, tugging you still until you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours and the outline of his bulge against your thigh.

Your fingers curled into his shoulders, anchoring yourself, gripping onto something solid as his touch grew more confident, more certain when he found the wet spot forming on the lacy white material—so thin, so damn easy to tear—and something primal glinted in his gaze.

His lips dragged along the planes of your chin, the corner of your mouth, before he exhaled against your skin, voice hushed, but steady. "Still want me to stop?"

His answer was you pressing into his hands instead of pulling away, your breath catching when his fingers brushed higher, thumb pressed bolder and stroking slow patterns against your clothed fold, dragging his knuckles along the delicate fabric.

Your head tilted back slightly, your breath uneven, and Jungkook watched you—watched the way your lashes fluttered, the way your fingers dug into his biceps, the way your body responded to him, even without words.

He knew.

And he liked it.

His lips found your throat, his voice low, rough. "You should." A kiss, slow and deep. "You really should." Another, this one firmer, teeth grazing over your pulse.

A shiver rolled down your spine and desperation rolled on.

"Don't stop. Want your fingers." His cock twitched in his pants and he bit harder onto your neck. He thinks he's again gonna make a wreckage in his pants at the realization of you trembling for him.

"Good girl, angel. Already so wet for me." he breathed, and eased down your soaked panties from your thighs. His eyes glinting again when the thin white late is revealed to him. And god, when it slipped down, revealing glistening skin beneath, he exhaled something broken. "Fuck—have you been waiting for this? Is that what it is?" He wantons and bunches the fabric in his hand to tuck it in his pocket. You flush at the implications, at what he just did, at what he might do.

"Have you?" You dodge the question and he grunts, parting your folds with his thumb and forefinger.

"You have no fucking idea." His forehead pressed to yours, jaw clenched. "The idea of having you like this again consumed me. You consume me."

A soft whimper slipped from your throat, and he grunted again at the sound, his fingers pressing more firmly now, tracing, exploring, teasing you apart. "Did that charming mouth used to get you a lot of girls out there?" The question sounds like a taunt but tastes like lemon on your tounge. You don’t know why you ask it—why you let the thought slip past your lips when you could have buried it like all the others. Maybe now, with his hands on you, with the past and present colliding so violently in the space between breaths, the thought worms its way in.

If he had kissed someone the way he kissed you. If his hands had crammed the shape of someone else’s body. If, somewhere across an ocean, he had found something that didn’t taste like longing.

His fingers stilled. A sharp breath. A pause thick enough to drown in.

Then—he laughed. A low, disbelieving sound that sent a shiver curling up your spine. Not amused. Not really. More incredulous than anything, roughened at the edges with something else.

His bandaged hand tightened around your thigh, dragging you closer. "You think I’ve wasted this mouth on anyone else?"

His voice was low, velvet-soft but weighted, pressing into your skin like the heat of an open flame. Your stomach clenched.

"I don’t know." You swallowed, pulse fluttering against your throat. "I never heard anything, but—"

"But what?" His thumb dragged along your folds. “You think I’d let someone else have what’s yours? Thought I’d put my hands on someone else and think of anything but you?" The pads dig into your skin, his grip an demand for honesty because this is all he plans to give you now. The honesty that every time he tried to want something else, it was your voice in his head. Your name on his tongue.

Your lashes fluttered, the words sinks into your bones, pools at the base of your core. It terrifies you how much you like the way it sounds coming from his mouth—low aching, like it had been a curse, like you had ruined him without ever meaning to— how much you like the way him stressing every word with press of his fingers.

“I want things with you,” he said, the words dragging out of him like they’d been kept in a vault. “Not just this. Not just your body—though fuck, I’ll worship it until I’m in the ground.”

His hand stilled again, the stillness worse than movement, because now he was looking at you. Really looking. Voice softer now. Like he was afraid to let it live in the air.

"I want it all." He whispered. "I want every morning with your hair on my pillow. Every night with your hands on me." Your mouth parted, but no sound came out—just breath, shallow and stunned.

His fingers moved again, slow and reverent, his touch suddenly less about taking and more about giving. "Your clothes in my closest." Showing.

Promising.

Your head fell back against the mirror, your breath coming in sharp, uneven pants, every flick of his wrist sending another spark of pleasure shooting through your limbs.

"Jungkook," you gasped, barely able to form his name.

"Your name on every piece of paper that has mine." he kept going, his voice low, yet the way two of his digits slipped inside, slow, stretching, filling, setting a rhythm that had your thighs trembling wasn't exactly something you could keep quiet for. "Your moans in my ear that I'm gonna keep just for myself."

Your cunt clenched around him and head dropped to his shoulder in an attempt to muffle the sound. "Mhm. Fuck." Your body arched into him, chasing the fire that threatened to consume you whole. His pace quickened, his touch growing rougher, more desperate, as if he needed this just as badly as you did, as if he needed to become a devotee of the way you fell apart in his hands.

"Say it." He curled them just right, making a consistent squelching sound that bounced off the walls. "Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me." His mouth was scornful when it spoke but affectionate when it peppered kisses on the crown of your head.

"You know I do." Your voice was wrecked, barely more than a whisper against his skin, hips stuttering beneath his touch.

"Not enough." He growled, voice thinned by impediment, fingers curling again, slow and deep and your grip on him was the only thing keeping you from floating away.

"I—Jungkook—I" You broke off, a cry catching in your throat as he pressed and flicked. A merciless rhythm of knowing.

"Come on. Be my good fucking angel." He murmured against your hair, fingers pushing in and out of your slick hole with practiced ease, working you open, watching every shift of your body, every tiny gasp and shudder.

"I feel it," you breathed. "God, I feel it—I want you."

He too could feel how you seized against his fingers, how your breath started to come in short pants. "More." He husked. "I want you to lose it for me," his voice took a pleading note, his head dunking down, lips finding the curve of your jaw, his teeth scraping lightly before soothing the bite with his tongue. "Fall apart. Come on my fingers knowing what I want with you. Knowing you're it. Let go, baby."

And then he found that spot—the one that drove knuckles deep into your quivering cunt, curling and flicking, shattering you, the one that had your eyes rolling back, your breath catching in a sharp, broken cry as teeth dug unconsciously into his shoulders, hips shifting, chasing his touch, needing more and he felt the urgent need to bury his cock into you the next second.

“Right there, fuck—Jungkook,” you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut, lashes damp.

“Don’t stop. I’m—god, I’m gonna cum. So close. So fucking close.” Eyes stayed fixed on your face like it was a masterpiece made for him alone. The heat of your slick coated his fingers, the way your body clenched down around him driving a ragged curse from his throat.

Your orgasm hit with brutal force, crashing into you like a wave breaking at high tide, leaving you boneless, trembling, and Jungkook caught you, his arm wrapping securely around your waist, his lips pressing into the side of your neck, as if searing the moment into your skin.

As if he had no intention of letting you go. As if he never had.

"Beautiful girl." He mummered. "So fucking perfect when you come for me." He praised and pulled his two digits drenched with your essence out of your pulsating pussy to slide them into his mouth. Eyes closing when the taste of you settled on his tounge, reacquainting himself what has been taken hold of every inch of his mind. The appreciative hum that starts to leave his mouth gets lodged in somewhere in the middle when he feels your thighs wrapping around him, your front pressing against his cock that throbbed with the need to be lamented inside your salivating warmth.

He cursed under his breath, his control fraying at the edges. "Needy little thing." he growled, half in awe, half in torment. "Still aching for me?"

You blinked at him, all wide-eyed innocence, but your hips shifted again, grinding up into him in a way that had his jaw clenching, his breath turning ragged.

“I can feel how hard you are,” you whispered, voice barely there. “What if I want more?”

"Fuck," he gritted out, "I need to be inside you." He needs and his hands gripped your thighs, clutching you closer with the intention to rub against your bare, soused pussy. You felt the heat of him, the weight of the orgasm he had wrung from you with nothing but his fingers, the sheer presence of him pressing against you, and your pulse fluttered, a mix of nerves and overwhelming want.

His hand that you mended, hooks up your chin. You barely registered his words at first, too dazed, too lost in the lingering ache of pleasure still pulsing deep within you. But then—his voice, low and thick with something rekt, something wanting.

"Think we've got enough time?" He asks, shrugging a glance at his rolex. His hands traced over your thighs, palms spreading against flushed skin to bunch up the silk material of your blood stained church dress, the delectable longness of his erection pressing against you. And though it was phrased like a question, it sounded rather possessive and certain, as if the answer had already been decided.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, torn between reason and the undeniable heat pooling low in your stomach. "We'll have to find out." You whispered, teeth biting onto your lip as you grinded in response, letting you feel him—hard and urgent, straining against the fabric that abstracted you—until it didn’t.

Your fingers moved without permission, trailing down his stomach, feeling the taut muscle beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt. Lower still, to the belt that had been teasing you with its presence, the polished metal of the buckle cool beneath your fingertips.

Jungkook inhaled sharply when you undid it, the sound rough. His hands around you clenched, but he didn’t stop you. Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t want to.

You took your time, savoring the way his breath hitched as you worked open the button, the zipper, how his body tensed beneath your touch. And then—when you pressed your palm against him, feeling the full length of his need—his head fell back, his throat bared in a perfect, aching display.

God.

Your breath stilled in your chest.

He was beautiful like this.

Not just in the obvious way—not in the way the world saw him, sharp-suited and composed, the perfect image of a man in control. No, this was something else entirely.

You traced your gaze over him, over the column of his throat, over the way the muscles in his jaw tightened as he swallowed. Over the way he looked like he was waging a war against himself.

“Y/N,” he gritted out, his voice tight, strained, as if he were warning you.

Or begging.

But you only pressed a little firmer, fingers teasing, tracing, thumb swiping over his swollen tip that leaked with pre cum.

With a growl, his hand wrapped around your wrist, halting your movements, dark eyes snapping open to meet yours. "Fuck, baby. I'm not patient enough for this."

And then he was lifting your hips, guiding you against him, his tip poking at your entrance, making you let out a shuddering  breath. He leaned in, his lips brushing over your cheek, feather-light, a stark contrast to the way his hands gripped your thighs.

"Let me feel you," he hiss, more plea than demand, his voice thick with restraint. "Let me have you all of you, angel."

And when you nodded—when you let him pull you to the very edge, let him replace his fingers with something hotter, heavier—your hands fisted in his shirt, nails biting into his shoulders as your breath hitched.

Jungkook groaned against your ear as he pushed himself all the way to the hilt, sworeing how he would never get enough of you, his fingers flexing at your waist as he stilled, letting you adjust to the sudden intrusion of his massive length, letting himself revel in the feeling of you wrapped around him like you always would in the sweetest of his dreams, like you did a certain night away. And from that moment he had wondered how had he ever functioned without this? How will he ever function without you if you keep yourself away from him?

Your hands slipped up, cupping his face, tilting him toward you until your lips brushed. “Move,” you whispered, voice barely there.

Slow at first, rolling his hips into yours, his mouth catching every broken sound that left you, his hands never stopping their worship of your body.

And when he felt his willpower leave him, when slow became desperate, when his name spilled from your lips like a prayer—he answered.

He met you in every way you needed.

It was urgent—messy and desperate and filled with everything neither of you could say out loud. Could only afford in hushed whispers and lips tracing sin on skin. Something he'd taken pain from you if it meant he'd get to kept this. Because it was better than nothing, better than those years when he wanted you with a desperation that should’ve dulled with time, with grief, with regret.

But it hadn’t.

It had only grown sharper.

It was too much. It was not enough.

The way he gasped softly as he pushed himself inside you—inch by inch, stretching you around him, your hands fisting his shirt like you couldn’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away.

He pressed you further onto the counter, knocking over something ceramic that shattered on the tile, neither of you caring. The pace of his cock driving inside you turned desperate, driven by something raw, something that tasted too much like loss but felt too much like home.

Your fingers found his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your lips, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer, closer, closer. "Oh yeah! Fuck, just there!" You panted, hips snapping against his, encouraging him further as he outright pounded into you.

"You’re—fuck—so tight,” he rasped. “So warm. I knew it. You were made for me.” He highlighted with a squeeze to your boob, rolling your pebbled nipple between his digits. Your walls fluttered around him, still so tight, still taking all of him like you had been made to, eyes fluttering close when he gave it a pinch.

And fuck—he wanted to see that again.

“Eyes, Y/N.” he murmured, his voice rough, strained.

Your lashes lifted, glassy and unfocused, your lips parting around a soft gasp as he rolled his hips again, hitting deeper this time.

He smiled, dipping his head, lips brushing over your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “That’s it, baby. Let me see you.”

You swallowed hard, fingers pulling into his hair. “Jungkook I can't—Too much!”

His grip on your waist tightened, his pace faltering slightly. “Shhh. I've got you,” he whispered, voice shaking. “You don’t have to do anything. Just take me.” He cooed, his head falling to the crook of your neck. His teeth grazed over your pulse, tongue following, lips dragging along heated skin.

The sensation sent a shiver rolling down your spine, sharp and electric.

Your back arched, pressing further into him, your thighs tightening around his waist. You could feel yourself spiraling, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter with every roll of his hips, every deep, mind blowing thrust.

You felt full.

Overwhelmed.

Like you were going to break apart any moment.

Jungkook must have felt it—the way your nails dug into his skin, the way your breath stuttered against his ear—because his grip shifted, one hand slipping between you, fingers pressing against your most sensitive spot, rubbing slow, lazy circles.

Your body jolted at the added sensation, a sharp cry tumbling from your lips that he caught in his own.

And he smirked.

“My angel's so close, hmm?" he murmured against your mouth.

Your breath hitched, a whimper escaping before you could stop it. "Yeah—shit—yeah. Wanna come again. Want come so bad, Jungkook."

Jungkook groaned, his cheeks hollowing, brows furrowing like he was barely holding himself together. “Fuck, you sound so pretty when you do that.”

You were right there.

Jungkook felt it.

And he wasn’t about to let you go without making you fall apart for him.

His thumb rubbed faster, tighter circles, his thrusts rougher, deeper, his lips brushing over your ear, his voice low, wicked.

“You’re gonna come for me again,” he promised, panting. “Right here. Around me. Look at me when you do.”

The coil snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, your body tightening, then releasing all at once. Your vision blurred, your entire body trembling, your nails raking over Jungkook’s back as you moaned his name, breathless and undone. "Shit, that's right." He heaved.

His thrusts started to get sloppier, trying to constraint the sound of his hips slapping against yours in the tiled bathroom only while he pursued his own release. More urgent—less about control and more about instinct. He could only last so long with your pussy milking him for all he's worth.

"Fuck—baby," he rasped, voice wrecked, forehead pressed hard against yours, sweat-slicked and trembling. "I’m close… fuck, I’m gonna come. Gonna fill you up."

You found yourself nodding mindlessly, relating with the wretched appetite in his voice to be warmed up to within.

“Such a needy girl,” he murmured, voice rough as gravel. “So desperate to be filled, huh? You want all of it, angel?” His hand moved from your waist to your jaw, thumb swiping your lip like he was trying to soothe something uncontainable.

Jungkook's thrusts slowed into something deeper, deliberate, chasing every inch of you as he buried himself to the hilt and groaned, full-bodied and guttural, like it had been torn straight from his chest. His release hit him hard, cock twitching deep inside you, thick warmth spilling in hot waves as his fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise like he was trying to memorize you, like he hadn’t spent the better part of his life trying to memorize you in ways he had never deserved.

He didn’t stop—just kept grinding into you, riding it out, chasing the feeling of being so deep inside you that the world didn’t matter. His jaw clenched, eyes squeezing shut as he emptied every last drop, as if he could carve his name into you from the inside.

Like the years had never carved a distance between you, like nothing—no one—had ever come between this pull, this thing that always seemed to exist between you and him.

And yet, reality was creeping back in.

You could hear it—the soft murmur of voices beyond the door, the distant clatter of dishes, the low hum of conversation that you were supposed to be a part of.

The world you were supposed to return to.

You exhaled shakily, body still trembling in the aftermath, shifting against the counter, trying to gather yourself, trying to think. Your fingers curled weakly into his shoulder, and you felt it—his chest rising and falling against you, his breath warm against your temple, the quiet steadiness of him as he held you there, as if neither of you were quite ready to move just yet.The sweat cooling on his skin glistened where the low light caught it, and his nose nudged softly into your hairline, inhaling you like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

"Still with me, angel?"

You hummed a airy "barely" and he kissed one, featherlight and sweet, dragging his mouth lazily toward your jaw. He was taking his time. He didn’t seem to care that your clothes were halfway off or that you were still tangled around him.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, wrapped up in the quiet. You sighed, resting your head back on his shoulder, content and warm and glowing all over. The mirror behind you was fogged with breath, the air still thick with the scent of heat and sweat and him.

“We should go back now," you whispered and when you moved to slip away, his hands curled against your thighs, halting you in place. Not tight, not forceful—just there, just asking.

He shook his head, exhaling through his nose, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your skin where he adjusted the hem of your dress after wiping the remnants of him with a tissue, doe eyes giving away the look a kicked puppy would have. “Not yet. Give me a minute."

Not yet.

Not don’t go. Not stay.

Just not yet.

And maybe that was why you didn’t move.

Maybe that was why you let yourself linger for just a second longer, your fingers smoothing over the collar of his shirt, tracing a wrinkle that your own grip had left behind. A pointless action, an excuse to touch, to feel the warmth of him for just another moment before you had to pretend like none of this happened. "Fine. I mean I wouldn't want to walk back smelling like sex and you."

Jungkook’s gaze darkened. His hands slid up, brushing over the curve of your cheekbone, his touch slow and sharp like satisfaction curling under his tongue.

“That right?” he murmured. “You smell like me?”

The question caught you off guard.

Too late. He was already drunk on it. He ducked down, nosing along your throat, breathing in deep with a groan like the idea physically did something to him. “Fuck. You do. You smell like me, angel."

You blinked, your fingers stilling against his shirt, your breath hitching in your throat.

Something darker lit his eyes—satisfaction painted in shadow. “Good.”

Your breath caught. “It’s good that I reek of you?” And definitely not the hottest scandal the neighborhood will get their hands on. Right.

He dipped his head, nose brushing your neck, lips skimming your pulse. “You should smell like me,” he whispered. “You should walk out there with your thighs dripping and my scent all over you. Glowing because you took every inch of me." he murmured, voice low and reverent. "Let them wonder."

You whimpered, helpless under the press of his mouth, the press of his words.

“I—” you started, but your thoughts tangled as he sucked gently at your neck, just above where your collar would hide it.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze again, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Still want to go back?”

"Yes."

Jungkook studied you for a second longer, his eyes searching, tracing every inch of your expression, as if he was looking for something, as if he was still waiting for you to change your mind.

But you didn’t.

So he only exhaled, pressing his lips to your head. And then, finally, finally, he let you go.

You breathed out, fingers curling at the edge of the counter before you shifted again, moving to slide down—to plant your feet back on the ground, to leave but not before letting yours eyes drift to him for a second where he tucks himself in his slacks.

“Y/N.”

His voice was softer this time, but it stopped you all the same.

You barely had time to react before his fingers found your jaw, tilting your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

Your breath stilled.

Jungkook’s thumb brushed against your bottom lip, slow, lingering. And then, so softly, so quietly he asked—“when you walk out from here will you start avoiding me to the next Sunday again?"

Your brows scrunched up and you attempted to look away.

"Please don't, angel." He pressed his lips to where the crease formed for a brief moment.

And god help you, you wanted to listen.

The evening (6:25, you noted from your wrist watch) was quiet, the sky yawning open into a stretch of velvet dark, the stars distant pinpricks of light like secrets kept at a distance. You had always known the halls of the university to be full—full of voices, of conversations that layered over each other, of common stories and repeated gestures. Even today, it had been the same.

The evening air carried the last remnants of warmth, a hesitant shift between winter and spring that clung to the pavement, to the air, to you, you could feel reprieve take hold instead of a sort of suffocation.

You pulled your coat tighter around yourself, your breath curling in the cool air. The once-busy campus had emptied out, leaving only a handful of cars scattered beneath the flickering glow of overhead lights.Your heels clicked against the pavement, hurried, purposeful, as you wove between the cars, searching.

Hoseok was ahead, his figure easy to spot—relaxed posture, a casual sway in his step, his tan coat catching the dim light. It wasn’t hard to catch up with him. He moved like someone who never rushed, even when he should. But you still called his name, breathless from the rush.

“Professor Jung—Hoseok, wait up.”

His tailored blazer was unbuttoned, sleeves pushed up to reveal lean forearms, his usual crisp attire softened by the slight ruffle of his hair, undoubtedly from running a frustrated hand through it after a long day. His dark eyes lifted at the sound of your approaching footsteps, and when recognition flickered across his face, his lips curled into an smile.

"Ah," he mused, had just reached his car, one hand already on the door handle when he turned at the sound of your voice. His lips curved into an easy smile as he leaned against the frame. "To what do I owe the honor of you sprinting across the lot?"

You huffed, coming to a stop beside him, shifting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “I think some of my test papers got mixed up with yours. I noticed a few of my poetry essays were missing, and I have a hunch they ended up with your psychology midterms.”

Hoseok made a thoughtful noise, rubbing his chin. “That… would explain why I was grading a sonnet on existential dread instead of cognitive behavioral theories.”

You sighed. “I knew it. I must have switched the stacks when I was in a rush earlier, I'm sorry."

“Don’t worry about it," he assured you, resuming unlocking his car. "I’ll check when I get home. Worst case, I’ll bring them to you tomorrow.”

You nodded, relief sagging through your shoulders. "Thanks, Professor Jung. You're a life saver. I planned to finish grading them tomorrow."

Hoseok made a mock grimace. “You work too hard.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Says the guy who spent last night preparing an extra credit seminar.”

“That was different. That was for the kids who actually care about my class,” he countered, before nodding toward the nearly empty lot. “You’re headed home? Want a ride?”

It was harmless. A casual offer from a friend, from someone who had sat across from you in faculty meetings, who had lent you his pen more times than you could count, who had laughed with you over shared frustrations about students turning in assignments late. There was no reason to hesitate.

It had been a long day, longer than you realized. You would actually prefer it rather than waiting for the bus that always seems to be running late by minutes.

Yet the answer that came was.

"She's already got a ride." The voice wasn't yours. It had been the one you had come to realize that avoiding was futile, that whatever admissions it breathed into your ear ran deeper that you would have assumed, affected you more than you'd liked and you have started to come terms with it. The words weren’t sharp either, weren’t cruel, but they cut through the quiet with the ease of something unquestionable.

Hoseok’s brows lifted slightly as both of you turned toward the voice, towards the faint crunch of footsteps against pavement.

The raven haired man who had once been standing a few feets away, watching, was now stepping forward, minimizing the distance until he was right beside you, hands tucked into the pocket of his coat that was as dark as the night, the sharp cut of his jaw illuminated by the glow of the streetlights. His eyes didn't lock with yours as they usually would, instead they zeroed In on the psychology professor who was unaware of the sudden tension buzzing through the air.

What the hell?

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had someone waiting.”

You swallowed, grounding yourself. “Uh—yeah.” You cleared your throat. “Hoseok, this is Jungkook. My—" You cringed at how visibly you struggle to come up with words when the ardour of the man beside you pressed into your side. God, he was always so warm.

When Hoseok, ever perceptive, raised an eyebrow you snapped out of it and continued. "Minho's brother."

Hoseok glanced between the two of you, and his mouths part in understanding. Dots connect. His eyes glance at you with a look that says 'That Jungkook?' And you blink, 'That Jungkook.' All that you've ever told him about Jungkook making it clearer.

"Ohhh." He grins and extends a hand without hesitation, always one for politeness. “Well, nice to finally meet you, Jungkook. I'm Jung Hoseok. I first met Y/N at a masters program. Been friends since then."

Jungkook’s gaze flickered to the offered hand before he shook it, firm and brief. Just a little tighter than necessary, enough to make Hoseok chuckle under his breath.

“Oof. Strong hands,” he said, raising an eyebrow but otherwise unfazed.

"Nice to meet you." There was nothing outright hostile in Jungkook’s voice. Nothing overly tense but you still felt like you were caught between two frequencies—one warm and familiar, the other crackling with something dangerously unspoken.

Hoseok seemed to pick up on it. He glanced between the two of you again, the corners of his mouth tilting into something unreadable before he shifted his weight.

“Well, I won’t keep you if you're settled then,” he said easily, flashing you a small smile. “See you Tomorrow?”

You nodded, grateful for the out. “Yeah,

see you.”

Hoseok gave Jungkook a small nod before slipping into his car, headlights flashing on as he pulled out of the lot.

You exhaled slowly, shifting on your feet, resisting the urge to lean into him. No, you were supposed to question him first.“What was that? And what are you doing here?”

“What was what?” He hummed, his mouth no longer set in that stern shape, his hand slipping from his coat pocket to brush a stray strand of your braid that barely seemed to hold its own away.

You narrowed your eyes, looking around instinctively before back at him. “You know what.”

Jungkook took a slow step forward, not even bothering that you were out in public, the space between you shrinking, charged. His head tilted slightly, voice deceptively light, tounge pushing against his cheek; That little tell of his, a habit you learned and found more attractive that it should have been, a habit he did when he was displeased with something. Maybe even pissed. Or both. "Didn’t know you were that close with Hozook, angel."

You blinked, thrown by the sudden turn in conversation. “It’s Hoseok.” You scoffed. “We work together, Jungkook. I’ve known him for years."

His lips pressed together, as if that information did absolutely nothing to quell whatever had flickered across his face moments ago.

Then—he opened his mouth, about to say something else, when you cut in, tone flat, unamused, every word sharpened.

“You’d know that if you hadn’t ghosted me for years.”

Whatever he was about to say dissolved right there on his tongue. His jaw twitched once. His brows dipped slightly, something unreadable passing through his gaze—but he said nothing. Good.

After a beat, he exhaled, shaking his head before motioning toward his car when he noticed the thin layers of your clothing, a dress shirt paired with a half sleeved sweater. “Come on.”

You frowned, your feet hesitating. You should be walking the other way. Should be dealing with public transport, going through the motions of an evening that should have belonged to you alone. He wasn’t obliged to be a part of this. “You didn’t have to come pick me up.” you say, smoothing down the strap of your bag.

He shrugs and his hand reaches you, or most specifically your bag, fingers curling around the strap and taking in his fist. “I was in the area.”

You snort, unimpressed. “Right.”

Still, you don't protest when he opens the door for you for reasons you don't want to analyze. And when you slide into the passenger seat, you don't mind how natural it's starting to feel.

He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting against his thigh. The city hums past you in streaks of gold and red, the kind of light that makes you feel like you’re inside a dream you once had and forgot the ending to. The faint murmur of the radio filling the space between you.

You’re both quiet for a while.

Then—“How was work?” he asks, without looking. His tone is mild, almost too careful, as if the question isn’t just about your day but about the right to ask.

It’s a simple question, casual, but the way he says it slows your thoughts. Like he’s trying, like he wants to know you again.

You shrug, shifting in your seat. “Fine. Uneventful. Spent half the day grading, the other half convincing students that deadlines actually mean something.”

He hums in amusement. “They don’t.”

You glare at him. “They do when I say they do.”

“Terrifying,” he muses, the corner of his mouth twitching.

You roll your eyes but it does little to conceal your own smile. “What about you?” It feels like you owe him the same curiosity.

Jungkook exhales through his nose, a slow, measured thing. “Had a meeting. Went as expected. Some numbers that needed fixing. Boring stuff.” You had always understood your husband's disdain for a life that was a repeat of listening to some guy talk too much, lose his temper when his ego would be on the line. But you had never known why Jungkook would prefer this or even why he wouldn't.

You look at him then, the sharp cut of his jaw, the way the city lights flicker across his skin in intervals—light, dark, light, dark—like the world couldn’t quite decide how to hold him. You weren’t sure you could either. Maybe you never asked enough questions, never studied every crease on his face liked you'd with minho and inspect it to hell.

“Sounds exhausting.”

“It is.” He steals a glance at you, quick, assessing. “Less exhausting now, though.”

But now that you do, now that you want to, you understand what he means.

It’s easy, this. Talking like this. Falling into a rhythm you hadn’t realized you still knew, one that had been untouched for years but still existed, waiting beneath the veneer. The intimacy of nothing in particular.

Jungkook has to force himself to focus on the road, fingers flexing again as he shifts gears.

If you scrutinize deeper, you'd also find that this—this slow glide through streets neither of you had named, the soft murmur of the radio, your shoulder nearly brushing his in the dark. This is what he’s always wanted. Not the secrecy. Not the stolen minutes behind doors that you had to double check if they are locked.

But this.

A ride home after a long day. A quiet conversation. The sound of your addictingly sweet voice in his car, in his space, in his life in a way that feels so woefully unpolished that it almost hurts.

“You’re not driving to my place.” Your voice pulls him back, your gaze sharp now, watching as the streets grow less familiar.

He doesn’t even pretend to be surprised at your realization.

“No.”

Your brow furrows. "Can you for once just drive me to my apartment without taking me to some place I don't want to go?"

"No."

That alone makes your fingers twitch where they rest in your lap.

You had spent so much time trying to untangle your own thoughts about him, about whatever this was turning into. Picking at it. Trying to name it. But Jungkook had been the picture of certainty. Unflinching. Unbothered. Like none of it had touched him the way it had touched you. Like he had already made peace with something you were still trying to name.Like he’d walked back into your life not to ask if he could stay—but to decide that he would.

Tonight, he seems different.

Its in the way his jaw tightens every time you shift in your seat, like he’s bracing himself. The way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip before he speaks, only to change his mind and stay silent. The way his gaze flickers toward you like he’s waiting for something.

You don’t know what to do with that.

Jungkook and hesitation have never belonged in the same sentence. At least, not since he came back.

You try again. “Where are we going, Jungkook?”

His mouth pressed into something unsure. Jungkook, unsure. It wasn’t something you were used to seeing now. It wasn’t something he looked when he pressed you against the kitchen counter, hadn’t sounded like this when he whispered his most cordial of dreams into the corner of your neck.

When he finally speaks, his voice is even, controlled. “Somewhere I want you to see.”

“That’s vague.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s a surprise.”

Something about the way he says it makes your stomach pull tight.

Because you’ve seen Jungkook confident. You’ve seen him arrogant, smug, amused. You’ve seen him angry, cold, unreadable. But nervous? No. Not since he came back from a different life, not since he became the man that no longer fit into the spaces you had once saved for him.

And yet, right now, here he is. Inside, the space, one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting against his thigh, fingers drumming idly like a song he hadn’t decided to play yet. It was a small thing, a habit from when he was younger—back when he used to tap against the wooden desks in class, always restless, always itching to move.

Some things hadn’t changed.

Some things had.

Your fingers curled against the fabric of your coat. “You’re being weird.”

"I’ve always been weird, angel."

"No you haven't." There's something defensive in the way you phrase these words. "Don't change the subject."

This time, he smiled—brief but real. It softened something in his face, something he so rarely let slip anymore.

“You’ll like it,” he murmured after a beat, voice softer now, like he was almost convincing himself of the same thing. “I think.”

Just turned down a street you didn’t recognize, the road quieter here, the buildings spaced apart, until he finally pulled up in front of a modest, modern structure with floor-to-ceiling windows and a single light illuminating the entrance.The kind of place you wouldn’t look at twice if you didn’t know what you were searching for.

You couldn't help but ask again. "Where are we? What is this?"

Jungkook cut the engine, but he didn’t move right away. His fingers tapped against the wheel once, twice, before he finally exhaled and turned to you.

"I bought this place," he said simply.

You blinked up at the building again. "What?"

His lips pressed together, eyes flickering away before he cleared his throat. "Just—come inside."

You followed him out, your steps slow as you took in the building, the way the large glass panes mirrored the stars. The sky leaned against the windows like it, too, wanted to press closer, to see inside. There was a sign by the entrance—simple, elegant script, almost shy in how little it asked to be noticed. You don’t recognize it, and that alone makes you reconsider.

Jungkook said nothing as he unlocked the door, the quiet snick of the key turning loud in the stillness. He held it open for you like always, but this time his eyes didn’t meet yours.

You stepped inside and the push of the door revealed —A gallery.

Not just any gallery.

Paintings. Everywhere.

Paintings stretched across every wall, soft pools of golden light falling over their frames. Each piece breathed color—bold, bruised, aching with emotion. Blue melted into umber, ochre kissed the edge of crimson. Every brushstroke pulled something raw from your chest.

You moved forward, like your body remembered the path before your mind could catch up. Your fingers hovered in the air, trembling as they traced the lines without touching them, as if the act of reaching alone might wear you.

All of it look like what had been painfully dear to you.

Your stomach twisted.

Because you knew this work.

You knew it. Not just the style, not just the way the colors lived together in layered silence—but the soul of it. The way it looked back at you. The way it knew you.

You knew the hand that had created it. Been the first and last one to hold them close to you.

You reached for the closest canvas, your vision blurring at the name signed at the corner.

Jeon Minho.

The name cleaved through you like a wave, cruel and kind in equal measure. Your heart twisted. Your fingers hovered over a piece, afraid to touch, afraid it might slip through your hands if you weren’t careful. It was his—all of it, the way he saw the world, the way he translated it onto canvas.

It was like standing inside his head again, like hearing him laugh through color, like stepping back into a time where his presence still existed beyond memory.

Your breath shook.

“This…” Your voice wavered. “This is his.”

He was watching you instead, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense like he was waiting for you to feel it before he explained it.

And you did.

God, you did.

In the farthest corner of the room.

Your feet carried you again, before your mind could catch up, before you could brace for the impact of what you were about to see.

The world blurred at the edges.

The painting was soft, muted in color, like it had been caught in the golden hour of a fading summer. Three figures sat at the edge of a dock, backs turned, feet dipping into a painted lake that rippled with every brushstroke.

Two boys who's curves of smiles you would know even from behind.

One girl who knew.

It was them.

It was you.

Your throat tightened painfully, a memory rising unbidden, curling at the edges of the canvas, spilling into the quiet of the gallery until it was no longer just a painting—It was then.

You were twelve the summer Minho decided that the best way to survive the heat was to sit at the edge of the lake until the sun stopped trying to kill him.

Jungkook had been the first to follow, feet kicking idly at the water, arms propped behind him as he leaned back, his oversized t-shirt damp from an earlier splash war that he had definitely lost.

You had been the last to sit down, cross-legged between them, tossing small pebbles into the lake just to watch the ripples expand.

It had been quiet, warm, easy. The afternoon smelled of earth and sun, of laughter spilling into the open air.

“Stay still, Minho!” you giggled, reaching over to press another blade of grass into his already messy hair.

“Why?” he huffed, cracking one eye open. “You’re ruining my masterpiece.”

“You’re ruining my masterpiece,” you shot back, grinning as you tucked another strand behind his ear. A few away, Jungkook sat cross-legged, watching the two of you with quiet fascination. He was younger then, still round-cheeked, his dark eyes wide and serious as he curled his fingers in the grass.

“Are you gonna put grass in my hair too?” he finally asked, tilting his head.

You paused, considering, then reached over and plucked a small daisy from the ground.

“Not grass,” you said, leaning closer. “But hold still.”

He did.

Even then, Jungkook had been good at that—at waiting, at being patient in a way that seemed too big for his age.

Carefully, you tucked the daisy behind his ear.

“There,” you murmured, sitting back.

Minho snorted, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Now he looks really ridiculous.”

But Jungkook only blinked, reaching up to touch the flower gently, like it was something delicate, something that had been given to him and him alone.

He didn’t take it out.

It stayed there like the three of you—trapped in summer light, forever twelve, forever laughing, forever somewhere time could not reach.

A quiet exhale broke the silence behind you. But the deep ache stayed spread through your chest, slow and unforgiving.

"He never showed me this," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "He painted it the year before he…" Jungkook hesitated, the words catching. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze tracing the familiar lines of Minho’s signature. "Before he passed."

Your chest constricted. The truth never stopped feeling like a knife.

From the first time since you stepped inside, you finally turned to Jungkook then, eyes searching, waiting for him to tell you why.

Why he had done this.

Why had he crushed that one devastating voice in your head that would make it's appearance timely—you are forgetting him. You are forgetting the exact way his laughter curled at the end. The domesticity of how his step fell beside yours. Those were slipping with every sunrise you surived without him. Dissolving like fog under the sun. You are forgetting your min min.

And one night, you'd wake up desperate, breathless, trying to recall the way he said your name but you wouldn't. And the guilt—God, the guilt—would sit on your chest.

Until now that Jungkook had gathered every fragment of Minho’s soul and brought it back to life. Not as a ghost. But as something immortal. As something known. Someone someone will always know. A hundred things rise to the surface. None of them make it past your lips.

Jungkook exhaled softly, running a hand through his hair before shoving it back into his coat pocket. His shoulders were drawn tight, but his voice was steady when he finally spoke. "I started looking for them a while ago. A month before I came back, maybe longer. They were scattered—some in old studios, some with collectors. A few were in storage, collecting dust. I tracked them down, bought back what I could."

He hesitated before continuing. "Hyung's anniversary is next month." The words felt heavy, like they were scraping raw against the throat of a boy who had never quite come to terms with losing the only man he's ever looked up to. "And I—" A pause, like he was choosing his next words carefully. "We—never really did anything, did we?"

You blinked hard, trying to push back the sting behind your eyes.

"No." Your voice was barely there.

A muscle in Jungkook’s jaw ticked. "I didn’t want this year to be like that. I wanted to do something. Do you like..this, angel? We could open this to the public too if you want. Show mom and dad."

Something rises within you, vast and unnameable—less a feeling, more a tide. It isn’t just the gallery. It isn’t just Minho.

It’s the echo of affinity stitched into every frame. The invisible thread that leads back to Jungkook.

It’s the fact that Jungkook did this. That he spent God knows how long making this happen, gathering Minho’s work, making sure his art wouldn’t just sit in forgotten portfolios, lost in the quiet corners of time.He unearthed what time tried to bury. Preserved what you feared was lost.

And the immensity of it—the quiet significance of what he’s saying, of what he’s not saying—hits you harder than you were prepared for.

The gallery holds its breath. Your pulse does not.

Slowly, carefully, you reach for his hand like you would in the dreamiest of dreams.

Jungkook stills.

His fingers are warm beneath yours, rough at the knuckles, tense. But he doesn’t pull away. Not from you. Never from you.

“Thank you,” you whisper. It doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s all you have. Like gratitude too big for language. Like grief softened into approbation. “This is—” Your throat closes, a breath hitching past your lips, eyes blinking away tears that had nothing to do with sorrow and everything to do with love."This is beautiful. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Jungkook doesn’t speak, but something shifts in his face, something almost imperceptible. In a way that made him want to take this moment where you're looking at him like he had hung the stars back in the sky and bury it deep inside his ribs, somewhere no one could ever touch it.

And when he does speak, his hands intertwine with yours, eyes holding yours like gravity. "You're beautiful."

Your lips parted, caught off-guard.

A muscle of his cheek clenches. “I meant—your face is all red. It’s distracting.”

You smiled, watery and gentle, and he swore if he if he had even a silver of the talent his brother carried in the cradle of his hands, he would’ve painted you too.

With your face flushed from crying and the faint glimmer of laughter still clinging to your lashes. With your fingers looped between his like you didn’t even realize you were holding on.

He would’ve painted you in soft oils and pale light, your presence the only subject, the only truth. And maybe he’d leave a smear of color just beneath your eye where your tears had dried, like a signature only he could understand. Not even someone who could’ve looked at it years from now would have understood.

But Jungkook couldn’t paint.

Couldn’t even draw a straight line without it wobbling under pressure. He had no brushstroke to offer you, no canvas that could carry the weight of this feeling blooming in his chest like it had always belonged there.

So he squeezed your hand instead, pulled you into him and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, repeating how you're so beautiful, how he wants to spend the rest of his life telling you so, how he will lay the world on your feet if you only just smile like that for him.

What he doesn't say is that he came back for this. He stayed for you. He'll always stay.

And how still, in the soft lull that followed, his mind—traitor that it was—pulled him somewhere else.

Back to the night he first listened to Minho’s voicemail.

He hadn’t planned to.

It had sat in his inbox for two weeks after Minho passed, unopened. Just a little notification bubble, small and silent, like it knew it wasn’t ready to be heard.

But that night, something in Jungkook had split.

Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the way the world kept turning like nothing had happened. Maybe it was just loneliness.

He’d climbed up to the roof of some rented building in Daegu, drunk off something cheap, the stars sharp above him, the world far below.

And he played it.

"Jungkook-ah." Minho’s voice cracked a little. Old, soft, raspy. Too gentle for someone whose lungs had been fighting him for years.Too familiar, too. The kind that had once read bedtime stories and yelled over bicycle crashes.

“I figured you’d be too pissed to pick up. Can’t blame you.” A soft chuckle, winded.

"I know it’s been a while. Years, actually." He waited, if considering whether it's worth a try or not before resuming. "Too long, huh?"

"I saw your name the other day. Don't even remember where. But it made me stop. Not that I got too much going on for me." Another shaky chuckle followed. "I don’t know what kind of life you’re living now. Maybe something busy. Maybe something brilliant. But if you’re hearing this… I want you to know I was proud. I am proud. Even when I was angry. Especially then, maybe. Even when I didn’t understand you. I watched you become your own person, and it scared the hell out of me. I didn’t wanted to see you turn into our father."

His voice wavered, raw and fraying.

"But you didn’t become him. You didn’t. And I wish I’d told you that sooner."

“Because you're my little brother. You always will be and I'm sorry I forgot that for a moment and I..I don’t know how much longer I’ve got so I had to tell you this." He paused, and Jungkook could almost hear the way Minho looked up at the ceiling when he was thinking. Like there was something celestial about regrets once they’d been said out loud.

"They don’t say it, but I can tell. I can see it in the beautiful brown of my wife's eyes."

Jungkook remembered pressing his palm against his chest like it could stop the ache. It couldn’t.

"Though it has dulled a shade ever since the coughing starting hurting worse. I suppose, I should be sorry for that too, but I don't want to die drowning in sorrys. I don't want to die regretting. Even if it kills me that I'll never hear your name in the news again, that I will never see her in morning light and think that heaven’s not far off."

He cleared his throat, like it hurt to speak. Maybe it did.

"I want to be content with all that I've had. With all that I've become. I want to be hopeful that the world will be kinder to her. To you. That you'd not spend your whole life outrunning ghosts."

Minho’s voice lowered, like it was just the two of them now. Like it had always been.

"I hope it’s not too late." I hope I'm not too late. "I hope—when the dust settles—you’ve still got something to hold onto. Someone. And I really hope she forgives you."

Silence stretched, one last time for minho, perhaps. For his little brother, it was the sound of his own breaking. He tried to hold his breath. Tried to stay still. But the pain didn't stay quiet. It raked up his throat, rude and coarse, until the first sob slipped out, ruptured and helpless. His hand, the one holding the phone, trembled violently. The other curled into a fist against his thigh, knuckles white, nails digging into his palm like that might stop the shaking.

It didn’t.

“I’ll be somewhere soft. Don’t rush. Just… be good. Remember your hyung. I love you, Jungkook-ah."

Static.

He pressed the phone harder to his ear, like if he clung to it tightly enough, Minho might speak again. That maybe—somehow—he could rewind, could stop it, could change everything.

Only static.

"The centre of every poem is this: I have loved you. I have had to deal with that." — Salma Deera, Letters from Medea (2015).

[birdiewritessometimes]

ellooo I love your writing smm and I was hoping I could request a Mattheo riddle or Theo Nott x hufflepuff reader (which ever you decide) I feel like you can create a cute fluffy story with either of them being so soft for the reader (or whatever direction you want to take this towards)ㅤ ᵕ̈

Magical Matchmaker

A/N: Hii! Thank you so much for reading my writing and liking it <3 I’m sorry for the wait, I actually started this one before you sent in the request and it fit perfectly together. I’m sorry you had to wait so long for it though but I hope I’m making up for it in length! I shit you not, Archie is based on my cat and he loved toe bean massage! Also I promise I don’t hate Draco he’s just a perfect character to show how the slytherin boys values people I guess. Also, also, Slytherin boys + astronomy tower = <3 Btw its always Cormac who is an annoying ass…

Archie is my first cute little oc, he might make appearances later on in other stories since i love him so much <3

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!reader

Themes/warnings: Fluff, fighting, blood, smoking, that’s all I could think of, please let me know if there’s more

Word count: 7500-ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

The soft rumble of the train could be heard as you walked through the train corridor. You were holding your cat, Archimedes, in your arms. The black cat was comfortably asleep as you searched the compartments for your friends, Hannah Abbott and Megan Jones. The train had just left the station around five minutes ago, yet you can’t seem to find your friends anywhere. Archimedes awoke when you stopped at one compartment to peer inside for your friends. Inside sat a group of boys, known for starting fights, talking back to teachers and just being trouble in general, most students were wary of them. They were in your year, all in Slytherin. In your time at Hogwarts, you had managed to stay clear of their radar. That all came to change the moment Archimedes jumped out of your arms and sneaked into the loud boys’ compartment. Your blood ran cold when you saw him jump up in one of the boys’ lap. You prepared yourself to go in there to apologise but you stopped when you saw how the curly haired boy gently petted Archimedes’ head, a smile on his face.

“Oi, where did that cat come from?” One of the boys, you recognised him as Blaise Zabini, he was known as a flirt, asked. The boy who held your cat in his lap was Mattheo Riddle, he was known as the intimidating, scary boy most people feared. The other two boys were Theodore Nott, the quiet one, and Lorenzo Berkshire, the sweet one in the group. You saw how Lorenzo leaned over to pet Archimedes.

“He is so cute.” He said as he also petted your cat. You saw how Mattheo swatted his hand away a playful frown on his face.

“Hey, he came to me, back of Enzo.” You heard him mutter irritably before continuing to pet Archimedes’ head gently. The scene in front of you made you smile; it almost made you forget who you were staring at. They looked so innocent as they surveyed Archimedes. Mattheo had a soft smile on his face while Lorenzo had a mischievous one, continuously trying to pet him. Theodore was chuckling at the scene while Blaise was grinning widely. Realising the situation you gently knocked on the door before sliding it open so you could stand in the doorway. All four boys snapped their eyes towards you, tearing their eyes from your cat. You cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Hi, uh, I’m sorry, Archimedes, my cat sneaked in here…” You trailed off, feeling more awkward by the second as they just stared at you, Mattheo still petting your very content cat’s head.

“Y/n, right? I didn’t know you had a cat.” Theodore cleared his throat, his eyebrows furrowed. You let out an awkward chuckle, the whole situation made you feel out of place. Like you had intruded and, in some way, you suppose you did. But you didn’t want to lose Archimedes on the train, he was a pain to find again, since he was deaf.

“Yep, since first year.” You confirmed, you could feel an amused smile make its way to your face at the awkward situation. They were looking at you like they have never seen you before, or like you were some sort of alien. Your eyes travelled to the curly haired boy who you’re your cat. He looked like he would rather die than to let you have Archimedes back.

“Y/n? You’re a Hufflepuff right?” Lorenzo asked, giving you a kind smile, probably trying to ease the weird atmosphere, which you returned.

“Yep, also since first year.” You chuckled, making him chuckle too. You saw that the rest of the group smiled at you too, except for Mattheo.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth that he really is yours?” Mattheo asked suspiciously, you let out a chuckle again at him. His eyebrow shifted upwards as he gave you a suspecting look. You nodded at your cat’s collar.

“Check his collar, his name, my name and my address are on there.” You said, now feeling amused at the situation. It seemed like Mattheo was trying to stall giving him back to you. You saw how Mattheo gently checked the tag on Archimedes’ collar, a frown on his face.

“Archimedes, y/n l/n, 71 The Green, London.” He mumbled, a sulking look on his face, this made you let out a giggle. Deciding to tune in with your kindness, that Hufflepuffs valued so much, you decided to let him cuddle Archimedes for the train ride.

“You’re welcome to cuddle him if you’d like, but do you mind if I sit then? I don’t want to lose him.” You said, but you realised your mistake as the words left your mouth. Mattheos eyebrows shot up in a questioning manner.

“No, wait, I didn’t mean that I don’t trust you with him, it’s just that he is, uh, deaf, so I don’t want to leave him on the train.” You rambled, feeling more embarrassed by the second. Mattheo’s face went back to normal, as he didn’t bother to answer you. You saw how Lorenzo and Theodore made space for you to sit next to them, to which you smiled and sat down. You saw how Mattheo lifted your cat, so they were face to face, Archimedes purring loudly.

“So, you’re deaf huh? And you have a silly name.” He muttered to your cat.

“Hey, my son doesn’t have a silly name! It’s cute.” You said defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest. This made the group chuckle and Mattheo to look past Archimedes and at you, an eyebrow raised in mock questioning.

“Damn, I didn’t know that you were a MILF, y/n.” Blaise said, a smirk on his face.

“Yeah- wait- I- no, what?” You stuttered out, completely taken aback by his comment. Mattheo let your cat back down on his lap before he whacked Blaise over the back of the head with a loud ‘smack’.

“Behave.” He muttered irritably.

“Don’t mind Blaise, his mum dropped him on his head when he was a baby.” Theodore mumbled from beside Lorenzo on the stuffy train seat that you now shared. You gave him a grateful smile as a reply before letting out a short laugh at his comment.

“Where did the name Archimedes come from anyways?” Mattheo asked nonchalantly, the question made a blush rise on your cheeks.

“Oh, my favourite film when I was little was the muggle film about king Arthur, it’s called the sword in the stone. Well, Merlin’s owl was called Archimedes in the movie, and I thought it was cute.” You explained which earned you a chuckle from the group.

“So not even like from the famous muggle guy? But like from a film?” Lorenzo said, a teasing tone in his voice. The question made you let out an embarrassed chuckle.

“Well, I was never into maths when I was little, just magic I guess, I failed maths every year I had to take it in muggle school.” You shrugged, not even thinking about the confession you just made.

“So, you’re muggleborn?” Theodore asked lightly, but the question was loaded, considering what some people, mostly Slytherins, thought about muggleborns. You felt slightly nervous due to the fact that you know whose son sat in front of you. Now you have never heard him utter as much as one bad word against muggleborns, but he did surround himself with pureblood wizards.

“Uh, yeah, that a problem?” You asked, suspicion in your voice at the question. Theodore must have realised his mistake because his eyes widened in panic.

“Wait, no, of course not, we don’t care, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean the question like that.” He apologised.

“Don’t worry, we’re not like Malfoy, we don’t care who your family is.” Lorenzo added, a gentle smile on his face. You looked at Blaise and Mattheo who nodded, a gentle expression on Mattheo’s face. It took you aback at first before a small smile broke out on your face.

“Good, because I think we will see a lot more of each other.” You said, brightness back in your voice. The boys gave you a look of confusion.

“Because Archimedes obviously likes you.” You said as a matter of fact, an answer to their questioning looks. They let out a chuckle and hummed in agreement. The boys then started talking about their summers on the ride back to school. They discussed what they did during summer and the excitement for the quidditch season to begin. At one point Blaise asked you to switch places, Lorenzo and Theodore was going to show him pictures from the national quidditch match that they went to during the summer. As you sat next to Mattheo you could feel his cologne hit your nose, he smelled rich with a hint of cigarettes and mint. Archimedes was asleep on his lap, but when you sat down your cat stretched out, so he was laying on his side and had one paw on your leg. With a small smile you massaged his paw. You heard Mattheo let out a chuckle making you look up at him. He was looking at your cat, amusement in his eyes.

“He is really something isn’t he?” He muttered as he stroked the sleek black fur on Archimedes side. His silver rings contrasting against the dark fur on your cat.

“He is the best.” You answered softly as your eyes shifted from his face to his warm brown eyes. You had never really realised how attractive he was before. But when he had this soft half smile on his face and that soft look in his eyes when he looked at Archimedes made you realise why half the female population at school have or at least have had a crush on him. His eyes snapped to yours as you were studying his face. A crease appeared between his eyebrows as he surveyed you.

“You’re not scared of me.” It wasn’t a question. His statement made you smile, because if someone asked you how you felt about Mattheo before this you would’ve said that he made you nervous at least. But now he didn’t. You shook your head at his question.

“Why, should I be?” You asked in a teasing voice. You saw a teasing smile, an actual full smile, make its way onto his face.

“I don’t think so, but then that wouldn’t go with the whole 'scary aura' I have going on.” He answered with a small chuckle. He did quotation marks around the two words most of the student body used to describe him. You could feel a grin break out on your face at his smile.

“So, he can smile.” You teased, what gave you the confidence you don’t know, maybe it was the relaxed atmosphere in his group of friends or was it just the fact that he smiled at you. It was a testament to the fact that he wasn’t always scary or serious.

“Shut up.” He muttered as he tried to supress his smile, but to no avail.

“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that. You’ll notice if you get to know me that I am a yapper, I yap about everything.” You beamed up at him. He let out a chuckle at that.

“Really, about everything huh?” He asked, a smirk on his face to which you let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, everything, like the fact that cats are obviously so much better than owls, and that quidditch is a weird sport and that my favourite colour is copper, that my favourite condiment is ketchup, and, oh you’re laughing at me, but I can go on all night.” You giggled as Mattheo let out a chuckle at your ramble.

“Wait, you think quidditch is weird?” He realised what you had rambled about, you nodded at his question.

“Why?” he asked, a puzzled look on his face. The two of you were so engrossed in your conversation that you stopped noticing what the others talked about, they had switched their topic to the two of you.

“What do you recon? I think he likes her.” Blaise muttered to Lorenzo who was sitting in the middle.

“She obviously likes him, look at how she is looking at him.” Lorenzo added.

“Do you think the cat knows something about this, I mean he led her to him in the first place?” Theodore asked suspiciously. At that moment Archimedes lifted his head from Mattheo’s hand, just as if he had heard him, and blinked slowly at the three boys on the seat opposite him.

“No fucking way.” Blaise said to which Lorenzo and Theodore nodded stunned.

“What’s not weird about quidditch?” You asked at the same time as the conversation between the other took place.

“What’s weird about it?” Mattheo countered.

“It’s a sport you play on broomsticks, it has no time limit, you beat balls at each other, come on Mattheo, you have to admit that that’s weird.” You gestured as you tried to get your point across.

“Oh, I think that’s perfectly normal.” He argued which made you let out a laugh.

“You’re only saying that for the arguments sake.” You said with a laugh, Mattheo let out a laugh of his own at this.

“Are we having our first argument as friends?” He asked, a teasing note in his voice.

“Hmm, I don’t know, are we friends?” You teased back. Mattheo reacted to this by placing his hand over where his heart is, in mock hurt.

“You wound me, love.” You felt a blush rise to your cheeks in record time at the nickname.

“I- uh, what?” You let out in your flustered state as your eyes shifted from his to your cat that still laid in his lap. You felt a finger poke your cheek.

“You’re cute when you blush, princess.” He said, really stressing the princess-part. You swatted his finger away, despite your flustered state.

“Oh, shut up Mattheo.” You laughed and what you didn’t see, but the three boys opposite you in the compartment noticed was the gentle smile on Mattheo’s face as he watched you laugh. It was softer than it usually was. The cold stare and frown that his face usually consisted of were replaced by a soft smile and gentle eyes. The same look he had when he saw Archimedes for the first time just hours ago. Time went by quickly on the Hogwarts express and before you knew it you found yourself on the platform moving along with the boys towards the carriages. As you walked, Archimedes in your arms once again, you tried looking for your two friends. You couldn’t see them anywhere on the platform. You felt an arm around your body as you walked, you looked to the side and found Mattheo by your side, leading you through the crowd to follow his friends.

“Come on, you can find your friends at the castle, when there isn’t that much chaos.” He muttered in your ear. You felt the blush rise to your cheeks once again, this time because of his proximity. Before you knew it you reached the carriages and you felt Mattheo’s warm hand on your back as you climbed up the small steps, Archimedes still in your arms. You felt hot, despite the cold evening air that swept around you.

“You okay y/n?” Theodore asked when he saw your face. The carriage started moving towards the castle after Mattheo had entered.

“Yeah, you look a bit red, are you cold?” Lorenzo asked, genuine concern on his face. If he only knew that you were feeling everything but cold. You dared to take a peak at Mattheo who was wearing a small smirk on his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You cleared your throat and directed a grateful smile at Theodore and Lorenzo before directing a glare at Mattheo, who sent you a wink in return. The rest of the ride up to the castle consisted of the boys talking loudly with each other. Playful insults and banter were thrown around along with the occasional joke which made the atmosphere lively and fun. As the carriage came to a stop before the entrance the boys all got out. When it was your turn you saw that Mattheo was standing by the entrance, ready to help you down. You sent him a grateful smile but before you could even as much as take a step down, he had grabbed you around the waist and swiftly lifted you down to the ground leaving you speechless. You could hear how the others tried to keep in their laughter as they saw your stunned face.

“I- they- they should call you the flirty one, not Blaise!” You let out when you came back to your senses, this was the thing that made the others burst out laughing, Mattheo full on grinning at you.

“What? I’m just being friendly.” Mattheo said innocently making you roll your eyes playfully.

“Oh, shut up, darling.” You said the pet name sarcastically before you slowly started to make your way into the castle, leaving the boys outside.

“See you later, love!” Mattheo shouted after you, a grin on his face, his friends still chuckling. When you entered the castle, you let Archimedes go to do some exploring, knowing that he will always be in your bed by night. You entered the great hall and saw the usual enchanted ceiling that hovered over the four house tables. The Hufflepuff one was one of the tables in the middle, next to the Slytherin table on the left and the Ravenclaw table on the right. Right next to the Ravenclaw table was the Gryffindor table. You found your friends; they were seated in the middle of the table. You ran over to them with excitement as they stood up and embraced you in a group hug. Hannah was on the Hufflepuff quidditch team as you and Megan chose to focus more on your academics. Not that Hannah wasn’t good in school, she was brilliant, she just chose to focus more on sports. The three of you sat down and caught up with each other, about how your summers were and what subjects you were excited about. After the sorting you talked, laughed and ate with your friends, completely forgetting to fill them in on your train ride here. With your bellies full you and your friends made your way down to the Hufflepuff common room and to your dorms. You were quiet with tiredness as you got ready for bed. You were out before your head even hit the pillow, Archimedes comfortably asleep on the extra pillow on your bed by your head.

The first day back went by quickly and before you knew it you were doing your homework in the great hall with Hannah and Megan as you waited for dinner. Archimedes were sitting on the bench next to you, extremely interested in the movements of your quill. You were working on an essay for defence against the dark arts, two rolls of parchment on how to identify and protect yourself from a kelpie, a water demon who looks like a horse. While you were thinking of how to write your next paragraph you looked up from your work. Your eyes searched the room, like they seemed to do automatically since you’ve been back, until they met the copper brown eyes of Mattheo. You have found yourself looking for him in every room you entered since you met him. You sat there looking at each other for a moment. You sent him a soft smile, which he replied with one of his soft looks. You felt a blush rise to your cheek as you broke your eye contact, just after you saw the slight smirk on his face. It seemed like Archimedes noticed Mattheo too, because with a sound that sounded like a pigeon he jumped off the bench and dashed over to Mattheo and his friends. You smiled when you saw how your cat head butted Mattheo’s arm, begging for attention. You saw how Mattheo smiled and lifted your cat up on the table so he could pet him easier while he talked to his friends. Archimedes looked at you for a long while before curling up in front of Mattheo.

Over the next couple of days you noticed that whenever Mattheo was close by Archimedes would run to him, begging for attention. All while staring at you. You assumed it was because he really liked the boy, but you couldn’t lie, it hurt a little that the cat you nursed since he was a kitten chose a boy he had just met over you. It was Friday night, after dinner, you were relaxing in your dorm when your cat tried to get you to follow him, so you did. Archimedes was walking hurriedly along the corridors of the castle. He was leading you up multiple stairs, through passageways and along corridors. Soon enough you found yourself at the foot of the stairs that led up to the astronomy tower. You looked suspiciously at your cat who had started to climb the stairs.

“Archie, are you sure about this? It feels like you’re trying to trick me.” You muttered but started to walk up the stairs anyway. You followed your cat up the stairs in silence but when you neared the top Archimedes started running up the stairs.

“Archie, wait!” You shouted, as if he could hear you. When you reached the top of the stairs you stopped. There was Mattheo standing by the rail, curls windswept, looking cozy in a sweater and your cat was stroking his body along his legs. Mattheo was smoking a cigarette as he looked at your cat stunned, before shifting his eyes to you.

“How did he know I was here?” He asked you, confusion in his voice. You looked at him bewildered.

“I have no idea; he dragged me out of my dorm for this.” You said, confusion in your voice too. Mattheo beckoned you to come closer and your body moved before you could think.

“Could you hold this for me?” He asked as he stuck his cigarette out for you to hold. You took it awkwardly and held it between your index and thumb as Mattheo removed his sweatshirt. You saw how he folded up the material and placed it by the castle wall. In an instant Archimedes was lying on it, looking extremely content. You felt a soft smile form on your face when you watched how the boy cared for your cat.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You said softly as you stared at the boy in front of you. He let out a chuckle as he took his cigarette back.

“I take it that you don’t know that your cat seems to be obsessed with my sweaters, I’ve found him in my sweatshirt drawer like three times this week.” He said with a chuckle. You let out a startled laugh

“What? No, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry Mattheo, I don’t know what has gotten into him.” You said apologetically. Mattheo waved your apology away.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m quite fond of him.” He admitted.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed…” You muttered, reminded of the fact that your cat seemed to have a new favourite person. Mattheo raised an eyebrow as he took a drag of his cigarette, a silent question in the air.

“It’s just, he seems to be obsessed with you, and it hurts because I was the one who fed him with a bottle when he was a kitten.” You let out with a pout. Mattheo let out a laugh before throwing his arm over your shoulders, dragging you into him. You didn’t register what was happening as he squeezed you, sort of like a half hug, but with your face in his chest. His warmth surrounded you along with the scent of his cologne mixed with the smoke from the cigarette.

“I’m sure he loves you the most, you’re still his mum you know.” Mattheo said softly, his arm still around your shoulders, holding you close. You looked up at him with big eyes, he had a small smirk on his handsome face as he took another drag of the cigarette. Your eyes travelled down to his hand and then down his exposed arm. That’s when you noticed the goosebumps on his skin and your eyes snapped back to his.

“Is the reason why you’re holding me like this because you’re cold?” You asked suspiciously. Mattheo let out a startled chuckle.

“What, no? You looked cold, so I thought you would like a hug.” He said, his voice slightly higher than his usual smooth voice.

“Liar!” You said, a laugh escaping you as you pointed an accusing finger at him. He put out his cigarette, tossing the butt over the railing before letting both of his hands find your waist inside the zip up hoodie you were wearing while letting out a chuckle.

“I’m not! Now you seemed to enjoy this last time.” He said, his voice smooth as he looked straight in your eyes. He was obviously hinting at when he ‘helped’ you down from the carriage, you were determined to not fold this time.

“Don’t try to deflect this to me, Mattheo.” You said, a grin on your face, you saw how a smile appeared on his face too. Your hands found their place on his chest as the two of you stood there, smiling at each other. If you thought about it, it was kind of weird, you had only known each other for a week, but then again you have been classmates since first year so maybe it wasn’t that weird that you now stood here, in his embrace, staring up in his beautiful copper-like eyes.

“You know, Theo said something that sounded something along the ramblings of a mad man the other day when we found Archimedes in my room.” He said lowly, careful not to ruin the moment.

“What did he say?” You breathed out.

“He said that your cat was trying to get us together.” He mumbled, his eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips briefly. Your breath got caught in your throat for a moment, before his eyes met yours again.

“You’re right, he did sound like a mad man.” You mumbled back, your own eyes wandering his beautiful face. Because if you had to describe him with one word it had to be beautiful. Your eyes wandered from his eyes to the scar on his nose, to his pink lips, to his jaw, back to his eyes, paying extra attention to the scar that ran across his eyebrow. You felt breathless as the wind carried his cologne to your nose, the smell of cigarettes intensified from the one he just had. You felt how his hand traced shapes on your back, right over the fabric of your sleepshirt and you thought your brain stopped working for a moment.

“Theo didn’t sound like a mad man, Theo was right.” The voice of none other than Theodore broke the spell between the two of you, both of you jumped back, as if you were burned, “Please tell me that you guys saw that?” Theo asked Lorenzo and Blaise who was standing beside him at the top of the stairs.

“Yep.” Lorenzo said.

“Clear as day.” Blaise added before looking around, “And look, Archimedes is here, what a coincidence.” He added sarcastically.

“You guys sound very paranoid; he is just a normal cat.” You said with a laugh, after you had collected yourself from what ever had been going on with you and Mattheo. You leaned against the cold railing on the astronomy tower.

“You don’t think it’s a little weird how obsessed he is with Mattheo?” Lorenzo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Hey, what do I know, maybe he likes his energy, or I don’t know, his cologne maybe, it is good by the way,” you added, nodding to Mattheo who chuckled, “or he is just a weird cat who makes weird decisions.” You shrugged. The three boys looked at you for a moment in silence.

“Nah!” They all let out making you giggle.

“So, you would rather believe that he is some magical matchmaker?” You asked, disbelief mixed with amusement laced your voice. You heard Mattheo chuckle from beside you. The response consisted of various agreeing mumbles.

“So, what were you two doing before we came here?” Blaise asked while wiggling his eyebrows at the two of you. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, because what were you doing? What would’ve happened if you weren’t interrupted? The thoughts made your blush intensify.

“I- we- we were, uh… oh look at the time, I got to get to bed, we have class tomorrow.” You rambled while going to pick up Archimedes and get out of there, the embarrassment filling you up. You heard chuckles and when you turned to walk away you came face to chest with Mattheo.

“Now where are you going, princess?” He asked, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Uh, to bed?” It came out like a question more than an answer.

“I bet Mattheo would die to join her.” You heard Blaise mutter to the others who burst out in quiet laughter. If Mattheo heard him, he didn’t let on. You bit your lower lip, as an attempt to stifle the embarrassment but also the giddiness you were feeling.

“Darling, it’s Friday, we don’t have class tomorrow.” He said slowly, his smirk growing into a whole grin when he saw that it dawned on you. You heard the others chuckling loudly at you, making you send a glare at them. They stopped laughing as they put their hands up in mock surrender. You nodded at Mattheo and put Archimedes down on Mattheo’s sweatshirt again. You ended up staying with them for a while, after the embarrassment subdued. You noticed that if you weren’t counting Mattheo, you had the most in common with Theo. Despite him thinking that your cat was some magical match maker. They were all really funny and you were really grateful for being able to see this side of them. You and Theo would gang up on Mattheo, poking fun at him through the night, Enzo and Blaise joining in from time to time. After a couple of hours, you started to feel tired, Archimedes had moved from the spot in Mattheo’s sweater to your lap, making you feel loved by your cat again. Mattheo bumped your shoulder when you stifled your like 10th yawn for the evening. You looked at him with a small smile before looking around at the others.

“I’m sorry boys, I’m too tired,” you yawned, “I’m going to bed.” You said with a sleepy smile on your face. They nodded understandingly. You stood up, Archimedes was asleep in your arms, like usual. The boys all said their various ‘good nights’ to you, but Mattheo rose to his feet and followed you to the stairs. You stopped at the top of the stairs.

“You don’t have to walk me back, I’ll manage.” You smiled at the boy before you as you placed what you thought to be a grateful hand on his arm. Mattheo looked like he wanted to say something, balling his hand into a fist before releasing it again and again. You furrowed your eyebrows in concern.

“Are you okay, Mattheo?” You asked gently. He let out a breath before looking you directly in the eye.

“Yeah,” he let out another breath, “just get back safe, okay?” He said before letting his hand brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His hand rested on the side of you neck before he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, right by your hairline. You think your brain stopped working and your heart went into overdrive. You stared at him with wide eyes, a blush dusting your cheeks from his actions. He was watching you intently for any sign of discomfort. His large, warm hand, calloused from quidditch, was still resting on the side of your neck. He could no doubt feel your rapid pulse. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you finally came to it. You gave him a small smile.

“Yeah, good night.” You let out softly, the smile still on your face. You noticed that a similar smile made its way onto his face as well as he muttered a ‘good night’ back before you started to descend the stairs and make your way back to your dorm. You fell asleep thinking of him, Archimedes sleeping soundly on the pillow next to you. Over the next couple of weeks you realised that the feelings you had for Mattheo weren’t exactly as platonic as you thought they were in the beginning. You had started to hang out with the notorious boys more. You realised that you had developed a crush on the boy one night when the two of you were hanging out in the astronomy tower. The others hadn’t shown up yet, Archimedes were sleeping on the extra sweater Mattheo had brought for him, and you were sitting next to each other, shoulders touching, as he smoked his cigarette. You were joking about Cormac McLaggen, the older Gryffindor had a pompous air about him which the two of you found hilarious.

“And he thinks he’s so much better than everyone, god, I hate him.” Mattheo laughed to which you were laughing along.

“Also, that he totally turns into a douche if you reject him.” You gossiped.

“Really?” Mattheo asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, he asked my friend Megan out last year, she very politely declined, and he called her a bitch and stormed off.” You explained. You saw how Mattheo looked at you with a look between disbelief and irritation.

“He is such a tool, I wish I had a reason to kick his ass.” Mattheo muttered irritably. You let out a chuckle and turned your body fully to him, grabbing his face between your hands, slightly squishing it. His face made you let out a giggle.

“Hey, no need to fight him when you’re already better than him.” You giggled before letting go of his face. You saw a small smile on his face before he took another drag of his cigarette. This was the moment you realised, you liked him more than a friend. Little did you know that about a week after this Mattheo had gotten a reason to kick Cormac’s ass. You were walking with Hannah and Megan to lunch, it was a Friday, now early November. The castle was chilly, and the grounds wet from all the rain. Hufflepuff had beaten Ravenclaw in the first quidditch match a couple of weeks ago. Archimedes had found you while you were walking, and you had scoped your cat up in your arms. When you rounded a corner and into another corridor Cormac stopped you.

“Hi, y/n, do you have a second?” He had asked.

“Yeah,” you turned to your friends, “I’ll see you guys in lunch.” You told them, you assumed he wanted help with herbology, since you had a particular knack for the subject. You turned to Cormac with a smile but before you could say anything Archimedes leapt out of your arms and dashed around the corner you just came from.

“How can I help you, Cormac?” You asked kindly, even if you’d just made fun of him with Mattheo some time ago. He stepped closer to you, closer than comfortable. His strong, overpowering cologne hit your nose, almost making you sneeze.

“What do you say, how about a date? I can take you to Hogsmeade before taking you back to my dorm.” He wiggled his eyebrows. You tried your best not to make a face at his sleazy attempt at asking you out on a date.

“No, I’m sorry Cormac-”

“Come on, it will be worth your while, I’ve heard I’m a very good date.” He pressed on, stepping even closer to you, making your take a step back.

“She said no.” The voice of Mattheo startled you. He was staring Cormac down, his look dangerous. By his feet was no other than Archimedes. You scoped you cat up agian as you shifted your attention back to the tense situation before you. Mattheo looked scary, almost dangerous like this. His fist clenched, his eyes focused on Cormac, like he was some prey, he was clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“Look man,” Cormac lightly clapped Mattheo on his arm before continuing, “this has nothing to do with you, so how about you move along, huh?” what a brave man, you thought because Mattheo’s whole face darkened at this.

“What’s so hard to understand about the word ‘no’?” Mattheo asked, his voice cold and hard. You heard footsteps round the corner and cast a quick look behind you. It was Blaise, Theo and Enzo. It made you feel a bit better. You gently placed a hand on Mattheo’s arm, trying to diffuse the tense situation.

“Come on, Mattheo, let’s just go.” You said softly before turning to Cormac, “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.” You said with the kindest voice you could muster. Then you heard it, it made your blood run cold. Cormac had muttered something under his breath right before straightening up. Mattheo heard it too.

“What did you say?” He asked, anger clear in his voice. Cormac, who wasn’t known for his superior intellect, repeated what he said, louder this time.

“Whatever, who wants a mudblood anyways.” He said, a smug smirk on his face. You felt tears prickle in the corner of your eyes. You hadn’t been called that in a long time. You felt a hand grab your arm, pulling you away from Mattheo, it was Theo. Tears were slipping down your cheeks silently. He rubbed your back in a comforting manner.

“You’re okay, come here, I’m sure Mattheo don’t want you to see this.” He said gently while leading you around the corner and placed himself in your way. The last thing you had seen was how Mattheo had frozen, presumably in anger. Then you heard a thud and a sickening crack. Someone had punched someone. Your eyes widened in panic as you looked up at Theo. Archimedes tried stroking your hand with his head to give you some comfort. Theo looked out from behind the corner.

“Don’t worry y/n, Mattheo is fine, he usually is.” Theo said, reassuringly while you could hear thuds and grunts repeatedly. You felt sick to your stomach with worry, and you tried to comfort yourself by hugging Archimedes closer, he made his usual pigeon sound before he headbutted your face in affection, also effectively drying your tears in the process. Theo let out a small chuckle.

“Will you believe me now that he is some magical match maker? He came and found us and led us here.” You knew Theo just tried to get your mind of the fight that was happening on the other side of the wall, but you let him.

“He did?” You asked softly as you looked into the yellow eyes of your cat.

“Yeah, he sounded panicked as well, I’ve never heard him meow so loud before.” Theo said also looking at your cat. Before you could talk further about the subject the thuds and groans had stopped and Mattheo came around the corner, a frantic look in his eyes. Your eyes searched his frame for injuries, a small cut on his lip and one larger on his eyebrow. He grabbed your face gently, his knuckles bloody and bruised.

“Are you okay, love? Did he hurt you?” He asked, worry evident in his voice. You saw in the corner of your eye how Theo slowly backed away and went around the corner, presumably joining Enzo and Blaise to give you some privacy. You looked at Mattheo a small frown on your face.

“You’re hurt.” You said softly to which Mattheo let out a huff like chuckle.

“That’s not what I asked, darling, are you hurt?” He asked, his voice gentle, but stressing the ‘you’. You shook your head as an answer to his question.

“But you are.” You said, stubbornly, “and is Cormac…” You trailed off.

“I’m fine and he is fine, well, bruised, but fine I guess.” He said, finally giving in. You let out a breath of relief.

“Let’s clean you up.” You said softly before dragging him into the girl’s bathroom that was just down the corridor.

“You know this is the girl’s bathroom, right?” He said suspiciously as you wetted some paper to clean up his cuts.

“Yeah, and I’m a girl.” You said as if it was obvious. Archimedes, who you had let down to wet the paper was sitting and watching the two of you on one of the sinks. Mattheo let out a chuckle. You gently dabbed at the cut in his eyebrow. Your other hand was resting on his shoulder. You felt his hands rest on your waist, just like that time in the astronomy tower. Your eyes looked over his face as you cleaned his cut.

“That was a very stupid thing to do, Mattheo.” You mumbled softly, you felt how he let out a huff like chuckle again, the sound echoing on the tiled walls of the bathroom.

“No one will ever get away with calling you shit like that. Now he and everyone else know that you’re off limits.” He muttered, some anger still left in his voice. You stopped what you were doing and looked, really looked, at him. His jaw was still tense, those copper-brown eyes that you liked so much still had shadows in them. You put down the damp paper on the edge of the sink before gently cupping his face in your hands.

“Hey, I’m fine, you’re fine, mostly. Thank you, for what you did, I just don’t like seeing you hurt.” You said softly, your thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones. His eyes immediately softened as they met yours. His hands squeezed your waist in an affectionate manner, the butterflies in your stomach running wild. He was looking at you intently, his Bambi eyes scanning your face, quickly stopping at your lips before returning to your eyes.

“To be honest I saw red the moment I saw him so close to you but when he said that,” He paused, closing his eyes as if he was remembering something painful, “I wanted to rip him apart. I don’t think I have a right to say you’re off limits to others, you’re not even mine, but I couldn’t stop myself from threaten him to stay away.” You had no idea where his honesty came from, but his admission made a gentle smile appear on your face.

“What?” He asked, when he saw your smile. You felt brave enough to snake your hands around his neck as you stood on the tips of your toes.

“But I am yours Mattheo, I’ve been for a while.” You mumbled lowly your own eyes flickering to his pink lips, the bottom one having a cut from the fight that had just happened.

“What?” He breathed out, his hands squeezing your waist once again as he simultaneously pulled you closer, so that you were flush against him. You nodded, a big smile on your face.

“Fuck, princess, you can’t just say shit like that and not expect me to kiss you.” He muttered, his face now considerably closer. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, you could count each individual eye-lash on his eyes from how close you were.

“Maybe I want you to.” You muttered before you closed the gap between the two of you. He kissed you back immediately. The kiss was slow and passionate and tasted slightly like iron as your hands gently raked through his hair. His hands ran over your back and waist, exploring every curve before finding their place low on your hips. His lips were soft and gentle as he tried to convey every feeling he had towards you through the kiss. You gently pulled on his hair, earing a groan from him, making you smile into the kiss. Finally, you had to break apart for air, but your faces stayed close.

“Does this mean I get to threaten people to stay away from you?” You asked teasingly, once you caught your breath from the kiss. Mattheo let out a chuckle before nodding. But before either of you could say or do anything else, the familiar sound of Archimedes could be heard. He walked over to you and headbutted both of you in affection. You let out a chuckle.

“You know what, I recon Theo was right about him.” Mattheo said with a chuckle before kissing you again.

[beware-of-pity]

I don't really mean for this to sound mean, at all, and this is honestly meant to be a sort of constructive criticism but I've been at my wits end these past few weeks when going through stories of some of my favourite characters because all I've been seeing are characters x reader stories being tagged as so only for them, in the end, to turn out to have been character x oc stories all along. I know some people probably do not care to tag correctly their posts, and some probably do so with the intention of posting them in hashtags that are intentionally misleading for the sake of readership and likes, and whatever not, but Tumblr is not ao3 where you can filter out certain characters or certain tags to clear the search of any unwanted characters or triggers and etc, etc because at its core Tumblr is a blogging platform where certain dedicated people and fandoms post fanfics of their favourite characters, which is why it does not possess such a feature like ao3 in the first place. I understand that new writers, probably, also cannot differentiate between a reader-insert and an actual original character created by them for their stories. But I fear it may be, common knowledge that when someone is specifically looking out for an x reader story they more than likely do not want most of the tag to be filled with people self-inserting themselves in the story through an oc. I know that no reader-insert will ever truly be a reader-insert because there is no way that the person reading the story will ever come close to the personality or appearance that is needed of the reader to make the story work but all I ask, at the very least, is for people to be honest about what kind of story they're putting out there and to not mislead people by posting stories that have nothing to do with the tag that it's been posted under only because it involves the character it's being matched with.

Again, this is only a general criticism, and it's not supposed to target anyone. Also, my main aim is not to be either rude or mean but it's something that's been going on for a while and that has been frustrating me so I felt I had to finally speak up about it.

Also, ps for certain writers, if you don't like using Y/N maybe reader-insert-centered stories are just not for you, because by then naming the reader it automatically makes the story an oc story.

[theresattrpgforthat]

My roommate made a joke about wanting to play a sonic the hedgehog tabletop game. Is there a ttrpg for that?

THEME: Sonic the Hedgehog.

Your roommate is about to be surprised because there isn't just a single Sonic ttrpg. There's at least seven.

Speeding Bullets!, by Princess Grace.

In SPEEDING BULLETS!, you play as three to five intrepid, plucky anthropomorphic animals on a quest to save the day- or end it. It’s up to you, some six-sided dice, and your beloved SO (Shadow Operator) to determine the fate of the world.

SPEEDING BULLETS! is a single-page Lasers and Feelings hack where your stats are FAST! (hero) and GUN! (antihero). You and your friends will create Sonic OCs, randomly assign them backstories like "Dark Warrior's Advent" or "Purification via Ruination" from a table of 326 genders, and put them up against insurmountable odds, Dr. Robotnik, and their own rivals.

Lasers and Feelings games all have the same basic premise: you have one number that represents your abilities in two different stat, in this case, Fast and Gun. Rolling above the number is good for one stat, while rolling below the number is good for the other. Roll your number exactly? Then something special happens.

What Speeding Bullets takes from Sonic is rivalries, a perpetual quest to defeat Dr. Robotnik, and an alternate suggestion for playing as your character's rivals, taking references from Dark Mirror. The game also comes with a Gender Table, a roll-table that appears to reference every Shadow the Hedgehog ending.

Rainbow Runaways, by UkeleleBard.

You are an animal living in a human’s world. The humans have found you, and the military will pursue you with every weapon, vehicle, and trap they have at their disposal. You’ve only got one option. RUN!

Rainbow Runaways was created for the Caltrop Core game jam, and runs on the Caltrop Core engine by Titanomachy. You can play it Solo, or with a GM, with a deck of cards and a 1-3 d4's per player.

The goal is simple: escape the military by reaching the edge of the city. You track this by using a clock with 12 slices. The deck of cards represents the actions of the military as they pursue you. Your character is composed of three stats and three techniques.

All in all, Rainbow Runaways is succinct and to the point. I think one of the benefits of fan games like this is that much of the lore is already assumed to be known by the players, and as a result reading the game book can be much quicker, since you just need to learn the rules.

Edge Hedge Arena (Beta), by ANIM TTRPGS (@anim-ttrpgs).

Throughout all human history, people have been given names. You thought yours was only mean to be used as an identifier, but you were wrong. Your name was chosen carefully, with the conscious (or subconscious) knowledge that one day it would inextricably link you to a champion of immense power who is also a hedgehog. This “game” serves as a set of instructions for revealing this mighty guardian, so they can defend your honor and name in a battle to the freaking death!

Still in the early stages, Edge Hedge Arena is partially a battle game. This is firmly a pvp game, using your weapons, powers and style to give you an advantage in the arena. However, first and foremost, Edge Hedge Arena feels like a bit of a love letter to the Sonic Fandom, more than Sonic itself. When you make a character, you actually have to search for art of a hedgehog OC online!

Chaos & Control, by farmergadda (@farmergadda).

Chaos & Control is a hack of Lasers & Feelings by John Harper, inspired by a similar hack, Steel & Spirit by Occupied Hex. In this game, Players will take on the roles of colorful, cartoony animal people and go on adventures through fantastic locations, facing off against maniacal foes, and looking really cool while doing so.

Another Lasers & Feelings hack, Chaos & Control adds the use of character types to further differentiate your characters, as well as tokens that can be used to trigger powerful moves unique to your character. For the GM, there's a number of roll-tables to help generate locations, problems, badniks, and so much more.

Rings and Running Shoes, by RingsandRunningShoes.

Welcome to Sonic's World - A universe unique and beyond what you know from the SEGA games! Where, inspired by Sonic and other heroes of the franchise, you and your friends will create a team of heroes that will save the world from the forces of evil!

The system is based on PbtA with heavy modification to fit the care-free power fantasy of Sonic's Adventures, but anyone familiar with the core game, should know the basics. On a very surface level the gameplay loop consists of alternating between "Peace and Quiet" and "Stages" sections. During P&Q your group will rest, prepare for the Stage, roleplay and develop your characters.

One of the benefits for PbtA games is playbooks. Playbooks keep most of the information that a player will need to know in one place, allowing you to choose a character type based on vibes, and then make selections within just the options provided to you. It's excellent for minimizing choice paralysis, and it can make teaching the game simpler, as each player has a number of references to the rules that are specific to their character in front of them at all times.

Mobius, by Ioan Davies-John.

Mobius is a fan-made tabletop wargame based on Archie Comics’ 24-year run of Sonic the Hedgehog, allowing you to fight Large Skirmishes in the gone-but-not-forgotten take on Sonic's World!

It features stats for all your favorite heroes and villains, and rules to suit every play-style from hordes of Eggman Robots to squads of elite Freedom Fighters. There’s an ever-evolving plethora of army books and supplements to represent the many factions within the pages of the world’s most way past cool comic!

Mobius is a tactical wargame, focused on moving little guys around on a map and taking down your opponents. There's plenty of minutiae here for folks who love figuring out what strategies work for them, including various extra rules, as well as 14 different factions to choose from. If you're not sure who you can play this with, the designer has a link to their community discord on their Itch page!

If you want something a little different in theme but similar in spirit, you might interested in Davies-John's other sonic game, a naval wargame set in the same universe: Egg Fleet!

Radical Spin, by Will Uhl (@raffitheowl)

Will you beat your evil twins, stop the robot army, and survive the perils of high school?

Radical Spin is a micro-RPG about melodramatic action animals. Hedgehog heroes, will you beat your evil twins, stop the robot army, and survive the perils of high school? Live out your bad fanfic fantasies today!

I don't know much about this game, but based on what I can find out about it, it seems to be designed to shine when you're exploring Sunday Morning Cartoon-style plots. I'm expecting characters with abilities that are larger than life, as well as a fairly simple rule set that's easy to pick up and learn without much trouble.

You might also be interested in...

My Silly Games recommendation post, which has a link to a Sonic game called Spindash!

I've also got a Ko-Fi account where you can leave me a tip if you like what I do!

[liveyun]

die with a smile | jjk

pairing. Jeon jungkook x fem/gn reader

genre. neighbours au, fluff, slice of life, light humor, slow-burn

rating. pg

warnings. late-night karaoke, mild annoyance, OC being conflicted and awkward, unspoken feelings, lots of staring at Jungkook (because who wouldn’t), implied military enlistment, OC lowkey simping (let’s be honest), “english isn’t my first language,” + not proofread, yearning . . .

wc. 1.7k +

🎧 die with a smile | bruno mars and lady gaga

The third night of incessant singing is where you finally draw the line.

You sit at your tiny kitchen table, surrounded by papers, half-drunk cups of tea, and the beginnings of a tension headache.

From the apartment next door, his voice—smooth, clear, and . . . warm — reaches you in a wave of melodies. He’s been singing for nearly two hours now, moving seamlessly from upbeat pop songs to heart-wrenching OSTs — with such ease and precision, you nearly feel both envy and frustration at how good he is and how he’s giving you his free performance at 3 AM.

You would’ve been impressed if you weren’t one sleepless night away from filing a formal complaint.

Your walls are thin. Your apartment is small. Every belt, falsetto, and perfectly sustained note crashes into your eardrums. You’ve stuffed pillows over your ears, slammed doors, and even loudly coughed against your shared wall, hoping he’d get the hint — but the man next door seems tireless . . . like a karaoke marathon champion who’s going to audition for the next survival show over some drinks at a restaurant.

Tonight’s song finishes with a flourish, and you hear a muffled sound of giggles — his own, perhaps — through the walls.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath, aggressively thumbing through your phone. Your irritation fuels you as you type up a complaint email for the building management, every sentence laced with righteous annoyance. You don’t think you’d care if they have any errors. You pause for a moment, fingers hovering over the send button.

“Maybe it’s just one of those guys. Moved in a month ago, right?” The voice of the kind old lady with her cute cat from the next block pops into your head. Earlier that day in the park, she’d casually informed you that your mysterious, musically obsessed neighbor was on a brief four-day vacation. “Poor boy — been serving his time in the army and just came to rest a little. He sings, you know. A real singer.”

You’d blinked at her words. “Wha. . . singer? Like… famous?”

The lady had shrugged. “Famous or not, his voice is beautiful.”

You remember standing frozen on the sidewalk, feeling guilt bubble in your chest.

That’s why you don’t send the complaint.

The clock reads 3:49 AM when the familiar, too-loud melody begins once again.

This time, you snap.

Throwing on your cardigan, you march to your front door and storm into the dimly lit hallway. Standing outside his apartment, your fist hovers above the door, second-guessing yourself for a beat. But then you hear him laughing — a soft, boyish laugh — and irritation wins out. You knock twice, firm and loud.

The door opens.

You’re unprepared for the man on the other side.

He’s wearing a black beanie, tugged low over his forehead, and an oversized black T-shirt that falls to his elbows. Tattoos trail like brushstrokes down his arm, stark and beautiful against his skin. His large eyes blink at you in surprise, framed by lashes so unfairly long they could sweep the floor. The corners of his lips lift into an easy, almost mischievous smile, deep dimples appearing like magic.

You falter.

This isn’t fair. Someone who sings like that should not also look like this. He looks. . . cute. Boyish. Innocent. But so undeniably attractive that you have to clear your throat because now you’re hyper aware that this man is nearly towering over you.

“Uh…” Your frustration stutters as you search for words. “Hi. I, uh—I live next door. And it’s 4 AM.”

“Yeah?” His voice, now spoken rather than sung, is just as soft and warm as you imagined. He tilts his head, curiosity dancing in his expression, his eyes wide like boba. “Something wrong?”

You blink at him, feeling ridiculous now that you’re standing here. “It’s just…your singing. It’s, um, loud.”

“Oh!” His eyes widen, and he steps back as though caught red-handed. “I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry.”

The immediate sincerity in his voice makes you feel like you’ve kicked a puppy.

“It’s fine,” you add quickly, backpedaling. “It’s just…the walls here are thin, and I’m not. . . uh, I’m not really used to it.”

His smile returns, shy. “I get it. I’ve been singing too much, huh? I just…” He scratches the back of his neck, sheepish now. “I haven’t had time to unwind in a while. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

His honesty throws you off balance. You glance past him into his apartment, catching a glimpse of his karaoke setup—a small mic stand surrounded by crumpled lyric sheets and snack wrappers. And a big. . . calculator. . . .? The space is much bigger than yours but still homely, lit warmly in contrast to the sterile hallway.

“You…you’re really good, though,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

He looks surprised for a moment, before the edges of his smile soften. You don’t even know this guy, but his smile seems genuine. Sincere. “Thanks. . . That means a lot.”

Silence stretches between you. You’re suddenly acutely aware of how he’s gazing at you — like he’s studying you just as much as you’re studying him.

“You know,” he says at last, teasing but gentle, “I could sing quieter if you have any requests.”

You snort involuntarily, the tension breaking. “I think I’d rather you not sing at all.”

He laughs at that—a full, bright laugh that tugs at something in your chest. “Fair enough.”

. . . ♡ 🐰 ♡ . . .

To your surprise, he sticks to his word.

That night, his singing drops to a near whisper. You can still hear it faintly through the walls — although, the song is more of a soft rock, but his voice is soothing. Sweet. Strangely, it doesn’t bother you anymore.

If anything, you find yourself listening a little too intently, sleep now long forgotten as you find yourself smiling so widely that your cheeks hurt.

I, I just woke up from a dream

Where you and I had to say goodbye

And I don't know what it all means

But since I survived, I realized

The next morning, as you head out for coffee, you bump into him again in the hallway.

This time, he’s wearing the same beanie and a plain hoodie, duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He grins when he sees you, lifting a hand in greeting, but his grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh,” you say, stopping in your tracks. “You’re leaving?”

And there it is—that faint smile, shy yet playful, tugging at the corner of his lips. Except this time, he’s fidgeting with it, thumb grazing the skin as though he’s used to something being there. A piercing, maybe. Did he have one before? You hadn’t asked but for some reason, the gesture makes him look a little younger, a little more uncertain.

“Yeah,” he says softly, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Heading back.”

His voice carries none of the energy that used to spill through the thin walls, none of the stubborn joy that once kept you awake at night.

And somehow, it bothers you more than the loud singing ever did.

You shift awkwardly, trying to think of something to say—anything that doesn’t sound as silly as it feels in your head. “That’s… soon. I mean, it’s only been a few days.”

He chuckles lightly, the sound soft and self-deprecating. “Time flies, huh?” His thumb is at his lip again, a nervous habit that seems almost out of place on someone like him. “Guess I didn’t get to bother you enough before I left.”

“I didn’t hate it,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. Your voice falters, quieter now. “The . . . singing, I mean.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, his dark eyes catching yours in a way that makes your breath hitch. You try to read them, but you can barely even look at them — thanks to his beanie pulled low.

“Well,” he says after a pause, his voice low and warm, “I’m glad to hear that.”

He nods — and turns slightly, as if to leave, and your chest tightens. You open your mouth — hesitate — and then, before you can think twice, the word slips out.

Wherever you go, that's where I’ll follow

Nobody's promised tomorrow

“Wait.”

He stops immediately, turning back almost instantly with a flicker of hope in his gaze, like he’d been waiting for you to say it. His eyes seem to sparkle, a boyish anticipation lighting his features, and you feel your stomach twist.

Your hands feel clammy as you extend one awkwardly. “Uhh, I— I never introduced myself. I’m ____.”

He stares at your outstretched hand for a moment before breaking into the kind of grin that crinkles the corners of his eyes. The kind of grin that could make you forget the world for a moment.

“Jungkook,” he says simply, taking your hand in his. His grip is warm, firm, and entirely too brief, but it leaves a strange warmth spreading through you. His hands are slightly rough - but they feel pleasant. “Hi again.”

You nod, feeling a little silly but unable to pull your gaze from his. For a second, your chest tightens with an inexplicable urge to step closer, to wrap your arms around him. . .

Wait. Where did that come from?

So I’ma love you every night like it's the last night

Like it's the last night

But before you can really think of what you’re thinking — he lets go of your hand, stepping back with another small smile.

“Well, I should go,” he says, voice soft but final. His grin lingers, playful but tinged with something else, something quieter. “Take care, ____.”

He turns, and then he’s really gone. Leaving you standing in the hallway with your hand still half-raised, the warmth of his touch lingering like a ghost against your skin, the muscle near your left eye twitching and a weird feeling wrapping around your chest.

When you finally retreat to your apartment, the silence feels impossibly loud.

You sink onto your couch, hugging a pillow to your chest, and wonder if his hand had felt as warm as yours had—or if it’s just your imagination playing tricks on you.

If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to you

If the party was over and our time on Earth was through

I’d wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile

If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to you

[anjee0]

A Melody from the Heart

Chapter 1 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Eminem x Female!reader (Feel free to put in your own oc insert as well if you wish)

Description - Y/n is struggling artist who decides to perform at an event hosted by MTV where a bunch of celebrities will be watching in person. Marshall is invited and is immediately captured by Y/n's beautiful voice. Now all he wants is for her to be on his next song.

Warnings - Throughout the series there will be: Smut, Mild swearing (More warnings to be added in the future)

Y/n quickly finished applying her mascara to her eyelashes as she got ready for work. Before she left, she quickly checked her Spotify profile to check if any of her songs had increased in streams.

One song had.

By two streams.

It had bumped up from 502 to 504. She sighed, accepting two streams was better than nothing.

Y/n's dream since she was probably about 4 or 5 was to be a singer. She always imagined singing in front of a large crowd at a concert on a giant stage with vibrant colourful lights and those fancy smoke machines. She didn't grow up in a healthy household, her father was a deadbeat and her mother was always getting high on the couch. She dropped out of high school at 17 and ran away. She was able to make a decent living, always hopping from one job to another as her music career on the side continued to struggle.

She swiftly walked down the plain concrete pavement, trying to ignore the gross smell of garbage everywhere that lingered throughout all of New York. Whilst walking, the corner of her caught a line of posters taped on to a fence. 

The posters all appeared to be for some sort of event called the: ‘The Rhythm of New York’. The posters were dark blue and on it read some information.

You've probably heard of our event: ‘The Rhythm of New York’ plastered all over social media. We are looking for 10 lucky musicians of all musical talent to come and perform. You will receive a nifty cash prize of $5,000 for performing and also be featured on live TV. Book an audition by calling the number at the bottom of the poster, we will tell you further details from there.

There was a number at the bottom like the description said in a simple white font. Y/n quickly took a picture of the poster before realising that she'd be late if she didn't get moving.

She eventually reached the diner and right on time too. She was immediately greeted by her friend, Maya, who was standing behind the counter with a beautiful smile on her face.

“Morning Y/n.” Maya said.

“Morning Maya.” Y/n responded, giving her friend a smile. She went to the back and got her apron on and clocked in. 

Y/n immediately started on her regular duty of cleaning down the tables.

“Hey, have you heard of this thing called ‘The Rhythm of New York?” Y/n asked.

Maya gasped a little too dramatically. “Heck yes! It's gonna be the best event of this year!”

“What, are you going?”

Maya looked at her friend in a confused manner and started laughing hysterically.

“What's so funny?” Y/n asked, her voice laced with confusion.

“Girl, have you not been on social media recently?”

Y/n shook her head slowly. “No, I've been kinda busy with my music and then I've been taking extra shifts too.”

“Okay, fair enough. Come here.”

Y/n walked over to Maya as she pulled out her phone and looked around.

“Let's hope Tom doesn't catch me, or he's gonna get mad.” Maya whispered.

Maya opened TikTok and opened the search bar. And on the trending searches, ‘The Rhythm of New York’ was there. She tapped the search suggestion and clicked on the first video as she handed the phone over to Y/n.

Y/n watched the video with anticipation as a girl with curly brunette hair and blue eyes entered the screen.

“Okay so if you haven't heard, MTV is hosting an event in New York called the ‘Rhythm of New York.’ In this event, a lot of musicians and other celebrities have been invited.” The girl explained ecstatically. “MTV wants 10 or so people to come perform in front of these celebrities which sounds so nerve racking but fun!”

“Oh, so it's a celebrity event?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah, I heard Beyoncé and Billie are going. If I could sing, I would audition. Wait, hold on…” Maya smirked at Y/n.

“I know what you're thinking. You want me to audition. And I was gonna audition.”

“Was?”

“I saw a poster while I was walking here so I thought I'd ask you something about it. But if there are gonna be celebrities there? Then I'm out!”

“Girl, why?! This is your chance to turn your 200 monthly listeners to 20 million! Maybe even more, who knows? And the cash prize is $5,000! And you'll be on live TV!”

“I know, that's a good cash price and I'd love to go on live TV. But performing in front of a bunch of talented musicians? What if I mess up?”

“You won't. I've heard your songs girl and they are beautiful!”

“Okay, and what is MTV gonna think when a 32 year old woman with a struggling music career who also works at a diner wants to audition. They're gonna think-”

“Nothing.” Maya interrupted.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing. They're gonna think nothing. They're not gonna care how much you're struggling when talent like you shows up on their doorstep.”

“Yeah, but-”

Y/n was interrupted by a jingle, indicating that their first customer of the day walked through the doors.

“We'll talk about this later.” Maya said.

“Dad, come on! This seems really fun!” Hailie exclaimed as she shook her dad by the shoulders.

“Hailie, get off my shoulders. Listen, I get where you're coming from but in all honesty? I cannot be bothered to fly all the way to New York.”

“Paul thinks it'd be good for you. Plus, you may see someone who might be a good feature in your song.”

“That will probably not happen. Did you hear they were holding the event at The Studio of Webster Hall? I was expecting MTV to hold it at a slightly bigger venue.” Marshall complained.

“What? The Studio of Webster Hall is a beautiful venue. It doesn't matter if it's big.  But come on dad, please?” Hailie begged.

“I won't have anyone to come with me.”

“I can come with you.”

“Don't you have your podcast?”

“My fans will understand. Come on dad, this will be really fun. Plus, Stevie and Alaina are busy, we haven't been able to hang out lately.”

“Okay, fine.” Marshall sighed, a bit embarrassed on how he could easily give in when it came to his daughter.

“Yes!” Hailie cheered.

“Only if you behave.”

“I will, I promise.”

Marshall smiled lovingly at his daughter before pulling her into a hug.

Y/n laid down in her bed as she stared at the picture of the poster on her phone. She contemplated whether or not she should take Maya's advice and call the number. She had all the crucial information needed and now all was left was the decision making.

She dialled the number as her thumb shook and it hovered over the green call button. She finally clicked it, she could feel her heart pumping out of her chest and her stomach twisting and turning.

“This is the Rhythm of New York helpline. Press 1 if you wish to audition.” A robotic female voice said at the end of the line.

Y/n pressed 1 on the keyboard without hesitation. Cliche hotel lobby music started to play for a few minutes before it stopped and a cheery female voice started talking.

“Hi there, I'm Kelly, how can I help you today?”

“Uh hi…” Y/n responded, her voice shaking with nervousness. She mentally slapped herself for sounding so anxious. “Uhm, I want to audition for The Rhythm of New York please?”

“Of course sweetheart. What's your name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Okay, and state your age, gender and occupation.”

“Uh, 32, female and I work at a diner. But I also make songs on Spotify.”

“Oh, that sounds nice. Tryna make it big, huh?” 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“I don't blame you. This is a great opportunity for you.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks.”

“I have a few questions I'll have to ask you, is that okay?”

“Go ahead.”

“What song do you plan on singing at the event?”

“Is it okay if I can sing one of my own songs?”

“That is more than okay. What is it called?”

“A Melody from the Heart.”

“Is there any explicit language or topics in your song?”

“One two swear words. I say shit like twice.”

“Is it okay if you can find a way to alter those to different words?”

“Fine by me.”

“Are you aware you will be on live TV?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, are you aware of the date and timings, yes?”

“October 29th and is it 8pm to 12am?”

“Correct. And I assume you are free that night?”

“Yes, but is it okay if I can leave as soon as I finish performing?”

“Uhm, yes…” Kelly responded, confused. “May I ask why?”

“I have to get to work right after.” Y/n lied. In all honesty, she would just want to get out of there as soon as she could. The idea of her possibly talking to a celebrity had her nearly fainting. “It's okay right?”

“Of course, sweetie. I understand you.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“So what you'll need to do is make an audition tape of you singing your song. In the tape you have to state your name-”

“Sorry, could you slow down please? I need to write this.” Y/n interrupted as she quickly found a notebook and pen.

“That's fine. Make an audition tape of you singing. In the tape, state your full name, age and what song you're going to sing. Then send that tape to our email. Type up the information stated in the video on to the email. Make sure to type up your email address and regular address.”

Y/n scribbled all the information into her notebook. “Okay thank you Kelly. When do I have to submit this?”

“Within two days.”

“Oh, and how long is the waiting list?”

“Around 100 people as of now.”

“Oh.”

“Don't worry, Y/n. Even if you don't get it, just know you tried.

Y/n hung up the phone and immediately called Maya, who picked it up as soon as it started ringing.

“Hey Y/n, you okay?” Maya asked.

“I'm good. I just called The Rhythm of New York helpline and got myself registered.”

“Wait, you did?! Oh my gosh, yes!” Maya exclaimed. Y/n could see her smiling through the phone.

“Yup, and I gotta make an audition tape. Is it okay if you can come over? You know, for moral support?”

“Yes, of course! Is that even a question? I'm coming over right now.”

Maya came in a matter of time looking ecstatic as she jumped all over the place.

“Calm down Maya, the downstairs neighbours are gonna kill me.” Y/n laughed.

“I'm sorry, I'm just so happy for you!”

“I haven't even submitted my audition tape.”

“And they're gonna want to have you as soon as they listen.”

“Thank you for the motivation. You are honestly so sweet. Anyway, I need to start this. But I gotta practise first. And I gotta replace a few of the swear words.”

“What song are you singing?”

“A Melody from the Heart.”

“Ooh, your own song! Okay, that's good!”

Y/n spent the next few minutes practising to make sure that she could ace the audition tape. Her and Maya also spent a bit too long trying to figure out what words would sound better to replace ‘shit’. It was harder than it sounds.

When Y/n thought that she was ready to record her tape, Maya immediately stopped her.

“Girl, are you seriously gonna make your tape in a baggy shirt and shorts right now?”

Maya was right. Y/n looked like a hot mess. She was wearing a pair of red shorts and a baggy black top. Her hair was a mess too.

“Okay I guess you're right. What should I wear?”

The girls then spent the next 20 minutes scouring through Y/n's closet, trying to find a nice outfit. They settled on a long white silk dress. Maya insisted on doing Y/n's hair. She ended up settling on a nice sleek bun. Maya then put on a little bit of makeup for her, wanting to be Y/n's personal stylist.

“I look amazing!” Y/n exclaimed. “Thank you Maya. What would I do without you?” Y/n immediately pulled her friend into a tight hug.

“Of course, I wanna always be here for you. Are you ready to make that tape?”

“You bet I am! I just gotta practise one more time.”

Y/n finished one last practice of her song and took a deep breath as she nodded to Maya, indicating her to turn on the camera.

“Hi, I'm Y/n Y/l/n and I'm a 32 year old female auditioning to sing at The Rhythm of New York. I'm going to be singing one of my own songs that I wrote myself called, A Melody from the Heart.” She tried to sound confident, and she mainly did. Although she did accidentally let a bit of nervousness slip through her voice.

Y/n started singing her song, being careful and mindful, making sure she hit all her notes perfectly and got the lyrics correct. She made sure to keep her song clean and Live TV friendly. She sounded angelic and her voice was absolutely beautiful. Once she was done she nodded to Maya, a sign to her to turn the camera off.

“Do you wanna listen to it?” Maya asked.

“Yeah let me see.”

Despite sounding absolutely perfect, Y/n would keep asking Maya to record her again and again until she was happy with the results. It took around 3 or 4 tries before she was finally happy and decided that she was done.

“I think this is the one. I just gotta send it to them.” Y/n confirmed.

“That's good. It's getting late, I gotta get going. I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck, girl.” Maya responded.

“Of course. Thank you again for the help. See you tomorrow.”

“You're welcome. Bye.”

Y/n bid Maya bye before sending her video to MTV's email and typing the necessary information on the email. Once she was happy, she clicked send and held out a breath she didn't realise she was holding.

Y/n got changed out of her clothes and took off her makeup. She redid her makeup and had dinner before brushing her teeth and getting into bed.

[livingdreams97]

Jackie Taylor -- "Our Destiny" (Part 1)

Jackie Taylor x Male reader/oc

Summary: What happens when a plane crashes in the middle of the Canadian Wilderness full of teenagers? How something as traumatic as that can affect the people and and how they find comfort in each other.

Words: 6.190

NEXT

Masterlist

(For the reader I thought of Wolfgang Novogratz, but everyone can imagine reader how they want.)

________1996________

Your POV 

I drop the pieces of firewood I've collected into the pile on the ground and sit down on the stump to rest for a bit. I've spent the last three hours walking between the woods and the cabin collecting firewood non-stop, and I need a break.

From my vantage point, I can see what some of the girls are doing and I sit there for a moment watching them. Things are a bit tense lately, some of the girls are acting a bit weird and especially Lottie.

After what happened at the Seance a few weeks ago, I've noticed that Lottie has been a bit quieter, more withdrawn and distracted, as if she were in her own world.

This worries me a lot, because I don't know if her behavior could be due to the lack of medication or something else. It's the first time since she was diagnosed that she has gone so long without taking her medication and I don't know what the consequences of this could be.

Taissa: Hey.- she greets me standing next to me. -I've been thinking about something and I want to know if you'd like to join me.- she tells me and I focus my gaze on her.

Y/n: Hey.- I greeted back looking at her with curiosity. -Should I be afraid of what you thought?- I asked her with a certain humor.

Taissa: Considering you're scared of bees... - she mocks me with a big smile.

Y/n: I'm not afraid of bees, I'm allergic to them, ALLERGIC and I could die if they sting me. - I reproach her with an offended grimace.

Taissa: Whatever.- she dismisses me with her hand and a smile. - I've been thinking and I realise we should get out of here in search of help or something to eat. It's possible that the animals are migrating or that there's someone out there.- she tells me and I look at her a bit skeptically.

Y/n: I don't know Tai, if there was someone they would have appeared a long time ago from the noise the plane made against the ground.- I comment somewhat unsure.

Taissa: But what if there is someone or a small town far away enough so that they didn't hear the accident? - she tells me with some confidence. - What if there is a small town or a cabin like this one a few days walk away with people who can help us? - she hypothesizes with a small smile.

Y/n: And if there isn't one? - I ask trying to be realistic, since even with her approach the radius that the noise of the accident would had reached, is very extensive.

Taissa: And if there isn't, maybe we can find animals or something to bring back to camp.- she insists with a confident gesture.

Y/n: I don't know Tai.- I deny getting up from the stump. -I can't just get up and leave Lottie here.- I sigh looking towards where the mentioned one is.

Taissa: Lottie is old enough for you to keep an eye on her.- she assures me, crossing her arms.

Y/n: Are you going to tell me that you haven't noticed a differece in her? - I ask her, focusing my attention back on her.

Taissa: Different? More like a little disturbed.- she comments and I look at her badly, making her throw her hands in the air. -Sorry, it was a joke.- she apologizes immediately. -But still, it's not your responsibility.- she assures me placing a hand on my shoulder.

Y/n: She's my twin sister, of course she's my responsibility.- I remind her with a grimace. -I can't just leave her here for I don't know how many days.- I deny letting out a tired sigh.

Taissa: But you're not leaving her because you want to, but because we're going to go find help or food for everyone. This way you're going to help her a lot more than being behind her all day and worrying about everything she does or says. - she assures me with a slight smile and letting her squeeze my shoulder.

Y/n: I'm not sure.- I murmur trying to think of what is the most appropriate thing to do.

Taissa: Give it a tought and tell me.- she tells me in a calm voice.

We both stand in silence for a few seconds, before a commotion comes from the front of the cabin and out of the woods appear Travis and Nat with a dead deer.

Van: Meat, Fuck Yeah! -she exclaims excitedly as she passes by us quickly.

We all immediately approached them, happy that they were able to hunt and that we could eat something other than belt soup.

Van: Wow, that thing is knarly.- she says when both hunters pass by her and she sees the deer's antlers.

Akilah: It's like Freddy Krueger and Bambi had a baby.- she comments with some disgust when they leave the deer on the ground.

Javi: I'm not eating that.-he immediately denies looking at the dead animal.

Ben: Guys, relax.- asks the trainer approaching the deer. -Deer shed their antlers every season. This is normal.- he explains calmly. -Shauna, do the honors?- he asks her, his breathing a little labored from the effort.

Shauna quickly takes the knife out of her backpack, approaches the deer and begins to open its stomach to empty it.

As soon as she opens its stomach, we can all see the worms moving through the deer's organs and I have to look away to avoid throwing up.

Jackie: That's normal too, Coach? - she asks with a disgusted gesture.

Lottie: I'm not crazy.-I hear her mutter in front of me on her knees on the floor.

Laura Lee: No.-she denies in a whisper. -You have a gift.-she assures me and I open my eyes scared at her answer.

Taissa: We cannot keep fucking doing this, you guys.- she assures moving to the side. -What happens when winter gets here? We fucking starve to death or freeze?- she says, upset by the situation. -We can't count on getting rescued anymore. All of us know that is not going to happen, we have to save us.- she says confidently. -That's why I'm gonna go find help. I'm leaving in the morning, come with me if you want to get out of this fucking hellhole. - says as she walks safely into the cabin.

I just stay silent for a few moments, before sighing and walking towards the lake to be alone for a while.

I need to think about what I have to do and it will be impossible to do so near the abaña and the girls. So I walk calmly through the forest, thinking about the pros and cons of going with Taissa or staying with the rest.

Once at the lake, I sit on the shore on the stones and watch the slight movement of the water.

I don't know how long I spend staring at the water, until I hear footsteps behind me and when I look over my shoulder I see Jackie holding a bucket.

Jackie: Hey.- she greets me tiredly, walking towards the shore and filling the bucket with water.

Y/n: Hey.- I greet back watching as she puts the bucket aside and sits next to me. -Do you think Taissa's idea is crazy?- I ask her after a few seconds of silence.

Jackie: I don't know.- she answers with a sigh. -What I do know is that in a certain way she's right and that scares me.- she tells me in a low voice.

Y/n: Is the great captain Jackie Taylor afraid of something? - I asked with humor and receiving a slap on the arm from her.

Jackie: Idiot.- she insults me while laughing and I look at her with a proud smile for making her laugh.

Since the accident, I have noticed that Jackie is the one who is having the most difficulty adapting to the situation and that her mood is increasingly sad.

She is the one who has always been sure that they would come to rescue us and I have realized that with each passing day, that hope of being rescued is disappearing more and more from her eyes.

Y/n: Now seriously, you're afraid that they won't rescue us, right? - I ask her softly.

Jackie: It's been months and still no one has shown up.- she answers me with some apprehension in her voice.

Y/n: That doesn't mean they aren't looking for us.- I tell her to try to cheer her up a little.

Jackie: No, but it doesn't mean they'll find us either.- she whispers, placing her knees against her chest and her chin on them. -We both know that with each day that passes without them finding us, the probability that they'll stop looking for us and leave us for dead increases.- she explains to me with some fear and sadness in her voice.

I sigh with some sadness at her words, because in a way she is right and I don't want to think about it.

I approach the soccer captain, standing just a few inches away from her body and placing my hand on her lower back and moving it in circles to try to comfort her.

She leans into me and places her head on my shoulder relaxing her body against mine.

Y/n: They will find us, I promise.- I whisper against her head, resting my forehead on it. -But I need you to promise me something.- I ask her, swallowing hard.

Jackie: What? - she whispers, getting closer to my body and hugging me around my waist.

Y/n: Promise me that you will take care of Lottie when I'm not here.- I ask her with some fear that the madness I'm doing is permanent.

Jackie: What are you talking about? - she asks me, separating from me and looking at me with concern.

Y/n: I'm going to go with Tai.- I answer and she immediately shakes her head.

Jackie: You can't go, you can't, not you.- she tells me with some panic.

Y/n: I have to do it.- I assure her, looking her in the eyes. -I have to try, Lottie is not well and we can't continue like this much longer. The least I can do is try and seek help.- I explain to her with apprehension about the situation.

Jackie: But what if it doesn't work out? If some wild animal appears, or you guys get lost and can't get back, or any of the thousands of other things that could happen? - she asks me worriedly, waving her hands in an exaggerated manner.

Y/n: Nothing is going to happen.- I assure her, grabbing her hands and trying to calm her down. -The worst that could happen is that we don't find anything and we have to come back empty handed.- I explain to convince her.

Jackie: But what if...- she continues with the possibilities but I interrupt her before she can say anything else.

Y/n: Nothing is going to happen.- I tell her confidently and without taking my gaze off hers.

Jackie: Nothing is going to happen.- she repeats, nodding her head and looking me straight in the eyes.

We stay a few more moments looking into each other's eyes, before she puts her head back on my shoulder and hugs me tightly around the waist.

I put my arms around her shoulders, resting my head on hers and letting the sound of the lake be the only thing that can be heard.

Jackie's POV

It's been two and a half days since Akilah, Van, Taissa, Misty, Y/n and Mari went out in search of something.

As I promised Y/n, I've been keeping an eye on Lottie and talking to her at least a couple of times a day, to see how she's doing.

I try to ask her simple questions, so she doesn't feel like I'm interrogating her and get defensive.

But at most ,she will lose focus during the conversation and stare off into the distance for a few moments before continuing with the conversation like nothing. Which is not entirely worrying.

Plus, she and Laura Lee spend all day together, so it gives me some peace of mind that at least she's not out in the woods alone.

On the other hand, I have discovered that my best friend, the person in whom I had complete trust, has lied to me and betrayed me in the worst possible way.

Our entire friendship based on sincerity and trust has been a farce.

I knew something wasn't right the moment she told me her story with Randy and how she got pregnant.

If what she told me about losing her virginity at Mari's birthday party were to be true, she would have told me as soon as it happened. But she didn't and the biggest lie is that Jeff and I took drunk Randy home that night.

So it couldn't have been after we left and it couldn't have been before either, since Shauna was with me, Jeff and some of her friends all night.

But I didn't know that the reason for her lie and the person she actually slept with was my boyfriend.

My best friend has betrayed me in the worst way possible and has slept with my boyfriend. Also, in her diary are written all the times they did it and it wasn't just once, it was several times.

I don't know how she could do this to me, sleep with my own boyfriend and then get pregnant by him. How could she do this to me. How can she look at me in the eyes and lie in my face with no trace of guilt.

I don't even know how to look at her face without imagining them together, without feeling betrayed and imagining everything else she could have lied to me about.

I quickly get up from my chair when I see Misty, Mari and Akilah appearing through the forest, almost out of breath.

Jackie: Oh, my god. What happened?- I ask them, walking quickly and holding Misty before she fell to the ground.

Shauna: Where are Van, Tai and Y/n? -she asks, also getting up from her chair.

Misty: She...she told...she told us to leave them. We had to get help.-she tells us as best she can between breaths and Nat and Shauna grab her.

Lottie: Where is Y/n?-she asks Mari with a certain panic in her voice.

Laura Lee: Show us which way to go.- she asks her, grabbing her by the shoulders and staring at her.

Misty points to the path they came from and we all quickly set off.

We run quickly, following the instructions and directions given to us by Misty, who is at the head of everyone.

After running for a while, the darkness begins to hide everything around us and we decide that the best thing to do is to walk. So, lighting some lanterns, we walk quickly, looking everywhere.

Shauna: Van! - she shouts from in front of me.

Laura Lee: Taissa!- she shouts loudly from the front of the group.

Lottie: Y/n!- she shouts from behind me with obvious concern.

Laura Lee: Are you sure you came this way? -she asks the one leading us through the darkness.

Misty: I.. I don't know. I can't see anything.- she answers with uncertainty in her voice. -It's so dark.-she says looking around.

We stopped for a few seconds to catch our breath and looked around for something to guide us. It was then that we heard a noise and saw one of the flares rising between the trees.

Laura Lee: It's them.-she points with her finger and we quickly start running in that direction.

We run for a couple of minutes between the trees, immediately spotting the three of them on their knees on the ground and looking very bad.

Lottie: Y/n!- she exclaims, running towards her brother and kneeling next to him on the ground.

When we get closer we can see why the urgency, as Van has her face covered with rags and we can see the blood on her clothes. As can the pale color on Taissa and Y/n's faces.

We set off immediately, with most of the girls carrying Van, Misty and Laura Lee helping Tai, and Lotti and I carrying her brother.

As I help him up from the floor, I place a hand on his side and feel something cold and wet against my palm.

I raise my hand to my face, feeling my heart racing in my ears and my throat feeling dry as I swallow. I open my eyes, startled, when I make out the reddish color of blood in the light from the lanterns.

Jackie: Y/n.- I murmur scared seeing the boy's pale and sweaty face.

Misty: We have to get them there as soon as possible so we can stitch up their wounds.- she says hurriedly, encouraging us to walk as quickly as possible to the cabin.

So as quickly as possible, we managed to get to the cabin in record time and the girls got going.

Misty: Who goes first? - she asks as they clear the table, place candles around it, and Akilah searches for the materials.

Y/n: Van has to go first.- he answers in a low voice. -She is worse than me, I can hold on.- he assures the group with a small grimace.

Shauna: Van, are you ready? - she asks as they lay her down on the candlelit table.

The redhead lets out a grunt of pain, as Lottie and I place Y/n into one of the chairs.

Misty: We have to take off his clothes from the waist up. - She approaches us and reaches out her hands to do it.

Jackie: No.- I stop her immediately. -Lottie and I will do it.- I assure her, standing in front of her so she doesn't come any closer.

Misty: With the shirt you will have to press the wound to stop it from bleeding further.- she explains to me and I nod knowing what I have to do.

I turn towards the injured boy, approaching with uncertain steps and observing him in more detail thanks to the light from the cabin.

The black haired man, his green eyes are half-closed due to tiredness, has lost all the color in his face, you can see the sweat soaking his face and the locks of hair that are normally pushed back are stuck to his forehead.

On the other hand, the blue t-shirt and the grey sweatshirt are covered in dirt and blood, as are his jeans.

I quickly approach him, aware that he is not in a very good condition and that every minute is worth gold.

Lottie: You're going to be okay.- she whispers, stroking his hair. -Nothing's going to happen to you, It won't let anything happen to you.- she assures him with conviction and I look at her a little scared by the tone in which she is saying it.

Jackie: Lottie, help me take off his clothes.- I ask my teammate in a hurry.

Y/n: Damm Jackie, I knew you had the hots for me. - he scoffs with sense of humor, letting out a grunt when we move him to take off his sweatshirt.

Jackie: In your dreams.- I tell him with a slight smile, to try to ease the tension and play along.

When we managed to remove his shirt, you can see the wound on his side and it doesn't look good at all.

You can see the wolf's teeth and the cuts they left behind. There are at least five long cuts and about seven fairly large perforations on the side of his stomach and back.

You can see the blood gushing from the wounds and I have to hold back my gagging at the image.

Jackie: This is going to hurt.- I whispered softly, before placing his shirt over the wounds and pressing with both hands to stop the bleeding.

Y/n: Fuck.- he grunts in pain trying to get away from my hands.

Jackie: Lottie hold him.- I ask her, making her grab him by the shoulders and hold him still.

I press my hands against the wounds again and this time thanks to Lottie, Y/n doesn't get away from my hands no matter how hard he tries.

But Lottie's strength is affected when Akilah starts stitching Van up and she starts to let out pain-filled grunts.

The brunette immediately sits on the floor, placing her knees against her chest and covering her ears with the palms of her hands.

Y/n: Lot, don't listen.- he growls trying to get his sister's attention. -Lot, look at me.- he stretches his hands towards her with great effort. -Charlotte Matthews look at me right now.- he orders her and she surprisingly does it. -Come closer.- he asks her with a sigh.

Lottie walks over to her brother and he immediately pulls her close to his body. As I apply pressure to his wound, I can hear him whispering things to his sister to reassure her and distract her from what's happening on the other side of the room.

But after a few moments, I stop hearing the whispers from Y/n and I look at his closed eyes.

Jackie: Shit! - I exclaimed scared, stopping pressing on the wound and grabbing his cheeks. -Y/n, wake up. Keep your eyes open, wake up! - I exclaimed hitting him on the cheek trying to get him to react but nothing.

Lottie: Y/n.- she whispers, separating herself from her brother's thigh and looking at him scared. -It's not your turn.- she murmurs confused, placing her hand on her brother's bare chest.

Jackie: Girls hurry up, Y/n has lost consciousness! - I shout for them to hear me, without stopping hitting the boy's cheeks and trying to wake him up.

Natalie: Don't fuck with me.- she growls when she reaches us and takes his pulse. -Does anyone else know how to sew?- she asks the girls with some panic.

Misty: Me! - she exclaims quickly raising her hand.

I look at Nat, a little unsure and worried that Misty will stitch up Y/n's wound and I can see that she feels the same as me.

Natalie: We have no choice.- she murmurs, looking at me with apprehension. -Misty, grab a needle and thread quickly. We'll put him on the floor.- she says, grabbing him by one of his arms.

I do the same and with Lottie's help we get him on the ground as quickly as possible.

Misty: I have everything.- she tells us, throwing herself on her knees beside us. -I need more light.- she tells us while she begins to put the thread on the curved needle for fishing.

Nat: I'm going to get more candles.- she says getting up and I do the same with her.

We both grab some candles and run back to where Y/n, Lottie and Misty are. We place the candles on the ground near the wound, lighting them so Misty can see what she's stitching.

I swallow hard, feeling my hands shake from fear and worry that Y/n will die.

I move to the other side of Misty, kneeling at his hip and grabbing his hand. I bring the hand to my chest, praying that Misty will stitch him up quickly so that the bleeding stops and he can survive.

Your POV

I pull the chair over next to Jackie's and sit down a bit carefully, trying not to let the stitches pull too hard. But I can't help but let out a little grunt as I lean forward and take my share of the bear meat.

Jackie: Are you okay? - she asks me in a whisper, placing her hand on my thigh and leaving a light squeeze there.

Y/n: Yeah, I just moved too fast.- I play it down with a smile and she returns it.

She also leans forward and receives her plate with her ration from the redhead, while the others talk about whether we should wait for Nat and Travis or not.

Van: Lottie, last night you said we wouldn't be hungry much longer. How did you know? -she asks my sister and I feel my body tense immediately.

Everything that happened last night was absolutely crazy and I don't know what the hell went through their heads to make them act the way they did.

Because the mushroom excuse doesn't work for me, since we're all supposed to have eaten them and not all of us tried to sacrifice Travis. Especially not with the way my own sister, Shauna, and Mari jumped on me when I came down from the attic with Jackie, before Travis showed up completely out of it and they jumped on him immediately.

Lottie: I just did.-she answers, chewing what she has in her mouth.

Y/n: She didn't know anything, it was pure coincidence, okay? - I say seriously and avoiding looking at my sister at all costs.

Jackie: Yeah, it's called getting lucky.- she supports me, giving my thigh another squeeze. - The bear probably just smelled us and came looking for food, okay? Probably had something wrong with him. - she says in a logical way to take a bite of her meat.

Misty: It didn't look sick.-she denies sitting to my right.

Mari: Honestly, at this point I don't even think I care.- she says sitting at the table. -Can we just eat?- she asks, wanting to leave the subject aside.

Van: Wait.- she asks, drawing everyone's attention. -Should we maybe... say something? Like... like thanks or grace or.. whatever- she asks, somewhat unsure.

The dining room falls completely silent for a few moments, during which no one knows what to say or how to act in response to the question.

Taissa: Yeah.-she nods, leaving her glass on the table. -Just make it quick.-she asks her girlfriend and I can't help the frustrated grunt that escapes me.

Van: Lot?- she asks my sister and I can only roll my eyes and continue eating.

Lottie: Sure, let's join our hands.-she says leaving her ration aside and shaking hands with the trainer and Shauna.

From my peripheral vision, I see a hand approaching from my right, so I look up from my plate and see Misty holding out her hand to me.

I just stare at her for a few seconds, alternating my gaze between her eyes and her hand, before shaking my head and turning my head towards Jackie, seeing that she thinks the same as me.

Lottie: For this gift from the wilderness, we give our thanks.-she begins to say and my right knee begins to bounce from the tension.

Van: Thank you.- she says to my sister's words, urging her to continue.

Lottie: To the spirit of the bear, who sacrificed so that we could survive, we give our thanks.-she says and they all give thanks. -And to the ancient gods of the sky and the dirt, we give our thanks.-it continues and everyone thanks again.

Misty: You two didn't say it.-she whispers looking at the girl to my left and me. -Jackie and Y/n didn't say it.- she accuses us loudly so that everyone present knows.

Y/n: The fuck is your problem?-I asked the curly-haired blonde with a murderous look.

Jackie: No, I didn't thank the dirt for bringing us a brain-dead bear. What is even happening right now? -she asks, impressed by the group's attitude. -The fuck is wrong with you all?- she asks the girls, leaning forward.

Taissa: It's fine, you guys. They don't have to... -she comes to our defense but the team captain interrupts her.

Jackie: Oh, shut up Tai.- she scoffs at her. -Don't pretend like you weren't a part of it. What, we're... we're just not going to talk about it? - she asks everyone present. -We just howl at the moon now and have fucking orgies or support incest?- she says and I tense up even more at the last thing she said. -And somehow we are the ones who did something wrong? -She shrugs her shoulders, angry at the whole situation.

Ben: Whoa, wait, what?- he asks completely surprised by what he just heard.

Shauna: Jackie, calm down.-she asks her best friend, but I can see that this only makes her angrier.

Jackie: Don't tell me to calm down!-she exclaims angrily, getting up from her chair. - What were you gonna do to Travis last night, Sahuna? - she asks, approaching her and crossing her arms. -Answer me.-she asks after a few seconds of silence.

Shauna: I don't know. I don't remember. -she answers with some uncertainty, her gaze fixed on the ground.

Jackie: Bullshit.-she reproaches, not believing what she has just heard. -You had a knife to his throat. If we hadn't come, you would have killed him.- she accuses her with total honesty.

Shauna: Just shut up!-she exclaims angrily, getting up from her seat. -None of this would have happened if it wasn't for you. If you hadn't...-she accuses quickly, approaching her without finishing the sentence.

Jackie: Hadn't what? Huh?-she asks without reacting to his proximity. -Stolen him? Wow. The irony.- she scoffs again. -Shauna was fucking Jeff behind my back, you know that?- she asks and I open my eyes in surprise. -Yeah. That's who's really responsible for her little bundle of joy.-she tells everyone present and I stare at her, worried about her.

Shauna: It was you.-she accuses her with a certain hurt tone. -You read my journal.-she explains without taking her eyes off the one who was her best friend.

Jackie: How could you? - she accuses her with pain in her voice. -You were my best friend. You.. you.. you don't even like him.-she says in a hurt face.

Shauna : And how would you know? - she asks her angrily with a broken voice. -You're so obsessed with yourself, I'm surprised I'm aware other people even exist.-she reproaches this time with some malice.

Y/n: Girls, I think it's best to stop now.- I say, getting up and leaving the empty plate aside.

Shauna: You know you never even asked me if I wanted to go to Rutgers? You just assumed I would go wherever you wanted.-She reproaches her with more and more annoyance in her voice. -You tell me what to wear, what to do, who to hook up with. I don't even like soccer!-shouts the last part. -But you just get everything you want. All the time like it's nothing. And the rest of us, we are just extras in the movie of your fucking life.- she accuses her angrily and with some pain in her tone.

Jackie: Oh, my God. You are such a cliché.- she exclaims, hurt and upset by what she just said. -Oh, is the.. is the sad little sidekick mad?- she asks with a certain sarcasm. -Did I force you to live in my shadow, Shauna? It must be hard being this jealous all the time.-she says, earning a short laugh in response.

Y/n: Girls, seriously, stop.- I ask them taking a couple of steps towards them, but a hand on my sweatshirt stops me. -What are you doing?- I ask Van confused and she shakes her head.

Jackie: What? You're so fucking jealous of me, you can barely breathe.-she reproaches Shipman, hurt and angry with her.

Shauna: Are you quoting Beaches at me right now? - she asks with a gesture of confusion.

Jackie: What? No.-she denies, confused by the question.

Shauna: I'm not jealous of you, Jackie. I fell sorry for you. Because you're weak and I think that deep down, you know it. - she says taking a few steps towards her. -I'm sure everyone back home is so fucking sad to be losing their perfect little princess, but they will never know how tragic and boring and insecure you really are.- she continues without measuring her words. -Or how high school was the best your life was ever going to get.-she finishes saying in a somewhat aggressive way and I can see the damage those words are doing to Jax.

Jackie: Fuck you.-she says with a slightly broken voice. -That's it. You know what? That's it. Get.. get out.-she orders pointing to the cabin door.

Y/n: Jax, stop.-I ask her, trying to get closer, but the redhead keeps holding me by the clothes and preventing me from doing so.

Jackie: Go on, get out.-she repeats with a little more force.

Shauna: No.- she shakes her head, her eyes wide.

Jackie: I can't be around you, I... I can't even fucking look at you right now.- She says completely hurt.

Shauna: Well, that sounds like your problem. So maybe you should leave.-she ignores the order and stands in her place while maintaining eye contact.

Everyone remains completely silent for a few seconds, processing the words of the two friends and the situation that is happening at this moment.

Mari: Maybe you would be better off, since we're all so crazy.-she reproaches the captain, supporting Shauna.

Ben: Okay, everybody just stop. Nobody is going outside.-he orders us all seriously.

Lottie: Stay out of it, Coach.-she tells him with a murderous look.

Y/n: No, you stay out of it. You already did enough last night.-I say to my twin, giving her a dirty look, angry and fed up with her attitude.

Jackie: You know what? Fine.-she says walking towards the sleeping things and grabbing her blanket and pillow.

Taissa: Jackie, come on. Don't go outside.-she asks her friend, somewhat tired.

Jackie: Don't pretend like this isn't what you wanted the entire fucking time.- she responds with obvious anger.

Y/n: Don't be silly, Jax.- I ask her, releasing myself from Van's grip and walking towards her. -The temperatures are dropping and sleeping outside is dangerous.- I assure her, worried about her.

Jackie: I don't care, I'm not going to be where I'm not wanted and clearly this isn't it.- she denies looking me in the eyes. -I don't even know who you are anymore.-she says to the one who was her best friend.

Shauna: Or maybe you never did.-she assures her and that is all she needs to leave the cabin and slam the door.

The room is tensely silent for a few moments, until I hear a murmur and explode.

Y/n: What the hell is wrong with you two? - I ask completely angry. - We are all here together, for better and for worse, and no one has more right than anyone to be in the cabin. - I comment looking at the pregnant girl. - And let me tell you that as a friend, you leave a lot to desire. Not only have you betrayed your best friend, but you have dumped all your frustration on her and used her insecurities against her to hurt her. What kind of best friend does that? - I ask her completely impressed by her evilness.

Shauna: You don't know anything.- she claims, directing her anger towards me.

Y/n: And I don't need to know.- I deny between my teeth. -With what I just saw, it seems more than enough to know what kind of person you are and believe me, you are not the type I want by my side in a situation like the one we are in.- I finish looking at her with repulsion, before grabbing two blankets and a pillow to leave the cabin.

Lottie: You can't go out.- she forbids me, standing in front of the door so I can't open it.

Y/n: Charlotte, get out of the way right now.- I ordered her, annoyed by her attitude.

Lottie: No.- she denies strongly and crosses her arms.

Y/n: You move or I move you. But I'm not staying here with you two. - I assure her, looking at her with my eyes half closed.

Lottie: No.- she repeats in a slower manner, but with the same authoritative tone of voice.

Y/n: You asked for it.- I remind her grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to the side, trying not to use too much force to hurt her, but enough to move her.

Once I push her away from the door, I open it and walk outside, slamming the door behind me.

At the sound of the door, Jackie turns her head towards me at the noise and frowns when she sees me.

I just walk towards her, dropping the things in my arms to the ground and sitting on the wooden log carefully.

Jackie: What are you doing? - she asks me in a low and broken voice without taking her eyes off me.

Y/n: Keeping you company.- I answer shrugging my shoulders. -You're crazy if you think I'm going to leave you here alone and stay in there with them.- I explain looking at her as if she were crazy, causing a small laugh from her at my gesture.

Jackie: Thank you.- she whispers looking at her hands.

Y/n: You don't have to thank me for anything.- I assure her with an amused grimace.

I put one of my arms over her shoulders, pulling her close to my body. I place a kiss on her forehead, feeling her snuggle up against my chest and hug my waist tightly, but careful of my wounds.

She looks up at me, placing a hand on the back on my neck and pulling at It to join our lips in a soft kiss. When she pulls away, her eyes shine full off life ande a small smile appears in her face.

We just sit together outside watching the sun disappear and observing the flames of the fire move in the darkness of the forest night.

[jadelover69]

PRESENTING... YUMI WOODS!! (again)

(i started this in Dec 17, 2024 😭💔 || dividers by @.kodasworld and @.dollywons)

(took layout inspo from @.viperbunnies, @.angelwishess, and @.theolivetree123 oc intros!! TYSM HEHE)

The bubbly and outgoing prefect of Ramshackle. Looked down upon by her peers for her talkative nature, something she does not pick up on but wishes to fix.

₊˚⊹♡BASIC INFO

Name: Yumi Woods Nicknames: Pompom Crabbie (Fl*yd) , Mademoiselle Maîtresse (Rook), Henchman (Grim...), Dearest, Dear (Jade!!! 😻😻😻😻) Nicknames for others: Idiot/Sewer Rat, (Ace), CayCay (Cater), Muffin Man (Trey), Babe, Mama (JADE!!!! 😍😍😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰) Character Inspirations/Characters she’s twisted from: Mabel Pines (biggest inspiration) Pinkie Pie, Maddie Hatter Age: 16 Height: 182.88 cm (aka 6,0 LMAOO) Dominant Hand: Right Gender: Demi-girl (she/they) Orientation: Pansexual Birthday: August 24, Favorite Food: Skittles Least Favorite Food: Bacon Grade/Class: Freshmen or Class 1-A Dorm: Ramshackle Favorite/Best Subject: Astrology Homeland: ???

Dislikes: stereotypes, sour candy, the Dark Mirror, Crowley, her MULTIPLE crushes and one ex Likes: kaomojis, mermaids, pigs, romamce novels/movies, ziplining, grappling hooks, climbing,

Voicelaims: (❥•THESE ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE!!) ENG - Aiura Mikoto (TDLOSK) JAP - Amy Rose (Sonic Adventure 2)

₊˚⊹♡PERSONALITY

A very bubbly girl in her own world. Extremely fascinated by all thngs love even considering herself to be a good matchmaker (not that many can confirm that statement...)!

However she develops crushes very quickly. Which is heavily tied into that inferiority complex you mentioned in regards to her brother.

She felt neglected and less important, so she overcompensates and imagines all of these people, some of whom she barely even knows, could potentially like her, as a way to try to get that affection she longs for.

Ohhhh....and I can see her parents' divorce playing into the fact she seems to develop crushes and then drop them so quickly.

(credits to @moonyasnow beacsue WOOWOWO)

₊˚⊹♡APPEARANCE

A tall and lanky dark skinned girl with a high ponytail and dark brown hair.

Brown eyes with one having a star that emotes her specific emotions.

Colorful makeup, usuallly wearing pasty pink lipgloss.

₊˚⊹♡BACKGROUND / LORE

She was born to a ’happy’ couple in California with her twin brother, Malcolm. Over the years she and Malcolm grew apart, him growing smarter and Yumi getting ’dumber’. Sure she had friends and he didn’t but... what good would that do her? And of course due to his intelligence her parents cwred more about him, fostering a growing inferiority complex deep in her. She grew tired over this and one night she decided to go out with two friends, which they dared her to search through one of her grandaunts office and get a box of t-shirts. Searching through her (grand)aunts office she found a mirror seemingly bland but she was drawn towards it. It was covered with triangle patterns she couldn’t help but fawn over. She found the way it made her inch closer, magnetic in a way if she thought about it more. The mirror becomes to glow dimly until its grows brighter and brighter blinding her and she falls(?) into the mirror.

₊˚⊹♡RELATIONSHIPS (wippp)

MOST NOTABLE

Jade♥︎: IN LOVE...? || She’s SO DOWN BAD for him, which he knows and finds amusing. In no world would he ever reciprocate her feelings though. Only until after Book 6, he entertained the idea of being in love with her, her being kidnapped surprisingly shook him up in the long run.

Azul: SIBBLINGSSSSS!!!!! || During Book 3, they at first didn’t think much of eachother, Azul thinking she was annoying and Yumi thinking him as rude. But as their relationship progresses they care for eachither more and more. They adore eachother and wish that the other gets what they want in life.

Sam: THAT ONE UNCLE || They first OFFICIALLY met during Book 2, Yumi stuffing candy into a shopping bag and him convincing her to buy a grappling hook. After that interaction she kept coming back into the shop and he kept convincing her to spend money on candy.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim: ’UNRELUCTANT’ FRIENDS... || At first they didn’t care much about eachother often fighting and berating eachother. However they grew closer after almost DYING together multiple times. They can’t help but wish Yumi grows a stronger skin though.

જ⁀➴GALLERY

(aka art/writing/stuff of her!!)

TAGS:

general tag - #yumi woods

oc x canon GENERAL tag - #*ੈ✩‧₊˚starshroom𓋼𓍊𓋼

oc x canon ART tag - #🛼rollerskating mushroom🍄

₊˚⊹♡EVENT CARDS

THE GOLDEN FROST FESTIVAL

CHEERFORNRC

₊˚⊹♡ART MADE BY OTHERS

SHES SO CUTE KYAAAAAA TY TY FOR DRAIWNG HER IT MEANS A LOTTT

(both made by @.haeoflii)

(left made by @.liyuviq and right made by @.mhedusard)

(left made by @.blood-red-hummingbee and right by @.the-rini-rush)

(both by @.ghostiidasponk)

(left by @.ghostiidasponk and right by @.viperbunnies)

(both by @.anonymousplant)

(left by @.anonymousplant and right by MY TWIN @.shinysparklesapphires)

(left by @.viperbunnies and right by @.teighveepao)

(there WILL be a part two of the gallery 😭)

+transparents

[saturnville]

centavito, jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x she (black fem oc/reader) warning: none. just short. content: he wants her back and the chance is small, but he bets on his lucky coin that it'll work in his favor. song reference: centavito by romeo santos. an: it's been over 6 years since I wrote a football-related fic, so please give me some grace lol. and ofc, when I saw that there weren't many jude fics with a black reader/oc, I had slide one in there.

“I learned my lesson and I have been miserable without you. Please…one more chance.” 

The coin he twirled in his pocket was warm. His hands had fisted it tightly the entire walk to her front door. When he spoke, he turned it between his index finger and thumb over and over. There was only one way that it could go and that was up. So he hoped. 

She heard the voice of her grandmother in her ears as he took in his words. “If he fools you once, that’s on him! But, if he fools you again, he can’t be solely responsible. So, some people do change and I’m not gonna tell you he hasn’t, but it’s up to you to discern that for yourself, baby.” 

He didn’t cheat on her. He wasn’t mean, conniving, or deceitful. He simply didn’t appreciate her. When his life turned upside down and he became the wonder boy of the world, he forgot about her. She was pushed into the shadows when he promised she’d always be in the light. 

Suddenly, her rants about university exams and assignments weren’t interesting. Her love for the arts wasn’t fascinating. Long nights watching La Casa de Papel in her living room weren’t fun. Their nights in the kitchen trying new recipes were no longer a priority. She was no longer a priority. 

So, she left. She slid the promise ring off her middle finger, dropped it on his nightstand, and with tears in her eyes (and her head held high), she gathered her purse and went back to her apartment. She gathered all he’d gifted her and placed it in the box meticulously. Clothes and jerseys, books and letters--all prepared to be put into storage until she figured out where she truly wanted them to go. 

And just as she prepared to move the boxes into the storage unit after they’d sat in her bedroom corner for 17 days (yes, she counted), he was on the other side of the door, stopping her in her tracks. 

He looked fatigued, which could be credited to being a high-profile professional athlete, or as he put it, “Sleepless nights without you.” 

At that moment, he appeared so small. Not physically, per se, but emotionally. His eyes, usually bright and full of life, were dull and glossy with an emotion she couldn’t quite identify. Regret?

And when he spoke, he sounded like a chile who was trying not to choke over his words as he fought back tears. 

“Jude…” she said quietly, blinking back tears. Her hand was still tight around the door knob. “I don’t know.” She wanted him, sure, but she wasn’t willing to put herself in the position through an even worse heartbreak. But, at the same time, she believed what she’d said. 

“I’ll be better for you. I can’t lose you forever. One more chance, darling…please.” She’s never heard him beg in such a way. It made her insides stir.

Her jaw shifted as her eyes darted across his face, searching for any hint of dishonesty. Nothing or the sort. His eyes spoke what his mouth didn’t and it overwhelmed her greatly. I’m sorry, darling. 

“You love me?” she questioned after some time, her thick eyebrows furrowing. She wiped away the fallen tear that sped down her cheek. 

Jude nodded quickly. “I do. More than you know and more than I’ve shown you.” 

Her eyes moved quickly—she was thinking. He continued to fiddle with the coin in his pocket. Except his movements grew quicker as the anticipation grew.

“One chance,” she said after some time. “And you earn it.” 

Jude released the breath he was unaware he held and thanked the heavens above. Slowly, she moved out of the way to allow his entrance into her apartment. He closed the door behind him and pulled the coin from his pocket. Heads. 

 He smiled small. Little cent. The odds were finally in his favor. 

[darqx]

Hi I understand if you don't reply, but I was wondering if you have any advice to beginners who want to start making their ocs a reality? (Like in the sense of having Charecters that have been in your thoughts for a while, but it's hard to encapsulate them into physical form?) As I have some that id like to make either into a game or comic but I'm a little stuck..

Also I'm curious if there will be any other content with the best boy himself rire?? : 0

Hullo! Ah, (physically) designing characters, how fun ❤️ - there is part of a reason why I only have a handful of them lol XD; ANYWAY here are three things that help me, so hopefully they can help you as well :)

(I'll use Demon!Rire as an example as unless you are an old guard of mine, he will probably be the most recognisable of my characs.)

--------------

❓What do you know about them?

First of all since you already have your character in mind, congratulations you are most of the way there already! It's helpful to know the general vibe of them. And I don't mean the super detailed things that may arise from like..."Get to know your OC" quizzes - we are more looking for the core feeling of a character here. If you dumped this character into different AUs what things are going to stay the same/similar? Some things you should consider are:

What is their personality like? Why do they do the things they do?

Do I already have any physical traits for them in mind? Hair/eye/skin colour? Body type? Age? Name??

📝 Write a simple paragraph or some dot points about your character with these things in mind.

---EXAMPLE---

Sophisticated and charming, Rire outputs an aura of power and elegance. His pleasing physical appearance and gentlemanly demeanour usually enchants or commands people. Realistically, he is extremely manipulative and sadistic, and finds entertainment in the reactions of others.

---/EXAMPLE---

🤔 Make informed choices

Ok cool, you know something about your charac! Now build upon what you know to make them real - it is important here to try and match your design choices with the characterisation and "why"s of the character, and less with what you personally think will be cool/cute/whatever. What I mean by this is just pretend they are a person you are describing to a forensic sketch artist - you are giving "facts" as to what you think they look like not making stuff up (eg you would NOT be like "oh yeh she was totally a punk rocker however i'm going to say she wore a long flowing gown cos I think she'd look prettier in it?"*)

*Note that designing a character with opposites in mind can work out if you can at least answer the cursory "why" of it being a part of the character design. For eg maybe the punk rocker is secretly the alter ego of a socialite - flowing gowns and high fashion by day, grunge by night. Like Batman.

📝 Feel free to use dress up doll games and image searches for particular types of clothes/hairstyles/etc if you need inspiration. Thumbnail a bunch of different designs and see what works.

---EXAMPLE---

In my prev example paragraph I highlighted a few things in red. Here I'll break down how they can help craft a physical appearance:

Sophisticated and charming / elegance - to me, these combined make me think of ballrooms and black tie functions and nice suits. A well tailored outfit and someone who knows how to wear them.

Gentlemanly demeanour (well to some degree lol) - since I already know he's hundreds of years old (973 to be exact) I decided that an aristocratic Victorian-esque aesthetic would suit him. Somewhere in between a modern look and something with a bit more fantasy steampunk flair. He smiles quite genially until he's doing it with all his teeth.

Aura of power - he's got to be a bit of an imposing character so he's quite tall (or at least taller than all of my other characs) and carries himself confidently. Hooray for the ability to loom. Dark colours for this character, to cut an impressive figure.

Pleasing physical appearance - kinda stereotypical type of good looks that aesthetically most people would be like "yeh he's pretty". Athletic build - muscular but not bulky, broad shoulders, tapered waist etc etc.

Extremely manipulative - first of all, he looks rather human, for a demon - his entire species is designed very particularly like that. Then there's the sunglasses. The "why" [does he wear them] is they function to hide his eyes (one of the main parts of him that give away his demon-ness), but also as a bit of a red flag to the audience that something isn't quite right with him. I mean, look past his charm and he wears them all the time. The black and yellow colour scheme also ties in as warning colours ⚠️

Put them all together and this was one of my first sketches of Demon!Rire.

*Note that I already more or less knew how he looked other than his outfit; you will probably have a lot more sketch duds as you figure out what your character looks like.

---/EXAMPLE---

🔐 Don't lock yourself in

Despite the fact I've just said "pretend your character is a person", remember you're still their creator so obviously you have final say over them. Sometimes you'll find that they grow and change from what you initially thought of them (or you just evolve in how you draw them). Don't be afraid to make the tweaks and changes that enhance these - whether they be physical or core characteristics - and you'll get closer to the true character you always had in mind.

---EXAMPLE--

I now draw Rire with a more pronounced V-shape, longer, wavier hair, and somehow he ended up with way more pronounced eyelashes than I usually draw on my male characs. Which works out quite well considering how I tend to draw his eyes. Anyway the point of this is that these things developed over time as I kept drawing him.

---/EXAMPLE---

🍀 Try it out with your own characs! Have fun and don't force yourself to try and get it "right" on the first go.

[modcroissant]

Since I've been seeing some people making their ocs in my au, I decided to run down the roles if you ever plan on doing that as well

Warning: Very long rambling‼️

Caretakers are toons who cares for the twisteds as much as they can to their ability

Caretakers will be assigned to a twisted depending if they're experienced or a new member

The Leader of the Caretakers is Boxten

Caretakers can go on runs with the Seekers as long as they have premission from both Boxten & Poppy

Each Caretaker will have a different colored band around their arm

If a Caretaker ends up being absent or ill, Boxten will fill in for them

Caretakers can wear any clothes as long as it covers as much of their body as possible to avoid ichor getting into their stream

Caretakers must be patient with the twisteds, especially newer ones

Seekers are toons who goes down into floors to search for supplies or twisteds

Unlike Caretakers, Seekers must be trained so they can prepare for anything that could happen

The Leader of the Seekers is Poppy

Training session is a must for Seekers

All Seekers must wear the blue band

If a Seeker ends up skipping, they'll gain double the session afterwards (best not to anger Poppy)

Seekers must not wear anything too colorful as to not attract unwanted attention onto themselves; black is a necessary color when searching to blend in

Seekers are instructed to not leave a single room unchecked and take as much items they could find to bring back to the Lobby

Twisteds are tamed since yk, it's called Tamed Twisteds

Twisteds will have a colored band depending on who was tamed by who

Keep in mind that twisteds that has their hand turned into a claw by ichor cannot be removed unless amputated off

The Twisteds will either be given new sets of clothing to rid of their ichor stained one or they still continue to wear their original clothes due to lack of fabric laying around

The red eyes of the Twisted will be decreased to a more softer pink-like red to represent their more passive state

Twisteds who cannot speak are learning sign language currently

It is advised and warned to NOT let any of them wonder off from the Lobby to avoid them getting lost and hurt

It's instructed to never mention Dandy anywhere near them

Though, there are some who takes on other roles

As of now; Connie and Looey has yet to appear in the au until they come into the game

Dandy is a bit of a special case; he's not exactly an antagonist because if he were, he probably would've tried killing either Boxten or Poppy by now

So yes, while Dandy is not in the greatest mood nor role; he still a bean

[thinkingboute]

would you? | harry styles x model!oc

summary: The show goes off without a hitch, but Lina's interaction with Harry before clouds her mind. At the after party, she takes one for the team when Gigi tries to get in with other One Direction member, Zayn Malik. Ironic meetings lead to a first date. Part 3 of the Masks series.

part 1 here! part 2 here!

warnings: mentions of drugs, disordered eating, vomit, anxiety, alcohol, allusions to sex

a/n: This one was so much fun to write! The parts are getting longer from here.I hope you like it!

word count: about 2.4k

Holy shit these were some high heels. 

Lina danced in place, shaking the nerves that wracked her body as she prepared to walk the stage. Sweat accumulated beneath the bra and underwear---if you could even call them that. Gilded Angels was the theme this year and, goddamn, did Lina feel absolutely gilded. 

The set she wore was less fabric and more faux metal. It appeared that gold had been molded to cup her breasts, pushing them up beyond what she ever thought possible. Her wings were white, like Biblical angel wings, with gold dusted tips. Gold heels wove their way up her calves like Greek sandals. She felt holy. And really fucking hot---in both ways. 

Taylor Hill, who was opening the show, shimmied behind the curtains, lost in the heavy fabric. It was clearly go time, which usually spurred Lina to focus and quit her nervous movement. Today, she couldn’t calm herself down. Pictures of that messy haired Brit flooded her mind. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little excited to walk past him in this outfit. 

You look good. 

That’s what he said to her just an hour ago. Her head was covered in curlers, robe disheveled, eyes closed. She was giddy at the thought of him seeing her all done up. I look better than good now.

Lina squealed as two strong hands shook her shoulders from behind. “Let’s fucking go, Li!” Gigi shrieked, smacking a kiss to her cheek. The girls laughed, jumping up and down. Gigi had a way of making everything seem like just a game.

“Don’t fuck up my hair, Gi,” Lina said, giggling. Gigi’s hands spun Lina to face her. 

Ignoring her comment, Gigi grabbed her face. “I don’t walk until Taylor’s on stage,” she said, clearly excited to walk while her friend performed. Lina had become quite used to being surrounded by stars, but she was a little too excited at the thought of talking to Taylor Swift. She and Gigi had become close since the Oscars earlier that year, and Lina was hoping that would give her and in.

“I walk in…” Lina searched the room for a clock. “Four minutes.”

“I saw you talking to Harry Styles earlier,” Gigi whispered, wiggling her brows. “You seemed to be laughinggg and smilinggg and…” she lowered her voice even more, “flirtinggg…”

“Ugh, leave me alone,” Lina rolled her eyes. “We met at that masquerade thing in October.” Gigi covered her mouth with a hand.

“Why didn’t you te---”

“Because there’s nothing to tell.” Gigi started again but Lina put a hand up. “Really, it wasn’t my best moment. He was just teasing me about it earlier.” Gigi wiggled her brows again. “I was puking in the men’s bathroom, Gi. If there was ever a chance in hell he would be into me, it’s long gone.”

“I’m going to pretend that’s not the strangest thing I’ve heard today,” Gigi said, a crease appearing between her brows. “Anyway, if he really thought you were that weird, he probably would’ve stayed far away from you today. But he didn’t.” Her laugh was more of a hehe.

“I can barely look him in the eye. God, that was terrible, I---” Lina was interrupted by her name being called by the show’s producers. “Time to go. I talk to you later, baby.”

Lina’s hand was pulled towards the curtains. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to center herself as hand flew all around her, adjusting her wings, tousling her hair, and freshening her gloss. 

Lina recognized the song she was set to walk out to. Rock Me. She didn’t think One Direction would have songs that would fit a VS show. They were so…teenage girl. But this song was a bit dirtier, and it had a nice beat. She put on her super sexy and poised model mask and stepped out from behind the curtain. 

The band members were scattered about the runway. Her eyes found Harry at the end immediately. Her shoulders thrown back, she began her walk, smiling and winking at the boys she passed by. She thought one of her wings may have wacked Niall in the face, but she tried not to think much about it. 

She reached Harry after what seemed like a decade of walking. She was too nervous to look him in the eye. She wondered if, when he looked at her now, he still saw the puking corpse he saw a few months ago. 

Harry was certainly not hurting for confidence. He grabbed her hand and spun her around, leading her to walk back down the runway. Lina, as hard as it was, kept up her flirty persona, looking back over her shoulder to wink at him before slowly letting go of his hand. The walk back felt a bit like flying. 

The rest of the show went by in a blur. It was Gigi’s first time walking the show, but no one would’ve been able to tell. Her confidence oozed through every pore of her perfect face. When she got off the stage, she was bouncing off the walls, ready to find some sort of shit food to consume ASAP.

But there was an after party to attend. Lina peeled herself out of her outfit, carefully handing it to the women who surrounded her, ready to rip it from her hands. It wasn’t strange to be naked in front of so many people anymore. She’d been doing it since she was 16. She tried not to think about that part too much. 

Her new outfit consisted of a vintage VS slip, of course, with some artfully ripped tights, and heeled boots that cut off just below the knee. With her hair thrown back loosely into a pony, she felt sufficiently prepared to face her first celebrity party since the ball. 

Darren congratulated her on (his words) another fantastic show. She smiled, mind elsewhere, and got into the car, whose door he held open. 

The ride to the venue was not more than 15 minutes, but for all Lina knew, it could’ve been hours. Her mind was set on exactly what she would say to Harry when she saw him, because she knew she’d see him. His band was full of a bunch of 20 something boys. They would not pass up the opportunity to go to a party full of drinks and models. 

Darren noticed her not-quite-on-Earth-ness and waved a hand in front of her face. She swatted at it, rolling her eyes.

“Thinking about that One Way kid?” he asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Darren?” Lina snorted. 

“Whatever, the British kid with the hair. I don’t care to know more about him that I have to.”

“You don’t have to know anything.”

“When he comes to your room tonight, or you go to his, it will be my job to know about him.”

Lina blushed and buried her face in her hands. “Darren, you perv!”

“Trust me, I wish I didn’t have to think about these things. But I saw him leaning on that table earlier, like he’s some sort of Elvis. It was embarrassing how hard he was trying, honestly.”

“I told you about our…run in in October, right? He was just making fun of me,” She said still not looking at him. “And, not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t make it a habit of going to any guys room before I’ve been taken on a proper date.”

It was Darren’s turn to cover his face. “I’m glad.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can we please stop talking about this? It feels like discussing my sex life with my father.”

Darren winced. “I’d love nothing more.”

The car pulled up to the hotel the party was taking place in. Although it was dark, it was hard not to spot it. A massive crowd of paparazzi was piled on the steps to the entrance. 

“Fucking perfect.”

Darren slid out of the car, opening the door for Lina. She stepped out, careful not to let any of them snap a picture underneath her dress. She smiled and waved, but didn’t stop for pictures. Darren cut through the crowd, leading her to the door. 

The bar and room surrounding it was strangely reminiscent of the hall that held the masquerade ball. This time, thankfully, Lina was sure she was not going to puke on anyone. She was sure to stop Darren from grabbing her bag before she stepped closer to the bar. She wanted a Cosmo. 

“Liiiiinaaaaaa,” a singsong voice called from behind her. Gigi appeared at her side, face flushed. She seemed to be a few drinks in already. Lina was excited to catch up. “We’re gonna be sisters-in-law!”

Lina’s eyes widened at that. “My brother is 14, Gi. That’s a little gross.”

Gigi snorted, limply swatting at her shoulder. “I didn’t even know you had a brother, idiot. I mean that I have my eye,” she used two fingers to gesture at her eyes, “on tall, dark, and handsome.” She pointed at Zayn Malik, who chatted with a couple guys across the room. 

Lina laughed, “Oh, do you?” 

“Yes, I do. And you’re gonna get with the other one, right? Then, we’ll be sisters! Metaphorically, anyway.” Lina didn’t bother dismissing Gigi’s suggestion; she just laughed. “C’mon, c’mon!” 

“My drink---” Gigi pulled Lina across the room before she could finish her protest, not too close to Zayn, but near enough that they could see him. They leaned against the corner of a wall, observing. “Do you plan to summon him with your mind?”

“No, no, I’m just waiting for my moment,” Gigi whispered. Lina laughed, glancing around the other corner of the wall. There were a few doors lining the walls, but it was otherwise pretty empty. A gasp had her turning her head back to her friend. “He’s walking this way! Go, go, go!” Gigi pushed Lina around the other side of the wall and followed her. “Wait, wait, you can’t be here! Get in there, just for a minute before I get him to come with me somewhere else.” Lina didn’t have a second to say anything before she was shoved into one of the rooms. 

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

Lina turned around, taking in the room around her, her eyes catching on the pearly urinals. 

Harry was looking at her, paper towel clasped in his hands as he dried them. He laughed at Lina’s widened eyes. 

“Are you planning to keep your head out of the toilet,” he asked, tossing the paper towel into the bin. “The sink too, I supposed.”

Lina groaned turning to brace herself on the cool, wooden door. “I swear, this was not my idea.”

Harry laughed from behind her. “I should hope not.” He made to move towards the door to leave, but Lina whipped around, placing a hand on his chest.

“We can’t leave,” she whispered. 

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “I mean, this isn’t the most sanitary place, and I don’t have a condom but---”

Lina made an ‘ack’ sound before lightly pushing him away from her. “Don’t be weird.” Harry put his hands up in defense. “My friend is out there…with your friend.”

“I’m sure we can come up with a reason other than sex to explain us leaving the bathroom together.”

“Harry, I’m being serious!” Lina said, exasperated. “She pushed me in here because she wants to…talk to your friend.”

“Which friend?”

“Zayn.”

“He doesn’t say much, so that conversation should be over now.” He moved towards the door once again, but Lina grabbed his wrist this time. “She’s pretty drunk, and she’d be pretty pissed if I interrupted her shot. She said she’ll try to get him to go somewhere else as soon as she can.” Harry stifled a laugh. “We can leave soon. Just, I don’t know, be quiet and don’t, like, do anything weird.”

“Me? Do something weird?” he exclaimed, faux defensiveness causing Lina to roll her eyes. “I’m not sure I’m the one to worry about here, woman in the men’s bathroom.”

Lina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Not on purpose.”

“Last time, sure it wasn’t,” Harry said lowly. Lina was keenly aware of her grip that remained on Harry’s wrist. “This time…I think you just wanted to get me alone.” He was closer now, breath fanning her face, alcohol and mint filling her nose. 

“I could get you alone in a less…strange way if I wanted to.” Lina couldn’t look at him, so she examined the holes in her tights. 

“Would you, though?” His voice lowered even more. She wasn’t sure how much lower it could get before it was more of a growl. 

Wow, these tights really were artfully ripped. The perfect place for a tear really is just above the knee. She liked her knees, she supposed, but knees were a little weird overall---

“Carolina.”

“Lina.”

“What?”

“I prefer Lina.”

“Alright, Lina. Wanna answer my question?”

Lina’s breath hitched in her throat. She didn’t know what to say. She would not sleep with him tonight, especially not in this bathroom. But that didn’t stop her from thinking about it. She was starting to feel a little warm. 

Harry made to ask her again, but the door banged open, causing the both of them to stumble back and away from one another. Gigi’s eyes widened before she smiled mischievously.

“I am leeeaving, LiLi!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Gi.” She was maybe a little too drunk to go anywhere with any man. 

“No, no, I don’t mean like that,” she giggled. “Zayn said that if I got some rest tonight, he would see me tomorrow.” Lina was a bit surprised at that. “So! I’m leaving!” 

“Why don’t I go with you? Just to be sure you’re alright,” Lina asked, hopeful it would get her  out of answering anymore questions tonight. 

She felt Harry’s eyes on her as Gigi replied, “Oh, sure. Only…” her eyes flitted between the two of them, “If you want to.”

“It’s no problem, really, honey.” Lina felt a little guilty for leaving like this, but really, she was nervous. She’d had a few flings here and there after her rise to fame, but she never had the time to pursue them further. She was a bit rusty, now.

“Alright!” Gigi turned to leave the bathroom as Lina looked in the opposite direction, towards the man behind her.

“I’ll answer your question after dinner, Styles.”

He smiled a small, amused smile. “It’s a date.” 

[coquettesophia]

I was feeling bored so for you @joydoesathing fans who wanna join the joy-verse by making a genderbend oc here's my lil (unofficial) guide (?)

This is just how I made my characters (The gender bend Taylor Family) so this guide is unofficial, I'm willing to take any tips and tricks!

Disclaimer: this post is going to just mainly assume you don't already have an og tnmn oc from the original game, this is making a 'genderbend' character fully from scratch and when I have the time I will most likely post abt how to genderbend an already existing oc u have.

1. Pick a gender

Considering the game takes place in 1955, it's common for people to either just go by male or female but your oc's gender/pronouns are completely up to you! This is probably way easier for those people who are just gender bending an already existing TNMN oc they have from the og game.

2. Decide on a nationality

Picking a nationality for your characters is important because that can help you form other aspects of your character such as religion, behaviour and even their name. Most of the characters in Joy's au grew up in America but have originated from somewhere else (e.g; The Sverchzt twins being Russian but living in California (before the apartment))

3a. Come up with a (simplified) backstory

Coming up with a backstory can help contribute to a characters personality and behaviour, your first draft of your backstory doesn't have to be super detailed like a Taylor Swift fountain pen song (iykyk). Just keep it simple for now. Questions I like to think about first are:

1. What is your character's family like? (Family are one of the main things that can influence someone's behaviour)

2. Did they face/suffer any kind of abuse? Whether physically, mentally or emotionally (Take Frances and her abusive parents for example, because of the strict boundaries she received, when she finally found 'freedom' it changed a major aspect of her life) was your character bullied or teased at school?

3. What's their financial situation like? Did your character grow up in poverty or were they privileged? How's their financial situation now compared to when they were younger?

3b. Decide on a personality

Deciding on a personality is one of the most important parts of making a character! One of the things I do to help me decide a characters personality is deciding on their MBTI type (explained below)

The first thing I like to decide on an oc's personality is whether or not they are introverted or Extraverted, then I build off of that.

4. Decide on an appearance

You're probably wondering why I made this the fourth step, but for me personally, deciding on a personality/nationality/backstory is what helps me start on the designs for my characters :D! What I notice about Joy's au is that the characters appearances match their personality whilst still representing their original counterpart. For those who are a bit stuck, here's some questions that can help your character design

1. What's their hair length?

2. Do they have freckles? Birthmarks? Scars?

3. What colour are their eyes (random question ik but this question helps me)

4. What's their clothing style (keep in mind the game takes place in the 50s and fashion was different back then)

5. In case you haven't yet, decide on a name.

You're probably wondering why I left this last, and that's because sometimes you don't know what you want to name your oc if you don't already have a basic base of their character. Their name may have already came to you, but that doesn't mean it would happen to everyone else. What I like to do when I can't decide on a name is I go on Pinterest and search up name ideas.

6. Decide on a Job/occupation

There's four ways I look at this

1. Student

If your characters a student, you also gotta consider stuff such as

How are their grades?

Do they find it easy to make friends?

Are their teachers nice to them?

2. Employed

If your character is employed, I usually like to match my characters' jobs to their personality! If your character is good with kids, try make them a teacher, if they can cook/bake rlly good, make them a chef/baker! If they have good leadership skills, make them a boss! It's all up to you :D

3. Housepartner/retired

Uh the name kinda sums it up, but here are some questions to help you out :3

-Do they like staying at home all day?

-How often do they go out? Whether it's to socialise or just to get groceries?

- What do they do around the house most of the time?

4. Agnes /j

Criminal, to sum it up. I don't have any experience in this field so uhhh just search it up....

Things to look out for

- Keep in mind the game still takes place in the 1955s. Things were different back then, r@cism and s3xism were still quite common, so your oc may or may not be affected by it (e.g; Wilma being discriminated for wanting to have a scientific career because she was a woman and the Glenn having to 'stay in line' at work because he knew some people would find any excuse to get him fired/demoted due to his race.)

- Do research. Trust me, it will help. Did your character fight in WW1 or WW2? Was your character Japanese and sent to an internment camp? Was your character bullied as a child for only having one parental figure (shout-out to you Anatolii you're my 2nd fav GB TMMN character)

- again, it was the FIFTIES, fashion was different than it was today. Try doing some research to help you out, I use Pinterest.

- ALSO KEEP IN MIND THERE ARE HUMAN EATING (?) DOPPELGANGERS YALL-

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 10 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you like it! Thank you for reading.

Thanks again to everyone who commented. You brightened my days, you are the best thank you. ❤️❤️

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Happy reading!

Chapter 10

“It’s been three fucking days, Rhys,” Azriel exploded, standing up from behind the bushes where they were hiding. He looked down at his two brothers kneeling beside him, his breathing shaky and rapid. He tried to calm down but nothing worked. He never could. Ever since he had met Luxiana, he had been angry all the time, angry because fear was devouring him. He needed to be near her to know she was safe, but the whole world seemed to want to get between her and him.

Rhysand blew out a breath as he closed his eyes, used to his brothers' mood swings during those last weeks, but he had to say that these last few days were even worse. Even for him. He also had so much more trouble concentrating. He knew it was because it had been three weeks since they had returned from the Archerons and that, consequently, Luxiana was with Tamlin during all this time. 

He wasn't sleeping anymore. Cassian wasn't eating anymore and Azriel was screaming and fighting all the time. They were losing their minds. But they were so scared. So scared that something would happen to their soulmate. So many bad things could happen to her that it was driving the Illyrians completely crazy with worry.

They hadn't heard from her and hadn't been able to take any news anyway. Firstly so as not to arouse Tamlin's suspicions but also because they were busy elsewhere. Busy finding a reliable way to capture the Suriel. They had even completely neglected the other matters concerning the King of Hybern, they weren't even looking for the second part of the book when it was more than vital to find it. No, as soon as they got back, they had thrown themselves body and soul into the search for the Suriel. Even Cassian had read countless books to try to find a way to capture the creature.

They had ended up, after two weeks of intensive searching, going to a dark and gloomy forest to the west with the aim of setting a trap for the Suriel. They had read in some books that the creature had a taste for freshly dead chickens.

They had been hiding in the bushes for three days, hoping the Suriel would fall into their traps. And the number of chickens they had to kill, and which now lay in a mountain in front of them, was astronomical. But the Suriel was still not there.

Cassian stood up in turn, sighing. "He's right Rhys, it's not working. We're wasting our time. We have to find another solution. We have no more time to waste away from her. I... I can't anymore." He looked sad and tired. The dark circles under his eyes made him look puny and he had lost a little weight.

They all three looked equally bad anyway.

Rhys stood up too, his eyes downcast. They were right. They were so pitiful. But what else could they do? It was a dead-end solution. He needed to know if this woman was their soulmate but at the same time it seemed so true that it seemed wrong to have to ask. Besides, in the meantime she was at Tamlin's, she might be in danger and that was killing him. "Alright," he breathed with all his might, "let's find another solution."

Cassian nodded and Azriel gritted his teeth. He had been gritting his teeth for weeks anyway. “Let’s go,” he spat nastily but involuntarily.

Rhysand took a step forward, moving closer to his brothers so he could teleport them with him. But suddenly, a furtive shadow danced at the corners of their pupils, making them turn their heads to the side.

They almost jumped, their eyes widening in surprise. There, perched on a huge fallen and half-rotten tree, only a few steps away from them, was a pale, livid creature. The Suriel. It had just appeared and sat on the trunk, as if nothing had happened. The creature crossed its legs as it raised one of its thin hands, playing with its long fingers and making appear with a strange magic a white teacup more ordinary than anything there that was here.

The three Illyrians gaped, even less surprised when the Suriel took a sip of his steaming hot tea. What the hell was going on? They glanced at their trap and frowned when they saw it still intact. The Suriel had come on his own?

“You had questions for me?” the Suriel spoke in a distant voice, as if from another dimension. He took another sip of his drink, savoring the flavor of the Illyrians’ surprise in front of him.

“You…” Rhysand began, searching for words, still not believing his eyes. He glanced at his brothers who looked as confused as he did. He took a step forward, towards the pale creature. “You surrendered on your own?”

The creature nodded and raised his teacup into the air. "You had questions," he repeated as his only reply.

Cassian frowned. He was going to ask the Suriel why he was here. Why he had come of his own free will, but the omniscient creature already knew his question. It answered him without Azriel even having to speak. "Because you have questions to ask me, the answers to which are extremely important."

Azriel narrowed his eyes. He was disturbed. His shadows didn't even seem to detect the creature and the fact that it surrendered itself was more than suspicious. It was hiding something and he didn't have time for secrets. Not when his soulmate was in danger. Not when Luxiana was possibly his soulmate and that he had already wasted too much time away from her. "Why didn't you surrender before then? Three days ago when we arrived, for example, or even before if you know everything. We've been trying to meet you for weeks."

“Because it wasn’t the right time, now it is. Now, you are ready to hear the answers to your questions.” The creature stared at them with a blank, creepy gaze that made Cassian shiver. The Suriel didn’t seem to feel any emotion, but when he looked at the three Faes in front of him, feelings stirred in his chest. Their relationship with that girl would determine the future of the world. “Ask your questions.”

It was at that moment that the three Illyrians realized. The Suriel was in front of them. It didn't matter why or how he had gotten there. He was there. That meant they were going to have the answers to their questions. The questions they had been asking themselves for weeks.

A ball of anxiety crushed their stomachs in one violent blow, burning their eyes, making their breaths cut and their muscles tremble. It might all be over very quickly. She might not be their soulmate and then it would all be done. But damn, they were so afraid of that. Of losing this woman. And if she was their soulmate… Yes, it would fill them with joy, of course, but also with anxiety.

A silence fell. A silence that none of the three Illyrians wanted to break. They were too afraid of the answers they might get. Normally, they could have been brave but today, this fear was overwhelming. After all, they didn't only have their fear and anxiety to deal with but those of their two brothers as well.

Cassian looked down. He was tired. He and his brothers were warriors. They had lived through wars and battles. Seen and suffer through horrors but they had never been so afraid and they had never felt so cowardly as they did now. It wasn't him. It wasn't them. This had to end. He needed to know.

Azriel froze, with all his muscles tense. He was terrified, he felt almost in danger of death. Then suddenly, he thought of Luxiana, he saw her smiling face in his mind and smelled her vanilla scent even though she wasn't there. He relaxed. He had no doubts anyway. He knew who she was to him. She was his soulmate and that was all that mattered. He just needed her. And then, he could accept sharing her with his brothers if it meant he could have her for himself a little.

Rhysand had to ask the question. He had to, he knew it. It had to come from him. He was Cassian and Azriel's lord. He had to help them through their trials. He had to be braver and more courageous than they were. But the truth was, if he were truly brave and courageous, he wouldn't be here. He would have left Luxiana far away from them, far away from him. Far away from the danger they are for her. But he was selfish. Terrified and selfish. He wanted her. "Is Luxiana our soulmate?" He spoke, softly, trembling, almost inaudibly, but the Suriel didn't really need to hear the question.

The Suriel was just waiting for him to ask it, because that would mean they were ready to hear the answer. And now, they were. "Yes," he answered simply.

A weight lifted from the shoulders of the three Illyrians before crashing down on them again, making them capsize and stumble, as if the earth beneath their feet had trembled. Rhysand fell to his knees, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Cassian let himself fall buttocks to the ground in the same state as Rhysand. Azriel tensed his muscles so much that he gained a few centimeters.

Rhysand couldn't breathe anymore but at the same time he took in deep breaths of fresh air that filled his lungs. So many conflicting feelings were overwhelming him. His eyes began to sparkle. She was his soulmate. Luxiana was truly his soulmate. He began to smile, his heart beating painfully in his chest. Then his joy faded. She was his soulmate and she was with Tamlin, his worst enemy. She was his soulmate and she was human. But he had met his soulmate!

Cassian's legs couldn't hold the weight of the enormity that had fallen on him. This sexy, intelligent and characterful woman was really his soulmate? He was so lucky. But at the same time he felt cursed by the cauldron. His wings fell limply on his back, he no longer had the strength to make them stand up straight. A barbed wire surrounded his throat. His soulmate was a human. She was fragile. She only had a few precious days before leaving him... He couldn't bear it. His eyes began to burn. He had to take advantage of the time he still had with her.

Azriel felt empty. Completely and abysmally empty. He had experienced so much in the last few weeks and it had all stopped suddenly. He didn't realize it. He didn't understand. It wasn't possible. There were three of them. He couldn't accept sharing his soulmate with his brothers. "It's impossible. She can't be our true mate. Not for all three of us. We can't have multiple soulmates."

He thought out loud but the Suriel had only been waiting for this opportunity. And the intrigued eyes of Cassian and Rhysand who had looked up at him were just waiting for an answer. "It is very rare, so rare that the history of the world has only seen this phenomenon occur three times. Three small times in billions of years of existence."

Azriel shook his head, still not believing it. "But how? Why?"

The Suriel took a slow sip of tea, waiting to fully capture the attention of the three Illyrians. "Sometimes, when the history of the world is at one of its turning points, fate takes the side of a part. Unfortunately, it cannot drastically influence the course of history but it can rig it. Help its favored side win by giving it advantages and facilities."

Cassian stood up slowly, reeling, just as confused as his two brothers. "I don't understand," he said, feeling like none of this had to do with them or Luxiana.

The Suriel already knew what the Illyrien with the red siphons was going to say, he smiled. "Some people are born to influence the history of the world, such as Luxiana. And fate took your side by binding you to her."

Rhysand sank further towards the ground, somehow stopping himself from falling completely onto the damp earth. Each of the Suriel's words made his realization and what was happening grow ever larger.

“Why the three of us?” Azriel cried, his eyes burning, his fists clenched. There had to be a reason. There had to be a reason why fate had decided that he would not be enough for his soulmate on his own.

"Because destiny is not the only entity to decide. Because other factors that come into decision have decided to give a balance to everything. And that's what they did with Luxiana. A being so capable of great things cannot subsidize for eternity. That's why she is so fragile. So strong but so fragile. It is the balance of nature that destiny wanted to thwart a little by binding you to her. To protect her. To save her so that she can influence the world as she is supposed to do."

Azriel realized suddenly. Like a hammer blow that fell on him, breaking him into lots of little pieces. His legs gave away and he joined the ground with Rhysand, the air no longer even penetrating his throat that was too tight.

The three Illyrians, trembling until then, understood. They finally understood. They had been bound to Luxiana by destiny to love her, cherish her and protect her. To allow her to change the course of history.

It necessarily implied that she would be in danger and that terrified them but it also implied that everything made sense. That she was so important to the world that destiny had decided to bind her to the three strongest warriors in this country. Their soul mate. It was now a certainty. She was their soul mate. She was their soul mate!

Cassian laughed. He laughed with all his might, bending in two to hold his stomach with both hands. The weight of worry and fear he had felt all those days had disappeared. He laughed with relief, then joy, then excitement. He was going to have to fight to protect his soulmate and damn it, he would do it with pleasure. He knew how to fight and he was even very good at it. His soulmate would be fine because he would protect her with all his might. She was his soulmate and he was going to be able to go get her, he was going to be able to spend time with her. His heart swelled in his chest and his dark circles almost disappeared by themselves. He had found his soulmate and she was incredible. She was perfect. And she was his soulmate.

Rhysand began to smile too, lightening up just as much as Cassian. Everything was explained. Everything. And at the same time, everything that the Suriel had just told them was so unimportant. So unimportant when he was now certain that he had met his soul mate. He was able to take a deep breath and although his heart was still a little tight with apprehension and fear, it didn't matter. It didn't matter because he would face the difficulties with his soul mate by his side. A tear ran down his cheek. He almost felt like he was floating in the air thinking about Luxiana and her scent. Already imagining the life they were going to have together. At four. That was why destiny had made him so close to his brothers. He no longer had any doubts about anything now. He was going to do everything to protect his soul mate. Everything. And he intended to enjoy his days with her.

Azriel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In fact, he took several. He was terrified. He had to resign himself for the well-being of his soulmate, to share her with his brothers. He had to do it for her to be happy and to protect her. In truth, the more he thought about it, the more it chased away the enormous weight from his body. The more he thought about Luxiana loving her brothers, the calmer he became. As long as she was happy, that was what mattered. That was what he wanted more than anything. For her to be happy and safe. Especially since he was going to need his brothers' help to protect his clumsy soulmate. His Luxiana. The Suriel had said that nature had balanced things out by making Luxiana fragile, and he was so afraid of not being good at the task of protecting her. He was so afraid of failing. But at the same time, he began to vibrate. To vibrate with excitement. He had then deserved to meet his soulmate and even if destiny punished him by giving him a fragile woman, he would do penance and protect her with all his soul. She was human but he was not going to let her be hurt.

The Suriel suddenly laughed, startling the three Illyrians. "Is she?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea.

The three brothers slowly calmed down, and looked at each other in confusion. What was he talking about? No one had spoken and none of them had said anything.

"You should go," the Suriel said, interrupting their train of thought. "Go to her, because she's not going to affect the history if you're not by her side, and you won't be by her side if she falls in love with someone else."

The three of them froze, jumping up, suddenly looking cold and serious. They had just learned that Luxiana was indeed their soulmate. They had just learned that they could finally possess her and that nothing was holding them back anymore but now, the Suriel was telling them that she could fall in love with someone else.

"A redhead for example, one of the sons high lords. She seems to like him much more than she should."

“Lucien?” Azriel cried out, realizing who the Suriel was talking about. His heart began to pound wildly in his chest and his fists clenched. He should have killed that bastard when he had the chance. How dare he even think about stealing his soulmate?

"I'm going to crush that bastard's head!" Cassian spat, clenching his fists in front of him, imagining the redhead's face in them. He swore that if it was too late and his soulmate had started loving someone else, he would kill him to take his place. All his evil instincts were awakening under this jealousy. But now that he knew that Luxaina was his soulmate, he had no reason to hold them back because after all, she was his.

Rhysand felt a mixture of emotions. Fear, stress, but also joy and excitement. He had gotten a kind of green light from the Suriel to love this woman and that was all he had been waiting for. He felt like he had lived only for her. Only to meet her and although that was maybe a little bit of the case, it made him happy. She seemed so worth it. He was suddenly so eager to get to know her. She was his soulmate for goodness sake, the woman of his life. He had no reason to keep her away from him anymore, even less now that the Suriel had told him he had to protect her. "Let's go get her," he wanted to look up at the Suriel to thank him but in a cloud of strange magic, he disappeared.

They had no more time to waste. All three of them took a deep breath, calming themselves down, regaining a cool head, mentally preparing themselves, thinking of a plan. Then they teleported to Tamlin's. They were going to get their soulmate back.